Wow! I sort of took a dive off the deep end after retiring. I’m having a blast, but somehow, I’m using my brain more and busier than ever. The old cliché is true! How did I ever find time for work?
So, I went to class. My characters (aka pod people seeded in my brain by aliens) talked me into taking on more ambitious goals. And I did. After all, they’ve done me lots of good and deserve to have me at my best; making them shine, bringing them to life.
Starting with orientation last Friday, then commencing Day 1 Sunday, every day since has been packed full of exercises from a workshop I stumbled onto on Facebook (okay the advertisers stuck it in front of my face, but sometimes that’s a good thing), and boy! I’m so glad I did. The value has been phenomenal. If you ever get a chance to catch Getabookdeal101‘s Pitch Perfect Masterclass, 5-Day Query Letter Challenge, grab a spot! It’s only $17! A generous offer by a team who really cares about the struggling writer. It’s packed with insight into the publishing industry, and you get hands on practice building valuable skills.
I’m using a draft of a historical fantasy I have in the works as my practice pitch. I’ve truly learned to “mine for the gold” and pull out the nuggets of my story, as Kathy Ver Eecke likes to say in one way or the other. Quoting Kathy again, “it’s all that and a bag of book deals.” She is super fun, and so is her team.
Even if it takes me a while to get a book to the point I want to pitch it to an agent, the skills and inside industry knowledge will come in handy for so many things. Like book blurbs and story submissions to anthologies and magazines. And I now have a better way to look at my story for those nuggets that are the most desirable to my readers, then craft it even better.
Next on my list is AutoCrit’s Penning Passion romance writing class. Yay! It starts next week and you can still sign up.
I’m also in the middle of Writing Battle‘s micro fiction contest, and AutoCrit‘s annual short story challenge (my story Priss Starwillow & the Wolf made it into the anthology last year, which was super exciting, I must say). If you haven’t checked out AutoCrit as an editing platform option, take a moment to do so. They’ve recently done an overhaul of their community website giving you better access to tools and resources.
Writing Battle just so happens to have also undergone a website design overhaul, so check them out if you’re looking for new and fun ways to challenge your writing.
“But that’s not all” I finished a short story and it’s off to my readers. I’m getting the feedback I expected, which is that it’s probably a bigger story than the 15,000 word limit I was going for. More on Giving it up for a Vampire soon!
I’m still working on my relaunch goal for this month for my Starlight Chronicles series. What!!! Yep. I’m working hard and this month is going way too fast.
And, I still have two fabulous interviews coming your way on my Creator Spotlight. First one’s up… this Sunday!
So like I mention in my previous musings about my pod people, they won’t let me retire!
If you want to dive into the elements of horror, take a look at this article taking us back to the legitimizing of gothic fiction and horror tropes in the 1700s.
About this photo: Mikladalur, Faroe Islands, Kalsoy - July, 2021: Kópakonann - selkies, mythological beings capable of therianthropy, changing from seal to human form by shedding their skin. Kingdom of denmark. Europe
I’ve been doing a few more happy dances this week because the anthology Song of the Siren just went up for Pre Order. Submitting a story to a publisher for the first time was quite an experience, and to be accepted… well, for me hitting the send button was going down The Road Not Taken inspired by the poem from Robert Frost. That was the prompt this week for a writing group I belong to who blog together three months out of each year from winter solstice to the spring equinox. It’s a marvelous idea. And I’ve learned so much from these experienced bloggers, creators, podcasters, and authors.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost
The Selkie
Once I had this dream To shed my skin And take to the sea To swim amongst the stars And for a time forget
I wanted to go so far To a place no one had seen Where I’d slip the bonds of man And explore an underwater Eden
Ah, but on waking I faced the truth My choices were different than assumed The beckoning of the sea Was not a journey I could take so soon
This life that I have chosen
unknown
Now that you’ve enjoyed some poetry, I’ll get back to my twisty, amazing road in February and the fascination with selkies. Having finally taken formal submission step makes me feel like endless possibilities are ahead of me. That’s a great feeling when you’re nearing 60. But the best part of this heretofore scary unknown road? There are a lot of people traversing it. It’s packed! All kinds of surprises have popped up on this journey. Writings to Share has been one, the Fantasy Sci Fi Writers Alliance another, and then from groups like these, a handful of new amazing friends.
