Konn Lavery's Blog: Posts from konnlavery.com, page 28

Cover Reveal Fire, Pain, & Ruin

Announced on the Rutherford Manor Facebook page, the cover and title to my new novel have been revealed!

Fire, Pain, & Ruin – A Rutherford Manor Novel

From the Facebook Post:

FIRE, PAIN, & RUIN – A Rutherford Manor Novel

Trying to live a normal life in the world of Rutherford Manor is difficult at best and sometimes impossible for the residents of the infamous household. Lisa and Louise Savidge are now young teenagers with a growing interest in the world, boys, and the family business.

Spalding and Penny Savidge certainly have their hands full with these young and highly curious girls and that doesn’t include all of the trauma, family dynamics, infatuation, past loves, supernatural events, and ancient dark curses that they must all endure.

All of this and MUCH MORE will unfold in our next Rutherford Manor book; Fire, Pain, & Ruin written by Konn Lavery – Horror Author!

Terrace VII Wall of Fire, a twisted anthology by Calgary Authors Sarah L. Johnson & Robert Bose

For November’s guest we welcome authors Sarah L. Johnson and Robert Bose. They both reside in Calgary and have written a range of work published through publishes houses such as Coffin Hop Press, On Spec, and their own known as The Seventh Terrace. Sarah has also contributed to the blog with the guest article titled “The Agony and Ecstasy of the Short Story”. Together, Sarah and Robert have written the anthology Terrace VII Wall of Fire, full of humorous horror, devils, and the disturbed. Let’s welcome them to the blog!

Thank you, Sarah and Robert, for joining us, can you both give introduction
about yourselves?



Sarah L. Johnson

I’m a left-handed, curly-haired gorgon, events coordinator
for Calgary’s oldest bookstore, creative writing instructor, freelance editor,
all ‘round super side-hustler, and maniac runner. You’d think keeping busy
would keep me out of trouble…

Robert Bose

And I’m a right handed, hobo-chic Lebowski, toiling over fiendishly
sinister spreadsheets as the technical architect for a small Calgary software
company. I run. I collect books. I devour the luck of poets.

How did you two decide to collaborate on the Terrace VII Wall of Fire,
anthology?



Sarah L. Johnson

I don’t actually remember. We always played around with
informal co-writing for fun, but doing the book was probably a decision made
while extremely drunk, or falling into mudholes on some terrible ultramarathon.
Either way, it seems likely impaired judgment was involved, doesn’t it?

Robert Bose

I’m pretty sure it started at Arby’s. Everything terrible
always starts at Arby’s, or possibly in hot tubs after three plus bottles of
rosé. But it definitely congealed while running. One recurring topic devolved
into whether sex-dolls required heads. This lead to investigation into robot
sex brothels and cumulated in curiosity around sex brothel robot cleaners. The
rest is history.

The Seventh Terrace website is described as “Curl up by the wall of fire
and tickle your tentacles with tales of the disturbed, the dark, and the
damned. Welcome to The Seventh Terrace.” Nice!



Tell us about the Seventh Terrace and the Purgatorio Towers series.



Sarah L. Johnson

An unexpected part of the co-writing process was the shared
world we ended up creating for the stories. The Seventh Terrace is a nod to
Dante’s Inferno and the tower of purgatory, where each of the seven levels
corresponds to one of the deadly sins, with Lust being at the top. Seemed
natural for us to set up shop in the penthouse. You can see all of Purgatory
from there, and every lost soul with a story to tell.

Robert Bose

Even before we’d jumped into writing the book, we’d had this
idea of writing stories involving a malevolent uber-Factory, a mirror universe
Amazon anchored in Purgatory with a strong Welcome to Nightvale vibe. The idea
infused a couple of other stories we wrote, and it felt natural to continue
with it. As we fleshed it out, we came up with all sorts of characters and
locations, tying everything together with the actual Purgatorio Towers acting
as a wrapper for the series.

I’d been working with Coffin Hop Press publishing dark crime
and pulp, and we thought why don’t we start a little horror press and see how
far we could run with it.

What’s it like working on the same story with another author? Pros and
cons.



Sarah L. Johnson

Cons? Rob forces me to be organized with his pathological
love of spreadsheets. Pros? It’s the most fun I’ve ever had as a writer. Co-writing
requires you to use new language, work in a voice not your own, navigate the
architecture of someone else’s imagination. In doing so you conjure not only a
story, but an entire universe that could not exist without merging creative
energies. If that’s not a kind of dark magic, I don’t know what is.

Robert Bose

Amazing. Our styles are different, yet blend together in
ways I never expected. It helps that we spend a lot of time running together,
kicking ideas around, putting together detailed outlines and splitting up the
work fifty-fifty. The cons? She deletes all my cleverly injected adjectives. 

What’s the next project for the both of you (together or separate)?



Sarah L. Johnson

I’m working on a literary novella about a pharmacist who
finds herself in an unconventional relationship with a hypochondriac who sells
counterfeit batteries on the internet. We’ve also got six more levels of the
Purgatory Towers series planned, the next of which is Gluttony, tentatively
titled Terrace VI: Forbidden Fruit.

Robert Bose

My current project is a Lovecraftian horror novel about a
guy who takes a summer sabbatical in a small, creepy Colorado town so his girlfriend,
who grew up there, can train for a difficult trail ultramarathon. I’m also
working on a new short story collection, a couple of weird and wonderful
collaborative short stories with Sarah, and, of course, Forbidden Fruit.

