Review of Alondra's Experiments, by Loren Rhoads.

Alondra’s Experiments: http://amzn.to/2Bv7Cor

Alondra is a young witch who travels the world fighting monsters.  Of course she meets men along the way.  In this collection, she hooks up with a vampire, combines absinthe and alchemy in Prague, and finds the limits of what she will do for love in the final story, which is called Valentine.

My review:

This is the first collection in the Alondra Stories series. Alondra is a young witch living in modern times. Each story in this series is a chapter in her life.  They are told with rich description, emotion and magic.

First is Shattered Rose, which gives a dream like view of a San Francisco night. Alondra is a young woman in love. Her boyfriend is a 300-year-old vampire. Alondra loves Jordan, but she wonders if their love will last centuries.  This story is lovely and romantic with a dash of spice, and blood. I love it.

Next is Catalyst, which finds Alondra a bit older, isolated and in mourning for her mentor, who raised her. Victor is not dead yet, is determined to find a cure for his mortality. She is in Oslo, preforming Alchemy. One vicious winter night, she leaves her work in search of other people. She meets a fellow practitioner who claims to know how to help her attain her goal. Alondra's desperation to stave off the inevitable, and her drive to do something, even sacrifice herself to save her parent is heartbreaking. It's something that almost all of us face. Also, the magic is beautifully written. 

Last is Valentine. Alondra is still on a quest to save her mentor. She has been driven to a dark decision: to save a life, she must take a life. She tracks an immortal whose heart, she believes, will cure Victor. This story takes place in Oslo. Alondra seduces the immortal, Simon, but it doesn't go as planned. Again, I loved the beautiful description here, and the loneliness shared by the characters.

I'll be honest, this is just a fraction of what's good in these stories. And the best part is, there are more. One and Two are available on Amazon right now, and I think there are more planned. Because they follow a single main character they are less like traditional short stories and more like serial chapters of a book, much like Charles DeLint's Newford stories. This is a good thing for readers, because it means there are more Alondra adventures in store.

New Contemporary Fantasy from Loren Rhoads!

Check out this new collection from Loren Rhoads. A few weeks ago, I got to ask her questions about her stories. Read the interview below!

Alondra DeCourval travels from San Francisco to Prague to Olso, encountering magical creatures and searching for the limits she will go to for love.

Alondra's Experiments

 So, how long have you been writing your Alondra stories. I've been a fan forever.

Loren Rhoads: I wrote the very first story in high school. Thank god it's still unpublished. The first story that was published appeared in Not One of Us in 2008. That story -- about a fox spirit in Tokyo -- made the long list for the British Fantasy Award that year.

I remember that! It's a beautiful story. Alondra is such a great character, and you've been carrying her with you for a long time. Where did she come from?

Loren Rhoads: To be honest, I wanted to write a story about a red-haired witch. I had the hubris to think I could spin the trope and add something new to it. Actually, she's one of my favorite characters to write for.

The magic in her stories is so great too. I always learn something that I didn't know about magic.

Loren Rhoads: Wow, that is the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day!

I’m glad. It's true. What are your favorite monsters? What are Alondra's?

Loren Rhoads: Alondra has a thing for older men, so she's not sensible when it comes to the tragic backstory. She keeps getting tangled up with vampires and other immortals.

I mean, I like tragic. Also it keeps your commitment down.

Loren Rhoads: This is true.

I also like that the stories take place all over the world. You're very good at setting the scene. Where do these three stories take place?

Loren Rhoads:  The three in this book are set in Golden Gate Park, Prague -- including a visit to Franz Kafka's grave, and Olso. Olso is the one I haven't been to, so it took a lot of research

Which I know you love. I can't wait to read them. Do you see a more collections in Alondra's future?

Loren Rhoads: Thank you so much for asking that. I will have another collection of stories out sometime in April. It will be called Alondra’s Adventures.

Aha! I'm so glad to hear this. Something to look forward to.  I'm so envious of everyone who gets to read these stories for the first time!

The Alondra stories have appeared in Best New Horror #27, Strange California, Sins of the Sirens, Fright Mare: Women Write Horror, The Haunted Mansion Project: Year One, The Ghostbreakers: New Horrors and more.

