Recent Posts

Friday, June 4, 2010

I guess you can't really kill a mockingbird

So, like, yeah. It's 50 this summer.

Obligatory DFW Post

From The Atlantic. About the impossibility of writing about David Foster Wallace.

Here.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

The New Yorker picks the best 20 writers under 40...I'm not one of them.

But neither was I expecting to be. Congrats to those who did make the cut, though. This list hasn't been done in a decade so it's kind of a big deal.

You can check out an article in the New York Times which lists the authors chosen and has some interesting quotes from authors who were on the last list in 1997. Authors like DFW and Junot Diaz and Michael Chabon.

The list will be released officially in the New Yorker's Fiction issue coming out next month, but for now just read the article and dream about being on the list next decade when The New Yorker does it again.

You can read the article here.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Recent Authorial Awesomeness

This post has no other purpose than to send sparkle-fingers to a few of my fellow writerly compatriots.

xTx, who can normally be found at her beautifully oblique blog, Nothing To Say, recently had her story "The Temerity of Imperfection" published at Monkeybicycle. The story is, per usual, beautiful, but curiously restrained for a xTx thought bubble*. It's short. Check it out here.

Also, Ms. Roxane Gay has just been bubbling over with great news recently, and I figgered I'd share some of it with y'all. 1.) A collection of her short stories will be published sometime in the future. 2.) She has been nominated for StorySouth's Million Writers Award and you can vote for her story here. 3.) She just got another incredible story titled "Do You Have A Place For Me?"** published at Spork Press. It's also short. You can read it here.

And finally the indominatable Alan Stewart Carl, who has been hard at work these last six months on a new novel, got not one but two shorts published recently and they are both so good I couldn't pick between the two. So here they are: "Incubus" at Dogzplot and "That Kid" in Staccato. Read them both if you know what's good for you.


*By 'curiously restrained' what I mean is that there is a curious lack of explicit sex in the story. Explicit sex being sort of a hallmark of xTx's fiction and poetry. Not that I'm complaining.
**Interestingly enough the story is based upon a poem by none other than the aforementioned xTx.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Declare me Recurrent

By Ron Koppelberger

Ecru Dread was unimpeded by the trappings of life, the entrance of screaming, kicking tears and enchanted exclamations of Farwell to limbo, “By birth and by the tenants of death,” he yelled. By age he thought ancient turns of fated revolution; to be reborn and to die over and over again he thought. Ecru saw broken bones and wheelchairs, rainbow sunrises and amber waves of saffron, “Tis a declaration of what is and what will be the want of angels and god,” he whispered.

The store was crowded, nevertheless he went unseen, unheard. “ A bit of candy for the child and an unbidden apple for the aged passage of time,” he muttered as he picked up a package of chocolate covered apples. Blessings of light lauded Ecru and shadows of pregnable slavery to chance danced around Ecru as he traversed the aisles.

“ Great glories of love and last gasps given unto the blood of wombs in transit, a babies boodle all kit and caboodle,” he sang as he grabbed several cans of French cut green beans.

He paused for a moment, “ooooohhhhhhhhhhssssssss” and “ahhhhhhhaaaaaaaasssss” from somewhere in the store; the gentle sing-song gasps and twitters swept across the store aisles as a raven flew into the vegetable isle, and unto the turn, the way of the world, another leap and bounding adventure. “Caw, caw…….,” the raven spoke from atop the turnip greens, “Caw, caw.” Ecru turned and all went dark in shadow and silhouette as he died in the aisle of the superstore.

For a moment the temper of cool air made him want to pee. “ He’s beautiful man, beautiful.” The baby bubbled and cooed and inside, the ancient knowledge of raven’s and rebirth stole the moment for fate. The parking lot of the superstore was jammed with busy shoppers, mothers, sons and grandmas in dance, the ambulance flittered and the secret birth within declared the raven's roost as he circled from above a recurrent drama of blood and new life.


Ron Koppelberger has written 91 books of poetry over the past several years and 16 novels. He has published 244 poems and 59 short stories in a variety of periodicals, including: The Storyteller, Ceremony, Write On!!!, Freshly Baked Fiction and Necrology Shorts. He also recently won the People’s Choice Award for poetry in The Storyteller for a poem titled "Secret Sash." He is a member of The American Poet’s Society as well as The Isles Poetry Association.