Writer of Fantasy. Wielder of Red Pens.

Category: Writing Updates (Page 2 of 4)

The Great Sponge Expansion

“Do you like your new sponge family, Leila?” Admiral Zeke Farmanzeh watched Allie lean down with a shy grin down at their daughter, the same expression that he’d fallen in love with so many years and planets ago. 

“I do, Mama,” the little girl said. The pert, upturned nose was the same as when the Cuddly But Trouble had launched, but the smile was now gap-toothed. 

Another sign of his little girl getting far too big for his taste, even if her precious, fluffy blue bear the ship was named after still waited on her bunk. Zeke settled most days for being grateful that they’d worked out the gravity well problem. He’d tried listening to the physicists, but – well, he was but an engineer, and all he cared about was that spacers no longer came back weak and brittle. And long term stability – like family life – was possible.

A man could put up with a lot for some stability. It made him forget the stale air and uncertainty of ever returning to Earth.

“These were mine when I was a little girl, you know.” The larger blonde head bobbed closed to his daughter’s curls. They looked so much alike! “We could only bring them because they’re so lightweight, but I wanted you to have them.”

“This is Little’un, and this is Littler’un, and there’s the mama and papa and the dog. They don’t have names yet. Floofbear will help me name them tomorrow.”

His wife gave that smile, the one where she knew she had a secret. “Do you want to see what happens when they go for a dip in the pool? Let’s take them in your bath and find out.”

Water filtration, now that had taken a leap forward, too. Even if they still were on rations, and everyone knew it was recycled water. That ten percent fresh the techies had been able to bring online made a difference. It didn’t taste flat, anymore, even though it tasted the same. Water was water, but indescribably altered.

Zeke pushed himself out of his chair. It pulled itself back into the wall automatically with a whir as he headed for the doorway to watch his girls. These carefree, childlike moments would be increasingly fleeting, especially as Leila continued her advanced studies.

“You see?”

His daughter gave a horrified gasp. “Littler’un was the green sponge! And she’s bigger than Little’un now!”

“And when she dries, she’ll shrink back down again, and fit into her capsule. What do you think, will Little’un fit into his?”

The precious face scrunched in hard thought. “Yes. Because they’re different colors but the same material.”

“Nano sponges will do that, but real sponges that grow in the ocean won’t.”

A giggle. “Sponges are weird.”

“A little bit. Why don’t you join them in the bath?” His wife raised her face to his, and her eyes glittered with mischief. “I think you’re part weird yourself, thanks to your daddy. Don’t you think?”

***

Need context? I always wanted these things to repack themselves into neat capsules. Mostly so I could have reusable fun, of course.

Need part one? Find the intro to Leila here.

This week’s MOTE prompt was a trade with AC Young – Little’un and Littler’un trading in size, and magical dust mores. Check out his detailed response – and more! – out here.

But before you go, how about something completely different? My new short story, Santa Baby, is available for preorder along with a whole anthology of stories. About Santa. As a military operator. Because someone’s got to save the day.

I promise it’s ridiculous, in the best of ways. Cheers!

Coming Soon News

I’m honored to be a part of an upcoming anthology from Sanderley Studios, centered around hope and healing in the midst of trauma and PTSD.

Once upon a time, a set of books gave me a code when a lot didn’t make sense in the world. Ultimately, I also found purpose. Books aren’t just words on paper.

There aren’t words enough to support those who have fought through their personal hells. But stories are another matter. Stories bring connections. This story was my effort to reach out a hand to those who are too lost to ask for help.

And if the darkness calls out your name, if that seeping void of emptiness lures you inside its stifling boundaries…you are not alone, even though you may not be able to see or sense your brothers and sisters. We’re here regardless, whether you see us or not.

In the United States, the new mental crisis hotline number is 988, nationwide. More US resources listed here. United Kingdom. Australia. Canada. Drop others in the comments section if you know them.

It doesn’t take much to make a difference. Sometimes a few words are enough, when they’re the right words.

I hope you enjoy The Way the World Ends, my short story in the Can’t Go Home Again anthology. It’ll be available in ebook format 20 November. Here’s the story blurb:

Klad Rieger isn’t a soldier to stop and smell the roses. Scent is mere sensory data when flowers are crushed beneath his boots on his way to the next mission. And the next. And the next, until it blurs into an endless haze of haunting purpose. But when the Empire abandons him, can he find the strength for one final mission?

And here’s the cover, which somehow managed to capture Klad precisely, down to the haunted expression. I couldn’t have described it to you if I’d tried, but it’s perfect.

Check out more details – and a lighter adult coloring book, now available – from Sanderley Studios here.

Today’s Book Two Research

I figured a few things out over the weekend, with several plot problems finally resolved. Woo! I’m excited.

Of course, there were several issues that immediately arose, but research is my happy place. Here are a few of today’s searches:

  • Late 1800s geographic & soil composition maps of New Hampshire
  • Famous computer scientists from NH (search results were…interesting. Google, are you okay?)
  • Abandoned mines New Hampshire
  • Effects of sunlight deprivation
  • Buffalo chicken dip recipes

The last one might not be relevant to Paladin’s Legacy. Who could say?

Oh, and I finally got around to naming the buildings. Paladin University is using its recent expansion for some growth.

And please. Let’s not talk about the map of Lost Creek itself just yet. There might still be a lot of empty space to fill besides the campus, a graveyard, June’s apartment, and her beloved Athena diner.

Current campus map, made by a geographically-challenged author.
June’s office is on the second floor of the Hale Building, directly over the end of the word “lower.”

And now, back to actual writing.

But Ghouls Don’t *DO* That

Let’s talk about research.

This is the part where most people back quietly away, eyes twitching while their feet seek the nearest exit at speed. Meanwhile, I’m rubbing my hands together with glee. Writers search the best and weirdest topics, often all in a slew of odd searches, one after the other as tangents spark ideas down the rabbit hole.

For instance:

  • Are magnolias poisonous? (No, or at least insufficiently that plot idea was out.)
  • What do magnolias smell like? (Different depending on the type and time of year.)
  • Washers at the ford legend (Check out these death omen song lyrics.)
  • What do ghouls eat? (Disputed, but…do you really want to know?)

That doesn’t mean the story that spits itself out of my head via the keyboard will be technically accurate in all details. I’m writing fiction here, after all. Too much reality is boring. Plus, half the time the story’s about a creature that a) does not exist and b) has at least fifteen different versions of the story.

Case in point: Halima found comfort in cinnamon sticks in The Fire Crown, because some phoenix legends say their nests are built from warming spices.

But I do want to know where I go wrong, and try to make a deliberate and conscious choice.

So yes. I am aware that ghouls are very, very different from zombies. Bite transmission is not a thing.

But Grave Girl needed “you’re my girl” to become “you’re my ghoul” for the play on words to work, so I took some liberties.

I do, however, offer my sincere apologies to any ghouls reading this.

A Plethora of Podcasts

There’s been a ridiculous amount of things going on, so I ran off with the bison herd for a while. Ever had a buffalo try to stick her head in your car?

What I’m Writing:

I’m working on several things, including book two of Peter and June’s story, Paladin’s Legacy.

  • I’m hopping through time with these two, as I’m also writing the story of their wedding. Spoiler: Bridezilla is not the creature to fear.
  • And, of course, Summer Solstice Shenanigans is live! Obviously I’m biased, but I haven’t found a tale I didn’t enjoy yet. If you haven’t yet, check out my short story in the Professor Porter universe, The Fire Crown.
  • I did, however, accidentally skip the writing prompt last week, because I forgot what day it was. Will the brain provide a twofer? We’ll find out soon.

What I’m Reading:

  • I’m reviewing/editing a friend’s very cool story about Alice’s granddaughter…yes, that Alice, with the grinning cat! It’s a highly creative and entertaining take on a familiar world with a number of twists. I can’t wait for her to publish it, and I’ll keep you posted.
  • Summer Solstice Seduction. This is the paranormal romance sister to the urban fantasy anthology I’m in and linked to above. Can you shiver and steam at the same time? Because you definitely will.

What I’m talking about: It’s a plethora of podcasts!

  • I swear I’m not drunk – I had to travel for work and was exhausted. I only realized after a lot of sleep just how incoherent I had been…but hey, it’s probably funny, right? So entertain yourself and check this interview out. Thanks to Jamie Davis for the invite. He did a fantastic job keeping my rambling on track and making me sound less like a weirdo. Which I am, obviously.
  • You can do a comparison with my articulation skills just a day later in another interview here, this time with the military scifi author and veteran JR Handley. Thanks, JR!
  • Imagine what I’d sound like after even more sleep! …but who needs sleep?

What I’m making:

What the heck do you do with 25 pounds of peaches? Among everything you can think of and a whole lot more, you make peach streusel muffins. A delicious sweet counterpoint to dark, bitter coffee.

image

Silver Rhino Shining

We interrupt this prompt for a brief story about lessons learned, irony, and writers who should know better than to tempt fate. You all know exactly where this is going, and you are not wrong.

I submitted a story for an anthology a while back. Didn’t expect to get in, and procrastinated on book two of the Professor Porter series, because I didn’t really have a deadline. So what did it matter that I submitted a short story that takes place after book two?

Somewhere, the gods are laughing.

