Best Of: "Succuba"

Horror is hard for me to write. I find real life to far more scary and the trick with horror is to either come up with something that nobody has done before...or introduce a new perspective. I had to go with the latter and Succuba is the end result. If something in the basement sounds too good to be true...

A New Twist On Pop-Up Books

Are these ladies terrified at the possibility of having to read another one of my stories?

Eh, just the lass in the red. You can tell because she's actually considering strangling herself before reading yet even another word that I have written. As for the others? An artist named Liliac created three dimensional pop-up covers and collages out of existing book covers. I found this courtesy of The Rap Sheet.

I'm All Over The Place...Just Like The Splotchy Story Virus!

In a sense, I wasn't tagged by the same virus twice, but a variation by Bubs!

At any rate a refresher on the rules by Splotchy

Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours.

So here's Splotchy's starter paragraph in green...

The bus was more crowded than usual. It was bitterly cold outside, and I hadn't prepared for it. I noticed that a fair number of the riders were dressed curiously. As I glanced around, I stretched my feet and kicked up against a large, heavy cardboard box laying under the seat in front of me.

Then Bubs's follow up in blue...

Its owner, a fat shifty-looking hillbilly, slouched uncomfortably under the weight of his Bulgarian army surplus wool coat and cap. I could tell he wasn't cut out for this weather. He jerked around, almost spastic, when he felt the box tap against his feet. He gulped and stared at me bug-eyed, one obscene rivulet of sweat running down his temple, down along his jaw, finally disappearing somewhere between his second chin and the fake fur collar of his coat.

Right away, and for no good reason, he pissed me off.

Then here I go...

"What, are you scared?" I asked him. "It's just a box, cowboy up already, Jethro!"

I gently nudged the box towards him and he ran for the rear exit, pulling the stop cord as if the very act would stop the bus. As the vehicle finally came to a stop, he ran screaming down the street as if he were on fire. I figured that the box held a puppy or a kitten, though I was worried because it had yet to mew or yip. I carefully picked the box up and put it down in the hillbilly's vacated seat.

I opened it and a claw like that of a hawk yanked the top closed. The claw had jade-colored scales and a yellow fringe. I don't know what possessed me, but I braved another peek under the lid and two bright ruby-red eyes looked back at me...



I tag...uh, this one is open to whoever wants to do it.

P.S. Flannery might and Paulie Decibels just built on to Veronica's contribution for the original story virus.

The Reason You Are Here And No, This Isn't Existence-Related

This post is not existence-related nor is it a koan. It isn't necessarily related to my blog and this sure isn't about what your parents did years ago to bring you into this world. This is why you are here-



Forty years ago, today, a demo of the first PC was given at the Civic Center in San Francisco. One thousand people witnessed the very thing that would eventually connect the entire globe together, no matter how remote the area.

Don't Stop, Splotchy Time!

I have two posts already scheduled for Wednesday and those were to be the only posts for this week, barring any imminent publication news. Yet, when you get hit with a Spotchy story virus, you have no choice but to write or succumb.

Splotchy started it off (in green ink)...

The bus was more crowded than usual. It was bitterly cold outside, and I hadn't prepared for it. I noticed that a fair number of the riders were dressed curiously. As I glanced around, I stretched my feet and kicked up against a large, heavy cardboard box laying under the seat in front of me.

Then Chris chimed in with (in blue ink)...

I hunched down to see what it was, but as I did, the bus violently veered to left. I was thrown up against a heavyset Asian woman with blond hair. I pardoned myself, but she faced forward with no reply. Just then, a man wearing a jumpsuit of silver and gold stood up at the front of the bus. He was holding a megaphone and a box of graham crackers. He held the megaphone up to his face and began to speak...

And Then me...

