Colleen Anderson's Blog

I can finally release the cover of my new poetry collection, To the Last Ion, which will be published by Lycan Valley Press this October. Preorders are now available: https://payhip.com/b/LPVoB and if you’re so inclined, you can also pick up my first poetry collection: I Dreamed a World.

The cover is by award-winning writer and artist Greg Chapman. The cover embodies the strangeness within. This collection contains mostly SF poems that wade through the darkness. I’ve separated the poems into two sections: In Our Nature (what we do to ourselves & each other), and Outer Limits (what is done to us).

Not all is darkness and some of the poems are based on truths in our history, and yes, humanity has a dark history. Consider these cautionary tales, if you will.

Here are a few quotes from other writers in the speculative world.

“Colleen Anderson’s latest speculative poetry collection, To The Last Ion, takes us through realms of fantastical monsters, scientific prophets/musicians, time travelers by dissecting human frailties and desires down to the atomic level, then uses her master storyteller skills to create darkly entertaining format-ions, short & long, that don’t judge, but rather present the many wicked ways we humans deconstruct the universe.” ~ Linda D. Addison, award-winning author, HWA Lifetime Achievement Award recipient and SFPA Grand Master

“TO THE LAST ION is simply brilliant! Colleen Anderson takes us on journeys through a complex universe and informs, entertains, and enchants! Highly recommended!”  ~ Jonathan Maberry, NY Times bestselling author of Bewilderness and Ghosts of the Void

“Colleen Anderson’s To the Last Ion is smart, sharp, darkly funny, and wonderfully unsettling. These poems look straight into all the strange little ways humanity keeps inventing new problems for itself. Anderson can make me laugh at a cyberpumpkin one minute and then quietly devastate me with a poem about survival, exploitation, or the end of the world in the next. This is speculative poetry with a wicked sense of humor and beneath all the darkness, a hidden moral compass asking us to wake up, pay attention, and maybe do better before we run out of ions. ~Angela Yuriko Smith, Two-time Bram Stoker Winner and Publisher of Space & Time magazine

“Utilizing history, horror, and science fiction, Colleen Anderson has woven a tapestry of monsters, dinosaurs, aliens, and robots in a collection that seeks to explore our world and the human condition. To the Last Ion is a profound and intelligent work of poetry that reads like nothing that’s come before. You’ll want to read this many times over.” ~ Pedro Iniguez, Bram Stoker and Elgin Award-winning writer of Mexicans on the Moon

“In the stunning poetry collection To the Last Ion, Anderson deftly traces her finger along the pulsing vein between where we have been and where we are going… and asks, does anyone care? From passionate introspection of the human condition to our future termination and replacement at the hands of aliens, this one hits deep, dark, and hard—yet there are gems of humor and pop culture intermixed. Dive in!” ~ Carol Gyzander, Bram Stoker Award recipient, World Fantasy Award and Rhysling Award finalist

“Ready or not, time marches on. Or does it? Colleen Anderson provides thought-provoking images with words. Creating tales. Horror is all around us. You don’t have to look far. Concerns for climate. Survival. Have we all but destroyed the chance for generations that may come? Or not… The dance of sex. Impregnation. Castration. Dissolving chemists. The living dead. Poison. Grief. Innocence shattered. Hope remains, as does love. Anderson’s visions paint an unforgettable picture in this science fiction/horror poetry collection.” ~ Cindy O’Quinn, Bram Stoker Award-winning author

“If Dr. Frankenstein created an angel from the future darks and present wounds of humanity’s deepest soul, we would get some semblance of the powerful vision that is Colleen Anderson’s To the Last Ion. Here, science change, climate change, human change, and visionary first encounters are presented through rhythmic poetic truths that invigorate the heart with second chances.” ~ Jamal Hodge, Bram Stoker Award for Everything Endless

More news is coming. If you have any questions about my work, feel free to drop me a line. But please, no AI spammers with their elite readers groups that don’t exist. And yes, I still have much to do in updating my site.

Get your inkpots ready. Starting July 1, Lisa Timpf, Paula Johanson and I will be editing this anthology.

Cyborg curlers and centaur goal celebrations. Tennis teams traveling by stagecoach. Kayaking on Europa. Playoff magic that really is magic.

