We can’t feel our fingers. It’s cold. If we take Django and Chilli out with gloves on, we mix up the leads, can’t bag the poo properly, and generally fumble across the wasteland, dropping things. So instead of a long piece on dubious literary connections, here’s brief mention of a few new and recent books – genuine weird from Jon Padgett, historical scares from Amanda DeWees, apocalyptic adventure from Willie Meikle, and some fantasy…

A Scot goes Fungal

Above all, Willie Meikle is a storyteller. It’s an old skill and an important one, which gets forgotten in the rush to dazzle and stand out, to be literary and liminal and all that sort of stuff. And he can deliver some strange and disquieting stuff, don’t get us wrong, but at heart you get a skillfully woven adventure. The sort that satisfies, which is something surprisingly few can achieve. His latest, Fungoid, is such a thing. Like greydog, Willie has a Life Sciences background, and brings that to the table as well.

“When the end came, it wasn’t zombies, asteroids, global warming or nuclear winter. It was something that escaped from a lab. Something small, and very hungry. It starts with deadly rain that delivers death where it falls, but soon the whole planet is under threat as the infection spreads, consuming everything before it. A band of survivors on the Eastern coast of Canada watch as their world falls and crumbles to ruin…”

Some days you fry the fungus; some days the fungus fries you.

Our friends at Ginger Nuts of Horror pretty much encapsulate Fungoid in their review, thus saving us further typing with these frozen digits:

“Fungoid is a fast paced ecohorror thriller that delivers on all fronts. The large cast of characters combined with Meikle’s tight plotting and a keen eye for dialogue bring a real cinematic feel to the narrative. By focusing more on the fast based plot rather than getting bogged down by over characterisation Meikle has created a real page-turner.”

You can read the full piece here:

ginger nuts of horror

Or simply buy Fungoid.

fungoid – amazon uk

fungoid – amazon us

Willie has also contributed to the new urban fantasy series The Veil Knights, which is written by a number of talented authors under the name of Rowan Casey. They’re up to Book Four, The Questing Beast, which came out this month.

Our Editor-in-Chief, who reads far more fantasy than we do, had a go at Book Two, Hound of Night, and gave her potted opinion:

“A very satisfying read. Music, monsters and magic…. John Seton is a great modern hero in a tale of ancient themes and magics. As with any good story, this one is full of greed, rage and betrayal, friends you can trust and some you can’t. His quest takes him through modern cityscapes and weird enchanted lands, where the action never lets up. The bad guys are baaad, the monsters are scary and the relics are never quite you expect.”

hound of night

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A Gothic Girl Thrills Us

With our love of the classic Gothic writers, our interest in period supernatural fiction and its ilk, it’s hard not to like what Amanda DeWees is doing. Amanda’s books of historical romantic suspense include With This Curse, winner of the 2015 Daphne du Maurier Award for excellence in historical mystery/suspense, and the acclaimed historical gothic romance Sea of Secrets, winner of the 2012 RONE award in mystery.

We’ve already briefly mentioned her Sybil Ingram ‘Victorian Mystery’ tales, which are both historical and supernatural – these include the novels Nocturne for a Widow and The Last Serenade, plus an excellent spooky tale in Issue One of Occult Detective Quarterly. This month sees an addition to her range with a new series of supernatural novellas, beginning with As Vital as Blood:

“Miss Michael Cargrave is desperate when the death of her bookseller father leaves her in a dire financial state. When she finds a letter from a mysterious foreign aristocrat, Baron Dalca, requesting that her father come work for him, she decides to risk everything by traveling to the Carpathian Mountains and claiming the position herself.

“Her audacity wins over Baron Dalca. But as rumors of vampire attacks reach her ears, and as she daily grows more fascinated by the enigmatic baron, she begins to dream of a strange predator that visits her at night.”

Amanda is not only a great writer, she’s also somewhat of an expert on period supernatural literature and on vampires, so you know that you’re going to get something good.

as vital as blood – amazon uk

as vital as blood – amazon us

You can also get hold of the much sought after Issue One of Occult Detective Quarterly with Amanda’s tale ‘When Soft Voice Die’ here:

odq 1 at electric pentacle

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A Dark Puppet Pulls Our Strings

Our other main pick of the week is quite different. You know that phrase ‘Every once in a while, we discover a new author who stands out…”. As far as Jon Padgett is concerned, we have discovered a new author who just makes us wonder why we bother to write some days.