My anthology short story Beneath the Prismed Light is about a selkie and a lighthouse keeper and finding a future together in a world that seems to have lost one; and they most definitely face taking “the road less traveled”. I hope to write more stories influenced by the amazing myths and lore of the Celts. Here is a little about the mythology of the selkie, though the photo at the top says a lot. Isn’t she beautiful? Maybe shedding one’s skin is like taking that road. I thoroughly enjoy it when community themes converge with life events.
From Wilderness Ireland – What is a selkie? Also called the seal people, the sea people or the mermaid – a selkie is a marine legend that tells of people who are half fish, and half-human. In the water, they are seals, but on land, they shed their skin and take on human form. And for some reason, they are irresistible to ordinary humans, who are apt to fall in love with the seal people.
Popular on islands and rural coastal communities, the legend of selkie has endured over the age, and though less, there are still supposed sightings even in relatively modern times.
Some say that the origins of the selkie myth actually stem from Scottish and Irish ancient peoples coming into contact with Finnish and/or Sami travellers who were thought to be selkies for their use of sealskin coats and kayaks.
As they became waterlogged, the boats would start to submerge, and so the Sami traveller would be required to stop and dry their sealskin clothing and boats out before continuing onwards.
Take their “fishtails” away from them, and it’s true enough that the “selkie” cannot return to the sea. Spot a person removing their sealskin clothing and setting it down to dry on the rocks and you just might think that you’ve witnessed transformation from seal to man (or woman). This idea was proposed by a Victorian-era folklorist, but it’s still quite a tantalising concept to consider! ~
My writing friend in Scotland sent these snapshots from a vintage book he found at a charity shop in Edinburgh. Dylan and I have a lot of fun reading each other’s stories and sharing all manner of writing tips and resources, and he’s currently working on a story with a Kelpie, which is a mythological water dwelling horse.
I really need to travel to Scotland and the isles north because it is rich in the kind of lore that fascinates me the most.
Dylan says he is starting to take the idea of submitting his stories seriously now that he’s been on the journey with me, and that made this whole experience all the better.
I think I’ll summarize this piece by saying that going down the road not taken in no way has to be a lonely trip, and you never know what might happen if you’re willing to shed that old skin.
If your appetite has been whetted for more about selkies, here is a WordPress blog I found with this charming illustration and story of a Selkie Bride.
She has dreamed all her life about the man in the whitewashed tower beneath the prismed light. He suffers the bitter loneliness of being the last of his kind in a dying world and dreams of an impossible love with a mythical creature. What happens when one steps from the sea and offers not just a dream, but an astonishing solution?
Mikladalur, Faroe Islands, Kalsoy – July, 2021: Kópakonann – selkies, mythological beings capable of therianthropy, changing from seal to human form by shedding their skin. Kingdom of denmark. Europe
Tityus gave only half a thought to punching the obnoxious birds in their wrinkled bald faces because doing so was an act of futility. He knew this because he’d done it a million times over thousands of years, and it hadn’t yet stopped the two giant vultures from chewing out his liver every twenty-eighth day, starting precisely at six p.m., Eastern European Time. It was now seven.
The voracious creatures will finish digging into his side in exactly one hour, after which Tityus will endure more agonizing pain with the regrowth of his immortal organ, only to have the endless punishment repeated at the next new moon. In the lulls between, the giant often wondered who suffered the worst torment, the birds who were sent to Hell to eat the same meal every month for eternity, or Tityus from having to provide it.
He decided it would feel good to punch the bobbing heads anyway. It was worth the extra pain as strips of flesh were wrenched from his body by the force of his own blow. At least he’d caved in half their ugly faces, and there was immense satisfaction in all the flapping of black wings and screeches through shattered beaks. It was even better when they went aloft to find a ledge and wait for their skulls to mend.
A sound between a moan and a sigh seeped from the giant, echoing through his stone and moss-covered grotto nestled deep below the base of Mount Parnassus. Zeus might be liberal handing out sentences to his dozens of offspring when they went astray, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping track of every single one, always watching, always ready to condemn. Tityus hoped his father just witnessed his act of bored defiance.
