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.