Friday, February 22, 2013

Once upon a time I realise that it is happening now.

Not then.

Then, I am someone else. Today, I am myself. Tomorrow, I am someone else again. And so on, all happening now: yesterday, today, tomorrow. The same thing happens to other people. Anne is painting a cornfield using my palette of paints. George is running on the spot for exercise, while pretending he is me. Lesley is outside looking in through the window, amazed that the room is empty. The yellow paint runs out - cornfields are heavy on yellow paint. George sprains his ankle. His ankle is paining him. Painting his ankle. I convey the pain with false blood red paint. He cuts his ankle with my palette knife to make it real. Lesley's face is no longer in the window looking in. She is in the room massaging her ankle surprised it is covered in red paint, not blood. I am outside walking towards the cornfield. The cornfield is beautiful despite some of it being blue like the sky. I suddenly slip on an untidy plot or spot and break my ankle. But there is no pain. The pain's still inside the house. Three separate times of yesterday, today and tomorrow grow to a single focus, a single spot - and the focused time paints the pain with a colour not yet invented.

A pain colour.

Once upon a time I am George and Anne's baby, not now, not then, but forever. Painted for pain, covered in a colourless bodily substance running on the spot like a funnel of nothingness seeping into the once yellow ground, the cross-section of then, now and never.

written yesterday in the random speed-writing exercise at the Third Thursday Writer's Group in Clacton.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

The Avant Garde and DF Lewis

I wrote the passage (further below on this page) as part of my real-time review of Rhys Hughes' seminal book TALLEST STORIES today here. It made me think of my own avant-gardism generated through Genre fiction. This will not do me any favours.

Being instrumental in helping form The Zeroist Group at Lancaster University in 1967.

'The Visitor' in 1973.

Having arguably 1500 published stories from 1986 - 1999, and the obsessive nature of accomplishing even the believable potential of being able to claim that achievement - let alone actually achieving it.

The Aesthetic aims and nature of 'Nemonymous' in 2001.

The world's first blank story published in Nemonymous #2 in 2002.

The 'Synchronised Shards of Random Truth & Fiction' in WEIRDMONGER (Prime Books 2003)

The massive 'Weirdmonger Wheel' (2004) as the textual base for much of my work.

The blank cover of Nemonymous #4 in 2004. The non-existent issue of Nemonymous #6 in 2006.

Zencore, Cone Zero, CERN Zoo.

My gestalt Real-time Reviews of books (2008 onward).

The HA of HA.

My years of multifarious neoloquisms here.

The challenging nature of my first published novel when I was 63 in 2011: 'Nemonymous Night' (Chomu Press).

My distribution of past editions of 'Nemonymous' as Found Art (2013).

The non-Avant Garde nature of 'The Last Balcony' collection as a final culmination - an admission that I am not an Avant Gardist at all.

The Last Anchovy: here.


The Story With A Clever Title
"It's this story, the very piece we are standing in."

[...] I sense that Rhys Hughes is for the Absurd but against the Avant-Garde (e.g. against things I enjoy like someone playing monotonously wrong notes on an untuned piano for some hours as I did once with Cornelius Cardew in the late 1960s) whilst I believe that Hughes is actually bouncing off the anti-Avant-Garde part of his nature by the perverse means of creatively and entertainingly utilising that very Avant-Garde, including Devolved Fiction (devolved to the reader finally in Part One's Epilogue, leaving the reader fully responsible). Hence the story within the story ('A Tale of Terror') about Laura and the monster is symbolic for me of these possibly sub-conscious considerations on Rhys Hughes' part. But meanwhile, someone from within this 'Clever Title' story itself ends up by walking the walk, talling the tall, telling the tale - [...]

