Noir

  • LE BARDE NOIR tickets available now

    Le Barde Noir, a surreal Shakespearean noir dramedy, with which I contributed to the script alongside a great lineup of talent, has hit the stage as of last night!Thanks to all the great actors, directors, and writers for making this Monterey-based noir a reality!If you live in California’s Monterey Peninsula and want to attend a

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  • New Story at Punk Noir

    Thrilled to report my latest crime fiction short story, “The Worth of an Ear,” is up today on the Punk Noir website. This free-to-read piece was inspired by the Van Gogh Exhibit all over the country at the moment. I hope everyone enjoys it! Read it here!

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  • REVIEW AND INTERVIEW: I’ll Pray When I’m Dying with Stephen J. Golds

    Broken people in a broken system. Could describe us all. Each of us are damaged goods in some way. Definitely sums up the cast of characters in the historical, noir-injected book, “I’ll Pray When I’m Dying,” the latest from author Stephen J. Golds. “Broken” is a word that deftly describes our lead protagonists, Ben Hughes

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  • October events!

    (Sept. 24, 2018) Look for some cool events this October on the Monterey Peninsula. Cool for writers and fans of the written, and spoken, word at least. And who isn’t a fan of that? October 21 – I’ll be joining a number of authors in Carmel on Sunday, October 21, from 1-3 p.m. for a

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  • Noir at the Bar – October 26th, 2018

    It’s going to get mysterious and maybe even a tad illegal down in Monterey on Friday, October 26, at the East Village Coffee Lounge. Look for trench coats, a suspicious marine layer rolling in like spilled pea soup, shady-looking folks in sunglasses, or just a gaggle of writerly types skipping along in the fog. When

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  • Noir at the Bar – October 20th, 2017

    Picture yourself in a dimly lit room. A light bulb hangs from the ceiling, swinging slowly to and fro, as if an ethereal skeletal hand had reached down from the inky shadows and tapped it. Beneath the light are a series of faces with dark shadows for eyes and grim, black lines for mouths. The

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  • Epipen Noir

    I couldn’t see the inanimate object, but I could hear it speak. The Epipen had a voice like an Italian mobster if you can believe that. The thing probably wore a sharkskin suit, something full of money and pizzazz. It told me who it was while parked outside the pharmacy. My fingers hadn’t turned the

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Patrick Whitehurst