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Author Archives: Kristopher Kelly

“No dialing? You mean you just … asked an operator? How quaint!”

“I totally want a phone I can use to call people from the beach! That is awesome!”

“Holy crap, that phone is HUGE! Remember when I said that was awesome? How silly!”

“Oh my god, Mom and Dad … you used to connect your phone to the wall?! With a cord?!” 

“Look at that! A flip-phone! Cuuuuuuute!”

“Ha ha ha … they used to make movies about phones! It’s like cavemen making a movie called Wall-Painting.

“Direct peer-to-peer voice messaging? Why would anyone do that? I hate these old-timey films!”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like for people who still remember talking as being more popular than brain-to-brain Bleating.”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like for anyone who still remembers talking!” [further reactions uninterpretable for anyone not using a CyM3ld v7 or better]

Snuff
Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I read this book because I just got out of a really long relationship with a George R. R. Martin novel and wanted something fast and super-entertaining and thoroughly inappropriate. Snuff in all ways fit the bill.

This book really made me feel gross most of the time I was reading it, but I loved the experience. Palahniuk throws out more fake porn film names and euphemisms for jerkoff than I think anyone really needs to, but I still love the energy.

This story takes place while 600 men stand in a room, waiting for their chance to go on camera as part of a record-breaking gang-bang porn film. There are five main characters, men #72, #137, and #600, as well as the female talent wrangler Sheila and the pornstar herself, Ms. Cassie Wright. I found all five to be interesting, well-drawn characters, and I loved the character revelations. There were a lot of surprises.

But what I most liked about this book was the way it made me feel about flesh and how we treat our bodies. There’s a lot of sex/death comparisons, but I simply can’t shake the disgusting way Palahniuk relates condoms to bowls of junk food (there’s a table full of junk food, and a bowl of condoms, which … well, I’ll let you take it from there).

And then there are the fun facts, or “True facts”, as they are called here, which are top tier. Seems most of these characters have a Palahniuk-like love of the random bit of amazing trivia (such as that Hitler invented the blow-up doll, which blows my mind in so many ways). Loved it all. These tidbits are worth the read all on their own.

But at the end of the day, I think this might also be one of Chuck Palahniuk’s sweetest novels, as well as one of his most icky. Really liked it.

View all my reviews

Got another one in the rejected-by-McSweeney’s and the 600-words-or-less department. There really shouldn’t have been room for overlap there, since McSweeneys.net does not do short stories, as I was told this morning when the piece was rejected.

Oh well. This one is funny.

Available on Lulu.com now, assuming, once again, that it will eventually make its way to Amazon and others.

 

Embrace the Ground

Looks like I’m going to bail on NaNoWriMo plans this year. Sorry to say it, but the ideas just weren’t there this year. Rather than force a half-baked idea, I’ve decided to focus on some short story goals and editing Ed at Eleven.

As far as the short stories go, I’ve set my sights on publication in Cemetery Dance and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. And then there’s my McSweeneys.net project, where every week I send them a new submission as soon as they reject the previous one (in my head, I call this “Andy Dufresne-ing” the editors).

Last night, I noticed there’s a contest on Lulu.com for the month of November. Publish a 600-words-or-less story through Lulu, and you can enter their short story contest. Prize is a Nook and $500. I figured I might as well, since I Held My Breath as Long as I Could featured a lot of stories around that length, and I’ve sort of gotten used to the format. Last night, I submitted my first entry, “Embrace the Ground,” available now for free on Lulu. Presumably it will eventually find its way to Amazon and iTunes. In the meantime, keep checking back here for news on additional free stories. I’m aiming to write somewhere around five of these pieces this month. Little snacks for the faithful (e)readers out there.

Maybe you’re one of the people who wondered why I Held My Breath as Long as I Could started off with one of the worst stories. Maybe you want to know more about why someone would self-publish. Maybe you’re just bored and have nothing better to do. Whatever the case, the following is an interview examining and explaining the thoughts behind the stories included in an admittedly strange collection.

**** SPOILERS FOLLOW ****

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I’m a lone banana, and I’ve got the whole box to myself.

Someone wanted me. Just me. And off I’ve been sent, in this big old box, which I guess is the smallest one the people who sent me could find.

It wasn’t always like this. Time was, I had a whole BUNCHA friends. They’re gone now, and it’s just me. Just me in my big box. I never did think I’d have it so good, but a banana can really stretch out here and bounce around.

It’s really the most fun I’ve ever had.

I know there will come a time when I’ll be shoved in someone’s bag, carried to work, and eaten on the way to gym, but for right now, I’m bouncing, sliding, sliding, bouncing–living the large box lifestyle.

People think they know what it’s like because they’ve lost friends before, but this is different. Straws wasn’t just any old friend. It’s not like I can find him on Facebook now, you know? There’s no way to reach him, ever–no phone number, no address, I don’t even know where he is, really–where he’s from.

I’ll tell you what makes it so bad: it’s that when he was here, it was the single most incredible time of my life. But when that happens, you don’t think it’s just going to end. You don’t think that it’s only going to last a couple weeks. You think it’s forever, that your life’s going to go on being more and more awesome. You feel touched. Blessed. You don’t think at all, not one bit, about how you’re gonna get sad and drunk some night at a bar and your girlfriend’s gonna ask you why you’re crying and you’re going to be stupid enough to tell her everything and say, “Meredith, I’m depressed and feel like life isn’t worth living, because when I was a kid I was friends for a little while with an alien.”

