Winning Flash - "Last Call" by Dan Pietrasik

We have a winner! I launched another flash fiction contest a month ago and what follows is our winning story. The entries had to be under 1,000 words, have a speculative fiction element and involve one or more mirror balls. I kicked it off with a story of my own, "Mirror Images". Our winning author, Dan Pietrisk not only is published here on Science Fiction and Other ODDysseys, he also has a mirror ball, complete with a motor to turn it on its way to him. Lucky him, huh?

"Last Call"
by Dan Pietrasik

Based on how many people are already here, I'll be eating well tonight. The sun is barely down and there's already a nice selection on the dance floor and milling around the tables. A guy like me will have no problems.
   
“Here you go, buddy,” the bartender says, handing me a Long Island Iced Tea.
   
I include a non-memorable tip when I pay him, and move on to a table. The big mirror behind the bartender bothers me. Not that I worry about a mortal noticing I don't have a reflection. They usually come up with some lame excuse on their own about line of sight or something. If they don't, it only takes a little mental push to give them the idea. The part where a mirror absorbs a piece of me instead of reflecting it back is what creeps me out. The table is also a better hunting position.
   
I sit and watch the herd for a while, wondering why another vampire hasn't claimed this place. Not just quantity, but quality of feeding here. A waitress catches my eye as she leans on the bar chatting with the bartender, but I know better than to choose from the staff -- at least if I want to come back. And I think I'd be a fool to not frequent these grounds. With a quick glance around I can see two women I'm definitely putting on the menu, and at least a dozen that wouldn't require lowering my standards.
   
“Ready for a refill?”
   
I look up over my left shoulder as the waitress I noticed earlier pulls her hand back from mine. Apparently I didn't hear her the first time. It's nice to be able to control my hearing enough to come into clubs and not be overwhelmed, but not hearing someone approach because of it takes some getting used to. I order another drink, the better to blend in. She's checking me out more than I'd like for someone on my Don't Drink Here list, so I send a little extra “ignore me” vibe her way. If she forgets to bring my drink, so be it.
   
I pick out my first appetizer. A young woman obviously drowning her sorrows in a girls' night out, and far enough into it that her friends won't notice the effects on her if I take a little off the top. I'm sure she'll appreciate the attention, even if she doesn't remember me afterward. And just a couple of unexplained wounds to differ tomorrows aches and pains from any other hangover. I'm about to make my move when the waitress comes back with my drink and sits across from me at the table.
   
“I just wanted you to know,” she says with a smile, “I can take a break now and dance, before we're too busy.”
   
I really need to work on turning down the attraction level, this is not the right kind of attention.  Sticking with drunk patrons for my meals is so much less complicated, and if I get carried away, much less inconvenient. But turning down an attractive offer to dance is not the way to avert attention. There's definitely worse sacrifices I've had to make than a little exertion with a hot woman. I've always been a sucker for the assertive but shy thing she has going on, coming up to me like this, but keeping her eyes slightly downcast while waiting for my answer. I'm hooked when she reaches up to scratch an itch on the side of her neck. Besides, she'll go back to work after one dance, and write me off as a player when she sees how many others I plan to go through tonight.
   
“Then let's dance,” I say, standing and offering her my hand.
   
She laughs at my gesture, and with a quick tug on my sleeve heads to the dance floor. At the edge, she turns to make sure I'm following and starts to dance. I glide smoothly into my carefully restrained, “let the woman I'm with appreciate me, but don't draw stares” moves.    She's using her whole  body, spinning and swaying, drawing me after her toward the center of the floor, but still not meeting my eyes. I sense the blood rushing through her veins, feel its pull. I'm getting worked up. All my urges are focused on her.
   
My hunger is growing as she dances. I need to break away before I succumb, but I can't. Why can't I look away? Why aren't I closing in? I've stopped dancing. I'm just staring at her. She finally looks me in the eye, but I can't catch her. Her smile has changed. Leaning forward, she whispers in my ear.
   
“Last call.”
   
She dances back again, raising her arms over her head. My eyes follow her hands as they go up. She's pointing toward the ceiling. I look up further, and see that we're dancing directly below a triangle of disco balls.
   
Hundreds of little mirrors. Flashing. Rotating. Pulling me apart. 


***

Dan Pietrasik is a reader and writer living in the San Francisco Bay Area with his wife, two kids and three cats. A programmer by profession, he also dabbles in improvisational comedy.

Flash Fiction Contest Final Week and see HENRi!

How are those flash stories shaping up? Tuesday, the 26th is the last day to get your entries in. Then the judging will be another two weeks. I'm anxious to see all of your great stories. I'm also very thankful that I won't have to judge them. Micah Joel will get them sans author names to give all of you an equal shot with no bias. I've long since stopped judging these things as I know too many of the people submitting entries. Fair is fair. See the last post for all the particulars and my story to set the mood.

I started another story on Saturday that will break the bonds of the flash limit. Though I didn't start out with that in mind, it will be the perfect prequel to one of my previous elephant stories. I'm back on my elephant kick.

I just watched a Kickstarter-funded short that won the Best Short at the New York Philip K. Dick Film Festival, Toronto After Dark Film Festival, and Maelstrom International Film Festival. HENRi reminded me of 2001, A Space Odyssey, David Brin's Practice Effect and Asimov's robot series. All good things.

A spaceship lives on after its crew have died. It has evolved and is lonely and craves human interaction. In an attempt to fill that need, it builds a robot to interact with, which, of course, is also "it", an extension of itself. The addition of the human brain that the ship has managed to preserve is a bit hokey, but they're not going for scientific authenticity here. It's a campy send-up to those flicks from the 70s and 80s that romanticized robots. For an Indie short, the special effects (a mixture of quarter-scale miniatures, retro in-camera effects, and computer animation) are, well, most effective. The music is decent, too. You can rent it for $1.99 or buy it for $2.99 and see what you think. I love it when I can promote a good Indie film and this one was superb. There is also a "making of" film available.

Dr. Calvin, the ship's dying captain (in a memory of the robot's), is played by Margot Kidder (Superman 1978). A human could not survive such solitude. The real question is, can a sentient robot fare any better? A robot can't even sleep part of the time. It is a rather tragic flick, but very well done. The cinematic shots and music make you care about the robot's heartache - believe that a robot can suffer from such a thing.

Here's the trailer:

HENRi from Eli Sasich on Vimeo.

Flash Contest and Ann's Flash to Kick It Off

I haven't ran a flash contest here for a while. I got this notion about mirror balls and wondered what other folks could come up with. It's really a mystery to me why they're still around. Send me a speculative story of under a thousand words about disco balls or a disco ball to ann at my domain, annwilkes.com (paranoid of spiders grabbing my email for nefarious activities).

The contest begins today and the last day to submit an entry is March 26, 2013. The winner will be announced April 9th. Please, no gratuitous sex or gore and make sure the story has a speculative element. Also, standard submission formatting rules apply. 

