Behind the Short Story: “La Tomatina”

There are rules to the Tomatina.

In their great wisdom, the Spanish have come to publish guidelines for their annual by-the-thousands tomato fight. No whipping soaked tee-shirts as weapons, for one. No throwing shoes or anything of beanball substance. Just squished tomatoes. Those you can throw at anyone in sight. For one hour.

It takes place in Buñol, a small town in Valencia. At 11 a.m. one day each August, 30,000 people–stop and think about that number–crowd into the old town’s cramped plaza and let fly with 145,000kg of squished tomatoes. 145 metric tons. Squished tomatoes, remember, because a whole tomato flung at close quarters is a concussion inbound, if not pushing the non-deadly edge of force. Tomato trucks rumble by, dumping ammo while the palpable hits mount and gutters fill.

At one hour, the horn blows. 30,000 people stop, heart-pumping, sticky, that last unthrown tomato squished in hand. One hour. At 11:59, slopping tomato pulp at someone’s kisser is good fun. At 12:01, it’s assault. At 12:01, you and your fellow combatants Continue reading “Behind the Short Story: “La Tomatina””

Behind the Short Story: “Let It Burn”

First, a numbness. A chill that says you shouldn’t have gone and bit in, that something wicked this way comes. The heat does not flood in, yet. It builds. The nose starts to run, and your voice catches. Your body knows only to sweat. Because it’s too late to run. With Nashville hot chicken, the flames pause just that moment before they consume.

Prince’s hot chicken, courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

Lately, hot chicken has gone from cult food to kind of a thing. Even KFC is in on it–not authentically, mind you. Lest you think I’m the latest bandwagoneer, my 2015 “Let It Burn” submission to Alfred Hitchcock  beat KFC to the punch by some months. The publishing world is itself a sweet, slow burn.

 

I digress. Lester, the sorta-hero of “Burn,” describes hot chicken thusly: Continue reading “Behind the Short Story: “Let It Burn””

Derringer-ered!

I’m incredibly proud  that last year’s “The Cumberland Package” (AHMM, May 2016) has been named a finalist for the Short Mystery Fiction Society’s Derringer Awards.  I mean, like busting-at-seams proud.

Of being named, because the crime space these days is terrific in its voice and depth. The stuff that leaves me vibrating explores in stark terms human nature at core. Not much more human than the crimes we choose to commit–or choose not to.

And there’s the bust-at-seams honor. Any story of mine is thought even near the best of that buzz level?

Thank you.

B

* * *

Here’s my Derringer finalist Q&A.

And here’s each of the finalists’ Q&A. Fascinating behind-scenes stories. Writer-to-writer, what it took is where it’s at.

Humor: In Which Vernon Stagg Self-Lawyers Up

March 24, 2016

By Certified Mail

 

Mr. Robert Mangeot, Author of Shameless and Baseless Works of Fiction

Dear Mr. Mangeot:

The venerated and venerable law firm Vernon Stagg and Associates represents the selfsame Vernon Stagg, Esq., a noted figure of legal and civic stature in the greater metropolitan Nashville area. We mean none other than the capitol of the great state of Tennessee. Music City.

As you must surely know, having authored such a mistaken and misguided mischaracterization as “The Cumberland Package,” published in the May 2016 edition of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, you present to Nashville’s reading and voting public a grievously and grotesquely false depiction of Vernon Stagg. For the legal record and for all other records of important nature, now and in perpetuity, in his representation of Mr. Chit “Big Kick” Bowling, Vernon Stagg at no time and in no way engaged in any of the following: conspiracy to commit murder; Continue reading “Humor: In Which Vernon Stagg Self-Lawyers Up”