"What Julie's Dad Doesn't Know" at Every Day Fiction

It's good to have some writing news to share (what with the on-going reconstruction of my house).

"What Julie's Dad Doesn't Know" is live today at Every Day Fiction. Give it a read, eh?

Getting Dirty

Our friend John turned 50 this weekend, and as part of the celebration he wanted to run the Dirty Duo, an adventure race in Kansas City. The race covered six miles and each teammate alternated between biking and running. At each mile, we had to overcome an obstacle--some were silly (giant inflatable Slip 'n' Slide); some were brutal (climbing forklift pallets, ducking under rope, climbing another pallet...). The final obstacle was a mud pit 40 feet long through which you were to crawl on your belly.

So fresh and so clean. I'm in the upper left. John, the birthday boy, is in the back row with the number "30".

Crossing the finish line with my partner Heather Coates. Notice how my race number has now become a muddy-muddy breech-clout.

Thank Zeus it's over. And thanks to Mary and Suze for the pictures.

I'm sure there's a metaphor for writing here, but I'll let you, dear reader, sort it out.

Have a great week.

When Do I Go Back to Earth?

No, I'm not referencing the wild ride We are the Monsters has been on this week. I'm not referencing the Dirty Duo race (ending in 40 feet of mud) this morning or Brandon Bell's lovely offer to "Aaron Polson Fans" (check it out). Wait--I have fans?

I'm talking about the insanity in my house, the utter chaos of home remodeling coupled with recovery from a lightning strike at our neighbor's place. Our beloved desktop computer (the one I use for 90% of my work) is toast. I have unfinished walls in half the basement and bare studs in the other half. Our bathroom counter top (special order) arrived, but we still don't have the special order vanity.

Sigh.

I just wanted to say "hi" to the blogosphere before putting on my gloves and getting back to work.

Hi.

In the Wall

Our home remodeling project has required a new wall.

While this sounds daunting, building a wall has been one of the easier tasks in which I've engaged. Nail a few studs (2" x 4" wood boards) together and you have a wall. Make sure they're level and square, of course. Hang the Sheetrock (or other wall covering) and no one can tell the difference between your wall and the pro's.

I hope.

Before I hung Sheetrock (gypsum board panels--it's what most interior walls are covered with rather than wood paneling anymore), I wrapped a signed copy of Loathsome, Dark and Deep in a plastic bag and stuffed it between two studs. Maybe in another fifty years someone will tear down my wall and wonder at the little book. Maybe they'll read it. Maybe they'll simply dynamite the place and never find it. My wife thought I was crazy.

I thought the idea was kind of fun. Besides... I've been a little disappointed at not finding any treasure as I've demolished our house. I wouldn't want to rob a future home re-modeler of the joy.

Cheers.

I am an Ant

For all of my marketing and promotion, I could not touch the toenails of what Amazon.com has done. Since We are the Monsters became free, the book has been downloaded 6,418* times in less than two days.

My best month for any book, even at 99 cents, was 37 sales.

37. If I wait a half-hour, I'll have 37 more "sales" at the free price. Probably more.

We are the Monsters is now #1 in Kindle Store>Kindle eBooks>Fiction>Genre Fiction>Horror>Ghosts and #23 in the Free Store.

Talk about scary. It's even bumped sales of my other books (The House Eaters in particular--24 copies in two days). I couldn't pay for this kind of advertising, but I guess I am, in a way. The book is FREE. It's a good little book. I thought about sending it out on submission, but went the Kindle route instead. Glad I did. I'll speak about "writing magic" in another post; for now, just believe this little ebook is special. I need special right now.**

* 6450 by the time I finished the post.***
** Not only is our house in pieces on purpose (remodeling), we lost our phone, my computer (hands cramping on the netbook right now), and the fan on our furnace/air conditioner due to last night's thunderstorm/too close for comfort lightning strike. Not good. Not good at all.
***6456. Scary.

