Writtenwyrdd

Check out Charles Gramlich's interview here:

http://richardgodwin.wordpress.com/2010/08/30/chin-wag-at-the-slaughterhouse-interview-with-charles-gramlich/

It's great stuff!

Cool site: OF Blog of the Fallen

Did a bit of link-clicking and ended up at a nicely written and interesting site: OF Blog of the Fallen, "Eclectic and striving never to follow paths into ruts, the OF Blog focuses on essays, reviews, interviews, and other odds and ends that might be of interest to fans of both literary and speculative fiction." 

This blog is rather literary discussion forum for speculative fiction.  Cool stuff. 

UPDATE:  link is now fixed.  [Sorry, I'm an idiot.  How was it I was a high level admin person for so many years?  Hmmm....]

Trailer (Trash) Tuesday: Troll 2 deliciousness

Now how could I have missed the chilling thrillfest that are the Troll movies?  Check out the trailer for Troll 2 here.

Trailer (Trash) Tuesdays are a new and occasional feature brought to you by me having too much spare time on my hands. 

And for the source of this link, check out Avalanche Software's blog by it's creative artistic types.

And the winner is.....

I got the votes tallied and we have the decision you all made.  

First place, with 7 votes:  Charles Gramlich!

Second place, with 6 votes:  Avery DeBow!

Best Use of the Prompt, with 4 votes:  Whirlochre!

Congratulations to the winners!

Please email me at writtenwyrdd AT live DOT com with your choice of prizes and your snail mail addresses.  Charles gets first pick, Avery gets second, and Whirl gets 3rd.  Avery, give me your first and second choice; and Whirl give me your first, second and third choice in case the first 2 are taken.

How not to write...

The Ten Commandments of Crime Fiction, by Dana Kaye at Hey, There's A Dead Guy In My Livingroom blog. 

The Ten Commandments of Crime Fiction

1.    Thou shall not cut your characters any slack

Plots are most compelling when the characters have the odds stacked against them

2.   Thou shall develop your characters

No one likes one-dimensional characters

3.    Thou shall not head hop

Switching POV mid-scene pulls readers out of the story

4.    Thou shall earn every coincidence

While life contains many coincidences, they have little place in your novel

5.    Thou shall omit unnecessary scenes

If a scene does not further the plot, it has no place in your novel

6.    Thou shall not rely on cliché

Does this really require explanation?

7.    Thou shall omit needless adverbs

We don’t need to know how someone sighed or shrugged or shouted

8.    Thou shall utilize your setting

The setting of your novel should enhance your characters and plot

9.    Thou shall revise

I don’t care what your mother says, your first draft is not perfect

10.  Thou shall not settle

Don’t settle on an easy ending or an easy fix to a plot problem

Happy Bloggaversary to Writtenwyrdd blog!

Wow.  4 years of blogging between the old blogspot habitat and here at Typepad.  At this point, including a couple dozen posts in the queue, I have 1689 posts here at Typepad and 512 on blogger, which makes-- wow!-- 2201 posts!  (If I only wrote that much fiction...)

Whether lurkers or regular commenters, I appreciate that you guys stop by and read my blather.  Always glad to share in the writing avoidance. :)

I am not the most prolific writer in the universe, the gods know; but I enjoy it when I have time, and I enjoy talking about it, probably more.  Being able to have a community of fellow writers, many of whom are friends now, has been a wonderful experience.  I hope that we all continue to interact and even meet in person, clink glasses and bend a few elbows together. 

This past year in review. 
Every year seems to bring new things to the blogging world, even though many seemingly stay the same.  I visited with Bernita this year and we had a blast.  I've met a couple of other folks via the internet, none of whom are bloggers, but met via online courses.  It's a marvelous thing, the internet.  Community is being redefined by it, in some respects.

Sadly, we also lost our blog pal Bevie, who died and left a hole in the community of friends. 

But overall there have been a lot of successes in the sphere of the blogs where I natter about. Charles Gramlich has prolifically gotten a number of projects out there.  Bernita Harris has her first novel published, Dark & Disorderly.  Betsy Dornbush and the others running Electric Spec are still doing a fantastic job at the ezine, and Betsy's novel Quenched is out soon.  Stacia Kane has released the first 3 volumes of the super fantastic Downside series.  Carolyn Crane's first novel is out, Mind Games, and the second book in the series is due to release shortly.  Tia Nevitt has a novella releasing soon.  So much good stuff.  (I hope I haven't missed anyone.)

Well, thanks again, and congrats on whoever wins the ongoing contest.  I'll tally the votes and announce the winner tomorrow. 

Vote totals so far...

There's a tie for best use of prompt. Charles is leading for 1st, and Avery is leading for second by 2.

VOTES CLOSE TOMORROW MIDNIGHT, SUNDAY, AUGUST 29TH. 

What's your peeve?

Over at Blood Red Pencil, new contributor Jim Thomsen has some great observations about common errors found during copyediting.  It's worth a read so you can learn to watch out for them.

Basically, though, the list is

Comma Splices (sentence-smoosh syndrome)

Unclear phrasing (proper noun pinches)

Incorrect homonym choice (homonym homicide)

Inconsistency in verb tense (tense tangles)

Mis- or over-use of hyphens ;) (hyphen hellspawning)

So which of these to you embody unintentionally, and what are you going to do about it?  What bugs you when you read it?  What annoys you so grievously you must either toss the book or kill something?

Officer Mindset: Police Procedural Thoughts For Writers, Part I

Intro.  Seeing as there's an awful lot of either sleuthing or police procedural sorts of behaviors/ plot developments in urban fantasies, I thought I'd trot out my dusty (and limited) cop skills and mention a few salient points to you all regarding issues that may be handy to know while writing your stories.

In this post, I'll talk about things that can help you get yourself into the cop mindset-- things you may not think of like officer safety, cynicism, the effects of shift work and long hours, etc.  In later posts, I'll talk about search and seizure, evidence collection, legal terms you might find useful, and methods of intelligence gathering and research.  Also, I'll be tossing a few rants to counteract some of glibness and downright falsifying of facts that go on in television shows.  Hopefully the series will give those of you who want to try a police procedural story some insight in how to think like a cop.

Now, I am not claiming to be any sort of know-it-all-don't-question-my-godlike-authority expert. However, experience is an excellent tool, and I thought I'd share some of mine with you as filtered through my writerly perceptions in hopes it'll be of use to you in your own writing. 

In other words, I think I can give you perspective on cop thinking as well as enough information to give you some realistic chops when you are writing a scene involving cops or crime or prisoner transport and such.

Okay.  *cracks knuckles*  Bear with me while I ramble on as thoughts occur to me...

OUTSIDE, LOOKING IN: A bit about what the life's like. 
For a writer to convey a character in a particular job, it's of course useful to have a clue how that person thinks while on the job, and what sorts of people tend to populate that particular field.  Engineers tend to be analytical and good at math, for example.  However, assumptions from the outside looking in can be waaaay off base.  Sometimes, people see a uniform as a single entity or personality.  Thus, a cop becomes a generic entity in the minds of the general public, and, if written that way, a cardboard character with no spark.  

People in law enforcement get there for as many reasons as there are people.  And the culture of the job varies from city to city, state to state, bureau or agency to bureau or agency.  The jobs can vary dramatically as well.  Authorities and roles and agency policies and SOPs (standard operating procedures) vary.  For example, ATF agents do not make traffic stops and write tickets.  Border Patrol agents DO make traffic stops, but they don't have the same authorities as state troopers and they don't write tickets.  Customs officers do not have to have probable cause to search your vehicle at the border, but a police officer would, barring other circumstances.  

So check your assumptions if you're portraying an existing agency and do a bit of research on them before you write them.  Even if you are entirely correct in your assumptions, you may glean some details that will add that magic touch of reality to your writing!

OFFICER MINDSET.  
Being a cop doesn't indicate a martyr complex.  Cops are not by nature suicidal, either (although suicide is a job hazard due to the stress of the job). Yes, cops run the risk of dying on the job...but they would vastly prefer to go home that night.  And they train and plan so they do.  Despite what delusions Joe Q. Public might harbor in terms of how 'heroic'  a cop is supposed to act (and tv often paints this as leaping in front of someone and taking a bullet or other insane behaviors) cops are not required to risk themselves in such a manner or to die to save anyone else.  (The only agency that requires that is Secret Service on presidential detail and for obvious reasons.)  

So here's the reality:  A cop's focus is on doing the job, but it's also on staying alive.  Cops are not expected to be stupidly  heroic and enter situations where they cannot win.  They call in back up before going into a building.  They stay behind cover to shoot back at the guy who's shot their partner.  They are not, ever, required to jump in front of bullets to save someone else.  In fact, if a cop's partner is down, forgetting to save yourself first reduces the partner's chance of survival.  Because if you both are down, who's going to keep the gun-toting assailant at bay?   The bad guy's already proven he plans on killing you!

Being safe.  Being safe doesn't mean 'cower behind a car when someone is shooting up the place.'  A cop is supposed to respond to situations where there is violence or weapons, to protect the public and enforce the laws.  But remember what I said about crazy risks?  The issue is not avoiding involvement, it's maximizing your chances to deal with the issue and stay alive while doing it.   