Loren Rhoads is the author of 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die and Wish You Were Here: Adventures in Cemetery Travel. She blogs about graveyards as travel destinations at CemeteryTravel.com.
Loren is also the author of The Dangerous Type, Kill By Numbers, and No More Heroes, a space opera trilogy set after a galactic war has wiped out much of humanity.
She is the co-author (with Brian Thomas) of the novel Lost Angels about a succubus who sets her sights on an angel and ends up possessed by a mortal girl's soul. 
Loren likes long walks in the moonlight and old graveyards. She remembers when men walked on the moon.

At the End of Things.

I am dangerously close to finishing a short story that has been on the back burner for a while. I write slowly. And that's also dangerous. Last year when Black Light, my novel, was published, it was the end of three decades of work. It's a rare thing when I come to an end. It's hard, I find to let go.
This story, as it turns out, is a prequel to Black Light. It's about Albrecht Christian as a young man, far, far before he meets Trace. It's set between WWI and WWII, when Albrecht is still adjusting to his new life as a psychic vampire, feeding off the misery and decay of Europe of the time.
I should have finished it months ago, but something has been holding me back.
After the election I could barely concentrate. I was lucky to get six paragraphs a day. I didn't expect that. I didn't expect to feel so afraid.
Awhile before all that a friend said to me, "I don't think your writing is holding you back. I just think that your characters are gay."
I know how that sounds, but she wasn't criticizing my choices, she was commenting on a fact.  Queer stories have a smaller audience than straight. I knew that, but, last year when Black Light came out, I thought the gap was closing. I mean, I read books about straight people, right? And I met a bunch of the people who bought the book.They seemed to be everybody.
But then November came, and you all know that story. So, I spent a while thinking about why I write, and who I write. Because suddenly I became afraid. Afraid that even less people would read my stories.  Afraid that it exposed me in a way that felt new to me. And I forgot that the best fiction is about what scares you. And that good words are dangerous.
So soon I will have completed a story about Albrecht Christian,gay  psychic vampire and his first true love, a powerful black magician and the Loch Ness monster. Yep, you read that right. It turns out that I like the story. iIt might find a home, it might now. But that doesn't matter, really. the finishing of it reminded me to write the story that I have. No matter what.
I think I've got my faith back now.

Day Eight: Two. More. Pages. Of something completely different.

So, here's this week's first page. Well, it's two pages, but you know.... So it's from a space opera I've been working on... Sorta, with Loren Rhoads, who is the Queen Of Getting Me In Trouble.

So the story is called Drifter, and it's about the crew of the Panacea, who come across a derelict ship, just floating along in space, the middle of relative night. Well, the crew are pretty honest when they can be, but how can you just let all those perfectly good parts go? Of course they find more on the ship than parts..... And new boots.

This scene is towards the end. Tarik is a member of the crew and Raena is on the run from the Empire. You may remember Tarik, and certainly Raena from Loren's trilogy, In the Wake of the Templars. (If you don't, start with the first one, The Dangerous Type. they're awesome and you won't regret it!)  Here they are teenagers, having just met. Poor Tarik is younger, and has barely spoken to a girl before.....

“I gotta a buncha brothers and sisters.” Tarik said before he thought it through.

Raena gave him a half smile. “A bunch? Where are they now?”

Tarik looked out the port, habit from left over from home, when he could tell time by the slant of the sun. It was the only thing he missed. Almost. He’d been on the Plague for only a year, but he already knew he never wanted dirt under his boots again. “There…. Were seven of us. All working the Coalition base on APLANET . We were loading the Panacea when the Imps hit the port.” He rubbed his eyes. “My sister gave me her blaster and sealed me into the hold with the supplies. She said one of them would find me.”

He left off the rest.

“I have a sister.” Raena said. “She would have done that for me too.”

“Yeah.” Tarik stuck a smile on his face and put his siblings to the back of his brain. “Even if you wished she didn’t.”

“Defiantly.”

Then they were both silent. Tarik wanted to apologize. Instead he said, “So do you play-----?”

Raena snorted. “Can I win credit off you?”

“Shaa.” Tarik scoffed. “You c’n try. Like I have any credit.”

The game they play here, and then:

“Do you think your sister survived?”

That caught him off guard. Sky and Doc didn’t talk about the past much. Not theirs, not his. Tarik had picked up the trick. Somehow Raena made him want to feel like he’d come from somewhere again. He shrugged. “Well, she didn’t have a blaster.”

There was a pause. Tarik really hoped Raena wouldn’t tell him the odds or worse, call Taryn a traitor to the Empire. Tarik knew that Raena might think it, but saying it would ruin his chance of making her into a friend. “No. I don’t think any of them survived the attack.”

