Archive for March, 2024
Since the first automobiles rolled down a street, the range of human emotions attached to these machines has run from love to hate, humor to horror, joy to sadness. This book is a sampling of how fiction writers have viewed the automobile, from yesteryear to tomorrow.
Famous writers, experienced story tellers, and new literary voices are mixed together between these covers.
Automobilia is the first in a trilogy of stories and poems featuring that one machine that has changed the face of the earth, for the good and for the bad . . . the automobile.
Authors include: Jack Finney, George Clayton Johnson, Richard Christian Matheson, Richard Matheson, J. P. Seewald, Bruce Boston, Marge Simon, Kevin David Anderson, Katherine Tomlinson, James S. Dorr, William F. Nolan, Dean Wild, Sarah Key, Robbie Sheerin, and J.R. Hayslett, among many others.
This spark any memories? No? Well in fairness there was a mention — that it had been finally published! — as recently as January 22 this year, but prior to that we must journey back to January, two years before, for when I’d received payment; then December, 2021 (contract received); then November, 2020 (story accepted), for a tale which had been submitted in late spring 2016. For a book about cars, that’s some pretty slow driving.
But anyhow, my author’s copy is finally here, chock full of both stories and poems with mine on page 325, “The Christmas Vulture.” And a big book too, at more than 440 pages!
So my story, originally published in UNTIED SHOELACES OF THE MIND, Fall 2010, is about pretty much what its title says — and with automobiles too! But for more, you will just have to read the book — which looks to be a winner! — for further details on which press here!
Well I don’t know if everyone, reader or listener, was necessarily a signed-up member of the Bloomington Writers Guild — poets can turn up in all kinds of places! — but credit, at least, for the organization goes to Guild Chair April Ridge. As well as kudos to The Monroe, a frighteningly large apartment complex on Bloomington’s east side, for hosting the event.
Plus nice snacks too.
The call had gone out a month before from April: [W]ould you like to read at the World Poetry Day Open Mic at the Monroe on 3/21/24? There’s a 10 minute spot with your name on it if you want it! And Tony or I can give you a ride to and back as well. Tony being Writers Guild past officer and all around firebrand Tony Brewer who also led off and MCd the event. And some twenty-two poets, give or take, took the bait — for the reading, that is, if not for the ride — to fill three hours of five and ten minute individual sessions.
And so, surprisingly, it came off last night only about five minutes out from the precise 5:00 to 8:00 p.m. listed schedule, granted with a few blank spots written in that allowed some adjustment. Most poets read five minutes, though with me one of eight tagged for ten minute sessions. So, natch, I read horror poetry, “vampire and vampire adjacent,” cut down from a reading I’d done last Halloween-ish for “Last Sunday Poetry” (cf. October 29), at roughly half-way through the listed lineup.
It seemed to go over well, as did the whole event!
Strange Storm Described for March 3rd Sunday Write (Feb., Meantime, Having Been Lost in the Shuffle)
So the time comes again for the Bloomington Writers Guild’s “Third Sunday Write,” with me as usual a few days late. At the least (see January 23, et al., but also below for a “missing” last month). With four prompts supplied by moderator Shana Ritter, I chose the third, to “Describe a Storm” — an active one, seemingly popular with other writers as well, though mine perhaps just a tiny bit different. Thus:
A Whirlwind of Frogs
Yes, another whirlwind of frogs greeted Wednesday,
green hopping as it hit,
the ground teeming with frogs’ legs
(still attached to the amphibians, of course,
this is weather, not dinner)
but messy underfoot as one steps on them.
Take care you don’t slip!
But it could be worse, these changes wrought
by a warming climate;
in California they have rains of sharks —
it was on the TV —
but luckily less deadly than it might seem,
they falling through air which they cannot breathe
forcing a passiveness on them.
Here though I fear summer,
the long-range forecast predicting, first, turtles
(snappers among them!)
but then alligators.
February’s entry, in the meantime, somehow got lost in the shuffle (I didn’t get to it, in fact, until February 29, a strange day in itself and one dominated by sales for Femmes Fatales and another reprint for New Orleanian vampiresses), but was no great shakes. Still, for the sake of completeness, here’s what you (probably) didn’t miss:
(3. When I Looked Up)
When I looked up,
Wow! a pizza-moon
round and orange
filling the sky!
“Family size,” no doubt.
Until, bat-like, black clouds
nibbled the edges —
politely, in sections —
but nevertheless the light
growing dimmer.
Gold going to darkness.
Just a quick note for “The Writing Life.” Tuesday, March 19, the email received: I have attached the contract for your review and signature. Once we have received the signed copy we will proceed with the editing process. The story is “The Blue Man,” a variant on the fairy tale “Bluebeard,” accepted for ONCE UPON A FUTURE TIME, VOLUME 4 (see March 16, below). And so this afternoon, downloaded and signed, the contract whisked back to Editor/Publisher Logan Uber, with more to appear here as it becomes known.
