What if...
...you woke up and the world was empty of all humans? (ooh, maybe I'll use that for F3's "pulp fiction" challenge this week...)
...it stopped raining?
...you were a bear-trainer? lion-tamer? tiger-restrainer?
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Success!
Oh my goodness gracious me. I did not expect that to happen so quickly. After receiving a rather nice, personalized rejection letter from First Stop Fiction yesterday afternoon, this morning, I received the email that every writer hopes for.
6 tales, a ("fledgling," according to Duotrope's Digest) e-zine aimed at showcasing short stories, accepted "Hands," the micro-fiction piece I submitted last week. They will publish it in their August 2011 issue.
WOO HOOOOO!!!!!!!
6 tales, a ("fledgling," according to Duotrope's Digest) e-zine aimed at showcasing short stories, accepted "Hands," the micro-fiction piece I submitted last week. They will publish it in their August 2011 issue.
WOO HOOOOO!!!!!!!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Submission
No, not as in surrendering one's power. As in, submitting one's work to various publications. Which, I suppose, is sort of surrendering one's power. It's out of my hands now; it's up to some unknowable, unnamed "Editor" to decide whether my piece strikes his or her fancy at the particular moment of the particular day he or she happens to read it.
Sigh.
It's slightly stressful. But also wonderfully relieving.
I took the step today of submitting a fiction piece--a 5,000 word piece that drained the life out of me over the last year--to the literary award offered by my community college. Buoyed by the hope intrinsic in the action of letting go, I also submitted it to various online publications. And then I threw another piece, a flash-fiction piece, at a couple other publications. Why not? *shrug* (Thank goodness for duotrope.)
The frightening act of submission is saying--here you go, world. I believe this piece is at a point where, if it were to be published tomorrow, I wouldn't be (too) embarrassed by it. (Because a piece is never really done, right?) But letting a piece float into the atmosphere of our universal, communal spirit also provides a sense of freedom. I can focus on other things now. At least, for the moment, anyway. Give it four months. When I still haven't heard back from the editor and I'm wondering if anyone will ever love me, we'll see how I feel.
Sigh.
It's slightly stressful. But also wonderfully relieving.
I took the step today of submitting a fiction piece--a 5,000 word piece that drained the life out of me over the last year--to the literary award offered by my community college. Buoyed by the hope intrinsic in the action of letting go, I also submitted it to various online publications. And then I threw another piece, a flash-fiction piece, at a couple other publications. Why not? *shrug* (Thank goodness for duotrope.)
The frightening act of submission is saying--here you go, world. I believe this piece is at a point where, if it were to be published tomorrow, I wouldn't be (too) embarrassed by it. (Because a piece is never really done, right?) But letting a piece float into the atmosphere of our universal, communal spirit also provides a sense of freedom. I can focus on other things now. At least, for the moment, anyway. Give it four months. When I still haven't heard back from the editor and I'm wondering if anyone will ever love me, we'll see how I feel.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Star Wars
Okay, so I don't know enough about science fiction to do this week's F3 challenge. But can I give an ordinary scene some sort of sci-fi vibe? Can I use these never-before-seen words in a (somewhat) accurate context? Let's see...
STAR WARS
This really is good mind food, Amy thought as she spooned Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey into her mouth. Just a few bites, and she already felt perkier and better than she had in days. It didn't matter that she was eating it for breakfast. Whoever said it was a cliche for a heartbroken woman to eat ice cream obviously came from a different galaxy. Ice cream really does make the universe a brighter place. She snuggled deeper into her worn leather seat, her slippered feet resting on the metal square that substituted as a coffee table. All that was missing was a cat (or two) and sappy music playing in the background while a montage of her life with Brian flashed on the TV screen.
Ah, Brian. He had the capacity to burn through her heart like a needler, a blazing burst of concentrated light shearing through what little strings she had left on her sanity. He had the audacity to explode into her previously humdrum single life just a few months earlier with the energy of a stellar engine, bringing a much-needed vitality. He whisked her to another dimension, made her feel as though it was okay to hope for something more. To think that maybe the ordinary was anything but.
She wished she could move at warp speed, a superluminal wave of energy through the atmosphere. Maybe then she could get away from the the slow-motion farce that made up her life. Amy sighed.
Brian had been larger than life, an unreal hologram downloaded into the wetware of her brain that she needed to force quit. His betrayal hurt more than she would admit.
Her spoon hit the bottom of the ice cream pint. Already? She dragged her protesting body off the chair and dumped the empty carton in the trash chute before changing out of her pajamas and into her spacesuit. She couldn't keep the crew waiting much longer. She had a ship to repair, thanks to the traitor she had trusted.
