This 1,842-word story, “Premeditated,” was written with a Bukowski poem swimming around my mind. Its core image stems from that favorite Bukowski poem in my favorite Bukowski book (Play the Piano Drunk…) while employing various traditional/standard dirty realism elements in which the seemingly disturbed protagonist seeks some type of “justice” against a perceived overhyped writer he’s convinced whose success is due to criminal elements more than anything. Which kind of sounds crazy, but he might just be right.

Some writers who read this story may chuckle at the black humor surrounding the jealous/loser writer(s) dynamics because in this case maybe the stereotypes actually mean something.

Thanks again to Bristol Noir and John for their ongoing support and as always, I recommend the shit out of that magazine. You don’t have to be a noir fan to appreciate the stuff being published there on a regular basis.

Cheers!

— Scott Holstad