Two Book Contracts in One Week (News: My first two books
being published.)
&
My Wild & Dangerous Leap to Long Fiction
&
50 Shades of Decay Anthology – Zombies need loving too!
TWO BOOK CONTRACTS IN ONE WEEK:
The Street Martyr to be Published by Out of the Gutter:
My first novel, The Street Martyr, based on the flash
fiction piece Kid Louie published by Flash Fiction Offensive, will be published
by Out of the Gutter Publishing. This is a crime, hardboiled, grit-literary
novel about the struggle of a low-level drug dealer against a system of poverty
and drugs designed to keep him imprisoned in the lowest class of society. The
story begins when Saint is blamed for the murder of a priest he did not commit.
Saint, along with his partner Louie, tries to get out of Philly, but when that
fails, he determines to discover the identity of the murderer and confront him
or her, thus becoming the hero he’d always wanted to be become but could never
be allowed in the system. The book explores drug use and religion as an escape,
the violence of poverty, corruption and apathy in our civil systems. We can
change the world if only a little bit through our sacrifice.
I am now working on the edits with the editor at OOG.
Hopefully the book will be out in late summer or fall.
&
Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing to Publish my next
Novel:
Also this week, I signed with Perpetual Motion Machine
Publishing to write my next book, Destroying the
Tangible Illusion of Reality; or, Searching for Andy Kaufman. This book is
about my own spiritual journey and how I see the world after being told I was
going to die of cancer—which, obviously, I didn’t, at least not yet. If I had,
I’d probably be aware of the smell. I’ve always felt a personal nexus to the
late performer, Andy Kaufman. He died of lung cancer in 1984; though not
everyone was sure of this, considering his propensity for stunts and tricks.
Andy understood that reality was mostly an illusion defined by people. When
you’re told you’re dying, it shatters the way you see reality, evicting your
vapid fears.
Anthony accepts he cannot change his death from a rare cancer and declines any more treatment, and his concept of reality is shattered. Life becomes a tangible illusion. Most of the living world, existing under ideas of their spurious immortality, imprison themselves in fear and delusional manacles. He weaves his own reality and quests for deeper truth, for the true foundation of life.
While trying to know his dead mother, who died in a car
accident when he was a baby, Anthony finds evidence of his real father’s
identity. This is confirmed by his best friend, Andrea, who introduced herself
while volunteering at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania because he
shared similar aspect to the late performer, Andy Kaufman. He comes to believe
that Andy was his father, and the two along with a driver called Tolya—since
neither can drive—go on a trip to uncover evidence to prove this; eventually,
they believe that Andy Kaufman is still alive, having faked his own death, and
they journey without funds or support, not even enough cash for gas money, to
find him.
* * *
My
Wild & Dangerous Leap to Long Fiction
My throat strangled, cutting off my air and blood to my
brain in September when I tried writing horror. It had never been my intention
to become known as a horror author, and
when readers and other authors started calling me the horror author, T. Fox
Dunham, it surprised me. I enjoy writing dark fiction, especially to express
deeper levels of pain, but I’ve always worked and seen myself as a literary
author. I got so absorbed by the genre, motivated by my constant success as a
horror author, and horror does make up a substantial share of the paid market.
I’m not done writing horror. I’d never disappoint my ghoulish fans that way,
and I will be writing more in the future. It just got to the point where I’d
sit down to write a horror piece and only air poured from my pen. My fingers
wouldn’t work to type. My Awen—my bardic creative heart—overdosed on horror. I
cut back.
I needed a new project, something in a literary voice, back
to my roots. When asked to name my favorite authors: Truman Capote, Ernest
Hemingway, J.D. Salinger. Not, alas Stephen King. Even my horror always had a
literary base to it, which is one of the reasons I’m so popular. I also needed
a jump, an expansion of my work. After taking a few months to rest and slowing
down my writing, in December I considered my next move. I decided it was time
to write long fiction. I had already written a novella, New World, for May December
Publishing’s Realms of the Undead. It was published as one of four in the
anthology. It came out as 23,000 words, a nice novella, but without the
complexity of a novel. (I will be writing an expansion of New World for May
December Publishing this summer.)
So I got into the novel writing business. I didn’t even have
a system for it, a point of attack, so I created my methods as I went along.
This was my trial run, the early work, my training wheels. I had planned for
25K words, something smaller. I picked my flash fiction Kid Louie to expand.
Out of the Gutter Press loved Kid Louie, and some of the editors told me they
considered it one their best stories published. When they included it in their
8th Annual, I felt the stars aligning. So, I took the characters and developed
a gritty, hard-boiled, crime novel, literary in voice. It felt orgasmic. Such
relief. The energy had charged over the months, and in desperation, my mind
just poured into this literary crime novel. It was all there still, just in need
of the proper project.
