Amanda Cook's Blog, page 2

New Fanfic Is Out!

If you’re a fan of the television series, “Good Omens,” like I am, you’re probably still grieving the end of Season 2, Episode 6. We got what we wanted–proof our two favorite lead characters love each other–but not how we wanted it. I moaned about the devastating cliffhanger to my spouse after he watched Season 2 with me, and he said the best thing possible: “It’s Han Solo in carbonite. It’s what leads to the third installment and the end.” And he was right, of course.

Still, due to the Writers’ Strike (which ended beautifully for the writers! Yay!) and the ongoing SAG-AFTRA Strike, not much has been done about a possible third season. Neil Gaiman, the show and original book’s creator along with the late Terry Pratchett, has only just been hired to write the scripts for the final installment (that we know of; but everything seems to be leading toward a specific end for Aziraphale and Crowley). That doesn’t mean we’ll actually get a Season 3. It’s up to Amazon Prime to pick it up. We’re all crossing our numerous appendages for that to happen.

Meanwhile, the fandom is craving a happy ending for our beloved characters. There has been so much wonderful fanart put into the world in the past few months, I just love how people are inspired by this story. I found myself needing some catharsis, as well, after that ending, so, with the nudging of some friends, I wrote my own version of a possible Season 3 (until Mr. Gaiman writes the real thing, of course).

I’m actually really proud of this story, even though these are not my characters and this is not my world. It gave me so much joy to write a happy ending for the angel and demon so many people love. I’ve had a long year of no new story or poetry sales, and I’m currently sitting on almost 430 rejections. Writing just hasn’t been much fun, partly due to school starting and being busy with my family and partly because I just don’t know if I’m good enough to keep doing it for public consumption. It’s amazing that it took someone else’s words to motivate me to find some new ones of my own.

I started a draft of my version of Season 3 about a month or two ago (and it went quicker than I’ve written something this long before, I might add). After some feedback from a friend, I went ahead and posted it to Archive of Our Own (aka Ao3) this past weekend, a website devoted to people sharing fan works of their most beloved fandoms. If you also love “Good Omens” and want to read what I wrote, you can find my story, “Existence on the Other Side,” here. I have a few older “Good Omens” fanfics already up on the site, but I think this one is my best and my favorite.

Other than that, there’s no other big news on the writing front. I’ve written a flash piece and a new poem and revised a short story for submission, but it’s a difficult time for writers and publishers of both large and small press magazines. With the influx of stories “written” by AI and Amazon’s Subscription Service through Kindle dropping a ton of magazines, everyone is burnt out and hurting financially and emotionally. We’ve already lost a few wonderful sci-fiction/fantasy/horror magazines due to Amazon’s terrible decision, and we’ll probably lose several more. It’s a scary time out there. I’m glad I have this blog to share my work, and I may end up publishing more here as the years go on. We’ll see.

Regardless, thank you for continuing to stop by my little corner of the Internet. It helps me continue to do what I love, especially during the times I don’t know if I love it anymore.

And, as always, thanks for reading.

A. Cook

Come Hear Me Read On Story Hour!

Just a quick update to let you know I’ll be making my debut on “Story Hour” tomorrow night (Wednesday, August 16, 2023) at 7 pm Pacific/10 pm Eastern. Come to the Zoom or Facebook Live Stream and listen to me and the fabulous Marie Brennan, as one half of M. A. Carrick, read our stories. It’s going to be a blast!

https://www.storyhour2020.com/

Have a great middle of the week!

And thanks for reading (and listening).

A. Cook

New Story Out, Two Poems Published, and Cosplay News!

It’s been a long while since I had any writing news to share, but I do have some now! On August 1st, Wyngraf, the Magazine of Cozy Fantasy, released their first anthology of flash fiction originally posted on their website. I had sent them a very small story last year as a Flash Friday consideration, and the editor decided to hold onto it, so he could release it as one of four brand new stories in the anthology, The Little Cozy Book. There are several ways to purchase the anthology at the link, and I’m so happy to see my story, “She Waits, Having Breathed Love on the Salt Air,” in the world!

Also in writing news: earlier this year, my alma mater opened submissions to alumni to be published in the 80th Anniversary edition of their campus literary journal, The Fioretti. I sent them a couple of my more literary poems and was delighted the student editors chose both of them to be published. They even featured one of my poems as the first selection in the journal. It always gives me a little thrill to see my words in print, and I feel especially honored that they will be forever archived at the university where I made lifelong friends and continued my love of creative writing (even though my degree was in Early Childhood Education). The journal is not for sale, but I did go ahead and take pics of my poems in print form to share:

In other news, I’ve been back to attending conventions, writing and otherwise. In June, I had an amazing time at Fourth Street Fantasy in Minneapolis, where panelists spoke on a variety of topics related to writing fantasy and science fiction (like “Modeling Complex Systems,” “Getting by on Vibes,” and “Reclaiming Narratives”), and I finally was able to see much of my online writing community in person again.