Sometimes, crazy-ass heroics are a matter of conscience or instinct.  Training doesn't take away instinctive choices that people make, like parents sacrificing themselves to save their children.  Cops do that sort of thing as well.  But the training and strategic thinking is to not take crazy risks, to be safe and ensure you go home that night.  Anyhow, like anything in life involving your moral yardstick, you have to ask yourself the tough questions about what you would risk your life for, and why.  The answer is often situation driven and  the choice reached in a nanosecond because your gut takes over.  And if you do have time to consider the stupidity of a course of action, it's often about whether you can live with yourself if you don't take that risk*.  (Going into a burning building to save a life, for example.) (*I say this from personal experience.  And, no, I am not going into details.)

It's stressful.  Law enforcement officers and the military have a lot in common.  Both, while in 'combat mode', train and plan and constantly think about contingencies, reassessing their environments and determining threat/no threat-- a very stressful and tiring mindset to maintain day in and day out. 

So a cop runs through his day, both on and off duty, paying attention to his surroundings.  A general (and in no wise complete) sort of running dialog can go on and on like this:  Who is on the street, what are they doing?  Am I being targeted/followed, what looks out of place? Is someone following me home?  Have I used the same route home too many times?  Is there someone hiding in that shadow, and is it a drug deal? What's that thing in her hand--a drug buy? a cell phone?  Checking out the shapes of possible weapons under the clothes of people hanging out on the street.  Checking out the looks people give you.  Who's near the stop-and-rob that's been robbed six times this month?  Why are those kids hanging outside it?  Do any match BOLOs ?  Did I see a gun in that guy's waistband?  Where's my partner? What's he saying, watch his reactions for clues.  Make sure noone's sneaking up behind us.  Where are that guy's hands.  Hey, why's he reaching into the back of his waistband--gun! gun! Draw, aim, yell at him to drop it and meanwhile move for cover.  Where's my partner, cover my partner!  Et cetera. 

Omitting that last bit, try this yourself while walking down the street. (I do not recommend you do this while driving!) It's damnably difficult, isn't it?  No one can stay in that state of readiness forever.  Not even for very long.   And someone working a beat has to do this to varying degrees throughout every shift, and even when off duty because they are still cops, still required to carry a weapon, still required to respond to crimes that they observe.  (There is a reason I am not a beat cop, and this mind set epitomizes it.)  Exhausting. (But let me add that the alertness level goes up and down somewhat so it's not at high alert at all times.  Nobody can maintain that without going nuts.  You can be so wound up after a day like that you can't wind down, can't sleep, and maybe turn to alcohol to do so...)

The human factor.  People often think that a cop is unfeeling or that they aren't trying hard enough to solve a crime.  This is (usually, IMO) people talking from their own pasts, when bad things have happened and the crime wasn't solved, or when the cops weren't able to save them, or (sadly) when they've been mistreated, profiled, or otherwise somehow suffered at the hands of the law. 

That sort of experience colors what the public brings to the equation.  But the other half of the equation is what the cop brings to it.  Is she friendly or stiff?  Cold or warm? Does he smile, issue pleasantries that actually seem to fit his face?  Or does he make a fake smile, one that fails to reach the eyes or which is hidden behind dark sunglasses?  (I know people hate sunglasses, but cops do wear them and I think it's a good idea because I personally like to be able to see with sun glare. So the public just has to deal with that one, lol.)

Anyhow, as a person who's been on both sides, I can see how people might see the cop is being unfriendly, or uncaring if they keep "cop face" on and hide behind that mask.  It's a mask, though.  The need to keep your thoughts off your face is one that is an important tool for questioning.  It doesn't mean a cop doesn't care when something horrible happens.  It doesn't make them unfriendly, either.  Sometimes, it's the outrage of the individual that colors the occasion.  People yell at cops who pull them over for speeding all the freaking time.  (Bad move, by the way.  Just shut up.  Don't argue. You might get just a warning.) 

But, lest you forget, people lie to cops all the freaking time.  Sometimes you find yourself cynically thinking that "if their lips are moving, they're lying"...because it can feel like that.  And cops are not paid to believe anyone.  So it's both a job tool and easier for them to keep that neutral face, the face that is often perceived as uncaring.  And sometimes, when the day's been that awful, they are trying to keep the horrors of the day at bay. 

This is not to say that a cop shouldn't make the attempt to be friendly and 'normal seeming' to people they deal with.  It's just that some are worse at it than others.  Especially rookies.  Rookie syndrome makes people uptight, too strict, and, frequently, asses.  (This is not a popular statement.  But everyone wants to pass probation, and the new guys are both lacking street sense, experience, and a sense of when to cut some slack and when to tighten up.  It's a learning curve.)

And I'll tell you, it's a rare person who can totally switch the cop mode on and off like that, so they can be friendly, sympathetic, likeable...and then switch gears when necessary.  It's a rare person whose mannerisms don't give away their cop-ness.  (Which makes undercover agents like Billy Queen totally amazing.)

Emotional hazards.  Truthfully, one of the reasons cop marriages often fail is that the job really does create a strong tendency to become that mask-laden cop at home.  And the cynicism that comes along with constantly trying to decide if someone is lying to you, that suspicion and need to analyze every freaking thing you come across, that inability to trust... it's very damaging to the cops that can't turn it off. 

Additionally, it's interesting to understand what a cop might be thinking when they stop you.  First, if you were being naughty, they are expecting trouble.  If you give them grief, do not expect them to smile and shrug it off.  I would expect reasonable behavior and manners in their instructions to you, but don't be surprized if they are stone faced and squinty eyed and look at you sideways like they suspect you of lying like a rug.  They are.  Like I said before, it's what they do.

However, if it's routine, say they are knocking on your door to see if you have heard anything about a missing person, or may have observed something pertinent to a crime.  If you are cordial, they will be cordial.  Same with traffic stops.  That professional demeanor is officer presence.  You are expected to have it as a means of conveying your authority.  Uniform and demeanor are the first tools in the cop's tool box. Fact is, a lot of people assume that demeanor is the officer being 'rude' or 'unfriendly' or 'abuse of authority.' 

Cops do not shoot to wound.  As I mention in a previous post on firearms, the police do not shoot to wound.  They train to shoot so that they will survive the encounter...and that means they shoot for the biggest target, the torso.  And if the person doesn't go down, they assume body armor and shoot for the next target that will do the job: the head or groin.  Mostly, cops train to double tap the chest and then target the head if the target is still combative. 

That training should give you a clear picture of how an officer will approach a combat situation.  They are not messing about, and they will not idiotically brandish a gun and holler "Halt or I'll shoot" over and over.  They'll verbally identify themselves as police officers and command someone to halt, but there are typically no multiple warnings.

Good cops going bad.  Sadly, it happens.  But, being human, human foibles apply.  If you ask yourself what you'd do if you found a pile of money on the street, would you keep it?  If you thought you'd get caught, I bet you'd toe the line.  But if you thought you'd get away with keeping it, I bet a large percentage of folks would opt for keeping the money.  And cops are human, too. 

Then there's the other, more obvious, temptations, like abuse of power.  I like to think that it's very slim a minority of cops who give way to the lure of power or easy money.  But it happens.  I won't belabor this one; I know you can use your imaginations.

Home life.  Some victim advocacy groups believe the rate of domestic violence and abuse is greater by a large margin in police officers' families than in civilian families.  Similar statistics have been cited for service members returning from Iraq.  Police skills and knowledge of the system can work against such domestic violence victims, leaving them at risk, their safe houses compromised and the abuser able to continue the abuse with the unwitting or even willing assistance of their coworkers who may not know the situation.  (Fellow officers, after all, know the person and think 's/he couldn't possibly do something like that.')

So if you should have this as a scenario in a novel, do consider the implications inherent in this situation.

At any rate, like I've said, these are just some general thoughts to give you some insights for writing police procedurals. 

 

GET OUT THE VOTE!

If I figured it right, the vote so far is as follows:

#1 - "Blood of the Daemonium" by Simon Kewin with 3 votes, with second place Charles Gramlich's "Eyes Like Fangs" at 2 votes.

#2 - tied at 2 votes each are "Eyes Like Fangs" by Charles Gramlich & "This Hell Of Dying" by Avery DeBow. Several others have a single vote and are still in the running

#3, best use of prompt - In the lead with 3 votes, "The End" by Sarah Laurenson, followed by "Android," by Whirlochre and "This Hell of Dying," by Avery DeBow (tied at 2 votes)

Voting at http://tinyurl.com/2eppasu

"I think of popular fiction as a type of folk art (like folk music), building on a long tradition, with old practitioners teaching new respect for the tradition, and the new ones innovating in often subtle ways while maintaining the traditions. Well, one advantage this gives pop fic writers is that we can count on readers to know the traditions about as well as we do, and that gives us an additional layer to build on: What is expected." Alicia, at Edit Torrent

I like that concept.  It definitely describes the process of how literature changes over time.  If we writers chose to do something totally avant guarde, we would likely have no one who understands what we are trying to do artistically, and any meaning in the prose would be diluted by either the readers' confusion or their irritation that old ways of communicating via writing are not followed. 

One of the things I have a problem with art: the insiders may understand and enjoy the intellectualizing of what some modern artist is doing by stringing sheets for several miles...but most of the public who pays for the art doesn't get it, doesn't like it, and finds it stupid. 

Maybe it's stupid, being too cutting edge...but if you alienate your target audience, who's going to represent, publish or buy your book?

I accidentally counted the prompt in Amy's two entries, so I've revised her word count. I also corrected the last line of WWIII.

