Letters from Meg— October
October is my favorite month. I like spooks and scares, I love when the summer in the Bay finally breaks and gives up its hot, sticky ghost. This October I got published a ton, and that only makes it better. Above is an image from the first ever issue of a new horror magazine called Red Room. I sold them my first professional horror story, about a kid who becomes a YouTube star without knowing what it will do to his life. It feels good to give spooks after a lifetime of loving them. Also, the magazine itself is beautifully laid out and made, and I love having it on my coffee table so that guests can casually notice it and flip through it and say, Hey! You're in here! I am! There's also an interview in there with me. NBD.
I had the extremely giggly pleasure of talking about Black Widow spiders with the Drunk Safari podcast, and also a bit about oysters and sex. Read the label, folks, and don't be too shocked. I also got to tell my scary story about the Webster Street tunnel to Inciting a Riot, so listen to that if you want me to ruin your commute.
I was invited this year to the home of journalist Peter Finch for his legendary Halloween scary story party. I contributed to the spooks there, too, with a story about the Golden Gate Bridge and the way we are haunted by everyday objects. I told my story on the cliffs above Half-Moon bay, with the fog drifting into a eucalyptus grove there along the shore. We all shared our stories, real and imagined, as the sun set over the target-practice structures left on the beach since WWII. I won the informal contest, taking as my prize Loren Rhoads' beautiful coffee table book, 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die. I was lucky enough to perform with Ms. Rhoads just after that, at another scary story night at Martuni's in San Francisco, as part of the Literary Speakeasy series. It's one of my favorite ongoing literary events in the city, and I try to go as often as I can.
Speaking of fun literary events I can't stop going to, I won Shipwreck at the beginning of this month at the Booksmith! This month's wrecked work was Ira Levin's The Stepford Wives. This was a tricky book to write for, since the competition allows for no sex acts to take place without consent, and I couldn't see the acts of femmebots as consenting. I turned in a wry little piece of rage that freed Ruthanne Hendry from the bullshit of sexism and racism in one neat trick. My victory means I'll defend my title at next month's event, and Booksmith always goes #DeepDickens for December. So please join me as I do unspeakable things to A Tale of Two Cities on December 7th. It's going to be the best of times and the worst of times, I promise.
Since I can't get enough Booksmith in my life, I'm also moderating a conversation with the creators of Welcome to Night Vale there on Thursday night. That's going to be a great time beneath the terrifying maw of the Smiling God, so hum along if you know the song of the glowcloud.
And while a god is still smiling, it is with great pride that I share my first story in Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine. I can remember reading this magazine in libraries and waiting rooms when I was ten, when I was twelve, and getting my mind blown absolutely every time. I would see names on the cover like Ursula K. LeGuin or Isaac Asimov and thinking one day that will be me. In a world where magazines and podcasts and lit mags open and close like clams, a magazine with 70 years of publication behind it that's still around and finding the best stories the genre has to offer is incredible. To be able to point at the cover and say that's me, right now, this is real life, is a fiery pride I can scarcely put words to. This autumn, more than ever, I am living my dream life. There's no other way to say that.
More dream life: I got two stories published online this month that you can read for FREE! The first is one called Good Days, published by online mag Empyreome, and it's about youth and how we spend it. Someone who knows me well and reads me closely showed me the Justin Timberlake movie In Time, and the themes are similar but mine probably won't bring sexy back. The other is on Motherboard, and it's about what happens when humans get access to artificial womb technology. It's called Hysteria, which is kind of a joke if you know what the word means.
I hope your October was as creepy-wonderful as mine. I can't believe 2017 is almost over, but I also can't wait until it is. We're almost there. Hold my hand while the last of this thing burns down. Next year is going to be so much better.
Writing from the heart of the flame,
Meg
I had the extremely giggly pleasure of talking about Black Widow spiders with the Drunk Safari podcast, and also a bit about oysters and sex. Read the label, folks, and don't be too shocked. I also got to tell my scary story about the Webster Street tunnel to Inciting a Riot, so listen to that if you want me to ruin your commute.
I was invited this year to the home of journalist Peter Finch for his legendary Halloween scary story party. I contributed to the spooks there, too, with a story about the Golden Gate Bridge and the way we are haunted by everyday objects. I told my story on the cliffs above Half-Moon bay, with the fog drifting into a eucalyptus grove there along the shore. We all shared our stories, real and imagined, as the sun set over the target-practice structures left on the beach since WWII. I won the informal contest, taking as my prize Loren Rhoads' beautiful coffee table book, 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die. I was lucky enough to perform with Ms. Rhoads just after that, at another scary story night at Martuni's in San Francisco, as part of the Literary Speakeasy series. It's one of my favorite ongoing literary events in the city, and I try to go as often as I can.
Speaking of fun literary events I can't stop going to, I won Shipwreck at the beginning of this month at the Booksmith! This month's wrecked work was Ira Levin's The Stepford Wives. This was a tricky book to write for, since the competition allows for no sex acts to take place without consent, and I couldn't see the acts of femmebots as consenting. I turned in a wry little piece of rage that freed Ruthanne Hendry from the bullshit of sexism and racism in one neat trick. My victory means I'll defend my title at next month's event, and Booksmith always goes #DeepDickens for December. So please join me as I do unspeakable things to A Tale of Two Cities on December 7th. It's going to be the best of times and the worst of times, I promise.
Since I can't get enough Booksmith in my life, I'm also moderating a conversation with the creators of Welcome to Night Vale there on Thursday night. That's going to be a great time beneath the terrifying maw of the Smiling God, so hum along if you know the song of the glowcloud.
And while a god is still smiling, it is with great pride that I share my first story in Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine. I can remember reading this magazine in libraries and waiting rooms when I was ten, when I was twelve, and getting my mind blown absolutely every time. I would see names on the cover like Ursula K. LeGuin or Isaac Asimov and thinking one day that will be me. In a world where magazines and podcasts and lit mags open and close like clams, a magazine with 70 years of publication behind it that's still around and finding the best stories the genre has to offer is incredible. To be able to point at the cover and say that's me, right now, this is real life, is a fiery pride I can scarcely put words to. This autumn, more than ever, I am living my dream life. There's no other way to say that.
More dream life: I got two stories published online this month that you can read for FREE! The first is one called Good Days, published by online mag Empyreome, and it's about youth and how we spend it. Someone who knows me well and reads me closely showed me the Justin Timberlake movie In Time, and the themes are similar but mine probably won't bring sexy back. The other is on Motherboard, and it's about what happens when humans get access to artificial womb technology. It's called Hysteria, which is kind of a joke if you know what the word means.
I hope your October was as creepy-wonderful as mine. I can't believe 2017 is almost over, but I also can't wait until it is. We're almost there. Hold my hand while the last of this thing burns down. Next year is going to be so much better.
Writing from the heart of the flame,
Meg
Don't miss what's next. Subscribe to Letters from Meg: