The King is Here.

I'm the king of this erotica *ish.

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Wow!  I've released several short stories in the past.  Countless unanswered submissions and a few rejections.  All to get to this point.  Uninhibited Carnality has only been out for a month and is already my best seller.  I'm very proud of this title and the praise it's getting.  The second volume is in the works and will be out next year in time for bikini season.  During my journey with this book I've met some great contacts and want to give them a shout out here.  I intend to meet a lot more interesting people from this genre and will always give back when I can.  

If you need to heighten sensual awareness, overall fun, and have an item on hand to help you get through my erotic book you need to talk to a real Romance and Sexual Health Connoisseur.  That's where Blissful Betty comes in.  She specializes in spreading love.  Head over to her site and browse to your content.  Tell her I sent ya! http://www.blissfulvibe.com 

Now Available

Throw your inhibitions to the side and open your mind to ultimate sexual gratification.  Learn how a woman gains the upper hand over her husband’s love of porn; see how friends celebrate their love of football during halftime, be witness to a wet dream, and much more in these six tales of orgasmic bliss.  This book contains graphic hardcore descriptions of sex.  Not for the timid or prudish.

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$6 Paperback with fire cover

It just doesn't stop. . .

Coming this Holiday Season for Kindle and in Print!

MANIAC

I'm not one to just push other people's work unless I'm a huge fan.  I mean damn near fanatical.  When I found out one of my all time favorite horror movies was being remade I wasn't too happy.  Especially, when I found out Elijah Wood was playing the role Joe Spinell played wonderfully.  Then, I saw it was from the team that made High Tension and The Hills Have Eyes remake.  They got my attention.  Then, I saw the red band trailer.  Now, I'm a believer and haven't been this excited about a horror movie in years.

Work Work Work, and actually liking Deadlines. . .

Being a starving artist has its ups and downs.  Mainly its downs, but if your passionate about what you do, oh well.  My ups include, but not limited to, no rules, no censorship, and complete freedom (unless your collaborating).  The downs include, but not limited to, no money.  Every serious writer has at some point dreamed of being signed to a big time publishing house.  Huge advances to live off of so all you have to do is write.  All the advertisement (well some of it to be fair), marketing, promotion, formatting, editing, and art work are left to professionals who are getting a nice slice of the money pie.  And then there are the deadlines.  I know, I know a lot people hate having to rush and struggle to get a project complete, but me personally have found deadlines helpful in me creating structure.  And, its a great motivator.  Two options.  Get it done by Christmas or be sued for breach of contract.  You write.

So, here I find myself with lots of work to do, but not always an incentive to do it.  I'm still a no name so the stuff I do put out either doesn't sell or sells very little.  Very discouraging.  One masters of taboo book has been released and two more announced.  I've completed all my submissions for that particular series for what may be the next three years.  I have numerous stories that need to be written, but why rush?  Where's the pay off?  As of right now, I have a lifetime to get all of them done.  Which is good, but may also mean, they'll never get done.  Get it?

Incentives include, but are not limited to, praise and money.  I get praise all the time.  I'm a great writer (with still a lot to learn)I get it.  Money!  Haven't seen a dime, yet.  Even though you sell books on kindle you won't see a penny of it until you make enough in royalties to warrant them cutting a check.  I've learned that when given a deadline on a writing project I get inspired, focused and determined.  I'm more than positive money will also be a huge boot to my ass one of these days.

Speaking of money. . .

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Lets not forget the murderous love story that has people up in arms.

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Masters of Taboo Cannibalism Now Available!!

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Five more days. . .

"Bryan Jackson's "Abortion Atonement" throws the reader head-first into bloody shenanigans. No punches are pulled in this disturbing installment."