Above image is my photo of the cover of 'At Dusk' by Mark Valentine (Ex Occidente Press 2012)

Monday, February 18, 2013

Flights of Fancy and Faith

I am confident that there are great truths embedded in the creation and absorption of literature, its flights of fancy and faith.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

A Book Cat

As you can possibly judge from this photo, this book is shockingly strokeable like a pet cat!
My real-time review of it here: HERE

The Palimp's Zest

I arguably coined these words and expressions: ‘zeroism, egnisomicon, egnisism’ in conjunction with PF Jeffery (1967), ‘whofage’ in conjunction with PF Jeffery (1973), ‘agra aska’ (1983), ‘weirdmonger’ (1988), use of ‘brainwright’ in modern times (1990), Salustrade (1992) use of ‘yesterfang’ in modern times (1997), ‘wordhunger’ (1999), ‘nemonymous, ‘nemonymity’, late-labelling, veils-&-piques’ (2001), ‘denemonise’ (2002), ‘megazanthus’, ‘weirdonymous’, ‘chasing the noumenon’ (2003), ‘wordonymous’, ‘wordominous’, ‘the-ominous-imagination’, revelling in vulnerability (2004), ‘a woven fire-wall of words’, ‘the synchronised shards of random truth and fiction’, ‘nemoguity’, ‘vexed texture of text’, ‘fictipathy’, ‘nemotion’, ‘the hawler’, ‘the angel megazanthus’, ‘klaxon city’, ‘horrorism’ when used as a word for the philosophy of horror fiction (2005), ‘publication-on-reading’, ‘antipodal angst’, ‘the tenacity of feathers’, ‘a writer’s mandala’, ‘wordy weird’, ‘nemophilia / nemophobia’, ‘magic fiction’ as the obverse of the more common expression ‘magic realism’, ‘weirdtongue’ as the ‘name’ of a language, ‘Glistenberry’ as an alternative name for ‘Glastonbury’, ‘tonguage’ as a ‘conscious’ language, ‘yester-eggs’ as a term for Proustian ‘selves’, ‘the parthenogenesis of reality from artifice’, ‘all is for the pest in the pest of all worlds’, ‘Baffles’ as fables with muffled morals (2006), ‘fanblade fable’, ‘abutting the if’, ‘word clones / word clowns’, ‘bumps for books’, ‘rite of review’, ‘cone zero’, ‘a basket of coinages’ (2007), ‘small press cover ark(ive), the baser pulps’ ‘orrorfaces’, ‘the wheel culture’, ‘netogenic’, the first fiction about a ‘drogulus’, ‘Innerskull’, ‘meganthus‘ (2008), ‘CERN Zoo’ in literature, ‘Real-Time Reviewing‘, ‘ligottum‘, ‘the pit and the pessimum‘, ‘ligottus‘, ‘fubbcuckle’, ‘extraneity creep’, ‘pillowghost’, ‘intowards’, ‘powderghost’, ‘nightmare’s moat’ (2009), ‘THE TENSES’, ‘scream munch’ as another word for ‘captcha’, ‘skight’ – threepenny bit, ‘invitations from within’, ‘novellatory’, ’Ress’, ‘Venn Dreams’, ‘Tearsheet Doll’, scanbuncle, A Götterdämmerung of Guts , Holistic Horror (2010), SFtopia, Salustraders / Overspacers, Novellarette, Inquel, Gaddafery, Jungian autonymity, sudracide, an impesto novel, trendbaffler, our planet as reliquary, fictionatronics, Lovecraftianisation, “To know the worst is also to know the best“, vignellarette, “Nothing is controlled by logic other than logic itself.”, nightgators, Horror Genreators, dicksplay, roman littoral, ghostalt, poltergeistalt, horrasy, Horrasy: The Horrastic and the Heuristic, srednibution, srednidipity, Lovecraftian indescriptivities, bememorise, alephantiasis, reva-menders, metapomorphic, rarifiction, neoloquism, Was the God Particle born instable? (2011), angelivalent, literal-meaning dreaming, the ‘Higgs boson’ of Horror, The Weirdonomicon, Aickmania, shortcomings harnessed are stronger than strengths unused, privacy-trawler, disarming strangeness in connection with Robert Aickman, Fiction is like currency: belief is everything, oblique concomitant / oblique contaminant, age at the edge, A writer should make clouds shine even if the world’s sun has gone, The Call of the Silly, pastilential, eschairtology, e-born, read-tangler, ghorror, the authorial cloud, grosmance, quixotiose, most placating is playacting, ‘friendly fire’ fiction, dilemmachination, absurface, aeontonomous, HobbYiSt / Hobbit, aeontonomy, Horror Without Victims, fuckerlode, Earkth, Pronoun Horror, The Ives of November, PreMonday-ition, NoV – No Victims, an amid-life crisis, God created Ground in His own image by adding ‘run’ to His name, Old boots are always better than no boots, truth is never brash, End tring, Tendring is Trending, HorNET Nest, The empty future expects our arrival soon, if you fit, wear yourself, The Worldwide Cliff (2012), quantitative kamikaze, The Ohm Resistor of Literature, Only real books can be left anonymously on chairs, The Sibling Thing (as monster), lachrymonics, Cold Sororist, Gangster Gongsters, Cathrian, Cathrianity, Cathrechism, the optimum delusion, dogstone as a form of ‘found sculpture’, iDEATH as a form of internet implosion of self, Judge me on my works, not on my request thus to judge me, dyschronous recurrence, Belarhombus, the Palimp’s Zest (2013).

