Spotlight on Sunburst: author Derryl Murphy

The Sunburst Award for Excellence in Canadian Literature of the Fantastic is a juried award to recognize stellar writing in two categories: adult and young adult. The awards are presented annually to Canadian writers with a speculative fiction novel or book-length collection of speculative fiction published any time during the previous calendar year. Past winners include Guy Gavriel Kay. Cory Doctorow, Geoff Ryman, Nalo Hopkinson and Margaret Sweatman.

I asked each of my fellow short-listed authors for the 2013 Sunburst Award if they would be kind enough to write a piece for my blog. Here’s this week’s piece by Derryl Murphy.

Bio:



Derryl Murphy

Derryl Murphy was born in Nova Scotia, raised in Edmonton, Alberta, and has lived in Logan, Utah and Prince George, BC. He now lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan with his wife and two sons. A self-described “soccer fanatic” Derryl is “a soccer dad, coach, player, fan, and once upon a time even a ref.”

His novel Napier's Bones, which he describes as “a peripatetic math-as-magic urban fantasy/hard science fiction story,” was nominated last year for the Aurora Award for Best Novel. The short story collection Over the Darkened Landscape (Fairwood Press) is Derryl's fourth book and is nominated for a 2013 Sunburst Award.

The Sunburst Award jury says: "In this wonderful collection, Derryl Murphy ranges over the whole territory of speculative fiction, from hard SF to magical realism and back again. He is particularly adept at mining history in stories that twist and tweak reality, turning it into the thought-provoking “what if?” of great speculative fiction. Whether he is writing of a society where government cutbacks have created an interesting way for private citizens to make money, a legendary artist’s battle with an equally legendary creature of myth, a town where growing old is the exception rather than the rule, or a poignant phone call between a husband and wife separated by a distance that can never be crossed, Murphy’s stories mix fantasy and horror, the extraordinary and the everyday, to stunning effect."

 

Find Derryl on Twitter: @derrylm

Buy Over the Darkened Landscape at Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/over-the-darkened-landscape

 

To Make a Long Story Short

by Derryl Murphy

          It’s an odd feeling to have a book of short stories on the same Sunburst Award short list as four novels. It’s not like they’re apples and oranges, of course, but there are plenty of people out there - my wife among them - who feel that short fiction generally doesn’t do the trick for them, that it doesn’t tell a complete enough story. (Although let me note as an aside that my wife does read my short fiction, and sometimes she even gets it. “Last Call” made her cry, as it did its original editor and the artist who supplied the illustration for the magazine in which it appeared.)

          Like it or not, though, short fiction is by its very design not set to do the same thing a novel does. The character development is, by necessity, presented in a different fashion, for one thing. It’s no less effective if done right, of course, but there is a shorthand readers and writers of short fiction come to recognize.

          Now, not all short fiction is created equal. The shortest story in Over the Darkened Landscape is fewer than a thousand words, and the longest is over eleven thousand. The snippet that is “Clink Clank” obviously doesn’t give me the room to stretch that the novella of “More Painful Than the Dreams of Other Boys” does. But that’s part of the fun for me. I don’t write much short fiction anymore, but I do still find it enjoyable, and an interesting challenge.

 

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           While I don’t do it with all my short fiction, I do sometimes try to break my stories into little chapters, to give the reader a sense of the novelistic. And, yes, as a cheat so I can move freely between scenes without having to worry about writing that bridge. We all have our crosses to bear.

          But mostly it’s because I like to imagine that these little snippets - or longer snips, to coin a term - have a life beyond what you read. And that is precisely what drives my wife so crazy. It’s not so easy, nor so important, to wrap up the narrative of a short story so that it finishes in one neat and tidy package. Questions often remain, and I for one am fond of those questions.

          Yes, sometimes you can make everything neat and tidy. I won’t give much away, but to refer again to “Last Call,” I think by the end there is no doubt that this is the same happy place to end the story no matter if it’s 2400 or 120,000 words long.

