R. Scott Tyler's Blog, page 3

Saltwater Saves

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Saltwater Savior

It was the bird that saved her. The bird whose entire head was inside the little one’s mouth. The bird whose scrawny feet were just barely twitching as the little one suckled in apparent ecstasy.

She hadn’t been to this side of the island. And for good reason, she thought, her legs aching as she pushed herself up the rock wall. Andrea’s finders were raw from the less than ideal handholds she’d chosen in her haste to evade the oddity scrambling after her.

At first, she was surprised to run across someone on the other side of the cliff. When she heard the keening, she assumed it was a child crying. When she came upon the little one, naked and sitting on a log, it’s back to her, she figured she was correct.

“Are you okay, little one?” Andrea asked.

The keening stopped and the little head swiveled around, eyes coming into focus on Andrea. The sight of the bird, dangling from its mouth, made Andrea stumble back. Almost as soon as it saw her its mouth opened and it emitted an unearthly screech. When it did, the bird dropped from its mouth and disintegrated into a pile of loose feathers.

But the worst sight were the teeth. If this was a child, it was no ordinary child. The orifice from which the screech was being emitted was a round blackened maw, ringed with triangular, sharp looking teeth. There were still feathers and dark wetness around its lips and dangling from its chin, from the dried-up form of the bird that had fallen from its mouth.

Now she was running for her life.

Andrea felt herself slip over the edge of the cliff at the same time as the little body hit her. She got her hands around its neck, desperate to keep those teeth away from her, and looked into its eyes. She saw them go wide with fright as it looked past her at the ocean swells quickly coming up to meet them both.

She hit the water still holding the muscular neck as it struggled to free itself from her grip. Her back felt like it hit a blanket of pins and needles and she plunged below the water’s surface carrying the would be leech with her. The instant she pulled the creature under the water’s surface it’s struggling ceased and the muscular neck she’d been desperately holding away went limp and began to shrink in her hands.

Letting it go, she propelled herself upwards and gasped when she finally reached the surface.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she repeated, spinning around trying to see where the thing would surface. All she saw was a soggy pile of something that looked like a skin shed from a snake in the woods and she pushed herself towards shore with frenzied, clumsy strokes.

Eating my way through Manila

I’m spending a couple of weeks in the Philippines visiting good friends, doing research, meeting readers, and trying to get better connected. While I’m at it, I’m eating good food. I’m staying at an extremely reasonable boutique hotel in Makati, a business district in the heart of Metro Manila, that is close to some great restaurants.

Here’s a few food examples:

Breakfast – Americano with honey and warm, fresh milk and Bistek Tagalog (beefsteak breakfast made in a Filipino fashion)

Lunch – Cubano with chips

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Dinner – Vietnamese Pho

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Next up, reader meetings.

Harry Potter flash / fan fiction

I’ve been playing with what to write next since I’ve completed my trilogy, SMUGGLERS IN PARADISE. I have a few ideas, but nothing has completely jelled for me yet. So, in order to keep in shape, I’ve started doing some writing prompts. This one is a flash fiction piece that was supposed to be 500 words or less from Writer’s Digest. Comments / feedback welcomed!

The prompt was:

What if Harry Potter came to your house for dinner? Write this scene as if you were a teenager, he’s new to your school and you’re introducing him to your parents. Also, after dinner, he makes a request of you. What is it?

Harry and the Path to Enlightenment

I told Harry to come inside. My father, ever the bastion of welcome, looked over his newspaper from across the living room. Didn’t say a word, just looked and then went back to reading.

“Okay, so that’s Dad, don’t worry, looks can’t kill. I’m living proof.”

“Mom, Harry, Harry, Mom.” I took Harry into the kitchen where Mom was finishing chopping up some carrots for our salad.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Did you bring your wand?” Mom asked him.

Harry glanced at me and replied, “Um, yes ma’am.”

Mom just returned to the salad making and said, “Ah, good then, we’re about ready to sit up. And here, put a salad at each place. The food doesn’t just float through the air to the dinner table at our house, now, does it.”

Dad came out from under his paper to eat and decided he had to acknowledge the young warlock, as well.

