James Dorr's Blog, page 32

Jungle Lead Entry for March Cosmic Crime

Quoting the blurb: ­Crimes of some form will be with us as long as there are laws to break. Technology helps solve those crimes. But those solutions will always be found by the ones who get down and dirty — the detectives. Come see what the future holds for the dark side of law & order.

So what does that have to do with the price of kumquats? Having not recently checked the commodities market, let us visit instead the blog at hand for September 2, 2021. That was the acceptance, with contract included, from Hiraeth Publishing for a print anthology, COSMIC CRIME STORIES, of tales of future crimes and future detectives. This anthology is tentatively scheduled to be published on 1 June 2022 in trade paperback format with a color cover, and black and white interior illustrations. The Editor is Tyree Campbell.

So it’s actually early — but also late. That is, here it is only late April, having thus come in more than a full month ahead of time, but with today’s receipt in the Computer Cave mailbox of my copy — with date on the cover “March 2022” — a monthish late. But then why quibble? It’s not a big volume, coming in at just over 90 pages, but not pricey either with a cover tab of just $10. And my story in it, “The Jungle,” originally published in GOING POSTAL (Space and Time, 1998), a tale of both future crime and crime reporting, where sometimes the news people and the cops may get too close together — physically, that is — is given top billing both in the contents and on the cover.

“The Jungle” is one of six stories in all, in a clean, no-frills format, and can be checked out for yourself by pressing here.

The Mystery Thickens: Unnamed Proof Returned for (Secret Title) Premiere

So why not a preview of sorts anyway? A hint of excitement? A stroll down Blog Memory Lane to January 30 this year reveals the headline: Third Sunday Write Revealed Now to End January; New “Mystery” Acceptance on 27th. But the mystery could not be told.

Or, from the relevant text beneath: . . . a quick second item: Thursday, January 27, has brought my first story acceptance for 2022 (other postings this month have been for releases, appearances, payments, etc., but with actual acceptances in December or before). But there is a catch. This is also for a new publication hoped to premiere in May, but to quote the editor/publisher (anonymously for now), “[u]ntil then, please keep the title a secret.”

So the secret still roils, but the due date advances. As May has become closer, Friday brought a proof copy of . . . well, the story in question. So, finding no problems I emailed back today that it was perfect. The publication, of course, is still “unknown” too, but perhaps I can sneak in a picture to give a hint, at least, of the story itself (and one more hint — why not? — the tale has been published before). And everything’s still on schedule as well for that hoped for next month date.

Or just another mini-adventure in the Life of the Writer.

Tunnels: Other Stories Podcast Discovered for November 14

Sometimes these things sneak up on you. Friday’s THE HORROR TREE had a listing with a blurb that sounded somehow familiar: ­If you think you’ve got what it takes to terrify, scar and haunt our audience of 10,000 daily listeners, then we want your stories. . . . If accepted, we’ll get our fantastic narration team to lend their voices, our editor will sprinkle some magic pixie dust on the track, and you could have your story heard by thousands of listeners each week.

So the listing was for THE OTHER STORIES, with publisher Hawk & Cleaver, and thus, first, a search on the good old bloggie (i.e., here, below). A date was found, October 7, and the listing: the story, “Tunnels,” originally published in Britain in LEAFING THROUGH, December 1, 2004, had just been accepted for THE OTHER STORIES PODCAST. So then a trip to the story folder (call me old-fashioned, I save these things in hard copy, which allows for such extras as scribbled-on follow-ups) and a look at the contract, signed/sent back the same day, and a note that payment was received November 10. And after that . . . nothing.

So I’d been paid, fine, but I wondered if it had been aired yet. Or was due in the future. So this took a little searching around, but I ultimately found the publishers website. Then some exploration on that. . . . Well, bottom line, yes, it was actually broadcast November 14 — earlier, I’ll admit, than I expected — but, good news, archives are still available. Not necessarily found that easily, but, for you you can hear it yourself by pressing here! Just click on the triangle, listen first to a few commercials — gee, it’s just like TV, only without pictures — and, as narrated by Georgia Cook (the story blurb being, “Children in a society driven underground by a past worldwide war learn how to survive”), I think you’ll enjoy it!

