New Short Published on Every Day Fiction

I meant to post about this yesterday, but it completely slipped my mind. Busy little beaver, this one.
I've got a new piece of flash fiction published over at Every Day Fiction. It seems to be polarizing the readers quite a bit thus far, but I suppose that's a good thing. In my opinion, worthwhile fiction is going to stir different emotions in different readers. What one person reveres, another may chastise. It's certainly better than a lackluster response. 
I'm overall pretty pleased with what I accomplished in such a short space. Check it out for yourself here:

http://www.everydayfiction.com/the-unwilling-trophy-wife-by-chad-stroup/

Leave a rating or comment there if you feel like it.

AWP Intro Journals Nomination

Looks like the "Art-Making in the Technosphere" collaboration that I edited and co-wrote (see my November 4th post) has been nominated for the AWP Intro Journals award. A pretty nice compliment whether it wins or not. So yeah...this is basically just a braggart post...sue me. I deserve one of those every now and then. Congrats and good luck to the rest of my co-authors on this project.

New Short(s) Published on Slit your Wrists E-Zine

Looks like I'm getting behind on my own self-promotion. I had a couple of flash fiction pieces published by the Slit Your Wrists E-Zine about 3 weeks ago and didn't even realize it (to clarify...I knew they were publishing it, but I didn't know it had already happened so quickly after they informed me). Whoopsie...

Anyways, I am pretty fond of these two semi-related shorts, so it's good to see someone else appreciated them enough to share them with the world. The two shorts are called "Cuerpo en el Dolor" and "Cuerpo en el Placer." You can check them out here:

http://slityourwristsmagazine.com/2012/11/06/flash-fiction-chad-stroup/

Enjoy...leave comments or something. Let me know I'm not just randomly vomiting into cyberspace here.

Collaboration Published in Fiction International

A few months back, I was involved in a collaborative effort with a few of my fellow MFA colleagues. The ever-supportive Professor Hal Jaffe decided he wanted to publish these in the upcoming edition of Fiction International, which has a theme of "Real Time/Virtual." While there is a print version forthcoming, the texts have just been published on the Fiction International Wordpress blog, so you can go ahead and preview those here:

http://fictioninternational.wordpress.com/2012/11/04/welcome-to-art-making-in-the-technosphere/

My sections are the two that begin with "Dear Sirs of Happy Coupling..." and "I wanted to rip my eyes out." While there are eight total authors in the collaboration, my pieces are direct collaborations with Randall Lahrman, whose segments immediately follow both of mine. You will eventually see something else from Randall on Subvertbia (as soon as I can bug him enough to find the time to write a short horror story for me. Hurry up, dude!).

As a side note, I also managed the developmental editing on this project. I think it came out quite well, and that everyone was able to bring their "A" game on this one!

New Short Story Published in Anthology

Just got the news today that the anthology with my new story has been officially released. It's called Enter at Your Own Risk: Fires and Phantoms and is a collection of gay-themed ghost stories. My story is titled "Prickle the Ivories." Between this story and my poem "Chloe" that was published in Educe Journal a few months back, it appears that at least some of my work is destined to be accepted by the queer community. Definitely cool with that (hell, I'm cool with almost any audience that'll take me in, but I do have a soft spot for all things LGBT). Sheesh, wait until I finish my novel...only my wife will be able to confirm my sexual orientation.

Here's a link to purchase the Kindle edition on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Enter-Your-Own-Risk-ebook/dp/B009LOOCKU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1349684082&sr=8-1&keywords=enter+at+your+own+risk%3A+fires+and+phantoms

And the print version from Barnes and Noble:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/enter-at-your-own-risk-alex-scully/1113145342?ean=9781479228096

Also...here's a link to the publisher's site with some info about the book:

http://www.firbogpublishing.com/Library.html


Sort of crazy to think that I have a story in a book that also features work from Edgar Allan Poe and Edith Wharton. Sweet.

On a Meathook

Hello everyone...sorry it's been forever since my last post. I'm just a busy little beaver. Here's a quick treat for you. This poem was previously published in the San Diego Poetry Annual.

Dedicated to everyone who values and respects the lives of non-human animals...or maybe it's dedicated to those who don't...hmm...

