Excuse me for a moment while I dance around in abject joy, even though my dancing would be better described as arrhythmic convulsing.
I’ve never considered myself a writer so much as someone who occasionally likes to write. The difference is more than semantics; it could span gulfs of intellectual intent. Even when I was running Generic Magazine and Publishing, I put my own work in more as filler than anything else. That said, I find myself perplexed and elated to have made my first ever actual sale.
Some time in the relatively near future, Shroud Publishing will be releasing an anthology of poetry (the working title has been “The Terror of Miskatonic Falls” but who knows what the future will bring) that will feature two poems from the glory of me. The basic idea of the anthology is a Spoon River-esque tale of a town’s mysterious desolation and desertion during a freak snowstorm as told through a series of poems. With the Mistaktonic name attached, expect Lovecraftian horror galore. I’ll let both people who read this know more details as they arise.
I have also had a piece of flash fiction win a runner up position in one of Shroud Magazine’s flash prompt contests. This will appear in issue number seven along side of an entry from a good friend of mine whose work never ceases to enthrall me.
Life is fun sometimes.