Ganymeder

Goldi-locks part 2

The burglar glared at her jailers through the bars as the clock struck for the noonday meal. The policemen laughed and chatted, closing the door behind them, as the small girl struggled vainly in her handcuffs. With the final click of the lock, she spit the hairpin into her hands. She wasn’t called ‘Goldi-locks’ for nothing.

The thought of the cops’ faces when they returned to find her cell empty split her face into a malicious grin. With a deft movement the cuffs fell from her wrists and she grabbed them before they clattered to the ground. Years with Pops hadn’t taught her manners, but picking locks came as easily to her as breathing.

As she glanced through the door’s small window at the sleeping guard, she let her thoughts drift to the little fink that had exposed her. The world knew him as ‘Baby Bear’, but to her he was simply a rat. Surely she could think of worse things to do to him than eating his porridge. She swallowed the remnants of her conscience and headed for the door.

2010-01-27

*This story continues the fairy tale theme I started last week.  I like this microfiction format better than the newspaper format I experimented with last time.  Since I’ve been reading ‘Grimm’s Fairy Tales’ as bedtime stories for my son, I’ve had fairy tales on the brain.

This is my last #Fridayflash story before February. I plan to use all of next month to edit my 20009 Nanowrimo novel, ‘Mortal Coil: The Afterlife and Times of William Shakespeare.’  I am also participating in NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), so while I am not writing new short fiction, I will be posting daily on my editing progress.  Wish me luck!*

Headlines

Newspaper article from ‘Daily Forest News’:

THREE ARRESTED FOR INSURANCE FRAUD

Jan.22, Police charged Rachel ‘Red’ Adams, age 9, Gertrude ‘Granny’ Adams, age 102, and Wolf Jameson in the largest insurance fraud operation in Forest history.

The three implicated several other forest dwellers including P. Charming. The nobleman is suspected of false insurance claims in the death of his wife, S. White.  Allegations have also been raised against Porker, Porcine, and Swiney McPig for multiple building code violations.

‘Red’ Adams, in a tearful bid for sympathy, blamed the failing economy and rising cost of healthcare. “How is an old woman like Granny expected to make ends meet on Social Security?” pleaded the minor, mastermind behind the insurance scam.

Television rights for the stories are being negotiated.

***

I thought this one up really quickly today, because I hadn’t had time to write anything most of the week.  It’s silly, but since my son and I are currently reading ‘Grimm’s Fairy Tales’ I thought it would be fun.  I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you for your support. I’ve removed this story temporarily pending publication in the July 31st issue of Flash Me magazine. It’s my first sale, and I’m absolutely thrilled. I will post a link once the issue comes out. Thank you again!

My Favorite #fridayflash Author Links

This is something I’ve been meaning to do for awhile now. I’m linking to the blogs of some of my favorite #fridayflash authors. Their names appear in bold linked to their blogs, and their italicized Twitter aliases link to their Twitterstreams. I apologize if I leave anyone out. There are so many great writers out there, it’s hard to pick just a few of my favorites.

JM Strothers (jmstro)- The man who started it all. It was his brilliant idea to start #fridayflash on Twitter, where authors could link to their short flash stories every Friday and boost visits to their blogs. In addition to posting a weekly ‘#fridayflash report’ on his Mad Utopia blog, he also writes professionally and manages to post his own engaging, amusing stories. Some have a twist, some are humorous, but all leave you with a smile.

Laura Eno (lauraeno)- Her weekly contributions to #fridayflash always seem to have a humorous dark streak, something to throw you off your guard. Even if you’re looking for a twist, you’re still surprised in the end.

Alan Baxter (AlanBaxter)- He intermittently post excellent flash stories on his blog ‘The Word’ as well as commentary on almost anything. He’s also published the novels RealmShift and MageSign.

Angie Capozello (Techtigger) - I look forward every week to her stories about Nox and Grimm, 2 supernatural characters that always manage to get into trouble. While the characters seem to be a series, each short can be read on its own, and they’re always entertaining.