Any final thoughts you’d like to share with the readers and aspiring
writers?



Sarah L. Johnson

Collaborate,
collaborate, collaborate. There’s nothing like it to cultivate creative
depth and agility. It’s like improv in that the only real rule is to “say yes”.
Your partner tosses out an idea, you pick it up and run with it. Don’t be
intimidated. Say yes, and you’ll be amazed where it takes you.

Robert Bose

Find your people. And yes, you’ll know them when you do. And
your passion, which you already know, though maybe it’s buried deep down under
all sorts of day-to-day detritus. Read what you want. Write what you want.
Don’t let yourself be constrained. Ever. By anyone or anything. And, most
importantly, eat at Arby’s.

Thank you, Sarah and Robert, for joining us!

You can find Sarah L. Johnson’s and Robert Bose’s work from
the links below:

The Seventh Terrace

Sarah L. Johnson







AmazonTwitterFacebookWebsite



Robert Bose







AmazonTwitterFacebookInstagramWebsite

The post Terrace VII Wall of Fire, a twisted anthology by Calgary Authors Sarah L. Johnson & Robert Bose appeared first on Konn Lavery.

Edmonton AM with Mark Connolly, Tara McCarthy

Listen to the interview I had on CBC News with Mark Connolly about my writing career and the works of fiction I create!

https://www.cbc.ca/listen/live-radio/1-17-edmonton-am/clip/15743796-edmonton-horror-writer-konn-lavery

A frighteningly local fiction writer who specializes in horror literature.

The post Edmonton AM with Mark Connolly, Tara McCarthy appeared first on Konn Lavery.

Scrappers Part IV

The Harvesters are closing in. The beast is about to break
free. Angie and Ruggie can’t outrun them. Their only hope is to venture into
The Lost, the remains of civilization before the war, and before the collapse
of the planet.

Scrappers Part IV continues the sci-fi horror universe that is being developed through short stories. Enjoy the story in written word, audio, artwork and soundscape.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Scrappers Part IV









Clash

This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t trained for this.
Neither was Ruggy. He didn’t care though, the hothead wanted to bring the fight
to the Harvesters. Those damn gene-freaks were marching towards us. Chances are
they knew our location way before we knew theirs. That’s what they did. They
were faster, more advanced, and less compassionate.

THWUMP! came pounding from our cruiser as the whole vehicle
wobbled. The beast was shredding through the side door. It’d be out in no time.
Ruggy’s crazy plan of taking the fight to the Harvesters was truthfully the
best we had to work with. We couldn’t outrun them. We couldn’t hide from them.
The only advantage we had was that abomination that remained in our cruiser.

ANGIE, THIS WAY, came Ruggy’s message through the
interface of my goggles.

I stayed close to my partner, hiding behind a boulder. Our
night vision from the goggles let us see clearly in shadowed rocks. It shielded
us on both sides as the cruiser door peeled open from razor-sharp claws. The
beast sprung out into The Lost and charged towards us on all fours like some
enraged great ape.

The Harvesters held their electro-spears, humming with power.
Their gunmetal chrome suits shined against the light of their weapons. High-frequency
clicking noises came from their being. There were the harvesters I was used to.
That Harvester at the crash site – a rarity. They were never vulnerable, only
killers.

GET READY TO FIRE AT THE HARVESTERS, Ruggy typed. THAT
BEAST IS CLOSING IN FASTER.

I watched the Harvesters as Ruggy watched the beast. We had
each other’s backs. Scrappers had to. No one else would help us. We were on our
own. Sweat poured down my face, watching the four Harvesters march up the hill.
The clicking began to ring in my hear. They were too close. There was nowhere
for us to turn either. We were backed into a corner. The only way out was to
dash at the opportune moment. This plan better work.

The beast bellowed, leaping into the air, claws extended
outward. The Harvesters were a good two dozen paces away from us. They raised
their spears in defensive stances, watching the beast. It soared down towards
the group.

One Harvester typed something into its wrist, causing the suite
to open several holes around its wrist and up the forearm. Pitch black
tentacles wiggled out of the holes and towards the beast. They reached the
creature before it hit the ground, colliding in midair. The beast hacked at the
tentacles, slicing some of them apart. A couple of them snagged its limbs.
Another grabbed the neck, immobilizing the beast in the air.

LET’S GO! Ruggy typed, sprinting from the hideout.

New Plan

That was new. No time to ponder. I joined Ruggy, rushing
from the spot back up to the cruiser. A quick glance back – the Harvesters were
stabbing the beast with their electro-spears. Each penetration sent a charge
pulsating through the creature’s body. It groaned in agony and fell limp. The
clicking sound increased in speed.

SHIT, I typed out. I THINK THEY’RE ONTO US.

Ruggy didn’t reply. We only ran. Now, I couldn’t look back.
I didn’t want to lose track of Ruggy or stare at those things. Thumping picked
up behind us as the clicking continued. They couldn’t be far behind. We could
only run deeper into The Lost.

We ducked underneath a metal bar to the other side. I
followed every jump, turn, and duck he made. Every obstacle he avoided. Our
best bet was to use the terrain and try to lose these bastards. We skidded on a
decline until we entered a cavern. Or maybe it was a building. It was man-made
at one point in time based on the concrete.

