C.M. Simpson's Blog, page 214

Progress Report: Week 4 March 2013

Working to a new schedule, fighting off a very persistent bout of… flu? Virus? Not sure, but spent a day and a bit at home, sleeping, and the rest of the week not feeling so well. Definitely not as much done as I would have liked.Tier 1 Tasks
DarkFantasyNovel3C—Shadow’s Fall: Revised chapters 19-37. This project is now 146 days ahead of the original schedule, and being prepped for release. Publishing Tasks:
Added 2 blog entries to this blog.Reformatted the CreateSpace covers for DarkFantasyNovel1B—Shadow TrapReleased Shadow Trap for POD
New Arrivals:
The following ideas arrived this week - usually as I was dropping off to sleep.WritingCraft3A-3H: books about writing.Novella16A-B: about a lighthouse and the fey

First Pages: Nurse

Nurse is the fourth short story to be found in An Anthology of Those Who Walk Among Us . It is also available as a stand-alone short story.

Nurse is a short horror story, featuring a secretive species of vampire and the creation of its newest recruit. 

Nurse is available as part of AnAnthology of Those Who Walk Among Us, and also as a stand alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.

First Page: Nurse  The nurse stood by the edge of the bed and glanced at her patient. She took the young man’s hand and began to bandage his mangled finger. It was the least gruesome injury she’d seen that day and he was her last patient. It had been a long and particularly busy day, and the nurse was looking forward to the end of a long shift. Her name tag called her Alison; the hospital records knew her as Alison Glaze.
Alison didn’t ask what had bitten his finger, although it was obvious that a bite had caused the damage. That question had already been asked and the details he’d given had been sketchy at best. Triage suspected a spider bite and placed him under observation, while other, more life-threatening injuries had been treated. Looking at the injury again, the nurse had her doubts. While the injury looked like a spider bite, there was more damage than seemed possible from a mere spider.As she bandaged, Alison studied the hand she held. It was a strong hand, a working hand. There were calluses on the fingertips and across the top of the palm, not hard, horny calluses that felt like warts, but smooth stone-like calluses that were covered by layers of tough, yet supple skin. The nurse glanced at her patient’s face. The clipboard on the end of the bed named him Oliver Stone.He was lying on the bed with his eyes closed. His skin was clammy and sheened in a light layer of sweat, but he ran no fever. He opened his eyes when she paused in her bandaging. They were grey although she could have sworn they’d been blue when he’d first walked in.Oliver returned her inspection and smiled briefly at her. For a moment, his eyes were almost blue again. Almost, then he closed them once more, a faint smile lingering on his face. His smile made Alison wonder what he had seen in her. She was pretty enough, having inherited her 
END EXTRACT
If you would like to read more, Nurse is available as part of AnAnthology of Those Who Walk Among Us, and also as a stand alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.

First Pages: On a Ship called Mythicus

On a Ship called Mythicus is the sixth short story to be found in An Anthology of Worlds . It is also available as a stand-alone short story.

The Mythicus is crewed by creatures of myth and legend, fairytale and urban lore. In this short episode, it and its crew pursue a space pirate until a small team must continue the pursuit on planet. With its firestarter captain and a defense system that takes its nomenclature too literally, this ship is one of a kind, a fact the rest of human space should be grateful for.

On a Ship called Mythicus is available as part of An Anthology of Worlds, and also as a stand-alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.

First Page: On a Ship called Mythicus

“Stop drooling, Cristo!” growled Wolf.Cristo wiped his chin with the back of his hand and then wiped his hand on the white silk of his sail-sized handkerchief. Another drop of moisture oozed from his lips.“Cristo!”Wolf’s growl was deeper now and Cristo was sure he heard a joint pop as the gunner’s frustration increased. Cristo dabbed at his mouth again.“Settle down, Wolf,” he protested. “I mean, when was the last time you saw a body like that?”It was a mistake. At the mere mention of the woman whose image filled their viewscreen, he started drooling again.“In her wanted poster,” Wolf snapped out as another joint popped. “Get with it, Cristo. She’s only a pirate!”Cristo sighed and sucked down the drool gathering at the back of his teeth.“Pull yourself together, Cristo!” roared the captain. “She’s about to open fire. Activate the defense nets!”“Aye, aye, sir,” Cristo replied.He managed to stop salivating only when he turned his mind solely to the task of defending the ship. As long as he thought of the pirate ship and not its captain, his chin would stay dry.Aah, but the captain—“Cristo!”This time, it was the captain who yelled at Cristo, or rather, yelled inside his head. Cristo shook his head to clear his senses, and sucked frantically at the moisture in his mouth to stop it escaping past his lips. His head rang from the captain’s, shout but that wasn’t the worst of it. He could feel the warm itch of his captain’s glare against his back.
END EXTRACT
If you would like to read more, On a Ship called Mythicus is available as part of An Anthology of Worlds, and also as a stand-alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook. 

