Some messages don’t need words—just a body count.
In a decaying town where the past clings like smoke, a young man named Wesley is coming undone. Haunted by trauma, warped by neglect, and shaped by the invisible scars of addiction and silence, Wesley charts a path of vengeance that’s as brutal as it is inevitable. As bodies drop and the system shrugs, what begins as a personal reckoning becomes something darker—an unspoken message transmitted through violence, loss, and quiet defiance.
Transmission isn’t about redemption—it’s about survival. It's about what happens when the broken stop asking for help and start sending signals of their own. Gritty, lyrical, and uncompromising, this is noir as gospel: sharp-edged, blood-washed, and pulsing with a terrible beauty.
Readers of Jim Thompson, Denis Johnson, and Chuck Palahniuk will love this—a dark, unsparing descent into grief, rage, and the quiet hunger for meaning that festers beneath polite society.

The Coffee Maker is a novel of recovery, grief, and spiritual surrender—told through the voices of alcoholics clawing their way toward the light. Set in a 12 step recovery community, it follows James—the so-called Coffee Maker—and the damaged lives drawn to him: a grieving wife, a broken ex-con, a woman one drink away from obliteration. But this isn’t a sermon. This is redemption with bloody knuckles. The Coffee Maker is a brutal and beautiful novel about staying sober when the world keeps falling apart. It’s about failing, falling, getting up, and doing it again. With a voice that recalls Raymond Carver and early Ellroy, it’s the first literary novel to seriously confront recovery from the inside. You’ll laugh. You’ll hurt. And you’ll never look at that stale church coffee the same way again.

True Stories is a razor-edged collection of gritty, transgressive fiction from Jack Grisham—punk icon, survivor, and literary saboteur. These stories dive headfirst into the lives of the addicted, the obsessed, the betrayed, and the just plain fucked. Whether it’s a man trying to navigate a threesome that spirals into gendered chaos, a crew of street cats plotting revenge, or recovering addicts caught between grace and self-destruction, Grisham’s tales strip characters bare and hold their flaws to the light. Told in voices that alternate between brutal sincerity and wicked humor, the collection explores love, lust, violence, identity, recovery, and ruin—all without apology or sentimentality. Nothing is off-limits, and no one walks away clean. Each story is its own little act of rebellion—against form, morality, and expectation. What ties them together is the raw human truth under the grime: everyone’s looking for something to believe in, even if they’re too fucked up to admit it. This is noir with a pulse, pulp with a conscience, and redemption by any means necessary.

A Principle of Recovery is a raw, unflinching exploration of the Twelve Steps as lived—not recited. With brutal honesty, biting humor, and the hard-won insight of a man thirty-six years sober, Jack Grisham takes readers through a deeply personal journey of recovery. This isn’t a textbook or a lecture—it’s a conversation. One filled with spiritual awakenings, relapses, rage, and grace.

Drawing from lived experience and decades in the rooms, Grisham exposes the real work beneath each Step—naming defects, confronting truth, and finding God in unexpected places. Through powerful storytelling and sharp reflection, he speaks to those who’ve suffered, those still suffering, and those doing the work to be free.

This is recovery stripped to the studs: no fluff, no dogma—just a man doing his best to stay sober and help the next one up.