R
etired journalist Jim Chandler hides in a sharecropper's shanty in northwestern Tennessee, where he writes novels that don't sell and a true murder story that did somewhat, between drinking bouts. He founded the now-comatose Thunder Sandwich zine out of St. Louis in the early eighties. His work has appeared around the small circus since the seventies and was included in The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry. He's currently engaged in winding up a "zombie-sex novel," which should be done by year's end if the bourbon holds out.
