Edward Ashton's Blog, page 13

So my next book (working title: “Hannah”) is out with first readers. So far, everyone other than my...

So my next book (working title:  “Hannah”) is out with first readers. So far, everyone other than my dad seems to like it, and his main concern is apparently my repeated use of the word “ass.”  I think if I just do a global search-and-replace with “booty” I should be in good shape. Progress, right?

Three Days in April

Three Days in April:

Nice review of Three Days in April here.

Daily Science Fiction :: Out of the Black by KC Myers

Daily Science Fiction :: Out of the Black by KC Myers:

The daddy-daughter thing gets me every time.

Vrokthar the Barbarian Endorses Trump

Vrokthar the Barbarian Endorses Trump:

Well, I guess that settles that.

PodCastle 411: Hands of Burnished Bronze | PodCastle

PodCastle 411: Hands of Burnished Bronze | PodCastle:

So this is a fun one.

How Autism Awareness Goes Wrong - The Establishment

How Autism Awareness Goes Wrong - The Establishment:

This is really worth a read.

Well, the first rough draft of “Hannah” (my next book) is officially in the can. All I...

Well, the first rough draft of “Hannah” (my next book) is officially in the can. All I have to do now is re-write until I literally hate every single one of those 90,000 words, and I’ll be ready to submit.

The telescope fish - my new favorite animal.

The telescope fish - my new favorite animal.

Daily Science Fiction :: The Stories She Tells Herself by Kelly Sandoval

Daily Science Fiction :: The Stories She Tells Herself by Kelly Sandoval

The Day Christine’s Cat Got Cancer

jtrahan:

“Well, you know, all things must pass,” said Evelyn, who was sitting on Christine’s couch and drinking Christine’s tea and looking very serene. Evelyn often said things like this, and it always made Christine want to strangle her. She absentmindedly stroked Bernie, who was still eating the pile of cat treats Christine had dumped in front of him after getting home with the diagnosis, and imagined wrapping her fingers around Evelyn’s throat. “All things must pass,” she would say, very serenely, as Evelyn’s face turned blue and her eyes bulged out of her head. After it was over, Christine thought, she would dump Evelyn’s body in a corner of the apartment, and occasionally use the kitchen scissors to snip off little pieces for Bernie to eat, and it would be discovered that a steady diet of human meat was the miracle cure for cancer in cats (science having, rather understandably, not done a lot of experiments in this area), and Christine and Bernie would tour the country as veterinary celebrities, and Christine would quit her job at Starbucks and go back to school to study cake decorating, and no more cats would ever have to die. Christine stroked Bernie, who was purring with contentment, and sighed.

“Yeah,” she said. “I really wish they didn’t, though.”