This anthology invites contributors to re-examine sports through space opera, near- or far-future science fiction, alternative worlds, time travel, magical realism, fantasy, or other lenses that fall under the umbrella of speculative fiction. Steampunk, hopepunk, science gone bad, social commentary, or just plain laugh-out-loud fun—all of these and more are fair game.

Writers can (but are not required to) explore questions such as: Will future athletes be forced to accept invasive technologies in the name of better performance? In a dystopian world, how might sport be a beacon of hope? How might fantasy elements change the way we engage in, and with, sport?

Sports can be recreational or competitive, solo or teams, but for the purposes of this anthology we aren’t looking for stories and poems about board games, video games, etc. Any perspective (fan, athlete, coach, game official, broadcaster, etc.) is welcome. We welcome pieces that explore diverse perspectives, challenge the status quo, or have new takes on old tropes.

Humour is a bonus. Light or psychological horror will be an easier sell than blood-and-gore or outright violence. We will not accept pieces that promote or support racism, sexism, homophobia, or other forms of intolerance.

Length: Short stories: 1,000 to 5,000 words. Poetry: 60 lines maximum, or, in the case of prose poems, 1,000 words max.

Multiple submissions: Each author may submit one short story, OR a maximum of three poems, submitted in one file. In the event of multiple poetry submissions, we will publish only one poem from any given author.

Format: Standard manuscript format: .doc, .docx, or .rtf. Author’s name and contact information (email), as well as country of residence (Canadian or other) should appear in top left-hand corner of the first page. Fiction should be double-spaced using a standard font. Poetry submissions should be single-spaced, with number of lines listed on the page. Spaces between stanzas do not count.

Canadian spelling preferred.

Reprints: Not accepted.

Payment: Minimum $50/story, flat rate. $20 per poem. Each author will also receive one print copy of the book. A Kickstarter will be used to support the publication of this book. If the Kickstarter reaches specific stretch goals, these amounts may increase.

Publisher: Tyche Books

Editors: Colleen Anderson is a multiple award winner and nominee. A Canada Council and BC Arts Council recipient, hundreds of her stories and poems have been published in eight countries and multiple venues, such as Flame Tree’s Moon Falling, Weird Tales, and Cemetery Dance. She is author of two fiction collections and four poetry collections, with To the Last Ion, coming in 2026. Her mosaic novella, Awaking Pandora, will be released in spring of 2027. She has edited three anthologies and freelances as an editor. She lives in Vancouver, BC and searches for mermaids.

Paula Johanson is the author of 42 books for educational publishers, including Supercharged Sports, and 16 books from Doublejoy Books, including King Kwong, a bio of hockey hero Larry Kwong. She’s been a contributor to multiple Aurora award-winning issues of magazines and anthologies, written scores of book reviews and a stack of poetry. As a community fellow in the Electronic Textual Cultures Lab, she manages Kashallan Press which releases books by celebrated author Celu Amberstone.

Lisa Timpf is a retired HR and communications professional whose poetry has appeared in Eye to the Telescope, Star*Line, Triangulation: Seven-Day Weekend, and other venues. A former sports participant and current sports fan, Lisa has written a number of speculative poems and short stories revolving around athletic endeavours. Lisa’s speculative poetry collection Cats and Dogs in Space is available from Hiraeth Publishing. You can find out more about Lisa’s writing projects at http://lisatimpf.blogspot.com/. Lisa is also on Bluesky, @lisatimpf.bsky.social

AI: AI-generated works are not accepted. We value art and stories created by humans. Stories developed, written, or assisted by AI generative tools such as ChatGPT will be rejected. Any accepted piece found to be AI-written will result in a breach of contract.

Other notes: Preference may be given to Canadian authors, though submissions are welcome from anywhere in the world.

Submission method: via Duosuma. Also posted on Submission Grinder.

La Coyota

Cancun is Janus-faced. In the hotel zone, there are many huge hotels facing pristine white beaches and serious turquoise and azure waters. They create a lot of Cancun’s wealth and probably some of the pollution affecting the algae blooms that come this time of year. Sidewalks as smooth as a model’s face, a swath of green boulevards in a climate suited to more barren areas, and palm trees. The city proper has broken and uneven sidewalks, buildings that might be pristine and whitewashed, while others haven’t seen paint in a long time. Little lizards skitter up and down walls and songbirds lighten the air. Dogs are medium-sized and often look exhausted. Cats are slim and scarce. There is some litter in areas, and others are very clean.