Since he’d been given a bonus reprieve, he took the opportunity to recline more comfortably on his loamy pallet, which stretched along with him across his nine-acre earthen home. He picked up the remote and flipped through the three programs his sister had selected for him to view on the eighty-foot screen, which hung on his southern limestone wall. It was only recently that Persephone had come up with the ingenious device in her efforts to give him a diversion between bouts of torture.
He smiled at the thought of his sister.
She was the only one who believed he’d been goaded into his crime of passion by Hera and pleaded his case every chance she got. Even the goddess who bore him and the one who raised him didn’t believe his side though both had reason to blame Hera for their problems. It seemed everyone stuck together when it came to condemning him, but not Persephone. His sister’s loyalty and affection never wavered.
She also understood that finding what he sought through his view to the human world was the only thing keeping him sane and that on those rare occasions when he found the perfect distraction, he could ignore the prospect of the gnawing and gnashing at his flesh, and the pain when red ropes of liver were tugged out and slurped up like so many earth worms that shared his home.
***
It took the better part of the first week, once the vultures finished their meal and his liver grew back, to select his target, and Tityus was in the middle of planning how he would go about the couple’s torment when a leafy vine began winding up his leg. Since his limb was the length of three stadiums, it took some time for the greenery to get close to his face, but Tityus waited patiently for his sister to make her appearance.
The vine stopped its horizontal travels at his hip, then shot straight up as it thickened into limbs that stretched into a torso. A neck and head appeared next, and soon the dulcet tones of the Queen of the Underworld chimed through his grotto.
“Hello, Brother. Have you made your selection?”
He had to dial down his voice to keep from blasting Persephone off his hip. “I have. Though each couple was as tempting as the other. Thank you for that. Choosing was half the fun.”
She clasped her hands together and grinned. “That is just what I hoped for. It has been too long since you’ve enjoyed yourself, Tityus, and I’m happy to do my part to make the point to Father that the retribution he inflicts on his offspring just as often spreads to mankind. You must know I have been pleading your case again. Not only were you manipulated by the jealous Hera, but your crime was incomplete, and this punishment has gone on long enough. Not to mention, it is agony to hear your groans of pain as they shake the very core of the Underworld.”
Green eyes as big as moons brimmed with affection, and he nudged her gently into his waiting palm. “Ever my champion, dear sister. I don’t know what I would do without you. Won’t you recline and stay for a bit?”
“That is why I’m here.” She reached out and patted his thumb. “I will convince Father one day soon. Meanwhile, you deserve a reprieve to toy with humans.” She laid back on her elbow and propped her head in her hand, while her vines wove a canopy over her, anchoring them themselves around her brother’s fingers. “Now, who did you pick?”
“If I only have time for one, this pair has the best potential to give us a top-rated show.” He clicked the remote, and the giant screen came to life. The sibling gods looked down on two people crouched in a square pit divided into grids in the middle of an archeological site not far from the west bank of the Nile.
***
Sarah had no clue what she did to Nathan with that earnest look of concentration. Parts of him clenched enough to be uncomfortable when she pushed her glasses higher on her pert nose, which was smudged with red dust. Not only did his heart thump erratically, but he almost groaned out loud.
That embarrassing prospect broke the spell she was weaving over him, and he cursed to himself. If she could read his lusty, turbulent thoughts, she would for sure request his replacement. He reminded himself that she’d shown him a few signs these past weeks to give him hope.
Nathan turned his attention back to the brush he held in his hand and focused on the shard of pottery they were easing in stages from the three-and-a-half-thousand-year-old soil. This section of the dig had turned up another small cache, which was laid out on a cloth next to them, consisting of tools, a handful of human bones, two delicate cat skulls, and three nearly intact clay jars.
The shard wasn’t even the most exciting thing they’d unearthed today… except… “Is that cuneiform?”
Her sweet, yet husky voice got him going again when she said, “Yes. I believe our theory has been confirmed. Do you agree?”
He was struck by her eyes that glittered with excitement and had to give himself a mental shake before answering. “It’s harder to deny when we add this to the rest. But Sarah, we’ve been breathing the dirt in this six-foot square hole for eight hours. Let’s cover it up, stash our findings in the locker, and get out of here. It’s time to go to the city for a night of celebration.”
