Flash Fiction Interlude: Post-Pandemic Hoop Dreams (A Steal Tomorrow Extra)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This flash fiction piece about Julilla is cross-posted on my Steal Tomorrow blog. It is not part of the novel.

Julilla bounced the ball and looked around. Still too early. That meant she had time for a warm-up. She went through a routine of her own devising, dribbling and dodging imaginary teammates as she moved across the blacktop and back again, then to the free throw line for a few practice shots. The first one bounced off the backboard, but she was unfazed. Her first shot always sucked. She had envied her teammates who never needed those first practice throws, but a lot of those girls were dead now, and so was the coach, while she carried on, muddling through the post-pandemic wreckage.

She threw again and this time the ball slipped through the basket without touching the rim and bounced off the asphalt with a satisfying sound. Julilla leaped to catch it and followed up with a couple of quick lay-ups and a hook shot. As she hit her groove, she forgot she was hungry and alone. She forgot the ever-present reminders of the dead in the empty streets and shops. She even managed to ignore the sickly smell of rot that occasionally wafted from the direction of a nearby parking garage where bodies lay piled up, waiting for transport trucks that would never arrive to take them to the pits.

For a few blessed minutes, Julilla’s world narrowed to just herself, the ball, and the shadows of the dead and missing girls who she dodged and scored off of in her imagination. If she let her fancy take hold, she could almost believe she was playing for the high school all-stars again, rallying her team for the final victory while her coaches, classmates, and dear Aunt Veegee screamed her name and the college recruiters tapped madly into their Blackberrys.

A movement at the edge of the blacktop caught her eye, bringing her back to the present. The children were arriving, but there weren’t enough yet. She continued to practice, adding a few exhibition moves—ball between the legs, catch, over the knee and down again, then a high bounce with a little twirl before catching it and spinning it on one finger.

A few more children wandered up and one clapped.

“I got better moves than this if you’ve got food,” she called.

One boy had a few crackers. For him, Julilla showed off a little of her quick footwork, and shot three hoops over her shoulder in rapid succession.

Another girl had a box of raisins. For her, she performed a new routine she had been working on—a hard bounce, then see how many times she could clap and twirl before catching it. This pleased the girl and her friends so much that they started digging through bags and pockets, and Julilla added some hand jive moves.

The girls were giggling and pooling their food resources into something that might take the edge of Julilla’s hunger when a group of rangy older boys wandered up. The chattering girls and clapping boys fell silent and Julilla paused, bouncing the ball slowly and returning the group leader’s cool look.

“You a real basketball player?” he sneered. “Or just some kind of Harlem Globetrotter showoff?”

Patience. Aunt Veegee, God rest her soul, always said to wait to see what the other guy would do first. That way you’d have time to plan. “I’m here,” she said. “So I guess that makes me as real as anyone.”

The boy reached in his pocket and for a panicked moment she thought he had a gun. A lot of the older boys did these days, and sometimes the young ones, too. But instead of a weapon, he took out a Milky Way bar.

Julilla’s stomach growled and she swallowed hard.

“Eleven points,” he said. “You game?”

“Is that the prize?”

“If you win. Want to know what mine is if you lose?” His eyes moved across her body.

Julilla had seen that look before. It was the same way her mother’s ill-chosen boyfriends had looked at her, including the one who—well, the pandemic had been good for something, at least. A wave of anger swept through her, spurring the killing urge that her coaches had so carefully channeled into a winner’s drive. “I won’t lose,” she snarled, and tossed him the ball. “You can even go first. That way your friends can see you make at least one good move before I wipe the blacktop with your ass.”

“The only move on anyone’s ass is going to be mine on yours, baby.”

The boy made a fast break, dodging Julilla’s blocking moves and going for a lay-up. Julilla leaped to knock the ball out of range, but he crashed into her with his shoulder and she stumbled. The ball swooshed through the basket and he caught it with a laugh while Julilla recovered her footing and the children on the sidelines screamed foul. Julilla thought of calling him on it, but could tell by the way he was breathing hard that earning just one point had cost him. She only needed to hold him off and let him wear himself down. It was just like playing defense for the all-stars.

