Republishing this piece in honor of the 20th Anniversary of the western drama, Open Range. (I was reminded of this by a fellow blogger! How time flies!)
First of all, I want to say I adored Uncle Lauran. I just had no idea…
Recently, someone asked on social media about using different pen names for different genres. My first reaction was that a name is the most important aspect of a writer and should sell the author, regardless of the genre. It’s hard to imagine using multiple pen names and struggling to brand each one for different genres. I already have a hard enough time branding my single pen name. Of course, I’m self-published in today’s world. Back in my uncle’s day… sigh… oh, to be a writer when people actually visited libraries.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it’s not a new question. Writers have used multiple pen names to differentiate their stories and guide readers toward specific genres for ages.
Then, I had a ‘slap my forehead’ moment when I realized that one of the most amazing and prolific writers of the twentieth century, who had mastered this concept, was my very own uncle, Lauran Paine, a man who, like so many of us, struggled to get published, found his niche, and launched a career that resulted in over 1000 books! Yes, that’s three zeros, folks!
Here’s what People Magazine said about Uncle Lauran:
Ernest Hemingway—Lauran Paine can outwrite you! Franz Kafka—Lauran Paine can outwrite you! Count Leo Tolstoy—you too! Lauran Paine can outwrite all you pretty-boy novelists put together!
Uncle Lauran was listed in the ‘Guinness Book of World Records’ as the world’s most prolific living author for many years. The first thing I asked to see during my visit was a copy of that publication. I already loved the fun facts in the Guinness Book, and having an uncle’s accomplishments listed alongside records like the tallest man ever recorded, the shortest woman, and the largest living cat… well, that was the best.
At the time, I didn’t think to link that to what it meant to have so many of your own books on a shelf. They covered an entire wall! And that’s the crux of my musings today: he used over 70 pseudonyms, both male and female, depending on the market.
I’m not sure why I haven’t given Uncle Lauran’s writing more thought since I became a writer. My Dad shares a story about him every time I talk about my writing (which results in a lot of stories… hmmm…), and I love hearing them. But it wasn’t until today that I realized how amazing he was in his chosen profession, and I started remembering how he shared his experiences.
I loved listening to them back then. Today, as a writer, those conversations mean even more.
Memories are funny things. I’m sure you’ve had that moment when a single thought opens the floodgates. Uncle Lauran married my Aunt Mona in 1982. She was his favorite research librarian at the Siskiyou County Library (actually, more like the only research librarian). It was a late romance made in heaven. All the memories started playing like a film reel—the holidays at the cozy A-Frame in the mountains. Uncle Lauran, scaring off a huge bear that came to visit at the back porch one Thanksgiving, and his office full of his own books in the stone-lined basement built into the hill under the house.
So, I had to share. Because now that I am a writer and have taken another look at his body of work, I am floored. I would love the opportunity to go back in time and learn more about how he achieved it. He was a rock star! I appreciate much more now what he accomplished by sitting down and writing every day with a set schedule.
Books were his bread and butter. He wrote full-time from 1948 (though he started writing in 1934) until just before he died in 2001. He always talked about having a formula. If you master the formula, you can write anything consistently. Mr. Friedman of People Magazine captured the formula best in Uncle Lauran’s interview.
Keep in mind, he was a genuine cowboy from a much earlier era…
Paine churns out more than oaters. “After a while,” he says, “I get bow-legged with all these Westerns.” He’s done history, science fiction, mystery and romance. “Romances are the easiest thing in the world to write,” says Paine, “if you can stomach them.” In conquering his digestion, Paine must also come to grips with a problem all fiction writers wrestle with: empathy. “I don’t know much about women,” he admits. “But what man does? They’re emotional creatures.” So Paine has devised a formula to probe the depths of female psychology. “They want him, they don’t, they don’t know. By that time, you’re on page 251.”
Uncle Lauran really said that about the formula! He said it to me numerous times to convince me I could write. I guess I did have aspirations back then. Hmmm.
U.K. Writer Ben Bridges does a beautiful job of highlighting Uncle Lauran’s career. You can find his article here. I love what he has to say about the pen names:
When the paperback market began to dry up in the 1960s, however, Paine adopted several new pseudonyms and began turning out westerns primarily for Robert Hale, its subsidiary John Gresham and the then-buoyant library market. Now, in addition to Mark Carrel, he could also be found masquerading as Clay Allen, A A Andrews, Dennis Archer, John Armour, Carter Ashby, Harry Beck, Will Benton, Frank Bosworth, Concho Bradley, Claude Cassady, Clint Custer, James Glenn, Will Houston, Troy Howard, Cliff Ketchum, Clint O’Conner and Buck Standish, among many others. Additionally, he published scores of crime, science fiction and romance novels (virtually all issued by Hale or Gresham), but later admitted that thrillers and SF required more thought, time and planning to make them work.
Mr. Bridges, also published by Robert Hale, has an impressive body of work himself under his own variety of pen names. I discovered another author I need to study and read!
My favorite part of Uncle Lauran’s story was how long it took him to find his niche, which didn’t happen until he got advice from his publisher to write what he knows. He was a cowboy, a stuntman, he owned cattle. He said he had the scars to prove it. He wrote what he knew and he gave his readers tons of it. He used to tell us some of his Hollywood stories about the times he hung out on the lot of the Lone Ranger. He was friends with Jay Silverheels, who was the legendary Tonto. That’s just a sample.
Two movies were made from Uncle Lauran’s stories: 1957’s ‘The Quiet Gun,’ inspired by Lawman, and 2003’s ‘Open Range,’ based on The ‘Open Range Men,’ produced by Kevin Costner and starring Kevin Costner, Robert Duvall, Annette Bening, Michael Gambon, and Michael Jeter. It’s an amazing movie and does justice to the original story. My aunt managed Uncle Lauran’s works after his passing, working closely with Lauran Paine, Jr., and put in a lot of effort with Mr. Costner to bring her husband’s story to the big screen. She attended the premiere.
This story became…This story.I adore the old coversUncle Lauran picked this one for me because it is a beautiful western romance. I’d have to argue that he understood women despite his glib formula litany. I loved it.
Uncle Lauran didn’t just crank out serial fiction, but he also created an impressive, wide-ranging body of nonfiction. He brought this book to my Dad’s house during one of my visits, and I stayed up all night reading it. It’s enjoyable to discover these out-of-print books for sale from interesting booksellers. This particular one is listed by Common Crow Used & Rare Books.
Though I didn’t get a chance to thank Uncle Lauran for planting those seeds to tell a story when I was in my twenties, I hope he appreciated my fascination with all that he was and achieved, nonetheless.
This story is a single journal entry in Book One, Ursus Borealis, in The Starlight Chronicles series. I found it rather fun to write a story within a story within a story. It nestles in a chapter featuring Kuliana Hada, a character that appears throughout the series, who is an Anurashin Captain of the Guard. Cynthia is her ancestress.
Cynthia’s story is incorporated into an actual historical account about the White Ship that sailed in 1120 as described. Its sinking changed history.
This sounds impossible, I know. You will just have to take my word for it. That is, if you’re from a realm apart from this hidden place beneath a volcano, and if this message manages to reach you, as I hope.
My life began on a farm in the County of Anjou. It was forever changed when I met a bear from Normandy.
After immersing myself in the astonishing world of my mate and the kingdoms of the shifters, learning there was life beyond this Earth before reaching the heavens took only a few extra pints to swallow down. That, and meeting Zigan. It turns out that Zigan and I are old souls who have danced through this journey before in many previous lifetimes.
How my soul was chosen for this repeated Earth-bound destiny remains a mystery, but my magus spent many hours over wine in our chateau, sharing what he knew of our history, or rather, the history of the prophecy of the marked maidens.
As for Zigan, up until we met—in this time—he had spent his life training with the Order, which included studying the records in the extensive archives and all forms of alchemy. He had also been honed into a fierce warrior. Even more astonishing, he could transform into a stunning feline, which I learned was called a tiger.
