Spiders! (Update 5.15.14)

First, a bit of publishing news. The Spider Thief and The Sorcerer is live at Crowded Magazine. This one is light-hearted, free and has a lot of spiders. (Arachnophobes, beware!)


Secondly, next week I have a guest blog post from Melinda Moore. She's putting her own take on Lessons Learned and telling us about her book A Sunset Finish.


(On the flipside, I will have a guest blog over on her website http://enchantedspark.com/ on Wednesday the 21st talking about how I came to write Brass Stars.)


In writing news, the novel-ish (a part of the series I'm developing around the MC of The Spider Thief and The Sorcerer) is now past 43k and will continue to grow steadily as soon as some other RL business is taken care of.

News and Good News - 2.5.14

First off, an apology. Well, more like an excuse. I had almost gotten settled into a regular blogging schedule and then writing stuff got real. (In a good way. More on that in a minute.) And just about the time I was wrapping that up there was this snow event that kind of fucked up the Southeast. Me and mine were able to stay warm and not get stuck anywhere. (Of course, we also salted, shoveled and took a flame-thrower to the road outside our house to enable safe passage up and down.) Long story short, I've been kind of busy and blogging just wasn't at the top of the list of things to do.

Next up, some publishing news.

1. The 2014 Campbellian Anthology is available for FREE download, thanks to Stupefying Stories/Rampant Loon Publishing and several mirror sites. It features the work of 111 up and coming SF/F authors (including myself) who have qualified for the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer. It will only be available for a limited time so be sure to check it out now!

2. "Vessels for Destruction", a dark SF flash story, is Nature Magazine's "Futures" story for February 6th, 2014 and is live on their site HERE.

3. I have an agent! After a lot of queries and hard work the Steampunk Novel (and it's sequels) is now repped by Bob Mecoy of Creative Book Services.

Finally, market news.

Unidentified Funny Objects 3 is currently in the Kickstarter phase but will be opening to submissions March 1st: DETAILS HERE. They are a pro-paying market and produce quality books. If you like humorous SF/F and would like to help support them, please do. If you're a writer looking for a good humor market, this is one to try. (But wait until the submissions period opens March 1st.)

And, Apocalypse Ink Productions is looking for linked novella trilogies. They like things dark, speculative and more-or-less contemporary. They also offer a small advance and 50% royalties of net profit.

And that's it for this week.
Stay warm! (Or if you're on the other side of the globe, stay cool!)

Sending Words into the Void

I recently found out that "In the Cool of the Day" was the most popular story of 2013 over at Abyss & Apex.


Which is flattering and amazing and I'm completely thrilled by that.
It is frequently a very lonely thing having a story published. Sometimes you get feedback or comments or see your links retweeted, many times you don't. (Well, I suppose Neil Gaiman doesn't have that problem, but for the rest of us...)


I tend to focus on writing the next story more than trying to figure out if anyone is reading the current one, but it's hard not to sit and wonder if anyone is actually reading what I write? Some days it feels like I would have a better chance of having my words read by standing on my front porch and throwing pages out into the wind. (Not today because snow and I'm not standing outside for any length of time, thank you very much. But most days this would be a viable if somewhat ridiculous option.)


So, finding out that people do indeed read some of what I write is just an amazing feeling. It's like having my story accepted all over again.
Scratch that.
It is having my story accepted again. By every one of you.


Thank you.
Thank you. 
I deeply appreciate knowing that y'all are out there.

WIP Wednesday: "Damsel"

From a Sword & Sorcery novella-in-progress.


------------------------------------

“There is only one Null practitioner in Vaanal.”

“Surely...”

“There is only one.” His shoulders slumped. “The others have been done away with.”

Her hands grew cold. She had only ever known one other Null practitioner. Mother. She had disappeared years before; long before the blight. But Yarrow was certain there were others. It was possible sometimes to feel the pull of energy being turned to different purpose. Possible, but she had not felt any practice save the King's in many months. Nor years even. “They are dead?”

“Null-practice is a power that turns quickly to abuse. Silencing them was for the good of the kingdom.” His voice was low and hoarse.

“And yet the King -” She stopped as his hand dropped to the hilt of his belt knife.

“Saying such a thing is treason.”

“It is truth.”

The leaves whispered overhead, trembling under the touch of destiny.

Yarrow didn't move, hoping there was still a glimmer of the boy her father had loved inside the jaded warrior. She had seen a future in which Murdoc was already too far gone, his conscience grown dull from years in the service of a king who had none. And that path ended under the willow with warm blood spilled on damp ground.

Murdoc sighed. “There is still good in him.”

She had her doubts, but she did not wish to break his heart further. “Then we will find it.” She set the mug to one side and laid her hands over his. “But first, the dragon.”

He nodded. “There, at least, is a beast we can slay.”

Her heart pattered, fast and nervous. Had the King moved beyond death?

