The cult section of the literary world

Latest

Dilation Exercise 111

Below you’ll find Alan M. Clark’s weekly Dilation Exercise. It uses an illustration from his new novel, Say Anything But Your Prayers, released today by Lazy Fascist Press, and is inspired by the story. Please look at the picture, read the caption, above and below the image, and allow your imagination to go to work on it. This time, since this image and text are a product of a finished work, please don’t elaborate on the story with comments. Need a further explanation about the Dilation Exercises? Go to Imagination Workout—The Dilation Exercises.

Tears ran down Elizabeth’s cheeks and into her blouse as she took the old woman’s cold, crooked hand into her own.

I might as well have cut her throat, she thought.

—Alan M. Clark
Eugene, Oregon

If you like Alan M. Clark’s artwork, please try his writing in both short fiction and novels.

Artwork: “The Old Woman’s Crooked Hand” copyright © 2014 Alan M. Clark. Interior illustration for Say Anything But Your Prayers by Alan M. Clark – Lazy Fascist Press.

Flash Fiction Friday: Rattled by the Rush (Excerpt)

by Chris Kelso

233,

I take time over the stress of every word. Do you like to write? You like to read though…right?

To be an artist is to suffer.

The deliria can be rather disorientating, so I decide to connect the rooms in my house with lines of taut thread and then I’m is able to feel my way along each strand to the desired part of the house. I believe the reward of suffering is experience and that pain is the great teacher of mankind.

I pass through the door that connects the hallway to the kitchen and immediately hallucinate. A tessellation of colours set in viridian zig-zag towards me like lightening through fog. I forget why I went into the room in the first place. My mind is now brimming with brilliant ideas that I hope can be retained until I gets back to his study, but first I have to eat.

I go to the white rectangle that freezes my food and bring out a red, raw, rounded object, perhaps an onion or an apple. I laugh so hard at the pulsing fruit/veg heartbeat in the palm of my hand that I have to stop myself, as if suddenly surprised by, and aware of, my own mirth. I eat the fruit/veg.

I exit the blue lightening kitchen and re-enter the hallway that connects each room. I go back into the study fast as degenerate matter, full of renewed fervour and manage to type up some of my backlogged ideas. I believe there is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you.

If you walk in on this stooped and mealy coloured man writing at his desk, you’ll notice a few things – firstly, when I masturbate I moves my penis in circular gyrations between the tight O of my thumb and index finger in a way that would suggest I have my technique down to a very fine art – hallucinations are at their most vivid when I’m at a climax, or so I would claim. I enter the vortex of my own hand and am frequently mesmerised by the subsequent pearlescent geyser. Masturbation is the only respite from my perpetual creativity which has devoured me like syphilis, and I masturbate a lot.

Secondly, I am a man who, unlike the rest of the Slave State émigré, am in possession of more than a little street-cool. My fix-up bildungsroman novels have gained a cult following amongst underground literary enthusiasts. A man of the picaresque, of the nouveau roman…One suspects that no one realises I am imprisoned in my own mind, in my own home, in fact! Where behind each door is a new ugly and visceral delusion waiting to set upon me…

I enter the hallway again and continue along to the door leading to the bathroom. A hallucination hits me the moment I drops his trousers. Although I feel intact and present, I am certain that the cortical stimulation I’m experiencing since eating the circular fruit/veg has left me foaming in the heart of an epileptic seizure. I remember that I believes we cannot learn without pain and that Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor.

I drop to my knees, void my bowels and feel the rest of my brilliant ideas leave my body in a jet of multi-coloured excrement. On my knees, I nurse my empty head and my empty stomach. I pull myself to my feet and feel around for the rope that leads to the sanctuary of my study, but my wriggling fingers investigation only fresh air…

‘Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.’ I mumble to myself and the redundancy of it all sears through me like a thimbleful of neutron star.

