Short News About Short Stories

The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories has reached its secondary goal of £10,000 in their Kickstarter campaign. Although they now have all the cash they were shooting for, you can still merrily contribute in order to get your copies of the three-volume set (or any individual volume) in a format of your choice before anyone else, including the major retailers.

Interviews with the authors of Volume One (myself included) has appeared on I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere. This will be followed by two more sets of interviews for Volumes Two and Three. Check them out if you want to see what makes a bunch of Sherlockians tick. Or if you care to read whatever I blathered on about for “The Song of the Mudlark.”

In other anthology news, my next story, “When the Trains Run on Time,” will be featured in Exile Editions’ The Playground of Lost Toys this fall. Co-editor Colleen Anderson was recently discussing the book and its lineup on her blog. No cover art yet (which is one of the issues she writes about), but I remain watchful. New cover art for a publication I’m in always tickles me.

More announcements are queued up, but I’m stuck waiting for official announcements, air dates and/or contracts. You know, the usual bottlenecks.

A Three Part Problem

When I was a wee nerdling, I once attended a meeting of The Bimetallic Question. It may sound like a sinister secret society, but it’s only the Montreal incarnation of the usual sort of Sherlock Holmes fan club you’ll find sprinkled throughout the world. To this day, they get together once every couple of months in someplace suitably stodgy, talk about Sherlock Holmes, and act all Victorian. Or, if they’re particularly progressively minded, Edwardian.

A highlight of the evening is a quiz about one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories. They select a sample from the canon, encourage everyone to refresh their memory, and then ask trivia questions at the gathering. The winner gets a prize, as I recall. This was so long ago, I hadn’t finished reading all sixty of the original adventures. So when I was told we’d be questioned about the contents of The Veiled Lodger, I had to skip ahead and read that one early.

“It’s not very good,” the organizer on the phone warned me in advance.

Sacrilege from a Sherlockian. It was like hearing a Trekkie admit that one of the episodes of The Original Series kinda sucked.

He was right, of course. It wasn’t very good. Conan Doyle was slipping in those last years of his life. After killing off Sherlock Holmes and then bringing him back from the dead due to public demand, his heart often wasn’t in it. There are plenty of gems to be found in those final collections, but some of the stories are lazy rehashes of earlier, better work – or worse, dull original material that lacks the spark that made the characters successful in the first place.

A tasteful illustration rather than the lured money shot modern audience might prefer.

A tasteful illustration rather than the lurid money shot modern audiences might prefer.

The Veiled Lodger is one of those latter examples. It hardly even qualifies as a mystery. Holmes and Watson are summoned to hear a confession from a woman about a case the consulting detective once looked into but didn’t solve because he was never officially engaged. It all plays out as an excuse to get to the shocking finale where the veiled lady raises her veil to reveal what’s left of her face after it got chewed off by a lion. Where’s the accompanying Sidney Paget illustration for this one, I ask you? Okay, he was dead by the time it was published in 1927, but Frank Wiles, his successor, might have come up with something appropriately grisly. I blame The Strand editors for wussing out on the opportunity to horrify its readership.

As is often the case with many characters that endure long after the death of their creators, some of the most intriguing stories were written by subsequent authors. This will irritate purists, but my favourite adventures are often ones created by writers who were free to run with the groundwork Conan Doyle laid decades before them and make sense of his often egregious continuity errors. I’m particularly fond of Nicholas Meyer’s The Seven-Per-Cent Solution and what Billy Wilder accomplished as screenwriter and director of The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (I will forever lament the hour that was cut and largely lost by the studio).

Those examples hardly scratch the surface of what’s out there. As copyrights expired and the property slipped into the public domain, tremendous numbers of pastiches were written and filmed, including far more novels and short stories than Conan Doyle ever managed in his career. I have a good number of them, big and small, in my library. Now I’m looking forward to adding The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories in the fall – for reasons both selfish and charitable. This record-breaking collection is the largest of its type ever assembled, and will feature sixty new adventures of Holmes and Watson set in their proper time period and fitting in with established continuity (tortured as it might sometimes be).

My story, The Song of the Mudlark, will be among the sixty in this three-volume set that will be available in hardcover, paperback and eBook. All royalties will go to the Undershaw Preservation Trust which is restoring the house Sir Arthur Conan Doyle built and lived in while he was writing certain notable tales like The Hound of the Baskervilles and The Empty House (the one that revived the detective after a long hiatus). The Undershaw property is being prepared as the new location for the Stepping Stones school for children with learning difficulties, and they’ll be moving in once the renovations are done.

Undershaw back in the day.

Undershaw back in the day.

