Realm of a Wordy Bastard
There is a great deal of shame to be found in returning to something you abandoned without a second thought. Perhaps, then, it is a good thing that I have not crawled back to Wordpress on my knees, begging forgiveness. Blogger, though it hated me something fierce, was never abandoned. It was consigned a secondary position as a mirror, a place to dump content spawned from my sojourn with Posterous, but the notion that I would frustrate my small group of loyal readers meant it would not be left to rot. Perhaps my...
{Note: This post is worse than my usual, but this is my first time attempting to write about nonfiction work. Forgive me.} With a couple years of high school Culinary Arts program under my belt and delusions swimming around in my brain, I announced that I wanted to be a chef. This was after my departure from serious reading, when you were more likely to find me planted in front of the television than computer and there was not a book to be found anywhere near. The channel rarely changed in those days. which meant...
Given that I have a readership that can be counted on the fingers of one hand, I figure this post will be an embarassing failure that, if lucky, will get one or two comments. One of the reasons I started this blog was to explore and expand my tastes. I wanted to learn more about the genre I enjoyed, but I also wanted to read books that existed outside my comfort zone, that forced me to either adapt or flee back in terror with my tail between my legs. Dazed Rambling is a failure of a blog. It cannot compete with...
Failed academic Frank Nichols and his wife, Eudora, have arrived in the sleepy Georgia town of Whitbrow, where Frank hopes to write a history of his family's old estate-the Savoyard Plantation- and the horrors that occurred there. At first, the quaint, rural ways of their new neighbors seem to be everything they wanted. But there is an unspoken dread that the townsfolk have lived with for generations. A presence that demands sacrifice. It comes from the shadowy woods across the river, where the ruins of Savoyard...
When we purchased Realms of Fantasy last year we truly thought that we could succeed in publishing the magazine for the foreseeable future. We were unable to realize this goal, have been loosing [sic] money, and we must regretfully announce the closure of the magazine. ~ Source This "sad news" has been making rounds on Twitter. It is a shame that we are losing yet another genre mag and yet, I cannot bring myself to think of this with any measure of sadness. It is hard to be sad about something that has, with...
A literary novelist writing a genre novel is like an intellectual dating a porn star. It invites forgivable prurience: What is that relationshiplike? Granted the intellectual’s hit hanky-panky pay dirt, but what’s in it for the porn star? Conversation? Ideas? Deconstruction? ~ Glen Duncan, A Plague of Urban Undead in Lower Manhattan So opens Duncan's review for Colson Whitehead's Zone One. There was a time when I was into the war between genre and literary fiction, when I would look upon these lines and summon...
Middling blogger/failed writer.
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