"Don't look at me, keep your eyes on Mei Pak!" I looked over my shoulder and saw that the blonde Asian woman was deftly lifting my wallet and she almost had it out of my pants...which was really amazing considering I was sitting down. It was at this point that I had realized that while the bus driver was driving, he didn't look like any bus driver I had seen before. He was dressed like a pilgrim. After I had changed seats and some people got off, that had left me as the only person in normal attire. Mei Pak said to me...

Then Veronica emailed me this...

"Dude. Your eyes are really dilated. They look like fucking hockey pucks. What the hell are you on?"

I tried to answer, I tried to explain that I was not on anything. But as I opened my mouth to speak projectile vomit spew without warning. It was brown and sickly sweet smelling. I remembered the brownie I snatched from my brother's lunchbox just before I had left the house.

The bus halted. I was on the floor trying to focus when I felt the bus driver's hand on the back of my shirt. He dragged me forward, passing the box I had kicked and the discarded megaphone which I then realized were a woman's grocery bags and a Dunkin Donuts coffee cup respectively.
As the bus pulled away I sat on the curb. OK, I'm frying. I can accept that. And this is New York; it is actually possible there was a pilgram and a guy wearing a silver and gold jumpsuit on the bus. 'Happens every day.

I patted my ass and hips, and I confirmed that my wallet really was gone. And so was my Blackberry. I looked around trying to get a grip on where exactly I was.

That's when I saw the newstand. And the newspapers. And the headlines, which all read -

Then Paulie Decibels emailed me this beaut...

‘Di and Dodi Didn't Die!’ My jaw dropped so much that you could have scraped litter from my bottom lip. I held my breath and started to count to ten but the heaving kicked in around six as I tried to focus on the rest of the story and how the press, police and secret services were trying to track down the paparazzi scum who had tried to sell evidence of the Royal Resurrection to Buckingham Palace.

It wasn’t so much the scoop that had freaked me out but the hacks mug shot that was glaring out at me. He was a cross between Grizzly Adams and Ben Turpin, eyes at five to four. Not exactly what you’d call a handsome man but definitely, distinctive. I stroked my beard , put my sun specs back on and looked around for a barbers.



Now, the trick with trick with is that Splotchy tagged Gifted Typist and she was going to be one of my go-tos. I'll have to change the tag up and hit Veronica, Paulie Decibels and last, but certainly not least, Katie.

An All Too Apt Raymond Chandler Quote

She hung up on me. I hung up on myself. Saying the wrong thing is one of my specialties.

From "The Pencil" a.k.a. "Marlowe Takes On The Syndicate" a.k.a. "Wrong Pigeon" by Raymond Chandler.

Paul Brazill Got Into Six Sentences!

Paul Brazill's Black White And Red All Over explores the glory of nightclub in noir films versus the cold reality of the present life under the neon lights. Good stuff, way to go Paulie Decibels!

Friday's Forgotten Books

Patti Abbott, the mother of one of the better authors of our time (and no slouch herself in the storytelling department), runs a nice little feature every week called "Friday's Forgotten Books." In it, she invites writers to scribble a small review or summary of a crime or mystery book that might have been overlooked altogether, or that needs to be brought to the public's attention again.

This Friday, among the many mentions, she was nice enough to post the little article I had on Brett Halliday's "Head's You Lose." Why don't you pop on over and take a peek?

"Strawberry Quick" Is The Lucky 13th Story Posted To A Twist Of Noir

Even though I am superstitious, no, I don't suffer from triskaidekaphobia. So when I found out today that "Strawberry Quick" became the thirteenth story posted to A Twist Of Noir, I viewed that as good omen.

So please don't be offended when I tell you that you can keep that rabbit's foot, it didn't do the rabbit a bit of good. Besides, I have something else-

Best Of: "Tit-For-Tat"

Class, your assignment today, is to open the premiere issue of Astonishing Adventures Magazine. Go to page twenty-one and read the fine pulp fiction story "Tit-For-Tat."

The first person to tell me what "colcannon" is without looking it up online, gets two gold stars.

