My contributor copy of this anthology arrived the other day and I’ve been devouring it in small bites – very good for the literary waistline. It’s a cracker of a book, and I’m embarassed to say that, when I submitted, I really had no idea what it was.
So now I feel like the backwater cousin among such names as Joyce Carol Oats and Tess Gerritsen and J.A Konrath. But it’s certainly a nice place to be, even if I am hovering beside the punch bowl and eating all the vol-au-vents.
But the anthology is brilliant – I read some stories out to my husband on the way home (25 word stories are just right for car reading and discussion) and we were alternately amused and touched. It’s amazing the depth of feeling you can get in 25 words.
You can find out more about the anthology at Robert Swartwood’s site, or pick it up at Amazon. Read the review in The New Yorker for more of an idea. There’s also a giveaway at Goodreads. I think it would make a great Christmas gift for that hard-to-buy-for person.