If you missed out on the Backerkit campaign for The Awful Alphabet, by me and Sara McCall Ephron, you’re in luck. The post-campaign preorder store is now open. You can find it here:
You can order the book in a variety of formats, as well as some nice posters and art prints, along with previous publications.
The Awful Alphabet, is a picture book for adults in the tradition of Edward Gorey and Neil Gaiman, but also Go the F*ck to Sleep and All of My Friends are Dead. Adulting is hard. Nourish your inner (emo) child.
Today, April 18th, marks the anniversary of the publication of the first Superman story in 1938. It is also, of course, National Poetry Month. As such, here is a poem I wrote which is inspired by The Man of Steel. While it may not be as good as Vadamir Nabokov’s poem about The Man of Tomorrow, I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Raindrops From a Cloudless Sky
When I fly, oh so high, Above the city lights– I sometimes sob, my tears fall down, Through the dark of night.
I cry for those I left behind A planet far away– Who sent me here ‘cross lightyears vast, On that fateful day;
I weep for those I cannot save: The people whom I’ve failed– Whose cries rang pleading in the night, But to no avail;
I think of all the evil here, And know I can’t defeat it– Until the people grow at last, And I am no more needed.
So if you walk ‘neath cloudless skies And feel a drop of rain– It may have come from someone’s eye Who’s neither bird nor plane.
–A. A. Rubin
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The Awful Alphabet, a picture book for adults by me and Sara McCall Ephron, is crowdfunding on Backerkit for just 5 more days. This is your last chance to support the campaign and snag a copy of the book.
As we enter the final days of the campaign, I want to thank everyone who has backed for making it a huge success. It’s because of you that we will not only be able to make the book as we envisioned it, but produce the poster and audiobook as well.
We could also really use your help spreading the word, either by posting on your social or by word of mouth, to help us finish strong. We still have one amazing stretch goal left, a reading-rainbow style animation of the book, and right now, it looks like it’s going to be a stretch to get there, but with your help and support, it’s still possible.
To thank you for your ongoing support, we will have two more raffles this week, one for a copy Holly Knightly’s new book, and one for a package of goodies from The 6 Degrees of Edgar Allan Poe.
So, help us spread the word. Tell your friends abut the campaign. Tell your family. Tell your acquaintances and your enemies. Together, we can help make your life a little less awful.
Today is opening day for most teams in Major League Baseball, so, continuing what has become an annual tradition, I present my Sonnet For Opening Day. Play Ball!
That time of year thou mayst in fans behold That malediction, fever of the spring Surrounded by lingering snow and cold, We dream of pennants and World Series rings. With pride we root our noble heroes on Eating hot dogs, peanuts, and crackerjacks And all our worldly troubles fade, are gone When that first pitch is thrown and bat doth crack But Lo! When April fades to crueler months, We reach the summer of our discontent Like Mighty Casey in the Mudville ninth Our hearts bereft of joy and merriment Yet hope springs eternal for one and all, When that blue-clad umpire calls out, “Play Ball!”
–A. A. Rubin
While the baseball season is just beginning, my Backerkit campaign for The Awful Alphabet is quickly drawing to a close. There are just under to weeks to support the project and secure your copy of the book. Support the campaign here.
Today is #WorldPoetryDay, so here is a poem I wrote a few years back, which was published in The Deronda Review in 2022.
Earth, 2022
Wordsworth! Thou shouldst be living at this hour: The world doth need thee, she is a morass– For lately our discourse has become crass– And neutered is our creative power, We’ve taken Gradgrind’s view of the flower: Made slaves to statistics, money, and math, In schools devoid of art and music class. The child is the father of the man, sour– Your voice taught us the breathings of our hearts, The spontaneous overflow of our soul; The rainbow in the sky that makes us whole; To observe divine nature and create, And elevate ourselves by making art– To leap up again before it’s too late.