Cool site: Workforced

A bit ascerbic and at times even harsh, Workforced is a blog that has a lot of truth behind the whip-crack of its office-themed humor.  If you like Dilbert but want more of an edge, go check it out here.  If I'm feeling mean because Management has been being jerkwads, this site makes me feel vindicated. 

Win free stuff!

A threesome of contests:

Cindy Pon is offering a massive 10-volume comiccon giveaway. I'm a bit confused what, exactly she's requiring you to do to enter, but I think just retweeting or linking to the contest is enough.   US residents only.  Ends Friday, September 3rd.

Janet Mullany over at Supernatural Underground is giving away a free copy of her upcoming book, Jane And The Very Damned, if you can give her a name for the feral vampires.  Come up with the name for the vampires who go feral and post the answer in the comments here.  If she likes it, you win.  

Another quick contest by Janet Mullany here.  Ends August 31st.

4th Bloggaversary contest entries! Come vote!

Yup.  It's four years ago on August 29th that I started blogging at the old site.  [Wow.  You guys just can't get rid of me!]  So, in honor of the occasion, such as it is, we are having yet another contest. [You may have noticed, given the intense manner in which I have flogged this puppy.] 

The contest consisted of a 200-250 word (preferably urban fantasy) flash fiction tale, using a prompt created using reader input. The contest rules are here, and the prompt is

She slumps in the clammy darkness, her mind as dark and empty as the cavern, her bones aching with chill.  She is tired, not the ordinary kind, but pure exhaustion so that she wants to die.  And, with it, her enemies are winning: she can no longer fight them off.  When the needle accurately finds her vein with the unholy injectables, fire dives and weaves within her blood.  Her power responds, rises within--the precursor to much, much worse than loss of control."

The entries follow the break, with links to the authors' blogs or websites if I have them.  Some of you went over; I accepted the entries anyway.  :)

Entrants, please email me if you find any errors in your entries and I'll fix them a.s.a.p.  The vagueries of glitchy programs (and likely my own glitches) caused the italics and paragraphing to disappear (lord knows how that occurred) and I had to put it back manually.

Votes go in the comments of this post, and will consist of the following categories:

1. Best story
2. Runner up
3. Best use of the prompt in the story

Prizes will be as follows, chosen by the winners in the above-listed order.  Pictures and details here:

1. A Buddy Christ bobble head;
2. A Nunzilla;
3. The anthology Steampunk by editors Ann & Jeff Vandemeer;
4. Or the possibly risky and very speculative option to have me come up with some semi-personalized art for you. 

Everyone can vote, so, if you would, please link to this post and drum up the voters.  After all, it can only help your cause if you entered!

VOTING CLOSES SUNDAY, AUGUST 29TH.  One vote per voter for each category.  However, you can bribe your friends and family to vote for the cause. :)  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 1: The End, by Sarah Laurenson (168 words)

She weaves with unholy thread. Clammy injectables of gut thrown through a foundation of ordinary silk. Warp and weft born of death. With exquisite control, the shuttle dives across as the shed yaws for another pass. The beater taps and snugs the intestine tight. 

“Take that baby up.” Her gnarled fingers point at the red and grey scarf waiting to be released from the humidity of her cavern and blocked to dry in the sun. Customers ooh and aah over each piece as it’s brought into the light. She never sees nor hears them. She will not leave this stool, this loom, this place of death spun into new life.

The last of her kind. No apprentice has come forth to take on this task. Her shoulders slump as she contemplates the end of her own life. Closer than she wishes, farther than she fears. She will not be woven into a new existence. She will depart this mortal coil and be no more. The thought brings relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 2: Unguarded by J. J. DeBenedictis (267 words)

The demon whispers in her mind, They will release me.

Fury gives her another moment's strength to resist the drugs. Are you gloating?

Merely saying goodbye. Its voice slithers across her struggling psyche. You might have said yes, back when your mother died and I came to you. This moment could be very different.

She clings to and fights her rage as if it is a drowning friend. Her veins are alight with chemicals and power, but her control is dissolving. Don't you taunt. Her bravado is habit. I've long practice ignoring you.

Therein, the problem.

She can barely concentrate to form the mind-words. Get thee back to your bolt-hole.

The demon's silence tricks her into thinking it gone, and surprise nearly undoes her when the thing hisses back, I don't want to be free. I only want you.

She must fight to keep from splitting wide--from spilling her power out for her captors to harvest, to subjugate, to drain. The demon quiets, sensing her struggle.

Only when she has fought back from the brink does it send a murmur up her spine like a caress. This moment could be different.

Hallucinations are threatening, edging into her mind with persuasive alternatives to the fight she must not abandon. She is so divorced from her body she barely registers the stink of her relaxing bowels.

Different... The demon's voice soothes, as familiar as a discarded lover.

Defeat is creeping toward her, and exhaustion flays her resolve. Her mind's voice jangles with hysteria and despair. How?

And in that moment, she feels the magnitude of her abrupt mistake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 3: With Eyes Like Fangs, by Charles Gramlich (248 words)

She slumps in the clammy darkness, her mind as dark and empty as the cavern, her bones aching with chill.  She is tired, not the ordinary kind, but pure exhaustion so that she wants to die.  And, with it, her enemies are winning: she can no longer fight them off.  When the needle accurately finds her vein with the unholy injectables, fire dives and weaves within her blood.   Her power responds, rises within--the precursor to much, much worse than loss of control. 
1
In the forest they hunt their prey by its scent of weakness.  They find the cavern with icicle eyes, prism eyes, with eyes like cicatrixes.  Scaled hands and furred ones work spasmodically on weapons.  Claws click on steel while in wet mouths fangs ache with hatred.  In a darkling mist they gather for the kill. 

2
She smiles, lifts her hands.  A light burns inside her.  Through the skin, she sees.  First, she glories in her strength.  Then her mind centers.  She senses the forces arrayed against her outside.  Her smile widens until the skin splits at the corners of her mouth. 

“Let it begin,” she murmurs. 

3
The watchers in the woods see the light flare within the cavern.  They stir, restless in rage.  And when the prey strides free of its hiding place into the rain, they fall upon her with taloned feet and leathery wings, their throats filled with howls and shrieks. 

But the prey is no longer weak.  They have been tricked.  Strength meets their strengths.  Their bodies shatter upon it.  In moments, the clearing before the cavern writhes with the dead and dying.

“Mother!” the bloody ones cry.  “Mother!  Do not forsake us!”

4
She looks upon her dying children, and begins to feed.  In the black forest, the males begin to call.  She hears them even over the crunch of bones.  In a moment she will release her own mating cry, will invite the males to join her.

Perhaps her next brood will be stronger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 4: I Am Ordained, by Anonymous (254 words)

Though she is used to the pain the eruption of her wings cause, she still emits a feral growl as they emerge  behind her.  She can hear the little bastard coming now.  Her hunter.

‘There is no way he can stop me’ she mutters ‘I am ordained.’ 

Checking her weapon, she climbs up the ladder to the service doors in the sidewalk.  Around her the street is crowded with the midday rush.  She is not more than fifteen feet from the ground when the bullet hums past.  She is not so lucky with the flame-thrower. 

‘The little bastard has friends.  Ok boys, playtime is over!’ 

She dives to the ground, grabbing one of the assailants.

He emerges from the darkness of the underground to see his friend being set ablaze.  He fires his weapon indiscriminately, bullets cutting through the terrified crowd.  The second assassin joins the fray, he too seemingly not to care who he kills in the process of exterminating her.  She grabs the corpse lying at her feet, using it as a shield.   Being better trained then those hunting her, she only needs two bullets to stop the destruction. 

‘They have not left me much time.’

With haste she flies across the city to her destination.   It is a large room, a bit ostentatious for her tastes. She selects a large chair just inside the French doors to wait.  The Pope, finished with his speech turns back into the room. 

‘Godspeed Your Holiness,’ she whispers as his blood pools at her feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 5: Android, by Whirlochre (243 words)

We pumped the words over and over into the dumbass android's uploader, this way, that way, any way, till our stranded ship's power flickered on the brink of defunct.

Kozmizearpozinsky shook his head.  "It's no good, it's no damn good..."

"This is no time for a diatribe about your hang-ups, Quentin" I said, "the bots named you Kozmizearpozinsky, so Kozmizearpozinsky it is.  Now stop wasting precious time bleating about your unfortunate Pan-cosmic ID, motherfucker."

"Correction:  I am not, on this occasion, having another flip-out about my goddamn name.  And as for wasting precious time, whose diatribe was it just cost us another bunch of precious seconds?  Precious seconds I could have been using to get over what was actually an uncharacteristic sigh of despair about my inability to unlock the only thing aboard this vessel that can save us both, namely this irritatingly untalkative fucking 'droid?"

"Point taken.  Have we tried CLAMMY-INJECTABLES-CONTROL-PRECURSOR-CAVERN?"

Kozmizearpozinsky didn't pause to shake his head.  His 52 fingers punched at the keys, and BINGO, the android fired up.  I remember thinking — someday, you gotta tell K it's not his name folks find disturbingly weird.  Thinking, then gulping.  Hard. 

When you’ve been around androids as long as the two of us, you know instantly when a doomsday scenario seemingly turned good is actually a doomsday scenario turned worse than the original scenario.

Kozmizearpozinsky gasped.  “A Rescuedroid...misprogrammed...as a Kinkee Dinkee BumLuv Unit...?”