First Pages: Treaty Time

Treaty Time is the fifth short story to be found in An Anthology of Those Who Walk Among Us . It is also available as a stand-alone short story.

Treaty Time continues the story of human settlement started in Nothing. In this tale, both humans and shifters discover they are not alone, and that some memories are inherited. 

Treaty Time is available as part of AnAnthology of Those Who Walk Among Us, and also as a stand alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.

First Page: Treaty Time

Ariel had been frantic when she found Varian gone. She had searched the house, then the stables and the work sheds. She had searched the gardens and the kennels and then she had called Grey.“What do you mean ‘He’s missing’?” Grey demanded.Ariel took a deep breath and repeated her discovery of the morning.“He was gone when I went to rouse him this morning,” she said. “I looked for him in the house but he wasn’t there. He doesn’t seem to be in the compound at all.”Grey glared at her but Ariel didn’t flinch. Grey wasn’t angry with her. He was just angry. This wasn’t the first time Varian had wandered off.It was the first time he’d gone so early though. The boy had managed to avoid the watch droid they’d stationed outside his door as well. Ariel frowned, thinking of where Varian might have gone this time, but Grey interrupted the half-formed idea and it vanished before she could grasp it.“This is no excuse for sitting idle, girl,” he snapped. “Fetch the lads their breakfast and get on with your chores. I’ll take Francis and Drake with me and go looking. Varian can’t have gone far.”“Alright, Grey.”Some of the doubt she felt must have crept into her tone, because Grey stopped his scan of the compound to look at her.“Don’t worry, Az,” he assured her. “We’ll find him.”

END EXTRACT  If you would like to read more, Treaty Time is available as part of AnAnthology of Those Who Walk Among Us, and also as a stand alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.

First Chapters: Assassin, Not

Assassin, Not is a tale of choices and sacrifice, set in a fantasy kingdom. Blade is a young man, born of a long line of assassins. Placed in training at a young age, he has no choice but to take on the trade of his father, and his grandfather before him… or does he?
When Blade is assigned an assassination he does not really want to complete, he believes he has no choice. Deciding if he finds something else to be, before his dagger falls, he prepares to take down the youngest Lord Forester in the city. When a second assassin appears, and options unfold, Blade must step lightly and with speed. With a disgruntled patron on his heels, the only question is can he move quickly enough to stay one step ahead of his own.
Assassin, Not is a fantasy tale set in a land of magic and intrigue. It is currently available from Smashwords and Amazon Kindle, and will soon be available from , Nook, the iTunes bookstore, and Kobobooks.
First Chapter: Assassin, Not

The Target by the Fountain
The dark-clad figure smoothed his hair with the licked palm of his hand. It was a nervous gesture. He didn’t need to do it. It just made him feel better.He hefted the weight of the dagger in his right hand and eyed his target moving across the street.
‘Now,’ he thought, ‘wouldn’t it be just sweet if the messenger isn’t in place?’
It wasn’t a question, just a thought reflecting his nervousness as he drew back the blade. He waited as someone walked in front of the yellow-haired youth who was destined to wear the knife.
It wouldn’t take a moment. The youth moved restlessly in front of the fountain. He was waiting for someone, just as he had waited for her every afternoon of the last month.
She was late. The watching figure had made sure of that. He had been well paid to do so. This was meant to be a warning; the girl was off-limits.The watcher waited a moment longer, waited until another innocent had walked past, then flung the blade across the square. It was a good throw; his aim had been true.
The knife flew cleanly through the air and embedded itself into the blonde youth’s leg. The watcher was pleased; the throw had been a difficult one.‘Hurt, not harm,’ his employer had said, ‘I don’t want him damaged too badly. His family are friends I can’t afford to lose.’
Which was precisely why the message a street urchin had dropped in front of the youth was magicked to disappear in a burst of flame as soon as it had been read.
The watcher waited until the youth had grasped the scrolled parchment and pulled it open. He saw the sweat beading down the youth’s face as what was written on the parchment sank home.
He waited until he saw the parchment flare and heard the youth’s startled cry of alarm, then he slipped quietly down the alley he had been hiding in.He regretted the loss of the knife, but knew very little could be traced from it by magic. He hadn’t owned it long enough for his aura to have worn onto hilt or blade, so no-one would be able to find him that way.
He began to whistle as he turned out of the alley into Peddler’s Road. All in all, it had been a very good day.

