Tag: horror

Season of the Witch

Happy All Saints Day! And welcome to November, I suppose. This year is slipping away like sands through the hour glass (hat tip: Days of Our Lives), but the terrorist attack of New Year’s seems like it was a million years ago, too. When I think about where we are now as opposed to where we were ten months ago, though…it seems like a decade has passed since my New Year’s blog, doesn’t it? I slept deeply and well last night, and Sparky let me sleep later (although he got his razor blades trimmed yesterday, so him smacking me in the face in the morning doesn’t have the same impact) than I usually do, so that was nice too. We have to run some errands today we didn’t get to yesterday, but that’s fine. LSU isn’t playing today so I don’t have a vested interest in watching games today, so I don’t really care to be home for them all day, either. I probably won’t get any writing or much reading done, but…I also am not going to worry about it. Yes, time is slipping away, but I also need to allow myself to get rest and be lazy without beating myself up about it all the damned time, too. Progress?

Perhaps. We shall see.

I also have to pay some bills this morning before we do anything, and probably get some of the chores done, too. I made good progress on chores yesterday; the bed linens all got laundered, the dishes are done and put away, the counters are cleaned and cleared, and all I really need to do is vacuum the rugs and mop the floors, and potentially prune more of the books down. I need to be more ruthless, too.

The backlash to governor Janky Jeff’s massive interference with LSU apparently taught the moron some sort of lesson, because he backed the fuck down after Scott Woodward (best of luck to you, sir, you worked wonders at LSU and I am sorry Janky Jeff decided to show his ass) was fired. To paraphrase Mean Girls, “he didn’t even go there.” He also got some pushback when he tried to force Loyola (a Jesuit Catholic private university in New Orleans) to charter a chapter of Turning Point USA after the student senate flatly rejected their application, mainly because they don’t share the same values as the Society of Jesus. Bitch slap! I was glad to see a Catholic university stand their ground against political interference from TEMU Huey Long. Don’t stand with the evangelicals, Catholics–they will come for you eventually as idolators and papists and pagans. They don’t think you’re real Christians in the first place, so less than what they see as “white.” Janky Jeff is not popular in Louisiana; only 19% of registered voters even voted in that gubernatorial election because we had no options. All the candidates were different degrees of MAGA, anyway. I don’t even remember who I voted for, but I have never cast a ballot for Jeff Landry and I never will.

I can only hope to be seated in the jury for his inevitable trial for corruption and malfeasance. No, they wouldn’t seat me, because no one could ever convince me he isn’t guilty.

Then again, Jindal was never charged with anything. And he definitely should have been; his wife was just as corrupt as Casey DeSantis, and the corrupt always corrupt. (Note to everyone: their women are just as bad as, if not worse, than their husbands. See: Usha Vance, Melania Trump, Lara Trump…the list is lengthy.)

Sigh.

My mind is still deeply entrenched in horror, by the way, which is something I don’t remember Halloween Horror Month doing to me before; maybe because I was always trying to finish a book before the end of the year? This entire decade has been mentally draining and fatiguing, frankly, and I’ve had a lot of brain fog and increasing loss of memory. I do wonder occasionally about how different my career would be had I gone into horror rather than crime; rather than just being a fan. I did want to write horror when I was in my twenties, and even tried. I laugh now when I remember thinking my personalized rejections with suggestions and tips and encouragement to keep writing and submitting to them, from horror magazine editors, was just them being nice. Editors are never nice like that, ever, as I have since learned. I guess I was so down on myself and had such a lack of self-esteem (as well as knowledge; there was no one to tell me differently) that I focused on the rejection rather than accepting the encouragement. Each rejection was further confirmation that I was a loser, and I was in such a spiral of misery in the 1980s there wasn’t any way I could have seriously pursued being a writer. I don’t have regrets–I never do–but sometimes I do wonder. I played the cards I was dealt and everything eventually turned out, didn’t it? But I am going to try to work on some things tomorrow, since I don’t have to leave the house at all and Paul is, I think, going to his office.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back here in the morning.

Every Day is Halloween

Happy Halloween!

