Kaye Lynne Booth's Blog: Writing to be Read, page 71
November 15, 2022
Laughing Along With A Limerick
A fun challenge if you’re game.
Your new limerick challenge is as follows:
WHIFF
Your challenge last week was to write a limerick using the word TROUBLE in it somewhere. Here are your masterpieces:
Now James Watt is added to Hubble
We can soon spot the first signs of trouble.
Should aliens attack
We’ll push them right back
Using Reagan’s star wars at the double!
Trouble comes every day and night
When monsters and vampires fight
At dawn and evening
Their shifts they are leaving
Arguments happen in crepuscular light!
There once was a chick who was trouble
She ran from the law on the double
If she’d just get right
And stop trying to fight
Her life wouldn’t be such a puzzle!
His love life was in dreadful trouble
When patches of the spikiest stubble
Dislodged her vajazzle
Caused her tassels to frazzle
View original post 161 more words
November 14, 2022
Writer’s Corner – Getting Your Books Into Libraries and Bookstores
Question: What advantage do traditional publishers have that indie publishers and authors don’t?
Answer: The ability to get their books into libraries and brick and mortar bookstores, where many readers actually go to find books.
No, really. Not everybody buys from Amazon. And while many authors sign on exclusively so their books can be in KU, there are other book distributors out there if you choose to publish wide. (See my post on why I publish wide.) It doesn’t make sense to me to limit yourself to a single sales channel when there are so many out there, and that goes for utilizing libraries and brick and mortar book stores.
There are a few obstacles which indie authors face in getting their books into libraries and bookstores, partially due to Amazon. They don’t like Amazon, and many brick and motar stores, even independent ones, won’t even look at carrying books which can only be ordered through the big book bully. Going wide solves that delimma, but there’s still the age old tradition of selling to bookstores at wholesale and allowing them to be returned.
Many authors may not know this about the publishing industry, but traditional publishers decided a long time ago to allow bookstores to buy at wholesale, which is less royalties for the author, but might be understandable. But they didn’t stop there. They also gave bookstores permission to return any books they don’t sell, if they choose to. Traditional publishers go through enough books, that returns may not put a dent in them, but to assure that it didn’t, they deducted it from the author’s cut. This practice can be devastaing to an indie author who is unprepared, to suddenly get a seven or eight hundred dollar return charge when they are not expecting it. Fortunately, an indie author can now opt to not allow returns, and I think D2D does this for you automatically, so the author won’t be caught by this surprise expense. Unfortunately, as soon as you decide to not take returns, you may be eliminating brick and mortar stores from your distributor list, because most bookstores won’t buy books they can’t return. This is one of those outdated dinosaur practices started by traditional publishing, but bookstores don’t want it to change.
Libraries are the same in many ways. They don’t like Amazon and won’t order books from them. But there are certain lists put out by distributors who work solely with libraries, such as Overdrive, and if your book isn’t on that list, they won’t consider carrying it. Libraries have been smart enough to include digital lending, but the lists are extensive and before they can lend out your book, they have to know that your book exists, and it helps a lot if they know someone wants to read it. So the first task for an indie author who wants their book in libraries is to be sure their book is carried by the library distributors, so that librarians can find it.
But that’s not enough. Librarians have to know that your book exists and that people want to read it.That’s why authors need to get to know and be familiar with their local librarians. When you know them, it’s easier to ask them to carry your book, and sometimes that’s all it takes if you have established a relationship with them. If you can get readers to request your books from their local libraries, all the better.
Now you might ask yourself, why go to all this trouble to get into libraries, where they will only buy one or two print copies at the most. That’s where the digital lending program becomes of interest, because most libraries follow one of two models, which pay authors a set amount per checkout, which can add up if your books are popular. But more than that, libraries are a way to reach out to potential readers, because when a reader finds an author they like, they are likely to want to read more of their work. And library patrons are hardcore readers, especially these days when it is so easy to sit at home and order up your reading material at the click of a button.
