podcast | STORYHACK: Recent Episodes
Bryce Beattie
“Give a guy a fair break!” said the sherriff, his arms in the air. “I was half asleep like-it was a sort o’ lapse me givin’ you that gun. Be fair now, an’ hand it back, there’s a buddy!”
by S. Hargrave
narrated by Bryce Beattie
This is one of those Christmas stories that was made into a Christmas story by adding “It was Christmas” at the beginning and then reminding us when the story is set again right at the end. Oh, well. It’s a silly western anyway, and that’s good enough for me. Maybe next year I’ll find something that fits the season even better.
Merry Christmas everybody!
Here is some cowboy poetry that has nothing to do with the western story that is this week’s podcast, but at least has something to do with Christmas.
A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer
I ain’t much good at prayin’, and You may not know me, Lord —
For I ain’t much seen in churches, where they preach Thy Holy Word.
But you may have observed me out here on the lonely plains,
A-lookin’ after cattle, feelin’ thankful when it rains.Admirin’ Thy great handiwork.
The miracle of the grass,
Aware of Thy kind Spirit, in the way it comes to pass
That hired men on horseback and the livestock that we tend
Can look up at the stars at night, and know we’ve got a Friend.So here’s ol’ Christmas comin’ on, remindin’ us again
Of Him whose coming brought good will into the hearts of men.
A cowboy ain’t a preacher, Lord, but if You’ll hear my prayer,
I’ll ask as good as we have got for all men everywhere.Don’t let no hearts be bitter, Lord.
Don’t let no child be cold.
Make easy the beds for them that’s sick and them that’s weak and old.
Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we’re after,
And sorter keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.I’ve seen ol’ cows a-starvin’ — and it ain’t no happy sight;
Please don’t leave no one hungry, Lord, on Thy Good Christmas Night —
No man, no child, no woman, and no critter on four feet
I’ll do my doggone best to help you find ’em chuck to eat.I’m just a sinful cowpoke, Lord — ain’t got no business prayin’
But still I hope you’ll ketch a word or two, of what I’m sayin’:
We speak of Merry Christmas, Lord—I reckon You’ll agree —
There ain’t no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain’t free!
So one thing more I ask You, Lord: just help us what You can
To save some seeds of freedom for the future Sons of Man!– S. Omar Barker
by Ross Rocklynne
narrated by Bryce Beattie
Death stalked Darak of Werg at every step, but the Royal Bracelet and the Princess of Werg meant far more than one man’s life.
Like this podcast? Tell a friend or post a review.
Just before a bullet removed Leander Leffwell from the living, that Beantown screwball had completed his radio for talking with the dead. And to spot Leander’s sponsor, Snooty Piper set out to tune himself in on hell’s black network.
by Joe Archibald
narrated by Allan Davis
Horror filled Dr. Ames as the insect horde swooped down on the helpless village. Could nothing stop their awful attack?
Written by Fredric Arnold Kummer, Jr., and narrated by Allan Davis.
If you enjoy listening to great fiction, check out Misha Burnett’s short story collection Dark Fantasies, now on Audible. (Affiliate Link)
Would you laugh if something followed you around your home- something cold and sneaky, that wasn’t even there when you turned your head?
by Manly Wade Wellman writing as Gans T. Field
narrated by John Gradoville.
John Gradoville is an SF and crime writer. He can be found on Twitter at Twitter.com/johngradoville. His crime thriller novel “The Price of Treasure” will be published in early 2021.
You can read along with a pdf provided by SFFAudio.
by Ed Earl Rapp
narrated by Matthew Hemphill
“Keep going!” roared Thomas. “Get in there and clean out those rotors or I’ll shoot you down!” Webb climbed desperately, hid body buffeted by the suction from the giant wheel.
Check out Dark Fantasies, a short story collection by Misha Burnett.
“As a newspaperman, he couldn’t decently or ethically do
anything about it. But as a man in love with the girl
reporter, he had to make his move when she was threatened…”
Today the StoryHack podcast brings you “Kill That Headline” by Robert Leslie Bellem, read bt Matthew Hemphill.
If you like the podcast, be sure to check out issues of the magazine.
Ambition gripped the mind of Tarra Greghold, and she sought to rule the world, unaware that a robot mind could become ambitious as well.
Today’s terrific tale is Revolt of the Robots, by Arthur R. Tofte. About 50 minutes long.
“Bring him here to me. We shall soon find out who will be master.”
If you enjoy the podcast, you should also enjoy the printed StoryHack magazine. It’s full of action & adventure stories by some of today’s best authors.
Each warrior was given a sacred bundle, to keep and to pass on in reverence down through generations, never to open it, never to reveal what power lay within. Now, that generational secret is threatened, and it may be more dangerous than anyone could have imagined.