Jobs in Hell 1999



JOBS IN HELL Volume One, Issue Five

This issue is dedicated to Des Lewis, a true scholar and a gentleman, not to mention the undisputed star of the small press. Visit his website at or read a recent interview with him at


1. From The Editor 2. Market Listings (Special Mega-Sized Holiday Section) 3. Who, What and Where 4. Special Feature: Whither Ubiquity? by DF Lewis 5. Classifieds


The Holiday Season is once again upon us. Time to gather with the relatives that we avoid the rest of the year, send cards to folks whose addresses we've misplaced, gorge ourselves until our waistline vanishes, spend that last royalty check at the mall and basically not get anything creative done until January.

So, before the seasonal slothfulness creeps in, let's have one last mega-submission blast! You'll notice that there are no Market Updates in this issue. Don't worry, they'll be back next issue. This week, I wanted to make room for an extended Market Listings section. Hope you've all got plenty of paper in your printers, because it's BIG!

Also featured this issue is a brand new non-fiction piece by the ubiquitous DF Lewis. Those of you who are unfamiliar with that name have obviously been living under a rock for the last decade. Pick up any small press publication and you're bound to find a story by Lewis sooner or later. He admits to writing and seeing accepted over 1,200 different stories (although some claim that the figure may be as high as 2000). How did he do it? Find out this issue!

Happy Holidays!

(Aren't you sick of hearing that already?)

Brian Keene





It's as if it's my real name: the Ubiquitous DF Lewis (called this so many times, I've lost count), even called "the ridiculously prolific DF Lewis" in a recent organ! How do I manage this? Or, perhaps more important, why?

Well, some have claimed that I play on my reputation to get so much stuff published (at the last loose count--over 1200 different stories in touchable organs like magazines and books from 1987). I counter-claim it is DESPITE my reputation that I've managed to achieve what I have achieved. I've been hauled over the critical coals so often--sometimes so devastatingly--I wonder why anyone continues to bother publishing the little rotters at all. But still they crank out, as best as I can muster them for the neat ranks of dead insects that some call print.

I suppose I started with a splatter-gun method of submitting, spraying all manner of stories to all manner of unlikely outlets. Some hit. Most missed. But some hit real big. I've been lucky, too. Some real nice people who knew their stuff took me under their wing and showed me how to crest the sometimes-thin thermals of creative writing. I played on my strengths and weaknesses, by beginning to quote in my blurb all the critical comments made about me—-and I mean ALL. By experience, I learned to target my submissions, but this was only perfected after about six or seven years of doing it. Luck continued apace. Knowing people, rubbing shoulders, pressing flesh, all these things HELPED. Also—-and it wouldn't be fair to leave this out—-in order to work my method above, you'd need some capital to pay for the postage and materials, especially with so many missed targets, 'black holes' and fruitless acceptances. (It's easier now, I guess, with the Internet.) I have never made any money from writing and never expect to do so.

Anyway, back to answering "how"--I started a few years ago something I've never regretted. Collaborating stories. Better than sex, I'd say. The mutual creative brainstorming is something else! And I believe some gems have been produced and have helped me through many a writer's block. Helps you get published when you're having it away with someone more famous than you! I could go into the philosophical/linguistic background to collaborating the way I do, but that is probably another article, some time.

I even collaborate, in effect, onanistically—-utilizing old unused pieces from the different think-world of an earlier, discrete self, mix-and-matching them with my current brain cycles. And talking about brains, mining a brand new story from fresh ore is also like collaborating … if you've got two brains, as I have! (Perhaps being a thick-skinned eccentric also helps in any venture; not that I've consciously nurtured this persona. I just am.)

