short story – Wayne Turmel

One of my Flash Pieces is in Corvus Review Plus a Year in Review

I can’t even remember how long ago I wrote “Stuffed Pikachus.” It was a writing experiment to see about creating a traveling carnival world that may or may not be a setting for a future longer work. I like it, even though it defies categorization. Maybe that’s why it took so long to place.

After over a year of submitting, Janine and the team at Corvus Review took it in and gave it a home in their Fall-Winter 22/23 Edition. You can download the PDF of the issue here. I’m on page 40-something. There’s lots of good stuff from cool writers on the way.

This is a lovely way to start 2023. 2022 was a mix of highs and lows both personally and for my writing. Yes, I managed to take The Duchess to Paris and London, which was quite literally the last major thing on my bucket list. It was also kind of a crap year financially, for the dreaded day job, but sales is cyclical and the training business is as well. That also explains that I am behind on Johnny Lycan 3 but hard at work, and it will be worth it, as Cthulu is my witness.

There were lovely visits with old friends, balanced out by Covid and a lovely case of shingles on my face (fortunately, my least valuable body part.)

Writing-wise, 2022 saw the launch of Johnny Lycan and the Vegas Berserker, from Black Rose Writing. It’s off to kind of a slow sales start but people seem to really like it. (Reviews, people. If you’ve read it and liked it please share!) It’s also wound up on a couple of best-indie book review lists, and I’m deeply grateful.

Kevin Eikenberry and my new book, The Long-Distance Team: Design your team for everyone’s success was finished and comes out in February.

I also had two short pieces published (if you don’t include Stuffed Pikachus which technically came out in 2023). A flat-out horror piece called The Voyeur appeared in the aptly named Horror Sleaze Trash mag, and my very personal flash piece, A Simple Purse, not only appeared in 300 Days of Sun, from the folks at Nevada State College, but it was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, for which I am proud and grateful.

Thank you for joining me on my writing journey so far, here’s to more good stuff in 2023 and I wish you success and happy reading.

If you aren’t already (and what are you doing here if you aren’t, you can now follow me on Twitter, Facebook (Wayne Turmel Author) or Instagram.

Get book 2 of the Werewolf PI series, available now. Or book 1 if you haven’t started yet. I don’t care.

A Sleazy, Trashy Horror Story in Horror Sleaze Trash Magazine

If you follow my work, you know how much I love short stories, and I write in a lot of genres. One of my favorite things, since I was a kid, was the horror short story. I like them quick, bloody, and a bit transgressive. I tried my hand at one recently, and it’s found a home at a charming little ezine called (seriously) Horror Sleaze Trash.

The Voyeur is sexy, nasty, and probably NSFW. If it’s safe to read where you work, I want your job. I hope you enjoy it. Don’t read if you’re easily yukked out, consider yourself warned. I do, however, hope you enjoy the heck out of it. Share on your socials, help get the word out.

If you enjoy short stories of all types, may I humble recommend some of my others? You can read them (or find links to them) on my site here. And, of course, if they make you happy consider buying one of my novels, like the upcoming Johnny Lycan and the Vegas Berserker.

I Made Someone Cry on Zoom. Hooray.

Normally if you make someone cry, it’s because you’re a terrible human being and have done something awful to that person. Last week I made a couple of people tear up and got a couple of audible sobs. It felt great. Like really good. Yay me.

Okay, this probably requires some explanation.

As a writer, we hope to elicit emotional responses from our readers. We want them to laugh, gasp, get excited, or otherwise go on the emotional journey our characters are on. Is Lucca going to survive? Will Johnny beat the bear-shifter and make it out of Las Vegas (plug for book 2 there. Pay attention.) The problem is that the very fact they are reading means we aren’t with them when they consume our product.

Most of you know, and are tired of me saying, that I spent over 15 years as a standup comedian. For anyone who has ever stood on a stage, you understand the addicting nature of that art form. You write something, perform it in front of a live audience, and get an immediate response. Hopefully, they laugh. Maybe they chuckle, but not the roar you expected, so you need to tinker with that joke in the future. Maybe they get up and slap you on national television. Either way, there’s instant feedback on if that piece was any good or not.

Me in my glory days. You can actually watch this performance on “Evening at the Improv.” It’s on Amazon but it’ll cost you 99 cents.

I would give credit if I knew who said it, but somebody once wrote that “writing novels is like telling a joke and waiting a year for the laugh.” It’s true. While I hope my audience responds to what I create, you seldom really know. Maybe you get a good review. Once in a blue moon, I get an email or Twitter message from someone who enjoyed my work. (I can’t suggest doing this strongly enough. On any given day a writer may need validation. Trust me.) Mostly, I topple the tree in the forest and hope someone hears it fall.

