Our Ghostly Encounter

Well, I promised a ghostly encounter from our trip to PA, and here we go.

My wife's family lives about 15-20 minutes away from Jim Thorpe, PA. This used to be known as Mauck Chunk, and was a location of miner's labor movements in the 1870's, most well known among them being the Molly Maguires. The Mollies were miners, Irish descent, who rebeled against the company and their foremen due to the unsafe working conditions, deadly job status, and low pay. Ire raised by being treated more like dogs than men, they began to meet and organize with deadly results.

These men were pinpointed as the murderers and conspirators behind the deaths of mine foremen, and after being penetrated by a Pinkerton were convicted and sentenced to be hung. Four of these men were held in the Carbon County Jail, a structure that at the time was recent, but torturous as many small American jails were during that time. Innocence was protested, and even today there remains a debate about the actual guilt of the Molly Maguires, but it didn't stop them from being hung. Among these, and the most notable for folklore, was Alexander Campbell, who purportedly placed his hand against his jail wall, stating an innocent man was being hung and his mark would remain there forever as a stain on the record of the county, state, and country for their grave injustice. The handprint, accoridng to legend, remains.

I recently began working on a few stories using an Irish Immigrant sort of background, sci-fi stuff, nothing scary or hard. However, the Molly Maguires serve a huge role in one of the three stories, and I decided to visit Jim Thorpe to get a feel for the place while I was up there. Unfortunately the jail itself was closed to tours that day, so I had to satisfy myself taking pictures. After a few good shots of jail, which really primed the pump inspiration wise, we clambered back in the car to head downhill. Turning around in a gravel lot beside the jail, where a stone wall that was obviously once part of some structure stood, our car died. The brand new car.

The funny thing is, our van never "dies". Even when the engine is off, the radio continues to play for three-four minutes. This time it went dead, as did all the electrical. Luckily, gravity was on my side as we were headed down a steep hill, and through muscle (power-steering was a no go) while riding our brake I made it to an alley, and turned the key. Van started right up...

Big things on this, because I'm never comfortable saying I met a ghost and it played auto mechanic on my car. The van was checked out, completely, before we left with no problems in the electrical system or under the hood being found. It started with no problem, and went to a mechanic upon our return, once more with no problems to explain the sudden stop. Still, it was a steep hill, and this van was used to the relative flatlands of northern Kentucky. Could be a fluke, right?

Then my wife showed me a couple pictures from the jail, pointing out something she found. Could just be a glare, but you be the judge, eh?

Here's the picture:

Don't see it? Here's a more close-up version. Look at the second column of bars, about four up from the bottom...



Let's go a little closer...



Is it just me, or is anyone else making out a face?

Not sure I believe,
J.C. Tabler

Of Travel and Children

So, here I sit at a HoJo in PA. We've driven up to coal country to visit my wife's parents for the Turkey Day festivities, and are now on our way back home. I've gotten a few things done, finishing the first drafts of a couple stories over the past couple days and getting the inklings done for a couple more to be finished in the next couple weeks.

So...November...

Still have a few stories out at Space & Time , The New Yorker , Saint Anne's Review , Guigonol (Sp?), Fantasy & Science Fiction , and Underground Voices . Looking to polish a few turds and get them out before the Ho-Ho-Holidays.

Personal news, not so good. See, let's go in depth about why writing has become a little more difficult to find time for. My oldest was recently diagnosed with high-functioning...yes, you see it coming...autism. Not a surprise, but still disheartening. On top of that, though it's a positive, I'm doing more at work than before as I'm helping with training classes and becoming a walking policy manual on the center's floor. Then the babies, who are fine by the way, but I'm still worrying they'll stop breathing in the middle of the night, and since these worries started about the same time I was reading Stephen King's new short story collection, Just After Sunset (Wonderful, as always. Look for more this week) and child death was a big theme, I'm freaking out.

Weight of the world, won't bore you with it. Just know, I am trying to get back in the game and back into play with all of you prolific, talented, and successful people. Considering what a hack I am, I'm not sure if that should scare you or not. Just with figuring out what school to send Sophie to next year, and, consequently, how the hell I'm going to afford it, along with everything else...something has to go on hold until things calm down, and right now I seem to be shoving writing aside in order to keep my family sane and healthy. Not a hard choice to make, but I'm still in the game...just a few moves behind.

On the bright side, I think we met a ghost in PA. More on that tomorrow night. Now, I'm curling up with my wife and children in a motel bed. Hope everyone had a good Turkey Day, and I'll be talking to you all soon.

Best Wishes,
J.C. Tabler

Of NaNo, Shorts, and other things

First off, I am now the embarrassed owner of a minivan.

Yes, my old, beloved, beat up Jeep went the way of the dinosaurs on Wednesday when we purchased a Luxury model minivan with a Ford logo on the front. Leather seats, cup holders, automatic locks and doors, seperate climate controls, and an ass warmer. I'm not sure what I can do with an ass warmer, or why I need one. But rest assured, if my ass gets chilly, I will be able to warm it.