Or maybe not, with Ukraine and all that, but at least then it’s apt.

Sick Jokes? Third Sunday Write Tackles a Hoped for Ending

It was Bloomington Writers Guild “3rd Sunday Write” time again (cf. March 12, January 30, et al.), with the prompts coming actually one day early, on March 19. So here I am less than two weeks late — but more than a month! And missing April Fool’s day by a day too, on April 2. At least that’s when I wrote it, but posting it a hair after midnight too, for — officially — Sunday, April 3.

Thus, with three topics, the first was to write about the weather and the third, with a poem attached, was to comment on that. So I chose the second, thus:

2. This is how the pandemic ends. . . .

Of course half the country didn’t believe in the pandemic anyway. That is, for them it never began — just a thing for Pres. Trump to say silly things about, turning, contradicting his own thoughts — but if never beginning, then now could it end? They got exercise though, indulging in fistfights with people who wore masks. Marching in parades, signs proclaiming: “Lemmings for Liberty!” I remember, that first summer being hot, how strange it seemed that I never saw any of them not wearing pants, which would be even more comfortable than just having one’s chin bare. And if not wearing cloth was necessary to demonstrate one’s love for freedom. . . .

Well, love is fickle, and so I imagine disease must be also. But some in the meantime got vaccinations — even the puzzled one called the Trumpster — and some of the others who didn’t died. Taking their Lemminghood literally, I suppose. Though by then some of us didn’t truly believe in them either.

So with bangs? Whimpers? Or maybe the problem is it isn’t ending.

Perils of Dating for Last Sunday Poetry; A Richness of Royalties

As noted below (cf., e.g., March 3), I’ve been more invested these days in short fiction than poetry, the last time I’ve been to the Bloomington Writers Guild’s Last Sunday Poetry (see October 31, 2021, et al.), for instance — despite its being one of only two “live” reading events the Guild has been doing due to Covid — was last Halloween. And then because I was a featured reader. But this Sunday morning, sunny if not warm, the session running from 11 a.m. to noon was a rareish exception.

The first of the two featured readers this time was Eric Rensberger who, after starting with a portion of a poem by a Ukrainian writer, read several poems from his ongoing series, ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS. Spanning a period from September 2020 to January this year, these touched several times on the current pandemic and one’s changing attitudes as it continues — but life in its other aspects goes on too. He was then followed by Colleen Wells, a poet and creative essay writer with work appearing in a number of venues, reading selections from her upcoming chapbook, ANIMAL MAGNETISM, to be published later this year. A 2020 Robert Frost Poetry Award runner-up, she also has a memoir, DINNER WITH DOPPLEGANGERS — A TRUE STORY OF MADNESS AND RECOVERY, published in 2015.

After the break, three readers stood up for the “open mic” session, of which I was second (out of an audience peaking at about eleven people), reading four poems from my 2011 VAMPS (A RETROSPECTIVE). Noting first that since we’ve entered spring — regardless of the temperature outside — my subject would be on the perils of dating, I then read four short poems, “Fast Operator,” “Strange Date,” “Moonlight Swimming,” and “What They Had in Common,” none of these ending particularly well for at least one of the partners.

Then of other news, last evening I e-received a royalty statement for the second half of 2021 from a publisher of several anthologies with stories by me. The amount wasn’t much (as is my custom I’ll neither say exactly how much, nor who the publisher is, to avoid embarrassment on both sides), but it is a publisher who does a lot of sales at conventions, most of which have closed down or gone virtual due to Covid, so the fact that there’s any is itself a cause for (mild) celebration.

Ryder Poetry Postponed to June, Reading Still Set for April 23

Time marches on. We may recall from earlier this month (cf. March 3), [t]he Ryder Magazine and Film Series is once again partnering with the Writers Guild at Bloomington, this time for a special poetry issue of the magazine. The street date of the print issue will be April – National Poetry Month – the the poems will be available in the online edition as well. Poems will be selected by Tony Brewer. So went the call and, about a month later the result of my submission, that two of three poems I’d sent had been accepted, the issue to be published April 18, with a public reading as well five days later, on the 23rd.

