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Women Writing the Weird: Out Now at Dog Horn Press
ByJSB
As promised, WWW launched on Halloween. I don’t have my copy yet, but you can get it here. I’m excited to see my story, “Lion Man,” out and proud and in such great company…am prepared to be amazed by my colleagues. Also out and about is my poem, ‘Some Kind of Monster,’ at Go(b)et Magazine….
The Fall, at New Dead Families
Byadmin
… His flesh hung in folds over his eyes, one of which had a sideways cast to it. His wife, Una, pushed into the center of the pass window behind the bar. Her face red as rubber, a boiling ball of rage and defeat stirred by the rage and defeat she saw in her husband…
New story up at Spinetingler
Byadmin
The Bridge, picked up by one of my favorite mags, Spinetingler.
‘You look like terrorists,’ said Al. ‘I wouldn’t be seen on Queens Boulevard with either one of you.’
Byadmin
Hooked? Go to www.thenervousbreakdown and check out my first post.
Writing Life: Criticism – Constructive or Destructive?
Byadmin
Almost every writer can vouch for the value of writers groups and workshops. For many, a weekly or monthly session with your group, whether online or in the flesh, can provide a welcome respite from the solitude that comes with the writing life. In addition to sharing ideas and experiences with fellow travelers, deadlines can be surprisingly galvanizing: being forced to prepare your piece for workshopping can provide that much needed motivation and focus.
But along with the benefits of writers groups is the danger of losing your mojo because of some ill-judged feedback on your work in progress. Being able to tell the difference between constructive and destructive criticism is crucial to going the distance in this game…read more here.
Bend Down Over and What??
Byadmin
‘Why’n’t you just bend down over and suck,’ he says. Then he kangaroo kicks me in the stomach. His Keds against my gut. Hard. I buckle, suck in air or try to, images searing my eleven-year-old brain. Bend down over and—oh, the horror! He stands aside, fists clenched, and somehow I make it past him and the hulking albino driver that we call Shorty and off the bus, half falling on to the snow.