E.D. Martin's Blog, page 37

Weekend Writing Warriors 12/7/14 #8sunday

I have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, available now from Evolved Publishing!

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our troops to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “Crash.” Lindy’s dad constantly checks on her and it’s driving her crazy, so she’s taken refuge in a local park, where she’s currently lying down daydreaming.

She closed her eyes again, trying to clear her mind.

She awoke in her tent, like she did most nights. The woman in the cot next to her snored softly. The base was generally quieter at night, quiet enough that she would’ve heard crickets if she’d been stateside, but instead she heard the quiet footsteps of soldiers on patrol, engines of occasional vehicles driving by, and the scream of a mortar tearing its way into their tent, into the woman snoring next to her. Lindy’s head cracked onto the pavement. She opened her eyes in the infirmary, battered and alive, mostly, and a medic wiped blood off her face with a smooth, wet rag.

Lindy reached up to brush the medic away—her roommate needed the attention more than she did—and her hand connected with something furry.

Her eyes flew open as she recoiled from whatever she’d touched.

Read more about Lindy, and the other soldiers in this collection, by getting your copy at Amazon for just $2.99. Then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And while you’re at Amazon, get a free copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing.”

Anyone? by Angela Scott

Monday was a big launch day at Evolved Publishing. In addition to my own The Futility of Loving a Soldier short story collection, fellow author Angela Scott released Anyone?, a YA post-apocalyptic novel.

The end of the world? That’s the stuff of Hollywood blockbusters and deep philosophical exercises in school. No need to sweat it. So when sixteen-year-old Tess’s doomsday-dad builds a bomb shelter in their suburban backyard, everyone thinks he’s gone crazy….

…Until fire rains down from the sky, sinking whole cities into colossal craters and setting much of the world ablaze.

Tess’s dad gives her a few short minutes to gather her emergency bag and her freaked-out kitten, then leads her outside and into the underground shelter. Terrified, the last thing she expects is for him to leave her there all alone, but he has no choice—he must find her missing brother.

Before leaving, he makes Tess promise to keep the hatch door shut, not to open it for anyone but him, and to stay put until he returns.

But he forgot to tell her one thing: What is she supposed to do if he never comes back?

Anyone? is available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and Kobo.

Plus, Angela is giving away prizes!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/30/14 #8sunday

I have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, available now from Evolved Publishing!

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our troops to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “A Wedding,” which is my favorite story in the collection. Eli and Abby were best friends growing up and haven’t really talked in nearly ten years – Abby went to college and Eli enlisted. Now they’re both back in their small hometown where everyone feels like commenting on their lives.

“So, Abby, did you hear that the Hicks boy is getting married this month?” she asked as she placed a couple frozen pizzas on the belt.

I nodded and reached for the bar to separate our orders.

“Jamie Linn is just a doll, ain’t she? They’re so happy together,” the gray-haired woman said, straining to lift a two-liter Diet Coke from her cart, “ and Eli deserves some happiness after all he’s been through, bless him.”

I bit my lip and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“You and him was so close growing up,  we expected y’all to get married someday.”

The lump grew with each of the woman’s words.

“But that was before he came back ” – her voice dropped to a false whisper – “like that.”

Read more about Abby and Eli, and the other soldiers in this collection, by getting your copy at Amazon for just $2.99. Then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And while you’re at Amazon, get a free copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing.”

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/23/14 #8sunday

I have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, coming out December 1st from Evolved Publishing.

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our troops to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “A Wedding,” which is my favorite story in the collection. Eli and Abby were best friends growing up and haven’t really talked in nearly ten years – Abby went to college and Eli enlisted. He was wounded, and she visited him in the hospital.

I stepped into the room where he lay unconscious, passed out from pain and medication. He looked so pathetic lying there, with bigger muscles than the last time I’d seen him but paler, deathly pale with huge black circles under his eyes, cuts all over his exposed face and neck, and a bandage where his left arm should’ve been.

 

I edged over to his bed and picked up his right hand—his only hand now—careful not to disturb any of the wires and tubes sticking out of him, then stared at his fingers and palm, tracing the callouses on his fingertips before gently setting it back down and leaving the room.

 

I didn’t go back.

 

Fortunately Jamie Linn was there to help him rebound and rebuild once he was back home. She’d had a crush on him for as long as anyone could remember, and she was a nurse now, or home care aide or traveling physical therapist, something that got her into his house each day and got him back to healthy. And once he was better, up and around and selling used cars with his dad, she’d stuck around. It was the perfect romance story come to life, except my mom said Eli had bad spells where he’d just lock himself in his room and stare at the walls, and Jamie Linn got all weepy whenever a show like The Bachelor or 19 Kids and Counting came on and reminded her that she was twenty-seven, childless, and engaged to a moody one-handed used-car salesman.

Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And make sure to get a copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing,” free at Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

 

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/16/14 #8sunday

I have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, coming out December 1st from Evolved Publishing.