A hungry kitty has me up before dawn on this eve of All Hallows, and he is definitely needing more attention as I sit here swilling coffee; he keeps attacking me wanting to play, and doesn’t understand how sharp his Freddie Krueger claws are. I have work to do today, and lots of errands as well. Sparky needs to go to the vet for his annual shots and check-up (and his nails trimmed; we really need to learn how to do this ourselves, as it would stop a lot of bloodshed around here), and Paul needs to get his new phone set up. There’s also mail and some groceries and some other odds and ends to do either today or tomorrow. I feel very rested this morning, which is nice–and a good head start on the weekend, frankly; usually it takes me till Sunday to feel rested and not tired anymore.

I’m enjoying this fall weather (probably won’t take long for me to be over it, though) so far; but it’s nice not to be drenched in sweat as soon as I go outside the front door, or to have my car be as hot as the Sahara after sitting in the sun all day. The heat can be so draining and exhausting; just thinking about next summer makes me shudder a little bit inside. But the weather is another cost of living in New Orleans, that we all willingly pay (along with those nightmarish summer Entergy bills) while wondering how people survived here before electricity and climate control. Back when everyone wore a ridiculous amount of clothing and no electricity, how did they smell? (I often think about how rank the city must have been back in the day, when the gutters were deep for waste and water run off, in all that heat and humidity…yikes, indeed. I can’t get past that whenever I start thinking about writing about the past here…)

I also have thoughts about our janky governor turning himself into a mini-Mussolini, like the MAGA piece of shit he is, but I’ll save that for football Saturday since it’s LSU-related. Suffice it to say, he’s started down a path that could prove consequential for the state’s biggest priority–LSU sports–which would be received here in the state about as well as the worst of Jindal’s crimes as governor. On the other hand, if this winds up making him politically radioactive, it may be worth it. The funniest thing about it is he didn’t even go to LSU. Janky Jeff went to ULL and Loyola here in New Orleans–the same Loyola that rejected Turning Point’s request to be a recognized club. Jesuits aren’t having your MAGA bullshit, Janky Jeff! He also wants to put up a Charlie Kirk statue on LSU’s campus. Make sure you walk all the potential football recruits past that statue, and how is Charlie Kirk1 getting a statue on campus before Joe Burrow or Jayden Daniels? Janky Jeff’s priorities aren’t in the best interests of the flagship university…

I didn’t do a whole lot when I got home from work other than cuddle with Sparky and catch up on the news. I did work on the chores some; I need to do more of that this morning before taking Sparky to the vet; the apartment has looked worse before on Friday mornings, and there’s lots of filing to get done. I also want to finish my final Halloween Horror Month newsletter, since today is the last day for that, but I may just get that done over the weekend. I’ve already made this weekend inclusive for the Halloween weekend, so I don’t even need to rationalize anything! Win-win.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and get to work. Have a lovely Halloween, everyone!

Bad Bunny!
  1. And why not put up statues of Rush Limbaugh and David Duke while you are at it, Janky? ↩︎

The Dead Dance

Saturday morning with an LSU game on pretty early, at eleven this morning; I’ll still be drinking coffee at that hour. I slept well last night, which felt good–I love the night when the bed has freshly laundered linens and blankets–and Sparky even let me sleep in a little bit. My coffee is tasty this morning as I wake up and prepare for a day in which I probably won’t do much of anything other than read, watch football, and make notes in my journal. I feel a big tired this morning still, but it’s the final stage of the fatigue dying away. I may do some chores and picking up around here during the games, but I am sure by tonight’s Alabama-Tennessee rivalry game I’ll probably be quite sick of watching football games. Miami lost last night, so the rankings are going to be shaken up again, as they will be after all today’s games.

After finishing day job duties yesterday and running my errands, I settled into my easy chair and rewatched Scream, the original, and was reminded again of just how clever this movie is and why I love it so much. I took five pages of notes! The panel on crossing the line between horror and mystery also resonated and has stayed in my head… and I also remembered some things since, like authors we didn’t mention. I also very proudly finished and posted my newsletter on Clown in a Cornfield 2: Frendo Lives, which was a rave, and also has me in mind of slasher stories….the one on Scream is going to be a pretty good one, methinks. We shall see, I suppose.

After Scream, we settled in to watch our shows for the evening, before retiring to bed pretty early. I also picked up my copies of the third Frendo book, Clown in a Cornfield 3: The Church of Frendo, which sound delicious and a continuation of the exploration of trauma the characters have faced–as well as remembering the rules: in a trilogy, no one is safe in the third chapter–and the latest Donna Andrews. (I am four books behind on her series now.) I really do want to write a slasher novel, and have several ideas for one (my favorite potential title is Where the Boys Die); but I have numerous things I want to write before I turn my fevered brain in that direction. I’m going to work on something for the rest of the month (mostly short stories and a novella) before diving headfirst into Chorine for November. Ideally, I want to have the first draft finished by the end of the month so I can work on something else for December.

