Busy Busy (Continued)

By Michael Seese

A ways back, I posted a blog which stated that I like to accomplish at least two writing "things" every day. So yesterday I:

- Proofread "...By The Way, It’s Friday The 13th" and "Cinéma Vérité."
- Submitted them to Pill Hill Press.
- Sent query letters to six agents.
- Wrote 530 words of a new short story I'm working on.
- And watched the Castle episode "After Hours." (So expect the write-up tomorrow.)

Something good has to come out of all that...

Right?

Cross Your Fingers!

By Michael Seese

Well, I haven't had much of a chance to write about writing lately, because I've been...well...writing.

Back in February, I mentioned some upcoming open calls from Pill Hill Press. One of them is called "Psycho Cinema."

PSYCHO CINEMA!
We're looking for HORROR stories with a strong CINEMA theme... this can be interpreted by the author in any way that connects the short fiction to the movies, as long as there are strong elements of horror. Things like: horror at the movie theater, horror on a movie set, horror featuring a horror film actor (fiction only, please; let's not kill off real actors), horror at a drive-in theater, etc. As long as HORROR and HORROR MOVIES are present, the story will be considered.

In many cases, the calls have a submit-by date. This one was open. I started a story -- a humorous horror story -- then put it aside. But I started working on it and another piece a few weeks back. I have them nearly finished. They are titled "...By The Way, It’s Friday The 13th" and "Cinéma Vérité." The former is the funny one. The latter, I think, is chilling. I hope to submit them to Pill Hill this week. 

In the meantime, I have posted "Cinéma Vérité" to my In Progress Stuff page.

I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to share your thoughts.


 

My Latest Project

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.

BUGS Funny

This is not one of my traditional "funny fotos." But it's funny, as in "funny strange," nonetheless.

BUGS is now available on Amazon:

From the above image, you can barely see that it's available new and used. The latter alone, I consider amusing, seeing as how the book has been out for about a week. Take a look at the used prices.

Hmmm. Should I buy it new for $13.13, or "used" for $87.59...or if I'm feeling generous, $89.39?

Completely seriously, I want to write those folks and ask, "How's business?"

$10!!!

Today, I received a check from Pill Hill Press as payment for "Worm Herding," my contribution to BUGS.

The way I figure it, if I can write 100,000,000 more stories just like this one, I'll be in the same earning stratosphere as J.K. Rowling.

Seriously, it's GREAT to get any amount of compensation for writing.

The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

Well, perhaps just the good and the UGLY. Take a look at the image below, and decide for yourself which is which.

(Of course, I mean "ugly" in the nicest, sincerest, creepiest way.)  

As I have mentioned in several previous blog posts, my short story "Worm Herding" was selected for the Pill Hill Press compilation BUGS! And here it is. The book is available right now on Amazon. According to the publisher, it will downloadable as an e-book "late next week." 

So please buy two or three copies. Just kidding. Well, sort of.
 
And I'm certain that the owner of my favorite bookstore, the best bookstore in the entire world, an icon among icons in iconic Chagrin Falls (did I suck up enough yet?) -- who follows my blogs as closely as I follow the stock market ticker -- will order at least five for the shop.

I could even sign them.

Two Updates

Just to get y'all up to speed on a couple of posts from the past.

First, exactly one month ago, I proudly announced that my short story "Worm Herding" had been selected for the BUGS anthology from Pill Hill Press. Though they clearly are a reputable outfit, I never was a "count my chickens before they hatch" kind of guy. So I assumed it would be coming out in the near future; but I tried to keep my enthusiasm in check.

On Wednesday, I got an email containing the final mock-up. They said to not share it with anyone. But I think showing you a snippet of the table of contents should be OK.

There I am on page 28! So maybe I can start icing the champagne. Our final edits are due April 5. They offered no specifics as to when it would be available. When it is, believe me, you'll hear about it.

Second, earlier this week I made mention of the Grim Future anthology (the title is not final) that I'm contributing to. I failed to mention in that post that I only heard about it Monday afternoon, and managed to get on board later that day when someone dropped out. I have finished my piece: 1,100-ish words. Here is a little snippet to whet your appetite:

An image flickered to the screen, paused, and came to life.
    “Hello. My name is Adam Roman. I’m the project manager for the Reset Project. If you’re seeing my face and hearing my voice, then you found the satellite—which we knew would be pretty hard to miss—and were able to retrieve this memory store and recover the data after... however long it has taken for the ‘reset’ to occur.”
    It was hard to tell if the drawn-out, deliberate delivery was the result of weariness wedded with exhaustion, or just weariness.
    “Today marks the formal end of the Reset Project. Normally, when you close a project, you celebrate. You get together with your co-workers, pop some beers, laugh, look back, and maybe talk about the next project. Not this time.
    “No one is celebrating.
    “No one is laughing.
    “And there will be no next project.
    “Why? There is no one. I’m the last person alive on Earth. 


