Richard H. Fay

Holiday on Phreetum Prime

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 04:11:55 GMT

Copyright © 2009 Richard H. Fay

Holiday on Phreetum Prime

by Richard H. Fay

Twin red suns rise over a crimson sea
As wudols twitter a raucous chorus
Amongst the majestic etafal trees.
Saunter beneath the weeping purple fronds
And sip a cup of sytunn flower tea
While wine-stained waters kiss a chartreuse shore.

Sail the ruby waves on a solar sloop.
Watch black-winged tijucks fish for mugaspits.
Feel the droning hum of an ulorn's song
As it dives right under your silver ship.
Weigh anchor beside Glastornak Island
And marvel at its tall crystalline spires.

Return to your quaint cliff side veranda
In time to see the blue shubiyemps dance.
Laugh at their crazy mating rituals,
But then shed a tear when the males drop dead.
Join the joyous feast and masquerade
To honour the fatal change of seasons.

Rest quietly beneath the yellow gaze
Of Phreetum Prime's seething volcanic moon.
Spy golden sprites flaring in the night sky
As ion storms clash in the stratosphere.
Be lulled to sleep by a burgana's trill
As a soft breeze blows across the dark sea.

(Poem originally published in Star*Line, March/April 2008)

Illustration available on merchandise in the Abandoned Towers Zazzle Store

J. Bruce Fuller's Article about Persona

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 18:58:46 GMT

J. Bruce Fuller posted a very interesting article about persona in horror poetry:
Imagination and Persona in Horror Poetry
His points about using persona in horror poetry can apply equally well to speculative poetry in general.

Speculative poets often speak through an imaginary or historical narrator. I don't think most speculative poetry is meant to be confessional verse, at least not it the usual sense of the term. Speculative poets frequently take on the voices of others, and these others need not even be human. Speculative poets might speak with the voices of aliens, or fairies, or demons, or mythical beasts, or mundane animals, or even objects traditionally seen as inanimate. It should be obvious that the poets haven't actually turned into such things. It should be obvious that the poets are imagining. However, the concept of confessional poetry has muddied those waters, and the line between imagined and real might not always be clear to all readers or listeners, especially when speculative poets speak with voices all too human.

I've used this idea of persona again, and again, and again in my own speculative verse. I'm certainly not a demonic serpent ("Serpent of Storms") or a life-draining vampiric entity ("Life is the Life"), or a killer being driven to madness and suicide by visions of the face of the lover he killed ("Your Bloody Face"), or a bleak haunted island ("The Haunted Isle"). However, I spoke as if I were a demonic serpent, or a life-draining vampiric entity, or a killer, or a haunted island. I think the ability to speak in the voice of another is just as important to fictional poetry as it it to prose fiction. And it's one of the creative techniques that can set speculative verse apart from mainstream.

Not all poetry need be confessional, at least not personally confessional. Unfortunately, I think some poets seem to think otherwise. They apparently think poetry is, by it's very nature, confessional. And this can lead to a misunderstanding of speculative verse.

During one of the Poet's Live Corners I attended, after I stated that I had some dark speculative pieces to read, one of the other poets present mentioned the time they had a poet show up and read poetry about murder and mayhem. I got the impression that they had been shocked by this poet's material, as if it were almost confessional in nature. Did they truly have a murderer in their midst? I doubt it. I had to smile, knowing the dark and often diabolic nature of much of my own verse. Does that mean I'm a dark and diabolic person? Of course not!

Just because a poet writes about bloody murder doesn't make that poet a bloody murderer. There is such a thing as imagination. However, I think my experience at the Live Poet's Corner exemplifies the lack of understanding speculative poets and poetry occasionally face within the broader poetry community. And this is why I often explain the type of poetry I write before I begin reading it in public.

