With this post, I'm putting my blog where my mini-rant at SMFs took me. In short ( no pun intended ) I said that writers should post links to short stories on their blogs. They should take the time to point out stories and zines and writers that blew them away in some way. It's good press for the zines and authors both.
My pick today is a short story published in Demolition, the link is for the entire archives because the stories there are all top-notch. Just scroll down, the stories are in alphabetical order by title. My pick is "The Saint of Gunners" by Todd Robinson. The story just went nowhere I expected it to, something every short story should do. As readers, just sit back and enjoy the ride. As writers, take time to study it. It's a harsh, bittersweet story that'll squeeze the breath out of you.
http://www.demolitionmag.com/demolitionarchives.htm
And a quote from Raymond Carver
"At the risk of appearing foolish, a writer sometimes needs to be able to just stand and gape at this or that thing - a sunset or an old shoe - in absolute and simple amazement."
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Fall Flash Fiction Challenge
Patti Abbott, Gerald So, and Aldo Calgagno have once again thrown down the glove and challenged us to write a flash story. A complete listing of all the stories can be found here http://pattinase.blogspot.com/ Take the time to pop on over and read all the stories, you won't be sorry.
A COLLUSION OF SUITS
by Sandra Seamans
Can't any of you cops see beyond his damn suit? Bend right over and kiss his ass, why don't you? Hell, the guy's wearing a suit, he must be legit, right? Don't matter where you found him or what he's done, the man's a suit. And being a suit makes him, what? Respectable? You're forgetting that under that five hundred dollar scrap of material is a naked rich prick. A man who can kill with the same crazy hate as a redneck in flannel and jeans. Them suit boys just got more polish and all that slick just makes it easier for them to slide their way out of trouble.
And that slippery suit you just sent home? I know what he did. I was here in the parking lot playing strip and screw with a fancy three-piece of my own. Suits like them are always hanging around here at Black Jacks. Rich men looking to score with a redneck tart or maybe sample a little dark chocolate. Them rich suits like girls who know how to make a man feel good, girls who don’t have ice running through their veins like them tight-ass bitches they’re married to.
I seen that slick suit and my friend, Jilly, come staggering out of the bar just before last call. The two of them were all tongue and hands until he slammed her down on the nearest car hood. Hell, even a street whore don't want to be poked in the pussy where everyone and his neighbor's got a birds-eye view. 'Sides, a well-heeled suit like that could've sprung for a hotel room or at least used the back seat of his car.
The suit, well, he didn't like being told no. He landed a punch flush on her jaw, ripped her panties off and fucked her anyway. She was screaming, but weren't no one around to hear 'cept me and my suit, and that chicken-shit hit the highway when things turned ugly. Married suits preferring not to get caught with their pants down around their ankles when their wives ain't around.
Me? Weren't nothing I could do but call the cops. Weren't no point in both of us getting killed 'cause that fucker went crazy-ass-preacher mean. He was waving that knife through the air like it was the word of God, cursing Jilly for leading him into the hellfire of temptation. Me, I figure he walked into hell all on his own, seeing as how his engine was cooling in Black Jacks parking lot.
"Call no woman respectable til she's dead." Them's the words he kept screaming all the while he was stabbing Jilly. When her body finally quit twitching, he backed away and said, "Now, she's respectable. May God have mercy on her sinner's soul."
Me, I gotta wonder about his taste in respectable, what with poor Jilly dead and spread out like some Hustler centerfold on that car hood. Where's the respect in that? As for sinners, who's the bigger sinner here? Her what offered her body for a little friendly slap and tickle or him what took it, then killed her.
So, Mr. Cop, looking all smug and smart in your cheap suit, are you going to believe that blood splattered, deep-pockets suit? Or you gonna believe me who's telling the truth about what happened?
Yeah, bout what I expected. Shove me in your car and haul my ass off to jail. Me who didn't do nothing 'cept call the cops. I shoulda known you'd believe his lies. You damn suits always hang together. What're you gonna do now? Go tell them court house lawyers that it was just business as usual at Black Jacks. Couple of girls fighting and one got herself killed? Didn't no one see nothing.
You'd best get that notion out of your head cause there ain't no way I'm letting that prick suit get away with murdering Jilly. And just for the record, I seen that psycho greasing your palm to make his troubles disappear, and you slipping that baggie-wrapped knife into your pocket. You figuring on a little blackmail? Well, you'd best forget that bit of sideline financing cause there ain't no way I'm keeping my lips zipped just so's you can upgrade your fifty dollar Salvation Army suit to a Sears Special.
