Sunday, July 17, 2022
A Tribute in Pen and Ink
Wednesday, June 1, 2022
Call for Submissions: 'Unspeakable Horror 3'
Unspeakable Horror 3: Dark Rainbow Rising
Edited by: Vince A. Liaguno
When the pendulum of civil rights and social change initiatives
swings toward progress, the LGBTQIA community often holds its collective breath
in anticipation of the inevitable backlash when the pendulum swings back. Even
with these gains, we are constantly looking over our shoulder—waiting for the
next shoe to drop, for the next attack on our personhood. The community’s
enemies see progress as a perceived danger to their own heteronormative
bubbles—and any advancement threatens to burst those fragile bubbles. Even as
we hoist the rainbow flag in celebration, a dark rainbow rises on the horizon…
For this third volume of the award-winning Unspeakable Horror series, we are
seeking original short stories up to 6,000 words that explore this idea of
great terror growing from the LGBTQIA community’s great strides forward. We
want your terrifying interpretations and extensions of this theme—not a literal
reading.
Questions to explore:
- Does the unspeakable horror manifest in a subtle, growing sense of unease that our enemies must surely be plotting to thwart our efforts—or does it present in outward paranoia?
- Do we settle into a false sense of security and not see the unspeakable terror that rises behind us?
- Do we turn on each other now that our external enemies are (seemingly) defeated?
- Do we leave part of our community behind in some misguided act of self-preservation?
Stories can be set in any time period, as long as the narrative includes some historical LGBTQ+ civil rights/social movement/moment as a direct or indirect backdrop. Think:
- Homosexuality and the Holocaust;
- the Stonewall Riots;
- the Mattachine Society and its 1966 “Sip-In”;
- the first Pride parades in the early 70s;
- the American Psychiatric Association’s removal of homosexuality from the official list of mental illnesses;
- the assassination of Harvey Milk;
- the Upstairs Lounge fire in New Orleans;
- the AIDS crisis at its advent, at its peak;
- Proposition 8;
- Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell;
- the murder of Matthew Shepherd;
- DOMA and eventual marriage equality;
- the growth of LGBTQIA families;
- One Millions Moms and their crusade against inclusive Hallmark Channel programming;
- serial killers that have targeted the LGBTQIA community (be careful with your handling of the internalized homophobia elements here);
- calls for the end of conversion therapy;
- the current rise of anti-transgender legislation;
- how LGBTQIA inroads in America affect LGBTQIA persons in other places around the world.
The above list is NOT
inclusive nor is it mandatory that one of these events must be included—these
are merely prompts to get the creative juices flowing.
What we want:
- This is an LGBTQIA/horror anthology. Stories must have a strong, central gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or queer focus/slant/theme.
- Stories with a strong, literary feel and crafted with language that captivates
- Stories with a strong sense of atmosphere
- Stories that shock and/or provoke—but for the right reasons. We want that shock and provocation to sneak up on us versus clobbering us over the head. We want material that elicits an emotional response of some kind and leaves us with our jaws hanging open upon conclusion.
- Above all, this is a horror anthology—we want stories that are scary and unsettling, stories that evoke a sense of dread or unease or excruciating tension. Think horror that’s rooted in existentialism, folklore, psychology, the avant garde, body horror, survivalist horror, eco-horror, the supernatural, occultism, urban gothic, suburban gothic, and weird fiction.
What we don’t want:
- Straightforward erotica;
- Stories that confuse or conflate sexual orientation or gender identity with pedophilia or bestiality (It’s happened more times than we care to admit on past calls for submissions!);
- Science fiction or fantasy;
- Zombies, werewolves, vampires, and other traditional monsters will be an exceptionally hard sell unless you’ve got something singular to offer;
- Humorous horror;
- Poetry;
- Stories with graphic descriptions of violence/abuse against children, women, or animals.
Tips from the submissions process for the first two volumes of Unspeakable Horror:
- It doesn't take an authentic LGBTQIA person to imbue a work with an authentic LGBTQIA POV. It takes talent. The Unspeakable Horror anthology series is an inclusive project that welcomes all writers from all backgrounds, abilities, orientations, and gender identities.
- There's a difference between seamlessly weaving keen political commentary throughout the fabric of a story and dropping a political rant into the middle of it. Save the political speeches for <insert name of favorite politician here>. Chances are, they’re better at them.
- We want to experience terror from the stories—not suffer nightmares from the grammar. Line edit, proofread, line edit some more, proofread again. Repeat until verb tenses agree, the punctuation doesn't upstage your characters, and sentences enjoy self-actualization.