One of the first things a reader or listener of speculative poetry must understand is that such verse is imaginative verse. The poet isn't confessing so much as imagining (although confession may still be buried beneath the imaginative trappings). Unfortunately, if you operate under the notion that poetry is confessional by default, you might misunderstand the concept of persona in speculative poetry. You might not fully realise that the speculative poet is speaking as someone else, that they are imagining. And that means you miss the whole point.

Editing is Censorship

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 01:28:09 GMT

Stephen Colbert said it - editing is censorship. He stated this fact while interviewing his guest Harold Evans:

http://www.comedycentral.com/colbertreport/full-episodes/index.jhtml?episodeId=254660

So, all you editors out there, stop being censors! Don't filter what readers want to read! Don't filter what brilliant writers, poets, reporters, and hacks want to write! (I say with an impish grin on my face and a mischievous glint in my eye - there are always blogs for the truly brilliant stuff.)

Bigfoot not an Ape...

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 21:29:12 GMT

...if it truly exists, at least according to the primatologist Esteban Sarmiento:

http://www.bigfootencounters.com/interviews/esteban.htm

While I may be no primatologist, and only have a B.S. in Biology, this is something I've been saying quietly for years. For all their wildness, in some ways Sasquatches look and act too human to be in the great ape branch of the bushy primate family tree. I always thought Bigfoot was closer to us than it was to the gorilla, appearances aside. I only briefly bought into the "Gigantopithecus theory", then discarded it in my own mind after Bubba the Bigfoot moved into our former neighbourhood.

Some of Bubba the Bigfoot's apparent actions, untying garbage bags and stacking food wrappers dug from the bags in a neat pile, leaving sticks beside the garage door, and having the wits to roam the wooded hills on the outskirts of North Troy relatively undetected (he learned to quiet right down not too long after his initial noisy arrival) seemed very human-like. It certainly weren't no bear! And I know of no known animal around here big enough to howl like Bubba howled that first night.

Oh well. If only most scientists would stop being as extreme in their views as certain religious extremists, if they started being as open-minded as they claim to be, if they stopped proclaiming that Bigfoot couldn't possibly exist and actually looked carefully at the mountain of evidence gathered so far, then maybe we could have some real interesting talk about WHAT the Sasquatches truly are, rather than this endless debate about whether or not they even exist. Personally, I don't have the luxury of disbelief; I've had some interesting close-encounters, and my wife actually caught sight of Bubba once. Should I call my wife a liar or a nutter, especially when she's the no-nonsense, level-headed one in the house? And how dare scientists try to tell us we must be mistaken because it simply cannot be, according to current scientific dogma? Shame on them!

Anyone catch the mid-season finale of Destination Truth last night? Anyone catch the true importance of the hair sample Josh Gates and his team recovered from Bhutan? Hair was found that was determined to be from an unknown primate, in an area where locals have claimed a primate still unknown to science has lived for centuries. Hm...

Yeti CAN'T be real because? Sasquatch CAN'T be real because? We MUST believe science has discovered all large animals because? Cuvier's "rash dictum" has been proven wrong again, and again, and again, and again. Why must scientists still adhere to this rather pompous notion? I understand the need for evidence, but in these days of DNA extraction and analysis, not to mention the scientific analysis of footprints and the like, why must the proof necessarily be in the form of a corpse? At the very least, don't the other forms of evidence warrant further investigation, or has science become so stodgy that it can only explore within already-known parameters? Whatever happened for searching for the truth? I thought self-evident truths were for preachers and lawyers.

And for those of you who think Bigfoot couldn't stay hidden in the wilds of North America, go take a trip to the Adirondacks sometime, or even the Catskills. And that's nothing compared to the Pacific Northwest.

I once stayed hidden from a troop of neighborhood delinquents, who had seen me in the woods behind my parents' house outside of Oneonta, NY. The group set off to find me. They stayed on the trail; I stayed behind a fallen log. I kept my eyes on them the whole time; they looked for me but never found me.

All the time I spent in the woods of upstate New York, I think I found deer bones only once. I never found the bones of some of the rarer residents. Bones are devilishly hard to find in the forest; nature cleans up the mess pretty quickly. Porcupines gnaw on bones, leaf litter covers them, and they quickly become hidden and recycled.