Again, when this one is made available -- probably around fall, according to Lyn -- you'll hear about that as well.

If At First You Don't Succeed....

This is a long one. But I think it's a good one.

Back in September-ish, I felt certain that I would have a good October-ish.  

Why?

Because I had bravely sent out four of my children into the world.

- I sent Udopia to the Main Street Rag (a publisher), which had an open submission period for novellas.

- I sent ten poems to publisher Manic D Press.

- I sent my short story "Tarantulas On Leashes" to Allegory Magazine.

- I sent four other short stories to Uncle John's Flush Fiction.

I fully expected great things to come of this effort. You could say I'm an optimistic fool. But if I didn't think they were good -- and worthy of publishing -- then why would anyone else? And why would I bother?

By November 30, all four had said "no." Actually, one did not respond at all, but their website says “You will be contacted only if the editors are interested in reading your entire manuscript.” (Fair enough.)

Naturally I was bummed. But did I contemplate slitting my wrists? Of course not!

What did I do? I guess you could say I channeled my inner Gloria Gaynor. Since you're probably scratching your head, she's the singer of the 70s disco hit, "I Will Survive." That song is featured in the movie Chicken Little, which is in heavy rotation in our house right now.

So I declared that my works were "single" again, and free to seek out other fish in the sea. (Finding Nemo is big right now, too.) I emailed five poems to Freshwater. I sent "Tarantulas" to Best Fiction.

Fast forward a few months...

Early last week, I had the same feeling: something good was about to happen. Unfortunately, the week did not start out so auspiciously:

- On Monday, I learned I did not win radio station WCLV's love poem contest; I didn't even place in the top ten. And, Freshwater said "no" to all five poems.

- Tuesday, nothing either way.

- Wednesday, as I mentioned two posts ago, I hooked up with a few former colleagues at a luncheon. I showed Jack my infosec book. 
   "This would make a great introduction to information security college course syllabus," he said.
  "Or, at the corporate level, instead of having a training program, hand them this book," I replied.
   His eyebrows went up. As it turns out, he recently started working for a new company, and has been tasked with improving their information security program...and creating a business contingency program as well.
   "I also have a book on BCP," I said.
   His eyebrows went up again.
   We'll see what happens.

- On Thursday, I heard back from Pill Hill Press regarding "Worm Herding." And what I heard was "yes!" The downside is that the pay is only $10. The upside...well, there is plenty of upside: an additional fiction credit, my name out there. You get the idea.  Yay!

- On Friday, the editor of the Disaster Resource GUIDE reached out to me and asked me to write an article. Of course I'll be jumping at the chance.

The weekend and early part of this week were kind of sedate. I kept hoping that I would get more good news which I could share...that "Never Mind The Nonsense, Here's The Sex Truncheons" would be picked up by Pill Hill Press (alas, it was rejected) or that an agent would ask to see Nightmares (alas, none did).

And, like before, I feel good about this coming week. More good stuff is on the way. I know it. Yes, maybe I'm just an optimistic fool. (OK, so there's no "maybe.")

The point to all of this is, I got one solid "victory" ("Worm Herding"), one unexpected win (the Disaster Resource GUIDE article), and one possible lead (the possibility of work with Jack's company). 

So I really can't complain about these past two weeks. Stay tuned...

"Never Mind The Nonsense..."

A few posts back, after relating my saga of the speed-writing and last-minute-submitting of "Worm Herding" to Pill Hill Press, I stepped back and reflected on some of their other open submission calls.

One that intrigued me was called "CONQUEST THROUGH DETERMINATION," which will be a compilation of stories in the steampunk genre. If you don't know what steampunk is, don't worry...I didn't either at first. In a nutshell, it's a story set in the late 1800s (the era of steam) that includes some sort of futuristic contraption that runs on steam. The grandaddy of them all is the Nautilus, the fantastic submarine of Jules Verne's 20,00 Leagues Under The Sea.

I really wanted to write something. But the deadline was less than two weeks away. I pondered and pondered, but couldn't come up with even a story idea. I considered reaching out to my friend and past co-conspirator Bill with the thought that we could bounce ideas back and forth and come up with complementary tales...sort of, Around The World In 80 Days, told from two different perspectives.

