Now available in e-book and paperback


In this surreal road novel, Anthony searches for the father he’s never met: Andy Kaufman, the legendary song-and-dance man from the ’70s. There’s a few problems here, of course. A) Andy Kaufman died in 1984, and B) Thanks to a recent cancer diagnosis, Anthony doesn’t have much longer to live, either. However, new evidence has come to light that questions whether or not Kaufman is actually dead. Could he be in hiding, after all these years? Anthony is determined to discover the truth before his own clock runs out. During his travels, he will encounter shameless medicine men, grifters, Walmart shoppers, the ghosts of Elvis and Warhol, and the Devil himself.

Sunday, October 9, 2016


Affordable Care Act
For release to new sources.
MARCH 2016
T. Fox Dunham

I wrote this piece in support of the Affordable Care Act for the Joe Sestak campaign for Pennsylvania, and it was published by a major newspaper in the state. Joe didn't make it, but the words are true. 

The Affordable Care Act saves lives. It requires work, but to repeal it would be a death sentence for millions of Americans including myself. Because of the ACA, the poor and sick no longer need live in fear. 

The #ACA was a humanitarian breakthrough in equal healthcare. It removed restrictions that inflicted suffering and financial hardship on sick and poor families. The act ended discrimination against Americans with pre-existing conditions, which had become a death sentence. You can no longer exceed a lifetime annual coverage amount, which meant that once your healthcare cost x-amount, they could legally just leave you to die. The ACA keeps #Medicare solvent through 2030. When the act became law, the cost of healthcare dropped to its lowest rates in half a century. In 2014, the number of uninsured adults dropped for the first time. Fewer adults reported difficulties paying medical bills or had medical debt, or delayed medical care because of costs.

At 16, doctors diagnosed me with Lyme Disease. Two years later, surgeons removed a malignant tumor from below my ear, initiating a life-long battle with cancer. I need low medical costs to survive. I support Admiral Joe Sestak for Senate because he fights to protect the ACA, to protect me and my family. Joe will prevent the repeal of the Affordable Care Act. He got into this fight because of his daughter, Alex. Like Alex, I was given a small percent chance to live if I underwent intense chemotherapy and radiation that would leave me struggling with medical issues and disability for the rest of my life. In September, the cancer grew back in my neck. Surgeons cut it out. Now, my wife and I wait. We worry over healthcare. Without the ACA, debt would destroy our future, and I would become a second-class citizen. We wouldn’t be able to afford even basic medications.

Allow me to explain our medical system in the west. Healthcare comes down to three components: diagnosis, surgery and medication. Prescriptions are the foundation of treatment. Recently, I fought with my insurance company to get a medicine that would greatly ease my symptoms thus improving the quality of my life. After several attempts and switching brands, wasting my and my doctor’s time, we settled for an inferior version. If I had better healthcare, my symptoms would be treated, and I would be a healthier member of society, thus making the country stronger. Joe’s plan would permit Medicare to bargain with the drug companies, lowering prices, saving Medicare 123$ billion by 2023.  He would lower the prohibitive costs of drugs for families by allowing people to import drugs from Canada, a practice that has already saved $400 per person in states that have had to wisdom not to punish their citizens with import restrictions. And finally, he would end a criminal practice by drug manufacturers. I would have been able to get those drugs if a generic brand was manufactured; however, drug companies are paying their competitors to hold off on producing generics. This is called ‘pay for delay’, costing consumers and taxpayers 3.5$ billion every year. CEOs like Frank Baldino of Cephalon are far more interested in patent-protection” instead of “patient protection. He generated 4 billion dollars in sales by paying off other competitors to keep generic forms of the sleep aid Provigil off the market. He, like most Big Pharma, profit from negligence and pain. It can’t continue. We need a change.

I don’t trust Pat Toomey with my family’s healthcare. Toomey voted in December for a plan to phase out the Medicaid expansion for low-income Americans. This would undercut healthcare for 430,000 vulnerable Americans: working families, the elderly, pregnant woman who are single-moms, low-income children as well as veterans. Toomey’s vote would have removed those Americans from protections against pre-existing condition discrimination and “lifetime limits” on cost of care. He even shut down the government to kill the ACA. As an American fighting cancer for the rest of my life, I cannot trust this man with my future and health. If he had been successful, I couldn’t have paid for the lifesaving surgery I needed in September, thus widowing my wife before we saw our first anniversary. 