May be an image of 1 person and text that says 'AN URBAN FANTASY ANTHOLOGY SUMMER POLSTICE SHENANIGANS MARTHA CARR AND TWENTY-FIVE MORE'
Goodreads *** Preorder

And now, onto my prompt from nother Mike. This’ll be short, because apparently I need to type a whole lot of words. At exceptionally rapid speed. With a large, awkward bandage on one finger. But this prompt fits nicely with a story I played with a while ago and needed more tempering before it turned into a real story. One of these days, In Defense of Dragons will be written in full. (It will not be today.)

***

Miranda walked down the stone hallway toward the ballroom, adjusting her tiara with one claw. The movements were simultaneously automatic and uncomfortable, just as every half-forgotten scent teased her with suppressed sneezes and memories alike. Greystone followed her on silent padding paws, near-invisible in the shadow of the crimson dragon.

She paused for a tiny silver rhino to barrel his way past, his double horns shining in the torchlight. The toddler’s mouth gaped permanently open in a wordless yell. Each miniature foot thudded heavily against the polished granite.

The boy’s coordination was still in development, which became evident with a distinct crash and splinter as a wooden table holding flowers shattered with a spectacular shower of colorful blooms.

An enormous sigh came from above Miranda’s head. She hadn’t realized she’d become a blockade until she saw the mother rhinoceros making her way cautiously down the stairs. From the look of her, she was due with another young one in the near future.

The adult rhino nodded an apology without looking up from the level of Miranda’s feet. “So sorry, milady. He’s young.”

The boy wobbled back to his feet and pranced among the debris. “I am rhino-mite! Rhiiiiino-miiiite!”

“Well, he did lumber from side to side,” Greystone murmured from behind her.

Miranda shot him a look and shushed the cat. “We’re not at home.”

His spots flushed, and even his footfalls sounded apologetic as he followed her toward the debris. “I apologize. Diplomacy is indeed called for.”

The pregnant rhinoceros looked up this time as she swept up the pieces of wreckage with one foot and corralled her son with the other. Miranda hadn’t realized rhinos could change color until the woman began to resemble bleached linen.

“Your highness!” The rhino extended an awkward leg into a shaking bow. She nudged her son into some semblance of the same pose.

“Goodwife Rhino,” Miranda acknowledged the woman with a precise nod trained into her from birth. “I bid you good luck. I expect you have extraordinarily full days.” She looked down at the boy. “And you will make an excellent charger in my father’s army when you grow just a bit larger, won’t you?”

He puffed with pride, and nudged a squashed pink rose toward her.

She picked it up in a hand and held it to her nose. Longing pulled at her throat abruptly, and only a lifetime of training held her sudden emotion in check. Her eyes burned with the effort. No matter that the cultured, stuffy flowers of the castle were a far cry from the orchard with its crystal gardens where she’d spent most of the past ten years. It was enough to reinforce that she no longer belonged here, in the castle she’d once called home.

No, Miranda did not want to be here. Nor would she let her father down when he needed her most.

***

My prompt went to AC Young, about biohacking and the tropes of television that teach us (very occasional) wisdom. Check out the comments of Odd Prompts for more!

Timelines & Deadlines

I’ve been dragging on a few items, for a number of reasons. Plot problems that I finally got unstuck on. Unmotivated after long days. Distracted by the garbage disposal leaking black sludge everywhere. That really good series I just discovered on KU. You know – life.

But I’ve got a couple anthologies that I want to put in for (and one I was accepted into, yay!), and some short deadlines. That puts a whomping push on book two, which is giving me more fits than book three, or the short story that comes in between them.

Or the other short stories that won’t let my brain go.

And if I’m not accepted, the external pressure’s off, but I’ll still work on the stories to release at a later date.

It’s not a bad thing, to have goals. We’ll see how far I can get. If nothing else, this should up my daily wordcount and rebuild the habit of writing. I’ve gotten sloppy. Even modest goals can help.

New Release!

Long story, but in talking about chainmail on the book of faces, I wound up doing a podcast. Kind of a rushed and surprised thing, definitely something new. I talked up More Odds Than Ends, too. I’ll post the podcast link when it’s done.

I also burrowed until I found the first Peter and June story, blew the dust off, and expanded it a touch. Definitely still a short story, but thought it’d go well together.

Plus, I got to play around with covers (thanks for the feedback, Becky and Jennie and Nik!). I don’t think I’ll ever be fantastic at them, but I was happy with this one.

Look, Ma, I made a cover!

Blurb for now: Professor June Porter is worried. Her daughter Medina has shown no signs of magic, leaving her defenseless and isolated among magicians. Unless, of course, everyone’s about to discover just how special Medina is.

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