Over the next twenty minutes, they panted, sweated and cursed each other as the boy twisted and feinted, unable to lose Julilla as she hovered over and around him, sometimes knocking the ball from his hands, sometimes waiting so she could block his shots. She took stomps to her feet and elbows to her ribs, all of which he pretended were accidental, but as she saw him grow winded and she stole the ball again and again, she didn’t bother to call him on his fouls. All she had to do was outlast this bastard, and as she sank her last shot, she beamed at the crowd of cheering kids.

“I think I earned my candy bar,” she told the boy, as he leaned forward, hands on his knees, breathing hard.

With a malevolent glare, he stood up and reached in his pocket. He threw the Milky Way to the ground in disgust and when he raised his foot like he would stomp on it, Julilla lunged toward him. Fouls and bruises were one thing, but that was breakfast!

To her surprise, the boy’s friends grabbed him and pulled him back. “Let it go, man. She won fair.”

As they dragged him off the blacktop, Julilla scooped up the candy bar and ripped open the paper. Dear lord, how long had it been since she had eaten chocolate?

The little girl who had offered her raisins tugged at her shirt and handed up a bottle of water.

Gratefully, Julilla accepted. Putting nasty teenage boys in their place was thirsty work.

The girl still stared at her with big eyes. “M’am?”

Julilla stifled a laugh. She was too young to be m’am to anyone.

“Can you teach me to play?”

Julilla assessed. The girl wasn’t much bigger than the ball. “It doesn’t come easy. You willing to work hard?”

“Everything’s hard since the Telo.”

“It was hard before, too.”

“Yeah, but…”

Julilla nodded and broke off a piece of Milky Way for her. “We gotta make the most of what we’ve got. That’s how we’re going to get through this.”

The girl sucked on her candy and nodded.

Julilla held out her hand. “Come on, girlfriend. I think I can show you a few moves.”

Flash Fiction Interlude: Special Delivery(A Steal Tomorrow Extra)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This flash fiction piece about the twins is cross-posted at Steal Tomorrow. It is not part of the novel.

With a thwack, the knife embedded itself in the wood paneling. Danny flinched. “That was close, love.”

Danica picked up another knife. “It was supposed to be. You need to hold still.”

“I did. Your aim was off.”

“I’m never off.” Danica took aim but before she could throw, a knock on the door made her jump. “What the—?”

Another knock. This time Danny stepped away from the wall and started across the room. “Why would anyone come here?”

Danica put the knife aside and scampered after her twin. “Maybe someone heard about us and wants us for a job.”

“That would be nice, especially if they can pay in food or water filters.” Danny peered out the murky peephole. “I don’t see anyone.” He reached for the semiautomatic he kept next to the door. “Get ready to cover me, in case it’s trouble.”

Danica grabbed a .38 and waited while Danny fumbled with the bolts and locks. They were the only residents of the building since the pandemic, but that didn’t mean they were safe. In the early months of the die-off, gangs had roamed the area, but recently things had been quiet. So who was at their door?

A small box, apparently.

After checking that no one was waiting to jump him, Danny stood over the package and frowned. It was about half the size of a shoebox and wrapped in neat brown paper.

Danica peered around his shoulder. “UPS?”

“Very funny. It might be dangerous.”

“I’m sure it’s just an ordinary delivery. Some of the kids must be trying to re-establish a post office.”

“That wouldn’t explain why they brought something here. It doesn’t have our names and address on it. Maybe it’s a bomb.”

“Who would want to blow us up?”

“You never know.”

“Well, I think it’s harmless and we should open it.”

A debate ensued, in which the twins discussed possibilities as disturbing as explosives and anthrax to the more horrific notion that the box might contain a fruitcake from their grandmother, dead in the pandemic.

“Sometimes things get lost and don’t get delivered for decades,” Danica pointed out.

“Whatever it is, I don’t like it. I’m going to move it out of our doorway.”

“Why? It’s not in our way, since we always go in and out the window.” Nevertheless, she went into the kitchen and returned with a mop.

Danny pushed the suspicious package to the end of the hall and left it by the stairwell. He returned with a satisfied air.

As he locked the door and set the bolts, Danica asked, “If it really is a bomb, what if it blows up the stairs?”

“Then we won’t have to worry about any more deliveries.”

Danica threw herself onto the sofa with a giggle. “That would be nice. Maybe no one would bother us again, ever.” She stretched with the sensual moves of a cat. “I didn’t expect this much excitement on a non-foraging day.”