Anyways, doc — that’s when the lights finally went out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Entry 6: Revenge, by Bill Nelson (298 words)

She slumps in the clammy darkness, her mind as dark and empty as the cavern, her bones aching with chill. She is tired, not the ordinary kind, but pure exhaustion so that she wants to die. And, with it, her enemies are winning: she can no longer fight them off. When the needle accurately finds her vein with the unholy injectables, fire dives and weaves within her blood. Her power responds, rises within - the precursor to much, much worse than loss of control.

Her jaw expands painfully; she screams, falls to her knees, doubles over. She can’t see; her vision no longer human, no resolution. The smells overwhelm her, vision is now secondary. Her clothes are shredded and no longer cover her body and she is hairy. Drool rolls down her chin onto the cavern floor and her thirst requires her to taste it, more than once. She raises her muscular arms and roars!

This was a desperate choice, but no longer remembered. This mind has not the capacity to comprehend such logic and it is easily forgotten. She is primal and looks for revenge. The cavern smells become resolute – yes, the pack is behind her now, moving closer, the smell of them generating her rage. She squats in a hollow in the damp wall, waiting. They will feel her revenge, and she will be king!

The sounds are clearer; she can hear their growls and yet hear the rhythmic pounding of what once was her heart. She is ready. The first one passes and she doesn’t move, frozen in wait, waiting for the moment. The last one pauses, sure of a scent. She springs onto its back, slicing with her claws across the thick neck, instantly rendering it useless as it slumps to the moldy floor.

The pack smells blood, feels the spray and turns, but she is ready. She drops underneath the closest one, and slams it into the stalactite above. She pulls it in front of her as she moves towards the others. A thud lands on her ear, her rage fueled. She is crazed. Within minutes, they are all dead, and she is king. Of what, she cannot comprehend now, but this feels right and just, instinctively correct. Her choice to become one was a good one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 7: Blood of the Daemonium, by Simon Kewin (285 words)

Tia ran through the cold London night, clutching the vials of blood. She strained to sense another surviving Faer. Nothing. Were they all dead? She could feel only the Shades:  thousands of them, thronging the streets. 

‘The Blood! The Blood!’

Their cries bounced off the great buildings, impossible to work out from where. She stopped, disorientated, exhausted. Rain lashed her face. The human cities were too large, too full of twists and dark corners. No wonder the Shades and their masters in the Daemonium had taken to them. Ahead the street opened out into a square. The towering column of some enormous statue stood there, surrounded by four massive stone animals. Lions. She knew this place. It was one of the Openings. She still had a chance to escape.

‘The blood, Faer. Return what you have stolen.’

Across the square, at the head of a seething army of Shades, stood one of the Daemonium. His voice boomed. He held the leashes of a pack of red-eyed hellhounds that scrabbled to attack her. Her only hope was to get close enough to the statue before he loosed them. They were mortal dogs, of course, but terrible: transformed with a drop of the ancient Daemonium blood.

It was the hounds that gave her the idea. It would be the end of her, of course, but what did that matter now? Their plans had failed. She knew what she would become if she injected all of the vile blood into her veins. She would be a match for them, then. For a time at least.

With a cry she raced for the statue that would take her from the city to the cool of the caverns. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 8: The Hell of Dying, by Avery DeBow (280 words)

Agony twitched Julia’s limbs in time to the rhythm the fire beat out inside her body. 

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.

The Pilferers fretted their lancinating fingers so the needles sang like chimes, adding their restless anticipation to the tune searing through her.  Soon, they would have one more body to toss onto the putrefying mass at her side.  So many in that pile had once been her anchors to life.  Their absence burned her mind to pitch.

Julia pushed to her knees, screaming with the effort.  The Pilferers stabbed their fingers into the pulses of their throats and extracted more bilious blood.  Amber beads hissed from the tips.

The Hell of dying.  That was what the Pilferers delivered—the fear of the unknown, the grief of parting.  Their liquid dread incapacitated the most gifted Magi, turned their power to fire in their veins, rolled it through their wasted flesh to puddle on the dirt where the parasitic demons lapped it up like dogs.

Julia’s lips split in a mirthless grimace.  Everything she would have regretted lay piled in that stinking corner.  No loose ends.  No fears.  The needles plunged into her arms once again.  This time, her mounting power met the invasive liquid, and drove it back into the Pilferers’ hands. 

The cave overflowed with agonized screams as the Pilferers fought to banish the dull apathy she had gifted them.  They writhed on the floor, incapacitated and denied their crucial sustenance. 

They couldn’t hurt her, not now.  There was nothing left to do but see how well she could make them match the remains of her family and friends.

Julia retrieved her sawed-off shotgun, and went to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 9: Burning Alive, by Amy Gettinger (285 words)

Serena slumps in the clammy darkness, her mind as dark and empty as the cavern, her bones aching with chill. She s tired, not the ordinary kind, but pure exhaustion so that she wants to die. And, with it, her enemies are winning: she can no longer fight them off. When the needle accurately finds her vein with the unholy injectibles, fire dives and weaves within her blood. Her power responds, rises within--the precursor to much, much worse than loss of control.

Drenched in sweat, Serena screams, lurches up, bolts for the bathroom. Heart pounding, head roiling, she vomits.

God.

Shoving wild hair back, she races back to bed and grabs her notebook and pen to record the whole sordid dream before it slips away. It's worse than last time. Her veins are scorching, her eyes searing, her chest nearly bursting. Surely someone will believe her now. This is no illusion.

Someone is drugging her in her sleep.

Hey, Beth was here, cleaned out her cabinets. No more street drugs. And no puncture mark on her arm. Serena calls her sister. Damned message machine. She dials Beth's cell phone, but drops her phone as the evil slime in her system contorts her hand.

She panics. Last time, seizures nearly shook her to death. On wobbly legs, she takes off toward the nearby church where Beth volunteers on Wednesdays. A sidewalk crack snags her bare toe. Her calf grabs up. She limps on, trying to escape the chemicals blasting through her before they kill her.

The big church looms. She tries the office door. Closed.

Her back muscles start to tighten.

No! Serena lunges toward the contemplation garden behind the building, determined to keep control, to run this stuff off this time, not to endure the pain, the torture of endless seizures.

Just inside the garden gate, her guts seize up. Agony.

Thirty feet away, around the garden fountain, a group of women are murmuring prayers. Beth is in their midst, holding something up: a doll with wild hair like Serena's.

Two steps more, then Serena's chest clenches vise-tight and she slumps to the damp ground as the women's soft chants reach her:

"Burn her, seize her alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 10: World War III, by Amy Gettinger (289 words)

She slumps in the clammy darkness, her mind as dark and empty as the cavern, her bones aching with chill. She's tired, not the ordinary kind, but pure exhaustion so that she wants to die. And, with it, her enemies are winning: she can no longer fight them off. When the needle accurately finds her vein with the unholy injectables, fire dives and weaves within her blood. Her power responds, rises within--the precursor to much, much worse than loss of control.

Her posture straightens, lengthens. Her shoulder blades begin the familiar burn of flesh and muscle ripping apart. The skin across her biceps aches with the predictable stretch. Just a few more minutes.

But the battle is raging closer. Gunshots and cries of agony sound just overhead on the street. Damned hotheads, fighting over building a mosque. Right on the heels of that exhausting oil pipe disaster. She doesn't have time for her complete transformation. She's never tried to fight incomplete before, without weapons. But this time, the whole world could shatter.

And her life.

Still shaky, she reels to a stand and lurches out of the shadows, her clothes falling off in shreds. Sacrilege.

But she must reach him—and, them—in time. She runs upstairs to the detritus-strewn street, emptied of life by deafening automatic weapons. Crouching behind an army tank, she sees huge cranes swinging concrete payloads toward Manhattan skyscrapers.

Idiots. She stands tall, steps into the street, holds her hands out. And stares 360.

Tanks and guns quiet.

She pushes off tentative feet. Her wings, still half furled, falter, then catch the wind. She rushes to her place in the gathering circle of angels over Ground Zero.

"Leave something at home?" Ali snarks over his wing. Palm out, he's radiating beams of peace light at three cranes, which all freeze mid-swing.

"Only my sword," naked Faizah says, swooping to stop another crane's payload cold. "Fuck the burqa."

Another angel, Diana, flies low over the scrabbling chaos below, leaving only stillness in her wide-winged wake. She then breezes by Faizah, tossing her a bundle. "Put him in school somewhere else, Faizah."

Faizah catches the laughing baby in relief, slings him over her shoulder and continues her quest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 11: Garuda, by Anonymous II (376 words)

[Author's note: The mythology referred to is here if you want the background.]

She slumps in the clammy darkness, her mind as dark and empty as the cavern, her bones aching with chill.  She is tired, an exhaustion so pure she wants to die.  And, with it, her enemies are winning: she can no longer fight them off.  When the needle finds her vein, fire weaves within her blood.   Her power responds, rises within--the precursor to much, much worse than loss of control.

The naga demons hiss and slither around her in the dark. The potion melts her bones, braiding with the power that is her birthright, eroding the seeming she's worn so long.   Quills push through human skin, their sheathes pop with the sound of snapping bone.  Her back bows, muscles knotted flails of pain against reshaping limbs, against erupting claws, the pressure that would be her beak—

Vishnu, help me! She bites back a scream.