Against her heart the ash-baby turned and sighed. Perhaps not undying, but protected. She took a slow breath. First the dragon. Then the king.

WIP Wednesday

More from Thingbreaker:

“Hmm.” He looks at the paper again. It's so small, I can't imagine there is much there to read, but maybe he's just using it as an excuse to let another handful of minutes pass. Finally he tucks it into his pocket. “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?”

“You're shaking.”

I rub my palms across my trousers but it doesn't help. “I don't like being in chains.”

His eyes get narrow, as though this is a sign of some sort of guilt. “And why is that?”

“Because I associate it with bad things.”

A shake of his head. “What things?”

I hold up my hands, fingers spread wide so he can clearly see the scar on my palm. “Auschwensier.”

“I see.” He's quiet again for a moment. “Tell me what's in the satchel.” Some of the suspicion has left his voice.

“Brandon Ipcriss' right hand and the remains of a magic Siphon.”

He's well trained; there's only the slightest flicker of surprise around his mouth. “The remains of a Siphon?”

“And Brandon Ipcriss' hand.”

“And how did they come to be in your possession?”

“Ipcriss made an arrangement with me. I would help him reclaim his hand and he would help me locate my family. I carried the broken Siphon because I was in better condition to keep it from falling into other hands.”

“Other hands.”

“There was a small army of simulacra attempting to regain possession of it. And possibly to kill or kidnap Ipcriss.”

“And you helped him avoid them?”

I smile, hard. “I put them down.”

 

storySouth Million Writers Award

storySouth is holding the Million Writers Award again this year.

Individuals (readers or writers) are allowed to nominate one story that first appeared in an electronic format via editorial selection during 2012. (In other words, self-published stories do not qualify.) You can check out the full details here: storySouth Million Writers Award

If you feel so inclined you can nominate either of my stories from 2012: Insomnia or Happy After All 

Abyss & Apex Publication

My longish short story ("In the Cool of the Day") is live at Abyss & Apex.

This piece of Southern Gothic Fantasy has been one of my favorites ever since I first wrote it. I was so pleased when it found a home at Abyss & Apex. 

I hope you like it as well. 

Stupefying Stories Showcase: Issue #1

I thought this would be out soon and it is!

Stupefying Stories Showcase: Issue #1

Featuring four tasty stories including my flash piece, "Caught". 

And just in time for some weekend reading. Enjoy! 

Flash Fiction: Good-bye

On December 28th, 2005 my mother passed away from Metastatic Melanoma. In the weeks following I wrote a very short essay to try and put my hands around the grief that comes from losing a loved one. Eventually that morphed into this flash story about moving on. Which I am publishing here just in time for Christmas. 

Good-Bye

In Memory of BRB 

May 14, 1951 - December 28, 2005 

Since she's been gone, life has moved on. You suppose that is to be expected. But it's still strange how normal things can seem without her. You thought you would struggle more, that the change would be catastrophic, but the reality is not what you imagined.

It isn't that you don't miss her. That would be impossible. Too many things bring her to mind. Bombshells you call them. Seeing her chair without her in it. Picking up the phone to call then remembering she isn't there to answer it. Finding one of her notes tucked away in a drawer.

Sweetheart, I love you with all my heart.

It is a slow pull, this grief. It tugs tears from you at unexpected moments. But you fear moving beyond those tears, afraid it may mean moving beyond memory.

Friends call you several times a week. Always the same exchange.

“How are you doing?”

“I'm fine. And you?”

“Good.”

You smile and laugh and go to work because life does move on and you must move with it.

In the quiet moments you realize you aren't doing well and you don't know how to fix it.

You dream of her. The first you think you've had of her since she left. The details are already fading when you wake. Your face is wet, eyes hot and salty. Whatever happened in that dream it broke your heart.

You think you were in those last days, when words fled her besieged mind and all that was left was that sidelong glance and mischievous smile.

What did she see when she looked at you? Something that made her smile when all you felt like was crying. What joke did she hear, what story did she remember that made her grin so wide and innocent?

In your dream, she laughed and danced. You tried to take her hand, but she was already a step beyond you.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, sullen because you could not keep up. She circled back, moving like water around you.

“Some day you will look back and laugh.”

“At this?” You were cross, just as you had been during the final days.

“At all of it.” She smiled. “And then, I think, I will see you again.”

As if you were the one going away.

You nodded, reluctant. “Okay. Some day we'll laugh about this.”

She danced away, wearing that dress you bought her for when she was clean again. For when she could say survivor and not just fighter. Wearing the dress that you still have hanging in the closet.

The night after she passed on, you opened a bottle of wine and drank a toast and ate the chocolate you had bought her for Christmas. You looked at pictures you had from younger days. In all of them she smiled and you smiled back because the grief had not yet taken hold.

Now the silence has set in, louder than any noise.

You dull the pain with whatever you can - vodka, music, sleep – and you wait.

Some day there will be laughing.