Jeff Posey (AnasaziStories)- He always has an interesting, usually bittersweet, story to tell, and almost all his stories have a moral or at least leave you thinking for quite awhile. Many of them have the feeling of a fable that’s been told many times.

PJ Kaiser (Doublelattemama)- Every week she posts something sweet and/or thought provoking. She also blogs about fertility issues and contributes to Metropolista.

And those are all the authors I’m going to list for now, though I can honestly say that I have yet to read a #fridayflash that wasn’t either well written or engaging. Thank you to everyone who participates, readers and authors alike.

*I’ve been reviewed!

I realize that my #fridayflash has been read and reviewed/commented on in the comments section underneath each story, but this is the first time anyone has reviewed my work on a separate site. I’m a bit excited about it. Thanks, valdary!

If you are interested, there are reviews of 3 #fridayflash stories altogether. The reviews can be found here, and my story ‘Where there be Dragons’ is here.

Thank you.

*My Personal Accountability

During Nanowrimo, I started blogging regularly about my writing progress to hold myself accountable for my personal writing goals. It worked so well, I’m continuing the practice. The theory behind this is simply that if I make a public announcement of my goals, I’ll be terribly embarrassed if I don’t succeed. So…failure is no longer an option.

It worked well enough for my Nanowrimo novel, ‘Mortal Coil: The Afterlife and Times of William Shakespeare,’ but unfortunately it doesn’t work as well when I’m editing. That’s my big confession. I’ve tried several strategies, but when it comes to longer fiction I’ve yet to find one I’m comfortable with.

My best writing’s done when I’m under pressure with an impending deadline. My three Nanowrimo novels were all on schedule with time to spare, yet my edits of those same novels take forever. I’ve listened to podcasts and read about editing, tried reading through and editing after, attempted chapter by chapter edits, line edits, editing for grammar and story consistency separately… It’s just difficult for me to pin down what works best. My only problem editing my short stories lies in the fact that I keep tweaking them until the very last minute. Editing longer works just throws me.

My first children’s novel, ‘The Wonderfully Exciting and Awesome Adventures of Monkeyboy,’ I finished editing twice, but I’m still unhappy with it. It was my very first attempt at writing anything fictional at all, so I pretty much broke every rule. I info dumped, ran chapter long descriptions of settings… you name it. I’m considering doing a 3rd rewrite of the whole thing.

My second rough draft novel, ‘The Crimefighter’s Club,’ I have yet to finish editing once. I love the story, but every time I try to tackle editing the book I get overwhelmed. I was told to read through the entire thing once before doing a thorough edit, but the typos and grammatical mistakes make it impossible for me to get past more than a couple chapters. I’m considering just forgetting about reading it first and editing each chapter (or even each line) as I go.

For my third rough draft novel, I decided to ignore all the advice I’d read about waiting at least a month. I started the edit in December. With holidays and some #fridayflash stories I was itching to write, I only went through part of the first week of a month long editing process I’d read about. So far, this one seems the most systematic and promising.

I’ve tried to write short fiction while editing my longer work, but I’ve found that I just CAN’T do it. I can’t. It’s really difficult to get into a story (short or long) and then try to forget it so I can get into another story. I know that other authors can do it, but for whatever reason I just can’t. There. I admit it.

So, this is the writing and editing schedule I’ve devised for myself for the next couple months. I plan on skipping the #fridayflash story I wanted to finish this week because (as the first ‘Back to school/work’ week) it’s just too hectic. I have too much personal stuff going on, but I still plan to read the stories and comment. Each following Friday of January, I will post a flash story. In February, I will follow the predetermined schedule I read about and complete my first edit of ‘Mortal Coil’ by Midnight on the 28th. I WILL DO THIS. Then, in March, I will pick up with my #fridayflash stories again.

So…

Friday, January 8, 2010: No #fridayflash post, but will read and comment on stories throughout the weekend.

