Of Blog Awards and Kickstarters

Got some updates, a plug, and a question to ponder– so stick around until the end!

Blog Award!

I’ve been meaning to get to this, but as I did a post about blog awards fairly recently, I thought it was worth waiting a bit before I bombarded you with another one. Thanks, Deb, for choosing me! I’m truly honored and grateful that you thought my blog was creative enough to warrant mention. I certainly try to write things that will engage people.

Those of you who I in turn nominated, pass it on to six other blogs you think exemplify creativity, and tell us ten things we didn’t know about you!

Six “Kreativ”  blogs you should check out:

1. Scriptophenia

With clever, snappy writing, imaginative worlds, and wit, Vaeru’s is a blog after my own heart, in particular her series A Pooka Problem.

2. creative barbwire

Barb’s blog is great! If you’re interested in reading about both the fun and the hard work that goes into being an indie author, you should give it a read.

3.The Rubber Duck Brigade

I’m sorry to disappoint you rubber duck fans, but Amanda’s blog is not about buoyant plastic avians. Instead, it’s about a whole host of interesting topics, including writing, reading, and life as a writer.

4. Word Flows

Julie is no stranger to blog awards, but that’s OK. I think she deserves this one anyway. Her writing is detailed, precise, and extremely entertaining.

5. Fangirling Through Fiction

Meg’s blog would get this award if only for the lovely little drawings that accompany her blog posts, but she’s a terrific writer to boot!

6. Mary on the Run!

You can accuse me of nepotism if you like, given that Mary and I are related– but once you’ve read the humorous, thought-provoking, and thoughtfully written pieces she has on her blog, you’ll understand why I placed my itinerant cousin in this list.

Ten things you didn’t know about me:

1. I had a highly active and visual imagination as a child (well, I still do). So much so, that when I first began to get scared of monsters in the dark, that my solution was to imagine bigger, badder monsters that would protect me. And so I slept soundly.

2. My taste in music is extremely eclectic. EXTREMELY. Movie soundtracks, classical music, electronica, folk music, blues, heavy metal, j-pop, classic rock . . . you get the idea. To wit: Metallica, Mozart, and Miku Hatsune all appear in my favorites.

3. Part of my background in theater, debate, speech, and communication is that I’ve learned how to behave like an extrovert. I liketo think I’m pretty good at it, given the feedback I’ve gotten as a lecturer in the classes I’ve taught. However, inside I’m still very much an introvert. I like writing, reading, and video games (single player only, please!), and I’m more than a bit of a homebody.

4. I’m a crisis cleaner. I let a mess accumulate until it reaches critical mass, and then I become a whirlwind of activity.

5. My inspiration to be a writer comes from many sources, but mostly from my father, Jim, who managed to find the time to write dozens of magazine articles for Air & Space and Smithsonian, while working a 9-5 job, and being a darn good dad. He then went on to write two excellent books, Inviting Disaster, and The God Machine. He’s also appeared several times on the History channel. So, y’know, I’ve got a bit of catching up to do.

6. I spend WAY more time than I should planning exactly how I will survive the zombie apocalypse.

7. I was born in Texas, raised in Minnesota, went to college in North Dakota (basically), and grad school in Chicago. So the Midwest (ignoring Texas) is pretty deep in me. As a result, I am pretty darn concerned with avoiding conflict and behaving in a socially appropriate manner.

8. That being said, as people who know me from debate are aware, I frequently do a Jekyll-and-Hyde thing when I actually DO get into an argument, wherein I morph into a snarky, condescending, and bitterly competitive jerk. So perhaps it’s a good thing that I avoid conflict.

9. I was bullied and teased in middle and high school, but only in the general sort of way that small, nerdy kids are. I was fortunate never to be the victim of targeted harassment. Nevertheless, it left me with a deep empathy for others with similar experiences. It also made me aware, however, that it may be more helpful to think of bullying as a cultural or social practice as opposed to bullies as individual aggressors. Even kids who have been bullied can sometimes bully others, perhaps if only to alleviate some of the suffering they themselves experience. Wow, that was probably too heavy for this forum. Moving on.

10. CATS. Big fan of ‘em. Always have been. And, as near as I can tell (although one can never be certain with cats), they seem to be fans of me as well.

Pluggin’

I mentioned Erfworld in my post on interesting IF webcomics, and so thought I would mention that the Rob Balder (the creator) is currently running a Kickstarter project to fund a fully voiced motion comic of the first book of his series. You should check it out! And if donating to creative projects is your thing, go for it.

(I should mention that, given my not-so-secret desire to do voicework, my plug here is not entirely altruistic. Rob has promised to hire Erfworld fans to do the voices!)

Questions that need answering

So, now that we’ve gotten partway through what I’ve roughly labeled as the “Introduction Arc” for The Chain, I wanted to try to get a little feedback. Answer any or all questions you would like. Or, I guess, you could choose not to answer any of them. Fine. Be that way.

1. Length. I’ve tried to keep it short and manageable, so that people can breeze through it without having to make too much of an investment. Would you like more, less, or to keep it about the same?