Judging this contest will be author and editor, Micah Joel, who read flash for Flash Fiction Online last year and is now reading flash for Shimmer. We were on a flash panel at FOGcon and he agreed to judge my little contest. Thank you, Micah!

The winning piece will be published here with a link to your website or other works. I claim only first time electronic rights. You're free to publish it elsewhere after three-months' time. The winner will also receive . . . a mirror ball! 

As always, here's my story for your entertainment and to kick things off.


"Mirror Images"
by Ann Wilkes


"Did you feel that?" Sandra whispered in Marty's ear while they danced Cajun-style to a Country-Western tune.

"Feel what?" he whispered back. "The Earth move under our feet? You know you always do that to me."

"Well, that to, but no. A puff of air, like from a fan or from someone whizzing past."

Marty raised her hand up, cuing her into a turn, then looked into her eyes after she gracefully twirled. "I didn't feel anything. But, then again, I don't have as much skin exposed." Then he nuzzled her bare neck before spinning her again. Sandra squirmed with delight.

She decided she just imagined the puffs of air on her shoulders and back. For about a minute. Looking up at the ceiling above the dance floor, she noticed a distressing lack of fans, or vents. Just the funky disco ball and cheap, tacky light fixtures meant to look like chandeliers. She remembered some monitor amps have fans, but she and Marty were much too far from the stage for that to be felt, if such fans were there.

The band played lively music they could swing, Zydeco and even polka to, with the occasional waltz, cha-cha and nightclub two-step. The venue, however, was an ancient dive. It looked like an old hunting lodge that time forgot. Smokers, unable to smoke inside, huddled just outside the door, out of the torrential rains, their pungent smoke wafting in each time a patron came or went. Marty spun her again and dipped her. She hung her head down, getting a view of the huge, brick fireplace with the moose head mounted above the mantel.

The place must have been more than 100 years old. Old buildings are drafty, Sandra thought. But not in the middle of a room. She felt it again, on the back of her legs this time. The song wound down and Marty dipped her for a big finish.

They walked hand in hand to their table by the dance floor. Sandra sipped her Chard and smiled warmly at her fiancé. While he took a long draught of dark ale, she gazed around the room at the other tables. They didn't know anyone there, but the Mountain View Club wasn't one of their usual haunts and the stormy night probably kept many people home.

A flash of lightning darted through the high, dirty windows. Sandra felt suddenly cold. Then came the thunder, and the rain pounded down harder on the slate roof.

Marty saw her shiver. "Are you okay? The storm have you spooked?"

"It's not the storm, Marty. Something else is here."

"What do you mean 'something else'?" He looked at her intently, his brows knit in concern.

"You know that feeling you get that you're being watched or followed when there's no one there?"

"Yeah . . . ."

"I think this place is haunted."

"It is old. Who knows what stories these walls could tell? Do you want to leave?"

"No. I know it's silly." Sandra looked up, searching for words to describe what she felt and it seemed to her that the mirror ball had lowered itself. "Marty, do you like mirror balls?"

"What?" He let out a nervous chuckle, taken back by the non sequitur.

"Mirror balls, disco balls. Do you like them?"

"No," he said. "I think they're tacky and should have died in the 70s."

"Yeah. Know anyone who likes them?"

"I haven't exactly taken a poll, but I doubt it."

Sandra nodded, her lips pressed together.

"What are you getting at?" He reached for her hand across the rough pine table.

"What if they have like two way mirrors with cameras behind them?"

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows. "You know how silly that sounds, right?"

"Yeah." She chuckled. "Pretty far-fetched, huh? Why would the owners want to watch the dance floor? I gotta go pee." A breeze caught her in the ankles as she pushed through the sticky women's room door, raising the hair on the back of her neck and goosebumps on her bare arms.

No one was in there, the two stalls were open and empty. Her heart pounded. She stood at the sink, rubbed her ankles together and gazed at her reflection. She looked sane, she thought. A bright flash of light appeared in the windowless room and an image materialized in the mirror of a two-headed androgynous human with greenish skin standing behind her. She shut her eyes and opened them again, hoping to rid herself of what could only be a hallucination. The figure persisted. She wanted to turn around, but looking at it head-on, rather than a reflection somehow seemed more real and frightening. Fear rooted her to the spot.

The thing spoke in English with a lilting, tinny voice and a foreign accent. Or alien accent. She shivered at that thought.

"How did you know?" it said.

"Knoowww? she stammered.

"That we were watching?"

"I . . . I . . . who are you?" She tried again to move. Her whole body felt like she had ice water surging through her veins as she turned around to cast her eyes on the alien.

"We are the Liinoyavaii. We are here on a 50-year expedition to Earth to study your mating rituals. The mirror balls are our surveillance devices, as you surmised. A little mild mind control is all that's needed to make anyone with a dance floor believe it to be a necessity. We implant our equipment within through means you would not understand. It's completely undetectable. Which is why we are so amazed that you figured it out. The door creaked behind her and another chill was the last thing she felt.

The woman in the red dress who entered the bathroom found it empty and thanked the stars that she didn't have to wait in line.

Freaky Weather: Flash It! winner - "Careless Wishes"

Congratulations to D.E. Helbling on his winning entry in the Freaky Weather: Flash It! contest. I also want to thank all the other writers who participated. I hope you had fun writing your flash pieces and wish you all the best submitting them elsewhere.

Here's what our judge, Paula Johnson, of Rose City Sisters had to say of the entries:

Each of the submitted stories reflected an inventive take on the "freaky weather" theme, but the tale that drew me in the most was "Careless Wishes."

The writer's effective use of dialogue (with just enough Southern patois) revealed both the nature of the main characters' relationship as well as the curious backstory to the action taking place.

While "Careless Wishes" told me everything I needed to know to enjoy its satisfying ending, it made me ponder what the future holds for the characters.


Careless Wishes
by D.E. Helbling

“I’m sorry, son,” she said as I helped her up from her rocker on the front porch.

“Never mind that now, Momma. Let’s get you to safety.” I led her down the steps and across the brown, patchy lawn of the front yard. I whistled for Scruffy, her Jack Russell, as we made our way toward the storm cellar. The sky had grown dark in just a few short minutes. I was fixing to pull the door shut behind us when Scruffy appeared and nudged his way past me. I shoved the heavy crossbar into place and descended the steps into the depths of the shelter. I flicked on the switch for the battery light, and then joined Momma and Scruffy on the tiny couch in the back of the little room.

“I’m so sorry, Billy,” she started again.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it, Momma. Maybe it wasn’t even you. You know, sometimes storms are just storms.”

“If only I wasn’t so greedy,” she said, shaking her head. She looked grayer, more tired and frail than I’d remembered ... it had been too many months since my last visit.

“Now, Momma, you can’t help wishing for things.”

“Like that scholarship of yours?”