As for tracks, these are hard to come by on a forest floor covered with thick layers of leaves, needles, and loam. Tracks are more typically found when the forest floor is blanketed in snow, or in muddy areas near streams, or on swampy ground. And often times, you only knew an animal was about by its tracks. I once saw bear tracks in the wild (a mother and cub walked right past my rabbit's cage one night), but I have yet to see a bear in the wild. Some have asked why we don't see Sasquatch tracks more often. I'm amazed we find the ones we do! And those tracks do have a tale to tell, if you are willing to listen to what they have to say.

As for the line "people are crawling all over those woods", rubbish! I could walk from my parents' home, across the hills through the woods to a friend's house several miles away, and never meet another human being. Once in a blue moon I would run into other local kids, but this only happened on very rare occasions. And I encountered a bow hunter only once (and didn't see him until he spoke, due to his camouflage). I stayed out of the woods during gun deer hunting season; it was too dangerous. Of course, if I knew to stay out of the woods during certain months of the year, perhaps another intelligent primate would have known to avoid the deer hunters.

Besides, Bubba is a perfect example of how a Bigfoot can live alongside humans. Apparently, they don't all need to remain in the deepest, darkest wood. Some can do quite well on the outskirts of human settlement, or even closer than that. And Bubba isn't the only garbage-eating Bigfoot I've heard about. He certainly wouldn't be the first wild animal to acquire a taste for human garbage.

Oh well, until there's a body to shove under scientists' noses, the official line will be "they don't exist". And people like me will just go on looking like nutters until we're finally proved right.

Ouch! That Rejection Hurt!

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 18:53:49 GMT

I don't like to post about rejections as a rule, but I seem to be doing it a lot lately. And I just had to talk about this one, since it was perhaps a bigger blow than the usual rejection.

All five poems that I submitted for consideration in a vampire anthology, including three reprints, a cinquain chain of four cinquains about the Leanan-Sidhe, and an eighty-line piece about a ghoulish vampire of alpine lore, were turned down. I was really hoping the editor would find at least one of the five worthy for inclusion. The fact that he didn't makes me question my abilities as a poet. Having all five rejected at one fell swoop was quite a blow. Ouch!

I'm beginning to hate vampires, especially the contemporary image of vampires. I'm usually not overly interested in writing about vampires, unless prompted to do so. I especially hate the current perception of vampires as sexy-cool characters (although the Leanan-Sidhe is certainly seductive). I was hoping my poem about a ghoulish vampire of traditional lore would help reverse the trend, but perhaps it was a futile stand against the mighty torrent of popular thought. Or maybe it was simply a case of rotten execution. I thought the piece was good, but I've learned over these two-and-a-half years that my own judgment regarding my work means little to nothing.

Even though I'm usually a vocal exponent of the need for persistence and perseverance, this recent rejection has made me question this whole poetry-thing. Am I wasting my time? Is it worth it anymore?

My success seems inconsistent at best, and I wonder if I may merely be a mediocre speculative poet, all the praise from certain individuals aside. It's ironic when some people debate the old paying venues versus "4 the luv" markets issue, and I seem to struggle to find a home, any home, for certain poems. It's as if others have their choice of venues, and I just have to take what I can get. What the bloody hell am I doing so wrong? (Not that this antho was a paying market, but what was I doing wasting several days of my time writing an epic-length poem specifically for this antho, just to get it rejected? The time would have been better spent on art.)

Oh well. Don't mind me. I've been depressingly ill for days now. I had a cold early last week, then the flu just in time for Halloween, then another cold right after the flu. Crud settled in my lungs, and now I have a bad case of bronchitis. I'm sure my current state of unhealth is adding to my miserableness. That, and this lingering feeling that I'm wasting my time with poetry. It makes it hard to be motivated to write more.

