Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The rough end of publishing...

A little bad news, the Twisted Library Press, where I had my Trip Hawker and superhero story waiting for publication has cancelled all of its upcoming anthologies.

According to Dr Pus (the man in charge of this small publishers), he couldn't afford to do the anthologies - they cost him around $1500 each to publish and the economic times made it impossible to fund them; he said he was struggling with his dental practice and so something had to give.

Very unfortunate, as I got the impression that he was a guy trying to get his small press up and running (a tough job even in a good economic climate) and was very keen on giving new writers a chance for publication.

Micheal Lea, who was editing the superhero anthology, said he would look for a new publishers so I was happy to let him keep hold of my story in the meantime, although he could promise nothing about when they might ever occur. From my point of view, the story was written to fit his book so unless I see a open submission that it would somehow work for, I'm not in a hurry to find a new home for it.

Trip Hawker, alas, joins the list of my homeless short stories......he's not alone.

I will concentrate on getting some decent work done on a novel (one or other) until the end of the year, then have a sort through the pile and see what can go where and get them back out into the world.

As a tribute to the horror fun and jollies of the Twisted Library Press, and because I'm reading the wonderfully creepy "Hell House" by Richard Mathieson, here is a 100 words of haunted house horror:

Floyd looked round the table at the other two survivors of Helmdark Hall.

Margot was smug; surely possessed. It explained Dr Tewk’s disappearance.

Vijay was distraught; he’d watched his wife hurl herself to her death. No use now, but the Presence might decide to use him as a weapon.

Floyd was ready.

The table rocked. Margot laughed. Floyd pulled his revolver and fired.

Margot slumped, whispering “idiot.”

The knife flew from Vijay’s sleeve. Vijay was unaware, even when it hit Floyd’s throat.

Floyd’s mind went black; he heard voices. Tewk agonised, pleading forgiveness. Margot furious. The last voice just laughed.

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