“You didn’t know the kids on that bus were after the same scholarship as me, did you? You didn’t wish that bus into the river. Momma, that was years ago. You gotta let that go!”

“Or your sister’s new husband?”

“Now, come on, Momma. None of us liked Harold, not even me, and I went to school with him. Did you wish Harold into bumping that radio into his bathtub? I know you didn’t wish him into beating up Charlene every time he and Johnnie Walker got together.”

“I’m just saying---“

“I’m just saying, too, Momma. I’m saying it’s all about silver linings. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. OK, so maybe Harold was an exception. But still, sometimes those bad things mean good things for somebody else. If that somebody else is you or me, or Charlene, well, that’s just God evening out the blessings is all.”

The door to the shelter started to rattle and shake, straining against the big iron hinges. The wind howled through the cracks. Momma looked up at the ceiling in surrender. “I think I used up our share of blessings, son.”

“Let’s never mind that mean old storm,” I said. “Say, I know you have some shortbread down here in one of these tins.”

“Over there on the second shelf.”

I found the tin, opened it up, and fished out three cookies. I gave one to her and one to Scruffy. The three of us sat there, nibbling our cookies, while the wind roared above like a train was running over the top of the shelter.

“Still the finest cookies in the county,” I said.

“Or what about that time---“

“Jesus, Momma!” I almost choked on my cookie. “You can’t go on blaming yourself for every little thing that happens.”

“Now let’s not be bandying about the Lord’s name.”

“I’m sorry, Momma,” I said. “But I’m sure Jesus wants you to be happy, just like the next person.”

Scruffy perked up his ears, turned his head toward the stairwell. I started to hear it myself. Plops, first a few, then more, then a thunderous smashing, pounding barrage. “It is surely hailing big time out there, Momma.”

“Oh, my,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s hail, son.”

The pummeling sound stopped as quickly as it had begun. Now there was no howling wind behind it. We sat in silence, listening for further signs that the storm had really passed. Scruffy decided we’d waited long enough. He bounded up the stairs, barking at the door for us to let him out. I followed him. I put my ear to the door. Nothing but a couple of birds chirping. I slid the crossbar over and shoved on the door. It resisted. I shoved again. Fallen tree limbs, I hoped, though I feared it might be the remains of Momma’s house on the other side of the door.

I shoved again, harder, and the door finally gave way. I stepped out of the stairwell and promptly slipped, my feet flying out from under me as I slid a few feet into the yard. I propped myself back up, my arms wrist deep in dark goo, a mush of red and green and black that seemed to cover the entire yard.

The house, at least, was still standing. Scruffy was running all over the yard, barking wildly, bits of goo hanging from the corner his mouth.

“Oh, my,” Momma said from somewhere behind me.

“Be careful, Momma,” I said. “The ground’s pretty slippery. It looks like the twister dumped a load of silt from the river right here on top of the yard.”

About then the smell of the goo hit me. I raised one hand to my face, gave the mush a sniff. That’s when I saw that some bits of the mush had form. And shape. This one little bit looked like a salamander leg. That bit wasn’t worm, but a trace of tiny intestine. Those round things: little eyes.

“Oh, my, Billy,” Momma said. “Looks like we got us a frog puree.”

I brought myself up to my feet, found a sturdy looking branch poking out from the goo, and brought it over to Momma for a makeshift cane. “What’d you wish for, Momma,” I asked, as we made our way slowly across the yard and up the steps to the front porch.

“Fertilizer,” she said. “That soil around here is so tired, I figured it was due for some kind of ripening up. Good thing.”

I helped her back into her rocking chair and began to pull off her shoes. “Good thing?”

“Good thing I didn’t wish for a new rock garden.”

“Good thing, Momma.”


D. E. Helbling is an engineer, writer, and a native of the Dakotas, now living in Oregon. When he’s not working on strange cryptography projects, he explores fiction, philosophy, paranormal research, and game A.I. software development. He can be reached via email at doug@dehelbling.com.

"Raining Good Intentions" - my Freaky Weather Flash

Raining Good Intentions
By Ann Wilkes

Irwin stepped through the door of their modest duplex and wiggled out of his trench coat, carefully avoiding touching its outer parts. "Is this rain or snot?" Then he removed his hat and gloves the same way.

"I don't know why you had to go out in it," called Isabel from the kitchen.

"I told you, I had to get that insurance premium posted today." He listened to make sure Izzy was still in the kitchen and put his pint of whiskey in the bookcase behind War and Peace. He had bought two, but finished the first on the way home.

But you couldn't have thought about that last week when I reminded you to cut the check? Isabel thought, but didn't say. Isabel frowned as she looked at the sign she'd stuck on the fridge that read, "Poor planning on your part does not constitute and emergency on my part." It was originally meant for the kids, who were now grown and gone.

"Channel 4 news," said Irwin to the entertainment and interaction (EI) wall. The wall shimmered to life with a perky blonde delivering more bad news.

"Scientists have yet to identify the foreign compounds in the rain. People are advised to stay indoors as much as possible and wear protective clothing when outside, even if it's not currently raining."

"Hear that, Izzy? Still don't know what it is." He scratched his stubbly chin.

"You think it's from aliens?" she said, wiping flour off of her hands on an apron as she scuffed into the room. "If the compounds aren't known, they must be new or extraterrestrial, right?"

"I spose. I hope they figure it out soon. I'm getting sick o' bein' cooped up." Irwin was already wondering how he could sneak out for a drink later on. Maybe the rain is harmless. Just slimy. Heck, he thought, scientists tell you something different every time you turn around. Maybe it will be a miracle cure for eczema. He chuckled to himself.

Irwin snuck out for a drink or a bottle every day over the next four rainy days, sometimes forgetting his gloves or hat.

###

Irwin and Izzy crowded in their living room window craning their necks to see the large, bright light streaking through the afternoon sky. The same newswoman narrated from the EI wall behind them. "Dr. Nora Mirsch at MIT says the object is not of natural origin, and therefore must have been constructed by intelligent beings from outside our solar system. When asked the purpose of the device, she said it is not clear. All astronomers at major observatories agree that its trajectory will just miss both the earth's atmosphere and its gravity well.

"Scientists at NASA and JPL are trying to determine the type and severity of its radioactive emissions."

Irwin fell asleep on the couch that night. Isabel woke him up the next morning. Her face was a pasty grey and her eyes were red.

"What's wrong, Izzy? You sick?"

"I'm dying, you fool! Look at me! That thing in the sky. The news said it was an alien probe leaking radiation."

Then she scrutinized him. He certainly looked hung over, but not sick, she thought.

"How come you're ok?"

"Don't know."

Izzy held her hand over her mouth and ran for the bathroom.

Irwin went to the window. The thick rain fell mercilessly. He ran his fingers through his unruly, greasy hair. He needed a drink. Then he grabbed the windowsill to steady himself. That's it! Must be the booze what kept me well. Maybe the radiation can't attack pickled people. Then he thought of Izzy puking in the bathroom. He'd have to go get enough for her, too.