Danny stalked toward her with a grin. “The day’s not over yet.”

“What more could happen?”

Danny leaned over her and ran a hand up her thigh. “Do you need some ideas?”

She drew him to her with a satisfied sigh. “We do this every day, though.”

“Does that make it any less exciting?”

Before Danica could answer, there was another rap at the door, more urgent than before.

“Let them knock,” Danny said. He fumbled with the buttons of his fly.

Danica helped. “Right. We’re busy.”

The knocking continued.

Danica paused. “Maybe it’s important.”

“Nothing’s more important than you, babe.”

“Then we should find who’s doing it and shoot them.”

“Too much trouble.” He gave a little tug at her pants. “You going to leave these on, or what?”

Danica cast a glance toward the door. “I just wonder if—”

“Don’t wonder.” He pressed her shoulders into the cushions and kissed her until all urge toward curiosity was gone. By the time Danica squirmed out of her clothes so he could make love to her, the knocking had become a distant background noise, easily ignored.

An hour later when Danica wrapped herself in a robe and peeked out the door, she saw nothing on the empty stoop or in the vacant hallway. Even the original package was gone. "That's odd," she said.

"Everything's odd since the die-off."

Danica shut the door and leaned against it, frowning. "Yes, I guess that's the apocalypse for you. You never know what to expect."

"It's all about us now."

"So can I throw knives at you again?"

"Of course, love. Nothing matters but you."

Flash Fiction Interlude: In Dependence Day (A Steal Tomorrow Extra)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This holiday flash fiction piece accompanies my YA novel Steal Tomorrow and is cross-posted on the novel's blog

“So what’s this leadership meeting supposed to be about?” Cassie asked Julilla as they climbed the stairs.

“Fourth of July.”

Cassie hadn’t realized it was almost Independence Day. Who could keep up with dates any more? Since the pandemic, each day was like every other. She had even overlooked her birthday. Not that it mattered. Getting older was nothing to celebrate when you were infected with a retrovirus that would kill you before you were out of your teens. “We don’t celebrate our own birthdays,” she said. “Why should we celebrate the nation’s? Do we even have a nation any more? If there’s no more government, there’s no more country, right?”

“Beats the hell out of me.” Julilla pulled open the door to the patio and kicked the doorstop into place, muttering about “irresponsible brats” who let the doors fall shut, trapping the hot summer air inside.

Their leader Mundo and his girlfriend Kayleen were waiting on the shaded deck, along with the guard commander Alex and lead forager, David. Cassie sat as far as she could from David, ignoring the way he leered at her.

“You’re late,” he said.

“We were rewinding our sundials,” she snapped.

Kayleen blinked, not understanding the complex joke. She asked no questions, though, and reached for a bottle of sunscreen.

“You’ve got enough of that,” Mundo told her. “We’re not going to live long enough for you to get melanoma. Did you bring a pen? I need you to take notes.”

With a sigh of annoyance, Kayleen set the Coppertone aside and picked up a purple felt tip.

“What we need to decide,” Mundo said, “Is whether to celebrate the Fourth, and if so, how.”

“When is it, exactly?” Cassie asked.

“Don’t you ever look at a calendar?” David sneered.

“I’ve never seen one around here. Have you?”

Mundo waved a hand for silence. “It’s the day after tomorrow. The Thespians have invited us over for a production they’re putting on in conjunction with the Operatics. I think it’s going to be a musical.”

Cassie cringed. The last thing she wanted to deal with was another crazy performance by the tribe of kids living at the theater. Didn’t they have better things to do than go around declaiming and pantomiming? The whole world lay in ruins, and their answer was to write scripts and songs about it.

David saved Cassie the trouble of being the first to decline the invitation. “I don’t want to watch those freaks prance around in wigs.”

“And what are they going to do, exactly?” Julilla asked. “Set the Declaration of Independence to music and reenact the Battle of Bunker Hill? No, thanks.”

“The little ones might like some kind of celebration, though,” Cassie offered. “I think it’s good for them to celebrate holidays. It gives them a sense of normalcy.”

“There’s nothing normal about the Thespians,” Julilla said.

“I meant maybe we could forage some fireworks or something.”

Everyone looked at David.

