What Was On My Butterfly Mind?

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We’re supposed to write about one thing that’s been on our mind this week. Well, mine is pretty much occupied with the adorable new grandbaby. Sorry I have no photos to share but his parents are trying to keep his social media footprint as tiny as his real footprint, at least for now. You’ll just have to take my unbiased, totally impartial word for it that he’s the cutest baby EVER. Or at least since his mother was a baby.

Jake the Cat

I have a butterfly mind, flower to flower, thought to thought. Or stream of consciousness perhaps. I don’t brood over any one thing to the exclusion of pondering other stuff. Well, maybe when Jake the Cat is yowling at me to FEED HIM. That’s pretty hard to ignore. But I’m not getting up at 4AM because he has a craving for smelly fishy catfood from the can. Never mind he has dry food in the bowl at all times and is thoroughly spoiled. By who, you ask? (Looks around guiltily.) Couldn’t be me!

So of course there was stuff this week that I thought about – the current state of world and national affairs, medical insurance, local freeway construction delays, author drama (there is so much of this but that’s kind of a constant, only the names and the central issues change, beware the flying monkeys), fasting for my blood test today, the novel I’m writing, many MANY plot bunnies for other books I don’t have time to write…

Well, ok, how about this one? I don’t know the person myself but there’s an author whose first book sold like hotcakes AND got made into a movie that did fairly well…and five YEARS later they are back with the sequel…and oh, surprise, not only have the readers not been waiting with bated breath, the entire industry has changed a LOT. What worked then does not work now. (Except when it does, of course, in the confounding manner of publishing.) I keep visualizing this poor person being like Rip Van Winkle in a way, emerging from the writer cave, book in hand, shouting “Here it is!” to the waiting crowds…only there aren’t any.

Never mind five years, seems like the publishing industry changes every six months or even more often, or so it seems.  I’m grateful for the various author groups I’m in online, where people compare notes and share generously as to what still works, what quit working, what’s new to try…

I’ve kind of had to unwind my view of myself as an author from my view of myself as the small business-publisher-of-myself, to keep my writing sanity. I write what I write and enjoy telling the stories and don’t let myself worry if this particular book I’m in the middle of now will pay the bills in June. Paying the bills in June is a whole other issue than whether my hero and heroine will defeat the Big Bad and get to that HEA. I'll handle the bills issues when I'm in business-mind mode! Too much pressure on the creativity kills the whole thing for me. I can’t “write to market”, nor do I want to, nor do I want to fret over it.

My market is people who happen to enjoy the same kinds of stories I do, and buy books that I write.

I do my promo activities and my networking and I certainly don’t let myself slack off on any of that because there are so many other good books and so many other good authors out there, and I don’t want readers to forget that they enjoy my books too. Reminding people that Veronica Scott exists and oh-by-the-way she has a new release (see below) plus a growing backlist is just good business sense.  I love scifi romance and I enjoy talking about the entire genre and other authors I admire on various platforms. I’m honored and have fun doing that!

But I have had to give myself a few stern lectures fairly recently on not getting spun up over the latest twist some large ebook seller has thrown into the business mix, or that alien planet barbarian dragon shifters with secret babies are now the rage in my genre when I write books like the adventures of Ripley and Hicks in “Aliens” but with more romance, less gore and less dripping ick and an HEA. Or any number of other wrinkles, permutations and new stumbling blocks in the indie author biz.

I’ll never be a statistical whiz, analyzing all the clicks per bid or whatever it may be, and I needed help with the complexities of creating a MailChimp newsletter…so I do the things I can, make myself learn the ones I totally require to survive as an author nowadays, and I keep it all FAR AWAY from my creative process of writing the next scifi romance.

This excellent article by Kristine Kathryn Rusch comparing the indie author phenomenon to a gold rush, an investment bubble and a business cycle was extremely clarifying and helpful to me and I highly recommend it.

New Release! Ta da!

The blurb:

I’m really excited to release three Sectors stories that have only been available previously in anthologies, none of which are available currently. (I know many of you purchased the Pets In Space anthology, which first contained STAR CRUISE STOWAWAY and thank you so much!) Along with STOWAWAY, I’ve really been wanting to get the other two stories out there for you, especially THE GOLDEN TOKEN, which was only in the  limited edition paperback we handed out at last year’s RT Booklovers Conference. So I’ve bundled them ALL into one book with the lengthy title STAR CRUISE A NOVELLA: STOWAWAY WITH RESCUE AND GOLDEN TOKEN SHORT STORIES.

Here are the story descriptions:

Star Cruise: Stowaway: A novella of 22K words, previously in the award winning ‘Pets In Space’ anthology.
Cargo Master Owen Embersson is shocked when the Nebula Zephyr’s ship’s cat and her alien sidekick, Midorri, alert him to the presence of a stowaway. He has no idea of the dangerous complications to come nor does he anticipate falling hard for the woman whose life he now holds in his hands. Life aboard the Nebula Zephyr has just become more interesting – and deadly.

Star Cruise: Rescue: A short story of 9K words, previously in the ‘Romancing the Stars’ anthology.
When a shore leave excursion goes terribly wrong for Mira Gage, a member of the Nebula Zephyr’s crew, Security Officer Clint Miltan races the clock to find her before the ship leaves orbit and abandons Mira to her fate. Clint’s got more than a professional interest in Mira, but will he be able to save her from the aliens holding her prisoner?

The Golden Token: A short story of 13K words, previously in the limited edition ‘Dealer’s Choice’ paperback anthology put together by Linnea Sinclair and handed out at the 2016 RT Booklovers Convention Interstellar Bar & Grille event.
Sectors Special Forces operator Charlie McBrire had a few days to kill on a layover at Space Station 47. He never expected to find himself in the middle of a miners’ rebellion, fighting to save the life of a casino dancer he just met but can’t imagine living without.

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Plotting Obsession

Plotting. Plotting is what brings us together today.

If you did not read that in the voice of the Impressive Clergyman from The Princess Bride, we can no longer be friends. Sorry. You can redeem yourself by reciting the first two Classic Blunders.

Anyway. Plotting.

Remember me complaining about needing a mentor of my own last week? Well, my friends, that's what craft books are for. If I haven't mentioned the book before, The Fantasy Fiction Formula is my latest foray into learning. This book is by Deborah Chester. It came recommended by a critic group member. I'd picked it up out of curiosity - that and I'm a sucker for trying out new ways of approaching what I do. Yes, I have a process. One that works, mostly. But you know me. I'm always open to better ways of doing things. If there is such a thing as a better way. So I read this book.

And eventually texted my fellow crit group member that I'd finished the damned book and I hated her now. She laughed at me.