His book The Secret of Ventriloquism is not one easy to describe. It’s weird literature, yes, a series of stories which stand alone and yet are interlinked, reminiscent in some ways of Matthew M Bartlettt’s excellent Creeping Waves. Which doesn’t mean it’s the same at all, but they share a deft handling of style, sense of place and sheer creepiness.

With a genuine background in ventriloquism, Jon explores reality and illusion in ways which are subtle and brutal. Characters find themselves acting as both puppets and puppeteers, but rarely in the ways you expect.

What strikes us most is the directness of the prose. Some weird fiction tries too hard. Rather than obfuscate with an excess of verbiage and cleverness, The Secret of Ventriloquism is a touch like Thomas Ligotti stripped down and made accessible to all. Connection with characters is immediate, through voices which evoke anxiety and bewilderment at an increasingly incomprehensible world. To balance that, there are recurring motifs which do give clues and link the stories together nicely. Not that ‘nice’ is really an appropriate word here.

An alternative comment: ‘We devoured it in one sitting, and loved it.’

the secret of ventriloquism – amazon uk

the secret of ventriloquism – amazon us

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The above should provide you with something for any taste. Before we go, here are a couple of campaigns running at the moment, in case you’re feeling generous or exploratory.

Michael Adams, a jolly decent sort of chap from what we’ve seen, is seeking support for a new anthology, Test Patterns, which will be:

“…A collection of short speculative fictions written with classic television shows such as The Outer Limits, The Twilight Zone, and The Night Gallery, in mind. These will be the dreams and nightmares one finds themselves waking from after watching that eerie midnight movie, only to find themselves bathed in the gray glow of the test pattern on the TV screen. A collection of richly varied stories which might impart a moral, inspire thought, offer meaning, inspire hope, or instill dread. Tales told in unique ways, employing provocative twists and surprises, and exploring the universal themes of humanity and self-discovery through the lenses of horror, fantasy, and science fiction.”

You can find out more here:

test patterns – gofundme

And British digital artist/writer Russell Smeaton is looking to take his work further with a series of stylish postcards on his strange Sad Diver theme.

He’s not after a lot, and you can get a bargain deal on ten Sad Diver designs, so you can go explore his artwork here:

sad diver – kickstarter

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That’s it. These fingers need a hot-water bottle, or a warm lurcher tummy, or something along those lines. Back in a couple of days, dear listener, and don’t forget to subscribe (top left) if you want to be warned…

What is a ‘classic’ horror story? Today we’ve picked out six tales which are both old-style and yet more intriguing than some of the usual fare, each with its own sense of dread. They’re not especially rare or unknown (except possibly for the Barry Pain story), but each conjures a sense of dread from quite different circumstances.

They might be said to form part of our set of ‘Tales Which Linger’, from which we offered twelve examples last year – and one even makes a repeat appearance. We offer no apologies. Your statutory consumer rights are not affected, but please note that the value of your dread may go up or down. Terms and conditions apply.

As before, the stories are given order of the author’s year of birth, for no particular reason. Also as before, the rating system is badly-thought out, unreliable and of no real value whatsoever. It merely amuses us. This time we’ve offered audio readings for three of the stories, for a change.

1) Oke of Okehurst

Vernon Lee (1856-1935)

A study in psychology and obsession which takes time to build to its dark conclusion. The narrator observes Alice Okehurst and her husband, creations who frustrate and fascinate, as if at any moment there might be relief from the situation, yet a tragic end seems somehow inevitable. Lee delivers a ghost story where the haunted mind proves more terrible than the haunted house.

Dread rating: 6/10

Style rating: 8/10

2) Where Their Fire is Not Quenched

May Sinclair (1863-1946)

The only returnee from one of our previous lists, and a story which is again a study in psychology, yet heavy in dread because of its lack of the usual horrors. The fate of the entangled souls is all the more disquieting because it is possible to relate to it, to recognise the failings of love and relationships which occur within the story. Not some people’s idea of a ‘supernatural’ story’, but highly recommended. The Guardian called Sinclair, whose work is harder to find than it should be “the readable modernist”.