So what happened the other day? How did I make someone cry and enjoy it?

This year’s issue contains “A Simple Purse.”

A few months ago, I channeled one of the saddest moments of my life into a Flash Fiction Piece called, “A Simple Purse.” It meant a lot to me. In the interest of transparency, it captures a moment more than 35 years ago when my mother passed away. I watched my father have to clean out her handbag for the last time. It’s the only time during that ordeal I ever saw him lose it. I’ve waited all this time for a way to tell that story and do it justice.

The piece got rejection after rejection, and I thought I was the only one who was moved by it. Finally, it was picked up by 300 Days of Sun, a litmag at Nevada State College. (G o S c o r p i o n s ) Okay, not the Paris Review, but maybe someone actually liked my sad little tale. That brings us to Tuesday night.

To launch the 2022 edition of the publication, I was invited to read on a Zoom call with over a dozen talented writers (mostly poets, which is intimdating as hell. Anything more complex than a dirty limerick is outside my wheelhouse.)

The reading was in alphabetical order. When your first name is a “W” and last name is a “T” you’re used to waiting your turn. I was blessed to hear some very moving, creative, and angst-ridden work. Then it was my turn.

It was a Zoom call, not a typical literary event. I was looking at a bunch of tiny boxes with faces in them. I ignored them and began reading my story from a piece of paper in front of me. Out my voice went into the void, and it was met with silence, as expected. Then I heard something unexpected.

Everyone was supposed to have their microphones muted, but I heard a distinctly audible sniff. Then another one. I looked at the screen and saw two people wiping their eyes, and they weren’t the sniffers. There was a long pause.

Then Heather, the Editor and Faculty Advisor (blessings upon all who take that job on, especially in schools) thanked me. She also told me a little about how the staff reacted when reading my submission, and how they’d hoped my story wouldn’t get picked up anywhere else so they could publish it.

My little flash story, which I doubted anyone else would understand, made grown-ass people cry. 565 of my words moved them.

This may sound ridiculous, but this was one of the most validating moments of my writing career. I have published a lot of work in my time, and most of it just goes out into the void. An unpaid piece in an obscure literary magazine I only found through Submittable reminded me my words matter. They can move people. They are important to someone besides me.

Support your local lit mags and the writers who contribute to them. Let people know you like their work. Just saying.

A New Short Story: The Cutman and Why I Write About Boxing So Much

Today a new short story of mine was published at Storgy.com. The Cutman is the tale of a guy whose job is to put people together so they can be torn apart properly.

Yes, it’s another boxing story. It’s the third I’ve had published, after Bayamon, 1978 and The Towel. Fourth, if you include Los Angeles, 1952, a 2-part story about a date that takes place at a boxing match. What’s up with all the boxing love?

On one level, it’s simple: I love the sport. My grandfather was a silver medalist in the Canadian Golden Gloves, and fought half a dozen pro fights. My dad and I used to watch together, and he taught me to appreciate the lighter weight classes, as you’d expect from a guy who never really got past bantamweight himself.

A friend of mine once asked, “why do you like boxing so much? Your stories make it sound like it’s all blood and racism and toxic masculinity.” To which the correct answer is; “what’s your point?” If you’re looking for drama and high stakes, it’s a perfect crucible.

Me with former Super Featherweight champ Cornelius Boza Edwards

But there’s a more”writerly” answer. Each of my short stories is a writing exercise of a kind. Can I capture this moment, or this kind of action, or compress this scene into a specific period of time? Boxing is perfect for these little word experiments. Each round is exactly 3 minutes. You can compress a lot of action into that time period. There are a finite number of characters, which for short stories is great.

You’ll find choreographing the fight scenes has benefitted both Acre’s Orphans, and my upcoming novel, Johnny Lycan and the Anubis Disk. Practice makes…. well, better.

I hope you enjoy The Cutman. I am proud of it. Of course, you can find my other short stories here on my site, if you haven’t discovered them already.

Johnny Lycan & the Anubis Disk is coming in November. Order now by clicking here and going to Black Rose Writing. Use the promo code: PREORDER2020 to receive a 15% discount. Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kindle and Audible coming in November.

Memory Lane: The First Story I had Published

“You took my uncle to a cockfight?” There was no arguing the point, and it really wasn’t a question so much as an opening statement so I kept my fat mouth shut. My wife didn’t slow down even a bit. “…My 75 year old uncle… To a cockfight… That you found on Instagram?”
Tio Fernando’s Field Trip

So since there hasn’t been a lot of new activity, I thought I’d share some of my short stories that some of my new readers might not be familiar with. This is the first piece I had published in a real honest-to-God magazine, the now defunct eFiction.