Henry Malkmus pops into my head. He has a concentration camp tattoo on his arm.
– Why did you make me the way I am? – He asks.
– Who would you rather have been? Ignius Ellis? Larry? Dan Smear? Denny Carr maybe? How about Kip Novikov or Big Sur? Isabella? The Black Dog virus perhaps? You already are all those people. My characters are so poorly fleshed out. You idiot, don’t you realise it doesn’t matter?
– It does to me. Why did I have to get stuck behind a drywall and get raped by shadow demons?
– The bisexual incubus thingy?
– Yes.
– I was actually running low on ideas…
– Well ain’t that just fuggin great?!?
– Listen, Henry…can I call you Henry? I’m not a bad guy, just a bad writer.
– I keep seeing silverfish…
– That’s my fault I suppose.
– No fuggin shit?
– I had a character in a book called ‘Transmatic’ called Ignius Ellis who discovered that the Slave State was run by extra-terrestrials who were closely sprung from Silverfish. Quite funny really…
– So I’m not even really….me?
– Fraid not, you’re kind of a cross between Ignius Ellis and a bunch of other McGuffins :)
– You can write in emoticon?
– So can you, look…
– I don’t know if I can…
_ :) :) :)
– :(
– Hey, I’m sorry…Henry was it?
– What am I supposed to do with myself now?
– What’s cliché for you won’t go by you. It’s better to have clichéd and lost than never to have clichéd at all, right? Am I right? Plenty more cliché in the sea!
– God dammit! How does it end? Just tell me that much? Come on! Come on tell me! TELL ME! HOW DOES IT END? HOW DOES THIS FUCKING END YOU CUNT, YOU UTTER CUNT????

Malkmus starts to fade out as easily as he had appeared before me.

There is the sound of a younger man inside the hollowed concave of my skull – weeping. I am almost fresh out of ideas, almost free from the slavery of imagination. I cannot wait to be free.
I feel the loose, exposed circuitry as the brain tries it’s best to self-apply electrical tape, to twist naked connectors and achieve new voltages with frayed wiring. I know I will be fine eventually – until I walk into a different room of the house that is…
Poser

****

Malkmus stared at the concentric crater, observed its bowl shaped, low-rimmed hollows then stood aside so the nosegay of plant-alien scientist could get a better look. They had Slave State badges on their lab coats and t-shirts underneath that read YOYODYNE COMPANY

——

Chris Kelso is a writer, illustrator and editor. His books include – The Dissolving Zinc Theatre (Vilipede Publications), The Black Dog Eats the City (Omnium Gatherum), Schadenfreude (Dog Horn Publishing), Last Exit to Interzone (Black Dharma Press), A Message from the Slave State (Western Legends Books), Terence, Mephisto & Viscera Eyes (Bizarro Pulp Press), Moosejaw Frontier (Bizarro Pulp Press), Transmatic (MorbidbookS) . He recently edited Caledonia Dreamin’ – Strange Fiction of Scottish Descent with Hal Duncan and is the co-creator of the anti-New Yorker, Imperial Youth Review.

Show Me Your Shelves: Shane Cartledge

Shane Cartledge is one of the really cool emerging voices in bizarro fiction. His first book, House Hunter, was published in 2012 as part of the New Bizarro Author Series. Since BizarroCon is nonstop fun and mayhem, I didn’t get to sit down with my Bionic Brother in Portland, but have been in touch ever since, and he’s a great guy: talented, mellow, humble, and he loves Junji Ito. Now Shane’s second novel is here, so it’s a perfect time for him to show us his stuff and talk books. Dig.

Who are you and what role do books play in your life?

I’m Shane. I read books. I write books. I live them in my head. Books are the key to my imagination. Smashing words together in a way that makes different people picture different things in their heads, I think that’s a very powerful thing. It seems mostly harmless, but it can be terrifying, the things books can make you think. It can also be beautiful. At times it can be blissful, surreal, chaotic, or cathartic. With each book, there is a different experience to be had, and within books, a complex network of thoughts and emotions. It overwhelms me. I read to experience those feelings. I write hoping that other people can feel it too while reading my own work. What more is there to books?

 photo shane1.jpg

You were part of the greatest NBAS class ever. What did you learn? Do you think it changed your career in a significant way?

I have five other authors to thank for my NBAS class being so great. The books were magical. I went to places I’ve never been and never could imagine from the comfort of my own home. I made so many friends and I learned that this first book was only the beginning of something. I learned what hard work really is, and that I’ll never achieve much without it. I learned that respect and admiration is earned. You don’t wake up published and dive Scrooge McDuck style into a pool of royalty money. Every book sold is a blessing. Every book read. Every review. Every time someone tells someone else about this book they read that was yours. I learned that everyone won’t love my book (and some might really dislike it) and that’s okay, and the solution to it is to wake up the next day and keep writing. Write something better. Write what you love to write. Write what you’re afraid to write because you think it’s beyond your limits. Don’t be afraid to go insane. Of course the NBAS changed my career in a significant way. I became part of a collective. I found out how little I knew about the publishing industry, how little writing experience I had, how much hard work I had ahead of me if I really wanted to stick around. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

 photo shane3.jpg

Is living in Australia an impediment to your career in the US? Are there any pains that come from it besides the price of sending books this way?