She remembers the human term: Kundalini rising. So wrong a description for the actual effect, the twisting limbs and raking pain.  Not sexual, not at all.  Humans, as usual, partly understand the thing and misunderstand entirely. 

Not so her captors.  Human their leader might be, but his black sorcery has taught him much-- enough to capture her, exploit her weakness. 

"The gods forbade I kill your caste, Avinash," she gasps out to the presence hiding in the darkness behind his demons. "But that doesn't mean I cannot take revenge." 

"Thus speaks pride, little birdie."  The white of his clothes fades ghostlike into view.  Gloat, damn you.  Gloat and come closer...

"You should've drunk your minions' immortal blood." Her voice now a croak. The feathers along spine and half-formed wings rattle fury like an army of swords.  She blinks back tears of pain, anchors what's left of humanity by will alone. 

Her tormentor laughs, a scornful bark.  "Of course I did.  It didn't work."

Secretly, she smiles.  You fool.  "You cannot force me to steal the amrita again.  And even if I could manage it a second time, not even my mother's life would be reason enough to give immortality to such as you." 

"When the change is complete, you'll fly me to where it waits.  You'll have no choice."  The potion, then.  She'd guessed as much. 

She spits.  It sizzles against his cheek. 

Livid now, Avinash strides forward, arm cocked to strike. 

Come closer...closer... She bares her teeth and opens her herself fully, willingly, to her nature—the power of the sun lord's steed. 

Light scalds the darkness, blasting outward like solar flare, the screams of her foes the chimes of temple bells, the smell of burning meat a righteous sacrifice.

"You won't die, Avinash," she tells the feebly moving husk moments later.  "Not quite."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entry 12: Bug Hunter, by Robert Babiak (529 words)

Major Susan Micavich’s eyes snapped open and looked at her heads-up display. Blinking away the “Stimulant injection complete” messages, she began a quick status check. The stimulants and sleep replacements had kept her going for what felt like months, even though it was only the 5th day of this campaign. The armor reported 84.3% integrity and 97% combat readiness.

A quick check of the 3D local scanner indicated hostiles on the way, so with a bounce that lacked the weariness she felt, she sprang to her feet in the alleyway. She popped her armor’s jump kit and bounded between the walls up to the roof.

She landed near a cooling unit, and without conscious thought her plasma rifle snapped to her shoulder. With a muted hiss-crack, she fired at the bug before it noticed her.

The fusion powered rifle was the standard weapon for the 184th Royal Drop commandos. At full power it could fire three hundred spheres of plasma per minute, each capable of melting a meter-sized crater in rock. But to do so left a large and rather loud thermal trail. She used low power, to increase the rate of fire since each glowing ball was more than capable of killing a bug.

A green splatter pattern now covered the door frame, looking like those psych test patterns, kinda like a butterfly. An impact from the left tossed her into the air as a meter-and-a-half tall bug jumped the cooling unit and clamped its mandibles to her shoulder armor. The computer dutifully displayed the integrity counter ticking down.

With a powerful kick, she ripped her armor free, then hit the roof and rolled upright, flowing into a round-house kick that caught the bug in its thorax. The molecular muscles of her armor lent her kick power; her jump kit lent her the stability to apply that force.

The bug went sideways off the roof. Its hissing scream ended in a green splat near where she'd been a few seconds ago. More hisses, carried on the wind, indicated other bugs closing in.  She raced across the roof tops and hopped between buildings. 

Several hops later she heard the distinct warble of the bug she needed to find.

Skidding to a stop, her armor urgently pinged, indicating an incoming air attack. Glancing at the local sensors, she saw 30 plus targets. With the blink menus, she selected auto air defense mode and relaxed. It took practice to go from full control to limp rag doll in order to avoid hurting yourself while the armor moved under computer control.

Her armor snapped the rifle up and began moving and firing faster than she could have aimed. Air targets where easy for the computer to kill and the flying bugs started falling like a chunky purple rain. The computer was not creative; just efficient. In seconds, the last bugs fell to earth. As control returned to her, she moved to acquire the bug she had detected.

###

“Susan, wake up! You can't debug software in your sleep!”

Startling upright, she grabbed her purse and extra grandee coffee, then headed to join her coworkers at the door of Java Express.

DISCLAIMER

I find I have fallen afoul of the FTC's 10/5/2009 new rulings that require me to tell you I have been "compensated" for some of my book recommendations/reviews. This merely means I've received an occasional ARC or free copy of a book (via contests, usually), and have then given my opinion about said books. For the record, let me state that I've done these recommendations without receiving any monetary reward besides the free swag. And I'll tell you in the posts if it's a freebie or ARC that I'm reviewing. Or if I've been bribed to say nice things for money. That is all.

In a twitter from 8/23, Clarkesworld lists the most common titles in their slush: "Rebirth: "Hunger" "Lost and Found" "Perchance to Dream" "Deus Ex Machina" "Home" "Alone"

Wow.

When you hit the "Slough of Despond"

"It’s unfortunate that I had to leave off on that one at the very worst possible time to leave a book – 3/4s of the way through a first draft, that Slough of Despond where you realize that you never had the slightest bit of talent to begin with, that in fact elves wrote your last four books, along with everything else you’ve ever written, and you might as well go do that other thing that you can’t do because no writer is really equipped to work at anything else, but you better figure something out fast, because your writing career is officially over.

I’m sure none of you has the slightest idea what I’m talking about.

But yes, that’s where I was, and that’s what I had to face when I picked that book up again. Sheer, unadulterated panic ensues.

Now, as I tell my students, as writers we have to push through that section, it is not optional, because it’s exactly the emotional and physical predicament that our CHARACTERS are experiencing at that point of the story… when there is no possible solution to anything in front of them, or us, and we have to have that experience together to get to the final battle. The process is cleverly, sadistically designed that way as part of the magic of storytelling." Alexandra Sokoloff, from her blog

Take heart, writer pals!  You are not alone!

Now, pick up that 3/4 finished novel and get writing! (Why, yes, I AM talking to myself, thanks very much.)

Amusingly steampunkishly splendiferous video

Check out the entangled steampunk spoofery in this amusing video, "Morgan and Destiny’s Eleventeenth Date - The Zeppelin Zoo."

Additionally, I have received a couple more entries into the contest.  Looks like there will be 3 prizes on offer after all!  Yahoo!  The entries will be up Wednesday morning for you all.  Voting will still close on Sunday, August 29th, so have all your pals and relatives stop by to vote when the post goes up. 

Okay, another day's grace

I only have ten entries for the contest, so I'm extending the deadline until Tuesday night, midnight Eastern and no later.  I want to get a couple more entries.  If I don't get more entries, I'm only going to give away a first prize.  So, gang, get the word out, 'kay?

Contest details here. 

Musical Monday is NSFW

John Scalzi tweeted this link a few days ago.  Hi-larious.  And definitely encouragement to, ahem, enjoy science fiction.  Yeah.

ANOTHER FACEBOOK PRIVACY ISSUE - Please REPOST!!

FYI now people who are your friends can sign you in to places, showing the universe where you actually are in real time, real world. If you would like to disable this see below.  Facebook, as per their usual arrogant style, has it defaulted to Allow!

To disable this function:  Go to Account, select Privacy Settings, select Customize Settings, then go down to Things Others Share section and click on "Sign Me In To Places." Select Disable.

When will FB stop defaulting this crap to Allow?

Details on Places function.  If you've heard of Foresquare, the Places function is similar.  An article on the issue is quoted below.

"Places, which was introduced Wednesday night as Facebook's latest feature, allows users to tell their friends where they are and who they are with just by "checking in" with the system. The concept, called geolocation, is familiar to users of both Foursquare and Gowalla, who have been doing for two years now what Places just started. But Facebook, which dwarfs most other social networking websites, changes the game simply because of its size."

Contest deadline is TOMORROW!

You still have time to dash out an entry for the flash fiction contest. 

Please see here for the details.

So far, there are 8 entries.  I want at least 12 before I give out a second prize, and I'd really, really like more than that for 3.  It just doesn't seem like much of a contest if a quarter of the entrants can receive prizes, you know?

Entries so far are from

Charles Gramlich
Sarah Laurenson
Avery Debow
Whirlochre
Simon Kewin
Amy Gettinger
Bill Nelson
Jen DeBenedictus. 

Opportunity to be in a cool anthology

Ann and Jeff VanderMeer have another cool anthology they are assembling, and this one is one where they are seeking micro submissions.  There's a short turnaround, but this looks like fun.  To whit:

"Dr. Lambshead's Cabinet" Anthology. Wanted: micro-fiction (see below for details).  Pay: Contributor's copy.  DEADLINE: September 7, 2010. If they want to use your piece, you will hear from the editors by September 15. If you have questions, please post them in the comments here and submissions in the comments here.

A loose sequel to The Thackery T. Lambshead Pocket Guide to Eccentric & Discredited Diseases—among other honors, a Hugo Award and World Fantasy Award finalist—this new anthology ramps up both the art and the storytelling, with full-page art, the delights of eccentric front and end matter, “exhibit” descriptions, and a core formed of full-on short stories. (The book will be dedicated to Kage Baker, who contributed to the first volume.)