Anyone know a market that might be interested in an eighty-line poem about a ghoulish vampire based on alpine folklore? Or how about a four-cinquain long cinquain chain about the Leanan-Sidhe?

"weeping tree" in SCIFAIKUEST

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 02:15:41 GMT

My horrorku "weeping tree" has been published in the on-line version of Scifaikuest. Check it out! (THIS should take you right to the horrorku page. Just scroll down the page to find my contribution.)

"Weeping tree" combines the concept of a weeping willow with the potentially dangerous, and possibly even murderous, animate willow of folklore (think Tolkien's Old Man Willow). I play a bit on the name weeping willow (although I never mention willow by name). Why does the tree weep? Perhaps it weeps for a bitter loss, one it must avenge.

Yes, I've been down the path of murderous willows before, but I love the concept so much (I like willow trees), I just had to go there again.

A Leviathan Ascendant in MindFlights

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 20:52:55 GMT

"A Leviathan Ascendant" now appears on the cover of the November 2009 issue of the e-zine MindFlights. Check it out!

Abandoned Towers Issue #4

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 20:48:58 GMT

Robin in Sherwood Forest
© Copyright 2009 Richard H. Fay

Abandoned Towers Issue #4 is now in print. Within the pages of this zine you can find the above colouring page, "Robin in Sherwood". In addition, my cinquain chain or swirl (I'm not exactly sure which it would technically be) "Amongst Faerie Oaks" and its accompanying illustration also appear in the same issue.

Copies of Abandoned Towers Issue #4 are available for purchase here.

On This Halloween

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 15:01:09 GMT

On This Halloween

by Richard H. Fay

Knock, knock, knock
Sounds upon front door
Clad in frightful garb,
While quickening gloom
Darkens Autumn sky
And a dying breeze
Swirls crisp fallen leaves
On this Halloween.

Who could it be?
Heroes and villains,
Princesses and ghouls,
Witches and wizards,
Monsters and goblins,
Werewolves and robots,
All waiting for treats,
Stand upon my step
On this Halloween.

Knock, knock, knock
Sounds upon front door
Bathed in porch light's glow,
While dimming candle
Behind grinning face
Of grim hollowed gourd
Sputters and snuffs out
On this Halloween.

Who could it be?
Nothing but a chill
Carried on a breath
Blowing from nowhere
Stirs at the threshold.
Not a living soul,
No visible thing,
Treads upon my step
On this Halloween.

Knock, knock, knock
Sounds upon front door
Silvered by moonlight,
While night creatures call
And tattered grey ghosts
Scoot swiftly across
An eventide sky
On this Halloween.

Who could it be?
Unearthly black forms
Reeling to fell tune
Send scared heart racing
And steal frightened gasp.
Devilish sprites loosed
To play impish tricks
Dance upon my step
On this Halloween.

***

Happy Halloween!

Why Monsters?

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 23:41:58 GMT

Talking about monsters seems to be appropriate this time of year. So, why do certain people (like me) write about monsters, read about monsters, draw monsters, watch monster movies, and just tend to find great fascination in all things monstrous? Is it creepy? Is it abnormal? Or is it just good, clean fun?

At times, I like to think of drawing monsters and writing about monsters as a bit of monster-slaying, creating diabolic beasts on paper to vanquish the demons in my past. And there are plenty of real-life monsters in my past. At other times, it's just a bit of monstrous fun.

I've always been fascinated by monsters, often times much to my mother's chagrin. She thought it was rather disturbing, my obsession with terrifying creatures, especially when I would scare myself silly. I recall being a wee lad and watching the opening of Chiller Theatre from behind the sofa. The creepy hand that would come up out of the quicksand and devour the scary-looking letters spelling out "Chiller" frightened me more than the movies themselves. And yet, I looked forward to seeing that hand, and the movies it helped introduce, every weekend. It was often the highlight of my week!