Litter fish–a great idea

The police drive around in cars and trucks, lights always flashing. I looked up why and whereas Canada and the US have police hiding in dark corridors to catch criminals in the act, Mexico (or at least Cancun) practices the deterrent method. The flashing blue and red lights make tourists feel safer and criminals not. (Remember, for any pictures, you can click on them to enlarge and read any captions.)

Everything sweats: the drinks, our bodies, the sky. There are few to no coasters, so there’s a constant mopping up in restaurants where massive 1-2 liter drinking vessels can be used. This post will go more into the tourist side of Cancun. It’s actually against the law to include a tip in the bill, and many will have a note saying: propina no incluida. I started thinking of Cancun as little Vegas because of the constant sell sell sell attitude and wanting tips for everything. When I tried to use Trip Advisor to find reviews and the top things to do in Cancun, it was quite sad to see it’s turned into an advertising platform for various companies. I couldn’t trust reviews as being true because they were about selling packages. (My review of Trip Advisor only gives it three stars because of this.) This is what Cancun wants, a hundred ways for you to give them your money. I get it. There’s a depressed economy judging by the empty merchant stalls and the dilapidated buildings and streets, but pushing the sell just pushed me away.

I tried looking online for what locals do, since I was not staying at a resort. It was hard to find. I visited Mercado 28, another massive tourist market where everyone has the same items that are mass-produced in Asia. Mayan calendars, Mayan temples, mugs that say Cancun or are shaped like breasts, T-shirts, etc. Nothing made by artisans. The only genuine items made in Mexico is the silver jewellery, and it was outrageously expensive. Mercado 23 is where the locals shop so it has more day-to-day items and food. There are some crafts, no silver, and the prices are more reasonable. The few things I bought, I bought there.

Parque de las Palapas is large open-air rotunda with food stalls around the perimeter, a few merchants and a large stage with free events (Pride was on while I was there). There are a few restaurants and the ony time I could taste alcohol in my drink was at one of these. Prices for margaritas (cheaper), mojitos, daiquiris, and the like start around 80 pesos and can go up to 200, the latter being a tourist ripoff.

I also found Parque Ecologico Kabah. I thought I could walk there, it was only an hour after all, but the heat and humidity did me in. I ducked into a restaurant with AC, had a drink then took a taxi the rest of the way. It’s a natural habitat. I did see a coati mundi and many mosquitoes that thought I was their sacrifice. I’d arrived too late and while it looks like people use the park as a jogging trail I had to leave.

There is less of seeing the natural wonders of Cancun and more of buying tours and excursions. I went to the Mayan Museum, in the hotel zone. It’s good, somewhat small. I couldn’t figure out why it was four stories tall but only the top floor was open. There’s also an archeological park with some ruins, iguanas, and a shaded area to walk.

My Airbnb host was super helpful and recommended someone to help me book tours so I wouldn’t get ripped off. He recommended a few areas with artisans, but they were outside of Cancun and would have been easier to get to with a car. I never did find local artists, except for the overpriced silver jewellery. I did the catamaran tour to Isla Mujeres, named for the female gods and women’s rites once carried out there. I don’t swim but I have snorkeled with a lifejacket before. Unfortunately, I was the only English speaker on the boat of people from Mexico, Brazil, and Paraquay. I do know some Spanish but it failed here. They included cheap beer, overly sweet Palomas, and some other form of fruity alcohol drink. Instead of wearing the lifejacket like a jacket, they tied them around people’s waists and didn’t provide flippers. I spent my 10 minutes in the water, flailing and drinking the ocean. On Isla Mujeres, they try to get you to rent golf carts to beetle around the island, and of course, there are more merchants with silver or mass-produced items. I just wandered a bit, walked in the ocean, and had a couple of drinks. One place was off the beach and regularly priced, whereas the beach restaurant didn’t have a menu and charged 200 pesos, a rip-off. The guide on the catamaran neglected to tell me we were leaving from a different dock so they had to come hunting me, though I was waiting where we’d disembarked. This was a waste of money, and later I found out there is a ferry that travels daily to the island without the overpriced tour aspect. I’d do this next time.