That’s right, it’s another John Thunstone adventure! This time we have Frederick Gero Heimbach narrating. You can find out more about him at: fheimbach.com.
If you enjoy these stories, please tell somebody about the podcast. I’d love to share these classic works with as many as possible.
That’s right, it’s another Robert E. Howard short story! This time we’ll hear Sea Curse. Is the old woman a witch? Will the sea exact revenge upon a pair of detestable criminals? Listen and find out.
We have another guest narrator this week, this time Zachary Clark. You can find him on twitter @ZacharyW_Clark.
If you like the podcast, can support it buy buying copies of the print magazine.
Today we have a piece by Clark Ashton Smith titled, “The Enchantress of Sylaire.”
Her land was old in evil and sorcery-and all who dwelt therein were ancient as the land… and equally cursed.
Our narrator today is Christopher Lawson. You can find him on Twitter: ChrisMLawson
Thanks to Jesse at SFFAudio for providing the scan.
by ROBOT E Howard
This story is different from all the others I have posted to the podcast. This one is an original story. ROBOT E Howard is the nickname I gave to the AI program used for generating this story. The iteration of AI software was trained on the text from all of the public domain stories about Conan by Robert E. Howard. As you will read, you’ll notice that the AI is pretty good at making sentences that sound real, at times even wonderful, but it is still bad at making plots. So expect a lot of nonsense. I did edit this story a little, to remove the worst of the non-sequiturs, to correct a little grammar/punctuation, and to switch up a couple of names to keep the number of characters down. However, I added nothing of my own. And so that ROBOT E Howard & I avoid any trademark infringement, the barbarian in this tale’s name is Nanoc.
I will include the full text below so you can follow along with the neural-net generated voice narrator.
A Knife In A Dark Hand DAWN was just whitening the east when Zabibi came upon the shores of the pool. Tina, Natala’s sister, was playing with her new-found toy. But Natala had never dreamed of playing with such tiny things, and she was too used to the flicker of bright white paint to have any need of playing with anything but a fruit.
She had toyed with the little things, and she was just now aware of her fascination with the creatures that squatted like black shadows in the shadow of the cliff. She realized that Natala rubbed the nape of her neck. Natala did not flinch at all, just as she had with her first time playing with a golden peach.
Tina clapped her hands in front of her sister, and her head slightly toward them both. “What did you say?” she asked uneasily. “What do you think I should say?”
Natala did not reply; her dark, sensuous eyes, made clink against the dampness of the pool. She rose to her feet, rubbing her pink palms in her painful excitement.
“I have dreamed what Natala saw,” Zabibi whimpered. “I shall tell you, by Crom!”
“We shall see,” agreed Natala.
With no further comment, Zabibi glided to the distant arches. She did not glance fearfully over her shoulder at the archways.
They were not inviting. Giant black, gaunt, wisps of darkness were closing in about them, huddling menacingly about them. Their silence was sinister as a threat of frost. The low singing of the gongs seemed loud in the deep blackness, like the padding of a swarming river-devil.
With a muttered oath Natala snatched her sword and threw it carelessly aside.
Entering the archway behind her, Natala saw that all were hidden in the corners of the chamber. The walls were not carved in anything unusual, yet they seemed to represent a scene of colossal proportions. Fantastic columns marched along each side of the walls, depicting various scenes from which the voices of the gods had seemed hollow and ghostly.
The Cimmerian stood alone and motionless, the priests had moved. They turned their backs silently, and Natala saw that the door did not give to their efforts.
Then began a curious game, a bizarre and apparently endless one in which each priest followed his own example.
First, each priest went through a door that opened into a corridor. The others passed through several corridors, and each door opened into an alcove, which was larger, but smaller, than the others. Then they went through a curtained doorway into a smaller chamber that was more clearly lighted. They saw, among the curtained alcoves, only the four priests, the four who wore silk robes. They seemed to be treading on invisible feet, treading noiseless tread.
Natala’s curiosity prompted her to visualize them as gray stone statues that walked on invisible feet, treading nothing but their own invisible tongue.
But their tread was no idle boast. A quick glance across the chamber showed them no evil shape; behind them, on the opposite side of the chamber, stood another horror, smaller and more disgusting. This time it was a gray stone which contrasted grotesquely with the clean-cut, compact lines of the primitive Stygian wretch. What lay behind those translucent green stone shelves was more apparent. They lay like dark, cloaked images, but when they looked over the brooding wall they saw something animate and sentient.
This realization came over Natala, which made her wince and quiver in every limb. Then one hand was pressed to her side and she stared fearfully down the long dark road leading away from the chamber.
She saw it, and a muscular arm hooked about its hilt. This arm was concealed by a pair of tigerish fingers.
Natala saw it glimmer and her heart skipped a beat. The stranger was not a Stygian. There was no hypocrisy in his eyes. The man was as different from a Kothian as was possible, if not more distinct, in his approach to women.