2. Frequency. Once a week is nice from my end (less work, suckers!) but I recognize that the entries can be a bit cliffhangerish.

(Dang it, spellcheck, if you’re going to keep correcting my made-up words every two minutes, I’m going to have to turn you off.)

Anyway, would you be interested in seeing me increase the frequency to twice a week? Possibly Tuesdays and Fridays?

3. Content. What do you think, so far? Is it interesting? Boring? Too wordy? Not wordy enough? What do you like, or dislike? This is an ongoing project, so I am by no means averse to changing things up to meet the desires of my audience (the ten or so of you who read The Chain).

The Chain: Link Seven

He was not one for nervous pacing, and yet there he was, anxiously marching back and forth as he waited for a reply to his email.

Timothy tried to avoid pacing for several reasons, not the least of which was the heavy clomp, clomp his ungainly feet made as he strode across the wooden floor of his apartment. While it didn’t bother him so much, he knew it sounded like a giant’s tread to Mrs. Hilde downstairs, and he’d rather not have her file another complaint. In an attempt to take his mind off the wait, he turned his attention toward inspecting the room for dust. It was clean, of course, as well it should be– he cleaned it twice a day, after all– but a little vigilance never hurt.

As though drawn by a magnetic force, Timothy found his gaze dragged back to the glowing rectangle of his computer monitor. Even from a distance, he could tell that his inbox remained as empty as it had been when he began pacing. What was taking so long? he wondered, but knew that there was nothing he could do for right now. Not until he had more information.

The information that he did have was scrawled in his unintelligible shorthand on a whiteboard mounted on the south wall, opposite his computer desk. It read:

#1: Three people were dead. Jonah Bradley, former police chief. Samantha Mien, Mayoral aide and rising star in Chicago politics. Alicia Morgan, Samantha’s cousin and a first-year undergraduate at University of Illinois-Chicago.

#2: The cause of death in each case was different. Bradley was killed in a car accident; Mien suffered an aneurysm. Alicia, on the other hand, had a fatal heart attack.

#3: Bradley and Mien had both died at 3:15 PM on a Tuesday, a week apart.

Timothy had only been a little surprised when he’d made inquiries about Alicia’s death and learned that, although she had been found in her apartment on Thursday, the coroner estimated her time of death at between 2-4 in the afternoon on Tuesday. Obviously Timothy couldn’t be certain, since Alicia had died alone, but he would be willing to bet that Alicia had died at the exactly same time as Bradley and Mien.

All his life, Timothy had felt a quiet urge to be a part of something larger than himself. It was for this reason, among others, that he’d chosen to work as a Recorder for the FA community. If he was right, this could be the beginning of something . . . something beyond Timothy’s imagination.

His computer dinged, announcing the arrival of the much-anticipated reply to his inquiry. It was only with great effort that he did not sprint over to the chair, and took a deep breath before opening the email. Timothy exhaled softly, a noise that was somewhere between relief and resignation.

I was right.

Blogfest: I’ll Scratch Your Back, You Scratch Mine

This is my first blogfest, but it certainly sounded like fun, so I thought I would give it a try. You can find the details on Loralie’s blog here, but in essence it’s a way to connect writers with each other. Specifically, writers looking for feedback on current finished or unfinished manuscripts. So, here’s my information!

Title: The End

Genre: Weird fiction (think Gaiman or Mieville’s contemporary fantasies such as King Rat or American Gods)

Feedback desired: Beta readers, with a good deal of flexibility based on how much time and effort you have to spare. If you only have time to briefly comment on things, that’s fine by me, but if you want to go really in-depth as well, that would also be appreciated.

Status: WIP, approximately 50% done with the first draft.

Length: 75-85,000 (estimated)

Synopsis:

Amanda Leonard has this unshakeable feeling that the world is coming to an end. The weird part is, it doesn’t bother her that much. Maybe it’s because she has spent most of her life sheltered inside the walls of a private boarding school. Maybe it’s because as long as she can remember, she can only think about what is missing from her life. She has no memories of her mother, who died when she was young, leaving her care to the four “uncles” who adopted and looked after her. She has no idea who she is, or why she feels so detached about the impending apocalypse. She has no plans for what to do with her life, and no desire to make any.

Unsure of her past, present, and future, she decides to returns to the small, rural town in southeastern Minnesota where she was born, hoping to find some answers, and some relief from the forebodings of imminent disaster. But when Amanda is faced with an impossible choice between her family and her future, she finds that the end of the world is a lot closer to home than she ever imagined.

Excerpt (UPDATED) Goodness, you all have given me good commentary already. I sat and mulled over the critiques, and tried to forge a better excerpt. Here’s the revised version:

When you know that the world is going to end, every day you wake up is a punishment. One more day of waiting. One more dreary step on the march toward apocalypse. This morning was no different, but she supposed she have to try to make the best of it, like always.