Chichen Itza can be done without a tour bus or by car but the package deal seemed easier, with air conditioning, and umbrellas for walking around the site. They pick you up and take you to the large bus, then the guide talked about Mayan culture, history, and their numbering system, which only used three “numbers,” much fewer than the Roman or Arabic numbering systems. He was good and friendly. When we arrived at the site, an archeological guide took us around to the main temple, describing the calendar and number of sacrifices done quarterly (13), as well as the ball court, where two teams could play for days and only one score through the high stone ring was required. It’s about 12 feet up a wall and Mayans were not much taller than 4-5′. The one who scored the goal was sacrificed; a great honor. The heat at Chichen Itza reached 40 degrees (Celsius) and it was crowded with the same vendors selling goods made in Asia. I only saw one person actually carving wood. If anything turned me off, it was the constant selling and trying to lure people into spending.

Part of the Chichen Itza tour included lunch, which was fairly good in variety and flavors. But before that, we were blessed by a Mayan priest, who chose 5 special ones. I was one of them, so we held small obsidian sculptures as he chanted in Maya and spritzed everyone with tree branches dipped in water. Then the special ones were taken one by one to get a personal blessing. This involved trying to sell a small sculpture for personal health and a larger one for your home. And then of course there was the giant room of handicrafts, some maybe made in Mexico.Of those of us specially chosen, three were white and obviously not from Mexico, one was from Honduras, and a couple may have been Mexican. After this, on the way to lunch (less than a few minutes walk) were three guys dressed in Mayan warrior outfits, who pulled me in and took my camera to take a picture and then wanted me to pay. I’d rather have a choice than be forced into the endless tipping. My host mentioned that the government has removed the artisans and left the cheap crap. I don’t quite understand this mentality.

We then went to a Cenote, with a smaller tourist showroom of very expensive goods, and then a half hour stop in Vallodolid. This could have been dropped. There was no time to explore anything but the city square and the church, which I didn’t bother going in. People came back munching on snacks. It really was one more way to squeeze a few more pesos out of people as the sun went down.

I was in Cancun for almost two weeks, and sampled food at different restaurants and most of it was good, lots of seafood. I’ve highlighted most of what I could find to do but there wasn’t a lot, and I never could find local artists at all. Use this as a guide, or not. People’s tastes vary.

The last time I visited Mexico I was about 24 years old. It was a different world of tourism, and I was sweet, beautiful, and naive. I went to Mexico for a one-week trip, so cheap I couldn’t resist on a bookstore employee’s wage. I fit in a lot of adventure, going to Cuernavaca, Taxco, and of course, Mexico City. I was hit on, I was robbed (unknowingly and it was fast) and I saw a lot, with only a tiny Spanish phrasebook.

Zoom through the time machine to this year. I required a dental implant due to bad genetics and not bad hygiene. It’s a front tooth, so I either need an implant or a denture for a spot that’s problematic. I have no benefits that cover implants and it’s a minimum of $5,000 CDN. For people in the US, yes, we have healthcare here, but it doesn’t cover much in dental and even benefit plans do not cover implants. I have had every form of dental care, from dental school, crowns, fillings, root canals, implants, braces, veneers, and Invisalign to out-of-pocket expenses. And I’ve had to have several surgeries. There is at least $30k in my mouth and probably more.

So I decided to try dental tourism and asked around for recommendations. A Mexican friend suggested Cancun Dental Specialists. I booked most of the dates through email. They pick you up from the airport and take you to your appointments, and back to the airport when you leave. I booked my flight and a BnB. I’m not a resort person. I like to see what a city is really like for people, culture, food, and lifestyle, not a pasteurized version of our dreams of a foreign country. However, there is absolutely nothing wrong for those who want this. My older brother always liked cruises where he could just unwind and not think of anything. I get it, but it’s not my style. Plus, I can’t swim and can’t stand sitting/lying in the sun for more than 20 minutes or I overheat. I like heat, but not hot hot hot.

So yes, I came to Cancun for dental and to write. I’m writing, but not what I should be. With the dental for the curious, I required an extraction (horrible infection) and a bone graft in Vancouver, readying it for a less-than-half-the-price implant. And yes, even with needing a second trip for the crown, it was going to work out to cheaper or at least the same price, with a vacation. But…genetics.