And just this past weekend was Gen Con in Indianapolis, which is a highlight for my family every year. We love to play board games, but I also love to sew and cosplay. My friend, Rhonda, and I decided to cosplay as the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley from Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s book/Amazon series “Good Omens” this year. Not only did we have the best time walking around the con as this unlikely pair of friends, but we also received “Gen Con 2023 Hall Cosplay Contest Award Winner” ribbons for our cosplay. It was the first time either of us has ever received an award for our costumes, and we were thrilled!

That’s it for the big news for now. School is in full swing here already, and I will be back into my routine of writing and sewing while I have the house to myself. It’s been a year of mostly rejections, so I’m hoping I can find a groove and get more short stories out into the world soon. I may have news on that front yet, so stay tuned!

As your reward for getting through this long update, have a doggo pic.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful August where ever you happen to be!

A. Cook

New Poem: I Need to Switch to LEDs

Hi, friends! It’s been awhile since my last update. I don’t really have any news to report on the writing front, besides all the stories and poems I have out on submission waiting for responses. I should have a tiny story published at some point this year, and I’m still waiting to hear about a poem that was accepted last year. Publishing can be like that sometimes, and after the whirlwind of stories sold and published in 2022, I need to remember to be patient.

One thing I’ve been enjoying lately is just to get my words down in some poem-shaped thing, either while outside a café writing longhand or tinkering in a Word Doc on my computer. We’ve had a busy few months with the end of the school year and my youngest graduating sixth grade. All the busyness of the season made me pause enough yesterday to really analyze how I’ve been functioning through the overwhelm. And from that pause, I created a poem known as a “concrete poem” or a “shape poem.” I love it when writers write text that “fits its container,” so to speak, and I wanted to see if I could do it, too. This poem, with its run on sentences and lack of punctuation, feels like what anxiety might look like in visual form, and that’s really the only content warning I think it needs.

That’s all I have for now. The summer is about to start for my kids, and it will be a busy one for all of us with some moments of downtime here and there. I hope you all have a fantastic May, and I hope you’re able to take some time to pause and breathe and enjoy it.

As, always, thanks for reading.

A. Cook

New Story: Dearest Jo

Happy April! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?

Last year, a submission call opened for an anthology of stories about classic female literary characters who were done wrong by their authors, either because they were given tragic lives or because they met tragic ends. I just so happened to have a novella-length story based on one of my favorite characters in literature, which, with a lot of revision, I knew would work perfectly for this anthology. I cut it down to the maximum word length allowed, reworked it to fit the theme, and sent it off.

Last week, I received the rejection. The editors were full of praise for my little story, but they had received 250 submissions, and they had to make some hard choices. Such is the life of both the writer and the editor.

I love this story of mine, even though it’s not usually what I write. It’s historical fiction and fan fiction and completely niche. There probably won’t be another call for stories like it in the coming months or even years. I’ve decided, then, to release it to the world right here on my blog.

If you’re a close friend, you know my favorite childhood book–the one I’ve reread the most often–is Little Women. My biggest issue with L.M. Alcott’s famous novel is how she allowed the sweetest, gentlest character in all of classic literature to die. (I have no bones to pick about Jo refusing Laurie’s proposal. I believe it was the best thing to happen to both of them.) The recent submission call finally gave me the opportunity to really ponder the question: What if Beth March had survived her illness and lived?

So, here, Dear Readers, is my answer. Please enjoy:

by Amanda Cook

***

Orchard House, Concord, Mass

May 30th, 1869

Dearest Jo,

It was so good to hear from you. Your letter arrived just as I was finishing the last stitches on some new play clothes for Meg’s twins. I wish you could see them growing up, but I know your heart is more content in New York. So many people and places to write about there!

You would deny it, dear, but I know you. You were never one for society’s balls and calls. (Isn’t that a funny rhyme?) But how you write about the lectures and the opera! Mr. Bhaer is as good an influence on you as you are for me.

I must tell you, for I neglected it in my duty to keep you informed of all things home and Laurie, when he’s home from college. There’s a nest in the maple tree outside the parlor window. In April, there were four little blue robin’s eggs inside. Mama Robin was in charge of sitting on the nest, and Papa Robin perched at the end of the branch, scolding us whenever we left the house. He was a dutiful partner, keeping his little family safe.

One day, all the eggs hatched, and there was a quartet of little chicks with their beaks wide open. I watched them when I could, and they grew hearty and strong, hopping and chirping outside their nest. Sometimes, Mama and Papa gave them flying lessons. I was so frightened they might fall and get trampled or lost, but they were patient babies. They always listened to their parents. And when they were ready, they all flew away. I left the nest in the tree with the hope the robins will return next spring.