If you’d like to put in an early order and get your copy before everybody else, there’s a Kickstarter page with the usual levels of contribution, depending on how flush you feel. They blew through the initial goal of £2000 within the first couple of days, but the preferred total is £10,000, which will help enormously with the shipping costs of all these heavy tomes.

Additional information about the project and Undershaw can be had in this recent article and this interview with the publisher and editor. Stepping Stones also has a page of their website devoted to the work on Undershaw as its new home.

Badge of Honour

There was a slight delay, but Locked and Loaded: Both Barrels Vol. 3 was released last week and is now available in physical and eBook forms. I haven’t received my pulp copies yet, but this new scan reveals the back cover for the first time and something I always like to see – a negative review.

“Nightmares written from the ghetto of life,” denounces the one-star Amazon review for the previous volume of the series.lalfrontandback

I looked it up, and this particular review (the only negative one for the book, in fact) came from one Betty Jonas, currently ranked number 30,511,827 on Amazon’s top reviewer list with only three reviews to her name. So, yeah, not exactly Roger Ebert. Checking out her other opinions, I was greatly amused by her summary of The Busy Writer’s Tips on Writing Mystery and Crime, which suggested, “You never know, you, or even I, might be the next Mike Hammer.” Classic, considering Mike Hammer is a fictional character. Mickey Spillane was the actual writer who created him.

Ron, the editor, expressed his sincere hope that the current volume will inspire similarly negative reviews. And I can see his point. Why print glowing reviews when the negative ones make a book sound so much more intriguing?

Why yes, as a matter of fact, I would like to read some nightmares from the ghetto of life. I would like to hang out with one despicable character after another. And if I’m going to read trash, it might as well be pure trash. Thanks for that glowing recommendation.

Order your copy today and give Betty a hug for me.

Calling Shotgun

It’s been eventful on the crime-fiction front for me lately. The Exile Book of New Canadian Noir is now on shelves (if, indeed, you can still find shelves with physical books for sale – otherwise you can buy it as an eBook from various outlets). Corey Redekop’s mini-interview with me about the anthology has been up for a while. I probably could have written a separate book answering the question “What does ‘noir’ mean to you?” but who has the time to read it, let alone write it? Some people have a very loose interpretation. Unsurprisingly, my definition is married to the concept of film noir which, itself, has been broadly and loosely defined by others. This may have to be a topic for a blog post at some future date because I get asked, far too often, by cinema luddites, “What’s film noir?” whenever I bring up the subject. Yeah, I’ll get around to that right after I try to explain what a spaghetti western is to everybody.

“The View from Inside the Pocket” is my latest short story to appear on Shotgun Honey. It makes its debut today. You can go there now to read it and heaping piles of other crime stories, including two more of my own.

Also from One Eye Press, the cover for Locked and Loaded: Both Barrels Volume 3 has been announced. This new anthology is slated for release on April 21, and will feature my story “Young Turks and Old Wives” among many others. It will be available from the usual suspects.

Shotgun Honey's official mascot (unofficially Frigga from Thriller: A Cruel Pictures AKA They Call Her One Eye AKA Hooker's Revenge) makes a return appearance for the cover of Volume Three.

Shotgun Honey’s official mascot (unofficially Frigga from Thriller: A Cruel Picture AKA They Call Her One Eye AKA Hooker’s Revenge) makes a return appearance for the cover of Volume Three.

You Waited Too Long

I haven’t been much use to anybody these last few days. I’m still trying to catch up on my sleep after staying up very late several nights in a row, trying to finish Breaking Bad. Yeah, Breaking Bad, a show that’s been over since 2012. I’d been making my way through the series slowly, successfully avoiding spoilers, but I knew I was pushing my luck. Somebody was bound to spoil something about the plot, especially with the spin-off show, Better Call Saul, now airing and already renewed.

Then I was watching Saturday Night Live last week, the one with Dakota Johnson promoting that newer, crappier version of Nine 1/2 Weeks for the 21st Century. There was one sketch featuring a character’s reaction to the mere mention of Breaking Bad – “No spoilers, I haven’t seen it yet.” At that moment, another character pops into frame and announces, “You waited too long.”

My Spidey sense was already tingling. I had my fingers in my ears, blotting out any residual sound by loudly exclaiming, “BLAH BLAH BLADDY BLAH!” because I knew the next words spoken on my television would be a HUGE spoiler. I dodged that bullet, but I took it as a sign. I had to get Breaking Bad off my plate once and for all, so I overdosed on it. Now I have Heisenberg and Pinkman on the brain and I’m walking around everywhere calling people “bitch” and telling them we need to cook. But at least I’m through it. I know what happens. You can’t spoil it for me anymore.

