I spent the summer in feverish home improvement because, yes, we're having another baby.
No, we don't know the gender (nor do we find out--few surprises hold so much joy in our world).
Yes, I'm excited and scared and happy and nervous and...
You fill in the blank.
End of line.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Wanted: Personal Assistant
Well, not really, because I would have to pay and/or feed and clothe him/her.
But I need some organization in my writing life.
I hit 40K on The House, my as-yet-untitled WIP and would like to finish sometime in September. I'm editing a novella about a boy and his monster (a flesh-consuming, not-quite-vampire). I have ideas in place (and a few words) for a sci-fi noir. Have I mentioned the new ending and revisions to Borrowed Saints? What about the Halloween ghost story I'd like to have done and released in October? The story seed for a mutant anthology now open for submissions?
Ack!
Not to mention my life is going to change--drastically--in December.
More soon.
Promise.
But I need some organization in my writing life.
I hit 40K on The House, my as-yet-untitled WIP and would like to finish sometime in September. I'm editing a novella about a boy and his monster (a flesh-consuming, not-quite-vampire). I have ideas in place (and a few words) for a sci-fi noir. Have I mentioned the new ending and revisions to Borrowed Saints? What about the Halloween ghost story I'd like to have done and released in October? The story seed for a mutant anthology now open for submissions?
Ack!
Not to mention my life is going to change--drastically--in December.
More soon.
Promise.
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Power of Anonymous
Traditional wisdom dictates a writer shouldn't respond to reviews, positive or negative. I agree, however, we now live and work in a world of instant reviews from a wide array of unqualified sources. I'm not suggesting the "reviewer" who left the following "review" of The Bottom Feeders (the free edition, FYI) at Barnes & Nobel was unqualified:
Gee, thanks anonymous. Oh, I'm sorry, Anonymous. It is your proper name.
Remember when I wrote a post about all reviews being equal on the internet? Well, I rescind part of my statement. Anonymous reviews are more equal than others.
(By the way, Anon, you forgot the apostrophe before the second 's' on the possessive "schoolers"; just saying you might want to pay more attention in ELA class. I haven't even mentioned comma use...but that would just be snarky.)
Total BS
Each story was crap, the mere idea this is thought of horror is a joke, and frankly free or not it's a horrid read. The plot of each story is crude and the endings are rushed leaving you feel like you just read a middle schoolers ELA story.
Remember when I wrote a post about all reviews being equal on the internet? Well, I rescind part of my statement. Anonymous reviews are more equal than others.
(By the way, Anon, you forgot the apostrophe before the second 's' on the possessive "schoolers"; just saying you might want to pay more attention in ELA class. I haven't even mentioned comma use...but that would just be snarky.)
Friday, August 26, 2011
Five Question Friday: James Everington
Five questions with James Everington:
What is the hardest part of being a writer?
It's all quite easy apart from the damn words...
What is on the floor of your bedroom?
My lazy cat, normally.
What is your favorite kind of cheese?
A proper Cropwell Bishop Stilton
If you couldn't write, how would you spend the time you now use for writing?
Bitching about writers, probably.
What is your perfect Sunday?
Coffee & fry up
Write for the length of time it takes to play She Hangs Brightly by Mazzy Star, Giant Steps by The Boo Radleys, and Highway 61 by Bob Dylan
Coffee and sit outside reading good book
Start cooking curry from scratch
Drink nice Bitter for majority of lengthy curry cooking and eating process
Zzzzz.
Find James Everington online:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/The-Other-Room/dp/B004Z1CUN0/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1304533999&sr=8-2
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/69127
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
WIP Wednesday: Wednesday, Bloody Wednesday
I quizzed my students about horror yesterday as a lead in to our study of Beowulf. I asked them to list, and rank-order, the top five elements they expect to see in a horror movie or read in a story.
The answers were telling--and somewhat funny: sex, darkness, dark scenery, fornication, death, nudity, scary music, stupidity... One group even mentioned "creepy-ass-mofos".
Okay...
All but one group included blood as the first item on their list. This speaks to the kind of movies they're used to watching, doesn't it? Would their be no Saw XVII without blood? Can there be a true horror story without blood?
I think so. Some of the best horror doesn't even play in the realm of blood. My "not-quite-haunted house" WIP doesn't have (much) blood, and I've been scaring my own pants off for weeks.
We'll see how readers feel later this year.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Give Fred a Day Off, He Comes Back with Vengeance
Fred, the moniker I've given my subconscious/muse, was stumped with my "not exactly a haunted house" book. I gave him the day off last week and wrote a little on a science fiction/future noir story I've been kicking around.
And then Fred came back from vacation, sipping a piña colada and wearing a vintage "I Survived the Orient Express"* t-shirt. His little imaginary head was filled to the brim with ideas for the house story (heretofore only known as "the house book").
He suggested several titles, too, some with "smoke" in them, others with "fog". The house, it seems, plays with those inside, toying with their memories.
Especially memories which elicit fear, sadness, or outright paranoia.
So... The House of Smoke and Fog?
Maybe.
It sounds a bit too much like The House of Sand and Fog, a much different story altogether.
Suggestions?
*The Orient Express was the bad-ass roller coaster at Worlds of Fun, a Kansas City amusement park, when I was a boy. It's gone now, but the memory remains.
And then Fred came back from vacation, sipping a piña colada and wearing a vintage "I Survived the Orient Express"* t-shirt. His little imaginary head was filled to the brim with ideas for the house story (heretofore only known as "the house book").
He suggested several titles, too, some with "smoke" in them, others with "fog". The house, it seems, plays with those inside, toying with their memories.
Especially memories which elicit fear, sadness, or outright paranoia.
So... The House of Smoke and Fog?
Maybe.
It sounds a bit too much like The House of Sand and Fog, a much different story altogether.
Suggestions?
*The Orient Express was the bad-ass roller coaster at Worlds of Fun, a Kansas City amusement park, when I was a boy. It's gone now, but the memory remains.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Five Question Friday: Kim Jewell
Today's Five Question Friday with Kim Jewell
What do you think makes a good story?
To me, a story needs to be entertaining. I want to like the characters (good or bad) and lose myself in the plot line. Reading (as well as TV and movies) is an escape for me - I want to go on a journey or an adventure, be taken away from regular life. If I end up having to look up words or slog through unnecessary descriptions that take away from the story, I don't enjoy it.
Why are manhole covers round?
Simple - beer bellies!
What is the last book you read?
I just finished the Suzanne Collins trilogy, for the second time. (I like reading YA material to research for my own writing.)
What is on the floor of your bedroom?
Aside from the usual (bed, dressers, TV stand...), there are three dog beds. One small one for our Cocker Spaniel, two large ones for our Great Danes.
If you could be a superhero, what would you want your superpowers to be?
This one's easy - I hate traffic, so I'd want the ability to fly! Funny though, my Justice Series books are about teenage who come into superhero powers. So far none of them can fly - yet - though one of the teens has a pilot's license. (Not exactly what I meant by wanting to fly...)
Links to my books:
Invisible Justice
Brute Justice
Misery's Fire
Kim Jewell's blog: www.kimjewell.wordpress.com
Follow Kim Jewell on Twitter: @kimjewell
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
WIP Wednesday: Second Lives
I wrote a little piece called "To Put Away Childish Things" a few years ago. It appeared in Kaleidotrope before the 'zine went digital, so I have a dead tree copy lying around somewhere. It's a strange little tale, but one which a reviewer mentioned seeing a novel based on the story's characters...
Well, I'm writing it. A novella, at least, one which I'm calling Skin Jobs (for now). But I'm starting where the story leaves us...
“That’s him?” Tag called over his shoulder. “That’s Santiago?”
The portly man stopped his climb and dabbed his forehead with a rag. “Yes. Hanging from the—”
“Cross.”
“Huh?” The fat man’s face twisted.
“It looks like a cross,” Tag said. “Somebody’s crucified the poor old bastard.” Tag started down the debris pile, his heavy synth boots crunching and cracking over loose scrap. His coat, long in the hem, flapped like black wings as his slow descent became a run.
Tag Deeken is a sort of detective. Think Future Noir.
What about the weird house story, Aaron? It's still there, incubating. Fred told me he needs some time to work on it.
Have a lovely day.
Well, I'm writing it. A novella, at least, one which I'm calling Skin Jobs (for now). But I'm starting where the story leaves us...
“That’s him?” Tag called over his shoulder. “That’s Santiago?”
The portly man stopped his climb and dabbed his forehead with a rag. “Yes. Hanging from the—”
“Cross.”
“Huh?” The fat man’s face twisted.