I’m like those little chicks. I feel the same restlessness you felt last winter, after Amy left on the Europe trip that should have been yours. You were right to go to New York, dear, though you would protest about leaving me here alone. I love home, and I am perfectly capable of keeping everything comfortable for Marmee and Father.

But there is a strange feeling in my heart now. It flutters like a baby bird in its nest, waiting for its turn to fledge and fly free. I will be patient and keep watch, as Marmee always tells us to do.

Oh, there is Hannah needing help with the biscuits. All my love to you and send my heartfelt gratitude to Mr. Bhaer for all the attention he gives you in my absence.

Your,

Beth

***

September 30th, 1869

Dearest Jo,

You will never guess what has happened!

I was on a walk with Hannah into town for the dinner things. We walked into Mr. Chamberlain’s store to put in our order, and who should be there to take it, but Tommy Chamberlain himself! You remember Tommy? He hadn’t been in town because he fell ill the same time I did. His parents sent him to live with a relative on the coast to take in the sea air, but he’s back now and so strong. You wouldn’t know he’d ever been sick.

I couldn’t help but be shy around him—he’d grown so tall while he was away—but he smiled at me before we left and said he’d be happy to deliver our order himself. I met him at the back door when he came, because Hannah was busy. He was oh so polite and brought the heavier things into the kitchen without needing any help at all. I gave him two pennies for his efforts, and he was so pleased, he tipped his hat and whistled a jolly tune as he left. I couldn’t help but laugh after I shut the door.

He delivers our dinner whenever we order it from Mr. Chamberlain’s now, and sometimes, he lingers to have a gossip with Hannah. If I’m in the kitchen, he never leaves without a hearty handshake and goodbye. He’s a real trump, as you would say.

Just today, I was playing my favorite hymn when he showed up with our order. Hannah answered the door, since I was in the parlor. I heard Tommy say hello, and for some reason, I started playing louder and kept my eyes on my music, as though he wasn’t even there. I thought I heard him call a hello from the kitchen, but when I turned around, he was gone.

I felt so queer the whole time he was here, Jo, even though I never said a word to him. My heart started pounding, and my face felt flushed. And when he left, I felt a sort of emptiness inside me, like a hollow in a tree. Why? He’s only Tommy Chamberlain, the grocer’s son.

My head is all in a muddle, Jo Dear. Should I ask Hannah to tell him not to deliver our dinner anymore? Do you think he’s becoming too familiar?

Oh, please tell me what to do. I know you will have the answer.

Your,

Beth

***

October 15th, 1869

Dearest Jo,

It was so good to hear from you. What adventures you’re having in New York! And all the stories you’re publishing! Thank you so much for the newspaper clipping you sent. Your story was truly thrilling. It made my heart race when the two lovers were on the point of being murdered by the villain. And then when they fell into each other’s arms in the end, I practically swooned!

I tried to follow your advice concerning Tommy as best I could, but how difficult it is for me! I don’t have your talent for words or Amy’s talent for flirting, and I never will. I will always be Simple, Shy Beth. But I will tell you what has happened, and maybe you can give me more helpful advice.

Tommy called today without a dinner delivery. I tried to tell him how improper it is for him to call on me when there is no one else here but Hannah, who could never sit with me as you or Amy could. Oh, but he looked so lonely! He has no brothers or sisters now. His elder brother died in the war. I think he likes to talk and is desperate to have someone listen to him, someone closer to his age.

With his face so earnest, I just couldn’t tell him to go away! If you were here, I know you would have had him running as though the Lions of Injustice were on his heels, but I daresay even you couldn’t have told him to go.

He tipped his hat and told me he heard me playing the piano before. He likes music and wants to hear me play again someday. I could only flush and nod meekly.

“Perhaps another time when you’re feeling better, Miss March?”

Again, I could only nod and fidget. But, Jo, I was perfectly well! Did he think I didn’t want him there? He never frowned or looked hurt. On the contrary, he smiled and tipped his hat again before he left. And the queerest thing happened. I nearly ran to the door and shouted, “Come back!”

What is wrong with me? Tommy is just like Laurie, all brotherly kindness. I should be able to speak to him, but I can never find anything worth saying. He doesn’t seem to mind, but I would never want to appear rude.

Perhaps I could ask Laurie about Tommy. Oh, but they would never run in the same circles, and Laurie would only tease me about having a beau, which I certainly do not.

I’ve been thinking of inviting Tommy to hear me play. What do you think of that? I know I shouldn’t encourage him. There are other girls in town who deserve the attention more than me.

Oh, Jo Dear! Please write back and help

Your,

Beth

***

October 25th, 1869

Dearest Jo,

I did it as you said I should. I invited Tommy to stop in and listen to me play. If you had only been here to see his face when I asked him!

Now, you mustn’t scold like Meg would. Hannah knew of my scheme. She smiled when I told her. Then she made up a plate of cookies and an early tea, all for Tommy and me! It was quite the thing, and I couldn’t be more grateful to her.

