As has become annual I thought I'd write a quick blog post as to my literary achievements during 2022.
Starting with short fiction, I wrote the following stories: "The Enfilade", "Content", "Keepers" and "An Absence of Ghosts". This is a further reduction of output in writing short fiction that has continued over the past few years, but it's not like I haven't been busy and I'm not complaining, because in addition to those stories I co-wrote the time travel novel, "Secondhand Daylight" with Eugen Bacon, and also have just finished the first draft of another short novel, "Observations In Tenderness". I would therefore estimate I've written 100,000 words of new fiction this year.
I sold five short stories this year. "The Malaise Trap" as a standalone chapbook published in a dual language edition by Brazillian publisher, Raphus Press, "The Natural Environment" to the Ballardian anthology, "Reports From The Deep End", edited by Maxim Jakubowski and Rick McGrath to be published by Titan Books, "The Enfilade" to the final issue of Black Static magazine, "Keepers" to "At The Lighthouse" anthology, edited by Sophie Essex for Eibonvale Press, and "An Absence of Ghosts" will appear in an edition of Theaker's Quarterly Fiction.
The following three stories were published this year: "Something To Believe In" within the anthology, "Crossing The Tees #5", "Throttle Body" as a standalone chapbook through nightjar press, and "The Malaise Trap" as described above in a beautiful edition from Raphus Press.
The big news is that in March this year I sold my Hollywood-death-themed short story collection, "Candescent Blooms" to Salt Publishing, and it appeared in October, garnering wide plaudits including an extensive five star review from The Telegraph. But in addition to that, the aforementioned collaborative novel, "Secondhand Daylight", has subsequently been sold to Cosmic Egg Books and will be published in October 2023. So good news on the book front.
With my publishing hat on, Head Shot Press published four books in 2022. These were the novels "Debris" by Andrew Humphrey and "The Clutches of Mimi Bouchard" by John Travis, and the short story collections "A Punch To The Heart" by Andrew Humphrey and "Death Has A Thousand Faces" by Maxim Jakubowksi. I have also edited the crime noir anthology, "Bang!", which will be published by Head Shot in 2023. The dedicated website for the press can be found here.
I also have a handful of stories awaiting publication that were originally accepted in previous years, and a few other projects are also under consideration by various agents/publishers, as they were last year.
So that's it for 2022. I have a few things in mind already for next year and am looking to see where they take me. Onwards!
My short story titled "Throttle Body" has recently been published as a standalone chapbook from Nightjar Press, and as has become usual I'm writing a few words discussing how the story came to be written. There may be spoilers within.
Like most of my fiction, the idea sprang from the title. Having some issues with the car one summer my partner was looking through the manual and mentioned something called a throttle body. This is a tube-shaped housing that contains a flat valve (butterfly) that rotates to vary the amount of air entering an engine. Clearly the name is incredibly evocative and the idea of throttling as a means to reduce an intake of air obviously has connotations beyond the mechanical. I filed the title away.
Sometime later I was watching a film where a couple were having a conversation whilst driving. I'm always fascinated by how long someone can take their eyes off the road to talk directly at their passenger in films, but not only this, the use of hand movements to suggest they are actually driving (as opposed to sitting in a studio) is always exaggerated. If those movements were to be mimicked, a vehicle would be veering left and right on an otherwise straight road. The artifice of driving within film seemed to connect to the Throttle Body title. And then - of course - I remembered those occasions where a deer is hit by teenagers that foreshadows the plot of many a horror film. The fact that my own teenage daughter was learning to drive also added fuel to this nightmare scenario, and the basic structure of the plot - where a film-lecturing father hits something whilst dropping his daughter back home - came almost fully-formed from the above. Adding a sprinkling of my usual what-is-real-what-isn't-real element to the story, and Throttle Body was born.
Here's a bit of it:
Ward sighed. “You recognise it for what it is, yeah. It’s a foreshadowing device. The scenario for hitting the animal unfolds in a way that will allude to or demonstrate primal aspects of how the driver is going to have to deal with the later horrific conflict.”
“Textbook horror, textbook Dad.”
“You know what I’m saying.”
“Just shut up and watch the movie. If I wanted a lecture I’d have enrolled in your uni class.”
Ward sighed. These moments between them were glazed with expectations and remonstrations. Whilst their relationship had improved since Indy had found her own space, it was almost a conscious effort not to replay old roles. However fraught they had been, an undeniable familiarity made them almost comfortable. Ward was tired of arguing – especially tired of arguing needlessly – and it wouldn’t take much to kickstart trouble again. He folded himself back into the film. It wasn’t a piece of art, it was a roadmap to getting them back together.
Throttle Body is published as a limited edition signed chapbook through Nightjar Press. It retails at £3 in paperback plus postage. It can be bought here.
As regular readers are aware, I write my short stories listening to music on repeat. In this case, throughout the entire writing session, I listened to the Raveonettes' album Observator on repeat. I always find their music evocative when writing, and this was no exception.
