I like twitter fiction. It's a good exercise for packing in lots of story in tight spaces (which is important at my job, writing video game dialogue in tiny boxes). Also, arbitrary restrictions are the mother-hubbard of creativity. Give me an infinite vacuum and my eyes dilate, and I float about the room with no purpose. Give me restrictions or complications and my creative problem-solving skills get primed. The itchy-itchy sand grain forms the pearl. Find an irritant, and it will make you write things you might not normally have written. A 120 character coffin to cram in is a nice irritant. Here are some bits of twitter fiction I've written, on the theme of fractured fairy tales, nursery rhymes, and the like:
The clock ate the mouse. Patient is the clock. Waiting is the clock. Churning gore greased gears. Hickory. Dickory. Dock. Peter Piper picked a penny to pay to peek upon a pack of pickled punks and promptly puked at the presentation of misspent spunk."I swear my first born to thee." The goblin trades me the glowing key. I then go to my second errand of the day: a vasectomy.Little Dead Wolf-Head Hood walks to grandma's house, stained axe in hand. Nobody calls her by her old name. Not anymore.They gather once a year at the pumpkin patch, pick goblins in embryo, trade grimoire recipes and gourd-hatching tips. Then, fly away.“Have to go or I’ll turn to a pumpkin," she said. We laughed. Made out. Then she cried, rolling down the hill, leaving me alone. Again.Wanted a prince. Kissed a frog. Transformation. Consummation. I can feel our thousand young grow under the mucous-slick of my new body.Chuck Wendig offered a challenge to write a 100 word story on the subject of revenge. I gave it a whirl. Many words died to get here, and my keyboard is sticky with their blood. Enjoy!
THE FIVE HUNDRED DAYS
“Illegal time window?” Shadrack laughs. “How many times can a mother watch?”
Windows are costly—calibrated to one person, place, and moment. No help, weapons, or resets.
They savaged me with cyberware fists.
Coughing blood. Hugging child. Failed. Too late.
But there’s a second me, bandaged and crutched. More me’s watch—each a
day older, a day more healed. How many times? You can open a window
once a day. Each a day more deranged. Shadrack stops laughing when he
sees how many days. The eldest lope down like screaming Bacchantes.
Shadrack’s thugs come apart in my thousand dripping hands.
THE FIVE HUNDRED DAYS
“Illegal time window?” Shadrack laughs. “How many times can a mother watch?”
Windows are costly—calibrated to one person, place, and moment. No help, weapons, or resets.
They savaged me with cyberware fists.
Coughing blood. Hugging child. Failed. Too late.
But there’s a second me, bandaged and crutched. More me’s watch—each a
day older, a day more healed. How many times? You can open a window
once a day. Each a day more deranged. Shadrack stops laughing when he
sees how many days. The eldest lope down like screaming Bacchantes.
Shadrack’s thugs come apart in my thousand dripping hands.
Nothing goes to waste.
That pet shop—barely a memory fragment from boyhood—filthy cages crammed with improbable combinations of species—the amphibians choking on the toxic cage mates they tried to swallow—the dust-mote cage with the cockatiel missing a wing, the round wound staring at me like an angry, red eye.
And suddenly that memory is useful. I didn't know it, but I was training then. You spend your whole life training, only you don't bend the training to fit a fixed job, you bend the job to fit the training.
That pet shop—barely a memory fragment from boyhood—filthy cages crammed with improbable combinations of species—the amphibians choking on the toxic cage mates they tried to swallow—the dust-mote cage with the cockatiel missing a wing, the round wound staring at me like an angry, red eye.
And suddenly that memory is useful. I didn't know it, but I was training then. You spend your whole life training, only you don't bend the training to fit a fixed job, you bend the job to fit the training.
My novel (Strangeness in the Proportion) gets a mention in an interview with my kick-ass editor, James Lowder. Also contains zombies.
Do you want to know the truth about Ichabod Knock?
I of course speak of that writer (nick-named “Icky”), gonzo occultist, bass-playing exorcist, & buggerer of sisters. Maybe you even remember one of his old bands: Vestigial Limb, Necro-Ophelia, Rambunctious Homunculus, Azathoth’s Taint, or Banana Hammock. If you’ve read Strangeness in the Proportion, then you have encountered him (perhaps in more places than you realize). His exploits have built up quite a mythos. Some know these little apocryphal nuggets as THE ICKY FACTS.