I think that’s enough reason to warrent the extra effort required to get my books into libraries. All WordCrafter Press books are available on Overdrive and other library distributors, so they will be easy to find when people request a WP book. I’m working to get my local libraries to carry WP books, and since I live in a rural area, there are at least three libraries which I consider local. But I need to get out the word and have readers and contributors request WP titles and make librarians aware of their existance, and that’s part of what this post is about, even if the titles you want are not published by WordCrafter Press, beacuse this can help all authors – spreading this message:
Go to your local library and ask for the titles that you crave,
so you can read them for free,
and help your favorite authors at the same time.
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For Kaye Lynne Booth, writing is a passion. Kaye Lynne is an author with published short fiction and poetry, both online and in print, including her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction; and her paranormal mystery novella, Hidden Secrets. Kaye holds a dual M.F.A. degree in Creative Writing with emphasis in genre fiction and screenwriting, and an M.A. in publishing. Kaye Lynne is the founder of WordCrafter Quality Writing & Author Services and WordCrafter Press. She also maintains an authors’ blog and website, Writing to be Read, where she publishes content of interest in the literary world.
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Join Kaye Lynne Booth & WordCrafter Press Readers’ Group for WordCrafter Press book & event news, including the awesome releases of author Kaye Lynne Booth. Get a free digital copy of her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction, as a sampling of her works just for joining.
November 11, 2022
Book Reviews: “The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin” & “Down to Dirt”
The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin
Hogwarts hasn’t got anything on Roanoke Academy and the magical world created by L. Jagi Lamplighter in The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin. Rachel Griffin has worked hard to prepare for attending, and now as one of the youngest students at Roanoke, she has a lot of expectations to uphold and her magic must be in top form to keep up with the rest of her class. But there is something amiss at Roanoke Academy; a new magic being used for ill gains, an assasin disguised as an agent, a princess who goes places whenever she touches certain people, and a raven which only Rachel can see. Rachel must figure out what is happening and how to battle the forces of evil which seem to be decending upon them and threaten to take over her magical world.
Skillfully crafted to offer up all the pieces for readers to put the puzzle together. It’ a lot shorter than the story about the kid with the owl but just as thoroughly entertaining. Rachel Griffin is a sharp young lady with magical inclinations that will win your heart and make you want more. I give The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin five quills.
Purchase Link: https://www.amazon.com/Unexpected-Enlightenment-Rachel-Griffin-Books-ebook/dp/B01FVJ7DAY
Down to Dirt
Down to Dirt, by Kevin Killiany is a wonderful young adult science fiction novel with an underlying social moral. after spending her whole life in space, Mara’s family decides to send her to visit her Earth bound relatives on what spacers call Dirt. She arrives on Earth fearful and a little confused, but within a few weeks she will come to question everything she has ever been taught about Dirt. With a little help from her cousin, Beth, and her friend Jael, who each in thier own way challenge the prejudices that came with her, Mara begins to see things in different light.
Down to Dirt addresses social issues via a fictional alternate timeline world to create a story which is both engaging and entertaining. I give it five quills.
Purchase Link: https://www.amazon.com/Down-Dirt-Stars-Book-ebook/dp/B01HDT14HI
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Join Kaye Lynne Booth & WordCrafter Press Readers’ Group for WordCrafter Press book & event news, including the awesome releases of author Kaye Lynne Booth. Get a free digital copy of her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction, as a sampling of her works just for joining.
November 9, 2022
Growing Bookworms – The importance of colour when illustrating children’s books #childrensfiction #readingcommunity #growingbookworms
Many children’s picture books make use of brightly coloured cartoon style illustrations. Children are attracted to bright colors such as red, yellow, green, blue, and pink. These colors create a sense of energy and playfulness and also emanate happiness. Colour impacts on children’s moods, behaviour, and educational performance.
Part of the reason children prefer bright colours is because saturated colours are easier for young, developing eyes to see. Bright colors and contrasting colors stand out more in a child’s field of vision than feinter shades.
Colour effects the way the brain functions and can be used by illustrators to encourage pattern recognition, memory, and the ability of young readers to absorb new information.
Here are a few examples of colours and how they can be used for learning:
RED – a powerful and attention-grabbing colour, red stimulates alertness and excitement. It encourages creativity and can also increase appetite.