END CHAPTER
If you would like to read more, Assassin, Not is currently available from Smashwords and Amazon Kindle, and will soon be available from , Nook, the iTunes bookstore, and Kobobooks.

First Pages: Peace Flower

Peace Flower is the sixth short story to be found in An Anthology of Those Who Walk Among Us . It is also available as a stand-alone short story.

Peace Flower is a short fantasy story set in a time of war and change. Shoru is descended from a long line of sorceresses, once valued for their skills. How they are viewed in the future, depends on the battle’s outcome.

Peace Flower is available as part of AnAnthology of Those Who Walk Among Us, and also as a stand alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.

First Pages: Peace Flower  Shoru fell amidst the fighting. Her basket flew from her hand and disappeared beneath booted feet and metal-shod hooves. The peonies were trampled and the scent of crushed herbs mingled with the smell of blood.She knew better than to scramble after them and curled against the step that had made her stumble. Someone leapt over her, using her back to reach the doorway. She heard the jingle of spurs as they passed.Swords clashed above her and another set of boots danced their way through the measured steps of a swordsman’s shuffle. Shoru had no choice but to stay where she was until the fight was over.“Death to all invaders,” the one upon the step yelled.“And so say all of us,” his opponent rumbled in reply.Shoru did not stay to ponder. The boots moved sideways, metal scraped on bone and blood fell in a warm shower.“You’ve killed me.”The swordsman’s voice sounded suddenly young. His opponent turned away and met another attack with a savage parry. Shoru heard his answer as she ran for the corner of the building.“And so must all invaders die.”Around the corner, in the lee of a barricaded doorway, Shoru regretted the loss of her basket. The herbs would have to be gathered again, the peonies more so.
END EXTRACT  If you would like to read more, Peace Flower is available as part of AnAnthology of Those Who Walk Among Us, and also as a stand alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.

Progress Report: Week 3 March 2013

Tier 1
Revised and edited chapters 1-20 of DarkFantasyNovel1C—Shadow’s Fall, to be published under C.M. Simpson. This project is running 125 days ahead of the revised schedule. It is the third book in the Shadow trilogy.


Tier 3
Revised, edited, formatted and uploaded ChapterBook3A—Assassin, Not under Pen Name 4—Carlie Simonsen. Release is 9 days ahead of revised schedule.
Extras ShortStory55—Should the Mum Divert the Drill? written and complete at 756 words, and added as a free read to blog, as well as to the 2013 compilation.
Publishing Tasks
Announced release of Corporate Loyalty on FB timeline;Update Corporate Loyalty on LinkedIn;Created 5 blog posts for C.M. Simpson Publishing blog;Created 7 blog posts for this blog;Created 1 guest post for the DSDU blog;Updated Anthology pages on this and C.M. Simpson Publishing blog;Updated the Teen Fiction on the C.M.Simpson Publishing blog;Updated the Carlie Simonsen Page on thisblog;Created cover for Assassin, Not ;Updated Amazon Germany, France, Britain and US author pages for Carlie Simonsen and myself;
Craft DevelopmentSkim-read over 1,000 blog entries of industry news and craft techniques;Joined in the Chuck Wendig Challengefeaturing a random sentence;New Arrivals:The following ideas arrived this week:YANovel12A: about ghostsShortStory55: science fiction about a mum; see above.

First Pages: Corporate Loyalty

Corporate Loyalty is an short pseudo-science adventure a la the 1950’s. Its science is unlikely; its people and their motivations are not.
When a leading ‘bug’ researcher is returned to normal size early, he discovers the science which alters his size has a flaw. Can his best friend help him out of the trouble he’s in?
Corporate Loyalty is one of the short stories that will be incorporated into An Anthology of Pseudo-Science . It is currently available as a stand-alone short story, and can be found at Smashwords and Kindle. It will shortly be available from Kobo, Nook and iTunes.