I did disagree with some of the points in The Fantasy Fiction Formula (One example: There's an assertion that every scene until the climax must end in failure for your protagonist - I disagree. The protag can absolutely win scenes - but when that happens, the win has to turn out nothing like the protagonist imagined. But eh. Minor detail and some people would say that's an aggregate loss anyway.) I learned far more than I disagreed with, though.

The book is packed with useful tidbits. Until I read the FFF, I didn't know what an A/R unit was. It's Action/Reaction unit. Turns out, I'd been getting mine wrong from time to time. I knew about scene and sequel, but I'd never really paid much attention because every explanation of them I'd ever had went right over my head. Until Deborah Chester. I *think* I understand them now. And I'd like to believe I comprehend how they need to be put together in order to drive a story. She does a fantastic job of laying out plotting. She says you need three BIG scenes - and by big - she means weighty. Emotional. These three scenes are your twist points in your story. End of Act 1 twist, Act II twist and the Climax. Get those and you can then plot out the other scenes and sequels you need to drive your characters through those twist points. Add in whatever subplot scenes and sequels you want/need and presto. You have a solid start on an outline and on a synopsis.

Straight forward, right? It would be, were I plotting one book. But no. No, no, no. Why would I do the sensible thing? I'm attempting to apply this brand new, untried strategy to a five book arc where the first two books are already written and published. So not only do I need the three BIG scenes for each book, I have to consider each book as a scene/sequel set within the overall arc of the series. But no pressure.

I have this sense that if I can get this down and make it work for me, I'll have a better hold of story craft. I'd like to think it's a worthy pursuit that's worth the risk of upending my usual slowpoke process.

Yes. It is rather like a walk in the Fire Swamp. If the fire spurts and lightning sands don't get me, the ROUSes might.

Illegitimi non carborundum

The writing business is rough.  You put stuff out there, and you kind of have to accept that rejection is the baseline.  That's the thing you have to earn yourself out of.  Success is never a given.  You've got to toughen your skin.  None of this is new information, of course.  If you read any sort of writing advice, this is a front-and-center thing.  

And you've got to allow yourself to be critiqued.  You've got to be able to take your licks and then stand up and say, "All right, what's next?"

But when you're looking for critique, look for critique that is useful.  It isn't good critique just because it tears you down.  (Nor is it just because it fluffs you up, either.)  Choose your critique partners with care, because getting tied in with someone who isn't interested in actually critiquing your work-- or worse, thinks they understand what critique is, but doesn't-- can do so much more harm than good.

Here's my little story: I was on one small, private on-line critique group.  The set-up was pretty casual: upload things to a shared folder, and then critiques are either A. sent via group email or B. also uploaded to the shared folder.  No specific timeline, just put it up and people will get to it or not.  Because of this system, I had some things up there that I wasn't actually seeking critique on anymore.  But I hadn't taken them down, mostly because I wanted the other members of the group to be able to look at the whole body of work/larger plan if they were so inclined.  

And then I got this on one manuscript.

I made it no further than page 5 before nearly chewing my left arm off in the frustration of knowing that a writer with a great imagination, a lot of drive, and most likely a wonderful story to tell hasn't bothered, after all these years of effort, to learn the basics of story crafting. To improve your writing, you need to, at the very least, read some well-crafted books and analyze the plotting, sentence structure, foreshadowing, and subtlety of the writers' works. No one is born knowing how to write or craft a story. Those are skills that take some effort to learn. You could be a great writer. If you don't put in some study time, all your efforts and talents are wasted.

Wow.  That's brutal, no?

That's the sort of critique that could send someone running for the hills.  Heck, that's not even a critique, that's a dressing down.

Fortunately, I just laughed at it, and then promptly deleted myself from that group.

Because the manuscript in question was The Thorn of Dentonhill, which at that point had already netted me an agent and was out on submission.  And it was bought by my publisher just a few weeks after I got this.  I mean, what exactly was this person trying to accomplish with this critique?  I'm not sure.  But I feel like they were trying to just grind me down.

And, like I said, this business is tough, and you do not get handed anything and certainly don't deserve anything you don't earn-- you don't just get handed accolades and awards and film options-- but you need to keep pushing on as they try to grind you down.  Success could be right around the corner, and if you let them beat you-- you let a drubbing like that one up there break you-- you won't get there.

Because there are people who've realized that they aren't going to make it in this business, and then they decide they don't want anyone else to either.  They will try to grind you down.

Illegitimi non carborundum

Don't let the bastards grind you down.

New Book Hype

Two things are heavy on my mind. Okay, honestly, there are a thousand things on my mind, like getting the mulch for the flower beds and when we're having all those ash trees brought down, why did the dog throw up yesterday, will the Actor want to take those summer classes and will the Arteest actually go to college this fall... but writing-wise there are TWO THINGS on my mind.

FIRST is my novel JOVIENNE. It's being released in a matter of days. I'm working on plans for the release party, the book trailer, signings, and giveaways. I'm also prepping on-line promotional material not limited to writing blogs. (If you'd like to have me on your blog, hit me up via messenger or send me a message through the contact submission form on my website www.authorlindarobertson.com )






SECOND, is my CD also titled 
JOVIENNE, being released at the same time.  Containing seven songs that I wrote during and after the writing process in order to set a mood in my mind, the CD offers themes for characters like any good movie score. This is basically a concerto, with a few solo instruments while accompanied by an orchesta. That said, my rock-n-roll heart does shine through in spots.

*Yes, the CD uses my married name, Reinhardt. I figure I can keep my two creative pursuits separate that way, as I plan to score more books in the future, as well as have music available that is not tied to a novel.

I'll post the trailer and buy links soon. 

Also, I'll be attending MARCON in Columbus, Ohio May 12-14th. MARCON stands for Multiple Alternate Realities CONvention and is a good-sized genre / fandom / cosplay con in the middle of my lovely and daily multi-seasonal state. Hope to see you there!!!

Do the Arts Have A Responsibility to Be Contrarian?

I'm plotting the third book in my upcoming UF series and--with seven books planned--each book has to deal with a piece of the Save the World series-plot. When I started writing this series, the real-world was in a different place The USA was doing comparatively well domestically. The popular vision was of an equalist society and was encouraging innovations to fling us out of well-entrenched, decaying ruts. Globally, we'd made a few missteps but we still had the respect of other nations caught in the same struggles we were.

I'd started writing these books when the arts had the luxury of being dark.

