Category: SGJ

Walking through his own house at night, a twelve-year-old thinks he sees another person stepping through a doorway. Instead of the people who could be there, his mother or his brother, the figure reminds him of his long-gone father, who died mysteriously before his family left the reservation. When he follows it he discovers his house is bigger and deeper than he knew.

The house is the kind of wrong place where you can lose yourself and find things you’d rather not have. Over the …

What do you do when your dreams come true? When you were twelve, camping out in the back yard, you told your best friend that if he could draw a superhero good enough, you’d give him the perfect words to say. And then it didn’t just happen, there’s even action figures now. Your comic book is on every shelf. And you live beside your best friend again. Your kids even play together, with those action figures. Watch them on the lawn, there. Take a snapshot, and then look over their heads, o…

“The Night Cyclist by Stephen Graham Jones is a horror novelette about a middle-aged chef whose nightly bicycle ride home is interrupted by an unexpected encounter.” A Tor.com original e-book, edited by Ellen Datlow. Thought up one night when I was cycling home at night, faster and faster, because I was pretty sure there was something faster behind me. As happens.

Order here / read here. Read reviews here (Goodreads)  |  LitReactor list

This must by my first post about food, ever. Anyway, was just commenting on a friend’s pic of a some pie on Facebook—can’t link to it, but the Instagram’d version’s here—and realized that the reason I have yet to try keylime pie (that’s what the pie in question was), even though I promised myself to after it looked halfway-good in Million Dollar Baby/on Clint Eastwood’s fork is that new food terrifies me like little else. Seriously. M…

This is from Murder by the Book—which shuttered up as soon as I was done, as the rain was coming down, and Houston’s understandably pretty water-shy this summer, and where we were was evidently a place that goes lake just when the humidity gets high enough.

That’s the with-specs shot. Here’s the without,where I suspect I’m, for reasons not really know, explaining Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle to the tolerant audience:

And yes, that’…

Me in my office, playing with all things werewolf related. At least those I could reach without getting out of the camera’s eye. Also some talking, some reading, some injudicious swaying from side to side, like I just spilled koolaid on the couch but nobody knows about it, and I really-really need to get outside, like acres away, and play for about fifty-four hours:

…

Do people say that, “IN” the ABQ, the same way people will identify with a certain area code? Really, I kind of doubt I’m the proper age to try it out, even if it is a thing. But the three-digit rhythm feels right, anyway. As did Mongrels at Bookworks:

And, what was cool? They broke out ALL the yellow books:

What else was cool was seeing an ex-student there (hey, Sarena!). And Lee Francis, to talk comic books long after the books were signed (I’ll be at his in…

get it here

“Even as Stephen Graham Jones generates a dizzying range of brilliant fiction, his work has remained strikingly absent from scholarly conversations about Native and western American literature, owing to his unapologetic embrace of popular genres such as horror and science fiction. Steeped in dense narrative references, literary and historical allusions, and experimental postmodern stylings, his fiction informs a broad array of literary and popu…

I wish I’d taken more pictures. A part of my heart is still with each of these trucks. I remember dragging a chain out of the bed and leaving a big gouge on the bed rail of one. I remember loading a piano into one of the tall ones, in the sun, when I wasn’t sure I had gas money to get home. I remember a dog I picked up one day to get it a little farther down the road, and how it kept biting me and biting me. I remember pulling over in the ditch to write. I remember working through the ni…