For eight years, I experienced what it was to be part of the Pack, to be soulmates with its alpha, to be one part of a wondrous whole. We were successful in our purpose, keeping the princes’ machinations from the human population and mitigating the damage.
This is the part at the end of our story. Writing it down is agony because it chronicles the event that halted our purpose violently, tore me from those I loved, and marked the beginning of my slow and lonely death. Still, it must be told.
It takes place starting mid-morning on the 25th day of November in the year 1120. We arrived at Barfleur near the coast of Normandy after confirming the location of the current plot of Aviel Enair, the oldest and most formidable of the three sibling princes.
We lacked the details, but we knew his scheme would involve the sailing vessel known as the White Ship, renowned for its speed and beauty, now carrying the only legitimate heir to King Henry I across the English Channel.
###
Frustration gripped me as I wrapped my arm around myself, trying to catch my breath after running the length of the docks. I called out to my mate, who was approaching behind me.
“It is just as we feared, Aldric. The ship has almost reached the Quilleboeuf!”
As I spoke, three hundred souls sailed away, including other nobles and the heir, and the loss would be catastrophic to the burgeoning English monarchy.
When we learned that the king’s seventeen-year-old son, William Adelin, desired to sail on this elegant vessel while his father sailed ahead of him, and that Aviel had set his sights on it, we considered the hazards the Anurashin prince might exploit. The ship had a good reputation and so did its captain, Thomas FitzStephen, whose father had taken the prince’s grandfather, William the Conqueror, across the same sea.
The only evident risk was sailing past Gatteville, where hidden rocks such as the Quilleboeuf lay waiting for careless sailors. But FitzStephen was surely used to navigating such hazards.
I breathed in the salty air to sharpen my mind while I considered our options. The raucous calls of seagulls ebbed overhead as they congregated, fought, and flew off with morsels of fish as their prize. Despite the size and piercing eyes of the warrior next to me, we stood unnoticed among the throng of bodies rushing toward their duties on the bustling docks.
“You must call Zigan, my love,” Aldric said, drawing me to his side and offering his warmth as I shivered from the urgency of our task and the breeze cooling the sweat of my exertion.
Although we were French, our purpose as part of this prophetic trio was to maintain the balance of power fated for this world in our time. According to Zigan’s archives, when the princes interfered, it fared badly for the human populations.
That meant we were trained to take risks, and we discovered this scheme by becoming captives of the princes at their temporary encampment while each enjoyed inflicting painful retribution on us for our past successes. But Aviel allowed his brothers’ torment to go only so far, which we’d learned to count on, though we didn’t understand it.
Our plan included an escape.
It went perfectly until we ran into a trap and had to leave our pack behind to fight, which also delayed our arrival. A worry was taking hold in me that the last eight years of joy and strife might culminate on these docks. Still, I pushed on.
After placing the insides of my wrists together, my tiger appeared, first as an image on my skin, then as a man stepping out of a gray mist, calmly taking us in with fathomless dark eyes. His markings glowed bright gold against his bronze arms, and his silky black hair waved in the breeze.
“We need to get aboard that ship, Zigan.” I pointed to the sails disappearing north along the coast to Gatteville. “Can you haze us there?”
“Yes, precious one. But I may not have the ability to get you back.”
“Let me go with him,” Aldric said. “If the ship were to sink, and Zigan cannot return us both…” He let that thought trail off as he looked at me in that fierce way that melted my heart.
The powerful love I had for this man, this larger-than-life Norman-born warrior who shared the spirit of a mighty brown bear, still overwhelmed me after all these years. We had not taken one moment of our time for granted, knowing the dangers inherent in my destiny.
“But I must be the one on that ship, Aldric,” I said as I clutched his hand. “We have no idea what is planned, and we need my instincts as a marked maiden.”
“Vous serez remarquée, ma bien-aimée. I can blend in and discern the situation. We must go now, as they quickly approach the rocks.”
I stood on my toes and brought his face close to mine, gazing into his brown eyes to see his bear gleaming at me, a magnificent creature he could transform into at will. Our lips met for an exquisite moment before I stepped back.
“I will bring him back safely,” Zigan said, taking hold of my mate.
They disappeared. I took shelter and waited. They returned in Zigan’s mist in less than thirty minutes.
Aldric and I moved together without thinking, as we did after every parting. Satisfied with the reunion, he gave his report. “Nearly everyone on board was drunk on wine and betting on a race to beat the king to England. The ship sailed fast, pushing its limits. Not more than ten minutes after we arrived, it hit the rocks and foundered.” I gasped in dismay, but he assured me the king’s son had made it to a lifeboat.
Without warning, warriors in the garb of another time appeared in a heavy mist that seemed to roll in from the sea. We assumed battle stances as they surrounded us, Zigan and Aldric drawing their swords. I shouted the cry of the Pack and raised my own blade. The clash of steel rang out across the harbor as bystanders rushed to get out of the way.
We held our own against a dozen until my sword was knocked from my hand. Vice-like arms grabbed me from behind, and Aldric’s roar shook the planks beneath our feet. But the Anurashin warrior kept me from my mate’s reach, letting the others leap in between us, forcing Aldric to slice his way to me.
“The prince has his sights on you, maiden,” the warrior said in my ear. “Did you not think he would succeed?”
“No matter that he tries, I will never be his!”
Springing my knife from my sleeve, I lunged back, shoved it between the ribs of my tormentor, and twisted. The warrior grunted in pain, but his grip did not loosen. Aldric dodged blades, slammed his fists into faces, and rammed bodies while I struggled to pull free.
Zigan moved so fast that arcs of blood hovered in the air where he last appeared. But when he got close enough to reach for me, the warrior jerked us back, and two others lunged for him.
To my utter horror, dual strikes took Zigan’s head.
My knees buckled from the agony tearing through my heart and then through my whole being, as Zigan’s soul was ripped from mine with brutal force. I never imagined our bond could be so viciously severed or that the warrior magus was anything but invincible.
A sickening realization sank like a stone in my belly. This had been Aviel’s plan all along—why he let us escape. He had engineered the entire scheme to kill my magus, seize me, and destroy the Pack de Normande.
What was left of my heart was shattered when Aldric stepped into the path of a blade to reach for me, ignoring the pain, desperate to save me as he felt the agony of my loss and our loss to come.
The mist I dreaded grew thick, and I felt as if I were breaking into tiny pieces. None of this could be happening!
The devastated face of my mate told me he had come to the same incomprehensible conclusion while he watched me fade into bits, so close to him our fingers nearly touched.
I poured my heart and soul into my words. “I will love you forever!”
The sound that followed was the fierce roar of a wounded bear.
This month, we get to chat with a fellow Nevada author I met at the Virginia City Writing Retreat. Sue and I enjoyed a great conversation over breakfast on the last morning about her career in education and her insights into the minds of young people, which she features in her writing. I’m glad to have the opportunity to learn more about her life as a writer and her works.
Let’s Meet the Author
Sue is a connoisseur of pretzels (the sourdough kind), a maker of killer banana bread (thank you, Joanna Gaines!), a pilates aficionado, and a writer! She loves writing fantasy fiction for all age groups—time travel, reincarnation, soul switching, and science fiction.
If you searched her pants pockets, you are apt to find a doggie poop bag, tissues, and a breath mint. She’s a proud mama to two amazing adult children and five equally amazing grandchildren!
Let’s Get Started
Thank you so much for visiting today, Sue. Your books are incredibly engaging, drawing us into thought-provoking worlds where teenagers face life’s toughest choices or encounter tragedy, often through a supernatural lens. Can you discuss how you began writing novels and what inspired your first story?
SCD: As many authors do, I’ve been writing or dreaming about writing since I was small. My first published novel, A SLOW CLIMB UP THE MOUNTAIN, was loosely based on my time as a principal in a small rural town. I began writing speculative fiction with SUPPRESSED. I found after I wrote that book that I really liked writing about reincarnation, time travel, and soul swapping.