“What? I haven’t seen so much as a sparkler since the pandemic. I could set something on fire for them, though, if you think that’ll make them happy.”

Mundo rubbed his face in frustration. “So it looks like we don’t have any good ideas for how to celebrate.”

“I don’t see why we should bother,” Julilla said. “Two hundred and forty years ago, a bunch of rich white guys told their government to stuff it. Big deal.”

“It’s more than that,” Alex said in his best ex-ROTC manner. “It’s about celebrating our freedom to choose our way of governance. It’s about honoring the sacrifices of those who died so we could be free.”

The little group lapsed into silence, thinking not of men in powdered wigs fighting for a free and independent nation, but of their parents, teachers and leaders. The death of the adults had left them struggling to understand their freedom and bewildered about how to make order from the wreckage.

“Creating a government is hard work,” Mundo admitted.

“So is keeping it safe,” Alex pointed out.

“Freedom isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Cassie said. “It’s a lot of responsibility.”

David frowned and looked away. “It’s harder than I thought, I'll grant you that.”

Kayleen had been taking notes and now Mundo looked over her shoulder. “What are you writing, babe?”

“That freedom is hard. And that we should be glad we’ve made it this far.”

“So you think we should celebrate our own independence?”

Kayleen shrugged. “David’s right. It’s a lot of hard work.”

“Besides,” Cassie said. “We’re not really independent. We’re all in this together. What we should celebrate is Dependence Day—learning to get along when we’re all so different.”

Julilla agreed. “I can roll with that.”

Heads nodded, Kayleen made a few notes, and Mundo said he’d put the matter to a vote after dinner.

“But what are we going to do to celebrate this so-called Dependence Day?” David wanted to know.

They all fell silent again.

“Well,” Julilla finally said, “I guess it doesn’t matter, as long as it doesn’t involve Thespians.”

“Too bad the potatoes aren’t ready to harvest,” Cassie said. “Potato salad would be perfect.”

“I still think we should set something on fire,” David said.

“I’ll take ideas from the floor after dinner.” Mundo glanced around the group for confirmation. “We’ll do this thing democratically.”

“Democracy is what we’re all about,” Alex agreed.

“It's almost as hard as freedom,” Cassie pointed out.

“Got any better ideas?”

She shook her head. “Beats the alternatives.”

“Then we’ll take suggestions from everyone and put the best ideas to a vote,” Mundo concluded. “God bless America.”

“God bless us,” Kayleen corrected him.

“God bless someone,” Julilla said, standing and stretching. “We could all sure use it.”

Done!

I've finished my first-pass edits. Copies will be going out to beta readers today.

Update!

Sorry for the recent shortage of posts. I hope to finish my first big editing pass on Steal Tomorrow this weekend and then I'll have more time for other matters, like updating my blogs, writing more character sketches, excerpts, and perhaps even some flash.

I really do like having a print copy of my manuscript to do edits from. I can read and make notes anywhere, any time, and of course we all know from experience how different things can look on paper as opposed to the computer screen. And for me there is also the time of day factor. Things that seem brilliant at 2 am are...well, not quite so much after a night's rest.

I'm edging downward on my word count and I think I'll be around 95-96K when this editing pass is done. Funny how on the first draft, the goal is more words while on the edits, the goal is less.

Once my first-pass edit is done I'll be soliciting beta readers, so if anyone is interested, let me know!

Draft Book is Here!

Yay! I came home for lunch and found my printed draft waiting on my front porch. Good thing I like my new job or I'd be trying to weasel my way out of having to do anything else this afternoon!

I'm still working on the front cover and haven't done the back, but you can see here the direction I'm going with it. And if you haven't bookmarked the blog yet, what are you waiting for? Sign up for the email updates while you're at it-- they're pretty nifty!

Update - More Web Content

New post about shopping on the Steal Tomorrow blog.

Also, I have added a subscription feature so people can get updates via email. I would really, really appreciate getting a few guinea pigs for this. Thanks!

Another Update

I've updated the list of Tribes at Steal Tomorrow to include an entry on the Librarians.

Updates on Works in Progress

I've got some new stuff at the Oddments link on my Steal Tomorrow blog. Poetry, excerpts and reading list-- oh, my!