- The stories that blew our socks off on previous calls for submissions were the ones with a strong sense of setting and mood.
- Please. We beg of you: No psychotic trans killers or lesbian revenge tales in which someone's unmentionables are chopped, eaten, or otherwise lopped off. Cliché is dead.
- This is a queer-themed horror anthology. We’re looking for horror tales with a strong queer subtext—not straight horror stories with a gay character or two thrown in to meet a quota.
- Horror sometimes demands a suspension of belief—not a suspension of logic.
To be published by Crystal Lake Publishing in the 2nd quarter of 2023—subject to change.
Original stories only—no reprints.
Word count up to 6,000 words. Stories of 6,001 words or more
will be rejected instantly.
No simultaneous submissions.
Follow Shunn format.
Submissions open on 8-01-22. Submissions close on 9-30-22. All authors will be notified of our editorial decisions by 10-31-22. Contributors and TOC announcements will follow.
Submissions can be sent to submissions@darkrainbowrising.com beginning August 1st.
Please format subject line as follows:
UH3 / Author Last Name / “Name of Story”
Any submissions received prior to August 1st will be deleted without being read.
Sunday, April 17, 2022
The Transcendent Chaos of ‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’
Everything Everywhere All at Once is the bombastic brainchild of the directing duo collectively known as Daniels—Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert. The filmmakers previously helmed the 2016 surrealist comedy-drama Swiss Army Man, which saw Daniel Radcliffe playing a corpse with propulsive flatulence and an erection that doubles as a compass. Daniels bring that unique brand of off-kilter kookiness to their latest effort and then turn the sensory overload dial way up past the point of no return. Daniels effectively throw everything and the kitchen sink at the wall and—remarkably and improbably—everything sticks, everywhere, and (yes) all at once.
The incredible Michelle Yeoh
toplines as Evelyn Wang, a Chinese-American immigrant and laundromat owner who,
while being audited by the IRS, discovers that she must connect with different versions
of herself from parallel universes in order to prevent the destruction of them
all by an evil entity known as Jobu Tupaki. That’s a dramatic oversimplification
of the plot, which also has Evelyn grappling with her daughter’s sexual
orientation, learning of her husband’s petition for divorce, and stressing over
the arrival of her judgmental father (the legendary James Hong) from China. Looming
over all of it is frumpy, humorless IRS inspector Deirdre Beaubeirdra (Jamie
Lee Curtis), who warns of foreclosure and repossession due to Evelyn’s woeful
mismanagement of the business’ taxes.
In her many verse jumps, Evelyn
sees how her life would have turned out having made a single different choice.
In one, she’s a glamorous martial arts movie star who encounters a sophisticated
version of a Waymond she left and never married—one who now rejects her. In
another, she’s a lesbian married to Dierdre, in a bizarre world where humans
have hot dogs for fingers and play the piano with their toes. In yet another,
she and Joy are merely two rocks with googly eyes living on the edge of a
cliff. Daniels excel at creating madcap, boundary-pushing dreamscapes within these
multiple realities existing at once within the known realm of time and space.
Within their evocative and cacophonous
labyrinth of storytelling, the directors employ an anything-goes audacity—a swirling
cyclone of fertile ideas and heady concepts—and straddle the worlds of science
fiction, comedy, drama, action, and martial arts. The nearly two-and-a-half-hour
film moves at a frenetic pace, with nonstop martial-arts action and
in-your-face slapstick that allow for no bathroom breaks. (Word to the wise: Only
buy the small soda and sip judiciously). Despite the complexity of their convoluted
plot, Daniels admirably keep things surprisingly coherent—even the technobabble
makes sense.
Somewhere between death and taxes
are beautiful moments—and these brief snippets of time are what make life worth
living. This is the essence of Everything Everywhere All at Once and
Daniels—aided immeasurably by Yeoh and their ensemble—employ an unmatched artistic
aptitude in bringing their vision to whimsical, technicolor life. It’s a masterclass
in filmmaking that will enthrall you with its exquisitely choreographed martial
arts sequences before bringing tears to your eyes with the weight of its
profound questions and truths about life. Unlike anything you’ve seen before, Everything
Everywhere All at Once is destined to be a classic, an amalgamation of
genre anarchy that defies classification, subverts expectations, and explores
existential matters with empathy and insight. This marvelously unhinged slice
of cinematic maximalism is nothing short of a work of art—and not to be missed.
Just let go—and let Yeoh.
