1. The Most Mundane and Inane Blog Post In Blogging History
…So what I’m trying to say is that I admire those writers who manage to turn out engaging and informative daily, weekly, or monthly blogs. I either visit their websites or subscribe to their newsletters. Here’s a sampling from my list:
•Atlas Obscura •CrimeReads •Lawrence C. Connolly •Literary Hub •The Marginalian •McGill Office for Science & Society •National Geographic •Numlock News •Popular Information •The Reveal •SF Magazines •Stuart Nulman’s Grapevine •The Stuph File (an audio blog) •Spectre Library •WTF Just Happened Today? •William Shunn’s Main Wish Null
And then there’s me. I blog on occasion and, more often than not, I’m groping for content. If I’ve got publishing news, an anecdote, or a book review I think you might appreciate, sure, that’s one thing. But when nothing much is going on, like now, I blog for the sake of blogging. The aim is to drive traffic to my website, of course, and thereby promote my writing, further inflate my ego, and encourage you to invest big bucks in whatever I’m currently flogging. (On sale now!: HOLLYWOOD NORTH: A NOVEL IN SIX REELS. On sale Autumn 2023!: THE SERIAL KILLER’S SON TAKES A WIFE.)
The way it’s been going lately, however, it might be a good idea to change my domain name to yawn.ca. The contents that follow will prove my point, except for the bonus item, which is a legit review of a mighty fine book. Otherwise, proceed with caution and a comfy pillow.
Table of Contents or A Cure for Chronic Insomnia
2. Sad Fate of a Cherished Drinking Companion
3. Modern Sinks Stink: A Call to Action
4. Random Sentences for Fiction Writers! Absolutely FREE!
5. TMI Alert! One More Thing You Never Wanted to Know About Me
Bonus Book Review: Stealing God and Other Stories by Bruce McAllister
2. Sad Fate of a Cherished Drinking Companion
Be sure to have a box of tissues handy…
Back in the 80s, I’d fill up the ol’ Nissan Sentra wagon at the Shell station on the corner of our street. The station earned my loyalty not because I passed it daily, but because the operator rewarded me with a free drinking glass with every 20-litre purchase. This kind gesture enabled me to assemble a world-class collection of drinking glasses or, as we aficionados call them, Beverage Assistant Vessels (BAVs).
Empty Glass, Broken Heart
I cherished these glasses and drank from them daily. Butterbeer. Vitameatavegamin. Pinot Grand Fenwick. Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. Bourbon. Milk of Magnesia. You name it! Yes, these freebies even accommodated water and juice. There was just something about the decagon design that complemented the horizontal pursing of my lips. The straight edge felt right, reducing both my dribbling and slurping, according to a well informed source named Patricia. Alas, over time, due to the evident carelessness of everyone in the family but I, my once formidable array of glassware dwindled from ten to a pitiful two. But even this was to be short-lived.
Tragic End, Heroic Rescue
Sadly, as of 8:23 a.m., November 7, 2022, one of my two remaining 10-sided glasses of Shell’s “Glass Giveaway” developed a hairline fracture of the anterior exterior posterior, between decagon plates 3 and 4, thus rendering the vessel nonoperational. I must now report only a single, functional, decagonal glass survives intact.
To add insult to injury, my wife, Pat, then proceeded to toss my fractured drinking companion into the recycling bin. Acting on instinct, I courageously dove to the rescue. Following my neighbors’ extraordinary efforts to extricate me from the bin, with zero help from Pat, I emerged victorious with glass aloft. My dear drinking companion was not only saved, it now occupies a place of honor upon my desk, adjacent to my lamp and rotary dial landline.
On a side note, with posterity in mind, the Smithsonian refused my offer to donate the glass. I have not yet heard back from the Canadian Museum of Civilization, though I remain optimistic.
3. Modern Sinks Stink: A Call to Action!
Over the past few years, we’ve had to replace a couple of the sinks in our house. As it so happens, each of the new sinks has a flat bottom, which is the dumbest development in sink technology since sinks were invented circa 1820. The newfangled things don’t drain, damn it.