I guess I just loved the thrill of being scared by something that I knew, deep down in my heart, couldn't really hurt me. I've been more seriously frightened by the real monsters in my past, abusive drunks and dangerous psychos, than I have ever been by something on television, in the movies, or on the printed page. The fear of real monsters, ones all-too-human, is a fear I could live without. It wrinkles this troubled brow and causes grey hairs to sprout on this harried head. However, the fear of make-believe is something I don't really want to give up, and never have.

And why should I? I see nothing abnormal in that thrill, anymore than it's abnormal to be thrilled by a roller-coaster ride or a sky-diving jump. As a matter of fact, my own style of thrill-seeking may be a bit safer than many other thrill-seeking activities. Plus, we all have certain things that stir the blood, that capture the heart. For some, it's sports. For me, it's monsters (and ghosties, and ghoulies, and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night).

Why monsters? Why not?

Happy Halloween!

Niteblade Art Blog: House of Chamberlin

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 18:15:33 GMT

This Halloween, for a different kind of treat, visit the House of Chamberlin. Open its heavy oaken doors, step through its dark stone threshold, and prowl its eerie halls. Spy strange, wondrous, fantastic, and frightful scenes. Meet lusty vampires, hungry werewolves, macabre musicians, and deadly dragons. Check out examples of Ric Chamberlin's artwork in the latest Niteblade Art Blog entry, "House of Chamberlin".

Cheers and chills!

Greg Schwartz's Article About Horrorku

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 03:16:06 GMT

Greg Schwartz, a fellow poet and composer of haiku both light and dark, penned a very interesting article about horrorku entitled "Trick or Treat: Haiku and Its Place in Dark Poetry". I strongly suggest checking it out (and not just because I'm mentioned in there alongside the likes of Josh Gage, Aurelio Rico Lopez III, and Deborah Kolodji). All fans of dark poetry, and all dark poets considering trying their hand at horrorku composition, should read Greg's article. You might just be scared into writing your own minimalist moments of terror and fright!

Why do I Write Poetry?

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 18:52:13 GMT

A fellow member on the Read Write Poem network asked the age-old question "why do we write poetry?". Of course, I couldn't resist answering the question in verse. The poem I came up with might be a bit rough around the edges, being composed in a matter of a few minutes, but I still think it does a stellar job of conveying my reasons for continuing to write poetry, even when prose may be more "the thing" in today's writing world. Anyway, I liked the piece well enough to share elsewhere, so here is my poetic answer to the question "why write poetry?":

Why do I write Poetry?

An insistent muse,
A demanding voice
Calling out in verse,
A sensitive soul
Stirred by the beauty
Inherent in words,
A restless mind
Full of swirling ideas
Released in a flurry
Of poetic potential,
Readers clamouring
For more and more
(Or so I hope),
Those are the reasons
why I keep writing
poetry.

Or maybe,
Just perhaps,
That's what sells.
That's how my voice,
My creative shout,
My artistic cry
Gets heard.

And I just can't stop.

yellowed leaves

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 15:47:25 GMT

yellowed leaves
cracking broken spine
treasured tome

(a revision of a haiku that originally appeared in Haiku Haven, May 2007)

"Gathering of the Dead" in TALES FROM THE MOONLIT PATH

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 04:44:30 GMT

My dark speculative poem "Gathering of the Dead" has been published in the Halloween 2009 Issue of the dark and haunting e-zine Tales from the Moonlit Path. Check it out!

Gathering of the Dead" combines two things near and dear to my heart - ghost stories and fairy folklore. The fairy connection may simply be implied through the mention of "rath" (as in "fairy rath") and "glamour" (as in the fairy power of glamour), but it's there just the same. And the traditional tale that inspired this piece, that of Hugh King's disturbing encounter with the fair folk on November Eve, makes a pretty strong connection between fairies and the dead. The two realms do overlap. I merely added even more ghostly trappings to the eldritch spirits that gather on the rath each November's Eve.

The photo I chose to accompany my bio below the poem caused a slight stir in this household. I wanted to go with something seasonally appropriate. After all, it is a Halloween poem in the Halloween issue of a horror publication. However, my wife laughed when she first saw the pic, saying that I don't normally look like that. My daughter just stared in shock.

