Chuck Wendig's Blog, page 174

I Am Stretch Goal, And I Make Stretchy Kitty Noises

What?

I dunno, shut up.

So, Storium is less than a week into its Kickstarter campaign.

It was successfully funded in 24 hours.

It has already reached stretch goals.

And now I’m the next stretch goal.

What’s that mean? Well, it means that if the campaign gets to $43,000, it unlocks a campaign based on my short story, “The Auction,” found in my collection, Irregular Creatures. (Which, I’ll note shamelessly, is a mere $0.99.) The story takes place in a farm-style auction where a whole lot more than cows and tractors are on display: there you can buy haunted cars, lunatic machines, mermaids, magical victuals…

Game designer and good friend Will Hindmarch is adapting the work to Storium, and I couldn’t be more excited. Will’s a bonafide bad-ass when it comes to writing and I’m proud to have him making this a reality.

Consider bidding, wontcha?

Remember, you get beta access soon as you jump in…

Other Gravy-Soaked News Nuggets

In just a couple-few hours I leave for Erie, where I’ll head off to Penn State to visit classes and give a talk about diversity and diversification in writing and publishing. Part of the reason for this trip is that they are teaching Blackbirds there (!) as part of a women’s lit / female superheroes class. Which is like, whoa, dang. I’m pretty geeked about that.

However, my primary talk on Monday night is open to the public: details here.

Blightborn Preorder (Or, “Cornpunk, Baby”)

A poke-poke-prod reminder that the second Heartland book, Blightborn, is now up for pre-order. A mere $3.99 not only gets you the pre-order, but also gets you a Gwennie short story (“The Wind Has Teeth Tonight”) set before Under the Empyrean Sky.

The book:

Cael McAvoy is on the run. He’s heading toward the Empyrean to rescue his sister, Merelda, and to find Gwennie before she’s lost to Cael forever. With his pals, Lane and Rigo, Cael journeys across the Heartland to catch a ride into the sky. But with Boyland and others after them, Cael and his friends won’t make it through unchanged.

Gwennie’s living the life of a Lottery winner, but it’s not what she expected. Separated from her family, Gwennie makes a bold move—one that catches the attention of the Empyrean and changes the course of an Empyrean man’s life.

The crew from Boxelder aren’t the only folks willing to sacrifice everything to see the Empyrean fall. The question is: Can the others be trusted?

They’d all better hurry. Because the Empyrean has plans that could ensure that the Heartland neverfights back again.

Pre-order here!

And, if you haven’t tried the first book, it too is just $3.99 right here.

Flash Fiction Challenge: The Return Of The Opening Line Contest

Last week’s challenge: Life Is Hell.

I love this challenge because it always generates some interesting results.

It’s easy in concept, difficult in execution:

Come up with a great opening line.

That’s it.

Take that line, and drop it into the comments below.

BUT WAIT.

As they say, THERE’S MORE.

This opening line must be one sentence long — no more than that. Anything longer and I will publicly laugh at your inability to stick to the barest-of-bones submission guidelines.

I’d suggest avoiding some very cliched openings — previous challenges have yielded three overwrought motifs in this particular challenge, those three being:

Blood.

A gun.

Someone about to die / someone already dead (future corpse / current corpse).

So, maybe avoid those things unless you really think you can nail it.

The trick to writing a great opening line is keeping it brief, and yet at the same time suggesting a great deal of potential — an opening line is equal parts promise and fish-hook stuck in the reader’s brain-meats. It should make us want to read the rest of the story. Or, even better, make us as writers want to write the rest of that story (and par usual, that will be the nature of next Friday’s challenge). Nailing the opening line is a Samurai move — it’s delivering a single sword blow to end the match.

There will be a prize.

I’ll pick three that I love. And those three will get the first as-yet-unreleased e-book copies of my newest writing book, 500 Ways To Write Harder. You’ll get the book in PDF, ePub, and Kindle formats, all DRM-free because, really, fuck DRM right in its digital sphincter.

You have one week to get your lines in the door. Due firmly by noon EST on April 18th. I will then pick winners over the next week thereafter. You are allowed one entry, no more. Additional entries disqualify you.

So.

One opening line.

Make it sharp.