Which begs the question – which other TV series do I need to get through before somebody opens their big mouth? The Walking Dead is a spoiler time-bomb with every episode, as is Game of Thrones. The only solution there is to remain current. As for other shows that have already run their course, there’s a lot to choose from. Dexter already spoiled itself by ending badly, but I’ve seen that series finale and lived to regret it.

I think my next spoiler-free viewing binge should be Rome. I’ve been meaning to get back to that before it comes up in conversation and somebody in earshot says something stupid and ruins a surprise. Call me crazy, but I already suspect things don’t work out so well for Julius Caesar in the long run. Or Mark Antony either. And yet, somehow, I’m betting that Octavian kid goes on to bigger, better things. Just a hunch.

Considering that one has been off the air since 2007 and all the major plot lines were resolved over 2000 years ago, I really have waited too long.

The Exile Book of New Canadian Noir is now available for order through Amazon (.ca or .com). My story, “Choke the Chicken,” begins on page 116. Get to it before you hear any spoilers like, for example, that it really is about a chicken despite being a noir story. You wouldn’t want some asshole blurting out a thing like that anywhere near you before you’ve had a chance to read it for yourself.

Fear of a Black Cat

At last, there’s photographic evidence that The Exile Book of New Canadian Noir physically exists.

I did not take this photograph, this is not my copy of the book, that is not my cat.

Photo by (presumably) co-editor David Nickle.

Photo by (presumably) co-editor David Nickle.

But if the editors are getting theirs, my own contributor copy should be arriving in the post sometime soon. The anthology will be on bookstore shelves in March. My short story, “Choke the Chicken,” will be in each and every copy of the book. Cats are sold separately.

The Last Chapter

Chapters on the corner of Ste. Catherine and Stanley in downtown Montreal isn’t just closing anymore. It’s all the way gone, shuttered and empty – soon to be replaced by the second largest Victoria’s Secret outlet in the world. Because sex sells. Oh, I’m sure Chapters moved its fair share of copies of Fifty Shades of Grey, but that’s nothing compared to the mark-up to be had on the lacy contraptions ladies wear next to their most private of parts. Thoreau can’t compete with a thong. That’s a fact.

People have been quick to point to this as a sign of the demise of the physical bookstore and the dominance of ebook sales online. The numbers don’t bear this out – not yet at least – but that’s the conclusion many will jump to. In reality, the loss of this cornerstone of Montreal book sales has more to do with mishandling, a confused business model, a hobbyist approach to management, and a foolhardy attempt at monopoly. The whole sordid tale is a matter of public record for those who wish to dig beyond the surface of a fanciful comedic blog, but if you look at the provided photo closely enough, you’ll see a key piece of evidence.chapters1

It’s there on the second level of the three storeys (plus basement) that housed Chapters. Those are café tables you can see through the windows. I knew it was the beginning of the end years ago when so much of the floor space was devoted to seating and the selling of coffee instead of books. The idea was that customers were welcome to sit down – for hours if they wished – and read books for free as they sipped coffee. Does that sound charming to you? Well, it sounds idiotic to me. It means if you shopped there, you were buying supposedly new books at new book prices that had been pawed at and sipped over by freeloading hipsters who couldn’t even be trusted with a library card. If I want dog-eared, manhandled books that have been eyeballed to death by strangers, I’ll go to a second-hand bookshop and buy a scarcer, more interesting edition for a fraction of the price.

The space wasn’t always a Chapters, but it’s been a bookstore my entire life. I’ve attended launches and readings there, bought many books, discovered many authors. I’d lament it more, but these days I can browse online, find just about anything I want in or out of print, and have it delivered to my door with free shipping within a few days, often less. I can’t say I miss swinging by in person, hunting through the various sections, trying to guess if the author I’m looking for qualifies as a wordsmith worthy of the literature section or has been dismissed as just another hack and delegated to one of the genre ghettos, and then finding they have copies of all his other books, just not the one I need.chapters2

Once the café idea was introduced, it didn’t take long for much of the rest of the store to get clogged up with all sorts of other merchandise that had little, nothing, or absolutely zero to do with books. It would never occur to me to go to a bookstore for candles, or a clock, or some goddamn gift basket. I think towards the end they were gambling on impulse purchases by making the cash counter a maze of shit you don’t need but might buy on a whim. They rolled the dice (on sale, half-off, aisle four, next to Dickens) and they lost.

At least if I’m looking for music, there’s still HMV across the street – if I can find which corner they swept the music into. The last time I was there, I almost had to stop one of the staff to ask them if they sold anything other than DVD movies, bobbleheads and novelty pint glasses.

