Showing posts with label western. Show all posts
Showing posts with label western. Show all posts

Monday, 6 November 2017

Book Spotlight: The Dead Ride Fast

Today I have a book spotlight, for the collection of horror western short stories, The Dead Ride Fast by Jackson Kuhl. Enjoy!


The Dead Ride Fast by Jackson Kuhl



A gang of bank robbers arrives in a town where the local newspaper prints the future. A prospector discovers the cost of gold is the loss of himself. An abandoned ranch house conceals a dark history. An ailing sailor is initiated into a secret world after consuming an unusual medicine. A businessman reopens a silver mine that should have been left sealed. Two young girls confront a string of unnoticed disappearances.

The Dead Ride Fast collects five stories previously published in the award-winning magazine Black Static and various anthologies, including the Stoker-nominated Dark Tales of Lost Civilizations. An original story is also included.

Ghosts. Doppelgängers. Our guilty yesterdays and anxious tomorrows. Saddle up for six stories of existential dread on the haunted frontier.



The Dead Ride Fast is available as an e-book on AmazonSmashwords, and Kobo





Author Bio:

Jackson Kuhl is the author of the Revolutionary War biography SAMUEL SMEDLEY, CONNECTICUT PRIVATEER and the fiction collection THE DEAD RIDE FAST. Kuhl has written for Atlas Obscura, Connecticut Magazine, the Hartford Courant, National Geographic News, Reason, and other publications.

Website: http://www.jacksonkuhl.com/

Thursday, 23 March 2017

Interview with Author Benedict J. Jones

Today I have another interview, this time with multi-genre author, Benedict Jones. He stops by to chat about his books, and writing in the crime, horror and western genres. Enjoy!


Interview with Benedict J. Jones



Why don’t you begin by sharing a little about yourself.

Well, my name is Benedict J Jones and I’m a writer from London who works mainly in the genres of Crime, Horror, and the Western – often blending genres together. I’ve been published since 2008 and gradually worked my way up through various short story venues until Crime Wave Press published my novella “Skewered” and collected a fistful of my short fiction along with it in “Skewered: And Other London Cruelties”. Since then my Private Eye character, Charlie “Bars” Constantinou, has appeared in two novels from Crime Wave.
In amongst that I went back to my horror roots with a grind house novella from Dark Minds Press called “Slaughter Beach” and they also collected a bunch of my weird western tales in “Ride the Dark Country”.
When I’m not writing I work for a university assisting students all around the globe and try to travel and see as much of the world as I can. As well as that I read voraciously, watch an awful lot of films, and have an interest in martial arts.


Could you tell us a bit about your latest book?

My latest book is the novel – “The Devil’s Brew” and sees the return of my character Charlie Bars who has appeared in a clutch of short stories, as well as the novella “Skewered”, and the novel “Pennies for Charon”.
Unlike the previous stories it takes Charlie out of his comfort zone of the Badlands of south east London and plants him in the bleak and beautiful countryside of Northumbria, the most remote and sparsely populated county in England. In part, it deals with the mental fallout of the violence that Charlie has previously inflicted, and been on the receiving end of. It’s the run up to Christmas and as the weather turns colder Charlie finds himself caught up in a case of ritual horse mutilation and becomes the protector of a family in peril. You can expect a mix of rural noir and British folk horror – a kind of “Get Carter” meets “The Wicker Man”.


Do you have a favourite character? If so, why?

I think it would have to be Charlie Bars as he is the character that I have spent the most time with – three published short stories, half-a-dozen unpublished ones, a novella, two published novels (and a third one that is close to being completed).
What probably draws me to him is the amount of myself that I initially poured into him but since then he seems to have taken on a life of his own. I often wonder if we were sitting next to each other in a pub having a beer would we strike up a conversation – and, oddly, whether or not he’d like me. I’m not sure he would.
A lot of people have commented that it is his inherent decency that draws people to him which always surprises me as even before the stories start he has done some very bad things. But deep down he is a very moral man, albeit one whose morals don’t quite match up with those of society in general.


You write in several genres. Do you have a favourite? And if so, why?

Writing across several genres and occasionally mashing them up usually means that whichever one I’m writing in becomes my favourite at that moment. Really, the reason I write across genres and in several is that while sometimes they bring the same things most of the time they allow me to explore different aspects of people. The viewpoint of a lot of my fiction tends to be the dark but each genre allows a different approach to the human condition.
For example the western often lets me take a more heroic approach with someone who will stride into the danger allowing me show evil defeated in some way. Whereas my crime and horror fiction often revels in the darkness of the human condition – and can allow me to bring in fantastical elements as well.