I am also planning on revisiting A Nightmare on Elm Street before spooky season ends. And today I am going to dive headfirst into Holokua Road by Elizabeth Hand while I am watching the games, if not starting it before the LSU game starts. I don’t know how LSU will do today against Vanderbilt; they’re pretty good this year, despite their sloppy loss to Alabama in Tuscaloosa. It’s not like LSU has been setting the world on fire this season anyway. So, that game could very easily ruin the energy of the entire day if I am not careful. I also have some short stories to read–I have several horror anthologies and author collections–while I continue to celebrate Halloween Horror Month until the very end.

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines for the day. I do have some chores to do this morning as well as some cleaning, filing and organizing. Have a great day, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early and feeling rested, I hope.

The Life of a Showgirl

Work at home Friday and all is well and quiet in the Lost Apartment this morning. Sparky has been fed, so he won’t attack me for a while, and I have a team meeting on-line later this morning. I also have all kinds of on-line trainings that are due, as well as quality assurance and data entry that needs doing, which I will try to knock out this morning/early afternoon. I don’t have to work a long day today, and will have to run errands later. It’s probably foggy out there this morning–it certainly was yesterday morning when I drove to the office–and it is that time of year: fog season. I love the fog, to be honest–I don’t like to drive in it, but I think its beautiful and spooky and all those fun things that make Spooky Season spooky. There’s a New Orleans ghost story novel I want to write–and the fog will help set the mood for it, so it clearly needs to be set in November or late October.

I was very tired when I got home from work last night (still am a bit on the fatigued side this morning), and didn’t get anything done. After I did that ZOOM panel, I was wiped out entirely and repaired to my easy chair and searching for horror movies I want to watch before the end of the month. The panel–the fine line between horror and crime–was very interesting. I did think about it a lot yesterday during the day, and so I hope I didn’t seem as at sea as I felt. I don’t feel qualified to talk about horror other as a fan of the genre–I’m not as well read in the field as perhaps I should be, and I don’t write it very often–so I always have a bit of imposter syndrome when it comes to talking about horror. But I had a lovely time, and got just what I needed from it–more books to read. Heavy sigh.

I’m a little fatigued this morning, too. I have work duties to accomplish today, and errands to run later on. I also intend to start reading Elizabeth Hand’s Holokua Road this weekend, and I have some newsletter essays to get finished this weekend. I want to finish the ones I started about The Haunting of Hill House and Frendo Lives, and maybe work on some more. I also want to do some short story work over the course of the weekend.

My shoulder is also aching this morning, which isn’t a good thing at all. It never has ached like this since the surgery two years ago (has it really only been two years?), but it’s probably from being tired and then sleeping on it wrong, but I do think I need to get some serious rest this weekend. Driving back from Alabama on Sunday before having to work four days in the clinic (as opposed to the usual three) was kind of rough, but I think I handled it pretty well, even if I am a bit more tired this morning than I usually am on a Friday morning. But there’s naught to do but to get to it, is there? I also have to clean up this apartment, which is a disgusting mess…since I wasn’t here last week to do it. I can work on the house when I need a break from the day job duties.

Was anyone really surprised by the leaking of the Young Republican chats, and what these mind-numbingly ignorant bigots actually say and admit to when they think they won’t be held accountable? And again, we have the right ‘defending’ all of this as (wait for it) locker room talk by kids. The youngest was 24 and the oldest 41–that’s definitely old enough to know better, and tells me everything I need to know about the defenders. These are the people who wanted anyone who they deemed to be insufficiently mourning the bigoted weasel Charlie Kirk, but now want to excuse racism, homophobia, and being pro-Nazi? I’ve said for years this is what white people really think, and why they hate/oppose DEI and “political correctness”–but here’s the thing: if you know you’ll get “canceled” for being openly horrible, then you already are aware you’re horrible. You just don’t want to be punished for being horrible, and thus you need to believe everyone else is just as awful as you are, but won’t admit to it…and since everyone thinks that way, you shouldn’t be punished for your “honesty.”

Whatever helps you sleep at night, trash.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning for sure. Until there, auf weidersehen.

Gorgeous Max Parker of Boots.

