The first edition of a new yearly Writers’ Co-op anthology is a little like a great surrealist painting by René Magritte, and that helps answer the question posed by the subtitle.
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The subtitle’s question is rhetorical, not an ancient conundrum. Nearly all of the prose I read or write is nonfiction. Why am I posting (for the third and final time) about a book of weird stories rather than about something in the endlessly fascinating Real World?
The tweetable answer begs the question. Sure, I wrote one of the 35 stories. (Click here to see blurbs for some of them.) But why did I get involved in a substantial fiction project? The answer is some nonfiction weirdness.
The call for submissions grabbed me in 2 ways:
- Contributors could opt (as many indeed would) to have their shares of any royalties donated to the Against Malaria Foundation.
- While weird things are often disturbing (when not merely weird), the call was emphatic about the possibility of being weird and funny (or even weird and funny and disturbing, all at once).
Hmmm. Could some of the stories in this anthology be simultaneously weird and funny and thought-provoking? Could they be a little like some of the best surrealist paintings? The following photo doubles down on the idea behind a great painting by René Magritte:
Seduced by the call for submissions, I took up the challenge of revising a fragment of weird fiction from a discussion of several poems (and comments) that involved various people, so as make a standalone short story that would be broader and even weirder. After another revision in light of helpful comments from one of the editors (Atthys Gage), I believe that my story is good as well as weird. It is also just 2 pages long, so even those who dislike it may still be glad they bought The Rabbit Hole for $2.99 as an e-book or $12.50 as an ink-on-paper book.
Do U have 0.5% of your Amazon purchases donated to a charity by Amazon Smile? Thru 2018-11-02, the percentage will be 5% instead.
BTW, gecko lizards really can climb straight up hard, smooth walls. Weird. But they don’t speak with an Australian accent or tout insurance. Not in this universe, anyway.
Providing a brief writer’s bio for the anthology prompted me to revise this blog’s grossly outdated About page. The revised page has a new joke, a few links, and a nice photo. A nice photo of me would be really weird, so the photo is of something else appropriate.
My other short forays into fiction are also weird. Both are about an ancient Greek (but written in modern English): Plato watches baseball and copes with a hangover.