Liz N's Blog
February 17, 2016
April 9, 2014
Looking for recommendations!
This year I'm trying to expand my literary horizons. I want to read more work by and about those people who identify as female, non-binary, or LGBTQ. I want more work by non-white authors, and with non-white characters. With these categories in mind I've been steadily adding to my to-read lists, but I'd love to hear your favorite authors and works that fit the bill!
December 6, 2013
200 Words at a Time, Part Three
This is the third week of Chuck Wendig's challenge, and I'm pleased to have picked up Paul J. Willett and Michael D. Woods' story Winter Takes All. My portion is below the second jump.
*
The first time I saw it snowing in Los Angeles it was the sixth day of a three-day juice cleanse. Snow was definitely not something one normally saw down in the basin, at least, not then.
Because of my need to purify my body and aura, the news and media, filled with nothing but anger and pain, had been cast away along with the other toxins. My base aural color had always been a lavender or sky blue. Recently though, it had started to get muddied and dark. I would have thought my third eye would have seen the unusual weather coming, but it didn’t, so I was caught off guard.
When I first saw the falling flakes I thought I might have overdone the cleanse. Last time I had seen Elvis riding an ostrich on the seventh day. My transmundane counselor had resolved the issue with some orange juice, chocolate, and a sandwich, but that solution didn’t work on the weather. It was still snowing on the pier.
In Santa Monica we only got three inches, but of course it was more than enough to spread gridlock all the way to Riverside. Then, of course, things got much worse.
* * *
Wolves sprinted northward along the shoulder of the Interstate. Spectral at first, their forms quickly firmed from fog to massive, grey-white beasts, all fur and fang. Screaming people climbed from cars and ran eastward, away from the pack. The pack, on the other hand, paid little mind to the panicked masses.
I finished my sandwich, tipped back the last of my orange juice, and glanced over longingly at the waiting chocolate. Damn it. Opening the car door, I stepped out and manifested my Third Eye. My gaze followed the wolves, past the traffic, beyond the mundane. And there, further north, a silver radiance fluoresced from sky to soil, the obvious beacon guiding the will of these dire wolves.
Gridlock held my Taurus in its palsied grip so I opted for a more direct mode of travel. Delicately, I pulled along the seam of my own aura. With practiced ease, I unthreaded the edge and stepped beyond it into–
My third eye slammed shut, transcendental tears splashing my cheeks. Before me, what had once been a paradise of color and fragrance was now a blighted wasteland of ash. And in the distance a brilliant wound ripped the world from Heaven to Hell.
*
The wolves were moving towards the rift. With my newly clear vision I saw the beasts for what they were: I saw them in all their terrible glory, fearsome and monstrous and beyond mortal comprehension. Their spirits resonated with my own, their primal power dragging me, and the aura around me, back into darkness. I gasped for breath, but nothing came; it caught in my throat, hard as a stone.
I walked on.
With each step my legs felt weaker. I looked back, only to see my footprints were unsteady, of varying depths and direction. I looked back to the rift, attempting to regain my bearings. But the rift had shifted, now, its silvery light coming from somewhere else altogether. I stopped, then turned to each point of the compass, making my signs of respect and power each time. At first the familiarity of ritual calmed me. But my troubled aura confirmed what I already knew.
I was lost.
I heard the howling of the wolves around me, harsh and cold and wind. Snow flurries kicked up at the sound of their voices. Winter closed around me, and true darkness followed close behind.
*
The first time I saw it snowing in Los Angeles it was the sixth day of a three-day juice cleanse. Snow was definitely not something one normally saw down in the basin, at least, not then.
Because of my need to purify my body and aura, the news and media, filled with nothing but anger and pain, had been cast away along with the other toxins. My base aural color had always been a lavender or sky blue. Recently though, it had started to get muddied and dark. I would have thought my third eye would have seen the unusual weather coming, but it didn’t, so I was caught off guard.
When I first saw the falling flakes I thought I might have overdone the cleanse. Last time I had seen Elvis riding an ostrich on the seventh day. My transmundane counselor had resolved the issue with some orange juice, chocolate, and a sandwich, but that solution didn’t work on the weather. It was still snowing on the pier.
In Santa Monica we only got three inches, but of course it was more than enough to spread gridlock all the way to Riverside. Then, of course, things got much worse.
* * *
Wolves sprinted northward along the shoulder of the Interstate. Spectral at first, their forms quickly firmed from fog to massive, grey-white beasts, all fur and fang. Screaming people climbed from cars and ran eastward, away from the pack. The pack, on the other hand, paid little mind to the panicked masses.
I finished my sandwich, tipped back the last of my orange juice, and glanced over longingly at the waiting chocolate. Damn it. Opening the car door, I stepped out and manifested my Third Eye. My gaze followed the wolves, past the traffic, beyond the mundane. And there, further north, a silver radiance fluoresced from sky to soil, the obvious beacon guiding the will of these dire wolves.