BLUE – provides a sense of comfort by exuding calmness, loyalty, peace, serenity, and security.
YELLOW – encourages positive feelings and improves concentration by promoting creativity, clarity, and optimism.
GREEN – symbolises nature and the natural world. Green relieves stress and provides a sense of healing. It also represents balance, growth, tranquillity, cleanliness and calmness.
ORANGE – like red, orange is an energetic colour that promotes alertness. Orange creates a sense of passion, warmth, excitement and encourages communication.
PINK – symbolises love, romance, nurture, warmth, calmness, and imagination.
It is also important for illustrators, or writers engaging an illustrator, to note that colours can also overstimulate children, instead of inspiring them, so a balance of bright and neutral colours is required for illustrations.
I illustrate my own children’s books and I try to apply these principles in my own work. This is a collage of a selection of my fondant and cake art illustrations.
My illustrations have proved popular with children so I think I am getting the colour coding right.
These are some examples of famous children’s books and illustrators:
What do you think? Do you like bright colours? Have you written a children’s book and illustrated it yourself or engaged an illustrator? Let me know in the comments.
About Robbie Cheadle
Robbie Cheadle is a South African children’s author and poet with eleven children’s books and two poetry books.
The eight Sir Chocolate children’s picture books, co-authored by Robbie and Michael Cheadle, are written in sweet, short rhymes which are easy for young children to follow and are illustrated with pictures of delicious cakes and cake decorations. Each book also includes simple recipes or biscuit art directions which children can make under adult supervision.
Robbie and Michael have also written Haunted Halloween Holiday, a delightful fantasy story for children aged 5 to 9 about Count Sugular and his family who hire a caravan to attend a Halloween party at the Haunted House in Ghost Valley. This story is beautifully illustrated with Robbie’s fondant and cake art creations.
Robbie has published two books for older children which incorporate recipes that are relevant to the storylines.
Robbie has two adult novels in the paranormal historical and supernatural fantasy genres published under the name Roberta Eaton Cheadle. She also has short stories, in the horror and paranormal genre, and poems included in several anthologies.
Robbie Cheadle contributes two monthly posts to https://writingtoberead.com, namely, Growing Bookworms, a series providing advice to caregivers on how to encourage children to read and write, and Treasuring Poetry, a series aimed at introducing poetry lovers to new poets and poetry books.
In addition, Roberta Eaton Cheadle contributes one monthly post to https://writingtoberead.com called Dark Origins: African Myths and Legends which shares information about the cultures, myths and legends of the indigenous people of southern Africa.
Robbie has a blog, https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com. where she shares book reviews, recipes, author interviews, and poetry.
Find Robbie CheadleBlog: https://www.robbiecheadle.co.za/
Blog: robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com
Twitter: BakeandWrite
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCVyFo_OJLPqFa9ZhHnCfHUA
Facebook: Sir Chocolate Books
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November 7, 2022
An ATV ride on an autumn afternoon
I took an ATV ride today and just had to share the fall colors with you.
Autumn afternoon above Hillside, ColoradoAspens are my favorite trees, as you might guess. Let me also share a poem about them which seems fitting. This is a minimalist poem which I’m particularly found of. It was published in Colorado Life magazine (September/October 2016). I do hope you enjoy it.
Aspen Tree
Dark eyes staring out of white bark
Scantily clad by quivering green leaves
Turning waxy yellow in fall
Stark and exposed in winter
For Kaye Lynne Booth, writing is a passion. Kaye Lynne is an author with published short fiction and poetry, both online and in print, including her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction; and her paranormal mystery novella, Hidden Secrets. Kaye holds a dual M.F.A. degree in Creative Writing with emphasis in genre fiction and screenwriting, and an M.A. in publishing. Kaye Lynne is the founder of WordCrafter Quality Writing & Author Services and WordCrafter Press. She also maintains an authors’ blog and website, Writing to be Read, where she publishes content of interest in the literary world.
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Join Kaye Lynne Booth & WordCrafter Press Readers’ Group for WordCrafter Press book & event news, including the awesome releases of author Kaye Lynne Booth. Get a free digital copy of her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction, as a sampling of her works just for joining.