But world events happen and word came today: The poetry issue has been postponed until June. The reason, to free the RYDER to publish a special issue on Ukraine. But the message continued. Regardless, there still will be a reading Saturday, April 23 at 4pm at the polar bear sculptures in front of MCPL. Everyone in the issue is welcome to read a poem and there will be a couple of special guests. This event is co-sponsored by MCPL and they are providing everything: a PA, chairs, and snacks. And not only that, but a second reading has been suggested for Morgenstern’s Books sometime in June specifically to launch the issue.

Thus both poems will still be published albeit two months late, and one at least still to be read in April, which gives a choice. Which do readers prefer: vampires or zombies? The zombie poem is a wise-guy retort to the New Hampshire state motto, “Live Free of Die,” titled “Don’t Always Believe Everything You Read.” Perhaps sound advice for this time in history. While the other, titled “The Vampiress’ Soliloquy,” is a fun fantasy romp through Shakespeare.

In any event, the one not read in April (assuming only one poem to a reader) will probably be the one I’ll read in June, more details on which to be here when they’re known.

At the Movies: St. Patrick’s Day Fun Features Tammy, T-Rex

It wasn’t the IU Cinema this time, but a “Cicada Cinema” presentation Thursday at The Orbit Room, a basement Bloomington downtown bar. And Triana, underage in people years, had to stay home but would have loved the cats — a lion and a panther — even though they were in only one scene. It was a bit unusual for Saint Patrick’s Day night, too, but that’s how it shook out, and if between this and another rerun of the LEPRECHAUN movies on the Syfy channel, well, there was no contest.

The movie was TAMMY AND THE T-REX, advertised as a post-JURASSIC jam and an unprecedented mish-mash of rom-com tropes and R-rated horror thrills. And it seems that Tammy has more than just one problem. Her current boyfriend, a high school athlete on a losing team (for which she’s, natch, a cheerleader too) — of course there’s that — but there’s also the super-possessive old boyfriend and his teen gang chums who, beating the boyfriend up dump him in the town Wildlife Park. Where the cats almost eat him.

Then enter the local mad scientist who, having created a life-size computer controlled animatronic T-Rex (presumably the “real thing,” as it were, reportedly loaned by a theme park for the allegedly only a week and a half it took to film the movie), has designs on upgrading it with a human brain — whatever’s new at the morgue that night. So, long story short, our hero’s got plenty of anger issues with old boyfriend and company, but also in his new bodily form through the magic of charades (and a T-rex’s tiny little hands are about human size, a blessing, it turns out) is able to convince Tammy it’s really him!

So of course, she still loves him. . . .

To quote the blurb: Don’t miss this rediscovered cult classic that needs to be seen to be believed. Originally filmed as a gorefest w/ impressive splatter by SFX guru John Carl Buechler, TAMMY’s only minimal release back in the day was cut to a PG-13, funneled straight-to-video and inexplicably marketed as a “Kids’ film.” Needless to say, the version we saw had the over-the-top blood and guts scenes restored. And watched with a cellarful of beery patrons starved for laughs, the world being what it is, it proved quite the spectacle indeed!

February Third Sunday Write Goes on Facebook Friday

And — talk about late — it’s already Saturday. Not to mention March. But February’s Bloomington Writers Guild’s “3rd Sunday Write” (cf. January 30, et al.) was even a bit late in its own announcement on the 24th, four days after last month’s actual third Sunday.

So, okay, then mine came two weeks and a day late even for that (and, again, this blog entry itself adds one more day), but better late than never, eh? Or maybe one doesn’t want to answer until one has read it, in this case based on the challenge’s first offered prompt.

1. “The world changes according to the way people see it, and if you alter, even by a millimeter, the way a person looks or people look at reality, then you can change it.” Write a response to this quote by James Baldwin.

Thus, untitled, but on a day when the TV news was reporting that the Russians had claimed Ukraine was involved in chemical and/or biological weapons research for, it suggested, a possible excuse should they use these weapons themselves in their invasion:

Well, we certainly knew this from President Trump, whose evil Chinese disease-bio labs have been transferred to Ukraine by brother Putin. Trump’s brother, that is. While a bat in Wuhan says, “Hey, wait a minute!” A talking bat? Sure, that’s something that’s changed too, but the thing is the bat thought it was the one that birthed Covid-19. From an unfortunate sandwich sold there at the Food Fair.

