Spoke Too Soon

I often put the proverbial cart before the horse. In my last post I was discussing how I was waiting on an accepted story to be published in an anthology. I have been waiting a good long time to see this in print, and my faith that it would happen had started to waiver.

So, I posted my comment about it not looking too good. Then, in a moment of OCD writerly behavior, I decided to check the sites again. And there it was. The anthology was listed on both the publisher's website and on Amazon. I was elated. I was over the moon. I was . . . a little confused as to why my name and story title wasn't listed in the TOC.

In the beginning this was supposed to be a four-part anthology, with my story appearing in either the third or fourth. After the first anthology was published it was decided (as so often is the case) that the others would be shelved. But they had enough accepted stories that they elected to make number two the last. I was contacted and told my story would be published in the second and final of the series. When I didn't see my name in the TOC I panicked. What if I got bumped? There was not going to be a number three.

To make matters worse, on further searching, I discovered that the editor of the anthology (the only person I had any dealings with) had passed away a few days prior. I made contact with the head of the publishing company, John Betancourt, and after a bit of searching he confirmed that my story IS a part of the anthology.

If you like cats or you fear them; if you like stories of the strange; if you just want to buy a copy to make me feel better, then I encourage you to read Cat Tales 2 from Wildside Press, edited by the late George Scithers.



P.S.

I want to take this space to say how thankful I am for the chance (however small it was) to work with George Scithers. After reading of all his accomplishments, and how largess he was with help and instruction to writers of all status, I feel humbled that he chose my story. It is a great loss to the writing world and a void not easily filled.

New Territory

Hello all. I'm still here.

Sorry for all the short posts of late. I've been working, but I don't have much interesting to discuss.

I'm waiting to hear back about a submission I made to an anthology. Still waiting for a different anthology to get published so that I can see my story in print. At this point I'm not too optimistic. They have been putting it off for some time and I'm afraid it may have gotten the boot. I tried emailing the editor, but he has yet to respond to me.

I have ventured into new territory (as the title hints at). For the most part I write horror stories. Some are the good ol' fashion "blood'n'guts, chalked full of monsters" type. Others I would classify as just weird. They all are written for adults. But just when I get comfortable, what do I do? That's right, I go and try to write a Young Adult novel. I've never tried my hand at YA, and it's a chore to keep my overly dark style from permeating this story. Not that YA can't be dark, it's just that I can sometimes be "black hole" dark.

I'm not very far in and I have no idea where the story is heading. I'm a shoot-from-the-hip writer, but I usually have a good idea where the story is going before I write it. I have a little glimpse with this story, but not enough to feel comfortable. I hope it doesn't peter out on me, or doesn't come off as a cheap knockoff.

Wish me luck.

More Than Gold

The work side and the writing side of my life have been at war for about a year now. As I mentioned before, I was in a job that I tolerated, maybe even liked (just a bit, though) and they came along and dissolved my position, moving me to another department.

This new job was hideous -- and I've had some bad jobs before. It wasn't my co-workers, it wasn't the environment . . . it wasn't even the work itself, if that makes sense. It was the constant irritation of micromanaging and unachievable expectations. It was the cortex zapping power that comes with daily having to relearn your job because the Higher-ups can't make up their minds how they want things to run.

Needless to say I've been stressed. That stress has led to, I won't say writer's block, but more of a drain on my creativity.

Now to the good news.

I'm leaving that job behind. After a year of searching I have accepted a position with a different company. The best part of the job is the hours. If everything goes right I should be able to get in some writing time every day after work instead of my once a week (if that). Plus, it should be less stressful. I can already feel my creativity returning. I've been capturing little thoughts left and right on post-it notes, napkins, the back of my hand.

If I can get back to writing, then I can get back to being happy. And that is worth more than gold.

It's the last day of February. The year sure is going fast.

I've been invited to submit to another anthology, so that is what I've been working on. I have two possible stories that I could submit: one is done, the other is a WIP. I'm going to finish this one before making the decision on which to submit. It will most likely be the one I'm working on now, since I'll be able to direct it more toward the specific theme of the anthology. I still have a novel in me that is begging to get out, but I'm not sure when I'll start on it.

Normally I'm the healthiest person around. I rarely get sick. But there is just something about having small children in your home that weakens your immune system. I now seem to have a touch of bronchitis, which has stolen my voice. This is bad since I talk on the phone all day at work. Also, today I bent down to pick up my daughter and threw my back out. What a week, and it just started.

That's about it in a nut shell.

I hope the words are flowing fast and free for the rest of you.

When Life Floods In

I don't have too much to report but I didn't want all of January to go by without letting you all know I'm still here. Work continues to conspire against my writing. Lately I've had all the productivity of a snail on a salt-lick. But I will prevail.

Life has a way of rushing in like a flood. All we can do is wait for the waters to subside. With that in mind, I leave you with a video of a flood that happened at my own home. It's bit hard to tell, but the water is probably about seven or eight feet deep in the middle. Enjoy.