Dread rating: 9/10 (but not the usual kind)

Style rating: 7/10

3) The Undying Thing

Barry Pain (1864-1928)

Old-style, yes, but notable for its allusions rather than its disclosures, with a constant sense of threat. The why and the what of it are never quite certain, an approach which makes the story an improvement on many more clearly defined tales of its kind. The theme is kin to many others – the doomed lineage, the werewolf tale, the monstrous birth, but has its own life, both a classic horror story but, in a sense, more reminiscent of some of Lovecraft’s tales.

Dread rating: 8/10

Style rating: 4/10

Note: If you’re not familiar with Pain, a contemporary of Jerome K Jerome, and his sometimes uneven horror fiction, then you might like to glance at his entry in the always-interesting Skulls in the Stars blog – the undying thing and others

4) The Red Room

H G Wells (1866-1946)

A challenge to the haunted room trope and at the same time a most excellent example of it, with an ending which is far more disturbing than the conventional wrap-up. All the characteristics are there – the old caretakers, the rumours, the candles which will not stay alight, but this is, at heart, another piece of psychology. Some have said that it was written as satire, but the conclusion is no less chilling because of it.

Dread rating: 7/10

Style rating: 7/10

5) The Easter Egg

Saki (1870-1916)

The simplest of episodes, one which shows off Sakis’ sublime ability to portray people and situations in a handful of words. The handling is light and clear, and yet the denouement is dreadful. A small masterwork, whose last paragraph is both elegant and chilling.

Dread rating: 8/10

Style rating: 10/10

6) Genius Loci

Clark Ashton Smith (1893-1961)

There are places which have a ‘feel’. The term genius loci can merely mean the general atmosphere of an area, or can be taken to refer to the actual spirit which dominates there, as in some Folk-Horror. It is possible that the entire story is a reflection on morbid mentality, or equally possible that Chapman’s meadow is possessed by a malign presence – it depends on how much you believe of the narrator’s tale and the accuracy of his perceptions.

Dread rating: 8/10

Style rating: 7/10

You can read last year’s eclectic list here – twelve tales which linger – and given the presence of Vernon Lee and May Sinclair above, you might also enjoy author Amanda DeWees’ article for greydogtales from last Autumn –

forever young – women in supernatural fiction

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Next time: More modern weird stuff, we expect, or lurchers, or something like that…

Again with the troubling questions. Is author Adam Nevill secretly part of a warped cult, here to dissuade us from taking out-of-body adventures? Does he hold hidden knowledge, transmitted to him telepathically by an ancient Tibetan horror fan? Or is he a guy who writes stuff, like any mortal shell? One day we hope to interview him and find out (though possibly not, after he’s read this)…

Yes, Adam Nevill’s latest novel, Under a Watchful Eye, is out now. We’ll say more about it later, but first we must consider the silver cord – and Venus. For Watchful Eye is very much about out-of-body experiences, and we can’t escape the various forays we’ve made into such matters on greydogtales recently (see h p lovecraft and the lords of venus  for example).

N.B. If you can’t be bothered to follow our convoluted threads, the proper Watchful Eye bit comes later. There’ll be a headline. But shame on you.

A Plumber on Venus

We shall explain. Our first experience of the silver cord was many years ago in the books of T Lobsang Rampa, AKA Cyril Hoskin, the English plumber who said he was ‘possessed’ by the spirit of a Tibetan monk. Out-of-body experiences pervade Rampa’s work. We even tried to astral project in those awkward teenage years, having read some of his books. Apperantly our own mortal shell is rather possessive, because we didn’t get anywhere. Not even into Dad’s drinks cabinet.

Here’s T Lobsang on the subject, from his book You – Forever:

“The body here on Earth is something like a vehicle operating by remote control. The driver is the Overself. You may have seen a child’s toy car, which is connected, to the child by a long flexible cable. The child can press a button and make the car go forward, or make it stop or go back, and by turning a wheel on this flexible cable the car can be steered. The human body may be likened very, very roughly to that, for the Overself which cannot come down to the Earth to gain experiences, sends down this body which is US on Earth. Everything that we experience, everything that we do or think or hear – travels upwards to be stored in the memory of the Overself.”

