ANDREW BISS

In a few days from now I’ll be releasing my new book “A Mouth Full of Ashes” and I’d like to share with you how this story came about. A couple of years or so ago, I came upon a news story that grabbed my attention in a way that many others don’t. It involved a murder, but of course we read about murder, death, and all manner of tragic events on a daily basis. We read them, lament them, and then move on. This one, however, had a different angle to it that gripped my imagination. In a small town somewhere in the Midwest (I believe) a young pastor was delivering his Sunday sermon to his congregation. A young man with no associations to either the town or the pastor drove into town that morning, walked into the church and shot the pastor dead in the middle of his sermon. It was one of those inexplicable, mindless, random and tragic events that defy reason. The pastor was married and had two young girls who would now grow up without a father. Fast forward just a week or two ...

Yes, it's that time of the year when otherwise normal-seeming people everywhere cut loose, get wasted and scream like banshees between shots of Jägermeister (or heaves). Thanks to all who follow my blog, visibly or otherwise, and for taking the time to read my posts. Next year I'll continue to update this place with news of my books and current writing projects, but I also plan to have a lot more random posts about anything that interests me (though whether they'll interest you remains to be seen :). 2011 has been a mixed bag for me. On the plus side, I began my ePublishing journey (inspired in no small part by the most lovely Helen Smith), and 9 months since I first went up on Amazon I can tell you I've learned so much. Sometimes the hard way, but sometimes that's the best way. So I enter 2012 with a lot more knowledge than I had at the beginning of the last, and a determination to get my work in front of as many people as I can. The adapting will continue, of cour...

Here's sixth and final extract from my new short story collection The Impressionists . In this one, Eileen, a reclusive, middle-aged divorcee still haunted by the loss of her son, discovers a new life in the virtual world. WYWH I have presence…can you tell? Can’t you feel it oozing out of my every pore? No, probably not. That’s because I don’t – not in that sense, in the charismatic sense. Never did, really; not in 55 years. Just ordinary, I suppose. Always have been. No one you’d notice…in particular. But, I do have a presence. A web presence, that is. There’s another me floating around out there in the cosmos. It’s a new and improved me that no one can see, they can only sense. It’s another life and it’s ever so much fun. My name’s “Misti”…with an “I.” That’s to say, that’s my alternative me’s name, not the real me’s name – my name. I wanted something with a bit of mystery to it, a bit of the unknown. And a touch of the poetic – a bit more poetic than “Eileen,” at any rate. And ...

And here is the third extract of my new short story collection, The Impressionists . This one is the most recently written and I'll just let the sample speak for itself: A Small Act of Vandalism Malcolm, a gentle, middle-aged soul with a troubled mind, keeps his mother's remains sealed in a small porcelain box. What he keeps hidden among his memories, however, isn't so easily contained. That’s Mother, that is. Hard to credit, really, but that's her – all squeezed into that tiny little porcelain box. Well…not her in the strict sense, I suppose…just the bits and pieces of her left over from the cremation, you know. Sort of a dried and granulated version of her, if you will. A bit like instant coffee, you might say, only without the flavour. Not that I’ve…you know…I mean…good heavens. That’s Wedgewood, by the way. Very expensive. Very expensive indeed. But worth it – worth every penny – ‘cause Mother was worth it. Weren’t you, Mother? She was. Worth every penny. It’s glued...