Contributors will include Mike Mignola, Greg Broadmore, China Mieville, Holly Black, Naomi Novik, Minister Faust, Alan Moore, Cherie Priest, Michael Moorcock, Tad Williams, Jake Von Slatt, Caitlin R. Kiernan, Jeffrey Ford, Gio Clairval, Garth Nix, Stepan Chapman, Michael Cisco, Will Hindmarch, Ekaterina Sedia, Reza Negarestani, Lev Grossman, Ted Chiang, Carrie Vaughn, Kelly Barnhill, Helen Oyemi, and several more. John Coulthart will be doing a lot of art for, with additional work by Jake von Slatt, Eric Orchard, Yishan Lee, Eric Schaller, and others.

Unfortunately, the specific nature of the fiction being commissioned doesn’t allow us to have a standard open reading period.

HOWEVER, we are having an open reading period, starting today, for a micro-fiction section in the back of the anthology, which will consist of a list, with descriptions, of items from Dr. Lambshead cabinet that are not described in the stories. Here are the rules.

(1) Entries should take this form:

ITEM NAME. Description. – Your Name

For example:

TESLA’S SHINBONE. Preserved in amber, this electricity-producing relic from the famous eccentric scientist was first acquired by Dr. Lambshead in 1945 while on a trip to London. Etc. Etc. Etc. – Jeff VanderMeer

(2) Entries must be no longer than 100 to 150 words, and posted in the comments section of this post. They do not have to mention Dr. Lambshead specifically. They should be PG13, tops.

(3) You must include your email address in the appropriate comment field when you post so we can contact you if we would like to publish your entry.

(4) Steer clear of creatures in bottles and obvious Steampunk devices, as existing fiction for the anthology already covers these elements thoroughly. We can’t divulge all of the items being written about in the stories proper, but some overlap is acceptable.

(5) A high level of writing and imagination is expected for these entries, and we also expect that they will be properly grammar/spell-checked before being submitted. In short, perform all of the quality control you would do if submitting an actual story to an anthology. Both humorous and serious entries are welcome.

(6) We will choose a percentage of the entries to appear in the anthology. HarperCollins has agreed to provide a contributor’s copy as payment for each chosen entry.

(7) Dr. Lambshead is a character owned by the VanderMeers. You may not use his persona outside of the context of this submission process. However, if we don’t use your entry, you are of course free to do with it what you will, so long as it doesn’t reference Dr. Lambshead.

(8) We reserve the right to acquire as many or as few entries as we feel work for the book. Limit one entry per writer.

Here is more information about Dr. Lambshead’s cabinet. 

After the death of Dr. Thackery T. Lambshead in 2003 at his house in Wimpering-on-the-Brook, England, a long process of discovery followed for those assigned by his estate. For one thing, the great man’s house was in a catastrophic state of disarray, with letters to heads of state mixed in with grocery lists, major medical awards propping up tables or sticking enigmatically out of the many kitty litter boxes, and several thousand personal diaries shoved into random spaces in a library as shambolic as it was complete. Because of this disarray, it took caretakers until last year to unearth perhaps the most stunning find: a basement space lost under a collapsed floor, in which were found the remains of a remarkable cabinet of curiosities, much of it unfortunately ravaged by a fire or similar catastrophe.

Containing artifacts, curios, and keepsakes collected over Dr. Lambshead’s many, many decades, the remains of the cabinet of curiosities took months to unearth, document, and catalog. Several of the pieces related to anecdotes and stories in the doctor’s personal diaries. Others, when shown to the doctor’s friends, elicited further stories. In many cases, a partial catalog of items triggered valuable recollections and, working with trained artists, illustrations of items that were recovered in a damaged stage, or that simply no longer exist.

Thus, in keeping with the bold spirit exemplified by Dr. Lambshead and his exploits, we are now proud to present highlights from the doctor’s cabinet, reconstructed not only through visual representations but also through exciting stories of intrigue and adventure.

Woo hoo!

(Or, in another reality, you could call this, "Oh, Alexander Skarsgard, get back in bed and bring the whipped cream.") Quoted in entirety from "Vampire Wire" Photograph by Matthew Rolston for RollingStone.com

The cover of this month's Rolling Stone features the stars of True Blood in fake blood-splattered nekkidness.  On the magazine's website is an excerpt from the print story and photographs.

The idea of celibate vampires is ridiculous, True Blood creator Alan Ball says. "To me, vampires are sex," he says. "I don't get a vampire story about abstinence. I'm 53. I don't care about high school students. I find them irritating and uninformed."

If you look at the photos, Alexander Skarsgard (Eric Northman) appears to be only a few inches taller than his co-stars, so the shots must have been set up so he doesn't tower over Stephen Moyer (Bill Compton) and Anna Paquin (Sookie Stackhouse).  Well, it makes for a better photograph when all the faces are in the frame.

Anna Paquin has a pretty amusing interview with George Lopez about nudity on True Blood.  All I'll say is "The Sock of Destiny."

I mentioned last week that Snoop Dog is a huge fan of True Blood, but his request for a cameo on the show was unfortunately rejected.  How much does he like the show?  Just watch him perform "Oh, Sookie."

Dragon Con, anyone?

Dragon Con is happening soon, peeps. Have you ever been? Do you want to go? Well, this year it's in Atlanta, GA, September 3 through 6.

Details at www.dragoncon.org

You have two days to submit! *whip crack*

Hey, gang, the entries for the flash fiction contest are trickling in like molasses rolling uphill in the middle of winter.  So I MIGHT have to extend the deadline in order to get at least a dozen entries.  I would rather not!

Submissions close Sunday, August 22nd. Please see here for the details.

 

Cool Steampunk site for writers and readers

Steampunk is a subgenre that is upwelling in big, huge, roiling, boiling laval masses of volcanic spew all over the fiction landscape of late.  Yeah, it seems to be to be that big a deal.  I've never been that interested in writing the stuff, and I hadn't really read it until I grabbed up Steampunk, the anthology by Ann & Jeff Vandermeer.  I have a few other things (Boneshaker, by Cherie Priest; The Parasol Protectorate books by Gail Carriger, etc.) but not a whole lot.  I was more fixated on cyberpunk than steampunk. 

But I'm being won over, at least in reading tastes.  I'm not inclined to try writing the stuff...yet.  But there are some surprizing things that are considered steampunk-- for example China Mieville's On Perdido Street Station (another in the tbr pile.)  Matthew Delman, proprietor of the blog Free The Princess, terms Perdido Street Second-World Steampunk, defined (loosely) as a post-apocalyptic world with steam technology.  Second World stories are presumably NOT defined by the political definition (e.g. part of the former USSR and it's satellites.)  I'm having a hard time finding the term 'second world' in any other context besides that one and world wars; but it appears from context in the cited article to be a post-apocalyptic or collapsing world, a world that's experienced or is experiencing a fall like that of the Roman Empire. Anyhow, read the article, it's really interesting.

Interestingly, my current main work in progress, Magus of Athlinar, has similarities in its world to Mieville's novel.  So perhaps I'm writing steampunk after all--just Second-World Steampunk!  The only thing that makes me equivocate for not being steampunk is that there really isn't much in the way of Victoriana or clockwork and brass tech.  Mostly it's biological and magic blended.  So perhaps I am wrong.

But back to Steampunk in general.  If you want to read some great sites by writers in the genre, you couldn't do better than to read the blog Free The Princess.  There, you will find a lot of historic information, steampunk links, and a lot of other information that is steampunk friendly.  The proprietor, Matthew Delman, states that the blog is a "practical literary guide to writing Steampunk."  I whole-heartedly agree. [Also, a great article on multiculturalism in steampunk, guest posted on FTP by Ay-leen the Peacemaker, proprietress of Beyond Victoriana.

Another cool Steampunk blog.  Adam Heine's blog, Author's Echo, is also very informational and dedicated to steampunk.  I particularly like his post on how to talk like an air pirate.

Additionally, Booksmugglers had quite the interesting discussion on steampunk here.

And also, a reminder about my currently running flash fiction blog contest.  Submissions close Sunday, August 22nd. Please see here for the details.

Brains! (No, actually, I prefer to use mine, not eat yours) Zombie novel

Brains: A Zombie Memoir
by Robin Decker
192 pages.  Eos

Harper Collins has a blurb on a new book that I thought you zombiephiles would like to read.  Seeing as I wrote a sentient zombie story I am supposed to be attracted to sentient zombies, right?  (You'd think so.)  But I really prefer the variety who irredeemably stagger along, wanting nothing more than to gnaw on your skull suck your brains out...but funny.  You know, the Shaun of the Dead variety, the kind that are like Keystone Cops but lacking in motor skills and hygiene?  (I loved that movie!) 

I'm not really into zombies and rotting body parts and having to use wood putty to fix your booboos (Death Becomes Her, anyone?) 

Anyhow, here's the book description from the Harper Collins site: 

College-professor-cum-zombie Jack Barnes is a different breed of undead—he can think. In fact, he can even write. And the story he has to tell is a truly disturbing—yet strangely heartwarming—one.

Convinced he'll bring about a peaceful coexistence between zombies and humans if he can demonstrate his unique condition to Howard Stein, the man responsible for the zombie virus, Barnes sets off on a grueling cross-country journey to meet his maker. Along the way he recruits a small army of "super" zombies that will stop at nothing to reach their goal. There's Guts, the dreadlocked boy who can run like the wind; Joan, the matronly nurse adept at reattaching decaying appendages; Annie, the young girl with a fierce quick-draw; and Ros, who can actually speak. United they embark on an epic quest to attain what all men, women—and, apparently, zombies—yearn for: equality.

