Orwell is Laughing

It is literally Animal Farm. Like when Napoleon runs Snowball off the farm, and reinvents him as the enemy to blame, claiming he’s coming back in at night.

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Nemesis and Other Things

S.T. Joshi put together a new anthology with Hippocampus called Nemesis. I have a story in there, and all of us just sent bios. That means publication is coming soon. Exciting!

I am enjoying writing the memoir The Electric 70’s. As I said in an earlier post, I am working on two pieces at once now. 70’s is my afternoon project, and it is coming along well. It is a kind of writing that seems to be created in a different way than fictive stuff. There is far more narrative summary than scene work…in fact I wonder how much scene work is appropriate, as when you have people talking line for line, you had better have perfect memory of it. Sort of comes off like fiction, even the recent stuff.

My other issue is with time lines. I am in a certain recollection (currently when I was in elementary school for instance) yet there are constant places where more current references sort of jump in. I am fighting with relevance and temporal chaos. Actually, it is not that serious. I just want to let this flow, while not having any potential readers feel I am jumping around too much.

The Glorious Secrets of Ghosts is in a nifty place. I am about to break 50,000 words, and on the brink of the first real horrific scene unit in the beginning of the climactic part of the book. LOVING IT!


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Hmm.  Did I say I wasn’t going to talk process anymore? Really? I think I am going to have to roll that back. I don’t have a standard Facebook account nor Twitter anymore, because I don’t want to talk politics or look at comic pictures of cats or advertise my books in those public spaces like a hooker. But enough of that.


I got to a point over the last few years, being so critical of my own work, that all of it almost came to a grinding halt. It is not so much that with 2 collections and 3 novels, that I tapped a lot of life-long ideas that were brewing before and during the ten year journey I have enjoyed under the counsel and advice of Lovecraft scholar S.T. Joshi. (I have also benefited from his Forewords, Afterwords, and recommendations in reference to publishers and editors he introduced me to). It is also that I moved from the small market to mid-range, and no one quite understands that pressure until going through it.

I know. Sounds like a choke job. So I did something about it. I am 55 years old, and decided to try Prevagen. Not that I am promoting this as a miracle supplement or drug or herb or whatever you’d call a pill with ingredients from jellyfish, but I noticed my writing volume increased. I went from an odd 2 pages of finished copy a day to something like 4 or 5 in the ongoing novel The Glorious Secrets of Ghosts. I started a memoir as well. I might begin a third piece that explores more commercial avenues, maybe a more standard thriller as opposed to the literary nature of Ghosts.

And it isn’t just volume and endurance. Being that I am a part time college professor of English and have been blessed with a couple of days off a week, writing has become part of the day job, one I love, one I want to continue at the highest level.

I’m writing some of the best shit structurally and creatively that I have done yet. And speaking of volume…my best hours are 6 am to around 11 am. Or at least they have been. Recently, I have been doing Ghosts until 11 am, taking a short break to eat, doing my walk, and coming back to write the memoir, The Electric 70’s, from around 3 pm to dinner time. If I can condense the walking, shopping, watching CNN, goof off time in the middle of the day, maybe I’ll start writing that third piece. I have never done simultaneous works, but I am starting now!

In terms of The Glorious Secrets of Ghosts, S.T. Joshi already accepted the first chapter to be run as a short story in an upcoming edition of “Nemesis,” a new anthology coming out of Hippocampus. That “story” (chap) is called Breath. He did not accept the third chap from Ghosts for a new antho he is putting together called Apostles of the Weird, (the chapter / story I sent him is called The Session) but that doesn’t worry me. I recall his passing on the first pre-chapter of what would inevitably become Phantom Effect for lack of a good fit in his antho Searchers After Horror, and everyone came out all right there, the novel eventually going through Night Shade (with his recommendation) and my publishing The Girl Between the Slats for Searchers.

Looks like I have to write something else during my now-busy off days. A ghost story for Apostles.

God. I like being busy.