A bit of an odd statement, I realize, but one that is on my mind. There is no doubt that the current state of affairs is of unrest. Regression, polarization, subjugation, and application of corporate greed superseding the survival of the community. Every day ignorance is touted as might and as right; it is replacing facts and critical thinking. The USA is lead by a man whom most of the world considers a charlatan and a buffoon, a man who goes to no great lengths to prove his callow nescience on a daily basis. Our leading political parties are so entangled in their Faustian deals that national prosperity doesn't enter the discussion. Sweeping powers of governance are being returned to the States and the States are soon to discover that with more independence comes less Federal support--including funding. The Constitution is without teeth and setting dangerous precedents. In short, we are living in a time of burgeoning crisis, a crisis that will far outlast the politicians and media who enabled it.

In my little microcosm, I wonder if--as an author--I have an obligation to be a contrarian to reality. When I consider the plot of the overarching series, I wonder if, perhaps, the struggle should lead to the idealistic payoff. That the good guys should win. All of them. Frankly, a year ago, they weren't going to. I was gleefully conniving to be the Debbie-downer. The almost-made-it crushing disappointment being the big final twist. The Grand Sacrifice breaking hearts as it reflected the ugly truth that sometimes the good guys lose. But now, as I look around, I wonder if now is really the time to add to the disillusionment? What is the point of escapism if you can't fully escape? Don't I want my readers to feel better--if even for a moment--when they finish the series? Do they really need the reminder that life is a bitch, right now? When times are good, it's sometimes necessary to throw the caution flag into the Universe. But when times are shit, shouldn't it be hope that I contribute?

When the real world is a dystopia, do the arts have a responsibility to be uplifting?

That is what is on my mind this week.

Ummmm.

No article from me this week, folks. I'm working teh day job, then I'm finishing a move from one place to another.

Have a great week!

Crying Wolf

The bright day after the big snowstorm. The snow is melting fast and I'm betting it will be all gone by midafternoon.

Our topic this week at the SFF Seven is an open author riff, an invitation to talk about whatever's on our minds.

I kind of want to complain about bad security advice on the Internet, but that's just me being cranky. It doesn't hurt anyone, as it's overprotective. Still, folks, I could advise you to burn sage to purify your laptop of demons and we could argue the same. It doesn't hurt anyone, but let's try to rein back superstition and separate it from computer science.

Oops, I guess I did go there.

Did I mention I'm deep into writing a book riddled with conflicts around magic, science and superstition?

Okay, since I already started down this road, let's look at this Ten Concerts thing. There's a trajectory here I notice a lot with social media.

Last week, people on Facebook started posting lists of ten concerts - nine they'd been to and one a lie. I saw a friend do it, it looked amusing, I did it too. People had fun guessing which was the lie, and we ended up riffing about great concerts we'd been to. Other people did posts of their own. Lots of people doing it, lots of engagement...

Next inevitable step is people bitching about it.

I don't know why, except that any time a bunch of people get excited about something, there have to be some other people shaking their canes at it and yelling at the concert people to get off their Facebook lawn.

Then came the article about it. This one really took the prize for me, because the New York Times did an article about how the Ten Concerts Meme was a cybersecurity risk. The had an quotes from a guy in the business who called it a "moderate security risk" because some websites ask for the first concert you went to as a security question.

Note that the Ten Concerts list wasn't necessarily about a first concert at all, even if, out there somewhere, this happens to be one of yousecurity questions. (They also dragged in that since those sites often ask for your high school or high school mascot, you should either lie on the site - and hope you remember it - or never reveal to anyone that super-sekrit information. Besides, of course the thousands of people who were associated with your high school.) They also concede that since this isn't a shared "quiz," there's no danger of embedded code.

Then the article goes on to add that any information we post can be used to target marketing, as if none of us have seen the shoes we glanced at on a catalog site later popping up in a sidebar ad. And as if the fact that I saw the Go-Go's - YES, YES I DID! - when I was 18 somehow informs my current buying patterns.

Though I have been contemplating buying some thigh-high lace stockings and big bracelets lately... HMMM.

The thing is, folks, this article is about absolutely nothing at all. You know why they wrote and posted it? BECAUSE A LOT OF PEOPLE WERE ENGAGED. Engagement = clicks = advertising dollars. Why *not* write a fluff piece making vague generalizations about moderate security risks when you can be pretty sure that a chunk of all those people who played the game would click on it?

Hurts no one, right?

Except now people are sharing the article with vague warnings of their own, stirring up fear and concern where really nothing exists. Seems to me there's a story about the dangers of calling out dangers that aren't really real.

The thing about sensationalizing news is that it's main purpose is to get people excited, not to transmit useful information.

Might as well go burn some sage over my laptop and change all of my security questions. Just in case.

The Energy You Put Into the World

Our assigned topic this week is mentoring. I like this quote:  “Mentoring is a brain to pick, an ear to listen, and a push in the right direction.” — John Crosby

In the old day job I definitely had mentors and owe a great deal to all of them. One thing I ran into, however, is expressed well by Steven Spielberg: “The delicate balance of mentoring someone is not creating them in your own image, but giving them the opportunity to create themselves.” Because I was a woman in a spot where there had been few if any women at that time, some of my early mentors had definite ideas of who and what I should look like when I ‘made it’…and their vision didn’t always match mine. This led to a few problems down the road but I’m still grateful for the help I received.

I’m a firm believer in the adage of paying it forward and I worked hard to do that in the old day job, and to continue to do it as an author. I know the areas where I’m strongest and I’m happy to mentor on those things. Many topics I know nothing or very little about, or only have opinions, so if someone asks me for my input or advice on those, I make clear what they’re getting. I also try to pay my own debt forward by highlighting others when I can, usually either in a blog post or in social media, rather than mentoring outright.

I had two major mentors in the writing world – our own Jeffe, who I met at the RWA conference in Anaheim in 2012 when I was a brand new, probably very confused, just-published author. She was so generous in advice and moral support!  Still is! The other was my own daughter, who was published years before I was and patiently showed me the ropes on many things too numerous to mention here. Between the two of them and several other very patient, lovely people, I didn’t have to learn everything the hard way but could benefit from their trail blazing. I found other mistakes to make, believe me!

My favorite way to mentor and pay it forward is to take time to judge unpublished author contests in various Romance Writers of America (RWA) chapters. Contests are always in need of experienced first round judges, especially in the fantasy, futuristic and paranormal categories, and authors who enter for the most part genuinely want the feedback. I enjoy reading the first twenty pages of a WIP, or the first 5000 words or whatever the entries may be, and offering constructive criticism and suggestions. I like finding the things that are done well – a unique plot, a cool turn of phrase, a character who really comes alive on the page – and I feel I’ve been helpful if I can also highlight a few things that may be more problematic – too much backstory, an overuse of certain words, etc. -  or downright “don’t do this unless you want one star reviews, shrug, up to you” items.

I may not be able to advise you on how to get an agent or what to say in a pitch session, since I’m independently published and never had those experiences, but I can offer you my insights on the writing, especially in my genres. People may take the advice or not, or they may adapt parts of it, or do the exact opposite, but at least I’ve done what I can to pass along the help and support I received.

