Sex Workers of the Literary World Unite!

 As I've mentioned on this blog in the past, I subscribe to an online group called The Horror Tree that sends out emails alerting writers to potential anthology, periodical and novel publishing opportunities. Every so often there's one that grabs my attention not necessarily because I want to send the publisher my work but because something in the description draws me in. This time, the anthology in question is called "Beast Volume 1."

It is yet another furry horror collection, a sub-genre whose existence I find endlessly fascinating and sometimes downright terrifying. I'm still trying to fully wrap my brain around the concept as well as the sub-culture whose existence doesn't baffle as much as the fact that there have now been more than one furry horror anthology and apparently more on the horizon.

However, this time around at least, it isn't the reality of furries that has drawn my attention. It's the sentence below:

BIPOC Authors, Queer Authors, Disabled Authors, Authors who are currently or former Sex Workers are strongly encouraged to submit.

Forgive my Midwestern ignorance, but  when exactly did Sex Workers fall under the category of marginalized minority? I'm not saying the perspectives of Sex Workers both former and current aren't valid or even something that needs to be seen. On the contrary, there is a wealth of experience and outlook there that is a potential literary goldmine. I'm also no prude when it comes to, ummm, that thing that...men and woman do when it's dark and never speak of once all the sinning is over in 30 seconds. 

So, as someone who has been on the other side of the editorial wall accepting submissions and desperately hoping for something unique and different, I get wanting fresh perspectives. I even commend whoever thought of including Sex Workers as a valid fiction-writing group. What I don't get, however, is including them in a long sentence that mentions marginalized people who have faced discrimination. Much like the logical assertion that there is no such thing as a "Blue Life" because it's a career, can the same not be said for Sex Workers? Yes, many of them are not working willingly or even because they always wanted to work in the skin trade, but still...it's not a race or a gender or sexual preference.

If we muddle the definitions of things to suit our own points of view, we risk rendering the very real issues in society meaningless. 

That said, I look forward to seeing Sex Workers do more!

(That really didn't come out right, did it?)

BAD REVIEW

 

Nothing peps me up more than discovering a negative review of my work. It's even better when it somehow slipped under my RADAR for five years, as was the case with a review on Amazon from a guy in India whose screen name is "Perceptive Reader." Clearly a humble, self-aware individual, Mr. Reader found the majority of the stories in the third book of the "Use Enough Gun" anthology beneath his contempt, at least judging by the way he dismissed them with such in-depth analysis as "Crap," "Meh" and the ever-reliable, "Rubbish."

If you've ever met one of those people who disdain every movie they see by claiming there wasn't enough character development, you've probably also suspected that they didn't really know what that phrase meant. Similarly, whenever someone uses buzzwords such as, "Overwritten," or "longish," one wonders if the reviewer is more in love with their ability to sound knowledgeable and too hip for the room. It's difficult to say. We weren't all taught to give reasons for our opinions, nor were we all taught to eschew buzzwords when we do. So, perhaps there's little point in trying to understand the mindset of a man whose reaction to 80% of an anthology was so hostile.

I defy anyone to read the opening paragraph of Perceptive's review and not either chuckle or shake their head. Not to review the review, but come on! Phrases such as, " ...nod sagely while procrastinating about increasing paranoia among the hoi-polloi, in these days of connectivity and terrorism" are clearly meant to be taken seriously but is that even possible? It isn't for me but your mileage may vary.

My short story "Arrival" happens to be one of my favorite stories I've ever written. It is the sequel to "Emergence," which appeared in "Monster Hunter Legends Both Barrels" also published by Emby Press. That doesn't mean I expect everyone else to love it. It's a rather specific type of story, one that combines elements of classic comic books, horror and religious fanaticism. There's no reason to assume Mr. P. Reader would find that even remotely fascinating. I would love to know why he considered it crap, however, as I'll bet many of the other authors whose works were dismissed in like fashion would also.

Alas, there are no answers to be found in this case. P.R. either didn't feel the need to elaborate or that his simplistic reactions spoke volumes. I will close by adding this one nugget of hoped-for wisdom:

Reviews such as these help no one. They serve no one. They say nothing except "Lookit me being all edgy and stuff." No writer learns from the experience in a way that either helps them grow and improve and, in fact, some probably shrink away from the writing for publication world, discouraged and convinced that their Imposter Syndrome was the real thing. And while I know this is a tough field and that people who can't take harsh criticism need not apply, I also feel strongly that irresponsible reviews such as the one in this post are detrimental and destructive to the overall discourse.

So in spite of myself, I will review P. Reader's review with my own one-word choice: Idiotic.

Latest anthology Update

The paperback copy of "After the Kool-air is Gone" is now available for ordering and with it comes a five-star reader review. While the review doesn't mention my short story, "The Gipper Memorandum," specifically, the reviewer had kind praise for all of the stories in the collection.

You can obtain that hard copy by clocking here.

"After the Kool-Aid is Gone" Kindle Edition Available

 

With the Kindle release of the anthology pictured to the left that features my short story, "The Gipper Memorandum" and a host of other timely tales comes also the fact that it is being released during Domestic Violence Awareness month. Due to this and the fact that the publisher is a domestic violence survivor, a portion of the sale of each copy will go to the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

Order your copy now for only $2.99 by clicking here.

I'll return to update you on the paper copy once it's available for you old school types like me.