The Power of Words

Bold? Power?

Whatever, it's an effing toilet. But it's my toilet, and we have two new ones. I'm a happy homeowner.

Ah, the bold power of marketing...

Five Question Friday with André Jute

Five Questions with André Jute:

1. What do you think makes a good story?

Empathy. The sort of reader I appeal to may tell you he/she/it likes the action or the visual descriptions or the exotic locations or whatever, and it will be true. But it won't be the primary, overriding truth, which is that sophisticated readers are not satisfied by any or all of these things in the absence of identification with the characters. Characters don't need to be sickening suckups but even the worst of them must have some redeeming feature that people recognize from within themselves.

2. What is the hardest part of being a writer?

Definitely getting used to rejection. I've been a professional writer since I was thirteen, and by the standards of our profession I have been more than decently successful, and decades later I'm still not used to rejection. Advertising, where I worked for several years, is widely said to be a ratfuckery, but I found it less bruising than being a writer, perhaps because I foolishly expect people in the arts to be more sensitive.

3. What would be the ideal meal for one of your favorite characters?

That's a question framed by a non-writer. Every one of my characters is different and would therefore choose a different ideal meal. It is, all the same, a valid question to ask a writer, because of course he creates at least some of his characters as wish fulfillment. So I'll tell you one of my favorite meals, which in fact I'll cook for my wife and me tonight. It consists of a bowl of cooked, peeled, backed prawns just heated through in butter with a dose of herbes Provencale or a grind of fresh black pepper, with perhaps a few cocktail tomatoes, say one each of plum, yellow and round red, thrown in for additional color, served with either garlic bread of plain buttered seeded bread fresh from the oven at our local supermarket. I'm of the opinion that an artist who hasn't learned to cook has some way to go yet.

4. What is the last book you read?

I'm reading my way one last time through the ten books in the series RUTHLESS TO WIN by my protege Dakota Franklin, which launches later this year, after the volunteer editors (I'm always recruiting, folks, so if you think you can do the job write to me — andrejute at coolmainpress dot com) cast one last pair of eyes over the texts to see that they are spotless. Of course I knew that Dakota is talented when I started working with her a dozen years ago, or I wouldn't have wasted my time, but now I'm just stunned by the superb way these ten novels, each with a different lead character, draws the reader into a whole world she has imagined, so real that you can reach out and touch the characters because you empathize with them so readily.

5. If your books could only have single color covers, what color would it be?

Sunflower yellow. I wouldn't have survived in a profession which eats its children for so long, or be so cheerful still, if I weren't basically optimistic. Today's little challenge was to choose a question from your long list, and make up my five with the next four in line, regardless, and to say something interesting about each of them. One of the grand things about being a writer is that your judges are out there, that you don't have to face them. Conversely, one of the grand things about the internet is that it puts you in touch with your readers. I've been amazed at how profoundly a writer can affect his readers' emotions and lives.

Netsite http://coolmainpress.com/andrejute.html

Blog Kissing the Blarney http://coolmainpress.com/ajwriting/

Amazon USA http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001K1KSHI

Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B001K1KSHI

Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/AndreJute

Coolmain Press http://coolmainpress.com/home.html

The Editing Ninja Has the Day Off

I'll get to FANBOYS next week. My wife and I are celebrating our 10 year wedding anniversary today.

'nuff said, right?

WIP Wednesday: Money, Money, Money

Characters need motivation, right?

I've decided three of my VICs (very important characters) in my as-yet-untitled supernatural thriller need money. They aren't greedy people. No, not at all. One is a decorated military veteran who finds himself disabled and unable to pay his bills. One is a college drop-out, working her butt off in retail but she can't pay her medical bills (related to an eating disorder which was directly related to the central--and for now, secret--conflict of the book). The third is working on her PhD in psychology, but loses funding for her research. *sad face*

Every character needs a motivation.

