Proof of Life

            I know it's once again been a while since I've posted, and in case you were waiting to see which excuse I would trot out this time, here it is: I haven't posted because I've been busy alternately dancing for joy and vomiting deep in my soul out of extreme nervousness, because I recently finished editing my novel and sent it out to a publisher. Yes, at this very minute the first novel I ever managed to stick this far with is sitting in an editor's slushpile, hopefully about to scare the shit and rip the heart out of them in all the best ways possible. Updates as they occur (or hopefully within a reasonable amount of time afterward; no sense making promises I can't keep). 

          Along with that soul-cramping event, I've also been busy getting some of my other publishing affairs in order. Yes, that's right, people and whatever sentient objects and alien life-forms might be reading this, I've managed to land stories in a few more anthologies since I last posted, and I also have an update about one of the books you already know about. So, to business: 

          The huge Mystery Author Darkwater Syndicate has been teasing for It Came From the Garage! has been revealed, and it's this guy you may have heard of called Stephen King. Yeah, he's written a few horror stories here and there over the years, and somehow (I'm leaning towards an act of black magic, but no confirmation yet) the editors have managed to add him to the ranks of authors in this anthology. Start looking for the huge I'M IN A BOOK WITH STEPHEN KING billboards I'll be putting up along every major highway any day now. You see that, Grandma? Stephen fucking King. Who needs a new career choice now, huh???

          My next bit of news made me think of the introduction T.E.D. Klein wrote for the horror anthology Dark Love, in which he asked the authors of the graphic, utterly fucked-up stories contained within "Do you let your parents read this stuff?" From the start, my parents have been proud of me and supported me through everything, and I know to them reading my published work is the ultimate payoff of that support. That being said, because I enjoy being able to make eye contact with them I will do my damnedest to keep them from reading my story "Drippings," which will appear in the upcoming anthology Deranged from Jonathan Ondrashek and David Owain Hughes (with whom I also share a Table-of-Contents credit with in It Came From the Garage!). The submission call for this sexual-horror anthology told me to not hold back, and I've never been so happy to obey a guideline in my life. What ensued is a weird, graphic, wax-splattered story I am so proud of but is definitely not safe for casual consumption. Or, you know, the eyes of parents and delicate, easily-offended snowflake readers. 

          My story "Killer on the Road" (under the title "Axe Me No Questions") appeared in Schlock! Horror! from HellBound Books last year, and this year I managed to impress someone over there again with my story "Friday Night at Oliveri's." This story has two distinctions for me: It's the first I've sold that'd been rejected by previous publishers, each of my other stories having been blessed to be accepted by the publications I wrote them for, and it's the first story I ever dedicated to anyone. The dubious distinction goes to my younger sister Kyleigh, whose horror stories of working in a pizzeria have been taken to the nth level in my short, blood-splattered tale. This story will appear in The Devil's Hour anthology; updates to come on when it'll be published and where you can get your hungry little hands on it. 

          In its own way, "Gator Girl," forthcoming in Alban Lake's Midnight in the Witch's Kitchen, is a nice little revenge tale of its own, even though its main focus is a swamp witch, a hunter, and a rougarou on the loose in the Louisiana bayou. It's the second story I've managed to sell after previous rejections—in this case, one rejection, a witch-themed anthology I wrote this story for last December. I wrote it, submitted it, and received a rejection four days later—still the quickest rejection I've ever gotten (for a short story, at least; earlier this year I got a one-day rejection for five poems which shattered that record soundly). As you might imagine, that hurt like hell. Yet now here I am, with an acceptance and a signed contract for that very same story, so please excuse me while I laugh maniacally and dance around a bit on that original speedy rejection.  

          So yeah, I've had a few hits lately (albeit among many, many more misses), and I thought I should share this with you while I'm waiting to hear back about the novel. Hopefully I'll be back soon with some more good news; in the meantime, I've got more things to write and submit, and a few more good jigs left in me.

          You know, until the anxiety sets back in again.