Here is a semi-complete list of things of mine which have been published. Titles are links where applicable. Contact me if you'd like a copy of a particular story!
My debut novel, available now from Apodis Publishing. It's a post-apocalyptic family drama.
A standalone coming-of-age novella that ties into some other projects I have been working on, including the below screenplay.
A fantasy for young adults, in the pipeline for a 2008 release from Mundania Press. It was co-written with my wife, who conceived the plot on our honeymoon.
A novella with multiple narrators relating the humor and horrors of amateur rocketry.
An unproduced screenplay concerning one man's obsession with finding bigfoot and the toll it takes on his family.
...Something about the rumble of the mortars in the distance, and the mutant woodpecker sound of friendly assault rifles, made Troy feel introspective. He finished messing with his rifle and set it carefully down in the mud, its barrel pointing away from him. "I think God's got a great imagination," he said. "I mean, who'd have guessed that the biggest threat to our nation would have come from Montreal?"...
...Joffrey had golden hair. "I have golden hair," he would say. "My mother was a princess."
"I have red hair," Tag would say.
"Your mother was a whore," Joff would interrupt...
...What I pulled out -- after fumbling my finger tips through the few remaining scraps of paper, trying to guess how William felt -- was no such popular literary revolutionary. It wasn't even Woolf, alone in her room with her aimless tangents. I'll tell you who it was: the name begins with an H.P. and ends in a bubbling whimper, good old Howard Philips himself...
..."How deep are we digging?" I asked, chopping at sod with both hands on my trowel.
"All the way to China," said Lucky. "That's where I'm going next year. Do you remember Brodie? He came and visited us last Christmas. Him and me, we're going there to spread the good news of Jesus. So, I want you to be able to come and find me. If you miss me, just come out here and keep digging, and sooner or later you'll make it all the way to China, and I'll be there..."
..."He said that I was going to betray him," said Simon to John. He was staring at his dagger, trying to catch a spot of moon's light on its blade, but the surface was too worn, the edges too notched to reflect much of anything.
"He said that about all of us," said John, leaning back on his elbows in the grass...
...I ran into Junior downtown, as I was trying to find a new place to store my box, far away from knife-wielding prostitutes. He didn't recognize me, at first. He was higher than I've ever been, tell you that much. I told him about the gang -- they call themselves the Callow gang; have you heard of them? are they new around here? -- and he asked about his action figures. I told him someone was probably using them as sex toys. He was silent for a moment, then said, more thoughtfully than I've ever heard him sound before, "I'd like them back..."
...Quiet. Millions of miles away, magma spills from a gaping, dirty wound; a plate, slower than a glacier, takes out the aggravation of billions of years on its neighbor; the sound of screaming slowed down to a grumble, a roar, a shout. The protests shoot up into the black and blackening sky, lodge themselves in the stratosphere and die...
...The little man smiled as she slept and let a word fall off his tongue, honey and magic, over and over again. Each time the word found straw it spread, thick and sticky, softening the fibers and staining them gold. The bobbin spun, collecting thick, rich strands that would echo the sun come the morning...
published in Lost in the Dark, now defunct
...The emotion hit him like a bullet -- that is to say so quickly that he could neither identify nor examine it. He pitched forward and vomited. His spine crawled with the glares, the hunting focus of some invisible creature. He scrambled to his feet, slipping on the puke, and tried to run. He tripped over the armchair of a laughing attorney and fell into a crouch. His hands smelled like acid and alcohol...
published in the anthology Goodbye, Darwin
"Hey," said Sammy. It sounded as if he had just realized I was in the room. "I've got a question."
"What's that?"
"Where is my soul?" he asked.
...The Callows let me join up because I was good at telling their stories back to them. My mum passed on before I graduated and I needed a place to stay. The Callows took me in when I told them I knew words, like virtue and violent, and could use them right. They kept me after I scared Old Tina under a blanket with a story about sad murderers. Most of the others thought it was funny...
...I'm not worried. When I first set [the project] up, in my fourth year of university, I was using a random number generator. My earliest published successes, the first near- or exact-copies, were attacked by owners of the originals, the templates, as violations of copyright. And, in a sense, the copyright holders were right. I had created the numbers artificially, which, in the courts, looked very much like an analogue to me just sitting down and tracing a cartoon, say, or copying, word for word, a short story...
published in Full-Unit Hookup
...Unfaithful translation of Feynmann to bump-grids now playing underfoot รณ odd, can spool faster across arch of sole than could under fingers. Inaccurate biographical information; was samba, not bossa nova. Synthesize: Twelve stranded atop samba club in Brazillian flood. Strict accuracy. Twelve stranded atop bossa nova club...
...The strange side effect of the whole project is that, as we find we needn't talk to anyone other than God, the more observant -- or less distracted -- of us can listen in on thousands of conversations that never would have made it beyond the wetware before. I once overheard Patricia asking it how she could break it off with me most painlessly, so that she and I could still be friends. I didn't hear the answer...
The strange side effect of the whole project is that, as we find we needn't talk to anyone other than God, the more observant -- or less distracted -- of us can listen in on thousands of conversations that never would have made it beyond the wetware before. I once overheard Patricia asking it how she could break it off with me most painlessly, so that she and I could still be friends. I didn't hear the answer...
published in The Writer's Post Journal
...As a secondary, more idle curiosity Set wondered how many different ways he could die. So far he had suffocated himself inside a plastic bag and leapt from a moving train as it passed over a trestle. There were still a half-dozen dirt naps left to take before he satisfied his primary curiosity. If he could manage not to repeat his predecessors' methods, then so much the better...
...The servant thanked the tanuki and set out to collect the ingredients. First he hunted the kimura-gumo, and from their silk he fashioned a black kimono. Then he traveled to the slopes of the great mountain and fetched a cartload of new snow and ice. These he brought to his master, and explained what the tanuki had told him...
...I laughed. "That cinches it. We're all going to hell." We had only painted pictures of some lake of fire to imagine. And I'm sure we all saw ourselves dancing on the beach, listening to something stupid and infectious on the radio, telling ghost stories and roasting wieners over the liquid heat. Hell was no threat; hell was nothing more than pigment on canvas, and not even that in the brain. Even we were more...
published in Open Wide
"Our love is nothing but a mental exercise," he said from behind his faceplate. "Your air is poisonous to me," she replied.
published in The Drabbler
...Standing on her palm was a tiny bird, a green sparrow with twigs for legs and the spear of a birch leaf for a beak. It was as perfect and delicate as an origami animal, and, at first, that's what I thought it was...
published in Wanderings
...A bird hung suspended in the air twenty-odd feet above their heads, as though dangling from a wire in a taxidermist's shop. As Pash watched, the wings lowered slowly from their apogee; seemingly disconnected from that movement, the sleek black body slid a meter forward. Pash could easily count the component centimeters ticking past, and did...
published in Rage Machine Magazine
Between 2004 and 2007, I wrote a few hundred DVD reviews, plus feature articles, and videogame coverage for Nick Nunziata's Cinematic Happenings Under Development.