“You really want to finish the day’s work without cataloging these beauties? Don’t you want to know what these symbols tell us?” She cocked her head. “Have I worked you that hard?”
He laughed. “I just need to get clean and go sweat at a club with dancing and liquor. Morning will be soon enough to study our treasure.”
“I suppose getting sweaty for a different reason would be a nice change of pace. You’re on.”
But those words passing through full pink lips and the vision of her moving on a dance floor forced him to stay crouched for a minute longer while waves of yearning rushed once more through his lower regions. Maybe torturing himself with an evening in her company wasn’t such a grand idea after all. On the other hand, it could be his long-awaited opportunity.
***
Tityus paused the video feed, and when he spoke, small boulders slid down the embankments surrounding his prone form. “You can see he’s got it bad and has no idea she’s been exploring her sexuality. I’ve got a few moves set up to help her decide things.”
Persephone’s eyes gleamed. “I can assume her decisions won’t include poor Nathan?”
“That’s the plan, but only after we squeeze more entertainment from them first. You did good, Sister. I can already smell his pathos,” and he closed his eyes and inhaled the pungent air to demonstrate the sensory input, which caused a small cyclone to whirl a path around them and rattle her vines. “His suffering and their confusion will go a long way towards helping me endure my next round of torment. I’m already collecting images for my dreams.” He cracked an eye open to peer at his sister. “And we might even enjoy some collateral damage. There’s a third party involved.” The quiet when the giant ceased speaking left a vacuum in the subterranean chamber.
The walls shook again when he chuckled and said, “Is our uncle aware of your new penchant for misguiding love-struck humans?”
The Queen of the Underworld let out an undignified snort. “Hades does not care how I occupy my time, only that he can call me to him whenever he wants. And speaking of the demanding one, I feel his pull now. I promise to be back for another installment. But don’t wait for me, you can catch me up.”
Tityus was used to Persephone’s spontaneous appearances and abrupt departures and didn’t mind when the forest of greenery disappeared with his sister in a wispy puff. He clicked his remote to open the next scene.
***
Nathan was sweaty just as planned, but he’d never had so much fun getting into this state of bodily dampness. Sarah had arranged for several of her friends from the university to meet them at the discotheque in Luxor, and the girls had made it their mission to keep him on the dance floor for the past two hours. He finally had to beg them for a break, so he could go cool down and freshen up.
Revived and happy enough with the results, he pushed his way through the crush of dancers and back to the bar where he’d left his charming companions with their drinks. When he was close enough to spot them through the crowd, he came to a dead stop. His heart plummeted like a stone.
Sarah sat on a stool facing her friend Eman, who had her lips buried in Sarah’s neck. At first, it looked like Eman was simply trying to be heard. Then, he saw their clasped hands and a pink tongue darting in Sarah’s ear. Sarah laughed and pulled back, her eyes glittering with excitement, and something else.
He couldn’t believe he had things so wrong!
The shock wore off almost immediately, but that only let a whole slew of other confusing emotions overwhelm him while he stood there gaping, until the thought of what he must look like penetrated the fog.
Sarah spotted him before he could shake it off and act normal. Her smile froze, then she frowned.
Eman turned to see what Sarah was looking at, and it was clear she had no idea his world had just collapsed because she grinned at him and waved, then raised the drink she had waiting for him. His arm went up in a halfhearted answer, and he somehow got his legs moving again.
After another hour passed of being dazed, he had to wonder how he was still sitting in this raucous place hunched over his whiskey in the middle of the table Eman had expertly snagged for them. All he could feel after his third drink were the constant sharp jabs to his heart as he strained to hear the drowned-out chatter from the four girls still having a great time. If anyone asked him the topic of their conversation, he would not be able to relate one bit of it… for all the above reasons.
On the one hand, the pain confirmed his feelings for Sarah went much deeper than he realized. On the other, he feared it would be his new constant companion. The intensity that felt so good at the dig today now ripped him to pieces, and he thought he might be on his way to suffocating in this night club that had turned garish and stifling. He had to get out of there.
“Will you be good with getting Sarah back to the site, Eman?” He’d spoken so abruptly they each turned to him in surprise. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to call it a night and head back.”
Sarah laid a hand on his arm. “Are you okay? Maybe you should have a coffee first.”