It’s about cockfighting, marriage and goofy old men. Enjoy.

Tio Fernando’s Field Trip

Of course, if you enjoy my short story, you might enjoy one of my novels such as The Count of the Sahara or the Lucca le Peu Stories, Acre’s Bastard and Acre’s Orphans.

You can also read my other short stories under Short Stories and other Pieces

Los Angeles, 1952 is now complete for the world to read on Twist in Time

Last post, I talked about Twist in Time Magazine and what a nifty little litmag it is.Well, they have just published the second half of my oddball short story: Los Angeles, 1952. It’s about, well, Los Angeles in 1952 and a perfect storm of boxing, old Hollywood, and first dates.

If you’d like to read the first part to catch up, it’s here:

A couple of months ago I wrote about the back story to this tale, and I blame it all on The Duchess. That explanation is on my blog as well.

I hope you enjoy meeting Lorna, Jimmy and Maggie. Have a great week.

Holy @$%^, My Flash Fiction Won Something

My short fiction has been filling in space while I’m between novels, and it’s been getting some love. The latest pleasant surprise is from my boys at Storgy.com, who have awarded my story, “Sponging” third place in their 2019 Storgy Flash Fiction Competition.

Flash is something I had never tried before. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s the need to tell a complete story in a pitifully small number of words, usually 500 or a thousand depending on who you ask. For this contest, it was 500 words. Flash fiction fans (who also appreciate alliteration, apparently) will tell you it’s a legit art form that forces the writer to focus on only the elements crucial to creating a character and theme, a little like prose haiku. Others will tell you it’s because nobody can afford to do print and paper magazines anymore, and reading long stories on line can be a drag.

Given that I write primarily novels and business books, it’s hard for me to even say hello in 500 words, so the fact I could tell a tale about a fixed horse race and a guilty jockey in such a short space was a little surprising. I couldn’t have done it without the input from my writer’s group, the Thursday night bunch at Sin City Writers.

Truthfully, my goal was to make the book– the top 30 stories are getting published in a chapbook. I never expected to make the top 3 (and a little bird told me I damn near won the thing, but that’s practically irrelevant.) I know and really enjoy the work of several of the authors who submitted, like Tomas Marcantonio, Emily Harrison, Rick White, and Laure Van Rensburg and that’s some durned fine company to find oneself among.

I’ll keep you posted on when the book will be available. Meanwhile, check out all my short stories and where you can find them on this site on the Short Stories and Other Pieces page.

Los Angeles,1952 and the story behind the story

When that first dime-sized drop of blood hit her blouse, I figured the evening was pretty much shot.
Los Angeles, 1952 part 1

One of the favorite stories I’ve ever written is Los Angeles, 1952 which is now out (at least part 1 is) in Issue V of Twist in Time Magazine. It came out the same day as another story, Ava, Lana and Old Bob Campbell was published in Ragazine.

The stories are a little similar, in that they both take place in the 1950s (at least partly) and are based on semi-historical events and involve Studio-age Hollywood. I gave you a little backstory on that tale in a previous post, and thought I’d do the same for this one.

LA 1952 is the most thoroughly researched short story I’ve done. On the surface, it’s a tale of boxing, old Hollywood, and first dates. In its own way, it’s also a very personal story. Here are some of the tidbits you might not know.

The boxing card that night was real. Using BoxRec, a website for the geekiest of boxing geeks, I found a real fight card for June 7, 1952 at the Legion (later to be the Olympic) in Los Angeles. All the fighters and the results of that card are as stated in the story. Gil Cadilli was a popular LA-based fighter who fought the likes of Davey Moore and Willie Pep in the early and mid-fifties. He was one of “Senator” Johnny Forbe’s proteges… Forbes helped set up boxing programs in East LA and was responsible for a good percentage of the west coast fighters of that period. I have always been a huge boxing fan. In fact, nowadays you can often find me placing bets on websites like FanDuel whenever there is a big fight on! To be completely honest I love the thrill of placing a bet and then seeing your chosen fighter win. There have been quite a few occasions where I have even landed a good payout after correctly predicting which fighter would take home the crown. That being said, as you can imagine, I have watched lots of boxing fights in my time so I have a good working knowledge of this fascinating sport and this came in useful when writing this story.

