I've so far had one failed attempt to publish my Port Adelaide urban folklore book, the Panther of Divett Street, and I am tempted to self-publish it, or possibly reformat the book and try again with a regular publisher. Still scratching my head about that one.

In the meantime, a few mates have had a go at a cover, using AI. My prompt was "An old fashioned policeman holding a baton chasing a panther with a chicken in its mouth." Results are hilariously bad. Thanks to Richard, Chris and Eva for playing along.

A Life in the Book of Monsters is available now through Amazon.

While remaining dedicated nonsense, it also hints at the story of Arthur Hindside, a failing romantic poet of the mid-19th century, who goes insane after a trip to France to rescue a lost manuscript, then becomes a supernatural journalist, tries to contact the Holy Spirit during a seance, and then finally escapes London to teach at  Scottish Grammar School, only to go missing for seven years after sleeping on a hilltop on St John's Eve.

Sheesh...I never did hear back from the New Yorker (!), or any other place I wrote to, but I happen to think this is a fine piece of nonsense / satire, so I am including it in full this time. Click to read the whole thing...

Well, I just submitted something to the New Yorker for the first time. Despite the glamorously low success rate for first-time authors, hopes are high.

At the risk of jeopardizing what little hopes I do have, here is a short selection from my short fiction piece, Bloody Gerald, submitted in this first day of Spring.