November 5, 2022
WordCrafter Short Fiction Audio Stories and Excerpts
We had some cool games and giveaways, great spooky movies and lots of rocking Halloween music. But, I think the coolest giveaway we had was the search for the best audio story or excerpt, read by the authors. It was a lot of fun, but now that Halloween is over, I’ve made the recordings public on the WordCrafter YouTube channel.
Drop by and check out the awesome stories and story excerpts which are available there. Each story is from one of the three anthologies put out by WordCrafter in 2022: Once Upon an Ever After, Refracted Reflections, and Visions. And don’t forget to ‘Subscribe’ while you’re there, so you can get the best WordCrafter’s audio and video recordings, expanding our methods of story telling back to traditional, and not so traditional, means.
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For Kaye Lynne Booth, writing is a passion. Kaye Lynne is an author with published short fiction and poetry, both online and in print, including her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction; and her paranormal mystery novella, Hidden Secrets. Kaye holds a dual M.F.A. degree in Creative Writing with emphasis in genre fiction and screenwriting, and an M.A. in publishing. Kaye Lynne is the founder of WordCrafter Quality Writing & Author Services and WordCrafter Press. She also maintains an authors’ blog and website, Writing to be Read, where she publishes content of interest in the literary world.
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Join Kaye Lynne Booth & WordCrafter Press Readers’ Group for WordCrafter Press book & event news, including the awesome releases of author Kaye Lynne Booth. Get a free digital copy of her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction, as a sampling of her works just for joining.
November 4, 2022
Mind Fields: Poems And Ideas For The Field Of Mind
Intrinsic humility is the understanding that one’s own life may be full of fascinating details but the lives of countless others are equally as fascinating to themselves as your life is to you.
Sound of rainfall:
tiny infant fingers
tapping the roof
thousands at a time.
The Enemy
Life is not my enemy. True,
It will kill me before too long but
death is the act of highest compassion.
I have a purpose. How kind of life to provide
me with that sense of my being.
Life is not my enemy. How would a great teacher be
a nemesis unless it was necessary? Life is not my enemy.
We Must Fix What Is Left
Oct 31, 2022
“It’s broken.” My grandson stands over his red fire truck.
The wheels have come off. The boy’s lower lip thrusts out and I can see that his heart is broken too. If I tell him that it’s just a toy, he won’t be comforted. This was the only truck in his world and now his grief will carry him to a child’s little hades, for just a minute. What is a minute to a three year old? It may as well be forever. For the duration of that minute all hell breaks loose and his tears and rage fill the room till all the grown-ups flee. Except me. I’m the baby sitter. I know how he feels. The world is broken, our world. And it was we who broke it, stuffed it, neglected it, tore its roots out. Has it come to this? My grief for a broken world carries me to my own hades, my underworld of sorrow where what has been done cannot be undone until we have atoned like ancient Jews on Yom Kippur.? What punishment do we receive if we fail to atone? Regret, more like: oh the regret we have yet to feel as the land sinks and the seas rise. Our earth is frangible, it can be waylaid like the victims of highway robbery. “Hands up, planet!” The men in dark suits are digging holes. “Can’t you see we’re busy here? Go away with your storms. We know how to deal with your kind!”
They’re only doing their jobs, they’re following orders.
“Take them away,” croaks the man in the suit and tie. “Take them away and hide them in the deepest mines.”
It’s broken. Can it be fixed? The next generations are tasked with this inhuman mess. They will have to be strong beyond what we know. They will have to develop themselves in unforeseen ways to have the stamina to work within the broken systems on the derelict highways. Armageddon will be indefinitely postponed. It already happened and we missed it. We were busy fighting. The next apocalypse will hit us before we’re ready. That is the nature of things. We have only the promise in Luke and Mark and John, Christians before Christianity, who learned that the lilies of the field will always be in their raiment, even if it is only in heaven.
I Forget
September 26, 2022
I forget that evil tyrants run the world.
I forget that artists and thinkers
barely exist, barely scratch by
with a sigh, with patient resignation.