ON A MEATHOOK

sterling clinks fine china

stained with filthy ichor

savor the spirit

that dances down the gullet

wails echo from afar

the executioner wipes

the sanguine blade

upon his apron

relish in

humanity

in the grim field

gazing

into her moist orbs

so sweet with life

her mottled hair

once so brilliant

soon commodified

sold for magic beans

her manure

perpetuates the cycle

she finds her next life

in the form of prosperous

gilded arches

sentience sliced

and processed into the smiles

of naive

ethereal minds

condiments will mask

the flavor

of malfeasance

the body of mankind

a tomb

the epitaph--

nutritional statistics

the elegy--

a catchy jingle

lyrical lies

drawing flies

that pulp caught twixt your teeth

was someone's baby

the heart

is cheap gristle

with compassion

stunned

into nebulous

oblivion

children's laughter

children slaughtered

selfish tastes

lead to cancerous fates

Short Story Published by Penduline

My story "Maternal Instinct" has just been published by the online journal Penduline. In this issue, their theme is "WTF?" Well, I'm pretty confident that I gave them the ultimate WTF? story. It's one of my favorite pieces I've written in recent months, and also my very first attempt at writing from a woman's first-person perspective. You can check it out here:

http://www.pendulinepress.com/author-article-archives/maternal-instinct/

Let me know what you think!

They-Who-Do-Not-Exist

Not much to say about this one...just an allegorical "unseen monster" sort of tale I suppose.

THEY-WHO-DO-NOT-EXIST

Reading, Pennsylvania and its inhabitants cannot be seen with the naked eye; they must face each harsh morning using only the sense of smell. Those with leather wallets and a bloodhound's nose are fortunate enough to pay the landlord most months. The town's sense of sound is also keen, but the screams that pervade the night are typically ignored, drowned out by the shared crunch of day-old bread, the pressure of liquor's languor.

Within the city limits lays an invisible beast that bellows: a roaring lion with claw and tooth ravaging the potential of youth, claiming more victims than can be counted by the Census Bureau. It never crosses the Penn Street Bridge for fear of being discovered. The monster punishes the locals for their poverty, dips into its own till, traps itself within.

A glass bottle transforms from comfort to weapon.

A gunshot echoes at 5^th and Penn.

Again.

New Poem Published in Educe Journal

The second issue of Educe Journal has just been released and it features a poem of mine titled "Chloe." Educe is known for publishing queer literature, which is obviously usually written by those who identify as such, so it's an extra bonus that the editors were impressed enough with my work to publish it despite my "straight" status. I consider myself to be queer friendly in both my writing and my personal life, so it's an honor to be included in this publication.
If anyone is interested in purchasing either a digital or hard copy of this issue, here is the link:

http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/417174

Sonnet of Samhain (mischief night version)

Here's the companion piece to my last post, as promised (which was published alongside it in the same journal). I played with this one a little more to give it a more modernized feel, whereas the other sonnet was "older" in its feel. This one still basically adheres to a Shakespearean sonnet form, but the iambic pentameter is purposely less perfect. I enjoy them both for different reasons...if anyone out there has a favorite, let me know in the comments!

SONNET OF SAMHAIN (mischief night version)

hey! let's pretend we're boogeymen again

in plastic, rubber, thrift store finds we've dressed

voorhees, krueger, myers—our chosen men

the masks we wear are spooky (fuck the rest)

we'll never be too old for tricks and treats

toilet-papered trees won't be easily stopped

our terror's in the hidden nooks of streets

ringing your bells and then avoiding cops 

costumes adorned with bile, blood, and grue

if candy rots our teeth then so be it,

the devil's sugar is our impish fuel

our classic scares will fill your pants with shit

world at our mercy, let's take back this night

not for the weak, a holiday with bite!

Sonnet of Samhain (traditional)

This little ditty was originally published in a journal called Synesthesia. There is also a companion sonnet that was published alongside this one. I will post that one up in a few days.

SONNET OF SAMHAIN (traditional)

this night we don the masks of those we've lost

such frightful flesh does tickle at our cheeks

the lines of blessed and damned have now been crossed

'tis goblins and sly demons that we seek

through trickery and guile we prevail

a sacrificial feast upon our plates

sweetmeats between our teeth so sick and stale

we dabble in divinity, not hate

where spirit and corporeal now meet

we dance under the black flames of the sky

don't dread the tiptoe tapping of our feet

the darkness will soon offer its goodbyes 

tomorrow we shan't regret what we've done

just wicked children yearning to have fun

Untitled Short #4

Okay, so here's the other "true" short I promised to post. This one's arguably a little wackier than the first one.