“David says they kicked you out of Hogwarts, why’d they do that?” He asked, never the subtle one.

I just shut my eyes and slid down the chair, hoping to fall through the floor into the basement.

“It’s more of a forced holiday, I think,” Harry replied. “Something about roof and bridge repair, as far as I can tell, isn’t it?”

“Show me something smart then,” Dad asked.

It was sort of downhill from there after Harry turned Dad’s wine into water and then back into wine. Unfortunately, it started as a well-seasoned chardonnay and ended as a boxed red varietal. Dad wasn’t impressed.

After dinner Harry washed the dishes for Mom, by hand. She said she didn’t want Grandma’s fine bone china to end up as dime store plastic ware. Then we headed to the backyard and up to my treehouse.

“Sorry about that, Harry,” I said, apologizing for my parents.

“It’s okay. It’s nice to see how regular parents act, being, well, you know,” Harry replied.

Orphaned. Yeah, I knew, and I was smart enough to let it go at that. However, I was bursting at the seams and couldn’t hold the rest of my questions off any longer.

“So why Flat Lake High School, Harry?” I asked, and followed up with, “and why me, of all the kids there?”

I mean, I liked me fine, but I wasn’t in the running for Valedictorian, wasn’t the captain of, well any team, and was kind of conspicuously unfashionable in the comfy, but ugly, orange knit shirt Mom had sewn.

“I’ve been given a mission, David,” Harry answered, “One I’ve been told you can help me with.”

I sat cross-legged on the floor of the tree fort, waiting for further information.

“I have to find the Path to Enlightenment, David, and I need your help,” Harry said.

Well I must admit, that was a bigger surprise than I expected. I sat there for a minute wondering if this path had anything to do with my jobs (four of them, currently, just to stay busy) or with the hidden gay-themed paperbacks under my mattress.

I decided I’d just have to wait and see.

None leave the path unchanged

The river flows down hill

Tides follow the moon

Sun rises in the East and sets in the West

Man is born, grows old and dies

While each one follows it designated road

None leave the path unchanged

River cuts the canyon deep and full of beauty

Tide turns the sea, refreshing and feeding

Sun warms the skin and feeds the earth

Man learns, loves, and returns his gains

Trading knowledge and life to ease pain

These choices reflect our inner self

Creation and Recognition

As an artist – writer, singer, photographer, dancer, etc – the most important piece of your process, the thing that gets you up in the morning, is the need to create. Most artists would create no matter what, because that is what keeps them going. It’s what fills their tank, so to speak. 

However, there aren’t many artists that simply want to create and then hide their creations in a darkened room. While creation fills their tank, recognition adds spark to their passion. Good or bad, recognition sparks drive to improve and expand. 

CONFLICTED – Work in Progress

I recently finished by series, SMUGGLERS IN PARADISE, and have been trying out ideas for a new book. So far I have very clear ideas about the characterization, setting, and genre, but only a vague plan for the story.

Writers plan their stories many different ways and I’m not sure there is a proven ‘right’ way to do it. With this story I’m trying a method called ‘character outlining’ where you basically define your story arc via your main character(s).

I’m not sure of the final name for the story, nor am I sure if it will be a single book or the beginning of a new series. For now, I’m going to give it a temporary name – CONFLICTED.

I hope you enjoy some of the pieces I’ll post here, and as always, I would enjoy whatever engagement you decide to bring (comments, critiques, direct messages, etc.).

“Follow your passion, let it lead where it will; true passion seldom leads to dead ends.”

Work in Progress – Zipper

Zipper refocused the dog so many times that Eagle simply stopped in the trail and looked at the dog. After a minute while the two of them stared into each other’s eyes, Eagle looked over at Zipper and shrugged. Gunny took off in the direction he’d been trying to go for the last half hour, and Eagle turned to follow. Zipper just shook his head and decided he had no other choice but to bring up the rear.

Work in Progress – Hunting

Zipper refocused the dog so many times that Eagle simply stopped in the trail and looked at the dog. After a minute while the two of them stared into each other’s eyes, Eagle looked over at Zipper and shrugged. Gunny took off in the direction he’d been trying to go for the last half hour, and Eagle turned to follow. Zipper just shook his head and decided he had no other choice but to bring up the rear.