Obamacare is not perfect, but it’s the first viable solution presented in decades of debate and stalemate. The sick and poor don’t need to suffer. We are better than this. As a wealthy country, we have the chance to create a compassionate and great society. The ACA isn’t perfect. But less people die. Less people suffer. And the quality of life for poor families has improved. With study and adjustment made by the right people in office, it can work. We, the sick, no need longer be terrified of the future.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Membership's Responsible For Making The Horror Writers Association Better

The Real Strength is in the Membership
My thoughts on the conflict with the Horror Writers Association
I have grown more and more disturbed over the recent turmoil in the author’s organization, The Horror Writer’s Association. I have been an active member for a few years now. Joining it, meeting its obligations as a professional author, was a dream. Last night, I seriously considered washing my hands of the entire group. Many allegations have been raised—and I am sorry to anyone who was hurt. If I had known, I would have helped. We blame our leadership. We raise grievances that aren’t heard. I have been dissatisfied over time that they failed to protect us or provide us with the support we required. But then I realized, the blame is not with our leaders. They are just the lightning rods. The real issue—the real power is with us, the core membership. We have looked too often to the top when we are also the problem. 

Writing is an insecure business, especially when the competition is so numerous and the substantial markets dwindle. We all want to succeed in that great notion of both accolade and recompense. But dreams can also make us selfish, especially the fear of not having them fulfilled. Every author—every artist suffers and nurtures the secret insecurity that they have no real talent, and this makes us desperate. We struggle, compete and fight for limited venue, and this inherently sabotages the hope of union, of a collective force of artists helping one another. Then we cut corners. We sacrifice too much. We empower bad publishers, leaders, chimeras, as I called them in Atlanta, when they tap into this insecurity. How many of us in that need for validation have compromised our professional ethics even just a little, accepting terms and behavior in the hopes of putting a crack in that wall that holds us back from our dream? This infects the Association, rotting it out from the core. Yes, our trust was misplaced, and some of our influential members have let us down; however, we allow too much unprofessionalism because of it. Now the castle is falling.

My point. Blame isn’t an arrow or a finger pointing. It’s a circle. The HWA must become a guiding light to its members, providing support, facilitating communication. But we as its members must also rise above temptation and act like professionals, creating better standards to form a collective bargaining force. Look to yourselves to create something better in your own actions. And to those who have always been professional, I salute you, but don’t be too hard on others. They have not had the chances and luck you have had. Help them. We need to help each other more.
T. Fox Dunham

Tuesday, April 5, 2016


“Part medical horror, part supernatural suspense, MERCY is a hard-hitting fever dream of a novel. I enjoyed the hell out of it!” 
~ Tim Waggoner, author of The Way of All Flesh and Eat The Night 

“Pain and poetry flow in equal measure through these pages. Dunham's prose strikes deep and hits all the right notes. MERCY is unforgettably vivid.”
~ David Dunwoody, author of Hell Walks and The 3 Egos 

William Saint is dying of cancer. On most days death seems like a humane alternative to the treatment. Stricken with fever, William is rushed to Mercy—notorious as a place to send the sickest of the poor and uninsured to be forgotten—and finds the hospital in even worse condition than his previous visit. The grounds are unkempt, the foundation is cracking, and like the wild mushrooms sprouting from fissures of decay around it, something is growing inside the hospital. Something dark. It’s feeding on the sickness and sustaining itself on the staff, changing them. And now it wants Willie.
In Dunham’s prose and imaginative sequences, engaged readers will no doubt frequently find a mirror for their own hopes, fears and searching. His horrific ordeal is channeled into a beautiful gift he shares freely in MERCY—if only after he’s given you a taste of the terror required to properly appreciate it.
~ Shawn Macomber at Fangoria Magazine
Make sure to give it a LIKE!

