The Variety Pages

Weekly News & Prompt - February 6, 2012

2012-02-06T13:23:00Z

Flash 52 Week 6: A couple sits at a table in a fancy restaurant, one dressed nicely, the other in torn jeans and a stained shirt. They seem to be together, but not, and they're arguing quietly about something...

Welcome back Monday, eh? I had a decent week last week, and very productive, and Saturday wasn’t bad either, but I kind of got sidetracked Saturday night and my productivity just fell off the edge of the world. It happens. Sunday was spent trying to catch up, which is why I’m writing this post at midnight and still have my nails left to do before bed (and laundry to get out of the dryer). Someday I’m going to figure out how to trick myself into doing work laundry before Sunday night...

In any case, my alter ego’s new novelette, The Paramedic, is out now, so that’s good. I’ll be publishing two collections under that name as well in the next couple of weeks. And the new story has got me entranced – I’m playing with story arcs, so it will be a good learning experience and character study.

As for my Flash 52 book, I’ve finally settled on the formatting and have the adobe file ready, I just need to get the other formats done, and I’ll be publishing it in print workbook form as well. I’d really hoped to get the digital files done this weekend, but that just didn’t happen. But I should be able to finish them tomorrow night.

I’ve decided to wait until next weekend to release Heart Knocks – that gives me a little more time, and it seems appropriate to release a collection of love stories just before Valentine’s Day.

I’ll be sending out newsletters later this week – mine, the BSB letter, and one for Trinity’s list to announce the new releases.

Other than that, this week is all about tension in my writing world:

Will Betsy & Derek survive in this week’s chapter of The Minister’s Maid?
Is Kate still alive, and if so, can Jake get to her without getting killed in my alter-ego’s chapter of Animal?
What is a brazen redhead doing coming on to a dangerously sexy bartender after just breaking off her engagement in my other alter-ego’s new story, Irish Cream?
And just how bad is Holly’s captor, and will she finally figure out how to escape in this week’s chapter of Falling in Public?

Oh yeah, and what the heck is up with that couple in this week’s flash prompt? What are they fighting about, and how’s it all going to work out? Guess we'll find out Sunday, eh? Well, I'll find out Friday night...

Questions. The world of a writer is built on questions.

Now, I need to go do my nails. A lovely matte cement color this week. If we’re all lucky, I might even remember to post a photo on my nail blog Tuesday.

Wishing you a week of questions, and the answers to match...

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Flash 52: The Glass Box

2012-02-05T20:55:10Z

I'm doing a project this year called Flash 52 - in which I attempt to write one flash fiction (1k words or less) story per week from prompts I came up with last month. This week's story will be available for one week.

Week 5 Prompt: A well-dressed man is walking down a quiet city street at night, past the dimly-lit store windows with decadent displays. An object in one of the windows catches his eye, and he stops to take a closer look. It reminds him of something...

The Glass Box

Fredrick flipped the collar of his black wool coat up to block the chill from his neck. The street was dark and quiet, a combination some might go out of their way to avoid, but one he happily embraced after the oppressive socialization he was forced to endure day in and day out. Who would have thought that running a book shop would require so much human interaction? Had he realized, he may have opted for a different profession. But it was too late now. The store was his life, the books in it treasures, and he could no more pick up and leave than he could cut off one of his limbs.

As he walked, he glanced at the displays in the dim department store windows. Clothes, shoes, jewelry and toys - all arranged to entice unsuspecting passers-by to take a closer look. Bait, he thought wryly as he stopped in front of a trinket store to examine a brightly colored glass box in the center of the display. A light from underneath made the box glow, scattering random bits of color over the white satin surrounding it and giving the piece itself a sort of ethereal quality.

He frowned, tilting his head to the side as he surveyed the piece. It was familiar, but the memory danced just out of reach. Staring for a few more moments, he finally forced himself to turn away. Perhaps he’d stop in tomorrow before work. Mary Ann’s birthday was in two days, and it would be a suitable gift - with a bit of jewelry inside, of course.