          I also find it’s easier to be relentlessly depressing in shorter bites. In my previous collection, Wasps at the Speed of Sound (11 stories of ecological SF - if you squint just right - that is about to be reprinted by Five Rivers here in Canada), I was accused of being just a little down. To quote from one review: “The effect of such savagely pessimistic stories in one concentrated dose is depressing as all hell, and by half way through a reader might be excused for wondering: if that's Murphy's view of the future, why does he have kids? Why isn't he hanging from a rafter some place?”

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          But wait! There’s good news! The stuff I write isn’t always so down and depressing, and there are indeed stories in Over the Darkened Landscape that may even make you feel good about yourself. Not always, of course, as I do have a reputation to keep, but they are there. Some laughs along the way, even.

          Unlike Wasps, this new collection is not thematic in any way. It’s a mixture of science fiction and fantasy and (kinda) horror and what I suppose you could call slipstream, or weird fiction. I’ll readily admit that the state of the world has me feeling somewhat cynical about things, which when one is writing science fiction stories with an eco/enviro bent can make it easy to misplace the rose-coloured glasses.

          But the stories of Over the Darkened Landscape often came from someplace different; the world can’t always be on the verge of ending in my fiction, and while, as has been noted by one of my editors in the past, loss seems to play a large role in my stories, I don’t think that makes me much different than a whole passel of other authors. Loss is a factor in every life, it’s a conflict, internal or external, that can give a story meaning, give it play, give it emotion.

          So can joy or love, of course. But I don’t play as well with those.

 

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        But Derryl! I hear you cry. You’re babbling on and on and telling us practically nothing about the stories in the book.

          Yes, well, sorry about that. I do tend to wander off on tangents. Exploratory conversation can be great fun if you’re willing to go along for the ride, or it can be brain-blisteringly numbing. I can only hope you’re with me, not agin me.

          So here, as a favour to you, are elevator pitches for each and every story, guaranteed to be as spoiler-free as possible (the last four, incidentally, all involve real or possibly apocryphal moments in Canadian history, or with historical personages. With a minor sprinkling of the fantastic of some sort. So there is that to consider. I call them my “Magic Canada” stories).

         

          Body Solar:

          Rich European

          Goes on a tour out in space

          Problems occur

         

          Canadaland:

         Satirical look

          At the culture of our land

          Yes, some things have changed

         

        Frail Orbits:

 
        Tired old astronauts

        Landlocked and suffering

       Given a last chance

         

          Voyage to the Moon:

          Climbing the beanstalk

          A fairytale astronaut

          Giant on the Moon

 

          Last Call:

          A final call home

          What do you say at the end

          When they’re your last words?

         

          The Cats of Bethlem:

          A true story of

          HG Wells and Louis Wain

          Antiques Roadshow told me so

         

          More Painful Than the Dreams of Other Boys:

          A former child cop

          An adult now, feeling lost

          Back to solve a crime

         

          The Day Michael Visited Happy Lake:

          In rummage sale books

          A boy finds old memories

          Not his, come to life      

 

          Clink Clank:

          A child hears noises

          Mom and Dad need some money

          Hey kid. Come down here.

 

          Northwest Passage:

          Based on true events

          When my grandpa was up north

          Ghosts might be made up

 

          Cold Ground:

          If Louis Riel

          Had some magical powers

          Some things might have changed

 

          Over the Darkened Landscape:

          A Prime Minister

          In our time but not in his

          Solves crimes with his dog

 

          Ancients of the Earth:

          Cave men and mammoths

          Amidst the Yukon Gold Rush

          That was some meal

 

          Spoiler-free and full of mediocre doggerel! How lucky can a person be?

          Truth be told, I think you’ll find the stories in the book more entertaining, more thoughtful, more full of adventure and whimsy and despair and joy than you do my feeble and flailing attempts at haiku. I feel very privileged that the judges thought so, not only so much that they were willing to honour this book alongside four other fine books, but that they even used the pejoratives “wonderful” and “stunning.”

          Which, if it had been a collection of poetry, I think you can guess how that would have turned out.

 

For more information on The Sunburst Awards: http://www.sunburstaward.org/2013-sunburst-shortlists

The Fantastic Four: Spotlight on Sunburst

First, I felt weird writing that headline as "The Fantastic Five" because, really, who besides Donald Trump does that, calling himself "fantastic"? Rhetorical question - moving right along. And yet it feels slightly disingenuous to say it's only "five" since I'm nominated, too. Fact, is I'm planning to shine a light on the other four nominees only, and they're all fantastic, writing "literature of the fantastic," per se, and so, there ya go. I can do that - it's my blog, after all.