I digress. I think I've covered the main points to answer "how". As to "why"? Simple. Because DF Lewis believes what he writes is worthwhile. And, at the end of the day, that is hopefully the main answer to the question "how", too.

DF Lewis was never born--he emerged in ineluctable slow motion. Des, however, his counterpart, was born 18 January 1948 in Walton On Naze, Essex, UK. Sun in Capricorn, Leo Rising, Pluto/Saturn close to Ascendant, highly aspected Moon in Aries and Jupiter in Sagittarius, two Grand Trines etc. School in Colchester, Essex. Lancaster University (1966-69 where he met his wife. Two children, (28) and (25). 1970-1992 Company Pensions expert. Lived in Croydon (South London) during that period. Now lives in Clacton on Sea, Essex. 1200+ different stories published in print outlets since 1986. His novella AGRA ASKA published to critical acclaim during 1998-9, but few seem to have read it. Received British Fantasy Society Karl Edward Wagner award in 1998. Now his website hosts an electronic forum called Weirdmonger.


Our classified section reaches over 300 professional and beginning horror authors, artists, poets and editors each and every week. The cost for an advertisement is only $10 per month. There is no word limit (within reason). To inquire about placing an advertisement, email Please be sure to mention "Classifieds" in your subject line.

TIM LEBBON's "The First Law" is now available as an audio book from Elmtree Publishing. At 2 hours 45 minutes long it's a bargain at $11.95US. Email Elmtree for ordering details.

TOM PICCIRILLI's Deep Into That Darkness Peering (Terminal Fright Publishing): An omnibus collection of 40 horror and dark fantasy stories, 200k words. 30k words of previously unpublished fiction. Includes all ten tales in the "Self series." Introduction by Poppy Z. Brite. Cover and interior art by Chad Savage. $45 + $3.50 s&h for Signed-Limited Hardcover Edition (1,000 copies) ISBN: 0-9658135-5-X $125, includes shipping, for Lettered Edition, leather-bound and traycased ISBN: 0-9658135-6-8. Ordering Info: PO Box 100, Black River NY 13612 Fax #315-779-8310 email: (Kenneth E. Abner Jr., publisher)

STOKER RECOMMENDED! Houses At The Borderland, a tribute to William Hope Hodgson. Edited by Andy Fairclough, this critically acclaimed electronic anthology is going fast. Featuring 14 terrifying tales from Simon Clark, Tom Piccirilli, DF Lewis, Brian Keene, Tim Lebbon, John B. Ford, Paul Finch, and more. Limited edition of 100 copies on disc, signed by Tim Lebbon, Paul Finch, John B. Ford and DF Lewis. Price: U.S. only $5 plus $1 S&H, U.K. $2.50 plus 50p S&H. Order online via credit card at Masters of Terror: Congratulations to Tom Piccirilli, Simon Clark and Brian Keene, whose stories from this anthology have all been recommended for a Bram Stoker consideration, along with the anthology itself.

WELCOME TO HELL: A Working Guide for the Beginning Writer (Fairwood Press): Written by Tom Piccirilli, this 13k word chapbook is filled with some of the most important aspects of the publishing industry. Due in May of 2000 and expected to go fast. Pre-order now. $5.99 ISBN: 0-9668184-2-3 email:

GAUNTLET PRESS special! From now through December 31st, 1999, anyone purchasing a book from Gauntlet Press will get a free copy of Gauntlet #1 (the collectors edition). This copy normally sells for $12.95 and contained censored fiction from Harlan Ellison and Ray Garton, plus fiction and non-fiction from Ray Bradbury, William F. Nolan, Isaac Asimov, Gary Brandner, Dan Simmons and many more. Mention the special with your order to receive the free copy of Gauntlet #1. Visit our website at: Phone credit card orders 610-328-5476 or email Snail mail orders to Gauntlet, 309 Powell Rd., Springfield, PA 19064.