That was sound advice, but the thought of watching Sarah and Eman whispering together another minute made him want to throw up. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow. Don’t be late.” He attempted to smile at his lame humor, but judging by Sarah’s furrowed brow, his face must look as wan as he felt.
He slapped a few bills on the table mostly to make sure she had enough to get back to the dig. “Enjoy the rest of the night. It was a pleasure meeting all of you.” Sarah nodded then turned to her friends without another glance in his direction. He forced his shoulders not to slump in defeat and left.
***
This time the flowering vines trailed down the side of the cavern before finding purchase on the giant’s arm that stuck partly up from the earth. The writhing greenery tickled, waking Tityus from a satisfying dream that kept playing back the moment Nathan’s puny human heart was crushed to a pulp.
He cracked open a giant green orb and waited for Persephone to materialize on a dirt mound that covered his shoulder. The more he buried himself in the earth, the better he dreamed. He didn’t dwell too much on the reasons for that, though Zeus would be the first to tell him he had a mother complex.
Persephone wore her favorite skull crown today and leaned on her staff to peer into his eye. “Well? Was it as entertaining as you hoped?”
The damp soil covering him rippled, and a myriad of stones were tossed up from the vibrations when he said, “Even better.”
“What do you think Nathan will do now? Will he be able to endure working so closely with Sarah?”
“You made it just in time for the next installment. When Nathan left the club about two in the morning, he was in a state of mind that made him the perfect mark for the rare Luxor mugger, which I ensured crossed his path. The thief took all his cash, then beat him senseless. That event alone will last me a good while, and the violence wasn’t even due to me. Sarah is about to discover he never made it back.”
Persephone raised her cupped hand and a bloodred mist swirled in her fingers. When it dissipated, she was holding several bunches of purple grapes, the size of which no human had ever seen. She plucked half the fruit off one and tossed it into Tityus’s mouth, then asked him a question. “Is he alive?” Tityus nodded as he chewed, and she said, “You realize having him harmed could make your plans head in the wrong direction.”
Her brother jolted her with another nod, swallowed more grapes, and said, “The gamble that humans might find their way despite our interference is what makes this so satisfying.”
She smiled. “Then, let’s get comfortable and watch.”
Tityus clicked his remote, and the shadowy grotto lit up from the desert scene now spread across the limestone wall like a portal had just opened to Thebes. The morning sun gleamed across the sand and the ancient pyramid, and the archaeological encampment looked small in its shadow. A lone figure crouched in the pit under an umbrella and worked with meticulous care on a spot in the strata at the level of her eyes.
But the anxious archaeologist bobbed up the ladder at every sound to check the dirt track meandering towards Luxor. Her voice was overly loud when she called out, “Hey, Charles. Have you heard from Nathan yet?”
A man crouching in the adjacent pit answered her. “Not since you asked me fifteen minutes ago. But I’m concerned, too. I sent Jack to hunt for him this morning. I’m sure he must have holed himself up in a hotel room to sleep off the whiskey. You know what a lightweight he is. We should both quit worrying.”
As soon as that last word drifted over the sand between them, the sound of a car had them springing up their respective ladders to peer over the edge of their pits.
Back in the grotto, Persephone said from where she reclined in her vines from the spot on Tityus’s shoulder, “That must be Jack with Nathan. If I’m wrong, I’ll find you eight victims for next month’s program.”
Tityus’s deep laughter stopped abruptly when he spotted an eagle much too large to be natural swooping over the dig site and around all the tents to land on a clothesline strung with colorful blankets flapping in the breeze. “Uh… Persephone. Do you think… ”
“Yes,” she drawled. “It’s Father. Hell’s gate! How did he find out?” She barked out a laugh. “Never mind. Stupid question. We’re better off working on our plausible deniability.”
They looked over the scene again to find the car arrived at the encampment and parked under a cover. A burly, bearded man stepped out of the driver’s side, then opened the door to the backseat to help out a slighter man who was clearly in pain and struggling to move.
“Nathan!” Sarah shouted as she scrambled the rest of the way up her ladder and ran to the car.
The eagle made another pass over the scene, and Tityus and Persephone eyed each other when a screech that could only belong to the powerful god who was their sire sounded all the way to them in the grotto, even as the humans beneath the winged creature were oblivious.