My whole body trembled as I showed him to the parlor and asked him to sit. He seemed perfectly shocked, but he took off his hat and followed me willingly. He was ever so grateful for the cookies and stayed politely quiet during my little concertina, even in the breaks. When I finished, he popped up off the old sofa and gave me a standing ovation. I’m sure I flushed as red as an apple. Then we had quite the little visit.

Oh, Jo. He told me all sorts of things. His father, Mr. Chamberlain, inherited the shop from his father, and Mrs. Chamberlain used to help in the front of the store. She helps more now that her sons are grown—and one dead. Tommy was very solemn during that part. He misses his brother dearly. I reminded him of his brother’s sacrifice, which cheered him a little. He told me he wished he could play the piano too, but his parents want him to focus on becoming a shopkeeper.

Now I will tell you something that is truly shocking. When I saw how he longed to play my little piano, I told him I could teach him how, if he wanted. He laughed as though I was teasing him, but I said I would be very happy to teach him, and his eyes grew very soft and wistful again. He said if he ever found the time, he would accept my invitation, and I said, “Well, since you are already here, now is as good a time as any.” And I gave him his first lesson right then and there.

Oh, Jo, he has the gift! He was practicing scales before he left.

I think this is God’s plan for me. I know I was put on this Earth to be a comfort to my family, but I think I could be a comfort to this lonely boy, too. Music would bring such solace to his heart. It has always brought me peace and joy.

I will write more when I can. The Brooke twins are growing so fast, I must help Meg sew up more play clothes for them. Will you be home for Christmas? Please say that you will!

And please don’t think my new friendship will replace the love I have for my dearest sister. I will forever be

Your,

Beth

***

November 10th, 1869

Dearest Jo,

How jolly New York sounds, even under all that snow! I’m so glad you have loving friends and a home that keeps you safe and warm. Will Mrs. Kirke let you have time away from your governessing to come home for Christmas?

Tommy accepted my offer of piano lessons, but only when Marmee and Father aren’t around to hear us. He’s afraid news of our little sessions will get back to his parents. He finds some excuse to leave the shop a couple of times a week and shows up with a basket of fruits or sweets. Hannah scolded him at first for delivering the wrong order, and he said, “No, ma’am. This is all compliments of Mr. Chamberlain for the service your family is rendering his son.” Then, he gave her his winningest smile. Hannah looked at him all suspicious-like, but now that she knows what we’re up to, she doesn’t argue anymore.

Tommy’s face whenever I compliment his playing is the best payment I could ever receive. He watches me play first, and then off he goes on his own. Once, when he delivered our regular dinner order, he lingered at the back door, he was so anxious to learn something new. Marmee and Father were out, so I taught him a very short piece, only four bars long. He played it perfectly after hearing it just once. He’s a regular Mozart!

After that, I gave him some blank sheets and showed him how to write his own music, so he could practice it with me later. Oh, how his eyes shone! He’s going to be a maestro someday, I just know it.

There’s nothing improper in our little meetings, Jo. Hannah is always around to keep watch. I don’t know if Marmee or Father have caught on to my scheme, but I like having a secret. Everyone has their little wishes and dreams that they keep to themselves. This one is all mine, and it is precious to me.

I must help Hannah hang the linens.

***

It’s late here, but I just had to add this piece of news. Tommy made an unexpected call tonight. I was getting ready for bed, when I heard a tapping on the window, as though a tree branch was knocking against it. I went to look, and there was Tommy standing underneath it, throwing stones!

I will shock you even more, Jo, by telling you that I slipped outside and gave him a good scolding for calling at such a late hour. He looked rather abashed and said he wanted to give me a little wreath his mother had made of fall leaves and mums and pine cones. He thought it would look nice on the piano, and now that it’s there, he was right.

When I asked him why his mother would do such a thing for me, he shrugged and said, “I told her your family are some of our finest customers, and I wanted to do something to show our appreciation for you.” It was a fib, because the wreath was truly meant for me, but he didn’t want to tell his mother.

The look he gave me when he spoke of his appreciation made my cheeks burn, and my mouth felt like it was full of Hannah’s sticky toffee. I mumbled my thanks and shooed him away, and he tipped his hat like he always does. Then, he disappeared into the night, like one of the heroes in your stories after he’s rescued the kidnapped princess and brought her home.

Oh, Jo, did I do the right thing? I don’t think I was being rude. I just told him the truth, for he was calling very late. I sometimes wish I were in society more and knew the proper way of doing things. I hope he doesn’t think me ungrateful.

I’ll write him a thank you note, at least, and send it by way of Hannah when she goes to Mr. Chamberlain’s store next. I don’t think I could give it to him personally. It would make me too shy, and I don’t want to be shy around him. I should thank his mother, too. It was awfully kind of her to think of us, even if it was Tommy’s idea.

I’m off to write that note and go to bed, though I don’t know how I’ll ever sleep after tonight’s excitement!

