Someone actually let me have a book. My first collection of fiction is on sale. You can even enjoy a Kindle edition.
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“…the mayor put one of his plump hands across her eyes, pushed the girl towards the flames, turned away and shouted hizzah! huzzah! while the...
This weekend in NYC, presented by The Uptown Collective, former fwriction : review contributor Robb Todd (“City From a Bridge”) will read...
Cult of Mac sat down with Travis Jensen, one of the featured photographers at tonight’s #iSnapSF Street Photography Exhibition here at the...
I’ve been talking about picnics all week
I left so I could figure out how to come home.
I stayed away too long; the house is empty.
I am deciding how best to...
When you’re fwriction : review’s editorial cat, Thursdays tucker you out.
I like to touch your tattoos in complete
darkness, when I can’t see them. I’m sure of
where they are, know by heart the neat
lines of lightning...
19 posts tagged fiction
TWO REALLY IMPORTANT THINGS
ONE
The last movie I saw was set in present day but the young protagonist had an answering machine. When is Hollywood going to give that up? Nobody younger than 50 has an answering machine and only seven people fifty or older have them—and four of those are broken and the dudes just won’t throw them away. That’s not a lot of answering machines! If they haven’t stopped making them entirely, they will soon.
Sorry, screenwriters. You’ll have to find another device to clue us in on important narrative details.
TWO
Later this month, the Uptown Collective’s Led Black Book Club will feature my collection, Steal Me for Your Stories. Drop by APT 78 in Washington Heights at 1pm on Feb. 25. I’ll read you a story.
This is probably as close as I will have to a book release party, so … let’s party. More info is here, and it’s so fancy you have to RSVP. Do you know what RSVP stands for? Yes, Retired Senior Volunteer Program. That’s an important program. RSVP is also a track by The Bloodhound Gang from the 2000 album Hooray for Boobies.
HOORAY!
YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE THE INTERNET UNATTENDED
I went to another country for a while. In that country, the doubya doubya web is expensive for foreigners. In that country, which is very cold, I snowboarded for the first time. By “snowboarded” I mean I fell down a mountain for two hours. I’m still a little numb.
Also, people drink more when their lives are covered in snow. Also, they are nicer and say sorry when you are the person who should say sorry. They give you doughnuts, too. Also, some people leave hearts in the snow with their boots because they have that much love to give.
While all that was happening, this happened:
LITnIMAGE and Fwriction : Review published stories I wrote with my very own fingers. They’re short. Read them. These stories are in my collection, which is now available on Amazon as a Kindle edition. That makes my brain melt a little.
Necessary Fiction asked writers to share unedited, unpublished early work, and discuss how they have evolved. What a great idea. I’m into humiliation.
Here’s what I had to say about it — and if you think my writing sucks now, wait till you read this. It is much worse.
If you are not afraid when you write, then you are not writing anything important.
If you have not read Daniel Long’s writing, well, there might not be any hope for you. You can begin the attempt at redemption by reading his story, From the Plagiarist’s Notebooks: Markson Makes an Introduction, in the winter issue of JMWW.
Other people wrote stories and whatnot, including me: Eardrum Alphabet Orbit. This is one of the stories in my collection, which you can order here if you are a decent human and fine American.
It’s honor to be alongside Dan, a brilliant writer and friend. He’s going to blow shit up with word bombs. He already is.
IT IS LATER THAN YOU THINK
He will not eat an egg for breakfast because he worries about cholesterol but he lights a cigarette and brags about how good the coke was. Cops harass a woman playing the guitar on the subway platform and we climb into the cold night, avoiding a step with a mound of human shit, a bite taken by a boot.
He says he has been flossing all week because he has a dentist appointment in a few hours that he is probably going to cancel. I tell him that is like cleaning your apartment before the maid comes. He says he does that, too.
The sidewalks are crowded with Christmas trees and I breath them in. A long flatbed with tall slats holds hundreds of prone trees. Several men are lying on top, mattress of green needles, chopped trunks, hands behind their heads, staring at the sky. Clouds and city light hide the stars and it is silent for a moment and, here, if you miss that then you miss everything.

To be an abandoned house properly, you really must be decorated with stuffed animals. Otherwise, you’re not really trying.
The latest issue of The Fiddleback is neither a house nor is it decorated suchly. And it’s not trying. You can’t see the effort. It’s making it look easy. So! Much! Good! Shit!
Start with Not Big by xTx. Do not miss Dan Long’s interview with Donald Ray Pollock, the author of The Devil All the Time. Then read everything else.
I have a story in there, too, if you have any strength left: Quiet the Remedies. An honor for me to be anywhere near the names of such fine folk.
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