Featured Post

So what do you think: Was 'Author-ized in '18' a success?

I spent 25 years writing for the cheap sheets. Then, after a while away, I shot for the impossible from the cheap seats. I returned to writing. I decided one day I'd call it Author-ized in ’18…
Why? Because it sounded good and slogany, and that’s exactly what I needed right then as I built pages like this one. God knows how many pages built on social media platforms before I finally settled on a few that I liked. As 2018 draws to a close, I thought I might do well by revisiting some of where all this has been in just these few short months.
Of course, like most things you'll ever read by my hand, you're about to get some back story. You can take that to the bank. Besides, that MFA program I was in, you see, required me to write an entire book. If I didn't pad the backgrounds, how the hell else would I have pulled off something like that?

No, really, I didn't intentionally pad a damn thing. Not saying it ain't there, just that I didn't intend for it to be.…

Merry Christmases and New Years and Stuff...

Holing up 
for the

Can't say I blame you. Just way too much in states of transition right now, especially since it seems to be taking the slow walk  around the world right now. Too many people I know who spent the season alone. Several for the first time.
In their present situation, anyway

We've lost too many this year...

 I know its coming.
            I can feel it.
            Prickles on
                golden hairs
                     long lost ghosts
of my phantasmal
             fortune.  Time to
                    fortify, fluidly.

                                                                                      Nuff said.                                                                       To borrow
     a phrase:                                                                            Most nuff…                                                                                                      ...Indeed.

I know perhaps better than most it ain't fun…

Jamey Johnson - High Cost of Living - Music Video ....

Jamey Johnson: High Cost of Living From YouTube

'Forget the Alamo' headed to Ocotillo Review...

Ever had one of them days where everything goes from roses and sunshine to something much more akin to the southernmost drafts of northbound horse?

I never was all that great at geography, but something about all this just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve always been a lot better at getting a story told, I always thought. And the editors over at The Ocotillo Review and Kallisto Gaia Press seemed to think so, too, because they recently notified me that they planned to publish my fourth story from my Long Gone & Lost collection, which I’ll be turning in for my MFA here in the very near future.

I’m fairly certain that the two fellows from my story would know all about those ill tasting after effects I mentioned, however. They may be all fiction themselves, but they were indeed inspired by real life events in a real life newsrooms. Dave Kindred wrote about a few folks just like these two who, mere days after everybody was riding a high that only those who win six Pulitzers will eve…

Former President Bush, the elder, dies at 94...

Outlaw stories now on Down in the Dirt...

Oldies but goodies: Got notified today that two previously published  Bobby Horecka stories will be running again, this time in the May /June 2019 Down in the Dirt literary magazine 
Mr. Man Candy | The Legend of Chunk

Two of our reader favorites, both on this blog
are now part of Down in the Dirt literary magazine!

Latest story now live on USC literary magazine site...

What happens when a medically discharged combat veteran, an oddball albino and a runaway toddler all cross paths one day? Toss in a big pile of pups and you'd have the start of a character list to Lubbock 1974, one of the newest and darkest stories from my Long Gone & Lost collection, and it went live on the East Coast today at Amarillo Bay, the University of South Carolina's online literary magazine.

The story offers an unsettling glimpse at a day in the life of a bunch of misfits tossed together by chance in the Texas Panhandle during the early 1970s.

I tried writing something like this almost thirty years ago now, when I first went off to the university in San Marcos. Called it the Red Rubber Ball, a truly awful piece college freshman-year poetry that I'm fairly certain the fates destroyed for me finally, in a late night house fire during the mid-1990s.

Few are left who ever even saw those particular words. But the story it told is where started when I wrote this piec…