Worth the Excitement

My life is brimming with excitement lately. For one thing, I’ve finally finished the WIPbeast—for now, at least; no such thing as The End for writers—and I couldn’t be happier. It was a thrilling, trying, fun, exhausting project, and I am so proud of it. I hope to be able to tell you all about it soon, but for now I’m just looking forward to a big check mark, a fresh slate, and…

SUMMER!

I adore summer. Bring on the heat, the sun, the lazy days, the late nights. I can’t get enough. Summer has always been a time of relaxation and freedom for me, so the fact that getting a huge project off my plate coincides perfectly with the start of summer is extra exciting. Already my head is churning and tumbling with new ideas, and this phase when I don’t have to pick one yet is just the best. I fill up my tank and see what floats to the top, then let it soak there until it’s niiiiice and full. (I think the end of that analogy is me squeezing out all the good stuff when it’s ready, but who knows.)

How do I fill up my tank? Well, vacation, for one thing! I’m well overdue for a trip. Traveling always sets my creativity on fire, and I hope this year will be no different. But really, for me, filling up the tank is actually about living fully. I work insanely hard, so I have to play insanely hard to stay balanced. This year I hope that will look like day trips, pool time, barbeques, baking treats, early morning walks, yoga and dance, goofing off with my friends, and consuming lots of great stories.

This week I’m going with a couple of friends to see Hereditary, which everyone is saying is one of the scariest movies in years. We’ve had a huge selection of excellent, high-quality horror films in recent years—The Babadook, Get Out, It Follows, The VVitch, Hush, It, A Quiet Place, Annihilation, Goodnight Mommy—so that’s really saying something! I especially love the trend toward stories that mean something deeper than surface thrills. Here’s the trailer for Hereditary. I am already scared. 😀

TV, too, has become an incredible playing field for dark, complex, meaningful storytelling. Some of the shows being made these days are as good as any movie—Orange is the New Black, House of Cards, Justified, Hannibal, and Mindhunter come to mind—and there’s one on the horizon that I’m so excited for I could explode:

Gillian Flynn’s extraordinary novel Sharp Objects is being made into an HBO miniseries! Unforgettable protagonist Camille Preaker is being played by Amy Adams. The trailer gave me chills. I’ve raved about Flynn before, so I’ll contain myself somewhat. (Check out my thoughts on Gone Girl and my quick run-down of all of Flynn’s publications.) But Sharp Objects, far and away, is my favorite of hers, and I’m stoked that it’s being adapted for TV. July 8: mark your calendars!

But, of course, most of my stories come in the lovely shape of a book. Once a bookworm always a bookworm. Summer is usually my best time for reading, too, so my list… might be getting a little out of hand. I recently re-read Marisha Pessl’s drool-worthy novel Night Film, and it was so enjoyable that I’m eyeing a re-read of my beloved House of Leaves. It’s only a matter of time. But I do try to read more new (to me) books than old, because there’s so many I haven’t gotten to yet!

First up on my list is Ellen Datlow’s Best Horror of the Year Volume 10, which comes out June 12. I’ve made no secret of my love for this series. They’re an auto-buy for me now. It’s a wonderful way to catch up on some of the best short fiction coming out each year. They’re a great mix of styles and topics, too, so there’s always a few I fall in love with. I might’ve recently bought myself volumes 2 and 3. Whoops.

(Like my photo, above, of Snaps trying to talk me into buying my only missing volume? I’ve started an Instagram account for all things writerly and bookish! Plus cats, of course. Follow me @AnnieNeugebauer to see my life in pictures, and say hi so I can follow back.)

Also soon is Paul Tremblay’s The Cabin at the End of the World, June 26. Tremblay wrote A Head Full of Ghosts, one of my favorites in recent horror. I can’t wait to get my hands on this new one! The description sounds amazing, and his books are always so damn smart.

Oh, and the next Tana French novel, The Witch Elm, comes out October 9. Yes, that’s quite a ways away; that just goes to show how excited I am. I pre-ordered it before Amazon even posted the description. It doesn’t matter. I’d buy French’s grocery list. She’s that good. She writes literary mysteries with beautiful complexity and exquisite prose. (Start with Broken Harbor.) I only wish I didn’t have to wait until fall.

But the next Laurell K. Hamilton ‘Anita Blake’ novel, Serpentine, comes out August 8, which isn’t so far away. Y’all know I love me some Anita Blake! I’m a sucker for an ass-kicking heroine. Sexy vampires never hurt either. (Whatevs, there’s room for scary and sexy; give me a break.)

That’s not even taking into account all the books I’ve bought, been gifted, or still haven’t read yet. Looks like I have my “work” cut out for me. Good thing I have so much travel and pool time coming up. 😉

How about something I’m excited about that’s happening now? My short story “So Sings the Siren” is still going strong! I continue to hear from readers and reviewers, and it’s unbelievably validating. This story has legs! You can now find it in a multitude of places and formats, depending on your preferences:

It’s still available at its original home, Apex Magazine. You can read it free right on their website, or you can order Issue 101 for your favorite e-reader. (Apex is always amazing and well worth a subscription, too, if you like speculative fiction.)

It was also reprinted in Year’s Best Hardcore Horror Volume 3 by Red Room Press, which you can get in print, ebook, or (soon) audiobook! If you’d like a sneak peek, they’ve posted my story as a teaser for the audiobook, so you can listen to the full story for free on Sound Cloud. Angel Leigh McCoy does a phenomenal job reading!