In 2013, I traveled down to New Orleans to attend my first World Horror Convention as a member of the Horror Writers Association. I joined Jay Wilburn as my partner at the Hazardous Press table. On the left of us was Blood Bound Books. On the right, PostMortem Press. Eric and Marc were two of my targets for that event, the reason I had come: to find a solid publisher for my next major work, a publisher who had foundation, not one of the new shooting star firms who burn fast, bright and then sizzled out. I had already sold an story to Blood Bound Books which was similar to my novel concept, so I spent the next day reaching out to them. Finally, it was Marc who pitched my idea to me, and I played it cool, containing my excitement. 

Never let them know how much you want it. 

I ran home and wrote the novel. It took me 14 days, and I confess I wrote it too fast without enough editing. Marc was patient, and after a year of waiting, he sent it back with some core edits. I was still learning how to write long fiction then, working on my book for Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing-- Destroying the Tangible Illusion of Reality or Searching for Andy Kaufman. Marc took his time and helped me create a powerful and solid horror novel, based on my experience with a rare cancer and painful treatment that followed. 

Reading the book now, I realize: 
                       I AM ANGRY. 
                 I AM VIOLATED

This book is about my death. I hope if I write enough books about my death like Andy and Mercy it will satisfy the debt, though Tony Rivera at Grey Matter Press has named me DEATH as part of the Dark Five. We'll be reading on Friday April 8th at 6.45PM at the KGB Bar in NYC. 

This is just one of the many events I'll be reading at in the next 6 months. 

It's not enough to write fantastic work if no one knows it exists. You have to get out there and fight, spending energy, blood and time. Once you've cast the book out onto the sea, you need to give it everything and never give up. Sometimes you must reach one reader at a time until finally the pod you've grown germinates in the chest of your audience. Until then, you are one brilliant and fulgent star in a sky of spilled salt on a black canvas. It is your voice, your appearance, eye contact that makes your book unique. Doing events that reaches your audience is vital.

Click below to see the amazing trailer.

That's the video trailer for the reading on Friday, April 8th in NYC. We will be following it up in Philadelphia. The Dark Five will rise. I'm hosting with What Are You Afraid Of? #Horror & #Paranormal #Podcast will be hosting and featuring a special episode based on the reading. John Foster will be reading from his new book, Mister White, now out from Grey Matter Press. I'll also be reading from The Last Elf and other dark stories from anthologies in which I've been included from Grey Matter Press. This is just the first of many. The Dark Five cometh: John Foster, Shawn Macomber, J. Daniel Stone, Daniel Braum. Organized by Anthony Rivera and Sharon Lawson from Grey Matter Press.


I will be featured in Dread, a reader-voted anthology of the best of Grey Matter Press, with some of the greatest horror authors currently writing featured within its covers. I was honored by this and thank all my readers. I came up with the subtitle: A Head Full of Bad Dreams.


This photo was taken from my reading at the Society Hill Playhouse, Final Curtain for Noir at the Bar. I read from the Street Martyr, my first novel. The book has slept for a year, but after my reading, it jumped in sales. The movie script is done, and now Throughline Films is attaching a director. I just need to hold on, have some faith. It has been a thrill having a movie made from my first book--and certainly a great surprise. Now, I must be patient as they create a great project. Now that MERCY is published, I am moving back to writing crime thrillers set in Philadelphia. I have been studying the history of crime in Philly, and I've been busy writing potential crime series and another novel, American Monarch. More about that in the future. First, I must swim in the darkness and drown on the oil.


So we're building an audience for MERCY. Many reviewers have copies, and in the first few days of release, it's started to build more reviews--a few on Amazon and Goodreads. We have others coming, including some from major magazines. This is an important story. It is my story, and I'm tweeting it, using relevant hashtags to get it to the right audience. I will sing it until it is heard. Will it entertain or upset? There is a difference. A good story upsets but must never disturb. It still must entertain, even if it is not telling all the truth. This has been a difficult distinction for me.

How do we do we make a sell well? I believe the book is good. So how do we up our numbers? Is it just luck, or can you find a current in the great ocean of indie publishing?

The book is my darkness. The burned me, torture me, cut pieces off my body. Doctors are still doing it. I just had a chunk of my neck cut out in September. Doctors are the enemy, and I've never met a loyal physician. If it gets bad for them, they will cut you loose, even if you are in agony. Doctors sacrifice nothing to protect you, and you end up in debt for the rest of your lives when most of the time they're using guess work to cure you.

