i have pictures

  The intruder Unwell Author sits on your kitchen counter and he’s in your bathrobe, bare feet bloodied by the broken handle of cheap tequila on the floor; liquor smell assaults your nose, and blood from his feet goes drip drip drip.
  “There was a for real goddamn werewolf in our home, I don’t know what’s happened to our country.”
  Drip. Drip-drip.
  You want to protest ‘our home’.
  "I know because we were playing the floor is lava!”
  Drip. Dri—
  "I have pictures.”

1. Why is this lunatic emailing me?

2. Last time.

3. Up next.

4. S e c r e t s.

5. A fifth thing.

…you let me?

But if you forgot how I got into your house: you likely signed up years ago, or you recently grabbed a free book, or you thought me groovy on Substack.

Hi! I’m M.P. Fitzgerald, an unwell sci-fi author who writes warnings with heart for dream criminals. And you?

Oh, you forgot to lock your door.

Art is political if I am in your house, so if that does not groove, then you might want to unsubscribe to lock me out.

No hard feelings, but I am taking your dog with me.

Last month I did a live reading of all three parts to my recent sci-fi trauma story, Till Death Do Us Partition. Prior to the reading we discussed why dolphins are a menace, and I urged my listeners to read the ToS that they are permanently bound to. The chat was a good time, and I did my very best not to cry in-between stories (spoiler: I did). Live readings are always free, but the replays live in paid prison. If you are kind enough to be a member of Graphomania, you can watch that replay below. You’ll also find the groovy playlist that originally accompanied the live version listed within.

Also, like, I know you don’t believe me about the werewolf, I know it sounds crazy, and hey, I get it, but look at what the world has come to and check the moon cycle—I don’t think Jerry cares what a “Strawberry Moon” is, it looked like it was full and he was here and he was drunk and…

This month you’ll be getting a free short story about violence and you’ll get it around the New Moon when it is darkest and safest. In fact, you’ll be getting a story about violence for the next three months, so rejoice!

On Andrew Robert Colom’s backatcha podcast, my editor, Emil Ottoman was asked something to the affect of “how does literature compete with video games” to which he responded:

“I don’t know how writing competes with that (violent video games) aside from writing violence better.”

With this in mind, when he opened his writing workshop Knife Fight Ballet, a workshop centered around the pathology and theory of violence in written fiction, I jumped in the moment I could, and not just because he’s my editor and I trust him professionally, but because I’ve also read the man’s fiction, and he fucking delivers on the violence.

So, the next stories to get through your unlocked door (which Jerry easily got through too, don’t look at me like that) will be from this workshop, a series I am tentatively calling Violence: Three Kinds because I am an unrepentant Pink Floyd geek, and Animals slaps and you can’t stop me.

These stories will be free to read when they arrive in your inbox but will go to paid prison for members only after a month because, one: you deserve free things, and two: I crave attention.

Yes. Werewolves are real.

M.P. Fitz goes to Readercon!

Or well, my book is…

Though I will be unable to attend the best sci-fi literature convention this year, you will be able to grab my book as a free promotional goodie. Speak No Evil: 13 Stories is a collection of all of my short stories I wrote last year and will be a Readercon exclusive. If you read a story of mine last year, and you loved it, it is in this collection and can live on your shelf.

If you are in Boston and are attending, grab a copy and say thank you to the wonderful people running the table. They are doing this pro-bono for the Substack fiction community. Hell, tip them if you can, and don’t let them say no.

There will only be twelve copies, so grab them while you can.

I have set aside some additional copies that I will be signing and selling to members of Graphomania sometime next month, but once those are gone this edition of the collection is done.

Keep your eyes out.

More S e c r e t s:

The whole city is conspiring to kill me. No writing has got done as The World Cup rages on. We had a cruise ship dock on the day the city was hosting a game and smack dab in the middle of our pride celebrations. The company I work for sold $30k worth of beer in a single night—and that was just beer! If you have no frame of reference for that, a typically busy night that would throw out my hip is somewhere around 5k (and that’s including food sales).

So, I am tired, beaten, grumpy, and sad. Don’t get me wrong, the city being in high spirits has been nice (and pride is always a jovial time), but I need the folks who panic about The Sun being a limited resource to kindly calm the fuck down. Please and thank you.

Being as exhausted as I am means that I am not showing up where I would like to. The peeps I’d normally be helping out are now down a man, and I do not like that. I am being totally honest about it, however, so most of this guilt is just generations worth of systemic religious trauma, or what I like to call: Irish Background Noise™.

Still, Manic Horny Season will pass into Spooky Horny Season, and I’ll be fine. And in the meantime: I’m glad you are having a great time, Seattle, I mean that genuinely. Just be kind to those of us who tailor that great time for you. Tell the cook the food was good, tip your bartender away from her children on a Saturday night, and for the love of all that is holy stop coming in ten minutes before a place closes, you monster.

You never know who might immortalize you in a story in the worse goddamn way possible.

I appreciate your kind words and general attitude, Vinny Reads, your weekly newsletter is something I look forward to and it was a pleasure working beside you in Craig Clevenger’s workshop, last year.

Thank you, Scott. I appreciate your readership! This is an older note, I hope I am not too late in my gratitude!

Nick Winney, you are gentleman and a scholar. Your stories carry a humor and darkness I am jealous of, and if I am ever in the UK the pints are on me.

Becoming a member gives me space to re-frame today’s societal inequities (while also being entertaining!). You’d be helping me to punch up, to lambast the billionaire creeps who have forgot that their skin is as fragile as our own. Graphomania Membership means more stories—more warnings with heart. Membership also has the effect of making my stories more visible, as the algorithm takes note to upgrades, which means more people will see those stories.

Can’t afford it? No worries. You can help me by telling a friend in person about a story you liked (and that you found it first!). This helps waaaaaaaaaay more than you possibly know.

But if you can’t afford not to be a member, tap here. You’ll be my hero.

Yes, Jerry and I play the floor is lava and I’m not sorry about the tequila bottle—the glass makes it more realistic! But listen: there are monsters in this world, and they look like us.

I have pictures.

I’ll see you later this month with a story about violence. If you go to Readercon remember to say thank you to the peeps running the table my book is at. And if you make it there but want a copy of Speak No Evil: 13 Stories, think about becoming a Graphomania Member—you’ll be invited to buy it first.

I’m not cleaning up the broken glass, I don’t live here.

-M.P. Fitz

M.P. Fitzgerald writes darkly humorous sci-fi for dream criminals.