I had to forge my path. I’ve trained all my life as a short
story author and focused my writing on this crafting system. There’s so much I
still need to learn about writing long fiction. During this nascent process, I
dedicated a notebook to serve as a record for novel progression. I developed
the book in this journal: starting with a chapter, then writing, then updating
the journal about the chapter and copying over listed edits to a smaller
notebook. I struggle with intense fatigue that hurts my concentration, so I
need to keep notes around; thus I can focus on the narrative.
I’ve learned a few things in my transition to long fiction.
First let me explain a concept of reader expectation:
A reader has different expectations for a novel and a short
story. When the reader picks up one of them to read, they prepare themselves
with two different mindsets.
When a reader chooses to read a short story, they expect
brevity, quick pace, unnecessary elements such as long internalizations and
setting details removed. This slows the story.
When a reader chooses to read a novel, they expect to spend
time with the characters and plot, plus they expect to see a full range of
elements like action, emotional responses and sequels shown. Anything missing
in the narrative would be considered a gap and jarring.
I thought I’d share the main things I learned with you, my
loyal readers and spammers.
LET THE STORY BREATHE
Short fiction is brevity. You learn to trim and cut and snip
and shape and reduce it to the barebones. Entire scenes become single sentences
or implied. You keep a good beat, a nice swift rhythm and show the tip of the
garlic stalk. That’s how we like it. I’ve trained my life to be a short fiction
author, first studying Ray Bradbury. Now, I have to undo all that. The first
bear trap I stepped into was emotional sequels. These are the scenes between
action scenes that serve to show the character’s emotional state, usually
reacting to the most recent scene, how that character responds, and usually
their decision process for their next move. Sequels are the vehicles of
transition. In short fiction, we usually cut them down to a sentence if we show
them at all. We often just infer them. Hey… The hero is driving a truck into
the giant Zombie Max Booth III’s mouth, so I guess he came to that decision. In
short fiction, the reader allows this. The reader expects it and has positioned
himself to miss much of the background. However, when that reader picks up a
novel, he or she expects a full-shaped or a wholeness of story. He or she wants
to see all the relevant material, is looking forward to dancing duets with the
characters as they struggle, laugh, consider, cogitate, plan and select. They
want to see the whole plot and see your characters progress. If there’s a
change, you must show it being made. If your heroine is running from a mutant
Lori Michelle, have her pause to catch her breath and show how she feels and
any plans she makes to survive mutant Lori.
(Max and Lori are dear friends and editors at Perpetual
Motion Machine Publishing. I could never have finished The Street Martyr
without Max’s sage edits and advice.)
LAY THE FOUNDATIONS
When I sent Street Martyr to Max Booth III, the chief editor
at Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing who is publishing my next book, one of
the edits he sent back was about Louie’s mother, Laurie. She just appears
randomly in one of the scenes. (I won’t give you anymore details or spoilers .
. . but Max will never forgive me.) Laurie plays a vital part in the novel,
even though she only has a few scenes. She is summoned by the local mob
underboss, Dominic, and I only mention this briefly in a few sentences after
she exacts her first contribution to the plot. Max felt jolted by this. The
Street Martyr is based on my flash fiction piece, Kid Louie, which was
published by Flash Fiction Offensive. That scene and the brief mention of the
cause that brought her to that point in the plot were perfectly acceptable in
the short format; however, in the novel, Max had more expectation. She just
comes out of nowhere. Max was, as he often is, right to advise me to add more,
and I created an introduction scene after the gunfight with Saint and Dominic’s
crew. Instead of keeping it backstage, I had to show the plot progression, even
if it was just a small scene.
In a novel, you have to show all the tracks or the train
jumps, throwing the reader. Breaking that union of narration, the focus and
trance of the reader, will hurt the sum of the experience of the book.
GET COMFORTABLE AND VISIT WITH A YOUR CHARACTERS
A short fiction author always feels like they’re sprinting
in a short race. We have to fit a story world into the space of a few
kilometers, so we’re always conscious of our word count. Any story over 4500
words starts to lose its energy, and it better be good to propel it forward.
Word count is worth its amount in gold, so as I was writing Street Martyr, I
kept weighing the prose and action. Is this worth spending my words on? It’s a
mindset I had to break. I felt like I wasn’t being frugal, and my residual
literary parsimony could have impaired narrative.
Reading over the first four chapters of my new book today at
Barnes and Nobles, I kept this in mind, and I realized how many gaps I had left
in the narrative that I needed to fill because of my short story frugality.
Again, in short fiction, the expectations of the reader would demand that
elements such as internalization be shaved down; however, the expectation of a
novel reader would find these as gaps.