We hurried through the hallway. Large rocks had fallen over,
causing the ceiling to cave in. The interior of the cavern was completely
covered. The small entrance would give the Harvesters a hell of a time getting
in.

Ruggy made a sharp turn left. The clicking sound dissipated.
The cavern evolved into an old building the deeper we went.  Parts of the floor were destroyed, showing
deeper levels below. We carefully avoided falling, stepping around into the
next room.

WAIT, Ruggy typed, holding out his hand. There was a
window in the next room.

WE SHOULD GO BACK, I SAW ANOTHER WAY, I typed out.

GO.

I took the lead, guiding us back to a split in the hallway.
Each step we made kicked up dust, disrupting our view. I tried not to breathe
in too intensely. The air was stale, particles fell softly to the ground. We
probably kicked those up as we jogged in. I did my best not to cough. We
couldn’t make any sound for the Harvesters couldn’t be far behind.

Ruggy and I followed an incline. Small holes throughout the
building let light in.

WE DON’T WANT TO GO UP, Ruggy typed. WINDOWS.

WHAT THEN? I asked.

WE SHOULD GO DOWN. Ruggy typed.

THAT’S THE BUILDING’S FOUNDATION. WE’D BE TRAPPED.

MAYBE. MAYBE NOT. THERE ARE TUNNELS ALL OVER THE LOST.

A loud crash came from behind us. Then the kicking of rocks.
Clicking sounds. The Harvesters.

WE DON’T HAVE A CHOICE. I typed.

NEXT DROP WE’RE TAKING.

There was no time to argue. We had to keep moving. Footsteps
picked up behind us. Distant, but growing louder. I hopped over metal wires, rocks,
and other rubble. We passed a corridor to a well-preserved hallway. Never had I
run this fast before. Our steps reverbed. The air was thick, making me
lightheaded. I couldn’t stop. There were no breaks. The light-holes were less
frequent. We were making progress.

Once the Same

Crashes erupted from behind. The corridor crumbled as a herculean,
gunmetal, being charged towards us. The Harvester kept its head low to avoid
the ceiling as it stormed forward.

SPLIT, Ruggy typed as he dashed into a side room. I
GOT LEFT.

I took the next right turn I could, leading straight to a
large pile of rubble blocking the path.

“No, no, no,” I whined. I spun around a couple of times. The
ceiling had no gaps to hop up to. The clicking and footsteps amplified. The
rubble in front had a small opening below. I could make it. I had to.

I chucked my gun underneath, letting it skid to the other
side. My turn. I took a step back and dashed to the gap, falling onto my side
and sliding on the dirty tiles. I stopped about halfway through and pushed with
my legs for the remainder of the way.

A large gunmetal hand slammed down as I lifted my foot,
dodging it. I got to my feet, snagging my rifle as a hand reached through the
gap, attempting to grab the gun. The hand slid back. Through the smaller gaps
in the rubble, I watched the Harvester stand upright, slightly hunching, in its
full seamless suit. Small circuitry in a liquid substance was just below a
translucent layer of the suit, pulsating. The head stared at me through one of
the higher openings. There were no eyes. No breathing holes. Only the shiny
seamless suit with its complex outer membrane.

I twitched my eye, shutting off the night vision of the
goggles to get a naked look at what humanity had become. The moment held. The Harvester
stared at me in the poorly lit hall. The clicking stopped.

“Why?” I asked. I wasn’t even sure why I said it. It was
kind of a stupid thing to say. This was a Harvester. A gene freak of another
world. They left us to die on this rotting planet. They decided that they were
better than us and would let Humanity rot.

Maybe Not

The Harvester’s head tilted, breathing calmly. It punched
the rubble, causing dust to fall. The sound startled me, but I remained still.
If I ever made it out of this, it would be one hell of a story to tell back at
base. Now, I was even closer to a Harvester than at the crash site – all on the
same scrapping mission. The key was I had to get out of here to brag about it.

A humming came from the suit. Small holes appeared on the being’s
face.

“No,” I mumbled, taking a step back.

Black tentacles wiggled their way out of the holes, heading
for me. Great. I roared, raising my rifle and fired at the approaching
appendages, stepping backward. The gun clacked. Shells hit the ground. Bullets
pinged off the Harvester’s face. It didn’t flinch. The tentacles approached. I
directed my aim. Some bullets shredded through the black things, causing them
to fall to the ground.

They didn’t stop. Their torn halves wiggled forward. This
was pointless. It was time to run. I lowered my rifle and spun around,
sprinting down the hall. The Harvester slammed its fist against the rubble
several times, causing pieces to fly out. High-pitched clicking erupted like a sputtering
engine.

RUGGY, WHERE ARE YOU? I typed.

I took a left turn in a T intersection and hurried downwards.
All light vanished. The Harvester’s sounds faded the deeper I went. Chances
were the large being couldn’t make its way through the rubble. A streak of
luck. I could only pray – to anything listening – that was the end of it. I
navigated through my goggle’s interface to turn on night vision.

ANGIE, came Ruggy’s text. WHERE ARE YOU? DON’T
SHARE YOUR LOCATION, JUST TELL ME.

I KNOW THAT. I’M NOT A ROOKIE, I typed back. I’M
FINE. I THINK. WHAT ABOUT YOU?

I GOT AWAY. I HEARD IT GO AFTER YOU. THEN THE FIRES. WHAT
HAPPENED?

