A to Z: Beginnings J

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

Because it's Saturday, it seems appropriate to announce that my short story, The Spell, has been published on Saturday Night Reader. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with J words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

"Hey, what you in for?" asked the man in the ripped up jeans and a stained jade green t-shirt on the bench on the other wall of the cell.

"Well, you see, there was a misunderstanding at the track. They claim I drugged one of the other horses."

"You're a tiny guy, aren't ya? You one of them jockeys?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Jezreal Jones." He considered offering his hand, but decided at the last second that it wasn't a good idea to shake hands with a dirty stranger in a jail cell."

"Funny name."

Jezreal shrugged. "Blame my parents. Nice folks, but lacking in height and consideration for how much their kid might get teased.

"Did you? Drug the horse I mean."

"No, I merely fed him some jelly."

The man leaned forward, shaking his head slowly. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"Lots of sugar makes them nippy. His jockey isn't the nicest guy." Jezreal winked.

A to Z: Beginnings I

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with I words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.


Ever wonder how many writers prefer third person past tense over all the other point of view options? Check out this week's Authors Answer.

~*~

He should have known better than to have slept with her. It was her fault really, all spread out in the skimpy lingerie on the satin sheets, sound asleep breathing softly, lips slightly parted. Had she been dressed in flannels, tucked under some beloved granny's quilt, hair in curlers and one of those hideous face masks on, he would have found her inedible, but no. She was asking for it.

She was lonely. He was just trying to help. The attraction was mutual, he was sure of it. She certainly hadn't complained at the time.

How was he supposed to know that her husband was a powerful priest who had been gone on a week-long retreat? He found out quick when her husband came home and learned what had been going on.

The next thing he knew, he was on an island in the middle of literally nowhere. Just black sand, icy air, and nothing but an inky nebulous haze surrounding the four paces of land he had to walk upon. They were going to pay, both of them. Just as soon as he figured out how to get out of here.

A to Z: Beginnings H

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with H words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

It was a slow day at the store, nothing to do but staring out the window, wishing she could be outside enjoying the sun like everyone else. Hilary sighed as she wiped the counter for the tenth time that hour. At least she felt like she was doing something other than wasting a perfectly good Saturday afternoon.

Four hours into her eight hour shift, the first customer walked in. The elderly woman smiled at Hilary, though never quite meeting her gaze. She wandered about the eleven short aisles of the quick mart, stopping briefly at the camping supplies and then the candy. When she finally arrived at the counter with an armload of items, Hillary noticed that the old woman wore a bikini under a not-quite-opaque-enough yellow sundress.

Hillary tried not to stare at all the winkles, age spots and stretch marks as she rung up the odd assortment of chocolate bars, bug spray, a lightweight sleeping bag, matches, and the cheapest pop up tent known to mankind.

"What, you think I'm too old to go hobnobbing around in the woods on a beautiful weekend?" she asked with a raised white bushy brow.

"No, of course not." Hilary shoved the purchases into two bags and made change for the woman.

"You know what..." The old woman pursed her thin lips and clucked her tongue against dentures that clacked around in her mouth. "You should join me. Got to bask in the happiness of youth before you end up like this, you know?" She cackled merrily. "Go on, turn that open sign around. Grab yourself a sleeping bag, I'm buying."

A to Z: Beginnings G

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with G words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

It was generally accepted that gnomes didn't move. They didn't dance around the garden at night or prune the greenery. They didn't sniff the gardenias or plan out intricate plantings with complex geometry. But when the moon was just right, the clouds parted just so, and the pond still enough to reflect the soft glitter of the night, those exact things did happen.

And so it was on one perfect night that a young gnome saddled up a sleepy goose and galloped off to find the girl in the giant glorious garden he'd spotted from the tallest pear tree only ten minutes before. See, gnomes are a somewhat impulsive sort and this one may have given little thought to the fact that should the moon part from its just- rightness, and the clouds thicken, and the wind pick up to ripple the water, his evening plans might go sorely awry. 

A to Z: Beginnings F

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with F words (no not that one) : names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

Ferdinand smoothed his whiskers and pondered the author photo on the dust jacket of the book he was reading. A plain mouse stared back at him, nothing on his face to suggest that he'd write such a fantastical tale. It had to be fantasy. Why else would he suggest that felines were in fact friendly? Unless the author's mind was fracturing. Maybe too much sharp cheese.

He put the book down, being sure to tuck it into the shelf and align the spine with the others in his collection. His friends often teased him for being too fastidious, but really, was there such as a thing? Ferdinand sniffed the air. His family would be here soon.

A to Z: Beginnings E

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with E words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Your bountiful suggestions on D-day led to a full story. I hope you enjoy it.

While you're waiting to see what I come up with for E, how about picking up a copy of the spring issue of Bards and Sages Quarterly, which features my short story, Late.

~*~

The dust made Eric's nose twitch. He adjusted his breathing filter and examined the exoskeleton he'd uncovered in the sand. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn the overall body shape appeared equestrian, but there was no record of those beasts having such a thing. All the photos they'd uncovered in the extensive dig showed them as furry beasts, not covered with heavy bone plating like what he saw here.

He brushed the ridges clean on the bones he'd been working on. Maybe he should tell Dr. Franklin. The eccentric old man might have some ideas of what he'd found here. Then again, if he figured it out himself, he'd be the envy of his classmates. An electric rush filled him as he imagined the accolades he'd receive from discovering a new creature on this ancient planet. No one had found anything new here in decades. That's why it had been cleared as a teaching dig.

So ecstatic that his hands shook, his lips drew into a giant grin around his air intake. His seal broken, he started to cough. He dropped the brush and sat down hard on the ground, sending a cloud of dust up into the air around him. Footsteps pounded the ground around him, coming closer from all directions.

A to Z: Beginnings D

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with D words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Thank to you to all of you who have stopped by so far this month. I've enjoyed playing with your words.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

Don't stop writing! Is there anything that would make you or has made you? Check out our assortment of answers to this question on this week's Authors Answer and join in the comments over there too.

~*~

WATER

The drip in the kitchen sink was getting worse, constant, rhythmic, setting David's nerves on edge. He put down the sock he'd been darning and glared into to the darkness that was the hallway leading to the kitchen. No one was going to come fix his problem. He didn't have the money to pay a real repairman.

Drip. He counted to ten, breathing in and out through his nose, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension building there. Maybe if he put a towel in the sink the noise wouldn't echo through the house quite so much. 

Drip. He set the ball of yarn next to the sock and got to his shaking legs. His walker stood at the ready.  Making his way slowly to the hallway, he passed the photo of his darling wife, gone six years now. He put a hand to his lips and then pressed it to the glass.  Drip.

Sophia would be upset over his lack of dedication in keeping up the house once she'd departed. But the things about him didn't seem to matter as much anymore now that she wasn't there with him. The walls were still standing and the roof didn't leak. Drip.

The demons that ran the city could sell the house when he was done with it no matter what shape it was in. They'd probably just tear it down and put up a corner convenience store anyway.  They kept sending him notices about the state of his yard. He kept discarding them. They'd turn his yard into a parking lot. They'd been doing  it all up and  down the street. Every time he looked out the window the neighborhood he remembered was diminished. It was like a bad dream.

Drip. The wheel of his walker stuck on the transition bar between the carpet of the hallway and the tile of the kitchen. He shoved it forward like he always did, lifting slightly, shifting his weight. The wheel didn't give. Drip.

David feel forward with the walker, lurching over the side of it, his arm dangling at an awkward angle. Pain shot through his side and his mouth went dry.  Drip.

His heart began to race. His head throbbed. He called out, but there was no one there to answer, no one to help him. Darkness crept in around the edges of his vision.

Drip.    

If only he could get a drink of water. He tried reach for the sink, but his arms refused to obey.

He gasped for a breath, wishing for just one last drop to ease the tightness in his throat and chest. David went still.

Drip.

A to Z: Beginnings C

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each day I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with C words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits.

And while we're on C... If you enjoy dark contemporary speculative fiction, pick up a copy of Acidic Fiction: Corrosive Chronicles, which features my short story, Healer.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

Clara stepped out of the campervan and peered at the clouds, hoping the rain they promised would hold off until she returned from her walk. She'd waited three years to see the caterpillars, saving every last penny to gather the bribe she needed to get into the restricted zone. Now she was finally here and they were just over the next ridge, protected from the residential zone where visitors like herself and the vast array of researchers and security people lived.

Two others ventured out with her, leaving their shelters behind to assuage their curiosity. Careful not to step off the dirt path, Clara made her way closer to the ridge.

The dirt turned from a fine grit to a powder, blowing in the warm breeze. The caterpillars had fully processed the soil in their search for the required nutrients to complete their metamorphosis. Clara reached the edge and got down on her stomach, peering down at the once in a lifetime view below. 

A to Z: Beginnings B

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each day I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with B words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits.

While we're on B.... I'll share the newest addition to my family. This is Bitsy, our adorable little rescue dog. If you decide to buy a puppy, please remember that they grow up and require love, attention and food. This poor little two year old girl is so skinny her spine and ribs are still plainly visible even three weeks after being removed from her previous home. Her wounds have healed, and she's slowly putting on weight, learning how to play and settling in with our other dog who is teaching her how to enjoy being a dog.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

Gina stared at the massive spread of food set out at the barbeque, wondering how on earth she was going to make it through the evening without exploding. A tiny foot pressed against her belly, protruding through her shirt like an alien crawling around inside her. She knew she should feel all warm and fuzzy about the baby, yearning to feel it in her arms, anxious for the day she could press it's little bald head against her cheek and inhale that baby smell. But she didn't.

She was sore all the time, and tired, and sick of feeling sick. Her mother and sisters wouldn't shut up about how happy they would be when she gave them a grandchild, a niece to cuddle with. They didn't understand her frustration with the fact that after tonight, she'd be bedridden for the rest of the pregnancy. A prisoner of the impending birth.

Bugs zipped around over the tables and the vast array of her extended family. Try as she might, she couldn't ignore their buzzing or the sensation that they all wanted to be in her face. She swatted them to no avail. 

There were many conversations going on around her at once, she couldn't focus on any one of them. It was as if they were all talking about her, looking at her.

The blueberry pie beside her reminded her of the color of the walls in the doctor's office. The office where she'd laid on the table as they impregnated her, where she'd willingly waited for them to put this thing inside her so she could get the fifteen thousand dollars the agency promised when she finished her nine month term.

Her mother smiled and beckoned Gina over. How was she going to tell her that there would be no grandchild, that the thing inside her was an investment? Fifteen thousand dollars was her rent for the next year a nice little vacation to help her forget this stupid idea. She should have thrown the agency brochure away. Now she was going to have to come up with something fast because her mother had given up with the waving and was heading over with a bulging blue and pink ribbon-festooned bag printed with pacifiers.

Bilious, Gina grabbed the bandana off her head and covered her face just as the first heave hit her.

A to Z: Beginnings A

Welcome to April, where daily blogging becomes the challenge. For me, who has a hard time doing even post a week lately, this really will be challenging.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each day I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with A words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

I only knew Avarice was a girl because her family called her Ava when they thought no one else was listening. With only a fence separating our yards, I probably heard more than I should have from our new neighbors.

Some people named their children after virtues, but the Paris family was different. Avarice had three siblings, Pride, Wrath and Envy. Mrs. Paris had another one on the way. My brother and I had placed bets on which of the remaining sins they would name it. My six dollars was on Gluttony. George was sure it would be Lust. We spent the night before laughing about the sexual ambiguity of their names, trying to come up with nicknames like Ava for the others, but ended up with only snorts and bellyaches for our efforts.

The whole family was bald and wore robes so that it was impossible to tell which were boys or girls. None of them wore makeup or earrings and their robes when to the floor so we couldn’t even use shoes as a clue. They came to school on Friday, but none of the kids talked. Not when the teachers spoke to them, not at lunch, not even to one another on the bus ride home. They only place I heard their voices was in the back yard.

As I sat there in the grass with my ear not quite pressed against the nine foot tall wooden blockade of a fence, trying to catch snippets of whispers, the last thing I expected a rope to come flying over the fence to thwack me in the head. I didn’t exactly expect Ava abseiling down into my yard either. She put her finger to her lips and smiled.

A to Z April Blogging Challenge Theme Reveal

With April on the horizon, it's high time to reveal this year's theme for the A to Z challenge. I've previously gone though the alphabet with my characters and, last year, reasons why I shouldn't be participating.

This year, we'll be writing a short story! Okay, not a whole short story, but the opening paragraphs of one each day, using the appropriately lettered comments from the day before. Then, in May (or possibly June depending on when my publisher requires my edits on A Broken Race be completed), during my short story writing month, I will attempt to finish as many of these stories as possible.

Which means I need your help. Drop by each day to throw out some words from the letter du jour. I'll pick a couple as inspiration hits and into the story they will go. Each story opening will be posted the next day.

We'll get started with participation today, because planning ahead isn't my thing when it comes to writing. I'm looking for suggestions on character names with a random genre that will then be applied to stories throughout the coming month.

Suggestions? Go.

Now in Print: Healer

I'm pleased to announce that Acidic Fiction's first anthology: Corrosive Chronicles is now out in print and ebook. This dark and creepy collection of contemporary speculative fiction, includes my short story, Healer. This is a great collection of stories, and I am happy to be included in such talented company.

To be Published: A Broken Race

I'm pleased to announce that my previous not quite announcement post can now be followed with this official one.

A Broken Race will be published by Caffeinated Press and is due out this fall in both print and e-book. I'm very excited to work this this new press focused on Michigan authors and my local community as well as the other important sales avenues.

The contract has been signed and now I await feedback from the content editors. And while I'm waiting...a conversation with my daughter sparked a search through my back burner short story file, and now I'm working on a YA sci-fi novella that I set aside a few years ago. I should say, hoping to work on, because I still have to solve the plot problem of how the MC is going to overcome the antagonist - which is exactly why this story was set aside previously. I have no clue. I suppose that means reading it over from the beginning and then some plotting is in order. At least my daughter liked it so far so that gives me some motivation to figure this one out and finally write the end.

But back to beginnings: The April A to Z challenge is just around the corner. There's still plenty of time to sign up to join me in the blogging frenzy.

And still on topic: Ever wonder why authors began writing? This week on Author's Answer, we cover that very question.

A Moving Post

After much stress, long years of waiting, and an extremely long year of working my butt off (or at least several pounds of it), I'm able to write this post from my new writing room. We're not quite all moved in yet, but the majority of boxes are a cleared away and most of our things have found a new home.

Bobblehead Scorpius is happily posted at his new station and agreeing away as I type.
"Yes, yes, those are good words. Keep typing. Yes, there you go."

The desk that has been sitting unassembled in my garage for over a year now has finally been assembled and stained. Many of the posters I've been collecting for seven years have been framed and hung. All the little trinkets that used to be piled on or around my previous writing desk have found homes on my new bookshelves.

My TBR pile overflowed from the two stacks beside my bed to a short stack on my writing desk. I suppose that means I need to make more time for reading as well as writing because any further stacks will have to go on the floor down here.

I have a comfy chair for my desk, but not the lounging chair that I've been searching for that will eventually go in the corner. I seem to do better with marathon writing sessions when I can put my feet up and give my back a break.

All my hard cover books now reside on the big hallway bookshelf on the main level, but the paperbacks keep me company down here.

The silver cement floor I worked on late into one evening is nice and warm with our radiant heating. I had a rug down here for a day, but decided I liked the patterns on the floor better.

Now that I have my calming and quiet space all ready to go, it's time for some writing!

Actually End That Sucker

In preparing my responses for March on Author's Answer, we were given a question that I hadn't had much issue with lately: Have you ever wanted to rewrite the ending of another author's published book? I typed up my reply and sent it off thinking that I was quite glad of that particular fact. Then, given that the majority of the household has been unpacked to a functional degree, I decided that I deserved the long-awaited opportunity to attack a book from my towering TBR pile.


I sat down and read a book. It was amazing.


Not the book so much as allowing myself to sit down and just read, to get lost in the words and not worry about all the other things I could (possibly, should) be doing. It was relaxing. It's been a long time since I've done 'relaxing'. Even better, I was able to focus on the book for more than a page at a time and for more than five minutes at a time. I read several chapters in one sitting. This was all wonderful and good. I wasn't up to my usual book devouring read-it-in-a-day-or-two speed, but I did find the time, desire, and focus to sit down with it over the next several days.


Then, yesterday, I hit the end of the story. Hit. Like with a train. Just bam. The words ended.


Now, I thought to preserve my tenuous hold on sanity by picking up one of my favorite paranormal romance authors for this first foray into the return to reading for fun. I trusted this book to get me from point A to point B in an enjoyable fashion. Perhaps my downfall was choosing a book that included two stories, giving me no physical page gauge as to how far into the first story I was before the next one began. Thus, when I hit a page that ended halfway down in white space and the next one didn't contain the words Chapter Fourteen, I was inclined to throw the book at the wall.


I didn't. I was at a science tournament with my daughter and surrounded by students and that would have set a bad example. Had we been at an English tournament, I would have stood up and loudly exclaimed why. But alas, it was not appropriate at the time.


What was the problem? Well, this was a romance story, as I mentioned earlier. Generally they have fairly simple plots and the goal is for the two people (or whatever they happen to technically be) to acknowledge that they are happily in love. This was from an established series I've read much of. I know the world, the types of characters and pretty much what to expect, as these sort of books tend to get a little formulaic after awhile. But they're easy to get lost in, and so I enjoy them from time to time.


In this particular story, boy met girl. Boy is off conquering bad guys and girl joins him. Yay for strong female characters. Girl's siblings are involved in the fighting. There is a lot of focus on girl's siblings, their special linage, and how it may lead to conflict with boy's people. Girl has a job that puts her in danger and boy will have to come to grips with this even though it's against his nature. There is also a lot of build up regarding a conflict with meeting girl's parent's, particularly her mother who we're told will not like the boy at all and there will be major family tension. There is also the matter of the bad guys, one of whom will be after girl's brother with all sorts of promised evil intent until either the bother or the baddie are dead.


Where did we end? Boy and girl kill two of three bad guys, leaving the big bad to slink off and threaten them and girl's brother in perpetuity. The whole subplot regarding the special linage is left hanging. What will happen with her job, we never find out. Boy never meets the parents. All we get out of whole story is the couple in love. All the rest of what made the story interesting beyond the falling in love was left hanging. I could forgive the big bad slinking off knowing that he'll probably turn up later in the series, but the rest? No.


Which brings me to my point. If you're going to start subplots, finish them. Nothing leaves me more disappointed at the end of a book than it ending as if the author got tired of writing that particular story and just shipped it off to print as is.


Would I rewrite the ending of a published novel? Nah, I have my own novels to work on and endings to conquer. Hopefully they are more satisfying than the one I just read.


With that off my chest, check out this week's Author's Answer in which we delve into our writerly influences.

To be Published: Spring 2015 edition

We're finally all moved out of our old house and are busy unpacking into the new one. It's nice to finally be living in the place we've been working on for so long. If it weren't for all the boxes and wondering where stuff is, I'd say it's downright enjoyable.

My writing room has yet to be assembled, but that will come about shortly. We've only officially been here for three days and there are more important (gasp! I know) things to get set up, like our home business, bedrooms, and most importantly after a couple nights without them...curtains.