Why did you write this book? What was your inspiration?

The initial inspiration for “The Devil’s Brew” was a single scene that came to me of Charlie walking alone down a country lane, twelve-bore shotgun over his shoulder, just as the snow begins to fall. I didn’t have a clue how I was going to use the scene but it stayed with me and I gradually began to think of how I could build a story around it. In the mean time I started what I intended to be a standalone crime novel about a criminal fleeing from London to hide out in the North East and ending up trying to help a nearby family. That began to run out of steam and I realised that the character I had used for it simply wasn’t driving the narrative – in steps Charlie, as he has a habit of doing.
I had already got a lot of information regarding the area from my good friend and fellow author Anthony Watson. The landscape of that area of England was a huge inspiration for the story.
As well as that I went and re-watched a lot of folk horror films (“The Wicker Man”, “Robin Redbreast”) as well as “Straw Dogs” which I think played a big influence on certain parts of the book.


Did anything surprise you about the process of writing your book?

I am always surprised about where a book goes once I start it. I normally have a few scenes in my head and usually have a point “A” to start from and a point “Z” I want to get to. What comes in between always surprises me!
In part that organic nature of the story is part of what brings me back to writing each time. I like the characters to grow and speak to me and, perhaps, diverge along paths that I hadn’t previously foreseen.
It’s extremely rare that I will plot a whole story out. I like to see where the words take me and what occurs to me as I write. This can sometimes be problematic and lead to stories stalling but on the whole I like it and I don’t think I could ever be one of those writers who plots every scene out before they start – but this is just what works for me, to each their own when it comes to the creative process.


When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?

That I think has always been with me. I have always written since I was old enough to hold a pen, and always made up stories in my head. When I was about nineteen I realised the urge and wrote a novella. Which then went into an envelope and onto a shelf. But the bug had truly bitten and I sporadically wrote pieces of short fiction which, again, I didn’t do much with.
Then about eleven years ago I decided that this was what I wanted to do and I got stuck into it. I wrote constantly and gradually began to work earlier ideas into readable stories. A ‘zine called “One Eye Grey” picked up my short story “Goin’ Underground” and then I just built from there.


How do you research your books?

That is very dependent on what I am writing. A lot of my crime fiction comes from things I see and have heard rather than from traditional research. But even in that there are things I want to know more about and get right. For instance, when I wrote “Pennies for Charon” I needed to brush up on my Greek myths, for “The Devil’s Brew” I watched documentaries on dog fighting and had a friend who lives in Northumbria send me pictures from his walks in some of the remote spots.
When it comes to my Westerns I probably do a lot more “book” research. Mainly because I hate seeing anachronisms in films or reading them in stories. One of my worst moments was when a reader of one of my early western shorts contacted me to say he thought that the hero fired one more shot than he had available to him. I checked and, well, let’s just say when the stories were collected for republication he fired one less… Thanks for spotting that one Ross Warren!


What’s your next project? Any upcoming book secrets you care to reveal?

I am working with putting the final touches to the next Charlie Bars book. This one touches on the British political establishment and one of the dark scandals that has dogged it for years. It is my attempt to make sense of certain things that have come to light and wondered how the hell they could have been allowed to happen. Mix in some British gangsters, the shady world of post 9/11 espionage and Charlie is once again up to his neck in grief.
Apart from that I have returned to my horror roots and have a couple of short stories coming out in a pair of projects that look to be very exciting. I’m also still working away on a pair of longer length works set during the second world – so many things on the go and so little time.


You can find all of Benedict Jones' books on his Amazon page.



About the Author:
Benedict J. Jones is an author of crime, horror and western fiction from south east London. His work has been published in various anthologies and magazines. Since 2008, he has published almost thirty short stories. His books include, Skewered: And other London Cruelties, Pennies for Charon, and The Devil's Brew
Check out his website for further info: www.benedictjjones.webs.com or follow Benedict on twitter @benedictjjones.

Wednesday, 1 March 2017

Drabble Wednesday: Past Silliness

Today on Drabble Wednesday I yank a few things out of the vault due to a busy schedule. Read on for some silliness...





 Lassie Comes Home

Across a field of emerald grass, a white and golden collie loped, barking furiously. The tired farmer, Jim, looked up from his weeding and sighed.
“Dagnabbit, Timmy’s down the well again!”
“Shoot!” His wife spit on the ground. “That’s the second time this week, Clem. I don’t know what we’re going to do about him.”
Jim let out another sigh. “Yep. Our alien masters missed the mark cloning that boy. He’s dumb as a sack of rocks.” He waved to the dog, who stopped and sat back on his haunches. “Come on, Lassie, show me where he is this time.”