Your,

Beth

***

November 12th, 1869

Dearest Jo,

This letter may arrive at the same time as my last one, but I had to write again to share the news on the Tommy front. (Isn’t this so unlike me? You’ve been quite the influence, Jo, for I can’t help but write the words in my heart for you to read them.)

Tommy received my note, and he sent me a reply! His was such a lovely note, too. I can tell he hasn’t had proper schooling like Laurie, but I like him the more for it. I shouldn’t know what to do if he was a Shakespeare or Goethe. But no, he is simple and kindhearted.

He reminds me a little of Frank Vaughn. You remember the Vaughns, don’t you? They had that picnic with us, it seems like ages ago. Frank Vaughn was Fred’s feeble twin, and he got around by using a crutch. I thought he was spoiled at first like his sister and brother, but once I felt comfortable being near him, I discovered he was very kind.

I was so shy of people then, and I still am, even around Tommy when he’s so thoughtful and gentle. I’m afraid of sounding simple to him—or worse, of leading him on.

I’ve decided not to reply to Tommy’s note. I think it best for us to remain as cordial friends and nothing more. There’s an intimacy in letter writing that would only confuse him. I much prefer us as teacher and student, or even as friends, like Laurie is to our family.

Oh, Jo, am I right? My mind and heart are in such a muddle. More soon from

Your,

Beth

***

December 15th, 1869

Dearest Jo,

This will be a short letter, for I know you are packing up and leaving soon for home. I am so impatient to see you! Will the wonderful Mr. Bhaer be coming, too? Marmee said Father invited him to Christmas, and Mr. Laurence has a guest room waiting for him. I do so want to meet him. Please say he’s coming!

Tommy continues to call for his music lessons, though his father is keeping him busy at the store. Since his little “embarrassment” with the wreath, he has been all things courteous and thoughtful. I’m much more comfortable around him, and it’s been such fun teaching him. He’s a model student and does his work diligently. His compositions are beautiful in their simplicity. Sometimes, I play them when he’s gone. They are like hymns to me, Jo, sacred and pure.

I must confess that Marmee and Father know my secret now. Yesterday, when Tommy stayed after delivering our dinner, Father came home early and caught us together at the piano. Tommy bolted up like a frightened colt and looked as though he might fly from the house. But Father was so gentle with him. Instead of scolding us, he smiled and held out his hand to shake Tommy’s. After a short introduction, Tommy excused himself. He was still very flustered.

Later, Marmee and Father told me Hannah had confided in them about my secret. She didn’t think it was proper that they shouldn’t know what was going on in their own home, and she is right, Jo, though I am a little hurt. But instead of scolding me, Marmee and Father said they were very proud that I am using my talents to help someone else. They encouraged me to keep giving him lessons, and they think I should advertise myself to some of the local children, too.

Could you imagine it, Jo? Me, teaching children how to play? The very thought makes me tremble. But what if this is what God wants me to do? How could I deny our Creator his plan for me?

There is more I could write, but you will be here soon, and then we can tell each other our hearts’ secrets in person. Give the little Kirke twins a kiss from me and wish everyone in the boarding house a Merry Christmas, especially Mr. Bhaer if we are not to see him when you come. Oh, but please say we will!

Your,

Beth

***

January 15th, 1870

Dearest Jo,

I’m so glad you arrived safely in New York and the Kirke twins are well. It’s only been a week, but it feels like ages since you left. The house is much quieter without you and Mr. Bhaer and Laurie in it. Poor Laurie. He was so brave around you and Mr. Bhaer, but I could see the hurt in his eyes.

He may not write you, so I will tell you that he and Mr. Laurence have gone to Europe. Mr. Laurence thinks it will do Laurie some good to have a different “Castle in the Sky” to dream about. Laurie promised Marmee that he would check in on Amy and Aunt March when they are in France, so he won’t be lonely, at least.

Please do be gentle with him if he does write, Jo. He never said anything to me, but I could see his heart breaking when you were here. The time away will do him good, though I will miss him as much as I miss you.

Do you remember the little glass daisy Tommy asked Hannah to hide in my Christmas sock? It’s such a delicate thing. The sunlight sparkles through its petals when I turn it just so, like diamonds or snow! I was embarrassed that I hadn’t got him anything, so I’m knitting him a new scarf. The one he wears looks as though the moths have gotten to it.

Is it too forward of me? If I think of Tommy as I think of Laurie—like a brother—it doesn’t feel wrong to show I care for him. And I do care for him, Jo. I just don’t know the how of it.

I must go and help Hannah with dinner. Have you sold any more stories? I’m impatient to read them!

Your,

Beth

***

June 27th, 1870

Dearest Jo,

Have you heard the news? There is to be another wedding!