IT TRIED TO GET ME, BUT I SNUCK THROUGH SOME DEBRE. THE
FATASS COULDN’T FIT.

YOU LUCKY GAL, Ruggy typed.

NO SHIT. WHAT’S THE PLAN? YOU IN A SAFE SPOT?

THERE’S NO WINDOWS HERE. I WENT DEEPER, BELOW GROUND. IT’S
COLD, BUT SILENT.

GOOD, I typed. A wave of relief went over me as I
came to a small turn off. Maybe it was a closet at some point in time. A good
hideout as any.

YOU? Ruggy typed.

IT’S DARK, I HONESTLY DON’T KNOW. I THINK I DITCHED IT
THOUGH, I typed, sliding down to the ground.

ALRIGHT. WE’LL WAIT IT OUT. KEEP STATUS UPDATES. ANYTHING
WEIRD YOU SHARE, ALRIGHT?

CONFIRMED, I replied.

WE GOT THIS, KID :-), Ruggy typed.

I lowered my weapon with a sigh. We were both safe.
Separated, but we’d get out of here. Harvesters have been known to give up on a
hunt. They had better things to do with their time than wait around for a
couple of humans. There were bigger hunts.

One Last Attempt

A light touch on my calf caused me to jump. I spun to face
the wall. Rifle pointed. Nothing. The sensation moved upward, pricking. It
caused me to drop my rifle in a spaz reaction. I twisted my leg to look down.
There, a black remnant of the tentacle wiggled its way up to me.

I squealed, covering my mouth as I did. Noise wasn’t my
friend. Several deep breaths calmed me down while I watched the thing crawl up
my leg. There, on the ground, was a sharp rock. That’d do. I leaned down
gradually, keeping my eye on the wiggler.

My hand reached for the rock, as I carefully avoided sudden
movement. I snagged the sharp stone and lifted it to the wiggler, ready to
sideswipe it. One deep breath in, I swung. The rock slapped the black flesh,
knocking it off my leg. It fell onto the floor and squirmed.

I landed on my knees as I guided the rock onto the tentacle,
crushing it. That wasn’t enough for me. I raised the rock and continued to
smash the wiggler until it was a flat disk. A part of it rose from the mess.

“Die!” I said through my teeth, slamming the rock down several more times, ending with a twist. I paused, waiting for it to make another move. It didn’t. I won. Finally, the chaos was over. Now Ruggy and I waited this out. We’d get out of here.

The post Scrappers Part IV appeared first on Konn Lavery.

Three Manuscripts, and Then Some

Happy Halloween! A fitting season for the type of writing that I do. All the stories that I have created have some underlining dark foundation. Even in the three manuscripts I currently have on the go. It’s been a busy year, and that’s putting it lightly.

Welcome to Another Edition of Unprocessed Thoughts.

NaNoWriMo is just around the corner, and unfortunately, I am
unable to participate this year. It is a shame because the program is a blast.
Plus, Edmonton’s community has great events. You get to meet new writers there
too. Perhaps next year, I can write a new project during NaNoWriMo. For now, I
have my hands full.

Three Manuscripts!

Yes. Looking back to last year, in the spring, I wrote a slasher novel. In November, I wrote the first draft of The White Hand during NaNoWriMo. In the spring of 2019, I wrote Mental Damnation IV, and in September, I wrote Rutherford Manor II. Only The White Hand was published. So that leaves the three manuscripts in limbo.

Let’s chat about these three. Two of them we’ve talked about before.

Rutherford Manor II

The second book, a sequel to The White Hand, of the
Rutherford Manor universe, is taking priority. This new book is the second
full-length novel I have written with speech to text software. Currently, it is
in the revision phase and coming along nicely.

Mental Damnation IV

The concluding novel of Mental Damnation. I am quite excited to get this out to everyone. As I’ve mentioned before, the goal is to have this one out some time in the second half of 2020. Mental Damnation IV was the first full novel I wrote with speech to text software. One of these days, I need to do a blog post explaining the experience of speech to text. For working on a first draft, I’d highly recommend it. Revisions are far easier too.

Untitled Slasher Novel

The first new writing I was able to do after the launch of
YEGman in 2018. I hadn’t gotten into speech to text yet and had been doing a
lot of reading about story structure and developing characters. I’ve had beta readers
go through this manuscript in various stages. They provided wonderful feedback.
I also got to do new research and interviews to make the story more authentic.

Originally it was going to be released in 2019. Ultimately, I
decided to put it on hold after the beginnings of The White Hand emerged in the
summer. I wanted all of the focus to be on Rutherford Manor. The slasher novel
could wait, what’s the rush? The time I’ve spent pondering over its fate has
been helpful. Finally, I’m coming close to a conclusion on what will become of this
story. Light will be shined on what exactly this story is next year.

And Then Some

While working on four manuscripts in one year, I continued
to write short stories, as seen in the monthly editions. Plus, there were
several bonus stories in ZINEs. 2018-2019 has been the most intense writing
period of my life. I honestly cannot say I have written this much ever before.
It has made a huge difference in how I approach my writing process, my speed, and
my confidence. It is true, the more you write, the better you get.

Playing Cards

Writing a new book two times a year is a ton of work. It’s
exhausting too. Well worth it. These unpublished works give me the flexibility to
decide when and how to release the stories. Finishing and publishing isn’t a panicked
last-minute thing anymore.