Wish List

Somehow I’ve made it to Wednesday this week, so praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, thank you very much. I was very tired yesterday–muscle fatigue more than anything else, thank God no brain fog–but there have been worse days than yesterday. I got almost completely caught up on all the work I was behind on, and can head into the office today knowing that I will be caught up and current on everything by the end of the day, which is marvelous. Yay me! I also updated all bills and made a to-do list yesterday, which should work for the rest of the week. I also get to start reading a new horror novel when I get home from work tonight–either Scott Carson or Elizabeth Hand, which should be awesome.

We finished Boots last night, which I enjoyed very much. I have seen some people complaining about the lack of romance on the show–it’s boot fucking camp, hello?–which seems kind of a ludicrous complaint, really. Were they expecting soft-core gay porn? Wasn’t all the eye candy enough? Honestly. I enjoyed the writing, the acting, and the story itself. I may go into more deeply at some point, after I’ve digested it a while and thought about it some more. I also enjoyed Miles Heizer in this, and given how much he annoyed me in Thirteen Reasons Why, and that is saying something. But I will say this–I think Max Parker is the breakout star from this show. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous man, and his performance as a decorated (and closeted) drill instructor during those horrible times when homosexuality was a crime in the armed forces, and yeah. There was a part of me that hoped the characters of Miles and Max would end up together–but I wasn’t terribly disappointed (SPOILER) that they didn’t. It was the story of Miles getting through boot camp with his platoon brothers, the relationships they built with each other, and literally maturing and growing up; and while the notion of ideal Marine masculinity can be troubling…they are being trained to work as a unit and for war.

Something to ponder there. Was modern-day toxic masculinity developed during war-time service in the Pacific and Europe, only to have the returning soldiers seep into the popular culture? Yeah, I’ll probably write longer-form about Boots, because it will easily play into my essay series about masculinity that I am planning to write.

Also, very nice to see openly gay actors not only getting work but getting to play gay characters in something as well done as this.1 It also reminded me that my dad thought it might be a good idea for me to go into the military for two years before going to college–and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with that idea. I don’t regret that decision, but you always have to wonder how different everything would be had I went along with that idea.

Must be my old age that has me going down these alternate history paths.

I did make a to-do list yesterday and I plan on getting started on that today. I am going to fetch the mail on my way home from work tonight, and then probably again on Friday afternoon. Since the LSU game is so early on Saturday, I’ll try to get all errands done either on Friday or Sunday morning. I also started writing a longer-form essay on Frendo Lives, too; what’s the point of Halloween Horror Month if I don’t write about the horror media I am consuming this month? I also seriously want to write about the whole concept of the slasher story, which is what Adam Cesare’s “Frendo” trilogy basically are. I have to say I’ve always wanted to write a slasher novel.

Still not completely caught up on everything that’s been going on in the world, and not really sure that I actually want to, either. Ah, well.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning, methinks.

The adorable Freddie Stroma, who plays Vigilante in Peacemaker
  1. Apparently it filmed here in New Orleans, too. ↩︎

Hey Deanie

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I feel good. Rested, at any rate; we’ll see how long it lasts, won’t we? But the coffee tastes marvelous this morning, the apartment looks better than it has in weeks, and I’m going to have most of the day here at home by myself as Paul is getting some tattoos–he said plural–and so will have a nice writing day, with some touching up around here to begin with. Yesterday was pretty lovely. I did run my errands in the morning, making some groceries and picking up the mail, and it was stunningly gorgeous outside–the way it looks to be this morning, as well. We didn’t really have the hideous September that we usually do, so this unseasonal cool weather has been absolutely lovely. (And by cool, I mean “not humid”) The aches in my hip and ankle joints aren’t present this morning, either. Anyway, he is going to bring home a pizza from Midway on Freret for dinner, and may I just say huzzah? I’ve been wanting one for quite some time, and was even thinking about maybe having one Door Dashed next weekend. Turns out, no need! Yay!