This one’s a new tale, set in the far-future world of my novel-in-stories, TOMBS: A CHRONICLE OF LATTER-DAY TIMES OF EARTH. But it’s also a variant on a fairy tale, Charles Perrault’s “Bluebeard.”
The call: Return to a future full of mystery, magic, and malevolence. How can you tell friend from foe when faced with the cold darkness of outer space? The asteroid belt holds as much danger as the darkened woods, and the huntsman may be just another bounty hunter. The same warnings and concerns that were whispered over baby cradles and guarded by knights in shining armor can be found in the far reaches of space, but just a bit more . . . alien.
But not necessarily just outer space. The future is as expansive as the universe and full of untold stories. Rumors whispered in the dark of night and legends shared throughout the day. . . . There are as many tales as there are stars in the sky and now is your chance to share yours, once upon a future time.
Thus, ONCE UPON A FUTURE TIME, VOLUME 4, the fourth anthology installment based on fairy tales retold as science fiction. . . . upon a fairy or folk tale (Include title of the original tale after author name on the manuscript.) And on with details about unpublished stories only (no reprints allowed), lengths, formats, etc., but all seemed to be leading to one thus far unsold story by me, set in the universe of my TOMBS series (see also, e.g., “The Last Dance,” though in its case a reprint, lead tale in my new AVOID SEEING A MOUSE collection), a tale of two sisters and a chance to marry a reputedly wealthy but hideous man — in fact in his entirety colored blue. Of course, one can get used to just offbeat complexions. . . .
But what of that secret room, the one a bride-to-be has been given a key to, among many others, but told under no circumstances to open?
The word came Friday from Editor/Publisher Logan Uber: Thank you for submitting “The Blue Man” to ONCE UPON A FUTURE TIME, VOLUME 4. We enjoyed your story and would like to publish it in our anthology. After we hear from you we will send the contract for your review and signature. After receipt of your signed contract we will share a Google Doc for editing.
And thus, as we learn coming details together, perhaps we shall all find out for ourselves.
What looked like the day/evening’s second tornado alert popping up on the TV about when I got home, this “Thursday” report is being written Friday. So it goes. But calm weather prevailed earlier that evening, from 6 to 8:30 p.m. or so for March’s “Second Thursday Spoken Word” at Bloomington’s downtown Backspace Gallery (née First Wednesday, etc., for which see December 7, et al.) but with the day changed starting this year for a better monthly distribution of events — that is, rather than bunching too much in the first week. Following this so far?
Anyway, Thursday’s first reader was Patsy Rahn who also has a photography exhibit currently at the gallery — and in addition, is also the founder of the Bloomington Writers Guild (more on which in a bit) and, hence, somewhat of a special guest — reading three long poems, one based on a Liszt symphony and written for a special multimedia project some years back that also included projected slides and music performed by the Bloomington Symphony Orchestra, as well as shorter works, some from her 2018 collection, THE GRAINY WET SOUL. She was joined by multi-published Southern Illinois University professor (including teaching and directing their creative writing program) Allison Joseph, winner of the Feathered Quill Book Award and a NAACP Image Award nominee, 2022 Illinois Author of the year, as well as widow of the late poet, editor, and literary critic Jon Tribble, starting with a poem by her late husband and based on past Bloomington ties both shared, followed by “some poems from various books” (some also with local Bloomington references) in a variety of subjects and styles.
This then was followed by “Three Lightning Rounds” — announced five minute poetry presentations — by Guild members Tonia Matthew, Eric Rensberger, and James Dorr (yes, me) as a continued tip of the hat to Patsy, we being the remaining three of the original five participants in the 2010 Writers Guild initial meeting, in answer to Patsy’s original call. Following this, as well as preceding the “main” featured poets, were interludes featuring song and guitar by Mary Luncsford, who performs under the name Silent Partner, this followed in turn by a break, and then an “open mic” session with some seven or eight additional readers.
A quick note today from Editor Hiromi Yoshida: STORMWASH ENVIRONMENTAL POEMS will be released as an imprint of The Grind Stone, thanks to Jonathan S Baker & Snow Mathews.
Stormwash poets include: Riley Anspaugh, Michael Joseph Arcangelini, K Ann Sea (Arizona), Zilia Balkansky-Sellés, Jeffrey Bean, Walter Biskupski, Josh A. Brewer, Tony Brewer, Michael Brockley, Mary Brown, Nancy Chen Long, Marlena Chertock, James Dorr, Dina Elenbogen, Marjie Gates Giffin, Ian Uriel Girdley, Peter Kaczmarczyk, Jenny Anderson Kalahar, Patrick Kalahar, David Keppel, Joseph Kerschbaum, David Alec Knight, Nate Logan, Doris Lynch, Antonia Matthew, Devin McGuire, Lylanne Musselman, Linda Neal Reising, Patsy Rahn, Jessica Reed, Eric Rensberger, April Ridge, Terry Sloan, Peggy Squires, Thomas Tokarski, Nick ‘Frick’ Wentzel, Sheri Wright, Ray Zdonek.