If you’re a writer, I’d highly recommend finding ways to increase
your writing speed. It makes a world of difference. Then you can sit on some stories
and find the best way to share them.

Beer Note: Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier Dunkel

For this month, I tried a darker Bavarian-style beer by Weihenstephaner.
Right on the bottle, it states it is the world’s oldest brewery. Truthfully, I haven’t
looked it up, the fellow at the liquor store said the company began in the
1600s. It’s a heavier beer and easy to sip on. Well worth having one, or two.

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Scrappers Part III

After encountering a Harvester, Angie and Ruggy are wrapping
up their scrapping mission. They question why the operator sent them here.
Unfortunately, there’s no time to ponder. Harvesters aren’t far behind.

Scrappers Part III continues of a sci-fi
horror universe that is being developed through short stories. Enjoy the
story in written word, audio, artwork and soundscape.

Scrappers Part III









Heading Home

The idea of wiping off this gunk was the one thing that kept
me going. We had to get back to the cruiser if I wanted to snag a cloth and get
all the sweat and blood off me. As Ruggy and I shot the embryo sacks with the
Harvester infants, the liquids had splattered against us. The mix of sweat from
the intense heat of the spacecraft crash added to the disgusting factor. I
couldn’t wait to get out of this mess and back to the cruiser.

We were scrappers, though. It was our job to get whatever
goods there were from the location the operator gave us. It was that simple. What
we did today, I had a hard time grasping. We killed children. Harvester or not,
they were living conscious beings. The idea that Harvesters should be spared
was an unpopular opinion. I knew it. That’s why I didn’t share it often. At the
moment, I guess I lost control of myself. Ruggy managed to slap me back into the
routine, and we annihilated the infants.

After our rover arrived, and we started doing what we did
best – scrap. The Harvester’s spacecraft had plenty of raw materials to gather.
The damn gene-freaks are smart with their tech. Most of it had self-destruct
functions built-in. It was unlikely we’d be gathering anything of value other
than the metal.

That was true. Another job done. We loaded up the rover and
returned to the cruiser. The beast we shot left blood and footprints in the
ash. It retreated deeper into The Lost. That wasn’t our mission. We’d report
the finding and get back to base. More than anything, I wanted to get out of
this wasteland, get to that cloth. Plus, the old world was unsettling. Every
time we entered The Lost, I found it hard to believe that there used to be
another civilization before this mess.

On Route

We marched back to the cruiser with the rover right behind
us. The cruiser was barely in view, probably another half hour. I held my rifle
tightly, looking at all the nearby rubble. That beast was still out there. I
couldn’t help but wonder if it would come back. We had no idea what or where it
was. The Harvesters dabbled in modifying all sorts of genetics. It could be
another human for all we know.

“We’ve got to get some intel as to why the operator took us
out here,” Ruggy said.

“Yeah. It seems odd they’d send a scrapper team out here,” I
said. “A military unit might have been more useful.”

“One would think. Quite frankly, I am not surprised.”

“Why is that?”

“We’re disposable. The military is not. They knew it was a
Harvester crash site, and they wanted to get to it before the Harvesters did.”

“Right, for the metal.”

“And we did.” Ruggy looked up to the grey-and-black sky.
“Thankfully, no more of them showed up.”

The Harvesters were usually quick to come and snag their
deceased. Lucky for us, we got here first. We were sure we knew why the
operator took us here. Still, it would be good to hear it from the horse’s
mouth. Until then, we did our job and made sure we stayed alive. No one else
had our backs.

Ruggy and I reached the cruiser. With a few subtle eye
movements, I used my goggle’s interface to open the cruiser’s back hatch. The
rover automatically strolled in with the scraps of metal. Ruggy and I went in
after, letting the hatchet door close.

I took off my goggles and blinked a couple of times. My eyes
burned any time I used them. It didn’t matter how many times.

“Angie,” Ruggy said, taking his goggles off. “Mind starting
the cruiser? I’ve got to take a shit.”

“Yeah,” I said. Classy Ruggy, I thought.

Relief

We split from the hangar bay. I made a quick stop to the
storage closet, snagging a small towel before entering the cockpit. Wiping my
face of the blood and sweat, I sat down in the driver’s seat and flicked the
machine on. I felt a wave of relief removing that grunge from my skin.
Harvester baby fluid – disgusting.

The cruiser roared to life as I gripped the steering wheel
with my gloves. Now we could go home. I pressed the acceleration pedal while
turning the wheel, moving the large vehicle around. The dashboard directly
below the windshield lit up with a locally saved map. It was the familiar
system that the goggles used that got us to the crash site.

The system said it was about halfway through the night. Thankfully
for us, the dark offered some shielding from the Harvesters’ spacecraft. Sure,
they had night vision like we did, but every little bit helped when it came to
survival.

Ruggy came into the cockpit and sat down in the shotgun
seat. He pulled out a small box from his pant pocket and flicked it open,
revealing small white sticks.

“Are those?” I asked, glancing at him.

“Yeah, smokes. Want one?”

“Give me one,” I said, extending my hand.

Ruggy put one in my palm as he flicked a lighter. He lit my
smoke and his. I took a puff of the cigarette and let out a small cough. It had
been a while. The taste of nicotine soothed my nerves. I needed that and a good
bottle of whiskey to shrug today off.

“Where’d you get these?” I asked while puffing on the smoke.

“I know some folks at the base,” Ruggy said, putting his
feet up on the dashboard.