I did have college football on for most of the day, and while some games were good and close and exciting (Auburn-Oklahoma, for one–although Auburn should have won) and of course, the LSU game resulted in a massive blowout of Southeastern Louisiana, 56-7, I think the final score was? After one quarter the Tigers were up only 7-0, but scored four times in the second quarter to go in at halftime leading 35-0 and looking better than they have all year so far…again, it’s not like it was an SEC opponent, but this is the kind of score LSU expects playing an overmatched foe like SLU. We then watched the end of Miami-Florida (I am an SEC homer, but never root for Florida unless they are playing another non-SEC team I despise), which Miami won, dropping Florida to 1-3 for the year. Clemson also lost yet again, dropping to 1-3 as well–so how is LSU ranked Number 3 when their best opponents are a combined 2-6? As I always say, the rankings this early in the season are incredibly stupid and meaningless. Tulane also got blown out by Mississippi in Oxford, where LSU has to play next week for the 2:30 time slot. We’ll see how that goes; we’ve not won in Oxford in a while. 2019 season, perhaps? I know we lost the last time we went up there, with Jayden Daniels and that insanely high scoring game. We shall see, shall we not?

As September is all too rapidly rushing to a close, I picked out my TBR pile for October and my annual Halloween Horror Month, where I try to consume as much horror media as I can. I picked out too many books, of course, especially given the glacial pace I’ve been reading at for the last few months. I also spent some time reading yesterday, dipping in and out of Shirley Jackson’s delightful Life Among the Savages, and being amazed at her incredibly unique and magical voice. I am looking forward to my annual reread of The Haunting of Hill House, too. It’ll be nice to dip into another genre after focusing on crime for so long, to be honest. I’d like to write more horror, I have an idea for a repurposing of a horror novel I started back in the 1990s and never finished, But I need to finish this Scotty, and then there are a couple of other novels I want to get done first.

I also realized yesterday that one of the reasons I always feel lazy, and like I will never catch up, is because I have so many story and novel ideas that I will never get to, so when I don’t spend every waking moment writing…I feel like a lazy slug wasting his talents.

I also read deeper into The Hunting Wives yesterday, which I am really enjoying–it’s dramatically different from the show and I really like that–and hope to get some more reading done this morning before cleaning up and getting back into the writing saddle.

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be back here in the morning.

Just What I Needed

Monday and back to the office with me today. Yesterday was nice and relaxing; I worked on writing for a while, didn’t do as many chores as I should have, and watched a couple of shows. I didn’t want to get out of bed again this morning–no surprise there–and am a little bummed to not have another day off as of yet. But I’ll survive, as I always do, which is no more than I should expect, one supposes. It’s hard to believe that it’s August and my birthday is looming, as is football season and Bouchercon is also coming to New Orleans the first week of next month. I’ve got a lot to get done in the month of August, and I really need to buckle down and apply my nose to said grindstone. It’s just tough when you have to battle fatigue and exhaustion all the time.

We watched the Netflix documentary series Amy Bradley Is Missing, which was interesting and terribly sad at the same time. I cannot imagine the pain of having a family member disappear without a trace the way Amy Bradley did off that cruise ship. As a disappearance of a family member is the crucial plot element of a book I am researching to write at some point in the future (The Summer of Lost Boys), watching this kind of counted as research for that, as it gave me insight as to how a working class family would react to such an occurrence and how the family would be permanently damaged….which also got me thinking about aftermaths to crime and horror stories. How do you go on with your life after fighting supernatural threats? Or after being a murder suspect? Or having someone close to you commit a serious and most heinous crime?

After dinner, we started watching a new Mexican erotic thriller series on Netflix, whose title translates to Unspeakable Sins. Like all Spanish-language erotic thriller series, there’s plenty of sex and nudity; we only watched three episodes (there’s two seasons of nine episodes each) but even trying to summarize the plot thus far–but the primary plot concerns Helena, a wealthy woman in a very controlling marriage to an older man, who starts having an affair with a very hot young escort, whom she convinces to flirt with her bisexual husband so they can get video of the two of them together and she can use the video as leverage to divorce him. Ivan pretends to be a journalist doing a story on Claudio, Claudio is attracted to him, but things go south–they fight and Ivan’s story is he ran away. But there’s blood all over the house and Claudio is now missing…can Ivan trust Helena or is she playing him for a fool, setting him up to take the fall for his murder?

That’s the primary story, but there are subplots as well that are just as intense.

Ivan is played by gorgeous Andres Baida. I mean…

Sexy Andres Baida
He was also in Control Z and Who Killed Amy?

Gorgeous, just gorgeous.

