Whoosh, Whomp & Whoogah

Photo by Eileen Smith

Okay, sue me -- I love alliteration. It's the Anglo-Saxon and Old Norse poetry what are to blame. Besides, these are words that are fun to say out loud. Go on, do it. I'll wait.

Okay? So the "whoosh" is because January is nearly done. Eeek! How has the first month of 2012 passed by so quickly? I suppose starting off the year with a fun visit from Miss Wendy and then beginning to teach a course has something to do with that. And I have been writing madly, too. Another whoosh must be the wings of the now-captured Clepington Owl, so alas, I will not get a chance to see her when I get back to Dundee shortly. I'm sure the cats are glad. Yes, more PR from the zeitgeist in advance of Owl Stretching. Hope to hear the release date soon!

I have a short story up at Short-Story.Me -- a little gruesome tale called "Yuletide Feast" that probably would have been a little more timely last month, but you know how it is. I actually wrote this years ago and recently discovered that it had not been published (how does that go, you may ask: well, scrolling through my Stories folder looking for something that I can't remember what title I gave >_< and seeing a title that I also don't remember... see why I need minions?!) and sent it off. Bingo. 

I have also received an award from the lovely Jeanne Andrew: The Versatile Blogger Award. The rules of this harmless bit of fun are: to thank those that nominated you; to copy-and-paste the award logo in your own blog; to tell your readers seven random facts about you; and to nominate further blogs that you follow, and let them know.

Right, here goes: Thank you, Funny Girl Jeanne. You are a delight of my Twitter timeline :-)



Seven random things about me:

1) My favourite thing on the new iPad: bongos! Seriously.
2) I watched Jaws for the umpteenth time last night and it never gets old.
3) I like to sing along with Dusty Springfield and make all her dramatic arm gestures.
4) I wish I could have met Peter Cook just once, to see those eyes and hear that laugh.
5) I want to write sparkling prose that will live forever; I get around the anxiety and paralysis this causes by telling myself, "Well, not today obviously."
6) There is an indestructible happiness inside me.
7) I don't know where the stories I write come from; I just try to be friends with my head, as the great Russell Hoban put it, and simply write down what it tells me. So far, that's been working out.

Right: so here are some blogs you ought to be checking out, i.e the award winners! Some of these will be to give a kick in the muse for the folks I point to, as they have been neglectful of their blogs [gives severe look]. I see Mr B has already received one recently, so I won't add him to the list, but you should always drop by his gaff for some laffs (yes, spelled that way).

Lochee has has not updated his blog since posting some fetching pictures of Karen Gillan. Tsk!

The fabulous QoE always has some wonderful new art up. Stop by and show her the love.

Miss Wendy will surely have some stories to share about her visit here soon.

The poet of Rome, Alessandra, always has lovely things to share. Her sweetie, John, always has some darkness to offer, too.

The lovely jubbly Chloë also has a blog! She will delight and amuse you.

Have you checked out the Apocalypse Girls? If not, why not! And while you're at it, be sure to drop by UnBound to catch up on all the latest. They will be covering Alt.Fiction, where I will be doing a one-on-one with Graham Joyce (gulp!) about the darkness of fairy tales, as well as another explaining why pretty much all Alan Moore adaptations suck -- and probably reading some flash fiction in the open mic.

The usual suspects: if you're reading my blog, chances are you already read Todd, Patti and Elena as well: if you don't I simply have to ask, Are you mad?! Hee. You have all been given the versatile blogger award: no speeches required, just take a moment to reflect on the work that you've done and pat yourself on the back.

Well, that should give the rest of you plenty to get started reading. Are you blogging? Do I know that? Should you be sending me a link? That's the thing: we're all busy people. I won't know you've written something unless you tell me (see how I trumpet every little thing here). Share your words -- that's why you write, isn't it? Whoogah!

Year of the Owl

Don't I live in a gorgeous city?

First, a little importuning: I know, it's a bit much coming from someone who's had more than her fair share of luck lately. But I'd really like you to vote for me for best horror short story for It's a Curse. Pretty please? And as long as you're voting, you could also vote for the anthology I'm in, Dark Pages: International Noir, and for the Queen of Everything for best cover for Four Play and our pal C. Margery Kempe for best romance short, Dragger Ella. Thank you ever so. Only a couple more days to go. These contests can help boost sales and get a little attention. It's a constant battle against obscurity.

Full moon tonight. Where wolf? There, wolf!

Tip of the hat to my pal Mr B for pointing me to a post by Iain Rowan on "folk horror" inspirations from the past. Alan Garner's Owl Service has come up before. Probably Mr B mentioned (along with things like The Tomorrow People and Children of the Stones) the series made from the novel which looks amazing. Must track down the book: the library here doesn't have it, but I'm sure I can locate a copy. I don't know how I missed Garner's books as they clearly fit my own obsessions. More on this tomorrow.

I know in Chinese astrology the coming year will be the Year of the Dragon, but for me all signs point to it being the Year of the Owl. Yes, in part because of the forthcoming release of Owl Stretching (at last, at last), but there's something more. Everywhere I turn, it's owls. I know, birds a-plenty all around me: my magpies always, the swans of Galway, more rooks than you can shake a stick at. But owls keep popping up at significant moments. We shall see what that means.

So from Professor Elemental on Twitter this morning, a gift for you:

News, a Wish and BitchBuzz

Criminy: it's December! How the time has flown by this semester, even though I haven't been in class. My sympathies to my colleagues knee-deep in exams and grading. I know how it feels -- and couldn't be happier that I am not.

Sorry! But it's true.

NEWS: 

It's a Curse: Drunk on the Moon, Book 7 by moi should be about tomorrow from Trestle Press. Thanks again to Mr B for inviting me to have fun playing with his werewolf PI, Roman Dalton. I hope I did him justice -- it sure was fun :-) I will have a book trailer up soon: just waiting on the cover art.

