Brian Kirk

I just signed my first book deal. Holy shit, I just signed my first book deal!

My debut novel, WE ARE MONSTERS, is scheduled to be published by the horror imprint of Samhain in 2015. It was picked up by Don D’Auria, which, in my limited experience, deserves every bit of the respect and adulation he receives in the industry. I can’t wait to work with him.

This is a milestone I’ve been working towards for some time. Just how long exactly, I’m not sure. But I think it started in the first grade, which is when I told my first horror story.

Continue reading

…because I’m certainly no Sage.

Bards and Sages Quarterly

My story, “Doors Best Unopened,” is available for purchase in the latest issue (July, 2013) of Bards and Sages Quarterly, a fine print and digital publication, which has featured stories from new authors and Nebula Award winners alike.

Every story in there is worth the price of admission. I’m proud to be a part of it, and hope you’ll check it out.

You can purchase a copy from Amazon, here.

Boy, am I backlogged. Looking at the date from my previous post causes me to shudder and nearly soil myself. Fortunately, I’m able to avoid the latter part. I’ll leave that bit to my twin boys. It appears to be one of their favorite ways to pass the time.

On the upside, I’ve been writing on a regular basis and publishing a fair amount of short fiction. Here are some of the places where you can purchase a story, if you feel so inclined.

My story, “No Longer Alone,” was reprinted in Something Wicked’s annual print anthology. It’s a beautiful book filled with fine fiction and original illustrations. Here’s a review from author SL Grey that adequately sums the anthology up.

“Like a serial-killing zombie clown’s suitcase, the Something Wicked Anthology is full of deliciously wicked surprises, packing more stellar stories into its pages than anyone has a right to expect. Guaranteed scares, superb illustrations and stunning production values from the doting godparent of South African shocks – don’t read after midnight, and don’t miss out.” – SL Grey

I’m pleased to be a part of it. You can order a copy here.

I also achieved my first sale to a magazine with professional pay rates. It’s a story called “Groomsman,” about a college kid from the south who is visiting New York for the first time to attend his sister’s wedding. He’s got one of those frat-daddy hairstyles. You know, the one that looks a bit like a bowl of romaine. Anyway, his sister wants him to get a cut so that he looks proper for the pictures. Disgruntled, and unfamiliar with the city, he stumbles upon a barber shop managed by a man with a particular taste for hair. I’ve always hated getting my hair cut, but not quite as much as the poor kid featured in this story. Purchase a copy from the now defunct Horror on the Installment Plan here.

I have three new stories all coming out this summer, and will do my best to post them in a more timely manner. I’m also halfway through my first novel length piece of work, which I plan to have wrapped up in the next few months. I’ll provide updates, and the occasional rant or strange insight, along the way.

Until then, be well.

Something Wicked Issue 12

My story, “No Longer Alone,” is featured this week, and available for free, on the website of Something Wicked, South Africa’s preeminent publisher of Horror and Science Fiction. It’s also included in Issue 12 of the digital magazine, available for purchase for a meager $3. I’d encourage you to pick up a copy. Joe Vaz, founder and editor of Something Wicked, not to mention aspiring actor, is a great guy and puts out a wonderful product. It’s certainly something worth checking out.

The story itself is less wicked than it is weird. In it we meet a lonely man who has been exiled by his family and friends after the accidental death of his wife. We find him toiling away in a life of undesired isolation, which is soon to be disrupted by some unexpected company. It’s a horror story, so don’t expect a sweet tempered neighbor to arrive with apple pie.

Anyway, it was a fun story to write. I’m glad it found a home.

I hope you enjoy it.

I love to read. Always have. For me, learning how to read may be one of my most indelible memories. I’ll never forget begging my teacher to let me take my lesson book home to show my parents what I had learned. What I had unlocked. Because that’s how it felt, as though I had broken some kind of seal. One that allowed me access to all the stories in the world.

So, naturally, I am somewhat saddened by the impending demise of the book. The paper book, at least.

But, only somewhat.

I clearly see the advantages in going digital: reducing paper waste, clearing storage space, lowering production and distributions emissions, etc.

What troubles me more is the overall decline in readership that may result from our digital migration. Already, people’s tolerance for lengthy prose has been diminished. If it’s not written in bite size morsels or in video format, you are risking a severe reduction in your potential audience. The movie business is booming while bookstores go bankrupt.

So? Isn’t it up to the people to choose how to consume media and what form of entertainment they prefer? Certainly, by all means. My concern, my only concern, is that this is just another area in which we are losing our collective war against one of humanities greatest enemies: apathy.

Why cook a meal when you can order take-out?

Why climb stairs when you can take an escalator?

Why visit a friend when you can send a text?

Why read a book when you can watch a movie?

Why? Because it’s not the same. It’s not even close. The difference? The use of the imagination. A movie is a passive form of story observation, whereas a book is an active form of story immersion. It takes place in the mind. It requires the use of the imagination to bring the story to life. To see the characters, to sense the atmosphere, to visualize the landscape.

