I promise that one of these days, I'll get around to talking about what I've been working on lately. There is a lot. (Actually, as I wrote this, I realized that I really do miss putting together these little progress reports.) In the meantime, here is a hint of what is coming.
Way back in February, as I was submitting "Worm Herding" to the Pill Hill Press folks, I found another call for submissions for an anthology of theirs. (I mentioned this already, but it probably makes sense to refresh your memory.) It's called "Use Enough Gun."
Sometimes, a mistake can lead to the hunter missing their quarry. Sometimes, an ill wrought plan can get the hunter injured, or even killed. And sometimes, when the hunter grossly underestimates the prey, worse can happen. Much worse. Make your stories cautionary tales that highlight the dangers of monster hunting. Tell us of mistakes that can occur when planning is replaced by reckless action, or when weapons malfunction, or when information is held back from those that need it. Give us a story about what happens when a hunter is simply overmatched by a creature that they never really stood a chance against. Or, tell us of the worst cases, the stories that send chills through the hunter’s bones; tell us what happens when they are turned into the very things that they are sworn to destroy.
I've been working on a story called "Tinkerhell." It takes place in a strange land called "Pixie Hellhole." If that doesn't give you a good hint as to what my hunter will be up against, consider this passage:
I turned and jumped. I figured that after a few seconds I would hit the ground and start sliding, rolling, falling. But I didn't. I stopped. In midair. They had caught me, and were bringing me back up. I recalled the words, the warning of the old man at the tavern, the fellow with one eye and tiny little scars all over his face and hands.
“They may only be three inches tall. But they’re mean little f--kers.”
The deadline is 5/31. So I'm working diligently. As I found with "Worm Herding," sometimes I grossly underestimate how many words I have in me.
As I was lying in bed last night, I came up with some ideas for the scene I was planning to work on next. On the way to work, I pulled out my trusty voice recorder, and started talking. Yeah, I probably shouldn't do that on the freeway at rush hour, but ...
I managed to dictate 700 words. It then took me about 40 minutes to clean it up. And I still had time to write another 250. That's not a bad hour's worth of work.
I'll keep you apprised of how the story goes.
As an aside, the $87 and $89 "used" copies of BUGS that I commented on last week apparently have been sold. Now, the used price is $16.65.