Smoke Free (Tuesday’s Tell All)

Smoke Free is a weird little story conceived in the smoke of a brush fire. I was out in the woods snapping pictures one day, the images forming in the smoke combined with a twisted imagination and tada! The rest is history. 

The photos below show the cover; from the first photograph to the finished cover.

Smoke Free is probably the only book cover we have not changed at least a dozen times. The truth is I have never wanted to change it. I love this cover and the image of that little pumpkin smoking a cigar never fails to amuse me. (I have the husband to thank for that.)

I had never heard of Irwin Smutter before that day and he (like the cigar smoking pumpkin) still amuses me with his absolute weirdness; him and the bizarre world he resides in.

And here’s a bite sized sample of the lunch break tale …

The room appeared empty other than an oversized sofa. Irwin reposed himself against the frigid vinyl, crossed his feet and sighed. A lively timbered scene covered the wall opposite the door, designed in such a way it almost looked like a window. Beyond the dull sheen of the pretend window was a forest where rays of sunshine cut through a smoky haze. The remaining walls were un-textured, pale and bare. The room smelled of sandalwood and acetone, a bizarre sweetness that sickened and comforted him at the same time. Irwin shifted nervously on the stiff upholstery in search of a warm spot. There was none.

The faux leather, the lifeless walls, the fake window – it was all too unsettling. Nothing is real, he thought, stretching his arms until his hands met above his head. Fads! The world has been reduced to kooks, phonies, and fads. Reassured by his own summation, Irwin interlaced his fingers and stretched further. When the joints in his entwined hands refused to pop, he rested them at the base of his neck.

Smoking cessation. Yeah, right. It was not Irwin’s idea. Irwin enjoyed smoking. The pungent smell of a fresh-lit cigarette made bitter coffee sweet. Smoking was one of the few things he looked forward to each day. A good smoke, a little booze, a lot of caffeine and Evie. 

_________________________

These type short shorts were written at a time I was really into the flash fiction form of writing.

Oh. Oh. Oh. I can’t wait until you reach the end. 

Famine & Fortune — Where Truth & Fiction Collide

“ All eyes were on Wall Street, but truth be told, the market crash paled in comparison to the Navarro County drought.

The news of Black Tuesday came and went as little more than dry morsels between flapjacks and red-eyed gravy.

Black Thursday was no different. Margin calls and ticker-talk; it was all a foreign language to the average man of Navarro county. New York, Chicago and any place not adjacent to the dying province could have just as well been another country – another planet.
Suicides headlined newspapers across the globe. Although desperate men (and women) chose gas or bullets; poison or tablets to avoid poverty the stories of men leaping from windows sold more papers and it seemed to pacify the masses, at least for a while.


EIGHT MORE TAKE THE PLUNGE.


The headlines went on and on. Tales of a brutal bearish market where stock prices were plummeting and fortunes were being dissolved. The days grew long and the soup lines grew longer…

From Famine & Fortune (the Sharecropper’s Son) Available on sale at your favorite retailer. 

And psssst Google still has it listed at 98¢

Happy Friday Y’all. 🍻

Short Story Month (The Art of the Short Story)

This piece for National Short Story Month was written with writers in mind, but readers are welcomed. We’re all one great big happy [most of us anyway] family here. After all writers are readers too.

I did a live presentation some years back titled The Art of the Short Story. In preparing the notes for said exhibition I borrowed a large portion of material from a fellow author. She is a veracious source of information and her published works are impressive. For the presentation I also offered my own sparse works as examples.

Word count matters.

Learn how to use the word count and check it frequently.

The nice thing about writing short stories verses novels/novellas [for me] is you don’t have to fluff up the word count with senseless babbling to make sure you hit the mark. But you do have to keep the word count at/around what your publisher requires; that can be very challenging sometimes. Especially if you get too attached or involved as I mentioned in an earlier post.

Writing short works helps you hone your writing skills.

When every word counts, writers tighten their prose. They eliminate filler words, passive voice, weak writing, or tangential thoughts—pretty much anything that requires extra words. No um’s or uh’s or well’s. No “was walking” when “walked” suffices. No “walked slowly” when “strolled” captures the mood better. No drifting into a daydream that doesn’t advance the plot.

These things slip in when we write novels, but they don’t really belong there, either. And just think how strong your novels will be when you develop these stylistic choices and apply them to your longer works.