Where do you find your amazing story ideas?
SCD: Story ideas are all around me. It might be a tidbit from the internet, the newspaper, an article I read in a science magazine, to looking at pictures in National Geographic.
Along the lines of inspiration, who or what was your biggest influence in becoming a fiction writer?
SCD: My high school English teacher encouraged me to continue writing. Then, a Literary Agent believed in my work. When I entered my, at the time, unpublished novel, S.O.S., in a contest and took first place, I really took off. Winning that award gave me confidence in myself as an author.
DLL: Wonderful, Sue. Thanks for sharing that.
What are your favorite themes to explore in your stories? And I’ll throw a tougher one in here. Which character did you enjoy writing most and why? Don’t worry if there’s more than one or if the answer is all of them. Feel free to elaborate.
SCD: I think my favorite character was Cat in CAT-ASTROPHIC. She was a complex and weird girl who didn’t fit in at school, yet she had a connection with the minister’s son, Nick. She argued they were once lovers during WWII. Now, I think you see the conflict in that revelation.
DLL: Another fun world to dive into.
You recently released the third installment in your ‘Land, Sea, and Air’ series. What a fascinating time-traveling premise. Can you give us a glimpse into the story and characters?
SCD: The third book is entitled MORSE CODE. I had names floating around in my brain–Dashiell and Dorothy–Dash and Dot. Thus, the Morse Code twins were conceived as the stars of that book. My cover designer even put …- – – … on the cover (SOS). It was a fun book to write because the protagonists from books 1 and 2 joined Dot and Dash in Guatemala.
DLL: Wonderful. Thank you!
In building your author platform, what have you found to be the most valuable connections and resources for an independent writer?
SCD: At every opportunity, I share the highlights about my books and keep a stack of business cards with me. In fact, earlier this week, I had the carpets cleaned, told him about my books, and sent one home for his kids.
DLL: I can relate. I also keep cards handy for those conversations.
How important is it to engage with your local community? What can you share about building an online presence? Can you tell us about your story awards and the organizations behind them?
SCD: I do as many local author events as my schedule allows, but I’ve also done book signings in MI and WA. It’s true—I’ve won a variety of awards, some more prestigious than others, but they are all “stamps of approval.” Probably, The Chanticleer Reviews has opened many doors for me. While they are small, they have a dedicated team to determine who gets what award. I highly recommend them, and also The Golden Wizard Book Prize awards for those who write for middle grade and under.
DLL: Thanks for sharing these.
What are your best tips and techniques for keeping your creative juices flowing and staying productive while balancing your writer’s life with everyday living?
SCD: Read a lot and read outside your normal genre and comfort zone. Although I’m not a huge Horror fan, there are story ideas or nuggets galore in them.
You recently returned from an overseas trip. I’d love to hear about your adventures and how traveling fits into your writer’s life.
SCD: I just returned from Greece and a screenwriter’s conference and workshop. Before the conference, I wrote my first screenplay, and it was a huge learning curve for me (and I’m still learning). But I think all those ‘out of the box’ events only strengthen us as writers.
DLL: And what a fabulous place to go for a learning curve!
What’s on the horizon for you, Sue, and where can we follow you to stay updated?
SCD: I’m hoping to win another award from Chanticleer for MORSE CODE. The first two books (SOS and MAYDAY) in the series took first place in ‘The Gertrude Warner Adventure’ category. I want to continue to learn about screenwriting and eventually turn many of my books into scripts.
DLL: Fantastic! I wish you the best in that endeavor. You can stay in touch with Sue via her website and Facebook Page.
Thank you so much for dropping by. It’s been a blast. Do you have any parting words of advice for aspiring writers?
Writers need to be readers. Write and read every day, even if it’s just a couple of sentences. Eventually, all those sentences make a paragraph, then a page, a chapter, and voilà, you’ve got a book.
Wow! Today I get to be a fangirl! And even better, I get to share that experience right here. Follow along as I chat with Grace Draven, USA Today Bestselling Author, and creator of the most gorgeous sweeping, romantic epic fantasy stories I truly believe should be on everyone’s reading list.
With Mr. Draven
I prepared for our chat by poring over reviews of the first story I read, Radiance. To me, this was the perfect book by Ms. Draven to start with because it renewed my love of epic romance and set me on the path to romance writing in fantasy settings.
Though I searched and searched, my 2020 Radiance review has been buried by the masses. So, I went to BookBub and found my much briefer review. I admit I updated it on the spot. Since I’ve become a writer, my reviews now come with that extra perspective, so why not take the opportunity to stamp an old reader review with a new reader/writer appreciation?
Friends to lovers is the most powerful kind of romance in my book, and Ms. Draven is a master. Here, the author takes two beings from opposing worlds who would not have chosen each other but for an arranged marriage, and then crafts a riveting story of a powerful bond that is utterly unique, inspiring, and heart-pounding all the way through. Each character was compelling. Their respect for each other sets in from the beginning, which is a great place for a budding romance if done right, and Ms. Draven does it right. And this is all on top of crafting a masterful fantasy world. It’s the hallmark of Ms. Draven’s writing and why I keep reading her stories.
Let’s meet the author
Grace Draven is a Louisiana native living in Texas with her husband, kids and a big, doofus dog. She has loved storytelling since forever and is a fan of the fictional bad boy. She is the winner of the Romantic Times Reviewers Choice for Best Fantasy Romance of 2014 and 2016, and a USA Today Bestselling author.
I found a few other nuggets about Ms. Draven on Goodreads where she tells us she has “lived in Spain, hiked the Teton Mountains, honeymooned in Scotland, ridden in competition rodeo and [is] the great great granddaughter of a Nicaraguan president.”
Let’s get Started
Thank you for joining me on my Spotlight, Grace! I can’t tell you what a thrill it was for me the day you responded to my request for a Q&A. This is without question the highlight of my 2023 year in writing, blogging, and interviewing, and I’m so excited for this opportunity to ask questions of a favorite bestselling author.
After all that (and I am sorry about the gushing, but I can’t help myself)… I sit here with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Where do I start? Hmmm. Well, here goes.
My most burning questions are where do you get your ideas for such unique and compelling settings and characters? And how do you go about creating such richly layered fantasy worlds? Yikes! That’s a big request, I know, and thanks for giving it a shot.
GD. Aww, thank you so much for reaching out and including me in the list of those authors you’ve interviewed so far. There are lots of us swimming in this pond, so I appreciate the invitation to chat.
I suspect I get my ideas for stories from the same varied sources every other author uses to build worlds and characters. Memories of favorite poetry quotes, something I’ve watched on TV, a song lyric, a beautiful painting, etc. All of these things can trigger an idea that gets embedded in my brain and starts to sprout. I’ve only had one story – MASTER OF CROWS – in which I dreamed of the protagonist/hero and woke up with his character fully formed in my head and ready to be written. That was a real gift from God there.
I love world building and learned how to do it from my brother who was and still is a brilliant dungeon master. I played D&D during my college years and watched him create these incredible, heavily layered worlds that combined both the fantastic and the mundane to create these immersive places for his players to sink their imaginations and run their characters. He was amazing at this, and I completely credit him for teaching me the same approach when writing books.
DLL. I love that about MASTER OF CROWS! It is one of my earliest and most favorite reads, though I’m currently reading ENTREAT ME and thinking that’s my favorite. Except I just finished Dragon Unleashed and wondering about that being a favorite. Hmmm. That’s what’s so great about your stories. Each one feels like a favorite.
I recently finished DRAGON UNLEASHED, Book 2 in The Fallen Empire series, and am poised to start the third, RAVEN UNVEILED. The audiobooks in this series are sweeping me away. My husband even gets caught up in these stories if he’s in the room while I have the volume up. (Incidental listening is the best he can do when it comes to romance, so this is big!)