These VICs are about to be visited by their guardian angel devil. (No, this is not the "supernatural" in "supernatural thriller". He isn't literally a devil.)

Let the games begin.

How's your WIP going?

On Negativity, Destruction, and Rebuilding

Do you want more blog readers? Here's one simple secret, one I've held close to my vest for a long time: rant.

The nastier you are, the more venomous opinion you espouse, the better your numbers will be. I hate to admit it, but after nearly five years of blogging about writing (and life), my most-read posts are those in which I threw a mini-hissy fit. Evidently, negative vibes attract blog readers.

And it's soooooo easy to be negative. The first thoughts in many tough circumstances are often negative. Ever heard the advice to wait a day before mailing a letter written in anger? Great advice.

Here's what I've learned about life from my home improvement project: destruction takes far less time than rebuilding. I demolished 2 1/2 bathrooms in 3 days. We are in week two of the rebuild, and just passing the midway point on 1 1/2 of those bathrooms. Sloooow going.

Here's the other thing I've learned: destruction is much harder on my body than rebuilding. I haven't sprained anything/shed large amounts of blood since the end of the demolition.

Is there a parallel to blogging? You bet. Negative vibes, attacks, and rants will garner attention quickly, but they come with a price. Sometimes, a writer just has to rant. I do from time to time and I try to be honest. But, if it's all I did, it wouldn't be right. Nobody wants to linger in negative land for too long--unless we're all drinking the same Kool-Aid.

Have a great week.

#samplesunday The House Eaters Chapter 2

(for chapter one, check here)

I slowed a bit, not so sure if I wanted the wax relic to notice me. Something wasn’t right. His hair was weird, wispy and thin like stretched bits of cotton, and he hunched over, sort of like his spine was cracked in two and he learned to walk without it.

Maybe the House seeped into my brain a little too much. Maybe I was already missing my friends. The Hollow was cell phone black hole for sure; I lost service as soon as Dad steered around the final curve in our approach to town. The clouds didn’t help—not the best omen on moving day, especially in the usually dry midsummer heat.

“Nick,” Mom said, smiling her best, though exhausted. “This is Mr. Sanderson, one of our new neighbors.”

The relic poked his hand at me, and I mean relic. I thought at first he lost his hand in the war, whatever war he was young enough to fight. Then I noticed fingers unfold from the splotchy thing he offered me. When I touched it, though, my heart eased into a cruising speed. Not the clammy paw I expected.

“Nick,” I said.

“Hello, Nicholas. I’m Jeb Sanderson. I had a son like you, once.” His voice eked out, small and quiet. I almost had to ask him to repeat himself. Then his grip tightened on my hand, and he leaned closer, looking me over with his eyes, two wet marbles with too much white. He smelled a little like black licorice. “Welcome to the Hollow… or Evergreen Estates, as it stands now.”

Jeb Sanderson was the first person to call the place “the Hollow,” and, for me at least, the name stuck. He looked hollow, especially his eyes—like something was missing.

“Jeb was telling us a bit about the new development,” Mom said. “Says one other couple has moved in.”

“Great.” I slowly retrieved my hand from Sanderson’s grip. “I’m going to head in, see about sorting my clothes or something.”

“Nice to meet you, Nicholas.”

I nodded quickly, trying to smile at least a little, then brushed past Mom on the way inside. Sanderson watched me the whole time, burning me with those wet marble eyes.

~

My sister, Tabby—although she insisted on being called Tabitha as soon as she turned thirteen—was in her room going obsessive-compulsive on her closet. She pushed her face into the hallway as I walked by.

“Did you see the old guy?” She smashed her eyebrows down with disgust. Tabby and I could be twins, except for the gender difference and three years separation and all. Sure, she was a little on the short side, and I topped out just over six feet, but we both had naturally curly hair—dark brown—and pale blue eyes set in slender faces. Naturally curly hair was “darling” on a girl but a major pain for me, thus I kept mine cropped low. Our bodies were thin, like Dad’s. Thin and pale with too many freckles to count. Needless to say, Tabby and I spent our lives as one of two colors: Elmer’s glue or Elmo. Mom wasn’t a slouch, either—we inherited her baby blues. She was just shorter, stockier, and more athletic than the lot of us. She used to work as a corporate fitness trainer before the big heave-ho.