Natala’s red, upturned face and the ring of arms was more savage than any her race had ever seen. It was the aspect of a panther, but what it was, and why it was there, Natala could not say. The things that made it hideous were only scratches. When they had looked so closely over the wall, she had known they would come again.
What lurking horror could mimic that unholy union of woe and shame? The man confronting her had a long start, though Natala doubted if he ever had to ride that road again.
The other four facing the door seemed less fearful of the peril they faced than the priests. They were four Stygian women, naked but for a scanty silk clout, with a jeweled girdle, but the fire in their eyes was more intense than the burning of their swords. Their black locks were dark as night, and their lashes were drawn back between wisps of blackened hair.
On one hand, Natala felt as if her flesh would betray the chill of the blood that seethed under her thin skin. Her heart skipped a beat. The man was a barbarian; he had killed a man in her road. Yet she felt a kinship with the man she had seen carried out.
To fight a man whose name was Nanoc, in the grip of a frosty mountain, was to die by starvation, to be cut off as a leech sacrifices to a god, to be cut up as a symbol of the futility of human suffering.
She fought a desire to fight Zabibi, but it was useless. She knew she could not save herself from the madness of what she had witnessed. The man she had seen was utterly without mercy or compassion. She let it be; it was all in the details she had escaped—the realization of her thwarted destiny, her furious resolution, her burning shame and humiliation.
What this man stood doing in Natala’s sight was equally at the heart of her despair. He was like all his kind—a man who came of a race born to treasure and rule, who had sunk into ultimate wealth and power only because his people gave him a wide berth. This man was clad in strange garments, but he walked more like a jungle-cat than anything else. Yet his only color was a hint of the black of the northern woods, and that black cloud which was growing in size and clarity as it expanded. Its clinging and rustling made Natala wince in horror.
What lay behind that mist? Nanoc did not care. He was a Cimmerian, one of those gloomy Cimmerians who dwelt in the wastes of the north. And he thought long and hard about this grim land.
What lay behind that mist? Nanoc did not hesitate. With no warning he plunged into the mist, and suddenly felt the earth – cold, slimy, far below him—rot, turning from ice. That was all.
Immemorial he had gazed upon the grim relics of that mist, haunted and horrific, of which Natala had seen and admired for herself, almost before she knew what had disturbed him in the first place. But this mist had been there for centuries; no man who had looked upon it for three thousand years would have realized that Natala suffered from anything but a vague and horrible nervousness.
The Cimmerian let himself down on the soft leather sward in the blackness, and Natala, staring fearfully over the misted sward, saw the Cimmerian rise and fall at the same instant. They had come into a high building, empty, its ceiling cracked with mud and stone shards. It was dark, yet it was high-walled and gloomy. The building was a fort, in the sense suggested by the dim Stygian legend. In higher regard it was a marvel; not only were the walls pierced with great stones, but the sheer stone back of the walls was covered with prehistoric trees.
Natala believed that this man had come from the far north, and not be fooled by tales of unnamed Hyborians who wandered up from the far South in the past.
It was dark, but not impossible that this giant mist had blown itself up out of the sky in a giant puffball of blackness. What else could make such a bludgeon, she dared not conjecture. What other shapes nor attributes might be expected of that frosty cloud—yet she knew that it hung in conclave above her. For all its monstrous features Natala felt as if she were looking on the ultimate in peril of her life.
There was no turning back now. Rising cautiously she gripped the hem of her gown and forced down her streaming hair. The mist was almost touching her bare thigh. Suddenly she screamed, clutched blindly and caught at something clinging in the air. With a convulsive shudder she recoiled, but only to stiffen, clutching at the thing in the air as if it were an animal.
She was caught in a trap as quick as the leap of a cobra, when all hell and destruction burst at the sight of this accursed thing on the other side of the mist. Instantly there followed a mad rush of impulse.
Nanoc sprang from the mist, blood starting from his thick throat. The Cimmerian’s only weapon was a pair of great curved swords in his right hand, and his only armor was a pair of bright crimson silk breeks.
“How, Nanoc?” Natala gasped.
“Did you see it, Natala?” He shook his head. “It came floating toward the south—nearly at our feet.”
“It came pouring toward us,” she answered absently. “It was coming from the south—long, broad, and slim. As it approached us we saw its outlines fading. Soon it was like a faint glow in the mist. Then it engulfed us, and we froze in a horror-like stare. It was like encountering in a dream the nightmare of a dead world. We screamed and writhed like ghosts in the darkness, but it was only the girl who escaped. We followed her, blind, panting, and we came to a trap. We caught her, but we went to our doom. They dragged us to the edge of the marsh, but we got away. That’s where they chained the bodies of the dead men. They don’t keep anybody from anything. We broke through the black line, and the warriors came after us like phantoms. When they went after us we were like broke-trees; they could not tear us loose. We sweated and died among them. They took our brains, cut us down like rats, and made us queen of the black kingdom. Oh Crom, I see how quickly the gods allow a devil to loose on us!”