“I believe in luck and fate and I believe in karma, that the energy you put out in the world comes back to meet you.” Chris Pine

(All photos purchased from Deposit Photo stock images.)

Returning the Favor: Helping Fellow Writers

It's cherry blossom time in Poulsbo, the Little Norway of Washington state. The left hand shot is of the first blossom that's popped on the weeping cherry tree that Hatshepsut is inspecting (right hand photo). When the blooms finally all open, the tree will be a mass of pink. I'll try for another photo at that point. It's pretty spectacular in bloom. May even have to break out a real camera for that.

You'd think that my cherry blossom obsession had nothing to do with the topic of mentoring or giving back to the writerly orgs to which most of us inevitably belong. You'd think incorrectly because I can make anything about anything. It's a gift. Brace yourself for a crappy analogy:

When it comes to mentoring, I feel like I'm bringing a cell phone camera to an opportunity that calls for a massive DSLR

Yeah. That was it. My analogy. Aren't you glad you stuck around for that? What I'm saying is that while I try to do my darnedest to contribute, I want to be ultra careful about holding myself up as any kind of authority on anything writing. My knowledge and skill set are still equal to a middle of the road cell phone camera. There are loads of writers out there in the world with the amassed ability that's equal to a super hi-res Digital SLR camera. Sure, sure. I've held offices for various organizations. I've judged contests and critiqued entries as kindly and as constructively as possible. I will volunteer during conferences for any and all tasks that will help things go more smoothly. Need bags stuffed? Count me in. Files sorted and organized? Sure. Boxes carted? I'm there.

But frankly, at this point, I am more in need of mentoring than I am in need of mentoring others. I still have so much to learn and so many opportunities to breathe some new life into a career that's been in a bit of a holding pattern. Maybe when I manage that, I'll have a great story to tell other writers about how to do it - or at least the story of how it worked for me.

Sure, I've taught workshops. I've taken far more. Mainly, I think, because while I get a lot out of workshops, I find offering workshops to be too impersonal. My great joy is sitting down in a group of writers and listening to everyone's work. This happened recently. A writer with a great manuscript came to critique. We read her opening chapter. Everyone gave feedback, then I said, "You know, based on this chapter we've read, here's the story you're setting up." She stared at me. "That's not the story at all." "Yeah," I said. "I think you started the book in the wrong place. From what you're describing about the plot, your story starts here." I was trembling in my boots, because WHO WANTS TO HEAR THAT???

Her eyes were wide. She sucked in a breath and then shouted, "Oh my GOD! I knew something was wrong and I had no idea what it was! Thank you!" 

So that's my sweet spot. Getting to offer up an opinion about how a story is off track and offering options for putting it back up on rails. It isn't massive value to massive numbers of writers - but if it helps one single writer get her work to market, I'll be happy. Actually. Scratch that. I already am happy. It's alarmingly satisfying to identify story issues (in someone else's work where I'm not blinded by trees and forest) and to come up with potential resolutions. It's giving someone a leg up in their work. It's also excellent practice for me - solving other people's story issues makes it more likely I'll be able to ID my own. Maybe.

What I really want to know is if you could get any workshop from any writer(s) what would it be about?

Mentoring and Paying it Forward

I firmly believe that professional writers have a duty to pay forward the help they received to get where they are.  I have achieved what I did because professionals volunteered their time and wisdom to help me, and it's only right to do the same.

So: a bit of money-where-my-mouth-is time on that score.  I've got two upcoming appearances where I will be doing EXACTLY THAT.

First up: Comicpalooza in Houston, where I am on the Literary Track. In addition to appearing on panels where I'll do my best to give decent advice on writing, I will be participating in a Read & Critique Session, where we'll have ten minutes for a speed-date style examination of your work.  And I will try-- stress try-- to be available for further thoughts, questions and discussion whenever I am there.  You can sign up for a slot there-and-then, or right now by emailing literature@comicpalooza.com.

Next up, I am again teaching at the ArmadilloCon Writers' Workshop, which is in Austin and you do have to sign up for ahead of time (the deadline is June 11th).  This is an in-depth, all day workshop which also includes membership to the whole con.  I've talked about it before, and let me stress, this is so worth the time and money, especially if you have no opportunity to do one of the bigger, longer workshops like Clarion or Odyssey.  If you can take a long weekend and come to Austin, this is a fantastic learning opportunity.  More details at http://www.armadillocon.org/d39/writersworkshop.html

I've got a few more paying-it-forward plans in the works, and when they are up and running, I will let you know.  

Until then, keep at it down in the word mines.

Giving Writers A Hand (Possibly the Wrong Hand)

How do I help writers--newer to the game than I am--find their footing?

1. I encourage them to publicly comment on Authors Behaving Badly, then cackle madly as they're buried under the inevitable blowback. 
2. I dispatch my beloved raven to visit their favorite writing retreat, persistently tapping, as if someone gently rapping, rapping upon their chamber door and shrieking, "Never More Words for You!"
3. I unleash the stealth earworm so the wisp of that genius plot-thought with which they awoke is forever forgotten, replaced by a dancing digital hamster.
4. I introduce them to the Rules Makers and the Rules Breakers cabals, then whisper about the gatekeeper conspiracy while secretly signing them up for the Million In A Month newsletters.
5. I invented the slush pile and social media.

I'm off to dispatch muses to the wrong locations and leave one-star reviews about publisher-determined prices.

*Disclaimer:  I lie a lot. Writing fiction is the most legal use of that skill.

mentoring: The other side of the coin

Yep. That's right, I'm gonna be the heavy here.

Let me clarify something. I have spent a great deal of my time mentoring other authors and those who want to be authors. I've always been glad to, because, God knows, I had a lot of help when I started.

Here's the thing: I believe in paying it forward.

Now and then, however, I've run across a person who didn't understand the notion of moderation. I have had several people in the past who effectively handed me a manuscript and demanded that I read it. In those situations I've politely but firmly declined. My time is my time. I don't have time to read an entire manuscript, edit it and critique it. I have a full time job. Oh, and a career as a writer. I'm not alone in that.

I have, on many occasions, read entire manuscripts. When I was working with White Wolf Publications as a freelance writer and a few writers I knew who were not familiar with the games they created wrangled stories or novels and were not familiar enough with the materials, I did fast edits more than once and explained where they were missing important aspects of the games. Aspects that would have meant enormous rewrites, et cetera.

I have certainly offered advice on many things, like contract negotiations, first person versus third person, which companies are better to write for, which I would avoid. All sorts of advice and I'm glad to, provided I can help.