Quote from Nigel Lata-Burston's review of Masters of Taboo: Cannibalism

My story 

Will be featured in in the 1st Masters of Taboo anthology out this Halloween

Emotionally Involved

I am a firm believer that the human condition should be the foundation for all story telling regardless of the genre. A character's motivation and feelings are essential in all formats. Leave those things out and you have shit. That shit may be fun for awhile, but once it's over with nobody is talking about it. Prime example of fun forgettable shit- Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies. I've been a fan my whole life, but let's face it. It's always about 5 dumbass teenagers driving through a secluded part of Texas. Why are they there? Who gives a shit. Who will make it out alive? Who gives a shit. I've always wondered why women needed story lines in their porn and now I see why. Fucking for the sake of fucking is fun (especially if your just there for a quick fap), but lets be honest. With all the porn that's out there you need substance to compete or its just a fuck flick that gets lost in the massive shuffle that is porn. The same goes for Horror. I'm a huge gorehound and love senseless cinema violence. But, at the end of the day I need something that's going to move me. This line of thinking is what I aspire to in my own writings. To make something that will touch people (however it may) many years from now. My goal is to get to the level of the writers for the Law&Order shows (I love em dammit). So, I suppose I owe a huge thanks to Stephen Biro for coming up with the themes for the Masters of Taboo series. They have challenged me to not only deliver hard hitting horror for the book fans, but to top myself. Today, as sat inflicting unnameable misery on my characters I myself was brought to tears by the antagonist's motives. I didn't ball like a baby, just a bit misty eyed. I hope when you read any of my stories that emotions stir and percolate. If you can get through something I've written w/o a second thought you're either cold blooded or I need to work harder. Chances are though, your fucking nuts.

Past, Present, and Future

This summer I unleashed 'A Sordid Infatuation', a love story about an unhinged woman and a serial killer. This Halloween, Masters of Taboo: Cannibalism will devastate readers around the world. I've already completed the soul shattering story for the 2nd anthology coming in the near future. The 3rd anthology's topic was leaked to me (thanks birdie) and I immediately got to work. Now, this tale of madness is in motion and will be completed soon and vaulted away from prying eyes until the time its needed to make readers cringe. My next novella entitled, Angelicka, has been fleshed out and only needs a solid outline before it can be written. That should be ready by the beginning of the new year. Stay Tuned!!

Prepare for Halloween!

I'm one of 13 authors featured in the only Definitive International Cannibal Anthology.  Regular and Limited Editions will be available in print, kindle, and all eReaders.  Prepare to be disturbed beyond belief.

Reviews from Amazon of "A Sordid Infatuation"

Kudos to this new author! This story is not your typical love story. I too will not give anything away regarding this book because this story is just too darn good. I am an avid reader of love stories and have never read anything like this book. I was very surprised to find out that it is actually a bit of a thriller and I typically don't care for that genre. What can I say other than I highly recommend this short gripping tale of love, horror and suspense


I started and finished this shorty in less than 3 hours. I couldn't put it down. It's hard to explain why I liked this book so much without revealing details of the storyline, but for a love story, it is different from any other that I have read. Great imagination. I would love to read more from this author.

The madness doesn't stop. . .

With A Sordid Infatuation complete and doing well on kindle I smile and take a breath only to realize it's not over yet.  Not by a long shot.  I'm not complaining, I love writing, but there are so many stories that need to be told it can be a bit overwhelming at times.  Which one deserves to be next in line?  Well, a poem that I talked about in a earlier post came to mind.  As I pulled it out and re read it I decided to merge it with another poem I'd written.  Now the foundation of the story is done and I'm working to get the details sorted out.  Back at the beginning for a new tale.  I can't wait to embark on this journey.  As usual no details about my writings will be given until it's complete.  But, I'll give a hint as to the subject matter:

In Love and Madness

Kindle Version

It's okay if you don't have a kindle.  Amazon offers FREE kindle apps for your desktop and mobile devices.  So, stop wasting time and read about how two psychopaths find love.

Thank you,
Bryan Jackson

Susan is no super model and a bit unusual.  She lives a loveless and lonely existence until a handsome man that is obviously out of her league asks her out to lunch.  Not wanting to miss out on this rare chance at love she does what she can to keep the relationship going, even if that means jumping head first into his secret life of madness and murder.