She shivered; a revulsion shook her as she stared at the grim, naked shapes that squatted in the dimness before her. She imagined their spears should smite on her, her flesh crawling. She fought against a rising tide of unreasoning passion, frantic with shame and revulsion. She fought against a rising tide of unreasoning panic, a shame more abysmal than the fear of death that assailed her. And she fought against a monstrous cynicism that mocked and malignified her weak-girl spirit. She fought against a monstrous cynicism that stifled her fiercely and inexorably. She was a daughter of the Orient; white-skinned, black-bearded barbarians are considered by many nations to be their enemy.
“I was born in a naked land. I have never hated the Orient. I have hated the Stygian and the Shemitish. I have hated the priests of Asura. I have even hated the priests of Tarim, for they are blood-mad demons of darkness and the gloom of the abyss. I have hated the Shemites because they control the hearts of the people; they control the hearts of the slaves and the warriors. I have hated them especially because of their black arts, which they claim is the secret power behind the ancients.” Nanoc said.
“I love the people. The desert is full of blood-mad Shemites. The Turanians have the strongest army in the world, and the most ferocious clan on the planet. The Turanians are savages as far back as Shushan. The black plague of the ancient Nordheimer’s horror wiped out that other horde, and now only the Turanians, untouched by the Lemurians, are left to waken in the teeth of the fury. No man has touched or sounded the horn of the plague, not even the black wizard himself, who has made a living from the black plague.” He continued. “So I have hated and feared the priests of Tarim so, that night I crept to their camp, and talked with their chief, Yasmela, who is a man from Mount Zabylon. He is a man from whom I have felt the pull of the blackest nightmares ever born. I have hated and reviled him so fiercely that I thought I could crush him with my own hands, but he would not leave me to grope in the mud until I had his filthy hide.”
The steely eyes of the Cimmerian shone through the mist. “I found his lair in the ruins of a hill where, days ago, I found myself entranced by a ghoul while crawling through the reeds. I crawled out into the night and saw his great figure looming against the stars; then I saw him, a great, vulture-like figure, with the eyes of a panther, the lips of a snake, the whole length of the back of his mighty neck drawn back up between his huge shoulders.”
“I wonder if that’s what the governor thinks,” growled Nanoc.
“You’re blunt in your speech,” said the girl.
Nanoc made no reply, and strode toward the bronze door. As he clambered into the great throne room, the torchlight glinted on his thick black mane. He did not glance about him. The chamber was now empty of human life, but there was a glint of steel in his bronze eyes. Nanoc’s veins stood out like blue cords on his temples.
A few moments later he was standing in the great throne room, tense with eagerness. He saw the men clustered thickly about the polished, carven table. Three of the chiefs had gone into the other room, separated by a stone wall. The fourth, still in the great throne room, was leading the charge. His voice came from behind the throne-dais, panting slightly.
“They’ve trapped our king! They’ve cut our heads off! He’s alive and all, and they can hear. Tell me, how did you know my people were not already all cut off?”
“They tried to climb the walls last night,” answered Nanoc. “They came into the building and found our body, wrapped in the hangings. It was found on the fourth floor, but we couldn’t rush it up. They tried to hang the bodies of the people who’d been taken by the soldiers, but they were cut off from the rest of the city.”
“Five dead dogs!” cried Taurus, paling. “Five slain! They’ve left seven of my people still in the city to be slain! The soldiers carried their bodies to the mines beneath the city, but they were so shattered they couldn’t rebuild them. They tried to climb the walls, but they were cut off from the rest of the city, and couldn’t. They found a cleft in the wall, and tried to go about it, but they were cut off from the rest of the city, and found themselves cut off from the rest of the kingdom. Then they came to the ruins and saw the people inside, just as the people of Tarantia had done. They found themselves in that dungeon for a very long time, and stripped naked, and mutilated the bodies of many of the people you mentioned, but you said nothing to anyone, except yourself. I doubt if the Crawler, like all evil things spawned in darkness, was ever truly slain.”
“I saw nothing but yourself in that darkness,” muttered Nanoc.
“Oh, please tell me!” begged the girl, pressing something hard and shiny into his palm. “The barbarian isn’t as quick as he thinks! He can leap and strike like a flash of light, and still I can’t say that he can’t tear men limb from limb. But I saw some of the bones of the rottenness you saw on the outer side – that’s why the others were taken down. Could it be they that were able to do that much damage without dying of starvation?”