I've also started work on the sequel. It was hard getting those first words written. I hate that moment where you're sitting in front of a blank page, thinking, "Whatever I write, it'll be crap." But at some point you just have to go ahead and write something, anything, and it often turns out just fine. Besides, I'm of the opinion that the first few pages are usually for the author, not the reader. They get your head into the right place to write what the book is really about. If by the end of the book, the first part no longer suits, you delete it.

That's what drafts are for.

But the really good news about the sequel, aside from the fact that I started, is that I finally found out the motivation for my bad guy's behavior. Chicks and power are lame and overdone, so it had to be something bigger. I wanted him to have the kind of motive that a rational person might say, "Sure, it sounds good in theory, but in actual practice it's totally unworkable and unethical."

I think I have that motive! I'm going to get a lot of good (read: dark and weird) stuff out of this one!

But for now, go check out the Oddments! More content will follow over the next few weeks!

WIP Update

I brought my word count down to 98K tonight and decided that I can't do much more at this point without a fresh perspective. I uploaded the manuscript into Lulu as a private project and will hopefully have my draft in my hands by sometime next week. I know from previous experience that a lot of flaws will jump out at me once I'm reading it in print, curled up in bed.

I have a new item posted on the related blog: an excerpt from the story and a picture. The excerpt was chosen because of the picture and not the other way around, so the text isn't really stand-alone. But it's my blog and I'll blog however I like, right?

In addition to posting the full story in serial fashion sometime later this summer, I'll have a download and print version available from Lulu. I might also have an option for people to sign up for an email of each day's post. Does anyone have any other ideas for me to consider?

Word Count Irony

I'm in the first-edit phase of my WIP now. The break from it was nice and I read the whole thing through in about two evenings, made a punch list of items to address, and have been steadily working through it, in addition to doing little cleanups and tightening as I go.

Since I tend to write long, edits usually involve reducing word count, so I'm savoring the irony that while for months I got excited over my manuscript getting longer, now I'm excited to see it get shorter. I'm at about 99K now, down from 101K.

I'm toying with the idea of querying an e-publisher or two, although I think my purposes might be just as well served by posting as serial web fiction with a print version available via Lulu. I'd have to self-promote either way, and my way is faster and less pressure. I'm more interested in being read than being officially published at this juncture, and if I find my writing turning into another obligation on my To Do list, I'll just end up hating it.

In the meantime though, I'm working steadily at dropping my word count, whereas I used to celebrate increasing it. Life is kind of amusing that way.

Love and War(A Will and Diana Adventure)

Will shifted in his saddle and frowned at the horizon. “Seems like we should’ve been there already.”

“It can’t be much farther,” Diana said. “We’re almost to Don Reymundo’s lands.”

“That’s what worries me.”

Diana fumbled in her saddlebag and pulled out a compass, squinting at the markings in the bright glare of the sun.

“We don’t need that,” Will told her. “The river has been to our left the whole time, so we can’t have passed it.”

They continued in silence for another mile, intent on their mission to deliver a message to the unit monitoring Don Reymundo’s growing fiefdom. As if Don Reymundo’s land-grabbing wasn’t enough, there were rumors he had allied with at least one of the northern states of Mexico, and this could not be allowed.

Will and Diana smelled the burn before they saw it—a heavy, sickly odor of more than just wood. Mingled into the charcoal smell of burnt cottonwoods was the choking scent of scorched plastic, trash, and flesh.

He and Diana kicked their horses into a trot. Ahead, they could make out the charred trunks of trees, the blackened walls of a small adobe dwelling, and the remains of a corral.

“Was this it, do you think?” Diana asked as she walked her horse through the ashes, skirting the grisly remains of humans and animals.

Will rested a hand on his gun, looking around as if there might be arsonists among the remains. Diana was about to tease him for his caution when a sound by the river caught her attention. She drew her gun and edged her horse closer to Will’s as a dirty figure dragged himself out of the brush by the water.

“Stay where you are,” Will shouted. “Who are you?”

The man looked at them with the pained expression of a wounded animal. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He dragged himself a few more feet and collapsed with a whimper.

While Will kept his gun trained on the stranger, Diana jumped to the ground and approached him. She squatted by his side but made no move to touch him because what had looked from a distance like mud and soot was something else entirely.

“He’s burnt pretty bad,” she said. “He needs help.”

