Edward Lorn's Blog, page 15
March 6, 2017
My Semi-Fictional Life #154 (Cutting Back on the Blogs)
Hello peeps. It was bound to happen eventually and I feel now is as good a time as any to finally pull back from the daily blogs. I promised myself that I would blog every day for a full year, but it has become clearer and clearer that I am not going to be able to complete this task. The biggest speed bump I am facing is all the running around I’ll be doing in the coming months. Even before the upcoming book tour, which now looks to be starting the second week of September, the day after Labor Day to be exact, I have various events and meetings to attend, out of state.
Now, while I am a social butterfly when I am at home or in the office, when I am out and about in the real world I am usually without internet. Or, more accurately, without an internet capable device. I want to be able to enjoy new experiences instead of hiding behind a device. I’m not knocking you if you prefer to live vicariously through your phone/tablet/camera/sex doll, but that’s just not my bag. I rarely even carry a cell phone with me when I leave the house.
I will miss our daily interactions. This has been a lot of fun, and I have met several new people whom I might not have met had I not started blogging every day. I made some enemies with my political posts, too, but that’s all right. I can’t please everybody, and I’m sure as hell not going to try to, either.
See you… relatively soon, I would think,
E.
Pic of the Day
Fairy Lights is just around the corner. March 28 is the day, kids. Preorder your signed limited edition hardcover by clicking on the image below.
March 3, 2017
My Semi-Fictional Life #153 (A Review of THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE)
Hello peeps. Today I’m going to be catching up on posting reviews for books sent to me by Crown Publishing. Expect multiple posts.
I don’t find much horror short fiction scary. Some of it is entertaining, sure, but I’m rarely frightened. Very few authors seem to understand the power of dread, especially in the indie/small press scene. All too often, these horror authors go for shock value to please their readers. I don’t give a fuck about gore for the sake of gore. When used appropriately, it can unsettle, but it’s rarely used to that effect. Another issue with most horror short fiction is the lack of characters you can care about, or at the very least characters whose motivations you can empathize with. I don’t read a lot of indie/small press horror for these reasons. Most of them are not scary. Sorry. You’re gross to the point of being silly, and that’s fine, but when I want to be scared I head over to the literary market. Because horror is an emotion and it takes a respect for that emotion and attention to minute detail to fill someone with dread.
Simply put, there’s not a single bad story in this collection. Some stories outshine others, but they are all engaging and unsettling. Stories like “The Neighbor’s Courtyard” and “End of Term” are insidious. They worm their way into you and leave a significant impression. And “Adela’s House” was utterly bone-chilling.
One of the biggest standouts in this collection is “Under the Black Water”. There is zero on-screen horror. All the horror is implied. Fucking loved that. It’s not something you see done well these days, mostly because a vast majority of readers “don’t have time for that shit.” These readers want to see the horror, to face it and dissect it and judge it. I will never understand this type of reader. All my life I have loved authors who did not hold my hand. One of the best parts about novels and short stories, what makes them, for me, stand above movies and comics and any other visual media, is the ability to form my own versions of things in my head. You are not limited to someone else’s vision. I am not a reader who wants everything spelled out for them. I’m not here to let you have all the fun, fucker. I wanna play too.
And that is where Mariana Enríquez shines. The best of these stories have no conclusion. You are left in the dark, bumping into slimy, sticky, uncomfortable things. You have to find your own way out and into the light. That, for me, is the best kind of horror. That’s why this book gets all the stars.
My only complaint is completely subjective. I didn’t understand two of the stories for whatever reason. I was still unsettled. I still enjoyed myself. I simply missed the author’s intention. Luckily, one of the stories is explained in the Translator’s Notes at the end of the book. Usually I’d say a good story must stand on its own, but the explanation didn’t treat me like a child and I appreciated that. Because of that, I’m not docking any stars.
In summation: If you’re like me and you like feeling unsettled after reading a horror story and can deal with the author not holding your hand, this collection checks all the boxes. One of the best horror collections I’ve read. Many thanks to Crown Publishing and Hogarth for the review copy, which I received in return for the review you just read.
Final Judgment: Drips dread.