“That’s why the people of the city let me live so long,” said Nanoc. “A lot of my people died naturally. There was the pestilence of the black plague; there was the unrestrained ambition of the Hyborians; there was the lust of the Bossonians; there was the burning ambition of the yellow-skinned Tlazitlans; and there finally were the revolts that shook the world against the immutable laws of nature. But the reality was more grisly than any death. That’s why I came into the pits. So why couldn’t the gods change their minds?”
Natala shivered.
Consider telling a friend about the StoryHack podcast. And nominating ROBOT E Howard for all the awards next year.
What happens when a roudy mining town decides it wants to be a city? Even more gunfights and mayhem than normal.
A wild west tale about Breckinridge Elkins by Robert E. Howard.
If you enjoy the StoryHack podcast, be sure to check out the print and ebook agazine. StoryHack.com
by Paul Ernst
A scientist is forced miles below the earth’s surface to hide from a deadly foe. But what he finds below is far more deadly than the mere gangsters he left above.
You can support the storyhack podcast by checking out Misha Burnett’s new short story collection, Dark Fantasies. Available in paperback and ebook, with audiobook coming soon.
by Charles Willard Diffin
A man accidentaly opens a supernatural door that should have remained closed.
If you enjoy listening to this podcast, please leave a review somewhere, or tell a friend.
Today’s episode comes from the adventures of that illustrious figther of dark magic, John Thunstone, by Manly Wade Wellson.
Leonardo Da Vinci may have painted the shield, but did he put the demon in it?
Thanks to Jesse at SFFAudio.com for putting up the nice clean scan for me to read.
If you enjoy listening to the StoryHack podcast, please share it with a friend.
Today we’ll hear the final three chapters of The Scarlet Salamander by Oscar Schisgall.
If you enjoy these podcasts, be sure to check out StoryHack’s print magazine. It features pulse-pounding story’s from some of today’s best action writers. StoryHack
The city is hit with a crime wave. Who can stand in the way of the sinister cadre of burglars known as the Scarlet Salamander? This episode contains the first four chapters, and we’ll hear the thrilling conclusion next week.
Remember, if you like the podcast, you’ll like the other fiction StoryHack publishes, too. Recently, StoryHack published a collection by the fantastic Misha Burnett. It’s called Dark Fantasies, and you should check it out.
By Cyril Plunkett, from the September, 1938 issue of “Detective Yarns.” This one really rips along, and is about as pulpy as a story can get. The bad guys are as bad as can be imagined, the good guy is always about to die, and the author tosses in some nudity for a little extra shock value, no pun intended.
If you like the podcast, consider checking out the magazine. You’ll get similar breathless stories of adventure, but from some of today’s best authors.
StoryHack Action & Adventure, helping you enjoy your free time again.
Today’s story is called “Bill of Rights, 5000 A.D.” by John York Cabot. It appeared in the June 1941 Issue of Fantastic Adventures. If I had really planned ahead, I probably would have released this one back on the week of July 4th. Oh, well. It’s pretty short, running only about 10 minutes or so. The good news is I fixed what I had been doing wrong with the recording, so the sound quality is way up over last week.
Today we’re going to finish up The Daughter of Thor by Edmund Hamilton with chapters 5 and 6. I very much enjoyed the climactic battle of this one. If I hadn’t just thought of it right now, I probably would have found a recording of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” to use as a soundtrack for that part. But I didn’t. If that’s something you’d like to do on a different device while you’re listening, however, it’s pretty clear in the story when to start the music.
Continuing our plucky hero’s plight, fighting Nazis and now Norse Gods? Poor guy can’t catch a break.
Remember if you like these stories, you’ll also like the stories in StoryHack Action & Adventure, which come not from the public domain, but from modern wordsmiths. Check it out in paperback and ebook today.
A strange sequence of events leads an American pilot and a Nazi officer to the mythical land of Valhalla.
This is a longer story, running about 2 hours total, so I’m splitting it into a few episodes. Today features Chapters 1 & 2.
Let me know if you like the idea of doing more of these longer pieces, or if you would prefer to keep them short, like I’ve done so far.
The StoryHack Podcast is currently supported by sales of StoryHack magazine as well as Misha Burnett’s new book, Dark Fantasies.
In which Sailor Steve Costigan says goodbye to his beloved Sea Girl then fights the frenchman who kicked his dog. It’s the first Robert E. Howard story I’ve recorded for the podcast. I’ve read that these boxing stories were more popular at the time of their release than Howard’s Weird Tales stories. Today, they are all but forgotten. But they shouldn’t be, because they’re tons of fun.
Support a great writer and great adventure magazine. Misha Burnett’s new short story collection is now available!
Life in “Utopia” was beautiful, perfectly regulated to satisfy everyone’s needs and desires—except one.
I chose to record this one because I saw a review that called it, “1984 in 5,000 words or less.” Watch out to the POV switch midway.