It turns out that they discovered a part of a root in my gum, which would necessitate a 3-hour surgery, more extraction and grafting, and a setback on the implant. This now meant more money, time, and waiting to get a tooth. I contacted my Vancouver surgeon and asked why he hadn’t removed the root. He did reply, saying it didn’t look like a root but a mutant baby tooth that had never grown out and had probably caused the two infections (root canals, 3-hour surgery, and extraction). He did agree that he should have caught it and that it would have affected an implant, so has agreed to do the extraction for free, with reduced implant cost. So it will be back to Vancouver for me. He thought the company might use inferior implant materials but they use the same company as he does. My mouth is trauma and this tooth/untooth is the greatest part. I might return to Cancun for the crown after I figure out all the costs.

The following pictures are of food and daily life. Clicking on the images will give you the full picture without the captions.

La Coyota has a DJ and dance floor and like most Cancun restaurants are open-air La Coyota’s tacos de mariscos included large tasty, prawns, lightly battered and an incredibly hot habanero sauce. Pesca Nader’s Mojito. It’s fairly common to get drinks in skull glasses. Lots of liquid, light on liquor. Pesca Nader’s torre de mariscos included shrimp, tuna and a bit of octopus. Great the first time I was there, but the second time, the tostadas were not crisp. Coapenito’s began a regular stop for writing. Never disappointed. This is queso fundido with chorizo. This cantina was where the locals eat. Often plain and plastic plates. A quesadilla con pollo made the traditional way, and a horchata. I couldn’t finish either but they were very good. Many of the drinks come in these massive margarita glasses. It’s hard to get drunk when consuming so much liquid. A pina colada made with real ingredients at La Palapita Parque de las Palapas is where the locals go. It has food stalls and a stage in an outdoor park. Pozole is a stewish soup with corn and chicken. This one didn’t have a lot of flavor. In the background is the stage. There are a few merchant stalls as well. At this place I watched a Mayan waiter, little over 4 feet tall, balance 4 of these on his head. One of the many buildings in Cancun, painted white to reflect the heat. Many buildings were one made of stone and are now made of cinderblocks.

In the meantime, I explore Cancun and write. I’m a moderate heat person. I love it in the 23-26 degrees (Celsius) range, and I need to walk. In Vancouver, we have a bit of humidity (enough that when I first moved there, everything felt damp and sticky and my shoes mildewed), but it’s nothing like Cancun. It is like Toronto, or parts of Louisiana, Pennsylvania, and Singapore, where I’ve experienced that hot, wet wool blanket. I hate it. I don’t know how people can do anything. I’m coated in a slippery sheen and the mosquitoes love me so much. The ancient Mayan and Aztec cultures actually gave small blood sacrifices every day; a pinprick here, a tiny poke there. I have given my sacrifice to the mosquito gods.

A good many years ago, I wrote about Fluevog shoes; what worked, what didn’t, and of course, what I liked. (It’s not all about writing here.) Well, I continue to judiciously buy Fluevogs, but I’m not religious about it. I’ve known people with 30 or even 100 pairs of Vogs. My wallet could never handle this, nor the space in which I live. Plus Vogs (yes, there’s a whole terminology for Fluevoggers) come in such a variety of styles and colors that not all appeal to me. It’s extremely rare that I buy Vogs at full price. They are…pricey. Very, so they’re special beasts. But with waiting, I’ve also lost out on ones I wanted.

I also seem to have a bit of a boot fetish. When I count the 12 pairs that I’ve owned, 9 of those are boots from the lace-up-to-the-knee Zachary winter boots, to the ankle-high blue brocade Ohbai‘s. My first Vogs were bought secondhand and were from the early days: thin soles and a bit too big for me. I loved them but passed them on and have regretted it, though they weren’t that comfortable. My second pair of Monday boots, I wore to death. I recently sold the Nerfertiti shoes, which I wore for many years but my feet no longer love them. Elegant with braided leather ankle straps and heels like a clawfoot table. This was one pair of shoes that I had no problems with materials. For comfort, style, and durability they get an 8 out of 10.

That’s three gone, and I still have two pairs of shoes and seven pairs of boots. But over the years of buying footwear, I have found the styles wonderful, the colors intriguing, and the materials frustrating. My oldest pair of shoes, the Wonders Ayers, split along the edges not long after I bought them. I won’t rate these because they were in my previous post.