Win a book.

Drop it in the comments.

A.J. Larrieu: Five Things I Learned Writing Twisted Miracles

Cass Weatherfield’s powers come with a deadly price.

Cass knows it was her telekinetic gift that killed a college classmate five years back, even if no one else believes her. She’s lived in hiding from her fellow shadowminds ever since, plagued by guilt and suppressing her abilities with sedatives. Until the night her past walks back into her life in the form of sexy Shane Tanner, the ex-boyfriend who trained her…and the one she left without saying goodbye.

When Shane tells her that his twin sister, Mina—Cass’s childhood friend—is missing, Cass vows to help, which means returning to New Orleans to use her dangerous skills in the search. But finding Mina only leads to darker questions. As Cass and Shane race to learn who is targeting shadowminds, they find themselves drawn to each other, body and soul. Just as their powerful intimacy reignites, events take a terrifying turn, and Cass realizes that to save the people she loves, she must embrace the powers that ruined her life.

* * *

1. You can fit a body in the back of a ’69 Camaro.

I had my doubts about this, but it turns out to be possible. It’s one of the many fascinating trivia items Google has taught me. I also know the best way to survive a gunshot wound to the chest and how long it takes to get from Biloxi to New Orleans driving ninety-five miles per hour. Writers: Mad, bad and dangerous to know.

2. I write paranormal fiction.

Technically, I discovered this while writing my previous novel, The Vampire Pseudo-Romance That Shall Not Be Published, but Twisted Miracles was the book where I owned it. I’d heard other writers say they didn’t get to pick what they wrote, but when I opened that blank Word file and started Twisted, I finally understood what they meant. When you’re writing what you’re supposed to write, you feel more like a conduit than a creator. This was the book where I finally stopped laboring to craft a Sweeping Southern Family Saga and instead let my subconscious do the walking. When a telekinetic New Orleans B&B owner showed up, instead of trying to kick him out, I was like, Cool. Can you invite some friends?

3. Paranormal fiction is awesome.

I’m glad I figured out #2, because letting my subconscious do the walking led me to some freaky and fascinating places. I was writing about all the themes and tensions that have always bothered and fascinated me—how your family shapes your destiny, the complicated culture of my home state, whether we have a responsibility to use our gifts. Only, this time there were a bunch of telekinetics and supernatural healers doing the talking, and the questions of what family is, what home is, what our gifts are—they came into much sharper relief. I was able to make those issues larger than life, so big that I could finally see them, tackle them, take them down. Start to understand them.

Writing paranormal fiction let me play in a way no other form has. I could take all the troubling intangibles that were puzzling me and give them a physical avatar in my fictional world. I made them real.

4. Not everyone agrees with #3

Paranormal fiction does some amazing things. It entertains, sure, but it can also tackle thorny problems symbolically. It’s an oblique hit, and it can be all the more brilliant for it. But not everyone agrees that paranormal fiction—or really, any genre fiction—is worth reading. Here’s a sample of replies I got when I told some of the non-writerly folks in my life what I’m writing:

“Oh, so you’re writing those books.”

“Well, but, I’m sure you write strong women, right?” (This in response to the news that Harlequin is my publisher.)

“Maybe you just need to get some practice before you write something serious.”

Sigh. What can I say? Except:

5. You can fit a body in the back of a ’02 Corolla, too.

Just kidding.

* * *

A.J. Larrieu grew up in small-town Louisiana, where she spent her summers working in her family’s bakery, exploring the swamps around her home and reading science fiction and fantasy novels under the covers. She attended Louisiana State University, where she majored in biochemistry and wrote bad poetry on the side. Despite pursuing a Ph.D. in biology, she couldn’t kick the writing habit, and she wrote her first novel in graduate school. It wasn’t very good, but she kept at it, and by the time she graduated, she had an addiction to writing sexy urban fantasy and paranormal romance. Her second novel, Twisted Miracles, was a finalist in RWA’s Golden Heart® competition in 2012. The book kicks off her dark, romantic urban fantasy series, The Shadowminds, which follows a group of humans with psychic powers through New Orleans’ supernatural underworld. A.J. is currently a working biophysicist in San Francisco, where she lives with her family and too many books.

