Three Wolf Returns

If you remember this, you'll enjoy this.

Mad TV Fun

A Mad TV sketch my sister turned me on to.

Sizzled on Rewrites

Burned out yesterday rewriting the first seven pages of the jumbo short story. Today, I'll concentrate only on the last 20 pages. Everything needs to be paid off and its the weakest portion; the part I keep saying will "write itself," in the vain hope that it actually will. So now I will because the story will not do me a solid. My own story!

Stuck in the Short Story Consideration Line

Queue you. So I've been told electronically. One magazine I submitted to has an on-line submission and tracking page. You're given a number when you send in your story. Then you can follow its progress through the editorial process, much like watching your car move through brushes, soap, and hot wax at the car wash. My story currently has 94 other stories in front of it, waiting to be read. In other words, it has not even been vacuumed. A lengthy wait will certainly affect my tip.

Going Back to Jackson

Yesterday would've been the 90th birthday of author Shirley Jackson. Author of "The Lottery" and "The Haunting of Hill House," she died of an apparent heart attack back in 1965 at the age of 45. Jackson wrote good gothic, but could also crank out light-hearted, slice-of-slice books about the chaos of raising four kids. She loved writing because it was one of the few times during the day she got to sit down.

Unlike my laborious method of writing draft after draft until the right words finally appear, Jackson would mull a story over for a long time, then sit down and bang it out almost print ready. (Very similar to the Paul Rugg style .-:)) My favorite Jackon short story involved an older New York couple who decided to spend the winter upstate at their summer home and learned the locals could be deadly if you overstayed your welcome.

And that was this moment in Shirley Jackson history.

Zip Code Change

Folks up in the August burn areas are bracing for possible location-changing mud slides. Two more inches of rain are in-bound and they say an inch-an-hour is enough to provide the necessary liquefaction. Let's hope for a big long drizzle.

Today I begin the end run for the big long horror story. Everything makes sense, but I have to drop in a number of elements that will provide stronger ties to various character changes as well as foreshadow the climax.

Mostly, I want to be finished and send it out and have someone buy it for my Christmas present.

One of them, anyway.

Sobriety Test Video

Friend Tim sends the test results.

Six and Soaked

Ernesto ran six miles today in a steady downpour. Unemployment has really jump-started his training as he's hoofing it 5x a week in preparation for the upcoming LA Marathon. Nothing like a heavy rain to separate the hard-core from the somewhat-committed.

Short Story Update

"Perry the Owl Boy" went off for consideration yesterday. Ten-in-Six now stands at:
One acceptance ("Bane Fish" in Night Chills Magazine.)

Five pending with "Dagon and Jill" the closest to placing (on a shortlist.)

That's four more to write (and ideally sell) before the end of February 2010.

"Apple Dan" is a few drafts from completion, but could be done next Friday.

At least two stories would have to be seriously rewritten, while "Ella the Passive-Aggressive Ghost" may be closer than I think.

My wife suggested I try writing a few Christmas cards.

Lining up Short Story Markets

A snap thanks to Duotrope. In the short fiction realm, 5 cents a word and up is considered the professional rate. A penny to 4 cents is semi-pro. Fractions of a cent - such as I was recently paid - constitute token payment. Publication copies are the minimum exchange for a story. I tend to send out to token payments and up, but don't sneer at anything that gets one aboard the resume-building train.

My last non-writing, acting, producing job took place on October 31, 1991. I worked at a temp agency on assignment to an engineering company in Pasadena. There I inputted reports into their database. Sit down, type, go out for a smoke at 10, lunch from 12:30 to 1:30, then type until 5:30.

They didn't want much: my time and effort for x hours at x dollars. I've been paid the long green and treated worse than the engineering company treated me.

Went to see good friend Ken last night for an evening of coffee shop chow and good bad movies. Same address for 29 years. That's astounding in Los Angeles. It's like living in the Sphinx.

Perry the Owl Boy

Currently perched, waiting for today's final polish. Then a read over Friday, and away it flies to a publication claiming to welcome such whimsical tales. After which, I return to the jumbo 11k horror short story. Looking forward to finishing that one and getting it out before the end of next week.