Hello, fellow writers! My name is Elwin Cotman. I was recommended to this site by Charles Saunders, and I can't wait to meet everybody!
I'm an author from Pittsburgh, PA currently living in California. My first short story collection, The Jack Daniels Sessions EP, was published recently by Six Gallery Press. It's a collecton of folklore, urban fantasy and horror stories. Here's the blurb:
"A Washington D.C. punk club gets a visit from very ancient--and dangerous--guests. The mythic and the mundane collide at a general store in the segregated South. A young boy becomes apprentice to the Angel of Death. In the debut collection of fantasy author Elwin Cotman, the humorous mixes with the historical and the epic mixes with the deeply personal. Cotman combines the language of high fantasy, urban fantasy, black folklore, teen angst, punk rock and horror to create American fairy tales with landscapes all their own."
And it's on Amazon! Check it out! http://www.amazon.com/Jack-Daniels-Sessions-EP/dp/1926616170/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1309718539&sr=1-1
Doing readings is one of my favorite things and I've toured across the country. I've also been a guest at several conventions. My influences are way too numerous to mention, but here's the short list: Robert E. Howard, Richard Wright, Toni Morrison, Mary Gaitskill, Clark Ashton Smith, Hans Christian Andersen, Jhumpa Lahiri, Warren Ellis, Wendy Pini, Neil Gaiman, Peter S. Beagle, Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman. I love Greek myth, African-American folklore, Japanese anime and Germanic fairy tales. I'm excited to rap with all of you.
Here's an excerpt from the second story in my book. It's a series of vignettes based on black folklore. Enjoy!
The Right Way to Worship
It came to be, sometime in the year nineteen twenty-three, when Jim wuz wukkin the gen'ral stow one morn. Jim wuz a good sort, a skinny-bone fella with gray sidewhiskers and his apron alluz dusted in flour. He carried on him the stow's smell o' wheat and garlik, so's that evuhwhar he went he left a li'l scent o' stow. Folk round them parts said Jim had wukked there a hunnerd years. You would guess he'd never been young at all.
Fact wuz, he hadn't been. Many years ago, he burst forth full-growed, right in the middle o' the gen'ral stow, in a great sploshun o' fire. It wuz a feat he'd grown tired o' talkin bout and, to evuhbody's disappointment, the ole clerk never came close to doin it agin.
He wuz stackin bags o' fertlizer when in come Miss Molly, all mad and fussed-like, draggin her son Jeremiah by the horns. Now, that boy wuz half-boy, half-bull: he had two giant horns curvin on top his head and hooves instead o' hands. They said his mama wuz right awful to a tree witch one day, so she put a hex on her that made her baby come out with horns and hooves. His face wuz red from cryin so hard.
"Mawnin, Miss Molly," sez Jim. "Wut'choo need t'day?"
"I don't know wut to git," she sez, slappin the boy's behind. "This boy done embarrassed me at revival."
"Now wut did he do?" Jim ast, smilin at the li'l fella.
"When it came time to give praise," sez Molly, sez she, "this li'l heathen pulled down his pants. Then he starts gruntin like a pig. Then, in front o' the whole congregation, he takes a piss. But that ain't the end of it! He starts screamin and throwin things at evuhbody, jumps up and lands right in the mud. He embarrassed me in front o' Reverend Hawkins and the whole town. Lawd! Why wuz I cussed with such a wicked son?"
"Well," said Jim, "that is a right strange way to worship. Why don't you 'splain y'self, young man?"
The li'l half-bull boy sniffed, tuckin his cow-tail tween his legs. "That's how you give praise, I swar! I wuz jest doin wut Mister Young over by the creek tole me to do."
"Wut Mister Young tole you to do, huh?" Jim knew all about that sinner.
"I wuz fishin," said Jeremiah, "and I sees him walk up to that yallah lady's house, and he knocks on the doh' and takes his pants off. Then he goes inside and he starts gruntin. Then he comes out and pees on a tree. I knows I shouldna been so curious, mama, but I followed him back to his cabin. He's creepin round, and Missus Young opens the doh' and starts throwin things at him, and she's screamin and hollerin. Then Mister Young runs away and falls down right in front o' me in the mud. Then he tells me that evuhthin I jess saw wuz how he and his friends give the glory, and I shouldn't tell nobody."
Jim laughed. "Boy, I don't think wut you saw wuz worshippin."
"But that's how you worship," the boy insisted. "Cuz Missus Young got the spirit at revival. When I 'splained m'self to the reverend, I went to go talk to him by the Youngs, and when she heard me she started screamin and throwin things at Mister Young all over agin. So it must be the right way!"
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