Continuing past the shops and into his neighborhood, he was went up the front walk and let himself into the house. Surprised that the house was dark, he turned on a light and checked his watch. Had he really stayed that long at work? He ate a few bites of the leftover casserole in the refrigerator and went up to bed, careful not to wake his wife.

She was gone the next morning before he woke, as she always was these days. As his eyes adjusted to the morning brightness, he got up and dressed for work, resolute that tonight he would come home on time. Tonight, he’d have dinner with Mary Ann, and they’d spend the evening together like they used to. No matter who was in the store or what book he might be reading, he vowed to be home by six. Not a minute later.

In the light of day, he passed the stores without a second thought, the glass box all but forgotten. The day went by quickly, and as he shrugged into his coat and left that evening, he found himself whistling as he walked down the street, excited to see his bride. As before, the glass box was glowing in the window and this time, the store was still open. Smiling at his good fortune, he went inside.

“I’d like to buy the glass box in the window,” Fredrick said to the man behind the counter, taking out his wallet. “Gift-wrapped, please.”

The man hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, Mr. Smith. That will be two dollars.” He reached beneath the counter and brought out a beautifully wrapped package the same size and shape as the box. “We just happen to have one already wrapped up.”

“Wonderful! My Mary Ann will love it, I’m sure.” He handed over two bills and tucked the gift under his arm. Tipping his hat, he left the store and whistled the rest of the way home.

There was no sign of Mary Ann when he let himself in, so he put the package by her place at the table. Busying himself in the kitchen, he grinned when the doorbell rang - she must have forgotten her keys again, silly woman. It wasn’t his wife at the door though.

“William, come in. I wasn’t expecting you.” He stepped back to allow his brother entry, curious. William went to the dining room, stopping beside Mary Ann’s place and running a finger over box wrapped in vintage paper. Fredrick frowned. He hadn’t noticed how worn it looked until now. He should probably re-wrap it before Mary Ann saw.

“I have some bad news,” William said solemnly. “You may want to sit down.”

Fredrick sat, checking his watch. “What is it? Has something happened?”

William pulled out a chair and sat as well, letting a long sigh loose. “The man at the antique store called me just now, and told me you requested this box again. Can you tell me why you bought it?”

“For Mary Ann, of course.” Fredrick smiled. “I’ll give it to her when she gets home. For her birthday, of course.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this again, Fredrick, but Mary Ann isn’t coming home. She’s been gone for several years now.”

Fredrick frowned. “But that’s not possible. She was in bed last night. I heard her breathing. Her birthday is in two days - the calendar on my phone reminded me.”

“So that’s the trigger,” William muttered. Rubbing his forehead, he braced his forearms on the table. “Your mind is playing tricks on you, brother. It does every year, which is why you buy the jewelry box, and why James, the man at the shop, calls me when you do. We all agreed two years ago that it was easier on you this way.”

“I don’t understand.” Even as he said the words, he felt the truth in William’s statement. “I don’t want to understand. How could I not remember?”

“The psychologist says there’s nothing else she can do. When you’re ready to let go, you will.”

Fredrick nodded. It was coming back now, that last day as she lay in the hospital bed, her body ransacked from the chemo. She’d passed away easily but far too soon, and he’d come home alone to grieve.

The next day, he’d taken her birthday gift back to the shop, unopened.

Just as he would tomorrow.

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Serial Novel: Falling in Public, Ch. 36

2012-02-03T13:18:00Z

This serial novel is posted in draft form every Friday. To receive each installment via email, please sign up here.

