Well, got my rejection back last night for The Age of Blood and Snow. Wasn't unexpected, though the letter was personal and nice. It more or less said exactly what I thought it was going to, well-written but not strange enough for the anthology. I have to say, it was nothing unexpected, and the fast turnaround time was a really impressive feat. I don't think I've ever had an anthology that has obviously been submitted to that much respond within a day. Kudos to the crew over at Morrigan Books.
Not much else has gone on today. Doing a bit of research for the Grinder story, trying to figure out what I could use that seems realistic. Considering I only want one fantastic element to this story, it would suffer if I had to make up the machine. The little girl needs to be the only creepy thing around, and I don't want to detract from her "vibe".
Resubmitted "Sacrifice of Man and Cloth" to a pie-in-the-sky market while I try to find a more down-to-earth home for it. Started fleshing out an idea for something that could be a bit of a companion to "Weekend Trip". I discovered I like that tiny town and it's Stoker-esque preacher a bit more than I thought I did. Still waiting to heard back from Unspeakable Horrors on the status of "Weekend Trip" with them, though.
Alright, I should probably eat my lunch. A little work, and then a haircut today for my interview next week. After that, my stepdaughter gets to meet her new cousins.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Age of Blood and Snow
Well, I did the revision on "The Parable of Judas" this morning and submitted it to The Age of Blood and Snow. Changed the title to "Sacrifice of Man and Cloth", taken out of one of the gospels I don't believe in that I read after finding out I was mirroring a concept with a couple religions. I don't think the story itself is what they're looking for, but with that deadline coming up fast I figured it couldn't hurt to submit and get a little criticism back.
Tonight I'm going to start on the idea I have brewing for The Black Garden. That is, if I can get a few hours to myself to type in. I like where the story idea is going, especially with the little girl character that's influenced by my stepdaughter. The problem is going to be getting a few minutes alone to type on the sucker after setting up a bed and cooking dinner.
Well, looks like I'm off to update Duotrope.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Tonight I'm going to start on the idea I have brewing for The Black Garden. That is, if I can get a few hours to myself to type in. I like where the story idea is going, especially with the little girl character that's influenced by my stepdaughter. The problem is going to be getting a few minutes alone to type on the sucker after setting up a bed and cooking dinner.
Well, looks like I'm off to update Duotrope.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Haunting Melody
I can't stop listening to Cole Porter.
Anyhow, started, edited, and finished up a piece for submission to the Northen Haunts thing today. Nothing great, though I did have to call my brother-in-law to get a little bit of advice on naming and old newspaper names up in his area. While my wife chatted for two hours, I typed, trimmed, edited, trimmed, typed, trimmed, reread, titled, and did a word count check on the piece. The first draft weighed in at a little over 1,000 words. The final draft sent out? Well..
...It was 666 words. Exactly.
I swear it wasn't intentional...
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Anyhow, started, edited, and finished up a piece for submission to the Northen Haunts thing today. Nothing great, though I did have to call my brother-in-law to get a little bit of advice on naming and old newspaper names up in his area. While my wife chatted for two hours, I typed, trimmed, edited, trimmed, typed, trimmed, reread, titled, and did a word count check on the piece. The first draft weighed in at a little over 1,000 words. The final draft sent out? Well..
...It was 666 words. Exactly.
I swear it wasn't intentional...
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Not Alone in the Dark (Sorry Nick!)
Well, I'm going to try my hand at flash fiction again, this time in a submission to the Northern Haunts anthology going out over at Shroud. God bless Duotrope, the scourge of editors where I am concerned. I wasn't going to touch it, as I have a hard enough time keeping things under a 5,000 word limit, but tongiht I think I fleshed out an idea.
Years ago my Dad told me a story about his first job, riding a bike to deliver papers, and how his pre-dawn route took him past an old graveyard that just flat out freaked him out. I finally found that old graveyard today when I was heading out to a friend's house for dinner, at least in my mind. It was one of those images that pops in your head and nags you for hours on end, refusing to let go. So, while my wife and I were enjoying the company of two dear, old friends, I was thinking about the place in my head and what could happen there to a boy on a bike.
I also think that after dinner, as Dick and I were enjoying the view from his back porch in the country, I came out with a good line. We were trading actual ghost stories, a hobby of ours, while the ladies were chatting in the living room. I was asked about my penchant for writing things that are a little off-kilter...in other words, Apocalypse stories, horror stories, dark literary stuff that involves these mind-fuck (pardon the term, I'm just a crude country boy) angles. It got me thinking as I sipped a Hornsby.
My wife, after reading a recent, non-spec. fic. piece, looked at me and said "If you ever write anything happy, I think I'll have a heart attack." Never mind that, in my opinion, it WAS a happy piece if looked at from the side and with a slight squint. It was the thought, how she said it, that got me thinking about why I write what I write. So, a few ciders down and a bottle of bourbon calling, I lit a cigarette and put it in the best way I knew how to Dick when we talked about my subject matter.