And last but not least, Tales to Terrify podcast the story in Episode 330 as part of their Stoker nomination series. They, along with everyone else involved, did a stellar job. Heather Thomas also gives an amazing reading; her little girl voice is spot on. Honestly, you can’t go wrong with any of these choices—and my story is so short that you can always check out more than one. 🙂

Before I run into the sunlight never to be seen again head out, here’s a quick roundup of my recent columns and announcements that have appeared elsewhere, in case you missed them:

You can tell I’ve been a busy bee, huh? It’s time to go chill out and let the bees do the busying!

What are y’all excited about? What are you reading, watching, listening to? I want to hear about your summer swoons!

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Unravel

Let’s finish off my National Poetry Month celebration with something… creepy. *evil grin* Y’all know I love a shivery little poem or two, so today I’m sharing “Unravel,” which was first published in the HWA Poetry Showcase Volume IV by the Horror Writers Association last year. I like to think of this one as a horror love poem–do with that what you will. 😉


Unravel

At night

I want to be the spider
that crawls into the hair
spread across your pillow
like an inky dream.

I think
if I could just
taste your nightmares
I could spin them
into something sweet;

I could reweave them
into something softer.

I want to nest
into the silken warmth
so like my home,

burrow down to the roots

unwelcome
unbelonging
unnoticed

but nevertheless,
touching your skin.

This is all I could ask.

© Annie Neugebauer, 2016

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Something in the Attic

I’m still celebrating National Poetry Month by reprinting a few of my published poems here. It’s a great way for me to share more of my work for free, and who doesn’t need new poems in their life?

“Something in the Attic” placed first in the 2016 Frederick J. McCarthy Memorial Award sponsored by the Poetry Society of Texas, and published in the subsequent prize anthology A Book of the Year. It’s a fun one for me. 🙂 I hope you like it!


Something in the Attic

There’s an idea nestling in the back of my mind
squirreling away materials
like a rodent in the attic –
I get only hints that it’s there:
scurrying, a vague woodsy smell.
At times, I find the mystery distracting
so I climb the ladder
and peek my head up, looking around,
but the idea has gone,
tucked tail and dived into hiding,
and the only proof I see that it was there at all
are teeth-mark nibbles on the beams, and a feeling
of recent vacancy, like a cool dent in a bed
once warmed.
What is it? I’ll find out soon enough.
For now I descend the ladder
and tuck the door up tight, listening.
But it’s only when I’ve returned to normal things
that the sound comes again,
bustling, hurrying, scurrying work
piled by small paws in a shadowed corner
to serve some later purpose,
for it is only in the dark
that animals make meaning;
it is only in the dark that new ideas thrive.

© Annie Neugebauer, 2016


Any other creatives identify with this one? I’m nearing the end of the process with the WIPbeast and have a little something rustling in the attic now…

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Cleaning out the Exhaust Vent

I’m continuing my celebration of National Poetry Month by posting a poem here each week. My sonnet “Cleaning out the Exhaust Vent” won a local poetry contest and was subsequently published in the winners’ anthology Versifico. For a while it was available on the library’s blog, but since it’s gone inactive there I’m reprinting it here.

It’s fitting because my dad’s birthday is in April, and I’m always thinking about him this time of year. One of the things I carry in my memory is his scent, a mixture of things—one of which was baby powder. He used baby powder like it was going out of style. We used to tease him about it. He’d sprinkle it on after a shower, so his bathroom was always just layered with it. After he died, my brother and I sorted through his things and cleaned up the house to sell. When we got to the dust-caked exhaust fan in the bathroom ceiling, this is what happened.


Cleaning out the Exhaust Vent

We didn’t know if we should laugh or cry
when baby powder fell instead of dust—
sifted like the softest snow from the sky
and floated through the room to blanket us
in memories and smells just scarcely dead
of how, for him, the powder was a must.
You lowered the canned air from overhead
to cough out puffs of white—and I did too—
then ruffled your hair, looked at me and said
“It’s baby powder,” and almost on cue
a salty, misty film filled up our eyes
like goggles, even as our smiles grew,
and through all of the heartache and surprise,
we didn’t know if we should laugh or cry.

© Annie Neugebauer, 2016

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Rocking

The view out my office window keeps getting greener and greener, and I can’t get enough. (Neither can my cats, who very much enjoy the influx of food watching energetic birds and squirrels.) There really is something about the new growth that brings poetry back to the forefront of my mind. Just this morning I sat down and poured out a poem, and it’s been several months since once struck me with that kind of urgency. It’s a great feeling.

To continue my celebration of National Poetry Month, today I’m sharing a reprint of my poem “Rocking.” This one first appeared in the 2017 Texas Poetry Calendar, an annual regional favorite that I’ve been lucky enough to have several poems in. Then “Rocking” was reprinted in the 2018 edition, which was a sort of editors’ choice/best-of compilation. The 2018 calendar can be found in the Dos Gatos Press store or on Amazon for $15.95.

And now my poem can also be found here. 🙂 Enjoy!


Rocking

On the back porch
at dusk
we rock,
slightly discordant:
not synchronized,
nor alternating – not quite.

My bare toes
push off the patio table
while your thick boots
press against the ground,
and we sit
silently
in the need of so many words

that hover around us
like fat bees in the heat –
always close,
but never touching,
scenting the sweet
of our skin.

I am stung.

“I love you,”
I say quickly.

You pause your rocking
for a fraction of a moment,

smile slightly,

and resume,
the rhythm of your chair
now synced with mine.

© Annie Neugebauer, 2016

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