“It looks like a cross,” Tag said. “Somebody’s crucified the poor old bastard.” Tag started down the debris pile, his heavy synth boots crunching and cracking over loose scrap. His coat, long in the hem, flapped like black wings as his slow descent became a run.
Tag Deeken is a sort of detective. Think Future Noir.
What about the weird house story, Aaron? It's still there, incubating. Fred told me he needs some time to work on it.
Have a lovely day.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
My Recurring Nightmare
School starts again tomorrow.
My thirteenth year in education. Thirteen years of students, books, papers, discipline...
An unlucky number for some. For me? I always feel a little nudge of butterflies in my gut, but I like school. If I have to work outside my home, and right now, I do, this is the place I want to be.
Besides, my students inspire me.
Heh.
My thirteenth year in education. Thirteen years of students, books, papers, discipline...
An unlucky number for some. For me? I always feel a little nudge of butterflies in my gut, but I like school. If I have to work outside my home, and right now, I do, this is the place I want to be.
Besides, my students inspire me.
Heh.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The August Experiment
versus
I announced a few days ago the release of two new collections.
What I didn't mention was the small experiment I'm running. See, These Darkened Streets, containing more stories and tales which haven't been reprinted as often, is priced $1.99. A Feast of Flesh is one of "those" 99 cent books.
Maybe there isn't enough difference between the prices. Maybe the "content" is so different I won't gain useful, valid data. So far, A Feast of Flesh is outstripping These Darkened Streets by a 2 to 1 margin in sales. Two books by the same author released on the same day, and the 99 cent book is selling twice as fast...
Food for thought.
nom...nom...nom...
Saturday, August 13, 2011
The Sad Truth about Short Fiction Markets
I made a short story submission this morning. It's been a few weeks since doing so. While I was at Duotrope, I tinkered around a bit with my records.
Let's face it: short fiction markets, unless they are some time-honored tradition kept alive by the good will and deep pockets of a benefactor, aren't built to last. Even non-paying venues take time and effort (and often cash) to produce.
Of the recorded 153 "acceptances" (some reprints, some markets which never published), I counted 61 closed (permanently) or dead markets. Granted, some of those "closed" were anthologies, but roughly 40% of the markets to which my work has "sold" in the past four years are gone.
Gone, gone.
It saddens me a little.
What doesn't sadden me is the story I submitted. The first bit from "Jack is Almost Eight":
Night was coming, and Jack was afraid.
The shadow man only came at night, the darkest nights. Jack held his covers close to his seven-year-old chin as if the blanket could keep the monsters away. His thin, light brown hair stuck in sweaty ribbons against his forehead. A television hum rose from the stairs and trickled into Jack’s bedroom. Evan was watching wrestling. He would smell of beer and sweat and a day’s grease from the shop. Jack could keep his eyes shut for a while, but only so long before fear nibbled away at the fringes of his seven-year-old brain.
Here's a hint (if you didn't catch it from the sample): more than one monster lurks in this story.
Have a great weekend.
Let's face it: short fiction markets, unless they are some time-honored tradition kept alive by the good will and deep pockets of a benefactor, aren't built to last. Even non-paying venues take time and effort (and often cash) to produce.
Of the recorded 153 "acceptances" (some reprints, some markets which never published), I counted 61 closed (permanently) or dead markets. Granted, some of those "closed" were anthologies, but roughly 40% of the markets to which my work has "sold" in the past four years are gone.
Gone, gone.
It saddens me a little.
What doesn't sadden me is the story I submitted. The first bit from "Jack is Almost Eight":
Night was coming, and Jack was afraid.
The shadow man only came at night, the darkest nights. Jack held his covers close to his seven-year-old chin as if the blanket could keep the monsters away. His thin, light brown hair stuck in sweaty ribbons against his forehead. A television hum rose from the stairs and trickled into Jack’s bedroom. Evan was watching wrestling. He would smell of beer and sweat and a day’s grease from the shop. Jack could keep his eyes shut for a while, but only so long before fear nibbled away at the fringes of his seven-year-old brain.
Here's a hint (if you didn't catch it from the sample): more than one monster lurks in this story.
Have a great weekend.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
WIP Wednesday: Fear
From my current WIP, an as-yet unnamed supernatural "thriller" (in other words, a weird-ass horror book I hope might have a tiny bit of commercial appeal):
Following her up the stairs, Kelsey paused to ask, “so what are you afraid of, Erin?”
“Oh, me? The only thing which scares me is knowing too much.”