A.J. Larrieu: Website | Twitter

Twisted Miracles: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iBooks

Elizabeth Bear: An Ill-Considered Boast

I came here to sell you a book.

I mean, there’s no point in beating around the bush, is there? Actually, it’s worse than that. I’m here to sell you three novels, because what I have in hand is the last book of a trilogy.

Steles of the Sky is the third book in the Eternal Sky trilogy.

It is preceded by Range of Ghosts and Shattered Pillars.

These three books are the story of Re Temur and Samarkar, a younger grandson of a dead Khagan and a Wizard who has sacrificed everything–family, social standing, the hope of children–for a chance to be her own person. Allied with (among others) a laconic tiger-woman warrior, a martial monk sworn to silence, a doughty young woman of the horse tribes, an elderly engineer, a deposed Caliph, more academics than you can shake a stick at, and one very smart horse, these two race to contain the plots of a necromancer who uses vile, ancient sorcery to raise armies of blood ghosts, control giant raptors, and destabilize Imperial currencies.

Megafauna! Explosions! Economics! Twisted magics relict of poisonous ancient regimes! Absolutely no prophecies!

While I am admittedly biased, I think it’s pretty awesome. And the whole thing is published now, so this is a great time to binge-read the whole sprawling thing!

And thereby hangs the other part of the tale.

You see, a couple of years ago, I made an ill-considered boast.

I told a bunch of my writer friends — and possibly the entire internets — that I could write an epic fantasy series and deliver it on time, on word count, and in the agreed-upon number of volumes. (Three, in case you were wondering.)

Alcohol was not actually involved. But probably should have been.

If you write or read epic fantasy, you are now laughing at me. This was the considered equivalent of Babe Ruth pointing to the flagpole in center field.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQlvaiDNBMQ

I very nearly did it, too.

The story is complete. It’s in three volumes. They were all delivered and published on time.

The third one ran a bit long.

Okay, a hundred pages.

More words for you!

And now all my writer friends think I’m an asshole.

* * *

Elizabeth Bear is an awesome human being and one helluva writer. One of my favorite things written is by E-Bear — “Shoggoths In Bloom.” (Read that story right here.) I’ve also read Range of Ghosts and it’s jaw-dropping stuff. Amazing prose and intimate in its epicness, and she has now reminded me that I can read the next two in the series.

Elizabeth Bear: Website | Twitter

Steles of the Sky: Amazon | B&N | Indiebound

The Hellsblood Bride: Cover Reveal!

Today, I wrote 5,000 words.

And I finished The Hellsblood Bride. Not quite 100k.

Which is, of course, the sequel to The Blue Blazes.

The adventures of Mookie Pearl and his daughter, Nora, continue hard-charging through the Great Below — the Hell beneath our feet. With that being said, seems like high-time for a cover reveal…

TA-DA.

Joey-Hi again, baby.

You will, of course, note lots of little details — all relevant to the plot, because Joey Hi-Fi is a mad monster at rocking these covers and making them relevant to the story.

Hope you dig it.

And check out Blue Blazes if you wanna see where this all begins…

The Storium Kickstarter

And like that — *snaps fingers* — the Storium Kickstarter is live.

Wait, you’re saying, just what the hell is Storium again?

Storium, by Protagonist Labs, aims to circle back to the old way of telling stories — collaboratively, around a campfire. Except this campire? It’s digital. This is old-school storytelling given a 21st century upgrade. It’s a storyworld you can play in. A novel you can live inside. All shot through with a tasty rush of RPG DNA.

I’ve been privy to Storium’s ASCENDANCY TO THE THRONE — ahem, I mean, “creative inception” — since close to the beginning. Stephen approached me in a Shanghai opium den — ahem, I mean, “at a writing convention in Los Angeles” — and told me what he was trying to do and I got super-geeked about it because it’s totally my wheelhouse. Collaborative story-driven gameplay? With a transmedia bent? Amazing. I was in then, and I’m in now — as an advisor, as a matter of fact.

And I’m not alone. Storium has gathered a flock of fine, feathered creators, and all the other creative advisors are not just storytellers I respect, but actual friends who I trust implicitly. Uh, hello, Mur Lafferty? Will Hindmarch? J.C. Hutchins? Plus, the campaign launches with a bevy of amazing authors and game designers attached.