Ch.1|Ch. 2|Ch. 3|Ch. 4|Ch. 5|Ch. 6|Ch. 7|Ch. 8|Ch. 9|Ch. 10|Ch. 11|Ch. 12|Ch.13|Ch. 14|Ch. 15| Ch. 16| Ch. 17|Ch. 18| Ch. 19 | Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25 | Ch. 26 | Ch. 27 | Ch. 28 | Ch. 29 | Ch. 30 | Ch. 31 | Ch. 32 | Ch. 33 | Ch. 34 | Ch. 35 |

Falling in Public

Chapter 36

Eddie's fingers loosened only slightly when he heard Winston send his guard away. Cuffs or no, Eddie had been determined to do something if that stupid jerk had touched another hair on Holly's head - especially after the way he'd treated her when he brought her on board. From his aisle seat, he'd seen everything, and if he hadn't been tied down that guard would be dead right now. Seeing Holly hit the floor...

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing as he listened to the quiet murmurs coming from the front rows. As the guard stalked past carrying a damp mop, Eddie raised his eyebrows at Natalie, who was tied to the chair beside him. Her cover had been blown the second Winston's staff saw her in the hallway at the airport - she'd already been on the plane when they dragged him in.

Winston rose from his seat and moved out of the way while the guard he'd called Nelson mopped the floor. Holly cried out as the guard moved farther into the row, and Eddie saw red.

"Winston, if you don't do keep your gorilla under control I will," he called, earning a glare from Sean, and a particularly loud yell from Holly as the mop slid toward her again.

"Eddie?!" She called out, a mixture of relief and fear in her raspy voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he said, his wrists straining at the metal bonds. "I--"

"You need to shut up, both of you," Winston interrupted. He glared at Eddie, then tapped Nelson on the shoulder. "That's good enough. You can sit up front while I have a word with our...guests." He waited until the other man closed the front curtain, and then leaned against the seats behind him and folded his arms over his chest. "Now then. It seems like we have a few misunderstandings to clear up."

Holly laughed at that, a bitter, cynical sound that made Eddie want to wrap his arms around her and protect her from anything else.

"You call kidnapping, attempted murder, more kidnapping and torture constitutes a misunderstanding?"

Winston shrugged. "Would it help if I told you none of that was actually supposed to happen?"

"No."

Eddie bit back a smile. That's my girl.

Sean sighed. "Well, it wasn't. All I ever wanted to do was offer you a sweet deal to write a memoir about me - creative non-fiction, I think they call it. After our little scuffle at the bar, I hired Ellison to get the job done, and take care of Pierce while he was at it. I figured after Pierce was gone, you'd write the book, get your money and leave. But you just had to be stubborn...and I'm afraid my people got a little over zealous with the whole project."

"A little over-zealous. Right." Holly didn't sound impressed, and Eddie couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"You can't be serious. All this to strongarm an author into writing you a fictional memoir? Why didn't you just go hire someone to do that? I'm sure there are plenty of authors who--"

"No!" Winston held up both hands, shaking his head. "It had to be her. I had a deal with her agent...she even told me where to find you that night, Holly. We - you, me and Sandra - were going to be very rich and famous, until Pierce took you away from me. All you had to do was have dinner with me. Maybe dance a little. I would have made all your dreams come true."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Holly said, her voice barely loud enoug for Eddie to hear. "I never would have agreed to a project like that. And Sandra knows it. What were you going to do when I refused the first time?"

Writing Notes: Starting Fresh, Every Time

2012-02-02T00:08:51Z

I'm a planner in every part of my life save writing. With my stories, while I may have a vague idea of an opening scene or the synopsis, I honestly have no idea what I'm going to write when I sit down to start a new story. Or a new scene, for that matter. A friend asked today for "insider information" on one of my serials, and I couldn't have given it to her even if I wanted to, because I haven't written that part yet. All I could give her were guesses...the rest is still locked up in my subconscious somewhere, and odds are good I won't see it until I'm typing it out.

Last week when I sat down to start a new story, the only things I knew were the title and that one of the characters needed an Irish heritage (far removed, because I'm too lazy to research how to write an authentic Irish accent). I had no character names, no back story, nothing. Just the title and a wee bit o' info to go on (I'd apologize, but ya'll should be used to that by now).