Gridlock held my Taurus in its palsied grip so I opted for a more direct mode of travel. Delicately, I pulled along the seam of my own aura. With practiced ease, I unthreaded the edge and stepped beyond it into–
My third eye slammed shut, transcendental tears splashing my cheeks. Before me, what had once been a paradise of color and fragrance was now a blighted wasteland of ash. And in the distance a brilliant wound ripped the world from Heaven to Hell.
*
The wolves were moving towards the rift. With my newly clear vision I saw the beasts for what they were: I saw them in all their terrible glory, fearsome and monstrous and beyond mortal comprehension. Their spirits resonated with my own, their primal power dragging me, and the aura around me, back into darkness. I gasped for breath, but nothing came; it caught in my throat, hard as a stone.
I walked on.
With each step my legs felt weaker. I looked back, only to see my footprints were unsteady, of varying depths and direction. I looked back to the rift, attempting to regain my bearings. But the rift had shifted, now, its silvery light coming from somewhere else altogether. I stopped, then turned to each point of the compass, making my signs of respect and power each time. At first the familiarity of ritual calmed me. But my troubled aura confirmed what I already knew.
I was lost.
I heard the howling of the wolves around me, harsh and cold and wind. Snow flurries kicked up at the sound of their voices. Winter closed around me, and true darkness followed close behind.
November 29, 2013
200 Words at a Time, Part Two
Chuck Wendig, over at Terrible Minds, is doing a lovely thing. He's created a place for writers to pick up two hundred words from another writer and carry their torch; to continue their story and bring it closer to fruition. The goal is a 1,000-word story, a collaborative effort among strangers. I chose Josee De Angelis' fascinating intro. My portion continues after the second break.
*
Of course it would rain today. It couldn’t be nice and sunny. Perfectly crappy weather for a crappy day. Shane dragged her luggage down the hall, her box of books under her arm, all her hats on her head – good thing the rain hat was the last one she found. What she couldn’t fit in her suitcases she wore. The furniture would have to come later. She couldn’t stand to be in that apartment one minute more.
The rain was coming down hard when Shane opened the front door. It was very dark, as if the clouds decided to play with people’s minds and make it look like nighttime. This did nothing to lighten Shane’s mood. Where would she go? Where could she go? Not going to her parents’ home, that’s for sure. Her sister’s? Only if she wanted all her past choices to be dissected, analyzed and declared wrong. They were wrong, but did she really need to hear it from someone else? Not so much.
Shane decided to walk north to put as much space as she could between herself and the apartment, where she lived moderately happy for six years. That was before everything changed. Before yesterday.
*
Yesterday the shadow had appeared. It began as a black spot, hidden away in the corner. But as the day progressed it had bled like spilled ink into the bulk of the room, until by the time she had gone to bed, it had stretched its dark fingers across the bulk of the apartment. She had slept huddled on the sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands wrapped around her shins to keep her tightly coiled and far away from the blackness coming to claim her.
They would never understand. They would never believe.
Shane pulled her hats down further, tugging them down her forehead until their stacked brims concealed her downcast, black-rimmed eyes. She stopped in the street. Water poured down her hats, splattering fat droplets onto her shoes. She rubbed her eyes until they burned.
“Think,” she said. “Think.”
She felt something; the short hairs on the nape of her neck rose. She turned on her heel.
The blackness was there. It crept towards her, sentient, hungry, writhing like a serpent as it slunk closer. A voice, oily and thick, cut through the air.
“Shane,” it hissed. “Come to us. Be one with us. We understand. We do not judge.”
*
Of course it would rain today. It couldn’t be nice and sunny. Perfectly crappy weather for a crappy day. Shane dragged her luggage down the hall, her box of books under her arm, all her hats on her head – good thing the rain hat was the last one she found. What she couldn’t fit in her suitcases she wore. The furniture would have to come later. She couldn’t stand to be in that apartment one minute more.
The rain was coming down hard when Shane opened the front door. It was very dark, as if the clouds decided to play with people’s minds and make it look like nighttime. This did nothing to lighten Shane’s mood. Where would she go? Where could she go? Not going to her parents’ home, that’s for sure. Her sister’s? Only if she wanted all her past choices to be dissected, analyzed and declared wrong. They were wrong, but did she really need to hear it from someone else? Not so much.
Shane decided to walk north to put as much space as she could between herself and the apartment, where she lived moderately happy for six years. That was before everything changed. Before yesterday.
*
Yesterday the shadow had appeared. It began as a black spot, hidden away in the corner. But as the day progressed it had bled like spilled ink into the bulk of the room, until by the time she had gone to bed, it had stretched its dark fingers across the bulk of the apartment. She had slept huddled on the sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands wrapped around her shins to keep her tightly coiled and far away from the blackness coming to claim her.
They would never understand. They would never believe.
Shane pulled her hats down further, tugging them down her forehead until their stacked brims concealed her downcast, black-rimmed eyes. She stopped in the street. Water poured down her hats, splattering fat droplets onto her shoes. She rubbed her eyes until they burned.
