Nominations for the 2021 Pushcart Prize June 18, 2021 Longshot Island 0 Comments These authors and stories are nominated this year for the 2021 Pushcart Prize. Congratulations to all!   Eric J. Guignard – Footprints Fading in the Desert E.E. King – Hotel Quetzalcoatl Jason V Brock – Verlassen … Source: Nominations for the 2021 Pushcart Prize

Fiction that isn’t fit for ‘them’. Not approved by your parents, teachers, or government. Toxic content. (Keep it secret!) Source: Nominations for the 2021 Pushcart Prize

I have been remiss. A reader noted it’s been 2021 since I blogged. So here I am blogging. I have been writing and painting and planting coral and rescuing birds. I will share a few images below. Forgive my delay.

Today is the day! Saltwater Sorrows  hit the shelves today! Yay! I am posting this message from our marvelous editor, Rhonda Parrish “I hope that you are doing something really fun to celebrate our release. It’s so easy to forget that release days aren’t just meant to be marketing and promotion days but actually fun days where we get to celebrate all the work that went into the book and how amazing the final product is.” I AM SHARING BECAUSE it’s so easy to forget to celebrate!!!!! “This weekend we will be doing the physical launch at WWC. I will share some pictures and updates about that on social media. I’d like to say my goal is to sell all of the stock Tyche brings, but I don’t actually know how much she is bringing so… that could be a challenge LOL Ah, what the heck. My goal is to sell out at WWC. Aim high, right? 🙂  We’ve also got a series of blogs going out over the next few weeks to help raise awareness of the book. Without detailing all the marketing and promotion stuff in this email — because that is work and today is not a day to talk about work, today is a day for celebrating — I feel good about where we’re going and I will work hard to bring your stories to the biggest audience I can. This anthology is amazing, and that is because of you.  Because of your awesome stories which each came at the theme from a slightly different angle and then came together as though they were long lost friends.  Because of the beautiful artwork by Kayla Kowalyk and the top-notch typography by Indigo Chick Designs.  And because of all the work that our publisher, Margaret of Tyche Books, put into making the book itself a thing of beauty. It’s fantastic.  I can. not. wait. to get a physical copy in my hands.  So thank you so very much for everything you’ve done to make this anthology special. You’ll hear more from me over the next days and weeks as I share promo/marketing stuff with you, but for now let’s celebrate this thing we made together. Best, Rhonda” ~*~*~*~*~http://www.rhondaparrish.com https://www.patreon.com/RhondaParrish

Read her work in the anthology Saltwater Sorrows– edited by Rhonda Parrish (Tyche Books) You won’t make it far in writing circles without hearing the question come up: Do you write with music? Sound? Silence? The answers are as varied as the writers giving them. I can only speak with authority about the process that’s worked for me over the last decade of writing – your mileage may vary. Building a playlist for my project is the first step of my writing process. Once I have a story idea I want to pursue, be it a novel or a short story, I sit at my computer, open Spotify, and start searching for songs. I start broad, either with a handful of songs I already know fit the tone/vibe of the story, or by using search terms related to the project. For “Human, Still,” in the forthcoming Tyche Books anthology Saltwater Sorrows, I might search “drowning,” “ocean,” or even “bottom of the sea”. Just to see what I’ll get. (Some favorites I ended up with for that story were “From a Shell” by Lisa Germano and “Can You Feel the Sun – Stripped” by MISSIO. Listen to the playlist here.) Once I’ve collected a handful of songs, Spotify will suggest others based on the ones I’ve already added to my new playlist. This is where I can really explore and find artists and tracks I don’t already know. The idea is to find a mix of songs that fit the story idea, either tonally, thematically, or lyrically. I know a lot of authors who only listen to instrumental music, or prefer ambient noise, or simply  require silence. But my playlists don’t play by many rules – if a track fits the story, it’s fair game for a playlist. For my story “The Lament of Kivu Lacus” I listened to a loop of folk music, string quartets, and humpback whale songs. Another of my stories, “Bell Biv Derailed,” had a playlist made exclusively of 90s R&B. Building the perfect story playlist serves a couple different purposes for me. First, it’s pre-writing. Collecting songs that evoke the themes and tone of the story I want to write helps the story congeal, molding it into something solid enough that I can actually find words to put down on paper. Second, it’s a little bit of Classical Conditioning. Or a brain hack, if you prefer not to be likened to a drooling dog. Each time I sit down to write (or edit, or world-build, or, or, or) I listen to that project’s playlist. And the more I do that, the easier it is for my neuro-atypical brain to enter a flow state. Eventually the playlist becomes a key to the front door of my story, welcoming me home to write every time I hear those songs. So, why not build some playlists of your own, and start opening doors? B. Zelkovich writes Speculative Fiction, anything from dragon hunting and space whales to demon-dealing and ghost tales. She likes to explore human emotions in very inhuman situations. When she isn’t escaping through her imagination, she escapes into the wonders of the Pacific Northwest with her spouse and their four-legged son, Simon. Her fiction is in the forthcoming anthology Saltwater Sorrows (Tyche Books, Summer 2023) as well as Life Beyond Us, LOLcraft: A Compendium of Eldritch Humor, and Tree and Stone Magazine. Connect with her on twitter @BZelwen and online at bzelkovich.com

