J. C. White — Author of Fiction

The Wind That Remembered Juan Blanco A lone rider often passed through, his horse ribbed and reluctant, the kind that seemed imagined from yellowing parchment and a tourists fatigue. He called himself Juan Christoforo de la Blanco, th…

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Look what arrived today! Proof copies of my debut fiction novel. Soon to launch.

Spain: The Former End of the World byJ.C.White – 2025 LEONARDO da VINCI ONCE SAID, “Nothing can be loved or hated unless it is first understood.” I have always believed that applies to nearly everything: politics and pandemics…

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Noodling “Look at you,” Noah said. “Trying to sweet-talk a fish with fancy jewelry.”

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The Death of Literature: Or How the Professors Ate the Library “Take but degree away, untune that string, and, hark, what discord follows!”

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Well, yes in that I’m just now writing commercially. I’ve been a technical writer for decades.
Some life things happened that encouraged me to write fiction about a decade ago. I began blogging 11 years ago in order to teach myself a more effective fiction prose.
About to publish my first novel.

Yes, in terms of writing fiction. I’m near retirement age, and a technical writer. I have written two fiction manuscripts and about half of my third. I’m trying to nail down the parameters and print-order for my debut novel this week. Last minute tweaks have bitten my timeline a bit.

The Storm on Omohundro Drive It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that word. But it would be the last time I’d ever hear it in the same way.

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The Quantum Delusion: Why Smart People Are Dumb About What They Know All want to teach. Nobody’s trying to learn; and everyone’s trying to preserve their personal version of existence.

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The Church of Faith & Deeds with Signs Following A family of six with generational hare-lip scars cut their faces like old whipmarks. Two cousins sat side by side, one cross-eyed inward, the other outward, so neither met the other’s gaze. Childre…

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Southern Gothic Flash Fiction

A Master Class on Freaks in Rural America by J.C. White – 2025 The great author from Georgia, Flannery O’Connor, once said in response to a question about why Southerners write about freaks so well, “because we in the South are still…

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The Ledger and the Riot “One of them said, as if speaking to the wind, that big money was pushing little people against smaller people and the only thing getting crushed was culture. He said it and the wind did noth…

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A Tale of Paper Tigers And lo, the vessels sank not by reason of the enemy, but by their own clumsiness. And the scribes wrote it down as a victory, saying unto the people, Behold the terror of our navy, though the fish …

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Just having a little fun.

The Providence of Greatness Her generosity, her success, became their expectation. Her brilliance and confidence became their wound. She was punished for both.

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Fantastic writing! Love how you just let the story develop organically. I’m desperate to know where this company is and what they do. Ha

Thank you SJ. By all means, jump in the pool. It’s fun and it really makes you think hard about the impact of each word. Trying to deliver a compelling read constrained by wordcount. I use it like I would exercise, only for my prose instead of my posterior.

Thank you very much. I really appreciate it.

The Last Mile from Black Bluff “No one speaks. The smell works its way into their faces, into the cloth at their throats. The father climbs down slow and tells them to bring her out.”

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Antichrist Ascendant “Below him, men and women scurry like insects under overturned stones. Flames claw at stone arches, devouring marble, turning monuments of arrogance to dust. “

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The First Son “Never once was Jonah told to be careful.”

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Boys in the Bloodlight He had sons, all dead or gone to hell, and one boy they said was no boy at all but a wolf in trousers who gutted a man in Orchardville for smiling too long at his sister. “

A southern gothic flash fiction piece.

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The Pale Fires of El Llano Estacado They rode like wolves and struck like lightning and vanished like smoke. And the Apache, for all their teeth, were nothing but bitches beneath them.”

My latest gothic fiction piece. Hope you enjoy.

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The Womb and the Wall “The vial lay atop her dresser, open, half full still, the label worn by sweat but legible all the same: belladonna. I’d not seen it before. It had not been mine.”

My latest blog, a Southern Gothic flash fiction piece. Hope you haven’t just eaten.

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A Quiet in the Smoke He smelled wood and cordite and the last supper’s lard still caking the pan.

Latest gothic fiction piece. Check it out.

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The Southern Agrarian This clearly is a kind of faith, and a faith moreover that is here earnestly recommended by two scientists who are aggressively contemptuous of faith.

The Southern Agrarian
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The Stranger Appeared By morning, the stranger was gone. But a silence had settled over the town, an unease that slithered beneath the ordinary. Doors opened slower, conversations trailed off mid-sentence.

Noir Flash Fiction
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Just got these in today. More for the TBR stack.

Killer Idea! “Yes’em. We spent our whole lives calling it old wives’ talk. Said it weren’t real. Said no woman ever died from it, so why worry? But it is real. And they are dying.”

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Got these two beauties in the mail today. Off to the TBR pile for a bit, while I finish my current squeeze—Cemetery Road by Greg Iles.

I started querying last weekend. I plan to try for 3 months to get some feedback, pro or con. My book is being copy edited at the moment, won’t be complete until 3rd wk of July. My team is preparing the final steps of my web site and completing a marketing analysis. Just selected my book cover.