You see, Erin is the girl who has everything: looks, brains, a perfect California tan. Unfortunately, she's also psychic. Puts "knowing too much" in perspective, doesn't it? One member of their little group has already vanished, but it wasn't a member of the cast--no, the house, or whatever might be in the house, decided to start with the crew. Goodbye, sound man. It seems he had heart trouble, too. So sad.
Why don't they just leave if things are getting a bit out of hand? Good question. I asked myself the same thing while watching Paranormal Activity.
But I have several answers.
This is where things turn really "sour".
Stay tuned.
Following her up the stairs, Kelsey paused to ask, “so what are you afraid of, Erin?”
“Oh, me? The only thing which scares me is knowing too much.”
You see, Erin is the girl who has everything: looks, brains, a perfect California tan. Unfortunately, she's also psychic. Puts "knowing too much" in perspective, doesn't it? One member of their little group has already vanished, but it wasn't a member of the cast--no, the house, or whatever might be in the house, decided to start with the crew. Goodbye, sound man. It seems he had heart trouble, too. So sad.
Why don't they just leave if things are getting a bit out of hand? Good question. I asked myself the same thing while watching Paranormal Activity.
But I have several answers.
This is where things turn really "sour".
Stay tuned.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Reasonable Book Promotion
I received an interesting piece of mail the other day. An author (who will remain nameless) sent a glossy, two-sided postcard, a glossy 5x7 photograph (signed, no less), a business card, and a "special extra" item related to his/her forthcoming book. A small press (with which I am unfamiliar) is releasing the book.
I was unfamiliar with the author or book before receiving the mailing.
I'm not going to buy it.
Yes, you have to promote your work for people to discover it. Of course. But take this anonymous author's work for example. The glossy, two-sided postcards aren't cheap. Add the photo, business card (glossy and full color), and the bonus item--not to mention the first class postage and envelope... Well, there was probably a good dollar's worth of stuff in that envelope (and that doesn't include the stamp).
Reasonable promotion? Not hardly--I don't know what anonymous author's percentage is, but considering a mass mailing will not have a very high success rate, I can't imagine it paying off.
Promotion should pay off. Writing is a business. Business is about making profit. If expenditures outstrip income, well... Find another business. I mailed a bunch of bookmarks, press releases, and review copies of Loathsome, Dark and Deep when it was released. You know what? With my latest royalty check, I've almost paid for my "promotion". I think the review copies (I mailed about ten), netted three or four reviews. Not good business sense, but I've learned.
Too many self-styled Indie-writers focus too much energy on the promotion of their books. Yes, promotion is necessary, but not as necessary as a good book. Are you getting what you "pay" for in terms of book promotion? Remember, your time has value, too. Time spent promoting is time away from writing. Or hanging out with your family. Or some other worthwhile pastime.
So I'll mention two new releases of mine, collections of stories (reprints from the small press with a few new nuggets tossed in):
The twelve stories in These Darkened Streets play on the foggy boundary between horror and magical realism . You'll find shivers here, dear reader, and other, more thought-provoking flights of imagination all set in small towns with dark, quiet streets...
A Feast of Flesh: Tales of undead fiends, bloodthirsty monsters, and hideous nightmare-ghouls waiting to rend and tear human flesh...
I'll mention them, but for now, that's about all. I have more stories to write.
Have a lovely day.
I was unfamiliar with the author or book before receiving the mailing.
I'm not going to buy it.
Yes, you have to promote your work for people to discover it. Of course. But take this anonymous author's work for example. The glossy, two-sided postcards aren't cheap. Add the photo, business card (glossy and full color), and the bonus item--not to mention the first class postage and envelope... Well, there was probably a good dollar's worth of stuff in that envelope (and that doesn't include the stamp).
Reasonable promotion? Not hardly--I don't know what anonymous author's percentage is, but considering a mass mailing will not have a very high success rate, I can't imagine it paying off.
Promotion should pay off. Writing is a business. Business is about making profit. If expenditures outstrip income, well... Find another business. I mailed a bunch of bookmarks, press releases, and review copies of Loathsome, Dark and Deep when it was released. You know what? With my latest royalty check, I've almost paid for my "promotion". I think the review copies (I mailed about ten), netted three or four reviews. Not good business sense, but I've learned.
Too many self-styled Indie-writers focus too much energy on the promotion of their books. Yes, promotion is necessary, but not as necessary as a good book. Are you getting what you "pay" for in terms of book promotion? Remember, your time has value, too. Time spent promoting is time away from writing. Or hanging out with your family. Or some other worthwhile pastime.
