A dead soldier: on the nature of haunting

I have decided to declare Gossamer Yellow a dead soldier and publish it here at A Moving Line.

It hasn’t been everywhere but it has been read enough — and returned — to suggest to me that I either need to pull it or do a major rewrite. I’m pleased with it just the way it is and so I’m going to let it be.

The six or so editors who read it all said pretty much the same thing — it’s well-written but it starts too slow. One even went so far as to say, “absolutely nothing happens until the piece is half over.”

It’s difficult to be objective about your babies, but when that many people say the same thing, it’s probably true. And I have to consider that the same thing may be the case with Orbital Decay.

They are both reflective pieces that examine the nature of a shared life occurence.

In Orbital Decay, Frank is forced to face an insurmountable shortcoming, something that anyone with dreams and ambitions may face at some point in their life.

In Gossamer Yellow, Chelsea sees a ghost, a claim that many people have made, and she cannot convince others that her experience is real.   The story suggests that ghosts may not always be dead, at least not in the physical sense.

So I’m offering it to you to read. If you do, let me know what you think.

The kid in murky depths

The 8th issue of the British speculative fiction magazine, Murky Depths, is on sale now.  Shipping will begin this week and my flash fiction, Nosing with the Four-Stroke Kid, is in there.

As my Brit friends, Jon and Sarah, would say, I am chuffed about this one. I haven’t seen it yet, my author copies are in the mail, but I’ve seen previous issues of the magazine and presentation is first rate.

I have also seen work done by artist Neil Struthers, who is illustrator for my story, and he has a great Mad Max-Biker Chic style that fits perfectly with the Four-Stroke Kid.

The story is about chrome spikes and black leather and dirt bikes and over-weaning curiosity. I am hoping, after reading my tale, that you will never see another dirt bike or hear another diesel engine without thinking about the Four-Stroke Kid.

I’ll tell you more when I get my hands on the book. I can hardly wait.

Kindling the flame

My friend Gay tipped me off to an article in The Wall Street Journal today.  How the E-Book Will Change the Way We Read and Write takes a look at the Kindle, Amazon’s new electronic “book”.

It’s an interesting read.

I’ve been considering buying a Kindle since last summer but haven’t done so — so far.  The only real reason I haven’t is purely financial, and has nothing to do with the cost of the device.

If I lose one book, I don’t have to rebuild my entire library. If I lose my Kindle, I would.  That’s not because I have any special feeling for those books, though.

I have talked to people who tell me that they collect books because they love the way those pages feel and smell and look.  I buy books because of the stories they contain.  I rarely read non-fiction and when I do, it is almost always about story-telling.

That’s what I love — stories.

I am an addict.  And I see Kindle as a way to get my regular fix without having to tote eight million pounds of paper and ink around behind me, like some sort of Jacob Marley.

Now if Amazon just comes up with some way to protect my library on-line; I’m willing to pay some reasonable fee for that.  I hate packing books and lugging them around, every time I move.

Maybe they already have; I should Google it, huh?

At fear and trembling

I’ve got a piece of flash,  Hostel Intent, over at Fear and Trembling today.  It’s tongue-in-cheek horror, set in a dormitory at an large and anonymous university somewhere in western Washington State.  Seattle, I think.

Yeah, definitely.  Seattle.  And it features the twenty-fifth Teerthankar of the Jain, a freshman from Idaho, with a most unfortunate name, and an assistant dorm proctor named Babbu.

Check it out — if you get a chance.  And may Shiva’s blessing go with you.

At everyday poets

My poem, Jab A Hook In, will be featured at Every Day Poets Friday.

It is, ostensively, about fishermen, but it has more to do with having a bit of fun with Deacon Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, better known to all as Lewis Carroll, and with his wonderful nonsense poem, Jabberwocky.

It was included in from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, which was published in 1872. You can read the original here.

Whatever else he may have been, the man was a genius with words.