A lot of writers would be a quivering mass of anxiety about now, curled up in a corner in the fetal position, repulsed by the nice, crisp-white screen staring them down.

Me...not so much. I welcome the blank page with open arms (or fingers...you know what I mean). When I get ready to write a new scene, I re-read the last section I wrote, and then just pick it up from there. It doesn't matter if I don't know what to write...I just start writing right where I left off. It's not nearly as mystical as it sounds though - it's just that in reading what I've already written, I tap back into the story my subconscious mind was telling me when I quit writing last time, and the story starts going again. If it doesn't start playing again in my head, that means my conscious mind is still in control - which is almost never a good thing. Normally it means I'm fighting the direction my subconscious wants to go. There is no way to win that fight, by the way. Either I give up and just go with it (which is the right answer 99% of the time), or I fight it and struggle with the whole scene to make it fit the direction my conscious mind thinks it should take. I rarely regret listening to my subconscious, even if it takes a ginormous leap of faith at the outset. I often regret listening to my conscious mind regarding a story. My subconscious nearly always is better at storytelling.

Yeah, I know some people call that a "muse"...for me, it's just that area of my brain I can't consciously control. I can't bring myself to give it anymore power by naming it.

When I'm starting a new story, my conscious brain likes to screw around...organizing a new file, creating new chapters/scenes (structurally speaking), pretending I'm actually going to plan the story...

But when I'm actually ready to write, the only thing I can do is just relax and start typing whatever comes to me within the very few confines I've given myself. In most cases, my subconscious has had the title and either a character or scene to ruminate on, and while I have no conscious idea where the story will go, if I just trust myself and start typing, the story will come out. Sometimes I'm even lucky enough to get a glimpse of things to come while I'm writing.

Not to brag or anything, but my subconscious is much smarter/better at being creative than my conscious self. As long as I let the sub. lead (which puts a new spin on things, doesn't it now?), it's all good. Fight the sub, things get ugly.

That story I started last week? Just three hundred words in, I knew the main character's name, what she looks like, her basic back story, and what her character arc would be (roughly). I also knew what the hero looks like, and what his role will be in moving the heroine along the arc she needs to travel. And I know the basics of what types of conflict is in store for them. I even checked Google to see if her name needed to be changed for an Irish heritage - nope. Turns out Breanna is an Americanized version of an Irish name (Brianna/Brian/Brenna) - so it's perfect to denote a far off Irish ancestry along with her red hair/green eyes.

To access all that, I needed to start writing. It's like turning on a tap - and after it starts flowing nicely, I can more or less turn it on or off at will until the story is done.

People ask me all the time how I work on so many different projects at once...and that's how. I simply turn on the tap for whatever story I'm currently working on by re-reading the last bits I wrote, and when I'm done for the night, I turn that tap back off.

You know what that means? Apparently, my brain is a bar, with all sorts of different liquors ready to serve up, depending on my mood.

I don't think life really gets any better than that.

What's on tap in your brain?

Weekly News & Prompt - January 30, 2012

2012-01-30T13:09:00Z

Flash 52 – Week 5 Prompt: A well-dressed man is walking down a quiet city street at night, past the dimly-lit store windows with decadent displays. An object in one of the windows catches his eye, and he stops to take a closer look. It reminds him of something...

I really hope last week was better for you than it was for us. It wasn’t one thing, but many little things that interrupted the normal flow and made it impossible to get back in our “groove” until the weekend. Thankfully, Saturday & Sunday were far more peaceful and productive.

Lots of book stuff to talk about today, so here we go...

I still don’t have the Flash 52 book formatted...and it’s because I’m still waffling on how I want to lay it out, and whether I want to add extras for writers wanting to use it as a practice workbook or not. Honestly, I think I’m just in that “never done it before” procrastination mode, and I need to shake out of it and just get it done. With any luck (and a bit less cowardice), I’ll have it up for sale by next weekend.