Will dismounted and fumbled in his saddlebag for his canteen. He gave it to Diana, eyeing the man skeptically while she tried to get him to drink. “I don’t think there’s much we can do.”

Diana sat back on her heels with a sigh. “I know. It’s just—”

“See if he can tell us his name and what happened.”

Diana wet her bandanna and moistened the man’s lips, leaning in close so she could hear his whispered words. She murmured encouragement as he answered her questions and when he had nothing more to say, she asked if he had any message for his next of kin.

The man mumbled something, but she couldn’t make it out, so she asked him to repeat himself. Instead, he shook his head and fell silent.

“Do you want to do it, or should I?” Will asked.

Diana got to her feet and walked away. She had gone only a little way when she heard the shot and stopped. When Will joined her, he found her staring at the river. Her eyes were wet and when she turned to look at him, she swiped at her nose.

“What did he say?” Will asked.

“That Don Reymundo’s people did this. They took some of our people away as prisoners.”

“That's just what we need. A rescue mission.”

“His name was Jacinto Torres. He had a daughter.”

“What’s her name? Where is she? Did he have a message for her?”

Diana shook her head. “She was with Don Reymundo’s people.”

“So was this guy one of ours or not?”

“He was ours.”

Will fell silent, pondering the implications. Finally he said, “Well, I guess the message we were supposed to deliver is pretty useless now.”

“I guess so.”

“We’ll bury him, then go back and tell central command what happened.”

Diana nodded and looked around at the blackened landscape. “Hard to believe people who are supposed to love each other could do something like this.”

“Mother always says war is hell.”

“But why—”

“Don’t ask. You’ll make yourself crazy trying to understand other people.” Will tugged at his hat, then reached for her hand. “Come on. We’ve got a job to do.”

On Vacation and New Blog

Well, I had hoped to have more content than this before launching the blog for my new novel, but I wanted to leave my friends with something to look at while I’m out of town, so here it is: Steal Tomorrow. Each of the sidebar links has at least some content, and more will be added, perhaps even while I’m on vacation. I’m a veteran road traveler and can stare out the window for hours, but even I can only find so much stimulation in the flat, empty spaces of West Texas!

I’ll be adding tribe and character profiles, pictures, random bits of information, and outtakes throughout the summer. When I’m happy with the main story, I’ll post it, as well. I might even do some flash fiction based on the characters. Since the blog is so new and I still haven't settled into any fixed notions about what or how it should be, thoughts and suggestions are welcome.

Also, for any of my writing friends who don’t frequent my Tri-Bunny blog, be sure to stop by my vacation blog for the next couple of weeks. I’ll be posting pics and an accounting of my adventures nightly, wherever we have connectivity.

See you in two weeks!

Done!

My draft weighs in at 101K. Things will get cut, things will get added, and numbers will change. It's a dark but fun story and I'm looking forward to getting it tidied up so I can start sharing it.

I started writing some web content and I should have enough to publish the blog before I leave on vacation. We've decided to board the bunny at the vet's, so we're heading out Friday or Saturday.

More in a day or two!

100K and Almost There!

I broke 100K tonight (Monday). I'll be writing the last scene Tuesday night and then its time to put this puppy away for a couple weeks while I write web content for it and go on vacation (bunny permitting).

I'm looking forward to having some cool things to share very soon. I've been tinkering madly with my new blog and I have some pictures to work on for it, so I could have a url ready as soon as Wednesday!

Dropping In

I apologize for the recent lapses in posting. Transitioning out of my old job, getting ready for vacation, dealing with a sick pet, and trying to finish my novel before I leave town have taken their toll on what little "free" time I have.

I'm at 95K on my word count and will probably finish the draft very close to 100K. Where it will end up after editing is hard to say.

I've started a blog for this project and friend Thomma's recent blog template escapades made me realize I'm not the only writer who can easily get sucked into making banners and mucking around with HTML and CSS codes. Right now I have a background image that is refusing to obey the no-repeat command. Nice. But I'll keep looking for a way to fix it because I'm stubborn that way and because one of my friends at work runs the university's web tech group. I have contacts. Insider knowledge and expertise. So why is it so much more fun to muddle with it myself? I get plenty of opportunities to cuss in real life. I don't need blogger for that.