Thrilled and honored to be included in this absolutely gorgeous anthology to benefit the Ukraine, edited by the fabulous Fran Eisemann. All stories, poems, and artwork were donated, and 100% of the profits will go to charities for Ukraine. The stories are just what I have come to expect from Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, heartfelt, deep, emotionally resonant and ultimately uplifting. Pick up a copy or three- or maybe five – today. It’s richly illustrated and soon to be available in audio! I was lucky enough to read many of these stories for the audio version- and listeners are in for a treat! Perhaps ask your library to carry it. It’s a beautiful book, destine to be a classic, with a wonderful mission.

FREE on @Smashwords on December 15th – January 1st I’m excited to announce my books, Dirk Quigby’s Guide to the Afterlife, The Truth of Fiction, and Pandora’s Card Game will be FREE on @Smashwords on December 15th – January 1st follow me for more updates #SmashwordsEoYSale

So – New Year’s resolution – I’m writing updates daily. What do I have to write about? 1) I’m moving to Spain! Kevan, Max and I will leave for Barcelona at the end of January. Having lived in Mexico, Max already speaks Spanish 2) My new book, Gods & Monsters will be serialized in MetaStellar https://www.metastellar.com/author/ee-king/ this coming year. I will be narrating every section. It takes place mostly in San Francisco in the 1980’s during the AIDs crisis. Every world is a collection of lives. They may seem unrelated but when woven together by the Fates who run an occult bookshop in San Francisco, the pattern becomes clear. The Fates are not alone. Many ancient Gods and Monsters have followed their believers from the edges of the world to an alternate Bay Area, a place where myth is more potent than history and love is stronger than death. Ride down the river Styx, into a cool grey city where what’s at stake isn’t just your life, it’s your immortal soul.  3) GREAT TIP for writers in bad contracts. I was trapped in a horrible book contract by Dan Kalin or Feral Cat Publishing. In addition to breaching many of his contractual obligations, he was listing my book, Electric Detective as being co-authored by him and his Daughter Sarah Kalin. BUT- many contracts have a clause that says, if after 30 days the publisher doesn’t remedy breaches the rights return to the author. So, I began contacting the distributors, with proof of his non compliance and they removed it from circulation- and after many threats from Dan, I got my rights back. Do try this at home, kids! At try it if you’re in a bad contract!