~*~




Just Short of Eureka

Being sheriff of Dry Patch ain’t easy. Not with these crazy inventors running ‘round the town making wild contraptions near every week. Lands sakes, today they had a three wheeled stagecoach running down Main Street!
Course now, those mad scientists did come in handy the time I had to arrest Black-Eyed Pete. Those tin-plated smoke gadgets they conjured flushed out that outlaw from the stables slick as could be, and the varmint stumbled out a coughin’ like he had the consumption.  
Now if I could just get ‘em to stop explodin’ things, the town would be a mite more peaceful.

~*~




Talking with Fish

Stupid nosy neighbour!  A pox on him and his dumb cell phone! A person can’t leave their kitchen curtains open these days!
He showed me the video yesterday. Clear as day, with me using my magic pendant while chatting with Percy, my talking, puce-coloured carp. I tried to laugh it off, but conjuring a shower of gold from thin air is hard to explain.
The weasel threatened to sell the video to the tabloids if I don’t cut him in on the wealth. I may have to pay him off, unless I can get him to drink this poisoned tonic.





© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved


Wednesday, 7 May 2014

Short Story Month: Into the West

Another offering for May's short story month, a tale of treachery in the Old West...




Into the West

The squeak of the pointlessly spinning wheel echoed in the desert. Sunlight faded on the horizon, throwing shadows against the remains of the overturned stagecoach and the crumpled bodies that sprawled among its ruins. The dust of the robbers swirled in the distance, as those murdering varmints fled into the hills with their ill-gotten spoils, the payroll meant for the miners of Cedar Gulch...

Davy slurped back his whiskey. “Somethin’ happened to the stage, Roscoe. It ain't like Joe to be this late. It’s mornin’ for heaven’s sake and he was due last night.”
The bartender nodded. “I know, but it could be they just had a broken wheel or somethin’. Don’t mean there’s trouble. `Sides, the Marshall and his posse rode out to see.”
“It’ll be bad news, Roscoe, you’ll see. Bad news.”

An hour later, one of the men who rode out with Marshall Collins came back to town. Davy watched the man ride to Ed’s, the undertaker for Cedar Gulch, and he kept watching, seeing the man leave town later, accompanied by Ed, his two helpers and their large wagon.
Davy burst back into the saloon. “I knew it! It’s bad! One of the posse just came and got the undertaker! Them that was on the stage is dead!”
A burly man jumped to his feet. “Tarnation and spit! What about the payroll!”
“Now, now, simmer down Uriah, we don’t know nothin’ for sure.” Roscoe chided the man and he sat back down. “There ain't nothin’ we can do but wait and see.”
He motioned Davy over to the bar and poured him a drink.
Davy took the whiskey. “Poor Joe.”

Cedar Gulch was in an uproar by the time Marshall Collins rode back into town, two days later and empty handed. He had pursued the robbers into the hills only to find more dead bodies and no money. This lackluster homecoming had him facing angry townsfolk and frustrated miners, and a grilling at a hastily called town meeting.
“What happened, Marshall?”
“Where’s the payroll?”
“Are there killers on the loose?”
Questions bounded at him like a cold north wind and Marshall Collins shouted above the din. “Quiet down now, quiet down! I’ll tell you all what I know.”
He waited until the voices subsided and continued. “As you all have heard, the stage was robbed of the payroll a few days ago and four good men were killed. Their families have my sympathies.” He nodded solemnly at the widows.
“Me and my men chased after those rotten miscreants, four men in all by their tracks. We followed them into the hills, only to discover more dead men.”
A gasp rose from the gathering.
“It looks as though there was a falling out among the thieves that led one man gunning down his three confederates in their sleep. Near as I can figure, that last thief made off with the cash. Unfortunately we lost his trail and he’s in the wind.”
Angry cries soared from the crowd and the Marshall spent the next several minutes placating the multitude and dispersing the crowd before it turned into a mob. The citizens disbanded, shuffling slowly to their homes and businesses, but a feeling of discontent hung still over the town.

Inside his saloon, down in his basement, Roscoe patted the not so empty barrel where the stolen payroll lay hidden and smiled. He knew the Marshall would keep looking for the last robber, but he also knew that man lay buried in the desert outside town with a bullet in his head.
Served him right for trusting me.
Now Roscoe didn't have to split the money with anyone, and no one could rat him out for being the mastermind behind the stage robbery. In a few months, he’d give them all a sob story about kin back east being sick. Then he and the money would disappear, and leave Cedar Gulch behind.
He chuckled to himself and went upstairs to serve the duped townsfolk their whiskey.


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