I forget that kindness is hindered
at every turn by evil intentions of those who command
the power of Calamity. I forget
that bad guys have no love
but don’t even miss it. I forget
that tenderness is
but a beginning to ever greater tenderness.
I forget that
we create ourselves in versions
of the pattern laid down within
the great infinite Memory. I forget everything
except that I exist and sometimes I forget that, too.
What I remember is this: I am aware of you. I am aware of your scent and the streams of feeling that flow between us.
That I Can Never Forget.
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Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
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Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “Mind Fields” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.
November 2, 2022
Bowlesian! – Resurrection Mixtape
Note: for this month’s Bowlesian! I thought I’d share the first chapter of my newest novel, just released on Amazon this week. Please enjoy this sneak peek of “Resurrection Mixtape”. It’s all in the music, man. Press play at your own risk.
Resurrection Mixtape – Available now on Amazon
Resurrection Mixtape – Chapter 1by Jeff BowlesFirstly, an epitaph—
A mutual acquaintance introduced us. Years ago, when we were still in school. Emily was new to the city and wary of putting herself out there, which I could align with, because I wasn’t always eager to let new people into my life either. As it turned out, we both had respectable music collections. Her lexicon of rock and country and hip-hop and jazz, roots music, metal, soul, R&B, it was terribly impressive. I told her as much.
“Maybe we could combine forces and start a radio station,” she laughed.
“People don’t listen to music anymore. Not like they used to.”
And she gave me a puzzled look. “Yes, they do. Who on earth told you that?”
Emily didn’t buy the bad in life. Rented it sometimes, maybe. But rarely did she dwell therein. Everything we went through together, and she ended up with a guy named Guy. Stupid name for a guy, right? I mean, Guy. Barely a fucking noun. Guy was a real estate man, loaded, paid for one hell of a funeral. I attended of course. I forced myself to go. All it did was hurt me. I could’ve loved her better than anyone else. I would’ve seen to her every … well, I would’ve seen to her.
Maybe the MC at her wake played Bridge Over Troubled Water or something. I don’t remember. Emily would’ve preferred a more personal touch, perhaps even a song or two from one of her famous mixtapes….
* * * * *
Late Sunday Night—or early Monday morning, if you prefer
Summer in Seattle—KNOCK, KNOCK
Who’s there?
The dead woman standing at my doorstep could not account for herself, how she’d gotten there, by what incredible means. Expression vacant and gloomy, her eyes shifted from the contours of the porch, to my face, to the bright interior space behind me. My dearly departed friend, Emily Greer, almost a year to the day since she died in the fire. Not a ghost or a demonic apparition, not charred to a cinder or desiccated, sticky with rot, disfigured beyond belief.
Nope.
She looked perfect, untouched, like she’d just stepped from one of my memories. Naked and soaked in sweat, she shivered like a Pomeranian, like she’d just come through some terrible ordeal.
“Emily,” I breathed.
To which she replied, “Bluuuurgh.”
I blinked at her, dumbfounded, mind gloppy like horse glue. A soft vodka belch escaped my lips. Clearly, my night had shit-slipped into a different plane of reality. This was quickly and decisively not okay with me, like the music of Jared Leto or those little blonde fucks who sang MMMBop. It was well past midnight, humid and still. I felt hot and tired. Inebriated. Bewildered.
Those we connect with—in whose mental and emotional machinery we become entangled—enter and exit our lives at specific times for specific purposes. After everything I’ve seen, I can come to no other conclusion. But for me and you and everyone else, purpose can cut both ways. Like maybe you only meet someone so they can screw you over, make you feel scared or small, scar you up for the rest of your life (and maybe even your afterlife).
Case in point.
Emily held something small in her hand, just a little thing. Its plastic body reflected the soft, normative glow of my 60-watt porch light. An old audio cassette. Or maybe not old at all, hard to tell. She seemed to perceive its existence the same moment I did. She glanced at it and gurgled. Her hand trembled as she passed it to me.
“You … you want me to have this?” I asked.
Her head lolled to the side.
“What for…? What’s on it?” I said.
