I submitted my Zilpha Murrell story last night. It’s kind of a long-shot outlet, so I won’t be too bummed if they reject it. But I just realized that the ending is pretty much the end of fucking “White Rabbit.”
So, that’s both hilarious and a little frustrating. I couldn’t have realized that last night?
Anyway, what I want right now from my writing is for people to stand in a place or look down a road right here where I live and imagine that all is not as it seems–that right out there is where the ghost of a man claiming to be a third Harpe brother still haunts, that the stretch between that sidewalk and the door of that church is a metaphysical dead zone, a no-man’s land where no supernatural powers work, that these roads curve and rename not because of some natural reason, but to confuse the Devil. I want to give the impression that everything around you might be more than it appears. Richer. Spookier.
And I’m enjoying the shit out of telling those kinds of stories to myself. I hope I get a chance to share them with others.