No, not for me and Tommy. I know you would tease me about such a thing if you were here, and I would have every reason to scold you. No, Laurie proposed to Amy! Can you imagine? I suppose it was inevitable. They have spent so much time together in France. The news may upset you, Jo Dear, but it is the best thing for Laurie. He has found a comfortable home for his heart, just as you have with Mr. Bhaer.

I must confess that Tommy has been an angel all summer. He delivers a little bouquet of daisies to the house once a week, just like the glass one he gave me at Christmas. Marmee thinks they are a sweet gesture between friends, so I refill the little vase on the piano with the newest blooms and secretly admire him when he’s not here.

I told him once that I felt ashamed, because I have nothing to give him in return, besides the knitting. He nodded at the piano and said, “You’ve given me more than you know, Beth.” My heart leapt at that, though I should have told him he was being improper.

Honestly, I’ve been calling him Tommy for a while. I used to greet him as “Mr. Chamberlain,” and he would laugh and reply, “That’s my father!” I don’t mind him calling me Beth, either. With two other Misses March in the family, it’s easier for us, even if it does feel too familiar. I catch him staring while I play, and I forget what I’m doing and have to start over again. He never says it, but I know how he feels, just as you knew how Laurie felt about you.

Is it right for us to continue this way? When did you know you loved your Mr. Bhaer as you do now? Is what I’m feeling even love? It’s not like the swooning adoration you write about in your stories. It’s gentle and quiet. Though I suppose Meg and John never had a fiery romance, either.

Oh, Jo, I wish you were here! We would talk, and you would help me as only a sister could. I know you will do your best in your next letter. You always do. Please reply soon to

Your,

Beth

***

November 2nd, 1870

Dearest Jo,

Laurie and Amy are home, and they are married! They couldn’t wait and had a small ceremony in Europe with Aunt March and Mr. Laurence as witnesses. Marmee and Father are delighted the newlyweds have bought a home nearby. Amy is more beautiful—and more humble—than she was when she left Concord. Europe has done her a world of good. She was disappointed to find you still in New York, but I think she understood. We’re both eager for news about your own future plans, and not just the plans you have for your book.

Would it shock you very much that I might be next? You have known my heart for so long now. I thought what I felt for Tommy Chamberlain was like the love between brother and sister, but no, there is more to it. I teach him music and serve him tea. I mend his socks and the buttons on his coat. Any sister would do such things for her brother, but it feels different when I do them for him.

I would say we are in love and have been for a long time. I see it in the way he looks at me as we play the piano together. I feel it in the way we shake hands and in the way he smiles at me. I hear it in the way he calls me “Beth.”

I feel light as a feather, but also as heavy as an anvil. I don’t know if I should accept if he were to propose. I don’t know if I could ever leave home behind. If you and Mr. Bhaer marry, and Tommy proposes to me, what would happen to Marmee and Father?

If Tommy asks me, I think I will tell him I’m still very much needed at home. Oh, but I would hate to break his heart.

Oh, Jo! What should I do? I fear the proposal will happen any day now.

Your,

Beth

***

January 2nd, 1871

Dearest Jo,

It has only been hours since you left to return to New York, but I had to write as soon as I could. You have had your proposal from Mr. Bhaer, and as I suspected would happen, I have had one from my Tommy.

See how easily I write “my Tommy”? It’s as natural as breathing.

But I must tell you everything. Tommy had such a warm welcome from everyone at Mr. Laurence’s New Year’s ball, he felt encouraged to go ahead and propose. He waited until after the celebrations, so as not to diminish Mr. Bhaer’s proposal to you, which was so lovely and simple I had to hold myself back from flying into his arms myself.

Today, while Marmee and Father were seeing you off at the train station, Tommy called, though he came to the front door instead of the back. I was quite surprised and thought he was here for his usual lesson.

Instead of going straight to the piano bench, though, he said, “Beth, would you care to take a seat on the sofa next to me?”

I was quite flustered by his request, but I went and sat down next to him. It felt very different than sharing the piano bench. Hannah came into the parlor just then to see who had knocked on the door. When she saw us together, her eyes grew as round as saucers, but bless her, she only asked if Tommy would like some tea and cake.

After she went back to the kitchen, Tommy said, “Beth, I know you’ve been aware of my feelings for some time now. It would’ve been rude of me to speak them aloud, but I had hoped you read my love for you in the flowers and the music.”

A great lump grew in my throat. I was so afraid I would squeak, I only nodded and stared at my lap.

“It would be foolish to ask for your hand before I have a home of my own,” he said. “But I can’t keep my feelings a secret any longer.”

He took my hand then, and it was warm and rough from his work at the store. Jo, I wanted to cling to that hand for the rest of my life. When I looked up at him, his expression was so much like Father’s when he looks at Marmee sometimes.

“Dearest Beth. My Beth. I do love you so. You don’t need to give me an answer just yet, but would you be willing to wait for me as I work to be worthy of you just as Mr. Bhaer does the same for your sister?”

