Tuesday, May 31, 2011
I wrote that first paragraph as a prelude to the letter I received from an editor below. The story in question, titled "The Party," has already been accepted for publication. However, there were a few minor points the editor felt needed to be addressed by me. I have the option to ignore him, of course, but I prefer professionalism over self-entitlement...call me nuts. So, for those interested in submitting fiction who are unsure what it entails, I thought I'd provide an intimate look into the feedback process:
Below, please find your contract for Triangulation: Last Contact. Please read through it and reply with your assent to the terms. If you would be so kind as to include a short biography and picture (optional, but encouraged) we will be grateful.
Attached to this email are my suggested edits for the piece. This is a word document with Track Changes. If you are unable to open it or work with it, please let me know and I'll send another format. Otherwise, please accept/decline my marks and/or add your own and return the revised document to me by .
One thing I mentioned in my reading notes is that I think the piece can benefit from a few concrete details placed judiciously in the party scenes (thus making the party feel more real to the reader to set it off from the dreamlike memory scenes). I didn't feel a strong need for that on this reading, but I'll suggest that you may want to consider adding a few really concrete physical details to Jackie (in both present and past) as a way to set her off from the other mostly faceless characters. She is the constant here, right? It might be an interesting way to contrast First-Jackie and New-Jackie without having to say anything beyond describing them. Maybe her hair is crumpled down in the Party and we see her wearing a nurse's hat at some point in the later memories (just a suggestion of the sort of detail I mean; something he fixates on and we can figure out through context eventually).
It's a neat story. Thanks for sending it to us.
(Name Omitted) Editor
Triangulation: Last Contact
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
So far, I've received two great short stories that I've accepted and a cover I absolutely love (below):
I love the juxtaposition of Hellfire and modern technology.
Feel free to submit anything you think might meet the theme. Stories, poems, commentaries, all are welcome. You don't need to take the theme literally either. I'm interested in your interpretation, not an exact match-up of Apocalypse fiction.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
"OH no!! we could not stand another four more years of this president falsely putting his hand over his heart! we know he's not patriotic! Just cuz he got thee most wanted man in the world for killing 3000 American does not make him a Patriot...no no, he needs to glue his right hand to his chest for the duration of his presidency and then maybe I'll believe it!"
Monday, May 23, 2011
"What spider-man's evil twin taught me about life" is an episode from the author's youth that captures childhood ways very well.
The final story in the collection is "Virtuatopia is burning" a pleasant enough story to end a superb book.
As with most short story collections some stories are better than others but this is a collection definitely worth dipping into.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Any revenue will be donated to http://www.projectliteracyinc.org/
Reprints are welcome!
All writers retain the rights to their work.
Reply if interested here or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
Don't forget to "like" this anthology on Facebook!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Also, the story is well written with very few (if any) grammatical or spelling errors (which is a refreshing change for a kindle ebook)
Mr Nadeau also has a novel published and when it comes to Kindle I'll be the first in the queue - this author is definitely one to watch
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
5.0 out of 5 stars The Sign Maker,
Willis believes the doctors are responsible for the death of his mother and drives round with a sign in the back of his car stating this fact. Willis has 'a plan' for revenge and when a representative of the the hospital turns up on his doorstep with proof of what really happened Willis's hand is forced and the plan kicks into motion.
Very well told story. I am looking forward to reading more of this authors works.
Monday, May 16, 2011
When Mrs. Bailey opened the main entrance door, she heard the type of scream she didn’t think humanly possible. Movies never got that scream right. They always overdid it for dramatic effect. This was a scream that came from the very core of a man un-used to showing emotion, a primal release of fear and agony so powerful she nearly turned and ran from the building.
But something seemed to take hold of her and root her to the spot. Resistance never occurred to her as she moved forward, toward the large steel door she always had such difficulty pushing open. She reached out to touch the long handle and received a jolt of electricity that caused her arm to go numb.
Someone else screamed but his panic was cut short by a loud crashing sound.
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Bailey said. “Oh, no. Please.”
She started sobbing, wanting to open the door but knowing she would not be able to handle what she saw on the other side of it. More screams came from there, more sounds of crashing and things breaking and shattering. Someone or something struck the other side of the door, causing her to yelp and stumble backwards. It occurred to her she should probably call the police.
But the telephone was inside, with the screaming.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Anyway, click here to listen to Suspense Radio host John Raab interviewing me as I try everything I can not to sound like a complete ass:
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
I’m ready when the kid lunges for my throat.
It’s kind of sad, really, the way he does it. It’s like watching a starving person make a dive for a table of mostly consumed food before the waiter can throw it out. It’s a move filled with rage and fear and desperation and a part of me thinks it might be better if I allow him to succeed.Instead, I side-step his advance and sweep my foot under his ankle, his head missing the corner of my coffee table by barely an inch.
I stand in place and watch his shoulders and upper back shake violently as the kid sobs and moans on the floor.
“I just want it to be over!” he yells.
I shrug. “Me too, kid.”
Thoughts? Opinions? Insults?