Pretty much all the book-related shipping I do is international shipping. I’ve had books sent to me that have wound up missing, and some of those books were one-of-a-kind limited edition type deals. It hurts both me and the guy on the other end. Every time I ship books out I’m worried they won’t arrive. I’ve come to peace with the cost of international shipping, and I’m constantly thinking of ways to work around that to give people the best deals I can without running at a loss. But I’m always concerned about whether or not my books will arrive. It sucks being so far from all the writers I cherish. It sucks that I can’t afford to fly out to Portland for BizarroCon each year. Talking with other writers is something I’m getting used to, trying to work around American time zones in order to have a decent conversation. I guess the other thing would be that I don’t really have much of a local writing collective. It might just be that I’m shy and don’t get out all that much, there isn’t much in terms of readings/events/conventions in my part of the world (and specifically my part of the country). I’m constantly telling myself that I need to talk more with local poets and writers and try to latch on to everything that comes along and try to boost it up a bit, to try building up a local network.

 photo shane2.jpg

You read books and comics, so let’s split it: give me the best five books you’ve read this year and the top five comics.

Okay. Books:

One – Long Lost Dog of It, by Michael Kazepis. His prose is so smooth, the details are so sharp and clear, the story is raw and aggressive.

Two – Crystal Eaters, by Shane Jones. I just finished it, and there’s this mythic quality about it, the child-like simplicity of the concept and the way that you see it from the beginning charging head-first towards heartbreak.

Three – The Creek, by Justin Grimbol. There is a lot of humour and a lot of heart in Justin’s writing, and I think it is beautifully displayed here in his poetry collection.

Four – The Last Horror Novel in the History of the World, by Brian Allen Carr. Carr’s writing, like Jones, has that mythic quality about it, but it exists on a darker spectrum. It’s an all-consuming monster, and it is beautiful.

Five – Black Cloud, by Juliet Escoria. This is the world unfiltered and brimming with conflicting emotions. Short stories with characters saying and doing things you wish they wouldn’t, feeling things you know are true feelings. It feels real.

Comics, while I read American comics on occasion, I read a ton of manga. Here’s my five picks:

One – Knights of Sidonia, by Tsutomu Nihei. If there’s one name I can hammer into the skulls of people reading this, it’s Tsutomu Nihei. His works are beautifully, apocalyptically sublime. He is a science fiction visionary and artist.

Two – Claymore, by Norihiro Yagi. This one’s been going on for a while, and I’m currently up to date at volume 24 in the series. The story has a Dragonball Z style build up of powerful heroes fighting powerful monsters with each volume building up to something larger and more inconceivable than the last. I read it for the monsters which never cease to amaze me.

Three – Attack on Titan, by Hajime Isayama. Giant naked humanoid creatures eating humans towards extinction? Brilliant!

Four – Gyo, by Junji Ito. I’ve had this manga on my watch list for a long time but volume 1 was always unavailable. It’s a 2 volume horror manga from the author of the infamous Uzumaki. Same tone, except instead of being haunted by spirals, it’s a fish apocalypse. Gruesome. Wicked.

Five – Mardock Scramble, by Tow Ubukata and Yoshitoki Oima. Cyberpunk assassin revenge story. Seven volumes. Lots of action. And there are shape shifting hamsters and talking dolphins in there somewhere too.

What’s your new book about and why should we spend our coffee money on it?

My new book is about milk (get Day of the Milkman HERE!). How a world is drowned in it, people rely upon it to continue their day-to-day lives, and then a milkman wakes up to find that he’s the last of his people, left floating in a curdling ocean. It’s about the will to survive. It’s about the search for meaning and understanding. It’s about coping with loss and trying to comprehend the world around you. But really, it’s just about milk.

 photo shane5.jpg


Gabino Iglesias is a writer, journalist, and book reviewer living in Austin, TX. He’s the author of Gutmouth and a few other things no one will ever read. You can find him on Twitter at @Gabino_Iglesias

Dilation Exercise 110

Below you’ll find Alan M. Clark’s weekly Dilation Exercise. It uses an illustration from his new novel, Say Anything But Your Prayers, released today by Lazy Fascist Press, and is inspired by the story. Please look at the picture, read the caption, above and below the image, and allow your imagination to go to work on it. This time, since this image and text are a product of a finished work, please don’t elaborate on the story with comments. Need a further explanation about the Dilation Exercises? Go to Imagination Workout—The Dilation Exercises.