"Well," I said, "I don't mind being in darkness. It doesn't scare me. I'm not really happy with not seeing what's there around me, but it doesn't bother me too much. What bothers me, what really scares me, is sitting in the light that's surrounded by darkness. Then you have to wonder what's at the edge of the light, watching, just waiting for a lantern to burn out or the campfire to die down. That's what scares me, and I think that's why I write what I do."
Now, if I can only force myself to be a better writer and sell some of this stuff...or just to sit down and write.
If I don't post some sort of word count tomorrow, I expect anyone reading this to beat me. For now, though, I'm smoking one more cigarette and heading off to bed.
Keep the lights burning bright,
J.C. Tabler
Years ago my Dad told me a story about his first job, riding a bike to deliver papers, and how his pre-dawn route took him past an old graveyard that just flat out freaked him out. I finally found that old graveyard today when I was heading out to a friend's house for dinner, at least in my mind. It was one of those images that pops in your head and nags you for hours on end, refusing to let go. So, while my wife and I were enjoying the company of two dear, old friends, I was thinking about the place in my head and what could happen there to a boy on a bike.
I also think that after dinner, as Dick and I were enjoying the view from his back porch in the country, I came out with a good line. We were trading actual ghost stories, a hobby of ours, while the ladies were chatting in the living room. I was asked about my penchant for writing things that are a little off-kilter...in other words, Apocalypse stories, horror stories, dark literary stuff that involves these mind-fuck (pardon the term, I'm just a crude country boy) angles. It got me thinking as I sipped a Hornsby.
My wife, after reading a recent, non-spec. fic. piece, looked at me and said "If you ever write anything happy, I think I'll have a heart attack." Never mind that, in my opinion, it WAS a happy piece if looked at from the side and with a slight squint. It was the thought, how she said it, that got me thinking about why I write what I write. So, a few ciders down and a bottle of bourbon calling, I lit a cigarette and put it in the best way I knew how to Dick when we talked about my subject matter.
"Well," I said, "I don't mind being in darkness. It doesn't scare me. I'm not really happy with not seeing what's there around me, but it doesn't bother me too much. What bothers me, what really scares me, is sitting in the light that's surrounded by darkness. Then you have to wonder what's at the edge of the light, watching, just waiting for a lantern to burn out or the campfire to die down. That's what scares me, and I think that's why I write what I do."
Now, if I can only force myself to be a better writer and sell some of this stuff...or just to sit down and write.
If I don't post some sort of word count tomorrow, I expect anyone reading this to beat me. For now, though, I'm smoking one more cigarette and heading off to bed.
Keep the lights burning bright,
J.C. Tabler
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Shorted
Not much today. Getting ready to go out. Just wanted to drop a line and say that "No Tell Motel" made the short-list for the Voices anthology. Not a sale, but it's a step up the ladder. Now we wait to see if it makes it to the last round. to be honest, I'm happy just to make it this far.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Run for the Roses
So it's almost Derby here in Louisville, Kentucky, and while the horses dance in their stalls the jackasses wander the streets clad in garish suits of expensive cut, fueled by bourbon and boorish manners. My reaction has been to write, again, though I'm not making much headway.
Still waiting on rejections. In the meantime, I pounded out a short rough of another story that needs some expanding, but not too much. I'll most likely work on that for the next couple days, fleshing it a little more and smoothing out some rough spots. There's no excuse for me rushing through the first draft, other than I was on a roll when I started writing it, and wanted to get at least the major plot points down while the idea was fresh. A few extra paragraphs, some trimming of the fat and some rewording, and that'll be all she wrote on it. We'll see if it turns out as well as I think it will.
Job interview on the phone went well yesterday. They're passing my resume on up the ladder to see if they want to call me in for a face-to-face interview concerning the job. AFL-CIO accepted me for their second round of interview/training in June if I want to go. However, none of it is happening fast enough. Last week's illness has caused a major hit to the pocketbook, and rent is due tomorrow, so we're scraping and crying as that $1500.00 may be a few more days (or weeks. I hate office politics) in getting to my bank account. So we've got to come up with the rent, then another $200.00 to keep the power on. We'll live, we have so far. It's just tight around the house while I'm looking for work. But I'm not complaining. I've got neighbors, friends, and family willing to lend us a little cash if we need to, but I hate taking money even if I need it. I've placed a moratorium on Ebay, to the point that it is no longer accessible on our computer. I'm trying...just trying...to keep my head afloat for another week or two here.