An Excerpt from "The Coming and Going of Rectus: An Infinity's Core Side-Trip"

 In 2009, my first novel "Dreamers at Infinity's Core" was released to mild acclaim and even milder sales. The sequel was written and ready to go within months. Titled "Echoes of Infinity's Core," it was vastly superior in every way and advanced the concept into new and exciting ways and directions.

Nobody read it.

Nobody even saw it because it was never published. Through a series of mishaps and external horrors, the publishing venture that published my first novel fell through. That left a finished sequel and a half-finished third and probably final installment languishing in literary limbo for years. 

In the meantime, I returned to the "Infinity's Core" universe twice with very short stories designed to expand upon what was already a rather expansive concept. Neither of those stories featured the snappy dialogue and quick scene jumps of the novels, skewing instead in a more esoteric direction. Someday I hope to write a collection of Core-related tales. but not before the story of Ned, Ernie and the Narrator has been told.

A few years ago, I started wondering if I could even write in that style anymore. I feared I could not, an alarming thought considering how badly I wanted to finish book three. Could I jump back into that sardonic, self-referential type of writing after having changed my style to one more introspective? There was only one way to find out.

That was the birth of the short story mentioned in this blog's title. Considering how much time passes between each novel, I knew there had to be things happening to my characters while they waited for the next Big Thing. What better than a smaller-scale version of the first novel, stripped down to two rooms in one house and my three main protagonists dealing with potential Armageddon and discomforting full front male nudity?

Yeah. Naked Ernie convinced me I could still do it. Thanks, Ernie, you poor beleaguered, magnificently tragic bastard.

So without further ado and no more context than that, here is the excerpt:

“LET US ENTER YOU.”

“Not even in a prison shower.”

“WE DON’T WISH TO IMPRISON YOU.”

“Flew right over their zipper,” Ernie says with a chuckle.

I decide now is the time to go for broke and say, “Rectus? Why did you steal Ernie’s shiny new expensive pants?”

“WE REQUIRE A CONDUIT THROUGH WHICH TO—“

“Enter our world and achieve life,” Ernie and I finish.

“Conduit,” Core-spawn loves that word.  It was how some of them viewed Chad when they attempted to manifest into the physical universe.  Now these also-rans are applying it to clothing?  What’s next?  Condoms?

“Gimme my fucking pants, you little assholes!”

Clearly Ernie has lost patience with this situation.  I nod at him and he breaks into a trot, jumping onto the arm of my couch and into the air with a fluidity I’d have never expected from him.  As the pants try to scamper away from his sudden assault, I break into a less graceful trot and manage to grab hold of one pant leg.

If you’re thinking that’s all it takes to resolve this, you really need to go read the book!

The pants twist out of my grasp as if there’s oil on my palms, floating through the air like a kite as Ernie’s jump into the air affords him the opportunity to wrap his arms around his clothing and land hard on his knees.  I glance over in time to see not only a full moon but the cave entrance.

“GROSS!”

“Puke later, help now!” Ernie struggles on the floor with the writhing Rectus, clearly seconds away from losing the fight.

“Wait,” I say. “Hold on for a few more seconds.”

“No problem! Do you need to use the bathroom or anything while I’m doing that?”

Nobody likes a smartass and Ernie seems to have become the poster boy for sarcasm.  I think I preferred him when he was slower-witted; I’m still not sure how he changed but perhaps it has something to do with the Narrator’s arrival.  Speaking of whom, why should we have to suffer without our third wheel?

As if reading my mind, Ernie says, “Don’t call him! I’m half naked!”

Too late.  I’m already sending an emergency text to my alternate reality doppelganger.  What, you don’t have one?  I thought everybody did.

He arrives within minutes, having apparently already been on the way over.  Since he doesn’t belong in our world, a place he has dubbed rather arrogantly as “Earth-Redux,” he never likes to remain in one place for very long.  He spends a lot of his time trying to figure out why he’s here and whether or not he wants to go back to a world he makes sound like a chaotic shithole.  When he isn’t doing that, he takes advantage of the standing invitation to crash at my place.  Little did he know what to expect when entering the house.

“Holy full frontal, Batman!” he says.

“Godammit,” Ernie says.

“I tried to text you,” I say.

The Narrator, who looks a lot like me except a bit heavier and with less hair on his head, tries to address me without looking at me.  “I heard it go off but I figured I could check it when I…why is Ernie wrestling with those shiny pants? Is this the Earth-Redux version of Twister?”

I explain what’s been happening in as succinct a manner as possible.  In truth, the Narrator is far better at self-editing than I am.  The novel we wrote together was proof of that.  He listens stoically, nodding once or twice, before responding:

“This might have rated an actual phone call, guys.”

The Cover of my Next Anthology Appearance Finally Unveiled!!!

 

Here is the final cover for "After the Kool-Aid is Gone," the latest anthology to feature one of my short stories and, I assume, short stories by a bunch of other people. Okay, no assumption is necessary. I've met then online. They exist and they're extremely talented. But enough about them. My story is the one that features the true reason behind the Reagan assassination attempt and the inhuman creature that controls our destinies.

I love the retro political cartoon look, serving as a not-so-subtle reminder that we have been here before and will be again.

Soon to be released, "ATKIG" as the hipsters are calling it, is another timely anthology that really shows how well art and technology can work together, especially when the world is rapidly descending into the cosmic toilet.

More on this anthology once it's available for preorder~