Hugh Howey is a true iconoclast. His newly released post apocalyptic novel, The Shell Collector, joins a body of inventive work exploring dystopian futures, interstellar travel, alien invasions, zombies and other curiosities. His career has also broken traditional barriers. Originally published by a small press, Hugh broke away to become an indie writer and subsequently made it to the NYT Best Seller List.There is something surprising about Hugh’s writing. His visions steal over the reader unobtrusively, the way one might notice the clarity of a sky or the scent of a spring day. His prose is lean, confident and unpretentious with moments of sheer philosophical grace. He sinks into the background so deeply, you forget you’re even reading. He extends an invitation, like a peep hole through a circus tent, and before you quite realize what’s happened, you’ve entered into a world of wonders. Odd wonders, to be sure. And once you’ve followed Hugh into a world, what unfolds is not always easy. His Sci Fi stories are fantastical but infused with a gritty reality borne from worldly … [Read more...] about Author Hugh Howey on Writing, Empathy and Creative Freedom
Millennium: Song of a New Year
Tonight, the moon is divided—half loss, half hope An hourglass or a clear luminosity diving through light-flecked clouds Low and golden, the way long-ago fish broke into the air the sky is restless tonight, like a sea mourning waves tossed carelessly on an abandoned shore of tumbled shells and scuttled ships Behind me, the hills are somber milestones my car is a ghost rushing past gas pumps, cantinas and fast-food grottos past gluttonous palaces and stoic churches, past neon signs that barter lust the world is intoxicated, mad with its own reflection, As slot machines echo divinity and release a cascade of tiny moons pressed with the faces of forgotten heroes The world is senile, filled to the gullet with sentiment and butchered flesh and the promise of more trinkets—Love has become anonymous an apocalyptic lullaby, a keepsake from a mythical land the radio sings and hisses and cajoles and like an interpreter of Pythian verse I’m listening for my redemption, listening hard, the way a leper clings to … [Read more...] about Millennium: Song of a New Year