“Tobacco is hard to come by,” I said, eyes on the road.

“I know, trust me. You did well today, kid. You earned it.”

“Thanks,” I brushed my hair aside, exposing my ear. “That
wasn’t easy.”

“I know,” Ruggy said. “That’s why I said you did well.”

“What do you think the operator will have to say about
this?”

“Not much. They never do. Operators just run it up the
pipeline, and it will be delegated to the right department. That’s how these
things work.”

“Truthfully, I am a little pissed that they had us go all
the way out here.”

“Get over it. It will happen again. We’re replaceable.”

I tightened my one hand on the steering wheel. Ruggy’s
bluntness annoyed me. He didn’t seem to mind that we were just numbers when it
came to the higherups. We had more value than that. I know we did. If it weren’t
for us, humanity wouldn’t have any raw materials to work with.

The Call

“Speaking of,” Ruggy said, flinging his feet off the
dashboard. “Let’s call this in.” He reached for the touch screen in the middle
of the dashboard and navigated through the system’s interface. The speakers
rang, then clicked.

“This is operator 43-S3, unit S-89 do you reply?” came the
operator’s distorted voice.

“Hey, operator,” Ruggy said.

“S-89, have you reached the assigned location?” the operator
asked.

“Done and scrapped. We’re on our way back.”

“What did you call for then?”

“About that scrap. Did you know it was a Harvester crash
sight?”

Silence.

“You had us rush out here in the middle of the night,” Ruggy
persisted.

“We’ll want a full report on your findings when you return
to base,” the operator said.

“Yeah, I get that. That’s protocol. I think we should
actually chat with someone about what we saw.”

Silence.

“Hello?” Ruggy asked.

The cruiser made several beeping noises. A red dot appeared
on the dashboard’s map. That was never a good sign. Someone else was in the
area. The question was, who? From the details on the map, the cruiser’s sensors
detected it to be above ground. It was aerial. Another spacecraft.

“Operator 43-S3, are there any ships in the area?” I asked.

“Don’t bother kid,” Ruggy said. “If those were our ships,
we’d know.” Ruggy pressed the touch screen, cutting the communication with the
operator. He flicked some additional switches that shut off the exterior
lights. I brought the cruiser to a halt and turned off the engine. This was
protocol. Unidentified spacecrafts meant only one thing – Harvesters. We
couldn’t have this cruiser radiating transmission signals and lights. I watched
the map fade out – the red dot getting closer – as the cruiser turned off. We
were left in the dark.

“The cruiser doesn’t use any global positioning?” I said.
“How did it find us?”

“No, the maps are local,” Ruggy said, eyeing the sky. He
puffed on his smoke. “Looks like the Harvesters came for their crashed ship
after all.”

I inhaled the cigarette while looking out the windshield. Dirt,
ruins, and a dark sky. There was no sign of anything. The cloudy night sky was
working against us. We remained silent, both watching in anticipation. The
Harvesters had to be near. The cruiser’s sensors were pretty accurate.

Visitors

“There,” Ruggy said. A humming sound faded in as lights were
seen in the sky, piercing through the clouds to the ground below. The lights
moved through the ruined landscape, locking onto various cracks and sheltered
areas.

“They’re looking for something,” I said.

“Yeah, us,” Ruggy said.

A smaller light came down from the larger light. A craft
came out of the clouds and descended onto the ground on the other side of a
hill. It was probably a good hundred paces away. The dark made it tough to see
the details of the craft. There were only bright lights.

“We can’t stay here,” Ruggy said.

“We can’t turn the engine on,” I argued. “They’ll see us.”

Ruggy nodded. “That leaves us with one option.”

“No,” I said, already knowing.

“We’ve got to abandon the cruiser.”

My heart sunk. We were sitting ducks. Without the cruiser, we
also had no way of getting home. We’d be stuck in The Lost.

“Grab the survival packs. Don’t waste any time.” Ruggy said,
extinguishing his smoke. He got up from his seat and hurried out of the
cockpit.

I stared at the distant lights. Smaller lights trickled out
of the landed craft. Harvesters. They were on foot. There was no way we’d be
able to fight them off. Running was our only hope. I took one last inhale from
my smoke and pressed it into the ground. It was time to act.

Ruggy and I gathered all the supplies we could into
emergency backpacks and met up in the hangar bay. We swung the packs over our
shoulders. Goggles strapped on, rifles in hand, and ammunition belts buckled – it
was showtime.

“We can come back,” Ruggy said.

“Presuming the Harvesters don’t blow the cruiser up.”

A loud thump came from on top of the cruiser. It was
directly above us. We froze. A moment passed. Another thump. Then a roar.
Something was on the roof outside.

Visitor

“That ain’t no Harvester,” Ruggy said, lifting his rifle.

“That thing, from the crash site,” I said.

Scratching and pounding picked up. The tearing of metal
reverbed throughout the cruiser. The beast was attempting to break in. We were
sitting ducks.

“We can sneak out the side,” Ruggy said, leaving the hangar
bay.

I followed him, holding my rifle tightly. The tearing of
metal amplified as a loud clang erupted. A howling roar echoed in the hangar
bay. The beast was inside. Ruggy and I picked up our pace, closing the midway
hall door in the process. We made it to the side exit beside the cockpit. Ruggy
began to punch the emergency pin to open the door. With the cruiser completely
off, we had no way of communicating with it from our goggle interfaces. Everything
was manual.

