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Honored to have Union Falls picked up by Fantasy Magazine.
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NB reviews Collision.
ByJSB
Thanks to Linda Hepworth at NB magazine for this 5-start review of Collision. Cool that Keith Rosson’s illustrations get a nod, too. Without writing a separate review of each of these tales it’s difficult to do full justice to the quality of this author’s writing, but what it is very easy to do is to…
Jim Mickle’s Stake Land
Byadmin
I watched this at the Sydney Film Festival and I dug it. There was Ginger Snaps (2000) and Bigelow’s Near Dark before that, but U.S. indie offerings in the vampire genre have been somewhat wanting compared to what the British have been serving up for years: zombies (28 Days Later), for instance, and werewolves (Dog…
Tricky Truman
Byadmin
Truman Capote likened the finishing of a novel to taking your child into the back yard and shooting it. As a parent, I’m intrigued by the mind that could have created that sentence. Still, I take his point. I was all but undone by the completion of my previous novel, cried for days, became physically…
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…
Collision Book Trailer
ByJSB
Here is the book trailer for Collision, and it is killer. Thanks to Meerkat Press for being a creative force in their own right, and one to be reckoned with.
Days and Nights
Byadmin
I’ve been busy with things. The teaching, and I have stuff to read for other people. Writing for the Nervous Breakdown and for Clarion. I have a birthday coming up which fills me with both anticipation and dread. I haven’t been writing all that hard, have let the narrative threads for the novel unravel. Am becoming aware of what I have taken on again.
There are good days and not so good days. Nights of little sleep. Dreams, like the one last night, of a great tidal wave in the distance, in the future, and its devastation—flotsam and broken toys and scraps and terror already in the past, lapping at my feet.
Today I will weave a dream. A digital bridge to take me from here to there. Murky sludge of the true-facts world far below.