What the Writing Desk Looks Like Today, 12 March 2017

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Self’s horror story, The Rorqual, now up to 15 pp. YAY!

Stay tuned.

#amwriting: What the Writing Desk Looks Like Today

A story is fashioned from:

  • scotchtape
  • stapler
  • a book on Story Structure
  • newspapers
  • post-it notes
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The Writing Desk Today, Thursday, 9 March 2017

Since this is a story about shape-shifting invaders, it can be classified #horror or #fantasy:

  • The settlements that raised the white flag vanished, and its people with them.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

#amwritingfantasy: More “Down”

So far in self’s story, the two characters (who are as yet unnamed) argue about anything and everything while Pinkie Pie (the name of the bathosphere) floats expectantly a few yards away.

It’s the end of the world, people. The sky’s all kinds of lurid colors, and what these two want to talk about is:

I haven’t seen cake in almost 30 years. Even forgot what it tastes like.

Are you serious? All right, let me refresh your memory: Cake is sand, rain, and seaweed, all mixed together.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

#amwriting: story-in-progress “The Mark”

“Come with us, we’ll show you,” says the shorter man.

“I don’t trust you, I don’t know you. Why should I go with you?”

“Sometimes,” says the taller of the men, coming up to him with a slight air of menace, “sometimes you just have to get out.”

“That’s right,” says his companion. “Get out.”

P.S. #everlark

Because dystopia is everything.

Stay tuned.

The Future Is Cold: Excerpt from Self’s “Ice”

A journal accepted this piece two years ago.

It still hasn’t seen print.

In the meantime, self has been working on it, adding a sentence here, a paragraph there.

Here’a an excerpt.

It was true the boy’s eyes were strange, as if icecaps were growing in the irises. He tried to staunch the spread, but hour by hour the ice seemed to grow. Until, he hated to say it, the boy had gone completely blind. But he still pretended to watch the sky.

Halloooo came the cry across the frozen wasteland.

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Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada: April 2015

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

#amwriting: More of “Invasion, Seamount, Antarctica”

  • A large shelf of ice had dislodged — calved — in Hobart Bay. The immensity of the sound — a low thunder that cascaded off the sides of the snow-capped mountains — was deeply unsettling. Just days earlier, the woman, Tamara, had bid farewell to her daughter at Baranof. (from Invasion, Seamount, Antarctica, a story-in-progress)

Watching the ocean in Albion, self was fascinated by a speck far off that seemed to appear and disappear. Honestly, it could have been one of the longnecks she’s describing in her story, the ones that appear in the Bering Sea and begin the invasion. Which then results in the Navy calling up a class of mutants called the pagophilics.

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Sea View: Albion, California

It was probably just a rock. But it was the appearing and disappearing that made self think of sea monsters.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

#amwriting: Invasion, Seamount, Antarctica

How self does love writing a good horror story. She started this one a few days ago:

She and the captain were the first to spot the Longnecks. A pod of them. Bulging foreheads cleaving the ink-dark sea. The creatures moved quickly, beaching on the ice shelf and shedding their fur with great, tearing sounds. At first she thought it was merely the ice cracking, separating from the mother glacier.

(When everyone else writes about global warming, self writes about global freezing. Go figure)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Reading at AWP (Off-Site) for QUARTERLY WEST, 8 February 2017

Participating in a group reading for Quarterly West at Sixth Engine, a converted firehouse in Washington, DC. during the AWP Conference.

Date: 8 February 2017 (Details to follow), downtown Washington DC

Quarterly West Issue # 89 has self’s newest Dragon/Fire Lizard story, “First Causes.”

It’s a sequel to her “First Life,” published July 2015 in Juked.com

Stay tuned.

 

“Magellan’s Mirror”: Self’s Pushcart-Nominated Story, 2012

Magellan’s Mirror

  • Note: In this story, The Philippines is the home of giants. In the history books, Ferdinand Magellan is credited with their discovery.

During the next week, no natives appeared on the shore. The beach was empty as it had been on the first day, before the crew had sighted Enrique. The men looked up at the sky, cloudless and blue. Under their breaths, they cursed their leader.

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The Beach at Capitola-by-the-Sea, late December 2016

In the middle of the third week, four of the giants were seen gesticulating on the shore. The sailors shook their heads. The natives importuned them with tragic gestures. Finally, the tribesmen boarded a massive canoe and began paddling towards the Trinidad. Magellan ordered his men to welcome them warmly. The crew offered the visitors their fill of wine. Just as the giants were sleepily dozing off, Magellan had his men shackle them.


Thanks to J Journal for nominating self’s story for the Pushcart. Self took the historical journey of Ferdinand Magellan and included magical elements. She has a Part II, called “Vanquisher.” And a third story, called “Residents of the Deep,” which she began at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Annaghmakerrig, 2014, which takes place centuries later (1840s)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Self’s Accident Story, “Dust”

It was sunny, a glorious day. April was sometimes cold but Jocelyn thought she could sense summer coming, around the corner.

The girl who clipped them, that afternoon in April, was just 18. Driving her red Ford mustang at a speed that was just short of criminal, she’d gotten her driver’s license only that month.

The Ford Explorer rolled over and over and over. For almost two years, she saw the image flash into her mind, often just before she lay her head down to sleep. Then she had to get up and pace the bedroom, or take two Ambien if there was something important to do the next day.

By the time the vehicle came to rest, by the center divider on the southbound 101, her son was dead. It had happened quickly. Jocelyn was glad.

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