There have, however, been times where I truly wanted to help and could not spare the time. I have deadlines. I have writing gigs. I have that day job. Oh, and these days I have an editorial service and I teach classes on writing, with Christopher Golden, as the River City Writers. One of the reasons the group exists is because sometimes people want editing services that we simply cannot provide for free. I can refer people to other editors and I have and I will again. But if they want my services, most times they'll have to go through the site.

I've been at this for over 25 years now Sometimes, much as I would like to dig into a manuscript, I simply do not have the time. Of if I do have the time, I can use that time better to pay my bills, which have never quite managed to pay themselves despite my best efforts to convince them.

Here's the thing. I LIKE helping. I also like having a roof over my head. And because we both run into the same problem, we decided to work it out a little differently. We have fairly regular sessions at bookstores, libraries or cafes where we do the New England Writers Coffeehouse. These run every 2-3 months and the idea is that we spend three hours in a meet and greet with other writers at all levels of the writing career, from "Just thinking about it" to published and successful. The entire notion is to get writers, which are notoriously solitary beasts, to come out and meet each other and learn the fine art or networking. (Networking, for the record, is the ability to meet with other human beings in the same field of interest. That's really about it. You would be surprised how many people do not know that.)

I have several writers who still consult with me and I'm glad to help. I have a few more I've let down of late, because I really would LOVE to get to that manuscript, but there isn't enough time in the day. It saddens and frustrates me.

I still pay it forward when I can.

In a few weeks I'm teaching a class on world building. I've been accused of having a clue. We'll find out for sure soon enough.

So, again. I want to help. I do. But for anyone out there who needs heavy duty editing of a manuscript or a full on brutal critique, these days the odds are good I'm saying no, or possibly just showing how much it will cost.


That's that. I've now played Devil's Advocate. Now, back to that manuscript.

When Mentors Go Bad: Writing Advice Red Flags

This clematis I planted late last summer has been early to bloom this spring. Such a lovely new visitor to the garden!

Our topic this week at the SFF Seven is Paying it Forward: How We Serve as Mentors for Tomorrow's New Writers.

Those of you who've been following me for any length of time know this is a topic near and dear to my heart. I'm a big believer in helping out tomorrow's writers. More established writers helped me as I was coming up - and still help me today! - and I return that favor to the universe by helping others. As others have said, there's not a lot we can do to repay those higher on the ladder than us, because most of them don't need it, but we can give a hand to those lower down.

There's lots of ways to do this, and I look forward to hearing what others of the SFF 7 say they do, but I want to come at this a little sideways by giving a warning about what is NOT helpful.

This has been on my mind all week since I saw a discussion earlier this week among some authors talking about a new "writers conference" run by a guy who promises to teach how to be successful as an author. Now, I've been around a fair amount of the success-culture stuff. People close to me have been burned by it. I can promise you, falling for their shtick is absolutely understandable because they're really good at this.

However, there are many problems with what they're doing. Best case scenario is illustrated by this most recent (how's that for serendipity?) XKCD:

If you're not familiar with the concept of Survivorship Bias, he explains it here. The TL:DR is that this is a bias caused by looking only at those who made it through a selection process, and not at those who did not. By focusing on 1% who did make it through a filter, the 99% who did not gets lost, leading to false conclusions.

Even the most well-meaning people who try to pass on the secrets of their success can be giving bad advice because very often THEY DON'T KNOW why they were successful. They can retrace their steps and say, "this is how I did it," but those aren't necessarily what actually made it happen. Especially when one step is "and then lightning struck and..."

There's a great interview that's well worth watching, where Oprah Winfrey and JK Rowling discuss that neither of them have any idea why they became so immensely successful. (Transcript here.) The self-aware recognize this, how much of phenomenal success is due to a stroke of luck and can't be replicated. The well-meaning might not recognize this and earnestly want to teach what simply can't be replicated.

Then there's another type. Those who have another agenda.

And that agenda is always making more money for themselves. Even if they insist it's not. In fact, particularly if they insist that's not their reason. That's a big red flag.

Let me break down the red flags I saw in this particular case.

1. This guy is self-billed as a hugely successful author who wants to share his secrets.

Let's ask why. Because, folks, we all know that a basic ground rule of being an author is that time = words written. Anytime a "hugely successful author" is spending their time doing something other than writing books, you can guess that this thing is either

• earning them more money than writing books, or 
• contributing to sales of said books. 

That's simple economics.

2. He's not doing this for money. He's only charging this low price because he's doing this out of a desire to share.

Okay, look - this guy has already gone on about his huge financial success. That's what he congratulates himself for, that's where his heart is. Nothing wrong with that, but don't turn around and try to convince me he's devoting an entire weekend just because he's such a giver. He's not a yogi, he's a businessman. Look for the business benefit.

What's the business benefit? Two things:

• Putting on a small hotel conference, especially in a place where there are few to no other lodging choices, is not expensive. If you guarantee a room block with the hotel, especially a place like a casino, they'll comp the meeting rooms. Thus the registration fee per person is almost entirely profit. 
• It's a big commercial for his books. Possibly he'll have a success book for sale at the conference. Even without that, this is all about raising his profile and establishing himself as a success in the eyes of attendees. Even if he doesn't make a profit on the registration, this is great promo.

Also, always be suspicious if people insist they're not doing something for the money. A professional person always needs to charge for their efforts. Honest people will say, "yes, I'm charging this fee for my weekend's worth of time because that's what my time is worth." Exceptions to this are low-effort events like speaking to a school class or answering questions online. If aspiring writers want to ask me questions at conferences, I'll sit down for a few minutes, sure, or I'll say, "but me a drink or lunch and we can talk." Authors will do interviews and talks for free or minimal honoraria, but that's usually to raise their profile and to give back. In that case they won't spend much time telling anyone that they're not doing it for the money. Obviously they aren't.

3. He hints at having exclusive knowledge

This one is a major red flag. In the text this guys says that people shouldn't ask uncool questions, but that, if they hang out long enough and learn something, then they might get to the point of knowing how to ask cool questions.

Let me tell you something, people. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN UNCOOL QUESTION.

I mean, what is this, 7th grade?? Seriously, that's the last time I remember someone trying to make me feel bad for being "uncool."

The only people who pull this shit - and complete and utter bullshit it is - are those who want you to believe they're better than you are. Even if they do know something you don't, that doesn't make you somehow substandard. There is no shame in not knowing something. That's why we ask questions, to find out. I made a resolution a long time ago to never be afraid to ask a question.

And I'll tell you what: the only people who have ever tried to make me feel bad for asking a question were those people who had a stake in trying to appear powerful. And VERY OFTEN it was because they either didn't know the answer or didn't have a good answer.

Or maybe the answer is so simple that it blows their entire posture of appearing to be this magical, hugely successful author guy.