It wasn't quite the reaction I was looking for. I guess I should be glad of the fact that I don't normally look scary-evil. Well, at least my family doesn't think so. Others may disagree.

Guest Blogger at LEARNING DARK ARTS

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 17:44:28 GMT

Today, I am a guest blogger over at Robert G. Male's blog Learning Dark Arts. Robert graciously asked if I could be a guest blogger sometime this month. He hoped I could come up with an entry discussing my personal creative process. Well, I did, resulting in "Traditional Meets Digital".

If you want to learn a little bit more about how I go about creating my artwork, please read my entry in the Learning Dark Arts blog.

Art Accepted at MindFlights

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 15:55:31 GMT

Today, I received word that the editorial team at MindFlights has accepted my artwork "A Leviathan Ascendant" for use in a future issue of their e-zine. I don't know when the piece will appear, but as always, I'll post a link when it's up.

"A Leviathan Ascendant" was one of three pieces of artwork I sent to MindFlights. The other two were turned down. Now, I will be the first to admit that they accepted the best of the bunch; I consider "A Leviathan Ascendant" to be one of my finest works yet. And now that I know they like my style enough to use my art, down the line I may compose something new for submission to the zine ("A Leviathan Ascendant" originally appeared as the cover image for Abandoned Towers Issue #3). However, there was an interesting dichotomy apparent in a couple of the comments regarding the rejection of another illustration, "Polypod at Home". This is what two different members of the editorial team had to say:

"I find the color scheme jarring. A no from me."

"I like the colors but not the content."

One apparently didn't like my rather weird colour scheme. Another seems to have liked the colours, but disliked my choice of creepily alien subject. I can't help but to grin with mild amusement over these opposing opinions. This rejection is too interesting to be upsetting.

It looks as if my constant comments about tastes, opinions, and preferences differing from reader to reader apply equally well to viewers of visual art, which should come as no real surprise. After all, art appreciation can be a very subjective thing.

The Wrong Style

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 04:55:04 GMT

Rats! I received word back regarding one of the art queries I e-mailed earlier this month, queries I sent out in an attempt to expand my horizons and find more illustration work. And the reply was a frustrating "nice art, but not right for us".

While the editor of the venue in question said he digs my artwork (his phrase, not mine), he also stated that it is definitely not the style of art he is looking to use in his zine. Although, he did add that he would keep my info in case things change at a later date. His comments could simply be polite gestures meant to lessen the sting of the rejection, or he might actually like my art, and there may be the very slightest glimmer of hope that he will find use for my work in the future.

As much as my art may have a slightly higher acceptance rate than my poetry (I've had art accepted in venues that have yet to accept my poetry), I might suffer the same curse with my art that I often do with my poetry. I may compose art in a style that simply doesn't fit the style of certain publications. My particular brand of illustration could prove wrong for many places.

Oh well, time will tell. And now's the time to send out even more queries. I may yet find a place outside of my usual venues that both digs my art and wishes to send illustration jobs my way. Hopefully, I'll find several.

You know what I often say about the importance of persistence and perseverance in the publication game? It doesn't just apply to the writing side of things; it applies equally well to art, too.

"The Haunted Castle" at THE ABSENT WILLOW REVIEW

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 04:52:01 GMT

My dark speculative poem "The Haunted Castle" is now on-line at The Absent Willow Review. Check it out!

In this poem, I combine my love of castles with my interest in things supernatural, something which I admit to doing once or twice before. And this time, the castle's ruinous state and the strange goings-on within are told from the perspective of the dreadful fortress itself.

I really stuffed this piece full of interesting vocabulary (interesting to me, anyway). You won't find too many works of 31 lines containing motte (as in the mound upon which early castle towers were built), eldritch (my favourite word), cot (as in cottage), bailey (as in courtyard), bines (as in twining plants), obfuscating, miasma, laird (as in Scottish lord), cadaverous, and fete. I may have overloaded this one just a bit word-wise, but I make no apologies for doing so. I just love words.