On the subject of books I’ll be appearing in, but will never be for sale at the downtown Chapters location, there’s been some news.

The release of Locked and Loaded: Both Barrels Vol. 3, with my story “Young Turks and Old Wives,” has been pushed back to a February 17th release for technical reasons, and has been renamed Shotgun Honey Presents: Locked & Loaded for branding purposes. No cover yet, but I’m going to make a bold guess that the final imagery will include a lady with an eyepatch and a shotgun – loaded of course.

The cover for The Exile Book of New Canadian Noir has been revealed. Still subject to change, it might not be the final version that will arrive on bookshelves. But if this is what they go with, it will instantly become THE single most homoerotic cover my work has ever appeared under. Or maybe I just have a dirty mind. Given the name of my story is “Choke the Chicken” (I’ll mention that this is an old and popular euphemism for male masturbation in case you’re one of the rarified innocents) perhaps I do. Still, I don’t think I’m going too far out on a limb mentioning that guns are often phallic symbols and the dude on the cover is puckering up for something.exilecanadiannoir

Oh? He’s just blowing gun smoke out of the barrel?

Of course he is.

My Twitter project, 140 Notorious Characters, is complete and collected on this site under the appropriate sub-page. 140 Horrible Characters has commenced in time for Halloween and will run through till nearly Christmastime. You can keep current with these postings by following me on Twitter.

Let’s Ruin Reading for Everyone!

Is there anything technology can’t fuck up? If there is, wait five minutes. Someone will come up with an app for that.

There have been a couple of articles about the lost art of reading that have recently come to my attention. The common thread was that they amounted to two different technological “solutions” for the slow, tedious process of looking at the written word and absorbing it.

The first is Hemingway, a piece of software designed to streamline your prose by pinpointing things like style, complexity and individuality and recommending you cut that shit out. Although it was named for Hemingway, the author of this NPR article quickly discovered the app’s disdain for Ernest when some of his writing was plugging in for a quickie-computer rewrite. The results, concluded the reporter, were an improvement on the work of one of the most celebrated scribes of the 20th century – presumably because it turned his prose into something closer to literary Pablum. It was easier to swallow, bland and tasteless, and required little effort to digest.

HemingwaypunchI’d like to think Hemingway would respond by getting liquored up and punching this NPR flunky in the face.

Okay, now that we’ve ironed out all the bumps and surgically extracted the heart and soul of a piece of writing, how can we cram it down our gullet even faster?

I’m so glad (and dismayed) that you asked.

The Spritz app is designed to force your brain to absorb text much faster than normal reading speed. It’s like speed reading, but with a knife to your throat and your eyes pried open Clockwork-Orange style. Individual words are flashed at you, each with a single letter highlighted in red (presumably to keep you focused) at adjustable speeds that range from painful to tortuous.

Looking at the fastest setting gave me an instant headache. You couldn’t have given me a headache any faster if you’d hit me in the head with a lead pipe. It lingered all day after only about ten seconds of exposure. But it certainly worked. I could read fast. Extremely fast. And it was a horrible, unpleasant experience.

But maybe that’s the point. Hemingway tells us that the written word must be uniform and streamlined, while Spritz shows us that reading is a painful experience best rushed through and ended quickly. These technological innovations expose reading as a burden that should be glossed over and dismissed. Words are not something to sit with, absorb and think about. Language and nuance are for pansies. Books must be downloaded into our brains as quickly and efficiently as possible. It’s all about speed. Comprehension is optional – undesirable even. In the time you waste thinking about one book, you could have flown through three more.

As for short stories, articles or, heaven forfend, blog posts, you better be able to swallow that disposable crap in the blink of an eye. You have places to be, important things to do, other apps to download and install to run and ruin your life.

In fact, why the hell are you still here reading this? Shouldn’t you be done already?

If you’re one of those philistines who still clings to reading fiction and wallowing in words, you might be interested in two more of my short stories slated to appear in upcoming anthologies.

“Young Turks and Old Wives” will be part of Locked and Loaded: Both Barrels Vol. 3 from One Eye Press. It’s out in November.

“Choke the Chicken” is to be featured in The Exile Book of New Canadian Noir. That will come out sometime in 2015.

More details will appear here once we’re closer to the release dates or, more importantly, I have sexy cover art to show off. Until then, you can check out this cool fantasy mock-up for Canadian Noir that one of the writers threw together on a lark.