He donned his raincoat and poked his head into the bathroom. Isabel still sat on the floor facing the toilet. "Izzy, I'm gonna go get you some medicine. Everything's going to be alright."

Isabel looked at him with a kind of defeat in her eyes. She thought he'd finally gone completely nuts. And now he's leaving me alone to die! When she heard the front door close, she leaned against the bathroom wall and wept.

Irwin was surprised that people were out and about. He bought two fifths of the cheapest rotgut at the corner store and headed back out into the rain. He thought he was hallucinating when, as he turned the corner he encountered a couple dancing in the rain without raincoats. And a whole family were in their yard playing in the mud in their underwear. That's it. We're all doomed for sure and these poor bastards have lost it.

When he got to his block, he saw half his neighbors playing in the rain. None had on raincoats and a few had on nothing at all. They were twirling in the rain, reveling in it.

Maybe it's alien mind-control, that muck. And the booze's what spared me. He felt conspicuous in his trench coat and kept his head down. At home, he threw off his coat and rushed to find Isabel. She wasn't in the bathroom. Has she been got at? Was she dancing outside and I didn't see her? He found her on the bed. His heart thudded in his chest. She wasn't moving. He felt her wrist for a pulse. His own pounded so hard he couldn't tell where hers was. At least she wasn't cold. He felt her faint pulse on her fevered neck. Her eyelids fluttered open.

"Izzy?" he held her hand.

"Irwin, the rain."

"What, Izzy? What about it?"

"It's a protection from the radiation. They think the aliens couldn't stop…" she convulsed and coughed blood. He held her and wept as she tried to continue. "…their malfunctioning probe. They…they…the slime…it's for the planet. Protects…" Isabel coughed again. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed, lifeless, onto the pillow.

Paula Johnson to judge Freaky Weather contest

If you missed it on Friday, I launched another flash fiction contest.

Here's the deal:
I have till Friday to write and polish a flash (under 1K words), speculative fiction story in which freaky weather features prominently. You're going to hold me to it. And for your trouble, I'll post it here Friday, June 10th.

Write one of your own and get it to me at kawilkes AT gmail DOT com by Friday, June 10th and I'll post the winning entry the following Friday (June 17th). Put Freaky Weather in the subject. RTF attachments are fine, or put your entry in the body of the email.

I have a guest judge lined up and may add another depending on the number of entries.

Paula Johnson is the founder and editrix of the Rose City Sisters, a blog that presents flash fiction with a Pasadena twist. By day, she's a copywriter/designer whose client projects include everything from website development to radio spots to book design.

Please visit Rose City Sisters to see what she likes. You can also read my "Your Smiling Face" there. :)

And while you're crusin' the web, you might like to read an interview with yours truly over at Wordshaping. I'm interviewed there by Amber Polo about why I write fantasy (she includes science fiction in her fantasy category).

Freaky, frigid California - Flash it! contest

Freaky weather! I'm still using my heater in JUNE! And I had finally turned my sprinkler system on a couple weeks ago, only to turn it off again because of the RAINS – in JUNE! What happened to sunny California? And tornados? This isn't Kansas! Check out this aritcle article about our frigid, storm-filled state. I feel a story coming on…

I've been keeping up with my blogging, but not my fiction lately. My solution? I'm going to make my blog feed my fiction! I have till Friday to write and polish a flash (under 1K words), speculative fiction story in which freaky weather features prominently. You're going to hold me to it. And for your trouble, I'll post it here next Friday. Free fiction! Can't beat that with a stick.

Want to have even more fun? Write one of your own and get it to me at kawilkes AT gmail DOT COM by Friday, June 10th and I'll post the winning entry the following Friday (June 17th). I will announce the names of my qualified, guest judges next week.

I just lined up two gigs in one day! I'll be reading at the San Mateo County Fair on June 18th and hosting a Broad Universe Rapid Fire Reading at the Sonoma County Book Festival in September. I'll post the details soon.

Pauline Baird Jones takes a stab at defining Steampunk, complete with pictures in "Defining the Undefinable" at Novel Reaction.


Realms of Fantasy is celebrating its 100th year! See press release below:


Realms of Fantasy publishes 100th issue

Santa Rosa, CA, May 29, 2011: Kim Richards Gilchrist, publisher of Realms of Fantasy announced today the publication of the magazine's milestone 100th issue.

Realms of Fantasy celebrates 100 issues with an expanded 100 page issue for June 2011

Gilchrist mentioned in her announcement that in celebration of the magazine's 100th issue, the June 2011 issue is 100 pages long with additional fiction and art, more columns, a few surprises and the debut of poetry with work by Ursula Le Guin. The popular column, Folkroots, addresses the subject of fairies.

"We're thrilled and excited to share this issue with fantasy fans. You only get to 100 once and so we've pulled out all the stops," Gilchrist says.

The June 2011 issue of Realms of Fantasy ships to stores this week. It will be available in a digital format from the Realms of Fantasy website on Saturday, June 4, 2011. For more information and a sneak peek at what's in store for the 100th issue, visit Realms of Fantasy online at www.rofmag.com


And here's a heads up for Manga fans:

AM2 ANNOUNCES THE TOKYOPOP LIQUIDATION SALE

Special Discounts Available for 3-Day Passport Holders on Manga, Toys,
Posters, Anime and More! Get your Passports Today and Experience the
Difference!

LOS ANGELES, Calif. (May 13, 2011) ¬ Attention all manga enthusiasts, this
summer¹s most anticipated anime, AM2, manga and music convention this coming
4th of July weekend will be hosting a liquidation sale for the world-famous
manga giant, TokyoPop, in its exhibit hall with special discounts made only
to Passport holders. More info can be found at www.am2con.org


Some of the most popular TokyoPop titles will be made available. Titles
will include both English and Japanese mangas, posters, toys, anime and
more! Special discounts will be provided for 3-Day Passport holders.

³Fans who love manga will be able to take advantage of this amazing
liquidation sale at AM2², states Chase Wang AM2 representative, ³AM2 will be
the place to be with all the amazing guests of honors, concerts, exhibit
hall and other amazing activities for fans and enthusiasts! With five
concerts and the price of a Passport being $45.00, that is $9 a concert!
Where else can you get a deal like that? Get your Passports today and
experience the difference!²

Entrance to the event is free, but attendees can avoid the anticipated huge
lines at autographs, premiere screenings, workshops, main events, concerts
and panels by obtaining a Passport fast pass for the event. The Passport
fast pass will also provide holders with premier seating options at Main
Events and at Concert events as well as major discounts with theme parks,
retailers and local restaurants. Bypass the lines and get your Passport
today and experience the difference!

Current Guests of Honors including Scandal, Sadie, Kanon Wakeshima, kanon x
kanon, heidi., Gashicon, IBI and MINT.