Now that I finally have a few minutes to breathe (seriously, we're talking minutes), I had time to take stock of what was in my submission inbox.

I'm happy to announce that my novel, A Broken Race has found a publisher. I'm waiting to meet with the editor in a couple weeks before I make any official announcements. However, it is nice to be able to say (albeit vaguely) that it certainly does have a prospective publication home.

Healer, previously published with Acidic Fiction, has been selected to be included in their upcoming anthology: Acidic Fiction #1: Corrosive Chronicles

Taking A Breather, after a long wait, is slated for publication in February/March Stupefying Stories.

Late is slated for publication in April with Bards and Sages.

The Spell is slated for publication in April with Saturday Night Reader.

Beyond the fact that we'll be leaving the -4 degree temperatures behind, I'm quite looking forward to Spring.

Book Memories

I was fortunate to have a mother who loved to read. But not to me. It was during answering this week's Author's Answer question that I realized that while I was always surrounded by books as a child, they weren't mine.

I have no memory of books for children. Not of my parents reading them too me or a bookshelf or even few of them floating around in my toy cupboard. Yes, I had a toy cupboard. In the kitchen, no less. Bedrooms where for sleeping and waiting for your father to come home when you were naughty. They weren't for playing in.

In fact, while I remember learning to read, because we did that in school, not in preschool like kids do these days, it was reading the spines of my mother's massive mystery book collection at home that I recall actually reading. Once they were read, they were 'done'. My mother wasn't a big re-reader. After all, these were mystery books and once she knew who did it, that was that. Even worse, she couldn't even wait to find out who did it, so she would always read that last three or four pages first and then read the book to find out how the detective put the clues together to figure it out. That has never made sense to me. Appreciating all the little nuances you missed the first time is what re-reading a book is for. Sheesh.

A book got read and then put on the shelf. After that, it didn't matter what happened to it, other than the fact that it was still there in case one of her friends might stop by and want to borrow something to read. That left things wide open to my little organizational tendencies. I spent entire afternoons organizing them by author, or by color, or by how old they were. Did you know that a couple hundred books propped open on the floor also makes a really fun hamster trail? They do. Just don't let the hamster start chewing on the books. It makes parents angry.

Occasionally, as I got older, I'd skim a page here and there and so I started reading Watership Down, a raunchy pirate romance, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, and The Crystal Cave. You may have noticed, none of those were mysteries. That's probably why they stuck out to me and begged to be skimmed. I have no idea how those anomalies ended up on my mother's bookshelves because our weekly trip to the local bookstore always ended up in the same aisle. Mystery. And we couldn't leave with just one book, no, there would be two or three. While I didn't learn to read from my parents, I did learn that reading a lot was perfectly acceptable.

Thank goodness for school libraries and those scholastic book fairs. Remember when everyone got a free book at the book fair? That was my favorite part of school: Free books. Now those book fairs are all about selling erasers and bookmarks and every variety of pencil you can think of. Yes, kids still buy books. Occasionally. I spent several years working at the book fair during my children's elementary years, and I can tell you, given the choice between spending a five bucks on a book or getting two pencils, a puppy pencil sharpener, an eraser that looks like a cell phone, and a bookmark, they'll go for the handful of crap nearly every time. What do they use that bookmark for? I have no idea. We can hope its for their library books, but it's probably because it had a cute kitten on it.

When I did start reading voraciously in my later elementary years, I first went to mystery, because, surprise, that's what I thought I was supposed to like. I joined my mother on the weekly trip to the bookstore, and came home with two or three books of my own. Ask for a new pair of jeans from the store (as opposed to the 'denim' ones my mom made for me) and there was no way in hell I was getting a yes, but ask for a couple books, and there's no argument. Priorities.

Mystery quickly gave way to horror, fantasy and sci-fi, and I've been there ever since. Would I let my kids read the stuff I was reading in middle school? That would be a huge no. I don't recall my mother ever questioning my reading choices or even paying attention to what pages I was stuck between. We didn't talk about what we were reading. We just read. Separately. Preferably in different rooms where we didn't distract one another. Books were for getting lost in.

I do attempt to be a slightly more attentive parent when it comes to what my kids are entertaining themselves with. We sometimes even curl up on the couch and read our books silently together in the same room. Do I succeed in protecting them from reading things that are socially unacceptable for their age? Probably not, but I do at least make an effort and we do talk about what they're reading. They have bookshelves filled with books of their own, and I read to them every night until they were old enough to read for themselves. All in all, I'm going to call it a victory.

Slowly working on that resolution

It's just one word: WRITE. You'd think it would be easy. Well, no. I think next year the one word resolution needs to be TIME. Even so, I'm happy to report that I've made time to get two shorts from my 'in progress' file edited and out into submissions along with returning a few rejections back into the playing field. One novel is still out there, the other is waiting for either time to self publish or other submitting options to open up.