Take the bathroom sink. I brush my teeth and the tidbits just sit there, resistant to faucet, gravity, centripetal force, and anything else you’d expect to facilitate the draining process. The only solution is to swish the guck with a finger and steer it to the drain.
Feh as in Feh-feh
The situation is even more egregious in the kitchen, where an errant grain of rice can escape detection 
(eluding draining or collection) for months. Allow the crud to sit too long and not even a jackhammer can dislodge it.
Look, I understand and appreciate this is a First World Problem, a symptom of jaded privilege, especially when one considers a third of the world’s population does not have access to clean drinking water. In the scheme of things, my complaint is hardly cause for a major uprising against sink manufacturers and interior decorators. But what about a minor uprising? Together, we can put an end to flat sinks forever. My torch is lit! How about yours?
4. Opening Sentences for Fiction Writers! Absolutely Free!
I spent several years with Montreal advertising agencies, first as a writer, then creative director. The hours were often long and the pressure unsparing. The creative team could work two or three months straight, putting in twelve to sixteen hour days, and then, abruptly, the rush would end and we’d have nothing to do. Some played chess. Some read. Some napped. But not me. I filled the hours by writing random sentences. Pages and pages. Reams and reams. Thousands and thousands.
To this day, these sentences remain the gifts that keep on giving. I dig them out repeatedly and several have turned up in my published work. Now, for the first time anywhere, it is my pleasure to share with you a smattering of these as yet unrealized gems, twelve scintillating sentences to embrace and exploit on your way to literary fame and fortune.
Your Quest for a Nobel, Giller, Booker, Hugo, Nebula, Stoker, or Edgar Begins Here:
- Miss Bernstein frowned as Albert removed his shredded forefinger from the pencil sharpener.
- Despite the skeptics, Kubicek saw a bright future in swanback riding, as long as he could breed the swans large enough, of course.
- The terrified waiter pleaded with Bergen to crack open the fortune cookie.
- Amnesia can be a memorable experience.
- You don’t measure guts with a dipstick.
- His first mistake was attempting to put a leash on the forty pound rat.
- And so it was, disguised as mattresses and tatamis, the Cwaakk commenced their invasion of Earth.
- Elise thought of herself as the glue that held broken men together.
- Anyone who had ever spent time sitting on Eddie Mancini’s face knew better than to tell him he had an uncomfortable nose.
- Miniature shovels to scoop the sleep from peoples’ eyes was the invention that first brought Hiram Attis to the attention of the Patents Commissioner.
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Although Laird’s slobbery kiss tasted of a Hall’s Mentho-Lyptus cough drop, Deidre set aside her disgust as her fiancé’s saliva helped ease her sore throat.
- It was only after she tore up my manuscript and threw the resultant confetti at my face that I thought to ask, “So you didn’t like my novel?”
Eager for success? Desperate to become a New York Times Best-Selling Author? You have my blessing to use any of these masterful sentences in your own creative endeavors. Yes, I’m giving them away for free. FREE! All I ask is that you give Michael Libling a shout-out when you go to accept your Nobel, Booker, Nebula, Stoker, or similar award.
5. TMI Alert! One More Thing You Never Wanted to Know About Me
Be sure to have a barf bag or bucket handy…
As the woeful tale of my ill-fated Shell station glass has revealed, I have a hard time disposing of stuff. For the most part, my wife and daughters have been pretty good about it, EXCEPT for one rarely mentioned keepsake. Indeed, it is a long-held family secret, and I hesitate to imagine what you’ll think of me after I reveal it. Well, okay—<deep breath>—here goes…
In the 70s, I injured my big toe playing hockey, the trauma stemming from a vicious and illegal body check into the boards, exacerbated by hand-me-down skates. The nail turned black and eventually fell off. It was big, beefy-thick, and shiny, and I couldn’t bear to throw it out. It was a part of me, after all. Would you throw out a finger? An ear? How is a big toenail any different?
It’s Alive! It’s Alive!
