PULP ARK WEEKEND-LOCATION AND SCHEDULE ANNOUNCED AND DETAILED!

Announcing the newest place for Pulp Writers, Artists and Fans to come together!

MAIN STREET, BATESVILLE, ARKANSAS!!!

Pro Se Productions, LLC (http://www.proseproductions.com/) in conjunction with Main Street Batesville of Batesville, AR announces PULP ARK 2011!!  Pro Se Productions, a company specializing in pulp storytelling in various mediums, primarily magazines and comics, made its debut in March, 2010!  Pro Se also seeks to bring all the over the top, grandiose, slam-bang impact of pulp to the South!  PULP ARK, scheduled for May 13-15, 2011 will be a convention dedicated to the Pulp Genre as well as a conference made up of panels, workshops, and activities to appeal to the Pulp writer, the Pulp fan, and that most unique creature, The Pulp Writer/Fan! 

PULP ARK will be held in the historical town of Batesville, AR.  Nestled in the scenic Ozark foothills, Batesville provides most definitely a small town charm, but has facilities of all sorts, including hotels, major and local restaurants, and several venues for hosting panels, conferences, and vendors.  Batesville also affords a relaxed setting, different from most large cities where conventions are held, but also conducive to creativity, relaxation, and a furthering of Pulp fandom!

 PUBLISHERS AND VENDORS WELCOME-REASONABLE TABLE RATES

LEADING NAMES IN PULP TODAY AS GUESTS

INCLUDING

RON FORTIER

VAN PLEXICO

BARRY REESE

DERRICK FERGUSON

MARK HALEGUA

TOMMY HANCOCK

NANCY HANSEN

LEE HOUSTON, JR.

KEN JANSSENS
WAYNE REINAGEL
FULLER BUMPERS

JOE GENTILE

ROB DAVIS

ERWIN K. ROBERTS

WAYNE SKIVER

ART SIPPO

RIC CROXTON

ERIC JONES

MEGAN SMITH

MARK POLL

AND MORE!!!!

PANELS LED BY WRITERS, ARTISTS AND PUBLISHING COMPANIES

WRITERS AND ARTISTS WORKSHOPS BY LEADING NAMES IN PULP TODAY

A PULP STYLE INTERACTIVE ADVENTURE THROUGHOUT PULP ARK

EVENTS FOR SPOUSES AND FAMILY MEMBERS

DISCOUNTS AT LOCAL HOTELS, RESTAURANTS, AND OTHER BUSINESSES

 

MAY 13-15, 2011-Prepare for the Flood of All that is Pulp-Get your place on the PULP ARK today! 

 

PULP ARK WEEKEND-LOCATION AND SCHEDULE ANNOUNCED AND DETAILED!

PULP ARK, the Pulp Convention/Creators’ Conference debuting May 13-15, 2011 in Batesville, AR, is proud to announce that the event will be held in a location that is a primary part of local history in the historic Arkansas town. Built in 1880, the three story building that will be the home of the first PULP ARK enjoyed life as Batesville’s Opera House for eight years. It was renovated and made into a mercantile store after that and then later was home to various other enterprises. It currently houses THE CINNAMON STICK, a coffee and sandwich restaurant. The over 6,000 square feet of space provides not only ample places for tables, displays and guests, but access to the lower level provides an onsite location for panels and classrooms. The lower level, largely untouched since the building’s construction, except for electricity being added, served as the dressing area for the various opera stars and performers in the building’s original incarnation.

A hotspot of activity, The Cinnamon Stick plays host to musicians, artists, and performers on a weekly basis as well as to customers ranging in age from high school kids to senior citizens. The location, 151 W. Main Street in Downtown Batesville, is surrounded by various amenities. Currently there are three restaurants on the street; The Cinnamon Stick, Elizabeth’s, and The Greasy Spoon. These three offer a variety of food and if that were not enough, various other restaurants are within a 1-5 mile radius of the location. Various antique stores, an used book store, a gym, and various other types of businesses line Batesville’s historic downtown area.

