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Showing posts from April, 2011

Shorts Weather

As I write this, it's a beautiful Saturday morning in Maine, the temperature climbing, the sun shining bright. I should be raking my yard, or spreading mulch, or whatever it is normal, decent folk do instead of killing imaginary people messily on the page.

Instead, I've been killing imaginary people messily on the page.

See, a while back, Nigel Bird and Chris Rhatigan cooked up an anthology idea. They wanted pulp tales inspired by tracks from the Pulp Fiction soundtrack. And they invited me to contribute one. Of course I said sure. The track I was assigned was "Royale with Cheese." So I popped onto iTunes and gave it a listen. (What? Mr. Self-Styled Pulp Writer doesn't own a copy of the Pulp Fiction soundtrack? As a matter of fact, he does. It just doesn't have tracks per se, on account of it's a store-bought cassette.)
Anyways, today I put the finishing touches on my contribution to the PULP INK anthology: "A Night at the Royale." Old-sc…

Two Quick Bits of Business

Stuffed though I am with Easter ham (happy nondenominational whatever to all of y'all, by the by), I wanted to pop in for two quick announcements.

Firstly, I've just received word from ├╝ber-editor David Cranmer that my short story "The Man in the Alligator Shoes" will be appearing at Beat to a Pulp this coming June! Beat to a Pulp's one of the best fiction sites going, and I'm always delighted to grace its hallowed (web)pages.

Secondly, I've finally succumbed to the gray-matter-noshing virtual zombie plague that is Facebook. Yes, just now. Feel free to justify my existence by friending me or whatever it is the kids (and my grandmother, and everybody else on the planet who isn't me) say these days.