And so the path to publication continues. STORMWASH, we may recall (cf. February 12, et al.), is a compilation of environmental poems, sponsored by the Arts Alliance of Greater Bloomington and the Bloomington Writers Guild. To quote the call: [a]s global warming continues to trigger severe climatic patterns, consider how we can manage the harm that results from the continuous release of carbon emissions, and enable the survival of future generations. Nature today is neither simply pretty nor merely furious. Instead, it is something that requires judicious management and legislation, while it begs for consecration through the arts.
And mine in the mix? A reaction, originally, to Hurricane Katrina and the flooding of New Orleans first published in THE MAGAZINE OF SPECULATIVE POETRY for Spring 2006, “The Drowned City,” now soon to be reprinted with details to come here as they become known.
This the dedication, on p. 11:
To the woman pushed to the edge by a world so cold,
Wielding power, not for grace, but to break the mold.
Amidst the allure & indifference, your strength unfolds —
A testiment to the fire in your souls, untold.
The book, FEMME FATALE FLASHES (see March 4, February 24, et al.), published by Wicked Shadow Press, in West Bengal, India. Yes, it did take awhile to arrive. But today, March 4, it arrived in my mailbox, some 280 pages, with 56 stories, including my “Dinner Date,” starting on p. 144.
And as the title implies, these are all flash-length stories, all under about 1000-words each, brief snapshot-like glances at women to . . . well, watch out for, mine unsurprisingly one of those feisty New Orleanian vampiresses, les filles à les caissettes, the normally shy and retiring Hélène.
To quote the blurb (this from Lulu, not Amazon — so it goes): _Welcome to the shadowed corners of intrigue and peril. Wicked Shadow Press presents “Femme Fatale Flashes”, a captivating anthology of flash fictions, each one casting the spotlight on the elusive femme fatale, a figure at once dangerously seductive and imbued with an undeniable strength.
Dive into narratives where mystery and malice dance closely, as these women tread the fine line between morality and desire. From the straightforward journeys of beguiling yet sinister characters whose beginnings are as veiled as their intentions, to the intricate tales of those sculpted by the harshness of society, the sting of betrayal, or the tumultuous twists of love, this collection delves into the myriad hues of what it means to embody the femme fatale.
“Femme Fatale Flashes” beckons you to explore the complex realm of these mesmerising women through stories that are as concise as they are profound. Brace yourself to be captivated by the lethal allure of the femme fatale, in a collection that promises to enchant, entangle, and ultimately, redefine your perception of power, vengeance, and seduction.
For more, see post for February 24 for separate paperback and ebook links.
Not necessarily because of a temporary 7-8:30 p.m. evening time at Morgenstern Books, but because I had the flu (so you get your fall shot, a new kind comes along . . . lucky me!) I missed February’s Bloomington Writers Guild’s “First Sunday Prose and Open Mic” (cf. January 7 2024, et al.). So today was this year’s first, excepting January’s which in some ways seemed more a holdover from last year, and at an all new, hopefully more or less permanent time and place, from 2-3:30 p.m. at the Juniper Gallery on West Kirkwood Avenue just off downtown. A small gallery this, it was more or less packed at maybe a tad over 20 attendees (including some at snack bar tables, a sort of holdover from the original Morgenstern’s ambience as well), and enjoyed, it seemed, by all.
The first featured reader was IU Professor Emerita, storyteller, actor, researcher, writer, and theatrical producer Gladys DeVane, with a moving passage from her book COME SIT WITH ME: MY LIFE IN POETRY, PROSE, AND PLAYS, in part in the voice of major champion for the right to vote for Blacks in 1960s Mississippi — as well as survivor of beatings and worse — Fannie Lou Hamer, and ending on a note for present-day America, a “country still in need of spiritual healing.” She was followed by retired art-museum worker and IU education teacher and present-day tour guide for the Exotic Feline Rescue Center, whose “writing has gotten quite free-wheeling since she’s no longer writing for professional journals,” Beau Vallance, with three short essays: the first “kind of serious,” “Reading for the Incarcerated”; a self-described “lighter” second, “Prom Dresses”; and a “silly” third, a eulogy for a “Yellow Fit,” a much-loved Honda sub-compact that, victim of a crash, had finally had to be given up as being too far damaged to be repaired.
After the break, seven readers lined up for the “open mic” session, with me number six with a piece just published in FEMME FATALE FLASHES (see February 24), “Dinner Date,” about one of the shyer of the New Orleanian vampiresses, the Casket Girls, and how she was able to find a way, when the chips were down, to act as her idol, Aimée, would.
Then, speaking of vampires, harking back to the post just below, February 29, METASTELLAR has officially published the non-Casket Girl Christmas story, “Naughty or Nice,” today as promised. To read it, press here.
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