Alright, complaints done. I'll be writing tonight, then starting in on a little bit of planning for anohter short story, another horror piece, that sorta leaped into my mind the other day. Needs some serious developing, but I know there's a story behind that image. Peace, J.C. Tabler
Edit 13:19 05/01/08
Going through a website or two of abandoned hotel photos, I found this picture. I don't know why, but there's something inherently creepy about this image. Especially that chair. Hence the reason that it has kicked the horror portion of my mind open again, and started sprinkling story dust. Yes, although I mainly enjoy listening to music while writing, today I think a story idea has started with this one picture.
Steal it, and I swear I'll kill you. It's just too bad this sucker is too late for Voices.
Still waiting on rejections. In the meantime, I pounded out a short rough of another story that needs some expanding, but not too much. I'll most likely work on that for the next couple days, fleshing it a little more and smoothing out some rough spots. There's no excuse for me rushing through the first draft, other than I was on a roll when I started writing it, and wanted to get at least the major plot points down while the idea was fresh. A few extra paragraphs, some trimming of the fat and some rewording, and that'll be all she wrote on it. We'll see if it turns out as well as I think it will.
Job interview on the phone went well yesterday. They're passing my resume on up the ladder to see if they want to call me in for a face-to-face interview concerning the job. AFL-CIO accepted me for their second round of interview/training in June if I want to go. However, none of it is happening fast enough. Last week's illness has caused a major hit to the pocketbook, and rent is due tomorrow, so we're scraping and crying as that $1500.00 may be a few more days (or weeks. I hate office politics) in getting to my bank account. So we've got to come up with the rent, then another $200.00 to keep the power on. We'll live, we have so far. It's just tight around the house while I'm looking for work. But I'm not complaining. I've got neighbors, friends, and family willing to lend us a little cash if we need to, but I hate taking money even if I need it. I've placed a moratorium on Ebay, to the point that it is no longer accessible on our computer. I'm trying...just trying...to keep my head afloat for another week or two here.
Alright, complaints done. I'll be writing tonight, then starting in on a little bit of planning for anohter short story, another horror piece, that sorta leaped into my mind the other day. Needs some serious developing, but I know there's a story behind that image. Peace, J.C. Tabler
Edit 13:19 05/01/08
Going through a website or two of abandoned hotel photos, I found this picture. I don't know why, but there's something inherently creepy about this image. Especially that chair. Hence the reason that it has kicked the horror portion of my mind open again, and started sprinkling story dust. Yes, although I mainly enjoy listening to music while writing, today I think a story idea has started with this one picture.
Steal it, and I swear I'll kill you. It's just too bad this sucker is too late for Voices.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Another Doldrum Day
You have to love Kentucky. One week it gets cold, then chilly, then you walk outside and it's 80 degrees in the bright sunshine, humidity has started to come into play, and you sweat like a stuck pig. I think when we eventually move I'll go somewhere with a more tolerable climate. Like Hell.
Started on another bit of work last night, actually on three different stories. Starting on one about an old lady who refuses to leave her land, a bit about a liar who traps himself, and a strange bit that features Papa Ghede, the Voodoo spirit/god of the dead. I don't know which one will take precedence, but they've all started to develop pretty well so we'll just have to see. Rewrote "The Tribe of Harry" after getting a pleasant rejection letter back from 94Creations for it that insisted it was "just not what they're looking for". Put it in the second person, made it a bit more...oh...blunt on some things, removed a little of the subtlety that both helps and hinders the work. Already resubmitted it, both to a "pie in the sky" market and a down to earth choice that is much more likely.
Waiting on rejections from the following:
"Linguistic Prescription" - ASIM
"Demon Whiskey" - Harvest Hill
"Fragile Obsession" - Ghost in the Machine
"Dead Air" - Aberrant Dreams
"Weekend Trip" - Unspeakable Horrors
"Colburn Men" - McSweeney's Quarterly
"No Tell Motel" - Voices
"Tribe of Harry" - The New Yorker (I just couldn't help myself. I want a rejection from the New Yorker to frame, damn it!)
Soon as those rejections come in, I'll be hopping ready to get started on finding homes for these wayward pieces, or tossing them in the kindling pile, as is appropriate when I read back through them. Hoping to finish three-five stories in the month of May, and get some more work done on "The Long One". I'm not exactly prolific, mainly because I have a habit of getting distracted by other things for a day or two, and falling off track. In June I'm going back through my Disk of Beginnings, where stories that only made it two to three pages before another idea knocked them out of the running. I'll spend most of June figuring out which ones, if any, I can get back to work on.
It's a hard knock life, that's for sure, but hey. I chose it, right?