The details about Monarch Studios contracts are accurate. As stated earlier my wife, the Duchess, is a fount of information about the golden age of Hollywood. She also has a number of friends who are equally geeky. One of them is Gary Brumburgh, a singer, actor and someone who has contributed to hundreds of IMDB bios and articles on the studio days. He gave me the low-down on the small studios like Monarch and all he asked in return was to name the actress Lorna Malone. Seemed like a fair deal. Lorna got her big raise in 1952. Unfortunately, Monarch closed its doors in 1954. I hope she married well.

The Hollywood Studio Club was a real thing and my wife lived there. The studio club dormitory where Patsy/Lorna lived was on Lodi Place between Fountain and Lexington in Hollywood. It opened in the early 20s and remained open until 1975. A number of famous actresses lived there, and literally thousands of wannabes and never-weres. in 1972, a bright-eyed 22-year-old from Miami named Joan Herrera pulled up in her Toyota Corolla planning to be a star. They put her in the room once occupied by Marilyn Monroe. She immediately asked to be put in another room fearing bad juju. She became the actress Joan Dareth, and then the current Joan Turmel.

I sold cars in LA for a short time in the 90s, and that was pretty much my boss. Morrie existed, and he’d have absolutely been that guy.

The final part of the story will be out November 1 in Issue 6. Please read it.

If you enjoy my short stories, you can find a list here of what’s out in the world. Better yet, buy one of my novels and support my habit by visiting my Amazon Author Page.

Support Litmags #2 – The Mighty Line

The Mighty Line is looking for stories that are technically sound and culturally relevant.
John Hegellund, publisher The Mighty Line

As someone who loves the short story, it’s kind of staggering how many places are you can find them. If, of course, you know where to look. Because so few print magazines feature short fiction, most of these places are to be found online. This is the second in a series of interviews that might steer you towards places I find great stories to read.

Some of these mags, like Storgy, or Twist in Time, have published my work. Others I enjoy but have yet to crack (although it doesn’t stop me from trying.) Such is the case with The Mighty Line magazine.

Here’s my interview with John Heggelund.

The Mighty Line is kind of unique among lit journals. Tell us about it.

The Mighty Line is a digital magazine of short fiction and visual art. We publish our issues online for free (www.TheMightyLine.com) so our contributors can share their work with as broad an audience as possible. We do not solicit fiction. Every story we publish starts in the slush pile, so every submission we receive is given equal attention. Contributors are paid $25. In addition to standard submissions, we offer expedited submissions, which receive responses in two weeks or less, and feedback submissions, which receive a critical essay critiquing the story submitted with suggestions for improving it.

What was the big idea behind the site? That’s a nice way of asking what the hell you were thinking.

The journey from amateur to professional writer is long with few avenues of support. Your friends and family can encourage you, but they can’t edit your work or give you critical feedback, typically. For the most part, magazine editors respond only in form rejections and paying for editing can get real expensive real quick. I received 168 form rejections before my first story was published. I had spent hundreds of dollars on submissions fees and racked up twice that in editing costs. It was all worth it, but it was a huge investment in time and resources that many people can’t afford. I want to change that. That’s why I started The Mighty Line.

You just publish short stories, rather than poetry or essays. You also showcase one visual artist per issue. What kind of material excites you? What are you looking for?

The Mighty Line is looking for stories that are technically sound and culturally relevant. I love a great plot, but if the story does not encourage the reader to reconsider their perspective on the concepts it touches on, then it’s a lot less likely to be selected. We believe stories resolve internalized conflicts by reconciling opposing ideas in specific contexts. This is a citable public good we want to see in everything we publish.

I won’t take it personally that you haven’t selected one of my stories yet, but you do get major karma points for positive encouragement and feedback. But let’s get negative for a second. What drives you crazy about submissions?

Guidelines. There will always be people who don’t follow guidelines, so I’m railing at the wind here, but it’s very frustrating. It seems incredibly rude that some people expect me to read and seriously engage with their work, yet they aren’t willing to even make sure it’s in the requested format. Our guidelines aren’t arbitrary rules for making the submission process more complicated. A readable font, decent spacing, numbered pages, email in the cover letter, these are all things that make my life so much easier.

What are the long-term goals for The Mighty Line?

As long as The Mighty Line continues to exist and publish writers, I’m golden. I didn’t start this magazine to make money. Our submission fees barely cover our costs most months, and the vast majority of those are tied to services such as providing feedback, which is increasingly taking up more of my day. This mag isn’t going to make me rich, and it surely isn’t going to make me famous, but it does give me a daily opportunity to encourage people to critically engage with literature. I want to inspire people to decide for themselves what is good writing and what is bad writing and why. I don’t care if you’re a tenured professor or a dilettante mystery writer, everyone can engage with literature equally. I want to convince as many people of that as possible.