Thing is, Storium isn’t just a concept on some whiteboard. It’s playable. Like, mmm, now.

Back this project, you won’t wait two years to jump in.

People are already playing.

They’re already telling stories.

And sharing characters.

And engaging in imaginative worlds.

Storium is equal parts platform, marketplace, and DIGITAL MESSIAH.

Okay, maybe not so much that last part.

But you want a new way to engage with stories? And to tell your own?

Consider backing, wontcha?

25 More Things To Know About Toddlers

(This is a follow-up to the first: “25 Things You Should Know About Life With A Toddler.”)

1. Chimpanzee Superspies

Toddlers are fifty percent supergenius and fifty percent drunken orangutan — sometimes they’re brilliant little robots, other times they’re the family Roomba that someone spilled wine on last year and it hasn’t worked right since. The problem is: you don’t know which version you’re getting, so it’s nearly impossible to prepare. Will you get the version that sprints into the room and runs face-first into a chair? Will you get the toddler who knows how to design a catapult to fling herself to the top level of the pantry where she can hunker down and eat all your M&Ms while you roam the house looking for her? You have to approach each task, each situation, each room by recognizing that it will be under attack by either a) a flailing, pee-soaked cokehead or b) a tiny version of Neil DeGrasse Tyson. We underestimate and overestimate toddlers in equal measure.

2. Deeply Inane Conversations

You will find yourself locked in the dumbest and/or strangest conversations when conversing with a toddler. You have to be ready for that. You have to be prepared to talk about trucks and puppies and can puppies drive trucks and whether or not you like pretzels and if he’s supposed to like pretzels — oh, god, and then they start asking why about things, and then it’s just that one question, why, all the way down. It’s an infinite ladder, the rungs made of why, why, why. You’ll be sitting there thinking, this is literally the dumbest conversation I have ever had, and I once had a two-hour discussion about whether or not Darth Vader takes shits, and where he takes these shits and what do they look like. But you have to realize: this is how toddlers manifest language. This is how they learn about things. These kinds of goofy-doofy discussions are how they develop opinions and test your opinions in turn. You gotta be present and engage.

3. Neck-Punched By Unexpected Profundity

Sometimes you’ll be wrapped up in one of these conversations and then out of nowhere this meteor of toddlerian profundity will tear a hole in the atmosphere and hit you right between the feels. I was sitting in our son’s room the other night and he was crashing trucks into one another and then he was narrating these car crashes (angrily demanding that I turn my head and watch this toy-level snuff film again and again), and suddenly he stops crashing them and the trucks start to talk. And the trucks are unfailingly polite to each other — “Hi, how are you?” “I’m fine, how are you?” “Let’s go get cake and ice cream together.” And I’m like, aww, hey, cute. But then the toddler looks to me and says: “Friends go get ice cream and cake together. Friends make you not sad anymore. Sometimes I’m sad. But then I know that friends will make it all better. It’s good to be happy. It’s good to have friends.” And I’m like, blink blink blink, we’re we just talking about poop five minutes ago? Did you just school me on a lesson that many adults could stand to learn? You’re not even three. Dang, kid.

4. Repeat Repeat Repeat Repeat Repeat Repeat

Can I have a snack now? Can I have a snack now? Can I have a snack now? Can I have a snack now? Can I have a snack now? Can I have a snack now? Now now now snack snack snack. CAN I HAVE A SNACK NOW SNACK NOW PLEASE SNACK CAN I SNACK I WANT A SNACK MOMMY MOMMY DADDY SNACK AAAAAAAH SNACK. There. Now you know what it’s like.

5. La La La La Rah Rah Rah Rah Gibber Jabber Wail

Sometimes it’s not about the Department of Redundancy Department — sometimes toddlers are just holy shit loud. They run around babble-shrieking, clanging toys together and singing some discordant song that you’re pretty sure will raise the Elder Ones from their brine-born city underneath the dark waves of forgotten oceans. You’ll go into the playroom and they’ll have a bullhorn and a drumset that you don’t remember them ever having before this moment. They have poor impulse control and absolutely no volume control. The trick is, it’s not always about the constant level. It’s about the unexpected decibel spikes. Out of nowhere they’ll go to Volume 11 on a simple question — “I like that color oh look flowers I HAVE TO POOP NOW CAN WE GO POOP?” — and you’re like, jeez, kid, we’re at a funeral, could you use your inside voice? Unfortunately, toddlers have the inside voice of a running wood chipper.

