Two old stories are now online:
Like most of the stories I’m posting here on my website, neither of these has ever been reprinted since its original publication. So if you missed these in the ’80s, here you go.
I’ve added four newly reconstituted old stories in the Online Fiction section. If you like things from the ’80s, you’re going to love these stories!
As always, if you see any bugs, please feel free to report them through the contact page.
[Update: I just added a fifth: Mars Will Have Blood]
For the past two days I have been scanning nearly four decades’ worth of manuscripts and other paper-based ephemera. My fingers smell like rusty paperclips; there are copious microinjuries. When a certain variety of paperclip, presumably manufactured in the ’70s or ’80s, gives in to decay, it sheds a shiny outer layer that is twisted, somewhat sharp, and snags in carpet and flesh. I feel at risk for tetanus. And yet, this hazardous undertaking is not unrewarding. I have filing cabinets full of text I generated (or as we old timers might say, “stories I wrote”) in a distant pre-digital era. It has made me nervous to think that almost none of that stuff exists anywhere else, except in increasingly fewer increasingly moldy magazines and paperback anthologies.
I’ve now got around 60 old stories scanned and OCR’d, which I am going to be cleaning up and posting here on my website. Most of it will go into the Online Fiction section, though there are a few odds and ends that are harder to categorize. Found the full transcript of an interview with David Lowery of Camper van Beethoven, done during the Key Lime Pie tour, of which only bits and pieces appeared in Mondo 2000. A thing called “Michael J. Fox as Wormboy” which is really just the most extended dream-journal I ever wrote, following a dream so weird that I woke up and promptly spent most of a day writing it down. But mostly it’s just stories, old ones, with some new Author’s Notes appended.
Stories such as “Spawn of the Ruins,” my first real publication, from 1977.
And “Sneakers,” the only story I sold to the late Charlie Grant for his celebrated Shadows series.
I’ve got more to clean up, a lot more, and I’ll post them as I go. Some of the formatting is a real mess. Old dot matrix manuscripts don’t play nice with OCR, it turns out.
And if you spot any errors or typos (I am sure there will be plenty), I would be much obliged if you would drop me a line at the contact page and let me know!
“What have you got there?”
“A kaleidoscope.”
On the evening of June 15, I will be reading some short fiction at the KGB Bar in New York City, as part of their monthly “Fantastic Fiction” series. Also appearing is Daniel Braum, whose new collection The Night Marchers looks pretty cool. Maybe I will see you there…or will I? (I always hide in a dark back corner and read in a sourceless voice.)
“The Finest, Fullest Flowering” has been slated to appear in the June issue of Nightmare Magazine.
Here is the opening:
A sour note shrieked from the limousine’s speakers, making Milston’s fingers curl in his lap. He took a moment to compose himself before rapping precisely, and with a now steady hand, on the glass separating him from the driver. The tone had droned into a hum that tunelessly dreamt of someday becoming hypnotic. “What is this we are listening to, and is there any way to turn it off?”
“Down, sir, but not off, I’m afraid.” The driver lowered the volume to a level barely audible; this was in some respects even more annoying. “Part of the colony’s ambiance, sir. Part of the design. Won’t be much longer though, sir. We’re almost there.”
My previous story at Nightmare was “Bonfires.” The very busy young editor there, John Joseph Adams, likes ’em weird.
My short story, “Kapu,” will figure obscurely in Joseph S. Pulver’s forthcoming anthology, Darker Companions, itself a tribute to the work of Ramsey Campbell. “Kapu” was not written to order for the collection, but there is no question that the spirit of Ramsey Campbell animates it and has since its inception. Never has such a short story given me so much trouble, but the thought of coming off badly in a tribute to one of my idols must have scared me into finally getting it all figured out.
Ramsey was my first editor, having bought my first solo sale, “Tissue,” for his landmark New Terrors collection. He improved that story, and sharpened my own technique, by adding four little words to one sentence. “That’s how it’s done,” I thought, and I’ve been trying to keep that lesson in mind for 40 years.
Here is the opening of “Kapu”:
The moment he reached the edge of the shore, he felt the sand give way [add four words here]. The beach was fine and white above, coarse and black below [this sentence needs something]. He stepped back quickly, before his wife and son caught up [need four more words].
The waves crashed in, making a green roil from the horizon to a tumble of lava boulders that edged the cliffs where they touched the water, aslant from jungled peaks high above [four words to come]. Only this thin crescent of sandy beach remained untouched, and even that was being eaten away steadily by the sea [do what Ramsey does].
Join me in awaiting the official announcements of the anthology’s contents and publication date. From what I’ve heard, the line-up of contributors is very strong indeed. That Pulver guy knows everybody!
Baby’s first words: “Reporting for duty!”