The Poll Is Closed And A New Slogan Is Born

The poll on Cormac Travels is closed and why don't you pop on over, to see the winning slogan? A big thanks to everyone that voted.

You've Got Meme On Your Shirt...

My Best Online Friend Forever Katie Schwartz tagged me and while I don't know who originated it, I know that Da Monk and Bubs had it on their pages. What's the meme called, I don't know, I'm too lazy to look it up. At any rate, here we go, Perry Farrell-

1. Five names you go by

1) The pronunciation of my name that I thought was correct, until a Danish woman straightened me out when I was twenty-four.
2) The pronunciation of my that is actually correct and what my In-laws with dere New Yawk accents, actually pronounced correctly as well.
3) My nickname, which was the bastardized version of my actual name, which no one in my family or my neighborhood could pronounce. Everybody at work calls me that or...
4) ...by my last name.
5) Cormac is how people address me online, but I don't recognize it half the time. Whenever I see that on someone else's blog in reference to me, I'm like "who's that bastar...oh, they're talking about me.

2. Three things you are wearing right now

1) Levis.
2) A "Get Fuzzy" t-shirt.

The first panel features Satchel The Dog: So you write movies? You're a writer?
Quentin Tabbytino: Among other things. Yes.
Bucky The Cat: In fact, Quentin Tabbytino here is famous for his brilliant dialogue.

The second panel features Satchel: Really? How do you know what to say? I wouldn't know where to start!
Quentin: Well, for example, say I'm trying to write dialogue for someone who got punched in the nose...

The third panel features the word: SLAP

The fourth panel features Satchel: Oop! Son of a...
Quentin: I would write "Oop. Son of a." See, it rings true.
Bucky: Genius. Pure Genius.

3) Underwear. I don't wear shoes in the house, it's an Hawaiian/Asian-thing.

3. Two things you want very badly at the moment

1) To be further along in my writing career than I am...er, I mean "world peace," yeah, that's it!
2) For Obama to step in and get this ship uprighted right now, not '09, RIGHT NOW.

4. Three people who will probably fill this out

1) Quin.
2) Tanya.
3) Paul, I believe you never done a meme.

5. Two things you did last night

1) Had an email conversation with Katie.
2) Watched Adult Swim with The Kid.

6. Two things you ate today

Not a damn thing and the sooner I get this meme done, the better.

7. Two people you last talked to on the phone

1) The Missus from the Autoshow (The Kid met Mario Andretti!).
2) I texted Katie, Quin and my cousin on Thanksgiving.

8. Two things you are going to do tomorrow

1) Work.
2) Writing, partly because I hate work.

9. Two longest car rides

1) Parma to Sant'Eufemia d'Aspromonte, that's almost the whole boot of Italy, people.
2) From a certain East Bay suburb that is so despised by me that I won't mention its name, to Orange County.

10. Two of your favorite beverages

1) Though I can no longer afford it, I crave Sambazon.
2) Anything from Jamba Juice or Odwalla. I don't eat healthy, but I drink healthy (with plenty of sugar to go with it).

When did that become a word?

So I'm cleaning out my old e-mail box and I see an old Time Magazine article in which a show runner had to show up to a screenwriting symposium without his two main writers, who got fired.

But if you're going to go that road with Heroes—with its gigundous scope and cast—then you should probably do some major paring down of characters.

Wait a minute, I'm still not used to "ginormous," which apparently is now an official word and now there's "gigundous?" I'm sorry, my ears cannot tolerate "gigundous," it sounds like a podiatrist speaking in Hindi about a foot condition.


Eh, don't mind me, I'm just cranky because my XboX 360 died.

Horror, Courtesy of The Baroness And Hachette Book Group USA

Look what came in the mail a couple of days ago, courtesy of The Baroness and the Hachette Book Group USA, The 13 Best Horror Stories of All Time.