6. Parental Translator

I’ve noticed that if I’m not the parent of a particular toddler — and as it turns out I am not parent to most of them — I have often no idea what the fuck that child is saying. It’s all gobba-gooby brrbt can I have wuff and go get a spang and, nope, seriously, no idea. But my kid? I nearly always know what my own toddler is talking about, and when I don’t know, my wife does. We have parsed his alien dialect. Because we live with him. We’ve been privy to his language development since it was little grunts and squeaks. We know what every mouth-fart and burble-bobble means. He is the cipher, and we are those who have cracked it. But don’t feel bad if you meet a toddler and you have seriously no idea what that kid is talking about. They’re working through it.

7. They Are Immune To Privacy

Their shame modules have not yet been successfully programmed by the many degradations of life, and so if you are near a toddler and intend to, ohhh, I dunno, pee, poop, take a shower, have sex, watch Vampire Diaries naked, then please believe me that the toddler doesn’t know or care and will happily barge in and ask you questions. They’re not voyeurs; they’re just trying to figure out how all of existence works. From flushing a toilet to expressing your dog’s anal glands — they’re observers and actors in even the most uncomfortable of life’s moments.

8. They Love You Unconditionally

They love you. They love you so hard. Adults have conditional love — “I love you BECAUSE, I love you WHEN, I won’t love you IF.” Kids have that canine sense of love: just unabashed, wide open, radiating love. (And, by the way, if you’re the parent, you’ll have it for them, too.) It will shock you and melt even the grungiest, muddiest iceball of a heart.

9. They Also Love That Bear, Truck, Sock, Whisk, Unconditionally

They love all kinds of things with an intensity befitting someone on a high-octane hallucinogen. They will love a blanket, a pet, a teddy bear, a Lightning McQueen sticker, a houseplant, a half-eaten Cheezit they found under the recliner. On the one hand, it’ll make you feel a little more common. On the other, it’s wonderful to watch just how completely capable they are of finding love and joy in all the world around them.

10. You’re Useful To Them Until You’re Not

All that love is well and good, but just the same, your use to them will run out. You’ll get them orange juice and the seven specific toys they want. You’ll turn on the show they love (“Law & Order: SVU? Whatever, kid, sure.”). And then they’ll look at you with this dismissive, game-over gaze that reminds you how you’ve expired like old milk. Your value to them is now gone. You are dismissed, giant human. Shoo. Hurry off. Go do some grown-up bullshit.

11. You = Trampoline / Ladder / Puppet

Part of your value to a toddler is as a physical tool for amusement and opportunity. They will jump on you because you are soft and bouncy. They will climb on you because you make a clumsy, but capable, ladder. You’re basically a huge puppet and the toddler is the one yanking all your strings. NOW DANCE, MONKEY, DANCE. Oh, be advised: they will hella kick you in the crotch, so you should put a lunch tray or chafing dish down your pants for armoring purposes. (Our tot uses my crotch as a step-stool to climb on top of my head. So that’s fun.)

12. You Are Both Performer And Audience

Your job, as noted above, is to entertain. Thing is, the table flips here without warning — one minute they’re happily chugging along with the Play-Doh but suddenly it’s all on you to enterain them. “BUILD ME A ROBOT, LEST I TANTRUM.” They are like Roman Emperors in this: clapping their hands, demanding you do as they say lest there be grim, diaper-based consequences.

13. Sometimes They’re You

Parents or relatives of a toddler will occasionally be disturbed by some intimately recognizable aspect appearing out of nowhere. You’ll hear your own laugh echoed back. Or a phrase you didn’t even realize was unique to you. They’ll express a preference that no one else shares — “Hey, we both really like the epic Bruce Willis failure that was the film Hudson Hawk!” It’s this weird thing where you wonder if there’s more to DNA than you think, or if you’ve just been giving off unintentional psychic signals.