For years, the nail has resided under lock and key in a big wooden chest in a far-flung corner of our home. The last time the nail saw the light of day was when my children were young and I would gross them out by chasing them around the house with it. Now, as the holidays draw near, I’m wondering if my sons-in-law and grandkids wouldn’t also enjoy being chased around the house with what is now, quite clearly, a beloved family heirloom. After all, if this doesn’t sound like a swell holiday activity…
Awkward Epilogue: Sooner or later, my wife is going to expose the lie, so I had better come clean. It wasn’t a hockey injury, exactly. In truth, I injured the toe playing badminton—albeit Extreme Badminton!—and, yes, a birdie was involved. Sorry. I sorta thought claiming a hockey injury would give me that macho vibe, like Ernie Hemingway or Ian Fleming.
Bonus Book Review: Stealing God and Other Stories by Bruce McAllister
This review was originally posted on Goodreads, but I figured I’d post it here, as well, since I don’t feel this collection has attracted the attention it deserves. Unlike this blog, McAllister will not put you to sleep.
STEALING GOD AND OTHER STORIES by Bruce McAllister is among the best single-author collections of short fiction I’ve read in years. You don’t just read these stories, you feel them.
Usually, in reviewing a collection, I’d select a few favorites and the reasons behind my choices. While I set out to do the same here, I quickly bogged down: I found myself covering pretty much the entire Table of Contents in my notes. Some collections start strong and sag a bit in the middle, before carrying the reader to a memorable finish. In McAllister’s case, there is no saggy middle. He delivers from the get-go, with prose and concepts so consistently powerful and haunting, there is no letup. Indeed, you might well feel the need to sit back and take a deep breath as you reflect on the tale you’ve just read, while anticipating the unknown wonders to come. And trust me on this, there are wonders galore.
“These stories burrow under your skin and nestle into your psyche…”
You might not have had the same life experiences as McAllister and the characters he so vividly portrays, but I cannot imagine any reader coming away from this collection without experiencing a deep sense of affinity. These stories burrow under your skin and nestle into your psyche. Yet even at his most terrifying, McAllister manages to touch and move the reader, a feat that can only be attributed to extraordinary skill, innate talent and, I suspect, a healthy strain of divine mysticism that surely courses through his veins.
Prior to this collection, I’d read a handful of these stories in magazines such as Fantasy & Science Fiction and Asimov’s. But to reacquaint myself with them now, alongside the ones I hadn’t previously read, is too appreciate them in a whole new light. While each story stands on its own, it is the collective impact that will bowl you over.
“…imparting a sense of longing for a time and place you can’t quite identify…”
In his introduction to STEALING GOD, the supremely pithy and prolific Paul Di Filippo writes, “What a rich tapestry of terrifying, traumatic, tender, and tantalizing tales!” To these I add a few more descriptors: insightful, true, creepy, yearning, sensitive, poetic, atmospheric, and richly rewarding. McAllister never fails to make the reader feel, imparting a sense of longing for a time and place you can’t quite identify, but so desperately want to return to.
Literary. Genre. Fantasy. Horror. Magical realism. Memoir. Spiritual. You can pigeonhole McAllister’s fiction any way you like, but in the end his work defies categorization.
Yeah, I know I’m gushing here, but if you’ve read Bruce McCallister’s novels, especially THE VILLAGE SANG TO THE SEA, you know where I’m coming from in my praise for this collection. Odds are, you’ll note the seeds (and fruits) of that remarkable novel within many of these tales, making STEALING GOD AND OTHER STORIES the perfect companion piece to that longer work.
It is a cliché to say, but if there is such a thing as a writer’s writer, the author’s name is Bruce McAllister. Readers will be captivated. Writers, aspiring and established, will be inspired.
Outta Here!: I have several works-in-progress—short stories and novels—and each needs an ending, so this will be my final blog for a bit, unless I’ve got news to share. Until then, take care of yourself and, in particular, the big toenail on your right foot. (Avoid badminton at all costs!) Meanwhile, enjoy the holidays no matter what you may or may not celebrate. Rest assured, come New Year’s Eve, I’ll be lifting a Beverage Assistant Vessel in your honor for having put up with my nonsense.
See you in…holy cow!…2023? No way.