this is second day of blogging. Things to do: I have to find good homes for my hundreds of books before my move to Spain. I will try the library. What will I miss about Utah? – My birds- I do bird rescue in the summer. One year we rescued 240. Magpies are my favs. I’m enjoying making images for each of the 44 sections of my novel, Gods & Monsters, which will appear in MetaStellar https://www.metastellar.com/author/ee-king/ in 2024. BUT – Best of all I have Christmas ( or Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or Whatever) For you all! My books are all free from now through January 1st – links below! One satirical, humorous funny novel – not for the easily offended, or heavily religious. Two quirky short story collections and one children’s book – links below. Get one, or four and make everyone happy! Feel free to email me for free audible code for audio copies. And feel free to email just to say, Hi. Happy December! Dirk Quigby’s Guide to The Afterlife (All You Need To know To Choose The Right Heaven) by E E King Price: $6.49 $0.00 USD. (Free until Jan. 1, 2024!) Words: 57,930. Language: English. Published: September 15, 2015 . Categories: Fiction » Fantasy » Contemporary, Fiction » Humor & comedy » Satire “Impish and delightful—a hilarious Zagat’s Guide to Heaven!”—Ray Bradbury “A fantastical, profound, hilarious and rollicking good ride through the heavens and hells of the afterlife! A wonderful book.”—Margaret Cho “The Guide to the Afterlife is a mixture of fact and fiction, faith and mysticism at its best.” -The New York Review of Books Pandora’s Card Game by E E King Price: $3.99 $0.00 USD. (Free until Jan. 1, 2024!) Words: 47,480. Language: English. Published: February 22, 2018 . Categories: Fiction » Fantasy » Short stories, Fiction » Mashups (4.00 from 1 review) “These tales are marvelously inventive, wildly funny and deeply thought-provoking. I cannot recommend them highly enough.” – Ray Bradbury. Fate, Destiny, Chance and Luck play cards beneath a new October moon. Each card tells a story. The Truth Of Fiction by E E King Price: $3.99 $0.00 USD. (Free until Jan. 1, 2024!) Words: 64,350. Language: English. Published: February 22, 2018 . Categories: Fiction » Fantasy » Short stories, Fiction » Mashups Like The Illustrated Man and The Canterbury Tales, The Truth of Fiction is a series of connected stories, tied together by the tale of three friends on a quest to capture a magical deer.  Buy The Adventures of Emily Finfeather by E E King “A feather not just for the birds! A magical, humorous tale of good, evil, vengeance, and forgiveness, The Feathernail is a delight for children and adults alike!” — Ray Bradbury The Adventures of Emily Finfeather, Book: I The Feathernail and Other Gifts, is a tale of altruism and magic for mature children and immature adults. “A feather not just for the birds! A magical, humorous tale of good, evil, vengeance, and forgiveness, The Feathernail is a delight for children and adults alike!” — Ray Bradbury The Adventures of Emily Finfeather, Book: I The Feathernail and Other Gifts, is a tale of altruism and magic for mature children and immature adults. Emily Finfeather is an orphan who lives with her angry and silent Grandmother in a dark, windy, old house. On a field trip to the zoo, Emily is locked inside the aviary by evil classmates, led by the popular, nasty Dixy Yippet. During her long, lonely night in the cage, she sets free the birds. As a reward, she is given the feathernail, a bird feather where her little fingernail once was. The feather allows her to enter people’s dreams, and change them. Added by three magically gifted friends and a sarcastic talking cat, Emily fights real monsters, school bullies, and evil magicians in her quest to find her parents. Emily was written many, many years ago in the long ago time of 2005 when books were made of paper and ink. The printed version of this book has humorous, illustrated footnotes, the Kindle and audio versions don’t. 