-p.s- scroll down for snippets

Last preview before release

After several miles he pulls into a mall parking lot.  Parking away from any other cars he cuts his engine off and sits there.  She watches him intently.  His other bitch must be in there shopping awaiting her ride.  Alex scoots over to his passenger seat and rolls down the window.  Very long lens on a camera pokes out and he begins clicking pictures.  Susan looks toward the mall exit and sees various shoppers lugging bags to their vehicles.  Once the last one departs Alex puts the camera down and waits.  What the fuck is he doing?  Another few minutes pass and a large family made up primarily of kids rushes out the mall and head toward a large van.  Again, Alex snaps shots of the unwitting models.  The van pulls away and now the sun has set completely.  Alex starts his truck and Susan does the same with her car.  They drive for another ten minutes until he comes to a stop in an abandoned lot.  He stares at something that she can’t see and then pulls out the high powered camera again.  Susan looks around and sees a bum staggering along the wall.  He drops a brown paper bag that no doubt holds alcohol of some sort.  He’s a very grungy black man, but too far away to make out any other details.  Alex’s camera is probably able to zoom in on the guys pores.  Alex gets out of his truck and walks slowly toward the bum with something hidden under his arm. 

 COMING THIS WEEK!!

Still here going strong!!

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Even if you don't own a kindle, Amazon offers FREE apps for your desktop and mobile devices.  Don't miss out on this generation's darkest collection of poetry.

Poems that take you through three different levels of extreme indulgence. Tales that will stir up the darkest of emotions and fantasies. Level one starts off suicidal, level two takes you on an x-rated ride, and level three drops you right into Hell.

It is the end, but of only one chapter. . .

As I sit here willing myself to get up off the couch and rub feeling back into my ass after hours of writing, I realize I'm almost done with the book "A Sordid Infatuation."  It's been a great journey and as I am kind of sad it will end I notice that there is plenty of room to expand on the lovers I've created.  I'm already jotting down plans for their future together.  Like you or me I plan for them to have very deep and layered lives.  Maybe it'll take me the rest of my life to get their story complete (kinda doubt it as I would have tired of them by then).  So, I'll just add them to the ever growing list of stories that need to be unleashed onto the world.

Music that cause nightmares.

I'm up late working out details on this outline.  Adding things, taking things away, and polishing up other things.  Anyhow, as I am very drunk (yes, right now) I enjoy listening to music that sets the mood while I'm writing and coming up with new ideas.  While scrolling through some awesome horrorcore rap I find these two gems.  I'm going to mention one of these songs in the novella.  This shit creeped me out.

Preview

A snippet from "A Sordid Infatuation"

“What the fuck is going on here?”  Alex’s deep voice booms from behind Susan and she goes stiff for a moment then turns to face him.  He is wearing a short sleeved black t-shirt and a pair of old dingy jeans with a pair of black steel toe boots.  That explains the large shoebox.  He moves closer but Susan stands her ground.  Staring right into her eyes he repeats his question.  “What, in the, FUCK, are you doing!?”

She stares back not breaking his gaze and puffs her chest out in defiance.  “You never returned my calls, so I came to see you.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes in disbelief.  “Bitch, are you crazy?”

His words cut into her like a dull knife and her lips quiver.  She takes a deep breath and calms herself.  “I know you’re under some stress so I’m gonna let that slide.  Now, just calm down so we can talk about this.”  Alex prepares to unleash a torrent of expletives when he is interrupted by his captive.  “Please, you have to let me go!  Please don’t let him kill me!” 

Alex’s eyes go wide with rage and he stomps around Susan to get to the woman.  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”  His attention goes back to Susan who he points at accusingly.  “You shouldn’t be here.  This is not good.  You have just FUCKED everything up!”

Susan’s tone remains calm.  “Nothing is fucked up, baby.  Just do what you gotta do and we can go upstairs and talk.”

Alex moves back to her.  “Bitch, what do -” He is cut off midsentence by a hard open handed slap to his face.  He stumbles back a step and rubs his stinging cheek.  Some drool drips off of his bottom lip.  Susan closes the gap, grabs his chin, and forces him to look at her. 

“You already used your one free pass.  Call me a bitch one more time and I’ll break your Goddamn jaw.  This isn’t a big deal.  I’m not here to cause you problems.  Finish this and let’s go upstairs.”

Alex looks dazed and confused.  The woman realizes that Susan isn’t here to help and continues screaming her head off.  Snapping out of his daze, Alex goes to a shelf on the back wall and retrieves a clear plastic bag and duct tape.  He gets on his knees in front of the woman and she squirms trying to get away.  He forces the bag over her head and tapes it shut around her neck.  He stands up and watches her struggle to breathe.  Susan steps up next to him and watches as well.  The woman’s gaping mouth is filled with the plastic as she tries in vain to catch her breathe.  Susan runs her index finger along the inside of Alex’s palm before intertwining their fingers together so that they hold hands.  She uses her thumb to caress his.  The woman’s body twists and then stiffens.  She trembles as her organs begin shutting down from lack of oxygen.  The forced gasps cease and her body goes limp.    