A gun, huh? Well, I guess I shoulda seen that one coming.
A COLLUSION OF SUITS
by Sandra Seamans
Can't any of you cops see beyond his damn suit? Bend right over and kiss his ass, why don't you? Hell, the guy's wearing a suit, he must be legit, right? Don't matter where you found him or what he's done, the man's a suit. And being a suit makes him, what? Respectable? You're forgetting that under that five hundred dollar scrap of material is a naked rich prick. A man who can kill with the same crazy hate as a redneck in flannel and jeans. Them suit boys just got more polish and all that slick just makes it easier for them to slide their way out of trouble.
And that slippery suit you just sent home? I know what he did. I was here in the parking lot playing strip and screw with a fancy three-piece of my own. Suits like them are always hanging around here at Black Jacks. Rich men looking to score with a redneck tart or maybe sample a little dark chocolate. Them rich suits like girls who know how to make a man feel good, girls who don’t have ice running through their veins like them tight-ass bitches they’re married to.
I seen that slick suit and my friend, Jilly, come staggering out of the bar just before last call. The two of them were all tongue and hands until he slammed her down on the nearest car hood. Hell, even a street whore don't want to be poked in the pussy where everyone and his neighbor's got a birds-eye view. 'Sides, a well-heeled suit like that could've sprung for a hotel room or at least used the back seat of his car.
The suit, well, he didn't like being told no. He landed a punch flush on her jaw, ripped her panties off and fucked her anyway. She was screaming, but weren't no one around to hear 'cept me and my suit, and that chicken-shit hit the highway when things turned ugly. Married suits preferring not to get caught with their pants down around their ankles when their wives ain't around.
Me? Weren't nothing I could do but call the cops. Weren't no point in both of us getting killed 'cause that fucker went crazy-ass-preacher mean. He was waving that knife through the air like it was the word of God, cursing Jilly for leading him into the hellfire of temptation. Me, I figure he walked into hell all on his own, seeing as how his engine was cooling in Black Jacks parking lot.
"Call no woman respectable til she's dead." Them's the words he kept screaming all the while he was stabbing Jilly. When her body finally quit twitching, he backed away and said, "Now, she's respectable. May God have mercy on her sinner's soul."
Me, I gotta wonder about his taste in respectable, what with poor Jilly dead and spread out like some Hustler centerfold on that car hood. Where's the respect in that? As for sinners, who's the bigger sinner here? Her what offered her body for a little friendly slap and tickle or him what took it, then killed her.
So, Mr. Cop, looking all smug and smart in your cheap suit, are you going to believe that blood splattered, deep-pockets suit? Or you gonna believe me who's telling the truth about what happened?
Yeah, bout what I expected. Shove me in your car and haul my ass off to jail. Me who didn't do nothing 'cept call the cops. I shoulda known you'd believe his lies. You damn suits always hang together. What're you gonna do now? Go tell them court house lawyers that it was just business as usual at Black Jacks. Couple of girls fighting and one got herself killed? Didn't no one see nothing.
You'd best get that notion out of your head cause there ain't no way I'm letting that prick suit get away with murdering Jilly. And just for the record, I seen that psycho greasing your palm to make his troubles disappear, and you slipping that baggie-wrapped knife into your pocket. You figuring on a little blackmail? Well, you'd best forget that bit of sideline financing cause there ain't no way I'm keeping my lips zipped just so's you can upgrade your fifty dollar Salvation Army suit to a Sears Special.
A gun, huh? Well, I guess I shoulda seen that one coming.
Peyton Place
I just finished this book a few hours ago. I closed the book and thought to myself, "No wonder." No wonder this book was banned. No wonder young girls were hiding in their closets to read this book. No wonder every small town in America referred to themselves as a little Peyton Place. No wonder people are still reading this book.
Between the pages of Peyton Place, you'll find yourself. Author, Grace Metalious, touches on every human emotion, every prejudice, every dirty little secret that a human being is capable of thinking or doing. Between the covers you'll find lust, murder, incest, drunks, and hate. But more than that, you'll find the truth. And you can't ask anything more of a book than a telling of the truths that make us human.
Now you're probably sitting there asking, "Well, I saw the movie, why should I read that old book?"
You should read the book because the movie comes nowhere close to the emotions that are portrayed in the book. The movie was about the trial, the book is about life before the trial. The very trial itself, barely exists in the pages of Peyton Place because it is a book about people, their lives and their mistakes.
