Monday, September 6, 2010


Damn it, I've completed work on five bloody books these past two or three years and I deserve a holiday.  True, a lot of the work on those books has merely been doing a light polish on older yarns, but lots of it has been ye composition of new weird fiction.  So I told myself, okay, I'm taking the rest of the year off, no writing until I return from MythosCon.  Four months of being lazy.

Joe Pulver says No Way.  That's me and Joe standing at the grave of Robert W. Chambers.  Joe also has a new collection forthcoming from Hippocampus Press, and S. T. Joshi told me he cannot yet read or comment on my newest book because he is busy reading a Joe Pulver novel.  You have all ready Joe's first collection from Hippocampus Press, the magnificent Blood Will Have Its Season -- if you haven't, what the hell is wrong with ye?  It's bloody brilliant!  Thomas Ligotti praised it!

Well, I do have a new idea for a story I'm gonna write for my book from Miskatonic River Press, a tale set in Innsmouth.  I need to write at least one lengthy Innsmouth story.  So I got this idea of a young poet who has just graduated from Miskatonic University thirty years after the incidents in HPL's "The Thing on the Doorstep," who -- wanting to write a book of weird verse that will be powerful & evocative of Derby's verse -- journeys to Innsmouth for decadent squalid atmosphere.  He finds an antique store run by the youngest of the three Innsmouth  servants that were hired by the Derbys.  In his bed and breakfast he meets a weird white dude who is actually Nyarlathotep in his The White Man disguise, who has come to Innsmouth in search of rare Deep Ones metals with which to build some amazing device using rare metals from Y'ha-nthlei and combine them with Innsmouth lightning so as to fashion a toy of doom & destruction.  The idea looks idiotic set down but I think I can have fun with it and write something Mythos-up-ye-arse.  So I've started taking notes and am nigh reading "The Shadow over Innsmouth" and "The Thing on the Doorstep" so as to fill me commonplace book with suggestive notations.

My buddy Greg, who along with Maryanne have taken me to the H. P. Lovecraft Film Festival these past years, has just reminded me that every time I attend HPLFF, I come home so on fire to write that there's no way I will be able to take off for four months and do no writing.  He's probably correct.  I'll come home from this, ye very last HPLFF in Portland, with emotional & creative overload -- & onlie ye pen will save both sanity & soul.

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