Trust me, folks - any time some person tries to make you feel ignorant, or uncool about your ignorance, they are manipulating you. I've been down this road. Like the "teacher" who says that you're not ready to understand the answer. That you've only scratched the surface of some knowledge so profound that you have all this work to do just to figure out how to ask the right question. There's some truth to this, that as you learn a subject, you get better at asking the questions that target what you really need to know. But that does not mean you're not allowed to ask ANY questions to begin with. Not unless they're trying to control you and keep you in a subordinate position.

For people like this, positioning themselves as successful, powerful, or knowledgeable depends on positioning other people as unsuccessful, weak, and ignorant. Don't go along with it.

4. Always consider the motivation.

People do things for a variety of reasons, not always noble ones. It *always* serves you well to ask WHY someone is doing something. And, while you might take into consideration the reasons they give you, don't accept those at face value. In fact, look closely at why I spent a couple of hours writing this blog post. I'll tell you what I think they are, but I also know you might see other ones. What I think:

• I write a blog post every Sunday for the SFF Seven as part of promoting myself as a writer of fantasy, among other genres.
• Promoting my profile as an author sells books, hopefully. I like blogging, but I don't do it out of the goodness of my heart.
• This stuff was on my mind and so I was ready to take the topic in this direction.
• I have experience with manipulations of this type and it pisses me off. If I can help someone else see through these shenanigans, I'm happy.
• I really do believe in mentoring and paying it forward. There's a lot of bad information out there. Good information is needed to counter it.
• Also, I didn't want to spend a lot of time arguing with people one by one who are enthused about this event. It (likely) wouldn't convince them, might make me a target which I'm not interested in investing my energy in, and would ultimately just aggravate me. By writing this post, I get to have my say and move on.
• I have a good reputation for being generous and helpful (which I find immensely flattering), so I hope this post serves that. 
• I dunno, what else? Maybe I just want you all to tell me I'm pretty.

So, what do you all think? I already went on long, so I didn't go through every red flag I can think of, because there are many. But what ones have you noticed?

Myth or Legend I Wish Were True

When I was totally bored in elementary school one day, I created this amazing (to me) fantasy of being a long lost alien princess who was supposed to be Queen of the Universe. I often wished that fantasy was true, believe me! I daydreamed about how astonished everyone would be the day the flying saucers swooped down to reclaim me and proclaim me the ruler...well, yeah, obviously that didn't happen. Relax, you are NOT my unwitting subjects! I did find it very amusing that the movie "Jupiter Ascending" kind of had a similar plot, although wow her dress is tacky!

When I was much older, the things I wished were true tended to be the worlds of my favorite books. So, I wanted to swoop through the skies of Pern on a golden dragon, for example. Or live in Rivendell and be a tall Elf with a sexy Rohan lover who just happened to be Eomer (as portrayed by Karl Urban). The wishing wasn't connected to any one specific myth or legend, but to the place and the universe.

I think I solved that one by writing my own stories and making them feel true while I'm totally immersed in them, working my way through the plot and the events, and having everything turn out the way I want it to be.

But okayyyyy, if I HAVE to pick one to be a team player here on SFF7, I'll go with shifters. I want the shifters of either Nalini Singh's Psy-Changeling world or Patricia Briggs' Alpha/Omega/Mercy Thompson world to be REAL. Sexy, badass, smart...

There you go.

Here Be Dragons

If the tilt of reality suddenly shifted and opened the door to the improbable, what would I hope to see come through to inhabit this world with us? Easy. Dragons. Because I have no sense of self-preservation maybe. Or because I'm taken with the notion that I am a dragon (according to Chinese astrology.) More to the point, though, there's value to casting your gaze to the sky when a shadow passes over and shuddering a combination of awe and dread. It keeps the human animal humbler to be reminded that there are forces in the world that cannot be harnessed or tamed or controlled. While I'm not entirely keen on having friends and family predated by a hungry dragon, watching a massive winged force of nature soaring the skies might be worth a few 'accidents'. Certainly, I'd be one of the dumb ones going out to look for the dragons' caves/nests/roosts. Just to catch a glimpse. On par with courting a tiger.

Maybe what I'm really looking for is something to strip away the illusion of control the human race so loves to pretend to have. I have no data to back it up, but I maintain that humans are better for having something bigger and more awesome than themselves to envy. As a species we drive harder when we're challenged. And having a dragon eating your sheep and burning your neighborhood might qualify as challenging.

Dragons have good qualities, too. Some of them bear incredible wisdom and are invested in helping humans. The fun would come in trying to parse out which dragon was which. I don't know. I'm not sure I can fully explain why it would matter to me that dragons made it across the threshold from myth to real. Only that I'd love to see one with my own eyes and experience the shiver that would come from watching a majestic, enormous apex predator claim the skies of this world.

Given the forces arrayed against humans - hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquake, volcanoes and the other assorted ways the planet has to kill us, do you suppose we already have dragons of a sort?

Myths to believe in

On the whole, I'm a rational sort. I believe in a world of what can be engaged with one's senses, what can be proven.  I'm not much of a spiritualist or superstitious person.

But I do kind of believe in Borrowers.

"Borrowers", or sprites, or whatever they may be-- beings who take objects from your house, and then return them when they see fit.

Now, the rational person would say, "You're just talking about things being lost and then found again later.  That's just normal disorganization, not mythical creatures."   True.  And I'd tend to agree.

Except, I swear, I've seen some stuff.

Once a camera charger vanished.  We looked everywhere, and couldn't find it.   Then, weeks later, I woke up one morning, got out of bed, went into the bathroom... and there was the charger, literally sitting on the bathroom floor.  Just, right there, appeared in the middle of the night.

I got a stranger one.

A few years back, my wife couldn't find an earring.  She looked everywhere, and it had vanished. Then one day as we came home, I was getting out of the car, and something landed on me.  The earring.  It literally fell on me, and the only place it could have come from is the garage ceiling.

I'm not saying these things make sense, I'm just saying they happened.

I prefer to keep the fantastic in the writing, though.  So: back to it.

Aliens

Yup. I think aliens would be amazing. 

Ask my family. They've heard me ponder

being on a team to terracolonize Mars. 

They've been told, 

"If they ever show up and 

I get the chance, 

I'm going."

Now of course, I'm NOT talking about 

wanting the face-hugging, acid-for-blood 

nightmares of Geiger to be real. 

I don't fancy myself a Ripley in a mech-suit.

I dream of Starfleet, Starfleet Academy, 

and the United Federation of Planets.

Because I'd love to actually live in Gene Roddenberry's dream world, 

and be a crewman on a ship that explored the stars and worlds of the universe. 