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March 2, 2017
My Semi-Fictional Life #152 (Upcoming Book Tour)
Hello peeps. I posted this on various social media outlets yesterday, so if it read familiar, you’re not going crazy.
Later this year, I will be traveling from Alabama and through the following states in either August or September to promote various projects, as well as taking a much needed vacation. I will be stopping at bookstores and libraries along the way for book signings and meet-and-greets.
Alabama
Arkansas
Oklahoma
Northern Texas (the very tip-top and some of northwest Texas)
New Mexico
Arizona
Nevada
California
I will post dates and locations and times when I get them. I’d love to see each and everyone of you that are willing to come out, so if you live in the states mentioned, let me know where the nearest brick-and-mortar bookstore is in relation to you. I will be able to request stops soon and I want to see as many of you as possible.
See you tomorrow, and quite possibly, in the near future, in person,
E.
Video of the Day
My Semi-Fictional Life #151 (Awkward Situations)
Hello peeps. I love a good awkward situation, so today I want to tell you about one I experienced this morning at my doctors appointment.
I love my doctor. She’s a great lady. She takes care of my medical needs and makes sure I’m not in too much pain. This morning, she asked me to get up on the examination table, as docs are wont to do. She listened to me breathe and whatnot. Then she took a step backward and asked me how I was doing, mentally and physically. I told her my pain meds have been working, for the most part, and that I was currently not having any problems with depression and anxiety. I’ve been good.
Then she made a gesture. Both arms came up in a kind of crucifixion pose and the first thing I thought was that she wanted a hug. I’m a nice dude and she’s a nice lady, so why not, right? Well, as I leaned in, her right arm swung inward, but I followed through with the hug anyway, pinning her arm to her breast-region.
She said, “Oh. Okay,” and patted me on the shoulder with the hand that wasn’t smashed against her chest. Realizing I’d misinterpreted her swinging-arm gesture of “You can have a seat now”, I apologized for hugging her.
And she said, “Well, these things happen whether you want them to or not.”
Here I thought the hug was awkward. Sheesh.
Anyway, I had a good laugh about it and thought I’d share.
See you tomorrow,
E.
Pic of the Day
I took this picture this morning at the check-in kiosk…
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March 1, 2017
My Semi-Fictional Life #150 (Long Forgotten Story)
Hello peeps. Back in 2011, I was an active member of a writing website. I used to write a story a day, and sometimes those stories were actually decent. Many of them (okay, the majority) were hot garbage, but today I want to share one I’ve always liked. It’s nothing special, writing-wise, but I dig the concept very much. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll even expand upon it or completely rewrite it.
Without further ado…
Anonymity if Guaranteed
by Edward Lorn
It was smaller than I’d seen before, one of those little net-books cell phone companies sold. The thing didn’t even have a disc drive. There was one USB port, an empty circle where a power cable might go and a place to plug in headphones. The laptop was dark green in color and I almost missed it there in the grass.
I was on my way home from my friend’s house, cutting through the park, when it caught my eye. Though the top of it blended in with the ground, the standby light on the front showed a bright orange. Surveying the empty park, trying to find the computer’s owner, I bent down to pick it up.
The fan hummed softly and the bottom was warm. I was almost sure it wasn’t going to work when I opened it—the case was damp from its time in the grass—and was a little shocked when I saw the screen light up.
I sat down in one of the empty swings so I could check it out.
There was no start menu, no desktop icons, no background, nothing but an address bar and a blank, white window. I checked for an X to close the browser, but it didn’t have one. Now that I had the computer open, I could see, above the numbers on the keyboard, another light that showed a connection to the Internet.
I typed in Google and hit enter.
Nothing.
Bing
Nada.
Facebook.
Zilch.
Youtube.
Zero.
Every time I typed in a website and hit enter, nothing changed. The screen stayed white and the address bar reset, clearing my entry. There was a single arrow at the end of the bar, I clicked on it and was shown a history list with only one site.
http:/www.hurt.com
Someone had a thing for sadistic material. Using the touch pad, I rolled the pointer over the website’s address and clicked it.
Finally, I hit pay dirt. The connection speed had to be 4G the way it moved. I wasn’t familiar with the web browser, but it was fast, loading the site quicker than I could blink my eyes.