AM2 current activities include Exhibit Hall, AMV¹s, Arcade, Summer Festival,
World Cosplay Summit, Behind the Voice Actors Studio, Rum Party Pirates,
Masquerade, Cosplay Chess, Dances, Fashion Shows, Table Top, Console Gaming,
AniMaid Café, AniMaid Café Host Club, Workshops, Panels, Concerts and more!

Partnerships include Ani.ME. and Cure Magazine

Prize sponsors include Atlas Games, Cosplay Wigs USA, FUNimation, Gaia
Online and TokyoPop.

Follow us on Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/AM2Con

Follow us on Twitter at: http://twitter.com/AM2Con

Also, 25% of all official Passport sales will be donated directly to
Japanese Disaster Relief efforts.

About AM2
Located in Anaheim, California ¬ AM2, established in 2010, is a multi-day (3
days) event with no general attendance/badge purchase requirement and is
aspiring to be a key meeting place for fans that share a common interest in
Asian music, Animation/Anime, and Comics/Manga. Nominal fees are charged
for certain activities that attendees choose to participate in. AM2 will be
held on July 1-3, 2011 at the Anaheim Convention Center in sunny Anaheim,
California. More information can be found at www.am2con.org

Women taking their place in speculative fiction

My story, "Trapped Star", appears in the brand new anthology by Dark Quest Books Beauty Has Her Way, edited by Jennifer Brozek. Read it to see if Debra manages to steal and use the crystal that turns your run-of-the-mill transport booths into mega transport booths that span the whole galaxy. There's so many worlds that have never heard of her. They'll never know what hit them.

The British Science Fiction Association has published its shortlist of nominees. Paulo Bacigalupi's The Windup Girl made the best novel list.

The Philip K. Dick Award shortlist is as follows:

Yarn, Jon Armstrong (Night Shade Books)

Chill, Elizabeth Bear (Ballantine Books/Spectra)

The Reapers Are the Angels, Alden Bell (Henry Holt & Co.)

Song of Scarabaeus, Sara Creasy (Eos)

The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack, Mark Hodder (Pyr)

Harmony, Project Itoh, translated by Alexander O. Smith (Haikasoru)

State of Decay, James Knapp (Roc)

Winners of both will be announced April 23rd at Norwescon in Seattle, WA and Eastercon in Birmingham, UK respectively.

Norwescon features mostly women guests of honor this year with Writer GOH Patricia McKillip, Artist GOH Kinuko Craft and PSIence GOH Marie D. Jones. Nevermind "ladie's night", it's our year! Seattle is also home to a new convention for women in the genre. Say hello to GeekGirlCon.

GeekGirlCon Releases Date and Location of Their Long-Anticipated Event

Seattle, WA -- GeekGirlCon, a female-focused, geek centric convention that celebrates the feminine involvement and contribution in Geek Culture will be making its debut Saturday and Sunday, October 8th and 9th, 2011 at the Seattle Center’s Northwest Rooms.

Erica McGillivray, GeekGirlCon’s President and Marketing Director says, “GeekGirlCon is a one-of-a-kind convention celebrating geeky women and the wide variety of geeky things they are interested and involved in.” The first of its kind, GeekGirlCon strives to be an event that celebrates women in the fields of math, the sciences, fiction, games, comics and more.

“Planning this convention has shown me that I am not alone,” Michelle Pearson, GeekGirlCon’s Treasurer and Account manager says. “Meeting other geeky women and realizing that there are men in the community who appreciate and support us has been the best part of this journey so far. I’m excited to be a part of this and can’t wait to see our plans and ideas become reality.”

And the staff members aren’t the only ones excited about this event. GeekGirlCon already boasts a very talented special guest list; authors Bonnie Burton, Trina Robbins, Greg Rucka and Jen Van Meter have already signed on to appear at the convention and support its cause.

Passes to GeekGirlCon can be purchased through convention’s website: both two-day passes for the entire weekend ($35) and single day passes ($20).

GeekGirlCon is a non-profit organization of 30 staff members and roughly 80 other volunteers equally passionate about promoting women’s contributions to geek culture. The group will be continuing to hold fundraising events leading up to the convention date. To find out more about GeekGirlCon visit http://www.geekgirlcon.com.

###

Contact: Kiri Callaghan

GeekGirlCon Public Relations Manager

Email: pr@geekgirlcon.com

*End press release*

All my literary friends are probably sick of me extolling the virtues of reading and writing flash fiction (that's fiction generally under 500, 750 or 1,000 words depending on the venue). Well, just hold your ears. I'm back on the flash wagon. Debi Orton, founder of Flashquake, passed the flash baton (in the form of Flashquake ownership) to Cindy Bell. Read more below.

Flashquake under new ownership

Cindy Bell of Eagle River, Alaska, took over leadership of Flashquake as

editor and publisher in January 2011, making changes to the design and

bringing new talent to the literary publication.

Flashquake, an independent, quarterly, web-based and print-on-demand

magazine, focuses on works of flash fiction, flash nonfiction (memoirs,

essays, creative nonfiction, humor), short poetry and artwork. Flashquake

aspires to no less than the publication of literary works of flash and

fine art.

To celebrate its new inauguration, there is a call for submissions of any

topic, and a special contest with four talented winners. The contest theme

is “new beginnings,” and the entry fee is a low $5. The winning work comes

with a grand prize of 35 percent of the pot (the pot being the total from

all entry fees). There will also be 3 runners up with first runner-up

winning 20 percent of the pot, second winning 15 percent, and third

winning 10 percent. Grand prize and runners up will also be awarded

publication in Flashquake’s electronic and print publications.

Flashquake was founded by Debi Orton in 2001, and to Bell’s knowledge, the

term “flash” was coined by Debi's team at that time. For more information

or to submit a piece of work, visit www.flashquake.org.

*End press release*

Now that I've started this whole "women in spec fic rock" theme, I can't leave you without sharing the new Broad Universe website. Very snazzy.

On a personal note, I have started out the new year by getting all of my reprints back in circulation. I put a couple stories that haven't found the right homes yet back into play last week, too. Mike Resnick has inspired me in this endeavor with his 19 foreign and reprint sales in one week!

I'm looking forward to meeting some of my SFOO staff at conventions later this year. My next science fiction convention is FogCon in San Francisco, where I'll hopefully be on some panels and hosting a Broad Universe Rapid Fire Reading. Then there's BayCon in May, Westercon 64 in July and Renovation (WorldCon 69) in August. The best part? I don't have to buy a single plane ticket. I even have a cousin who'll put me up for Renovation.

Flash fiction sale, hopeful exercises in futility, and sf news

I'm doing the happy dance! I sold a story! That hasn't happened as often this year. I think it may have something to do with the fact that the number of stories I've submitted this year can be counted on one hand. I'm still selling some, which speaks well of my sell-rate. :) You can read "Troll Games" at flashquake now. It's an urban fantasy tale of two young brothers who encounter a troll on a bridge who has come to collect his due.