So far, I've re-read "The Tell Tale Heart" for the first time since the Carter Administration and it seemed more terrifying back then. I read"The Bottle Imp" by Robert Louis Stevenson for the first time and I am about half-way through "Green Tea" J. Sheridan Le Fanu.


Make no mistake, these tales are scary and they are riveting, but one the thing that sticks out the most is loonnnnggg prose of the 19th Century. Why say it with just one sentence, when you can say it with at least ten more? I guess because they had the luxury of time back then, they decided to reflect that with their writing style.


Now, I'm not saying this takes away from the tension, I'm just saying that the most terrified people of that era, were probably the book editors.

It's Beginning To Look Like Christmas...

Way to usher in Christmas, denizens of a certain Long Island town!

This "bah, humbug!" is for you! All that for minimum wage, yo...

But then Black Friday turns even more evil, with two guys turning a Toys R Us into a John Woo movie, minus the doves.

Best Of: "$8,400 Per Carat"

Enjoy the Heist Man here, because he's in limbo, elsewhere. I believe his third story is about to be rejected for the second time.

Here in the San Francisco Bay Area back in the 90's and into this century, we had jewel couriers getting robbed left and right as they got out of their cars, or just before they entered buildings. It was done mostly by Colombian gangs, or at least that is what the papers speculated.

So I thought up a character who goes wherever the merchandise tempts and takes him. I was lazy with names at that point and a lightbulb went off over my head when a clip of Dustin Hoffman doing a certain Eugene O'Neill play, gave way to the name "Heist Man." Of course knowing my lack of theater knowledge and the fact that the TV was muted, it was probably him doing "Death of A Salesman."

At any rate, here is the Heist Man as he first appeared in "$8,400 Per Carat"

Alterna-Title-Sequel-Tive Part III

So Flannery said of this post, yesterday "might be fun to have a 'fill in the blanks' contest." I thinks that's a great idea and I'll shoot for that next Monday, when my writing schedule is a little less hectic. In the meantime Miss Flan who owned The Bad Lieutenant's Wife Game like no other including its creator, why don't you try this?


Alterna-Title-Sequel-Tive

Being a former aspiring screenwriter, why don't I adapt the same reverence and accuracy for the source material that Hollywood does, while even out "Hollywooding" Hollywood and going to the pointless sequel right off the bat.

I'll give you the original book title, and then I'll follow it up with the shameless pseudo-Hollywood rip-off, okay? As an example...The Original: "Oh, The Places You'll Go!" My Sequel: "Been There, Wish I Hadn't Done That." Got it?



The Original: "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn" The Sequel: "The Smell of Pee Grows On My Brooklyn Stoop"

The Original: "Hop On Pop
The Sequel: "Hopped-Up Pop"

The Original: "The Witches of Eastwick"
The Sequel: "Your Yeast Infection Keeps You In Check"

The Original: "The World According To Garp"
The Sequel: "The Hurled Accordion Is Sharp"

The Original: "The Satanic Verses"
The Sequel: "The Satanic Knock-Off Purses"

The Original: "The Tropic of Cancer"
The Sequel: "The Topic of Pantser"

The Original: "The Sound And The Fury"
The Sequel: "The Paparazzi Hound Suri"

The Tale Of The Word Pad Thief...

...or doing my own crossword puzzle, the hard way.


I have a laptop, though since the slot for my wireless card broke, I haven't used it much. I don't bring it to work as of late because of security issues there and it doesn't have Microsoft Word, which is my preferred means of writing (it has a bare bones version of Works).

At any rate, I write by hand on occasion, though I write with difficulty. I learned how to use chopsticks before I learned how to write, so I hold my pen like this...



...and that is the chicken scratch that comes out. It's usually not as neat as this either, as my hand has a tendency to cramp up after a few paragraphs.

So my main M.O. is to use a computer at work that has Word Pad only, but Word Pad is all I need to get a basic draft down. If right now you thinking "why doesn't he just use load Word on to his laptop?"