I scanned one side of it, Side A, then I flipped it over and scanned Side B. Clear body, bold crimson Maxell logo, its label inscribed in black ink: FOR THE MAN WHO HAS EVERYTHING. Once death and resurrection are on the table, one abandons compelling discriminative thinking anyway. I just so happened to have an old workhorse HiFi system sitting next to the TV in the living room. Tape deck still worked fine, too.
I told her she’d better come inside, that I had nosy neighbors. No skin off her bare ass. She staggered through the door, knocking into me as she crossed the threshold. The television blared at us from the next room. A Pink Floyd documentary I’d been dozing through. Dark Side of the Moon, spacey and comforting. I shut the door behind her and told her to sit tight while I went to flick it off. I was gone twenty seconds at most. When I turned around to head back, I found her seated comfortably on my sofa.
“How…?” I said.
“Bruglps.”
“How’d you move so—”
“Plurrbsss!”
“Okay, playing it. No need to get prickly.”
Machinelike, I powered up the HiFi, slid the cassette into the tape deck, hit the play button. A slight audio compression noise filled the room, the whir of blank magnetic space, a click when it tracked. A strange voice blasted from my upright speakers.
“Jason Halifax,” it said, “you are called. We call you. Play this cassette in full every Monday for precisely five weeks. Play it in full now and then follow our prescribed schedule for the remainder of the attenuation period. Do not deviate. We cannot stress this enough. Terrible things will happen if you do. Just awful.”
The voice was neither masculine nor feminine, young nor old. It was cold and ethereal, seeming to fill my mind as much as my ears.
“Upon completion of this task, Emily Greer will have regained her faculties in full. Made whole, better even. Quite simply, you will witness the birth of a god among women. You have been advised and duly warned. End spoken word portion.”
A clean, jangling piano flooded the sound field. My heart skipped a beat as it cycled through some pleasant seaside chords. A snare drum popped, a kick thudded, and the tempo changed. Billy Joel started singing Only the Good Die Young. 1978, charted at number 25, track six off his album, The Stranger.
I glared at Emily. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
* * * * *
For the Man Who Has Everything wasone of a dozen mixtapes Emily gifted me over the course of our ten-year friendship. It was a hobby of hers. She accepted and adored all kinds of music. I’ve never known anyone so universal. Her latest and greatest contained ten tracks in total. A few notable inclusions:
Blinding Lights, by The Weeknd, released in 2019. Driving, dirty synth pop with potent neo Michael-Jacksonian vocals.
My Sharona, by The Knack, recorded in 1979. Energetic and meaty. A pop classic everyone loves to hate or hates to love.
Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me), by The Temptations, released in the year 1971. The ultimate unrequited love song. So many beautiful bits and pieces. A delicate yet powerful composition, poetry in motion.
“You made this for me?” I asked, meaning the playlist itself.
Her head tipped back and then forward.
“Why?” I said.
She looked down at herself, patted her knees, seeming at last to have noticed she was freebirding it.
“You need something to wear. Thank you for that,” I said.
I tore my eyes away and headed upstairs to the bedroom, pilfered the pile of clothes lying on my floor. A t-shirt and some black sweatpants. They’d have to do. The muffled, soulful strains of Just My Imagination called to me. The song should’ve acted as a balm, a healing touch, but no such luck. I was just as busted up and bewildered as the night I heard about the fire.
Contrary to what I’d once believed about us, Emily never was Lennon to my McCartney, Simon to my Garfunkel. We were more like an alternate comic book dimension Rogers and Hammerstein. Like maybe Rogers writes the lyrics while Hammerstein shits in the corner. Repeatedly, just shitting over in that corner he shits in all the time … complete dissimilarity to the actual …you get my point.
Not because of who she was, understand. For what I turned into in pursuit of her. Love is destructive even at its purest and best, complete and all-powerful in its ability to obliterate and violently remake you. I’d become averse to love, superstitious of it, and for what it’s worth, willing to let any and all opportunities pass. I thought about that as I shook loose change from the pockets of the sweatpants. How many times I could’ve gotten with someone but elected not to on her behalf. I could’ve fucked my way into some kind of reasonable mental clarity. You never know. Instead, I chose the way of the lovelorn monk, because there’s so much joy to be had there.
