Live Free or Undead

I’m the editor of New Hampshire Magazine which specializes in local non-fiction, but whether true to life or pure imagination, I love a good story.

Unfortunately, the short story, the basic unit of fiction, is in trouble. Many magazines that once published short fiction and inspired generations of new fans and writers have abandoned the form. Those specializing in such stories have grown rare.

But people who love to read and who enjoy a good novel can also remember the pleasure that comes from a crisp and curious collection of short stories. What other medium immerses readers in a three-dimensional world, strangely familiar or perhaps just strange, inhabited with living, breathing characters, and subjects them to outlandish twists of fate all in the course of an hour or less?

That experience will be revived in a series of anthologies under the banner New Hampshire Pulp Fiction, eventually covering all the classic topics of fiction in its most compelling form and with each story rooted in the familiar locales of our state. The first in the series will tackle the horror genre. Titled “Live Free or Undead: Thirteen Dark Tales from the Granite State,” the book will be produced by the excellent designers and printers of Plaidswede Publishing, my collaborators in creating in the New Hampshire Pulp Fiction series.

The book is scheduled for release in the fall of 2010, but I’m currently soliciting submissions for consideration. Stories submitted should be between 1,000 and 8,000 words. Longer manuscripts will be considered but please query first. Send completed works to the address below.

The horror genre is broad, encompassing everything from the headless Victorian ghosts of Gothic parlor tales to the bloody metaphysical terror of contemporary authors like Stephen King. Stories appearing in “Live Free or Undead” can reflect this same range. Tales can be set in the past or the future, the deep woods or the busy cities, but all must be established recognizably within the boundaries of New Hampshire. We’re looking for stories that offer a sense of place as well as a sense of fear.

Compete manuscripts are welcome and previously published works or adapted works will be considered. In this process we hope to provide an outlet for some of the region’s best writers, to discover new talent, and to create a book that will terrify and delight readers for years to come.

A contract specifying terms of agreement is available upon query. Contact me at nhpulpfiction@gmail.com for details.

I look forward to hearing from you.

-Rick Broussard

Out of Fuel

Out of Fuel, originally uploaded by Broussardish.

Fuel is an amazing little coffee shop in Mt. Vernon, Iowa. My daughter sent me a bag of their beans. It is gone. This makes me sad.

Still there's more...

After my most consistent week of running (18 miles) I ran my most challenging route so far this morning (above). Just 3.5 miles, but with a long uphill stretch on Ironworks Rd. I've been reading Brendan Manning's book "Ruthless Trust" as a morning devotional, and today I realized that, while my running has been increasing in quality and duration, I've never really dedicated a run to the Lord. I guess I'm so "cliche-averse" I miss out on lots of obvious opportunities like that. Anyway, I chose to do so this morning, and that's what inspired me to break off of my standard 3-mile neighborhood run. I didn't do anything too fancy, just kept thanking God for things along the way. This seemed to keep me focused on this "dedication" and somewhere along the way I found myself adapting Todd Rundgren's catchy song "International Feel" with new lyrics that expressed gratitude and amazement. His refrain "Still there's more..." lent itself nicely to my words (I'll have to jot them down later, although they aren't exactly poetry). The result of this bit of discipline, combined with the perfect running weather -- cool, damp and bright -- was a wonderfully visual experience with nature bursting into sight and drawing my eyes down long vistas and into green pockets I'd never noticed before. And over it all, the orb of the sky seemed to gaze down and take notice of the same details as I did, affirming them with extra light. People on my runs are always notable, like gravity wells to a passing asteroid. As I've taken to the same streets over and over, I've started to recognize a few other old shufflers like myself, some real runners and a number of dog walkers. We exchange that little flick of the fingers and a mumbled "namaste" (we actually say "morning" but the meaning is the same) that passes for a greeting when you are slightly winded. Anyway, just as I was nearing home and rounding the last curve from Sunset to Jordan Ave. I saw a man come out of his house with his schnauzer and his little plastic collection bag and he looked up and me and said, "Keep up the good work." I smiled and said thanks. Nothing like a little blessing to end a perfect run.

Transcript Gibberish

I needed a long interview transcribed, so I decided to run it through speech recognition software. I assumed it wouldn't be perfect, but at least I'd have a kind of baseline of the interview and I could correct the parts I wanted to use a lot more easily than typing the whole thing up -- or so I thought. The gibberish that resulted from the "transcription" was so alien to the actual speech that it was completely useless for my purposes, but it made a kind of weird poetry. Here's a "verbatim" paragraph:

[Speaker 0] he has to do that the students you can see the highlight of my way to Italy three I ran into me you think another thing about it the glass it was at the end the stories I can only announced Wednesday because that way well in my mind how security has been hit by one they called the hearing that is the Army with Jackson and Grant D Haren there's not a scary movie that is going to be their commercials are secure you know I think is so corrupt but I think the fact is there like if you treat it as going beyond that yes and bad with seventeen percent it's creepy a lot of them will be when you see it actually kind of oh it was pretty scared let me add one thing that yanked my inner light the once pristine and I know with my son yesterday an hour there is actually cheaper it's interesting which was a progression for me according to Cannon finally starting to laugh and scary movies because the technology is

P050809PS-0297

P050809PS-0297, originally uploaded by The Official White House Photostream.

OK, so I'm just posting this because my pirate loving, Ron Paul supporting daughter might find it amusing.

Record Store Day: April 18

http://www.recordstoreday.com/photo/418453:200
 
Wahoo. It's record store day. Born right here on our N.E. seacoast and now a national semi-phenom.
 
Buy music you can touch and it will touch you back.

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R.I.P. Squawk

Our adopted feral cat Squawk died, I think a few days ago, defending his attic stronghold from invading raccoons.

I just buried him under the Rising Star Clematis at the corner of the tractor shed.

His body was found tangled in the insulation over the den, pretty torn up, but still proudly wearing his reflective flea collar, a symbol of his citizenship in the Broussard family where his memory will be cherished.

Bye Squawk. You always knew you were more than just a barn cat, even if we wouldn't let you into the house

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