Friday, January 15, 2010: Will post #fridayflash story.

Friday, January 22, 2010: Will post #fridayflash story.

Friday, January 29, 2010: Will post #fridayflash story and prepare over weekend to start editing ‘Mortal Coil.’

Monday, February 1, 2010: Begin edit of ‘Mortal Coil.’

Sunday, February 28, 2010 (Midnight): Finish 1st complete edit of ‘Mortal Coil.’

I welcome your comments and suggestions. Until next time, wish me luck, and Keep writing!

The Eve After Christmas

The two moons illuminated the battlefield through the cloudless night. Five minutes had passed since the cease fire ended, yet no one fired. The enemy would move soon. She was ready, and they would not be allowed to pass the defenses.

The impromptu truce of the previous day had caught both sides by surprise. The enemies had met, face to face, for the first time since hostilities began and mingled, awkwardly at first, and then more easily as the hours passed. But the holiday was over now, a short 26 hour hiatus in this bitter, bloody war, an intermezzo in the great symphony of death.

One of the enemy soldiers, Antoine, had shared his rations with her. She’d done her best, under the circumstances, to look pleased with the pickled lizard he’d offered. He returned the courtesy when she gave him a tin of baked beans. They’d smiled, each thanked the other, and they forked the rations into their mouths, grins still plastered unconvincingly across their faces. Soon they were choking violently and spitting everything out. When they reached for the canteen at the same time, they’d looked at each other in alarm before bursting out laughing.

Rations were low on both sides, yet they’d giggled together nonstop for quite awhile. Feeling guilty for the wasted food, she’d glanced across the battlefield to see other groups of enemies and friends similarly disposed.

They’d talked, hesitatingly at first, and he’d played his harmonica. She told him about learning to play the keyboard, pounding out terrible off key melodies but proud of her accomplishment just the same. He’d shown her holos of his sons, boys that he might never see again, and she’d shared stories of her children at home. It turned out that they had a lot in common.

The temporary truce was over. No one had fired, but it was only a matter of time. The men would try to overrun their defenses, and they would be forced to defend themselves. They needed to hold the line, to maintain position against Antoine and his brothers in arms.

Against the enemy.

She was a soldier, and soldiers obeyed orders. Thinking too much got you dead fast. There must be no hesitation.

Vague shapes moved on the battleground, inching forward. Crouching low to peer through the heavy shadows, she guessed they were using wreckage from the mothership as makeshift shields. They crept closer. Still no one fired. It was too dark to make out clear targets.

They were the enemy. The poker games and camaraderie of fellow soldiers were distractions when battle was imminent. It was dangerous to form friendships with the opposition. It clouded your judgment. A soldier needed a clear head to survive.

They needed to accomplish their mission.

She wondered if the other soldiers felt as she did. She hoped it wouldn’t affect the battle. The defense of their home, the fight against oppression or even for their own freedom dwindled now in the face of their own personal survival. She wondered if she’d ever see her little ones again.

The thought of her children helped her to focus. They would see their mother again. The shadows loomed closer. On her left she heard a twig snap. She wheeled to see a man’s shadow running towards her. He held something in his hand. She fired, and he fell.

The spell broken, the silence ended, her fellow soldiers shouted and shot. Men fell, and the battlefield rang once more with screams of terror and agony. It lasted an eternity longer than any of the battles before, the ones where the enemy was a nameless, faceless evil.

Eternity ended, and silence fell once again like the blade of a guillotine. She finally turned to look at the man who had fallen so near her, her first kill. He held something small, probably a grenade, but that wasn’t what chilled her soul more than the wind and biting cold.

Antoine’s face was turned toward her. She looked away at the battlefield, where the fresh blood shown like the crimson ornaments of a holiday tree.

THE END.

Posted for #fridayflash (Twitter) at http://www.ganymeder.com

on January 1, 2010.

This story was inspired by the impromptu Xmas truces of previous wars.