When Nathan heard Sarah call his name, he forced himself to straighten and face her. She came to an abrupt halt and gasped. “Oh my god. What happened to you?”
Embarrassment was visible through the damage on his face, but he summoned his dignity and said, “I had a little run-in on the way to the taxi stand and woke up in an alley with my pockets inside out. Thankfully, Jack thought to check the police station where I ended up this morning because I had no way to identify myself.” This time, they all looked up when another screech rent the air and watched as the bird of prey disappeared over the horizon.
Sarah turned back to her colleague who was turning wobbly before her eyes, and her voice hitched. “You scared me to death, Nathan.” She stepped closer and softened her words. “I’m aware of what I did to you last night. I’ve been confused about things, and I’m sorry. Today, everything is different. Will you forgive me?”
Hope bloomed on Nathan’s face, which looked somewhat grim with his distorted lips and puffy eye. He cocked his head at her. “What are you saying, Sarah?”
“Eman is finishing her doctorate at Cambridge. We said goodbye last night. For good. You’re the one I want to be with. Can I hope for the same?”
The burly Jack cleared his throat, which effectively brought the two back to their present surroundings, and he said, “While it’s clear this exchange is doing Nathan a lot of good, he’s about to drop where he stands. Are you ready to have a lie down, kid?”
Sarah raised a shining face to Nathan’s as she wrapped her arm around his waist and walked him to the med tent. The look in her sea green eyes was the final nail in the coffin for Tityus’s schemes this hiatus. The giant punched the button on the remote violently enough to crush the entire thing, and the view to the desert went dark, throwing the grotto into shadow.
Persephone was already turning wispy with her disappearing vines. “I’m sorry, Brother. But you understand I must return to Hades. I promise to do what I can to cool our father’s wrath.”
His laughter was full of both irony and resignation as he said, “You will do better for me staying clear of Zeus for now, and away from here, but don’t wait too long for another visit, dear sister.”
In the lull after her departure, Tityus settled his huge body deep beneath the earth in his lonely grotto and hoped for nurturing dreams of humans suffering unrequited love, while he waited for the next new moon… and the vultures to circle.
The End… Until the Next New Moon
I wrote this for a short story contest. It didn’t make the top three, but I absolutely adore this premise. A friend is writing his own version of the tortured giant, Tityus, and how he might use a grotto-sized TV to spy on mankind and wreak havoc for the sole purpose of providing a diversion from torture. Most of you know the story of Prometheus, the lover of mankind, who endures a similar punishment exacted on him by Zeus, but here is the lesser known story of Tityus, tortured for being a cad.
What kind of story would you come up with for my bored giant’s entertainment? Let me know in the comments. I’m thinking of doing more of these to collect for an anthology. What do you think about that idea?
Commaful allows authors to tell their stories with pictures. You get a square space for an image and room to put a sentence per page. The story basically advances line by line. You can use this for Fanfiction, Poetry, Flash Fiction and Short Stories. It can be a suspense story, romance, or comedy. The sky is the limit! I’m intrigued. Let me know what you think.
Following are screenshots from a writer’s desktop of a clever tutorial demonstrating the format.
Click on the first pic for The Fantasy Sci Fi Writers Alliance’s very first blog post by author Isa Ottoni, How Finding a Writing Community Changed My Life. The second photo will introduce you to Isa and preview our interview coming up in January. The third photo will take you to the Alliance’s home page created by the talented and industrious E. B. Hunter.
Follow Eric for more about his writing and enjoy his free horror stories. You can learn more about the alliance on my page.
The best part is you can sign up and become a member to enjoy amazing support among a diverse group of writers.
Or is it the Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha, aka Kent Wayne? Hmmm. I’ll let you decide after you meet him. Read on!
Click on images to link to Mr. Wayne’s books and blogs.
You might guess my first question today, Kent. What seeds that imagination when you write your “Yet another weird ad for my novels” blog? They sure caught my attention.
Believe it or not, no one’s asked me that before. Oftentimes, it’s a throwaway joke I hear on a comedy podcast. It takes root in my mind, grows into a premise, then I change the context so I can make a miniature story out of it. Other times, I’m struck by a “What If,” then when I sit down to write, I tease out the possibilities within that premise.