In some Georgian cultures, shoving hash browns down one's pants makes for a more proficient soccer player. Greasy, chafing crotch burns are known for assisting in focusing on goals.

One hash brown=$1.06

One bail release=$1,500

The culprit's been banned from twelve UGA eateries for a year.

A masked blessing, perhaps?

New Short Published on Lingustic Erosion

Hey everyone,

My very short piece, titled "Bleak Iridescent Shark," has been posted on Linguistic Erosion. It's a tad bit Lovecraft-y. Go check it out here:

http://www.linguisticerosion.com/

Untitled Short #3

This is one of two very short pieces inspired by bizarre, yet true news items. I'll post the other one in the next week or so.

Stealing candy from a baby was breezy—he figured there’s probably no chore in pilfering the brat's savings.

Two important questions:

A butcher gutting a piggy bank—unconscious desire?

If Baby Mama only has $60, a cellphone, and some condoms worth burglarizing, where the hell is a two-year-old acquiring $400?

Comments Disclaimer

Okay, so for some reason my settings were not allowing comments for anyone, even though I definitely had them set that way when I originally started the blog. So now I've fixed it. If anyone has been just dying to leave me a comment, now's your chance! I'd appreciate some thoughts on any of the posts I've made. Thanks, jerkies.

Satan Scare in San Diego

Here is a haiku series (sort of) about a prank I began, but never followed through with, when I was a wee lad. It was a brilliant plan if I do say so myself, but I was probably distracted by skateboarding, girls, or going to shows. Oh well...

SATAN SCARE IN SAN DIEGO

an experiment in the power, influence, and mystery of slogans and cultism

harvest crusade slaves

bumper sticker theism

time to taste my jape

create my label

spread amongst the gullible

fears of deviled youth

upside down crosses

sixhundredandsixtysix

pointed star of five

peel the layers back

sticker's truth will still remain

religion may fib

wasn't authentic

but perhaps you question it

Jake Oliver—"Let the Good Times Roll"

When I first began this blog, I loosely "promised" that I would eventually be including an occasional Featured Writer post. Well, that time has finally come. Hopefully there will be a couple more of these over the summer.

I first met Jake Oliver a couple of years ago in a poetry class. I was pretty much immediately drawn to his sick, fearless mind. This particular piece is what I would consider quite tame for Jake's standards, though still well-written. I think he was just scared to send me any of his psychosexual stuff. 

Chicken.

Let the Good Times Roll

It started out as something like Leaving Las Vegas without the theatrics or the bad haircut, and certainly no Elisabeth Shue. I unwrapped a fifth of whiskey; I believe it was Penderyn, which is to my knowledge the only Welsh whiskey, and with a shaking hand I poured a drink any proper Englishman would deem ghastly—but I’m an expat, and here in this closeted environ, a dingy motel room at thirty-six quid a night, there are no noses to be looked down and surely a suicide, a drawn-out one or no, isn’t concerned with English claims to undisputed gin superiority. I don’t believe the English distill whiskey, and in this still we’re looking at, hand wrapped around a smudged glass that must’ve gone a week since its last cleaning, the man framed couldn’t give two shits.

            The man in the still has come to Hammersmith to drink himself to death. 

Bio:

Jake Oliver is a righteous dude from Maine who also happens to have a morbid fascination with Nicolas Cage and believes Deadfall may be the pinnacle of cinematic achievement. He attends San Diego State University and is closing in on completion of an MFA in Creative Writing (Poetry). 

Detour

Okay, so school is over for the semester, so hopefully I'll be posting at least slightly more frequently throughout the summer. Here's a little quickie about a man in, ahem, love with what he finds to be the perfect woman...

DETOUR

     “I've been needing to see you...so badly. Please come with me tonight.”

     The lost man pleaded through the meticulously adorned glass.

     “My wife thinks I had to drop off some paperwork so I could come out this way.”

     She did not respond, did not even bother to look at him.

     The dress salaciously hugged her breasts and waist.

     She modeled Juicy Couture, advertised at Saks for $99.99.

     Her legs reflected fluorescent lighting, both blinding and stirring him.

     “Please tell me...I don't even know your name.”

     Her face eternally yearned.

     He loved her dearly.

     She was plastic.

     Flawless.