Since escaping the life in which she’d pleased little but desperate toads and vindictive cuckolds, Elizabeth was happy that her new lover, Policeman Winders, didn’t treat her like a dirty puzzle.

For the first time, sex was a tender, loving act, which made it all the more shocking that their relationship should end in violence.

—Alan M. Clark
Eugene, Oregon

If you like Alan M. Clark’s artwork, please try his writing in both short fiction and novels.

Artwork: “No Parting Words” copyright © 2014 Alan M. Clark. Interior illustration for Say Anything But Your Prayers by Alan M. Clark – Lazy Fascist Press.

Flash Fiction Friday: COLORS (NO, THIS ISNT A NOVELIZATION OF THE CLASSIC HIP HOP SONG BY ICE T)

by Justin Grimbol

At around noon, a package was delivered to our front door. It was massive.

I dragged it inside, found a knife in the kitchen, tore it open.

The box was filled with glitter. Rainbow colored. Rainbow was my favorite color and I got really excited.

Vanessa walked in wearing the shortest short pants, making it so I could see her underbutt. Underbutt is my second favorite color.

“What’s this shit?” she said.

“Glitter.”

“That’s weird.”

“I know,” I said.

“What do we do with it?”

I looked at her with a goofy grin on my face.

“GLITTER PARTY!”

Her eyes got all big and I could tell she was excited about the idea.

I rushed us to the kitchen and made us some bad ass margaritas.

At first she didn’t know if she wanted to party. It was still so early in the day. But once she had a sip of my super special margarita with whipped cream all over the top of it, I could tell Vanessa would be so into it.

We drank our first drink and stared at the glitter. Her phone rang.

“It’s probably Phil,” she said. “I’ll call him later.”

Phil was her boyfriend. He was a party planner. He planned birthdays for famous people. But he didn’t actually like to party. He never wanted to get drunk or have any fun. It made no sense to me.

But that didn’t matter. He wasn’t coming.

I made us another glass.

“Now what?” she asked.

I called up some friends.

Once they heard there was a box of glitter they all rushed over.

Usually Vanessa hated my friends. She thought they were all kinda stinky. But she seemed less annoyed that day.

Once our guests arrived, we started playing with the glitter. We tossed it around and let it rain over us. It was so colorful and shiny.

And there was so much of it. The supply seemed never-ending.

We kept tossing it around.

Eventually we got all the glitter out of the box.

The floor was covered in the stuff.

“LET’S GET NAKED!” Vanessa yelled.

I was shocked. I hadn’t seen this girl act this way since college and that was a really long time ago.
She stripped down and she looked extra hot.

Her gazoongas were medium sized and had these big brownish red nipples on them. Her ass was small. Too small, but adorable.

My friends all got naked too.

We rolled around in the glitter until we were covered in the stuff.

The doorbell rang.

I found some random underpants and put them on, but they were too baggy and they barely fit. I pulled it up until the waist band had reached my nipples. The doorbell kept ringing.

“HOLD ON! I’M COMING! I’M COMING!”

Vanessa looked nervous. I told her to relax, that everything would be fine

I found some duct tape. That helped hold my boxers up.

The doorbell rang again.

I looked at Vanessa. She looked scared. I couldn’t understand what the big deal was. What was she so freaked out about?

I answered the door.

It was the mail man.

He told me that a box was delivered to our address accidentally.

He looked at all my naked friends.

He looked at the glitter that was all over the floor and our bodies.

He looked at the opened UPS box I had ripped open.

He looked at me, my boxers, and back at me again.

I hadn’t read the name on the package. That was my mistake. If I had, I would have realized it was meant to be delivered to my neighbor.

“Oops,” I said.

“Oops?” the postal worker said. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I made an oopsy.”

The postal worker told us to get all the glitter back in the package.

We looked at him and laughed.

He whipped out a hunting knife. He pressed a button on the knife’s handle and the blade lit on fire. It was a fucking fire knife.

“I want each piece of glitter in that box now!” he said.

“Okay!” I said. “Chill.”

We all started cleaning up the glitter.

It took us most of the day to clean.

The postal dude just chilled on the couch and watched.

Finally, we finished.

The postal guy took the package and left.

I watched him bring the box to my neighbor, Big Al.

At first Big Al was annoyed that the box was all beaten up. Then he opened it. Saw all the glitter. Then got really excited.