That wasn’t what he told Doc. Not ever. Doc would never forgive herself for not saving all of them. She needed him to be hopeful, but Tarik wasn’t stupid. His family was dead. The Empire didn’t take grunts prisoner, why would they? No. Tarik knew that they were just extra weight.

“I’m sorry,” Raena said.

Again, he shrugged. “We grew up in the cause. We knew the risks. I just never thought I’d be the only one left.”

She smiled at him, and Tarik wondered if she understood. Who had she lost? Her sister? What about her parents? He hoped, if he talked, she might tell him something about herself. But she revealed nothing at all. So he smiled back. “I guess I just think now that I’m living on borrowed time. I should dead, like they are.”

“Then I’d be dead too.”

His smile widened. “Hope you don’t hold that against me too much.”

First lines in the dying days of January

So my friend Loren Rhoads tagged me. She recently wrote a blog that included the first lines of everything she is working on now. Whoa, she is way amore ambitious than me!  Go take a look. But anyway, she tagged the rest of us to do that same. So, here goes my stuff:

The book I'm revising about a rock and roll band in 1983 and a psychic vampire is called The Black Light: Trace stands in the wings backstage at the Refugee Club, a narrow shadow.

So, then there's the short story about same psychic vampire's youth, called Knives: I light a fresh cigarette off the butt of the dying one before crushing it into the tray set in the door of the car.

And of course there's The Night Was Not, which is the NeoVictorian third gender romance that I'm stuck in the middle of: Kerry Hazard slid into the pilot's seat of the Starshine as he toggled the print switch on the com console. 

Yep. There you have it. Or at least there you have some of it. I'm not a very fast writer, and some of these things I've  been working on for quite a while. I'm trying to write more every day, and faster too. I'll never be one of those writers who can write ten thousand words a day. But  I think I'm ready to get to the ends of at least these things. Wish me luck.

So, I'll ask the question of the other writers I know: What are your first lines? 

Stuff That's Happening (and a little tiny rant)

This is usually where I share stuff that my other writer friends have going on. And there's a bunch of stuff going on. My friend Kacey Vanderkarr's first book in her trilogy, Reflection Pond is FREE on Kindle right now. If you don't already have it, go here:http://www.amazon.com/Reflection-Pond-Kacey-Vanderkarr-ebook/dp/B00JCZ8V8M 

I'm not kidding you should read this book. And then leave a review. 

And my friend Loren Rhoads is having a goodreads give-a-way for the book she wrote with Brian Thomas, As Above, So Below. You should enter to win here : https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/123716-as-above-so-below And then you know, if you win, read it and leave a review. 

And always, there's Out of the Green, Yep, it's right over the the right of you. If you haven't gotten your copy, seriously what are you waiting for? Not only does it include stories by the aforementioned  authors, but also a story by me, and ten others, all with their unique view of fairy. If you're around my area, I can fix you up with a copy,  no need to wait. If not, well you know where it's available. And once you've read it..... You know what I'm going to say, right? Yep. Leave a review......

Maybe you're sensing a common theme here. The "leave a review" part? yeah. Stephen King once said something like, the writer and the reader are in partnership. One doesn't exist without the other. I'm paraphrasing, but I believe it's true. When you write a story, a novel, a poem, it's not meant to sit on your desk, or in a drawer. It needs a reader. Or, to be honest, it needs a bunch of readers. I write so that I can find out what happens in the end. I hope that people read my stories for the same reason, to find out what happens in the end. To be relieved, or heartbroken at how it plays out. 

This is what makes the Internet a wonderful and terrible place. Now readers are more accessible than ever. And that's fantastic. But it there's no feedback, the words you put out may as well be sitting in that drawer..... 

The truth is that putting books out online, whether electronically or as traditional books, is a word-of-mouth game of selling. Kindle rates books on their reader reviews and that can make or break an indie author. So if you enjoy an author, and leave a review, it does two things. One: it puts another of their books into your hands(kindle ranking and all that). Two: you tell that author that it's working, that yes, the novel you sweated over worked for me. It touched me and I identified with it. Believe me, to a writer, sitting in some cafe somewhere alone with their computer, that's huge. 

Oh! And before I forget, I have a new short story up on Wattpad that you can read for free! (@MarthaAllard). It's my lesbian genie story. I actually really like it..... If you like it.....um.... feel free to leave a comment....... 

Wild is the Wind--Out of the Green.