In my adolescence, I was diagnosed with a rare form of lymphoma. This was after battling for a year with Lyme Disease that had been misdiagnosed for two years, thus leaving it to dominate my body.  When finally, it had caused severe damage to my brain, heart and nervous system, the unimpeachable college of physicians over-treated it with intravenous antibiotics, driving pick-lines into my arm and a Hickman into my chest. The Hickman nearly killed me when it infected two gram-negative infections into my blood. They never finished treating the Lyme Disease. After trying a blood toxic anti-seizure agent, a golf-ball grew under my ear. After another three months of misdiagnosis, they determined I had suffered a rare kind of blood cancer--Composite Lymphoma. It was two kinds of lymphoma--Hodgkins & Large Cell. Large Cell always kills. And no one had ever survived this complex blood cancer before. My oncologist warned me that the treatment would leave me crippled and in terrible pain if I did miraculously survive. Still, I decided to fight--not for me, but for those around me who needed me to fight. And I would suffer, more so in the soul than body. So many others suffering a similar cancer I would come to love, as my nature dictates They died, just vanished from this world sans divine justification. I suffered intense chemo therapy and 5 months of daily radiation up and down my upper body. They tortured me, stabbed my spine and bone marrow, burned and seared me. It was all medicine, all to get better. I feature all of this in the book. The suffering Willie undergoes was taken directly from what I felt.

I internalized what they did to me to endure it in hopes that one day I might have a life, though they
told me the chances of my survival were minimal. I fought--well endured it--in hopes that I would one day meet someone like Allison and we would have children. That day has finally come, and I am thankful that I suffered so much. Still, it possessed me with many demons. 

Mercy is my attempt to purge what I suffered, my PTSD. I took the darkness and manifested it in monsters. The scariest horror in our lives comes not from zombies or vampires. It comes from true life, which is why we turn to fictional legends. One cell of lymphoma can devour a century of Cthulhu stories, and this has been the source of my horror.

MERCY is the story of a dying man's journey. Willie can't let go, yet he's brought to a hospital that is transforming into a great spore, ready to spread its demonic infection to the world. Willie is haunted by his failure in love, a love that could never happen. He lives in the fantasy of it and ignores the real love that has come to him. He is still quite selfish even though he is dying. Dying makes us more selfish. While he struggles with real and fictional delusions of love, he must endure a menagerie of creatures who feed upon his illness and process him like lamb into veal, preparing his soul to be devoured by an ancient dark god who is gaining entrance to Earth. 

If it comes through the door, all souls are on the menu.

The book is available from Blood Bound Books. My favorite reviewer so far has said the following:

Mercy is wonderful/horrible and beautiful/sick. Its fevered exaggerations alongside shouted sanity that will make you lose yourself in the slipstream of vivid descriptions and noxious horror, then force you to plummet to earth when the moments of truth rip the beauty away to see the ugly underneath. It feels like a much longer read than it actually is (not that that’s a bad thing in this case), and I have very little to critique about it...

From a **** (4 STAR) REVIEW of MERCY
Read the book. Know 'our' pain, what waits for you. Death waits for us all--and you will suffer. However, there is hope. 


 (My wife Allison.)

(She is my hope.)

Know love from the need of love. Know when life loses its value and living only perverts it. This is my truth told in metaphor. 
“Life was an addiction, and he felt desperate for every second. But would it mean anything?”
T. Fox Dunham, Mercy

And leave your thoughts as a review. We authors need this to survive.


I have several events coming up, thus I would like to invite you. And check out the podcast. We have over 12,000 listeners and going strong.


THE DARK ONES RISE II (Philadelphia)

Sunday, 17th April 2016  - 
12PM - 2:30PM

Vinyl Altar 
732 S. 4th Street, Philadelphia PA 19147

Close out Choosing Death Fest weekend in Philadelphia with a afternoon of dark fiction readings and interrogations hosted by Shawn Macomber.

Guests include...