In other news: StoryHack has just released Misha Burnett’s new collection, “Dark Fantasies”, which is available in ebook and paperback.
Something about the raw deal that this kid was getting made
Dan Flaherty forget that he was supposed to be a hard guy. . .
Here’s the first boxing story for the podcast.
Just a reminder, StoryHack is publishing Misha Burnett’s new collection, “Dark Fantasies”, and it comes out Monday, June 15, 2020.
Just a dumb rookie cop, they said. A mugg with brains in his feet and not enough savvy to buck the choppers.
This one hails from a time when apperently it was considered good police work to fill the streets with the dead bodies of criminals.
The story is Clue of Courage, by Norvell Page
Here’s the short story of a man who spends his life building ships, and how loves them more than he can say.
So he gets in fights over them.
Once again, I swear I’m not making fun of people with my accents. I’m just practicing and maybe someday I’ll be good at it.
This one is by Robert Leslie Bellem, whose Dan Turner, Hollywood Detective stories helped make me a fan of pulp a couple of decades ago. It’s a weird menace tale.
The little teaser blurb reads, “Was this then the horrible price Tim Croft must pay for his disbelief in devil-magic philtres?- forfeiture of his own lovely fiancee’s life-blood to the undead corpse of Haunted Hollow!”
If you gave a writer that blurb and the story art, there is no way they would ever come up with a plot similar to the actual story. But by the end, you’ll have forgotton the picture and blurb anyway.
Today’s short story is by E. Hoffman Price. It’s a quick little sci-fi romp where everything possible goes wrong.
The story art on this one was great.
This week we have The Devil’s Crypt by E. Hoffman Price. It’s the first time I’m posting an attempt at accents. Remember, this is just for fun and I am trying my hardest, all right? I’m not intentionally trying to sound stupid. This one is about an hour long. In the future, I may break up stories this long into 2 episodes. We’ll see.
by Nelson S. Bond
This story comes from the July 1939 issue of Fantastic Adventures. It also shows how long I’ve been toying with the idea of doing a fiction podcast. I made this recording in September of 2017 (2 & 1/2 years ago.)
As promised, here is the first of the fiction podcasts. This one is a western, happening before law came to San Francisco.
Written by Gordon Young, originally published in Adventure, February of 1919.
I am restarting the StoryHack Podcast with a new format. In this Episode, I’ll tell you about the change, and fill you in with what is going on with the magazine.
A little different something for the podcast this time. I’ve done a couple of merged Johnny Dollar episodes before, and now I’ve done it again.
But this time, it’s a Christmas episode! As in, it is implied that Christmas is actually about Jesus being born. Imagine a modern procedural show doing that today. You can’t, can you?
Here’s the synopsis:
Just before Christmas, a waitress is the only witness to a murder in a business partner squabble. When the murdering partner files an life insurance claim, Johnny Dollar is sent to investigate. But can he get to the waitress in time to save her and her daughter from being murdered, too?
It still has all the stuff you love about detective shows: mystery, action, and even a little romance. So ignore my best public radio voice, and enjoy listening to the Nick Shurn Matter. It runs just a smidgen over an hour.
Ryan Decaria is a fellow podcaster and author. His debut novel, Devil in the Microscope, was recently published by Immortal Works. We met in his secret lair high above the bustling streets of Ogden to have a little chat.
Show Notes:
- [0:35] The King of the Meeple Nation discusses board games.
- [4:23] This was not intended as a fart joke. I promise. I’m not above making fart jokes, but this just happens to not be one.
- [5:40] Mad science is better than sane science.
- [7:00] Ryan’s favorite mad scientists.
- [9:20] Mad science heroes vs villains
- [12:16] The Devil in the Microscope
- [15:32] Ethically-challenged scientists have more fun.
- [17:45] Church ball is great. Not the movie, though.
- [19:09] How Ryan writes: in defense of outlining
- [20:55] Why Ryan writes
- [22:12] What’s next?
- [26:15] Where to find Ryan
For more about Ryan:
- Ryan’s Website
- Ryan’s Podcast
- Ryan on Twitter
- Ryan’s book on Amazon
I recently had a chat with with new pulp author Gene Moyers, whose story “Dream Master” is appearing in StoryHack, Issue 1.
Some notes from the interview:
- [0:25] Introducing Gene
- [1:00] What is pulp fiction to you?
- [1:45] How did you fall in with the New Pulp crowd?
- [3:35] Pulp-Specific Conventions (Windy City Pulp and Paper, PulpFest) and why they’re great.
- [7:03] Gene’s Hobby Shop
- [8:08] How Gene writes
- [10:50] Gene’s favorite classic pulps
- [12:40] What’s coming up for Gene
- [18:01] Modern authors Gene likes
- [19:00] Writing inspirations
- [21:00] Gene loves critical reviews (and positive ones, too.)