So who gets nominated for a Sunburst Award for Excellence in Canadian Literature of the Fantastic? Turns out, not just anybody. I'm on the list of 5 authors with books short-listed for the 2013 award in the adult category. Named after the first novel by Phyllis Gotlieb (1926–2009), one of the first published authors of contemporary Canadian science fiction, the awards consist of a cash award of $1,000 and a beautifully crafted medallion which incorporates a specially designed "Sunburst" logo.

The award winner will be announced in Toronto in September. Meanwhile, I thought it would fun and useful to pay homage to the other four authors nominated, some of which might be unknown to many of my own readers, just as some of them are relatively new to me. This year's field includes the following:

-  Maleficium by Martine Desjardins (translated by Fred A. Reed and David Homel), which was also nominated for the Governor General's Award (French fiction) last year

- Over the Darkened Landscape by Derryl Murphy, a Best Novel finalist at the Prix Aurora Awards.

- The Blondes by Emily Schultz, who was has been long-listed for the Giller Prize and been a finalist for the Trillium Prize.

- Westlake Soul by Rio Youers, who has previously been nominated for the British Fantasy Prize.

I'm proud to be included among this talented group with my first novel Finton Moon, thanks to a stellar group of judges that includes accomplished authors Leon Rooke, Rebecca Bradley, Tony Burgess, Shari Lapeña and Barbara Roden.

It would be easy to just bask in the glory of this nomination while, at the same time calculating my relatively slim chances of actually winning the award, considering the company I'm keeping. The reality, however, is that only one of these five authors will win the award, while the other four of us really can only feel honoured to have been chosen among the top 5 books of literature of the fantastic in the entire country - and, really, beyond, as winners don't always reside in Canada - out of a list of more than a couple of hundred books. The idea of awards, however, isn't just to honour one author (or maybe I'm the only one who thinks that) - but to say to each nominated individual, "Hey, nice job - you stood out this year. Keep it up. Hope this short-listing brings you some attention in a very crowded field."

So, I thought the best thing would be to highlight each author individually, give them their due and hopefully expose them to some new readers. I've asked each of the other four nominees in the adult category to consider submitting something for my blog that would tell my blog readers who they are, leaving it up to them what to write about - the other option being a short interview. We'll see how that goes. But over the next few weeks, I'll be posting a piece about a different nominee.

This week, starting on Wednesday, I'll be featuring Derryl Murphy. This weekly feature requires some setup, as you've seen, and I thought it would be unfair to Derryl to have him follow such an enormous information dump. So, over the next four Wednesdays, expect to see a short piece about and/or by each short-listed author for the 2013 Sunburst Award.

If there is time before the awards are announced, I'll also do a short piece one week encompassing the 5 finalists in the young adult category, which also features high quality writers: Corey Doctorow, Rachel Hartman, Susan Juby, Moira Young and Michel Bedard.

It's my sincere hope that, like me, you'll take this opportunity to discover some new writing from some very fine writers of Canadian literature that strays from the straight and narrow path and crosses into a variety of genres. I think you'll find it an entertaining venture.

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P.S. There were a LOT of other books considered this year and a LOT of very fine writers and books. There could only be five short-listed books, but there are many more worth your consideration. Here's the full list of books considered for the 2013 Sunburst Awards: http://www.sunburstaward.org/2012-Novels-And-Collections.

Finton Moon has been nominated for The 2013 Sunburst Award in the adult category for "excellence in Canadian Literature of the Fantastic." Needless to say, I'm ecstatic, as this is turning out to be quite a summer and this shortlisting is a hugely unexpected honour. With Moonlight Sketches
winning the NL Book Award (sponsored by Ches Crosbie Barristers) in 2012, it's gratifying to receive national recognition with my follow-up novel.

It's particulary thrilling to be in the company of such excellent authors and books.

