The second annual issue of The Literary House Review has just been released. Why should you care? My story, “The Camp,” appears within. That’s why. Never mind that the publication contains 232 pages of genre and non-genre, commercial and literary fiction, along with poems enough to erect a mansion – albeit one inconveniently susceptible to moisture (guess what paper, you make a better art medium than a wall!). Never mind that The Review is available to buy here or here and is archived at New York Public Library, Rockefeller Library at Brown University, RI, and at the University of Wisconsin Madison Library (those are monocle-level smart houses, people). Buy it for “The Camp.”

Now for the author notes:

As so many stories begin, “The Camp” was a self-inflicted dare. The concept of “The Camp” is seeded in a desire to explore the horrid through a lens subjectively aimed toward beauty. I told myself that I should write about the hidden beauty in something ugly. How’s The Holocaust for ugly? But truthfully, The Holocaust could have been any tragedy as far as “The Camp” goes (though I would have had to change the title). I wasn’t looking to explore Nazi sympathy; I was simply after finding the pleasant within the unpleasant.

Read “The Camp” here for free!

I’ve been clicking over to 3:AM Magazine for quite a while now. I can’t remember where I first heard about it (probably from Dogmatika, where I hear about most every great thing in the underground lit scene), so I can’t place praise with full accuracy. However, I can pass on the good word. And what better way to do so than via the news of my own story, “Snake Girl at Scab,” getting some page space.

Some author notes on the story:

During my first visit to Portland, Oregon (USA), some locals took us to an event called First Thursdays, a neighborhood art gallery orgy (artgy, if you will) with booths, food, music, and lives to be changed. Most cities have these types of events, but due to a strange encounter involving an emotionless girl carrying a snake, this artgy impacted more than normal.

The snake girl depicted in this story is accurately described, with absolutely no fiction license taken. When she approached us at First Thursdays, pink lipstick, barefooted, snake in hand, and arm outstretched with requests for money, I was stunned. Granted this is isn’t the strangest thing to have ever happed to me, not by a long shot, but the combination of unfamiliar territory with such a displaced character stayed with me. I want to do more with the snake girl. I’m sure she will turn up in future projects.

Also, “Snake Girl at Scab” is, in a way, my own sort of scab, patching over a weakness that had been slowly compromising my stories for a while. At the time I wrote this story I had been writing a lot of grotesque stories, forcing visceral imagery and dark situations where perhaps they didn’t belong. Luckily, I’ve aborted these stories so they will never see print. “Snake Girl at Scab” was my way of reconnecting with tried-and-true storytelling.

Click the link above. Read the story. Then stick around for a bit and check out the rest of the site. I’m serious when I say that 3:AM is an asylum for some of the best underground writers around.

But even with the necessary humility we gain, there comes a time when a writer wants to experience the role of an editor. Who are those eyes able to tell the reading public what constitutes publishable fiction? Why them? Out of this curiosity came the Colored Chalk zine.

For each bi-monthly(ish) issue a single editor will nurture the zine from theme to content selection to layout and design. This approach promises to produce material both diverse and representative of the overall sensibilities of the close-knit writing group as a whole.

And who had the honor of editing the very first issue? Some jerk named Caleb Ross.

Click over to www.coloredchalk.com to read the online version of the zine. The Colored Chalk website has been around for a while (much longer than the print zine), so take some time to explore its many offerings.

The Colored Chalk zine, Issue One can be picked up for free in the Kansas City area at Nighthawks coffe and Prospero’s books. Both of these shops are KC favorites of mine, Prospero’s being a KC independent bookstore staple, and Nighthawks quickly becoming one. Click on the photos to be taken to the respective homepages

Colored Chalk the website is an online collaboration community for writers, poets, artists, animators, musicians, composers, and vocalists. You can also find a printable version of this issue, perfect for distributing amongst your local ruffianariams.

Other writers include John Edward Lawson, D. Harlan Wilson, Jason M. Heim, and others.

“The Barber…” is quite a bit different than what I usually write, as my aesthetics since this story was originally written (2004) have changed. This is by no means a denouncement, just a way to say we change. I do love the story, though; I wouldn’t have okayed it for publication otherwise.

Author’s Notes:

My first attempt (of many) at being Brian Evenson. I hope that if I ever get to meet the man—more than the passing book signing plea—he doesn’t beat me for abusing his name like this. Luckily, though, most readers probably wouldn’t draw a comparison to Evenson because really, would you compare a Montana Mike’s Buffalo Burger to a McBurger? They’re both the same style, but one won’t make you vomit.