You’ve created foes, heroes, and the most zany and naughty superpowers from just about every likely and unlikely personality in our universe, with Kent Wayne extracting himself by the skin of his… well, you know… every time, as long as he has that precious second to activate his eReader. I read them because I can’t wait to see who might show up next in your action-packed appendage battles! What’s the story behind the stories?
One of my writing principles is to amp things up as much as I can (by “as much as I can,” I mean constrain events with logic while reaching for maximal absurdity or the emotionally evocative), and then smooth things over as I edit. That definitely applies to my ads, where I write about prehensile genitalia or Martha Stewart shoving a mithril lance into Smaug’s nether-hole.
As a kid, I read Calvin and Hobbes over and over. I especially loved the arcs where he imagined he was a noir detective, articulate dinosaur, or Spaceman Spiff. Barry Ween was another big influence.
I love the idea of extraordinary circumstances arising in the ordinary world, then reveling in the adventure and fun as madness ensues.
D. Awesome. Thanks for sharing your techniques! I have to say I would like to emulate that effect. There’s nothing better than an enjoyable read over breakfast that has my brows shooting up and laughter coming out of my nose with my coffee.
Click on the Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha to visit Kent and follow his posts. And click here for his volume of Musings on Amazon
Do the blogs spring out of nowhere, or do you have an arsenal of notes to pull from when you’re ready to give us another one?
When I have an idea, I’ll write a cliffs notes version of the basic gist, usually no more than a sentence long (ex: defile jock’s jacket, jock gets mad, defeat jock and hook up with his mom). I also do this with books–if I’m afraid I’m going to forget what I want to write, I’ll write a cliffs notes version in brackets at my furthest point in the manuscript.
In the past, I have at times sat down with no idea or clue and just started writing on a blank page. In some of the older blogs, you’ll see me start with “What to write, what to write, what to wriiiiiiiitteee…” and then I let my fingers go and come up with something on the spot.
I know the ads/blogs are popular. Do they work to sell your books? Would you say they’re an extension of your published stories, or are they in a world all by themselves? And are they as fun to write as they are to read?
Not at all, LOL! I’ve given up trying to sell books; it’s made me miserable in the past. I just try and have fun with writing. The primary reward for me is the fulfillment and engagement I get from crafting a story–it’s the one activity that always seems to flow without any effort for me.
The blogs are my overtures toward advertising. But I hate advertising, so I decided why not exercise my writing muscles when I publish an ad?
D. Great points. I only started writing fiction a couple of years ago. I did it because it was fun. The first year stayed fun, the second year, I went down the marketing rabbit hole, and I keep trying to climb back out. This is encouraging. Thank you!
Tell us about your other books on Amazon.
My other books are Echo, a four-book science fiction series that follows a warrior who’s pushed it as far as he can in a militarized dystopia, then embarks on a quest for personal transcendence. In addition to the robo-suits and high-tech pew-pew, I throw in a lot of psychic stuff and existential philosophy, although they don’t come into play until volumes 3 and 4.
Kor’Thank: Barbarian Valley Girl was my way of trying something new and branching into humor. It’s kind of like a long-form version of my ads, but it’s got heart and character development in it since it’s a full-length book.
I write books I want to read (or I would have wanted to read when I was younger), so after I covered the robo-badass stuff and the zany high school fun, I wrote a YA fantasy called A Door into Evermoor. Now that Dungeons and Dragons is cool and you can admit to playing it without being encircled and laughed at by trend-worshipping mouth-breathers, I’ll freely admit I played D&D as a kid.
D. Haha. One of the best reasons I’ve heard for writing a story!
What inspired you to write fiction?
I kind of stumbled onto it via a happy accident. I tried writing in my twenties, but I was like most writers where I couldn’t get past a premise or a couple of chapters. For some reason, I was able to do it in my thirties. I suspect it was because I had some life experience, but mostly because I was starting to understand the psychology behind a narrative–how a character’s personality should develop through a story, and how corresponding events should complement that development.
D. Another great nugget of inspiration. Thanks!
Which authors have inspired you most?
Stephen King, specifically his Dark Tower series, specifically the second volume, The Drawing of Three. The part where a gunslinger-knight from another dimension lies dying on an alien beach, then gets his first taste of Pepsi, is burned into my mind as the most viscerally impactful scene I’ve ever read.