The short story can be used to introduce one of your longer works.

Regardless of the theme of the anthology, you can write a companion piece to an existing novel or series. This can be an excellent marketing tool.

For example, say you have a paranormal romance series you’d like to promote, and you have an opportunity to contribute to a horror anthology. You could tailor your horror story so that it’s a prequel or sequel to the first book in your paranormal romance series. You might even choose to weave in a little romance so readers have a better understanding of what to expect in the series. As long as the story meets the requirements for the anthology, you’ll have a great introduction to your longer work placed in front of an already interested audience.

 The short story format allows you the opportunity to explore different genres without committing time to compose a longer work.

Instead of expanding your series offering, you might take the opportunity to try something completely different from what you normally write. For example, a regency romance writer might choose to craft a futuristic sci-fi story.

What do you gain from such a departure?

Well, not only do you get to flex your creative muscles, the departure might actually recharge your batteries and give you a fresh perspective on the novel you’re working on. Furthermore, you may just find another genre that you enjoy writing in and a new fan base should you decide to become a multi-genre author.

Short stories are ideal for a genre driven magazine.

Potential acceptance equals potential income and exposure.

There are literally thousands of genre magazines that accept submissions. If you have an agent great. If you don’t that’s okay, you can submit it yourself; that is if they accept direct submissions. Its easy enough to find those answers with a little research.

A short stories work well in creating a series. Think of each new release as an episode.

A series can be done on a weekly or monthly basis. This can be fun without being time consuming.

Short stories allow you to participate in anthologies with other writers.

psst, I was able to share the spotlight with a few others in Unshod

When you participate in anthologies, you will most likely have to adhere to a set word count, one that is substantially smaller than that of the novels you’re used to writing. While this virtually eliminates the possibility of introducing secondary characters and developing subplots, it does teach economy of phrase.

How to Publish Short Stories

  1. Submit Your Stories to Magazines and Online Magazine-Type Websites. .
  2.  Enter Short Story Contests.
  3. Join a Site for Authors to Offer Subscriptions to Readers.
  4. Write/Publish Your Short Stories in Book.

If you have questions drop me a line and I’ll try to help you.

Right on? Write on!

Short Story Month (Door Number Four)

Door Number Four was possibly one of the funnest short stories I’ve ever written.

It was originally written as a paid assignment but blew through the word count.

They weren’t budging on the number of words they wanted and I could not imagine what more I could cut from the story and make it readable.

We were at a stalemate so the deal was abolished. Oh well Que Será, Será.  

I admit I may have become too attached to the story — and too detached from the individual $pecs. So all there was left to do was publish Door Number Four my damn self.
This book (like most) has undergone at least one cover change.

I’m not in love with the current cover but I can change it whenever I want. That’s always fun too.

Here’s the intro.

Donald S. Crowley was a CPA by day; a bean counter; a number cruncher and a certified bore. By night he was as stimulating as the hero in his latest read with all the social skills of a brick. To make matters worse he was in love with a door. Not just any door, number four was special. Donald had become enamored with her when he was just a boy and he believed that she called him by name. Now he would risk his life to see her again and to finally know what lay behind Door Number IIII.

I hope you have endeavored to read a short story, or two, this month. And if you are a writer, I hope that you have written at least one short story.

I think that’s all I shall ever from here forward. 

Right on? Write on!

On This Day ….

On this day forty-eight years ago…

In the spring of 1977 I was in the early prime of my teenage years; she was in the latter prime of her teens.

Life was stretched out before us like a long, hot summer with an endless amount of options- of opportunities and roads to be traveled.

Could she imagine that [on that beautiful spring day] that she’d never see summer?

I don’t think so, I know I couldn’t.

Did anyone predict a (legally blind) man would be driving a little too fast in a residential area?

No, none of us could foresee the future on that dreadful day of the accident.

Nor could we ever have envisioned the short days ahead.

The hazy hours of hope and disbelief and denial until …

Until there was nothing left to do but mourn.

Oddly enough (or not) I still mourn.

The grief is not near as raw and not quite as heart wrenching as it was forty-eight years ago.

It’s more like a constant dull throbbing you learn to live with and usually ignore …

But sometimes it sneaks past the smiles and laughs of grandchildren, family and friends.

Sometimes the grief creeps in among life, among the daily routines…

and all I can do is sit with the bittersweet memories.

