Hey everybody, M. here,

The day has finally arrived – the long anticipated first issue of the relaunched Startling Stories from Wildside Press, edited by Doug Draa, is out in paperback and available on Amazon (and with, as you can see, a different cover than the prospective one that was floating around early last year). This relaunch of the classic pulp science fiction magazine contains my science fiction story “Payload” alongside a bunch of other cool brand new stories, not to mention a ‘50s one by Silverberg (a story which was, from what I understand, written originally for the classic incarnation of the mag).

I had a whole big blog planned exploring the ins-and-outs of “Payload.” Firstly because I do believe that, as a story about intertwining and mutating varieties of contagion, it’s more germane to the world as it now looks – in the midst of a pandemic with one or perhaps numerous infodemics happening alongside it – than it would have been had it run closer to when I had written it. In fact I think the story probably speaks more to the experience of living through a pandemic in a technologically advanced society than it would have had I written something more immediately, directly recognizable as a piece of pandemic fiction. Secondly, waiting for a long time for something gives you a lot of time to think about it. And boy have I thought.

So I could honestly probably talk for an hour or two about this one – about its Ballardian (I think?) vibe and where that might fit in the context of Campbell-era of science fiction, about the approach to virology and epidemiology and how that might have changed given that concepts like spike proteins and adenoviral vectors are now, bizarrely, part of the common parlance, and about a million other aspects of this story. Some parts of it have a long, long history in my brain, despite it all having come together, as these thing sometimes do, rather quickly. But in attempting to write such a blog I found that I was just asking myself questions that I hadn’t been asked and then answering them, which felt sort of silly. More importantly, as I’ve said elsewhere, it’s a story not a philosophical treatise – one that I hope will keep people guessing and deliver some entertaining thrills more than anything. So check it out and get Startled!

And if you want more M. Stern in your head…
Earlier this week my cosmic horror-comedy “After the After Party” — a story with quite a different sensibility than “Payload” — made its appearance in Lovecraftiana: The Magazine of Eldritch Horror. Check it out in print or e-book, as nothing goes down better after an M. Stern story than an M. Stern chaser, so they say. “They” being, in this case, me. Anyway take care everyone, stay safe.
-M.

Hey everybody, M. here,

Wishing a belated Happy New Year to all of you! I Just got word a little bit ago that my story titled “After the After Party” has arrived in print (and Kindle format) in Lovecraftiana: The Magazine of Eldritch Horror. This story is sort of a funny one, I’ve described it as having the sensibility of sort of a madcap rom-com — so what can you expect? Self delusion! Quixotic romance! Weird intrigue! Arcane rituals! People acting like assholes! References to the classics! Gloppy monsters! And a touch of existential fear and trembling — what would cosmic horror be without it, right?

Sound like your kind of thing? Head on over to Amazon and snag a copy, and I hope you mythos mavens and weird horror aficionados get a kick out of this one. Follow me on Facebook for more updates, not to mention brief thoughts on technological miscellany, songs I like, and whatever else I post when the spirit moves me.

And speaking of updates …

A new way to get your M. Stern fix
The duo over at cyberpunk mag Write Ahead/The Future Looms have launched a “digital news-stand” for the purchase of individual digital issues. That means if you haven’t grabbed Vol. 11. yet, featuring my story “Head on the Door” and you want something to cool to read on your electronic device of choice — or are yourself a cyborg and are capable of downloading ebooks directly to your brain — you can now get the entire issue for a mere 3 pounds sterling (or whatever that converts to in your preferred currency).

If it is at all helpful in driving this micro-transaction, I said somewhere else that the moral of “Head on the Door” is that anyone can break your skull but only you can break your heart — an aphorism I believe to be no less true now than I did like three months ago when I made it up.

Anyway hope everyone is holding up out there, take care and stay safe!
-M.

Hey everybody, M. here,

I’m stoked to say that my story Head on the Door is now up online as a teaser for the print/digital edition of cyberpunk magazine Write Ahead/The Future Looms Vol. 11. I’m so happy to be featured alongside a mix of eclectic authors from around the world. Check it out, let me know what you think if you are so inclined — and follow me on Facebook to stay on top of what else I’ve got looming in the future.

-M.

Hey everybody, M. here.

I don’t have a ton of news to share, as the pace of a lot of projects has of course slowed for a lot of people lately due to the pandemic. One noteworthy development, however, is that Wildside Press released the prospective covers for the next six issues of Weirdbook the other day.

They all look amazing, and since my story Birth should be appearing in issue #44 I’m posting that one here. Since the names on the cover are not yet finalized according to editor Doug Draa, I’ve blurred them. But that notwithstanding — cool, huh? I’ve still got no idea about a potential release date for this or any of the other Wildside magazines, though last I heard Weirdbook #43 had entered the proofing process.

I had intended to get out at least one more blog’s worth of reviews about end-of-the-world-themed movies done for M. Stern’s Short Ends over the past couple of months. In the first two, I had been sort of tongue-and-cheek about the notion that watching depressing movies under these circumstances ran the risk of driving me nuts. In fact after watching Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia and 1959’s grim nuclear fallout drama On The Beach back-to-back, I found that it actually was impacting me emotionally in a way that movies usually don’t. So I’ve chilled out on that, though both of those films are incredible and well worth writing about. Maybe I’ll give my 2 cents on them once I’m able to again hear “Waltzing Matilda” without bawling.

I had also considered maybe reviewing some of the horror that has been streaming online in recent months — the indie horror circuit has really stepped up during the pandemic, with fans and festival organizers alike finding creative ways to get all sorts of weird and wild stuff, new and old, to a remote audience. I got sidetracked from doing that though, as my level of concentration has been — as I am sure is fairly universal — completely shot to hell.

This also speaks to my level of productivity with regards to fiction. I’ve been working even slower than my usual snail’s pace — though I do have a story or two I’ve been chiseling away at (and few others out there in the ether).

Given that there is no telling what things will look like a few months from now — good, bad, or indifferent — I’m hesitant to talk about future plans too much. But every year in October I see how many horror movies I can watch, and how many reviews of them I can write up. This year I want to try to do that publicly — here — instead of posting them on my private social media like I usually do. I also hope to make another appearance on my buddy Rob’s horror movie podcast at some point — where I will aim to do significantly less rambling than I did the last time he was gracious enough to have me on.  At any rate, if and when any of that happens, hopefully things are less terrifying and depressing by then. Take care everyone.
-M.