SCHEDULE FOR PULP ARK
NOTE-This is the schedule as of today.  Changes may occur.  If a timeslot has 'PANELS/CLASSROOM' in it, that means it is an open spot for a panel or classroom.  If these are not filled, then there will be no set aside panel or classroom at that time.  The activity in the Main Hall will be available.

A PREVIEW FROM THE ROOK VOLUME SIX BY BARRY REESE...STARRING THE ROOK AND LAZARUS GRAY!

Darkness, Spreading Its Wings of Black

An Adventure Starring
Lazarus Gray
&
The Rook
Written by Barry Reese

Chapter I
Birds of a Feather

Maurice Chapman opened a small white container and pushed a rubber-gloved finger into the white material it contained. He then smeared the grease under his nose, wincing slightly. He offered the container to the two people who were in the autopsy room with him: the dainty, beautiful Samantha Grace and her employer, the tall and thin Lazarus Gray.  “You’ll want some of this,” Maurice said when neither of his guests took the container.

“We’ll be fine,” Gray answered, his mismatched eyes focused on the body that was hidden beneath a white sheet. The corpse’s feet extended past the sheet and he could see that her toes had been painted red, probably a week or so before the murder. The paint was chipped in places and in need of a touch-up. The scent of medicinal products and cleansers was almost overwhelming but it didn’t come close to matching the odor of putrification that arose from the dead body.

Chapman resisted the urge to press the matter. He was sixty-two years old, born and raised in the cesspool that was Sovereign City. He’d seen burly cops enter his lab and turn away vomiting at the things he showed them. He knew false bravado when he saw it – and neither of these two were displaying it. Lazarus Gray looked like a man who had seen enough death to no longer be disturbed by it. Chapman studied him for a moment, having read about the man in the newspapers but never having met before. The head of Assistance Unlimited hair was more gray than brown, making him look older than he was, though a close examination of his features revealed that he was in his late twenties. He was tall and slender, though with a rangy musculature that indicated he could more than hold himself in a fight.

The girl was another matter entirely and it was only because Chapman had known the girl during her youth that he knew she was more than she appeared. A stunning blonde whose parents were wealthy philanthropists, Samantha had grown up with every opportunity possible. She could speak five languages fluently, was a champion swimmer and was a veritable encyclopedia on topics as varied as fashion, European history and the socio-political climate of the Orient. Chapman would normally have balked at having a female in his lab, especially when he was about to show off a corpse in this state – but Samantha Grace was no mere slip of a girl, despite how she might look at first glance.

Chapman set the container aside and pulled the sheet away, revealing a body that had been horribly mutilated. The nude form was neatly bisected at the waist and the face had been slashed from the corners of the mouth to the ears, giving her a macabre parody of a smile. The dead woman’s black hair was matted and still bore traces of leaves and insect casings. Her body was that of a fit young woman and was admirably formed but the unhealthy condition of the body was consistent with being exposed to the elements for several days before discovery.

“The victim was 24 years of age,” Chapman began. “Her body was found in a vacant lot on the west side of South Page Avenue midway between West 42^nd Street and Robeson Avenue.”

PRO SE MAKES MAJOR LICENSING ACQUISITION!

NOTED PULP AUTHOR BRINGS BEST KNOWN CHARACTER TO NEW HOME!

Pro Se Productions, LLC. announces today that noted award winning Pulp author Barry Reese has entered into a contract licensing his character, THE ROOK, and all related concepts to Pro Se Productions for a period of two years!

THE ROOK, Reese's excellent take on the classic pulp hero and one of the penultimate characters leading the current Pulp Renaissance, has built up an extensive following and fan base, thanks to Reese and WILD CAT BOOKS and publisher Ron Hanna.  The agreement is that the fine work that has been done on the first five volumes will remain with WILD CAT and this arrangement is for new print material as well as development of other product featuring THE ROOK.

