Black Candies – Surveillance

I’m proud to present the third issue of the literary horror journal which I edit: Black Candies – Surveillance.

We’re never alone. Paranoia has replaced privacy. Secrets are the new currency. The strangers who watched from the street now watch from within. For this issue of Black Candies, we found 11 smart, terrifying stories that explore the theme of “Surveillance” in explicit, implicit and abstract ways. These stories not only touch on the contradiction of the securities of our modern era, but unearth the deeper terror, paranoia, and anxiety that results.

There are a lot of new things I tried with this issue, including full-bleeds and two-page spreads for the illustrations. This is also the first time that I’ve used Createspace, a decision that I came to after reading Cameron Pierce’s (publisher of Lazy Fascist Press) novella “The Snakes of Boring,”—printed with Createspace—and being very impressed with the quality.

I also feel like I stretched my editorial muscles with this one. In the past, I’ve had the fortune of falling back on co-editors, and that’s probably made me a little less confident in my editing skills. I was lucky enough to have a group of writers who were very patient and willing to build their pieces where I thought they should be developed, or push back when appropriate. The resulting camaraderie among writers in the book (at least from what I can tell on social media) is pretty amazing—unlike anything I’ve experienced with a publication.

There’s also a new Facebook page where we’re gonna post info about upcoming issues, ways to submit, etc.

And here’s a rad thing: You can read Angus McIntyre’s “Someone To Watch Over Me” over at Boing Boing!


Here are Black Candies’ authors: 

Angus McIntyre
Valerie E. Polichar
Julia Evans
Gabriela Santiago
Melissa Gutierrez
Berit Ellingsen
Jake Arky
Matt Lewis
Chris Curtis
Kevin Sampsell
Ron Gutierrez
Wade Pavlick

Here are the artists: 

Adam Vieyra
Carabella Sands
Andrew McGranahan
Laura Gwynne
Carrie Anne Hudson
Thanks y’all. I hope you enjoy it.

bcsurveillancecover

 

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Horror Business: Julia Evans

Horror Business is a novel I that wrote. It’s coming out in February 2015. Horror movies play a huge role in the narrative.

“Horror Business” is a sporadic column where I ask influential/invaluable writers and people of interest the following question: What scene from a movie has scared/troubled/shaken you the most?

As some of you may know, I serve as a volunteer/Creative Director for a nonprofit literary group called So Say We All in San Diego, and one of the creations to spring forth from that organization is the monthly live reading series called VAMP (Visual, audio, monologue/performance). Authors submit and, once accepted, are subjected to a month-long bootcamp of workshopping, editing and performance coaching. I can’t tell you h0w much my own writing has benefited from this regimen.

For those who always dreamed of being a writer but never had the support or inclination, it’s usually a heartening process that rewards people who are willing to put in the work. But every now and then someone comes along whose talent is so natural, so nonchalant—someone who infuriatingly just gets it, that you can’t help but feel jealous every time you read their work. Julia Evans is one of those people.

No doubt, Evans’ writing is dark, but it’s also sad and funny—and she somehow weighs those precarious emotions with a sense of unease. The honesty with which she writes about marriage, family or motherhood is admirable, if not a tad collar-pulling. She’s not afraid to paint herself as an unlikeable character, which is probably on par with “loving horror movies” as a way to my heart.

Check out her  story “Leona Never Happened,” published in Hobart earlier this year. She’s also got a story in States of Terror, an monster anthology featuring creatures, folklore and legends from each state in the USA. That’s coming out in November.

julia

What scene from a movie has scared/troubled/shaken you the most?

JE: My fear is a many-branched thing. There’s the obvious things, things that make me either realistically, physically afraid in situations where I’d once felt safe (I’m thinking of a scene in the recent final season of BBC’s Luther, where a psychopath freakishly murders a random couple together in their own home), or the types of circumstances that I’m unlikely to get myself in to (that murderous threesome chainsaw scene in American Psycho and my heart is racing just thinking about it).

Then there are the less obvious things, things that aren’t exactly scary. The stuff that fills me with more intrusive, obsessive fear than a chainsaw threesome. In my youth, it was always stuff like dying kids, divorce: the kind of tragedy I didn’t have in my life, but only thanks to sheer probability. The kind of plot lines that would make me look around and count my friends because one in five of us would surely die soon. Now it’s the farfetched worst-case scenarios. The potential of a flick of a wrist on a highway overpass. Accidentally killing someone. Back to the dying kids.