The Cubist Cupcakes I bought in the stressed gold and burgundy velvet. The thing about velvet, when it’s not true silk or cotton velvet (even when it is) is that if you don’t serge or double stitch the edges, the fabric will unravel, even if it’s sewn to leather. I loved the heel on these and the very pointed toe. My first pair frayed along the seams and the zipper so badly that even though it was past the warranty date, they replaced them. The second pair is better but I wear them judiciously and never in bad weather. But it also means anytime Fluevog creates shoes with textiles, I’m very hesitant to try them again. Even this new pair shows fraying along the seams, a section where the seam parted, and the leather pealing away from the heel at the top, not the bottom, which I’d expect if there was wear from walking. These are showy but not great for long wear, and because of the inferior material (though I love the look), they get 6 out of 10.

Fluevog shoes are made in Portugal, Peru, Brazil, Mexico, Vietnam and China. It’s sometimes hard to say if you have a bad pair, or they were made more inferior in one country, or if the style itself is flawed. However, after the few pairs I’ve had, I can say some of the materials, or more that the extra pieces like buckles, heel lifts, soles, zippers, and laces, are of inferior quality in general and it’s extremely frustrating.

The Maiers are a shoe that I quite love for the intense color. They fit well and are comfortable. I’ve never had any issues with them and while I don’t wear them often, they’re still bright and fun. They get a 10 out of 10.

The Gladstones are a very popular style that Fluevog has created in numerous colors and materials. A fairly comfortable boot, the heel lifts wore out after about ten wears, so yes their materials are often of low durability. I had the lifts redone at a cobbler’s. Recently I had Fluevog redo them, forgetting about the material and hoping it’s better. I only wore them twice before one lift fell off, but that’s more the cobbler than the shoe design, and they fixed it promptly. I give these a 7 out of 10 for style, comfort, and durability.

My favorite boot might be the Empress. I missed out on the turquoise (my favorite color) and would buy them again in a heartbeat. I wore these for long walks, and the platform kept me out of the rain. These were my winter boots and lasted many years. While I still have them, the leather did eventually split across the toe on one and even having it fixed didn’t last. I can’t bear to get rid of them though. These get a 10 out of 10 for style, comfort, and durability.

Fluevog brought back an old style, the Luana, and I like these a lot as walking boots. But the wrap-around lace was of a very rough piece of leather (rawhide?) and it broke in less than a year. Considering that I probably wore these for only four months, it should have lasted longer. I bought new laces from a cobbler and that’s lasted three times the sad one provided with the boot. I also had issues with the sole wearing out very quickly as well. These get an 8 out of 10.

The Ohbai‘s I mentioned above. They’re fairly recent, and yes they have fabric. It’s not over as many seams so I took a chance. So far, they’re hanging in there. Super narrow; I had to go up a full size but I love these for their Baroque influence, and the buckle is heavy duty, good quality. They get 9 out of 10.

The Vagabond was my replacement boot for the Empress. Something sturdy and comfortable for long walks and will not let the rain through. This is a heavy boot, which I found out when taking them to Portugal last year, but definitely comfortable. But…again with the inferior parts. I only wear them in winter because the leather is too thick for warmer weather. And I often buy my footwear on sale so I’m buying them out of season. I had worn them for only about three months, when I noticed one of the nylon zippers pulling away from the fabric of the zipper, and only on one boot. This isn’t anything I could cause. I took them to Fluevog and again this should not happen for boots that cost hundreds of dollars. I have a pair of cheap ass boots I bought over ten years ago and the zipper has never failed. I showed Fluevog the zipper and asked for a break on the replacement. They couldn’t match the color and wanted me to do both zippers for $120. That’s almost half the cost of what I paid for the boots. I chose to try sewing the nylon teeth down because I was about to go on my trip. Well, the zipper irreparably fell apart while in Porto. I managed to find a cobbler (repairing shoes for 50 years), and while he couldn’t match the color either, I chose a a bright green and for about $20, it was fixed. For the stress and poor materials, this gets a 7 out of 10.