“Think,” she said. “Think.”
She felt something; the short hairs on the nape of her neck rose. She turned on her heel.
The blackness was there. It crept towards her, sentient, hungry, writhing like a serpent as it slunk closer. A voice, oily and thick, cut through the air.
“Shane,” it hissed. “Come to us. Be one with us. We understand. We do not judge.”
November 27, 2013
200 Words at a Time
Chuck Wendig has posted an interesting writing exercise up at his blog, Terrible Minds. The challenge, 200 Words at a Time, is pretty self-explanatory: you start with 200 words, then take someone else's and add another 200, and so on. The end result is a collaborative, 1,000-word story. New-to-me characters are not my strongest point, so I want to use this exercise to try to confront that. Exciting!
*
Isa stood in the deer blind, the tip of her rifle pointed through the narrow slat out towards the forest beyond. To her teammate she looked like a stranger, a bundle of cold-weather clothing with only a thin strip of brown skin showing between scarf and snow goggles. The brown strip turned to face him, black eyes a shadow behind polarized plastic.
“I fucking hate these sneaking missions,” she said. “I just want to shoot something. I don't think that's a lot to ask.”
Tyler snorted. Behind the heavy fur lining of his coat, he opened his mouth to speak, sending a puff of white into the air. But whatever he meant to say was lost in the sudden crunch of snow, the snapping of evergreen boughs. The hunters’ eyes snapped back to the woods.
Lumbering out from the treeline was a massive creature, wrapped in battered leather, dragging a heavy metal ball and chain. Blood dripped from its mouth and hands. Its head turned as it scanned the field. The hunters drew close together, crowding around the blind’s small opening.
“I can shoot it, right?” Isa hissed. “It’s far enough away. The others won’t hear.” Tyler shouldered into her, shaking his head. But neither moved the muzzles of their rifles, and neither took their eyes off the beast.
*
Isa stood in the deer blind, the tip of her rifle pointed through the narrow slat out towards the forest beyond. To her teammate she looked like a stranger, a bundle of cold-weather clothing with only a thin strip of brown skin showing between scarf and snow goggles. The brown strip turned to face him, black eyes a shadow behind polarized plastic.
“I fucking hate these sneaking missions,” she said. “I just want to shoot something. I don't think that's a lot to ask.”
Tyler snorted. Behind the heavy fur lining of his coat, he opened his mouth to speak, sending a puff of white into the air. But whatever he meant to say was lost in the sudden crunch of snow, the snapping of evergreen boughs. The hunters’ eyes snapped back to the woods.
Lumbering out from the treeline was a massive creature, wrapped in battered leather, dragging a heavy metal ball and chain. Blood dripped from its mouth and hands. Its head turned as it scanned the field. The hunters drew close together, crowding around the blind’s small opening.
“I can shoot it, right?” Isa hissed. “It’s far enough away. The others won’t hear.” Tyler shouldered into her, shaking his head. But neither moved the muzzles of their rifles, and neither took their eyes off the beast.
October 30, 2013
Devil's Night
Well, carnival-goers, tomorrow is the big day. LAUNCH DAY. The Mad Doctors of Literature have given us a delicious, beautiful banner in celebration.
http://maddocsoflit.com/
The book itself is available in several formats, and you can find more info and purchase links here:
http://maddocsoflit.com/books/the-mid...
We're so excited to welcome you to the carnival. The doors open very soon. Are you ready?
http://maddocsoflit.com/
The book itself is available in several formats, and you can find more info and purchase links here:
http://maddocsoflit.com/books/the-mid...
We're so excited to welcome you to the carnival. The doors open very soon. Are you ready?
October 14, 2013
The Painted Ladies (and Gents)
BBShrimp has shared with us the finished illustrations for the book, and they look so, so good. I can't wait for you all to see them. SOON.
October 11, 2013
Counting down to opening night!
The Midnight Carnival is fast approaching. The Mad Doctors of Literature have announced the Halloween ebook and print release of our book. The Mad Docs' website also includes a hint of what to expect when the Carnival comes to town, and a larger version of our beautiful cover by BBShrimp.
One Night Only
Enjoy the show!
One Night Only
Enjoy the show!
October 9, 2013
Shiny!
YOU GUYS. We have a cover! Look how beautiful and shiny it is!
The Midnight Carnival: One Night Only
A thousand thanks to the inimitable bbshrimp for bringing her style to the darkest carnival around.
The Midnight Carnival: One Night Only
A thousand thanks to the inimitable bbshrimp for bringing her style to the darkest carnival around.
October 8, 2013
The Carnival is coming...
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Midnight Carnival anthology is now in the hands of our capable copy editor. We're getting great feedback from her on the thirteen stories. Also, we've gotten a sneak peek at the cover art by bbshrimp. It's very nearly done, and looking phenomenal. This is going to be one helluva book to hold in your hot little hands. I hope you're getting excited to see what the Carnival has in store. Opening night fast approaches!