Reese provided the following statement-

"I'm really excited about the new relationship with Pro Se. It's a tremendous opportunity that will hopefully introduce The Rook to new audiences and new media. In a relatively short period of time, Pro Se has established itself as one of the leaders in the pulp field and I consider it an honor to bring The Rook to their publishing platform. I still consider all the folks at Wild Cat Books to be great friends and will continue to work with them on future projects."

STAY TUNED TO THE PULP MACHINE FOR A FULL LENGTH INTERVIEW WITH REESE AS WELL AS STATEMENTS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS FROM PRO SE PRODUCTIONS CONCERNING PLANS FOR BARRY REESE'S THE ROOK!

The American - Number 29

In the split second before the battle sure to come, Paul Sr. scanned the surroundings of the restaurant for casualties, obstacles, and potential weapons.

Twenty to thirty feet stood between the enemy and his cold hard fists.

Three Aspersers – Maybe more in the kitchen or in a trap door somewhere.  Paul would have to keep his eyes open just in case. Most likely he just had to prevent them from pushing a button and calling for reinforcements.  In the old days, he would have held back for a minute or two and let the reinforcements come to their brothers' aid. This always added to the excitement of the battle, but with the kids here, it was probably best to stop this thing before it gets started.  And once it was over they could grab a couple of tacos, Paul Jr. and the kids could get their cheesy-things, and then they could get the hell out of Santa Fe before they arrived.   

Asian Couple, weak - Paul Sr. knew all of the patrons but two—an Asian couple. They were in their upper forties, short, in flowered shirts. But they didn’t have the usual stereotypical cameras. He wondered if they would be an asset, liability, or if they were possibly a plant put there by the Indian to attack anyone foolish enough to invade his house.  If that were the case, then they would probably sneak up from behind when he least expected it.  That would mean during the battle at a moment when he was the most exposed, they would attack.  Or maybe they would just start shooting guns at him and his family if he got out of line. 
 Unless, they were the whistle. 
Damn it, they were probably the whistle, which meant that their job was to simply lift a cup or eat a chip, and that would be the message to someone somewhere who would come and firebomb the whole building. Or let the poison gas out of the cylinders. Or blow the floor out and the place would drop into a vat of freeze foam. Hell, It could be anything.

"Of Kin and Clan" by: Nancy A. Hansen

"Of Kin and Clan"

by: Nancy A. Hansen

as published in

PRO SE PRESENTS 

Fantasy & Fear #3 
BUY YOURS TODAY AT ttp://stores.lulu.com/proseproductions

Excerpt: 

“See anything you like?” Rhandor asked, as they threaded their way through the crowded marketplace. The short man with the long sword and the natural born warrior’s stride walked slowly alongside the equally short woman in the light leather ranger’s outfit, his eyes constantly darting around watching for potential problems.

Roshanna was still far from popular in the capital city of Calimsharv, even after getting an official pardon from the Duchess. Rhandor felt it was his duty to protect her when she was in the city, though he knew Roshanna was perfectly capable of watching out for herself.

“They don’t seem to have much to offer,” Roshanna said with a little frown that narrowed her green eyes and wrinkled her snub nose. “It’s all the same stuff, and most of it is far too big for me too! I don’t want plate; it’s too hot and heavy. Ring mail is lighter and you can move better in it, but crossbow quarrels go right through it, so what’s the point? I already have all the leather I need. I think we’re wasting our time,” she protested.

“Don’t give up that easily,” the shorter of her two male companions said with a grin. “The best equipment isn’t usually out for the public to see. You have to ask for it. They put out the common stuff that they figure mercenaries and day soldiers can afford and save the better things for the good paying customers. They want to unload this garbage as fast as they can,” he said, sweeping an arm to indicate the hodgepodge assortment of rusty plate mail and battered shields in the stall they stood before. “The good stuff is usually behind the counter somewhere.” As a an experienced soldier, Rhandor knew his way around an armor dealer’s stall, and so he was more than happy to escort the fabled Huntress of Greenwood on a shopping excursion.