Actually, I did try reaching out to Bill, but we couldn't connect.

And then...inspiration!

I took the "punk" in steampunk literarlly, and crafted a piece about London's first punk string quartet, who were all the rage in 1879.

Since it's just over 3,000 words, it's too long for this space. But I have posted the entire thing on my "In Progress Stuff" page. It's not due until Monday; if you have any feedback -- especially any typos -- please share it in the comments. 

So without any further ado....

Never Mind The Nonsense, Here’s The Sex Truncheons!

More Pill Hill Press

This is somewhat a continuation of yesterday's post. But since that one included a long text passage, I thought it best to make them separate entries.

After I submitted "Worm Herding," I took a look at the Pill Hill Press Open Submissions page. I have to say, I am really stoked about these folks.


CONQUEST THROUGH DETERMINATION. 

The time of Steampunk is upon us. From the moment the world first watched Jules Verne’s Nautilus explore the mysterious leagues of the sea, to this summer’s release of Cowboys and Aliens, Steampunk has become a fascination, neigh, an obsession to those who see the world through slightly different colored goggles. 
 
Pill Hill Press salutes this vision and is now seeking stunners of stories from today’s Steampunks.

For generations of literary inspiration, look to Morlock Night by K.W. Jeter,  The Difference Engine by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling, or Boneshaker by Cherie Priest, among others.

Hollywood has long been a fan, as is evidenced by The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Wild Wild West, 9, and on television, Warehouse 13.

The downside is that the deadline is February 13. On the upside, the minimum word count is 2,000. If I can get a solid idea, I can knock that out in an afternoon.


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.


3,000 - 8,000 words by May 31. Oh yeah, I am so doing that one.


PSYCHO CINEMA!
We're looking for HORROR stories with a strong CINEMA theme... this can be interpreted by the author in any way that connects the short fiction to the movies, as long as there are strong elements of horror. Things like: horror at the movie theater, horror on a movie set, horror featuring a horror film actor (fiction only, please; let's not kill off real actors), horror at a drive-in theater, etc. As long as HORROR and HORROR MOVIES are present, the story will be considered.

Ditto.

In addition to those, Pill Hill Press is accepting flash fiction, in both the regular and frightening flavors. They will consider up to four stories of 500 words or less. Having written a few of 100 or less for literary agent Janet Reid's contests, I sense a submission to this compilation is forthcoming as well.

Down To The Wire...

In my most recent post -- way back on Friday -- I made reference to the Pill Hill Press, and their open call for submissions to "BUGS." (I was going to provide a link to the BUGS page, but it's already gone.) I haven't posted anything here since then because I've been BUSY! They had a deadline of January 31, and I had a short story that was in progress.

Since I almost always make it up as I go, I had no idea many how words I still needed to write. All I knew was that I had 1,865 words, and I needed a minimum of 4,000. I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. But I lacked the details.

So I take great pleasure in reporting that after a heroic effort (cue the heraldic trumpets) I was able to finish. I would not have been able to do it, though, without a lot of help from my voice recorder and my Dragon voice recognition software. After getting our oldest to bed at 9:00, and then the twins down at 10:00 (what is WRONG with those kids?) I cranked out the last few paragraphs -- not knowing exactly what words would be coming out as I tapped the keys -- and hit the "submit" button around 10:45. The final tally: 9,582 words, 418 shy of the max.

Will they like it? I hope so.

The original post shared the opening. Below is a sample from somewhere in the middle. To set up the scene, my protagonist, Slim, has just dived into a hole in the "Cave Of Swiss Cheese Floor" in an effort to rescue his partners.