14. And Sometimes They’re Unrecognizable

Our son has recently taken to pushing away the meat on his plate in favor of the vegetables. Broccoli. Lima beans. Mushrooms. Kale. “Don’t you want your chicken fingers?” we’ll ask and he’ll be like, “No, I’m fine, I’m just eating my peas.” And then my wife and I look at each other and the unspoken communique traveling within our gazes is, WE HAVE NO SON. THIS IS NOT OUR CHILD. SOME FAERIE STOLE HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND LEFT US WITH THIS BROCCOLI-EATING ANIMATED BUNDLE OF OF TWIGS AND POSSUM TAILS. Sometimes it’s like, what is happening? Who is this kid? Where did he get these things? Then you start to get it: ohhh, they’re their own little humans, aren’t they?

15. It’s Like Someone Gave Them Sodium Pentathol

Just last night, I put dinner on the table and my son took one good look at the hot dogs and said, “Those look like poop.” And, admittedly, they did — the hot dogs took on that crispy, wrinkly, brown-black you get from having them on the grill, and sure enough, they had a turd-like quality to them. Toddlers are honest to an almost sociopathic degree. They will tell you when you smell weird, when your joke wasn’t funny, when their love for you has died because you did not buy them that $4000 LEGO set (“IT’S A FULLY-FUNCTIONAL TIE-FIGHTER AND I WANNIT AGGGH”). But you can use this to your advantage, too, because toddlers are piss-poor liars. They lie, all you have to do is ask them: “Are you lying?” And they’re like, “Yes.” Ha-ha, busted, tiny human.

16. You Will Learn To Fear Silence

In theory, you welcome silence in Toddler World. You want it to mean that things are peaceful. That the proto-human is in on the floor of the playroom, quietly pushing two trucks around, or gently architecting the Canterbury Cathedral out of Megabloks. But that’s not what’s happening. When things go quiet, it’s the tide being sucked out to sea before the tsunami hits. It’s all the rats fleeing Los Angeles just before the giant earthquake swallows everything. When all goes quiet in Toddler World, do not hesitate. Make haste. For you will surely come upon your toddler performing a task that demands adult interruption: climbing into the ductwork, constructing his own flamethrower, summoning poltergeists with a Ouija board made of Duplo blocks.

17. Highway To The Danger Zone

Toddlers are ninjas who forgot how to ninja. They are frankly fucking dangerous and you need to know that. They will try to jump off couches, pull televisions down on their head, fling themselves into the tiger pit at the zoo. My son walked in here just 30 minutes ago and then tried to walk out of the room with his eyes covered. Why? I have no goddamn idea. He thought it was a good idea at the time. (He tripped on the dog, FYI.) Maybe he hoped he had superpowers, I dunno. Point is, you have to be ready for this level of constant danger in which they place themselves.

18. Poop And Pee Have Never Been So Important

Human waste has never been so important to you as when you are near to a toddler. If you have pets, you get a glimmer of this — difference is, if the dog deuces on the floor, the pooch doesn’t want to have a conversation about it after. But toddlers, man. They want to talk about it. They wanna look at it. And once you start potty training, it takes center stage. You have to get excited about poop because they’re excited about poop. They want to show it to you like it’s a fucking origami swan they just built. And you have to pretend like it’s just that magical.

19. Wildly Independent, Yet Utterly Incapable

I can’t figure toddlers out. I really can’t. One minute, they’re experts at everything. You try to do something complex for them — like, say, putting a DVD in the DVD player — and suddenly they’re all like I CAN DO IT STOP I’LL DO IT LEMME DO IT and you know they can’t but you let them try anyway because ha ha independence and next thing you know the house is on fire and the cat is on your head and there’s a dead homeless guy in your bathroom. But then when it comes to an utterly simple task — like, say, carrying a small toy ten feet from the kitchen to the living room — suddenly the toddler HAS NO IDEA HOW TO ACCOMPLISH THIS TASK. They’re dependent on you for all the wrong things and independent about the things they can’t do.