"Coach-a-Bower" in APHELION

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 17:41:01 GMT

My horrorku "Coach-a-Bower" is now on-line in the October issue of Aphelion. Check it out!

Although the kernel of inspiration for many of my works comes from conceptual seeds gleaned from various reading materials, once in a while something I see in a television program or in a movie sprouts into a usable concept. "Coach-a-Bower" actually blossomed after I watched an episode of the British television show Strange featuring a banshee and the "costa burra".

According to an entry in Bob Curran's A Field Guide to Irish Fairies, tales from County Tyrone and other locales tell of the headless Dullahan driving a black coach known as the coach-a-bower, from the Irish coiste bodhar (deaf or silent coach). The Dullahan summons those about to die. Wherever he stops, death soon follows.

I figured that the coach might be silent, but the souls it carries away may not be, especially if they were bound for Hell.

The Banshee's Cry

Sat, 10 Oct 2009 16:10:38 GMT

The Banshee's Cry

A fell keening echoes across the moor,
Punctuated by the pealing thunder.
Pouring rain lashes at the windowpane
While argent cracks flash in the darkened sky,
But the tumultuous storm cannot quell
The ominous wailing of that fey hag.

A figure wrapped in a funeral shroud
Glides swiftly across the tempest-wracked heath
And draws closer to this ancient estate.
A fearful being of mist and shadow,
Well imbued with sinister witchery,
Forewarns of a preternatural doom.

Master of this mouldering edifice
Inhabited only by grey shadows
And a myriad of pallid spectres,
A withered scion of a once great house,
I know the dreadful truth of the legends;
The eldritch oracle foretells my death.

The prophetic call chills my troubled soul,
But I resolve to accept my dim fate.
A raddled face stares through the murky glass.
My weak heart pounds rapidly in my chest;
I hold the revolver up to my head.
The banshee will be proved right
One last time.

Poem Copyright © 2007 Richard H. Fay
Originally published in Sinister Tales, October 2007

Poem Accepted at THE ABSENT WILLOW REVIEW

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 16:00:28 GMT

October is finally shaping up the way it should for this dark speculative poet. My dark speculative poem "The Haunted Castle" has been accepted for publication in the October 16th issue of The Absent Willow Review, an e-zine featuring tales of horror, fantasy, and science fiction (I believe I discovered them through Ralan's).

I speak a lot about the need for persistence and perseverance in the mad world of publication. And the forthcoming publication of "The Haunted Castle" shows how handy these traits can be. This happened to be the eighth time I submitted this piece for consideration at various zines. It was turned down at the very first venue for being all description and no action (yikes!). On the fourth try it almost made it into the final issue of the now-defunct zine Whispers of Wickedness, but the poem didn't make the final cut. After that, I rewrote the piece and sent it out a fifth time. Unfortunately, the rewritten piece was turned down by the fifth venue. So, figuring that my execution of the concept was indeed a bit flawed, I rewrote it a second time. I added a fifth stanza to up the action quotient just a bit. The zine I sent the poem to on my sixth try went on indefinite hiatus shortly after I submitted the piece, so I sent it out again. It wasn't the sort of thing the seventh venue was looking for, so I sent it back out yet again, this time to The Absent Willow Review. And finally, after eight tries and two revisions, success!

I could have given up at any time along this crazy path, but I trudged on. After a handful of attempts to get the poem published I could have either stuffed it in the trunk of no return or posted it on my blogs, but I wasn't quite ready to give up on finding the piece a proper home. I figured I would try two more times, for a total of ten, and then give up.

And what is the poem in question all about? Well, I tried to echo what I did in my poem "The Haunted Isle", but for a ruined fortress instead of a desolate island. The concept of writing something from the perspective of a haunted isle worked so beautifully that I just had to compose one for a haunted castle as well. Unfortunately, my creative vision may not have been the sort of thing most places wanted to see. That happens sometimes.