Your secondary characters are as compelling as the main characters. In this instance, I’m thinking of Halani’s mother, Asil. I adore falling in love with book boyfriends which is my main motivation for reading romance, but it’s always a great surprise when I fall in love with a character like Asil. The sweetest mother a girl could have. Sweet, innocent, simple, yet surprising and fascinating with hidden depths. Threading throughout this world is the need to track what happens to Asil (starting from Book 1 in Phoenix Unbound). In my opinion, she is responsible for illuminating an entire dimension of Malachus’ character.
Can you talk about Asil and the inspiration behind her creation?
GD. The character of Asil is a tribute to my son who is on the lower end of the autism spectrum. Like Asil, he is often challenging to deal with, stubborn, and enigmatic (especially since he’s mostly nonverbal). However, he teaches the rest of his family how to be better, kinder, more sympathetic human beings. Being a caregivers requires patience, empathy, and resilience – three things that can only build character in anyone, be they real or fictional. I wanted to show that in this story with Asil as the catalyst who shines a light on all of those traits in my main characters, especially Malachus who, for the most part, grew up a rather sheltered individual despite tragedy and his orphaned childhood.
DLL. Thank you so much for sharing the special story behind this amazing character.
Here is my opportunity to share examples of the kind of writing that has inspired me as a romance fan and writer. [For our readers. The excerpts are intended to be out of context enough to prevent spoilers but beware.]
“Wife of my soul,” he said, and this time his voice didn’t shake but held all the command of a Savatar ataman who had led an army against the Empire and won. “Look at me.”
His words sent an arrow of euphoria straight through her chest.
“And will you love me for a day? A year? A lifetime?” She knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it in that beautiful, shattered voice.
“Beyond that,” he whispered, eyes shining with the tempest of emotion he’d held in check until now. “Beyond the reign of false gods and meddlesome priests. Beyond al Zafira when her bright stars fade.”
He kissed her then, breathed his life into her mouth, her heart, her spirit—the same way she’d breathed her Gift into him while they stood in the empty soul of a dying god.
Martise kissed him fiercely in return, holding him so tightly her arms ached, and the necklace she clutched dug into his back. When they parted, she leaned her forehead against his. “That’s a long time to love someone.”
Nimble fingers worked the ties of her cyrtel, unlacing them with ease. “Not long enough.”
In RADIANCE, the strength and majesty of this story lie in the sheer beauty of a bond that grows between an alien man and a human woman, who are each repelled by their physical differences. Yet, the first time they meet they recognize in each other kindred spirits and start their journey on a foundation of respect. They must marry and join houses and they take on this task with strength and wisdom though they have no illusions that they will ever become attracted to each other.
“You make a very handsome dead eel, my husband,” she said and winked. Sinhue and Kirgipa both gasped.
“For a boiled mollusk, you wear black quite well, my wife.” Brishen shot back, and his smile stretched a little wider.
Radiance
~~~
The crust was perfectly golden and buttery with a braided edge and fanciful dough cut-outs that revealed the cook was as much artist as baker. Her mouth watered in anticipation of cutting into it.
And then the pie breathed.
Ildiko gasped and half rose from her seat, her sanap tumbling to the floor. “My gods, did you see that?”
Brishen’s stoic expression didn’t change, and he motioned for her to sit down. “You can’t run from this one, Ildiko. It’s served at every high feast and celebration. A delicacy among the Kai. It’s a surety we’ll be served one later. Newly married couples share it as a symbol of fortune and prosperity in the marriage.”
Ildiko did as he bid and sat but scooted her chair a little further away from the table. “What is in that pie?” Whatever it was, it was still alive. Fortune and prosperity be damned. Her throat closed up in protest at the thought of having to swallow something alive and still wriggling.
Brishen picked up his dagger. “Watch closely because at some point, you’ll have to do this yourself.” He stared at the pie, as focused as a hawk on a branch watching a mouse in the field below it. The pie’s crust rippled, creating cracks across its smooth surface. A black spine poked through the crust, and Brishen pounced.
He slammed the knifepoint into the pie hard enough to make the plates bounce on the table and splash wine from the goblets. An insectile screech pierced the quiet.
Brishen twisted the knife. It made a cracking noise, and the pie abruptly ruptured, sending pieces of crust splattered in a black slime across the table.
This time Ildiko leapt over her chair to crouch behind it, wide-eyed and horrified as Brishen pried his knife out of the destroyed pie. It came free with a sucking sound…
Radiance
~~~
He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Woman of day, you waited for me.”
Ildiko closed her book and offered him a drowsy smile. Relief and happiness coursed through her. “Prince of night, you’ve come back to me—your head intact.”
Radiance
~~~
She was solace enrobed in smooth flesh and scented hair.
Radiance
~~~
A sudden realization made him smile a little. One of his wife’s greatest strengths, and a thing he most admired about her, was her ability to adapt to a situation and still remain steadfast in her own sense of worth and place. Brishen no longer viewed her with the eyes of a Kai and couldn’t view her with the eyes of a human male, but that held no consequence now. He saw her as she’d always seen herself—as simply Ildiko. For her, it was enough; for him, a gift beyond price.
Radiance
~~~
The silence yawned between them as she continued to stare at him. “What is it, Ildiko?” he asked. “What do you see?” His question acted as a catalyst, breaking a spell that held him beguiled and her enthralled. She opened beneath him; not just her body. All of her. He sensed it in every part of him. She twined her arms around his neck and tilted her head until her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. “My beautiful husband,” she said. “I see radiance.”
Radiance
My question here is at what point in your career did you find this talent for writing such moving prose, strong emotions, witty meaningful banter, and imaginative scenes that bring the reader straight into these worlds? Or did your writing start out this awesome? I want to know because it means there might be hope for the rest of us. 😊
GD. LOL. I wish I could say it was something I was born with or was one day struck by the lightning bolt of wordsmithing. However, I’d be lying. I think the love of storytelling is God-given but the skill of writing is learned and practiced – constantly. It’s a mental workout of the imagination and riding the learning curve of technique. You have to go at it every day to improve and learn more, and there is no ceiling. I’ve been steadily at this for twenty years and eager to discover new ways to write better over the course of the next twenty.
DLL. Great advice! I’ve explored many creative avenues. Since I started writing, I realize now that those were all experiments. Writing is different and I have been writing every day for three years. You’ve given me hope that I’ll still be at it and maybe even successful seventeen years down the line. 😊
Which of the characters in your published works is your favorite? Do you have a favorite character coming up in a work-in-progress that you can preview for us? Along with that can you give us a glimpse into your current projects? What’s coming next?
GD. My favorite character is Louvaen Duenda from ENTREAT ME. She was a joy to write, and after doing some quick proofreading work on that book, I enjoyed reading her as well. Silhara from MASTER OF CROWS runs a close second. Louvaen; however, still takes first place for me as she’s someone I’d like to hang out with in real life.
I don’t have a favorite character in upcoming works at the moment. With the exception of one character, I tend to learn about my characters as I write their story, so it isn’t until the book is complete that I have an idea as to whether or not one will be a favorite. I can tell you that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed writing both Emerence and Gaeres from THE NOMAS KING (Wraith Kings #4) so far, mostly because of their couple dynamic. Emerence is very independent and analytical, and Gaeres comes from a matriarchal society, so I think they work well together.
I always have at least two things going at one time, sometimes three. I’m currently wrapping up the Wraith Kings novella BLACK HELLEBORE which revisits Brishen and Ildiko. Once that’s done, I’ll switch back to THE NOMAS KING. I’ve also just submitted a proposal and sample chapters for a story about the fae to my agent for possibly going on submission to traditional publishing houses. So very busy at the moment and feeling fortunate to have such a full plate.
DLL. This is great stuff! I’m learning so much from how you see your characters and the way their separate characteristics and resulting dynamics impact their growth and bond. And how exciting to hear about what’s coming next in this stunning series. I can’t wait!
What or who is your biggest inspiration that set you on the path to becoming a writer? Was writing fiction something you always dreamed of doing?