You might have noticed I have a new page. The cookbook review request was the last straw. I now have a whole page outlining what I will and won't review, who I will interview and what kind of press releases I'd like to see. Just click on the Request Guidelines tab above if you're considering sending something or know someone who would like to send me something. Unfortunately, since I'm some sort of mega reviewer database, I'll get the email without a thought, let alone a visit to my guidelines page. Maybe someone, somewhere will actually update the thing to include a link to my guidelines. I can hope, right?

I don't know if it will make its way to the States, but the lucky sf fans across the pond will be treated to the Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently series - as a series - on BBC4. Way cool! Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently detective novels adapted for TV - Science Fiction World

While browsing through Science Fiction World, I also learned that Lucas reveals Star Wars TV series on hold then gives away half his wealth - Science Fiction World

And here's a peek at a new breed of Monster movie. Now THIS is the request I want. Come on, publicists, don't you see my raised hand? Been a while since I've attended a preview.



And alien invasion...




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Need your eyes and SyFy review

Getting over a cold. Yes just a cold. And I didn't even get a flu shot. A friend of mine sent me a series of videos of this Dr. Baylock on the flu vaccine. Look at his surroundings. Yeah. If I were him I would invest in a projector screen or folding room screen for conducting interviews at my computer. Notice the duct tape around the door and the stacks of newspapers. He does drape a cloth over some of them.

I just joined Library Thing. They have my book listed, so I figured I ought to join. Like I needed another site to feed with my time. I get a shiny author button after I load up the books I'm reading and send them an email. Too bad I can't import them from Goodreads to Library Thing and Amazon.

There's a contest over at Rose City Sisters for best flash fiction. My story, "Your Smiling Face", gets a vote for each unique page view. So, you don't even have to read it, just open the page. But you'll definitely want to read it. It's a chilling love story loosely inspired by actual events.

For those of you who watch Stargate Universe and for those have wondered if they should, listen up. The episode before last can be summarized by: They find something cool, someone's been lying, they can't use the cool thing because it's too dangerous. The rest was a bunch of soap opera stuff.

In the next episode: Oh, look a murder! Or is it? Of course someone uses the cool, dangerous thing. We knew he would. Then the loose cannon leaves the other loose cannon stranded on a planet with a ship the team didn't have time to crack open and a working stargate. Yeah, we'll see him again.

Well, at least more stuff happened this time.

So, with all the hidden agendas and short tempers on this vessel, are there any good guys? How about a good woman? It's starting to play out like Lost. How appropriate, I guess. Personally, I'm ready for an alien or strange world with exotic creatures. Enough of the soap opera all ready.

I enjoyed SyFy's Alice. Especially Kathy Bates, Tim Curry, Andrew-Lee Potts (Connor Temple from Primeval) and Matt Frewer (Taggert from Eureka, but more importantly, Max Headroom). But I can imagine that the creator of this and Tin Man, SyFy's remake of the Wizard of Oz, sat down with SyFy execs and marketing guys who told him, "You have to throw some romance in there. Not enough chicks are watching the SyFy channel." And he did just that. Also, reminiscent of The 10th Kingdom. Very. And by the way, if you want this chick to watch the SyFy channel, lost the monstor movies and just plain BAD made for tv movies. And the ghost buster and searching for monsters shows. Give me real SF, and try to manage some that isn't military. I can definitely live without romance. Honest.

Alice did have certain oddities that drove me nuts. Alice's coat is lost along the way and suddenly she's wearing again. The White Knight and the Hatter have horses to follow Alice and the prince, but there's no explanation as to where they got them. They just suddenly have horses. If it's magic, fine. But then you have to say it is. It's just sloppy.

Here's an extra goody. The White Hare's Mad March in New York.

And because I can't get enough of him. Here's a Max Headroom Coke commercial. Again. ;)



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Convention and SF News

I'm getting ready for SiliCon this weekend and World Fantasy Convention next month. They're both in San Jose, CA. Great for me. No airfare and I can stay with my daughter in the East Bay and commute in.

The theme for SiliCon is Heroes and Villains. I'll be paneling on Saturday, only. I have a wedding on Sunday and work on Friday. If you're local, consider going. Here's the guest list:

Media Guest: Ken Lally, from TV's Heroes
Writer Guest: Christy Marx
Artist Guest: Sarah Clemens
Costuming Guest: Shawna Trpcic
Science Guest: Patricia McEwen
Fan Guest: Hilary Ayer
Toastmaster: Kevin Roche

WFC is still working on their programming schedule, but a skeleton outline is available now on their website. Their list of guests includes Garth Nix, Jeff and Ann Vandermeer, Michael Swanwick, Lisa Snelling, California-based Richard Lupoff, and Zoran Živković.

One of my new Facebook writing buddies has a fun website you might enjoy. You know those "this day in history" things? Well, his is Today in Alternate History.

Speaking of Facebook friends, I'm starting to hit critical mass. I only need 2 dozen more to hit 600. http://www.facebook.com/ann.wilkes will get you there. ;)

Heinlein awards went to Joe Haldeman and John Varley. Congrats!

My story, "Grey Drive" is still available over at Every Day Fiction. You can read it on a ten minute break with time to spare. Please do, and rate it. :)

So does everyone know about 42Blips? It's like technorati especially for SF fans.

OK, Heroes fans. What's Slow Burn???


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"Grey Drive" live, Darth Vader bummed and a geek going Greek

Have you ever wondered what will happen when our portable media storage gets so small that we lose it? Read my story, "Grey Drive" for one possibility. It's a flash fiction (1K words) over at Every Day Fiction.

Here an amusing look at Darth Vader in love at Fusion Filter.

Glendi was lots of fun last weekend. The foot and the back held up well enough. Teaching dance at midday in 97 degrees is really no on. Really. Must schedule them for later in the day next year. Good thing I'm the one that schedules the entertainment. The last class on Sunday I had about 45-50 people. It was great!







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Bad news / good news

Lovely vacation to San Diego canceled. :(
Lovely wish come true: A whole week to work on MY FICTION! :)

And no, I didn't sacrifice the former just to have the latter. I'm making lemonade.

My review of The Triumph of Deborah is live on Mostly Fiction. It's not SF, but I'm throwing it out there anyway.

This labor day weekend I carried out no labor. I did however make more work for my family. I put my back out on Saturday morning. I'm still walking around like Frankenstein's monster, but at least I can now dress myself except for the shoes.

Note to self: If it can in any way be avoided do not, I repeat, do not schedule appointments for the Tuesday after a Monday holiday. You KNOW you will forget about it thinking that it's Monday on Tuesday. Ugh! Spaced a radio interview, no less. Of course, the aforementioned back thing might have been distracting as well.

I found lots of goodies, or rather my unwittingly obliging Facebook friends have. Yeah team!