There was a throat clearing noise on Roshanna’s other side that said Leonhar was about to weigh in on the matter. The journeyman wizard had accompanied them on this trip into the city simply because he invited himself along. Tall and lean, always with a serious expression on his face and long black hair tied back in a mare’s tail, he was quite the traveler, and so very knowledgeable on many topics. Unfortunately he was always too eager to prove it too, and could be quite the bore at times.

“Remember, we haven’t been to the Dwarven section yet,” Leonhar added in his usual know-it-all fashion. “There you will see uncommon workmanship even amongst the most mundane of items.”

“Yeah, and an uncommon price to match it!” added Rhandor with a sarcastic chuckle. He purposely cut Leonhar off before the taller man could expound upon his vast knowledge of Dwarven artisans and techniques. “Show them a purse and the cost of the item goes up before they even find out what’s actually inside.”

The Book of Green - Number 7

The beast burned through the apartment after its prey the moment Cole touched down from his mighty leap. Blood and slobber flung from its jowls as it screamed into Cole’s fleeing body. The weight of the beast was more than the engineers had ever planned when drawing up the building, and each of its powerful steps dug into the floorboards, splitting them, and separating them from their joists. Even though Cole ran with every fiber of his body, he was no match for the speed and size of the beast, which quickly moved in for a backbreaking blow. It knew that once Cole’s spine was shattered, or if it swung too high and removed Cole’s head, it would be able to feast on both his sole and flesh at a leisurely pace before it had to transform and return to the snow.

Pulling back his mighty limb, the beast knocked over most of the living area it had recently transversed. The senses honed in on the future placement of its prey and then it began to swing in the general area needed to end Cole’s feeble attempt to stave death. The strike flew in the direction of Cole’s ribs, and the mighty devil smiled its nasty devil smile. Shadowy tracers followed the blood drenched limb as it lashed closer to its target.

"The Sign of the Fourth" A Sherringford Bell Story by: Ken Janssens

"The Sign of the Fourth"

A Sherringford Bell Story

by: Ken Janssens

as published in PRO SE PRESENTS Fantasy & Fear #3 
BUY YOURS TODAY AT

http://stores.lulu.com/proseproductions

Excerpt:

          There were two things that I was very passionate about. The first was the Washington Nationals. There’s nothing like smelling the cherry blossoms planted at Nationals Park as you take in a night of America’s only real gentleman’s sport. It didn’t matter how inept they were season after season; I still loved my adopted baseball team. The second thing I was passionate about was my work. What we did, Sherringford and I, there might not be anything more important in this world. We tracked down the demonically possessed, and usually we sent the monsters back to the hell they came from. But, for today, that would have to wait.

          “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” screamed the pool boy as droplets of water splashed against his bare chest. To the casual observer that just walked into the situation, they would have thought that the tightened ropes that bound the Native American teen to the top of a dining room table would be what caused him pain. They would be incorrect.

          “This will only hurt worse and worse until you decide to talk,” I warned him. The warnings rarely work. Looking around the room, it was obvious that my surroundings were not meant for such things. Though I didn’t know what kind of price tag some of these pieces of furniture and immaculately decorated dishware came with, I was sure that I couldn’t afford a single one of them on my priest’s salary. Not that I cared about such things. It was just that, even though I had eaten in the Hopes’ dining room several times before, this was the first time I thought about the value of its inanimate objects.

          “You’re torturing the wrong man,” yelled the pool boy, spit flying out of his mouth. “This is what he wants. Not me.” It was difficult to look into his red eyes while he screeched and thrashed about.

           

"Desire of the Apprentice" by: C. William Russette

 

"Desire of the Apprentice"

by: C. William Russette

as published in

PRO SE PRESENTS 

Fantasy & Fear #3 

BUY YOURS TODAY AT

http://stores.lulu.com/proseproductions

Excerpt:

     A country of mages and sorceresses do not thrive in their craft by practicing on sticks and stones or even rats and lizards. To understand change one must understand that which you wish to change. The mortal form is a complex thing, the same as fixing ones sight on the future. Often one doesn’t get the result sought on the first try and then its just back to the dungeon in hopes of a more successful second try.