*John Foster, author of the fantastic new grisly thriller, MR. WHITE, contributor to SAVAGE BEASTS

*Sean Fraiser, Decibel scribe, Despumation 2 contributor, and screenwriter of the forthcoming Cloud Burst feature length film HIPSTER MASSACRE

* T. Fox Dunham, author of MERCY -- a tremendous surreal supernatural hospital thriller based on his extensive treatment for a rare form of lymphoma -- and THE STREET MARTYR (soon to be a major motion picture), contributor to SAVAGE BEASTS

*Adam Cesare, author of such bizarre and beguiling novels as ZERO LIVES REMAINING and TRIBESMEN

*Dutch Pearce, Decibel scribe, Despumation 2 contributor, and death metal frontman

*Scott Cole, rising bizarro standout and author of SUPERGHOST

*Shawn Macomber, Decibel/Fangoria/Shock Till You Drop mainstay, contributor to SAVAGE BEASTS, DESPUMATION 2, SHROUD

Saturday, December 19, 2015

The Wizard of Walmart

The Wizard of Walmart - From Destroying the Tangible Illusion of Reality or Searching for Andy Kaufman

Saturday, December 5, 2015

The Itch is the Bitch

I’m no longer using the word ‘D’ word for death. It’s too simple a word and ignores so much. In my new book Destroying the Tangible Illusion of Reality or Searching for Andy Kaufman, I call it, Taking a Bus to Jupiter, based on a one scene play near the end of the book and the life of my protagonist, Anthony. 

Anthony: I’m seeing blood in my eyes. Then sunlight. The sunlight is drying the blood and turning it white. My blood is white. I see a bus. There’s a bus to Jupiter, and I don’t want to miss it. (Anthony reaches out to the bus. An actress wearing a mini-model of the Manhattan skyline moves on stage to him, reaches out to him. When he reaches for her back to steady himself, she pulls away.)

 --From Destroying the Tangible Illusion of Reality or Searching for Andy Kaufman

How do I show death? How do I share my experience with the reader, the way that dying disassembled me. Mine was not a slow demise. I melted—down to 50 pounds of body weight, burned from CHEMO and radiation therapy and still fighting the lymphoma while being treated by the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania in Philly. I clung to life with tenuous tether. I don’t know why I held on. It just felt like what I should do.

“The itch is a bitch.”
That’s the battle-cry at the end of the book. Why do we struggle to hold on to every second of life? I’ve got this itch to live that needs to be scratched. I live for life, hungry for it, needing more and more, addicted and under its power. I longed to turn the page. Life is a saga of stories, and I yearned to see what was going to happen next. I was 18 and eager to see my life written out on back of the spirit of the sky and land, to define my vacant name, to see what I’d become.

Then, I slipped between worlds. A fog clouded my head. I no longer felt. Dying became as easy as living, and merely gravity, momentum kept me on either side of the spectrum. I remember feeling hollowed out like my soul had gone on a head of me, waiting for my body to finally expire. Dying is a process, a tailspin. That final connection was never made. My body never stopped. My heart beat kept beating.

The scene from the play symbolizes that feeling of reality disintegrating. It represents the hazy atmosphere and perspective. Snow fell in my eyes. It took me years to come back from it, to feel grounded in the living realm, and at times I still slip, can’t figure out what’s real, what has substance and what is that misty dream. I’m terrified I’m going to wake up to it, to find I’m still on that table being burned with radiation in one final dream before I wake—then wake from life.

The play is in the book. It’s the play that answers all the questions, satisfies the mysteries. It’s the revelation, the key. The paperback is out and will be in bookstores.

The second anthology in the Stargate Far Horizon’s anthology, Points of Origin, is available. I was thrilled to have a story in this collection, Hermiod’s Last Mission. Science fiction is the modern mythology, and I have a love of Stargate Atlantis. It’s always been a dream to write for the series, to add a chapter to the great saga enjoyed by millions of international fans. I dared to write about the last chapter of the fan-favorite race, the Asgard. Little is known about their final days. The last episode of SG-1 showed their collective suicide after summoning the humans to their new home world—and final resting place—to share the sum of their knowledge and technology. How did they come to that decision after years of resistance when they treated humans like children how couldn’t be trusted? That’s my story. Hermiod, posted with the Atlantis team, is commanded by Thor to observe human nature and present his opinion to the Asgard High Council.