- [23:00] Gene’s story in StoryHack, Issue 1
For more about Gene:
- GeneMoyers.com
- Gene’s Amazon Page
Today on the podcast I interview author Jon Mollison. He currently has three books out (see links below.) His story “Desert Hunt” appeared in StoryHack issue zero, which you can still get for free by signing up for the newsletter.
Notes:
- [0:20] A little bit about Jon
- [4:01] Re: the #PulpRev crowd
- [4:30] How do you define pulp? Jon mentions these 5 pillars of pulp.
- [6:05] Action. Adventure. Romance. Heroism.
- [7:05] Jon plugs the magazine. Thanks, bro.
- [8:15] Classic Fictioneers
- [10:15] Modern Authors with Action, Adventure, Romance & Heroism
- [14:35] Jon’s writing proccess
- [17:15] I’ve only missed my goal to post this by what, 3 weeks?
- [17:30] Audiobooks
- [18:15] That time Lee Merriwether (60’s movie Catwoman) shot Jon.
- [19:30] Jon’s high tech recording setup revealed
- [24:40] What Jon is working on now.
- [28:30] The best advice
- [31:01] Jon pimps the magazine again. I swear, I’m not paying him to say this stuff.
- [32:20] Possibly Jon’s best line of the interview. “I have too much to read, and it’s still not enough.” I want this on a poster and a t-shirt. Maybe even a mug.
- [33:05] Seagull Rising
For more about Jon, go visit him on his blog. And buy his books.
Jon’s Books:
- Five Dragons
- Sudden Rescue
- A Moon Full of Stars
Special treat today on the podcast. I had a chance to interview Ron Fortier. He’s probably the greatest living expert on the Green Hornet. I guess that makes sense, as he used to write the Green Hornet comic book. He’s been a writer of comics and pulp fictions for over 45 years. He’s the co-founder of the new pulp publisher Airship 27, which has over a hundred titles in print. Next year I want to go to Pulpfest or Windy City Pulp & Paper just so I can meet him. This interview went twice as long as they usually do, and now I wish it was even longer. I might be just a wee bit excited about this.
Notes:
- [0:10] Ron has been a working comics writer for longer than I’ve been alive.
- [7:21] How Ron got into writing.
- [11:58] Getting into big name properties. (Terminator & Green Hornet…)
- [21:15] Preparing for the right moment.
- [22:30] How the Green Hornet came to be
- [28:58] Crafting a legacy backstory from many sources
- [35:05] Ron’s thoughts on the Green Hornet movie (2011)
- [39:25] Writers have to be bad guys
- [43:00] Airship 27 – If you’re a writer
- [47:00] Airship 27 – if you just plain like pulp fictions
- [53:15] Where is new pulp headed?
- [55:00] Final advice: share your talents.
Special Note: There is a movie based on Ron’s “Brother Bones” character currently being kickstarted. Go check it out.
For more about Ron & Airship 27 check out:
- Airship 27
- Airship 27 Hangar (catalog)
- Airship 27 on Facebook
Through a suggestion via a friend on twitter, I met (in a virtual sense) Martin McConnell. He’s a fascinating guy, and took the time to chat with me via skype.
Notes:
- [0:15] What it really means to be full-time in the writing business
- [1:05] The joy of RC Helicopters
- [1:25] What happened when Martin looked up (at the stars)…
- [4:00] What do you get when you cross astronomy and writing?
- [4:50] Historically accurate mooning in fiction. (Would have been a great linkbait title for this post)
- [5:40] Things he has written
- [7:35] The story of how Martin bought the farm.
- [13:00] How his farming affects his writing
- [15:05] Martin’s kick in the pants (for writers)
- [18:37] Coming soon
- [21:30] For more about Martin…
For more information about Martin:
- Write, Farm, Live
- @spottedgeckgo on Twitter
- Martin’s Amazon Author Page
A couple of weeks ago, Daniel made the journey all the way out to beautiful StoryHack Studios for an in person chat. Not that Skype is bad or anything, but it is always much more fun to do these in person. Daniel’s the founder of the Hugo-finalist podcast Dungeon Crawlers Radio. Today, his debut novel is officially released, so it’s time for him to sit on the other side of the metaphorical interview table. Except in this case it was an actual table.
Random show notes:
- [0:30] Daniel embraces his hair color and laments the loss of gingers in comic-based media
- [1:50] The Golden Eagles & hockey
- [3:20] 10 redheads under one roof.
- Bonus Fact: Daniel has a one-eyed dog that is terrible at playing catch.
- [5:30] The Shadow Above the Flames
- [8:15] Daniel’s writing process
- [11:45] Getting published
- [12:45] Definitely not a spoiler
- Bonus Fact: Daniel has chickens.