"Their conversation took a drastic turn"

My girlfriend and I had a good laugh last night when I explained how a part of the story I'm writing didn't follow the outline.  I was explaining to her that certain events were supposed to happen, but because of a conversation between the two characters things changed.  She didn't really get how fictitious people that I created in my head could somehow pave their own futures.  In the end what happens to them is up to me, but that doesn't mean that their personalities and actions don't cause 'rifts' in the story.  Just one of the many things that make being a writer so exciting.  To somebody that doesn't write I can see how this sounds like I may need to get professional help for the voices in my head, but hey, fuck em.  I'm already proud of the characters and their lives and I'm still in the beginning.  I'm the one writing it, but am just as excited as a reader to see what comes next. . .

Update

Writing on the novella has officially begun!  After a couple weeks of getting the outline right it's time to get to it.  Everything (kindle cover, dedication, table of contents, etc) is complete so all I have to do is focus on the story and then formatting (simple if you take precautions).  The hardest part for me is the beginning.  That first line that becomes the first paragraph.  Now, that I've taken care of that the juices are flowing nicely.  I'm going to take my time with this and since it is my first short novel (may grow into a full on novel we'll have to see) don't expect to see any release dates until new years.  I'll push for a bit sooner, but gotta make sure it's perfect before letting the cat out of the bag.

In the works

First Novella or Novel . . . Depends

Today is the first day of a new chapter in my writing life!  After years of poetry and short stories I'm ready to  step into full on novels.  My first dip in this pond will probably be a novella.  I'm not committed to that format, but the story I'm working on seems like it'll work in the 20,000 word area.  If it goes above and beyond without compromising the flow of the story then so be it.

I'm actually excited about this story because I'll be stepping out of my comfort zone and attempting a romance.  Well, at its core it'll be a romance but anybody who's familiar with my work will know that something sinister will keep this out of the romance section.  Basically, that thing is human nature which is more frightening than any zombie or vampire could ever be.  So, I'm giving myself a deadline of January 1, 2013.  By then it should be written, proofread, re written, edited, and ready for consumption.

I don't talk about details of my writings and keep everything secret until completion.  This is the last I'll mention this until it's time for advertising.  With the Cannibal anthology coming soon and another "secret" anthology being worked on right behind it I'll have plenty to talk about in the mean time.

I'm also looking to connect with artists who can illustrate professional book covers so drop me a line if that's you!

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Horror Double Pack

The Horror of Sobriety

by Bryan Jackson

I’m walking around in the light of day

and, I can’t tell if I’m dreaming

is that person laying in the street screaming?

Everyone’s face blurs and decays

my vision hasn’t been focused in days.

Conversations with others seem hollow because there’s no connection

avoiding these moving simpletons,

I wander till I see a window booming my harsh reflection.

I stare into myself searching for living confirmation

my mind fights me,

so I drink in a ruthless retaliation.

Bottles of cheap vodka lay agonizingly empty

I drank them down like there was plenty.

Only a bowls worth of weed is left unsmoked

not a good time for me to be provoked.

The lady of the house knows well of my disease

and, like an angel delivers Brandy to give reprieve.

Brandy straight with ice while smoking Loud,

makes my mind conform

although, no one who loves me is proud.

They aren’t my concern, I need a release

being inebriated brings on a great peace.

No inhibitions makes for great fucking

some sensations are dulled

as noticed during vigorous oral sucking.

Now, I can be inspired and with a fire set I create

I’m aware that you may not be able to relate.

That’s a positive as I am not to be idolized

leave me drunk and writing,

so that hellish fantasizes may be realized. 

The Horror of Death

by Bryan Jackson

The funeral home has been standing for generations

burying many, thousands sent through uncompromising incinerations.

The walls pulsate with all the sorrow they’ve witnessed

loved ones crying for friends and family snatched from existence.