    I looked around. I was in some sort of tube. It was transparent, or translucent. I never was very good at those “trans” words. The point is, they weren’t like windows. I couldn’t really see through the walls. But light—from somewhere—was coming in.
    Suddenly I felt a tug, which was strange, since there was nothing I could see that was tugging on me. But I was being pulled down. Whatever it was, it was so strong that I couldn’t keep my arms by my side. They were dangling down in front of me, just waving in the breeze, although there was no breeze. But with my arms down there, they were not in a position where I could tug three times and signal for Tiny to get me the hell out of here. I assumed he would feel that I was being pulled, and yank be back up, any second now.
    Any minute now.
    “Any day now, Tiny!” I yelled. But for some reason, I couldn’t hear my voice. I tried calling out, screaming anything that came to mind. (For some reason, that “anything” turned out to be an old Irish drinking song that my Grandpa taught me when I was a boy. How odd.) But no matter what I tried, the hollers just didn’t seem to want to leave my mouth. So I came up with another idea. I started kicking my legs, in the hope that Tiny would feel me struggling, and pull.
    It was a good idea in theory, but a bad one in practice. You see, as a skinny guy, I’m skinny all over. That includes my legs and—more central to my dilemma—my ankles. So whether or not Tiny felt me, before he had a chance to do anything, I slipped out of my boots.
    This bad day was just getting worse.
    At least I still had the rope.
    I fell. I fell and fell. And fell. I was kind of surprised how long and far I fell, considering that the riata was only about 30 feet long. It would have been about 20 had I wrapped all the way around Tiny, rather than just through two of the belt loops. Finally, I hit bottom with a thud, though I suppose it was more like a “mush.”
    I spit out the dirt, and wiped the dust from my eyes.
    The first thing I saw were shoes. Red shoes. Red women’s shoes. Red women’s shoes that glittered. Looking a little higher, I saw black and white striped socks. Further up, a black dress. Above that was a woman, pretty, if you could overlook the green skin on her face. But she had a nice smile. At the top of it all was a black, pointy hat.
    I’m no expert on the classics and other works of fine fiction. But I know a witch when I see one. I jumped to my feet and was about to draw my six-shooter. But she looked at me with kind, even caring eyes, dusted me off, and said, “Are you all right?”
    Her gentleness took me aback. I’ve never met a witch before, though once when I was a boy back in Massachusetts, I saw one at the bottom of a pool, weighed down with stones. (Wait, if she didn’t float despite the stones, then she “passed” the “witch test.” Then I guess I haven’t seen a witch. But from what I’ve heard, they’re evil, and in possession of a hairy eyeball, or something like that. Her eyeballs were not hairy, though the lashes were fairly long and silky.


If you can't figure out where he is, based on the image of a green-faced witch wearing striped socks and red shoes...well, you have to know.

Should you want to see more, please write the folks at Pill Hill Press, and tell them that they just HAVE TO include "Worm Herding" in their BUGS anthology. And be prepared to purchase a copy on the spot.

No, that probably won't work.

Or, just leave a comment here asking for it, and I'll email you the whole thing.

A Race Against Time

In several previous posts, I've made reference to "bug" stories I have written: "Tarantulas On Leashes" and, fairly recently, "Running With The Beetles."

I've been wondering what to do with them. Submit them to a magazine? Compile several and make a $0.99 e-book to sell on Amazon?

Then, the other day, I came across the Pill Hill Press call for submission BUGS.

They populate our world. There are over a million known species and they represent over half of all living organisms alive today. If you include both bug and bug-like species, they can be found in every environment from the bottom of the sea to the high stratosphere. They populate our nightmares. Bugs literally get under our skin, they invade our bodies, have poisonous bites and carry disease. The most common phobia in the world is the fear of spiders. 

I'm looking for stories between the 4,000 to 10,000 word range that involves bugs in some form or another for an anthology of imaginative tales.

The only problem is the word count. (My obsession.) "Tarantulas" is 2,600. "Beetles" is not complete, but I know it will come nowhere near that.

But in my back pocket, I have "Worm Herding."

    It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it. That's just a little joke between me and the boys, though Beanpole thinks I say it too much, that it's getting old. I don't care. I think it's funny. And out here, when you're not working, there's not much else to do, other than crack jokes, talk about long-lost loves, sing old cowboy songs off key, and look at the stars. I don't mind Beanpole giving me some lip. He's a good man. I'm lucky. All my boys, my crew, are solid fellows. Besides Beanpole, there's Skinny Pete, Lean Gene, and Tiny. We used to have a guy named Honest Abe. But he took a job splitting rails, or something like that.
    I rely on these fellas to help me do a tough job. It takes a special kind of man to do this work. You need stamina. You need to be quick and accurate with your six shooter. And you need really good eyesight. These critters depend on us to keep them safe. And if we slip up and lose our focus for just one second, then ZOOM! Out of the sky comes a robin, and one of them is gone.
    We're worm herders.

I started it around the same time as the other ones. But I didn't know where to "take it." However, thanks to this latest opportunity, I found inspiration.

The submission deadline is 1/31...next Tuesday. I'm up to 5,000 words, and the words are still coming. In fact, much like the experience I related in the post that can be accessed by clicking on "My obsession" (above), yesterday I sat down to work on a conversation, and 1,200 words came out of nowhere.

Will I make it? Stay tuned.