THE SCREAM
I don’t scream often… but when I do it comes out in a sarcastic baritone. It sounds like somebody crooning through a traffic cone. And it normally comes out when I stub my toe or bang my head or log in to my internet banking. It happens when I ride rollercoasters. It happens when I try to sing along to the shouty parts of heavy metal songs. And recently it happened when I made a to-do list.
The books to write…
The comics to make…
The games to work on…
The places to see, people to meet…
The wedding…
The pets to cuddle…
The never-ending possibilities…
I saw it piling up in front of me and as I recalled one thing, it only reminded me of another, each project not a closed loop but a trigger from which flowered more, each containing branching projects that sizzled out into never-ending multitudes of other projects… the lists, the lists, the lists…
I screamed.
You think I’m joking but I’m not. My mouth opened. My tonsils quivered. And a nasal fog horn escaped my lips.
I looked upon that list like a man armed with nothing but a single sheet of own-brand kitchen roll, looking upon a looming tidal wave.
What I mean to say is… if today’s newsletter seems a little scattered… that’s only because it is.
I signed with a literary agent!
Earlier this year I went to ChillerCon in Scarborough. There were some drinks, some spooky writing, and I had a fantastic chat with Meg Davis at Ki Agency.
We had a chat about a book I’ve been working on for almost five years. This book is without a doubt my favourite thing that I’ve written. It’s a strange, beatific post-apocalyptic story about two mutants who take to the road, one to escape the ghosts of his dead family and the other to find a king.
Meg requested the full manuscript and… skip to a month later… we signed up.
Also from ChillerCon, here’s me and Dan with Mike Carey (THE GIRL WITH ALL THE GIFTS, LUCIFER).
Introducing, THE TOY FACTORY
Every year at H&C we put on a series of Halloween special episodes. It’s a chance to break out of our usual short story format and push what the studio is capable of, not only narratively but also in the production as a whole.
This year was no different.
I took the role of narrative lead on this one and ended up writing six episodes about a young podcaster who journeys into an abandoned toy factory in search of two missing boys. If you know me then you’ll know that things get weird very quickly. It’s glitchy and strange, full of creepy toys, old TVs, and quantum entanglement.
I honestly think it’s some of the best audio work I’ve been a part of.
From my journal:
“Karl and I have been working together on audio fiction for a long time now but there was a point when listening back to a specific scene of The Toy Factory where we realised we were touching on something here that we’d not done before, a nexus of connecting elements, all working in harmony to deliver the story. The script, the narration (provided by the immense talent Georgia Cook), the sound effects both diegetic and non-diegetic, the way the instrumentation (of the song created by Karl for this very series) peels away layer by layer, leaving nothing but the horror of the moment… it hits you in the gut, makes your soul ache.”
The first episode lands on October 27th.
Sign up to the feed for spooky fun.
My Dog Shits Cash is out now!
In ebook, signed paperback, and audio.
One of my favourite authors, Jeff Strand (FREAKY BRIEFS), gave it a read and he said, “Luke Kondor is insane. Also really funny. But mostly insane. It's the GOOD kind of insane, but still...”
If that’s not praise, I don’t know what is.
Something we need to clear up…
Glad we got that sorted…
And now we conclude this newsletter, you and I, with a dance.
I take you by the hand and lead you out onto the floor, where we spin beneath disco lights and alcopop mist, step on toes and bang elbows. I dip you like I’m trying to clean the floor with your hair. Then you lift me up like that bit from Dirty Dancing. Yes. You get to be Patrick Swayze.
We move until we sweat.
We drink until our inhibitions melt.
Then, when the song is done, I lean into your ear and whisper romantically:
“If you’re not subscribed to this newsletter you should be. If you are, then have you considered sharing my work to a friend or colleague? I’d really appreciate it.”
Before you have time to answer, I am gone.
I leave nothing but an empty bottle spinning on the floor.
Until next time,
Luke & family.
P.S. The Other Stories is now on Substack. Sign up for weekly short stories delivered to your inbox.