Brains is a blood-soaked, darkly humorous story that will have readers rooting for Barnes and his zombie posse to the very end.

I have Feed on my TBR pile, as well as a couple of other zombie stories.  I'm having trouble getting into zombies (unless I write them).  But I thought I'd mention this one to you all, as humor generally always sells me on a book, even if I'm lukewarm on the monsters.

Free Swag!

Fantasy & SciFi Lovin' News & Reviews has frequent giveaways. If you like FREE SWAG (who doesn't?) check their contest submissions page early and often. Link is here.

Voting for the flash fiction contest ends today!

Vote here, and make it snappy if you want your vote to count! 

How do you define the romantic bad boy?

Theresa over at Edit Torrent had a really cool discussion about rogues in romance the other day.  Check it out here.  Best of all, I think she came up with a pretty decent rough definition of the types.

Villain = does bad things for bad reasons with bad results, and we can't forgive him

Bad Boy = does bad things for good or bad reasons with good or bad results, and we can forgive him (but if the results are bad, he has to see that, right?)

Rogue = does bad things for highly personal reasons (good or bad) with unpredictable results (good or bad), but is charming while he does it so we forgive him. (Right?)

What's your type of bad boy (or girl)?

Additionally, just a reminder about my currently running flash fiction blog contest.  Submissions close Sunday, August 22nd. Please see here for the details.

Ultimate screen cleaner

You know you want one...

http://www.raincitystory.com/flash/screenclean.swf

Contest reminder: deadline in a few days!

REMINDER: DO NOT FORGET MY FLASH FICTION CONTEST!! Submissions close Sunday, August 22nd. Please see here for the details.

And, if you would, please remind your followers about the deadline as well.

Cool-sounding book

In case you missed the multiple times I've mentioned his awesome work, I happen to enjoy Charles Stross' Lovecraftian writings. Well, now you will have a chance to get a signed, limited edition of his collected short stories in Toast & Other Tales.  It's a signed, limited edition hardcover.  A bit pricey at $40, but, still... *swoon*

Wyrm Publisher's blurb:  Award-winning author, Charles Stross is one of today's most exciting and entertaining writers. This collection brings together some of his best short stories originally published between 1989 and 2001, including his Hugo, Nebula, and Sturgeon Award nominated work, "Lobsters", the first of his many near-future cyberpunk "Accelerando" stories. 

Table of Contents:

• Introduction: After the Future Imploded
• Antibodies
• Bear Trap
• Extracts from the Club Diary
• A Colder War
• TOAST: A Con Report
• A Boy and His God
• Ship of Fools
• Dechlorinating the Moderator
• Yellow Snow
• Big Brother Iron
• Lobsters
• Afterword: Five Years After the Wire

Expected ship date: August 28, 2010

photo removal tool

Laughingwolf has a cool link to a "junk removal" tool for your photos.  Check it out here.

Goodbye, Mr. Gizmo...

REMINDER: DO NOT FORGET MY FLASH FICTION CONTEST!! Submissions close Sunday, August 22nd. Please see here for the details.

Up at 4:30. Had some bizarrely beautiful dreams, long, epic fantasy sorts of travel-on-a quest dreams.  Met some interesting paranormal beings, had some empowering experiences.  The dream was gorgeous.  Too bad I'm losing it now...  The one thing I take away from it is this, though:  During the adventure (be it life or anything else) you are never in it alone.  The interactions you have with the world, the people, the creatures, all define your journey, like the bowl that holds the water.

Profound isn't it?  Now, what do I do with that? 

But what I really want to remember is the fluffy white bunny-sized creature that had eyes like Gizmo and the wisdom of Gandalf.  (He also liked his throat scritched.)  And he gave me something that saved my butt, something profound and magickal...and I cannot remember what it was, except it was profound.

Why can't one ever remember the wise gnosis that we gain in dreams?  Why doesn't it translate to consciousness?  I can't help but feel that it's because the mind/spirit/soul is bigger than it's fleshy box, and we can't bring the totality of that to the earthly shell...

Or maybe that's my excuse?

[Tangentially, wouldn't Gnosis be a great name for a character?  Gnosis Jones... heh.]

What is High Concept?

"Only High Concept projects can be sold from a pitch because they are pitch driven. Non-High Concept projects can't be sold from a pitch because they are execution driven."    "High Concept Defined Once & For All," By Steve Kaire at The Writers Store 

Premise and High Concept... What's the difference?  As I was discussing in yesterday's post, knowing your premise is an important tool to help you both write and edit less.  Knowing your premise helps you to make better decisions as to character motivation, theme, plot elements and etc.  In short, it helps you to prevent having to revise difficult to change elements such as an entire character arc that is threaded throughout your novel. 

And to beat the topic to death, let me again quote Alexandra Sokoloff: Sokoloff says "You will learn a lot more about what your book or film is about as you're writing it. But you need to know what you think it's about before you start that draft." 

I have always understood High Concept to be something that makes your pitch stand out from the background, something that makes it the proverbial "lightning in a bottle" to the film producers or book editors out there.  But what does that mean, in specific terms?  Darned if I know!  Seems like High Concept is more defined by example than by words. 

But I found a definition that I think is clear enough I can use.  "High Concept Defined Once & For All," By Steve Kaire at The Writers Store has an explanation as to what and how High Concept is...and what it isn't.   

High Concept is a term that's been confused, misunderstood and misused by writers for decades. The common belief is that it's any movie that can be pitched in one sentence. A man who battles his wife for custody of their children is one sentence, but it's a million miles from being High Concept.

Others define it by describing it as "one film crossed with another film." In Robert Altman's The Player, the writers pitch their project to a producer as Out of Africa meets Pretty Woman. That is not what a High Concept film is. What they used is a framing technique that is given prior to pitching your project to prepare the listener for what's coming. You cross two well known films that touch upon the material you are about to pitch so the producer has some idea where you're going with your pitch. That is an example of a common pitching technique and not what defines High Concept.

Story ideas, treatments and screenplays can all have High Concept premises. But only High Concept projects can be sold from a pitch because they are pitch driven. Non-High Concept projects can't be sold from a pitch because they are execution driven. They have to be read to be appreciated and their appeal isn't obvious by merely running a logline past someone. This is the reason why films like "Pulp Fiction," "Star Wars" and "Sideways" could never be sold from a pitch.

The rest of the article gets into more detail on the topic.  Any thoughts or better links/definitions, please feel free to post in the comments.

Another source of great information on story structure is Alexandra Sokoloff's blog.  You can spend hours there.  As I linked and quoted her yesterday, just go to yesterday's post for relevant linkages.

Additionally, just a reminder about my currently running flash fiction blog contest.  Submissions close Sunday, August 22nd. Please see here for the details.

Here's something everyone wants...

...but not everyone needs.  Have a great day everybody.  And you can thank my best bud, Mary Colleen, for the humor.

Do you know your premise?

Catching up on the blog reading today, and ran across Betsy Dornbusch's musings at her blog on premise and how/why one should stop and think while writing. 

For me at least, writing is taking more and more thought. One reason is because I refuse, yet again, to revise a book 700 times only to have it turned down because the premise is wrong. I used to leap in without much of a premise because I didn't put enough thought into it.

She has a good point.  You can give yourself a lot of heartburn and heartache by getting 100k words written only to realise you have got some major flaws and the premise of your story won't work.  So less need for revision of plot elements is a Good Thing.

But what the heck IS a premise?
I always struggle with defining these sorts of terms for myself.  But my basic take on defining premise is this: The premise of your story is what you, the writer, are aiming for the story to be. If the premise were a plant's roots, your intentions are the soil from which those roots spring, and the story structure that grows from those roots is the framework upon which the the other aspects of the work depends."  That's rather general, but it will do for me.    

Now, I admit that definition is very similar to the definition of the story's goal, e.g. the plan...the diff being that a goal is transitory and there can be many of them in a story, because each scene, chapter, character, etc. has their own goal or goals.  But premise is what you, the writer, are trying to say.  Not theme, which, unless you really want to beat your audience over the head with it, is subtextual; but the author's concept of what the story is about.  That is MORE than the plot.  You can have a murder mystery with the story actually about the personal growth/change of the detective.  The vehicle in which you tell that story is the plot; but it's not the premise, if I understand this concept correctly.

An interesting article on StoryForms blog talks about premises.  The author's definition of premise is multiple choice:

• It is the meaningful act by a person that causes change in themselves through a battle with an opponent.
• Premise is what the drama is about.
• It commits the story to one sentence and evokes its essential meaning.
• The premise is Aristotle’s unity and an essential part of story.
• It answers the question, what is the beginning , middle and end?
• The dictionary defines premise as ‘A proposal from which a conclusion can be drawn. Or A proposal from which an argument is based.’

I'm not sure that mass of options is helpful. Myself, I rather like the loose "it's what the drama is about" definition.  You can call that a GOAL, or, as Alexandra Sokoloff calls it, your PLAN.  That's easy to define.  A goal or plan can be anything--but basically it's what your character wants to accomplish.  There are multiple goals along the way, however, which your characters have to deal with

Now, Alexandra Sokoloff, my favorite source for technical breakdowns of writerly terms where they intersect with film and screenwriting, has a number of useful posts on premise and high concept. Several articles there that deal with premise include "What is high concept?" and "What's your premise?" The most interesting thing I think she says (in the last cited article) about premise is that, "It should be simple, right - to answer the question: “What’s your book about?” But writers who are used to being in the thick of writing sometimes have only the vaguest idea of the big picture." 