Besides Finton Moon, the other 4 nominees are:

• Maleficium, Martine Desjardins; Fred A. Reed and David Homel, trans. (Talonbooks)
• Over the Darkened Landscape, Derryl Murphy (Fairwood Press)
• The Blondes, Emily Schultz (Doubleday Canada)
• Westlake Soul, Rio Youers (ChiZine Publications)

I know we all can't win, so good luck to us all. Here's hoping all of you enjoy the nod to your work as much as I do. I plan to read each of the other books and I'm sure I'll enjoy them - I hope some of you do the same. And regardless of who wins, this has already been a rare and rewarding experience.

If you want to know more about the Sunburst awards and the stellar list of judges (Rebecca Bradley, Tony Burgess, Shari Lapeña, Barbara Roden and Leon Rooke), click on the link: http://www.sunburstaward.org/2013-sunburst-shortlists. The judges had to read over 230 books (at my count) to arrive at their two shortlists - an extremely arduous task. Results will be announced in the fall.

I will point out the significance of the fact that Finton Moon is the only book nominated in the Atlantic provinces this year, and I have to give credit to my publisher at Killick Press (an imprint of Creative Publishers). Donna Francis, in particular, snatched up this novel immediately after the success of my short story collection, Moonlight Sketches, an act of faith that means a lot to me, particularly since for many years I was unable to get my books of fiction published at all. So it's nice to have her belief in my work rewarded for us both - and also a great feeling to know that I made the right decision in continuing to write and in choosing a publisher for whom both the first and second book were well fitted. Also, thanks, Pam Dooley, for working tirelessly on behalf of all the authors, including me. And the incredibly talented and big-hearted Russell Wangersky, overseeing manager of Creative Books, for his encouragement, advice and belief.

If you want to details on how to buy either Finton Moon, Moonlight Sketches or my Fierce Short story, "The Long Last Year," you can visit my website: http://www.gerardcollins.ca/

Also, feel free to join me on Facebook, either my personal page or my author page. I'd love to see you there.

Finally, thank you to all the readers who have supported my career so far by reading my books, getting the word out through FB, Twitter, Goodreads and good old coffee shop chatter, or by reviewing in whatever format you have available to you. Not only for me, but for every author, it makes a difference and means a lot.

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Hollywood Endings

Okay, so it's poetry time again. I wrote this one a dozen years or so ago and have ne
ver workshopped it, though I'm sure it would benefit from some rethinking and revision. But I've been reading this one to my classes for a few years now as the last class of the semester, as a sort of farewell, so it stands as it is - a working, breathing piece of poetry that's been performed in public more often than anything else I've ever written.

The inspiration came after seeing three pretty decent movies with pretty terrible endings, all within the space of a couple of weeks. It got me to thinking how difficult endings can be for writers and in relationships of all kinds.

Here she be:

Hollywood Endings

Casablanca ends in flight.

There is a leaving and a staying.

They would always have Paris.
Which is a dirty lie, to tell the truth.
          He didn’t have Paris.
          She didn’t have Paris.
          And they didn’t have each other.
          I’ll tell you who had Paris:
          France and Adolf Hitler.

World War II ends in flight.

They saved Private Ryan,
But killed a lot of Germans and Jews, Americans, and batteries
In search of their Hollywood ending.

Wars always end in flight,
And every landing is a good landing, maybe,
Unless the plane is empty,
And the crew bailed out at 10,000 feet,
And the plane just fell from the sky
With Bruce Willis about to yell, “Yippee-kayay!” to his mother’s lover
And lighting a cigarette on the tarmac.
Cut.  That’s a wrap.  Last one in, put out the fires and bury the dead.

Endings are difficult.

Someone always gets hurt.
The budget gets blown.
The acting turns bad.
The words keep on spinning like the wheels of a crashed car flipped
sunnyside up.
 
Even directors and writers find it hard to say goodbye.
But there’s always the train or the self-sacrificing Terminator, the tearful hug, the clicking of the ruby red shoes and an awkward re-entry into your Auntie Em’s bedroom,
Trying to explain why you’re late for supper and wondering if the Scarecrow ever got, never had, a small brain after all.

Sometimes, I think, if you want to leave, you should just go.

