anachred

The door kept opening into her closet.

“...Come on, I don't have time for this,” Cyrie said, slamming it again.

                              That was the wrong attitude. She closed her eyes, tried to embrace the pursuit of Good and Romance, and smiled as she swung it open.

 

It opened on a forest. “Finally,” she muttered, and stepped in, closing the door behind her.

 

( and a bit more of the story )

 

I may be getting set to write the Pirates Penance book/s, which feature revenant pirates, cursed pawn-shop inheritors, and the patron saint of poetic justice.

Anyway, I have some pre-writing here: a short "story":

 

( A Bet with the Patron Saint of Bookies )

New story I'm working on:


“I won't keep that promise,” he said.

Bead ran her hand down the cow's warm, coarse-haired flank, drawing her bucket out slowly to not startle the animal.

“Oh?” she asked. “You'll let the Commons go hang, the people, the gardens, your barn? Just over the one thing they asked you for? Well. That's smart.”

“The one little thing they asked for was my daughter. In the enemy's war camp.”

 

So, I've just realized my writer's fantasy.
Okay, so the most potent one at this moment: it's a publishing-*unrelated fantasy.

To have someone whose opinion I respect sit down, and read through all of my short stories and tell me which ones are any good.
  I know. Beggarly. But there it is. The stuff of my dreams.



Since it's Thursday, and I don't know what to do with you, here, have a little flash fiction.
(You do know this will be bad, right?
And what if I tell you it's a complete rip-off, which is how all my tributes to things end up?
But at least it's short? 1147 words only!)
It no longer has even that recommendation. It is now only less bad. And much less than 2000 words.
Sorry, snoozers.


PS: this is not real fan-fiction. It is an example of how much I canNOT do fan-fiction. Because I have rename people and rework set-ups, and borrow lightly to expand in strange directions.


*just had an odd moment where the world "publishing" felt the same to me as it did before I got so inured to hearing it all the time, seeing it in everything I read. Funny.

Today I:
~ ordered about 15 books from the library on forests, castles, and libraries
~ went over listings of agents AGAIN but focusing on MG representing ones
~ typed in what I wrote yesterday as a start to Librarian Glamour

Which two are related to each other? Cyber-cookie if you guess!


What I have for an opening to Charming:

It was still summer, but Blynne and the other Archive girls were back at school. In the Senior House, the new class of seniors was settling in, jazzed about living together in a dorm rather than with host families. The house parents had been walking up and down the halls for hours, to keep them from getting too hysterical.

“So what did you get assigned this summer?” Sabronie asked her roommates.

Blynne looked at Diera, to deflect the question.

“Would you believe?” Diera said. “Nanny work. For the Crown Prince of Dalepri's girl, but still.”

 

( Missions Accomplished )

 

 

This is still pretty rough, and I know I don't quite have the tone for it yet, but I think it's going to be fun.

Guess who is mighty? And hath finished Silas Escapes?

You are so very clever. You deserve a prize.

A not-so-Poisson snippet: (The Not-Batman project, which is not going anywhere for a while yet, right, Not-Batman?)
( Best read with a mild Boston accent... )


I don't have a final word-count for The First Sequel, yet, since I haven't yet mustered my might to finish typing it. But there will be that eventually. After all, A Charade By Sheridan is going to be adding onto it's wordiness. Go Sherry!

This one will be like so:

*Charade by Sheridan* picks up at the end of *The Carnie's Conspiracy*, when Molly's younger brother is introduced to his magician tutor to start his education as one. Just as he's growing accustomed to frustrating work and being quiet in the big, dusty townhouse, Sheridan finds out the master is being pressured into work against Mr. Poisson--whoever he's pretending to be at the moment. Sheridan knows his master doesn't want to succeed in the sabotage, and so begins a long interchange of pretense. Master Mandrake teaches Sherry how to counter each move he make,s while speaking as if to say the opposite--and Sherry struggles to put it to practice and have his work attributed to Mr. Poisson. Can a boy long out of pick-pocket form sneak such magic and parse out what's under everything his tutor says?

The FLOGGINGS will continue until Morale Improves

I have this sticker hanging just behind my computer right now. I bought this on Martha's Vineyard, during Viable Paradise, which was terribly a'propos.
I've taken it for my inspirational theme this NaNo, too.
Feelin' it today, since I wrote till I went to sleep last night, which is not a great way to get refreshed.
I woke up this morning dreaming a different story I've had in the background for a while, which involves a re-envisioned Batman and a girl doing a Catwoman act to get his attention.

12322 words
as of this morning.
Which. Is over half-way to the minimum word-count for this novel. Not too bad! So *Silas Escapes* is at 50%. No wonder I've been feeling like tying things up...

I want to reintroduce Alan. (Alan Birch, he's our man!)
I do believe this would take jury-rigging.
But it would make the following scenes move so much more quickly...! I guess I'll have to settled for Grannie the Hooligan.