I've always loved a good rock and roll magic story. I mean, think about it, isn't rock and roll magical anyway? What if what we think of as onstage theatrics are all really magic? No, not like Ozzy getting in trouble with PETA. Like what if the boy with the glitter eyeliner and up swept  ears is actually what he looks like?

So when Kacey Vanderkarr suggested that we co-edit this anthology and also suggested we write for it, I thought, cool! I know just what I want to write about.

Fairy and rock and roll? What could go wrong? I love the British, from the seventies and the eighties, because there's a restlessness to that music. British rock and rollers of that time all longed to escape England. It was too small. Too much the same. They wanted America because from where they stood, it was wide and huge and anything could happen.

That restlessness was my inspiration for my Fairy Lord to leave his lands.  It makes sense to me that he falls in love as soon as he leaves, and takes the human world for his own.   What happens after that? Oh, I'm not going to tell you. That would ruin it.

If you want to know what happens, the links are all down here, There are twelve other stories as well, all with different takes on Fairyland.

Also, contributor Loren Rhoads has also blogged about her story. You can read about it here:http://lorenrhoads.com/blog/  Check out her website. She is a busy writer!

Links  For the Book: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/out-of-the-green-martha-j-allard/1120802195?ean=9781503079281

For the ebook:  http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_fb_1_15?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=out+of+the+green+tales+from+fairyland&sprefix=out+of+the+gree%2Cstripbooks%2C581
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/out-of-the-green-kacey-vanderkarr/1120812796?ean=2940150730700

Out Of The Green cover reveal!!

At last! The cover reveal for Out Of The Green, Tales From Fariyland! It's been a long wait, but I promise you won't be disappointed. This anthology features thirteen new stories of Fair, just in time for Christmas. 

The digital version is available for preorder on Amazon right now, and the release date will be Nov. 24. I can't wait.

A Wall of Wings and Sorrow – A.M. Supinger
Rabbit, Rabbit – Jill Corddry
Fill – Kacey Vanderkarr
The Youngest Prince – Holly Hook
Pixielated – Katie Tillwick
Tam Lin’s Documentation – Ian Springer-Woods
Grandfather Carp’s Dream – Loren Rhoads
The Marriage of Dorian the Shepherd – Russell Adams
Wish – Nancy Tucker
See You at 7 – Tiffanie Shaw
The Steed of the Fey – T.J. O’Hare
Wild is the Wind – Martha J. Allard
Pixie Sticks – E.A. Fow

Where to find me. (In which I plug the anthology I'm in)

So have you all been wondering what I've been doing with my time lately? Well, here's one thing. Below is the blurb and the lovely cover of Re-Vamped: Blood Lust Revenge. In it you'll find my story, "Getting Fixed" along with many other fantastic stories about the fairer (and fanged) sex, For 2.99 it's a bargain. Check it out on amazon. 
Though people have been exploring the legend of the vampire for hundreds of years, the female vampire has been largely overlooked...until now.

Neophyte Press proudly presents Re-Vamped: Blood Lust Revenge, a collection of short stories focused on fanged girls of the night with a taste for human blood and a penchant for power, seduction and terror.

Find your favorite turtleneck and sink your teeth into this monster of a collection. You're in store for some long, dark nights filled with beautiful, hungry creatures. But don't cry when you find yourself with two perfectly round puncture wounds on your neck...

‘Cause you've been warned.

Re-Vamped: Blood Lust Revenge(Kindle Edition)

by Ty Schwamberger, Adam Lewis

Here's a small bite of my story:
                                                                             Getting Fixed

 The bite turned out to be profitable for Casey. Made her lucky. Of course it had taken her a while to accept this. A vampire bite wasn’t your average injury. Not something you came out of happy to be alive. You get bit, you turn, somebody stakes you before you spill blood. That’s how the world worked.

She thought. Turned out, it wasn’t that simple. The taint, passed through the spit of her attacker had given her some vampiric qualities: increased strength, sensitivity to sunlight. It also woke the thirst, but Casey found ways to deal with that. 

Want more? Click on the link above. It'll be fun, I promise.

Mart

Sucker Literary Magazine Volume 2! Plus The Hows and Whys of Writing for Teens from Candi Fite.

Sucker Literary Magazine, Volume 2 is available now!

