December 8, 2010

Alex's Writing from the launch

At our launch on the 4th, we asked the audience to write a person, place, or thing on a scrap of paper and throw it into a jar.  We then picked two prompts each out of the jar and had to cobble them into stories in the time it took for the wonderful Georgia Peach Trio to play their set.

Here is what I ended up with:

"Wig Specialist" and "Steampunk Adventurer Sir Dorito 'Chunkles' Neckwisp Corset Zybourne of the HMS Unfuckwithable" (thanks to new HBM author Jeanine Chau for that gem)

And now to transcribe the story from my hastily scratched handwriting:

"Why does he have such a terribly long name?" asked Corrim as he stitched the final e into the inside of the red captain's coat.
"What," said Delilah, the HMS Unfuckwithable's wig specialist, "you mean Sir Dorito Neckwisp Corset Zybourne?  It's not that bad.  At least we can all call him 'Chunkles'.
"Don't get me started on that name.  It makes even less sense than his real one."
"Well," countered Delilah as she adjusted the curly coifed white hair of Sir Zybourne's second-favourite wig, "I suppose you can call yourself whatever you want when you've commanded an airship to victory in two different wars."
"Yes, and never without his hair just so," said Corrim.
The tailor and wig specialist finished preparing the captain's clothes for the next day.  It was bound to be important, as they were patrolling their newly won skies.

Sir Zybourne looked at himself in the mirror the next day.  The adjustments helped to keep his "victory" gut in check.  Still, he'd have to work harder if he was going to represent Her Majesty's Airborne Navy on the patrol.
Sir Zybourne walked out onto the windswept deck.  The men were all ready for inspection, the steam-cannons polished until every guage and dial reflected the smart uniforms of the HMS Unfuckwithable's crew.
"Today", began Zybourne, "we show our new territory the we are the undisputed rulers of it.  We are a beacon of the security that we have brought to this land."
As he was about to launch into the rest of his speech, the rigging was shaken by the passage of several cannonballs.
"To your stations!" cried the the always-watchful first mate.
The deck became a flurry of activity, but one man stood still in the midst of the sailors running to and fro.
The tailor, Corrim, held up his fist.  "Down with Chunkles!" came his rebellious cry.
With that, there was a groan from below decks as sabotaged pistons and boilers failed.
"How dare you?  Do you not realize the ship that you are on?" shouted Zybourne above the din.
"Read the inside of your hat you pompous tyrant."  With that, the first mate pulled out his pistol and shot Corrim, who fell unnoticed amongst the rush of the ship's men.
Sir Zybourne removed his hat and, with a hurt little silence, read Fucked With where he would normally find his regal name.

The ship began to go down.

December 6, 2010

Here Be Monsters is pleased to make another call for your submissions!

Here Be Monsters is pleased to make another call for your submissions!

We are looking for unpublished works of fiction in any genre, that are less than 10,000 words long. If you are a Canadian resident, and have a story that you would like to submit, please send it as an attached document to with the subject "Here Be Monsters Submission". In the body of the email, please give us your name, address, and an email or phone number where we can contact you.

We are currently looking for stories for the fifth issue, which will be out in spring 2011. If you would like to have your story considered for this issue, please submit no later than February 7th, 2011.

Standard payment is $30 and a free copy of the anthology in which your story appears. Here Be Monsters will purchase first Canadian rights, non-exclusive anthology rights, and first online rights. We do consider simultaneous submissions, but please note this in the body of your submission email.
We would also like to thank everyone who has submitted in the past.

We are looking forward to reading your stories. Thank you.

December 5, 2010

Writing at the launch

Last night we launched issues 3 and 4, and as usual we did some improvised writing using prompts from our guests. I feel like it actually was the best crop of improv writing in our three launches. So for your enjoyment, here is the little story I wrote last night in about 20 minutes (that's so you won't be too harsh on it), using the prompt "À la claire fontaine" and "Not strip poker but STRIP MONOPOLY".

Somewhere at the edge of town, at the bottom of a dark, cheerless alley, lies a bar. The bricks of its facade crumble and fall, but they still support a blinking neon sign, like a one-eyed drunk in the mist. In fact, a one-eyed drunk often falls asleep under it in the small hours of the morning, when all that's left on the streets are the damned and the graveyard-shifters.
The bar is called "À la claire fontaine", though there's nothing clear about what happens behind the brick facade and the one-eyed sign. The owner once said it was named after his favorite childhood song, but it's hard to believe Joe Gillitz ever had a childhood.
Most nights, he sits behind the bar, as drunk as the few clients who still patronize his crumbling establishment. Most nights, that is, until two weeks ago. That's when Gillitz launched his new game int the backroom. He says it didn't cost him much, just the board and the dice, which he bought second hand, but everybody knows he must have paid the girls. And they're definitely not second hand.
That's was I was thinking that night when I walked the backroom for the third time that week.
I've been told before by some quack psychologist, or maybe it was my dealer, that I have an addictive personality, i.e. I tend to get hooked on pretty much everything. I'd never believed it until now. Because to get hooked on strip Monopoly, I agree you have to be missing a few braincells. Or be very lonely. Both, I guess.
One of the girls smiled at me as I sat down in one of the plastic chairs around the board and selected the shoe. I did notice something strange in her eyes, like her pupils weren't really round or something, but at the time I didn't really care. I should have, though. 'Cause it turns out, Gillitz didn't pay for these girls. No. They don't need money. Or food, for that matter. At least, not our kind of food.
That's right. I said earlier I was missing a few brain cells. Where do you think I lost them?

Vincent Mackay

December 1, 2010

HBM Interview on CKUT by Jeffrey Mackie

On Tuesday, Vincent and I were interviewed by CKUT's Jeffrey Mackie.  We talk about the start of Here Be Monsters, publishing new authors, and the launch party this Saturday.  Please give it a listen.