“(The) Silver Cord connects us to our Overself in much the same way as the umbilical cord (navlestreng) connects a baby to its mother. The umbilical cord is a very intricate device, a very complex affair indeed, but it is as a piece of string compared to the complexity of the Silver Cord. This Cord is a mass of molecules rotating over an extremely wide range of frequencies, but it is an intangible thing – so far as the human body is concerned. The molecules are too widely dispersed for the average human sight to see it.

“Many animals can see it, because animals see on a different range of frequencies – and hear on a different range of frequencies than humans. Dogs, as you know, can be called by a “silent” dog whistle, silent because a human cannot hear it – but a dog easily can. In the same way, animals can see the Silver Cord and the aura, because both these vibrate on a frequency which is just within the receptivity of an animal’s sight. With practice it is quite easily possible for a human to extend the band of receptivity (mottakelighet) of their sight, in much the same way as a weak man, by practice and by exercise, can lift a weight which normally would be far far beyond his physical capabilities.”

You – Forever (1965)

This concept of an earthly form and a higher, astral one (or atma), bound by a silver cord, has become a relatively common one, though few may know its origins. One suggestion is that the term ‘silver cord’ originally comes from the Bible, in Ecclesiastes:

“Remember him—before the silver cord is severed, or the golden bowl is broken; before the pitcher is shattered at the spring, or the wheel broken at the well, and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.”

The interpretation of this is difficult, because it’s possible that Ecclesiastes refers quite tangibly to the silver chain holding up a ritual golden bowl of oil in temples. But it’s a good image, and the silver cord comes up in many mystical works and theories.

If we pop into Under a Watchful Eye for a moment, not only are there numerous mentions of the silver cord, but also of figures which shuffle around, having a vestigial stump on their abdomens. The silver cord cut or snapped; the psychic body lost from its natural connection forever. It’s an aspect which is considered at length in the book, with ominous implications.

And we would have gone straight to our quasi-review at this point, except that we remembered something else, the short book My Visit to Venus. Not originally authorised by Rampa/Hoskin, it was produced in the sixties (?) from earlier material, and cobbled together by Gray Barker (1925-84), a most curious man.

Barker was either a ufologist, or a sceptic using belief in UFOs to make a fast buck, according to who you believe. He is credited as the origin of the Men in Black, and wrote about the Mothman phenomenon before it achieved later fame.

Some Rampa followers feel that Venus was another cynical way to make money. Barker’s foreword, which includes the sentence ‘We predict that it will be much sought after, and that once this original edition is gone it will become a prize collector’s item.’ doesn’t help. It’s not very interesting, by the way, or illuminating – a brief thing, with some bad illustrations:

“To one side was a green covered table, and around it there were what appeared to be a group of golden thrones in which a group of men sat. Soon we were in telepathic communion with the group, the Lords of Venus, the controllers of that particular sphere of activity.”

My Visit to Venus

But how could we resist yet another mention of the Lords of Venus?

Now, that proper book…

Into the Eye of Adam

Adam Nevill has had huge and deserved success in the last few years, producing a series of original horror novels which have caught the imagination of thousands. Under a Watchful Eye, his latest book, is a book full of twists and turns, some of them suspected, many of them surprising.

We’re not going to say it’s his best, because frankly we were too taken by his award-winning novel Last Days, which is hard to beat. The issue with Last Days is that it introduced some images which stay with you, so we can’t tell if we’re being fair or not when we compare books. The Blood Friends of Last Days are unforgettable, one of the great creations of the last few years’ horror.

There should be action figures available, is what we’re saying.

Watchful Eye is very much a Nevill book, intertwining various dark themes, and consciously references aspects of his other work. Indeed, the cult concept from Last Days gets a glancing mention, as does Sister Katherine, which pleased us, and the early part of the book is partly a re-exploration of an earlier story, “Yellow Teeth”, which appeared in his collection Some Will Not Sleep last year. As he says in his notes to Some Will Not Sleep, “Yellow Teeth” draws on a troubled personal time:

“…my living arrangements, and my personal standards, were often severely compromised by having very little money and working at night. This forced me to live in some shoddy places and to cohabit with, quite frankly, people with the most appalling habits, who may even have been suffering from personality disorders. That whole period was a maelstrom of sleep deprivation, poverty, despair, conflict with others within small living spaces, and grave anxieties about my future.”

