Not An Exit: An Annual Short Fiction Project

I like writing short stories. And flash fiction.

I like writing speculative bits and pieces of terrifying nonsense.

I like writing the trials and tribulations of the human condition masquerading as fantasy.

I like writing random apocalyptic and dystopian one-offs.

I like challenging you, dear reader, and giving you strange things to think about.

At first I was just going to keep these stories in a file on my iPad and let them exist in the dark ether. But I really wanted people to read them.

Then I thought about publishing them individually, as I wrote and polished them. And while that was extremely satisfying, I didn’t feel like the publishing model I was using for my other fiction fit with these stories.

What I am going to do is this:

Every year, on Halloween, I am going to publish a short story collection. These collections will include all the random, stand alone short fiction I have written in the previous year.

In case you didn’t know already, all the poetry that I have self-published is free. The books in my paranormal werewolf series, The Slaughter Chronicles, are free. The books in my urban fantasy faerie series (when they come out) will be free.

But I’d like to charge 0.99 for these short story collections because, while The Slaughter Chronicles and The Heart of the Forest Cycle might not be your cup of tea, if you like speculative fiction there’s a good chance you’ll like these stories.

It’s not that they’re more “accessible” or “mainstream” than my other work, but they are the words that cast the widest net. They’re not as specialized–for lack of a better word–than my other fiction and thusly, I feel, more marketable.

So if you like short story collections and want a quick and quirky/slightly dark read, my stories are for you and if you end up liking them, please give my other fiction a try.

If you already like my werewolf series and my poetry and would like to give me some support, please consider purchasing my short story collection(s).

The project is going to be titled “NOT AN EXIT” and every year a new volume will come out. Each volume will be available for sale on every ebook publishing platform, including Amazon Kindle.

As the publication date comes closer I will release the contents list and samples for your enjoyment. As well as some behind the scenes writing shenanigans.

Thank you so much for reading my work and following me on this self-publishing journey.

And since you’re curious, here’s the cover for the first volume…

Meet Vermin!

I’m super excited to announce my collaboration with Little Fears went live today 🙂

Conquest is the story of a tiny monster with big dreams.

It was so much fun watching the art and my story come to life, I am beyond grateful for the opportunity 🙂

For more Little Fears spooky goodness click HERE 🙂

How to Build an Altar

To build an altar you need the familiar territory of a dry riverbed and the shadow of a nuclear power plant. You need the roar of a siren on the air, the highway in the distance, the skull of a kingfisher and the footprints of someone you don’t love anymore. You need a stone from a hand that killed in a war far from home, knucklebones that know the fractals of a willow branch and all the sounds of breaking. You need the smells of honeysuckle, salt, and gunpowder, a piece of iron if you’re superstitious. You need the oil slick iridescence of a cockroach wing and a lock of your mother’s hair. You need the cornerstone of a place that makes you feel safe, even if that place isn’t really a place but a scrap of paper or the empty air. You need a poem written by someone you haven’t met yet.

*

This poem first appeared in Lupercalia.

Eating a Strawberry

The strawberry is poison and it pops into your mouth as if by magic.

It is cold and sour. It pricks your tongue like a bee sting. You

chew as if a spider clawed its way across your jaw before stopping to

rest above your lower lip, you chew delicately.

Originally published in 50 to 1 (as Jessica Otto).

Photo source.

Romance

We stepped outside the greenhouse and the lights went cold. He reached out; his palm froze against Saturn’s gelatinous ring and pulled away from his wrist like wet paper. I felt the romance leak out of our suicide as I saw the black hole. I punched him in the face.

Originally published in 50 to 1 (as Jessica Otto) 13Feb2010.