Anyway, since I'm almost done with my first draft, I'll be taking a break soon to write some website content for the new blog. I'll have info about the story premise, the characters, etc, as well as photographs and other cool things. I'm leaning heavily toward publishing the whole story online once I've been through a couple good edits and a beta read or two. So look for more info about this project soon!

90K!

I broke 90K on my novel this weekend! I'm definitely on track for finishing before I go on vacation, now that my vacation got pushed back a week because of my new job.

I've started a spiffy new blog where I'll post preview information about the new novel, and maybe even post the whole novel itself. I'm still divided on whether or not to seek publication and I'll know more once I've taken a break from it and started my revisions. But in general, I'm leaning more and more toward being a committed web and POD publisher until retirement gives me the time I would need to be successful in the world of traditional publication.

I'm not posting my new blog url yet, since it's still under construction. If time permits, I'll have the bare-bones version available for viewing before I leave later this month. I'll start populating it with information about characters and locations upon my return. It's hard to keep from working on it because it's a fresh and new creative project, which always gets me excited and eager to do everything right away. Patience is not my strong suit by a long shot!

But for now, patience is necessary. Time spent creating banners in PhotoShop for the blog is time not spent finishing the draft.

If only there were just a few more hours in the day!

New Story, New Word Count

My story in Word Catalyst is up! A few of you will recognize it as one I submitted to a contest earlier in the year. It wasn’t what they were looking for, but it’s a decent little story and I knew I could find it a home without much trouble.

I passed the 75K mark on my WIP last night. At this rate I might just make my goal of finishing before I leave for vacation in a few weeks. I really would like to have the draft complete because vacations having a way of rebooting my brain and I’ll be able to tackle the revisions with fresh eyes immediately upon my return.

I think I might end up with something worth pitching. I’m at least not having much trouble coming up with a query letter in my head, which is something I can’t usually say about my stories. So depending on how this turns out, I may shop it around a bit and see what kind of response I get. If it turns into more hassle than my time is worth, though, I’ve got a lot of fun ideas for how to put this out on the web.

I'm sometimes tempted to post excerpts or character sketches, but I'm holding back for now because I think I may end up changing some names and making the story more dark and gritty overall (as if it isn't already). But I'm at that stage where the characters are pestering me all the time and sometimes it's hard to shut them up. The only way to silence them is by letting them out, so we'll see how much longer I can keep them bottled up like this.

Does anyone else have this problem with their characters, or am I just crazy?

Flash Fiction Interlude: In a Dry Land(A Will and Diana Adventure)

NOTE: This previously-unposted flash appears in my Will and Diana Adventures book of stories. Readers unfamiliar with these stories may want to read up on Will and Diana's world before proceeding.

The donkey cart bounced along the road, its patched rubber tires churning up clouds of dust. Macy clutched the seat as the cart lurched into a pothole. “Watch where you’re going.”

Cascabel flicked the reins across the donkey’s back. “Maybe you should drive if you think you’d be so good at it.”

“Maybe we should camp closer to water.” Macy cast a glance toward the bed of the cart to make sure none of their containers had fallen over.

Sachi moved her horse closer. “There’s things I’d rather do than guard the water run, so I hope we find another well soon.”

“At least we get extra this way.” Diana said from where she walked her horse on the other side. “Direct from the source, where it tastes good.”

The other girls nodded. Water that tasted like plastic containers was only slightly better than no water at all.

They came down a hill and started the next rise.

“Hold up,” Diana said. “I think Balto’s got a stone.”

Cascabel stopped the cart and set the brake. Diana dismounted to check the donkey’s feet, but there was no stone.

“Unhitch him,” Sachi suggested.

Diana unhitched the donkey and sure enough, he was limping. The girls huddled to discuss their options, but their instructions for these types of situations had been clear. Sachi would ride back to camp for assistance while Diana would hitch her horse to the cart and try to maintain their progress at the annoying pace of the injured donkey.

The girls had gone half a mile in sullen silence when they saw a cluster of riders in the distance.

“That was fast,” Macy said.

Diana squinted at the horizon. “Too fast. And where’s our fresh donkey?”

Cursing, the girls scrambled for their weapons, but Diana knew with a sick feeling in her stomach that unless Sachi showed up with reinforcements, it was she who would have to defend the three of them. The other girls were only camp supporters.

