So these my published stories, much like buses, tend to come along all at once after a very long period of silence. Also, much like buses, I have a tendency to get distracted by shiny things and miss them when they come along, which means I’m left to chase along behind and arrive places very, very late.
I’m really not good with buses. And it’s possible this metaphor is getting away from me. Forgive me, I’m out of practice, and the blogging muscles have atrophied
Suffice to say that the November-December stretch has been pretty good for me on the publishing side of things, however, since it saw my most recent story coming out at Daily Science Fiction, plus it saw the release of the Coins of Chaos anthology which features one of the few stories I actually finished in 2012.
So now, somewhat belatedly, I give you excerpts and links.
From Tuesday to Tuesday, Daily Science Fiction
They’ve been together long enough for this to become ritual: Deanna Sable in the clawfoot bath, head resting against the curve of the tub, her fingers coiled around a Stuyvesant smoked down to the filter; Kirk seated at the door, bare-chested and nursing his third beer, drawing what comfort he can from the proximity to the cracked tiles. Watching one another, half a smile shared between them, looking for new ways to fill the idle silence.
Read the Rest at Daily Science Fiction
From Tuesday to Tuesday hit the interwebs about a month ago, when I was deep in the depths of running workshops after coming back overseas. You can read it now over on the Daily Science Fiction website, where it’s somewhat cheerfully appended with a warning about adult language.
Getting published at Daily SF is always a slightly strange experience, both ’cause their readership is so diverse (and, lets face it, huge) and ’cause they’re one of the few places that ask for short exegetic pieces alongside the story. And, every time, I hem and haw and write a handful of words about the story, then delete those words and write another handful. Ultimately, because there’s a deadline and the exegetic bit is optional, I throw up my hands get on with the next thing.
The truth is, sometimes the story behind a story is easy to tell. Sometimes, well, there really isn’t one. From Tuesday to Tuesday got written because I wanted to write a story; I woke up, I wrote a section, and then I tooled around with what I’ve written until I figured out what the next bit should be. It’s an attempt to write a story by leaning little bits of story up against one-another and seeing how many it takes for them to stabilize.
Tithes, Coins of Chaos Anthology
Last stop, Gould’s Antiques, up on Wickham Terrace. The three of them skulk in, trying to disappear amid the furniture and the ball-gowns and rows of glass display cases. The same routine every visit: Angie slinking to the rear of the store, breathing in the scent of the ancient leather jackets; Byron down by the glass-fronted cabinet, crouched so low his coat brushes the concrete floor, peering at the flintlocks and gasmasks and colonial knives; Nate just kind of wandering around, not really looking at anything except his watch, fretting about the possibility of missing their last train home.
Nate’s only there because they are a team, the three of them. Refugees from the land of misfit toys, as Byron’s so fond of calling them, sharing a shitty fibro shack in a city that has no use for them. They spend their days, three against the world, the punk-girl, the goth-boy, and whatever Byron calls himself, a witch or a warlock or just strange weird.
Read the rest in Coins of Chaos
So back in August of last year I got an email from Jennifer Brozek asking if I’d be interested in submitting a story to Coins of Chaos, an anthology of dark SF-ish stories that revolved around the concept of hobo nickels.
Now I knew fuck all about hobo nickels when the email came through, but I’d written a bunch of stuff for Jennifer’s Edge of Propinquity project in 2011 and, honestly, I had so much trouble getting my shit together on the monthly deadlines that I pretty much assumed I’d be *way* down on the list of writers she’d ever want to work with again. Awesome, I thought, I get a shot at redeeming my laggard ways.
Then I actually went and read up about hobo nickels and checked out the sample images Jennifer had sent through, realised they were all kinds of creepy awesomeness, and disappeared down the rabbit hole for a week while I belted out the first draft of the story. It is, quite possible, the fastest I’ve ever gone from I’m going to write a story to holy shit, this is done in twenty years of writing.
It’d been years since I wrote something that was intentionally a horror story – usually, if that happens, I’ve ended up there accidentally – and it was great fun to play around with my memories of being nineteen or twenty and hanging out with the small crew of goth-types on the Gold Coast (which is, really, not a city that is ever going to be welcoming of vaguely goth-type people).
One final note for people who’ve been reading the blog on the email subscription: you may note a slight change to the layout of the emails that are coming through, as I’ve swapped from the old RSS provider over to a mailchimp set-up that does the same thing. In theory, this should be a seamless change that no-one notices, and the email list will only ever be used to send through blog content.