Here's a flash fiction contest for those like me who like tight prose:
Eric Beetner and JB Kohl are hosting this contest to kick off the release of their new book, One Too Many Blows to the Head.

Here's a listing of foreign markets for your spec-fic reprints that are languishing courtesy Douglas Smith.

Seems that we may have proof positive of the legendary Chubacabra. Watch the CNN video.

Lastly, Japan's soon-to-be first lady is an abductee!

This coming Friday, I'll be posting an interview with Jasper Fforde.






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Story sale, and SF and FB fun

I just heard from Every Day Fiction that they want "Grey Drive." I don't have a publication date yet, but you can bet I'll blab it around as soon as I hear. It's a SF flash piece that explores the next thing in media storage. Shout out if you know the answer. ;)

I posed a question on my Facebook wall about profile page vs. fan page. I received some great feedback. I'm not really keen on the idea of getting a fan page. But, on the other hand, my personal friends may thank me. I got the FB account because of my writing. Most of my wall posts have to do with writing. But I'm not going to turn away friends and family. I just don't like the one-way nature of the fan page.

Then imagine my surprise when my google alert for Ann Wilkes this evening takes me to an Ann Wilkes fan page, with my information, that I didn't create. Am I losing it or did FB create it when I created the July event that it lists?

Why do I have an Ann Wilkes google alert? Well, sometimes that's how I find reviews of Awesome Lavratt and other press. And once I even caught a pirate: One of my stories appeared on an ezine without my knowledge or permission. For writers, it's a must. It's not vain, it's sane. >groan<

I finished The Unincorporated Man. My first impression? Deliciously disturbing. My interview with the Kollin brothers and the review over at Mostly Fiction will be available in September.

Meantime, Dani (Kollin) sent me this link to a comic strip about it at Unshelved.

Now I'm reading Japanese SF (in English): The Lord of the Sands of Time by Issui Ogawa.

For any SF fans so inclined, Atomic Tarantula has some interesting T's that only other SF fans will "get". And they're having a two-for sale.

Tachyon is having an anniversary party at Borderlands Books in San Francisco this Sunday, August 30, 2-6 PM.

Tachyon Publications' 14th Anniversary Party!!
14 YEARS OF SAVING THE WORLD, ONE GOOD BOOK AT A TIME!
Please join us for the annual Tachyon Publications Anniversary Party!
The Emperor Norton awards, a special Tachyon giveaway, food, refreshments, and lots of special guests!



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Flash Fiction contest winning entry - Absorbed by Nicole Krueger

Congratulations once again to Nicole for winning my Attack of the REAL blob flash fiction contest. Here's her winning story.


Absorbed
by Nicole Krueger

Tina squats on an overturned bucket, head between her legs, trying to breathe without vomiting. The bobbing of the charter fishing boat makes her stomach heave, but she’s determined to hold on to her breakfast. Damned if she’s going to be Absorbed with the reek of puke still in her mouth.

At the front of the boat, a man in brown druidic robes intones to the dozen or so people around him: “…the One, the Collective. Once we are integrated into the Akashic stream, once we return to the primordial mud from whence we crawled, we shall know and see all that is, has been and ever will be…”

Tina—no, not Tina, she reminds herself; here, she is Sage Willowdusk, a name she chose carefully but cannot seem to apply to herself internally, feeling absurdly self-conscious whenever she uses it out loud—Sage tries to listen to his words, his words of significance, the last words she will ever hear, but the buzzing in her ears and the motor of the charter boat make his voice sound like a radio broadcast on a fuzzy AM station. This is her chance to prepare herself, to bring her energy into harmony, and all she can manage is to not stain her Jack Purcells.

The robed speaker, Panther Blackthorn, raises his arms and bows his head, leading the passengers in meditation. He’s a short, square man, with tightly trimmed brown hair, quarter-size spectacles, and a beard that tangles down to his chest. Sage met him at a drumming circle back when she was still Tina, back when she would bite down on her pillow every night with wet tears on her face, back when she was searching for something to make the evenings shorter and less devastating. He was kind and looked into her eyes as though he saw a specialness in her, and when the circle ended he wordlessly handed her a business card. It took an entire week to muster the courage to call.

Discovering these people… it had been her something.

Then a dark, globby mass was spotted in the Arctic, its miles and miles of hairy goo mystifying the scientists who rushed out with their test kits. Panther had been the only one to recognize it for what it was. He knew right away, just like he always knew things, like he knew Sage was having doubts that night he'd taken her aside after group and spoken to her gently about her tendency to give up.

One by one the passengers emerge from their trance and begin milling about, their eyes silently connecting and sliding away. From this point on, they will approach their destiny without speaking; Panther calls speech a trapping of the physical world that obscures more than it expresses. A freckled girl with curly red hair and unshaven legs lays a hand on Sage's shoulder, her eyes radiating love and excitement. Willowmoon has always been particularly nice to her, and Sage thinks if only they'd had more time, they might have developed a real friendship. She's tried to express this once, but Willow merely gave her a painfully earnest look.

"Ohhh, but once we're Absorbed, we'll be one with each other, and everyone else. It'll be better than friendship."

Sage nodded then.

"Oh yes. Of course. So much better."

Now she musters a weak smile for the woman she would have liked to share a movie and a bottle of wine with. She stands, and her legs quail, but she remains on her feet and even manages a few steps. The people around her, people with whom she's spent countless evenings, seem like strangers in this Alaskan dusk. A woman with long blond braids clasps white-knuckled hands over her abdomen, her face blank. A skinny man, with a beaked nose and shiny pink skin, wears a faint smile. A black-haired girl with a lip ring and a furrowed brow stares at her boots, refusing to meet anyone's eye. They are alone, all of them, wandering the deck like ghosts, as if they have already checked out.

The fishing boat chugs to a stop and its motor cuts out, leaving behind the silence of lapping water. Sage lines up with the others to stare over the side. And there it is, just below the surface: a giant clot that roils and oozes with the waves, stretching out as far as she can see.

The sight makes her shiver, makes the back of her neck crawl.

It's the energy of it, the life force. We are in a place of power.

It is time. They strip out of their clothes, not bothering to fold anything. Each member has a bucket, overturned near the edge of the boat. They mount these now, Panther in the center, and clasp hands. Sage barely has time to think, This is happening, to draw one last breath, and they're going over, they're falling, they're plunging into the frigid water, right into the center of that black mass.

Then everything is churning, and she tries not to struggle, but she can sense them now, their panic and terror. She thrashes uncontrollably. Her head breaks the surface, and she feels the ooze surrounding her, pressing against her skin. The sacred primordial mud gropes at her with the insistence of a seventeen-year-old boy.

When the thing begins digesting her legs, she can no longer hold it in. Tina spews up her breakfast into the icy Arctic. And after the sea regains its calm, the waves settling back into their placid rhythm, it continues to float there, undisturbed, while the sunset paints the water red.