Girlfriends just don’t understand. Sooner or later, I always tell them, and then they get that look–the one that says, “Oh, I get it now. Why you’re single. Why you were hospitalized.”

What? Oh, no, see, there you go, thinking about Hollywood shit, thinking about E.T. and Mac and Me. Well, it wasn’t like that exactly–Straws never made my bike fly across the moon or caused a sudden dance party in a McDonald’s–but it was still a thrill to be near him. Straws was telepathic, and he would share visions with me of other planets he’d visited, and I thought he’d take me to some of them someday, but now even thinking about those things he shared with me is painful. He never took me anywhere. He just left one day. The government didn’t chase him off, either, and he didn’t die from anything; he just showed up one day and left another. I can’t even watch those other movies, because they make me angry. I keep wishing it was something else, something explicable that made Straws leave.

Fucking movies. Everything’s always better in the movies. Let me tell you, it’s painful to live something they made a movie about if your version isn’t as good.

People say I’m needy. That I have too much trouble enjoying things for what they are. I’m even too bitter to read news about the space program. When the Space Shuttle made its last flight, I was ecstatic. I’m so angry about space and all that stuff it ruins my whole day whenever I hear anything about it on the news or whatever.

Whatever’s out there, it can stay out there for all I care. To hell with Straws.

Ok, fine, you’re right. I wish he’d come back. I’d give anything. I really would.

Great, now I’m crying again.

Featured!

Featured!

Oh, my. This … is cool. I am sitting there, right beside Stephen King, Robert McCammon, and William Peter Blatty. I mean, really?! Are you serious? How cool is that?

Holding a physical copy of my book in my hands was one dream. Being on the shelf next to these guys … that’s another HUGE win. And in time for Halloween, too! Unbelievable!

Thanks to everyone out there who bought and rated my collection!

So happy right now.

The Passage
The Passage by Justin Cronin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book is long. Reeeeeeeeally long. Unnecessarily long, and the prose itself often super-bland, even cliche at times.

But this book is also really, really good.

The plot is easy to describe. The story starts in the near future and speeds into the future, where a vampire apocalypse (otherwise known as a plague of virals) decimates North America. We tour the landscape with a fairly well-drawn group of survivors in what at times seems almost like the Waltons meets Mad Max; there’s a lot of focus on characters and family values amidst the scattered post-apocalyptic mayhem.

While I liked the first third a fair amount, I almost didn’t make it out of the sections after that which introduced the Colony. Too many descriptions of what people were dreaming about (I’m looking at you, Chapter Thirty-Five), and Cronin sometimes seems too quick to skip around the really fun parts of the story–you know, the parts where the virals actually attack? I’ve never been so infuriated by a section as I was by The Night of Blades and Stars portion of this book, which was a lot of tedious build-up with the ensuing event barely written about. Cronin goes into great length about how uneasy everyone’s sleep was, but to learn about the event itself, we have to get it after the fact during a town meeting. Unbelievable. I almost stopped reading right there.

But I’m glad I kept going. The second half of the book was a blast, and the end of the book I found satisfying, interesting, and moving. Cronin has structured his story in an unpredictable way–often the chapters and the parts seem almost random in their length–and character lifelines are equally uncertain. How long anything lasts is never a given, and sometimes the narrative itself speeds ahead through years and decades at a time. The novel’s scope is actually epic, and that makes for a lot of interesting reading. And the book’s real standout is the section called The Haven, which culminates in a fantastically gripping sequence involving a train.

And like Stephen King, Cronin’s preference for his characters over his monsters is clear, and on the balance it works. I grew really attached to almost all the people we follow out of the Colony, and after finishing the book, I find that it’s fun to have them living in my head. I like thinking back on the events of the book, and I’ll definitely be reading the promised sequels.

But seriously … this book could be at least 300 pages shorter, and I wouldn’t complain.

View all my reviews

It was one of the best nights of my life.

We’d been to the Alamo Drafthouse Open Screen Night before, and we’d been gonged. The we here was myself, Scott Raulie, Justin Tunkkari, and Jason Rude. The Alamo allowed anyone to bring a movie to screen, and every film would be given at least two minutes, after which time, the audience was free to clap or boo, with the hosts determining whether the response suggested to keep the movie rolling or bang a gong on the stage and move on to the next. At the end of the night, a winner would be chosen based on audience reaction.

We were determined to win the audience award, which came with a cash prize of $100. We were gonged.

The video we presented, which was gonged, was called Heisters. Here it is (I play the guy with the burlap over his head).

[VIDEO LOST TO TIME]

Shameful, that gonging. But, you know, it was pretty scripted, what we were doing. And what can I tell you? All those continuity errors and the wedding rings on the guys … that was all intentional. All for laughs. I still think Heisters is pretty funny. But we licked our wounds and regrouped. We decided that next time, we would make something that had a running time under two minutes, so that there would be no way possible for our film to be gonged.

So we went and made Curious George and the Mysterious Box. I have to admit that I was giggling furiously the entire time we were filming it. Scott at one point said, “I’m getting a little sick to my stomach,” which only made me laugh harder. I can’t say for certain, but my euphoria over the project might have resulted in some distance between me and my soon-to-be-ex wife.

But a month later, we returned to the next Open Screen Night with our second film. Watching this play on a movie screen in front of a real audience that had no idea what was going to happen–and hearing them react in real time–was one of the single best things that has ever happened to me.

And what do you know–the second time around, we won.

To my friends I left in Austin–guys, I miss you, and I’ll always love the stuff we put together.

Happy Halloween!