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our soldiers to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “Gone But Not Forgotten,” about Carolyn, whose husband Bryce has just returned from deployment. In this scene, she’s thinking back on when their relationship started to fall apart.

She’d gone out to lunch with her mom, followed by a trip to the grocery store, gone three hours, tops. She’d had reservations leaving Shanna with Bryce, but he reassured her they’d be fine.

 

“It’s my own daughter, for fuck’s sake; you think I’d hurt my own daughter?”

 

Not intentionally, she wanted to retort, but instead she swallowed her words, her misgivings, and handed him the baby.

 

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Her bottle’s in the fridge, she likes it when you sing her to sleep, and she sleeps with her teddy bear, on her back.” Bryce tensed and Carolyn stopped talking, stopped the same laundry list of details she gave teenage babysitters, because this was her husband, Shanna’s father, and he didn’t need this. They’d be fine.

Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And make sure to get a copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing,” free at Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/9/14 #8sunday

I have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, coming out December 1st from Evolved Publishing.

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our soldiers to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “A Family Tradition: jozef, WWI,” about a man grappling with a lost love following his service in WWI. In this scene, he’s saying goodbye to her before immigrating to America.

“Why can’t you stay here? Don’t you love me?”

 

“Suzanne, of course I love you,” he said as he squeezed her hand, “and I want to stay but there’s no future for us here. If I go to America, I can make money for us, and for the children we’ll have some day.”

 

She nodded, a single tear trickling down her cheek, and said, “I know, but I’ll miss you because I need you here.”

 

Joos brushed her tear with his thumb. What to say; they’d had this discussion dozens of times since he’d announced he was immigrating.

 

Suzanne grabbed his hand, pressed her lips to his palm, and said, “Hold onto this, Joos; hold onto my love until we’ll be together again.”

Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And make sure to get a copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing,” free at Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/2/14 #8sunday

I have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, coming out December 1st from Evolved Publishing.

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our soldiers to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “Burger Run,” about two friends sneaking out for a late-night snack the summer after their high school graduation. Eli has enlisted in the Army, and Abby is headed to college.

Eli cut the engine, handed me a burger, then took one for himself. I unwrapped it slowly, focusing on the patterns the grease made on the paper. I took a bite, even though I wasn’t that hungry. Beside me, Eli stared straight ahead, the burger on his lap untouched.

 

“Eli?” Usually he’d inhaled at least an entire burger before I even had mine out of the bag.

 

“What if they make me kill someone, Rabbit?” His voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear him.

Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And make sure to get a copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing,” free at Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

Weekend Writing Warriors 10/26/14 #8Sunday

October = Halloween = horror.

Here’s a snippet from “Tim and Sara,” about two friends who escape from a mental institution. In this scene, Sara is explaining why she had to break out.

“I’ve made some mistakes in my life, Tim. I’ve messed up. When they pointed it out, I realized it, and I realized I had to make up for it. Which is what I’m doing, right now. I won’t bore you with the details of the conversations we had. Just know that this is big. It’s my soul we’re talking about, a second chance. And the people at Kirkbride, they didn’t understand.”

Find out more about Tim’s and Sara’s demons by getting your copy on Amazon. Then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And while you’re at Amazon, get a free copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing.”

Weekend Writing Warriors 10/19/14 #8sunday

October = Halloween = horror!

Here’s a snippet from “Tim and Sara,” about two friends who escape from a mental institution. In this scene, Tim has gotten them kicked off their Greyhound bus and they’re spending the night in a bus station.

I wake in the middle of the night. The station lobby is empty, lights off but the parking lot streetlights provide more than enough illumination in here. Sara lies next to me, curled in a ball, hair in her face. I reach over, brush it off and behind her ear. Her face is relaxed as she sleeps, peaceful.

 

I stretch, return to sleep but I’m awakened by a loud noise. I open my eyes, afraid to move, and see Sara is in the corner, pleading with someone who may not even be there, stomping her feet, crying. I know I should help her but I’m afraid of her voices, afraid of what they might make her do if they find out I’m listening.

Find out more about Tim’s and Sara’s demons by getting your copy on Amazon. Then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And while you’re at Amazon, get a free copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing.”

Weekend Writing Warriors 10/12/14 #8sunday

October = Halloween = horror!

Here’s a snippet from “Tim and Sara,” about two friends who escape from a mental institution. In this scene, Sara has busted them out and trying to talk Tim into not having another episode like last week’s.

“Okay, Tim, enough of that,” Sara says to me as she puts her hands on my shoulders, stares me in the eyes. “This is real important, what I have to do. My soul is on the line, Tim. My soul. They told me this is my last chance for redemption, and I know you have issues too, but I can’t let you mess this up for me. Comprende?”

 

Can’t mess it up for Sara (messed it up for Ellen for Paul for Mama where’s Mama no sign of her just blood just Paul’s hand Ellen on the floor). She shakes me, and I nod.

Find out more about Tim’s and Sara’s demons by getting your copy on Amazon. Then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And while you’re at Amazon, get a free copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing.”