I also spent some time processing seeing friends from high school that I hadn’t seen in almost fifty years. (The fact that it’s been almost fifty years since I graduated from high school also needs processing, but that will have to wait until I am done with this initial processing.) Every time I’ve had a conversation with someone from high school in the last thirty years–it’s not often and it’s not many–how they remember me, and high school, are vastly different from how I remember things, but they also never knew how miserable and unhappy I was. I always put on a good face; I always try to make the best out of every situation I find myself dealing with as they come up, especially when it’s not something you can change or alter in any meaningful way. As I’ve stated before, I’ve always thought I was odd-looking and never really had a fit body until I was in my thirties. But…seeing pictures from back then…I was wrong about how I looked (I’ve always been wrong about that, frankly) and my impact on other people. Both women remember me as having a really muscular fit body and being handsome and very kind and considerate and thoughtful–and funny; I’ve always been funny.

And I did work on writing yesterday. I edited another piece and wrote out what changes need to be made to it to make it stronger. I also did some laundry and a load of dishes, but didn’t pick up too much of the mess in the apartment. I do enjoy spending down time with Paul and Sparky, and really wish we were both retired and just hanging out around the apartment all day. Paul likes to be busy, though, so I do think he will take some adjusting if and when he finally does retire. I won’t be retiring for another few years yet; not going at 65, much as I would like to, so I have to get my shit together leading up to when I finally do.

After work today, I have to make groceries on the way home, and I’m hoping to do some writing tonight before we jump back into Unspeakable Sins.

So on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be checking in with you again in the morning.

Spirit in the Sky

I have written another Alabama story! It will be in the Crippen & Landru anthology Double Crossing Van Dine, which you can preorder right here. My story is called “The Spirit Tree,” which was a lot of fun to write, and am very excited that the anthology will release later this month/early September. I again got an editing credit (along with Donna Andrews and Art Taylor, both of whom do a lot more work than I do on these books), and I do absolutely love that cover.

Isn’t this a great cover?

Turn right on Simmons Road and in a half mile, your destination will be on the right.

Tom Forrester slowed his official State Bureau of Investigation SUV and glanced in the rearview mirror. Nothing behind him but blacktop state highway back to the S curve he’d just negotiated. He flipped on the turn signal and made the turn onto a back road. It stretched out before him, a narrow expanse of red dirt and gravel down to the bottom of a hollow and climbing back up the other side. He was getting a headache and wished again he’d asked for someone to come with him. He’d never been to Corinth County before, hadn’t even driven through it. Yes, it was in his district, but it was remote. At least an hour to the nearest interstate. Outsiders had to want to come to Corinth County to get there.

It amazed him that there were still these random remote counties all over the deep South, seemingly untouched by the outside world.

But the county seat, for all its population of about three thousand, had a Wal-Mart and a McDonalds, and almost every house or trailer he’d seen from the road had a satellite dish either in the yard or affixed to the building. Was anything truly remote anymore?

The road wasn’t wide enough for two cars, so he hoped he didn’t meet anyone coming from the other direction. A cloud of red dust followed closely behind the vehicle. At the bottom of the hollow there was a small stream flowing through corrugated iron beneath the pitiful road. And he noticed a rusty barbed wire fence running along the front of the pine forest on the left side, caught a glimpse of a rusted tin roof surrounded by overgrowth.

It looked…familiar.

Not a bad start, right?

The anthology also has an impressive table of contents:

You can find Van Dine’s commandments (there are twenty) here, if you want to look them up.

Mine was: The problem of the crime must be solved by strictly naturalistic means. Such methods for learning the truth as slate-writing, ouija-boards, mind-reading, spiritualistic séances, crystal-gazing, and the like, are taboo. A reader has a chance when matching his wits with a rationalistic detective, but if he must compete with the world of spirits and go chasing about the fourth dimension of metaphysics, he is defeated ab initio.

So, yes, like I did in the last anthology of this nature that I was in, chose supernatural/occult as my way of breaking said rule. I’ve done this before, of course, in novels; two subgenres I prefer are crime and horror–and I do love crossing/blurring the lines between the two of them.

Several years ago (it may have been last year; my grasp of time isn’t the best anymore) I read a book called Salvation on Sand Mountain, about snake-handlers in north Alabama (I’d also watched a documentary called Alabama Rattlesnake) which reminded me of a bit of country magic. When I was a little boy–a very little boy–I remember visiting someone in Alabama–and there was a small tree beside the front porch, with bottles slipped over the ends and catching the sun in colorful flashes and making tinkling sounds when the wind blew the branches together. I asked, and was told it was a ‘spirit tree,’–the sound of the bottles kept evil spirits and ghosts out of the house. I’d forgotten about it until I read it in the book, and I remembered it all very clearly.