Some Will Not Sleep (2016)

A visitor with appalling habits, foreshadowed in “Yellow Teeth”, dominates the first part of Under a Watchful Eye, and does bring you a sense of disgust and frustration. It doesn’t matter if you read the short story first, nor does either piece spoil the other.

Watchful Eye goes much further in examining the themes involved, and introduces new directions. Once again Nevill draws on a sense of past follies and madness, neo-Jamesian threats combined with obsessive psychical and spiritual studies, and exposes the weaknesses of human beings in the face of the unknown. There’s a lot in there.

We did want to slap the protagonist a few times, but on the other hand, the background to what was happening became more and more intriguing. Authors themselves play a large part in the book, and there are some neat parts on the links between horror stories, madness and reality which somehow reminded us of Ramsey Campbell.

Sadly we can’t say much more about the developments, as that would spoil the book. Reviewers often say that, but in this case it’s true. You have to be there. Most things are not quite what they seem, although the nastier parts are – nasty, that is. On a single read through, we found the central section the most interesting and disturbing, and yet the final part is a more direct and immediate twist. As we mentioned the Blood Friends earlier, most memorable image this time: M L Hazzard’s alter-ego. Even though we can’t disclose what we mean.

It made us wonder if the real-life author has, hidden on some remote, decrepit farmhouse, a complete and over-arching vision of his astral, abnormal concepts, written out on yellowing pages. We sort of hope that he has, and that one day a naive young research student will stumble over it and begin a story around a story that will probably drive everyone involved insane.

And in a creaking attic, Adam Nevill will lift mouldering robes around his thin shoulders and begin once more. Except that it would probably be a mouldering leather jacket in his case…

You can check out some of his books on Amazon through the links below:

under a watchful eye

some will not sleep

last days

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We’ll finish by mentioning, with slight embarassment, that greydogtales was the runner up in the recent Preditor & Editor Readers Awards for review site of the year. If deserved, this must be mainly on the basis that we rattle on longer than most sites, and don’t know when to…

We’re back for our latest look at the trials and tribulations of what happens when you submit a story to a magazine or an anthology. Come with us into the murky world of editing, where we shall reveal… something vaguely relevant, maybe. And very little of what follows will do you any permanent damage. So that’s good.

We’ve looked at hundreds of submissions in the last few months alone, many for Occult Detective Quarterly, some for an anthology, Their Coats All Red, and even a few for other mysterious projects and private critiques. Today’s reflections are based on all of these, but mostly on the experience of editing Occult Detective Quarterly – a matter of sheer numbers.

Last time on ‘So You Want to Submit a Story…’ we mentioned three areas – Lovecraftian horror, Victorian & Edwardian period stories, and Clive Cussler Syndrome, aka the art of over-description. This time we’re raising a few more issues you might want to consider when you submit a story to any magazine, anthology or similar creature.

What follows isn’t really aimed at the seasoned writer. Unless you’re so seasoned that you fear you’re fossilising. Nor do we pretend to be authorities on this sort of thing. We merely offer a few observations, which are meant to be helpful (that’s what they all say), and let you decide what you want to do. That way we end up in fewer court cases.

Firstly, we must raise an over-arching problem, the bane of many editors’ lives…

The Mystery Parcel

People do not follow the guidelines when it comes to the subject line of submission e-mails. Why is this important? With hundreds of emails, they have to be assigned to the right folders. If the subject line doesn’t say whether it’s a story, art or non-fiction, each email has to be opened to assign it. If there isn’t a title given in the subject line, then the editors and subs readers have to search and match the story to the name of the e-mail sender.

So we might get an email from hellkitten47 at aol.com, with no subject other than (maybe) the project name. We don’t know what’s attached, and if it’s a story, we don’t know what the story is called. There might be a story called The Lecherous Leprechaun by Amelia Susan Standish (Mrs). Or maybe a charcoal sketch of Sherlock Holmes eating a radish. It may even be cunningly disguised spam. Who knows? The temptation, which we try to resist, is to bin it.

Put simply, when you submit a story, absolute adherence to guidelines like this is the way to make sure that you at least end up in the correct folder.