Prompt: THEMED WORD LIST, thanks to 75 Words Every Sci-Fi Fan Should Know – Stellar Engine, mind food, needler, superluminal, and wetware
Genre: Sci-fi themed pot-boiler
Word Count: Under 1500 words
Deadline: Thursday, March 24, 2011 4:30 pm EST
Word Count: Under 1500 words
Deadline: Thursday, March 24, 2011 4:30 pm EST
STAR WARS
This really is good mind food, Amy thought as she spooned Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey into her mouth. Just a few bites, and she already felt perkier and better than she had in days. It didn't matter that she was eating it for breakfast. Whoever said it was a cliche for a heartbroken woman to eat ice cream obviously came from a different galaxy. Ice cream really does make the universe a brighter place. She snuggled deeper into her worn leather seat, her slippered feet resting on the metal square that substituted as a coffee table. All that was missing was a cat (or two) and sappy music playing in the background while a montage of her life with Brian flashed on the TV screen.
Ah, Brian. He had the capacity to burn through her heart like a needler, a blazing burst of concentrated light shearing through what little strings she had left on her sanity. He had the audacity to explode into her previously humdrum single life just a few months earlier with the energy of a stellar engine, bringing a much-needed vitality. He whisked her to another dimension, made her feel as though it was okay to hope for something more. To think that maybe the ordinary was anything but.
She wished she could move at warp speed, a superluminal wave of energy through the atmosphere. Maybe then she could get away from the the slow-motion farce that made up her life. Amy sighed.
Brian had been larger than life, an unreal hologram downloaded into the wetware of her brain that she needed to force quit. His betrayal hurt more than she would admit.
Her spoon hit the bottom of the ice cream pint. Already? She dragged her protesting body off the chair and dumped the empty carton in the trash chute before changing out of her pajamas and into her spacesuit. She couldn't keep the crew waiting much longer. She had a ship to repair, thanks to the traitor she had trusted.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
What-If Wednesdays: No What-If is Useless
I thought it might be fun to begin collecting "what-ifs" as a way to help myself (or anyone else) in the future when it seems as though you've hit a brick wall. Maybe these prompts can get inspiration flowing again? They are meant to be silly, true, not-true, crazy, sane, unbelievable, depressing, optimistic, etc...
What if...
...the moon exploded?
...a next-door neighbor was actually a CIA operative?
...someone went to work one morning to find the doors chained shut and the boss gone?
...wind really does bring about change?
Contribute your what-ifs in the comments section.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Changing Wind
It seemed apropos this morning that while I was revising a short story titled "Dust Storm," the wind howled outside my corner window. In the darkness of dawn, desolation leaked into my corner study, invading my body and jumbling up my insides.
My story deals with themes of abandonment and despair, and the protagonist, Ally, must make a choice: continue the same lonely path (which would keep her safe) or choose a brighter future (which may bring danger to her doorstep).
Currently, Ally's keeping herself in the same situation, where she's stifled, scared, yearning, lonely and, well, safe.
Have you ever questioned choices you've made and realized you may be outgrowing those choices? Realized you may want more? Even if it's not safe?
Perhaps in the future, Ally will be ready to make a different choice.
My story deals with themes of abandonment and despair, and the protagonist, Ally, must make a choice: continue the same lonely path (which would keep her safe) or choose a brighter future (which may bring danger to her doorstep).
Currently, Ally's keeping herself in the same situation, where she's stifled, scared, yearning, lonely and, well, safe.
Have you ever questioned choices you've made and realized you may be outgrowing those choices? Realized you may want more? Even if it's not safe?
Perhaps in the future, Ally will be ready to make a different choice.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Flash Fiction: On My Way Home
Inspired by the caffeine-fueled compositions written by my friend, Becky, I decided to have some fun. I thought I'd maybe do a "Flash Fiction Friday" kind of thing here, but Googled it first to see if someone else had already had the idea. Of course, they had. But I found this great site that gives a prompt each Friday, and I decided to give it a go.
Prompt: THEMED WORD LIST – road, beer, luck, coin, pot, gold, rainbow, snakes
Genre: Open
Word Count: Under 1000 words
Deadline: Thursday, March 17, 2011 4:30 pm EST
Written in about 11 minutes, here is: On My Way Home
Prompt: THEMED WORD LIST – road, beer, luck, coin, pot, gold, rainbow, snakes
Genre: Open
Word Count: Under 1000 words
Deadline: Thursday, March 17, 2011 4:30 pm EST
Written in about 11 minutes, here is: On My Way Home
On a back road in the desert, winding through undulating cliffs of sunset—red, orange, pink, yellow—brilliant in one section, pastel in the next, muted and gray following, I am on my way home, to a bright and shining city of gold, where reality is suspended and improbability is taken for granted. Where rainbows dance at night and luck shines on everyone and beer is free—as long as you keep putting money in the pot. Where, amongst noise of laughter and music and coins falling from the sky, vendors shout their wares, passing out pamphlets that promise a good time with the prettiest girl in town. I am on my way home, I am on a mission, a one-man vigilante squad, intent on eradicating these snakes that peddle the human flesh, as though a human is something that can be bought or sold.
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