Obviously, because I bought the shoes shown here, I like the style. Most of the point loss is on comfort and the durability, and Fluevogs continue to rate lowest in the last category. The average score works out to around 8 I have just bought a new pair of shoes but they haven’t arrived yet. We’ll see how they hold up. Fluevogs are really some of the most eclectic footwear being created. People become hardcore fans for a reason. I just hope they’ll start to pay more attention the the supplementary materials that go into making boots and shoes.

Today saw the publication of my poem “In Our Nature” at The Future Fire. This poem will be in my SF poetry collection, To the Last Ion, coming this fall from Lycan Valley Press. My collection explores the many sides of science and science fiction. Some poems look at aliens encountering humans, or humans encountering aliens. Some are darkly humorous, some are dark. Some look at what we do to ourselves and each other. In fact, the two sections within the collection: In Our Nature, and Outer Limits.

At Gavagai, my story, “An Iterminable Liminal Space” was published. This was inspired by a really terrible hotel where Stokercon was held last year. There were mattresses in the hallways on a weekend, a weird, creepy parking lot, elevator doors that either snapped closed erratically or wouldn’t close. Goo dripped from the ceilings in spots, there were no restaurants within walking distance and the one in the hotel was not open during the day. The carpet was indeed old and creepily spotted, and dust covered the tops of cabinets. We made the best of it, and it became a topic of conversation because it was definitely a hotel out of time, in all senses of the phrase.

Have fun reading these (for free) and tell me what you think.

Mark Leslie Lefebvre recently interviewed me. We talk about writing, horror, poetry and speculative work in general. Check it out at Stark Reflections.

Mark’s a very talented and knowledgeable fellow. He’s published many stories, and speaks about publishing and how to market your works. Instead of me telling you all that he’s done, check out his site.

Come back tomorrow when I’ll be linking a newly published story that’s about strange, liminal hotels, based off of my experience at last year’s Stokercon in Pittsburgh.

There are so many things happening that I meant to do an update in April, and well, it’s May already. I’m the editor for the HWA Poetry Showcase XIII this year, where HWA members are featured with poems. Submissions just closed and judges Erik Hofstatter, Jamal Hodge, and Kyla Lee Ward and I have been reading away. From the submissions, we will select 50 poems to be published. Artist Jenn Brisson is working on the cover art and by this fall, the book will be released. The image here is a mockup of the cover in progress.

In April I had two fiction pieces published: “The Last Hope” looks at a very different version of dragon in Dirty Magick Magazine. And, what if you were only a worm in the Big Apple and no matter where you escape, you can never be free? “Ensnared” is in Cosmic Horror Monthly.

Polar Starlight #22 published “Cannibal Playlist” and SpecPoVerse Vol. 2 #1, published the haibun “Molt,” and “Blue Blood.” These are free to read so check them out. The magazines look great and are full of great writing. I also have a haiku [lunar odyssey] up at Three-Line Poetry. You’ll have to search by my name to find it.

As well, coming this fall from Lycan Valley Press, who published my first poetry collection, I Dreamed a World, is my newest SF horror poetry collection, To the Last Ion. Stay tuned for the cover reveal that’s coming soon. Also Undertaker Books will publish my weird, eco-horror, mosaic novella, Awaking Pandora, in April 2027. I’m very excited to see these publications coming out. That’s my fifth poetry collection and my third fiction collection.

Oh, and if you’d love bigger images, or even any of the same size, well, this is how WordPress chooses to make them work. So I don’t have much say in it. And while there are great features, it was so much easier to work in the good ole days.

Some months can be slow in the publishing world, and then others, it snowballs. I started the new year with “In the Weaving” published in Humans From Earth. This story is part of an anthology where humans are the horror, the invaders, the nasties. Likewise, in February, “Fresh Picked” came out in If Memory Serves. This poem is about food and memory, and unlike most of my writing, there is nothing speculative about it.

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March definitely became bumper crop month for dwarf poems (poems of 10 lines or less). This included the haibun “Awakening” in Scifaikuest, horrorku [acid] in Crytpic Frog Quarterly #2, a cinquain “Captive” in Polar Starlight #21, and a scifaiku “finally happy” in Amazing Stories: Best of 2025. And while technically Polar Starlight #22 has a cover date of Apr. it came out on the last day of March with my poem “Cannibal Playlist.”

