I blame Andrew Reid. He’s the one who came up with the idea.
Later on this week it’s World Fantasy Con in Brighton, and eleven (say it like Burnistoun – Eleven) of Literary Agent Extraordinaire Juliet Mushens’ clients will be in attendance. I am proud to count myself amongst them.
As well as being World Fantasy Con, it’s also Halloween. Or All Hallows Eve as us older folks remember it. And so back to Andrew, who thought it might be a good idea for us all to write a spooky short story in celebration.
I wasn’t going to do it. McLean book four is in the final stages of first draft, I’ve got page proofs of The Hangman’s Song to work through, I’m still trying to run a farm and, best of all, I’ve broken my foot. It occurred to me, however, as I was staring absentmindedly at the cattle shed wall the other day, that I’ve already written a few spooky short stories and barely anyone’s read any of them.
Even better, one of them is set in the depths of winter. OK, so it’s just after Christmas and not Halloween, but hey, it’ll do. So, without much further preamble, I’ll present to you Job (that’s pronounced the biblical way, not as in employment).
I can’t remember what the genesis of this short story was. I wrote it sometime in early 2005, or perhaps late 2004 given the winter setting, when I was exploring the possibility of resurrecting an old comics character I’d first written in the early nineties. Tony McLean’s been around a long time…
If you enjoyed that, there’s a few more McLean shorts over at my other place, along with some more goodies. Be warned though, I’m on record as describing it as where my writing goes to die. Quality may vary, and some of those stories were written when I was young and impressionable.