Wordless Wednesday 005

The Little Spider

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Teaser Tuesdays 001: Uncle Montague’s Tales of Terror by Chris Priestley

This could be fun…offering up a glimpse of the current read and peeking at the books in which everyone else is indulging. Here are the instructions as laid out by MizB at Should Be Reading:

  • Grab your current read
  • Open to a random page
  • Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
  • BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
  • Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

So, here’s mine, taken from the recently acquired Uncle Montague’s Tales of Terror by Chris Priestly:

Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror cover “There was a dead rabbit in the newspaper. A note was pinned to the fur, saying: Well come to Whitcot. Fresh kild this morning.” pg. 96

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Short Story: Erica’s Funeral

This makes me nervous. I’ve released ebooks online before, for years actually, however, this is the first work of fiction that I’m releasing into the wild…and in a format other than PDF. So, there’s plenty of opportunity to learn (and I’ll certainly share that in future blog posts). But, now, the ebook.

Erica’s Funeral was written in late 2009 and has been collecting virtual dust on my hard drive since then. I didn’t do a thing with it, except release it in limited quantities to interested readers. But this is a story I’m fond of and decided to put it out there. For the time being, I’m releasing it for free (which may eventually change, or not).

Erica's Funeral Cover Description: A mother, carrying out a final wish, recounts her daughter’s unorthodox funeral. (This story doesn’t contain coarse language, explicit situations, or violence.)

Length: approx. 1,100 words (4 pages)

First Page:

Let me begin by stating a fact: Funerals in general tend to be dreary affairs. Erica Johnston’s was an exception. Before she died, she had it planned out—and when I say before, I mean since the tender age of ten.

One afternoon when she arrived home from school, she sat down at her art station—the one she begged me to buy every six minutes until I caved—pulled out a yellow sheet of construction paper and a purple marker and wrote at the top: ERICA’S FUNERAL. Some might think it was a rather morbid undertaking for one so young, but those are the people who never knew her, the real Erica.

Beneath the title, she began to spell out every detail of her funeral beginning with Slappy, the clown/magician who entertained at her third birthday party. She didn’t really remember him, but she’d watched a video of the event and fell in love. When she grew up, she planned to marry Slappy and have a bunch of magical clown babies, so it was only fitting he should be invited.

Next on the list was cake. Erica loved cake. She preferred red velvet with extra red. It was her favorite color and she appreciated that an experimental baker somewhere in the world devoted an entire cake to it. On top of the cake would be candles—one for every year that she lived. They’d all be lit and everyone who ever loved her would help blow them out.

You can download this ebook in PDF, EPUB, or MOBI.

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SFP: Hungry Garden, Short Story

It’s about time that I got back into some sort of blogging rhythm here, after being a lazy bum for the last week or so. (I guess my read-a-thon hangover was worse than I thought.)

I’ve decided to take the tiniest break from writing The Night Princesses, mostly to write a mountain of reviews that are well overdue, but also to write a few short stories for an anthology.

And what better way to ease back into blogging than by posting up a SFP for the latest short story, The Hungry Garden. (That title may change though. Maybe.)

Anywhoozit…the unrefined first page:

Moonlight dripped from the ceiling and painted shadows across the room. I listened. Before, like the first few nights, I would have slapped the pillow over my face and ignored it, but it wore me down. It was the kind of melody that was too beautiful for words, but heartbreak swam beneath the surface, like a dirge disguised as a lullaby. Ten nights at a minute after midnight, without fail.

Maybe I should get up, slip out of bed and gently pad over to the window. Maybe this is the night I see them. Maybe they might invite me to join them.

Before I could will myself to move I was at the window gazing out onto the inky lawn. Weeping willows draped in mist that reminded me of spun sugar and weekends at Nana’s dotted the horizon. How I wanted to join them, if only I knew where they were.

And then, something moving. I glimpsed it, a shadow in bed clothes. I slid open the window and the voices enveloped me. They were all around me, but nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, wait for me.” My own voice sounded inadequate, sinking into the cloying night voices.

I took the stairs two at a time, but it still felt like I was crawling. There were only moments left. Soon they would be gone, replaced by emptiness. If I could just get to the shadow I knew it would lead me to them. Finally.

But something stopped me at the threshold. A vice around my arm pulling me back with such force I thought everything in me shattered when my body met the floor.

Since, like the majority of my stories, this was written longhand, it’s time for me to finish transcribing it. Lots o’ typing ahead.

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Wordless Wednesday 004

Love in a Mist

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Wordless Wednesday 003

The Eyes

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The World Needs a Netflix Style Rating System for Books

About three years ago, I signed up for a service called Netflix. When I first set up my account, I vaguely remember rating certain movie genres from 1 to 5 stars and then specifying how often I watched movies in those genres and finally rating a few specific movies I’d already seen.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Now, all these years later, I realize how profound that short questionnaire (and my subsequent movie ratings) was. Because…

It made Netflix psychic. I’m not kidding. It really is psychic with roughly 98% accuracy.

Each time I hover over a movie title, it tells me how much I’ll enjoy the movie on a 1 to 5 star scale (1 being RUNAWAYNOW!!! and 5 being OMG!!!FANGIRL!!!SQUEAL!!!!!). Not only that, it gives me the average combined rating of everyone else who’s rated the movie. Yep, two different ratings. What the world thinks and what I’m likely to think. If nothing else, it highlights my abnormal movie tastes.

Out of the dozens of shows and movies I’ve watched, Netflix’s personal rating has only been vastly off maybe three times. It’s like Netflix knows me (or at least my movie viewing habits) better than I do.

Sure Amazon, Goodreads, B&N, et al have star ratings…thing is, they only offer an average of everyone’s opinion without regard for individual tastes. There’s no cross-referencing going on. And in Amazon’s case, they don’t even take into account your own personal taste—I know this because it keeps recommending the second and third book in the Fallen series even though I gave the first book 2 stars. Definitely not psychic.

It’s why I wish some uber-genius would design an artificially intelligent rating system for books. Life is too short to suffer books you won’t enjoy. A Netflix-style system would make the authors happy because only the people who are likely to enjoy their books will read them and the readers would be happy because they aren’t likely to read books they wouldn’t enjoy. Win-win.

But, alas, if wishes were pennies…

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Handwriting Meme 002: After the 24 Hr Read-a-Thon

I don’t know why this seemed like a good idea, but I was curious to see the effects of sleep deprivation on handwriting. Which, is obviously beneficial.

(Anyhoozits, for the low down, see the first handwriting meme post.)

handwriting meme 002

Now? Time to pass out for the next 10 hours.

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