Some movies give me hope. Just, generally. I mean, that you can still mix a movie up from just fast, bad cars and a bunch of happy-go-lucky characters who can’t really ever die. But maybe I should preface this by saying I’m much more of a Cannonball Run/Smokey and the Bandit/Deathproof kind of fan than […]
I’ve usually got my tongue di-rectly on the pulse of anything slasher, but somehow — two months of book tour? — Detention slipped past. In April, yes, when Growing Up Dead in Texas was just advance copies. And just a couple of days ago I was having a big talk with a good friend about
I knew from the first time I saw the title of this book that I was going to have to consume it, and then I lucked onto an ARC, meaning all I had to do was steal some time from myself. Which, I can be particularly unwatchful when the reading’s good enough. And, here, it
Man, I know: last week I hit Prometheus, and just did a status update somewhere saying it was decent, it was cool, and now here I am with a non-review of a movie fourteen years old already. Still. This one I want to talk about it for a short bit: 1998. Dan Rosen’s Dead Man’s Curve
Just went to the most excellent lecture-discussion led by David Ulin, with Matthew Zapruder and Rob Roberge and Elizabeth Crane Brandt and Mark Haskell Smith and Tod Godberg chiming in—more people as well, but, you know, you lose track. Not of the talk, though. It was about John D’Agata’s About a Mountain, and the kind-of
Hey, Growing Up Dead in Texas is an LA Times Beach Read. And also all around. And Goodreads reviews are coming in — thank you, readers, talkers, passers-on. Bob Pastorella‘s writing about it from Texas. Amazon reviews are coming in. And, for the first time the other day, I saw it live in the wild
I’ve hit both Laird Barron’s collections, of course — if you’re going to play in the horror fields, his bloody square of grass goes for an acre or two — and, in the way of disclosure, he was kind enough to pen the intro for my first horror collection, and I know and respect him
by Caleb J. Ross: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAQBd_GWOE0
New story up at DIN, “Secret Maps” (they’re the best kind). More stories soon, too, in excellentcool places. June will be all linky. “The Ones Who Got Away” made it on/to EWN’s Short Story Month. My weird flowhcart at Weird Fiction Review is all BoingBoing‘d up, thanks to Cory Doctorow. And I made Ann and
Man, where to start. How about with John Mellencamp: When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand “Rain on the Scarecrow” came out in 1985, the year Growing Up Dead in Texas happens. Or, that’s when the events happen. Right around that time I remember walking the fence with my
I tried so hard to make a YouTube playlist for Growing Up Dead in Texas. Songs that are in the book and songs that kind of encompass the book. But it wasn’t meant to be; the songs I needed can’t be included in playlists. So, in lieu, I’ll put them all here, in the order that
New interview’s live up at Curiouser and Curiouser. New story, “Dedication,” up at Smokelong. It’s the first story for Short Story Month, too. So cool. “Why I Write” is live at Stymie. I lucked onto Adam Cesares’Â Daily Grindhouse list. Couple more places got ahold of Zombie Bake-Off in the most wonderful way: Booked Podcast and
by Matt Falvey, Jesse Wichterman, and Kathryn Soverane. and it’s got its own facebook page now. Novel’s out in paper June 12th, in digital all around May 12. Eagerly awaiting. Nervously awaiting. Excitedly waiting. Waiting with far too many adverbs.
My review of Cabin in the Woods is up at LitReactor: “How to Tell a True Horror Story.” Was lucky enough to catch an early screening last week, with Drew Goddard and Amy Acker there to talk, after. T-shirt, poster, all pretty cool. But the movie’s the real. Haven’t been this excited for a horror
My interview there’s live. “Demons and Donuts.” Also, should the sun turn up dead one of these mornings, I think they’re going to very quietly change the name of  their magazine. There’ll be mass hysteria, a big funeral, all that, so I think they’ll be able to get away with it.
Just calling this post that because of the season. And because of course I love Hellbunny. Anyway, I never did a write-up for how cool World Horror in Salt Lake City was. Got to meet Robert McCammon and have him sign my Boy’s Life (to my son), got see Ellen Datlow some more, got to
New interview up, from Lance Olsen and Trevor Dodge’s Architectures of Possibility: After Innovative Fiction. Here. New story up at Juked, my first one to feature Mr. Rod Serling: “Submitted for Your Approval.” Piece of flash horror up at This Is Horror, “Evolution, 2:00am,” and it’s got the coolest illustration ever. But you got to
Way the Baptists saw it, that dunk in the river made it sure you was going to heaven, even if before or later you knew a cow in the biblical sense and set fire to a crib with the baby in it — Lansdale, this book When I’m pushing Joe R. Lansdale’s The Bottoms on somebody, I’ll
Or, really, I guess it was Jason (Heller), Jesse (Bullington), and me. Last night at the Broadway Book Mall—Ron and Nina of Who Else books hosting us, Mario Acavedo moderating, all put together by Mike Hance. Not sure how many people showed up, but it was a standing-room-only kind of situation. Looked a lot like:
Don’t get me wrong, I love Demon Theory, I’m forever lost in it. But still, I always wondered what a novel written with that kind of syntax might look like if somebody took out the footnotes. And then what if they also took out the screenplay language stuff? What would be left? Just straight-up story?
This was my first bookseller’s con. Surely not my last, now that I know these kind of goings-on actually go on. It was completely different from the cons and festivals I usually hit, too. For one, nobody was dressed like Data, or Boba Fett, and there were no remote-control robot fights or Bat’leth instruction sessions
That’s a mouthful of a subject line, yes? No worries, though. In the actual interview, there’s zero internal rhyme. Unless that’s specifically what you’re looking for. In which situation there’s little to no rhyme at that particular station. Though there will be a lot of fashion. And now my brain seriously hurts, trying to think