Sunday, February 20, 2022
Buckets of Blood and Gerontological Madmen in 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre'
So, let’s unclutch those pearls
and talk about the latest installment in the franchise that began with Tobe
Hooper’s gritty 1974 slasher. Texas Chainsaw Massacre (the ’22 film
drops the “the” from its title) is directed by David Blue Garcia, with a
screenplay by Chris Thomas Devlin, from an original story co-written by Fede
Álvarez (also a producer on the film) and Rodo Sayagues. Originally, the
production began with brothers Ryan and Andy Tohill (who directed 2018’s The
Dig) at the helm, but the directors were replaced with Garcia after studio
displeasure with the footage they shot. That’s never a good sign.
The new film opens as San
Francisco speculators Melody (Sarah Yarkin) and Dante (Jacob Latimore)—with Melody's
sister Lila (Elsie Fisher) and Dante's girlfriend Ruth (Nell Hudson) along for
the ride—travel to the remote, long-abandoned Texas town of Harlow. Melody and
Dante plan to auction off the town’s properties to create a trendy, heavily
gentrified area for hipsters of every persuasion. Why, you ask, would said
trendy hipsters with ample cash to burn pick an out-of-the-way,
hot-as-Satan’s-ass locale like bumfuck Texas as an investment opportunity? No
one really knows—and Lila even questions it aloud at one point in the film.
No, none of the characters are
particularly memorable nor do we care when it’s their turn to meet the end of
Leatherface’s chainsaw. No, making this film’s Final Girl a school shooting
survivor adds nothing of note to her character or the plot. No, Leatherface’s
speed and agility don’t make a lick of sense in the context of his
chronological age. But 2022’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a lot of fun
despite its myriad flaws—in that kind of mindless Saturday matinee, popcorn
movie kind of way.
How best to enjoy this latest entry in the venerable horror franchise? Let go and let Garcia.
Tuesday, January 4, 2022
2021: The Year in Television
Those of us old enough to
remember when choices were limited to the big three (ABC/NBC/CBS) on network
television thought that the addition of premium cable outlets like HBO and Showtime
and Cinemax was monumental in and of itself. Then, basic cable expanded into
original programming, and previously surfed-right-by filler channels like AMC
and FX became destination viewing. Now, with the proliferation of streaming
services (Netflix and Amazon Prime and Hulu and Paramount+ and HBO Max and
Disney+ and Peacock and Apple+) our choices are myriad. Even the most diehard,
dedicated TV aficionado has trouble keeping track and keeping up. We are truly
living in another golden age of television.
The creative opportunities these
streaming services have opened up for content creators have been unparalleled
and have brought an exceptional diversity and quality of shows into our living
rooms. Instead of three networks having to choose between hundreds of hopeful
pilots for a limited number of primetime slots, television’s expansion into
premium cable, basic cable, and (now) streamers has created an insatiable
demand for new content that will attract new subscriber-viewers. That
competition for must-see content has attracted high-end writers, directors, and
actors to the medium. That’s especially great news for pandemic-weary audiences
who desperately need the escapism right now.
2021 brought another exceptional
slate of offerings into our homes. There were revivals of old favorites and
murder mysteries and a historical drama chronicling the AIDS crisis. From notable
literary adaptations to originals that explored weighty themes like ageism,
racism, the cyclical nature of life and poverty in small towns, the concepts of
agnosticism and atheism in religious faith, and man’s eternal, tail-chasing quest
to discover happiness, television gave us much to enjoy and chew on this year. It
was a year that brought career resurgence to comedic veterans Steve Martin and
Martin Short, newfound respect for the versatility of perennial scene-stealer
Jennifer Coolidge, and well-deserved accolades for the inestimable Jean Smart,
who played the hell out of not one, but two, career-best roles in 2021. It was
a year that saw adaptations of books by Ann Cleeves, Emily St. John Mandel, Philipp
Meyer, and Liane Moriarty. It was a year that gave us two unforgettable limited
series written and directed by guys named Mike that had everyone taking: The White Lotus from Mike White and Midnight Mass from Mike Flanagan.
Without further comment, these
are my ten top television picks of 2021:
#10 Dexter: New Blood
#9 Station Eleven
#8 Only Murders in the Building
#7 It’s A Sin
#6 The Long Call
#5 Yellowjackets
#4 The White Lotus
#3 Mare of Easttown
#2 Hacks
#1 Midnight Mass
A few honorable mentions, in no
particular order:
The Chair (the first season)
Halston
YOU (the third season)
American Rust
Nine Perfect Strangers
WandaVision
Yellowstone (the fourth season)
And Just Like That
Chucky (the first season)
Pose (the third and final season)
Them