20. Quid Pro Quo, Clarice

“If you want my help cleaning up the living room, Clarice, I will first need you to tell me about the lambs. Have they stopped screaming? Also, I need chocolate milk. Quid pro quo, mother dear. Quid pro quo, yes or no?” Toddlers are constantly manipulating you. Maybe these little Hannibals don’t realize what they’re doing, but they’re totally trying to figure you out like a child-proof doorknob. They’ll find a way to make you turn. And when they do, you won’t realize it for an hour. And you’ll say, “I think I just got played,” and then you’ll look at the little person in the next room playing with her $4000 fully-functional LEGO TIE fighter and then, mmmyep, yes, yeah, you got played.

21. Your Things Are Their Things

The hat on your head. The TV in the living room. That bowl of cereal you just poured. It’s not yours. None of it is. You’re just borrowing it unknowingly from the toddler. The toddler will reclaim it in due time. It’s like protection money. A total racket, and yet — there’s your toddler, running around with your wallet and that nice bottle of wine and the keys to your car.

22. Some Toys Are Punishments For Your Transgressions In An Earlier Life And Oh, Everyone Wants Them To Have The Toy They Like, So That’s Gonna Be Tricky

The toddler likes XYZ (trucks, dolls, thermal detonators), and soon as all the other adults find out, that’s what they want to get for the toddler. Because they — understandably! — want the toddler to be happy. But this is how you end up with 37 toy tow trucks, or 64 teddy bears, or seven brand-new chainsaws. Nobody wants to risk trying to buy the kid something new because holy shit, what if the kid doesn’t like the new thing? (They surely envision that the toddler is quietly adding their name to an unfortunate list. “This is for the toy microscope, betrayer. ENJOY EXILE FROM MY LOVE.”) Worse, they’ll often end up procuring toys that prove to you how life is a joyless, shriek-warbling electronic hell-racket. Toys that beep and scream and honk and rev and play mindless meandering songs that press into your brainmeat like a pushing thumb. Or they’ll get him wildly inappropriate toys (“He likes trucks so I rented a U-Haul truck for him to drive, that’s cool, right?”) And it’s then you realize that toys for the tot are a realm of politics and preferences, of hurt feelings and emotional protectorates. You didn’t expect this. Aren’t toys supposed to be fun?!

23. They Always Know The Curse Word

If you say a curse word — even muttered, on accident — the toddler knows. They zero in on that like a shark hitting a wounded seal. They cling to the word, sloth-like, and they will immediately say it. And they’ll see your eyes go wide and they’ll say it again and again and you’ll tell them no but of course toddlers are anarchic contrarians and so it’s just game over, man, game over, so you might as well get used to your toddler saying “goddamn shit-eating cock-waffle” at daycare.

24. Parental Atavism

Listen. Lean in close. You want to hear a secret? Toddlers are a very fine reason to act cuckoo bananapants. They are an excuse to regress to levels of childish dumbassery and play the role of gamboling giant-size goofball in your own home. See, in public, you need to act like an adult. Wear pants and shoes and not pee on things and all that. But at home? With a toddler? You can devolve. You’re allowed to play with them on their level. You can put pots on your head and bang them with spoons. You can find conversations about poop and pee funny. You can perform silly walks and make funny voices and act like a general dipshit. You have that power. You are granted that advantage. Use it or lose it, because one day that kid’s gonna grow up and the window’s gonna close and you’re going to have to start acting like a proper adult again.

25. These Weird, Wonderful Little Snowflakes

Babies, by which I mean infants, are kinda universal. They have a few little curious eccentricities, but by and large the reason that you hear the same advice for babies is because babies are beholden to certain physical rules. Shushing and swaying and feeding and shaking — *is handed a note* — I mean not shaking? Whatever. Toddlers, though, aren’t that. Toddlers really are precious little snowflakes because they’re becoming people. Sure, they’re kinda maybe sometimes snot-shellacked sticky-fingered jam-handed snowflakes, but they’re snowflakes just the same. They’re all different and all the things I’m saying above may not actually apply. Parenting advice, too, is works for me, but may not work for you. They’re unpredictable, bewildering, brilliant little freakazoids, each as singular as a star in the sky. The best thing about them, perhaps, is how they let us — as adults — bear witness to a time that we cannot remember for ourselves. We can see how we became the people that we became in this volcanic, formative time.

