Hey, writer types! Rather than doing things I should be doing, I have an idea for another project. Have you ever had a story vanish from the internet because an online magazine went under, never got going, or magically transformed into horrible advertisements? Does that annoy the ever loving shit out of you? Do you think about all the back-and-forth revisions, community, and excitement that was squandered because of ten measly bucks in domain costs? Did you have to turn off the glowing blue hyperlink that steered people to your story, clicking that button with that same sad look in your eye you had when you pulled the plug on your eggbound turtle in the veterinarian’s office? It was exactly like that, wasn’t it, turtle lovers? No, I’m really asking. I’ve never had a turtle.
The point is, you’re in luck. I’m doing a series of e-books that, as of today, I’m thinking I’ll call DOG PILE: Stories Rescued From The Dumpster Behind The Pound!
Because that is way more dramatic than just being rescued from the pound. This is more of an internet resurrection.
So, why don’t we start with crime/horror/noir stories for the first issue. Chime in down in these comments with your horror story behind your horror story; you know, which publication your story originally appeared in, or where it was gonna appear, or who dropped the ball, who punted, or who just cut open the ball to see what was inside, no matter what the cost to the other people playing the game. This is funny during a football game, if you were as terrible at the sport as I was. As a metaphor for online journals? Just tragic. Or confusing.
I’m thinking I’ll compile the best of these “lost” stories, slap them into an e-book on Amazon, and all the contributors will split the profits, or get a one-time payment, or use the profits for a print run, something. But whatever we choose to do, now the story is no longer relegated to fuzzy, television-addled memories and can live on in your crazy new-fangled electronic reading devices until the end of electricity! That’s a much better fate than the dumpter, right? So, please let me know what you think. Tell me about your dead dog (you can shoot me an email, too, of course, if you really want to vent).
Spoiler: When you pull out those fake stitches, a football has a bladder, just like the pig it came from.