For a series of haiku about a spider, starting with:

The spider hung loose
arms out, embracing the world
swinging in breeze-time

go to Gossamer_Spun

ETA: I just got mail from Jonathan Stroud. *throb*
I love this part of NaNo...somehow YA fantasy authors are really game for being guest pep-talkers!

Also, I love November evenings like this:



6256 and into chapter three.
I better get to the plot soon, huh? That's a fourth of the way in...
Poisson's grandmother is enlivening it quite a bit so today's slog moved quicker.

Here, have a bit:
(Silas has just got out of prison, with help of a Siamese cat)

“Love,” said his grandmother, “try leaving the place, and see how you're set a'right. I'll just burn the coverlet when you've done.”

“Roll it up for a pillow and I'll be snug. Wood may look as flat as a stone floor, but I'll vow it's softer.”

“My poor lad. Here, lie on this old quilt, I've had a mind to give it to the slum-children recent, anyway, since your grandfather came by it through his grandma, and it's only laziness that's kept me from making up a new one.”

“Bless you,” Silas said, lying down.

 

She'd lit a candle to find the bedding, and now her eye fell on his foot.

“And just what have you speared yourself on, scapegallows?”

“I was attacked by a screwdriver,” Silas said.

( Granny Physicks Silas )

 

I'm rebuilding my bookmarks.
It's shocking how few things I really NEED to have links ready to.
In reward for circumspection, I may just go find the Girl Genius site...

29739
Poisson's first draft is finished!

(My inspirational background)

The 9 chapters of "The Carnie's Conspiracy" of the Conspiracy of Cons series (all highly debateable...if you have critique, present it) have been concluded. And typing also wrapped up.

Ben asked me "What's the last word?"
Boy.

Feeling this was overly obscure, I present you with the last line:
There was no having the last word with that boy.

I am thrilled. And tomorrow morning I start herding munchkins and selling pumpkins, once I've done serious damage to the prep work left undone last week. Eep. I wish I had some chocolate about to reward myself, but I dinna.

ETA: Snippet of Poisson

Words of Poisson: 22,000

Newest Title Idea: Carnies for Her Majesty ("Plans of Poisson" series)

Grandiose Shemes of the Week:
 I want to finish this. I can do it easy in a week's worth of free days, but I'm going to try for the next two days as well.

I think this is going to end up about 25,000 words, which I like the sound of. I don't know if I can squeeze two more chapter breaks in there, but it would bring me up to 8...which just would seem more decent a number, though short of 10. (If I cared enough I could shift a few chapters back, but you know, that's just ridiculous.)

Also, I'm thinking about keeping an eye out for Poisson costuming pieces. After all, if you have fan-art, you are a fandom, right? Which makes dressing as your own character only _mostly_ lame.

And it's only fair that I share a recent bit with you.

 

( In Which Molly is Costuming for her Show )

I would like to report a triumph for Genre Art against the mundanes!

My middle brother's digitally altered photo featuring a baby centaur (as cute as it sounds) is going to the Tulsa State Fair. That and the competition his sister provided (also fantasy and, I'm sad to say, featuring me but at least I got second!) will be coming soon. But I was getting impatient, and they have to send me the stuff.

I just bought ties for my copy-cat necktie apron. When I finish it, you will hear about it. Actually, you are likely to hear about it more frequently than that...


Last but Not Least!
A flash of 528 words I would like honest feedback on. It's kinda...not a story. As is the way with flash. Bad flash.
So I need to be contradicted or confirmed whether it has anything to it or not...

I'm from the abandoned city of Civva. The myth of lost worlds is that they stand just as the golden days ended in them. Makes for cool digital art. My life is a testament that what wasn't broken gets used until it becomes the dust that buries the rest of the pieces. Used by those who didn't know better than to leave.

 

( A Haunting of the Empty )

It's Stat Time Again    Because all the Cool Elevenses VPs are doing it

And this time it's fancy--I've been pulling out submissions information from my Progress spreadsheet, just to see it isolated in a clearer format. I'm...rather impressed, actually.

Rejections: 10 (14 pieces, multis for poetry) but see this?
FORM Rejections: 5   
(which until I pulled this info out I hadn't realized were so disparate--all story submissions are in this category, sadly)
Submission Points : 13
(including pending responses for year so far)
Over Last Year's Score: 11
Outstanding Invitations to Submit More: 3
(Woefully for speculative poetry, which I started to actually write yesterday, luckily two for when submissions reopen a while from now)

Poisson Points:  69 pages  5th Chapter of 8~10

First Lines:    (with cheats)
Poisson:

Mr. Poisson was the most dangerous man of Muldable City. His wardrobe being all in hues of magenta was not generally seen as funny.

Between Brothers:

Desty looked out the window of his friend's apartment over the city—the frost and fire of evening, in this season of short days, was brilliant. He felt a forgotten valediction on the magic he worked with, dry and business-like, every day.