The house is coming along. Flooring is almost all in, just waiting on a small bit of carpeting. We opted out of carpet for the most part. Countertops are coming next week. A little painting to do yet. Mostly it's all just little finishing stuff and waiting for the last couple subcontractors to wrap up their work so we can get inspections. The end is near, thank goodness.

And in an attempt to not be as far behind with blog posts: This week on Author's Answer, we discussed what genres we don't like to read.

Hope you're all having a wonderful week!

What are you reading?

As another new year launches into the golden pit of good intentions, I am hoping to add a little more reading along with my one word goal of writing. And no, I don't mean writing checks. I've done enough of that to add up to a novella last year. Sadly, it wouldn't be a very exciting novella so I'll pass on sharing an excerpt from November's chapter of plumbing and septic.

< In packing the contents of my bookshelves, I was again reminded of how little I've added to them in the past year or two. On the other hand, my TBR pile is massive, and not yet packed. Why not? I guess I'm not ready to admit utter defeat yet. It's a new year, I get to optimistic about at least one thing, don't I?

This week on Author's Answer, we discuss what we like to read. Out of curiosity, I'm also going to take a peek at all the books I'm currently reading. Maybe this will subconsciously spur me into actually finishing some of them. Eventually.


Rise of the Spider Goddess by Jim C Hines
The Faded Sun: Kesrith by C.J. Cherryh
The Book of Shadows by James Reese
20 Master Plots (and How to Build Them) by Ronald B. Tobias
The Years Best Science Fiction 2006 edited by Gardner Dozois
The Passage by Justin Cronin
Mirror Mirror by Gregory Maguire
Two-Handed Engine by Henry Kutter and C.L. Moore

Well now, that's a lot of books to be reading at once. At least for me. Here's to a year of conquering this list and hopefully getting to a few I haven't cracked open yet.

Looking Forward

With 2015 almost upon us, it's time to sit down and make some goals.

This week on Author's Answer, we discuss our writing goals. Mine involve settling in to my new writing room - after all the packing, moving, and oh, finishing the darn house would be helpful - and getting some editing done on the couple projects I had going before construction started. Then it's off to submissions and either editing other projects in my virtual pile or writing something new. We'll have to see how close the whole 'settling in' phase gets me to May as that's my short story writing frenzy month.

As for my usual one word resolution, let me see how the last year went. *searching posts*

2014: WRITE. *smacks forehead* Thanks to the house construction, that one was a total fail. So I'm declaring a do-over, full knowing that I won't get to dive into that resolution until spring. But hey, it's good to have goals and the one word thing really has worked for me in the past.

What's your one word for 2015?

All I Want For Christmas

Wondering what to get for Christmas for the writer in your life? This week on Authors Answer, we ponder this question and offer suggestions.

With NaNo over, writing has come to a complete standstill. However, I have stolen some time from my overbooked schedule to do a quick edit of A Broken Race before sending it back out. I've been bouncing this one around in submissions for a year and, in getting it reformatted for yet another stab at publication, I started reading the first page.

Yes, it's all downhill from there.

This novel has been around the editing block a few times. It's gone through an intensive round of critiques. It should be all shined up and pretty. It was. I swear. And yet...fresh eyes. They found a sentence on that first page that made me cringe.

And so I read a couple pages further and then put on the brakes, backed up to the beginning, and got to editing. I'm two thirds done now and looking forward to getting that one back out on the playing field.

Other than that, I have mortar all over my fingernails from installing cement board in preparation for all of the tile at the house. It's been a long and exhausting job. We have a lot of tile going in because we have radiant heat under the floors. One bathroom is tiled. Another is mostly done, and the last one has yet to be begun. Then there's the mudroom, the laundry room, the hall, the kitchen and the foyer. But let's not talk about all of those or I'll feel overwhelmed. Oh crap. Too late.

Repurposing a First Novel

This week on Authors Answer (which I forgot to post a few days ago. Oops.), we talk about Foreign Language Novels.

Also a few days ago, that I'm just now finally catching up on, author Jim C. Hines did an entertaining presentation at our NaNoWriMo regional TGIO party. He has a new book out that is also an entertaining read. Having seen him in person, the commentary on the page comes alive.

He had a fun idea with this new book, Rise of the Spider Goddess. After successfully publishing a shelf full of books, he went back and pulled out his first novel that never made it to publication. Like most of us, he know realizes that first novel sucked.

Rather than putting it back and trying to forget it ever happened, he decided to publish it as is, but now with commentary sprinkled throughout as to why it sucks. Think of it as a self-depreciating guide to what not to do. I thought it was a rather creative and productive use of an old project. We've all been there so his mistakes were easy to relate to. Learning to overcome the mortification of their existence to the point where one can laugh at them is also a good thing. If you're looking for a laugh along with the opportunity to possibly learn a few things, give it a read.

November In Review

It was an eventful November to say the least. Hectic sums it up nicely.