     Those blessed with the sight and the natural dexterity of mind to learn the craft won’t even think on Blakkrfell and head straight to the Vanir or Aesir schools to learn their craft. To plant their lips upon Odin’s backside! Those with brass and an eye for challenge come to Rikr Keep. My students may be fewer in number but I’ll put any three of Odin’s whelps against one my witches, Kjalvör thought, laying languidly amidst her vast bed’s many pillows.

     The emissary from Skogrheim lay next to her, naked and exposed. Completely vulnerable and drained almost unto death from his exertions. He did finally please the queen but only just. The seduction was tedious and without challenge.

     Still, there is something to be said for youthful enthusiasm, she mused. Should I finished him off or allow him to live to return to Skogrheim with my reply to King Faddi‘s ludicrous demands? As if I would have anything to do with the training of one of his daughters in the craft. I already have a student. She is more than a handful as it is. It has been five years since Freia arrived begging on my front step with but a few simple illusions and tinctures to her name. No, let King Faddi’s daughter attend the academy with all the other tiresome applicants that will only take what Blakkrfell has taught them and become a royal vizier or the town seer making love potions for the ugly and gold the slow of wit. I believe, as I did when I first saw her, that Freia will be something special. She has that mercurial glow to her. It’s maddeningly indecipherable.

The American - Number 28

“One.Two..Three…”
Carolyn lifted her father with all of her might. She strained as he feebly attempted to help her. Looking at the frustration in his eyes and trying to talk her way through the pain, she coached, “Just a few yards, Dad.  Just a few yards. Here we are…let me open the door.” 

The door opened to the inside of a less than well cared for fast food joint, which featured a form of taco only known by white Americans as a taco. Paul Jr. sat inside stuffing his face. The children watched in awe as their uncle inhaled sour cream wraps and cheese hunks hidden in meat.  Carolyn knew from the look of excitement in Marcus’s eyes that if he had been in college, he probably would have been chanting ‘Go!’  

Confused and trying to catch his breath,  Paul Mcconnell chided, “Carolyn, we don’t have time for this.”   

The caregiver anger swept over Carolyn.  “Dad, we’ll just be inside for a minute or two until we can figure out our next move.”

“We don’t have time to sit down….and…Dear God!  There he is!”

"Citadel of the New Moon" by: Kevin Rodgers

"Citadel of the New Moon"

by: Kevin Rodgers

as published in

PRO SE PRESENTS 

Fantasy & Fear #3 

BUY YOURS TODAY AT

http://stores.lulu.com/proseproductions

Excerpt:

The boy floated on his back in the swimming pool and stared up at the night sky. When he was younger, his parents revealed that back in ‘The Old Times’, there was only one moon. His feet splashed and his arms whirled, propelling him backward toward the deep end of the pool. As he stared at the twin moons and twinkling stars, he wondered how The New Moon entered the Earth’s orbit at the end of The Old Times. He knew he’d reached the deep end of the pool when he floated by the words six feet, which were spray painted on red tiles slightly above the water line.

Six feet under, he thought to himself. He stopped swimming and looked down into the dark water. Although he couldn’t see the grate at the bottom of the pool, he knew it was there. During the day, he swam to the bottom of the pool with his best friend, Jason. They challenged each other to see who could hold their breath the longest. Jason was older and stronger, so usually won.

The boy knew his parents would be worried about him if he stayed outside much longer. He should have been under cover thirty minutes ago. He knew his dinner would be cold when he decided to get out of the pool, dry off with a towel, and go inside the house. And he knew he’d receive a spanking from Daddy when his parents realized he’d stayed outside after the curfew. If a roving police officer found him in the pool after dusk, his parents would be forced to pay a hefty fine. For each person who remained beyond cover after sunset, a citation of one-hundred dollars was issued. The town’s Curfew Advisory Board used the fees to help fund overtime for extra police officers, who were needed to deal with the infestations of gargoyles at night.