A few days ago, I recieved this Tweet from @Suitov:
“Am stupidly happy that @IckyKnock actually exists. Is it true he challenged Satan for a gold banjo and Satan crapped himself?”
Like any folklore, it’s hard to know which Icky Facts have a kernel of truth, but the story @Suitov mentioned is part of the urban legend—though there is some controversy as to whether it was a banjo or a ukulele, if it was gold or silver, and whether or not it was a music contest or a two-man circle jerk.
I myself recently stumbled upon an apocryphal tale involving Icky Knock, a bottle of tequila, and eldritch fertility rites in a dark woods. There are those who say a full third of Shub-Niggurath’s thousand young bare a suspicious resemblance to Icky Knock, but the bastard pays no child support.
@Suitov shared some Icky Facts that I had not uncovered in my research. Including:
*The Loch Ness Monster used to live in Lake Michigan until Icky Knock wanted to have a swim.
*IckyKnock once told a Hound of Tindalos to “go sit in the corner” and look what happened.
*When asked about the old adage about shoe size and penis size, Bigfoot said “If it were true, Icky Knock would wear canoes.”
What Icky Knock stories have you folks heard? Please share.
Do you really want to know the truth about Ichabod Knock?
Icky was very helpful in researching my book—particularly the bits of paranormal lore of Chicago. But…things have gotten weird. Icky jokes that he invented me as a character, as part of some experiment. He says he kept a child in a ritual circle in the basement, constantly clapping, just to maintain me during the novel writing process. That’s silly. He says if I turn away from the computer, there will be nothing there. Ridiculous. I haven’t turned away yet. I’m scared. I’m not turning away. I’m real. I’m fucking real!
I of course speak of that writer (nick-named “Icky”), gonzo occultist, bass-playing exorcist, & buggerer of sisters. Maybe you even remember one of his old bands: Vestigial Limb, Necro-Ophelia, Rambunctious Homunculus, Azathoth’s Taint, or Banana Hammock. If you’ve read Strangeness in the Proportion, then you have encountered him (perhaps in more places than you realize). His exploits have built up quite a mythos. Some know these little apocryphal nuggets as THE ICKY FACTS.
A few days ago, I recieved this Tweet from @Suitov:
“Am stupidly happy that @IckyKnock actually exists. Is it true he challenged Satan for a gold banjo and Satan crapped himself?”
Like any folklore, it’s hard to know which Icky Facts have a kernel of truth, but the story @Suitov mentioned is part of the urban legend—though there is some controversy as to whether it was a banjo or a ukulele, if it was gold or silver, and whether or not it was a music contest or a two-man circle jerk.
I myself recently stumbled upon an apocryphal tale involving Icky Knock, a bottle of tequila, and eldritch fertility rites in a dark woods. There are those who say a full third of Shub-Niggurath’s thousand young bare a suspicious resemblance to Icky Knock, but the bastard pays no child support.
@Suitov shared some Icky Facts that I had not uncovered in my research. Including:
*The Loch Ness Monster used to live in Lake Michigan until Icky Knock wanted to have a swim.
*IckyKnock once told a Hound of Tindalos to “go sit in the corner” and look what happened.
*When asked about the old adage about shoe size and penis size, Bigfoot said “If it were true, Icky Knock would wear canoes.”
What Icky Knock stories have you folks heard? Please share.
Do you really want to know the truth about Ichabod Knock?
Icky was very helpful in researching my book—particularly the bits of paranormal lore of Chicago. But…things have gotten weird. Icky jokes that he invented me as a character, as part of some experiment. He says he kept a child in a ritual circle in the basement, constantly clapping, just to maintain me during the novel writing process. That’s silly. He says if I turn away from the computer, there will be nothing there. Ridiculous. I haven’t turned away yet. I’m scared. I’m not turning away. I’m real. I’m fucking real!
Looky, looky, lovelings!
There is now a Facebook page for my novel, Strangeness in the Proportion.
Take a peak. Hit the LIKE button. More fun stuff to come.
Several weeks ago, I found myself editing a chapter of my book and yelling at a character. "You idiot!" I yelled. "Don't do it!" But he did. He always does.
On a less pensive note, MY SERIALIZED NOVEL IS DONE! This is a project I have worked on (on and off) for well over six years, and is released by White Wolf Publishing.