GD. Inspiration to write came from multiple sources: my brother, the brilliant DM, the incredible fantasy authors Andre Norton and Michael Moorcock, and just a fierce love of reading.
Writing fiction wasn’t something I always dreamed of doing. I didn’t start writing until 2003 as a hobby and stress reliever from long hours at my job and raising three little kids. It developed into something more over time, and now I get to do it full-time, which is amazing. I’m grateful for it every day.
DLL. After having interviewed so many wonderful fantasy writers, I’m finding D&D to be a common influence, which is a fascinating aspect of world building I wish I could tap into.
I really enjoy the books by Ilona Andrews, a writing couple responsible for the popular Kate Daniels series, and one of my favorites the Innkeeper Chronicles. It’s a fun fact for me that you and Mr. Draven are friends with Ilona and Gordon Andrews. This is a stellar example in the writing world of the power of writing communities. Can you tell us a little about how your friendship came about and the perks gleaned from being devoted writing buddies?
GD. Like you, I’m a fan of IA’s body of work, even before I met them, and Innkeeper is my favorite series of theirs. I can still vividly picture the fight scene at Costco.
Ilona, Gordon, and I first connected when Ilona put out a request for recommendations on something to read. Her readers sent suggestions, as did some book review bloggers. Has from The Bookpushers recommended MASTER OF CROWS. Ilona read it, liked it, and wrote favorably about it. Thanks to her, Gordon, and their significant platform, other people learned about the book and my other books as well, expanding my audience exponentially. It was one of those serendipitous moments. To thank them for their kindness, Mr. Draven and I treated them to dinner one evening and really hit it off. We’ve been friends ever since. I consider that friendship the most precious thing to come out of that connection – far beyond book sales and exposure, far beyond professional collaboration, etc. They are lovely, lovely people, and I’m beyond blessed to have them as friends. That is the perk above all perks.
As for other perks, I’d say guidance. Ilona and Gordon are masters of their craft. There have been more than a few instances where I’ve wrapped too hard around my own axle regarding a character motivation, a scene, a plot point, etc. and gone to Ilona for guidance and help. She always comes through with the perfect solution.
DLL. What a great story and such a fantastic thing to happen along a writer’s journey.
For a fun chat between these two dynamic couples. Here is an episode from Ashland Public Library MA‘s YouTube channel.
What is your favorite way to engage with your readers? Can you let us know where we can find you, say for a book signing over the next few months?
GD. While my ability to do so is very restricted due to scheduling, budget, and family demands, my favorite way to engage is in person, face-to-face. The next best thing is through social media, though I don’t have the time to regularly hit several platforms to engage.
I just recently attended an Author Meet and Greet at my local library but don’t have anything planned until June of 2024 where I’ll be attending Book Bonanza in Grapevine, TX, and October of 2024 where I’ll be at the Romantasy Book Convention in Orlando, Florida.
DLL. Those sound like a blast. Enjoy and much success!
Tell us about the Arcane Society, which presented beautifully illustrated special editions of Master of Crows and Entreat Me in its October box. Can you share a little about the perks of membership and its benefits to you as a writer?
GD. I’m not a member myself, but I hear from some subscribers that AS puts out some beautiful editions with incredible artwork on both the books and the separate art cards. The enamel pins are also lovely. I can attest to all of this based on what they’ve done for me as well as The Four Horsemen series (by Laura Thalassa) that I received from AS. Breathtaking books anyone would be proud to put on their shelves. High quality product and definitely money well spent if you get a subscription.
Arcane Society Member Edition
I think the greatest benefit in collaborating with AS was getting paid of course (bills to pay and mouths to feed) and expanding my audience.
I can sing the praises of AS all day long but would be remiss if I didn’t do the same with Fae Crate who put together gorgeous special editions of RADIANCE and EIDOLON.
DLL. I think it’s great to have these opportunities for readers and writers to own their favorite works in such beautifully illustrated volumes. I also enjoyed the Four Horsemen series by Laura Thalassa and what fantastic artwork for those as well. It would be a dream for me to write a book that inspires artists to create images for it. I did a Google search and found so much fantastic fan art for Brishen and Ildiko! It’s easy to understand what about those two inspire so many artists.
Where else can we find signed copies or special editions of your books?
GD. I also have a hardback omnibus edition available on Amazon (and can be ordered through Barnes and Noble or your favorite independent bookstore) titled Wraith Kings, Volume I which contains both RADIANCE and EIDOLON.
On the technical side, can you share your journey into publishing your stories? Is there anything you would do differently now that you can look back on it?
GD. I started out writing fan fiction as a hobby and learned some basic techniques from other more experienced writers. In 2005, I submitted a short story to a now-defunct digital-only publishing house (I would NEVER do that now. Way too risky). I won a contract with them and published that story, along with a few novellas and my first novel (MASTER OF CROWS). When Amazon rolled out KDP, that was a game changer for everyone, including me. I got rights back on most of my work and started self-publishing on KDP. Best decision I ever made to go the self-publishing route. I’m now a hybrid author, involved in both self-publishing and traditional publishing.
As far as doing something differently, I’d definitely practice better risk management by learning more about the many publishing outfits out there. Some are honest, hard-working companies invested in their authors’ success. Others, however, are predatory scam outfits that make money off a hopeful’s dreams. I was very, very lucky that the first publisher I worked with was both professional and honest.
DLL. Thank you. It is so helpful to get a writers’ experiences on navigating the crazy path to publishing. It’s also a lot of fun getting a take on the early days of KDP. These new self-publishing platforms give us so many options and a lot of competition, which is why I like hearing about the hybrid options.
What are your favorite techniques and tools for drafting a manuscript? Have your methods changed a lot over the years?
GD. I go very old school in that I typically handwrite my drafts in spiral notebooks, then transcribe them later. It’s terribly inefficient, especially when I’m actually a fast typist. However, ideas flow better for me when I’m handwriting. This is also why I’m a slow writer.
I suppose they’ve changed a lot in the aggregate but are more what I consider refinements over the years. I learn as I go. I used to write scenes and dialogue together in a very linear fashion. Now, I go with more a script method in that I write all the dialogue first with brief notes about the scene and background and then go back and fill all that in. I “hear” dialogue better than I “see” scenery, so I tackle that first.
DLL. I love finding writers who write by hand. I’ve interviewed a few, and on the other side of the spectrum, a few who love using dictation. So many ways to feel the story.
For a glimpse into your writer’s life. Do you have a favorite place to write? What are your favorite techniques or methods you use to stay creative and productive?
GD. I don’t have a favorite place to write as I typically only have one place to write – my desk in one corner of our game room.
To stay creative, I tend to relax and put myself to sleep at night by going over scenes and plot points in my head for a story I’m working on. It works to both settle my mind and build ideas I’ll incorporate into the manuscript. GD.
DLL. I came across a Medium post recently that highlighted famous authors and their daily writing routines. E. B. White’s was my favorite and your game room desk reminds me of his living room.
I never listen to music when I’m working. I haven’t that kind of attentiveness, and I wouldn’t like it at all. On the other hand, I’m able to work fairly well among ordinary distractions. My house has a living room that is at the core of everything that goes on: it is a passageway to the cellar, to the kitchen, to the closet where the phone lives. There’s a lot of traffic. But it’s a bright, cheerful room, and I often use it as a room to write in, despite the carnival that is going on all around me.
In consequence, the members of my household never pay the slightest attention to my being a writing man — they make all the noise and fuss they want to. If I get sick of it, I have places I can go. A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word on paper.
E. B. White
I can just imagine the author writing Charlotte’s Web among the family “carnival,” sort of like a barn with a spider and her chatty friends.
What advice can you share on balancing your creativity with other aspects of life?
GD. Learn how to tune out.
I can write just about anywhere because I can tune out. Learning how to do that was a necessity for me as I live and work in a loud, very active household with constant noise and interruptions.
Also, get advice from other authors on what they do to stay productive. Some are haphazard like me, while others are more regimented. One of those or a combination of both will work for you. Basically, customize according to your needs and the demands of your life. There’s no one true way.
