Category

Short Stories

• Me, Short Stories, Writing

  Published Again: “Payday”

  12.29.09 | Permalink | Comment?

  Aldo Calcagno over at Darkest Before the Dawn has republished a story of mine called “Payday”. This story originally appeared in CrimeSpree Magazine, and it’s one of my favorites. I originally came up with the idea while stuck in traffic one evening. In a drowsy stupor I had the idea for a hit man who doesn’t really want the job.

  I envisioned this as being the perfect Plots With Guns story (sort of like David Allan Coe’s perfect country song) but Neil Smith went on hiatus before I could complete it. I’d always wanted a story in CrimeSpree, so there you are. I hope you enjoy it!

• Short Stories, Writing

  Alice

  07.19.07 | Permalink | 3 Comments

  Here’s a story that was posted last year at the late, lamented Flashing in the Gutters. I am pretty happy with the way it turned out, although in retrospect I think the opening is weak.

  Update: I decided to edit the opening paragraph, and I like it a lot better now. We will never speak of this again.

  Alice

  By Graham Powell

  The last time I saw her, it cost me my job. But that was a long time ago.

  I was fumbling with my mailbox key when I noticed her, sitting on one of the old chairs there in the foyer. She must have been there all day. She slowly stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her cheap dress. Her eyes were puffy and makeup had run down her face when she’d cried.

  “Steve…,” she said.

  We climbed the four flights to my apartment.

  I fixed up a pot of tea and we sat drank it in the living room, her in her rumpled dress, me in my work clothes reeking of sweat. We sat there silently for a while, just sitting and drinking, until I set my cup aside and said, “Why?”

  At first she didn’t move, just stared down at the worn spots in the carpet. Then she rubbed off the makeup and showed me why here eyes were puffy.

  I went into the bedroom and pulled open the dresser drawer. My baton was at the back, under the sweatshirts.

  The make a big deal out of taking away your badge and your gun, but I took my nightstick with me when I left, and they never missed it. Up close, it works as well as a Glock. Though it takes a bit longer.

  I carried it back into the other room. Alice was crying again, dun-colored tears dripping from her chin. “Who?” I said.

  She told me.

• Books, Reviews, Short Stories

  Reading Room

  08.02.06 | Permalink | 2 Comments

  I finally finished up Damn Near Dead, an anthology of geezer noir featuring writers such as Victor Gischler, Sean Doolittle, and Megan Abbott. It’s the brainchild of editor Duane Swierczynski and publisher David Thompson, and yes, alcohol was involved.

  The verdict? Damn near great. One of the best anthologies I’ve read recently, in fact. Gischler’s story is flat-out terrific, as is Abbott’s, and the rest are entertaining at the very least.

  One guy I have got to read more of: John Harvey. His story “Drummer Unknown” from Robert J. Randisi’s Murder And All That Jazz was the pick of the litter, and his story here (forgot the title – sorry!) is just as good, and, incidentally features another jazz drummer. Harvey is best known for his Charlie Resnick series, and I think that’s one I’ll enjoy.

  One of the books I came home from Con Misterio with was Mongo’s Back In Town by E. Richard Johnson. I was told it was an ultra-hardboiled crime story, and as a lover of old paperbacks, I was really looking forward to it, but as it turned out, I hated it! Loathed it, even! It sucked!

  Much of the story is told through narrative summary rather than action and dialog. The characters are stupid and cruel, which is not usually a drawback, unless they’re stupid, cruel, and boring as they are here. Not only that, but the author isn’t too swift either. A crucial plot point concerned the identity of a corpse. He’d already given Character A a freshly broken nose, which Character B didn’t have. But he didn’t use this to differentiate them. So run the other way.

  A paperback I did like was Ralph Dennis’ Hardman #4: Pimp For The Dead. Despite the unfortunate title and the packaging which implied a men’s adventure yarn, Pimp is actually a pretty straightforward detective story, set in Atlanta and making full use of local color. Jim Hardman is hardly (heh) a tough guy – instead he’s middle-aged and fat, though he knows how to swing a fist if he has to.

  Richard Moore recommended the series, and also wrote up a short bio of Dennis and a summary of his work. It’s well worth checking out.

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