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Editor's Rant

For 2.5 years or so, I've been editing for a self-publishing firm. Some of the books are good, some passable, but some are pure, rotting SHIT.

And this is shit that keeps on steaming, friends. Cause these good folks write books and stories, engorged with a passion for filling up the world with their lovely, broken-down ideas, cluttering bookshelves with pus, much like eight-legged frogs in Michigan and women's apparel made from pizza toppings and fucktours in graveyards.

However, I am an encouraging editor. I understand that Neil Young wants us all to keep on rockin in the fucking free world, and that includes all the Wombat McKenzies, Shortwit Joneses and Apple Oranges who want to see their stories and ideas in print. If I come across a vapid character, I politely suggest that the writer provide some dimension to make that character interesting. When a character suddenly sticks her head out, with no context, I don't write "Sticks her head out of what? What, is she a fucking turtle? If she's not a turtle, you must be one, cause you and turtles have about the same corn syrup ideas about writing a book!"

No. I am a professional.

I will not inform these writers that they put the "less" in hopeless. I will not tell them that they've turned creativity into a negative energy. I will not tell them that their books cannot even be helped by sewage treatment plants. I will not write, "John Lennon would laugh at you!" I do not ask them if I can use their vacant heads for storage next time I have to move. I will not even write, "So! YOU'RE the one who bought those new clothes from the Emperor!"

No. I am a professional.

A professional idiot.

Give me motley. Give me a cockscombe and I'll pull my rainbow wand from my ass, then dance and sing through your fucked February imagination. I have ascorbic acid for your scurvy sentences and prosthetics for your paraplegic paragraphs. Welcome to fucking first grade. Put that apple back in your pocket.

I fucking hate apples.

Achieving Polite Nirvana/ Room Wanted

Achieving Polite Nirvana/ Room Wanted

About an hour ago I sat down in front of the Bizarro Factory and plugged my iPod into my ears to listen to some mind-moving tunes. See, this usually drifts me one thousand doorways away where my flesh is gone, but I forgot to lock the doorway of my apartment.

A few moments into the drifting, I heard a thump during a song with no percussion. Pulling the headphones out of my ears, I swiveled around to see that a man and woman had entered my apartment. She was wrapped in black cellophane and wore a rainbow baseball cap. He was dressed in a fine silk suit, but it was on backwards. I could tell they were angry with one another, so I hesitated. It's important to be aware of others' feelings.

He switched on the corner lamp by the door and plunged an accusatory finger into her breastbone. "!regoR ni depparw eb ot tiaw ouY !thginot hguone ton si citsalP"

"Oh, that trick is getting old, Bob! The party's over! Stop talking backwards! I want nothing to do with Roger. He thinks he's an amphibian."

I spoke up. "Excuse me, can I he . . ."

The woman glared at me. "Can't you see we're having a discussion!"

Bob's stare returned me to my seat. "How rude!" he said. "Lock the door, Marjory, and come sit down on the couch." Marjory bolted shut my door and followed Bob to my amputated sofa. They squabbled for a bit, and I tried so hard to zone out their conversation, but it was loud and juicy and I caught things like "giraffe", "rubber-band ball", "scientific calculator" and "Peter Travers." Once the squabbling softened into polite discussion, I offered them some Halloween chocolate I never gave away.

"You want some chocolate? I don't like it myself."

Marjory looked at me like I was a BM that she'd forgotten to flush days ago. "Chocolate makes us agreeable. No thanks," she said. "Do you have any wine?"

"Of course! I have a nice Shiraz made in Wisconsin! Do you want glasses with or without stems?"

"With," said Marjory.

"Without," said Bob.

I poured the wine and gave them the bottle, then returned to the Bizarro Factory and pretended to be invisible. Not thirty minutes went by before they were sloshy and all over each other.

"Come on love, let's go to bed," said Marjory. "It's time to make a baby, and there's enough room here for a little one."

Bob sucked in a growl. "!yletulosbA" He rose and picked her up, carrying her backwards into my bedroom. The door slammed shut. There were whispers and low laughter for a few minutes, then the door opened.

"Excuse me," said Marjory. "I think you should go. You've been here long enough as it is."

"But all my clothes are in that room," I said.

She looked me up and down. "What you've got on now looks pretty warm." She shut the door.

Luckily I have another sweater on a chair out here. It is the season of giving, right?

And I really like to walk.

Read more: http://www.myspace.com/filamentroad/blog#ixzz0zYcAcWfH



“Something Good to Eat” THE FORTEAN BUREAU 2003
“Thinking of Diane” LULLABY HEARSE 2004
“The Picker’s Harvest” NOCTURNAL OOZE 2005
“Dr. Plato’s Surprise” BREATH AND SHADOW 2005
“The House Guest” DARK KRYPT 2005
“Auction” SINISTER TALES 2006
“What the Chickens Play Before Sunday” CHIMAERA SERIALS 2007
“The Old Ladies and their Beloved Children” ALIENSKIN MAGAZINE 2007
“Stuck” NEW GROWTH: RECENT KENTUCKY WRITINGS 2007 (2003 Honorable Mention Ray
Bradbury Writing Contest)
“No Travelcard” BREATH AND SHADOW 2007 (Nominated for Pushcart Prize)
“The Introduction of Phisto Realkind” ALIENSKIN MAGAZINE 2008
“Apparel for Hopelessness” SINISTER TALES 2008
“He Said Something” MORPHEUS TALES 1 2008
“A Confectionary Giant” ALIENSKIN MAGAZINE 2008
“The Benefits of Public Transportation” FANTASTICAL VISIONS IV 2009
“I gave her the wrong flowers.” IT ALL CHANGED IN AN INSTANT: MORE SIX-
“In a Community of Women” BARDS AND SAGES 2010
“At the Expense of Kings” MISSING PIECES 2010
“The Definition of a Line” SHADOWCAST AUDIO 2010
"Dirge in Alaska with an Organic Violin" BARDS AND SAGES QUARTERLY JULY 2011
“The Little Girl Who Cried in the Back Room” SPACE AND TIME MAGAZINE