AUTOPSY FOR Bloody Muse #6. From the steaming entrails of this undead goddess, like a cornucopia of evil, we have found stories, poems, art, columns and reviews for your tasty consumption. Fiction by Walt Hicks, Jeffrey A. Katt, Rich Logsdon, Duana R. Anderson, David Whitman and Brian Rosenberger. Poetry from Carlton Mellick III, S.L. Robinson, David Messler, Rev. Jon A. Edans, M.W. Anderson and Jeffrey A. Katt. Plus columns and art to tantalize and leave you wanting for more from Adam Niswander, Chris Whitlow and Noel Bebee. And don't forget, we have up to date market news. So get your ass over to Bloody Muse and roll among the dead for a while. Bloody Muse:

WEIRD TIMES: A Pseudo-Journal of Horror in the Arts. Reviews and commentary on past and present horror books, movies, comics, and more. Issue #14 is now available. Sample copy is cheap, only a buck! Make your dollar payable to Tim Emswiler, 116 Sutherland Rd., Apt. 6, Brighton, MA 02135 or email:

NEXT ISSUE: The return of the Market Updates section, a bunch of brand new listings, new non-fiction and the current results for our Excellence Awards. All that and more in JIH #6. Now put down that turkey-laden fork and go work on something!

JOBS IN HELL is a weekly, electronic newsletter edited by Brian Keene and published by JIHad Publishing. All material within this newsletter is copyright 1999 by Brian Keene, unless otherwise noted. All rights for published articles revert back to author upon publication in JIH. Not responsible for unsolicited submissions. All correspondence may be used for publication or quotes unless otherwise requested.

A one-year/52 issue subscription to JIH is $15 or $10 for members of the HWA or the Chiaroscuro. Payments should be made to Brian Keene, NOT Jobs In Hell, and mailed to Brian Keene, 218 Central Ave. Apt. 4, Lancaster, NY 14086. For inquiries, submissions, market reports, news or any other matters, please send email to

Monday, February 11, 2013


I think Blasphemy Fitzworth brought the horsemeat from Mittel Europe. Well, according to 'Weirdtongue' (InkerMen Press 2010), he definitely did.

Saturday, February 09, 2013

Dyschronous Recurrence

Does anyone agree with me that Robert Aickman was likely to have been inspired by Thomas Mann's 'The Magic Mountain' when writing 'The Hospice'? Or did Mann anticipate Aickman? A question of retrocausality or dyschronous recurrence?

Wednesday, February 06, 2013

Shipped to Hell without a hand-spike

There is crisis looming, I guess, but I have spent most of my life thinking such a thing, tut-tutting as I roll with the rolling news and saying to myself: HOW ARE WE ALL GOING TO GET OUT OF THAT ONE? "Shipped to Hell without a hand-spike", as the saying goes.

But we are all still here, rolling with the rocks as they drop on our collective foot one by one, day by day, sometimes more slowly, often quicker. Indeed, I myself know, deep down inside, that the ultimate rock, hanging above my head from my own personal Ligottian or Damocletian or Gordian Knot, will eventually crush the whole of me, not just my foot!

The short sharp shock never seems to come, not yet anyway. The only climax is thus unique because it actually never arrives however certain I am that, based on the evidence, it will do so. Evidence is everything. Evidence is self-contained as well as potentially infinite. Evidence is sometimes unnoticed or unweighed in the balance. Evidence is eternal. Evidence grows and builds upon itself. Evidence of the end is never complete until it ends, self-evidently.

"What are you trying to say?" a voice suddenly asks. The room has become peopled with those few individuals seated, listening to me talk to myself, not reading all these words aloud from a pre-conceived text but rapping, jamming, extemporising, improvising an 'ad hoc', on-the-hoof huddle of humanity.

I am abruptly aware of a lady staring at me, while mentally screwing her invisible finger into the side of her head as a gesture of what she thinks of MY head, no doubt.

Another lady's mind wanders. I can sense it loose somewhere near.

A gentleman fidgets, picks up his just-completed drink of tea, peers into it, puts it down again, as if failing to find any evidence in the patterns of he knew not what. If I were reading this aloud from something pre-written, I would stop and try to tell him that there is more scope in the room's empty flower vase to find out what he needs to know about the looming crisis, the only climax, the short sharp shock. "Nothingness has its own more meaningful random pattern", as the saying goes. And I look up just in time to see him, then the ladies, burrowing into it.

Nothing rocks. Evidently.

Monday, February 04, 2013