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One Year Anniversary

It was a year ago February 2nd that my best work came out. I do admit that there are some who feel my first novel Alice Walks was my smoothest read, but Phantom Effect, released by Night Shade Books / Skyhorse is most certainly my most complex and intricate work. When I wrote it I told my family it was over…that I would never be able to attain this level of structural acrobatics, character depth, and intensity of psychological potency again. It was over.

I actually wrote Phantom Effect between 2012 and 2014. Since then, I went through the painful process of working on a long, long piece called Dead Red, finally trashing it last summer. It was a work that in the end, simply had character and plot threads I didn’t believe in. I started over with a totally new idea this past July, and as I have posted recently, it is going well. I will be finished The Glorious Secrets of Ghosts this coming summer.

Anyway…Phantom Effect is available on Amazon for something like 4 bucks. Do a brutha a favor. Pick one up! From what I hear from Night Shade, I got pretty good outreach and visibility with this one, and I moved enough copies to make it worth the printing. Whoop, whoop!


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Has Writing Become an Antiquated Art Form?

Without getting into questions about the different forms and functions of writing (expository, narrative, social, creative) I would ask whether writing itself as an aesthetic form is dying.

In terms of business, we see it happening right before our eyes. The biggest publishers are merging, trying to keep their stables working, the only chain bookstore with shelf texts that is still standing is Barnes and Noble, and attendance in creative writing classes has dramatically dropped since, say, the early 90’s.

There used to be a hierarchy, not as organized as baseball, with single, double, and triple-A, yet a clearer ladder nonetheless. It sort of went small market, mid-range, and big-boy. I don’t say anything particularly new in mentioning that self-publishing has decimated the small market and mid-range markets, making it so you can’t really tell the author mills from the legitimate traditional guys trying to make a statement and a living. Still, I am more talking about the writing itself, and not so much the mechanisms used to move it (though let’s be clear, many of those “mechanisms” front as traditional publishers yet they are actually self-pubbers in disguise, offering absolutely no outreach…hoping you get together all your girlfriends, go to the Starbucks, open up your laptops, and get everyone in your extended circle to buy. What’s the novel about? Who gives a flying fuck. If we sign thousands of “writers” knowing each will alert her sewing circle in order to get 300 quick sales, we make as much in the end as a small traditional press. Our outreach? Here. I will send you a weekly newsletter talking about the best ways to open up more social media accounts).

Blogging has become so powerful, that it is more popular and accessible to mid range publicists than traditional and / or legitimate journals. Pay 2,000 for a publicist and he gets you blog posts, not interviews, (nor sales). He asks you to join the white noise, as the white noise has become the new literature, not your old fashioned dusty book.

The first thing agents and editors look into with new writers concerns their Facebook and Twitter accounts. How many followers? How many likes when you post about your product versus pictures of your cat, or your opinions about pipelines or foreign policy? Posting is more alluring than story writing. News and fake news and all the interpretations thereof have all become the new art.

Plainly, learning and communication has changed. In school, it is becoming more important to access information quickly and through more channels than synthesizing the information itself and inventing ideas. In terms of writing and selling, it is more important that the given author has developed personal outreach that evolves in tandem with people clicking in as opposed to offering an artistic product. Good novels are subtle, difficult pleasures one has to dig into. It seems the fluff on the outside however, has become the new statement.

I am lucky that I chose the horror genre. Or more accurately, I am fortunate that it chose me. I am ultimately blessed that I got to know S.T. Joshi a decade ago (has it been that long?) and thankful that Hippocampus, Centipede, and Night Shade took a chance on me. While all the noise is going on…all this fluff…the horror guys have stayed right where they were, standing their ground. The small market has become THE market for many horror writers, especially those like me who are staying away from the cliches and creating novels with a literary focus. You could say that we are like cockroaches. With everything going on and the landscape going through this strange reconstruction, we never die. We’re very much like heavy metal. You can’t kill it, even if you blog about it!

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Strange Views

I’m getting a shitload of strange views from China, Australia, UK, and Canada. Who the hell are you weird-ass people? Send me a comment or something.