https://fabulistmagazine.com/im-dreaming-of-a-red-christmas/ This year I got a gig as a Che Guevara Christmas Elf at Happy Family Skating Rink. My friend plays a Chairman Mao elf. We don’t really have to do anything but glide around and look cheerful. It’s a new kind of Christmas, more modern, more edgy. Most of the kids have no idea who we’re supposed to be. They wave and point, as if we were Goofy, or Pluto.  Mao’s got it tougher than I do. Our employer, Margi, scion of Happy Family Skating Rink, is very “into authenticity,” so Mao has to skate around in the classic “Mao suit,” which has a long jacket and is difficult to move in.  Margi dots her name with a happy face, “Just like Happy Family!” she says.  Margi is home from college for Christmas, where she’s been studying new media, which is a lot like old media, but more irritating.  “Having Che and Mao as our Christmas elves is all the new aesthetic!” Margi squeals.  I don’t think Margi knows who Mao or Che were, but she sure knows what they wore.  The collar of my olive-drab army fatigues is left open, practically to my naval. Margi considered having me leave it completely unbuttoned, but luckily my physique wasn’t up to her standards. At least I get to cover my ears and face with hair and wear a beret. Poor Mao doesn’t even get to cover his ears.  “Note the boxy cut, short collar and single layer of fabric. So authentic!” Margi yips. She pronounces auth-en-tic like it’s three words.  Mao’s more popular than I am. His round, flushed face seems jollier, more Christmas-y. Parents, holding skittering toddlers in each arm, turn to point and wave.  “Look Josh, look at…” they say, losing confidence halfway through the sentence.  On Sunday the rink is crowded. Mao is having trouble staying upright. His jacket is too tight and he’s not a very good skater. Margi had to take what she could get. Mao (a.k.a. Tommy) was the only Asian who applied. In fact, he was the only person who applied. She was lucky to get a male Mao.  A small, blonde princess twirls past Mao, her arabesque whacking him smartly in the back of his knees. Mao sways and topples, falling beneath the shining blades of an enormous woman in red spandex. She skates over his thumb. Blood spurts onto the ice like an animated Rorschach test.  Mao stumbles to his feet amongst huge applause. The families think this is part of the act. They have seen so many bogus butcheries they don’t recognize the real thing.  The mother of the pink, twirling princess motions her over to snap a photo with Christmas Mao. I don’t think she has any idea that this jolly, red-faced, bleeding-thumbed man is supposed to be the architect of the Great Leap Forward, which killed about forty-five million people in four years.  But maybe I malign her. Maybe she knows, but doesn’t care.  Today I am called into the office. Margi has her iPhone out. That is a bad sign.  “Look,” she yelps. “There were twenty-five Instagrams of Mao on our rink posted today and none of Che! Now what is Che going to do to make more of an impression?”  I hate it when she talks to me in the third person.  “Maybe I could slice off my finger?”  “That is so — whatever.” She flips her hand outward. Her voice does not lilt upward. This is not a question. It lingers like a foghorn on a cloudy night.  “Or — wait —” I say. “How about if I skate around saying famous Che quotes?” Her eyes narrow, which either means she’s thinking, or that some Styrofoam snow from the great, flashing Teflon tree has drifted into her tear ducts.  “Like what?” she says.  All I can think of is, religion is the opium of the people, and I don’t think that’s Che.  “I’ll google it,” I say.  The next day I blade around crying out, “Democracy is not compatible with financial oligarchy!” A couple of goth teens give a ragged cheer, but mostly I’m ignored.  Mao gets toppled by a toddler, bloodies his nose and is applauded. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. I consider casting myself under the blades of a skinny four-year-old, but lack the nerve.  “Maybe you could try caroling his quotes?” Margi suggests.  On Saturday I slide around humming, to the tune of “God rest ye Merry Gentlemen”:  Bet-TER to diiiie sta-an-ding than to live-ive on your kneeees.  It’s a sad thing not to have friend-end-ends, but even sadder not to have enemies.  I am not Christ, I fight for the things I believe-eve in, and try to leave the other man dead, so I don’t get nailed to a cross-os-os-os Parents make a wide circle around me. I don’t know if it’s my voice, my message, or that in an effort for verisimilitude, I haven’t bathed for a week.  “I know you’re here to kill-il me,” I croon to a passing pair of nine-year-old twins dressed in identical fuzzy blue jumpers. “Shoo-oo-oo-ot, cow-ow-ard, you are only going to kill a man.”  They giggle nervously.  That evening, the last day of the season, there is a check waiting for me. I have been given a five dollar Christmas bonus.  “Whilst contemplating the final defeat of capitalism, we must decide who is at its head, and it is Margi,” I yell. “Margi with a happy face!” The round, bruised head of Christmas Mao peers cautiously around the edge of the locker room.  “Get a grip dude,” he whispers and slinks off to change.  Maybe, he’s right. Maybe I’ve become a bit overcome by the spirit of the season. I hear that Holy-Roller Rink is hiring an Easter Marx. If I dye my hair, maybe I can get the job.