Sighing, I tucked the clothes under my arm and headed back downstairs. She was right where I left her, on the sofa, listening to the music.
“Emily,” I said, “how is any of this possible?”
She stared at me like I’d just asked her to solve the relativistic mass-energy equation. The mixtape tracked to the next song, Style by Taylor Swift. I wondered if she knew I hated Taylor Swift (I mean, outwardly, anyway—what kind of monster literally hates Taylor Swift?).
I eyed her, resisting my growing resentment of the lack of reciprocal mental feedback. Setting the clothes beside her on the sofa, I noted how doped up and dreamy her big googly eyes appeared. I helped her dress. One arm and then the other, her legs, flimsy as noodles, awkward to stuff down pant legs. My hand touched the inside of her thigh. Still slick with sweat. Up, dude, look up.
Emily gurgled again at me. I offered her something to eat, mimed shoveling food into my mouth.
“Blarrss,” she said.
“Food, Em.”
Her body and expression froze. Her next intended syllable—whatever that may have been—stuck in her throat. She went very pale, rigid.
“What’s wrong?” I said. “Not hungry?”
A subtle chill passed over the room, a lazy coolness like from long afternoon shadows. The wooden framework of my home creaked and groaned. Emily let out the most godawful moan I’d ever heard. The blood drained from her face, her eyes darting around, lips quivering. She collapsed into my arms, her body beginning to convulse. Worming and wriggling as she was, I couldn’t get a grip on her. The same disembodied voice from the cassette exploded from her mouth.
“This is not a social call, Jason Halifax,” it said. “Contractual obligations must be met. Our conglomeration simply could not turn a blind eye to the situation at hand.”
It dawned on me this voice, this presence, expected a response.
“This is about a contract?” I said.
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember signing any—”
“You signed with your soul, Jason, with your intentions and all your secret hopes and desires. You believed this woman should be yours. Evidently, she did not disagree. Neither could the contract have been fulfilled while she was dead. Obviously so.”
“What do you mean she didn’t disagree? Who are you?”
“God,” the voice said.
“Really?”
“No, not really. That was a joke.”
The most bewildering and unnatural laughter rocked poor Emily’s body. It sounded like demons baying in skanky reverb, a mess of harsh unholy shit-swallowing. And I’ve never swallowed shit before, right? But contextually speaking, it sounded like goats suck-starting an elephant.
“Listen,” I said, “if we’re only gonna talk crazy here, I’m going to need something heavier than vodka.”
“Crazy? You’ve no comprehension of the word. Our true nature strains credulity. To attempt a worthy explanation of who we are and what we’re capable of would doubtless mystify you. Emily loved you dearly. That’s the important thing. It hurt her very much that you drifted apart.”
“That’s not how things were. I don’t believe you, Skeletor.”
“Skeletor. Ha. Yes, well looks can be deceiving. Make her whole, Jason. Protect this life, her life, her second chance. Love her with all your heart and soul. Isn’t that everything you’ve always wanted?”
And that’s it, folks! Pick up your copy of Resurrection Mixtape now. Thanks for reading, and I’ll be back next month with a December Bowlesian! short story that’ll knock your socks off. Goodbye!
Jeff Bowles is a science fiction and horror writer from the mountains of Colorado. The best of his outrageous and imaginative work can be found in God’s Body: Book One – The Fall, Love/Madness/Demon, Godling and Other Paint Stories, Fear and Loathing in Las Cruces, and Brave New Multiverse. He has published work in magazines and anthologies like PodCastle, Tales from the Canyons of the Damned, the Threepenny Review, and Dark Moon Digest. Jeff earned his Master of Fine Arts degree in creative writing at Western State Colorado University. He currently lives in the high-altitude Pikes Peak region, where he dreams strange dreams and spends far too much time under the stars.
October 31, 2022
WordCrafter News: Halloween Book Event and Looking Ahead to November
Halloween Book Event Party!
It’s Halloween! My favorite time of year. This year, you’re invited to come join WordCrafter and Sonoran Dawn Studios in the All Hallow’s Eve – The Web We Weave Autumn Cider Book Event on Facebook. It is today from 12 pm MST, so come join in the fun by clicking on the link below. There will be lots of treats and maybe even a few cool tricks.