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Blogging (or not) About the Process

I have decided that blogging about the process of writing is silly. I got off social media specifically to avoid trolls thinking they have suddenly become political and social philosophers we should listen to simply because they are shouting. I think that guest posting on blogs is a rabbit hole, and most of the time the information isn’t useful. No one cares about my hobbies, my dog, my anniversary, or a hot new recipe I got off the food channel. I know I don’t.

When it comes to blogging about the writing process itself, I tried that and looking back, I don’t like it. Isn’t the purpose of writing to create a world, or in terms of goals more writer-specific, to put our very best out there, edited, poured over, sculpted, and polished to the point that it better demonstrates our questions about socio-political issues and relevant psychological paradox? Why then would I blog about all the behind the scenes stuff I had to do to get there?

I have a blog here. I don’t know what I will blog about in the future, but if you want to know about my writing, buy the ever loving, mother-fucking books.

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La La Land, Thumbs Up?

I went and saw La La Land the other day, and I wanted to celebrate this Golden Globe winner (7 of them) as well as pose questions concerning some of the directorial choices. My son tells me that even my casual writing comes out like a “bogus scholarly article,’ so I will not brainstorm, organize, outline, or edit this. One sitting. Just freestyling!

I had mixed feelings all through the experience, though I will say that overall I felt uplifted and moved. The dialogue and story line worked in a general way, and I especially liked the two lead characters, Ryan Gosling playing the frustrated jazz pianist and Emma Stone, the young actress trying to make it in Hollywood. There were performance moments that actually bordered on brilliance, mostly through Stone, when trying out for different shows in different voices, only to be interrupted by directors and sound stage gophers who couldn’t have given a damn about her endeavor. First level, the “acting” was delivered as delicately proficient, and you couldn’t help but think someone within the story had to notice how good she was. Second level, when “interrupted,” Stone ever so achingly came out of “character” to show the dawning and repeated disappointment experienced by her base character, her eyes and her expression evolving with perfect timing and agony. Our hearts ached.

Gosling was interesting as well, and one could feel his muted anguish as he was forced to sell out again and again. The chemistry between Stone and Gosling worked for the most part, believable enough, some mild sparks, but the only time your heart really broke for them (or raced) was the break-up dinner scene, where Stone’s facial expressions, subtle yet intensive, stole the scene (similar to the auditions).

I also liked the ending. Not to play spoiler, there was some time displacement – fantasy threading that was shot incredibly well by writer/director Damien Chazelle, and I don’t think the “real” conclusion could have gone any other way.

On the flip side of the coin, besides the jazz performance scenes, the music was disappointing. There was a major lacking of build-up and climax, and most of the numbers were forgettable. I suppose subtlety was a theme here, and it seems the “low key” feeling throughout the piece was at least consistent, starting with said songs and affecting the mood and general movement of the action.

The problem was balance. I like Emma Stone, and I will probably hear a lot of shit about this, but I would argue that here she was miscast. First, in terms of superficial appeal, she presented as too thin, almost juvenile. While this particular actress has one of the most beautiful faces on the planet, her clothes literally hung off her, and when the background players, like her roommates, came off more appealing, something certainly felt wrong.

Moreover, Emma Stone can’t dance. While the musical numbers (again, aside from the jazz performance scenes) were rather luke-warm, we can almost chalk that up to the aforementioned theme of “cool” and more critically, the possibility that Chazelle was making a purposeful move away from the old style Broadway numbers that came off hyperbolic and melodramatic. Still, there was an attempt to celebrate “throwback,” the “old days,” not only in the dance styles favoring the likes of Bing Crosby, Gene Kelly, and Debbie Reynolds, but the breath-taking sets and lighting. The importance of dexterity and complex composition “back in the day” is even delivered to us in straight exposition, as Gosling’s character voices over and again his desire to keep Jazz the way it was in its technical daring and improvisational brilliance.

Why then does Emma Stone fail to absolutely knock it out of the park during her routines with Gosling? The dance steps literally look like something out of a middle school ensemble, and I was amazed at how very unprofessional and simplistic it played…especially when Gosling’s piano chops are so agile and skillful people are still talking about it on Google, questioning whether the film makers somehow used a body double (they didn’t; it was Gosling).