The riders came nearer and it was clear they weren’t from an enemy unit, nor were they locals going about their business. These were young men dressed in flashy finery, desert pirates moving from one raiding opportunity to another.

If they had been a pack of starving wolves, Diana would’ve been less terrified. Unaffiliateds were unpredictable. They might trot past without a second glance or they might do something horrible, like—

“Maybe one of us would be enough,” Macy said. “I could—”

Diana glanced at her. Macy sat pale and wide-eyed, holding her pistol in a trembling grip. She had worked in a brothel and wasn’t above using her old tricks to distract an enemy guard, but this was different. “No.” Diana turned toward the men who were closing on them rapidly. “Make them fight for us.”

There was no time to unhitch her horse, so she walked to meet them, carrying her M16 in a way she hoped made it clear she knew how to use it. The men kicked their horses and swooped upon her, circling in a manner that called to mind the tales Apaches told of how their ancestors isolated enemies before a kill.

“What’s with the big gun, little girl?”

“Need a boyfriend? I’ve got a big gun, too.”

Diana tried to think, but the circling riders were making her dizzy. She could take out any one of them, but then the others would have her for sure, and Macy and Cascabel would be left unprotected.

“Are your friends as pretty as you? We can show you a good time.”

Dammit, where were Sachi and the reinforcements?

“What’s in the wagon, cutie?”

“Water!” she said in exasperation. “And will you stop and talk to me like normal people?”

To her surprise, they did stop. A man with pale eyes and a spattering of tattoos across his face edged his skittish horse toward her. He made no move to draw his weapon and instead twitched his shoulders beneath his velvet shirt. “You say you got water?”

“Yes. No jewelry, no batteries, no—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Where you going?”

Diana had started to relax but now she moved the M16 back into position. “None of your business.”

Instead of taking offense, he looked away. When he met Diana’s eyes again, it was with a note of vulnerability. “I’ve got a guy laid up not far from here. None of us has had water since yesterday morning—”

“There’s a spring five miles back on this road.”

“And we’re less than a mile from a guy who’s dying.” He rubbed his face. “We won’t molest you. Just share, okay?”

Sensing she had no better options, Diana started walking toward the cart, indicating with a jerk of her head that the raiders should follow. As she drew near, she motioned for Macy and Cascabel to put down their weapons. “They say all they want is water. Let them take what they want.”

Macy and Cascabel stepped away from the cart and watched in fascination as the men grabbed the containers and raised them to their lips, gulping noisily and spilling water on themselves. One barrel was big enough for their horses and they took turns letting the animals drink. When they were satisfied, the man with the pale eyes approached Diana again. “We’re going to take some of this water to our friend.”

By now the others had mounted their horses, each carrying one of the smaller containers in his lap. They hadn’t gone far when the pale-eyed one jerked on the reins and cantered back. Macy and Cascabel scurried under the cart in a panic, but Diana held her ground. The man wheeled his horse in front of her and tossed something at her feet. “Thanks, pretty lady.” He kicked his horse again and chased after his companions.

In the silence that followed their fading hoof beats, Diana bent to retrieve the gold piece. It was a large one, heavy and valuable. She was polishing it with the tail of her shirt, her hands still shaking and her mind reeling, when a new movement on the horizon caught her attention.

It was Sachi.

With relief, Diana dropped the coin in a pocket. “Well, it’s about fucking time.”

WIP Update!

I broke 60K here in the wee hours of Sunday morning, and I finally got my MC and her man in bed. Sheesh. I'd been trying to make that happen all week but between their chaotic lives and my limited time for writing during the week, I only just now got to that scene.

Well, it was worth it, both for plot purposes and because what's the point of having characters if you don't torture them a little by making them wait and throwing a few needless (to them, not to the plot) deaths between them and their desires?

A lot of interesting things are happening with this story-- themes I hadn't planned are emerging and characters are developing in unanticipated ways. I'm a little concerned that I may have too many characters and sub-plots, but that's a matter for the editing phase. For now I'm just enjoying being in the zone with these characters, and I hope they keep talking to me and get me to the end with a minimum of difficulties. Ideally, I'd like to be done with the draft before I go on vacation next month. At my current rate of progress, it just might happen!