Thumping erupted from the hall, it was closing in. I looked
back. There, behind the small circular window of the hall door, the muscular
beast from the crash sight stood on its hind legs, looking almost human. The
spikes on its back erected upward as the drooling mouth opened, exposing the
sharp teeth. It let out a roar, slamming its clawed hand into the glass. It
shattered, pushing the door forward with it.

“Ruggy!” I shouted.

Ruggy finished punching the pin into the door’s lock, and it
lifted upward. We rushed out of the cruiser as Ruggy turned around, punching
the button the lock the door. It swung back down as stomping came from the
hall. The beast rushed towards. The door locked shut as it slammed into the
side of the cruiser, roaring. The whole vehicle wobbled.

“Damn manual override,” Ruggy said. He glanced around while
placing his goggles over his head. I did the same, letting the night vision
come to life. We could now see the lights off in the distance. The Harvesters
were on their way.

Bringing The Fight

WE DON’T HAVE A LOT OF TIME, Ruggy communicated
through the goggle’s chat window. THAT THING IS GOING THE BREAKOUT. COME ON.

I used subtle eye movement to type back, WHERE?

Thumping and scratching came from inside the cruiser. The
beast was shredding through the metal. I caught up with Ruggy, who jogged
towards the Harvester lights.

RUGGY, THIS IS SUICIDE! I typed.

Ruggy turned to face me. HARVESTERS ARE ONTO US. THEY’LL
CATCH-UP. THEY’RE FASTER THAN US.

WE CAN’T FIGHT THEM. YOU KNOW THAT.

OUR BEST BET IS TO LURE THAT THING TO THEM. WE’LL GIVE THEM A TASTE OF THEIR OWN MEDICINE. THAT THING WILL FUCK THEM UP. I swallowed heavily. Ruggy was right. The man knew how to survive. He got himself out of difficult situations before. Seeing the dilemma we were in, I had no choice but to follow him. This was for our survival. We’d bring the fight to the Harv

WE DON’T HAVE A LOT OF TIME, Ruggy communicated
through the goggle’s chat window. THAT THING IS GOING THE BREAKOUT. COME ON.

I used subtle eye movement to type back, WHERE?

Thumping and scratching came from inside the cruiser. The
beast was shredding through the metal. I caught up with Ruggy, who jogged
towards the Harvester lights.

RUGGY, THIS IS SUICIDE! I typed.

Ruggy turned to face me. HARVESTERS ARE ONTO US. THEY’LL
CATCH-UP. THEY’RE FASTER THAN US.

WE CAN’T FIGHT THEM. YOU KNOW THAT.

OUR BEST BET IS TO LURE THAT THING TO THEM. WE’LL GIVE
THEM A TASTE OF THEIR OWN MEDICINE. THAT THING WILL FUCK THEM UP.

I swallowed heavily. Ruggy was right. The man knew how to survive. He got himself out of difficult situations before. Seeing the dilemma we were in, I had no choice but to follow him. This was for our survival. We’d bring the fight to the Harvesters. Give them that failed experiment back to them.

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Future Fables and Strange Stories with Author I.B.

For October’s guest we welcome author I.B. who currently resides in Calgary where he writes in a broad range of genres as seen in his short story work. Some of his writing has been published by Stray Books ZINES and an anthology novel titled Future Fables and Strange Stories. Let’s welcome Ian to the blog!

Thanks, I.B., for joining us, can you give us a brief introduction about
yourself?

Thanks for
having me on! I’m I.B., a science fiction writer that lives in Calgary, passing
time dreaming in imaginary worlds.

You have an anthology, Future Fables and Strange Stories, which
spans a variety of genres with the future being a primary theme. What interests
you in the topic?

I got really
into Golden Age Sci-Fi, genre stories from the 40s and 50s, and was drawn to
their visions of the future. Those old novels and pulps have a strange mix of
futures, ranging from grand visions of humans colonizing the galaxy to bleak
nuclear wastelands, and just about everything in between. Reading all those
stories, it was like seeing a big conversation — a bunch of voices talking
about emergent technology and all the possible roads it could take them on.

Today, I find a lot of sci-fi is dystopian, with apocalypse stories and technology turning on us being the dominant themes. With Future Fables and Strange Stories I wanted to capture that conversational tone, an exchange of ideas, found in Golden Age Sci-Fi, writing stories with a mix of futures that questions where we can go. Now, more than ever, technology is changing our lives at an incredible rate, and there’s no better place to ask questions about that technology than in sci-fi.

Which story in the anthology do you hold closest?

That’s a
tough one, each story means alot to me, but I find myself thinking about Cult
the most — probably because it ties in heavily to a novel I’m working on, but
still, it holds a special place in my heart.

Cult was the
last story I wrote for Future Fables and
Strange Stories, and it, in a loose way, starts to tie all the stories
together. It also gets into a big topic, a clash between the American
government and tech companies, which, reading the headlines, seems to be coming
true. And the main character, Denby, I recycled from an old piece of writing I
did, and getting to bring back an old character in a new form is always fun.

You’ve also had other short stories published in ZINES, what types of genres
do you write about for those?

Those
stories are very similar to Future Fables
and Strange Stories, and are connected to them in big and small ways. The
story in Pulp Kings #2 is a follow-up to a A World of Options from Future Fables.