My vote would have been to cast Julianne Hough in the lead role instead of Emma Stone. The former showed us that she could sing (way better than Stone) in the parody Rock of Ages, and has provided us unconditional proof of her dancing ability, not only in Ages, but on Dancing With the Stars. And though she looked a tad matronly with her hair back as a judge this season, I’ll bet at age 28, she would have been absolutely dazzling in La La Land.

Altogether, I enjoyed this movie. I wanted both characters to win, and I especially related to the tragic beauty of chasing dreams, as so depicted. Unfortunately, with some of the aspects played on the “down low,” it came off “so-so” in keys places.

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Links for Awesome Books!

I thought I might provide the links for some of my books that either might not be readily visible, or available for basement bargain pricing!


Above is the link for the paperback version of my first novel titled Alice Walks. This stalker-ghost story came out first through Centipede Press as a collector’s hardcover. There are still some left at outrageous prices on Amazon, and there remains only 1 or so in paperback there. The link above goes straight to the Dark Regions site where there are currently 12 paperbacks left for $17.00.

Also available on Amazon, is my first collection, Seven Deadly Pleasures. You can find good used copies at this link:




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Intro to New Novel in Progress

The Glorious Secrets of Ghosts

By the late adjunct college professor of English

Jerry Feldman

These stories are true.

Though many will try to discount the validity of this manuscript, I want to assure you first and foremost that I am most certainly me, and that these writings come from beyond the grave despite traditional skepticism and antiquated belief systems based on “scientific” or “religious” norms. Though the mechanics of creating this communication would be hard to explain, I would ask that you accept the fact that I recently journeyed to the “other side,” found a seam, and returned.

Hear me, there is little time.

There is no God.

I think you all knew that deep down, and trust me, the ghosts all thank you for the wonderful shadow-cover. I do not think it wise nor prudent to burden you with the many logical fallacies, shaky foundations, and unanswered questions left by even the most exhaustive theological studies, because you well know those paths only lead to more questions, blurred metaphor, and paradox.

To put it simply, when we are faced with circumstances that are universally unjust, we typically surrender to them with the claim that “God works in mysterious ways.” But there is no God and therefore, no fate.

And choice? Well. You be the judge.

Ghosts do not live in basements and attics, woodland and sewer systems. Like it or not, they exist in a world superimposed directly upon our own, and they infiltrate our reality like invisible mist. And they are not moaning, rattling chains. They create symmetry.

Ghost symmetry.

The first tale I am to tell you might seem to be uplifting. That is the bait, their bait, dangling before us to grease the skids, making us passive and vulnerable. The following narratives, however, will strike you as subtly disturbing, more obviously so when I enter the story-line myself as a character. The balance will be nothing short of…illuminating. As a horror writer, I realized a long time ago that one of the staples of the genre is to cleverly expose the “other” in winks and flashes at the bottom of a dark well, at the edge of a playground, down a long dark corridor, at the far edge of a dark, placid lake. But I realize now that these trigger-points are no more than dramatic euphemism and diversion, imposed fairytale catharsis wearing a clown mask.

The “others” are among you.

They just don’t telegraph themselves within the confines of the five senses as you know them.

In life I was a meticulous writer, so detail oriented that many of my contemporaries felt I would have been better received in a different century. Here, all that matters little. I suppose the main issue critics will have with this current piece, aside from an inability to suspend deep seated beliefs, is the structure I utilize, or at least one of the core vessels in the heart of that part of the lexicon.

It is a given in human storytelling that one establishes a “base of the house,” in terms of plot, theme, and the motivations of the main players. In other words, the protagonists you start with are the ones in the latter part of the dramatic line who must become intertwined in those critical climaxes and wonderful epiphanies that act as satisfying stopping points in our vision of what makes for potent and thought-provoking narrative.

Still, I would remind you to consider who the main characters are here.

Not only do ghosts have their own form of justice, their own interpretations of philosophical symmetry, and an alternate view of the universe. They are closers. In other words, the stories I am about to reveal will seem to begin with what you might deem “familiar,” but will often end with a shift of perspective. True, I am breaking a stylistic “rule,” but remember where I am coming from.

I am the “other” now.
Let me show you.

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