I am thrilled to finally announce that Lethe Press will publish Fear Itself, my collection of speculative-fiction stories, this summer. I am ecstatic that these ten horror, sci-fi and fantasy pieces will at last see print. Thank you kindly, Duke (aka Steve Berman), for taking on my tales, seizing the day and providing this cover art as a wonderful birthday present, just like with Town & Train ("I had a tradition to uphold," Berman told me.). Thank you, also, amazing Matthew Bright, for the layout.

It is now available for pre-order on the Lethe Press site. 

Getting solicited or asked to write some fiction

So a good friend asked about my following vague-posting about getting solicited.

Feeling kinda' chuffed - got solicited for the first time in years and didn't have to be walking down Somerset Ave. in our fine LGBTQ1+ village, wearing a tight black T and denim to get solicited. And it's the (marginally more) respectable kinda' solicit, involving writing fiction.

Here's what happened.

I am trying out an editing gig and decided to be clever. I joked that Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC) rules say that 33 per cent of the anthology I am looking at should be Canuck content.

The person I am working with replied, 'Well, you did not write me a story."

I answered that I may have missed the submissions call. Or did they ask for the stories from the authors? This is a common practice for editors in the business to ensure they curate a collection of quality work.

"The call for submissions was on the website for a year!" they exclaimed.

The Internet shook.

Then they flipped the script on my joke and asked for a 2,000-word piece of fiction on a particular prompt, with a real deadline and everything, kiddies.

Not long after, I even got the call from the person I am working with, likely chewing on a cigar in their glassy skyscraper office in another city.

"Just write it, in get met the story by next week!" they exclaimed.

It was like J. Jonah Jameson had assigned me work.

So, I had no idea my sense of humor would land me in this position, which is rather interesting and arguably enviable.

And that, fair readers, is as specific I can get until the ink dries on the contract.

Notes on Revising Second Horror Novel

Spoiler Alert: This post is all about revising my second horror novel, Monstrous. For those who may not want to know the juicy details, you might want to skip those. But for those who an inside peek at the writer's craft, including struggles and revelations, it might be interesting and useful.

Haven't returned to revising my second horror novel quite yet, but I have been gifted several epiphanies about the antagonist's burden, inhering a multimillion-dollar estate from his grandfather who has a deadly design on my protagonist (let's call him John Newman for now). What I have finally realized is that William McMammon 5 has inherited not only the unwanted responsibility of an empire, but also a diorama of the inn that ol' granddad was retrofitting for five years, leaving William to decide how to get back at Newman for wronging him when they were teens. 

So, William gets a diorama and unlimited financial resources to get back at John. But there's more than that, of course. William was in line for some sort of weird transformative experience in the woods that ol' granddad set up near one of his Pfizer factories, but William failed to make the grade because John and his other pals interrupted young Billy (William) messing around with another boy. So, John and his buddies accidentally stumbled upon this tunnel in the woods that more or less changed them, using autumnal magic. John became a werewolf. His good friend became a genius guitarist. Another encountered a phantom train. Still another friend learned they could see ghosts, and physically manipulate them as if ghosts were corporeal. 

In the book, William (and John et al.) will learn this at the opening of the codicil, or a change to a last will and testament, in a videotaped testimony from Robert McMammon 3. Robert feels that William failed to pass his test as a kid and sort of prove himself to his grandfather, but he also blames John Newman and the others for taking what was supposed to be rightfully William's. William has turned out to be a single, queer, partying, trust-fund kid, while John et al. have either gifts or curses, depending on how you look at it. Robert aims to rectify this perceived unfairness, and leaves it to William to do whatever he sees fit to John and the others.

The horror film, Porno, on Shudder: Premise, Players are Marvelous

Having revived the name of our longstanding horror-film-watching club, (Not The) Masters of Horror, my pal Miguel and I synced up some Shudder recently. Admittedly, I am a novice at Shudder, with a week into my membership, but we managed to pull off a DIY, synced viewing of the horror flick, Porno.

With a deceptively simple premise, Porno concerns the mostly teenaged (and repressed) religious employees toiling at a family-friendly cinema in a small American town who discover an ancient film reel and unwittingly release an old evil. The kids are portrayed with aplomb by largely unknown actors Robbie Tann, Katelyn Pearce, Evan Daves, Larry Saperstein, Jillian Mueller and Glen Stott. And they are randy Mormons, I believe. The religion is not made explicit, but the teens are forbidden to do drugs, alcohol, sex, porn and caffeine—ironically, all the mainstay coping mechanisms of the pandemic.