I did get the Rattles anthology done and published – if you like flash fiction, check out The Old Sofa at the BrazenSnake Books store – it’s .99 cents until the next anthology comes out. It’s also currently available at Smashwords (link on the BSB store), and it should be trickling onto Amazon and Barnes & Noble sometime this week, and out to Sony, Diesel and the Apple ebook store within a month or so. And of course if any of you writers out there care to give the next flash prompt a go, check out the Rattles site for a very oblong object to write about...

Of course, if you want to download The Old Sofa for free, you could join the Brazen Snake Monthly newsletter. I have it on good authority that this month’s newsletter will include a free code for that particular book in February.

I’ve also been playing with some cover art design this week, as you can see above – for my first flash collection. I think it turned out pretty well for my first attempt. Heart Knocks will include two of the stories I’ve written recently, one I wrote a couple of years ago, and one I wrote for the second Rattles Anthology, At the Water’s Edge:

The Lunch Thief
One More Year
The Franklin Date
Full Circle

Each story is between 800 and 1000 words, which is about 3-4 print pages a piece, and the collection will be permanently priced at .99 cents (25 cents per story). Two of the stories are about love “knocking” with two new opportunities, and two are about second chances after some “hard knocks” in the relationship department. A good selection for Valentine’s Day, if I do say so myself...

Heart Knocks will be available later this week in ebook format – I may eventually make it available in print, but not just yet. And if you sign up for my newsletter, which isn’t even sent out monthly (I’ve been a bit busy), but will be sent out in February, you may just find a free code for this little collection there. Just sayin’.

Finally, if you’re a Trinity Marlow fan, the last novelette in last year’s Working Stiffs series will be out by next weekend as well, and shortly after that, a collection of all five stories.

So lots of formatting/publishing going on in the next couple of weeks, and I hope to be announcing a friend’s next publication in the very near future as well.

That’s pretty much what I’m up to this week – well, and writing more scenes for my serial stories too. I should have a large lot of Smurfs showing up sometime in the next couple of weeks, but I promise not to let it distract me. Much.

Whew! Here’s hoping that where ever you are, you have a better week this week than the last one. That’s really all we can hope for, right?

Serial Novel: Falling in Public, Ch. 35

2012-01-27T13:18:00Z

This serial novel is posted in draft form every Friday. To receive each installment via email, please sign up here.

Chapter 35

"I'm really not sure, Ms. Saunders," Eddie's driver said as he pulled away from the curb. He called me a few minutes ago and asked me to pull around to that door and wait for you. Should I call the police?"

Holly considered that as the car moved farther away from the terminal. "He didn't give you any other instructions? Didn't mention where we should meet him?"

The driver shook his head. "No ma'am." He took a sharp right turn, and Holly lost her balance, falling hard against the door. When she righted herself, her leg numb from the continued pain, she noted they were actually on the tarmac, heading fast toward a small, sleek jet.

"Eddie didn't really call you, did he." It wasn't a question. The sick feeling in her stomach grew stronger as they closed in on the jet. The driver shrugged.

"He did, actually. I merely...took liberties with the content of the call."

Holly glanced around, looking for anything she could possibly use as a weapon, but the car was immaculate. With the wheelchair in the trunk and her leg pretty much useless, it wasn't looking good. Two burly guys in suits were waiting as the car pulled to a stop, and one yanked the door open while the other reached for her. She thought about fighting, but decided to save her strength.

The brute pulled her out of the car and over his shoulder, her head hanging down his back as he anchored her with an arm around her legs. She cried out, but he didn't seem to care as he walked to the plane and climbed the stairs. By the time he lowered her to the ground, tears steamed down her face and she struggled to stand just inside the doorway on one leg.