Forget Paris, to hell with tomorrow and yesterday—
Just one big kiss-off, then jump from the plane and go with the wind.
Sayonara, sweetheart.  Yippee-kayay!
Exit, stage left.  Fade to Black.
That’s all folks.  Right?
I mean, if you’re looking for me, go back to the start.  Casablanca ends in flight in search of a Hollywood ending.

Don't "shush" me!

I’ll be speaking at the A.C. Hunter library tomorrow night, which for some reason makes me want to “shush” myself.

The posters and media say I’ll be reading from my latest book, Finton Moon. And that’s true. But a reading at the library is much more than just a reading. I’ll probably start by talking about myself a little because I’m like that. Then I’ll read a short passage, then pause thoughtfully before I talk about the passage in context of both the novel and the world outside it. Read another short passage, rinse, repeat.

There’ll be questions, most likely, such as “Why in the name of God did you say it like that?” or “What were you thinking when you wrote about that deranged girl?” Or “Is any of that true?” Of course, it’s all true; that’s why we have to call it fiction. Some people will have read the whole book, or part of it, and will have a question about certain parts, or the significance of the ending or the beginning or the scene in Morgan’s bedroom. Hopefully, we can get through without too many spoilers though, just enough to whet the appetite for those of you who haven’t read it yet.

The questions from the audience are my favourite part of the whole experience. Last time I read at the library, in September 2011, shortly after the publication of Moonlight Sketches, the atmosphere was cozy like a kitchen party, with people asking weird and wonderful questions (whether they’d read the book, just parts of it, or not at all) and me happily responding to it all, going off on mad tangents, which is probably what I do best.

Tomorrow night (Wednesday) I won’t just be reading and talking about the book(s). If you’re interested in talking about the creative process (where ideas come from and how they get written and why), the road to publishing (many a dragon there, certainly), and what it’s like to be published, how it changes life, and what comes next, then we’ll do all that as well. The discussion is open and lively, and if the audience has few questions, I have plenty of topics of my own related to the writing and publication of Finton Moon, Moonlight Sketches or even my recent e-book story, The Long Last Year.

If there’s time, I might read a couple of pages from my new work in progress, a novel called My Sister’s Walls. We’ll see how the evening goes.

Hope to see you there. It’s wide open to the public and starts at 7 p.m. It’s only for an hour, so you’ll be home again or downtown, or able to attend a late movie afterwards, whatever your choice.

Oh, and the A.C. Hunter library is adjoined to the Arts and Culture Centre.

Don't worry if you haven't read the book.  Just come out and talk about writin' 'n stuff.

 

 

One For the Money, Two For the Show

(Reposted from May 27, 2008 - in honour of LC's unexpected return engagement to St. John's next weekend.)

Well, here it is the morning after the biggest concert weekend St. John’s has ever seen, and it feels like it was all a dream. Two full-length shows by two contrasting giants of the music world—in fact, it was two nights of Bob Dylan, followed by three nights of Leonard Cohen. I enjoyed the Dylan show, but I’ve got to say that the Cohen show was the best concert I’ve ever seen.

It occurs to me that some so-called performers could take a lesson from LC. It was a rare treat to see Bob Dylan in concert and I was thrilled just to be in the audience. In fact, I felt privileged that he would come back here not only for the second time, but also on his birthday, which was the night I saw him. When he and his band took the stage, all wearing dark hats and suits, it took me a couple of minutes to figure out which one was him. We had fantastic seats, but Dylan didn’t do anything to distinguish himself. He stood at his keyboard the entire night, with his back turned to half the stadium, including us. He sang a couple of songs that most people knew (bluesy versions of “Shelter From the Storm” and “Blowin’ in the Wind”), a few more lesser knowns that I recognized, but the rest were relatively obscure. That’s all fine and good, but I couldn’t really tell if he was enjoying himself or not. I did sense a restlessness from the crowd, though, and that speaks volumes for Dylan’s performance skills, which are pretty much nil.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s a pretty good musician, with a unique voice, and a gift for lyrics. He can write strong melodies too, but he didn’t showcase many of those when I saw him. The audience was extremely appreciative of his meager efforts and coaxed him into an encore, though I sensed (much like Ron Hynes whom I saw a couple of weeks ago) that he just wasn’t all that interested in audience reaction or staying any longer than he had to. That’s his prerogative and, again, I enjoyed just being there. I mean, it’s freakin’ Bob Dylan deigning to come to St. John’s, Newfoundland. We should be grateful. And we were. Problem is, he acted as if we should be grateful too.

