The third of the "Wild Hunt" short stories.
Kevin Murphy Pops His Cherry
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Five Backpacks (2003)
I was completely blown away the first time I read Russell Banks' The Sweet Hereafter. So blown away, in fact, that I completely ripped it off for this story.
Five Backpacks
Five Backpacks
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
A response from the heart to my Christian friend
Hey guys. This is going to be a bit of a strange post. Not another story, but rather a response to an email I received earlier today from a Christian friend of mine regarding the content of these posts, one in particular.
We exchanged a couple very civil emails and I asked this person if they would have a problem with me paraphrasing and expanding a bit on my response to them and putting it up here. They agreed, so long as I don't reveal his or her identity.
So here goes.
First: I'm sorry if what I wrote upset you.
Second: I appreciate your kind words, and I really do sincerely understand where you're concern is coming from. I don't share your faith, but I do respect it. And I can see how, from your perspective, these stories might seem ... what would the word or phrase be ... spiritually devoid? Angry?
I can't exactly disagree, but if your concern is that these stories are an expression of my deepest, most hedonistic desires, you couldn't be more wrong. I'm, at heart, a pacifist.
One of my favorite writers is a horror author named Jack Ketchum, and he's known for penning blisteringly dark and violent novels that are the literary equivalent of taking a blowtorch to one's skin. He's been accused of being a rank misogynist, a violent psychopath, and a disgusting and sadistic pornographer.
I'm going to steal his response to those accusations and appropriate it for myself. He said once that he writes about what scares him, and that his response to being scared is to get angry. That resonated with me. I wouldn't exactly say my stories are written out of anger, at least not consciously, but they are certainly an expression of the things that bother me. If you've read any of these stories you'll know that I have a pretty relentlessly dark imagination, and I've always been both blessed and cursed with the ability to imagine the absolute worst in any given situation. I'll also cop to, in my darker moments, having a pretty virulent misanthropic streak. I like people individually, but I've often had a pretty dim view of us as a species, and that certainly shows up in my writing.
But you shouldn't think that I'm walking around in a grim fog of existential anguish or a state of seething, violent rage. Most of the time I'd say I'm a pretty happy guy. And nor should you imagine that I in any way ENDORSE any of the dispicable behaviors that many (if not most) of my characters engage in. I'm not a sadist. Whenever I get an idea for a story (or a novel, or a screenplay), I think of the process as being less one of inspiration and more like contracting an infection. Writing has always been a bit like lancing a boil for me. An awful idea will occur to me, and it'll chew away at my brain until I can write it out of my system. That's it.
You accuse me of not leaving any room for hope in my stories. I'm not sure I agree 100 percent, but I'll concede that, no, hope isn't my first priority. At least not in my creative work. Some writing is meant to inspire, and I will attest to the value of that and need for it (why else would Eat, Pray, Love be such a phenomenon?). But that's not what my work is about. Creatively, I've always been more interested in turning over the rock and seeing what creepy crawlies are wriggling around down there. And I think there's value in that, as well. If you can't see the bottom, how do you know you're at the top?
And, yes, I do have a bizarre and pretty twisted sense of humor. And no, I don't apologize for it. It sort of comes with the territory.
As far as your request that I consider putting my energy into finding faith...I appreciate the sentiment and the obvious sincerity you put behind it. I'm not being condescending here. I really do. But it's not for me. This isn't a knock on your beliefs, but I simply don't share them.
My feelings won't be hurt if you decide not to read any more of my stories because, in all honesty, they probably won't get a whole lot better for you. That's why I set the "mature content" disclaimer. If you don't get anything out of this but despair and sleepless nights, then please stay away, and go with good tidings. I don't want to inflict pain on people ... at least not upon those who aren't asking for it.
And believe me when I say that there are no hard feelings. You don't need to apologize. Thanks for expressing yourself and for doing so in a respectful and caring way.
We exchanged a couple very civil emails and I asked this person if they would have a problem with me paraphrasing and expanding a bit on my response to them and putting it up here. They agreed, so long as I don't reveal his or her identity.
So here goes.
First: I'm sorry if what I wrote upset you.
Second: I appreciate your kind words, and I really do sincerely understand where you're concern is coming from. I don't share your faith, but I do respect it. And I can see how, from your perspective, these stories might seem ... what would the word or phrase be ... spiritually devoid? Angry?
I can't exactly disagree, but if your concern is that these stories are an expression of my deepest, most hedonistic desires, you couldn't be more wrong. I'm, at heart, a pacifist.
One of my favorite writers is a horror author named Jack Ketchum, and he's known for penning blisteringly dark and violent novels that are the literary equivalent of taking a blowtorch to one's skin. He's been accused of being a rank misogynist, a violent psychopath, and a disgusting and sadistic pornographer.
I'm going to steal his response to those accusations and appropriate it for myself. He said once that he writes about what scares him, and that his response to being scared is to get angry. That resonated with me. I wouldn't exactly say my stories are written out of anger, at least not consciously, but they are certainly an expression of the things that bother me. If you've read any of these stories you'll know that I have a pretty relentlessly dark imagination, and I've always been both blessed and cursed with the ability to imagine the absolute worst in any given situation. I'll also cop to, in my darker moments, having a pretty virulent misanthropic streak. I like people individually, but I've often had a pretty dim view of us as a species, and that certainly shows up in my writing.