Natanya Ann Pulley’s Horror Business post got me thinking about that too-early horror, when we’re too young to process it, too young to be soothed by the make-up, the fiction, the sensationalism of it all. For me, it’s the Hitchhiker scene from Creepshow II. I’ve chased this memory before.

I was raised in a small, sheltered village in rural England. It was the 1980s and America was an oddity, this twangy, saturated beast in denim and golden curls. I was somewhere between age 5, when the Glaisters moved to town, and maybe age 8, when Emma Glaister got her own tv set in her room. Because before that, we’d watch the telly with her teenage brother. One afternoon, he said he wanted to show us something “right funny.”

I don’t remember much of the plot. I remember a darkened highway, an American car, a solo woman. It’s always a solo woman. There’s a shredded, mangled figure, bits and pieces of dangling undead flesh or maybe they were fresh wounds. It was the idea that something dead could seek me out, sneak up on me, or, I don’t even know, drip on me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared or grossed out, and maybe this chilling reaction as a too-young child solidified what would be a lifelong aversion to the zombie genre, to the idea of the undead. I just tried to rewatch the clip and stopped it right when the woman looks behind her a second time and the waving, distant hitchhiker had disappeared. I couldn’t go on to see when he pops up right next to her. Is it because, when I watched it at 8, I didn’t know enough to know that it was pretend? I don’t want to feel that again.

And then, probably thanks to repression, I can only hear the hitchhiker’s voice.

Well, it’s muddled with Emma’s brother’s voice, relentless, teasing, preying upon two scared kids, and (notably) a terrible attempt at an American accent. He was actually kind of cheery. “Thanks for the ride, lady!

I watched the full American Psycho chainsaw scene a few hours ago in my car, parked on a darkened side street downtown. My heart still raced but all I really feared was that a passerby might think I was watching porn. But I still can’t face the hitchhiker.

hitchhiker

Please buy Black Candies or my entire life will turn out to be a sham

bcseethroughcoverI’ve been working on this anthology—Black Candies: See Through—for the better half of 2013. Really proud of it. Feels like a lot of blood has gone into it.

It’s weird because, even though I don’t have any writing in this one, it feels very personal. I will call myself a horror fan, but I find the “horror” tag pretty reductive in general. When people think of “horror” they think genre, blood and guts, vampires, monsters, whatever. The stories in “See Through” represent my favorite kind of writing—haunting, funny, weird, dark, lyrical. One of my favorite things about editing these books is soliciting writers who aren’t necessarily known for dark writing and letting them loose. We all have it in us, and those that can indulge in “genre” (even though that’s not really as defined or stigmatized anymore) are my kind of people.

(Click here for list of contributors)

Also, this year marks a turn in Black Candies that I’m particularly proud of: we have more women writers than men. As I’ve said before, I don’t want that to a point of diplomacy or a shallow attempt at political correctness, but more of a correction to my personal reading habits. I would love for Black Candies to correct the trajectory of male-dominated lit journals, and that we’re a horror anthology—a genre where women are notoriously underrepresented—that’s incredibly exciting. I have to give a big shout-out to Roxane Gay, who helped me get some really great women writers, writers that I can now count among my favorites.

Finally, I would love to give a shout out to Justin Hudnall and So Say We All, the literary organization here in San Diego that I’ve been involved with for the past three years. I’m proud of what organizations like ours do for the quality and demographic inclusiveness of our art in contrast to profit-minded publishers. And with these Black Candies books, Justin provides unquestioning support. Not everyone can publish books without having to resort to Kickstarter or Indiegogo (which is not meant as a dig at crowd-funding or anyone who uses it—I just feel they create a lot of extra work)—I feel lucky to have the circumstances where we can create and produce without having to rely on too much outside assistance. Thank you, Justin.

Other thanks: all the writers and artists who donated their work. It’s always difficult to ask for writing without offering pay, and I completely understand those who didn’t submit stories due to that fact. But those who did: you’re making my dreams come true.

Thank you Jay Wertzler: my writing partner and co-editor. I’ve never worked so well with anyone before. If you don’t have someone who will read your stuff and provide as much quality feedback as Jay, I’m sorry.

And of course, Adam Vieyra. He creates and designs beautiful books. I would be stuck in zine land, probably still using Chiller font, if it wasn’t for him. He did the majority of “See Through” in one day—I was there. Watching him work is like watching a beautiful time-lapse.

blackcandiesprogression(Progression from stapled zine to current issue)

Anyway, enough of the sentimental stuff. I hope you enjoy it!

And please add on Goodreads.

xo
Ryan