"Move," he said, shoving at her shoulder. "Don't be a baby."

She couldn't keep her balance and fell, all of her weight on her wound. Bright lights filled her vision and she gasped, hearing voices all around but unable to make out what they were saying. Then it all faded away.

Pain was the first thing she noticed when Holly came to. Her leg, propped up on a seat across from where she was sitting alternately throbbed and burned. Someone had folded a once-white towel over the spot where she'd been shot. It was soaked with blood, and she felt faint just looking at it.

"Drink this."

An open can of orange juice was shoved into her hand, and she looked up, recoiling at the same big man who had shoved her over sitting so close. The can slipped from her fingers and juice splashed everywhere as it hit the floor of the plane. Just then, the aircraft bucked, sending the leaking can rolling across the small space. In an attempt not to throw up, Holly closed her eyes and grabbed both armrests, every muscle in her body rigid with the effort.

"You stupid bitch," the man beside her growled. Holly squeezed her eyes tighter, bracing for the blow she knew would come.

"Touch her, and I'll kill you myself, Nelson. Go get a mop."

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Writer's Notes: Lessons Learned from Philately

2012-01-25T21:45:20Z

Some of you know I have a stamp collection. Although I haven't been actively collecting for awhile, I'm still completely enamored with how pretty much any kind of artwork you can dream up can be miniaturized on a small square or rectangle. Or triangle, as is the case with the Jamestown commemorative stamps.

Philately (stamp collecting) is a tricky thing. If you're not careful when you first start (I know this from experience), you just start collecting every single kind of stamp you can get your hands on. And because a pack of 500 worldwide stamps (most with little or no monetary value) are very inexpensive and easy to get a hold of (especially if you know a collector personally), that's where most people start. It's not a bad way to start...in fact, it's incredibly fun, and you can spend literally *hours* examining those stamps with a little magnifying glass, tweezers (because you don't want any more skin oils on them than necessary), and a bunch of stamp catalogs/magazines (so you can look up the "Scott number" & value of each stamp, along with any variations that are available).

Actually, it's a lot like Smurf collecting, when I put it that way...

Before you know it, you've got way more stamps than you'll ever have time to catalog, and the whole thing can be very overwhelming. Especially when you branch out into collecting covers (which is a fancy word for envelopes bearing stamps). And you put it aside for awhile, not really sure what to do with the behemoth of tiny masterpieces you've created.

Okay, not all stamp collectors do that. But that's what I did.

When I decided to start collecting Smurfs again (What? Stop looking at me like that!), I decided to set up a blog/web site where people could see what I have in my collections, and I could post my want/trade/sales lists all in one place. The lists were requested by my mom for gift-giving purposes...I just sort of took it to the next level (web developers - which is what I am when I'm not writing - instinctively want to put *everything* on the web - I don't even fight it anymore).

I have some...idiosyncrasies that are a bit odd (you could at least pretend you didn't know that). One of those is that if I'm going to name my new collectibles blog The 'S' Collections (in development), and the blog template I pick has space for three photos at the top, then I need three collections to showcase. Besides, three is a more "artistic" number than two. Yes, I know that no matter how I try to spin it, it's still weird. Regardless, I needed three. And since my skunk collection really isn't an active one (no one ever buys me skunks or Pepe stuff, even though I have Pepe tattooed on my ankle), I chose my state spoon collection and my stamp collection as the other two "S" collections to feature.

Dude, I sound totally insane, don't I? Ah, well. That's what it looks like inside a writer's brain. I should have warned you, I suppose.

*Anyways*...I was taking the above photo (yes, we are finally getting close to the point!), and deciding which stamps I wanted to have in it, and the light bulb that should have gone on in my brain a long time ago finally did. The stamp collection would be less overwhelming, more fun, and easier to have a want-list for if I *narrowed my focus*. Instead of collecting *all* sorts of stamps, I needed to narrow it down to the themes/subjects I'm most drawn to, and then it would be more manageable.

