Anonymous-9 began writing short stories in 2007 and had her first story, published by Todd Robinson at Thuglit. She won the 2008 Spinetingler Award for Best Short Story on the Web for “Hard Bite,” is a two-time Derringer nominee, and is currently competing for a Thriller Award sponsored by the International Thriller Writers.
1) Where are you from? Why?
Dude, I’m in witness protection. I could tell you, but I’d have to have somebody kill you. Probably someone close to you, that you have no idea is a secret assassin.
2) & 3) Generate a relevant formula., and on your MySpace page, it says you’re 101 years old. What is time?
Time is the space between meals and the distance between satisfying sexual encounters, divided or multiplied by factors of inertia and motivation…which equals writing output somewhere at the end of the line.
4) In the note attached your story “The Master Bedroom,” it says the story started out as a nightmare. To what extent is our reality a dream, or our dreams reality? Further, what role does fiction play in this relationship?
As Buddha Shakyamuni said, “All phenomena are like dreams.” In one of his brilliant treatises on cosmology, the meditation master and author, Geshe Kelsang Gyatso, explained that there are thousands of disembodied spirits, hungry ghosts and hell beings living with us in this world. Some people can see them, others hear them, most are unaware of them. My own wondering about this yielded “M-N-S (n) Murder, Necrophilia, Suicide,” published by Anthony Neil Smith, the unparalleled editor of Plots With Guns. The story got picked up for a Thriller Award. I don’t recommend meditating on hell without asking for divine protection first.
5) What is the difference between “genre” fiction and “literary” fiction? Is there really a difference? If so, should there be?
Literary fiction can still break down into genres. Generally, it just means that literary fiction uses better grammar and bigger words. Occasionally it means the writer is a big thinker and can reference classical themes, update them, and bring a larger understanding to age-old dilemmas in a modern context. I’m a big fan of John Barth; in my mind he’s the king of lit-fic.
6) What is there, and what should we do about it?
Forty-one percent of Americans pay zero income tax but they still get to vote on how the rest get taxed. A third of our prison population is made up of foreign nationals, costing billions per year. We’re being invaded, terrorized and fucked over but our leaders don’t act. Don’t tell me it’s complicated. That’s just smoke and mirrors for, “Sorry, it’s too profitable sucking the American people dry.”
“Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.” —The Who
7) Write a few sentences and make us feel something. Anything.
Sure. Here’s a little snippet from a novel I’m making out of “Hard Bite,” with the help of David Cranmer, who published the original short story over at Beat to a Pulp. My wheelchair-bound serial killer only targets hit-and-run drivers on the lam.
She corners onto the lot like the menace on wheels that she is. A neurotic mess of nerves posing as a nice-looking blonde in her late twenties. She’s driving the Volks that Daddy probably makes payments on, while she wastes her life away trying to become an actress. You can spot wannabe actresses in LA with deadly accuracy. They’re the ones who spend all their energy looking fuckable, meanwhile they haven’t had sex since Bush got elected—and then it was probably with a close relative. But I digress….
I open the back of my van, and let down the hydraulic handicapped ramp. “Do you feel okay about getting in here with me? I’d rather show you the merchandise in private.”
“Oh sure!” she burbles, and climbs aboard. I open the bottle, shake a few “special” ones into my palm and hand them to her along with the bottle, for inspection. She knows what the real thing looks like, and this is it. She’s so relieved, a big smile comes across her lovely, killer lips. I’d like to beat her to death with a tire iron right here. But I don’t.
–from Hard Bite, the novel. © 2010
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