If you’re sold on the idea that everything must be high tech, I’m sure both collections will be available as ebooks for various tablets and devices and electronic doodads. Or you can curl up with these books the old-fashioned physical way. Order a copy or buy one at a book store – provided you can still find one of those antiquated archaeological dig-sites on a map.

Those of you interested in reading character-based crime fiction but are unwilling to invest more than five seconds at a time may want to check out 140 Notorious Characters. The genre is Twitter Noir and the project has just passed the half-way point. All the tweets are ultimately collected here, but you can also enjoy the twice-daily updates as they spill out of my brain, fresh and offensive, by following me on Twitter.

 

A Survival Guide to Westeros

Recently, I saw an online poll asking people which fantasy world they’d most like to visit. And despite so many voters expressing their desire to travel through the fictional lands of their favourite books, films and television shows, I didn’t see much personal appeal. Neverland? Nah. Too many eternally youthful juvenile delinquents up to no good. Oz? No way. Flying monkeys are creepy as hell. Narnia? Pass. Allegorical anthropomorphic Christ-lion messiahs aren’t my scene.

Nobody chose Westeros, home of George R.R. Martin’s Game of Thrones machinations and mayhem, because it’s too violent and dangerous. I think they’re missing the forest for the trees. The thing about Westeros, the real selling point, is that EVERYBODY gets laid. There is so much fucking going on in the seven kingdoms, it’s amazing anyone finds any time to get some beheading and backstabbing in.

Dwarf? Doesn’t matter, you’re a pussy magnet. Vow of celibacy? A ginger savage will still bang your brains out. Have to pay for it? Totally worth it! Westeros prostitutes are universally gorgeous and disease-free. Even most of the eunuchs in the land are hunks and could easily get some if they were so inclined (and rented the appropriate prosthetic). You can pretty much trip, fall and find yourself intimately entwined with a total hottie before you even hit the ground.

Okay, granted, the entire book/TV-show world is a death trap. Life expectancy is low, main characters die off so fast it sometimes feels like the entire cast must have contracted Ebola, but what a way to go! If you want to risk it and join the fantasy fuckfest, here’s a simple guideline to surviving in the lands of Westeros and Essos:

Be an outcast, either too tiny or too enormous. If you weren’t lucky enough to be born a freak, try being disfigured or maimed. Terrible scars may be your ticket to a long life. Losing a limb is golden. Don’t forget, cock and balls count. Think you’ll miss them? Well would you rather be dead? Trim those boys off while there’s still time. Don’t want to have your body all cut to pieces? Fine. Become a cripple.

Fat is good, stupid is better. Hedge your bets and try being fat and stupid. DO NOT be handsome or beautiful because one day you’re going to pay for that shit. If you’re at all good-looking, try getting maimed as soon as possible. Whatever you do, don’t be popular and well-liked. That’s an instant death sentence.

As predictable as this formula is, however, all bets are off when enormous versus disfigured in a fight to the death. That’s like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Oh, right. Spoiler alert. Sorry, but you’ve had a whole week to get up to date with your PVR.

This insight comes from having watched the entirety of Game of Thrones in a very short period of time. I’m not one for binge watching but, having said that, I did watch the first thirty hours of the show in three days flat shortly before season four began airing. After such an overdose, it was painful to have to wait a whole week between episodes. Now that the current season is done, I’m probably going to lose my shit waiting for season five to premiere in April 2015. This past Sunday marks the first I’ve had to endure without a new episode. I’m not looking forward to the many more that will follow.

Now I know what all the fuss is about. Game of Thrones is the best thing currently on TV, even if I have cracked the life-or-death code. It’s not my favourite thing (that’s still Sherlock), but it’s a close second.

As we all keep vigil for the return months down the road, let us remember one thing: In the game of thrones, you either win or you die. Regardless, you’ll get a piece.

At least on The Walking Dead, when they kill off a character, the actor usually gets up to take a bow.

At least on The Walking Dead, when they kill off a character, the actor usually gets up to take a bow.

The Spare

Another 700 words of my flash fiction is up on Shotgun Honey today. The Spare allows you, the reader, to enjoy the hardboiled-noir experience firsthand by placing you right in the middle of the action. And the pain. It’s just like virtual reality, except with words on a page, and without the hefty expense of an Oculus Rift and all the associated motion sickness that goes along with it.

Stomach-turning nausea may result regardless.

Book (patent pending) A new high-tech device that allows the user to immerse him or herself in a whole other world, fully realized and stimulating to the imagination. System requirements: enough energy to turn a 2.3 gram page.

Book (patent pending) A new high-tech device that allows the user to immerse him or herself in a whole other world, fully realized and stimulating to the imagination. System requirements: enough energy to turn a 2.3 gram page.