First Page: 
I had been placed in a different section to the others, but it made no difference; I was here to study, and the data I required could not be found anywhere else. My research was in its final stages and soon I would be free. I allowed my mind to dwell on my impending success for a fraction of a second, before returning my attention to the task that lay before me.The nest had accepted me, thanks to the scent other operatives had secured, but I still had specific tasks to perform in its service. The nest warriors took my responsibilities seriously, and my study less so. These responsibilities that had extended my stay into months yet, as time progressed I found I did not resent them. And, speaking of tasks…I looked up at the seeds clinging to the swaying stem above me and sighed. I'd hated heights before, feared them. Hunger conquered fear. I began to climb.If they'd told me, when I'd laughed at it, that the panga, the bush knife, would soon become my most valued possession, I would have laughed even harder. I wasn't laughing now as I dug the climbing-spikes attached to my boots into the stringy fiber of the grass stem and took the panga from my belt.Two practiced swings of the blade and the seed head began to sway. One more carefully placed slice and it began to fall. I clung to the stem like a lab monkey to the bars of its cage, and watched the head plummet to the ground. Once it lay resting on the earth below, I climbed down, thanking whatever powers presiding that I had stayed fit in the company gym in spite of the hours I worked.That fitness now stood me in good stead. Fitness and the Talent I had not informed the company I possessed. Fitness had seen me through the grueling weeks of autumn when the nest went into a frenzy of gathering enough food to take its inhabitants through winter, but it was the Talent that warned me of dangers I could not see.The Talent was whispering at me now. Pausing mid-climb, I dug the spikes firmly into the stem and looked around. Nothing, yet I could hear the Talent whispering and felt the skin on my spine beginning to crawl.I resumed my descent, careful to keep my progress as steady as before. Some of the creatures down here were smart. If I looked to be in a hurry, whatever it was would pounce.I stopped my climb just before I reached the ground. It didn't take long for me to release the climbing spikes and step, one foot at a time, away from the plant. The Talent was almost screaming now. I reached for my machete, slipping it free from its holster as I turned and found the creature already advancing. Of all the animals I had faced, I knew this was the most deadly.He was fast, almost as fast as myself, and he was bigger. He was pretty smart as well, although I did not like to think of him as being as smart as I was. Deny it as I might, I wa s...

END FIRST PAGE
 If you would like to read more, Corporate Loyal ty is currently available as a stand-alone short story, and can be found at Smashwords and Kindle. It will shortly be available from Kobo, Nook and iTunes.

Chuck Wendig Challenge Response: Should the Mum Divert the Drill?