Oh, Jo. I couldn’t help myself! There was so much love in his eyes, and my heart was so full, I nodded and said yes on the spot. Hannah came in with the tea, and when she heard the news, she burst into tears and shook Tommy’s hand as though she might shake his whole arm off!

We waited until Marmee and Father came home, and Tommy asked them for their blessing, which they gave wholeheartedly. They took him at his word that he would work until he could afford a house of his own, but Jo! Such plans I’m making already!

I never saw myself as much. I always thought I would be the spinster aunt doting on her nieces and nephews and caring for Marmee and Father. But I feel so alive now, like I could do anything I set my heart to. You mustn’t worry. I’m still your Beth. But I have new dreams now. I want my own house. I want to take care of Tommy and my own little family. There is so much I want to do now, I can’t believe I have the years ahead to do them in.

Let’s get married together, Jo, if Mr. Bhaer is willing to wait for me and Tommy! We could have a double wedding right here at Orchard House, like Meg and John. Wouldn’t that be grand? I know I could get through such a frightening day with you holding my hand through it all. You can have as much of the attention for yourself, and I’ll be just as happy to say, “I do!”.

Please say yes! I would love nothing more than to have my dearest sister with me as we fly from the nest to make little nests of our own. Oh, Jo, what an adventure it will be too!

Your,

Beth

THE END

Copyright (c) 2023 Amanda Cook

As always, thanks for reading, friends!

A. Cook

Baby’s First Awards Eligibility Post!

As an actual published writer with multiple publications out in the world this year, I feel confident enough to put together my very first awards eligibility post! I have no expectation of even being nominated for anything, but as one of my favorite gay pirates on HBOMax’s “Our Flag Means Death” said just this past summer: “Actually, I think I’m just so-so, but I’ve decided to carry myself like I’m cute.”

I saw awards nominations were happening already for some SFF organizations, so I suppose I'm going to make a thread of my awards eligible SFF stories from 2022. I have no expectation I'll even be nominated for anything, but you know what: pic.twitter.com/9y80mM1OiM

— Amanda Cook (@AmandaCook627) November 2, 2022

On to my publications in 2022 that can be nominated in the short story category of awards like the Nebulas and the Hugos (or any other award given in the SFF industry. I’m not picky.):

“The Impossible Task of Bringing Water” won Apparition Literary Magazine’s Flash Fiction Contest for January 2022. I’m really proud of this story, because it challenged me to write a story with a word limit based on a photo prompt. I’m still surprised at the story that came out of a single black and white image of a lone cactus in the desert.

“Germinating Everyday Magic” is another flash story I wrote based on a prompt for an anthology submission call, for which it didn’t make the cut. I was thrilled when Etherea Magazine accepted it, and the image they chose to place alongside this very special story is so beautiful. I shouldn’t be partial with my babies, but I really do love the quiet, gentle quality of this flash.

“Weaving Serenity” in Wyngraf Issue #1 is my longest short story published this year, and it was my most rejected at the time it was accepted by Wyngraf. It holds a special place in my heart for how personal it is to me. A stay at home mom must choose to go back to the job she loved or stay behind to care for her family. Also, dragons!

As a sweet little link to “Weaving Serenity,” Wyngraf published my story, “Lily and Ink,” a flash about the daughter who gets left behind while the rest of her family deals with the dragons in the mountains. This one also contains a tiny baby dragon! Squee!

“Print A Soul in Six Easy Steps, A Primer by Clover Silverbrook” is another longer short story of mine that was rejected often and found a home at Etherea Magazine. I’m really proud of this one, because of its experimental structure (the primer instructions are nested within the story) and because it makes me feel all kinds of feels. A man tries to deal with his grief through the use of a magical 3D printer. Also, a cute gnome!

My most surprising story sale of the year was “When Dreams Do Show Me Thee,” which was chosen for Flame Tree Press’s October Fiction Newsletter, based on their theme of “Dream Walker.” I had written the first draft of the story in late 2020, and I thought I would never find a home for it, because it’s so weird and ethereal and, well, dreamlike. I’m so glad Flame Tree’s team enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (I don’t know if it’s eligible for any awards, since it was published in a newsletter, but I’m hoping to link to it on their website soon.)

And that’s it for my publications in 2022. I had a fantastic year, all things considered. And the best part: I AM NOW A MEMBER OF SFWA!!!! SFWA (Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association) is the professional organization for writers of speculative fiction. They provide a lot of benefits for their members, and I was fortunate enough to be able to apply and be accepted this year, since they lowered their threshold for dollar amount in sales needed to become an Associate Member. I look forward to the day when I can move up to full membership. It really feels like I’m a legitimate SFF writer now. (I always have been, but this just feels a bit more authentic, you know?)

I hope you all have a wonderful rest of 2022. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this wild year. I am so grateful for each and every one of you.

And, as always, thanks for reading.

A. Cook

Another New Story Is In The World!