So I'll mention two new releases of mine, collections of stories (reprints from the small press with a few new nuggets tossed in):
The twelve stories in These Darkened Streets play on the foggy boundary between horror and magical realism . You'll find shivers here, dear reader, and other, more thought-provoking flights of imagination all set in small towns with dark, quiet streets...A Feast of Flesh: Tales of undead fiends, bloodthirsty monsters, and hideous nightmare-ghouls waiting to rend and tear human flesh...I'll mention them, but for now, that's about all. I have more stories to write.
Have a lovely day.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Infestations (A WIP Thursday...Sorry No Alliteration)
I'm obsessed with haunted houses.
No, not the Halloween theme spook houses, with genuine haunted houses (if such things exist). I've never been in one--as far as I know--but the idea fascinates me. Some of my favorite novels feature spooky houses--The Haunting of Hill House, Hell House, 'salem's Lot. Yes, I know the last one is about vampires, but the Marsten House certainly haunts the protag. The House of Leaves is an amazing book about--you guessed it--a bizarre house.
The House Eaters features a house--a semi/sort of haunted place. I've written stories about "places" with hauntings or "infestations". That's a good word for it, I suppose: infestation.
Here's the set up for my WIP:
Six people volunteer for a reality style show set in an old country house. The rules: they must stay inside for seven full days. No slipping out for a walk on the veranda or stroll through the garden. For their time, each will receive a minimum of $12K.
Four of them have been there before, but that time there were five. They sought shelter during a snowstorm (their van had landed in a ditch and there was no cell phone reception in the boonies).
The fifth member of their party disappeared in the house. The police, of course, theorized he wandered out into the snow to find help and never found any.
His body, of course, was never found.
But the four friends did find something else, upstairs in the house.
And I'm not telling what.
Yet.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
I Will Write No More Stories
No, I'm not quitting.
Sorry.
But I'm not sure how to approach short stories anymore. Not the writing of them, but the sharing of them with readers.
I took a good, long look over my records the other day. I've had seven stories published, as per contract, for which I was never paid. Granted, the total lost pay lands just over $100...
But I signed contracts, right?
Seven stories (an unlucky number?) under contract were never published. Combined, these "stolen" stories and orphans represent about 10% of my published/accepted work. Wait--10% is a pretty big chunk, right?
Right.
Several markets have closed in the past six months to a year. I know short stories are not profitable for publishers. Are they profitable for authors? Not really--not in terms of dollars and cents. Even my biggest paydays, two "professional" sales, averaged only a few dollars per hour spent honing those tales. I can schelp lumber for customers at the local Home Depot for much more and get a workout to boot. Money isn't why I write, of course.*
It sours me on shorts a little. 10%. 10%
I'm in "novel" mode now, and that's okay. Thanks to a long weekend away from home and a Phillip K. Dick novel, I now have another novel idea and I'm itching to write.
But I cut my teeth on short stories. I love them, so I won't be saying goodbye.
At least I don't think so...
What the h#ll does "cutting one's teeth" mean, anyway?
*I do it for the free pizza.
Sorry.
But I'm not sure how to approach short stories anymore. Not the writing of them, but the sharing of them with readers.
I took a good, long look over my records the other day. I've had seven stories published, as per contract, for which I was never paid. Granted, the total lost pay lands just over $100...
But I signed contracts, right?
Seven stories (an unlucky number?) under contract were never published. Combined, these "stolen" stories and orphans represent about 10% of my published/accepted work. Wait--10% is a pretty big chunk, right?
Right.
Several markets have closed in the past six months to a year. I know short stories are not profitable for publishers. Are they profitable for authors? Not really--not in terms of dollars and cents. Even my biggest paydays, two "professional" sales, averaged only a few dollars per hour spent honing those tales. I can schelp lumber for customers at the local Home Depot for much more and get a workout to boot. Money isn't why I write, of course.*
It sours me on shorts a little. 10%. 10%
I'm in "novel" mode now, and that's okay. Thanks to a long weekend away from home and a Phillip K. Dick novel, I now have another novel idea and I'm itching to write.
But I cut my teeth on short stories. I love them, so I won't be saying goodbye.
At least I don't think so...
What the h#ll does "cutting one's teeth" mean, anyway?
*I do it for the free pizza.
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