“GLITTER PARTY!” I heard him yell.

I walked back inside.

I told my friends we should keep partying.

They didn’t agree.

“I feel like I wasted my entire day,” Vanessa said.

“I thought we had a fun day.”

“But it wasn’t our glitter,” she said. “And it took forever to clean the shit up.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She gave me a big kiss on the cheek, then went to the bathroom to take a shower.

My friends left.

I got bored.

Fuck it, I decided.

I walked over to my neighbor’s house.

A large man answered the door.

He was so sweaty and naked and covered in glitter.

“I heard you were having a glitter party?” I said.

“GLITTER PARTY!” he yelled.

His family cheered.

I took off my clothes, left them on the front porch and joined the party.

__________

Justin Grimbol is the author of DRINKING UNTIL MORNING, THE CRUD MASTERS, THE CREEK, THE PARTY LORDS and HARD BODIES (forthcoming). He is awesome at hugging and everybody knows it.

BIZARRO ACROSS AMERICA – EAST COAST TOUR

“BIZARRO ACROSS AMERICA” PROGRESSIVE BOOK TOUR BRINGS STRANGE NEW VOICES TO THE EAST COAST!

In September 2014, the writers, artists and co-conspirators of the Bizarro genre are coming to Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania and New York, to spread the gospel of Bizarro Fiction to new audiences and die-hard fans.

WHEN:
September 1, 3pm: Bizarro Writer’s Workshop @ CHOP SUEY BOOKS — 2913 W Cary St, Richmond, VA
https://www.facebook.com/events/1477455002502295/ ‎

September 1, 8pm: THE WINGNUT — 2005 Barton Avenue, Richmond, VA
https://www.facebook.com/events/818567188178039/

September 3, 7pm: THE COPYCAT — 1501 Guilford Ave, Baltimore, MD
https://www.facebook.com/events/451181311690293/

September 4, 3pm: Bizarro Writer’s Workshop @ A-SPACE, 4722 Baltimore Ave, Philadelphia, PA
https://www.facebook.com/events/1458009327815071/

September 4, 7pm: THE FARM
https://www.facebook.com/events/421103391362261/

September 5, 6pm: YORK EMPORIUM — 343 W Market St, York, PA
https://www.facebook.com/events/306051162852712/

September 6, 7pm: MELLOW PAGES LIBRARY — Studio 1Q, 56 Bogart Street (@ Harrison, across from the L Line Morgan Ave station), Brooklyn, NY
https://www.facebook.com/events/1447129908883505/

ALL EVENTS ARE FREE TO ATTEND!

BIZARRO FICTION is a fast-growing underground genre of high weirdness, with over 100 titles in print from ERASERHEAD PRESS, RAW DOG SCREAMING, BIZARRO PULP PRESS and others.  It’s been described as “the genre of Anything Goes” and “the literary equivalent of the Cult section of your video store, back when there were video stores.”

The BIZARRO ACROSS AMERICA TOUR will feature readings, performance and odd behavior from some combination of:

MYKLE HANSEN — Wonderland Award-winning author of “I, SLUTBOT” and “HELP! A BEAR IS EATING ME!”
“Mykle Hansen has already proven himself to be one of the great new humorists of our time, in league with Christopher Moore, Terry Prachett, Robert Rankin, and Tom Robbins, only a hell of a lot weirder.” – Carlton Mellick III

VIOLET LEVOIT — Baltimore-based author of “I AM GENGHIS CUM”
“An amazing performer … also stunning on the page. The prose is fast and cruel, beating down all taboos. Go read. Don’t eat anything while you do so.” – Daniel Wallace

BRADLEY SANDS — author of “RICO SLADE WILL FUCKING KILL YOU” and “TV SNORTED MY BRAIN”
“There is no simple way to describe Bradley Sands’ fiction, but ‘superretardo anarchy awesomeness’ is a good start … one of the funniest authors you will ever read.” — VERBICIDE

WILLIAM PAULEY III — author of “THE BROTHERS CRUNK” and “DOOM MAGNETIC”
“THE BROTHERS CRUNK is a bizarrely imaginative blend of sci-fi, horror and fantasy adventure… creativity has never flowed so freely… a perfect example of bizarro fiction… every single line is littered with wild and imaginative ideas.” – FANGORIA

CHRISTOPH PAUL — author of “PSYCHOANALYTIC CELEBRITY POEMS” and “THE PASSION OF THE CHRISTOPH”
“Everything you were afraid to ask (or find out) about men and sex, toilet paper rolls, porn stores, teenage rehab, post-sex etiquette, being single, military school, and karma. Paul is now one of my favorite humor essayists; David Sedaris eat your heart out.”  — INDIEREADER

