K. Marvin Bruce

My first story in Jersey Devil Press was about literary wish-fulfillment.  The idea was that, if someone loved literature enough, it would literally come alive whenever a book was opened.  As someone who has always wanted to have a published novel, this was the most guilty pleasure I could imagine. For those of us who write, everyday reality can often be painful.  We work jobs whose sole objective, on most days, seems to be to crush the very creativity from us.  I awake inspired every morning, and return from work each day completely emptied and dispirited.  Life, but not as we know it. “Literary Ops” was a story of profound hope.  Although the protagonists awake each day to various, historic world empires attempting to destroy their home (let the reader who has eyes to see understand) they may rebuff attacks by knowing just which author calms the marauding hordes.  In my dreams, life is that simple. In today’s business-driven world, the...

A lifetime in higher education has taught me that connections, not authenticity, make a writer.  At least in society’s eyes.  If you can afford the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, doors will be thrown open for you.  Don’t you dare being born a nobody, though. I’ve been writing since I was a teenager, unconnected, in a small town.  My teachers praised my work but really had no experience with publishing.  Stories moldered away in a dilapidated cardboard box stuck in a ratty, unused upstairs room until the bulldozers threatened and I had to haul them away. I grew up without much.  I had an armload of books for friends and I wrote tales that no one ever read.  This kind of thing doesn’t get you a job.  In a small town with no bookstore—or even a library—I never heard of literary journals; I didn’t even hear of journals period until I got to college.  First generation.  Thoroughly confused.  Nobody has to teach you how not to kn...

The first story I actually had accepted for publication was “Hide and Seek.”  It appeared in Danse Macabre XXXIII, Erzählungen (March 2010).  Danse Macabre subsequently changed servers, and my story is no longer available there.  I’m hoping eventually to have some of my short stories republished in a collection, but first I have to get more of my short stories published period. I remember clearly the inspiration for “Hide and Seek.”  One day during lunch I’d wandered to the space around a vacant building.  It was one of those single-story, multi-purpose monstrosities with no real character or charm.  The parking lot had weeds breaking through the pavement, and the building on either side, probably built by overly optimistic speculators, also stood vacant.  It was rather peaceful. Having been a writer since a very young age, I habitually carry either paper or a notebook in my pocket.  I found a bench with chipping paint, sat down...

Vardøger, the title of my story published in Danse Macabre XLVI, Morgenblätter (May 2011), is based on an actual phenomenon.  The word itself is Norwegian for that experience of hearing someone arrive before they actually do.  It is common, and bizarre. There was an alley between our house and the next, through which we had to drive to park our car.  Since the alley was shared by the neighbors, we quickly learned the signature sound of each make of car.  You could tell who was home based on which car trundled up between the buildings. When my wife shopped for groceries, I helped carry them inside.  Naturally, on the days she went to the store, I kept an ear out for our car in the alley.  More than once I’ve dashed to the door after hearing her pull in, only to find no car there.  The sound seemed real enough; I’d never thought to try to record it since it is a daily sound.  Every once in a while, however, it was Vardøger. Folk trad...

Some years back, I remember, there was not inconsiderable clamor over J. K. Rowling’s confession that Professor Dumbledore was gay.  Having been teethed on po-mo fare, this struck me as very odd indeed.  Yes, Rowling had invented the character, but he was dead by the end of Harry Potter’s series, and his sexual orientation seemed a moot point. Having written a few novels myself (don’t run to the bookstore, fantasy readers, for only one has been accepted for publication), I know how attached writers grow to their characters.  We are their gods, creating them, nurturing them, punishing and sometimes killing them.  We know them better than anyone.  Or do we? Every thought takes on a life of its own.  Writers think worlds into being.  The problem with thinking worlds into being is not dissimilar from being a parent.  You bring a new creature into life, but that child has a life of her own.  You can only make decisions up to a poin...

Sometime back in the Nixon administration, I began writing my first fiction.  Although I had vague thoughts of publishing it, I had no idea what would be involved or that it would take me nearly forty years to accomplish it.  Writing is for those who have a very long view. I began by writing short stories.  A few were published in my high school newspaper, but since I was the editor that probably doesn’t count.  Teachers encouraged me to get published for real, although they didn’t really know how either.  Living in a small town you can still dream big.  It’s just a bit more difficult to pull it off. Danse Macabre is a great online magazine.  I submitted a macabre Christmas tale, “O Tannenbaum,” that won the 2009 prix d’écriture de Noël in Fiction.  The story was subsequently removed from the web when Danse Macabre changed servers, but it has a special place in my heart as the first piece someone other than myself considered worthy of ...

Even as my latest rejection letter arrives, I’m finishing up my fifth novel.  I have this sneaking suspicion that editors just don’t get me.  I’ve written (almost) five complete novels and only Vagabondage Press has given an inkling of encouragement. Well, it may be that my writing sucks.  I’m willing to admit that as a possibility.  The problem is everyone from high school English teachers to professional writers say the opposite.  The editors, however, hold the keys. My next novel is about the gods.  When Neil Gaiman writes a novel about gods it becomes a best seller.  I’ve spent a lifetime studying gods.  When I write such a novel, I’ll have a hard time getting a publisher even to open the email.  I won’t stop trying, though.  To be a writer, you’ve got to take the reins. Those of us who write, do so because of who we are.  Those who get paid for their work are lucky, at first.  To be a writer “successfully” me...