I understand all about Dylan’s reputation as an artist. And just like “Manny being Manny” in baseball, when Dylan hides under a hat and refuses to play guitar, sing popular hits, or acknowledge the audience in any way, that’s just Dylan being Dylan. We love him for it, but almost in spite of his behaviour. His greatness as a songwriter and pop culture icon is beyond dispute. I just don’t feel like I really SAW Bob Dylan. Or maybe what I saw really was Bob Dylan, who’s a bit of a ghost at the best of times. Either way, I’m glad I went, glad he came, but his show didn’t even compare to Leonard Cohen’s.

Leonard was warm, entertaining, intelligent, witty, self-effacing and appreciative of an audience who adored his every word, lyric, or tip of the cap on stage. From the opening song, “Dance Me to the End of Time” to the 11 or 12-song encore (there were several encores), he was fully engaged with the people who’d paid 80 bucks a ticket to sit in his presence. There were a few songs I would have liked to have heard, but he sang so many of his best tunes that it’s impossible to fault him. “I’m Your Man.” “Take This Waltz.” “Tower of Song.” “Democracy”.” “The Future.” “Suzanne.” And my personal favorite “Hallelujah”. There were so many great songs, and he executed them to perfection, sounding far better than his recordings. Leonard’s voice has just gotten better, deeper, and more resonant as he’s aged. He’s 74 and makes a few jokes at his own expense, but on stage he dances and moves more gracefully than most grandfathers, I assure you.

The audience just hung on his every word. The air was electric, a standing ovation occurring at the end of at least half (if not two-thirds) of the songs. The backup band was absolutely amazing, with everything from a harp and harmonica to a saxophone, keyboards, drums, various stringed instruments that I didn’t even recognize—each played expertly. Leonard kept making sure his band and backup singers were well-recognized, and they were. I could go on for half an hour just about how good Sharon Robinson and the Webb sisters were, but suffice to say they added strength and substance to an already magnificent show. In all, he played for three hours and ten minutes, including a short break, and I’m sure the audience would have stayed for two more hours at least. I, for one, just didn’t want to leave.

So what’s the difference? I think there’s an arrogance that accumulates in the soul of certain performers after they’ve had a measure of success. I mean, Cohen has just as much reason to be full of himself and “artistic” as Dylan, but I’ve always gotten the feeling that Dylan disdains his audience, despises “having” to perform in order to be heard or to make a living. He’d probably be much happier just writing songs and singing them for himself, but it’s hard to sell CDs that way. So he puts up with us and takes our hard-earned money away with it. I don’t mind that I am grateful for having seen him in concert, but I mind that he takes me and you for granted.

Leonard Cohen has always struck me as a man of passion—a spiritual, sensual soul who genuinely loves life and everything it has to offer. He can be sarcastic and funny, of course, quite cutting in fact. But it’s different from Dylan’s hard-edged dislike for the world (or so it seems). I came away from the Dylan show just glad to have seen a legend, but wondering if maybe he could have done more to win me over. That’s what a performer is. I came away from the Cohen show with a huge smile on my face, my wife and I chattering happily about how it was the best show we’ve ever seen. This morning, there’s almost a sense of loss. I wish I could see him again tonight, but alas, the show is all sold out long ago.

It’s like St. John’s made a friend last night that we’ll never see again. Bob Dylan is a passing acquaintance whose like is rarely seen in these parts, while Leonard Cohen leaves you with a song in your heart and a glimpse into the soul of a man who’s always had an aura of mystery around him, much as Dylan has. And it’s not just because Leonard sang songs that most of his audience knew; even the ones I didn’t know (there were at least a couple) were sung with the intent of an offering, a piece of the songwriter going out to a carefully listening audience. We were being sung to and not merely being sung at.