You're using logic.

Stop that this instant.

I'm a writer and am prone to quirks, don't ya know?

So I use Word Pad to type it up during lunch and then I have to get the hell out of there, because then I would have to explain why I'm using the computer. Note, there is no Internet on that connection, just an Intranet if you want to check your pay stub, so it would be safe to assume that I'm not surfing for p*rn.

Only three people from work know that I write and about five people knew that I used to screen write. The point being it's a big secret as to just what I'm up to and if you understand the poisoned culture in my workplace, you'd realize that it does me no good to tell anyone just what I'm up to.

Last week I had a pretty good thing going and I was on a roll. I was over the moon as I went to print it and I was greeted with this...

What...the...f*ck? The worst of it was the way my writing meter times out, the middle is the part of the sentence that I cannot remember for the life of me. So I had to fill in the blanks so to speak, or imagine an esoteric writing crossword puzzle. Now mind you, I obviously know where the story was going, but my problem was getting each and every word right...not so easy.

BTW, the damn printer did it again two days later, the rat bastard machine.

You Would Say That, Wouldn't You?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Paul David Brazill.

He's a fine wit, a bon vivant and he's new to blogging. The name of his blog is "You Would Say That, Wouldn't You?" Please make him feel welcome.

Whenever You Get A Chance

BTW, whenever you get a chance? Please, pop on over to Cormac Travels and click the poll I have over there.

Best Of: "Strawberry Quick"

Sometimes as a writer, something just clicks and you get on a roll where the words flow on like a smooth, glassy wave. I was just a passenger on board with this short story and the characters were the ones doing the actual surfing, but if you appreciate crime fiction? You'll probably love this wave as much as I did.

I give you "Strawberry Quick."

I hope you enjoy it, Mr. Brazill.

A "Fictional" Writing Quote

"I am a writer Mr. Marlowe, and that is my job -- to be a lightning rod for ideas. To try them on the way people try on winter coats. If I didn't, I would be terrible at what I did. And a coward."

As said by a fictional version of Bertolt Brecht to Phillip Marlowe from "In The Jungle of Cities."

"In The Jungle..." is a short story by Roger L. Simon from the anthology "Raymond Chandler's Phillip Marlowe."

My First Review

Hey, Geoff of Eastern Standard Crime gave "Swerved"

Three Hats!

The other critics were not so effusive-



Ian Rankin says "he's a Mars bar that's been left in the fryer entirely too long, if you know what I mean."


Dan Brown says "In one regard, I'm sorry that I've spent any time at all around Cormac. You'd think with that last name, he would be a somewhat regular fellow, right? On the other hand, yes, I did base Silas on him. Obviously he's not an albino, but his tendency to flagellate himself...well, I've said enough."

Jackie Collins says "if I were to write a book about him, it would be titled 'Hollywood Hacks."

Tom Wolfe says "do you know what that bastard did the last time I was in the Hamptons? When I went swimming, he dyed all of my suits green. All of them and all the clothing in my suitcase, for good measure. He's not an author, he's a menace to civility and I'm lighting a great big bonfire to his insanity."

Where Have I Heard This Before?

Somehow this Fusco Brothers Cartoon sounds hauntingly familiar...

I think somehow...

...I've heard it before.

I don't know, it must be my imagination.

Best Of: "Right Between The Sound Machine"

"Right Between The Sound Machine" was a new take on an old myth and there is a lot of the old San Francisco that I remember in this story...uh, just barely. This piece was some of the most fun I ever had with JJ's Friday Flash Fiction and recently, Uberm*lf tried to bring the old FFF back. More power to her and anyone who reads this post, should please support her endeavor.

For the first time ever, I've added a jpeg to one of my stories. This will give all of you that haven't been to San Francisco, a visual reference point. Actual translation: I could add physical descriptions, but I want to leave the original Friday Flash Fiction intact.