Pain and horror collect below where corpses are stored

to witness their death and aftermath would leave the squeamish floored.

A woman falls victim to an insecure and abusive spouse

she’s beaten to death with fists in her marital house.

Once beautiful and desired by many, often envied by most

now she lays split with a Y-incision

reliving the pain and watching on as a ghost.

A man set fire to himself in an unloving brick home

his burns so severe that there’s char on the bone.

Burnt, blackened flesh that smells of hot hell

resides in a clear bag in the freezer

where gases cannot cause the body to swell.

Just two examples of the coroner’s countless clients

an educated person indeed but,

not even a coroner can explain the aftermath of death with science.

Working to preserve the body and each individual’s beauty

now that’s not only stressful, but a great and honorable duty.

As always, evil will find its way in

not even the medical profession is unsusceptible to sin.

A not so mangled body lays waiting with absolutely no say

the perverse mortician sees it as a toy with which to play.

The horror of death scars and taints souls

only to have a strange doctor violate once pleasurable holes.

Surrounded by death it soon becomes hard to relate to those still alive

in order to cope one crosses boundaries and with the dead they swive! 

Cannibalism Fact is nastier than fiction

You can't pay for publicity like this!!  This is some horrible shit done by some truly evil people, but it happens before the anthology I'm included in comes out so how could I resist.  Click the links to read the stories.

Saturday's Face Eating

Eat pieces of your roommate

COMING SOON 

Creating a Succubus

Today I started back to my poetry roots.  Which are stories.  Not so much a reflection of any of my emotions as it is getting stories out of my head without it taking days to complete.  I enjoy this because it's fun, quick (usually), and exercises the mind a bit.  It took an hour to produce thirty solid lines.  It's been awhile since a poem has taken me more than fifteen minutes to write.

I made myself sit down and write even though I wasn't feeling it.  Sometime you just gotta suck it up.  What started out as a poem about a woman that takes souvenirs from lovers became a morality tale about a succubus.  I figured if shes taking something from these men it should be significant.  I could have taken the easy way out and had her collecting body parts, but that didn't seem as. . . intriguing.   So I made her a succubus and put my own spin on the whole myth of these creatures.  Now, not only do I have a bitchin' poem about a soul sucking demon bitch, I have a blueprint for a short story if I so decide to expand on the character.  Win/Win.

Ezekiel 3:18

By Bryan Jackson

Only a fragile human doomed to die

I take up arms killing, screaming at the sky

A woman said “you follow God or follow Lucifer”

She begged me to find good in all, but

all I want is to watch the sun fall.

People are outwardly obnoxious shit, or

they hide it deep in their soul where it forms a pit

The only difference between them and me

is that Hell’s a future I can see

Nobody fears the consequence for their actions

but, when it comes they want repentance to cause retractions

I am no better than anyone else

I just have no regard for myself

Killing to cleanse and make space on Earth.

 Praying,

 the next generation will appreciate the miracle of their birth.

Internal Hell

By Bryan Jackson

A personality both lovely and vile

they love it, but will scorn it after awhile.

A lifetime and still no crew or posse to name.

Day after day the isolation flickers then burns like flame.

The heart corrodes and becomes a serpent of Hell

as it slithers and pollutes, intestinal tracks swell.

Spleen ruptures and poisons the bowels

every face in the family damns you with scowls.

Blood rushes and fills the scrotum sack,

boils filled with disease cover an aching back.

Tear ducts are overrun with yellowish puss.

Maggots ravage the vocal cords in a speedy fuss.

None of this is fatal to the body, just the soul.

Now I am as I am treated, like a sick troll.

Without anyone else to corrupt I am my only victim

my hate paralyzes and shorts my nervous system.

My urethra is clogged with biting mites.

The pain is nonstop and blurs my sights.

Anus overflowing with foul sludge.

I beg it to leave, but the serpent won't budge.

It tells me everyday, “You will die soon enough.”

“but, what you endure now is foreplay. Death's where it gets rough!” 

Love Her Back

By Bryan Jackson

A woman states and thousands of miles away

screams in her dreams because of her heart

she loves too much and

can’t recall when the pain began to start.

Others take advantage of her and disrespect

she gives chance after chance not exploding as of yet.

Her children watch as she slowly loses her cool

she has had enough of being played for a fool.

