A death in the family, plus work and personal stuff, means I’ll have spotty online presence for the next few weeks. I have Wattpad chapters queued up and I will be checking email pretty regularly, but I may be slow replying. Sending everyone positive energy and cute animal photos until then.
Archives for January 2016
So here is the obligatory post about awards and such.
I believe I’m in my 2nd year of Campbell eligibility (my clock started ticking with “Marigolds” in 2014).
Last year I had three novelettes published (note that “Julie” was in a UK-based anthology):
- “Little Men with Knives,” in Crossed Genres.
- Vendémiaire,” in B is for Broken.
- “Julie,” in Strange Tales V.
I also had five short stories published:
- “The Tale of King Edgar,” winner of On the Premises Contest #26.
- “Five Little Seeds,” in Issue 5 of Wyvern Lit.
- “Littoral Drift,” in Issue 6 of Lackington’s.
- “This Is How You Lose Yourself,” winner of the 2015 OddContest.
- “Vacui Magia,” in Strange Horizons.
I’m not very good at singling out one piece over another, but I will say that I’ve been sending around “Vacui Magia” as representative of my short stories, and “Julie” and “Little Men” for novelettes. I’ve been especially keen to get more readers for “Julie,” as the print run was limited (appropriately, for that hardcover is GORGEOUS.)
PDFs and epub files are available!
There was a thread online about villains and tropes relating to such and it prompted me to think of this moment, though I think of it fairly often as it is. I’m old enough that I first read Watchmen when it was in (gasp) issues, this new thing from DC; it came out right when I was starting to look past the oft-predictable adventures of my Marvel and DC staples towards indie comics, the darker X-Men stuff, and soon this new imprint called Vertigo . . . heady times, I tell ya.
I still get residual chills from this panel. Because I had expected it all, you see: the description of the nefarious plan, the fierce fight to stop it that would probably injure or kill one of the “heroes”, and then the return to a world that never knew how close it came to destruction . . . I thought myself above such things, and yet I wholly expected the story to go that way. It was a lesson in how some structures become so deeply ingrained we don’t even realize it; it’s why, I think, I’m hypersensitive to any kind of story “rut” I fall into.
35 minutes. Not even five, or ten. Long enough to exercise, eat something, watch a little television. It’s a long time, 35 minutes.