While
everything is meant to stand on its own, the stories work like a mosaic, each
one part of a much larger work, revealing a larger, overarching plot. I’m a big
fan of Isaac Asimov, and he tied a lot of his work together to create a
fictional future, and in a different way, I’m trying to do something similar —
tell the story of a fictional future(s).

Are short stories your primary interest with writing? Or have you focused
on other forms?

For the last
couple of years, short stories have been my main focus, but I’m steering away
from them right now. In telling that bigger, overarching story made up of
independent works, short stories were a good starting point. I also had a whole
lot of story ideas in my head that I wanted to get out, but now I’m interested
in exploring larger, bigger ideas instead of short concepts.

Currently,
I’m finishing a novel, It’s Dangerous To
Go Alone, and while it ties into Future
Fables and Strange Stories, it’s self-contained, and getting to work on one
piece with one cast of characters has been great.

Is there a second Future Fables and Strange Stories in the works, or
something else entirely?

There sure
is! I’ve got my next few books planned out, and intend on doing a sequel to Future Fables and Strange Stories after
a couple of other projects. A lot of the short stories I’ve written for Pulp
Kings are going to be in the sequel, and way down the line, I’m planning on
doing a third to close out the bigger, overarching plot I’ve mentioned. Before
the sequel, I’ve got It’s Dangerous To Go
Alone, which is coming out soon, and Sleeping
Sickness, a novel which expands on one of the short stories from Future Fables.

Any final thoughts you’d like to share with the readers and aspiring
writers?

Writing is
like any skill and needs a whole lot of practice, but it can be a hard thing to
practice. Try to find any writing gig that pays — the internet has lots of
freelance opportunities — and pick up whatever project you can. Don’t be
picky. It doesn’t matter if it’s not what you want to write; it helps you gain
the skill to write what you want to write. And read, read lots, and read a
whole bunch of different stuff. Reading a mix of authors is the best way to
develop your own style, and broadens the amount of ideas you’re exposed to.

Thank you, I.B., for joining us!

You can find Ian and his work from the following links
below:

Stray Books

Goodreads

Instagram

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Arts Talk Online – Edmonton Expo

Arts Talk dropped by the Edmonton Comic expo! Check out the interview he had at the 11:05 stamp. Check out the whole episode to learn more about Daniel Martin, Jamie Pruden, and Neil Chase.

The post Arts Talk Online – Edmonton Expo appeared first on Konn Lavery.

Author Assist Radio Show Sept 13, 2019

Author Assist radio show is a fun comfortable chat with independent authors. They talk about their books, life and the industry. There’s a Q&A on marketing and promotion, and they feature an independent rock band in the break.

I was part of the September 13, 2019 show along with Tosca Lee and The Bedord Band. Listen to the whole show below:

The post Author Assist Radio Show Sept 13, 2019 appeared first on Konn Lavery.

Revisions

September is wrapped up! What a ride. The beginning of the fall is always a rollercoaster as everyone returns from holidays. This year, I was ambitious and decided to write a new first draft in September as well. That was smart. Now that the month is over, I got time to breathe, and then jump into revisions!

Welcome to another edition of Unprocessed Thoughts

The end of September always marks an important milestone for
me each year. The summer ends, which means contract work picks up, and I can
start figuring out what the hell I will be doing the following year. It is
generally the end of convention season for me too with the 3-day comic expo in
my home town.

Edmonton Comic Expo

Edmonton Expo, what a weekend. This year I joined in a super-booth collaboration with Jamie Pruden, Theatre Garage, and Rutherford Manor. The new location let me tuck the table back and talk to people – a far more enjoyable experience talking. The end of the Edmonton Expo marked the last major event of 2019. Of course, there are a few more one-day events in October and November. Those are far easier to handle compared to long conventions.

Onto Revisions

Building my writing career each year has allowed me to
figure out how to roughly estimate a year with convention dates, awards
submissions, and when to release a book. It takes careful planning and this
year I’ve practiced finding ways to work smarter and not harder. Now, I’ve got
some new goals for 2020.

Rutherford Manor II

I managed to wrap up the first draft of Rutherford Manor II
in two weeks of September. The actual book has been in the works since spring,
but that was all outlining. The drafting completed made writing the first draft
far easier. The speech to text software made a big difference too. I swear by
it now. It will get your first draft down on paper at lightning speed.

Mental Damnation IV

Earlier this year, I wrapped up the fantasy series, Mental
Damnation’s, first draft. It was the first go at speech to text and took about five
weeks to write out 110,000 words. It already has a list of revision notes that
I will be working on over the winter. Finally, after years of hiatus, we get to
see what happens to Krista.

Revisions

The two drafts mentioned are the current works in progress.
Of course, flash fiction will still be happening. This is plenty of work to
keep me busy over the fall and winter until the new year starts. Now that convention
season is over, most of my appearances will be online, keeping everyone updated
on the writing progress.

I have yet to work on two entirely new manuscripts set for release
in the following year. It’s a new milestone I’d like to tackle, and I am not
one for editing two books simultaneously. It becomes too challenging to become
submerged into either story. With that in mind, I’ll be doing revisions on one
book at a time to get into the world of Rutherford Manor and Mental Damnation.

Beer Note: Mainframe Category 12 Brewing

This red ale brewed by the British Columbia company Category
12 is a lot heavier than what you’d expect for a red ale. It Is fairly dark and
has a slight grainy texture. You can taste the little bit of sweet caramel with
each sip as well.

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