Duh.

Do I regret starting off big and general before narrowing down my subjects? Not even a little bit. I'm a person who likes to know all the options before I make a choice. And I think even if you know you'll eventually choose a narrower focus to make things easier to handle, it's good to experience the other offerings too. Not only do you get a broader knowledge base, but it allows you to appreciate more than just one style of anything. And I think that makes for a well-rounded person.

Maybe that's why I don't write in just one genre. I certainly don't read in just one (or two or three). But over the years I've read extensively in pretty much every genre out there...and maybe that's why it wasn't particularly difficult to narrow my writing focus down to three (flash notwithstanding).

With my Smurf collecting, I've been trying to narrow the focus down from the start, and it's not working particularly well. Probably because I need that more "general" experience before I can really get to the heart of what I like and want. And you know what that means...

Anyone want a starter pack of worldwide stamps?

Weekly News & Prompt, January 23, 2012

2012-01-23T18:00:48Z

Week 4 Prompt: A woman walks through a park in her hometown, reflecting in the crisp autumn air. The old carousel is still there, though no longer operational, and she climbs the fence and goes to visit the horse she used to call her own. Glancing between the broken mirrors that line the center control room, she spies an old teddy bear lying against the console...

"It's Monday!" she says, the sarcasm evident for all but the unusually dense. "Are you ready to rumble?"

*chewing her lower lip, she wonders if she can use that last phrase without paying a huge licensing fee...considers using a strikeout replacement like all the cool bloggers do...decides not to go to the effort*

Enough of that, eh?

Last week was an odd one, what with two days off from the day job, dinner out nearly every night due to celebrations and just weird schedules, and my rather scattered brain flitting from thing to thing going "Ooo...shiny!" approximately every hour or so. Despite all of that, I managed to get all of my serial scenes done, *and* I also finally finished the erotica novelette that was supposed to top out around 8k words (it ended up being nearly 15k...so almost double). Yay! It's in the very capable hands of my editor at the moment, so this week, I get to start a new story. Not much makes me happier than starting new stories and finishing others...

I've also chosen the stories for the newest Rattles anthology, so if you're a fan of short fiction, be watching for the new anthology on February 3rd. For writers, if you write flash (or want to start), I'll be posting a new prompt tonight on the Rattles blog, submissions will be due on March 16th for an April release.

I didn't quite get to formatting the Flash 52 book (had Rattles and Smurf stuff to do this weekend), but I'm going to start formatting that tomorrow night, and the plan is to have it published by Friday.

This week, more of the same: serial scenes, some Rattles business stuff and formatting, more bookkeeping catch-up, and more work on organizing my various collections (because it's important to have fun too, dang it!). I've decided to delete my organizing blog, because honestly (and ironically), I'll be more organized without having to worry about that.

So that's the run down - I know I've been slacking on email newsletters lately, but as soon as I get the next few things out, I'll get one of those done too. With any luck, that will go out in February.

Despite my lack of enthusiasm for the day, I hope yours is off to a good start, and that it goes by quickly & productively for all of us...

Serial Novel: Falling in Public, Ch. 34

2012-01-20T12:41:00Z

This serial novel is posted in draft form every Friday. To receive each installment via email, please sign up here.

Chapter 34

Shielded by the file cabinets for a few more seconds, Holly glanced out the window to confirm her fears, all too cognizant of the footsteps coming their way. She probably would have been able to make the six foot jump if not for her bad leg, but Eddie could do it.

"You should go," she whispered, pointing to the window. "Get out and get help."

He shook his head, holding a finger to his lips. Looking all around, he finally stopped and pointed to a small space between the wall and the massive desk. In order to get in it she'd have to slide on her butt between two more file cabinets, but even if the men found her they'd have to move a lot of furniture to get to her.

