Tuesday, September 10, 2013

If You Wanna Get Published, You Gotta Raise a Little Hair

Val is one scary gal. Or so sayeth the poets who don't know it, those self-unaware rhymers who tremble at their own shadow.

Yep. Val is the dark at the top of the stairs. The blank-masked, coverall-wearing Michael Myers. Carrie White a bit perturbed that prom didn't go her way. Hannibal Lecter looking for a main course to accompany his fava beans and nice Chianti. Jason Voorhees surging to the surface beside your canoe in the middle of the lake. REDRUM written on a bathroom mirror. A little boy named Damien with a birthmark that resembles a trio of sixes. A low, dull, quick sound beneath the floorboards. Some visitor tapping at your chamber door...only this and nothing more.


Last night, I received word that my story, "Things That Go Bump in the Gym," was selected for Rocking Horse Publishing's upcoming anthology, Spirits of St. Louis: Missouri Ghost Stories, due out October 15th.

A big thanks to blog buddy Donna for the link to this call-out.


  1. Wow! Ozark Mountain Daredevils AND a couple of dollops of Stephen King AND The Omen AND some Silence...

    Congratulations. I have a half-finished story for that anthology, still sitting amongst my computer files. I wonder why they didn't choose mine...

  2. WAY TO GO, VAL! That's oddly frightening news.


  3. ╭━┓╭━╮┳━╮╭━┓┏━╮╭━╮┏┳┓╭━┓

  4. Oh this sounds so intriguing. Do your night walkers follow you to school? CONGRATULATIONS!

  5. Congratulations. Quite a feather in your cap.

  6. Sioux,
    You, Madam, are an astute observer of useless pop culture. Halloween, Friday the 13th, and Edgar Allen Poe, however, curse you for relegating them to The Unmentionables.

    Yes, it's hard to believe they didn't hack you, finish your piece, tie it up with a shiny bow, and make it the lead story. Such is the mystery of life. That, and why weirdos find me so accessible.

    Thanks! I was hoping, perhaps, for a dirty-water toast...

    I sense a double meaning. Like that joke about the smitten old lady who chased her attractive new preacher around the church until she caught him by the organ.

    I don't know what's going on, but last time I looked, that big ol' CONGRATS was a thing of beauty. Now it's beside itself. Maybe it just looks that way from my end right now.

    It's more a case of my school night walkers following me through life, I fear.

    Thank you. I'm hoping that my chapeau grows heavy with plumage.