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Started on another bit of work last night, actually on three different stories. Starting on one about an old lady who refuses to leave her land, a bit about a liar who traps himself, and a strange bit that features Papa Ghede, the Voodoo spirit/god of the dead. I don't know which one will take precedence, but they've all started to develop pretty well so we'll just have to see. Rewrote "The Tribe of Harry" after getting a pleasant rejection letter back from 94Creations for it that insisted it was "just not what they're looking for". Put it in the second person, made it a bit more...oh...blunt on some things, removed a little of the subtlety that both helps and hinders the work. Already resubmitted it, both to a "pie in the sky" market and a down to earth choice that is much more likely.
Waiting on rejections from the following:
"Linguistic Prescription" - ASIM
"Demon Whiskey" - Harvest Hill
"Fragile Obsession" - Ghost in the Machine
"Dead Air" - Aberrant Dreams
"Weekend Trip" - Unspeakable Horrors
"Colburn Men" - McSweeney's Quarterly
"No Tell Motel" - Voices
"Tribe of Harry" - The New Yorker (I just couldn't help myself. I want a rejection from the New Yorker to frame, damn it!)
Soon as those rejections come in, I'll be hopping ready to get started on finding homes for these wayward pieces, or tossing them in the kindling pile, as is appropriate when I read back through them. Hoping to finish three-five stories in the month of May, and get some more work done on "The Long One". I'm not exactly prolific, mainly because I have a habit of getting distracted by other things for a day or two, and falling off track. In June I'm going back through my Disk of Beginnings, where stories that only made it two to three pages before another idea knocked them out of the running. I'll spend most of June figuring out which ones, if any, I can get back to work on.
It's a hard knock life, that's for sure, but hey. I chose it, right?
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Friday, April 18, 2008
Shake N' Bake
So my wife woke up this morning to find the house shaking on its foundation, windows rattling, the sugar glider going insane, dogs barking, cats meowing, and our fish swimming erratically. She then assumed she was crazy, and went back to sleep. I never once cracked my eyes open.
In short, we had an earthquake this morning that I was completely unaware of until waking up and checking the news hours after the fact.
In other news, my Ghost in the Machine submission is done with the first revision. I more or less slathered it in black ink, took out a good bit of fluff and unnecessary lines, switched things around, and added a few sentences. Later today I'll sit down with the printed draft and my laptop and start revising, then pass it off to my still-confused better half for a read. Because I don't trust her opinion (she married me, she must feel obligated to lie on occasion), I'll then send it off to some of my regular guys to look over and get suggestions. As always, by the time I get their suggested changes I'll have done the second revision, tidied it up, and sent it out.
Not much more is going on. Game night tonight with another couple we know, then tomorrow I'm assisting my father in laying down sob and clearing some of his property. Still looking for work, have an interview with the AFL-CIO on Wednesday for a union organizing position.
Back to the grindstone,
J.C. Tabler
In short, we had an earthquake this morning that I was completely unaware of until waking up and checking the news hours after the fact.
In other news, my Ghost in the Machine submission is done with the first revision. I more or less slathered it in black ink, took out a good bit of fluff and unnecessary lines, switched things around, and added a few sentences. Later today I'll sit down with the printed draft and my laptop and start revising, then pass it off to my still-confused better half for a read. Because I don't trust her opinion (she married me, she must feel obligated to lie on occasion), I'll then send it off to some of my regular guys to look over and get suggestions. As always, by the time I get their suggested changes I'll have done the second revision, tidied it up, and sent it out.
Not much more is going on. Game night tonight with another couple we know, then tomorrow I'm assisting my father in laying down sob and clearing some of his property. Still looking for work, have an interview with the AFL-CIO on Wednesday for a union organizing position.
Back to the grindstone,
J.C. Tabler
Monday, April 14, 2008
I've Scared Myself
So I'm working on the "Creepy Doll" story, hoping to get it finished in time to edit, revise, and send it in to the Ghosts in the Machine anthology. My problem is, that as a Stepdad and a Parent-to-Be, I'm starting to bother myself with this story. It took a very, very dark turn last night that I wasn't planning on, touching on a taboo subject, and I sort of frightened myself a little not just at the subject matter but at how easy it was to write.
I originally had a couple different ways to get from point A to point B, as I knew where it was going but was uncertain on a couple scenes. Typing them, they went from disturbing to just...plain...well, I'm a little shaken by it myself. Not that I'm an amazingly good writer, just the subject matter it hits on is unsettling.
Luckily, there're only two-three more scenes left in the story, then it'll be a wrap on the first draft and edits/revisions left.
I need some warm milk and a cigarette.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
I originally had a couple different ways to get from point A to point B, as I knew where it was going but was uncertain on a couple scenes. Typing them, they went from disturbing to just...plain...well, I'm a little shaken by it myself. Not that I'm an amazingly good writer, just the subject matter it hits on is unsettling.
Luckily, there're only two-three more scenes left in the story, then it'll be a wrap on the first draft and edits/revisions left.
I need some warm milk and a cigarette.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
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