This is in part because of the ship, of course, but mostly because having that 

would mean that our world as we know it now had gotten past 

all the inequalities of our present, and strived forward into a future 

that saw the potential and value in every race, gender, and age.

Bring on that dream, please.

If Mythical Beings Really Could Save Us From Ourselves

What myths or legends do I wish were true?

Nature Guardians. 

The ones who push back when humanity goes too far. From the gnones who look after windmills and wildlife, to the dragons of rivers and mountains. The ones who guide us to live with nature, not in spite of it. The ones who can undo the horrific damage we inevitably cause, forcing us to assist them in the healing and doling out lessons along the way. Don't get me wrong, I've no interest in an autocracy of myopic mythical beings. No, no.  I'm a firm believer in balance. In my little fantasy world, the nature guardians balance out humanity.

What would I want to see?

If I'm being honest, I'd love to see the fae proven real. There are so many of them both dark and magnificent. how could I not want to see them? How could I not want to believe in them?

An interesting theory that I've heard a few times and that I give no credence to (But love just the same) is that the Fae are, in fact, the same thing as angels and aliens. Something so completely different from our world that we automatically categorize them into something more believable for us.

The legends, the lore, the regal and horrific blended into one. There is nothing about the Fae that does not appeal to me and I even wrote about them in my very first novel, UNDER THE OVERTREE. They are not the faeries you remember from your legends but they are the Fae and even follow some of the same rules.


Highly recommended read: Raymond Feist's FAERIE TALE.

I Believe in Unicorns

This week we're asking the question: What's the Greatest Myth or Legend You Wish Were True & Why?

My reply to this sort of thing, deep in the still idealistic abyss of my heart - which I've carried surprisingly untainted by collisions with reality since my childhood - is "what makes you think they're not true?"

I believe in unicorns.

So, there you have my secret: I believe that the great myths and legends are true. I can't even tell you where the conviction comes from - it just feels like something I know. I see so-called imaginary beast in my head like they're memories of something I've witnessed in person.

Call it having a great imagination. Call it a kind of insanity.

For me, it's understanding that there's more to the physical world than the frenetic boundaries the small-minded and power-hungry draw around it.

I believe in unicorns.

I believe in them all, quite honestly, but unicorns are emblematic of the rest. The above is a book I've had since I was eleven or twelve. It's one of many books about unicorns I collected during that era. I made a somewhat exhaustive study of them, throughout all the cultures.

In seventh grade, we had to do a five-page research paper, with footnotes and everything, which sent my classmates into a tizzy. I went into a similar frenzy, but of excitement. An excuse to look up everything the school library AND public library had on unicorns! Plus my own considerable library. I turned in a nineteen page report. I also learned not to answer my classmates with literal truth when they asked how long my paper was.

This might have been an early clue of my eventual career, though none of us noted it at the time.

When I was thirteen and my family visited New York City (a world away from our home in Denver), my one pick was to see the Unicorn Tapestries. When they turned out not to be at the Met but were instead uptown at The Cloisters - too far to go on our schedule - I had a meltdown of disappointment, totally bewildering my parents. They'd had no idea of the depths of my obsession. Why would they? Not many people wanted to investigate those tapestries as research into proving their own deeply held beliefs in the actual existence of unicorns.

More than thirty years later, when it finally worked out for me to visit The Cloisters and I got to see those tapestries, it satisfied a deep thirst in me.

I still have all those books.

I believe in unicorns.

Danger in the Stars Excerpt: A Trip to the Garden

I'm just not a fan of doing flash fiction so I decided to follow Marshall's example from earlier in the week and give you a short excerpt involving a trip to a garden from my new book, Danger in the Stars.

                 Miriell shed her shoes and walked across the lush surface she knew was some kind of grass, kept ruthlessly trimmed to form a carpet. She stood in the center of the expanse, wriggling her toes, pulling strength from the planet in this small space of growing things. Nothing but a shadow in the moonlight, Conor stayed on the path, watching her.

                “There are trees and flowering bushes in this direction,” he said.

                “How do you know?”

                “It’s my business to know all the details of any location my boss frequents.”

                The reminder of the realities, delivered in his deep voice without inflection, cast a damper on her joy. He held out his hand, and she walked to join him. Leaving her shoes behind, he drew her deeper into the pocket garden until she stood under the canopy of three ancient trees, beds of flowers all around. Humming, Miriell knelt first by the flowers, absorbing their life-giving essence without doing harm, for here the plants were only conduits for her to tap into the planet slumbering below the harsh city blotting out the surface.

                He went to lean against the nearest tree, showing a decided preference for remaining in the shadows. “You’re practically glowing. This must be helping, then?”

                Her breathing was easier, and the muscles of her chest unclenched. The rattle and wheeze disappeared. “I would bless you for this gift had I the right to call upon Thuun for such things any longer.” Rising, she moved to the tree opposite the one he’d chosen and placed her hands on the gnarled trunk, palms down. Touching her forehead to the rough bark, she closed her eyes and hummed one of the simpler hymns. It wouldn’t do to take too much from this place, to siphon so much energy that the living things who also needed lifeforce perished. The planet’s bounty felt so smooth and strong, flowing into her from the depths via through the tree’s extensive root system.

                As if he’d read her thoughts, Conor said, “We probably can’t do this field trip twice, so you’d better take what you need, however you’re doing it.”

                Her protest was instantaneous, instinctive. “I can’t overtax the garden. It’s well tended but fragile, in the middle of the cold city of stone and metal.”

                “Even if it’s the difference between your own life or death?”

                Deciding not to answer him, she changed to a different song and added words, keeping her voice soft.

                When she finished, he said, “I have no idea what the lyrics meant, but the song was beautiful. I’ll take the private concert as fair trade for bringing you here.”

                “A Combine lackey who appreciates alien music?” She made her voice scornful. Sinking to the grass, she leaned her back against the tree and stared through the canopy of rustling leaves at the starry sky. None of the constellations were familiar, of course. Her world lay in some faraway portion of the galaxy.

                “What are you thinking?” he asked, voice quiet in the still night air.

                “Nothing happy.” She gave voice to her memories.  “As Jareck said so dismissively at the spaceport earlier today, we didn’t even know we lived on what you call a planet until the evil ones swooped down from the cold stars, killing and capturing.” She ran her hand across the grass, tiny green sparks flying as her energy renewed. “No prophecy ever uttered in the temples foresaw this fate for me, or those taken with me.”

The story:

Miriell, a powerful empathic priestess, has been kidnapped from her own primitive planet along with a number of her people, and sold to the evil Amarotu Combine, largest organized crime syndicate in the Sectors. When she and her handler are sent to use her power to commit an assassination, she must leave behind her own sister as hostage to ensure her compliance. Miriell cannot ask for aid without endangering herself and others.