G. ARTHUR BROWN — author of “KITTEN”
“KITTEN is bizarro written with sincerity… I’d call it slow-burning bizarro.” — S.T. Cartledge, House Hunter

CHRIS GENUA — author of “FOOP!” and “LICK YOUR NEIGHBOR”
“Chris Genua is one of our authentic literary lunatics…” – James Marrow
“..a new, innovative, clever author with a thrilling amount of potential: when he’s good, he’s so good that no one can touch him.” – REFLECTION’S EDGE

ERIC MAYS — author of “NAKED METMORPHOSIS” and “KARAOKE DEATH SQUAD”
“KARAOKE DEATH SQUAD is the book that secured Eric Mays’ place in my mind as one of the funniest guys in print.” — Joshua Myers

SCOTT COLE — author of VIOLINS FOR SALE and a top secret, forthcoming novella
“VIOLINS FOR SALE is weird, a little dark, a little violent, but more than anything, it’s fun, which is what bizarro fiction is all about.” — Cameron Pierce

PLUS: Brian Keene, John Lawson, Adam Cesare and more still confirming!

ABOUT BIZARRO:

Bizarro is the genre of the strange.  The stories and poetry of Bizarro are often provocative, usually funny, always outrageous.  Even though the Bizarros are underground cult outsiders they still have gained great respect in the publishing industry, having been praised by the likes of Chuck Palahniuk, Christopher Moore, William Gibson, Jonathan Lethem, Piers Anthony, Cory Doctorow, Poppy Z. Brite, Michael Moorcock, and Charles de Lint, to name a few, as well as the publications Asimov’s Science-fiction, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science-fiction, Fangoria, Cemetery Dance, Publishers Weekly, The Washington Post, The Guardian, Details Magazine, Gothic Magazine, and The Face, among many others. Bizarro books have also been finalists for the Philip K Dick Award, the Bram Stoker Award, the Rhysling Award, the Wonderland Book Award, and the Pushcart Prize.

Follow all things Bizarro here: http://bizarrocentral.com

For press queries and other information, contact Mykle Hansen at mykle@mykle.com

Seeking Submissions for How to Win at Ultravision: A Strategy Guide for Video Games That Don’t Exist

Bradley Sands will be editing a multi-author anthology called How to Win at Ultravision: A Strategy Guide for Video Games That Don’t Exist. Eraserhead Press will be publishing it. The book is inspired by Jeff Rovin’s How to Win at Nintendo Games and Jorge Luis Borges’ reviews of books that don’t exist.

Submissions are now open. He is looking for mini-strategy guides for games of your own invention. They must be in the range of 1000 words to 5000 words long. Text only. Payment is $10 and a contributor’s copy.

Email submissions to bradleysands@gmail.com.

Here are some links to examples:

A page from How to Win at Nintendo Games

From The Ultimate Game Guide to Life

A piece written by Albie about a game that doesn’t exist (I recommend cutting and pasting it into a MS Word document because it’s otherwise a bit difficult to read)

 

Here is part of Bradley’s pitch for the book. Perhaps it will inspire some of you:

I’m extremely fond of fiction when they’re told in different forms. The earliest example that I can think of is Jorge Luis Borges reviewing books that didn’t exist. This gave him the opportunity to write about a book that he was passionate about without having to devote months or perhaps years to writing them. He was also a prankster, so he would publish the reviews and pretend that the books existed.

A more recent example of telling a story in a different form is in Stephen Graham Jones’ Demon Theory and The Last Final Girl, where Stephen tells stories in the form of screenplays even though they’re intended to be read as novels.

I’ve also done this sort of thing myself. I wrote a story that’s a screenplay for a Rico Slade movie (inspired by my novella) and a story told in the format of a comic script about two giant monsters who are having a tiff about their relationship (while they are destroying the city). In each case, the script’s fictional author is the main character rather than any of the characters that they are “writing” about.

If someone were to actually make a movie using my Rico Slade screenplay, it would be awful. I feel as if telling stories in different forms like this works best when the “fictional” intended product would be a complete failure if it were actually made according to the script without any alterations.

The thing that excites me the most about stories told in different forms is reading a story that has never been told this way before. It’s new and unique even when it’s based on a preexisting form. I see it as continuing the legacy of Borges in the modern era.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 848 other followers