The presence of old evil allows for campy, nudity-filled temptation. The film itself allows for wide tribute to 1960’s and 1970’s witch horror fare. The setting calls to mind Ti West’s marvelous film, The Innkeepers. The cinematography, with longish takes, sweeps and pans, compels the viewer, proving that creativity can rise above budgetary limitations.

Director Keola Racela also gives us just enough to root for with some of the protagonists, namely supervisor Chaz (played by sassy and capable Jillian Mueller) and bestie, the clueless hunk Ricky (Glenn Stott) but the rest, while convincing and adept actors, are not entirely sympathetic as horn-dogs in heat. Robbie Tann as college-dropout projectionist Heavy Metal Jeff ("It's not heavy metal!" he repeatedly insists. "It's hardcore!") is particularly good, playing it as a sort of young, burnt-out, Edward Norton. And while these fresh faces may be unknown factors on the silver screen, this is a fun horror flick that is all about their visceral reaction, whether gore or nudity or incomprehensible art-house fare. Whether they are repulsed by what might be a demon, the gore or the sex is a matter of debate. 

Kudos must go to writers Matt Black and Laurence Vannicelli for positing that religious characters must confront the demonic. It's a terrific idea, opening up all sorts of venues to show what the characters are like through their actions instead of merely saying what they are like. It's the old adage of showing and not telling, which can sometimes apply to cinema as well as writing. Character beliefs colour their perceptions, but nobody is outright ridiculed. And, while they may all recoil or argue at the barest glimpse of sexiness, the characters are already predisposed to believe in absolute good and absolute evil, so they don't require much processing time.

I admire the idea, really.

(Editor's Note: Bit of spoiler-age in this para.)

The last act sort of falls down on itself, with a far-too simplistic resolution regarding the supernatural adversary, and a neat, wrapped-up-in-a-bow finale. There is a confusing trip through what appears to be a dimensional rift. Also, the portrayal of the demon is inconsistent and reminds one of the uneven portrayal of the S.T.D. monster in It Follows (a masterpiece, albeit flawed, which I have blogged already about here. But I digress). What is it with uneven portrayals of sex monsters, directors? But seriously—if not for the last act, this film would get five stars. As it stands, the flick lands at a solid three-point-eight out of five or seven-point-six out of ten, depending on your predilection for fractions.

(Ed. Note: Spoiler-age ends, here.)

Still, despite this unevenness and weak third act, the players themselves are a joy to watch. Their faces (and bodies) squirm; this is truly a low-rent film about facial reactions and young temptation. Think Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings "hobbitses" without the budget, mise-en-scene, or score. But the actors are, in the end (and beginning and middle, for that matter), simply marvelous. I laughed and cringed a lot. I am extremely curious what novice film director Keola Racela does next and where I will see these fun, capable actors.

The Really Repressed Mormon Scooby Gang: Larry Saperstein (Todd), Evan  Davies (Abe), Jillian Mueller (Chaz), Robbie Tann (Heavy Metal Jeff), and Glenn Stott (Ricky).

The Golden Age of Horror Comics - Part 1 is brilliant

This new online documentary The Golden Age of Horror Comics - Part 1 and Part 2, from In Praise of Shadows, is utterly brilliant. Goes into the deep weeds about the company, the early 1950's pulp-horror comic zeitgeist, and the Comics Code Authority. Much artwork and archival footage, too. A comic-book historian's documentary. There's a fully developed thesis here with a solid line-through, right up to about 1992. Voice-over is a little passive at times. There is an abrupt ending, but this seems inevitable, given the weight of comics history.
It does for early-to-mid-1950's horror comics what Ron Mann's 1988 "Comic Book Confidential" did for underground comics. Amazing.

You can watch The Golden Age of Horror Comics - Part 1 on Youtube.

Arc Poetry Magazine Review of Kyeren Regehr’s Cult Life

In other news, I reviewed Kyeren Regehr’s Cult Life  for Arc: Canada's Poetry Magazine. It is a very rich collection with an overarching theme, close friend to a novella, and certainly prose poetry.

You can read my complete review here, on Arc's website.

Horror, Gnosticism and Queer Love: A review of Adam McOmber's Jesus and John

Just in time for the holidays, I wrote a rather cogent Plenitude Magazine review of Adam McOmber's Jesus and John, from Lethe Press, a  horror novel riffing on Gnosticism, their possible love affair, and scads of cosmic horror.

Not to go all Jerry Garcia about this interesting religious horror novel (yes, you read that correctly), but the book's a trip, and reviewing it required looking into Gnosticism, which I was happy to learn about finally.

You can read the review here.