But you shouldn't think that I'm walking around in a grim fog of existential anguish or a state of seething, violent rage. Most of the time I'd say I'm a pretty happy guy. And nor should you imagine that I in any way ENDORSE any of the dispicable behaviors that many (if not most) of my characters engage in. I'm not a sadist. Whenever I get an idea for a story (or a novel, or a screenplay), I think of the process as being less one of inspiration and more like contracting an infection. Writing has always been a bit like lancing a boil for me. An awful idea will occur to me, and it'll chew away at my brain until I can write it out of my system. That's it.
You accuse me of not leaving any room for hope in my stories. I'm not sure I agree 100 percent, but I'll concede that, no, hope isn't my first priority. At least not in my creative work. Some writing is meant to inspire, and I will attest to the value of that and need for it (why else would Eat, Pray, Love be such a phenomenon?). But that's not what my work is about. Creatively, I've always been more interested in turning over the rock and seeing what creepy crawlies are wriggling around down there. And I think there's value in that, as well. If you can't see the bottom, how do you know you're at the top?
And, yes, I do have a bizarre and pretty twisted sense of humor. And no, I don't apologize for it. It sort of comes with the territory.
As far as your request that I consider putting my energy into finding faith...I appreciate the sentiment and the obvious sincerity you put behind it. I'm not being condescending here. I really do. But it's not for me. This isn't a knock on your beliefs, but I simply don't share them.
My feelings won't be hurt if you decide not to read any more of my stories because, in all honesty, they probably won't get a whole lot better for you. That's why I set the "mature content" disclaimer. If you don't get anything out of this but despair and sleepless nights, then please stay away, and go with good tidings. I don't want to inflict pain on people ... at least not upon those who aren't asking for it.
And believe me when I say that there are no hard feelings. You don't need to apologize. Thanks for expressing yourself and for doing so in a respectful and caring way.
Excerpt: It's Over Now Baby Blue, Chapter 11 (2007)
Some of you guys might remember my messy, sprawling, unfinished epic about dirty sex and the nuclear apocalypse that I was posting, chapter by chapter, on Myspace a few years ago.
Well, it's still unfinished. One of these days I'll get back to it.
But in the meantime here's an excerpt. I might post a few more from time to time.
It's Over Now Baby Blue, Chapter 11 - "The Angel of Shavano Peak"
Well, it's still unfinished. One of these days I'll get back to it.
But in the meantime here's an excerpt. I might post a few more from time to time.
It's Over Now Baby Blue, Chapter 11 - "The Angel of Shavano Peak"
Friday, August 20, 2010
ANNOUNCEMENT: The Facebook Photos Experiment
Hey guys. Thanks for joining up and reading.
One aspect of this blog for me is to give myself a kick in the pants to start writing short fiction again (the "Wild Hunt" stories were my last). My goal is to write and post a new short story every two weeks.
So, to that end, I'm announcing the Facebook Photos Experiment.
Here's how it works:
1) You send me a link to some random picture out of one of your photo albums.
It could be something like this:
Or this:
Or this:
Whatever. It can be anything, so long as it's from YOUR photo album and not one of your friends (I don't want to get sued).
2) I write a story inspired by the photo.
The stories will NOT be about you, but rather be simply inspired by the image itself. If you're worried about privacy, I won't link to your FB profile or anything like that, and if you prefer I will not put your name in the caption.
I would say this is like a contest, but the only prize you get is a story inspired by your photo that will probably be too fucked up to show to your mother.
Should be fun!
One aspect of this blog for me is to give myself a kick in the pants to start writing short fiction again (the "Wild Hunt" stories were my last). My goal is to write and post a new short story every two weeks.
So, to that end, I'm announcing the Facebook Photos Experiment.
Here's how it works:
1) You send me a link to some random picture out of one of your photo albums.
It could be something like this:
Or this:
Or this:
Whatever. It can be anything, so long as it's from YOUR photo album and not one of your friends (I don't want to get sued).
2) I write a story inspired by the photo.
The stories will NOT be about you, but rather be simply inspired by the image itself. If you're worried about privacy, I won't link to your FB profile or anything like that, and if you prefer I will not put your name in the caption.
I would say this is like a contest, but the only prize you get is a story inspired by your photo that will probably be too fucked up to show to your mother.
Should be fun!
The Number Dream (1999)
Here's a golden oldie for you guys. I wrote this back when I was reading a lot of Bret Easton Ellis, and looking it over again now it's obvious I was trying to ape his style. But I still like it.
And no, I certainly did NOT write this story after watching the E! True Hollywood Story about River Phoenix. Why ever would you think that?
The Number Dream
And no, I certainly did NOT write this story after watching the E! True Hollywood Story about River Phoenix. Why ever would you think that?
The Number Dream
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Mike Sullivan Kills a Dog (2008)
This story is a tie-in to a screenplay I wrote a few years ago called "The Wild Hunt" (some of you may have read it; if you haven't, just think "zombies vs. gangsters"). Mike is one of the main characters. This is sort of a nasty little story, but I think it works nicely as a standalone.
Fair warning: Some of the language in here -- particularly in regards to Mike's...ahem...ideas on race -- is pretty strong.
I had originally intended to write ten stories to tie in with the script, but I only completed three. I'll probably post the others up here too at some point. And maybe someday I'll write the other seven.
Mike Sullivan Kills a Dog
Fair warning: Some of the language in here -- particularly in regards to Mike's...ahem...ideas on race -- is pretty strong.
I had originally intended to write ten stories to tie in with the script, but I only completed three. I'll probably post the others up here too at some point. And maybe someday I'll write the other seven.
Mike Sullivan Kills a Dog
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