This personal little tidbit is what inspired the writing of Odd Man Out, a short story that can be found in the collection Once Upon a Dead Gull. Or read it in the larger story collections of More or Short Stories & Such.

Except from Odd Man Out

My mother used to say I never met a stranger. I reckon she was right but that didn’t keep me from feeling like a foreigner.

I was the peculiar child that didn’t look quite like the others; a raucous summer born among winter babies. I cared too much and cried too easy and sometimes I forgot that I wasnt everybody’s mother.

Happy Friday Y’all

Greed

This page is from the story of August Wolf which is also found in the short story compilation Greed.

You know what? I just love the cover of August Wolf.

My fondness is not because I designed it; I also designed the different covers of Greed. I just never really loved any of the Greed covers. 🤷🏼‍♀️

And another little tell-all this fine Tuesday…. drum roll please…

The main character in August Wolf, Jason Carroll, was named after my parents. After all I couldn’t reveal the orderly’s true identity. Putting one of us in danger was enough.

What does A Face in the Falls, August Wolf and The Sharecropper’s Son have in common?

These stories reveal the perplexities, the strengths and the weakness of people that are true to life and like life these stories expose the innate greed present in mankind.

“There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

This Heat – Lawd! (Tuesday’s Tell All)

We humans get impulsive and short tempered when we get hot, literally and figuratively.

Science says when the body overheats, it needs to spend energy to cool itself down, that response can come from the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain that helps people self-regulate.

That explains why people are more impulsive and less likely to think before acting.

I’m not sure if that’s what happened to Savannah Dawn and her mom, but something made them snap.

Amazon Paperback.Ebook/Audiobook

“Mama had worked up such a sweat the glue melted leaving her eyelashes dangling at an odd angle to her lids. She tried to dislodge them but after a few failed puffs, she snatched them from her face without blinking. They landed like two dead caterpillars at my feet. I quietly picked them up and stowed them in my pocket.”

Excerpt From
Savannah Dawn (Unconsecrated Visions)
Janna Hill
This material may be protected by copyright.

Happy Halloween (Tuesday’s Tell All)

Smoke Free is a weird little story conceived in the smoke of a brush fire. I was out in the woods snapping pictures, the images combined with a twisted imagination and tada! The rest is history.

The photos below show the cover; from the first photograph to the finished cover.

Smoke Free is probably the only book cover we have not changed at least a dozen times. The truth is I have never wanted to change it. I love this cover and the image of that little pumpkin smoking a cigar never fails to amuse me. (I have the husband to thank for that.)

I had never heard of Irwin Smutter before that day and he (like the cigar smoking pumpkin) still amuses me with his absolute weirdness; him and the bizarre world he resides in.

And here’s a bite sized sample of the lunch break tale

The room appeared empty other than an oversized sofa. Irwin reposed himself against the frigid vinyl, crossed his feet and sighed. A lively timbered scene covered the wall opposite the door, designed in such a way it almost looked like a window. Beyond the dull sheen of the pretend window was a forest where rays of sunshine cut through a smoky haze. The remaining walls were un-textured, pale and bare. The room smelled of sandalwood and acetone, a bizarre sweetness that sickened and comforted him at the same time. Irwin shifted nervously on the stiff upholstery in search of a warm spot. There was none.

The faux leather, the lifeless walls, the fake window – it was all too unsettling. Nothing is real, he thought, stretching his arms until his hands met above his head. Fads! The world has been reduced to kooks, phonies, and fads. Reassured by his own summation, Irwin interlaced his fingers and stretched further. When the joints in his entwined hands refused to pop, he rested them at the base of his neck.

Smoking cessation. Yeah, right. It was not Irwin’s idea. Irwin enjoyed smoking. The pungent smell of a fresh-lit cigarette made bitter coffee sweet. Smoking was one of the few things he looked forward to each day. A good smoke, a little booze, a lot of caffeine and Evie. 

… …. …..

Oh. Oh. Oh. I can’t wait until you reach the end.

Happy Halloweenie Boils & Ghouls!! Bwahaha 👻

Available wherever e-books are sold.

Smoke Free narrated by Troy McElfresh and is available at 

Amazon

Apple

Audible

It Started with a Photograph …

It all started with a simple photograph of an old dilapidated door. Throw in an ounce of imagination & tada!

Happy Friday Y’all.