Not to be too harsh, but while Dylan might appropriately claim “I’m Not There,” Cohen winningly suggests, “I’m Your Man.” Dylan’s not the first performer I’ve seen with that kind of arrogance, merely the best. At least he’s earned the right, sort of. But Leonard Cohen’s earned it too, but chooses instead to include us in the celebration of his talent and success, as well as of life and good music. It just doesn’t get any better.

I have had a religious experience that I won’t be forgetting any time soon.

 

Win a free copy of "The Long Last Year"

My publisher is giving away a free copy of my Fierce Short story, “The Long Last Year.”

To enter the draw, just go to my “Gerard Collins – Author” page and click “like” on the post announcing this contest.

Please note that you can enter the drawing only if you’ve liked my author page. (Membership should have some privileges.)

Contest closes Friday (April 5) at 5:00 p.m. Eastern time.

You can also purchase "The Long Last Year" or see more details about the story by going to Smashwords or Amazon.ca.

(Note that a portion of proceeds for the sales of this story are gong to For the Love of Learning.)

My short creative memoir, "The Long Last Year" hit #1 in two nonfiction categories yesterday on Amazon.ca! And it's doing very well on the overall bestseller list as well. That's a bit of a dream come true.

It's a strange feeling to have something you wrote about yourself, without those layers of fictionalization, being read by so many people. It's very flattering, but an out of body experience of sorts. I think most writers, at some point, dream of winning an award or being at the top of a bestseller list. But this story is special to me because, while it is a "creative" memoir, it really does provide an accurate view of who I was at the age of seventeen and the choices and challenges I faced that year. The very idea that people would care to read that story not only means a lot to me but makes me shake my head in disbelief and gratitude.

Thanks for support and interest, each and every one of you. A handsome portion of the proceeds for "TLLY" are going to For the Love of Learning, thanks to the generosity of my publisher, Fierce Ink Press, owned and operated by the dynamic duo of Kimberly Walsh and Colleen McKie.

Also, my heartfelt thanks to media, bloggers and social media peeps who've been so great at getting the word out for a good cause.

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Putting myself forward

Fresh off winning the NL Book Award in May of last year, I was contacted by Fierce Ink Press and asked to if I'd be interested in writing for their brand new series of "Fierce Shorts." Over the past several months, they've published a series of creative nonfiction stories -- written by authors like Chad Pelley, Corey Redekop, Patti Larsen and Jamie Fitzpatrick (upcoming) and others -- focused on their own experiences as teenagers.

My contribution released on March 12 and is called "The Long Last Year" because it's all about my last, torturous year in high school. I wrote a story from the perspective of a teenager with a "normal" life, which, as anyone knows, isn't all that easy. I think, more than anything, a teenager (or any person) is looking to see where he or she fits in the world. The problem arises when one doesn't feel that they are a good fit, that they are different from everyone else. Of course, for me, the big fear was actually being the same as everyone else. I wanted to make my mark on the world -- or, really, to have it make its mark on me. But first, it meant somehow surviving the "long last year" without much a plan or a sense of where I was going in life -- tough enough in itself, until tragedy strikes.

You might be interested in this story if you're a young adult, but also a parent or teacher. Or you might simply be interested in some "nonfiction" for a change from me, since most of what I write and publish is fictional.

For more information, to read a sample, or to purchase this story ($3.99) for download, click on the text below.

'The Long Last Year'

 

Poetry

I don't consider myself a poet and I've never played one on TV. I've never even tried to publish any of my poetry. But now and then I like to share one that I've written. So, if you're interested, here you go. I wrote this one in the Bat Cave one evening when I was feeling introspective and angsty.

Without

 Once we ran

In pliant skins and resilient bones,

Spending laughter and breath,

Having plenty in store:

 

Talk spilled free from our willing lips

upon Formica and down our legs.

We nearly drowned in

our confessional wading pool

that was never so deep

as we thought till we stood.

 

For all of it:

our deceptive youth,

decadent decay,

choices of killers, lovers,

prey for our souls,

for whatever we became:

at summer’s cruel close

I miss you tonight.

 

While shifting clouds violet the twilight sky,

the world draws shut.

 

And we are left without.

  

 

(Gerard Collins)