- [13:40] Dungeon Crawlers: A History
- [17:48] The most exciting guest.
- [20:15] Games & Helping out the little guy
- [22:22] Daniel has two closets full of games. I only have one, so this made me feel a little inadequate…
- [23:22] Running rpgs for teenagers
- [24:45] RPG recommendations – Firefly RPG, D&D, Savage Worlds
- [28:48] Board Game Suggestions – Shadows of Brimstone, Betrayal at House on the Hill
- [31:23] What’s next for Daniel? How to find him online.
More about Daniel:
- Daniel’s Facebook Author Page
- Daniel on Twitter
- Dungeon Crawlers Radio
- The Shadow Above the Flames
Another author interview! This time I had a chance to meet Carl Hackman, who before becoming a published author had a number of adventure careers.
Some interview notes:
- [0:13] – Off continent? Out of the country anyway. I’m a doofus
- [0:33] – 3 things about Carl
- [1:14] – Carl laments not tuning up a guitar to make this a musical interview
- [1:40] – Carl fled the rat race all the way to the Dominican Republic, where he now resides
- [2:33] – How Carl got into animal rescue
- [3:45] – Choosing the Dominican Republic
- [4:25] – Carl has jumped out of more helicopters than you
- [5:30] – Carl’s writing process
- [6:50] – The neighborhood dog choir
- [7:30] – Gerald
- [9:41] – What Carl’s working on now
- [10:05] – Carl’s literary favorites
- [11:30] – When Carl started writing
- Aside: I love how Carl pronounces “Jaguar”
- [12:40] – What Carl is reading now
- [13:20] – The story of getting published
- [14:30] – Immortal Works is awesome
- [16:00] – Juggling ideas
- [17:00] – Scrivener
- [17:45] – What should I have asked?
- [18:20] – Helicopters
- [19:00] – Wrapping up
If you want to learn more about Carl:
- http://www.carlhackman.com/
- Carl’s Youtube Channel
- Gerald – Carl’s book on Amazon
- Carl on twitter
- Carl’s Facebook
- Carl’s Instagram
Earlier this week, I took a break from reading down the slush pile to visit with Caryn Larrinaga, author of Donn’s Hill. I met Caryn this year at LTUE.
Some notes from the interview:
- (0:00) ~~Larringata~~ Larrinaga. Apparently I am an idiot. Or maybe it’s just that so many people get my last name wrong that I subconsciously want everyone else to suffer the same indignity
- (0:40) 1st thing: Donn’s Hill
- (1:09) 2nd thing: Her shorter works, wherein Caryn refuses to give spoilers
- (2:37) 3rd thing: Gaming event for charity with Caryn (& some lesser authors) at Paragon City Games in Draper, UT on March 30, 2017
- (3:30) Cthulu Yahtzee & other great tabletop games, including the panda one
- (6:10) The secret thing about Caryn that nobody knows
- (7:22) How Caryn got into ghosts
- (9:30) How Donn’s Hill came to be
- (11:24) Caryn’s writing process
- (14:30) Hiring a developmental editor
- (16:00) Getting a publisher
- (17:50) What’s next?
- (18:55) The 27 hr day
- (19:30) League of Utah Writers (Caryn will present at the spring conference on April 8)
- (21:30) Cats are not hobbies
- (23:00) Conferences and events
If you want to learn more about Caryn, check out her website, browse her book on Amazon, or follow her on facebook or twitter. You can also hear the first chapter of the audiobook for Donn’s Hill on her publisher’s website.
I’m calling this the StoryHack Podcast, Episode #1. However, don’t hold me to any sort of schedule for releasing more of these. I have no plans for regularity. That being said, it was a lot of fun, and I would like to do more author interviews in person.
Cutting now to the chase, I’d like to introduce my first live author interview. I recently discovered David J West. Somehow, I had been following him on twitter for a while now, but I’m not sure how he got there. After we “met” on twitter, I decided to check out some of his fiction. After greatly enjoying a couple of his works, I decided I needed to meet him. Fortunately, he lives less than an hour away. So I used this interview as a pretext to meet him face to face.
David writes great action adventure/horror/western stories.
And like I said, this was my first live interview so I was a bit nervous. Hopefully I didn’t step on David’s responses too much.
Download (~32 mb)
We talk about his journey to getting published, David’s literary likes, writing process, Orrin Porter Rockwell and historical context of David’s westerns, ranking gunslingers by body count, writing soundtracks, Conan and other Robert E. Howard works, and whatever else struck our fancy.
Stuff I learned about myself: I need a less cumbersome mobile rig if I ever do this again. Also, I need to stop saying “okay” so much.
If you’d like to learn more about David, here are some useful links:
- David’s Amazon Page
- David’s Blog
- David’s Twitter