So, I sat down and wrote an opening scene, in which a state investigator is going to a crime scene, and when he gets there, there’s a spirit tree beside the porch. I had no idea what to do with the story–how to finish it, who was murdered and why, etc.–and it went into the files. When I was asked for a story (and a by-line credit) for this anthology, I looked for the supernatural rule, claimed it, and pulled out “The Spirit Tree.”

Yes, it’s another Corinth County story, like Bury Me in Shadows and “Smalltown Boy” and “The Ditch,” not connected to the others by anything other than location, really, but it’s location is pretty much everything!

Hope you enjoy it–and the rest of the contributors are exceptional writers, so I know you’ll enjoy theirs, too! What are you waiting for? PRE ORDERS ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED!

Saturday Night Special

SMFS Official Announcement: 2025 Derringer Award Finalists

Since 1998, the Short Mystery Fiction Society has awarded the annual Derringers—named after the popular pocket pistol—to outstanding published stories. The awards recognize outstanding stories published during 2024. Results of membership voting are scheduled to be posted on May 1, 2025.

The full listing of our nominees and the markets that published the finalist stories has been compiled and supplied by Derringer Coordinator Paula Messina.

FLASH

Sweet Red Cherries by C.W. Blackwell

(Punk Noir Magazine, November 28, 2024)

Mob Mentality by James Patrick Focarile

(Shotgun Honey, June 20, 2024)

La Petite Mort by Susan Hatters Friedman

(Bristol Noir, February 16, 2024)

Kargin the Necromancer by Mike McHone

(Mystery Tribune, December 15, 2024)

Lockerbie, 1988 by Mary Thorson

(Cotton Xenomorph, October 13, 2024)

SHORT STORY 

“Skeeter’s Bar and Grill” by Julie Hastrup

(Larceny & Last Chances: 22 Stories of Mystery & Suspense, Superior Shores Press)

“The Wind Phone” by Josh Pachter

(Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, September/October 2024)

“The Heist” by Bill Pronzini

(Shamus and Anthony Commit Capers: Ten Tales of Criminals, Crooks, and Culprits, Level Best Books)

“The Last Chance Coalition” by Judy Penz Sheluk

(Larceny & Last Chances: 22 Stories of Mystery & Suspense, Superior Shores Press)

“The Kratz Gambit” by Mark Thielman

(Private Dicks and Disco Balls: Private Eyes in the Dyn-O-Mite Seventies, Down & Out Books)

LONG STORY

“How Mary’s Garden Grew” by Elizabeth Elwood

(Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, January/February 2024)

“Heart of Darkness” by Tammy Euliano

(Scattered, Smothered, Covered & Chunked: Crime Fiction Inspired by Waffle House, Down & Out Books)

“Putting Things Right” by Peter W. J. Hayes

(Thrill Ride – The Magazine, December 21, 2024)

“Motive Factor X” by Joseph Andre Thomas

(Howls from the Scene of the Crime: A Crime Horror Anthology, Howl Society Press)

“Cold Comfort” by Andrew Welsh-Huggins

(Private Dicks and Disco Balls: Private Eyes in the Dyn-O-Mite Seventies, Down & Out Books)

NOVELETTE

“A Band of Scheming Women” by Joslyn Chase

(Thrill Ride – The Magazine, March 21, 2024)

“Christmas Dinner” by Robert Lopresti

(Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, November/December 2024)

“Barracuda Backfire” by Tom Milani

(Chop Shop Episode 4, Down & Out Books, April 1, 2024)

“Her Dangerously Clever Hands” by Karen Odden

(Crimeucopia – Through the Past Darkly, Murderous Ink Press)

“The Cadillac Job” by Stacy Woodson

(Chop Shop Episode 1, Down & Out Books, January 1, 2024)

ANTHOLOGY

(Previously Announced)