Do you have any parting advice for those who want to pursue a writing career?
GD. Write, write, write. Learn good technique and practice it. Accept the idea that your first, second, third, thirty-seventh attempt at something may not be good or publishable. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Don’t be afraid to delete words and rewrite them. I wrote DRAGON UNLEASHED twice. Of the original 132k words I wrote, I kept only 9k and rewrote 120k. It’s not unusual for me to write the beginning of a book multiple times before I’ve settled in with a start I like (I wrote the beginning of ENTREAT ME six times). I have no problem killing my darlings. You shouldn’t either.
Also remember that while marketing and ads are very important aspects of publishing, writing a solid book is equal in importance. All the ad money in the world won’t move a bad product over the long term, and in this business, your brand is as important as exposure and platform.
Most of all, stay humble, stay grounded, and don’t give up.
DLL. Absolutely staggering but oh so encouraging statistics when it comes to being ruthless about what isn’t working… and never giving up. I imagine we are benefiting from your cutting room floor with all your wonderful novellas. Also a sobering thought about putting your best work out there as the first step in marketing yourself as a writer. I think my horse left the barn when I published too soon. Wished I would have talked to you three years ago.😊
Thanks again for visiting, Grace! This has been such a treat, and I wish you the best in life and writing.
Thank you so much, and all the best to you and yours!
I dare you to ride along with the masked passengers on this journey through a swamp with a destination perfectly designed for serial killers on a retreat.
The Ferryman guided the gondola along a watery path, only he knew the secrets to, as it transported a half-dozen specially chosen masked passengers to an exclusive event. Though each eyed him with suspicion, they appeared confident he would get them to their destination. They had to believe that because he was their only means of travel.
This sort would never admit they were at his mercy. They would talk instead as if the opposite were true, but he saw the questions in their eyes. The Ferryman always saw the questions mirrored in each set of eyes exactly thirty minutes in. That was when the narrow boat passed the last shack squatting in the shadows of the densely wooded shore, casting its grudging light from tiny windows.
The rickety dwelling belonged to Old Maeve, and even if one of his passengers suddenly had a revelation and begged to be let off here, they would find no help, only the same hospitality that waited for them at the end of the line. But no passenger ever had a clue this early, which was why the Ferryman’s job never ceased to be entertaining.
It was the moment when Maeve’s lights winked out, obscured by the dense canopy of moss-laden cypress, the vegetation also serving to shroud the stars like a falling curtain, that the nervous chatter started. He waited now for the dawning realization that a lantern full of lightning bugs hanging from the bow and a sketchy crescent moon were all that remained to show them the way.
He could see the worry lines etched across their foreheads, but none of them ever admitted to being scared any more than they would own up to the fact they needed him. After all, they were in the business of causing terror.
The Ferryman could guess with precision who would be the first to speak, and on cue, it was the chubby face under a fox mask who aimed a question at the skinny Humpty Dumpty.
“I heard we had to have no less than twenty victims dead and buried in well-hidden places to get an invitation to this shindig. I’ve surpassed that. How about you?”
The mask mix-up was a typical prank his employer played on a random passenger during each trip. It added to the fun and, more importantly, broke the monotony for the Ferryman—an employment perk, you might say.
Instead of answering, Humpty Dumpty, whose mask was too big for his pointy face, lifted his bony butt from the seat and swung around to sit on the other side of the gondola. Exactly the response the Ferryman had predicted. He was satisfied with his perks, but it would be nice if his passengers would occasionally surprise him.
“I’ve heard lots of things about these parties,” said the lone female with a cat mask who answered the fat fox. “The final feast is said to be unsurpassed for its sumptuousness. But that’s not why I came. There’s a rumor that one of you is the famous Crescent Moon Vampire. I wonder if you will be able to control your urges this weekend.” She parted her collar and stretched her pale neck like an offering.
No one took her up on it or even flinched a muscle.
After a brief silence, the fox let out a nervous snort, and the narrow mask that exposed more of the doughy face than anyone needed to see fluttered so that he had to grab it and adjust the strings.
“I don’t know about a vampire,” rumbled the passenger in the snake mask who’d been keeping to the shadows. “But you’re a brave one to travel with men who, if they’re like me, love to hate women in creative and painful ways. Still, you must have doled out your own hate to be here. Sticking your neck out is a bit risky, don’t you think?”
“You pretty reptile,” Cat Woman drawled, “there’s no hate involved. I love to love men. It’s not my fault when they fail to survive it.”
“If she is who we think she is, gentlemen, watch your backs, or more to the point, your willies,” said one of the two identical gray-haired demons.
Her eyes shone through the mask, just like a cat’s should.
The Ferryman was also pleased to have twins aboard. Passengers who murdered together were, at the very least, uncommon.
The fox snorted again before he could stop himself, a nervous mannerism the Ferryman always enjoyed and expected from at least one of them. “What’s with the Ferryman?” the fox said, shrugging to play down his worry. “That crow mask looks like he stuck a dead bird on his face. And how about those robes? Doesn’t he know it’s sweltering in this bog? And where is his sickle?”
Timing it perfectly so that the crescent moon peeked through the canopy and glinted off the curved blade, the Ferryman produced the required prop with a swoosh of his robes and the ringing of steel. He settled the staff at his feet and grinned beneath his mask as stifled gasps rippled along the gondola—another perk, eliciting the maximum effect with his masterful reveal.
“We’re all overdressed. It’s a requirement, is it not?” The twin demon said, ignoring the dire implications and returning to the party discussion. He held up a piece of embossed paper to the feeble light.
“It says, ‘To be allowed onto Isla la Sombra, you must be in possession of your invitation. You should be dressed in proper attire, wearing the masks provided to you, and prepared to be filled with fine foods and wine. You will also be wowed by the tricks of the trade and the experts in your field. Should you succeed through every challenge, you will partake in a special feast.’ It is a strange mix of formality and mystery, to be sure,” he concluded.
“The words on their own would not cause concern,” his brother chimed in. “But now that we’re deep into this watery maze, traveling in a gondola that seems out of place and time and operated by a silent, robed figure who should be plying the River Styx, I’m looking at the invitation with new eyes.”
“Like any good party,” Cat Woman said, “it is merely the host tantalizing us with the amenities. After all, types like us go to great lengths to avoid exposure. But I, for one, could not turn down the offer to immerse myself in the ‘tricks of the trade’ or meet the most notorious guest speakers from our ranks. Isn’t the underground chatter why you all ventured out of your nests?”
A bumpy outline rippled through the duckweed, and the Ferryman waited. Sure enough, the bleats of fear that followed could have been cues in a movie script as each passenger spotted Douglas.
“Shit! Look at the size of that alligator! Um… Ferryman, may I call you Ferryman? I’ll take your silence as a sign we won’t be attacked. I’m sure our hosts don’t want us to be eaten.”
That misguided assumption came from the pudgy fox. He voiced another concern that often arises during these journeys… Leave it to the nerve-ridden chatterbox.
“I wonder how far our mysterious destination is. For all we know, we could circle these murky waters forever if our pilot is as immortal as he looks.”
That comment had all eyes turning to the Ferryman.
Each passenger flinched when he spoke in his best sepulchral voice, “Arrival is in thirty minutes. And Douglas will leave you intact, so long as you keep your limbs in the boat.”
“Got it,” the fox said after a snort, even as his eyes widened behind the mask. Under his breath, he added, “A lot can happen in thirty minutes.” He lightened things up. “I’m sure it’s no surprise I came for the promise of the excellent food. They say the finale will make you think you’ve died and gone to heaven, not that I have any expectation of going there.”
“Hmmm. That makes me wonder whether you might be the Cafeteria Killer,” the snake said, squinting an eye at the fox. “The one who likes to add special ingredients to the school menu. They say he’s rotund with the guileless face of a child. It’s astonishing how many kids disappear before the killer moves on. I bet the littlest tots were a tender addition to the tuna casserole.” He paused. “So, what foods do you think might be offered at a banquet in honor of the best in the business?”