What about you, what books have you read lately that really spoke about the truths of life?
A quote from the book
"...and Allison was still too young to pity the incapability of an individual to share his grief."
Between the pages of Peyton Place, you'll find yourself. Author, Grace Metalious, touches on every human emotion, every prejudice, every dirty little secret that a human being is capable of thinking or doing. Between the covers you'll find lust, murder, incest, drunks, and hate. But more than that, you'll find the truth. And you can't ask anything more of a book than a telling of the truths that make us human.
Now you're probably sitting there asking, "Well, I saw the movie, why should I read that old book?"
You should read the book because the movie comes nowhere close to the emotions that are portrayed in the book. The movie was about the trial, the book is about life before the trial. The very trial itself, barely exists in the pages of Peyton Place because it is a book about people, their lives and their mistakes.
What about you, what books have you read lately that really spoke about the truths of life?
A quote from the book
"...and Allison was still too young to pity the incapability of an individual to share his grief."
Friday, October 17, 2008
Embracing Rejection
Being a short story writer either toughens you or kills your love of writing. And you have to love writing in order to keep laying those words out and forming them into something someone actually wants to read. I shudder when I think of how many times I quit writing because a story I imagined was just "wonderful" was rejected by an editor. I shudder even harder when I recall those early stories.
Writers and editors have a love/hate relationship so intense that I'm surprised there aren't shooting sprees every other day at Editor Headquarters, Inc. Or sniper hits on that lonely writer sitting behind his computer screen.
When I submit a story, I fully expect it to be rejected. Odd way of looking at the submission process? No, because stories are a subjective thing. Maybe the editor sliced his hand while sawing his frozen bagel in half and had to get a dozen stitches, then he reads your story about the crazed killer with a butcher knife. He's probably not in the mood to keep reading about blood gushing from a severed artery. Now if your story was about the frozen bagel maker getting his, he might just bite. Getting the right story in the right place at the right time is just a matter of pure luck. Rejection is not personal.
Personally, I enjoy getting rejection letters. No, not those impersonal form letters, but the ones where an editor takes the time to explain what you're doing wrong and why your story isn't a fit for their magazine. That's how I, as a writer, learn how to improve my craft.
The best rejection I received was from a guest editor at Hardluck Stories. It was my first time submitting to Hardluck and when the story was rejected I asked Dave Zeltserman if he could tell my why. The story was one of my first attempts with "noir" writing and I didn't know if I'd failed to hit that noir mark or if the writing just plain sucked. Dave was kind enough to pass my request on to his guest editor, Trey Barker.
I expected a note saying that the story sucked. What I got was an in depth critique of the story. What worked, what didn't, and why. And the best piece of advice I ever got about writing was contained in that letter from Mr. Barker. He said that I had to learn to trust my writer's instincts. He pointed out places where I knew the story line wasn't quite right and had tried to fix it in the ending. Such a simple piece of advice and all contained in a rejection letter.
So embrace your rejections and learn from them. Throwing in the towel because one editor didn't like your story won't get the next one written or accepted.
Today's quote comes from B. Spock
"Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do."
Writers and editors have a love/hate relationship so intense that I'm surprised there aren't shooting sprees every other day at Editor Headquarters, Inc. Or sniper hits on that lonely writer sitting behind his computer screen.
When I submit a story, I fully expect it to be rejected. Odd way of looking at the submission process? No, because stories are a subjective thing. Maybe the editor sliced his hand while sawing his frozen bagel in half and had to get a dozen stitches, then he reads your story about the crazed killer with a butcher knife. He's probably not in the mood to keep reading about blood gushing from a severed artery. Now if your story was about the frozen bagel maker getting his, he might just bite. Getting the right story in the right place at the right time is just a matter of pure luck. Rejection is not personal.
Personally, I enjoy getting rejection letters. No, not those impersonal form letters, but the ones where an editor takes the time to explain what you're doing wrong and why your story isn't a fit for their magazine. That's how I, as a writer, learn how to improve my craft.
The best rejection I received was from a guest editor at Hardluck Stories. It was my first time submitting to Hardluck and when the story was rejected I asked Dave Zeltserman if he could tell my why. The story was one of my first attempts with "noir" writing and I didn't know if I'd failed to hit that noir mark or if the writing just plain sucked. Dave was kind enough to pass my request on to his guest editor, Trey Barker.