The display showed a black screen with a single red word in the middle:
WELCOME
Moving the pointer over, I highlighted the word, selecting it.
The next screen said:
BEGIN
This text was still red, but these words took up the entire screen.
Click.
A small, gray window the size of a bookmark popped up,
ONCE YOU PROCEED, YOU CANNOT QUIT
PROCEED? QUIT?
I laughed at this. I’d just turn the damn thing off if I didn’t like what I saw.
A cold wind cut through the park. I pulled my coat tighter,
PROCEED
I was welcomed by a seizure inducing barrage of flashing reds, blues, pinks, purples, and greens, all in a rotating sunburst pattern. Rolling over each other, growing out of one another, the colors finally coalesced into a solid brown screen. The home screen, gold letters in bold italics, read:
HURT.COM
CHOOSE YOUR OUT
HURT A STRANGER
and suffer no consequences
HURT YOURSELF
and suffer deservedly
HURT THE ONE YOU LOVE
and be rewarded
ANONYMITY IS GUARANTEED
I felt the smile I had on my face drain away. In the back of my mind I knew I must choose one of them. With a finality, like my own looming death clock, I knew if I didn’t, I would be punished. It was not a maybe; it was fact. I knew it.
My mouth went dry and my palms started sweating. Shaking, I watched the pointer make small circles on the screen as my finger twitched nervously. It was then I noticed the small print at the very bottom of the screen.
In the event that you cannot decide, you will be in default, resulting in the choice of all three. Copyright Hurt.com 2011.
You would think that the choice, as a human being at least, would be easy. Choose to hurt a stranger and suffer no consequences. Sounded like the right choice. All I had to do was click on that one and then throw this motherfucking computer like a Frisbee into the neartest tree. It would be done, and I would be free of this horrible plastic and silicon inquisitor. I could always lie to myself and convince that voice in my brain that I hadn’t really done anything wrong.
After all, anonymity was guaranteed.
Yet, there were other questions. Those ended up being the real problem.
Who would hurt themselves? What was there to gain from that choice? Some people got off on pain, but I couldn’t understand that lifestyle. Didn’t want to understand.
What kind of reward was one looking at for hurting the one they loved? Money? Fame? Therapy? Because you were sure going to need it if you chose that option.
And how bad was the hurt going to be? Were we talking a stubbed toe or severed limb? Concussion or compound fracture?
There were too many variables, and I wasn’t any closer to an answer when a timer popped up in the bottom right hand corner with a warning box:
YOU NOW HAVE 5 SECONDS TO DECIDE OR YOU WILL BE IN DEFAULT
Could I choose a stranger and live with the fact that someone out there was hurting because of me?
4…
Would I hurt myself to save a loved one or someone I didn’t even know?
3…
Hurting someone I loved for a reward seemed monstrous, but was I capable of it?
2…
Was my finger moving on it’s own? Or was I making this decision consciously?
1…
I made my choice, clicked my only option, because in the end there was only one; just one out. I slammed the lid of the computer closed and shoved it off my lap. I ran the rest of the way home, never looking back.
You want to know what I chose, don’t you? Well…
ANONYMITY IS GUARANTEED
See you tomorrow,
E.
Pic of the Day
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My Semi-Fictional Life #149 (Big News on the Way…)
Hello peeps. Not only does Fairy Lights come out in t-minu 27 days (March 28, to be exact), but I have a huge reveal coming. I was informed last night that contracts are on their way to me. This is the biggest development of my career. I’ve been working on this project in some way, shape, or form for over a year now, and it’s finally coming to a close. Everything’s in place: editing is complete, cover’s done, interior is set. Just waiting on the contracts.
Not only am I proud of the story itself, but I am thrilled with the design of the packaging. I’ve dropped hints here and there, but the final reveal should be soon. Once I put ink to this contract, I’ll ask the publisher when I can tell everyone.
See you later today because I still owe a post… Life’s been busy in the best possible way. 
February 27, 2017
My Semi-Fictional Life #148 (Lornographic Material Kindle Unlimited Bundle)
Hello peeps. Quick bit of news on the publishing front.