“We’re not supposed to guess which legends we’re traveling with,” the fox said petulantly, tapping his mask. “It says so in the fine print. Didn’t you read it? And how would I know what an island at the ass end of nowhere has to offer? But it will be spectacular if our host lives up to his promise because, as you said, we’re the best.”
“I wouldn’t think too highly of yourself, fox boy,” said a twin in his cultured voice. “The host might have special plans for you. Didn’t you notice the fun being poked at you with that mask meant for the wiry Humpty Dumpty? Still, I wonder. Perhaps it was assigned to you intentionally. Foxes are treed by dogs every day. Your plump body would make a great main course. Fitting for the Cafeteria Killer.”
“You all are making a lot of assumptions,” the fox retorted. “If my mask means something, so do yours.”
“The details about these masked balls never have a source,” Cat Woman burst out, sounding worried for the first time. “They appear on the message boards, but I’ve never seen anything other than generic usernames linked to them.”
“What do you mean?” Snake Man asked.
“There’s nothing to prove they came from attendees. I wonder why that never occurred to me before?”
A twin offered a reasonable explanation. “It could simply mean the authors of the chats want to be anonymous. That’s not unusual for criminals of the most wanted variety.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “This creepy journey is making me paranoid. But what if it’s all a trick? Where does that leave us?” She sighed and then fixed a suddenly heated gaze on the twins. Her voice turned sultry. “I think I know who you are. There aren’t many twins who murder together. I’ve never had twins.”
The Ferryman appreciated her skill in switching gears so quickly. This cat woman was turning out to be an extra delight.
She ran her tongue over her teeth. “You both have fine mouths below those intriguing, fiery red masks and lovely grey hair.”
“We’re flattered,” the second twin purred in kind, flashing his teeth in a grin, “but you couldn’t handle even one of us, my dear, and we like our willies right where they are.”
The nervous fox must have spent this time mulling over the idea that he might be prey for a hunt, and he piped back in. “What if we were all invited to be nothing more than the main course? Who would ever know we went missing?”
The aloof Humpty Dumpty spoke for the first time, his gravelly voice ominous. “The messenger who sent my invitation went by Jeffrey Hannibal.”
“So did mine. So what?” said the snake.
Cat Woman’s forehead creased, then her eyebrows leaped above her mask. “Mine was Lector Dahmer,” she squeaked.
Each of them sat straighter, and the Ferryman could almost see light bulbs turning on above their heads. This inevitable perk was his favorite before completing another successful charter, and he savored it.
The twin who’d read the invitation held the embossed paper to the light again. “This is signed, ‘Cordially, your host, Lector Dahmer.’”
They all jumped up so quickly that the boat rocked, causing them to lurch back into their seats.
In a voice full of doom, the Ferryman urged, “Settle down, passengers. You don’t want to fall in. Have you forgotten Douglas?”
They each went still, then carefully settled back in their seat just as the gondola glided into a lagoon. Off in the thick vegetation, a steady drumbeat sounded, and savory smells wafted to them through the ghostly trunks of cypress. Tall, shadowy forms emerged dressed in loincloths, and a closer look at the smiling faces revealed teeth filed to razor-sharp points.
The fox leaped up faster than anyone might imagine a pudgy serial killer could move and shoved the Ferryman over the side.
His fellow passengers cried out in shocked dismay. Then, grins widened under each mask when a ripple that could only be Douglas closed in on the dark robes sinking beneath the duckweed. As the drums beat in rhythm with the rocking gondola, now devoid of a pilot, and more of their ghoulish hosts lined up on the water’s edge to greet them, each passenger rose again to face the others, sure one of them would have the next brainy idea.
I hope you enjoyed this story I was delighted to write under a tough challenge. The requirements were a 2000-word maximum (I’ve expanded this version), a new for me genre, Cannibal Comedy, a ferryman as the character, and the subject, Masked Party.
It all happened in the Writing Battle Autumn 2022 Short Story Contest. I recommend participating for the fabulous feedback from peers, and the professionals… if you make it through the duels.
Artwork by me using the Photoleap and Canva.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story and supporting an indie author. Comments welcome.
If you would like to make a contribution, you can purchase this story along with twelve others in my short story collection, Priss Starwillow & the Wolf, a Starlight Chronicles Short Story, and other stories. Also available on Audible.
Yes, this is about murder mysteries that make us feel good—a paradoxical genre, if there ever was one. Stories that have us curling up with a hot cup of cocoa on a chilly day to solve a crime alongside our favorite quirky, clever, and often reluctant hero. Someone sort of like ourselves—but not quite—who lives in a sleepy seaside town (with an inexplicably high crime rate), owns a charming shop, or runs a cozy home business that puts them in the path of murder, prompting them to develop a heretofore unknown knack for solving crimes. Or maybe, they come with a background perfect for the job.
For all those feels we crave, there’s usually a bestie or group of besties, a clever or goofy pet, or a sexy detective on the way to becoming a lover—either helping things along or making life more complicated, or both—and a backdrop involving something we’ve wanted to try but never found the time for. Okay, so we make the time to read. Why not kill two birds with one stone?
Here are some of my favorites: knitting, crocheting, needlework, antiquing, baking, catering, bed-and-breakfast hospitality, a witch hosting a secret vampire book club in an attic above her shop, K-9 search and rescue, dog shows, dog sledding, and even a sentient cat and corgi detective duo who adore their clever human and life on a farm. Then there are the historical periods, and more exotic pursuits like Egyptology or archaeology. Have I intrigued you enough yet?
If you happen to be a person who hasn’t read a cozy mystery, here’s a list to get you started including many of those I alluded to above. You might also enjoy this brief blog on the history of the cozy genre and how it filled a niche.
Richie Billing covers the cozy genres in a conversation with authors Jami Albright and Sara Rosett, where they also talk about marketing a series, author branding, and book launches on The Fantasy Writer’s Toolshed. I hope you find it as enjoyable and informative as I did.
Thank you for visiting and supporting an indie author. For more cozy reading, check out my paranormal romance novels at bydllewellyn.com.
Enjoy a Three-Part Supernatural Horror Story – Exactly 100 Words Each
One: Brother’s Maker
Thick rivulets of blood moved down the wall like snakes slithering into Hell. Lucius thought going there himself would be better than mucking out this foul slaughter. Hiding his brother’s crimes from Prince Remus. Death by fire, their punishment if caught.
Linus, too far gone to understand the danger, had killed another valuable hunter. Lucius labored to obliterate the evidence while Linus crouched over an arm sucking out the blood and marrow like a human sucking meat from a crab leg.
Lucius had turned his brother. Watching him deteriorate was penance. Figuring out how to stop it, his only purpose.
Two: Brother’s Keeper
After staring in frustration at the naked woman, Lucius grabbed crumpled newspaper from the trash bin to cover the crime. Blood soaked through, turning print back to pulp. He added more. Didn’t help. Blood spouted like a geyser from her coveted jugular.
Lucius yanked his brother, who’d pounced on her again, away from her neck. “You couldn’t have gone another block?” Linus whipped towards him. Lucius stifled a gasp.
The nerdy, giraffe-legged brother was there… until the eyes turned soulless again, reflecting the red pooling beneath their feet… and Linus’s stark hunger.
Pain stabbed Lucius where his heart once beat.
Three: Brother’s Killer
Lucius cradled Linus’s head… Just his head, which he’d been commanded to remove. Pulling his blurry gaze away from his brother’s headless body nestled in an earthen rectangle, he examined their fateful surroundings. The backend of a damp graveyard, dew glistening on grass, dripping from cypress trees, giant yews. None of it felt real. They’d been vampires for five decades, inseparable until Linus’s self-control deserted him.
Too many council laws broken, making one brother a fugitive, one a hunter.