Of course, Mom and Tabby had these lips, too. On any other girl, I’d think Angelina Jolie. On my family members, I tried to envision Mick Jagger.

“Yeah. I shook his hand.”

Tabby wrinkled her nose. “He creeped me out.”

I smiled. “I told him you’d like to water his houseplants.”

“Not funny, Nick.” She glared at me. Despite the freckles and pasty skin, Tabby could glare just like Mom. “He really gave me the creeps. I got this vibe, like I could tell he wasn’t telling the truth just by looking at him. A feeling I have, I guess.”

“What, you’re psychic now?”

“You don’t have to be a jerk all the time.” She slammed the door and cranked her boy-band tunes.

Once in my room, I shut my own door. After the car ride and everything, I had enough of the family. Even so, I felt kind of lonely. Tabby and I were never close, not really anyway. But she was the only person I would know in school, and that had to count for something.

Flopping onto the bed, I stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine ways in which I could survive the year. Some clouds sailed across the sky, and my room filled with morphing shadows. I wasn’t used to the house, of course, but I didn’t expect so much midday darkness.

In fact, everything about the place felt wrong—the House, my mood, and, of course, the freak-show neighbor, Jeb Sanderson. My brain kept replaying the image of the old guy and his talon-like hands. “I had a son like you, once.” The blank look in his eyes sort of echoed the empty windows in the House.

The House Eaters is available for Kindle, Nook, and at Smashwords for 99cents, or in paperback for $6.99.

Have a great Sunday.

Five Questions Friday: Annette Lyon

Five Questions with Annette Lyon...

1. If you could write in any color ink, what would it be?

Purple. I used to mark up my college literature textbooks in purple. It's a happy color.

2. What three things are always in your refrigerator?

Butter (No margarine, thank you very much.)

Phernergan Rx that's expired and really should be thrown out

Apple cider vinegar

3. What is on the floor of your bedroom?

A mending pile that I'll get to "any time now" but that's been there for a year

A Jane Austen quote book

A big fluffy reading pillow my daughter made me for Christmas

4. Which is scarier, zombies or vampires? Why?

Zombies, because they don't just kill people--they make people turn on each other. Zombie stories aren't really about the zombies. They're about the dark side of human nature and what we'll do to each other in the face of ultimate terror.

5. What items do you always have with you?

Cell phone

Water bottle

Book and/or Kindle

ponytail holder

Website: http://annettelyon.com

Blog: http://blog.annettelyon.com

Twitter: @lyonstale

Lost Without You, $2.99

At the Water's Edge, $2.99

There, Their, They're: A No-Tears Guide to Grammar from the Word Nerd: $0.99

Editing Ninja: Going Subordinate

Your teachers lied to you.

Probably.

If they were like mine, they told you never to begin a sentence with "because". Lies and deceit, I tell you. Lies and deceit.

Remember last week's post about clauses? Today we're going to talk about dependent clauses (otherwise known as subordinate clauses). Every dependent (or subordinate clause) will start with either a subordinate conjunction or relative pronoun (I've listed common ones at the bottom of the post). Break the word subordinate down, and you'll understand why these clauses can't stand on their own. (sub=beneath, under, below and ordinate means in order, so these clauses are less than a sentence, got it?) The word dependent is fairly easy to understand, too: These clauses depend on something else to make a complete thought.

Every subordinate or dependent clause will have a subject and verb like a real, grown up sentence, but the subordinate conjunction or relative pronoun will knock it down a peg. Here's the basic formula:

subordinate conjunction + sentence = subordinate (dependent) clause

or

relative pronoun + sentence = subordinate (dependent) clause

Last week's example When Bob went to the store for a drink of water is a subordinate clause because of the word when. Without when, it's a sentence, see:

Bob went to the store for a drink of water.