So, I have to slow down and spend more time with my narrative, showing the elements I’d normally cut with short fiction.
ABOVE ALL. BE PATIENT & GIVE YOURSELF TIME TO LAYER
Today, I sat down at Barnesand Nobles at my usual table, opened chapter 3 of the new Andy Kaufman novel, and nearly went apoplectic. I’m struggling with the emotional arc of Chapter 3: Elvis Died on the Toilet for our Sins. I wrote the chapter from foggy vision, getting it down. Today, I took it word by word, editing it, enhancing it, filling in holes, but I know it’s still not done. I require time for the vision to mature and clarify, the kind of growth that like growing herbs will only come with patience and lots of ticks and tocks.
So, I have to slow down and spend more time with my narrative, showing the elements I’d normally cut with short fiction.
ABOVE ALL. BE PATIENT & GIVE YOURSELF TIME TO LAYER
Today, I sat down at Barnesand Nobles at my usual table, opened chapter 3 of the new Andy Kaufman novel, and nearly went apoplectic. I’m struggling with the emotional arc of Chapter 3: Elvis Died on the Toilet for our Sins. I wrote the chapter from foggy vision, getting it down. Today, I took it word by word, editing it, enhancing it, filling in holes, but I know it’s still not done. I require time for the vision to mature and clarify, the kind of growth that like growing herbs will only come with patience and lots of ticks and tocks.
I’m used to writing a short story in a day, from scratch to
edits and often submission. Most of the stories you’ve all read were written in
about 10 hours. I’ve practiced and trained with the short story art, which is
why it’s a struggle to learn long fiction. I’m used to rattling them out like
an air-cooled machine gun, and it’s a fast gratification. I was getting ten
acceptances a month or more, and I confess to some endorphin withdraw, not
seeing two acceptance letters a week in my inbox. I’ve also had to learn
patience with the work. For me, short fiction is fast, quick, slam-bam thank
you fans. Often, it requires very little editing, since it is written in
brevity and pragmatic prose.
By its very nature, a novel’s vision requires time to
mature, for the vision to clarify and finalize. I have to commit to a long-term
project and give myself that time without rushing or anxiety to finish it. I
have to give it free reign and suffer the discipline to finish it entirely,
when really I just want to get it done fast and out.
Starting a novel is like getting married, and after the
third or fourth chapter, the honeymoon period is over; and that’s when
self-discipline, commitment and deep love must take over. So many novels never
make it out of the honeymoon period. 15,000 words, and it dies on the vine.
I return to my training as an angler and a gardener. It
takes time to grow from seed—little movements and small contributions daily.
Tomorrow, the vision of the story will be clearer, and I will know more. I have
to be patient and put the work down at regular intervals to allow it to grow.
MORE TO KNOW
I have so much more to learn, and there’s much more to novel
writing than I’ve listed. These are just the elements I’ve had to learn in my
initial transition to long fiction. In my journal, I’ve ruminated on these
methods and concepts. I thought you might find them valuable.
* * *
THE STREET MARTYR
I’ll be working with Matthew Louis, an editor at Out of the
Gutter, on edits for the Street Martyr over the next month. I’m a literary
author, and I know there are certain style conventions for the crime genre, so
he’s helping me shape it properly. I look forward to learning from Matthew
Louis and the other editors at OOG. I’m honored that Paul D. Brazil has agreed
to write a forward or introduction to the book. I’ve admired Paul for sometime,
and he’s a rising crime author.
This book is dedicated to my adopted mother living in Texas, Ravens Zuta or Janine. Love you Mum!
* * *
50 Shades of Decay Anthology – Zombies need loving too!
This month, Angel Knight Press released a daring new
anthology that mated the zombie-horror genre with erotica. All sorts of bits
and pieces are breaking off and getting stuck! When I saw the request for
submissions, I knew I had to join this anthology, as did many of the best and
upcoming names in horror. Though written with a fun energy, many of the flash
pieces (plus 50 in total) take the subject seriously, employing passion and
lust. These are serious and compelling tales of deep emotion, though some of
them are also spirited and humorous.
My piece, the Sickness Inside, tells the tragic story of a
newly wed couple who waited to copulate until their wedding night. Struck with
passion, they cannot wait, and their car crashes on the way to their
honeymoon—and it just so happens it’s on the night of a zombie apocalypse. What
crazy timing! Frustrated and filled with recent hormones, the two struggle to
satiate their passions, frustrated by their diminished brain and body function.
Their night together at long last after celibacy. Lost in
death. Stolen on their night. To lie in cold earth never slaked. Divided
between a dielectric of soil, trapped in two coffins and blocked from reaching,
touching.