 

When Alex’s bandmates invite a girl to sing lead, a battle of the sexes becomes a battle over something unexpected. . . A girl tells her friend about hooking up with longtime crush Fred, but his kisses are not what makes that night in his car memorable. . . A therapy session with Doug might just make Jason go insane again. . . Wallflower Aubrey hooks up with Gordon after the cast party, which would be fine if he weren’t the most forbidden fruit of them all…Savannah certainly doesn’t sound like a convict’s name, so maybe hanging out with her isn’t all that dangerous. Miki is committed to getting over Dex, yet she can’t get him off her answering machine—or her doorstep. In between puffs of cigarettes and attempts to smear lipstick on her face, Allie’s grandmother dishes out advice that maybe Allie should take. . . And finally, what’s a girl to do with Satan as both her boss and father? Nine short stories pose the questions we obsess over whether we’re growing up or all grown up: Who should I love? Am I doing the right thing? Is there ever an end to heartbreak? In its second volume, SUCKER continues to showcase the very best emerging talent in young adult literature and give (some of) the answers to Life’s Big Questions along the way.

 

Sucker will reopen the doors for Volume 3 submissions. One day ONLY, August 1, 2013. Find the guidelines HERE.

Sucker Free Day – July 20^th and 21^st

Get a free digital copy of Sucker Literary Volume 2 on Amazon.

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Sucker-Literary-Anthology-Volume-2/dp/148261278X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1371676779&sr=8-1&keywords=sucker+literary

Amazon

Website: http://www.suckerliterary.com

Sucker Literary

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Suucker.Literary.Magazine?fref=ts

The How & Why of Writing for Teens,

How and why do you write for teens? I've answered the question umpteen million times, mostly asked by non-writing folk, the Muggles in my writerly world.

 

The simplest way to write for teens is to channel your inner-teenager. You don't have to be a psychic. Grab a notebook and pick a quiet place. Maybe a park bench, a blanket spread on the grass or on the beach. Clear your mind, and conjure up your most vulnerable moments from your youth.

            Remember the day at school when you tripped running down the stairs, spilling your pile of books? Recall the flushed cheeks, the profuse sweating, and the racing heartbeat as you gathered your materials from the floor. What about the chuckles, snorts, and eye rolling? Oh yeah, the memories are flooding back, aren't they? Capture those moments, those feelings, and raw emotions. Now, without judging, jot down everything you feel, see, think, and hear. Continue to write until every single thought about the incident is on paper.

           Don't read it yet.

          Extract another memory. Maybe this time remember when you were dumped by your first real love. Gosh, do you recall the anguish? Those devastating moments when you knew you were just going to die. There, that's it. Write it down. Don't leave anything out. Remember, no judging.

Toss your adult self into timeout if you must.

Depending on the story or character you're working on, you may want to stick to a particular kind of memory, such as break-ups. Everything from your past is at your disposal. It belongs to you. Use it.

Now, go back and read, not judge, but read what you wrote. Highlight anything you may use for characterization. There may be things you can use for one character, and you can save the rest for another one in the future. It works best for me if I draft after these sessions, keeping my notebook close by so I may refer to it.

Another way you can find your authentic teen voice is to hang out with teens or around them. Teens may get creeped out when adults watch them, get too close, or listen in on their conversations. I blame it on the killer / stalker movies they watch. I'm an alleged creeper, according to my own teenaged daughters. You have to be sly. Consider yourself a secret agent, given a dangerous assignment, and proceed with caution.

Choose a local hangout. Order a pizza or coffee, break out your notebook (Look busy... remember dangerous assignment), take notes, pay attention to their body language, speech, and their interaction with others.

Write down everything, whether you think it's useful or not. Pay special attention to the quirky and unique, such as the way a boy blinks and taps his fingers as if he's in a rock band when a girl is talking to him. Is he trying to be cool or is he nervous? A girl clicks her tongue and tosses her right hand in the air when she's speaking. Does she have odd ticks or extreme animation? Keep watching. Does anyone have annoying habits? Adorable traits? Check out their clothing. Take it all in. Don't waste a single detail.

As for why I write for teens, it's a bit more personal and there are no exercises involved. I think the most obvious reason I write for teens is Young Adult is my preferred genre to read. They say write what you read. With each young adult book I read, my writing improves. My characters develop depth. My plots thicken. Beginnings begin to rock. My endings, well, I'm still mastering my endings. YA keeps me young, takes me to fabulous places, and for some strange reason, I identify with many young adult characters, which leads me into my next point.

Sometimes, I relate to teens better than adults. There are times when I feel like a teenager or when I act or speak like a teenager. Even at forty-something, I've been known to abuse the words "like" and "whatever". At times, I have a snarkish behavior my fellow adult friends don't have.