Your picture taking has awoken me, worthless human! Now go away so I may sleep more, and then you shall serve me more food and clean my litter box and let me out if I so choose, but I shan't be rushed in my choosing. If you do not do these things, I shall knock another glass off your counter and watch in amusement as it shatters on the tile floor. Mwhahahaha.

We now have a cat. Sort of. It decided this was its home. He had a home at one point because he showed up with a collar. But this skinny young fellow gets along well with our dog and he wasn't micro chipped or reported missing. He's a beautiful tabby, sadly not neutered or declawed, which means he has to be watched carefully because he seems to think my newly recovered couch is a scratching post.

When I sent him out with a note taped to his collar inquiring whether he had an owner, he came back without a collar. I guess that means I touched him last so now he lives here. We weren't really seeking a cat, being dog people now, but the new owner of this house does want a cat, so we're cat sitting, in our house, that isn't really our house anymore, for a guy who wants the cat. We'll enjoy him in the meantime.

The early feet of snow have melted and we're back to frozen but not covered in snow, which is normal for this time of year. This means work on the siding of the new house can continue. Hooray for that.

My unexpected two-week sleeping-on-my-writing-couch house guest has left, though my two week cold lingers with a nasty chest cough. I'm really sick of coughing.

NaNoWriMo has come to an end for another year. My goal was 10K. I ended up feeling pretty happy with my effort ending at 25K for the amount of time I had to write. Both stories I was working on have promise, they just need my full attention - which no one has right now.

Work has picked to an insane pace, as is usual with the holidays approaching. This means my days go something like this:

Wake up
Work
Run kids around after school
Work on house
Go to bed

Occasionally there's time for a rinse, mostly it's a repeat.

Dream Interview

This week on Authors answer: If you could interview any author, who would it be and what question would you ask?

This week in NaNo progress: Not much progress. I managed to catch a nasty cold from the guy doing our trim work. He had sounded terrible last week, coughing and such. And now, guess what? So do I. Yay. So now the time before bed when I usually try to squeak in a few hundred words is taken up with sleeping because that's all my body wants to do after long days of work and working on the house.

House progress: The kitchen cabinets are unboxed, most of the trim in installed and most of the house is painted. Now flooring and finish plumbing are the last major projects. Then its finishing up all the other little things we've got mostly done and the exciting details like door stops and wall plates. At least it feels like the end is finally attainable. Eventually.

Character Beliefs

This week on Authors Answer: How difficult do you find it to write characters who have vastly different beliefs than you?

This week in NanoWriMo: I managed to make 10K thanks to a big write-in day on Sunday and then went for 15K and now I'm aiming for 20K. We'll see how much higher I can go. This is really frustrating for me because if I had the time I'd have 50K by now easily. My story is practically writing itself when I have the free moments to give it thought. If only I had the time to write it. Damn you, house!

Guilty Pleasures and Snow

While I'm up to (way past really, but I'll dial back for the sake of staying in the cliché)my eyeballs in house building, and snow...holy crap, what is up with the snow already? It's barely November. Winter just finally ended what, like three weeks ago? I swear it seems that way.

Excuse me as I rub some feeling back into my numb feet that are incased in thick wool socks.

Anyway, *glares out the window at the falling white evil* as I was saying, while I'm busy with house and NaNo, which is going so sadly this year, but yes, that was expected. I still don't like knowing I'm not going to get to 50K, but it is what it is - my time for the effort this year, that is. I abandoned by intended story, not because it was bad, but because my focus wasn't there. Amazing, I know. Having gotten this far through this post already, you see what I mean. I'm now plugging away at a short story related to my novel, Trust. It's coming along...

The snow is plummeting down! Seriously. We're now at four inches in the past three hours. Not cool, nature. Not cool at all. Well, ok, ha ha, smarty pants nature, it is cool. Really freaking cool. Let me rephrase that, not nice. But when were you ever known for being nice?

Before I go wander off in search of a warm corner curl up in while I methodically smash my head against the wall, I will finally get to my point. Today's Author's Answer feature is Guilty Pleasure. And no, don't feel too guilty, my mind also leapt to several other topics before the one that this post actually pertains to: Is there an author who is often criticized that you love to read? Click, read and enjoy (and stay warm).

My Dream Writing Room

Well folks, it's getting closer to being a reality. We're busy hanging doors and installing trim. The painter is arriving in a week to put some color in my very white house. My writing room will have one cranberry wall and the rest will be soft grey. A new desk is sitting in my current garage, waiting to be unboxed. A big desk, with plenty of room to spread out notes. I'm very much looking forward to that.

What else does this room include? Jay Dee Archer asked the same question. Find out what ten other authors also have to say today on I Read Encyclopedias for Fun. A new question and host of answers will be up every Friday.

It's November. You know what that means

I send you greetings from the land of NaNoWriMo. Not only am I way overwhelmed with building the house (we're installing doors and trim now, in case you're keeping track of progress), I'm again MLing for National Novel Writing Month.