– Sickness Inside by T. Fox Dunham
– Sickness Inside by T. Fox Dunham
I love a good love story, even if the main characters are
rotting and brain-eating corpses.
I asked my co-authors to email me their favorite quote from
their own story. From these quotes, you can get an idea of the voice of each
story and the collective choir of the talented authors whom I have the honor to
join. The book is now available and can be gotten at the following location:
AUTHOR QUOTES:
“Her all-leather, cock and pistol rig intimidated the
burliest of manly men.”
- Carnage Kandy by Teresa Hawk
“Until you get the right to vote, Congress is never going to
pass a law that lets you near living flesh, even if the only zombies who eat
people anymore are fringe fundamentalists.”
- 2 is for Taboo by Craig Faustus Buck
“We only have a little time before you change.” Groping at
his jeans, she worked to unfasten the button.
”Maggie!” Jake pushed her away with the arm he had left. “What the hell?”
”If I’m going to shoot my husband before he turns into a zombie, the least I can do is make his last moments pleasurable.” - Ravenous by Lisa McCourt Hollar
”Maggie!” Jake pushed her away with the arm he had left. “What the hell?”
”If I’m going to shoot my husband before he turns into a zombie, the least I can do is make his last moments pleasurable.” - Ravenous by Lisa McCourt Hollar
“Zombies are a lot easier to understand than women, but the
downside is, they just want you to become one of them: brain hungry
monsters.” - Shawn Erin
“He wasn’t rotting. He was gorgeous. And when he sat in the
front row and brought his pants down to his knees, a tear duct fluttered in my
dead eyes.” - THE Z-SPOT by Benjamin
Kane Ethridge
“If I have to face the end of human existence, I want to
look totally smoking when it happens. Now shut the hell up.” - Being Superhuman
by Angeline Trevena
Edwin could overlook a small thing like a heartbeat. - Love
Stinks by Timothy Baker
“Sin became worse once everyone died.” – Glory by Jay “THE
KING OF HORROR” Wilburn
“Are you ... rotting?” Jinx pulled her hand away from him. -
Raving Diseased by Brett Williams
“Don’t take too long. Hundreds of cannibalistic undead could
be bursting in here at any moment. Would be a shame if I didn't have a chance
to fuck you one last time before they tear you apart.” - Playing a Game by Eric
Stoveken
Marisol screamed as the dead hooker began to climb out of
the depths of the box spring. She reached out toward the naked pair. A deep
moan rumbled up through the slice across her neck. With it, a swarm of bed bugs
began to scurry out of the wound. - Ménage à Trauma by Dan Larnerd
This is the new entertainment in a fallen world where
currency is no longer money. - Prize of a Fighter by Dale Mitchell
The question of how to seduce a zombie wasn't one Erica ever thought she would have to confront—hell, until a month or so ago she didn't even believe in them. - Love's Lament by Kate Monroe
“It always
shocked her, the depravity of what a man would do just to touch some undead
boobies.” - Jolie Chaton
“You’re shit. I’m not the one in an upscale squat box with a dead guy and a zombified movie starlet. Maybe I can call up George Romero or Eli Roth and get her some background work on their next zombie movies. Hell, everything’s all about zombies these days. Maybe she’ll be good.” - Some Like It Rot by John Palisano
“You sure picked a fine old time to be getting it on. Don’t
you know there’s a level three zombie threat going on outside?” - Angel of
Mercy by Wednesday
It took me another week to get up the nerve, but I found
myself standing outside the brick
walls of her compound at five o’clock in the morning—clad entirely in black, and carrying my neighbor’s head under my arm. - Andrew Freudenberg
walls of her compound at five o’clock in the morning—clad entirely in black, and carrying my neighbor’s head under my arm. - Andrew Freudenberg
“I'd been expecting him to use some lame pick-up line- Come
here often? Are you an angel? Can I get some brain?” - Love in a
Laundromat by Megan Dorei
Oh, man, don’t tell me she’s stopping. I will have a heart attack. - Bill's Birthday Gift by Lori Safranek
* * *
 |
| Fox fishing at Peace Valley Lake on 9th March 2013, when the temp got about 60 degrees. Didn't catch nothing. Nothing awake yet, but damn it felt good. |
That’s all for now. For my next post, I’ll be discussing the
crime, grit-lit, hardboiled genre and my new novel coming out from Out of the
Gutter. I’ll also be talking to some of the guys that really kick you in the
teeth in that genre like Paul D. Brazil & Joe Clifford.
Enjoy Spring and start getting ready your true ghost stories
for my site. I’ll be opening it for gathering in June and will start publishing
true ghost stories in August.
I’m going fishing!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment