My latest short story "Aground, Upon the Sand" took first place in Syntax & Salt's Fall Flash Fiction contest.
It's a story that, once it formed in my mind, didn't take very long to write. I didn't have a false start, but I did have a false ending, that I went back and rewrote. Originally, it didn't quite strike the right tone for me. Now it does. and it strikes that tone for others as well; as some of my twitter buddies have said, in the way of the internet, that it has given them Feels. So I hope you enjoy it as well.
Syntax & Salt has been very good to me indeed. My previous story with them, "Daddy's Girl", is on the Nebula Reading List. Nominations for the Nebulas start November 15 and run through February 15, so if you know any SFWA members, tell them to vote for me!
In writing news, other than the winning story, I wrote two other shorts this month. Four, if you count 100 word flash pieces for Janet Reid's contests. My story last week was longlisted, my story this week was not (and really was an elaborate "Werewolves of London" setup because that's all I can think of when I hear the word "Soho"
This weekend's story needed to use the words Soho, Short, Story, 18, caper:
I was short on time after a Soho delivery when the guy stepped right in front of my bike, hand up. Silver at his temples, real nice suit, thick gold rings that black knuckle hairs grew over. “I wonder if you could help me find a place?”
What, your GPS broke? “What are you looking for?”
“Story-18 used to be around here. Had the best Beef Lo Mein.” He had yellow eyes.
Yeah, if you like capers where they don’t belong. “They closed last year.”
“It’s always the best places.” He shook his head and walked off in the rain.
Last weekend's story (the longlisted one) needed to use the words shadow, weaver, flesh, magic, dar (and maybe I'll rewrite it into something longer, I don't know. The last time I did that with one of these I got my still unfinished girl Hamlet novel) :
First we were weavers of wool, but we had set our sights beyond those earthly strands.
As time passed, we learned to weave clam spit to silk, coal to diamonds, straw to gold.
From mother to daughter, sometimes to a niece; the closest flesh doesn’t always hold the strongest talent.
We weave darkness to light, shadows to air, cold into warmth. The scientific and the magical woven together into something stronger, newer, taking us to the stars.
We weave hope into determination, starlight to energy, our exhaled breath into the water that sustains us.
We will weave our new home.
NaNoWriMo starts in a couple of days, and as is traditional, I keep thinking "Oh, maybe I should outline". I have not outlined. I probably won't. So we'll see what happens!