Also, Robin Hobb and the first two volumes of the Farseer series, Assassin’s Apprentice and Royal Assassin.
Can you tell us about your works in progress, any ones you’re particularly fond of at the moment, and when we might expect to see them in print?
Right now, I’ve finished drafting the second volume of the Unbound Realm, which is called Weapons of Old. I’m deep in the edits, trying to work out the logic holes, spice up the descriptions, and kicking myself for not remembering to set up this or that for the next volume.
After that, I plan on writing volume 3, then tackling an extradimensional detective noir. The release dates depend on when I can do a smooth read-through without catching major problems. That typically means I can read through the entire book in less than a week without anything big jumping out at me.
D. I really appreciate getting some insight on your creative process. It’s helpful to glimpse how writers tackle the sheer volume of work that’s always in play.
Which of your characters is your favorite, and why?
I’m always biased towards whoever I’m writing about, so Jon from the Unbound Realm is my favorite at that moment.
What has been your biggest highlight of the last year?
My biggest highlight is finishing the first volume of my YA fantasy series. I’ve spent most of my life as an emotionally stunted, tough-guy meathead, so it’s nice to see that I can tap into the wonder and adventure I wished for as a kid. I never expressed it back then, so it’s nice to see it flow onto the page.
D. I think you just tapped into one of the many unexpected benefits of being a writer and thank you again for sharing your experiences.
What are you most excited about over the next year?
I’m excited to publish the second volume of the Unbound Realm, write and publish volume 3, then move on to my astral detective noir.
D. All the best on those endeavors. I love anything with noir, and that last project sounds super intriguing. Keep us posted!
Any parting advice for those who dream about becoming a writer, or starting up a blog?
Fun is the priority. There are better ways to make money. If writing doesn’t bring you joy, then the pain and inconvenience better be worth it in some other way–maybe fulfillment or pride or internal validation–but that’s not my approach. I think that’s similar to someone who stays in a miserable job so they can retire in their old age and enjoy a few years of not having to do a miserable job.
I used to idolize hard-chargers, folks who preached constant sacrifice and austerity, but now my role model is Keanu Reeves. From my perspective, that guy is a horrible actor, he’s kind of weird, and comes off as not the brightest, but it seems like he prioritizes enjoyment and stays true to his heart (he turned down Speed 2 and the buttload of money that came with it, looks for roles he likes, and cuts his salary to boost production he believes in). Success is nice, but if you’re outwardly successful and inwardly miserable, what’s the point? Whatever is outwardly happening to me, regardless of whether it meets someone else’s definition of miserable or happy, I’d like to honor my inner compass. I don’t want writing to become a horrible office job with loads of obligations and constant low-key anxiety. I’d like to be the Keanu Reeves of writing, if that makes any sense.
I’d also recommend learning how symbolism works through imagery and action (in cinema, smoking a cigarette almost always means the smoker is going to be self-destructive, and taking a shower almost always references some form of rebirth because the character is naked and drenched like they would be in a womb). Those are just artsy tools, however. I think understanding the hero’s journey–which Joseph Campbell does a great job of breaking down–is probably of utmost importance. The audience doesn’t want to see a guy just putter through life and never experience meaningful change; we see too much of that in our day to day. The advantage of a well-told story is you get to see the highlights of a character’s life.
D. That is the best ending advice I’ve had to date. If I didn’t have only twenty months left to retire and get my pension, I’d be out of that office so fast, my hair pins would be spinning! 😄 At the very least, I’m feeling a lot better about slow book sales and can focus again on the joy of writing them. Thanks so much for visiting with us on my Spotlight blog today. This has been a lot of fun. All the best to you, Kent.
I can’t deny I was pleased with this summary. I worked hard on polishing my first microfiction 24-hour submission to NYC Midnight’s 250-word Microfiction Challenge 2022, and maybe… just maybe, this will mean something in the judging. We will see (but not until January!). These events are amazing for anyone who wants the challenge of getting a complete story into a tiny format. And for those of you who are participating with me, the best of luck!
Check out AutoCrit if you haven’t already. I recommend it as a great writing resource with powerful analytics.
By D. L. Lewellyn 