Despite his best efforts, Combine enforcer Conor Stewart is entranced by Miriell, and helps her evade the worst of brutal treatment from the rest of the mob. But Conor must keep his distance, before the lovely empath learns that he has secrets of his own–secrets that could get them both killed.

The situation becomes dire when Conor and Miriell come to the attention of both the Combine overlords and the deadly Mawreg, aliens who threaten the Sectors. Can she save herself and the Mawreg’s next victims? And will Conor help her, or remain loyal to his evil bosses?

Amazon      iBooks    Kobo     Barnes & Noble

Rites of Spring Flash Not So Fiction

Here's my flash fiction:

He lived.

And because he's still around to adore when we seriously believed the old dude with the bad heart, liver disease, and bladder cancer would check out during surgery to remove a bleeding mass on his back, I am bailing on you to sit and hold the grumpy old man.

But look. Isn't his little spring green coat (hiding a wicked big incision) on point for the season?

Spring Fiction and Writing on the Air

I've been instructed to write a "spring themed flash fiction" for today's SFFSeven, and as we all know, flash fiction is my bane.  However, instead, I dug up a long trunked project that will otherwise never see the light of day, and it's sort of got a spring theme.  Spring is mentioned.  Anyhow, it's the beginning (the first 500ish words) of something that didn't work, and it's rough as all get out, but: wouldn't flash be as well?  It certainly would be from me.

---

            Watch duty on the high towers of the Imperial Palace was something of a formality. None of the Imperial Guard minded doing the duty, as it involved little more than staying in the tower for a few hours. Most slept. Rumor had it that in the tenth century the paranoid Emperor Luciex VII had ordered that the guards watch from the towers at all time, and since the order had never been revoked, the towers were still watched seven centuries later. But there was never anything to see.

            Never anything to see, that is, in the most classic sense of what one watches in a tower for—no invading armies, no trouble on the far horizon. Vedix, the capital of the Kieran Empire, had never actually had an enemy army approach it in the entire history of the Empire. And even if an enemy came, word would arrive long before they would be seen. But yet in the towers the Imperial Guard held watch at all times. As a formality.

This New Spring would be unique, or so the Emperor had been told, because on that night both moons would be full, and furthermore the Imperial Astronomers had told him that according to their calculations, on this night the Blood Moon (as they called the smaller red one) would eclipse the Ice Moon (the larger white one), creating a previously unseen spectacle in the Vedix sky. Such a sight was one to be seen, and therefore, the banquet. One in which anyone of any name at all in the Empire would wish to attend. The entire Imperial family, the Archdukes of the greater houses of the Empire, as well as the Nobles of the lesser houses of the Protectorates, the whole body of the Senate and Generals of the Imperial Army. This event was to be unprecedented. So the Emperor had ordered.  

            Today all the Imperial Guard was watching was large numbers of Kieran aristocracy coming into the palace and milling about. Tonight, by imperial order, was to be one of the greatest banquets ever known in Kieran history. This would be the one for the history books, the Emperor had decided, and so he had invited every person of note within the entirety of the Kieran Empire to attend. And by invite, he meant a command. Ignoring the invitation would be an act of political suicide.

            People had been traveling for weeks to arrive in time for the event. The entire Imperial family, the Archdukes of the greater houses of the Empire, as well as the Nobles of the lesser houses of the Protectorates, the whole body of the Senate and Generals of the Imperial Army came at the request of Emperor Gelmin V.

            While the festivities were hours away from officially beginning, several of the guests had already begun gathering in one of the gardens of the imperial palace. For them, it was a casual, relaxing time before the actual banquet, unaware of the busy rush of the palace staff to put all things in order.

---

Also, last month I appeared on Writing On The Air, and now you can listen to the podcast of that interview.  Check it out!

Flash Fiction: Rites of Spring

Spring has sprung, the grass is riz
I wonder where the dragons is?
No snow to mark their prints
No ice to frost their flames
How are we to know from whence the dragons cames?

They say the horde will ride
Demanding tithes of gold
Taxes in the season of rain and mud and cold

Spring has sprung, the grass is riz
Do the dragons wonder where their hatchlings is?
Wrapped and tucked in blankets
Buried in the well
When they burn my village, I'll see them all in hell




*A riff on the original "Spring in the Bronx" by Anonymous

Flash Fiction: Rites of Spring

Our mission this week? Flash Fiction on "The Rites of Spring.: I went new school on the rituals. This time around, it's the prom.



There were four of them to take out one little girl. Seemed a bit like overkill, but as I worked for her grandfather, Dmitrius, I knew how much she was worth.

The kid just wanted her prom. I just wanted to be at home sleeping. I hate bodyguard work, especially when no one is supposed to know about it.

She was down on the dance floor, swaying to a soft song with her date, and I have to saw she looked beautiful. Perfect dress, hair pulled up and then cascading down.

I had a nice view from the windows on the roof and she was easy to separate from the rest of the crowd because we'd met a few times over the years. Mostly the only time I see kids is when I'm teaching classes.

That's a different job and filed under a a different name. When I'm doing this stuff, I go by Buddy Fisk. It serves me well enough.

Any way, they weren't exactly subtle. Most of Dmitrius's enemies aren't. They lack the class of the old school gangsters,

Four of them in one big van that might as well have said "Kidnappers R Us" on the side. First one climbed out, I was already halfway down the side of the building. By the time he'd headed for the front doors of the community center they'd rented for the prom I was waiting.

Want to know what I mean about the class of the old school gangsters? These jackoffs were ready to go in and shoot as many kids as they had to to get to their target. The old guard believed in doing things quietly when they could. You might get a little collateral damage but that was the exception.

I reminded them about what class is.  First guy coming up was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt advertising his favorite beer. I tossed a throwing knife and nailed him in the jugular. Three steps forward and hands reaching for his throat while he died. Before he hit the ground I pumped three rounds from my Sig into the next two. Suppressors are great. They don't really make a weapon completely silent, but there was a lot of background noise inside that place and that helped.

The fourth one tried to retreat. I saw his eyes go wide and he stepped back, shaking his head. It's easy to be brave when you have three other goons with guns to hold you up.

Me? I work alone.

I didn't have to interrogate them or any of that shit. So I just ended him. Two to the back of the head.

Remember how I said I work alone? Not completely. I had to do bodyguard duty. There might be more attempts to ruin the kid's prom. So I dragged the bodies to the sides of the building and into the the shadows and then I texted one of the guys who works for Dmitrius full time to do the actual clean up.

Back to where I could see the roads leading to the club. When the prom was over, I was going to make sure that his little granddaughter got home in one piece. Then, I was going to pay a visit to a man who thought he could take out Dmitrius by hurting his family. The details of what I was going to do to him were very graphic.

It was going to be a long night.