Paula’s Comments (group member since Oct 28, 2015)

Paula’s comments from the Science Fiction Microstory Contest group.

Fascinating, Justin. And thank you re the story, too.

J.F. wrote: "I just realized that my story was inspired by the theme song to "Community", which I have been streaming lately."
Ah! I don't know this song, but from the title and the story, shall have to listen to it . . .

Sounds great, Justin--and in-between you certainly did a cool story!
So I'm puzzled--you narrate, then edit the sound, and then the studio gets the sound-edited audio book and does/proceeds how--? (Curious what the steps are/process is.) Sounds like an important book series, in any case.

Hey, thanks, Jot!
Fun to write, in fact--and the polishing. Again, thanks.

Okay, finally posted one.

What Was Snow, Mom?
Copyright 2021 by Paula Friedman

So then I said “What was snow?” and Mom said well she’d show me, it was like a powder, wet.

So she and Dad took both of us, Hattie an’ me, to the museum, where they’ve got some powder, down into town. The walk took us two days, and even by night the going right sweaty and hard, Ol’ City’s “pavement” (out around the northside there) crushed glass and everything, but we got there, yes we did. And got to see this soft stuff women usedta use, and the stuff for grinding knives, all sorts of fancy stuff, although the nice thing, up in the museum, is they got the Caged ones pushing fans (the malcontents, I mean) like Ancient Ancient times an’ all, and it’s so cool inside.

So we stayed the whole day, and next night and day too, just like everybody, and Mom said, “Usedta be, Jaycey, Hattie, families all had fans,” and I cut in, the way Dad says I always, saying “Mom, you mean they had their Caged,” and Dad laughed, cutting-in himself, “No no, not malcontents, Jaycey, just fans. But that takes too much energy.” Well, so I just couldn’t resist and said, “Oh yeah, takes ‘too much energy’ to explain, huh?” and he said, “Jay-cey” and then “No, just took too much energy.”

What’s that mean? I was thinking, but Dad smiled above my head at Mom and said “The problem wasn’t malcontents in our day, honey, it was Too Contents.”

Then Mom handed me and Hattie (Hattie’s much too little—she’s a pain) six Finite Salties and she said—by now, we were already heading back toward Free Way Trail—“Look at the bright side, Hat and Jay. Now it’s nice’n quiet, no loud neighbor vids, no NetFlix bully-bros, no cellphonin’-crackle-pop.”

So Hattie said, before I even could, “Ooo-ooo-ooo-oooh, Mom’s talking ’bout e-l, e-c, t-r-i-c-i-” and Dad raised up one hand, just like someone shouting, “Hattie! Hattie, don’t you ever say such—”

Only, Mom, then she got really quiet, and she said, “Hattie, Jaycey, if you keep on talking like you do, once you start into school, you . . .” and she didn’t finish, and oh wow I knew. I knew before I even thought it, Yeah, our big mouths gonna get us Caged someday.

So then we all shut up. Besides, it was nearly 4 a.m. and getting far too hot and smoky for talking any more.

[423 words]

That's terrific news, Jot!

125?! Seriously worried, as I've internet friend in Vegas.
Greg, take care. The 116 here several days ago was bad enough.

Great prompt, Chris. And here in the ***extremely hot*** Pacific Northwest, exttrmely apropos. I suspect the retro-futuristic power source is likely to be fins, at this rate. Assuming any water's left.

A fine story, J.F., and actually you've the start of a well- or best-selling novel there. Seriously--the concept's clearly brought out yet complex enough to still have mystery, and the characters (including the town and the neighbors and the countryside) have genuinely a feeling of life, and the writing and pacing are smooth and there's enough touch of humor or lightness; and the reader is gripped. A couple of issues, though--(1) the characters in the first segment, although somewhat characterized, need more--to be more, to do more than introduce the reader to the initiating situation; (2) in the second segment, first we're with Tommy, then we're with the other boy--which is okay but calls for some (structural, not plot necessarily) resolution/interaction, perhaps through how they interrelate and their insights thus change (or don't)--or whatever; (3) you have to do more with this since now we all want to read the novel.

Kalifer, just reread your story. I love the flow of the writing--and the self-referential involutions are clean, clear, and work. A smart and well-done piece!

A wonderful story, Greg. Engrossing, emotionally involving, and vivid. I do think it needs polishing, to add any missing words and reword where you may find, here and there, phrasing/wording more exact to what you may want. But these are minor issues; the main criticism I'd have would be that you deepen and differentiate your characters more, especially since there names sound (to us humans) somewhat alike. And it'd be great to know a bit more about their society/society and how the world seems to them, though this probably requires going a bit over 750 words.
Well paced tale, and grabs and moves the reader. Nice work, Greg.

Congratulations, J.F.--a superbly done, complex, elegantly structured story!

Sent my votes now.

That is absurd, J.F., but so typical of big-money but poorly judged literary competitions. Still, the novel did well until hitting the only-if-we-recognize-the-name/who-wants-to-actually-read-anything portion of the "judging." It's a darned good novel, btw, if anyone here hasn't read it.

I had another story nearly ready, but time so tight--have put up a quick little shorter one instead. Enjoy.

How Cai-Shi Was
(copyright 2021 by Paula Friedman)


Flashing of eye, bright-red of hair, dancing of feet, and bursting with enormous stores of energy, young CallieShiba was the sparkling beauty of the ever-growing Deutrow family.

“Huw, me?” Cai-Shi, as her friends and admirers called her, would reply at any awkward, nearly worshipful mention of her laughing, throbbing beauty. “Whuw-huw-huw bedamned to it, lover boy and pretty girl, onacountta me I gotta live,” and off she’d go, a ring of glassine-fire in her roiling wake, “Whu-hu-hu-huw!”

She didn’t mean it, you know. She never meant to do it.
The cat Conniption.
Sytn, her other kitty.
Loyalla—oh, and Eva, her mate.
I.-P. (or, old term: Israel-Palestine). Or P.-I. (latter term more recently preferred).
Whole Earth.
Universe.
Whatever, hey—the rest of it.

Well, and then that day she, uh, tripped, and there it was, her only baby (*real* one, I mean). Sure, she was sorry. She kept trying--well, we all saw it, spangles and skippin' moons and flyin' epicenters spinning through our torn-up skies (and worlds), all twisty--oh my, Lordy, she was sorry. Cried and tried and kept on seeking to shove, push, squeeze her darlin' sweetheart spheroid little one (she loved so her babe) right back inside. Only, she couldn't.

All torn up, she was.

Eternity of sorrow. Until, one morning, she came dancing, zestful, all beauty again. Full laughing.

See, this being simply (to use a “time” phrase) The Way She Was, The Way Cai-She Be.

[239 words)

Have drafted a story, shall try to get it in on time,

Wow, Jeremy, bet you can sell this one anywhere.
What a story!

Great points, Justin and Sharon.
We should probably add that "minor" matters like getting the book copyright (easy enough, through US Copyrights Office), buying and downloading the ISBN numbers (for ebook and POD formats), someone to format and/or design the book, and--do not ignore this part--and working to distribute and sell the book are also important parts of the process. And whoever are the team doing this manifold work should have everyone's--verbal, at least--support during the process.