The Theory behind the Challenge  Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge on the Terribleminds blog, this week was to write a short story, in 1,000 words or less, in response to, and including, a prompt created by this random sentence generator.My random sentence was: Should the mum divert the drill?I received the sentence on the morning of the 11th of March, 2013, and completed a rough hand-written draft of the story at around midnight, just before I went to bed, after spending the day mulling it over, in fits and starts. I made very few changes when I typed it up on the 12th.I admit to being a little consternated as to where the story was in this sentence, but then I broke the sentence down. A ‘mum’ could be a mother, while ‘mum’ also had the meaning of ‘silence’, as in to ‘keep mum’. If you really stretched it, ‘mum’ could also be considered a diminutive of the term for mimes, or actors in silent plays, known as ‘mummers’. I decided that all these terms could be used to refer to a race, or sub-species, of human, who could not speak.‘Divert the drill’ posed a slightly greater problem, until I thought of how drills could be used. In this case, I chose construction over dentistry, and then had to work out the cause for why, or why not, the mum would need to divert one, in the first place. I also had to consider what might be at stake, if the drill was not diverted, and that gave me the story’s problem. I think, though, that I was more interested in the concept of ‘the mum’ than in anything else, and that comes through, so I’m not sure this story is as strong as it might be.The Story: Should the Mum Divert the Drill?  No one knows where the mums come from. Some say they’re a genetic aberration unique to Freon, but no-one’s ever been able to discover the cause. Others say they’re proof the aliens interfered with the earthlings—or vice versa. There’s no evidence to support either theory, and the mums themselves aren’t saying.They’re mute, the whole sub-species, all very capable, but utterly devoid of the ability to make a single sound—and, as a race, as completely uncooperative in advancing the scientific understanding of their race. Obstructive even, the whole lot, from the newest born to the crustiest survivor.Our mum was no different. She drove the drill, and ruled the rest of the plant equipment with an iron fist—and the largest spanner she could find. No one hid her spanners to save the machinery, not since Jansen tried, and we found him, head wedged under a maintenance hatch with mum kicking his backside in voiceless outrage, as she calibrated the engine, one solid body-bouncing thump after another. It had taken Jansen a month before he could walk in a straight line, three, before he could breathe engine fumes without gagging.Some said the mums were psychic. I can’t say, for sure, if that applied to ours, but she could suss the cause of an engine problem out in minutes, and get to the root of a plant failure in under half an hour. She was something, but I’m not sure psychic describes it. Attuned, maybe, at one with machines, earth-moving zen.The mums are mostly female, or the strongest, most caring males I’ve ever met. Gay? Maybe; I’ve never been game to ask, not that it matters; they’re all mothers right to the core—in both senses of the word. We should never have asked ours to ignore what was in front of the bit and keep drilling.They might be mute, hence the name—‘mum’, short for ‘mummers’, or ‘keeping mum’—but each one is a bone-deep mother-and-a-half to deal with once their mind is set. Company profit be damned.So, we’re building a new toll route, express, all the bells and whistles, and our mum hits a chunk of something more solid than earth, but not rock. Foreman says keep drilling. Mum gives him a look, but gets back in the cab, and soon we’re moving forward again. Not quite on schedule, but close enough we can catch up.Next thing I know, there’s a high-pitched squeal as the drill bites through metal, shrieking its way through a hull built for deep space and star-length journeys, and the drill rattles to a stop. This time, the mum stays put in the cab.I figure, if she were all human, we’d hear her cussing a mile-wide streak of blue. As it is, we hear the keyboard, as she lights up the boss’s message screen. He sure as hell starts cussing a blue streak, one that rapidly shades to purple.We’re not supposed to tunnel through alien artifacts. We’re supposed to shut down the site, re-route construction, and the super-lucrative, one-of-a-kind-express-super-highway toll route be damned—along with everything cent invested into it. Not if the boss can help it.I run the scan, confirming this is the biggest damned artifact on record. Boss says, artifact be damned, we got a road to build, and a deadline to meet, and no horse-hockey artifact is going to stand in the way. We can put the metal through the crusher, seed it into the road surface. No one need ever know.Mum belts out two words, making the keyboard shake, making me shake, too: ‘lifeforms’ ‘stasis’. When she gets no response, she adds: ‘Drill diversion possible’, and follows it with a series of equations and 3D diagrams that just prove she’s been spending too much time with the engineers.We don’t have a hope in Hades of stopping her. She might be a real mother to work with, but she’s got a mother’s heart. Looks to me like she’s just adopted a whole new bunch of kids, and wants the old ones to play nice.I remember Jansen’s foray with the engine hatch, and glance over at the boss. It’s protocol; someone has to ask it. Ain’t gonna be anyone else, so I just open my mouth and say it.“Should the mum divert the drill?” I ask. And now it’s on the record—even though the response won’t be. The boss just nods and shrugs. From the look on his face, he’s remembering Jansen, too, and the way our mum wields a spanner. Profits be damned. If our mum wants to enact out a well thought-out diversion, it’s not up to us kids to get in her way. We’ve been taught to listen to our mum.Even when she doesn’t speak a word.

Chuck Wendig Challenge: Random Sentence

This Week's ChallengeSo, my random sentence for this challenge is: Should the mum divert the drill?

And now I have 1,000 words to play with, and a deadline of 15 March 2013.
The Why behind the ChallengeSo, why, when time is so short, am I back to undertaking these challenges again?
Because I miss them;Because I can; Because they're fun;Because they challenge me to try something different;Because, when I was going through the work published last year, the pieces created for the Wendig challenges were amongst the better pieces produced;Because I get to see how others tackle the problem and learn from them;Because I get to hang, even if it's only virtually, with a bunch of other writers; Because, with a little time management and prioritization, they're achievable within the timeframe set; And because the challenges make me write, and complete, something every week.Seriously, as a tool for actively working to develop your craft, these challenges, or something very similar, are a good way to start. I'd recommend giving them a go. And for those of you who have trouble completing what you start, or need practice meeting deadlines, well, here's one way to practice.