My Friends…

I have many old books for friends. They are soft, and worn, and smell of leather and the oils from my hands. When I slip into them, I become anyone, can go anyplace and they lift me up and hold me.

In turn, I take care of their covers and pages, keeping them at rest and out of harm’s way.

If I turn their pages caressingly, or if I feel like dashing through a chapter, they never fall behind, but they laugh and play with me along the way. When I curl up in my alone place and read them slowly, with understanding, they wrap me in a river of imagination and make my feelings burn.

Most importantly, I know that if I am frightened, or harmed by something they hold, I can be calmed and soothed by the next page; or if I rip a page, in my haste to get on with the story, I can take whatever time is needed to repair it, so that it is only a reminder of my enjoyment.

Once they have been read, my mind does not simply put these books back on their shelves. They stay with me forever, welcome or not, and continue to influence my perspective.

Is Reading at the Beach Really Good for You?

Every other blog post I’ve been reading today is about summer reading lists and I’m feeling left out because I’ve never made a summer reading list. Well, the truth is I’ve never made a (to-read) reading list at all (okay, GoodReads lists don’t count in this way for me). I’ve always just picked up a book and started to read it.

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So, when I think of summer, I think of the beach. Sand, sun, water… not always the most conducive setting for reading, especially with a modern electronic gadget or an expensive hard bound book. For this list I decided to go back through the books I’ve read (yes, I do keep a list of books I’ve read) and pick out a few I think would survive an incoming tide, as well as look great lying cover up on a beach towel.

American Gods by Neil Gaiman. This one is first because I liked it a lot and because I’m pretty sure you can find it in paperback now (it was published in 2001). The protagonist in this story does a lot of traveling, driving specifically, and this is a classic thing to do in America in the summer. Also, I felt a strong undercurrent of philosophy and maybe theology running in the background throughout the story. Who doesn’t like to wax philosophical while ice cream melts onto their speedo at the beach?
This is a Book by Demetri Martin. I was a little doubtful about this book when I started it, because I’d seen the author on TV. He was so dry that I missed some of his points. However, I did enjoy his writing and it even elicited a number of real life LOLs from me. Also, because it is made of essays and conceptual pieces, rather than a novel length story, it’s perfect for the frequently interrupted attention span of the beach reader / ogler.
The Days of Anna Madrigal (Tales of the City, #9) by Armistead Maupin. I know, I know…why am I recommending the ninth book in a series? Well, because even though it is the ninth, and who knows, maybe last, book in this amazing series chronicling gay life over the past fifty years, it can and does stand alone. The focus is still on Anna Madrigal, the unstoppable transgender landlady of San Francisco, but almost all the old characters are around. Summer heat, sand, and excess are spot on at Burning Man in the desert of Nevada, as well. The descriptions of this event alone will make you glad you can put down your book and cool your toes in whatever water is nearest.
Manila Noir by Jessica Hagedorn (Editor). If you enjoy a bit more darkness from your reading, you’ll get it in Manila Noir. This book is actually a collection of short stories from various authors, all set in, or close to, the capital city of the Philippines, Manila. If you think you’re familiar with Asian culture, but have not been to the Philippines, you are in for a surprise. No other Asian culture has been so heavily influenced by their sometimes oppressors, sometimes liberators, sometimes invaders, sometimes visitors. A slice of life, taken through a section of almost any street in Metro Manila, will yield one an innumerable variety of characters. You may read this book while you’re sitting on the beach…but watch your back!
The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon by Tom Spanbauer. I had to go back a few years for this last one, but I knew it was one I wanted to include here. It deals with hard subjects such as race, sexual identity, prostitution, and family of choice. It is a slice of real life, with characters set in situations where the odds are stacked against them, and it shows the reader that love, understanding, and success are individual characteristics defined by each one of us. It’s a bit of a coming of age book, and maybe that’s a good analogy for the cycle of summer.

There it is. My recommended reading for your summer enjoyment. And if you don’t get it done this summer, it will be there when it’s time to curl up with a cup of coco in front of the fireplace, as well.

Happy reading!