That’s the goal, so as long we’re receiving submissions, I’m living the dream.

If people are motivated to submit now, what should they know?

Follow guidelines, have a discernible theme, and build to a climax in which a decision is made whose ramifications meaningfully subvert or fulfill the reader’s expectations. Do not summarize the story in the cover letter. The longer your cover letter is, the more likely I am to skim it rather than read it. Please, please, please do not send me something unless you are absolutely sure it is ready for publication. Rejecting good stories that aren’t sufficiently refined breaks my heart. Don’t break my heart.

Most of my short stories, published or otherwise, can be found here on this website.

Support Litmags #1- Storgy

If we start zoning out a page in then it needs work. Don’t bore us. You know what’s good.
Anthony Self, Executive Director, Head of Film, Storgy Magazine.

Since I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. In particular, I had visions of being a wildly successful short story writer, firing off brilliance to magazines like Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and Fantasy and Science Fiction, slumming occasionally in Esquire or the New Yorker and the checks would just flow to my mailbox.

I still love writing and reading short stories and there is a crop of new online lit-mags and publishers who are flying the flag and keeping the art-form alive. I’m going to showcase a few of them over the next couple of weeks. Some have published me, some have kept their standards high (Kidding!)

A few years ago, I had a boxing story I was looking to submit. While it went to another magazine, the kind reply inspired me to stay connected with the boys in the UK. If you haven’t checked out Storgy.com yet, you’ll find a mix of opinion, short fiction, and just cool stuff, unbounded by genre (although they do skew heavily to the snarky and slightly weird.) Their new short story collection, Hopeful Monsters is available for pre-order now. (It’s on my Kindle TBR pile)

Here’s my interview with Anthony (Tony) Self.

What is Storgy, and why should we care?

STORGY magazine initially started as a closed-off writer’s group, where a few of us would be able to massage our own egos and pretend to know about the craft to put stories online. People started sending us their own work to put online and we liked the attention like craven wannabe-celebrities so I guess something stuck and we began publishing stories that fell through the cracks. These were the stories that didn’t have a home. The bastard children of literature.

Given how hard the publishing business is, what the hell were you thinking? How did the original concept come to you?

I know, right? Five years ago we were dilly-dallying with a story a week and now we’re independent publishers; posting reviews, previews, interviews and short fiction for all the masses to gobble up like malnourished street urchins. We wanted to write a 1,000 story every week and challenge ourselves to accomplish this. Looking back we were probably naive. Or had head trauma. One or the other.

Editor’s note: through a series of late-night emails the name of the magazine is a mashup of “Story” and “Orgy.” An Orgy of Stories. Don’t form companies while drinking. What kind of content are you looking for?

All kinds. We’ve had essays, we’ve had poems, we’ve had mythological Buddhist zen-like soliloquy’s, at the end of the day if the story keeps us engaged from beginning to end we may publish it. If we start zoning out a page in then it needs work. Don’t bore us. You know what’s good. And don’t send us your first draft. You’re better than that.

One of the reasons for this post is to encourage submissions. What do writers do that drives you crazy?

We used to heavily edit stories because a lot of mistakes were evident in the prose. We want to get stories out there to the masses but we also want to be professional about it all. It kind of hits us in the feels when we’ve edited something, send it back to the writer for review and they’re indignant about a rewrite as they consider their work a masterpiece and HOW DARE WE TRY TO CHANGE IT. Oh yeah, and ‘it was all a dream’, type endings

I love when I get constructive feedback from an editor. Most of us are submitting to find an audience and build our brand, such as it is. What are you and the the boy’s long-term plan for world domination?

A less elitist New Yorker type mantle would be fun. We’ve pushed ourselves to become independent publishers to create content for the short story form, so we’d like to carry on with that. Oh yeah, and get a $1,000,000 grant or something like that. That would be nice.

Any advice for authors submitting?

We’re flexible with a lot of things, such as number count, typeface, formatting – but look at our FAQ’s before submitting, it’s a courtesy to the person reading and potentially wanting to publish your piece.

You’ve been very kind to my work, publishing a number of stories and reviewing Acre’s Bastard and Acre’s Orphans. At the risk of sounding needy, what is it you like about my work?

Personally, I really liked The Towel – on one level it’s a snapshot of a boxing fight, conveying the imagery of RagingBull, Southpaw or Warrior, but on a deeper level it can be interpreted as the indomitable spirit of never giving up. This is something we agree on. In fact, it’s the core message of what STORGY is all about..

Storgy has expanded to publishing short story collections. Check them out here.

Most of my short stories, published or otherwise, can be found here on this website.