I expected a note saying that the story sucked. What I got was an in depth critique of the story. What worked, what didn't, and why. And the best piece of advice I ever got about writing was contained in that letter from Mr. Barker. He said that I had to learn to trust my writer's instincts. He pointed out places where I knew the story line wasn't quite right and had tried to fix it in the ending. Such a simple piece of advice and all contained in a rejection letter.
So embrace your rejections and learn from them. Throwing in the towel because one editor didn't like your story won't get the next one written or accepted.
Today's quote comes from B. Spock
"Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do."
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Sad News
Word is spreading across the 'net that editor Bryon Quertermous is closing his ezine "Demolition". This is sad news indeed following as it does on the news last month that editor BJ Bourg was closing "Mouth Full of Bullets".
I'm proud to admit that I had stories accepted to both of these fine magazines and that both BJ and Bryon were wonderful to work with. Their zines will be missed.
The archives for both zines will remain up for a while, so do yourself a favor and check out some of the great short stories that have been published between their virtual covers. You'll be glad you did!
Just a quick addition. Nathan Cain over at the Independent Crime blog just reminded me that editor Dave Zeltserman also closed "Hardluck Stories" this year.
Oh yes, and "Murdaland"
The crime fiction short story market is really shrinking.
I'm proud to admit that I had stories accepted to both of these fine magazines and that both BJ and Bryon were wonderful to work with. Their zines will be missed.
The archives for both zines will remain up for a while, so do yourself a favor and check out some of the great short stories that have been published between their virtual covers. You'll be glad you did!
Just a quick addition. Nathan Cain over at the Independent Crime blog just reminded me that editor Dave Zeltserman also closed "Hardluck Stories" this year.
Oh yes, and "Murdaland"
The crime fiction short story market is really shrinking.
Winter Preparations
The garden's pretty well done, there's corn, broccoli and cauliflower in the freezer, beans and tomatoes canned, and potatoes dug and stored in the cellar. I've made a batch each of peach and plum jam. The wild blackberries are picked and frozen to make pies this coming winter. There's just a few pumpkins and carrots to be taken care of and summer's harvest will be finished. Put up to be enjoyed during the long winter months.
But the garden wasn't the only thing harvested for the coming winter. I've got books!! Our local historical society has four used booksales a year to raise money for their various projects. And I hit every one this summer. For the price of one brand spanking new hardcover, I've gathered together over fifty books to be savored this winter.
I know, I know, used book sales cut into author's profits. But living on the back side of nowhere where the only bookstore is a Christian bookstore fifty miles away and a library that caters to the cozy cat and crafts readers, the booksale is my lifeline to the darkside of the mystery world.
Being a short story writer, I was thrilled to find and purchase eight mystery anthologies. On the non-fiction side for fifty cents I scored a copy of "Murder Ink" by Dilys Winn and another fifty scored a biography of Arthur Conan Doyle by Daniel Stashower.
I now have the complete Kidd series by Sandford, a few Michael Connelly's, two Patrick and Angie books by Lehane and books by newer authors that I've never or just vaguely heard of. But the biggest finds were the old books that I found. And such treasures.
Three of Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe books, two James Ellroy PI novels that I never heard of
"Because the Night" and "Clandestine", Willeford's "Miami Blues", and Estelman's "Sugar-Town" and Lawrence Block's "A Walk Among the Tombstones". All authors I've never read and look forward to. I found a Robert Randisi book "No Exit from Brooklyn" and Ed Gorman's "Everybody's Somebody's Fool" both excellent books and highly recommended. I found a double PI book by Carter Brown. I'd never heard of him but the titles sound luscious, "The Ice-Cold Nude" and "Lover Don't Come Back". So I'm well-stocked in the PI genre.
Since James Reasoner and David Cranmer are always discussing Westerns on their blogs, I even grabbed a couple of them. "The Day the Cowboys Quit" by Elmer Kelton and "One Man Posse" by Max Brand.
On the noir side of the mystery genre I found Harry Crew's "Scar Lover" and a triple treat in one book of James M. Cain that include "Career in C Major", "The Embezzler" and "Double Indemnity"
There are many more, but I've probably bored you to death by now. So what have you stockpiled to get you through the winter?
Today's quote comes courtesy of Harry Crews
"You have to go to considerable trouble to live differently from the way the world wants you to live. That's what I've discovered about writing. The world doesn't want you to do a damn thing. If you wait till you got time to write a novel or time to write a story or time to read the hundred thousands of books you should have already read - if you wait for the time, you'll never do it. Cause there ain't no time; world don't want you to do that. World wants you to go to the zoo and eat cotton candy, preferably seven days a week."