Those whom she has loved and cherished

are on a path of which they shall perish.

While asleep they are gagged and bound

operations performed without a sound.

They tore out her heart leaving only pain

fuckers didn’t count on her going insane.

Now, they are awake and she carves into their chest

blood flows and covers her

the warmth of it is the absolute best.

Wanting her love back she rips out their hearts

it isn’t enough, so she digs deeper

cutting them into numerous tiny parts.

Their meat minced and slowly cooked in stew

let this massacre be a lesson to all of you.

Give as you get and never forget

fucking with the wrong one will get your neck slit!

Self Aware

Take

the lasciviousness of John Wilmot

the hard drinking of Charles Bukowski

the depression of Anne Sexton

and infuse with

Edgar Allen Poe's nightmares

and you have an image

Inspiration Comes Later

I'm probably the only guy that actually hated poetry for the first half of my life then started writing it.  I've been writing poetry non stop for five years now.  Growing up I lumped poetry in with all that other sappy romantic nonsense.

When I decided I wanted to write more than short stories and move on to the big leagues with novels I started a novel writing course with an online school.  Seemed like a cool idea.  They'd charge my card once a month for fees and sent me a huge starter box.  In the box I got books and reference software (this shit was so old I'm still convinced they were transferred from floppy discs.  Not the small ones everybody had stacks of,  I'm talking about the discs that you could literally fan yourself with.).  Barely two months into the course my life here in Atlanta took a turn for the shit and I decided to leave this place and my girlfriend for Virginia for a year to better myself and spend time honing my craft.

In the one place I thought I could find peace and solace I was once again reminded of how badly life could skull fuck you.  I couldn't keep up the payments for school and let that shit go.  I was upset about it, but in the end it wasn't that big of a deal.  You see, the lessons were for novices.  Somebody who had never so much as written a fucking letter to their grandmother and then decided they ought to write a book.  I had already learned how to write by, you guessed it, WRITING.  It was here that I wanted to give up writing completely as it seemed to be a waste of my time, but as a true artist knows you don't just quit.  Not without feeling like your world is caving in on you because your artistic cement is gone.

My Dad always encouraged me to keep a journal and since I was young I always did.  That idea wasn't flying with me anymore.  I wanted to write and get my feelings out, but a diary? No.  Then, I thought about poems.  What if I could get feelings and stories out in short little bursts?  Ten minutes a day (I learned real quick a twenty lined poem can take months to complete) and I've purged myself while writing something I could show others.  I was excited and my mom showed her support as she's a huge poetry fan.  I played around, experimented, and kept at it.  Glad I did because I want to slap myself whenever I find the poems of my first year.  That shit was awful, but I got better.  With my talents growing I came to the realization that it may actually help to read some poetry.  Promising myself if I came across any of that soft, pillow talking bullshit I'd quickly move on.

My mother owned a collection of works by Keats, Shelley, and Percy.  At the beginning of each book was a biography of one of the poets.  These guys were rock stars!  They lived the life I have only dreamed of (mainly being adored by countless women).  I'm not a fan of their poems.  I think they were very talented writers, but I couldn't relate to a damn thing they were talking about.  Knowing that I had so much in common with these now famous names kept me inspired.  I was still trying to find my voice in poetry when my part time job at a video store payed off.

While tending to the drama section I found The Libertine.  I had never heard of this movie, but Johnny Depp and John Malkovich headlining was all I needed to pick up the box and inspect.  The synopsis was something like "the life a playboy writer" blah blah blah I was sold.  That night I was mesmerized to learn of the long dead poet that loved fucking and drinking on a massive scale.  It's like we were kindred spirits spread out over time.  Yes, it's stupid and cheesy but I'm trying to explain how I felt at the time.  Anyhow, the next day before work I went to a local bookstore and had them order me whatever books by him they could find.  A few days later I was treated to John Wilmot The Complete Poems.  I was psyched to see that  our styles and some of the topics were similar (back then I wrote about the joys of having a mistress as did he so many years ago).

I kept looking for new old poets to discover and came across Bukowski (interesting person, but reading his stuff is like work), Anne Sexton (who suffered from depression much like I still do to this day), and various others.  So, that's how I became the poet I am today and yes you can find your heroes long after you start your craft.