Archive for 2013

  • Seven Facts About Christmastime You Did Not Know

    Seven Facts About Christmastime You Did Not Know

    December 24th, 2013 | Christmas | journalpulp | 3 Comments

    Although not particularly religious — unless, of course, by “religious” you mean one who religiously likes fast cars and fast women — I nonetheless enjoy Christmastime, and the reason for this is that Christmastime represents something much more fundamental than the Pagan celebration of Saturnalia and the solstice, or the Christian celebration of Christ’s birth, […]

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  • The Shortest Story Ever Written

    The Shortest Story Ever Written

    December 20th, 2013 | Ernest Hemingway | journalpulp | 6 Comments

    There’s a semi-famous legend that Ernest Hemingway, on a bet, on a bar napkin, wrote what many consider the shortest story ever written. That story goes like this: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” Perhaps you’ve heard this legend yourself, but did you know that it’s almost certainly untrue? Garson O’Toole, who runs an excellent […]

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  • A Post Thanksgiving “You’re Welcome” from the Sexy Pilgrim

    A Post Thanksgiving “You’re Welcome” from the Sexy Pilgrim

    November 29th, 2013 | Thanksgiving | journalpulp | No Comments

    This is a follow up to my controversial Thanksgiving post. You’ve got to see it to believe it:

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  • Do You Make These 7 Mistakes In the Beginning of Your Story?

    Do You Make These 7 Mistakes In the Beginning of Your Story?

    November 21st, 2013 | Beginnings | journalpulp | No Comments

    Do you forget to establish your setting early on? Do you forget to give us The When, The Where, The Weather — the overall tone? Is your story happy, soft, somber? John Steinbeck does not forget to do this in the beautiful opening of Of Mice and Men: A few miles south of Soledad, the […]

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  • Bleach-Haired Honkey Bitch

    Bleach-Haired Honkey Bitch

    November 14th, 2013 | Bartending | journalpulp | 7 Comments

    I am, as many of you know, a writer by day and a bartender by night — and yet, as many of you may not know, I’m not merely a bartender by night: I’m also a very passionate man. As such, the creative spirit I strive to pour into my literature occasionally spills over into […]

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  • Early Winter

    Early Winter

    November 7th, 2013 | Poetry | journalpulp | 4 Comments

    The flashing scissors of the frost Have snipped the leaves that dot the field. The trees leak iron-black across The sky where evening swallows wheeled. A knifey light cuts deep and shows Leaves with their intricate designs Half sodden in the drifted snows, Beneath the moaning, deathless pines. And wind like water softly pours Over […]

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  • Gothic Literature: A Halloween Post

    Gothic Literature: A Halloween Post

    October 31st, 2013 | Gothic Fiction, Halloween | journalpulp | No Comments

    The Goths, as recounted by a Gothic historian named Jordanes (mid 6th Century AD), were a Teutonic-Germanic people whose original homeland was, according to this same Jordanes, in southern Sweden. At that time, this half-barbaric band was ruled by a king called Berig. It was King Berig who led his people south to the shores […]

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  • How to (Briefly) Write a Novel

    How to (Briefly) Write a Novel

    October 24th, 2013 | How to write a novel | journalpulp | No Comments

    Here’s how you create a character: Julia … Here’s how you develop your character: liked strong men with brooding features and complicated brains. Here’s how you create a new character: She made Michael’s acquaintance Here’s how you create a setting: in a quiet diner, one warm and windswept autumn evening, along the outskirts of Tucson. […]

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  • Putting the Cock Back in Cocktail (Part 6): Scotch

    Putting the Cock Back in Cocktail (Part 6): Scotch

    October 17th, 2013 | Bartending | journalpulp | 7 Comments

    Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid it’s that time of the year again:

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  • Autumnal

    October 12th, 2013 | Poetry | journalpulp | 7 Comments

    Summer dies, the long days wane away. The heat in the sky melts like lead to liquid pools. The hills beyond are as white as clay. Now creep in the gentle autumn ghouls, Trailing behind their silken shawls of Lethe- an mist. Shadows warp, gourds enlarge. And now what is always there but not Quite […]

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