I'll be on the G-ZONE blog radio show, AKA Gelati's Scoop tomorrow night to talk about It's a Curse. You can listen live and call in, or listen to it later online. I'll be on about 4.30 pm Eastern time, which is about 9.30 pm here.

I'm interviewed in the latest Broadly Speaking from Broad Universe which is about mentors and teachers in literature, so I talk about Owl Stretching and Pelzmantel a bit and my own teaching experiences a little bit.

Next Tuesday is my talk at the Moore Institute at NUIG. I keep thinking about trying to add a Guy Fawkes mask to their logo just for a lark, but I lack the requisite skills.

My column for BitchBuzz this week is on gifts that won't steal your soul. Give something genuine if you're gift-giving this holiday season.

WISH:

It's my birthday month, so I want to ask you for a gift. Nothing expensive -- all it costs is a little of your time. I don't need stuff: I spent some harried weeks this summer trying to get rid of a lot of my stuff. What I would really like is some attention: not for me, for my books. My wish is for any who have the time to "like" my books on Amazon, Goodreads, Shelfari, LibraryThing etc. and offer them reviews. They need not be elaborate; they need not be glowing. But books without reviews seem chancier to potential readers. No one wants to be the first to do something; they want to see that others have trod the path before them and it's safe. So if you have a few spare moments, can you help out a fellow American who's (okay, not really) down on her luck?

Contract Signed: Owl Stretching

I'm happy to announce that I signed the contract for my next novel, Owl Stretching, with Immanion Press. I'm pleased that Storm wants to publish it and I hope that I have a cover as lovely as Ruby's art for Pelzmantel. It will be out in 2012 -- hurrah!

So what can I say to whet your appetite?

The first line: "It was in the fourteenth year of the war that Simon woke up." Main character quotes a lot and gets every single quote wrong. There's a road trip! I pull off the impossible task of making Worcester glamorous and exciting. There's a dead cat whose ashes need to be taken to Mount Auburn Cemetery, aliens and a 300 year old magpie.

I started writing it when Kurt Vonnegut died and I was thinking how dispiriting it was to realise there would be no new sad but funny novels from him. How I've been describing the book: it's an alternative history/science fiction/urban fantasy/shamanistic retelling of the Descent of Inanna/great American road trip that takes in Albany, the Berkshires, Kripalu and Boston. What could be better? Um, yeah.

It's not really as mad as it sounds -- and it works!

Don't take my word for it! As my pal Liz Hand says, "Laity is a remarkable sorceress." Trust her. She's a terrific writer.



Oh, and happy birthday, Mr. Borges!

Mandrake Anthrax

You know how you get a song stuck in your head? Usually some annoying bit of fluff that you wouldn't really choose to hear, but maybe heard from some passing car or in a store while shopping, but it worms its way into your ear and persists. I get that with phrases, too, and it can be just as maddening. I recall the relief I experienced when I realised this happened to other folks, too -- writers especially; I was reading a Henry Miller novel and his doppelgänger had an idiotic advertising phrase stuck in his head while he was trying to occupy himself otherwise (if you know Miller, you can guess how he was occupying himself).

So let me follow one of these little obsessive moments from the weekend and see what became of it. You know my obsession with Mark E. Smith and the Fall (yes, yes, I can see your eyes roll)? Okay, so I spend most of my time lately on Twitter (why? because last night while Tripoli was falling to rebel forces CNN was covering some celebrity's car accident or something, but folks on Twitter forwarded real time coverage). A friend posted a link to a blogpost on MES which I read and clicked on a related post which quoted the lyrics from "Tempo House" which resonated oddly in my head just then.

A serious man
In need of a definitive job
He had drunk too much
Mandrake anthrax

Of course, the latter phrase started ringing in my head like a well-struck bell. I posted the lyrics on Twitter, which provoked some comments, including a reminder from Zouch Magazine (soon to feature a poem[!] by me) that their 140 word story contest was still going on and wasn't I going to enter? This got me thinking. While it's fun to write the things that just spring out of your head with no restrictions of any kind (which reminds me, I ought to have good news to share later this week about Owl Stretching, my alternative history/science fiction/urban fantasy/shamanic retelling of the Descent of Inanna/Great American road trip novel ;-) it's actually fun to have restrictions to force your mind in new directions. Just as rules in sport -- keep within the markers, aim for the goal, don't touch the ball with your hands -- make you focus on specific skills, a narrow focus for writing can do the same. I'm currently working on a story set in someone else's universe and finding that a fun sort of puzzle to play with as well (more on that soon).

So, yeah, "Mandrake Anthrax" became a 140 word story (hey, I wrote a 50 word story, so that's luxury) that I sent off to Zouch for the contest and may well become a longer story, too. The lyrics also made it as a comment on a friend's status on Facebook (entirely fittingly, I should add and not at all gratuitously... mostly) and as my own status, provoking further responses that fed my idea stream even more. So, one magnetic MES phrase results in a story, lots of tweets and a couple of Facebook conversations and may not be done yet. I sure can get a lot of mileage out of two words! What will I be able to do with Joy Division Oven Gloves?! (thanks, Terry).

All of which gets me no closer to being packed and ready to go (sigh!). All this folderol was in place of actual packing, discarding and organising of course. Back to the mantra: somehow it will all get done, somehow...

Owl Stretching

Pop over to Radio Wombat, the podcast blog, for the latest reading: Owl Stretching. It's a snippet from the novel I'm revising at present. The name may or may not stay: Python fans will probably recognize it, but most people will find it obscure. It does have a purpose, but I'm guessing most publishers would want to change it. Then I will refer to it as the novel formerly known as Owl Stretching.