December 21, 2014

Alison After Dark

I accept the fact that the timer has gone off, the bell has struck, the door has shut. I'm not going to make my twelve days of Christmas guides this year. I'll have to settle for nine and plan better for 2015. Which is sad because in the middle of the night I had this brainwave to do the Carlin words as Christmas guides. You know: The Motherfucking Christmas Guide. I'd include F-Bomb Lipstick, Fuck You You Fucking Fuck sweatshirts, cunt jewelry.... I think I could put together a very entertaining list. Ah, maybe for Valentine's Day!

Speaking of the middle of the night... Alison After Dark is finally out for sale. This insomnia-drenched collection features nine stories, including four original, never-been-published pieces. The line-up is:

The Keymaster
Seeing Stars
Cherry Slushie
Too Dirty to Clean
The Key
The Prince and the Upholsterer
Planes, Trains, and Banana-Seat Bicycles
All Things to All Women
The Keyhole

Seeing Stars was originally published in One Night Only. Cherry Slushie appeared in Juicy Erotica. Too Dirty to Clean is from His. The Prince and the Upholsterer showed up on this blog. Planes, Trains, and Banana-Seat Bicycles saw first ink in The Mile High Club (recently rebooted as Flying High).

The Keymaster, The Key, and The Keyhole are a trifecta of tales with a girlfriend-watching theme. All Things to All Women is a figging fairy tale set in 70s-inspired suburbia.

Behold... my intro—Insomnia: A Love Letter

Go on. Nominate me as the poster girl for insomnia. I could have a slogan, maybe a satin sash with the words embroidered in scarlet: “Insomnia. Want some?” Or possibly: “Insomnia. Get yours.” The truth is that I’ve never been a good sleeper. Whatever that means. I tend to stay up late and wake up early. I’m proof that you truly can burn a candle at both ends. Sure, I end up a little singed, but what’s soot between friends?

How does my sleep schedule (or lack thereof) influence my work? Simply put, it means I write at dawn, and I write at midnight, and I write for many of the hours in between.

Once upon a time, I wished I could sleep like normal people do. I bought sublime sheets to make my bed appear more inviting. I invested in down pillows. I sprayed soothing aromatherapy mist in the room. All of the luxury additions didn’t alter the fact that at some point I’d slip out of the bed and make my way to my desk.

The words call. Who am I to turn them away?

Now I embrace my lack of z’s. I’m the girl at the computer late at night wearing thin black sweats and a concert t-shirt so old you can see through the fabric. I’m the girl who can’t type fast enough to keep up with the words in her head. Hell, I moved to Los Angeles simply because I wanted to be where other people were up in the wee hours. The lights called me. I didn’t have stars in my eyes. I craved an “open” sign at all-night diner.

The stories in this collection are drenched in indigo. They’re midnight stories. The ones to read when you get home after that date. Or after that last drink. Or after an all-nighter. Take me with you to the 24-hour cafĂ©. Peruse me by the crisp blue glow of cobalt neon. And know that yes, if you’re up, I’m probably up, too.

She’s all mine.
But I’ll share.

Alison Tyler

P.S. Cover is by my muse—Riendo.


Miz Angell said...

In love with that intro. It's sexy and if the stories in it are half as good ( and I know that they're brilliant) I think this might be my favorite anthology yet.

Su Tungpo said...

Sorry Miz Alison. I've already bought this one. I really enjoyed it.