“You never believed you could be ended. Didn’t you once think brother, that it would be me forced to end you?”
Had to add this. I love making book covers, even for tiny fiction.
First drafts rejected. But I Keep Trying.
I was happy with my first attempt to do a 100-word story. The publisher, not so much. But that’s okay because I learned a lot in the process. These bits about vampire brothers were inspired by a minor character in my Starlight Chronicles series. I admit, pure horror is a challenge for me, though I love reading and watching it, the darker the better. I read Bram Stoker in my youth, along with Mary Shelly, which means those sweeping, tantalizing, horrific impressions are there, deep down, and now that I’m writing fantasy, I’m compelled to draw from their brilliance.
Vlad the Impaler has been an endlessly fascinating figure in history and fiction for me, no matter how many ways his story has been told. And today’s supernatural fantasy authors are finding entertaining ways to retell the tales. Many of them inspired me.
Luke Evans portrayed an excellent fictional Vlad. Dracula Untold sparked my imagination and gave a feel for the period and setting. I was disappointed with its box office failure, which ended hopes of a sequel. In case you haven’t seen it, here’s the trailer.
Please take a moment to read the drabbles above and let me know if I’m on the right track for a story told in exactly 100 words. Better yet, share your own 100-word story in the comments.
Do you see it? Can you picture the whole story? There are so many things to say about the title of this 1987 movie starring Billy Crystal, Danny DeVito, and the late Anne Ramsey of Goonies fame. While my main contemplation is about how it conveys a story in five words, there are other elements worth mentioning.
But first, do you agree with me that the title is a complete story unto itself?
Right off, we have an idea about the characters, their motivations, the plot, and the setting. We know that the protagonist both loves and hates their mother. We know the antagonist has done enough awful things to be worthy of being thrown off a train, or at least having a child fantasize about it, and we get the struggle. There will likely be attempted murder action on a train. We might also guess the outcome. Could you throw your mother off a train no matter how you felt about her? Of course, we can’t foresee all the plot twists and surprises and there are many in this comedy action film, but these five words have me imagining all sorts of things.
Other information gleaned from these five words that I particularly enjoy is that they sound like a book title, which it is. So, we might grasp that element right off as well. I love that this is about a creative writing teacher and writer suffering writer’s block after his ex-wife steals his book and makes millions with it. No one could pull off that maddening fate like Billy Crystal. Throw in an emotionally stunted student who gets the brilliant idea to switch murders in a Hitchcockian Crisscross-type alibi story, and wow! So much to work with.
The creators not only conveyed a story in their title, but they could use the group of clever words as a plot device and a marketing boon… along with the hilarious images of Momma.
What other movie titles can you think of that accomplish this?
Here are some I found:
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Saving Private Ryan
Tower Heist
Snakes on a Plane
Granted, these might be more about revealing the plots in the titles than giving us a whole story, but I get a lot of information from their brevity, nonetheless. Don’t you?
I’ve also saved a few memes that convey a story in a handful of words. Here’s a favorite.
The challenge of conveying so much with so few words fascinates me, and I’ve returned to it time and again as I pursue novel writing. One of my favorite exercises was contributing two sentence stories last year to fantasy author Richie Billing for his newsletter (which he packs full of helpful resources for writers by the way). One of those is the header on my Short Stories page, Sad Swallow. Oh, alright. I’ll just add it here. It’s only two sentences.
In a voice that plucked at her heart strings, her dear swallow lamented, “All winter we exchanged stories, my beautiful Thumbelina, and it made my heart soar. When you climbed upon my back and begged me to take you to my favorite far away land, how could I have known my happy dream would end with you forsaking me for another?”
Ahem… Okay, so, they’re two long sentences. Still, two sentences. For more of these, click here. They were such a blast to do and based on a genre prompt from Richie. Sad Swallow obviously is a fairytale retelling.
I’ve also tried my hand at 100-word and 250-word stories in what are referred to as drabbles or micro fiction. And I just signed up for another 250-word micro fiction challenge with Writing Battle, taking place in August. So many good things happening on that platform! Thanks Max and Teona!
My latest endeavors in brief tales include poetry, which I’ve written to accompany three stories I will be publishing in one volume later this year. I’m very excited about what I came up with after thinking for years that I could never write poetry. It’s so satisfying and fun!
If you dare, check out my series of three 100-word horror stories here. And my 250-word action adventure drama here (with a bit of ranting on my excellent feedback).
Thanks for tripping with me over the title, Throw Momma From the Train, and have an excellent rest of your June.
Written for Richie Billing’s Two Sentence Story Prompts for The Fantasy Writer’s Toolshed newsletter. Can’t say enough about this fantasy writer who is super generous and helpful to budding writers.
Genre: A Cowboy Story
A Cramp for A Win!
Seth contorted his shoulder to reach that agonizing spot on his calf, which he was determined to keep pressed against the flank of the bucking bronco. The move didn’t do a thing to ease his cramp, but damn, if his inflexible leg didn’t just do the trick to keep him seated on the back of the snorting beast for that extra three seconds!
Genre: First Contact / Alien Encounter.
Did She Just Say That?
A vision materialized in the antechamber, zeroed in on me, probably because I was the only one holding a clipboard, and demanded, “Take me to your leader.” No way did that blue-skinned beauty just utter those B-movie words I thought, even as I turned to walk towards the Oval Office, propelled by some mysterious force.
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Saving Her Distraction
The elf princess’s long legs ate up the distance, bow raised, arrow nocked, hair billowing around her head in aqua ribbons, electric green eyes fixed on her target. She was pleased to see the cagey goblin, who knew well her deadly aim, freeze in his tracks at the mouth of the Cyrian Cave as she bore down on him and called out to the trussed-up human she’d come to adore, despite his inability to stay out of trouble, “You nearly did it to me this time, my love, leaving me to spend another thousand years looking for one like you who drives me so satisfyingly to distraction.”
Genre: Crime Story
Lovely Burnt Bone
Detective Armstrong knelt by the destroyed boathouse, sifting through Julia’s scorched remains, then plucked up a fragment of her jawbone while she hovered over the scene of her death and watched with ghostly eyes. Finally, she thought, as he called out, “Would you be so good, Reginald, as to process this lovely piece of dental work I will refer to from here on as our smoking gun.”
Genre: Thriller
Mom’s Sacrifice
She crouched under the bridge while her terror dissipated and listened for the scraping sound his game leg made as it dragged along the asphalt, signaling her mother’s murderer was nearing their trap, and their plan was working. Step… thump… step… thump… step… thump… then a hitched breath, a swish of metal slicing through the air, and a quiet splat as the hated head dropped into a vat of acid.
Genre: Nautical Adventure
Due East
Storm clouds roiled across the horizon, while the setting sun pierced the ominous gloom with its brilliant orange rays. Captain Scott made his navigational calculations and called out orders to adjust the Helene’s course due east, even as he dreamed about the fabled gold ahead, and gloated over the bloody destruction he left behind, which had finally eliminated the competition.
Genre: Fairytale
Sad Swallow
In a voice that plucked at her heart strings, the dear swallow lamented, “All winter we exchanged stories, my beautiful Thumbelina, and it made my heart soar. When you climbed upon my back and begged me to take you to my favorite far away land, how could I have known my happy dream would end with you forsaking me for another?”
I’m not claiming by any stretch that these are great stories, but I did give them my best shot, and Richie guaranteed submission for any and all efforts by his followers. I missed the deadline for Sad Swallow, so Richie added it to his next newsletter. He’s awesome… and a great writer!
Snow might visit us next week. I wanted to share our own splash of fall color, which we look forward to each year. We so enjoy our pistachio tree, which has taken years to reach this fullness. It stands out beautifully against the scrubby olive and locust trees. Don’t get me wrong. I treasure every inch of our two acres—scrubby brush and all—with our view of Mt. Rose, even before the snow caps its majestic peaks.
October is extra special. I have one treatment left to go and then maybe I can grow back my hair.
By D. L. Lewellyn 