I haven’t been here on the old blog in a while. A lot’s happened since my last post. Mostly, I had some major anxiety that I needed time to work through, and I found myself on the other side of it last week. As I said on Twitter this past week, it was as though I was suddenly looking up at a clear blue sky with soft autumn breezes on my face.

In the interim, I’ve sold a tiny story that is yet to be published, and I’ve had a poem (my first!) accepted by a different publication. No details on when it will be published, but it should be in the world by the end of 2024. (That’s publishing, folks. It takes lots of patience.)

Also, just this week, I had a story accepted and published in Flame Tree Press’s Fiction Newsletter. I wrote the story a while ago for an anthology call, and it kept getting rejected. I wasn’t sure if it was right for any magazine and almost trunked it, but then, I discovered Flame Tree Press’s monthly flash fiction “contests.” In each newsletter, they announce a theme for the next month’s newsletter and ask writers to submit flash stories based on the theme. Then, they select two stories to appear in that month’s newsletter. It’s a paying market, and I think this was my very first pro sale, meaning they pay at what are considered professional industry rates.

Their theme for October was “Dream Walker,” and I when I saw that, I realized I had already written a story about a couple of dream walkers, one of them from Faerie. The story also has air ship pirates, actual ship wrecks, and a dream seascape. It’s probably the wildest and coolest thing I’ve ever written, which is why I wondered if it would ever find a home. I was so thrilled when Flame Tree Press accepted it! Sometimes, a story just needs to sit and wait a bit before it finds its shining moment.

“When Dreams Do Show Me Thee” is currently available to read in Flame Tree Press’s newsletter, and it will appear on their website some time in the next month. I’m excited for everyone to read it!

That’s really all I have for now regarding my writing, except that I just wrote a story over the past three days that I think is probably the best thing I’ve ever written. I had to get through the anxiety/depressive slump before I could find that spark of creativity I needed to remind me how much I love this process.

Despite all the rough, terrible things occurring in the world, there have been some really great things happening for me (like more work on a cosplay project that has been super challenging). I hope you, my dear readers, are finding a bit of happiness in your lives as well, or at least, some ease and rest.

Please, take care of you. And as always, thanks for reading.

A. Cook

New Poem: My Salt is My Own

As my state legislators debate whether or not I and many other people who live here deserve full autonomy over our bodies, I decided to try to put my rage down in words. If you’ve read When We Were Forgotten, then you know how I feel about reproductive rights. This time, my anger needed the beauty of poetry to be fully realized.

I sold another tiny story, and it’s going to be released in a very cool way. I’ll let you know when it’s available.

In the meantime, take care of yourselves. Be kind to your fellow human beings.

And, as always, thanks for reading.

A. Cook

A story out and an acceptance on the same day? Don’t mind if I do.

The beautiful illustration that went along with my story in Etherea #12.

I’ve been very quiet here of late. A lot has happened in the United States (and in my personal life) since I last posted an update. If you are an American with a uterus or once had a uterus or are trans or queer, you probably know what I am talking about. If you’re an American at all, you should know what I’m talking about. The Supreme Court’s overturning of a 50 year old precedence affects over half our population, and most of us are absolutely terrified about what’s going to happen next.

So, to bring a little light to my own life (and yours, maybe), I’m delighted to say I have a new story out in this month’s issue of Etherea Magazine. I am so grateful to Aidan Wilson, the editor, for accepting a third story of mine to publish in his fantastic magazine. “Print a Soul in Six Easy Steps: A Primer by Clover Silverbrook” is one of the most moving pieces I have ever written. I actually teared up a bit the last time I revised it before it was accepted. It also was rejected around 26 times before Etherea said yes. It’s just another reminder to all you writers: DON’T SELF REJECT. Eventually, your story will find a home if you believe in it enough.

Also, I received an acceptance this morning on a flash piece I wrote recently. I can’t say much more than that, but this week — hell, this month — has been a rollercoaster for many reasons, and I will take all the good I can get right now. I will announce when the next story is out in the world, hopefully very soon.

As always, thanks for supporting me.

And thanks for reading.

A. Cook

I’m On a Podcast!

My writing dreams just keep coming true. A friend of mine has a wonderful podcast, called “Tales from the Trunk.” Hilary brings writers on to read stories that didn’t make it to submission and talk about their writing processes among other things. They had some openings in their schedule for season four of the podcast and were gracious enough to have me on to talk about cozy fiction, patience while being a writer, and cosplaying. If you enjoy podcasts and people reading stories to you, go check out my episode at the link below. Many of the stories, media, and people we talk about are linked in the show notes, as well.

https://www.talesfromthetrunk.com/e/episode-40-amanda-cook-snow-day/

Thanks to Hilary for having me on the show. I had such a lovely time.

That’s it for now. As I say in the podcast, I do have a new story coming out in Etherea, next month. Look for an announcement on that release in July!

Thanks for listening. And for reading.

A. Cook