Logline It

The logline. The so-called “elevator pitch.”

I think in writing novels, the logline maybe claims more importance than it really has — some folks paint a world where you have to sharpen this short blurb of your own work to an atom-splitting point, keeping the weapon in your back pocket because at some point you may find yourself at a coffee counter with an agent or editor and have a sudden chance to pitch them. (Which I’m sure is awesome for the agent or editor. Particularly if they haven’t had their coffee yet. Pro-Tip: never pitch an agent or editor before they have consumed at least one cup of their daily caffeine. You may lose a hand, an eye, a few toes.)

Still — I like it as an intellectual exercise because it helps you distill the work you’re doing down to its manageable essence. You’re figuring out what lies at the core of the work and you’re also helping figure out how the work can be mentioned and brokered without taking people on a ten minute snooze-worthy journey — because, man, I’ve been the guy who gets cornered by an “aspiring” novelist who wants to tell you about his book. It takes forever, and it makes me want to rip your trachea out and shove it in my earholes.

Plus, you’re keeping me from refilling my drink.

(Pro-Tip: never keep a writer from refilling your drink. We won’t just take a hand, eye, toes. We’ll go for the soul. We’ll write you into our next book as a possum-molesting Neo-Nazi who gets thrown into a wood chipper as everyone else laughs.)

Clarity and conciseness are powerful skills for the writer.

So, let’s practice.

You’re working on something now, I take it?

Give us the logline.

Meaning, hook us into the story with a single sentence.

Then: feel free to discuss everyone’s logline with them. How’d it work? How’s it sound? Did it hook you? Did it compel you in some fashion? Was it both clear and concise?

Flash Fiction Challenge: Life Is Hell

Last week’s challenge: Five Random Words.

This week’s challenge is as straightforward or as oblique as you care to make it:

I want you to write a story about Hell.

Now, this can be a literal Hell.

It can be a literal Hell from actual religion.

It can be a Hell of your own design and desire.

It can be a metaphorical or figurative Hell.

The story needn’t take place in Hell — but it needs to touch on the idea or the metaphor in some way or fashion. Feel free to get creative with the idea — don’t feel constrained by precise definitions (though you can be, if you choose to be).

I put up this challenge as a bit of a nod to the fact that my own Hell-book, The Blue Blazes, is today a Kindle Daily Deal. (And here I’m shamelessly elbowing you to see if you care to check it out.) Plus, I’m writing the sequel, now, so I too will be writing about Hell this morning!

You’ve got 1000 words. Due in a week — in by noon EST on Friday, 4/11. Post the story at your online space, then drop a link back to that story in the comments below.

Welcome to Hell.

We have such sights to show you.

The Blue Blazes: Kindle Daily Deal!

Yoinks and Gadzooks!

The Blue Blazes today is a Kindle Daily Deal.

Which puts this book at a sweet $1.99 for your Kindle device or app.

“Rounded off with an emotional finale, The Blue Blazes is a serious contender for book of the year.” – Alister Davison, Starburst Magazine

“There’s something gloriously unhinged about the crazy mix of fantasy, horror and crime-fic that is The Blue Blazes.” — Stefan Raets, Tor.com.

The book details the events of a knee-breaker named Mookie Pearl who stands between the rock that is the criminal underworld and the hard place that is the very real mythical and monstrous Underworld that exists beneath the streets of Manhattan. He thinks he’s got it all figured out until his own daughter rises against him and his organization.

The book contains, in no specific order:

Gobbos, Snakefaces, Trogbodies, cankerpedes, milk spiders, the Five Occulted Pigments, a roller derby girl gang, charcuterie, pierogies, daemon families, god-worms, Half-and-Halfs, mad cartographers, guns, fists, family strife, the zombie town of Daisypusher, cleavers, Sandhogs, magic mushrooms, an old goat, a hell-driving four-wheeler, goblin temples, and more.

I do hope you’ll check it out. I’m thisclose to finishing the sequel, The Hellsblood Bride, which releases before the end of the year. And then a third book will be coming soon after…

One-ninety-nine.

Nab it before Hell swallows it up once more.

(Oh, and tell your friends! AND FOES.)