In the next few months, to coincide with the release of my new novel THE SOUND OF BROKEN RIBS, I will be releasing a Kindle Unlimited bundle of all my published work from the last five years. The bundle will include the following:
Bay’s End
What the Dark Brings
Dastardly Bastard
Hope for the Wicked
Life After Dane
Fog Warning
Cruelty
Others & Oddities
This will be the only place you can find Dastardly Bastard and Hope for the Wicked in electronic form. Dastardly Bastard is available in print, but not as an ebook, and Hope for the Wicked isn’t currently available in any form, unless you find a used paperback copy of Pennies for the Damned somewhere, which I highly doubt even exists outside of my own personal library.
The ebook bundle will be $9.99. The best part is, it will be available through Kindle Unlimited to read for free for those of you who subscribe to the service.
If you have any questions, feel free to leave them in the comments section.
See you tomorrow,
E.
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Book mail!
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My Semi-Fictional Life #147 (A Review of BLACK BOY)
Black Boy is the first book on the syllabus (I love that word, “syllabus”, it’s so silly for a serious, college word, but I digress). I burned through Richard Wright’s much fictionalized autobiography in four days. I didn’t want to put it down until the final 60-or-so odd pages. Up until those last 60 pages, the novel was beautifully written. The prose was in perfect harmony with the subject matter. And then, in those last 60, the text became dry and political. I didn’t expect the shift and was thus jarred out of the story.
Interestingly enough, back in June of 1944, the Book of the Month Club seems to have thought the same thing. They wrote Wright and asked him to cleave off the second half, “The Horror and the Glory”, and rewrite the ending of the first part, Southern Night, before they would select it as one of their club picks. I gotta say, other than some great paragraphs on the state of America at the time, I could’ve easily skipped Part Two. Nothing wrong with what’s there. It just bored this reader to the point I wanted to put it down.
Slightly off topic: I highly suggest you follow the link above to the Yale Course and check it out, as well as their other free YouTube courses. There are dozens of them. For free. Did I mention they were free courses?
In summation: Highly recommended first half, but the second part can easily be skipped without losing much. Unless you like reading about communism, then by all means, dive right in. The topic simply does not interest me whatsoever and Wright goes on and on and on about it.
Final Judgment: Race relations and communism in equal parts.
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February 25, 2017
My Semi-Fictional Life #146 (A Quote)
“The best stories never end. The worst stories never begin.”
~Herman Sheckle
See you tomorrow,
E.
Pic of the Day
February 24, 2017
My Semi-Fictional Life #145 (A Plea to My Christian Friends)
Christian friends with children, may I have your attention. Now, while you have every right to believe what you like to believe, I would warn you against forcing your children to bow to your beliefs. Let them come to it on their own. I do not want to believe that any parent would knowingly brainwash their young, but I’ve seen the call-to-baptism at the end of church work in such a way as to guilt-trip a child into joining a church, into being baptized. I have been that child. I have had my mother placed before me, on her knees as I sat in a pew, her eyes filled with tears, and given the option to break her heart or take a dip in Jesus’s dunk tank. It seems I’m not the only one who’s experienced this…
From BLACK BOY, by Richard Wright:
“This business of saving souls had no ethics; every human relationship was shamelessly exploited. In essence, the tribe was asking us whether we shared its feelings; if we refused to join the church, it was the equivalent to saying no, to placing ourselves in the position of moral monsters.”
In context, in the book, Richard’s mother is used by the pastor to guilt-trip him into joining the church. His mother even goes as far as saying, “Don’t you love your old crippled mother, Richard?”
Religion, like racism, is a learned behavior. We are not born with a concept of god(s), as we are not born with a concept of hate. This is why pastors must resort to the mob to help them during the call-to-baptism. Over a dozen churches I’ve been to in my life have pulled this tactic. It is not our place to force our children into theology. It is not a required aspect of life. We’re born to question, and in questioning, some might stumble into religion because religion offers one of many impossible-to-prove answers to the meaning-of-life question. Allow your children the right to deny your beliefs. Doing so does not create “moral monsters”. Doing so creates people who can think for themselves.
That’s my two cents, at any rate.
See you tomorrow,
E.
Pic of the Day
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