K. Marvin Bruce

I remember reading an interview with Joe Hill, Stephen King’s son.  It was when I was reading his perfectly titled Heart-Shaped Box .  In the interview he mentioned the kinds of things he thinks about when out and about in the world.  His macabre thoughts are similar to mine. Joe Hill, however, is a bestselling author.  His father is one of the most successful writers currently alive.  Even though Stephen King writes other than horror occasionally, now that October’s nearly over his classic works come to mind. As does the dilemma of the unknown writer.  My parents don’t write.  One of them is deceased, so that is probably a good thing, but neither one of them was educated and writing is not something either enjoys/ed.  Nobody could tell me how to get published. I started writing at a young age.  I attempted my first novel in middle school.  It was also the first manuscript I ever tore up.  I’ve had eighteen short stories published, mostly in online form on websites few hav

I have a problem with writing.  Actually, I have a problem with sleeping that leads to a problem with writing. I’m a morning person.  My circadian rhythms are chirping away at about 3 a.m.  I’m usually up and writing by 3:30 because I commute and I don’t live too close to the city.  This has become my habit.  I’m sleepy most of the time so I try to “sleep in” on weekends.  I’m up before 5 anyway. The problem is when I sleep in my mind is less sharp.  I get out of bed less tired, but less inspired.  I spend so much of the rest of the week weary that I look forward to that couple extra hours of slumber only to discover that the days I don’t have to commute I can’t write well.  What to do? I know that writers, historically, have kept idiosyncratic hours.  Staying up nights drinking, and such.  In today’s culture of running in place just to pay the rent, that’s not really an option.  Other people at work wonder why I don’t stay late.  Getting your work done is never enough.

I have a problem with writing.  Actually, I have a problem with sleeping that leads to a problem with writing. I’m a morning person.  My circadian rhythms are chirping away at about 3 a.m.  I’m usually up and writing by 3:30 because I commute and I don’t live too close to the city.  This has become my habit.  I’m sleepy most of the time so I try to “sleep in” on weekends.  I’m up before 5 anyway. The problem is when I sleep in my mind is less sharp.  I get out of bed less tired, but less inspired.  I spend so much of the rest of the week weary that I look forward to that couple extra hours of slumber only to discover that the days I don’t have to commute I can’t write well.  What to do? I know that writers, historically, have kept idiosyncratic hours.  Staying up nights drinking, and such.  In today’s culture of running in place just to pay the rent, that’s not really an option.  Other people at work wonder why I don’t stay late.  Getting your work done is never enough.

Advice from writers to writers is cheap.  I try not to give advice beyond “there’s no right or wrong way to write,” but still I’m influenced by others who say how to write.  After all, you have to please others, no? I’ve been told you have to write short to write long.  The idea being that if your short pieces get noticed then you’ll be in a position to say more.  (I.e., write short stories before trying a novel.)  Then I asked a New York Times bestselling author.  He said, “If I had done that, I’d have never gotten published.” Another chestnut we’re freely given is that we shouldn’t make our readers work to understand us.  Pander to the reader.  This past week I started to read a novel, again a New York Times bestseller, and some thirty pages in I still have no idea what’s going on.  Now, I do hold a doctorate in the humanities so I think I know how to read.  Somebody’s bucking the advice and making plenty of bucks at it. A book editor, on a publishing website, says nev

The other day I asked a friend to define “gothic.”  Heavy, dark, supernatural—these were a few of the words suggested.  When autumn comes my thoughts turn gothic, and I’m always looking for good gothic things to read. I have blogged in the past about how reading literature that isn’t great is good.  I’m serious about that.  You can learn a lot by reading poor writing.  Some gothic literature is more the former than the latter.  Like Dark Shadows novels. Dark Shadows was running on daytime television when I was a child.  As a teen I began to read the novelizations, by Marilyn Ross, whenever I could find them.  Belles lettres they’re not.  Gothic, most decidedly so.  That’s why I keep coming back to them.  They aren’t scary.  In fact, they’re formulaic and predictable.  But so, so gothic. Spooky mansions, the Maine woods, forlorn vampire, faded wealth.  Even, yes, dark shadows.  The stories create a mood I find difficult to locate elsewhere. Inspired by the most r

I’m pleased to announce my latest piece has appeared in Corvus Review 6; you can read it here: http://nebula.wsimg.com/47de969e212ebf15837556bcc515fc67?AccessKeyId=3C22B84D674D5BA7A77D&disposition=0&alloworigin=1 As usual when I have a story published, I give a few hints as to what was going through my mind here.  “Last Train from New York,” in addition to being one of my most rejected stories, is also one of my favorites.  It’s personal. While I’ve never been on a haunted train, knowingly, the story came to me through a confluence of unfortunate events.  I lost a job quite unexpectedly—my first job in New York City.  The story is primarily about how it feels to lose a job.  This particular trauma was my third professional job lost because of circumstances. Yep, that’s blood. The story also has roots in reality.  Once, on a New Jersey Transit train, my family jumped on board the first car.  We were on our way to the airport and didn’t want to haul our luggage