Nicole Krueger is a book publicist, freelance writer and former newspaper reporter. She writes fiction, poetry and a book blog in her spare time. Her compulsion to write is constantly at war with her desire to bury her nose in a book.




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Attack of the REAL blob flash fiction contest winner

Wow! This was hard. Good thing I don't do this for a living. I so enjoyed all the wonderful stories people sent in. And my apologies for being a day late with the announcement.

We need a drum roll here...

Oh, first a refresher for those who don't know what the heck I'm talking about. On July 17th I ran a little flash (under 1K words) fiction contest in answer to the news item in the Anchorage Daily News concerning an actual blob off the shore of Alaska. Scientists have since discovered it's algae after all, but we had fun speculating - spec-fic style.

The news story had the following information on the blob:

1) It's not an oil slick
2) It's organic
3) It's gunky
3) It has hair-like strands
4) It's 12-15 miles long
5) No one has ever seen anything like it

The decision was tough. But, as in The Highlander, there can be only one...

Congratulations to Nicole Krueger for her story, "Absorbed."

The story will appear right here on Tuesday and she'll be receiving a signed copy of Awesome Lavratt by yours truly. Great job, Nicole! Excellent character development in so short a piece.

Because this was such a tough call, I want to name two honorable mentions:
Emily Bush for "Excuse Me, Waiter, There's a Space Elevator in my Primordial Soup" and Bob Myers for his untitled entry.

You can still read Bob's if you're a member of the Science Fiction Readers, Writers, and Collectors group on LinkedIn. He posted it there. I do also appreciate the sense of humor in these two stories that came close to taking the prize. Join the LI group and read Bob's. I'm sure Emilie's will still find a home somewhere where you can read it, too.




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A writers work is never done...

So, for example, after the 8-5 staff writer job today, I worked on a website for a friend, composed interview questions for Kevin J. Anderson, corresponded with writing buddies, did some editing on a short story and now here I am blogging. Next is reading a book for review. I wonder how long my eyeballs will stay open. Then again, the new german shepherd is in need of a walk and so is my back. >sigh<

On Friday, I'm off to Washington state for SpoCon. It will be so lovely not having to work half a day before I catch the plane and not having to rush. I'm only expected for the opening ceremonies Friday. My schedule, if you're attending is here.

Saturday is the deadline for the flash fiction contest. I can count the entries on one hand right now, so your odds are terrific. Send in those stories, especially if you know how to do flash. It is rather an art form. One I'm very fond of pursuing. :) The details for the contest can be found here. Winner gets a signed copy of Awesome Lavratt and publication right here. If you'd like to sell it afterward, you retain all rights and I'd be happy to pull it down after 30 days if you so desire (someone asked).

I passed the 200 mark on LinkedIn connections. Do I get a badge or something? I'm still getting responses to the link I posted to my social networking entry at the Redwood Writers blog almost a month ago.

Maybe I should stop givin' stuff away? Naw! It's too much fun.

Thursday I have to prepare for SpoCon and Monday I have to cram for my presentation, Cyberspace 101 for Authors, on Tuesday. Which makes me think I should probably blog about that on the RW blog soon to pump folks up and get more warm bodies. Well, there's always time on the plane up and back as well. Good thing I work well under pressure.



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Attack of the REAL blob flash fiction contest

So, apparently, the blob really does exist. Off the the Alaskan shore. Here's the story in the Anchorage Daily News. So far "they" know:

1) It's not an oil slick
2) It's organic
3) It's gunky
3) It has hair-like strands
4) It's 12-15 miles long
5) No one has ever seen anything like it

So, what do you know about it? Write a speculative flash (under 1000 words) story about this Alaskan blob and email it to me before August 1, 2009. The winning story will be posted here and the winning author will receive a copy of Awesome Lavratt. Winner will be announced August 15, 2009. Please paste entries in body of email and include your real name, and pen name if applicable.

And though I promised I'd never do this...

Here's our newest family member, Allegro.

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Sci-Fi movies and flash contest

Hubby's doing better. We made the most of his Bday yesterday. It's really tough having all those dietary restrictions. Bah humbug. But it sure beats the alternative... A friend of ours died Friday night of a heart attack. That could have been my Pat.

We headed in to Blockbuster last night to rent some movies. Is it any surprise they were mostly SF? Some that I haven't seen, too. :)

I give up EVER trying to watch a SF channel movie again. The writing is abysmal. I've always said I could do better, but now I don't think I want to shoot for a SF channel movie. I'm gonna focus on the big screen where writing counts for something, the science makes sense, people act like, well...people and there isn't always an estranged spouse getting thrust together with their ex to solve an alien problem or avert or cope with a disaster. Actually, that has happened on the big screen, too, come to think of it.

I have a contest for you writers out there. It's not necessarily SF, but it's FLASH! I love flash. I just sent a flash piece off last week. For those who don't know, flash is a story of usually under 1000 words. This one calls for under 750. There are some out there that are 500. I haven't been able to do the shorter ones, but have had two under 1K word stories published over at Every Day Fiction. That's all they do.

Here's the contest info, shared with permission:

Writer Advice's Fourth Annual Flash Prose Contest

Writer Advice's Fourth Annual Flash Prose Contest seeks flash fiction, memoir, and creative non-fiction that mesmerizes the reader in 750 words or less. DEADLINE: April 15, 2009. Entry fee: $10 per submission. First prize: $150. Last year's prizewinners will judge. Complete guidelines, mailing address, and prizes at www.writeradvice.com.

EDF Anthology available - just in time for Christmas...

I didn't get a contributor copy in the mail this time, but Every Day Fiction's The Best of Every Day Fiction 2008 anthology is now available. You can buy it on their site or contact me if you'd like a signed copy with free shipping. I'm only offering this between now and Christmas.

I'm so excited. So many things getting published and coming out all at the same time.

If you're local, I will be at the Center for Literacy Cafe in Healdsburg, CA next Tuesday reading Awesome Lavratt. I'll also have copies available for sale.

Here's the scoop and address:

DECEMBER CENTER LITERARY CAFÉ ANNOUNCES

An Evening of Community Spirit Performance & Holiday Cookie Exchange

December 9, 2008 7—9 pm Doors open at 6:30

Donations appreciated


Plan to join us and close out another year of Literary Café

Program: All open mic ◊ Prose, poetry, drama, musical accompaniment ◊

Sign up by telephone, email OR be spontaneous and take your chances for the free slots on the night of the performance

Bring your cheering fans

Five minute maximum…timed by a festivity bell ringer

Attention all Cookie Bakers: bring a plate of holiday cookies to share with Cookie Lovers (or other goodies)

BOOK & CD SALE TABLE FOR AUTHORS

Contact Cynthia Helen centerliterarycafe@gmail.com

Healdsburg Senior Center

133 Matheson Street (first block east of the Plaza)

Healdsburg, CA 95448