The imagination, just like any muscle, will atrophy if left unused. And we all know the results that occur if the body is malnourished and immobilized. We enter into a slovenly state: weak, slow, lethargic.

So, what could be the ramifications that result from a society that ceases to exercise the collective imagination? A greater focus on rational judgment, less on creative problem solving? An increased emphasis on linear logic with a decline in abstract thinking? The world could become a place where we focus solely on what we can touch, measure, and replicate, less on what we can sense, dream, and create.

Technology has great intentions and the incredible potential to simplify our lives and connect us more closely together. Unfortunately, we tend to abuse these new innovations.

The electronic workplace presents the opportunity to complete what used to be a week’s worth of work in a single day, which should free up more time to enjoy one’s personal life, doing the things that satisfy the soul. Yet, we do the opposite. We raise our expectations on output, working harder, longer hours, increasing already strenuous demands on ourselves and colleagues, elevating stress levels to new record highs.

Social media and mobile communications present the opportunity to reconnect and stay in touch, which they do. But instead of bringing people together in a real and genuine way, people tend to talk less in real time, and, instead, chat from vast distances through virtual channels.

And, so too with stories, technology seems to be moving us further away from that which sparks our own imagination, as we sit for two hour blocks with goggles on gazing at incredible displays of CGI. I mean this from a macro level. As far as a general direction is concerned. Creativity is still alive and tap-dancing on bookshelves and theater screens. I just hope that we don’t allow technology to close the curtains on the theater of the mind, causing our imaginations to wither.

We don’t need a moving sidewalk for the imagination, it requires room to roam.

Opening these doors once again. Time to sweep up the dust and let some air in. A musty, misused smell has settled in that I don’t quite care for. If I’m to reclaim residence, some changes will need to be made, which suits me just fine. Change has become my friend.

2010 was a whirlwind. Drastic career change and radical family expansion, all occurring at once, like a supernova. It was a year of reckoning. A year of becoming. A magical year that I shall never forget.

But when placed to paper (or computer screen), these outward alterations appear shallow. It’s the internal shifts that carry in any sort of significance. To me at least. So, what did I learn from last year?

I was reminded that life is a wondrous mystery that is best lived in the present moment. Plans are nice, but terribly unreliable. And even the fondest memories fade. The only way to fulfill ones destiny is by beginning now. Right now.

It reminded me of how insignificant things are. Impermanent toys and possessions. I’ve found that the more one owns, the more vulnerable one becomes. There’s simply more to lose. That’s not to discount the joy in an occasional indulgence.

It taught me how sweet sacrifice can be. Especially sacrifice in the pursuit of one’s dream. Sometimes pork chops with powdered cheese grits taste just as good as a dry-aged steak with mushroom risotto, even when dribbled with the essence of truffle oil. It all depends on the intention of the act. Sacrifice can be a delicacy if it leads to a more fulfilling life experience.

I learned how narrow minded I had become. Being stuck in an unfulfilling profession, no matter how lucrative, can lead one to view life as a series of limitations, producing a close-minded outlook on the world. Pursuing one’s true calling can lead to a renewed understanding of the limitless possibilities that life has to offer, producing a more open-minded outlook. I’m shocked by how I allowed life to take on sepia tones. Once again life has become a shiny, happy, sparkling playground of possibility.

I was reminded about how intricately linked all of our lives are. How vital every single person is in this endless epic. I’m typing on a computer that sits upon a desk that resides within a room of a house that was built by people who used materials driven by people who received them from people who harvested the materials from people who… I used to look at other people as competition. Not any more. Now, I appreciate everyone. Even the people who look to profit at the expense of others. We all play a part.

And, finally, I learned that if you don’t write stories, they don’t get published. I wrote three stories last year; one of which was published and another is currently in short-list consideration by a major genre magazine (fingers crossed). But three stories? That won’t cut it. Not even close.

Last year was the year of change, molting the calcified shell, growing into a new role of father and full-time writer.

This year? This year is about putting all of my renewed energies into an impassioned pursuit of the improbable. And enjoying every moment along the way.

I hope you all are living the life of your dreams.

If not, I hope you get started on it today.

…you publish a story in a magazine called Necrotic Tissue, which loosely translated means flesh of the dead. Try explaining that to your ultra conservative, yet adoring Grandmother. The look of polite puzzlement was priceless.

Funny thing is, the story is a comedy without an ounce of gratuitous violence or gore. And the editor, not surprising to those familiar with most genre markets, is an intelligent, likable fellow. At least he portrays himself as such on some radio interviews I’ve heard.

Anyhow, the story, titled, “Aw, Hell,” is a satire on the backhanded machinations that often occur in the higher levels of corporate America. Doubtful that my previous experience as an Ad Exec had anything to do with this one.

It’s scheduled to run in the October issue, which is always a special month for most horror mags. I’ll follow up with a link to purchase once it’s out.

And I realize it’s been a while since my last post, which was two days before the birth of my twin boys. Now that we’ve finally established some semblance of a routine, I should be around more often. Until then, be well.