Now here's how your teachers lied. If they were like most of mine, they told you never to begin a sentence with because (one of the more popular subordinate conjunctions). You are welcome to start with a subordinate conjunction (and therefore clause) as long as you attach an independent clause to make a complete sentence.

Let's work with Bob.

Bob bought a bottle of water because he was thirsty.

Here you have an independent clause (Bob bought a bottle of water) and a subordinate clause (because + he was thirsty).

English syntax allows you to rearrange these clauses when you have a subordinate and independent clause.

Because he was thirsty, Bob bought a bottle of water.

Beautiful, right? Wait. Wait. WAIT. I started a sentence with because! Ah, but I finished it with an independent clause tacked onto the subordinate clause with a comma. Yes, you can do that.

Because he was thirsty is not a complete thought. Because he was thirsty, Bob bought a bottle of water is. Your teachers (if they were like mine) wanted to avoid the messy "subordinate clause masquerading as a sentence" situation. How could you explain a mess like that to a third grader?

Here's a list of common subordinate conjunctions and relative pronouns. Should you need more help, you know where I live (on the 'net). Don't hesitate to contact me.

Subordinate Conjunctions:

after
although
as
because
before
even if
even though
if
in order that
once
provided that
rather than
since
so that
than
that
though
unless until
when
whenever
where
whereas
wherever
whether
while
why

Relative Pronouns:

that
which
whichever
who
whoever
whom
whose
whosever
whomever

(Yeah, like anybody uses "whosever" anymore...)

Next week, we get crazy with the FANBOYS.

WIP Wednesday: Doing the Right Thing

June has been icky so far. A bonafide pain in my ass (and other parts I've injured while home remodeling). I haven't been able to write enough to satisfy my inner demons. I have cuts and bruises on every limb of my body, including a pretty severe sprain of my left wrist. Along with my tanking output, I haven't had a good month in sales for my indie/self-pubbed work or traditional schtuff.

Boo-hoo.

Then I woke to an email from a reader. This particular reader took part in a LibraryThing giveaway for We are the Monsters. Among other things, dear reader said:

"I thought the language of the novel was amazing...Beautiful prose, dark river water imagery..."

Wow. That really fills one's tank.

I started a new novel, trying to write it "thriller style". The voice isn't coming--it's too much of a departure from what I am. I'm starting over. The reader's email reminded me of how I write best, even if it doesn't garner an obscene amount of sales. I have to do what's right.

I have to do what's right.

Triangulation Three-Peat

I'm humbled to have a story in this year's Triangulation: Last Contact. It's the third time the good folks at Parsec have been generous enough to include one of my little tales. I'm honored. Triangulation always brings good company. For the (nearly) complete table of contents, see editor Stephen V. Ramey's blog.

Thanks, Mr. Ramey. Happy to have climbed aboard the good ship Triangulation. Thanks for believing in short stories.

A Delicous Loathsome, Dark and Deep Review

Sometimes, writers need a little boost. This has been "one of those weeks" for me.

I love all of my books, I really do--even those collections I've self-published in e-format. But of them all, Loathsome, Dark and Deep has a special place in my heart. It was my first published novel (thanks to Jodi Lee and Belfire Press). It was so much fun (can something so bleak be fun?) to write.

I love how it reads, even now.

Sylvia Cochran at The Deepening World of Fiction has some lovely things to say about Loathsome in her recent review:

"What deepens the enjoyment of this book is the fact that there is no predictability but that the reader — for better or worse — has to hang on and follow in lock step with the protagonist.

When was the last time you didn’t know the ending by the middle of the book?"

Now that last bit filled me with joy.

"Even if horror is not your genre of choice, do yourself a favor and pick up a copy; the excellent writing — with very well done editing — is a joy to read even if only for its own sake."