—A. A. Rubin
And, if you enjoy my poetry, please consider supporting The Awful Alphabet, which includes my twisted verse and Sara McCall Ephron’s surreal art on Backerkit.
A is for A. A. Rubin, and also for The Awful Alphabet. S is for Sara McCall Ephron. B is for the book we created. The Awful Alphabet is live on Backerkit. Support the campaign today!
Let’s face it, the last few years have been hard on all of us. What better way to deal with the existential stress of modern life than with a nostalgic plunge into your subconscious? The Awful Alphabetis a picture book for adults, which features A. A. Rubin’s twisted verse and Sara McCall Ephron’s surreal art. In the tradition of Edward Gorey’s Gashlycrumb Tinies and Neil Gaiman’s Dangerous Alphabet, but also Go The F*ck to Sleep and All My Friends are Dead, The Awful Alphabet is the perfect complement to the ennui which envelops your heart.
Adulting is hard. Nourish your inner (emo) child.
See a free preview below, and support the campaign by clicking here.
When I a single silver strand did spy, Beneath my frown betwixt my tawny beard My reflection betrayed a subtle sigh, The moment now come, which long I had feared. A symbol ‘twas of my advancing age– A sentinel signaling more to come– Like Dante traveling on his first page– I realized half of my days had run. But when you saw that grey upon my face, You seemed to respect me a little more: A wise man now, possessed of stately grace, Future Merlin, Gandalf, or Dumbledore. What magic then, in a reflection new, Who sees from a different point of view!
I am about to launch my first Kickstarter, and I need your support to make it happen. It’s an alphabet picture book for adults called, The Awful Alphabet, which features my twisted verse and Sara McCall Ephron’s surreal art. Sign up to be notified on launch, and read more about the project below:
A is for A. A. Rubin, and also for The Awful Alphabet. S is for Sara McCall Ephron. B is for the book we created.
Let’s face it, the last few years have been hard on all of us. What better way to deal with the existential stress of modern life than with a nostalgic plunge into your subconscious? In the tradition of Edward Gorey’s Gashlycrumb Tinies and Neil Gaiman’s Dangerous Alphabet, but also Go The F*ck to Sleep and All My Friends are Dead, The Awful Alphabetis the perfect complement to the ennui which envelops your heart.
It’s the end of the year, and that means everyone is doing summary posts about their writing achievements over the past 12 months. If I were to make an end of the year writing post it would look something like this:
—Qualified and became a full member of the Science Fiction Writers Association
—Qualified and became an active member of the Horror Writers Association.
—Finished drafting my novel which I will be querying in 2024
—Was nominated for the Saturday Visiter Award by the Edgar Allan Poe House and Museum in Baltimore.
—Won the blue ribbon in rhyming poetry at the Long Island fair.
—Was invited to submit to two projects by editors who had previously published my work.
By certain measures, it was my most successful writing year. I finished my novel, I won or was nominated for a number of awards, and I achieved one of my long-time writing aspirations by qualifying for the SFWA and HWA.
So, why do I feel so down about my writing at the moment? I’m not sure, but it’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot recently. Perhaps it’s because many of my publications are not available online so I can’t do one of those long posts with many links, like so many writers do at this time of year? Perhaps because at this time last year, I had six acceptances pending for this year whereas this year I have three similar acceptances so I feel a lull at the beginning of next year coming? Perhaps because, while I had very successful years in poetry and comics, I didn’t publish as much prose fiction as in previous years? (Which makes sense since I spent so much of my writing time on the novel, but still…) or, perhaps, because as I advance in my writing career and submit to more professional level markets, fewer things get published? I really don’t know the answer.
I do know that I’ve been feeling down about things for th last few months, and that perhaps I need a change in perspective. When looking at my accomplishments over the last year listed above, it’s been, objectively, a good year for my career. I just wish it felt that way to me.
Ah well, time to open a nice scotch, enjoy the holidays and reset with a new perspective for next year.
A. A. Rubin 