Microfiction! Here’s a link to 200 CCs – Year One in paperback. Includes my micro story “Halloween: an Unlove Story.”
Gorgeous new magazine from the UK, full of delights and surprises: CHROMA Magazine, the Red issue. Includes my short interstitial piece, “My Month of Meating.”
direct link: http://www.chromamagazine.com/the-red-issue
I’m here! Goodbye, Austin Film Festival — you were lovely. Hello, World Fantasy Convention. You are lovely.
photo: Paramount Theatre in Austin, Texas; AFF 2017
Here’s a little micro somethin-somethin of mine that appeared last year in 200CCs. Posting in its entirety, in honor of the day. – ACR
Halloween: An Unlove Story
by Alexandra Renwick
“Remember what I did, remember what I was, back on Halloween?” – The Dead Kennedys
You were so punkrock I was shitting myself for a piece of you. Liberty spikes, kilt over thrashed jeans, and enough steel chain swinging from your studded belt to haul commercial timber up a goddamn cliff. You were the Sid Vicious I’d been looking for and all sixteen years and ten-inch fin of me wanted so bad to be your Nancy I was practically drooling. It was the kind of love story I could get behind: drunken brawls, misdirected nihilism, and all the social dysfunction my teenage heart could bear.
The party was glorious, plastic skeletons and cheap vodka, black candles in the graveyard and sex on the tombstones till sunrise. Then came school on Monday like usual and surprise! you’re the substitute teacher.
Who makes teachers so fine, so young? Whoever that is should be shot.
Gone were your shredded jeans. No trace of ‘spikes, no ghost-clank chains, no smeared black kohl. Shiny and scrubbed, you wore pleated khakis with penny loafers. I was young but decided then and there I deserved a love story that wasn’t fatal, and would occur with more regularity than one day each year. <>
It’s a glorious day here in Canada’s adorable capital city. The air is clean, the sun is out, the leaves are set to turn into autumnal confetti. It’s with great pleasure that I look forward to appearing this weekend at Ottawa’s Conference on Canadian Content in Speculative Arts and Literature, a brisk walk from Timberhouse. I’ll be discussing Myths You’ve Never Heard Of. I’ll be reading a part in a play by local writer Hayden Trenholm. I’ll be at the launch for 49th Parallels, an anthology that explores potential Canadian alternative realities (and includes my story “As Mistress Wishes“). I’ll be giving blue pencil crits and kicking around and shooting the shit and generally having a decent time. If you’re nearby, I hope you’ll come say hello.
The lovely people at Tales to Terrify have released my remurder story “Redux” in audio.
Read by Nikolle Doolin and keeping company with H. P. Lovecraft’s The Cats of Ulthar: REDUX.
NOUS is without doubt the most adorable magazine my work has ever appeared in. Seriously adorable, simply the physical object of it.
My copy arrived from the UK in a tidy collection-worthy packet, complete with wee little sticker and limited edition poster. Billing themselves as the “magazine for mind culture & empathic thinking,” these guys use an artisan printing process and mindful application of vivid interior color. This thing oozes loving craftsmanship.
Check out NOUS 8, the Play Issue. Includes my poems “played out,” “play me,” and “play time.”
NOUS direct link: http://www.nous-magazine.de/play
Her ceramic arm and hand and articulated fingers gleam unadulterated ivory, whiter than the snow outside already melting as it falls. . .
Some buzz has already been generating about the forthcoming 49th Parallels anthology from super-local (Yay, Ottawa!) independent publisher Bundoran Press, which the Toronto Metro describes as “an anthology around what would have happened if the country took a very different turn.” I’m happy to say my post-pandemic Vancouver story “As Mistress Wishes” will be joining the excellent lineup of these Canada-askew tales.
This one re-imagines the downtown Vancouver peninsula as a sort of steam-powered walled matriarchal city state, its society a product of the previous generation’s fierce battles over resources splitting along a strict gender divide, a world with little appreciation for nuance or inclusivity.
Mistress’s voice soothes something deep in my chest, past the industrial ceramic ribcage of my refashioning, a restless twitch in the meat muscle of my canine heart…
And of course it’s told from the dog’s perspective. Because DOGS.
More info as it materializes.