That’s out of the way, then. So here are two other topics – The Strange Incident, and The Distressed Dame. These both relate to stories that we’ve had to reject. The first is general; the second is rather specific. If you disagree, feel free to comment – you may well know more than we do.

The Strange Incident

This is when you submit a story that doesn’t really have anything to it in terms of plot and internal drive. Typically, a Strange Incident story describes an event which may be unusual or unexpected, or an encounter where the sense of the weird predominates. It’s more of a situation report or an observation than a structured tale. ODQ receives a number of these, some of them really interesting. But…

You may have produced an unusual mood piece, but you have to be a pretty good writer, able to deliver high quality characterisation and atmosphere, to get away with it for publication. Some of what you might call the New Weird writers can do it. But we’re not all them.

And the longer the story you submit, the more any weakness here become apparent. Sometimes a short story can get away with sheer atmosphere. Sometimes.

We’re not against vignettes and slices of the strange, of mood pieces and almost poetic fragment. We love some of them, but this isn’t about individual taste. It’s about getting published.

On the whole, most magazines and anthologies are looking for something which does have a certain drive to it, which will satisfy the broad range of readers. They might take tales which are stylish meditations on the weird, but you have to research the market to know that it’s what they particularly want.

So if you must explore the strange incident, it has to be impressively done. Something odd which happens down the road is… just that, usually. Think about whether your submission is more of an exemplar of style rather than a story for which someone would pay. Because that’s the bottom line in many markets.

We had to decline a number of stories, even though they revolved around a weird concept which was different from the usual. We were actively looking for this sort of thing, and were always disappointed when we had to let one go. The point is that almost invariably in these cases, the concept was more interesting than the story. And that’s a hard one.

We wouldn’t want to discourage the flow of new ideas and approaches in weird literature. All we can ask is that when it comes to formal submissions, you consider aspects such as:

• Is this particular story the right vehicle for your concept?
• Do other people have any chance of grasping what you’re trying to express?
• Is it paced so that readers don’t merely drift away?
• Have you honed your writing skills enough yet to do your ideas justice?

If you submit a story which demonstrates a Yes to the above, you’re motoring, and in with a chance.

The Distressed Dame

Raymond Chandler is dead. Here’s one which hits ODQ a lot, but will happen when you submit a story to pulp, crime and mystery magazines as well. Whilst Pulp and New Pulp are popular, in a broader magazine there will only be room for one or two classic-style stories. The Private Investigator of the 30s, 40s and 50s is an iconic figure, and much loved, but he or she can also be a tired cliché.

This is a hard one. It can be done. With humour, or with a cunning twist or two, new life can be brought to the trope of the client turning up, and the PI getting drawn into a dangerous game. However, without twists, the world cannot bear many more strange women walking into offices unannounced, seedy offices which have ‘seen better days’, or PIs whose best friend is their Colts and their bottle of Jack Daniels.

That striking woman turning up can be a story killer to editors. It’s an image beloved of Bogartian cinema, and is so over-used that it easily becomes ludicrous. Here’s a quick checklist:

• Legs of an unfeasible length
• Breasts akin to geological promontories
• Dress or outfit which is tight, expensive, or both
• Hair which only comes in raven black, gleaming blonde or red
• Eyes which pierce or captivate rather than look at you

We get it. The approach is used to signal that we’re in that Pulp-y place, but it’s getting harder to cut it with that these days. Every so often a story will be satisfying enough, and the familiarity of an old trope will be pleasing. But are you sure you can carry it off?

If you’re not, adapt and invent. If you must have ‘a dick and a dame’ (excuse our language), entangle them in a new way. Revive old Chandler to do something different.

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You can find other greydogtales musings on writing for publication kicking around the site, as in the How to be a Bestselling Author series. Some of them may not be entirely serious, of course…

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Occult Detective Quarterly will be open for submissions again on February 1^st, which will be flagged up in the ODQ section on this site and on the Facebook Group (no more subs until then, please).

Their Coats All Red, a very specific concept anthology, has its own Facebook Group, Imperial Weird, and guidelines which can be found here:

New Call for Stories: Their Coats All Red

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We’ll return, dear listener, in a couple of days with more of the weird, in one form or another. And we’re delighted to say that Issue One of Occult Detective Quarterly is even now winging it’s way around the world. There’s a link on the right hand side bar, as usual.