But the garden wasn't the only thing harvested for the coming winter. I've got books!! Our local historical society has four used booksales a year to raise money for their various projects. And I hit every one this summer. For the price of one brand spanking new hardcover, I've gathered together over fifty books to be savored this winter.
I know, I know, used book sales cut into author's profits. But living on the back side of nowhere where the only bookstore is a Christian bookstore fifty miles away and a library that caters to the cozy cat and crafts readers, the booksale is my lifeline to the darkside of the mystery world.
Being a short story writer, I was thrilled to find and purchase eight mystery anthologies. On the non-fiction side for fifty cents I scored a copy of "Murder Ink" by Dilys Winn and another fifty scored a biography of Arthur Conan Doyle by Daniel Stashower.
I now have the complete Kidd series by Sandford, a few Michael Connelly's, two Patrick and Angie books by Lehane and books by newer authors that I've never or just vaguely heard of. But the biggest finds were the old books that I found. And such treasures.
Three of Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe books, two James Ellroy PI novels that I never heard of
"Because the Night" and "Clandestine", Willeford's "Miami Blues", and Estelman's "Sugar-Town" and Lawrence Block's "A Walk Among the Tombstones". All authors I've never read and look forward to. I found a Robert Randisi book "No Exit from Brooklyn" and Ed Gorman's "Everybody's Somebody's Fool" both excellent books and highly recommended. I found a double PI book by Carter Brown. I'd never heard of him but the titles sound luscious, "The Ice-Cold Nude" and "Lover Don't Come Back". So I'm well-stocked in the PI genre.
Since James Reasoner and David Cranmer are always discussing Westerns on their blogs, I even grabbed a couple of them. "The Day the Cowboys Quit" by Elmer Kelton and "One Man Posse" by Max Brand.
On the noir side of the mystery genre I found Harry Crew's "Scar Lover" and a triple treat in one book of James M. Cain that include "Career in C Major", "The Embezzler" and "Double Indemnity"
There are many more, but I've probably bored you to death by now. So what have you stockpiled to get you through the winter?
Today's quote comes courtesy of Harry Crews
"You have to go to considerable trouble to live differently from the way the world wants you to live. That's what I've discovered about writing. The world doesn't want you to do a damn thing. If you wait till you got time to write a novel or time to write a story or time to read the hundred thousands of books you should have already read - if you wait for the time, you'll never do it. Cause there ain't no time; world don't want you to do that. World wants you to go to the zoo and eat cotton candy, preferably seven days a week."
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Fumbling Around
Starting blogging is a curious feeling. You stare at the screen and wonder what the hell you're going to write about. Are you interesting enough for anyone to even want to read your thoughts? Will anyone even care enough to comment?
I guess this post is about fumbling around in the blog dark. Too stubborn to turn on the light, so you stub your toe, then find yourself hopping around the room, falling over that pair of shoes you left in the middle of the floor and generally making a complete fool of yourself. So please be patient with me as I find my way.
I hope to post some links to blogs I enjoy reading. Photos are pretty much out for the time being. Something else I'll have to learn. Yeah, I'm not very computer savvy, so building this blog will be a slow process. Hopefully readers will bear with me.
My hope for this blog is that it will be helpful. I love to read and will share my thoughts on books and short stories. My passion is writing, so I'll try to share some of my struggles, a few markets, a few stories and perhaps you, good reader will do the same.
And I'll leave you with a quote from "Dirty" Harry Callahan that pretty much sums up this post:
"A man has got to know his limitations."
I guess this post is about fumbling around in the blog dark. Too stubborn to turn on the light, so you stub your toe, then find yourself hopping around the room, falling over that pair of shoes you left in the middle of the floor and generally making a complete fool of yourself. So please be patient with me as I find my way.
I hope to post some links to blogs I enjoy reading. Photos are pretty much out for the time being. Something else I'll have to learn. Yeah, I'm not very computer savvy, so building this blog will be a slow process. Hopefully readers will bear with me.
My hope for this blog is that it will be helpful. I love to read and will share my thoughts on books and short stories. My passion is writing, so I'll try to share some of my struggles, a few markets, a few stories and perhaps you, good reader will do the same.
And I'll leave you with a quote from "Dirty" Harry Callahan that pretty much sums up this post:
"A man has got to know his limitations."
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