A few other things to look forward to. In April, “The Last Hope” comes out in Dirty Magick. Also, since this is now April, I’m the editor for the HWA Poetry Showcase XIII, which has just opened to subs for National Poetry Month. Poets may submit one poem and it will be read by jurors Jamal Hodge, Erik Hofstatter, Kyla Lee Ward and me. The top fifty poems by HWA (Horror Writers Association) members will be in the Showcase, a paid venue of the HWA. For more information, check out the HWA’s Facebook page, or the website. It’s always fun and interesting to see what writers create. If you’re submitting, make sure you’ve read the rules. Poems are submitted single spaced, and it’s best to list the number of lines in your document. Also, I’m reminding poets that the book size is 6×9. Overly long lines will have to be broken and this is often important in poetry, since it’s not just an oral tradition but a visual one.

And fellow writer and Tom Johnstone and I can announce as of today that our story “Snow as Soft as Feathers” will be in Flame Tree Press’s Christmas Horror Short Stories. Their books are lush hard covers packed full of stories from contemporary authors as well as myths and legends. We’re very excited about this.

Today is the first day of spring, and I always love the changes to trees and plants and the many colors. But this is now the deathiversary of my brother, Dennis Anderson. I miss him very much and still love him. He was the eldest of four and really, the best big brother. If one of us said we wanted to be an astronaut or a rock star, he never would have laughed, but just suggested ways to make it happen. Truly a supporter, he tried to work to make the world a better place. In a way, that was his downfall.

He was a thinker, a problem solver. Some of his past roles included working at one of Alberta’s first recycling places (long before anyone was thinking of recycling), a broadcaster, an MLA and a minister in the Alberta legislature. Designated a red Tory, because he was always more liberal leaning, he always tried to see both sides of the coin. He wouldn’t necessarily defend criminals or a hated public figure but he would present balancing information and points of view. He was on the board of the Canadian Mental Health Associate, and the Edmonton police commissioner. He was an honorary Thai consul and created the Chimo Project, a pet-assisted therapy program, one of the first of its kind.

He did all this without having ever finished high school, though he did attend the 60s hippie haven called Rochdale College in Ontario. His work in mental health garnered him an honorary degree from the University of Alberta, where I found out for the first time that his love of dogs (Chimo was a dog he owned) started with his first dog Sally, who pulled him back when he was about to jump off a bridge as a pre-teen boy. None of us had an easy life with our parents but Dennis, being the eldest probably faced more anger and abuse than the rest of us. He was probably too sensitive to have been in politics and it chewed him up a lot.

In the years before he died in 2019, I knew something was wrong when he said that maybe people shouldn’t be allowed to vote because they didn’t understand what was going on, and would jump to extreme conclusions (and social media has made this far worse). His statement shocked me because he would have always presented the other side in the past, and tried to discuss and fathom the whys and wherefores.

The darkness was filling his soul, he seemed unhappy; and part of this was caused by years of chronic sleep deprivation. He couldn’t stop think and therefore never selpt. It affected his memory severely and for a thinker, that is a death knell. He’d fainted at one point a couple of years before. It affected his leg and his tastebuds. But the absolutely useless doctor he had somehow didn’t think to test him for a stroke. But Dennis also didn’t trust doctors; not because of their skills but because he’d known enough (including psychologists/psychiatrists) and heard how they talked about their patients. This built a lifelong mistrust so he wouldn’t see them when he should have. He didn’t like when physiotherapists would suggest he do this or that exercise and became petulant. He certainly wasn’t perfect but he was a far better human than he thought he was.

The day he died from complications of sleep apnea, I had just come home and was rescuing a bee. It was still chilly outside and the bee was crawling over a primrose but these flowers have no stamens so there was nothing to feed on. It couldn’t fly. I went upstairs and found a bottle cap, dissolving some jam in water and taking it to the bee. It eventually fed enough to fly away. Only later did I realize that it was about the same time my brother had died.

I miss the deep thoughts Dennis had, his way of cocking an eyebrow when one of us said something, perhaps peculiar or wild or overly opinionated. I miss the way he wouldn’t always outright laugh but give this “hmph.” He liked to play jokes and he enjoyed wine. He loved animals and tried to make things better. This poem was one of many I wrote to express my grief and honor my brother, who gave me my first taste of science fiction. This is a a true story.

First published in Songs of Eretz