I figured I suffered from some weird Peter Pan theory, but then I began to use my immaturity to my advantage. Being able to relate to my characters is super important when writing for teens. When I wrote my short story On the Edge of Postal (Sucker Literary Vol. 1, Jan. 2012), I knew my main character Ashlynn like I know myself. I related to her in a thousand ways. She was a mash-up of all my sisters and I, and our dysfunctional childhood. I identified with her angst, her sarcasm, and her explosive behavior.

If a writer fails to relate to their character in at least some fashion, the character may fall flat, appear one-dimensional, and unauthentic. We owe it to our readers to make our characters relatable and someone they can invest their time in.

My hows and whys assist me when writing for teens. Whether or not they make sense to others is a moot point.. I don't write to impress. I write to connect, to reach out, shake one's core, and make my readers feel something. In the end, it's about the reader's experience, not mine.

 

Thanks, Candi for the insights.

Candy Fite writes everything from picture books to non-fiction, with a passion for creating stories for teens. Between second drafting her YA novel and shopping literary agents for her two picture books, she is working on a non-fiction book about rose rustling.  She is a member of SCBWI and the Brenham Writers Group in Texas. When not writing, she’s the busy mom of two teen girls, teaching her students yoga, and traveling and speaking for her rose group. This is her first YA publication. Candy Lynn Fite can be reached on Twitter @candylynnfite or on her blog at http://www.cfitewrite.blogspot.com

Fiction Workshop Writer's reading

I didn't get as much done as I would have hoped on the Workshop story as I would have liked this last week, but I did have the privilege of having everyone in the Workshop edit the new stuff for me. That was very nice. We are going to give a reading of our works in progress next Tuesday. This should be interesting. When I was thinking about what I wanted to do for this thing, I tried to hit all the high points of short story writing. Well, all the ones I know about. I think we talked about most of them. We talked all the reasons to write short fiction, we talked about some of the approaches we can use to tell a story, point of view, character--even a little bit about plot. Then we talked about editing, and even a bit about publishing.

The very bottom of my list of things to talk about was readings. Everybody knows that in order to sell your words, occasionally, you have to read them in public. I think most writers have a love-hate relationship with preforming. On paper, sitting in the booth at your diner with your headphones in? Yeah, sure, that's the best. For me, that's when the writing sounds exactly how I want it to. In my head, each character has her own voice, and even the right soundtrack behind them.

Now, standing in front of group of people, with my story in my hand? That's completely different. I can't shake the feeling that I'm going to fail the story because I know I can't make it sound like it does in my head-like it does when people read in for themselves. I know it's just going to be me, standing in front of a bunch of people, and who wants to see that?

So why did I insist on the reading at the end of the Workshop? Because I know that it's important. As important as posting a blog each week, or advertising your latest publications on Facebook. Maybe even more. It's important to read your words to people, to build you audience. And, like everything, it's important to start where you're starting. So, if you're so inclined, come and give us a listen, okay?

Knives

This is a new short story, or the beginning of a new short story that I'm working on for my workshop. It's a little bit out of my comfort zone.....  But not as far as I'd like. Oh well.  So, tell me what you think. I'm hoping that something happens in the story to explain the title, which I like, but don't know why yet.



                                                                              Knives

I light a fresh cigarette off the butt of the dying one before crushing into the tray set in the door of the car. My companion's sigh is so complex at this that I don't bother with an attempt to divine it's true meaning. I simply take a long, cleansing drag and exhale the smoke out the window. I mask the sodden desperate air of the ruins we've left with the taste of nicotine, but it is only temporary. Since the war, every corner of Europe smells and feels like the sodden aftermath of a fire. The air is heavy with drown smoke, land with charred dirt.

As usual, Marcella begins the conversation in the middle. “He's such a reputation, you know, Albrecht. They say he's the devil.”

“If I was the devil, I wouldn't be holed up in a drafty old mansion in Scotland.” I murmur. I suppose I should be cheered by the breathtaking green of the rolling land we travel through. Perhaps not every corner of Europe has been blacked after all. But it is still bone cold. My hands ache from it, and it is as though I'm still in winter, no matter the season around me. Scotland could be no different.

Marcella smiles her cat-sharp smile and says, “I'm curious to see what you make of him.”

My eyebrow raises at her tone. “Is that all?”