Am I also writing? Sort of. The odds that I'll make it to 50K this year in the midst of all the stress I've already got going on and the time involved with organizing events and overseeing my region, are fairly slim. Instead I'm aiming for a much more attainable 10K. If I get more than that, yay me. As of this moment, I'm sitting at 1600 words.

With that already under my belt, it sounds like 10K should be no problem, except that the majority of the work on the house from this point onward is in our court. Doors, trim, cabinets, plumbing, electrical, flooring, etc. And I can't move in until that's all done. Did I mention I need to move in as soon as possible? Yeah, I kinda have my work cut out for me.

So what am I writing? Damaged takes place in the same world as Devolution (a short I wrote years ago that is currently looking for a good home).

Gabriel and Nina are thrilled to learn they are having twins until a checkup reveals that one of them is at high risk for developing violent behavior. They are given a termination notice. Not knowing which of the twins is defective, the couple is not willing to sacrifice the other. Signing a life-long contract to be responsible for all damages done by their questionable offspring, they embark on a journey to prove the prognosticators wrong.

Available today: Healer

I'm pleased to announce the my short story, Healer is out on Acidic Fiction today.

Jillian is tired of being bound to her healing gift. When a desperate mother with a critically wounded child invades her room, she discovers that her gift is both a curse and her salvation. For more details about Healer, please see this previous post. I hope you enjoy the story.


If you're looking to submit a short that sounds like a good fit for this magazine, I highly recommend you give them a try. The editor was awesome to work with, had the fastest acceptance to publication time I've experienced, and on top of all aspects of the publication and submission schedule. I don't usually gush about editors, but really, this was a great experience.

Estate of Waiting Update

I'll have a story to announce next week, but for now, I figured I'd do a little update on the house project. I wanted to share a nice photo of the house, but we're at a point where nothing exciting is happening on the outside and, well, the inside is a friggen mess.

For the last few weeks, this is the first thing I see when I pull in the driveway. What are those? Septic tanks. No the faces aren't really there. Well, the eyes are, but that's what I imagine on them every darn time. I'm tempted to run over there with some spray paint and make it official. But I haven't yet. 

Why are they still there? We'll, that's a good question. The guy who is supposed to install them hasn't gotten around to it yet. After another email, I've been informed that he will be there this week for sure. But he hasn't been there yet. One more week and my imaginary faces on the feces tanks are becoming real.

The rest of the project is coming along slowly. Yes, we're still in the Estate of Waiting theme. Drywall is going in this week and next. The paint is purchased and waiting in the basement. The trim needs to be ordered and I need to pick out tile and flooring next.

Construction debris is building up everywhere and the concrete guy would love the garage to be cleaned out so he can get that poured. However, the garage is full of the doors that can't go in until the drywall is done and siding*. A dumpster is arriving tomorrow to help alleviate some of the mess that's making me twitchy. And yes, that's a temporary furnace in the middle of the family room. Charming isn't it?

*Our siding guy quit a quarter of the way though the project. He was a friend who did handyman stuff and was going to build our deck next spring. Turns out he got a day job and suddenly didn't need the handyman job anymore so he was done. Just like that: done. Neato.

So now my house is stranded like this. Without the ladders. He took those. Which means now we get to hunt down a new siding guy. Or hunt down the old one. Maybe both.

To be Published: Healer

I'm pleased to announce that Healer will be published on Acidic Fiction in the near future.

Jillian is tired of being bound to her healing gift. When a desperate mother with a critically wounded child invades her room, she discovers that her gift is both a curse and her salvation.


Healer came into being four years ago. I don't recall the exact circumstances except that it was around the time I got my first acceptance on a short story and I'd figured out that those came far more often than on novels. So I'd started writing more shorts.

Why did it take so long for Healer to find a home? Shortly after completing the story, NaNoWriMo 2010 hit and I was thrown into novel mode. When December came around, I sent the story off to a few sets of eyes who looked it over, made suggestions, and then those suggestions were implemented or not depending on how much I agreed with them. With high hopes, I threw the story into submissions.

After a couple form rejections, I was disheartened, set the story aside and started working on others, along with revising a couple novels. The story languished in my back burner file for a long time.

Over the next couple years, as more of my shorts found published homes, I came to the realization that a rejection merely meant that I hadn't submitted to the right market. Unless the story really did need lots of work. I will admit to occasionally being wooed by sparkly new stories and sending them off before they are truly ready. That fact often becomes apparent upon the third form rejection when I read through the story to find out what these editors are missing about my beautiful, awesome story. "Ooooh", I say as I remove my beer goggles and back away slowly while reaching for my back burner file.

When I eventually did take Healer out of the file, dusted it off, and reworked the rough parts, it was ready to head back out into submissions. And here we are. Acceptance.

In summary: Rejection doesn't mean your story sucks, it just means you haven't found the right market. Unless your story really does suck, in which case, fix it, and then get it out there and find the right market.