Devil’s Snare: Best New England Crime Stories 2024

Edited by Susan Oleksiw, Ang Pompano, Leslie Wheeler, Crime Spell Books

Friend of the Devil: Crime Fiction Inspired by the Songs of the Grateful Dead

Edited by Josh Pachter, Down & Out Books

Larceny & Last Chances: 22 Stories of Mystery & Suspense

Edited by Judy Penz Sheluk, Superior Shores Press

Murder, Neat: A SleuthSayers Anthology

Edited by Michael Bracken and Barb Goffman, Level Best Books

New York State of Crime: Murder New York Style 6

Edited by D.M. Barr and Joseph R.G. De Marco, Down & Out Books

The 13th Letter

Edited by Donna Carrick, Carrick Publishing

I Want Your Love

Iris Saturday! And it looks like a beautiful day out there outside my windows. I also don’t feel sick this morning, which is also wonderful. After working yesterday I felt very sick and very tired, so I just decided to shut my brain off and just mindlessly drift through news clips on Youtube, as well as whatever my brain decided for me to look for (the temple destruction scene at the end of Samson and Delilah, for one example) as I finished laundering the sheets and went to bed. I slept great last night, too, and feel pretty good this morning. That’s awesome because it is, after all, IRIS SATURDAY! I probably won’t stay out for Tucks after Iris, but I am not missing my ladies! I also feel like I can get some things done around here today, too. I’ve been slacking on the house (and on, well, everything) for a while now–being sick didn’t help matters much–and so I should be getting it all under control today. I want to get some reading done, catch some beads, do some cleaning and some writing, while I’m at it.

I also watched a couple of 1970s movies last night while Paul worked (I got tired of the news; I can only watch American elected officials embarrass the country in front of the world so many times. What a fucking disgrace) and watched a Gene Hackman hard-boiled private eye movie (Night Moves) and a classic I’ve never seen (that no one ever talks about anymore either–The China Syndrome) and I enjoyed both. There’s really something different about the movies of the late 1960s and 1970s, a kind of gritty realism that showed the world as it was–dirty, graffitied, muted colors–that went away with movies in the 1980s, where everything was prettied up for the movies and departed from realism. It put me in mind of my Cynical 70s Film Festival that I did during the shutdown, and how so many movies were about paranoia and not trusting the government; which, after Vietnam, civil rights, and Watergate was very much a leftist thing. (Weird how that’s shifted–it’s the right that doesn’t trust the government anymore; that would be an interesting study, wouldn’t it? How that changed and shifted over the years? Another thing I hate about the right is that they’ve made the left defend the government rather than critiquing it.) Night Moves was okay–the mystery itself wasn’t terribly interesting but the thing that was interesting was Gene Hackman’s performance. The film was an excellent character study, even though we never really learned much about him. My primary takeaway from the film was that Gene Hackman would have made a great Travis McGee. Talk about missed opportunities. (Although it would also be a great role for Alan Ritchson…)

The China Syndrome was born out of the 1970’s paranoia about using nuclear reactors to create energy. After all the lies before, during and after Vietnam–not to mention Watergate–people weren’t really into trusting government reassurances, and weird things were happening with the nuclear power plants anyway (Karen Silkwood’s story would also be filmed, Silkwood, which was another one of those “paranoia/can’t trust the government or corporations” movies); they were building one fairly close to where we lived in Kansas–Wolf Creek, I think was the name–and there were protests about it (Kansas folks just saw as it as a place to work and no more thought into it than that) and I also remember in the classifieds in the Emporia Gazette some group always ran a little ad that said “NEVER FORGET KAREN SILKWOOD” so I already knew that story before the movie was made. Michael Douglas produced the movie, and of course Jane Fonda was in it–they were both very anti-nuclear energy; so of course it was seen as a “Hollywood liberals trying to scare people” film. But shortly after it was released, Three Mile Island (our almost Chernobyl) happened–and the movie became a huge hit. The movie ended positively–the news about the accidents at the plant in question gets out finally at the end1–which goes to show how hopeful these kinds of movies sometimes ended; when we all know the reporter and her cameraman, as well as the nuclear engineer played by Jack Lemmon, would have all either disappeared or been found dead under mysterious circumstances.

I really should watch an old movie when I’m too tired to write or read, rather than doomscrolling news clips on Youtube.

I’ve also been terribly remiss on my newsletter; I’ve started several that are in progress that I really should finish and share with the world–and should send out one before it’s time to do my review of The Bell in the Fog (Lev AC Rosen). I am trying not to overdo it–I mean, I pretty much write this every day so I don’t need to be sending out newsletters more than once a week; there’s only so much Greg people can take, after all. And I also expect you all to read my books and short stories, too. What can I say? I really enjoy writing.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and get to work around here. Have a lovely Iris Saturday, Constant Reader, and who knows? I may be back later.

  1. Sorry-not sorry for not putting up a spoiler warning for a forty-six year old movie. ↩︎