Along the lines of what Betsy's talking about, about thinking before writing, about knowing your book, Ms. Sokoloff says "You will learn a lot more about what your book or film is about as you're writing it. But you need to know what you think it's about before you start that draft."  An important point, especially if you are interested in not wasting your time and discouraging yourself by endless revisions. 

So, to get back to Betsy's thoughts, sitting and thinking about story and what you want before you start typing is important, or, at least, moderately useful for most of us.  I can see I would benefit from doing a bit more of that, at any rate. 

But be careful...'thinking' can lead to naps can lead to writing avoidance! [What? Why are you looking at ME like that?]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some other articles on premise, plans/goals and high concept:
Premise - ordinary versus high concept, "High Concept Defined Once & For All," By Steve Kaire at The Writers Store.  Tomorrow's post will feature this article. 
"Premise, Foundation of Story Telling," by Bill Johnson
"What's the Plan?" by Alexandra Sokoloff
"Plan, Central Question, Central Action" by Alexandra Sokoloff

 

Additionally, just a reminder about my currently running flash fiction blog contest.  Submissions close Sunday, August 22nd. Please see here for the details.

Envy vs Jealousy: a semantics example

Some of you may have noticed the title change.  Can you believe my brain glossed over "greed"
being there instead of "Jealousy"?  Funny how the mind can see what the eyes do not...

Jen Debenedictus has a great post up from a while back, discussing envy vs. jealousy.  I wanted to link to it because it's really an interesting discussion and an example of semantics and how we writers need to consider the baggage attached to a word, cultural finesses and shades of meaning, and other things that add distinction to a word or drag it into the muck.  Unless you like malapropisms or faux pas, you pay attention to these things.

Additionally, just a reminder about my currently running flash fiction blog contest.  Please see here for the details.

Just checking in

I have to report that I've been busy, busy, busy...doing everything but writing.  I woke at 4 a.m. today, though, and as soon as I get prepped for work and stow last night's canning adventure in boxes in the basement, I plan to sit down and write for an hour or so.

Sips coffee.  Ah!  That's the ticket! 

I "lost" the kitten yesterday, which was pretty exciting.  She apparently snuck out on Madre yesterday afternoon.  As cats "disappear" all the time, Madre didn't think anything of Molly's absence until she was a no show for my return home from work.  That cat always shows up to see what's new when I get home from work.  That, and to get scritched.  And possibly bite me in the lovingest way possible, of course.  She wasn't in the house, either, because I was hands-and-knees looking in every cranny with the flashlight in hand. 

I figured that, with her personality, she would show up soon enough, likely before bed.  And when I was outside walking the Pug for his evening constitutional, she popped out of the woodline and was happily carted inside.  First thing she did was run up and poop in the cat box.  Obviously not a cat used to the great outdoors.

Ever since the extreme haul of cherries from the cherry tree, I've been all about the canning.  Last night, I put about ten pounds of cucumbers into a brine soak to make fermented pickles.  I sure hope that this works, as I've only ever done hot packed pickles before.  At the cost of $5 for all the cukes, it's not going to be a huge loss if they go south on me, though.  And I also canned the first batch of apple butter* and made 15 half pints of pickled beets.  Madre's making another batch of apple butter today, and I'll can that when it gets done.  The first batch was 1/3 of the apples and made 12 pints...so I estimate that the 40-50 pounds of windfall apples** are going to net us something in the area of 36-40 pints of apple butter!

In short, I won't be canning apple butter for a long time!

The elderberries are ripening rapidly, so I'll be making elderberry jelly or jam in a week or two.  I expect that i can get at least a flat of 12 half pints, if not more. 

Sips more coffee...  Ah, even better the second time!  Well, that's the TMI update for the week.  I'm off to get ready for work.  Maybe I'll get some writing in, too.  I sure want to!

*Apple butter: To make: Cut apples in quarters, remove cores, and boil apples down into mush.  Push pulp through food mill or strainer to remove peels, hard bits of the core and seeds. To the simmering pulp add molasses, ground clove, a touch of cinnamon and/or allspice to taste.  

**Windfall apples are the ones that fall off the tree to the ground. With their bruises and ugliness in general, they are perfect to make into apple sauce or apple butter.  So long as they aren't actually rotted, you can use the flesh of bruised apples and it just brings out more apple flavor. And you can use just part of a mostly good apple in this manner, eliminating a lot of wasted fruit.

Link roundup to Very Good Articles

Mia Bailey guest posting on Fangtastic Books has an excellent article on Avoiding the Monsters in Writing.  An amusing take on how to diagnose the flaws in your writing. Which monster do you primarily emulate?  (Moi, I think I am ze Mummy...)

In his blog post, 5 Things the Government Can Learn from Biodisasater Films,  S.M.D. gives some lucid commentary to the check list of things that are cliched in biodisaster movies.  I suggest you consider avoiding them in your own work. 

And, to do homage to the gods of grammar, I bring you Shauna Roberts' blog, For Love of Words, she posts on coordinating conjunctions.  May you use them to great effect.

Random lines

“A zombie vampire?  Isn’t that redundant?”

“No, they’re not the same thing at all.  Dead and rotting versus dead and spoilage free.”

“You’ve been canning too much lately.”

 

It's always a good idea to have pen and paper handy.  I jotted that down yesterday during a conversation that had me snickering.  I don't know how, or if, I shall use it, but it amused me.

 

What I do is to jot the random lines into a Word file and then add a few idea notes, name it something relevant, and save it to the Ideas folder on my desktop.  I can dust my hands of it until such time as I need some inspiration.

 

How do you deal with random ideas so as not to lose them?

 

And I have to mention that I want to add another line to the above: "Just preparing for the zombie apocalypse."

 

Additionally, just a reminder about my currently running flash fiction blog contest.  Please see here for the details.

I don't believe I ever shared this gem from The Intern with you all. (I'm very sad that she's sailed off into the proverbial sunset. I hope she gets blogging fever again some day. First Miss Snark, now the Intern...)

http://internspills.blogspot.com/2010/07/5-thoughts-on-book-promotion.html

Someone apparently needs her mouth washed out...

Want to rate your blog content? Or find out how you would taste like to cannibals?  Or take a number of strange quizzes?  Go here, the picture won't link.

The thing that drove me to coveted NC-17 status is, apparently, 5 recent usages of the word 'cock.'  But I was talking about firearms!  Honest! *ducks head in shame while winking surreptitiously.*

I am your sunshine, your only sunshine... (I sure hope not)

Hmmm.... Got a mysterious email from some gal named Brenda.  She has a gmail addy so she could be anybody, and the text is spammishly vague and poor in the grammar department.  However, I get the impression that we are Long Lost Great Friends.  Either that, or she's hitting on me and I have a Scary Stalker...her being my Beloved Brenda and all...like it's an order. :/

Greetings My Good One,

My name is Brenda, i saw your Email address today through my private research and i became interested to contact you ok,

i will also like to know you more, and i want you to reply me. so i can give you my picture for you to know whom i am and i know whom you are too.

 

i believe we can move from here and know one another! ( Remember that age distance or colour does not matter but love, relationship and connections matters allot in life) I will be happy to seeing a good responds from you,Thanks and remain Great ok.

Your\'s Beloved Brenda.

GOOD BYE, MY SUNSHINE.

 

Additionally, just a reminder about my currently running flash fiction blog contest.  Please see here for the details.

Interesting bits of info here:

A cool site to explore: Factoidz.  I particularly like this article, on alternative uses for common household products. 

Contest clarification

Charles Gramlich asked a good question about the contest submissions: "The 250 word thing. If we use the prompt as the start of the story, does it count toward the 250 word limit?"

The short answer is, no, the prompt is not counted as part of your submission.  
My vision was that the prompt was only that, and not a necessary part of your story and shouldn't be required reading to understand the submission to the contest.  However, beyond that,you can do whatever you like using the prompt as inspiration.  Rewriting the scene, prequel, consequences, something it makes you think, the point of view of someone else...whatever you desire. 

UPDATED: The prompt words were just to inspire me to create the prompt.  YOU ARE NOT REQUIRED TO USE ANY OF THE PROMPT WORDS IN YOUR STORY!

Useful research sites for ambiance and local flavor

If you have some need to either decide on a plausible setting for your story or make it sound plausible, check out all the statistical data available on www.census.gov/qfd/states .

And if you've never been to an area but want to use it as a location, you can get a decent look at many places (in the US anyhow) by using google maps. Just look up a place, then scroll in as far as you're able. That should drop you into street level view, where you can click an click/drag your way about the streets of a distant locality. That's so cool!

Other ways you can tell the flavor of a town is to look up chain retail establishments and see where they are or aren't. If having a hipster wannabe disgruntled with her home of record, you likely wouldn't find too many places like Hot Topix (sp), Starbucks, Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, S&M clubs or even legal prostitution.

I'm just sayin'. Besides, it can be pretty funny seeing what comes up on weird searches. (Fair warning, though: I recall one time I looked up a fact to answer a debate at work, and it involved the wrestler China. Let me just say that some NSFW pages do not appear to be NSFW on google page.)

Also, a link to a site with resources for writers on the internet.

So use that writerly, idea-creating brain of yours to let your fingers do the clicking through the interwebs.

Additionally, just a reminder about my currently running flash fiction blog contest.  Please see here for the details.