KIERAN SHEA’s fiction has appeared in dozens of venues including Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Thuglit, Dogmatika, Word Riot, Plots with Guns, Beat to a Pulp, Crimefactory, and Needle: A Magazine of Noir well as in some beefy-looking anthologies most of which will make you question the tether of his shiny, red balloon. To his self-deprecating astonishment he's also been nominated for the Story South’s Million Writers Award twice without sending the judges so much as a thank you note. He co-edited the satiric transgressive fiction collection D*CKED: DARK FICTION INSPIRED BY DICK CHENEY and his debut novel KOKO TAKES A HOLIDAY is out now from Titan Books. Kieran divides his time between 38°58′22.6″N- 76°30′4.17″W and 39.2775° N, 74.5750° W.


Breaking the Face on the Learning Curve

Yesterday I finally arrived at the last page of 50K word rewrite 3rd draft. Exhausting. Every day on almost hourly basis I vacillate between hating every line of this 50K-er and liking it somewhat. But I promised myself I wouldn’t touch or start another thing until I was through this round. Now for round four. (God…) Maybe five. (Hangs head…) Strip the weak wood, tear out the moldy rot, mud up the gaps and cracks. When does it stop? Seems like never. On my first manuscript (differnt book and something I have discovered was completely rushed, clunky, and suckful) I stopped revising when I grew bleary-eyes and tired. It was okay, but I think at that point I was just reaching out for help when I sent it off. Is this good enough? Am I doing the right thing? Somebody give me a God damn sign! No. Lame, huh? But now I'm determined to shine and shine until I'm satisfied that the work throws off sparks. Got this new buzz in my head and I don't care if anyone "loves it"...I want the story to W-O-R-K. Anyway, on another point, some people out there have been asking me, “Dude, where’ve you been? You used to pump out shorts like a machine?” (Actual quote) My response to this has pretty much been, “Man, don’t you get it? If I don’t get beyond the short crap, if I don’t learn how to write the longer hate/love letters instead of the condolence and greeting cards I’m fucking done. I’m going wither and disappear.” Amateur hour and see ya in the next life, pal. Mostly understood. This learning curve is a ramp, and you break a lot of limbs on that ramp you bet. But I want to be Tony Hawk.