“Herr Christian, whatever can you mean?” Behind her lilting teasing tone hides a bully. 

“I'm not your escort, Marcella, not really. I know that. I want you to stop playing with me and tell me what my task will be once we arrive.”

“You're no fun at all, Albrecht, are you? I told you, we were invited. To watch you puzzle him out, what more could I want?”

She snuggles against me, and I feel my own body steal warmth from hers. Warmth, and nothing more. I shan't ever dare feed from Marcella, the only being alive that knows my secret. She is as precious to me as she is repulsive. 

Our relationship started as business. I was cast adrift by war, my family's fortune had crumbled, and I was on the street as a young man. Marcella was a seller of such young men.

In time, as I became aware of my special talent, she also became aware. And she saw an opportunity where I only saw a monster. 

Yes. I am the monster in this tale. I was the Prince, when I was very young, but survival made me a monster. 

Macella gives another sigh, this one more contented. “You may as well close your eyes, Leibling, it's a bit farther.”

But I don't. I don't need sleep, not when I'm well fed, and the boy I had in the hotel last night was sufficient to see me through. I can feel him in my blood, my skin, but I can not remember what he looked like now. Sometimes they come back to me, angry, or still in love, or pitiful and sad, but he did not seem so sorry to give me his life. Perhaps he was looking for darkness. 

He had nothing in his pockets for Marcella, which did not please her. I feel the rhythms of her body slow, her muscles slacken and I smoke my cigarette to the filter, and then another, and another, watching the beautiful, lush green of the countryside spin by. I play my favorite game with myself, wondering what I would have been if it had been this land that had shaped me, and not the ravaged fortunes of Austria. It is a useless endeavor, since I am the hard and dark creature I am, and will never be changed, but it passes the time. 

“Your first time to the Loch, then?” 

I start, and it takes me a split second to realize the driver is speaking to me. I take my eyes from the scenery. “Yes. First time. It's beautiful here.”

He gives a snort. “It's an evil place.”

“Because of Herr-Mr. Crowley's activities?” I prompt. For all I pretend indifference, I'm a bit interested after all. It's so rare to find evil instilled in another. Most evil I've found is imposed upon men. I begin to allow myself to wonder if this “Devil” could be....

“What? Him? Playin' dress up and buggerin' anything that wanders by?” Another snort. “Faker, that one is. No, sir. The real evil's in the land, in the water. It's black as pitch.”

My scalp prickles, the sunlight outside fails, curtained by a thick gray cloud. “Everyone has heard the story of the monster in the Loch, yes.” I smile, just a fraction. “But no one truly believes such things in this day and age, surely.”

“Have it your own way.” the man retorts. 

Rain begins to spatter the windshield and I roll up my window. We take a turn off the main road to a narrower one, that is barely wide enough for the car. The ruts jounce Marcella awake again and she stretches prettily. “Goodness, that was a lovely nap.” She leans forward to speak close to the driver's ear. “We're nearly there, then?”
“Yes, Miss.”

She grins at me now. “Perhaps we'll go straight down to the Loch. They say it's ever so much more likely to see the monster in the rain.”

Despite everything, I begin to relax. Was the monster her real interest? Was that too much to hope? I feel myself leaning in that direction anyway. I let my smile become less guarded. “Marcella, won't you ruin your dress?”

“Be adventurous, Albrecht.” She giggles and it's such a foreign sound from Marcella that I start a bit. She is still playing with me, and I steel myself, determined not to fall into the game. If she would only stop using me as a tool, I think, before I can stop it. To wish Marcella different is as useless as wishing it for myself. 

We turn into a graveled courtyard. There is a fountain in the middle that only holds rain water, and the house, a lodge of sorts, sprawls around the drive.

Wednesday's regrets

The workshop went really well, last night, and we had more writers, which was exciting. I love the different things each writer brings to the table. I am excited to see their stories take shape as we talk and write.  The only thing I wish I could have done better was to explain the difference between description that only describes and description that evokes. I thought I had all the words down in my mind, but I'm pretty sure I didn't do a good enough job of it. I'm hoping we can talk about it again in the next session. Using words to describe things that have no words? Arrg.  You see what I mean. It's not really an exact science. I'll obviously have to think about this more.

Anyway, as promised, here's my ten minute timed writing from last night.  This one's a little more guided than the last one, and you may recognize the characters. Yes, I've decided to take the plunge. The story I'll be working on is a Ziggy story.