"Go Eddie. Get help." She sat on the floor and started scooting back into the hole. The men were just on the other side of the file cabinets, and she knew they were out of time. As she started pulling herself between the wall and the desk, she saw Eddie disappear, and could only hope he'd gone out the window soon enough.

Wincing at the pain, she pulled her legs up as tightly to her chest as she could and secured them with her arms. Chaos reigned all around, it seemed, and from the bits and pieces of conversation she caught, they assumed both she and Eddie had run off. Careful not to make a sound, she lowered her head to her knees, praying they wouldn't move the desk.

***

It felt like an eternity to Holly as she waited, but when they were finally all gone, she forced herself to stay hidden longer, just to be sure. When she finally began to unfold herself, she swore her legs creaked in protest when she straightened them. But getting out the way she'd gotten in proved nearly impossible, and by the time she was finally out, tears were running down her face and the her wounded leg burned as if she'd been shot all over again.

Not sure whether the men would be back or not, she knew she had to move. The wheelchair would be conspicuous, but she tried taking a few tentative steps, and nearly fell when her bad leg gave out. Resigning herself to the chair, she sat down and propped her foot up on one of the metal rests. Using her arms, she swung the chair around and wheeled herself to the door, listening carefully before she pulled it open.

The halls were empty, and she made good time - better than she'd thought she would. Following Natalie's instructions, she found the door to the parking lot and let herself out, surprised to find the same driver who had taken her home from Eddie's house that day wating in front of the door.

"Eddie told me you might be needing a lift to the hospital," the man said, holding the rear passenger door open. "Do you need help getting out of the chair?"

She shook her head, but didn't argue when he steadied the chair so she could boost herself up and into the car. Waiting impatiently while he stowed the chair in the trunk, she spoke as soon as he got behind the wheel.

"Where's Eddie? Is he okay?"

Writer's Notes: On Censorship & Piracy

2012-01-18T12:19:00Z

There are a lot of web sites blacked out today...a big protest against the government’s (or should we just say Hollywood's, since they're the major backers?) proposed answer to fighting online piracy. As far as I’m concerned, these two laws will be just as effective as DRM (that’s “digital rights management” for books) – they’ll punish more honest people than they will thwart piracy. And the pirates will find ways around it anyway – any computer or network programmer will tell you that.

Censorship is never the answer to any problem, in my opinion. Whether it’s people telling us what we can read, or what kind of music we can listen to, or what web sites we can visit – it never actually stops the people who want that information from getting it. In fact, it usually just makes them want it more, and do whatever it takes to get it. The people who want it bad enough will find a way, and those who are willing to abide by the rules are screwed out of the freedom to make their own choices.

How do we deal with internet piracy? I don’t have a clue...and I have to be honest, I’m just not all that worried about it. Yes, people pirate my books. No, I don’t lose any sleep over it. Those people wouldn’t buy a copy anyway, in my opinion. I’m well aware that plenty of people disagree with me, and that’s fine. Those of you who feel strongly about it are welcome to find a solution, if you can...

...as long as that solution doesn’t impede my ability to view whatever web site I want to visit, and allows me to link to other web sites without fearing that my site will be shut down due to the other site’s behaviors or links.

Obviously, I’m not blacking out my site(s) today. Because it would be hypocritical of me to limit your ability to view content while protesting laws that would do exactly that (I understand the logic of doing just that, I just don’t necessarily agree w/it). I’m not going offline either – I work on the web, it’s my “home”, so to speak, and going offline to make a point about having access to things online also seems a bit backwards. I will, however, be basing at least a portion of my voting decisions this year based on how the legislators from my state act/react to SOPA/PIPA, and I’m doing something I almost never do and sharing a political opinion in public.

I am closing the comments today – if you have an opinion, by all means, write it up, and post it in your online space.

For more information about these laws, Google has a fairly straight-forward run down here, or do a search (yes, you can still search Google), and you’ll find a plethora of articles about the issue.

Thanks for indulging me. *steps off soapbox*