Amanda Leonard glanced over at the clock sitting on the nightstand near her bed. She had woken five minutes before the alarm went off. She switched it off and lay back down, staring at the ceiling. With some trepidation, she then checked what she referred to as the “other clock,” the one somewhere inside her that was more like intuition or instinct than timekeeping. The response was vague, but undeniably different than the last time she’d checked.

She opened her mouth for a jaw-cracking yawn, and then quickly threw a hand to her face as she wished she could inhale the gust of morning breath she’d just unleashed. Amanda needn’t have worried. Her latest roommate, Rebecca, was a heavy sleeper, which made sense given how often she went out partying with friends.

Amanda wrapped her bathrobe around herself as she shuffled out of bed and wound her way through the clutter toward the door, grabbing her shower caddy as she went. She stepped out into the hallway and quickly walked to the communal bathroom so she could shower. She luxuriated in the hot water as long as she could before stopping to brush her teeth on the way out.

Rebecca was still sound asleep, snoring loudly. Amanda tried to make her way to her closet as quietly as possible, and then was struck by the total absurdity of her actions. They wouldn’t even be roommates in a few hours. She dropped all pretense of being considerate, and set about packing her suitcase as quickly as possible with no concern for the noise she made. Her thin lips formed a wry smile as the blanket-shrouded bundle stirred and groaned.

“Gzugh?” said Rebecca as she rolled over to face Amanda, her voice muffled beneath layers of quilts, comforters, and bed sheets. ” ‘Zat you, ‘Manda?”

“Yes,” she replied, suppressing a sigh. “Who else would it be?”

“Y’r up ‘rly.”

“We’ve been over this, Rebecca. I opted to graduate early. I’m moving out today.”

“Oh. Wh’r y’goin’?”

“Home.”

There was a long pause as her roommate’s sleep-deprived brain processed this information.

“Y’r not goin’ coll’ge?”

“No, like I said last week. I’ve been away from home for so long I want to go back and spend some time with family before I make any decisions.”

“Oh,” the quilted lump said. This exchange had apparently consumed all the energy Rebecca had left, as she then turned over on her side once more and went back to sleep.

A few minutes later, Amanda had finished packing. It was a little depressing, really, to find that years of one’s life could easily fit into a suitcase and a duffel bag. Her stomach felt queasy and unsettled, and it had nothing to do with the nervousness of going home. She always seemed to have a bad day when she woke up to find that her “other clock” had ticked off another of its inscrutable units of measurement.

She’d never told anyone about the “other clock.” No matter how she tried to phrase it in her head, it always sounded crazy. More importantly, even if she did manage to get someone to believe her, she was absolutely certain no one wanted to know what the purpose of the “other clock” was. She knew she would be happier if she had remained ignorant.

As near as she could tell, it was counting down to the end of the world.

The Chain: Link Six

“Greetings, gentle readers . . .” typed Timothy, as he began his latest entry for his website. He was the kind of writer who enjoyed directly addressing his audience, and was particularly fond of using the phrase “gentle readers.” Fortunately for his meticulous mind, he was not guilty of the grievous inaccuracy usually inflicted upon Truth when writers refer to “gentle readers,” many of whom cease being of gentle disposition once they read that highly annoying turn of phrase. Given that Timothy, and Timothy alone, was virtually the entirety of his website’s readership, and he was indeed a fairly gentle sort of man, his description was mostly correct.

Timothy’s memory was good. In fact, it was very good. He could recall virtually every detail he wrote down– although in many cases, only  the details that recorded in his notes. Somehow the very act of writing gave his thoughts, usually so ephemeral, a sense of permanence. So it was that, with very little exception, he was able to compose his blog posts without needing to consult the extensive notes he took.

This level of elaboration may seem superfluous, but it is necessary to emphasize how unusual the following events were. In the final part of each of his pieces, Timothy listed the basic facts of each of the funerals he had attended since he last wrote. Cremated or buried. Closed or open casket. Religious affiliation. Number of attendees. Manner of death.

Time of death.

Timothy’s fingers froze, his hands hovering above the keyboard.

That can’t be right, he thought, I must have made a mistake.

Timothy turned to the relevant page in his notebook and double-checked the stated time of death for Bradley. Then he flipped ahead to the page containing the same information for Samantha Mien.

Both of them had died at exactly the same time, a week apart. To the second.

IF contest!

If you haven’t heard of Rachel Aaron, you should seriously consider looking her up.

She has a wonderful sense of what makes for good writing, and she’s also incredibly supportive of emerging and unpublished writers. Rachel hosted a delightful Q&A on the forums during NaNo, where she provided helpful and informative answers to everything from the most basic of questions (“How do I find an agent?”) to some of the most difficult (“How do I know when to set a project aside?”).

It’s fairly rare to find a published (and very successful) author who is so willing to engage with other writers who are still looking for a way to break into the market, so I for one think her work is worth supporting even if just for that reason– but the reviews of her books speak for themselves.

Rachel is currently hosting a contest over at her blog wherein you can win signed copies of her omnibus collection. Entries come in the form of posting reviews about her book, spreading the word about the book’s release, etc. etc. Use the link above to find out the full details on her blog!