Friday, August 24, 2012
First - Byron Kerman at St. Louis Magazine interviewed Scott Phillips and I about Noir at the Bar a few months back and the story appeared in the August issue of the magazine. I guess the September issue is out now 'cause the story is now available online, as is this classy-ass picture of me and the Scott.
Second - Robb Olson said some kindly things about my collection A F*ckload of Shorts over at ManArchy magazine. Here's a sample:
Among the twisted characters are morbid starfuckers, depraved funeral home directors, a priest who has lost his way, and degenerate criminals. There are also lynchings, witch hunts, necrophilia and plenty of cannibalism.
I believe that's supposed to sound enticing. I dunno. There wasn't that much cannibalism. Really, just a tasteful dollop.
Thirdly - Jimmy Callaway turned me loose at The Criminal Complex to discuss my story A Fuckload of Scotch Tape's long strange trip from page to screen. I get to sing the praises of Julian Grant, Kevin Quain and even throw a little nod to Greg Bardsley. But absolutely the best part of the piece is Jimmy's introduction, 'cause he says some shit about me that I asked him to:
It’s no secret that crime-fiction authors often wear their hearts on their sleeves. Even though the subject matter, the characters, the settings, it’s all pretty gross and slimy and amoral, most writers still manage to be clear about which side they’re rooting for, the moral of each story is clear. But then there are writers who do away with all that, and those, dear friends, are my favorite types of writers. From the class-A amorality of the works of Cormac McCarthy and Richard Stark down to their modern-day contemporaries like James W. Hall and Anthony Neil Smith and, yes, Jedidiah Ayres.
Thanks, James. Thems some nice names to be keeping company with... And it's about damn time somebody threw my name up on a list with McCarthy - I'm sure he'd say the same thing.
Got some events stirring about in the vague future... Letcha know the particulars when I sense you've hit the breaking point of your anticipation.