My short story collection, Candescent Blooms, was published by Salt Publishing recently. I've previously posted here with regards to the background to the collection, and the fact that twelve Hollywood actors whose lives ended prematurely are the main characters in each of the twelve stories. As stated in that post, the intention in the run-up to publication is to focus on each actor with some snippets of information (both about them and the writing of their stories). These posts will follow the same format for each. Our twelfth (and final) character is Grace Kelly.
1: the reason for the title of the story
I can't remember where I first heard the word sarcoline, although as my partner, the poet Sophie Essex, was working on a book of colour poems (published as Some Pink Star), it might have come out of that. Sarcoline being flesh-coloured. There's a certain transparency in clothing which is flesh-coloured, and a certain honesty to Grace Kelly. Whilst there is no direct link to her, it felt an ideal fit.
2: why I chose that actor
Grace Kelly's fairytale wedding to Prince Rainer of Monaco tragically ended following a car crash. I adore Grace in her films - especially Hitchcock's Rear Window (that slo-mo kiss!) - so whilst her death occurred comparatively recently (1982 being recent to this old codger) it was a no-brainer to include her.
3: one 'gift' that enhanced the story
The metallic green Rover P6 3500 that Grace was driving when she had her accident was subsequently crushed, cubed, and dropped into the Mediterranean sea on the orders of her husband. As a result of which, the colour green or a green cube foreshadows Grace's life on several occasions during my story.
4: one thing I never knew about them
The ballerina Margot Fonteyn taught Grace to dance The Twist.
5: an extract from the story
In her room at the Barbizon Hotel for Women she lays diagonally across the bed. The tape recorder squeaks on rewind. She simultaneously presses record and play. Speaks: fairytales tell imaginary stories. Me, I’m a living person. I exist. On the bed beside her lies the script for Strindberg’s The Father. She reaches for a pencil and taps it against her teeth. Her legs extend upwards, crossed at the ankle. Within a coffee cup, dregs congeal. This scene is lit by the non-Technicolor glow of her bedside lamp, its shade muted yellow as the beam.
6: what music I listened to whilst I wrote it.
Perhaps incongruously, I wrote the entirety of this story whilst listening to a cover of the Ricky Nelson song, Sweeter Than You, by Dr John Cooper Clarke and Hugh Cornwell. But just listen, it's perfect, isn't it?
This concludes a series of blog posts regarding the characters in my new short story collection, Candescent Blooms. If you've stayed the journey and are interested, please buy Candescent Blooms here.
My short story collection, Candescent Blooms, was published by Salt Publishing recently. I've previously posted here with regards to the background to the collection, and the fact that twelve Hollywood actors whose lives ended prematurely are the main characters in each of the twelve stories. As stated in that post, the intention in the run-up to publication is to focus on each actor with some snippets of information (both about them and the writing of their stories). These posts will follow the same format for each. Our eleventh character is Jayne Mansfield.
1: the reason for the title of the story
This was the second story I wrote after my Marilyn Monroe story. Before this, I hadn't realised I was working on a collection. One day I was listening to the song, "Confessions of a Psycho Cat", by The Cramps which contains the lines:
I'm the feathered serpent of the Aztecs
I've weathered the invasion of the insects
I invented the Jayne Mansfield Nuclear project
The Pope genuflects to gain my respect
Oh these are the confessions of a psycho cat...
Naturally, the Jayne Mansfield lyric stood out. I decided to write a Jayne Mansfield story. There could therefore only be one title.
2: why I chose that actor
As per the above. It was only after I wrote this story that I decided to write more of the same ilk, so until this was written I didn't know I had a potential collection on my hands.
3: one 'gift' that enhanced the story
Generally Mansfield's over-the-top persona fuelled this story: her wardrobe malfunctions, her pink palace, her zest for life. I'm glad it was only her wig that was in the footwell (she was not decapitated in that car crash as some reports suggested).
4: one thing I never knew about them
Anton LaVey, founder of the Church of Satan, named Jayne the High Priestess of San Francisco’s Church of Satan
5: an extract from the story
She shielded her eyes to the glare. An orange glow bled through her closed eyelids. Sometimes she wanted to be invisible but she had read that being invisible included your eyelids and you’d have no protection from the light. Yet, somedays she knew she was the most famous invisible woman and there weren’t nothing to shield her from flashbulbs and publicity and piercing public stares. Sometimes even clothed was to be naked.
6: what music I listened to whilst I wrote it.
You might think I wrote this story to that Cramps song on repeat, but actually I choose the moody b-movie music of The Raveonettes, in this instance their mini-album Whip It On. Still, I can't help but post Confessions of A Psycho Cat below:
My short story collection, Candescent Blooms, was published by Salt Publishing recently. I've previously posted here with regards to the background to the collection, and the fact that twelve Hollywood actors whose lives ended prematurely are the main characters in each of the twelve stories. As stated in that post, the intention around publication is to focus on each actor with some snippets of information (both about them and the writing of their stories). These posts will follow the same format for each. Our tenth character is Marilyn Monroe.
1: the reason for the title of the story
One of the nicknames attributed to Marilyn Monroe was The Girl With The Horizontal Walk presumably due to a certain swinging movement of her hips. I thought it worked ideally as a title.