This anthology is out from Fandemonium Books. It required approval from MGM, thus it is considered canon. It is a personal achievement to add to the story.

Monday, November 30, 2015

Max Won't Let My Kevorkian Novella Die

So my novel, Destroying the Tangible Illusion of Reality or Searching for Andy Kaufman, has been released from Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing. I didn’t realize this at the time, but Max Booth III is using my work to destroy reality. If all goes well, any foundation the human race has in its understanding of the world and universe will be entirely dissolved by Yule. I attack complacency. I offend arrogance. I animate stasis.

This is my familiar battle—the old war song I keep humming.
I shout my story to the sun; It’s all there is left to do. I can’t bring my lost ones back to this world, nor can I bring back myself; however, I can keep laying down prose like planting thorn bushes. No one may read this. Everyone might. I cast it into your oceans like a message in a bottle. I have no vanity. Pain destroyed my ego.

 --Excerpt from Doctor Kevorkian Goes to Heaven by T. Fox Dunham

Whims birth most of my stories. Ideas hit my head like thrown stones. I see something that appeals to my quirky and demented vision, and it starts a chain of plot, ideas, concepts. I had heard Doctor Kevorkian was an avowed atheist. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see what would happen if he landed in Heaven? And thus, a new novella ripped out of the mental womb. I wrote it for PMMP’s One Night Stands, employing an eccentric humor that I learned from Mark Twain and Kurt Vonnegut. Darkness was the secret to their hilarity. To all their humor there was a frightening undertone. Both were horror authors writing in a comedy club. I sought to contribute to this style. I selected Doctor Kevorkian and figures from his life as the protagonists, and I wrote my own story in a third narrative: my battle with cancer at 18, a battle I wasn’t supposed to survive. 

Doctor Jack Kevorkian gives up on death with dignity, hangs up his hanging bottles and lets the gas out of his lethal gas. Instead, just before he dies, he decides to obviate the need for mercy killing by curing the human race of the common death. He composes an immorality concerto then promptly dies and arrives in heaven, much to his annoyance. 
The idea for an immortality engine had circulated his thoughts since his youth. The nothing first smacked him like a low-flying blind buzzard while he served as an Army medical officer during the Korean Police Action. (Not a war.) He’d grown furious watching Korean children die when blood supplies ran out and watching the devastation of the Korean county, and after suffering constant nightmares of the Armenian massacres that drove his family from their country, he determined that there must be a way to end humanity’s addiction with dropping bombs from jets and shooting holes in healthy bodies with slugs of lead propelled to lethal speeds by rapidly expanding gas. He knew the sedative effect music held over him, especially the classic pieces of his god, Bach, and he determined that as a doctor it was his duty to humanity to achieve a piece of music that would fill human hearts with such joy that would come together and no longer fight over things like religion or who was allowed to sell hotdogs. In countries that practice a form of government called Communism, the state told the people who owned the hotdogs and who could sell them. This upset capitalist countries who wanted to own all the hotdogs. More people were killed during the Cold War over hotdogs than the pigs slaughtered to make them. This affronted Jack Kevorkian, who came to believe that poverty and mortality drove all war, and if death could be cured, so perhaps could war and practically all physical suffering.

--Excerpt from Doctor Kevorkian Goes to Heaven by T. Fox Dunham

He meets God—a Jerry Garcia hippie moron who means well. They watched together as immortality freezes the human race. Without death, there is nothing to strive for, to overcome. People turn into statues. They freeze into the universe.

I’ve struggled. I’ve fought and clawed. People create illusionary walls for themselves, carving out their own prisons in the fabric of their reality. This is what I sought to express in the novella and my novel about the legend of Andy Kaufman. I’m a bit crazy, but I’m also free. Dying freed me, and I’ve existed with the threat of cancer since. It came back in September, but I’d made a promise and beat it again. Now, in about a year, if it comes back again, it will be the last time. Guess we’ll see.

Doctor Kevorkian Goes to Heaven is now free to read online.


Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’
                                              —Ode on a Grecian Urn
                                             John Keats. 1795-1821