Here’s a bit of writing you don’t see much of anymore: Stonehill was not in a quarrelsome mood that morning, indeed he was not snorting or blowing at all but rather in a sad, baffled state like that of some elderly lunatics I have known. Let me say quickly that the man was not crazy. […]
Some of you’ll remember a bit ago, before the hack, the crash, the switch to another host, I posted a cool excerpt by Pablo D’Stair (which the hack/crash ate, refused to spit back up, and I couldn’t figure how to get a remade version back in-line with the rest, which sucks, but that’s not why
At least at Amazon, . There’s a synopsis on the listing, or, here at DemonTheory, or, I could just tell you that it’s about a unicorn who finds a flower under a rainbow and falls in love with a pirate centaur who’s only interested in her for how well she sings, and he of course
that makes it sound like I’m doing a response to King’s On Writing, yeah? Nope. Only response that book needs is, you know, writing. Anyway, this a series where different writers talk about what ‘reading’ is, or means, or does. And this is my paragraph.
I mean, Pablo D’Stair’s a-reading it, and writing about it for Sri Lanka, here.
It’s probably just me, but I had the hardest time getting into Amelia Beamer’s The Loving Dead. As for why I picked it up in the first place? Aside from that it was definitely ‘zombie?’ AT WHC2011, John Skipp (on an excellent zombie panel) said it was the only zombie fiction he’d read recently that
Finally got on, today. This is me: http://gplus.to/sgj. Digging it so much more than Facebook, too. Once you wrap your head around ‘circles,’ it seems so intuitive, and you wonder why all social media hasn’t been this way. Granted, I suspect you can use Twitter’s lists like this, but nobody was. Also, it’s smart on
I think is my second with them? Though it feels like the third. Not sure. Anyway, click here
In Kyle Reese’s bleak future there’s those Heinlein kind of bugs from space but no Ender to xenocide them away, and, I mean, they walk around in Robocop get-up already and look like Super 8 without it and act like first cousins to the aliens in Titan A.E., chasing a ragtag, Walking Dead band of
Oh, Doghouse, where have you been my whole life? I’m not saying I haven’t been into the other zombie comedies, the Shaun of the Deads, the Dead & Breakfasts, all the way back to Hysterical! and the splatter comedy Romero was kickstarting in Dawn of the Dead, and all the way up to Ahh!! Zombies!
Let the Right One In was a vampire novel we hadn’t seen before, almost like it was trying to be an antidote to things going on in the genre. Not so much a return to form, but a reboot. And then Handling the Undead gave us a completely different kind of zombie, one which is
I mean — I don’t know. But look: Tin Man was 2007, Fringe debuted 2008 each features someone who grew up in a parallel world (Peter, DG) each features someone who has had ‘knowledge’ surgically removed from their brain (Walter, Glitch) each has a ‘mystic man’ (each played by someone with starpower, too: Nimoy, Dreyfuss)
Just a rough list of the e-book issues I can think of. And, I should say up top here that I’m pretty much addicted to my Kindle. So this isn’t an attack on e-books (which — a lot of of those are taking the form of nostalgia, right? like when we went from cassettes to CDs?).
Sex & Nudity A woman is seen naked, from behind, but it’s through two doors, and in the point-of-view of a killer tire, so it’s not really anything you can do much with. Profanity Not excessive, and what’s there’s mostly from the ‘spectators’—the embedded horror-movie audience meant to offer the same objections we would, or
Or: The subject line that comes to mind now that I just finished up the Deadwood series. Or: just to write dialogue like that once, ever. I mean, yeah, it’s all kinds of fakey and staged and overblown, but it’s that kind of fakey and staged and overblown and David Mamet-y that feels like playwrights
Some movies just make you happy. Feast was this was for me. And Severance. And Leslie Vernon. And, though it’s more over-the-top, Club Dread. Horror comedy’s where it’s at, I think, though there’s a line, yeah; while I’ll sign up any day of the week for a Decampitated viewing, I don’t do so well at
this one is just as strong as THE SAD TALE OF THE BROTHERS GROSSBART. best thing I’ve read so far this summer, by far, and I kind of doubt anything else is going to live up to it. and, I’ve had this copy Jesse gave me for I don’t know how long long — too
which I’d posted individually, but they all died in the hack. So, to list: short-piece “Bone Choir” up at Rotten Leaves. Coachella interview’s live “Blue Velvet Monster: on David Foster Wallace” is up at The Cult “What You Can Remember,” an essay, is included in Llano Estacado: Island in the Sky. It Came from Del
will be streamed this Saturday night, here. I would say you’ll maybe see me on-stage, but, yeah. it’ll be one of the other nominees, I suspect. I’ll try to do a good Faith Hill close-up/reaction thing, though. also, I bought a tuxedo jacket the other day at Goodwill. now just to figure how to make
Adolescence and lycanthropy are the chocolate and peanut butter of the horror world. All this strange body hair, an insatiable appetite, late hours, sleeping at all the wrong times, nights you can’t really remember, can only piece together flashes of. A pretty sincere distrust of what are seeming to be your instincts, and everybody looking
I don’t care who you are, you only get a couple of drop-dead gorgeous stories, no matter how long you write. A couple, maybe three, that just sing, that last, that are permanent, that are indelible. Even Flannery O’Connor, even Tobias Wolff, even Stephen King. The rest can be beautiful and chiseled and have impact,
So, post-hack, lost a few posts, all the comments, and have yet to get everything tailored exactly as I want it, but stephengrahamjones.com’s more or less functional again, even if the images &etc in some of the links aren’t going to work anymore. And the menus and boxes will continue to change, as I figure
For ten Wednesdays the subject will be fiction. Mostly yours. With our class meetings going all afternoon, too, it’s not unlikely for you to be bringing a story to workshop each week. No essays or memoir or journalism either, please. Just lies, told in a fashion so compelling that we impart reality to them, that
“Based on a melody once whistled by Garth Marenghi.” Another movie A book A true story Real events An amusement park ride A video game A television show A toy A real idea A comic book A comic strip A song
Jones: PEN OR PENCIL? SGJ: I can’t really handle how loud pencils are. Jones: HOW FAST CAN YOU TYPE? SGJ: Can’t quite hit the 220wpm Philip K Dick was supposed to. But I plan on living longer, too. Jones: WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE X-FILES EPISODE? SGJ: “Jose Chung’s Little Green Men” Jones: WHY WRITE? SGJ: Because
The Fast Red Road—A Plainsong is a gleeful, two-fisted plundering of the myth and pop- culture surrounding the American Indian. It is a novel fueled on pot fumes and blues, a surreal pseudo-Western, in which imitation is the sincerest form of subversion. Indians, cowboys, and outlaws are as changeable as their outfits; horses are traded
[ rigged this together forever and a day ago, but it mostly still holds ] born in 72, grew up on Elvis, even have some memories of being four years old and my mother holding me up above the crowd at one of his concerts, how there was just a sea of popping flashbulbs, this