The novel is called STRANGENESS IN THE PROPORTION. It is currently being discussed HERE. It will soon be sold as an ebook (and hopefully a print book as well). Right now you can read all 19 parts of it at the links bellow:
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 1
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 2
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 3
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 4
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 5
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 6
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 7
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 8
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 9
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 10
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 11
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 12
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 13
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 14
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 15
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 16
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 17
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 18
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 19
But What's the Book About?
Well...
Synopsis #1 (provided by the narrator)
Would you like to hear a story?
This is a good one. And very short.
This is the story and the story goes: Simon meets Janie D. at work. She tells him who hurt her. She smiles. This is love. This is rigor mortis.
The end.
There is a longer story. The devils all lurk in the details.
Synopsis #2
Boy meets girl. Boy looses girl. Boy gets girl back...one piece at a time.
Synopsis #3
An absinthe addicted forensic pathologist (with a ghost tree full of undead ravens living inside his head) must enter a frightening, supernatural world to get his precious Jane Doe back.
Synopsis #4
Necrophiles need love too. They just have to dig down deep for it.
Synopsis #5 (a visual flow chart of the plot)
I'll leave the book to speak for the rest.
That's it. Milestone. With the novel done I’m doing things like sleeping again and responding to communications like, "Hey! Hey you! You can't stand there!"
I also hope to get back to neglected things. Like this blog. Stay tuned.
On a less pensive note, MY SERIALIZED NOVEL IS DONE! This is a project I have worked on (on and off) for well over six years, and is released by White Wolf Publishing.
The novel is called STRANGENESS IN THE PROPORTION
. It is currently being discussed HERE. It will soon be sold as an ebook (and hopefully a print book as well). Right now you can read all 19 parts of it at the links bellow:Strangeness in the Proportion, part 1
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 2
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 3
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 4
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 5
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 6
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 7
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 8
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 9
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 10
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 11
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 12
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 13
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 14
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 15
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 16
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 17
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 18
Strangeness in the Proportion, part 19
But What's the Book About?
Well...
Synopsis #1 (provided by the narrator)Would you like to hear a story?
This is a good one. And very short.
This is the story and the story goes: Simon meets Janie D. at work. She tells him who hurt her. She smiles. This is love. This is rigor mortis.
The end.
There is a longer story. The devils all lurk in the details.
Synopsis #2Boy meets girl. Boy looses girl. Boy gets girl back...one piece at a time.
Synopsis #3An absinthe addicted forensic pathologist (with a ghost tree full of undead ravens living inside his head) must enter a frightening, supernatural world to get his precious Jane Doe back.
Synopsis #4Necrophiles need love too. They just have to dig down deep for it.
Synopsis #5 (a visual flow chart of the plot)I'll leave the book to speak for the rest.
That's it. Milestone. With the novel done I’m doing things like sleeping again and responding to communications like, "Hey! Hey you! You can't stand there!"
I also hope to get back to neglected things. Like this blog. Stay tuned.
"I swear my first born to thee." The goblin trades me the glowing key. I then go to my second errand of the day: a vasectomy.
COVENTRY CAROL -- THROUGH THE MYTHOS LENSLullay, Thou little tiny Child
Bye, bye, lulloo, lullay
And smile as dreaming, Little One
Bye, bye, lulloo, lullay
Sleep now, lulloo, lullay
Oh sister, too, what may we do
To preserve on this day
This sweet Youngling for whom we sing
Dream now, lulloo, lullay
Bye, bye, lulloo, lullay
And when the stars align aright
In their far venture stay
Then smile as dreaming, Little One,
Sleep now, lulloo, lullay
Bye, bye, lulloo, lullay
Hastur the King, yellow raging
Set signs within his play
By his decree, insanity
All lucid thoughts to slay
All lucid thoughts to slay
Lullay, Thou little tiny Child
Bye, bye, lulloo, lullay
And smile and dream of stars that SCREAM
Bye, bye, lulloo, lullay
Sleep now, lulloo, lullay
Lullay, Thou little tiny Child
Bye, bye, lulloo, lullay
Dream now, lulloo, lullay
Dream now, ‘thoo-loo, ri-lay
Lullay, ‘thulhu, R’lyeh
Wgah’nagl fhtagn
Fhtagn, little one
Fhtagn!