Aw, shucks. Thanks for reading, Sylvia.

You can read the rest of the review at The Deepening or pick up a copy of Loathsome, Dark and Deep.

Have a wonderful day/night/morning/whatever.

Five Question Friday: Judi Coltman

Five Questions with Judi Coltman...

What subject was the hardest for you in school?

Math - Hands down. When Algebra came along and added letters to stand for numbers, I was finished. It seemed wrong to force letters and sounds into a fixed formula that equated to numbers. Then came geometry. I can't even say the word without an intestinal physical reaction.

If you could live in anywhere in the world, where would it be?

I would live exactly where I intend to live in 3 years. Palm Springs, California. There is something about this verdant oasis in the desert that feels like a world apart. That being said, I would have to maintain an apartment in Rome, Italy and one in San Francisco, CA for diversion.

What three things are always in your refrigerator?

Greek yogurt. Lots of greek yogurt. I am an addict and could possibly do with a 12 step program where it is concerned. Blueberries, anti-oxidents kids! Start now. Finally, eggs. Scrambled eggs are my comfort food. Pretty boring, huh.

What is the hardest part of being a writer?

I chose this question because writing can be quite difficult. Contrary to what many believe, it is almost impossible to sit down at a keyboard and pound out a book. Often, research is required. What really happens to a dead body after it has been discarded in the ocean and left for sharks? You can't just make it up or you lose credibility with your reader. However, that is not the hardest part. The absolute hardest part for me is balancing my real life with my writing life. I am a parent, active community member and educator. A writer should, by definition make writing the priority, but it doesn't work that way. I don't have a quiet garret where I can hide and concentrate. Truth be told, I sit in front of my TV (I like the background noise) and, on my laptop, try to squeeze in a half an hour here or there between my priority. . .my family. I would hate to lose the important moments because I was writing.

If you couldn't write, how would you spend the time you now use for writing?

If could not write, I might just truly go nuts! But, in the spirit of the question. . .if I could not write, I have other creative outlets. I am an artist and dabble in different medias. I draw and paint (watercolors) and I also upcycle books into art. I have even sold some of them. Writing is my joy. I write when I am walking, I write when I am out with friends, I just don't always get it down on "paper" until later.

My book, "Is It Just Me? or Is Everyone a Little Nuts!" is a humor book that has been enjoyed by a wide range of readers. I write about topics everyone can relate to. My book is available in paperback at :

Amazon

Barnes & Noble.com

My website, http://www.judicoltman.com, where there is an excerpt.

On Kindle

Follow my blog, "My Life In A Nutshell" at http://www.jcoltman.blogspot.com

Clauses: Not the Santa Kind (an Editing Ninja Post)

I'm going to keep this simple because I'm up to my eyeballs in sawdust (see yesterday's post.)

There are two types of clauses in English--the independent and the dependent.

Before your click finger goes rogue (out of boredom) and clicks on the nearest shiny thing, stick with me.

An independent clause is simply a sentence--it expresses a complete thought:

Bob went to the store for a drink of water.

A dependent clause is an incomplete thought and often preceded with a "dependent marker word".

When Bob went to the store for a drink of water...

See? What happens when Bob went to the store for a drink of water? Huh? Don't leave us hanging. The dependent marker word often makes a clause dependent. Notice how our complete thought (the independent clause) was actually shorter than the incomplete thought? Nobody said language was supposed to make sense.

Oh wait--yes, it should make sense.

Many dependent marker words (a fancy way of saying adverbs and conjunctions) are lurking out there, waiting for you...

Next week, I'll tackle conjunctions (the matchmakers of clauses) and help fix "dependent clause-itis". That is, if I'm not buried in house rubble.

Heh.

WIP Wednesday: My Lack of Words

This is our main bathroom as of 7:45 PM last night. I've only written 600 words in the last four days.

I wonder why?