At least "The Haunted Castle" has now found a home, and in the month of October, too. Halloween spookiness comes a little bit early this year.

Cue ghostly noises: woooo-oooo-oooo-oooo!

(In case anyone wants to know my count for forthcoming poems in October, in case anyone cares, "The Haunted Castle" is my third new poem scheduled for October publication. I already had a couple of reprints published in the on-line version of Abandoned Towers earlier this month. Yay, October!)

I am so Embarrassed

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 21:06:33 GMT

Yesterday, I had to send out my first-ever rejection of artwork submitted to the Niteblade art e-mail address. The submitted works, while somewhat imaginative, just didn't fit the fantasy and horror theme of the art blog. I tried to come up with something professional-sounding, something that said in a few words why I was turning down the art without sounding critical of the artist. I typed it in, went over it a couple of times, hit send, and then the bloody e-mail decided to crash! So, I hit the back button, found that the message was still in the reply box, and hit send again. And the e-mail crashed again. I think I tried a third time and then gave up.

I was going to try to send the message today, when I noted TWO messages to the artist in question in the sent mail. Yes, the blasted e-mail HAD sent my message, twice. It looks almost as if I was making darned sure I drove my point home. How embarrassing!

As much as an editing job is a goal many writers seem to strive for, I think this is as close to being a genuine editor as I want to come. I hate sending rejections about as much as I hate receiving them. And I hate embarrassing myself even more.

Poems & Art up at ABANDONED TOWERS

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 16:25:12 GMT

Update: my speculative cinquain "They've Come for me Again" and my speculative poem "The Birth of Sentience on Aggraboth V" , along with their respective accompanying illustrations, are now on-line at Abandoned Towers.
"They've Come for me Again"
"The Birth of Sentience on Aggraboth V"
If you missed it when I posted the poems and illustrations here last Friday, check 'em out at Abandoned Towers!

By the way, it looks like Crystalwizard managed to make the Abandoned Towers site somewhat simpler to navigate. It's certainly easier to find the appropriate links. Yay, CW!

What do you do...

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 01:59:57 GMT

...when a piece you wrote for a specific publication with a specific theme (especially a seasonal one) doesn't end up making the cut at that particular market? Well, in my case, I tend to drive myself bonkers trying to find another market, one that might still manage to get the piece published in time for the season it was written for. I'm stubborn that way.

Of course, this brings up the potentially frustrating aspect of writing specific material for specific markets, especially when that material also happens to be seasonal in nature. If that material gets rejected, it may prove tricky to find another good fit thematically and temporally. This thought always make me just a little bit leery about writing for markets with specific, even seasonal themes, but I keep doing it anyway. And perhaps I'm making a big deal out of nothing.

After seeing Marge Simon's depiction of a sinister Santa for the cover image of the forthcoming Niteblade anthology, I ended up writing something to submit after a bout of midnight inspiration. When I first heard word of the anthology's theme, works based on Marge's art, I didn't think I would come up with anything. Then my muse decided otherwise.

Alas, the piece I wrote, "The Devourer Took a New Name", didn't make the cut. I was then faced with the task of trying to place a dark speculative poem about a sinister Santa elsewhere, hopefully in a timely venue. I could have waited six months or so and tried for next Christmas, but I'm not that patient. So, I sent the piece right back out to Bewildering Stories. With their quick response time and issues published on a weekly basis, I figured my poem stood a good chance of making it into a timely issue.

It looks like "The Devourer Took a New Name" will appear in a forthcoming issue of Bewildering Stories. I'm not sure when, but I'm guessing it will probably be some time in December.

And why am I sharing all this? I'm not really trying to gripe. Rejections happen; it's all part of the game. And I understood the risks of penning an unsolicited seasonal piece for a specific market. I see this story as less a complaint and more an example of how one needs persistence, perseverance, and an acknowledgment of the lack of guarantees, to play this mad publication game.