So, I did a thing.
A long time, I wrote an epistolary horror in the vein of Bram Stoker's Dracula or any number of works by one of my greatest influences, H.P. Lovecraft (racist, sexist, anti-Semite that he was). This piece of short fiction was intended for an anthology; I don't remember all of the details, but I remember that the stories were supposed to feature RED SHOES.
I have a certain kind of imagination, which took me a certain direction. I don't know why the story was rejected. Looking at it now, I kind of enjoy it as an homage to an older kind of literature. I don't think it's poorly written...but I don't know if it's GOOD. How can one know that about one's own work? I am my own intended audience, and it works for ME.
Since it's epistolary, I figure that it'll work well serialized, and Amazon's new Vella Publishing initiative seems like a cool way to put it out there. So I chopped it up into chapters, used a creepy stock photo as a cover, and decided to put it out into the world. I'll be back to share more when the first chapter goes live -- it could be up to 72 hours from now.
I hope you'll read it. I hope you'll enjoy it.