We are what we eat.

So a handful of Tums for the Russian could ease the tumultuous Trump tummy and let the Ukrainians sleep better at night, but I doubt it. I doubt it. The problem here being that Tums Control follows a sort of logic. Skewed logic, perhaps, but still making some kind of sense.

While we live today in a world ruled by randomness. World leaders speak; things entirely different result. And then Facebook brings in its own interpretation. While Twitter still lags from its last bout of Crazies.

We won’t speak of YouTube.

Essay, Story, Plus “Seven” for 1st Sunday Prose

While the weather had looked a little as if it might presage snow, albeit quite a bit warmer (but this is March), an attendance in around the low twenties was much better than for last month’s Bloomington Writers Guild “First Sunday Prose Reading and Open Mic” (see February 6, et al.). And this held for post break walk-ons as well with seven reading work this time, as opposed to February’s . . . just me.

But first the scheduled readers opened with local poet Lisa Kwong, with a chapbook, BECOMING APPALASIAN, due out from Glass Lyre Press and her “Searching for Wonton Soup” winner of Sundress Publications’ 2019 Poetry Broadside Contest, along with numerous other poems, offering a prose poem, an essay in progress (“Appalasian Enough,” on an Appalachian-raised Asian finding, ultimately, her own poetic individuality), and a closing poem from her upcoming chapbook. This was followed by fiction from Indiana University American Studies Associate Professor and Adjunct Associate Professor of Anthropology and Folklore, Susan Lepselter, a short story set in the area she was brought up in, “Animals of Southeast Pennsylvania.”

Then, break over, with me fifth of seven, I read my most recently published new tale, in DAILY SCIENCE FICTION, coincidentally titled “The Seven” (cf. February 11, et al.). And also coincidentally the seventh story of mine that’s been published in DAILY SF, in this case the epic of seven small people in the mining trade, who’re starting to get tired of being asked questions about other people they may have met in their off-work hours.

But see for yourself by pressing here (where, if desired, you can also subscribe to DSF for free, and/or enter my last name, “Dorr,” in the search box to the right to read/count the other six titles I have there).

Vampire, Zombie Poems to Appear in April Ryder

This comes a bit late — mea culpa — concerning an email Tuesday evening, March 1, from the Bloomington Writers Guild’s Tony Brewer: Hi, James. Thanks so much for your submission.

I’d like to run “Don’t Always Believe Everything You’ve Heard” and “Vampiress’ Soliloquy.”

The note went on to cite a release date of April 18, and a possible reading on the 23rd. Of what? Of poetry, in this case for local community magazine, THE RYDER.

So I don’t write as much poetry now as in the past, putting more effort into short fiction, and my marketing is practically non-existent. But this notice had come up in mid January: Publication possibility — calling all poets and sometimes-poets

THE RYDER MAGAZINE
SPECIAL POETRY ISSUE

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

The Ryder Magazine and Film Series is once again partnering with the Writers Guild at Bloomington, this time for a special poetry issue of the magazine. The street date of the print issue will be April – National Poetry Month – the the poems will be available in the online edition as well. Poems will be selected by Tony Brewer.

If not writing much, but marketing less, that means I do have an expanding poetry backlog so why not? Yes? The call was for up to three poems, up to 50 lines each, and reprints were okay so I sent two new ones and — why not? — a sort of favorite as a reprint, “Godzilla Vs. King Kong.” And, not entirely unexpectedly, the fight poem proved to be the pug — the punched-out boxer put into a prize fight to build up wins for a new up-and-comer — with the new ones triumphing. These are both sort of sassy, satirical mid-length efforts, “Don’t Always Believe. . .” an examination of the New Hampshire state motto, “Live Free or Die,” from the point of view of a zombie and “The Vampiress’ Soliloquy” a Shakespearean mashup.

Say what?

Check back next month and we’ll find out together.