The sweat collected under the guitar strap across Asia's back as they waited. Even poor Gilli's Flock of Seagulls hair had melted into a sodden pile on his head. What was it, a hundred and five out here?

Weird and Ziggy were unaffected. Weird was propped against a wall, eyes closed, hands on his guitar, light, waiting, like he was in cryo-freeze. Not far from t he truth, Asia thought. And Ziggy stood behind the thin curtain. Bone white against his black jeans and the dark curtain. He looked like ice, his face as perfect as a Nagel girl, like a music video that hadn't been made yet.

Yep, sorry. We picked a painting from the gallery and wrote down three words we got from looking at it.  Mine were Patrick Nagel, girlfriend and heat.  yeah, I'm still working on the girlfriend part.
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Ten minutes

As promised, here's my ten minute timed writing from the first session of the writing workshop I'm doing. Remember the rules. It's ten minutes of continuous writing of whatever falls out of your head. You're not allowed to pick up your pen, and if you get stumped, you repeat the prompt.  Our prompt was "I remember." The only thing I asked was that it not be an actual memory.  Here's mine.

I remember the purple of his eyes. Like forget-me-nots. Are forget-me-nots even purple? I don't really know. But when I see him, when I close my eyes, that's what his eyes are for me. Purple, pleading forget-me-nots.

And I haven't. Can't. Usually it's a dream and usually my dream is ultra-sharp image of reality--a tape loop in my head.

It's Sean, looking back at me, over one alley-cat shoulder, eyes saying don't.

Wish I hadn't, I guess I wish there had been some way out of it, but he made his mistakes and I had learned from him.

After I pulled the trigger, my ears rang--the room was too small to contain the sound. And when he fell, he spun, landed face up, and one purple eye left, staring forget-me-nots at me.

I remember thinking how long? Have they left me here on purpose, as I waited. Am I for the cops? Just when I had made peace with that, with a trial, a prison term, or maybe not, maybe becoming a loose thread to cut, they came for my.

Yep. Doesn't make a lick of sense, but there it is.  Part of the deal is that you read it after you write it, so I thought I'd inflict mine on everybody. Look for whatever escapes my head after next week's session.

Short Stories

So, I'm about to start teaching a workshop on short fiction. (Tuesday, Sept 11th is the first session, by the way, if you find yourself interested in short stories).

What was I saying? Oh, short stories. I love short stories. To read, certainly, but especially to write.  No, nobody ever gets rich writing them, but there is an elegance to a peice that is under twenty pages, a control that most  of us never get in a novel. You can watch every word, make sure that they're all perfect. It's also a place to take chances. To paraphrase David Bowie, who was, I think paraphrasing Brian Eno, short stories are the place you can crash your plan and walk away from it. Take those chances, write the unwriteable story, talk about things that scare you, try on new styles, and perspectives. Go on. You've got twenty pages to work with.

Writing Workshop!

Yes, it's really going to happen.  I'm going to teach a workshop on writing fiction this fall.  I will be concentrating on short stories, but I welcome people who have only worked with long fiction as well. Using short stories as a learning experience is certainly a way to increase the writing skills you have in your tool box. Charles DeLint talks about the short story as the perfect place for experimentation, or as Brian Eno once said of music "It's the only place you can crash your plane with out getting hurt." Or something like that.

Over the course of six Tuesdays beginning the second Tuesday of September, we will cover:
     The anatomy of a short story, how long, how short, etc.
     How to grow your idea into a story with a beginning, middle and an end,
     Plot, character, setting.
     Point of view
     Writing exercises to get your pen moving.
     A reading at the end for friends and family to hear your very best parts.  I'll even bring the  humus      and tea!

So there you have it. I will be holding all this at the Elms Gallery in Flushing (see the flier above, and be impressed that I actually got it onto the blog).  There are ten spots available as of now.

Dust, another story

Check out this link to "Dust and other stories" available on BN.com for nook. If you're interested, and don't own a nook, it's possible to download the ereader software for free to a pc, mac, iphone, ipad, blackberry... You get the idea.

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/books/e/2940012634139/?itm=1&USRI=dust+and+other+stories

This nookbook contains three of my short stories, one of which was nominated for a British Science Fiction Award! I'm very pleased with how it came out. The Barnes and Noble publishing platform is called Pubit!, and was very easy to use. It was about as difficult as making an etsy listing. You have control over everything, even the price. I priced "Dust" at $1.99, because it seemed fair within the market, and it's actually selling fairly well. Neat, huh?