Monday, 5 August 2013


Welcome to my short story collection. Here you’ll encounter an atomic-powered crustacean named Albert, a nutty private eye tale, and my version of how an actress won a golden statuette – amongst other things.

This collection also gathers my three blog series – the NEON, INCOMPLETE, and LYGHTNYNG REPORTS FROM A FUGITIVE. Chronicles of my entry into the world of self-publishing, with serialised fiction and an author interview thrown into the mix. The REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE blog won’t be around for eternity. (Shocking, I know.) So bundling the content with short stories allows my readers to tackle the material in a Kindle-friendly manner.

I’ve included excerpts from the fragmentary novels curled*skin and ten tales of old japan*or lies if you prefer, as well as future projects slim*thriller and not hamlet. Step into my incomplete uncollected world, and savour the atmosphere.


The City. Colan’s Place stayed open late that night, but only for old friends. The CLOSED sign held would-be customers and city-street-cold at bay. Way in back, in one of those booths, an incorruptible foursome sat around an imaginary campfire, and reminisced.
   In the tradition of the girls powdering their noses, the girls powdered their noses. The guys groaned at the amount of food they couldn’t believe they’d just packed in. They had absolutely no good reason to groan at the quality.
   Adrienne and Rosalind finished powdering their noses and caught up on gossip-snippets concerning, who else, Judy Cosmic. Meanwhile, Gene and Kirb raised their glasses, and, satisfied each could still see through ’em, popped said spectacles back where they did most good. They trotted out toasts and grew all nostalgic.
   “Old superheroes never die.”
   “Nor should they.”
   “Here’s to the fallen, and to those what tripped.”
   “Hear hear.”
   “What were Visible Lad’s powers anyhow?”
   “Well he was fairly visible, had to hand him that much.”


INCOMPLETE UNCOLLECTED SHORT WORKS. This isn’t where it all began, but the book will pass for as-near-as-damn-it. Contains quite a lot of juvenile humour, and some rude words you wouldn’t necessarily use around the kitchen. Unless you’d matched hand to hotplate.

116,000 words. Blog-related material released prior to publication constitutes 30,000 words.

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