All Hallow’s Eve – What Web We Weave Book EventWordCrafter Press is offering several giveaways and you can vote on the best audio story or excerpt from stories featured in all three 2022 WordCrafter anthologies: Once Upon an Ever After, Refracted Reflections and Visions, each narrated by the story’s author. Pick up a copy of your favorite WordCrafter paranormal anthology for the special Halloween sale price of .99 cents. Find out how to get a copy of any of the 2022 WordCrafter releases and get a sneak peek at what’s in store for 2023.
With author takeovers by Robbie Cheadle, Joseph Carrabis and myself. And don’t forget to check out the offerings from our gracious host, Sonoran Dawn Studios. Plus lots of good music and other entertainment. It will be a hauntingly good time, so I hope you will join us. See you there!
New Release!
Visions
I don’t know how you coud have missed it, with the extensive blog tour we just ran, but in case you did…
Visions is available now!
18 talented authors share their Visions with you. Get your copy from your favorite distributor today: https://books2read.com/u/49Lk28
Valuable Writer’s Toolkit!
Ask the Authors 2022 will be available in the Writer’s Career Toolkit Bundle, currated by Kevin J. Anderson, throughout the month of November. The intitial 5 book bundle is $5, but for $20, you can get all 15 writing references, including Ask the Authors 2022. It’s a great deal for authors! just in time for NaNoWriMo this year. Pick up your bundle of valuable writing tools today.
Purchase Link: https://storybundle.com/writing
NaNoWriMo Challenge
Having Ask the Authors 2022 as a part of the writing tool bundle this year, just in time for National Novel Writing Month and being able to peruse all the other wonderful writing references which are included has given me the urge to try to do the NaNoWriMo thing once more. I tried this challenge once before, back when I still really had no idea how to write a novel, and I failed miserably.
Since then, I ‘ve learned a lot about writing and a lot about this writing challenge that I hadn’t yet realized back then. For one thing, this challenge isn’t inteneded to produce publishable novels, but rather very rough first drafts. For another, although the goal is 50,000 words, which is probably not a full novel anyway, you don’t have to start from square one. I know of writers who are right now plotting out their story, with no intention of writing by the seat of their pants. (Of course, back then, that was the only way I knew how to write.) When Tuesday, the 1st of November roles around, they will be locked and loaded and ready to write.
That one realization is what made me change my thinking, because I have a novel already started, which I hope to realease in 2023, and this writing challenge could be a good way to help that happen. So, with partial novel in hand, I prepare to take the NaNoWriMo writing challenge once again.
Can I do it this time? That’s left to be seen, but I think changing my goals a bit to adding 50,000 to what I already have, and by following some of the great time management strategies found in Aisley Oliphant’s Booked to the Gills, which is also included in the Writer’s Career Toolkit Bundle, (see my review here), I might be able to meet this challenge head on now. For this challenge, I plan to work on my Time Travel Romance, The Rockstar and the Outlaw, which is based on the music of The Pretty Reckless and has been sitting on a back burner while I worked out a few obstacles that I ran into with it. Any of you out there who are feeling the urge are, of course, welcome to join me, as I set goals, block out writing time, and probably drive myself crazy writing an awesome story, (or at least a bad first draft). If you do plan to participate in NaNoWriMo, let me know in the comments, so I won’t feel so all alone.
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October 28, 2022
Bonus
Something to think about. Thanks Stevie.
Today is my birthday. I am 65 years old. This afternoon with the arrival of the post I have just spent a happy half an hour opening my cards. One friend has sent me a card with a horse’s arse on the front of it – I have no idea why, but she always was a trifle weird.
I have no idea where the time has gone, but it has definitely gone and I am teetering on the verge of being an official old age pensioner. Yes… next year I can claim my state pension, free bus pass, and then turn off my NHS laptop and RETIRE.
Retirement has always been something that happens to old people, but now very soon it will be happening to me. When I started work at the hospital back in 2002 most of the secretaries were older than me. Now they’re all younger…
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