The Leighle:

Caer paused at the door of his office at encampment and watched the Leighle. She was at work on a battle-map spread on the floor boards, intent as ever, but looking pallid.

Deadside Beat:

A billboard stood, neglected, on the fringe of Untown's Deadside but facing into Liveside: "Kills for Less--Hardhome Hitstrikers".

 Every time she thought of it, Morgan Hardhome's teeth went on edge.

And right now I'm reworking Beastly--again. The first line is tentatively:

The light of midmorning blinded Jen as she threw open the door.

Boy. None of these are snappy at ALL.
Except Mr. Poisson. He is an exception to everything. (Except being talked up. He takes no exception to that.)

If you didn't see my last post and want to hear me be silly about the con, that's the previous post at anachred. This is just a Teaser Dump.

From Chapter Two:

I manfully finished typing this chapter after hitting The Wall at 5ish.
Also, despite all the lovely doubts that this is a far too simple plot and it needs more tension, and everything I always do wrong in stories I'm still doing wrong.
On the upside, Sarah Rees Brennan's blog is hilarious and I have friend'd her. *beams*

Of my most recent brain-child--Mr. Poisson and the [Blankety-Blank]
This is a teaser, the opening, and please let me know what you think.

Silas Poisson was the most dangerous man in Muldable City. His wardrobe being all in hues of magenta was not generally seen as funny, maybe because it trivialized the (reputed) blood on his hands into a lolly-colored joke. Why couldn't he wear red, like any other self-respecting villain?

 

I'm always fond of new projects, but I believe this one has legs.

I am vulgarly bespattered with henna tattooing I can blame on no one else. I got carried away and mixed to many metaphoric elements. Pictures to follow?

I'm fairly impressed with myself. I am running a house of 7, plus menagerie and...
Writing a LOT.

Mortal Queen is terrible fun, and it's practically writing itself--usually I don't sympathise with that term, and I still feel the work of coming up with the scenes, but I'm having them come to me before I sit down to the page. Today I racked up four pages, even having been out of the house for the afternoon, as well as cooking for a family.

I have to share this part with you:

PS
Inuyasha Episode 66 notable for:
Sesshomaru Eyebrow Action!

...yaaa, kawaiiii.

Where does the magic go?

Walk Eager is a perfectly wonderful story, and I was totally psyched about it. I think I got off-course, and need to rediscover the part that's exciting to me. Even typing this I realize I wanted to subvert some tropes, and though I'm almost to the first major one, I lost sight of it in the nitty-gritty... Luckily I'm not too far.

Things Still Magickal:

Howl Frontispiece Pictures after the jump...



And a Mortal Queen Excerpt
Because you deserve a treat...


(I kind of like the semi-country/Southern tone that's emerging for Tara. I'm pondering a real western steampunk and the brainstorming is infecting the rest of my brain.)

"Ribbons was a deadbeat elf."

Anyone want to critique Knight-Errant or Heart's Desire, a fairy-tale style fantasy short story? It's 4k. Help me out if you can!

The people who have read so far have liked it a lot and not given me much to work with for rewriting. *g* Any volunteers will also be welcome to help me get this story a real name!

I think I might finish a book pretty quick here. I also started a new short story in the world of "Kansai Hop" (more generally useful: like a slightly less boys-book Artemis Fowl universe) which I will cut but still put most of the opening here. Despite the fact that it's not Teaser Tuesday or anything.


Larry ambled down to the marquee, bland expression fine tuned so he could internally sneer at the knocked-in neighboring sign for the ugly wonder of a Funeral Home.   ...

 

This is placed in a specific time in bordertown Claremore, BTW. ^_^

These are the sort of things you create and try not to think about what profound throughts you could have been thinking if you'd resisted the urge...
Guess the tributes!       [not really. spare yourself the "What If?" agonies of wasted time.]

Rainbows on bubbles and great winged horses
Snowdays with Tumnus and werewolf keen noses
Gamboling kitsune, sly leprechauns
My favorite illusions, once seen and they're gone

Kings born in exile with old broken sabres
Changelings and deep wells and candles and prayers
Angry steep mountains with snow to hunt dwarves
Mad wives in attics and those fey secret drawers

Time full of wrinkles, impossible heroes
Wrestling with Grendel and magical bureaus
Avatars running from demigod des'ny
My fav'rite illusions are running away with me.

Alphabets forming from thornbush and briars
Phookas that prefer to ride on two tires
Redheads, tea, dragons, elves, shoes, steel, owls, rain
Here let me tell you my favorites again...


Hint: I cheated.

So, this instead of finishing another major edit on Beastly. I will scoping out new guinea pigs predictably later than I like and sooner than is good for you.

In honor of it being Tuesday and having actually accomplished something Monday, here's an opening bit of the story I've been working on.