Category Archives: Writing

Meet Fred

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Welcome to October! Probably my favorite month of the year. Not too cold, not too hot, and it’s the start of leaf season. We get some lovely displays here in the river gorge. I haven’t been here quite three years yet, and I’ve fallen in love with leaf season. Then again, I love the idea of having four actual seasons. In Mississippi we only had two: summer and winterish. Not really winter, but not summer either. Had to call it something.

I belong to a local writer’s group (no segue for you), and we had an Assignment: write a 500 word flash fiction piece with the trigger word “ashes.” I thought about it and decided I didn’t want to write a piece of fiction keying off “ashes.” Instead I wrote a 500 word explanation for why I did not have a story about ashes. Here it is. Remember, this is not a story. This is an explanation:

Meet Fred

Okay, time to write the flash fiction. Muse, what you got?

“Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down.”

 Seriously?

t was the first thing that came to mind, so naturally I couldn’t use it. That’s the rule: the first thing that floats up is your muse being lazy. You want to get better at this? Make the mind/subconscious/muse work a little harder. I normally picture my muse as a no-nonsense biker chick but some of my writer friends see it more as a crusty old curmudgeon named Fred in a plaid work shirt and chinos. Now sometimes so do I, and apparently Fred is on duty. The idea is that Fred will throw up just any old thing when you’re trying to write a story. Fred doesn’t like to be bothered. I’m not having it so I hand Fred’s first impulse right back to him.

 Not good enough.

The thing is you have to show Fred that you’re serious, only then maybe he’ll take his responsibilities seriously. Not always, but in general Fred wants to give you what you need. Sooner or later. Just not always sooner. So I go back to Fred.

Try again, Jackass.

Note: The “jackass” part is optional, as it can sometimes get Fred’s dander up. It’s a judgment call. Assuming Fred is still speaking to you, Fred will indeed try again.

“My Dominion is Ashes.”

Okay. Points, Fred, for seriousness. I mean, you can picture a story keying off this phrase, can’t you? It’s something dark and downbeat. Maybe an aging failed writer college professor whose most recent affair with an undergrad got him canned, and now he’s pouring out his angst in a poor me story where he’s the hero and only the names—and the epiphany he totally failed at grasping—changed. Again, not bad for one working in the wannabee Phillip Roth or John Updike mold. Not so much for someone else currently trying to write a flash piece. I just can’t get behind this one.

Try again.

“The World is Ashes.”

Okay, Fred, now you’re just messing with me. We’re maybe one degree of separation from “My Dominion is Ashes.” Only now I’m picturing a more science fictional scenario. Maybe old-school Samuel Delaney or Roger Zelazny philosophical, though just as likely something pulpy and post-apocalyptic a la William F. Nolan. In either case it’s not something I’m willing to tackle in five hundred words. That’s not even long enough to describe what went wrong.

Once more with feeling, Fred.

“Phoenix From the Ashes.”

That’s a classic, Fred. It’s also pretty darn cliché. You seriously want me to riff off a phoenix theme without sounding like every other variation of the same thing I’ve heard a thousand times? Seriously?

Fred, I’m not kidding around. I want something I can use and I want it now.

“Scattering the Ashes.”

Hmmm. Okay, that’s not so bad. Elements of loss and grief, but the implication of closing one phase of life and…damn. Out of words.

Fred!!!

 

P.S. For those wondering, I still believe it was the chipmunks who ate my ripe tomatoes. However, it was the deer who came by later and ate everything else.

In Which I Am Stubborn

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Stubborn? Say rather mule-headed. Obstinate, almost to the point of delusion. The worst part is, on some level, I always knew it, so let’s get this out in the open—I hate marketing, and therefore I suck at it. Specifically, promoting my own work. I clung to the myth which goes something like this: work hard, do your best, put your work out there, and people will find it.

This is rubbish. There is so much good (and bad) fiction out there that even a voracious reader can never get to it all. It’s a reader’s paradise but a writer’s? Not so much. Any one writer, good or bad, is one drop in a flood. Maybe the readers will find you, maybe they won’t. Some will, and I’m grateful for all the ones who have, but for the most part that’s been pure luck.

One reason I stopped going to sf/f conventions back when I lived in Mississippi was that I realized, as business goes, and considering how far away most of the better ones were, it was a considerable waste of time and money. As much as I enjoyed meeting online friends, I simply couldn’t justify the expense, because I really suck at networking and self-promotion, and pretty much all the other business-related reasons for attending. I’ve watched friends who have the gift working a dealer’s room and I can only stare in awe, as I usually do when admiring someone who can easily do something I can’t do at all. It is actively painful for me to even attempt it.

I have to finally admit to myself there are things I can’t do. So, surely there are things I can? Maybe. I’ve realized that most of my online book descriptions are not, shall we say, first rate, regardless of the merits of the book. I’m speaking purely of the ones I’m in charge of, which I either handled myself or took over after the rights reverted. So I’m learning how to write ad copy (a different skill altogether) and do the kind of promotion I’m able to do. Old dog, new tricks, that sort of thing. Maybe it’ll work out, maybe not. Baby steps.

After all, the first step in solving a problem is admitting there is one.

Power’s Shadow, Physical Edition

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Now the paperback edition of Power’s Shadow is live. It came together a little quicker than I was expecting, despite the fact that I had to reformat the entire manuscript and cover. Not that I’m complaining. In the process I found a few embarrassing errors that never should have been there to start with and one whopper of a continuity oops. Which goes to prove the old adage, “You haven’t edited your story until you’ve edited it stone cold.” I apologize for any past mistakes, but I do believe they’ve been fixed, in both the digital and paperback editions.

Now I’m thinking of doing the same to The Long Look, first in the series. Otherwise the physical edition is only available from third party sellers, since it’s long out of print. That way when I finally finish the fourth—and final—book in the series I’ll have everything available in both formats. Something to consider, anyway, though I do not want to get bogged down in my backlist when there are more books to write.

On an entirely separate note, I almost had fresh tomatoes this year. I picked up some heritage plants at the Cooperstown Farmer’s Museum and even got them planted in good time. First the deer damaged one plant, which lived but never bloomed. The second was doing great and had tomatoes almost ready, but then they disappeared. Poof. Gone. I don’t think it was deer this time, but I am noticing some very well-fed squirrels loitering about. Oh, well. Try again next year.

Story Time: Wrecks

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Today’s Story Time is “Wrecks,” which was the very first in the Eli Mothersbaugh series, published in the UK magazine Odyssey, edited by Liz Holliday, back in 1998. Dopey me didn’t even realize it was a series until that next year when I wrote the next one, “A Respectful Silence,”  There were twelve all together, collected in Ghost Trouble: The Casefiles of Eli Mothersbaugh. Now and then I think there should have been an Eli novel. Maybe there will be.

I’ll add a shout out to the talented Noreen Doyle, who designed the cover. I still think it’s one of the best ones.

Standard Note: “Wrecks” will stay online until next Wednesday, August 29th. Then something else.

Story Time: A Mother’s Love

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Late again. My only defense is that it has been a very busy day. I had a story due and I barely made that in time, in addition to trying to get a handle on a project affecting almost all of my books, and a writer’s group meeting. On the plus side, Scott Andrews over at Beneath Ceaseless Skies has picked up “In Memory of Jianhong, Snake Devil” for the next “Best of” yearly compilation of the magazine. That’s always a boost to the day.

Regardless, and just under the wire, today’s Story Time is an original piece of flash fiction, “A Mother’s Love.” Enjoy. And if you can’t, at least you didn’t pay a lot for it.

 

“A Mother’s Love” will remain online until next  Wednesday. You know the  drill by now.