2: why I chose that actor
I couldn't not choose Marilyn Monroe. I wrote this story before I had any plans to write any of the others. This story was originally published as a standalone chapbook by Salò Press. There may be a handful of copies left in their store. When that was published, I posted extensively about why I wrote that story here.
3: one 'gift' that enhanced the story
I used the plot from the abandoned Monroe vehicle Something's Gotta Give as the basis of the plot for this story, with multiple identities interlinking. As Priya Sharma said in the introduction to that original chapbook, The more times I read it, the more I see. The more I think about it, the more Marilyn Monroe converges.
4: one thing I never knew about them
Marilyn was a great reader. She had four hundred and thirty books in her library.
5: an extract from the story
I play a photographer, Marilyn Monroe. I get to go platinum. Preferably a wig. Marilyn doesn't take great pictures, but she's always in the right place at the right time. Plus she's pretty - we know how many doors that opens, front and back. She carves out a career for herself, Life, Movieland, Modern Screen, all those covers. She gets invited to all the right parties, then some of the wrong ones. So there's then a photo of the president; in flagrante. Before you know it, she's killed.
6: what music I listened to whilst I wrote it.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I wrote this story listening to a Marilyn Monroe song compilation on repeat. Every baby needs a Da-da-daddy...
My short story collection, Candescent Blooms, was published by Salt Publishing recently. I've previously posted here with regards to the background to the collection, and the fact that twelve Hollywood actors whose lives ended prematurely are the main characters in each of the twelve stories. As stated in that post, the intention in the run-up to publication was to focus on each actor with some snippets of information (both about them and the writing of their stories), and this is also continuing after publication. These posts will follow the same format for each. Our ninth character is George Reeves.
1: the reason for the title of the story
Considering George Reeves was typecast as Superman and that I listen to music when writing fiction, then my musical choice had to be O Superman by Laurie Anderson, and therefore the story had to be titled Oh, Superman. Sometimes these things write themselves.
2: why I chose that actor
This man of steel died from a gunshot wound at the age of 45. Presumed suicide.
3: one 'gift' that enhanced the story
The double life of Superman/Clark Kent placed interesting parallels on this story which - similar to Carl Switzer's tale - also revolved around trying to shake off a character in their past.
4: one thing I never knew about them
I didn't know much about George before I read up on him, but as a consequence one thing I discovered was that telephone booths were once called silence cabinets.
5: an extract from the story
Young George runs through the streets of Galesburg, Illinois, over the Underground Railroad. He passes the Gaity Theatre where – in his birth year - the Marx Brothers received their nicknames. He has his own O, a hoop with a stick. It bounces over uneven ground and is eventually discarded, describing a parabola as it loops towards the hump yard.
6: what music I listened to whilst I wrote it.
As above, it had to be O Superman by Laurie Anderson on repeat. It took me twenty-four hours to write this story. That's a lot of listens. This year - driving to Ross on Wye on holiday - O Superman came up on the shuffle. I sang the "hah hah hah" bit word perfect non-stop for the next eight minutes twenty-two seconds. I am Superman.
My short story collection, Candescent Blooms, was published by Salt Publishing recently. I've previously posted here with regards to the background to the collection, and the fact that twelve Hollywood actors whose lives ended prematurely are the main characters in each of the twelve stories. As stated in that post, the intention in the run-up to publication is to focus on each actor with some snippets of information (both about them and the writing of their stories). These posts will follow the same format for each. Our eighth character is Carl Switzer.
1: the reason for the title of the story
Quite simply, Alfalfa was the name of Carl's character in the Our Gang series of short films in which he made his name as a child actor (from the ages of 6 to 12). The nickname stuck, but shaking it off became crucial for future roles. Of course, even if he was always identified as Alfalfa, you can't be typecast as a child, so once you've grown there's nowhere else to go...
2: why I chose that actor
I was aware of - but had only occasionally seen - the Our Gang series. However when I put out a call for suggestions of male actors who had died untimely deaths, one of my Facebook friends (the writer, Peggy Wheeler), drew him to my attention. Carl was shot in an altercation over money when he was 31 years old. Another candescent bloom.
3: one 'gift' that enhanced the story
The fact that he had been a child actor. Layering that over his adult persona mirrored a role that he couldn't shake off. I was able to use that to my advantage.
4: one thing I never knew about them
As I was previously unaware of him, there was much I'd never known about him. However, I would add that I discovered alfalfa sprouts can induce systemic lupus erythematosus in monkeys but that alfalfa is good for high cholesterol, asthma, osteoarthritis, rheumatoid arthritis, diabetes, upset stomach, and a bleeding disorder called thrombocytopenic purpura.
5: an extract from the story
A sequence of events is more complicated than a string of anecdotes, yet - just as when I urinated on the arc lights - it's only when everything hots up that the stench becomes noticeable.
6: what music I listened to whilst I wrote it.
I wrote the entirety of this story whilst listening to the album, "Buzzkunst", on repeat by ShelleyDevoto (being a Pete Shelley, Howard Devoto collaboration). It's a mix of experimentation and raw pop, suitable as a mood creator for this story.
