I studied film, work in video and only almost accidentally became a writer. So fiction must engage me quickly, and I need strong language.

Lately I’ve been absent from the world of Fictionaut, consumed by a return to the classroom and the many issues such a change implies. Still, there are favorites, writers I seek out here for their brilliance; Chris Okum, Michael Gillan Maxwell, Steve Gowin, and Sheldon Lee Compton. However, when Michelle Elvy asked me to contribute […]

I let words dance in my brain and trick my senses. Sensory involvement and emotional engagement go hand-in-hand in short prose pieces. What grabs me is often more about what is NOT said than what is.

I looked for stories that best captured the spirit of Fictionaut– stories that enliven this eccentric playground.

As a Fine Art undergrad, back in the nineties, I spent hours either poring over reference books or wandering around my home town trying to get my head inside Cezanne’s.

I respond to writing in much the same way that I respond to music and visual art. My learning style is more right brain than left, and I tend to respond to writing, music and art in a visceral, emotional and holistic manner. My tastes are very eclectic and creative writing that challenges assumptions, surprises me and/or conveys humor, compassion, a sense of irony, or an examination of the human condition usually resonates with me. While I am drawn to light and redemption, I also like stories and poems that may veer to the dark side, explore metaphysical realms, and may be mysterious, a little spooky and don’t necessarily end with everything resolved and tied up in a neat little bow. For Editor’s Eye I looked for stories by authors from whom I had read very little or none at all.

The rhythms that hum through the sentences. The imagery and Art Bell. This has a kind of de-materialized Ballard vibe, a little journey to the edge of the apocalypse that runs invisible along the fade of empire. A network of illuminati tracks it. Their updates bounce amongst the satellites. Art is a radio impresario who relays them across the night. Every interior is wired for sound.

If it doesn’t begin well, it’s not going to end well. Samuel Johnson had it right: “when I take up the end of a web, and find it packthread, I do not expect, by looking further, to find embroidery.”

Swedish landscapes, the universality of tooth pain, and boys confusing their new hot suits with the art of war.

Don’t miss: Books at Fictionaut: Blood a Cold Blue

My eight selections mainly were chosen for their ability to pierce my armor, to forcibly restrain me from clicking the back button after a few lines, to show me the world through the eyes of old souls, to make me jealous in a good way, in a way that tells me, “You have work to do.”