"Deep Dark Hellhole", a short I was working on prior to NaNo (of which I am slacking...I know), has evolved. No longer is it a horror story. It's becoming a sci-fi piece about a union struggle on an offworld mining colony mirroring that of the Molly Maguires in Pennsylvania. I'm going to work on it afer getting back to my NaNo word count (flagging, always do) tomorrow. Thinking it may be good for anything that looks at stories for almost identical events happenign across far spaces of time.

"Good Neighbors" is also evolving, this time into a bit of a horror piece, that is next on my plate after finishing "Hellhole", which is going to get done, either prior to or during my trip to Pennsylvania to visit the in-laws for Thanksgiving.

Got a story out 67 days at Strange Horizons , "Ain't Gonna Dig No More". Nothing heard back yet.

Another story is out with Space and Time again, this time the rejected World is Dead submission "Rock a Bye Baby", with 8 days on its count.

Still haven't heard back from a couple of big literary markets on some stories I have out there. I will eventually sell "Tribe of Harry", but most likely not to any market near as recognizable as the one I submitted it to.

Now, to other things. I was talking today with someone about writing, and how I just need to get on my horse and spur it to a trot again. I'll do it. I know I can. But it's getting damn hard to even force in the time to write. 10 hour shifts at work, Des is suffering from...well, let's say MS and post-partum don't make for a relaxing home environment. I keep obsessing over the kids not breathing in their sleep (they do, but I randomly wake up frightened they're not). There may be a story in the last, but the topic seems mildly repulsive to me and would be difficult to even imagine a situation like that.

Reading Stephen King's new short story collection. Expect a review sometime this weekend after I finish it.

Still climbing up that hill,
J.C. Tabler

NaNoWriMo

So I started NaNoWriMo at 12:00 a.m. Nov. 1st, 2008. To this time, 6:49 P.M., I have 4,561 words done on the story, into the beginning of the second chapter.

What is it that's caught my attention?

I'm calling it "One Year Prior", and unfortunately it's about zombies...sort of.

Alright, here goes my synopsis.

In January Sheriff Ben Jenkins of Colton County was called to the scene of a suicide in the woods. The result is wo missing brothers and an angry county in the town of Riverview, Kentucky demanding answers. Answers come soon enough in the form of government broadcasts, and Riverview must pull together to hold up against a river of the undead with Sheriff Jenkins leading the charge.

Basically, this is less about zombies and more about people at this point. The entire town of Riverview belongs to the church of Fenton Brock, an Independent Baptist preacher whose corruption is one of Riverview's many secrets. Even after the town itself is secured, even as things deteriorate in the outside, humanity turns on itself in the microcosm of a small town hidden in coal country. Law and Order versus Faith and Justice, not to mention a world falling down around their ears, drives this story so far.

I'm interested in seeing how it turns out. so far I'm shooting for 24 chapters, each one being one day of a month. Each month gets two chapters, plotting the progression of the town and of Sheriff Jenkins, how people deal with the undead, and what happens when civilization fails. I'm also thinking a wrap-up epilogue, but we'll see.

Anyhow, that's where I stand at this point on Day One.

Peace,
J.C. Tabler

Blood On Bluegrass

I finally broke the writer's block, and it isn't on a story. Not exactly.

I'm working on a story about a true suicide that happened here in Kentucky, at least they thought it was a suicide, and it may have actually been. I want to play it close to the vest right now, but it has homosexuality, a love triangle, felonies, embezzlement, a coverup...all the makings of sensational psuedo-news.

EDIT:

I realized I should post some more.

Alright, so here goes. Work has picked up, and as a result I have four 1/4 finished stories sitting on my hard drive. It isn't about substance right now, just getting the starts down on paper. If I can muscle through that, and get a flow going, I can always go back to rewrite the beginning.

In other news, the whole family got sick last week, babies and all. This meant my 7-day vacation from work for writing purposes turned into 7 days of sniffling and sneezing, turning into a couple of days handlingt he babies myself as my poor wife passed out and had to be hospitalized. She's alright now, but with her condition (MS), both her M.D. and I are in agreement that she has to take better care of herself.

As for the stories...well...

"Norton Is Watching" has been rebirthed, and "The Parting Glass" has come into development stages for the basic idea, clocking in at 958 words for an intro and atmosphere. "Deep Dark Hellhole" is starting to bud into the real meat of a short, short piece, and I've started outlining the NANOWRIMO idea.

I swear I'm going to try and finish that this year.

As for everything else...well, I have no excuse. See, I know I can write, and I know I do a decent enough job, but I'm seeing a serious lacking quality to my recent work. Chalk it up to stress, time constraints, family...whatever. It's no real excuse. I've got to get my feet under me, in a literary sense. I started out this year piss and vinegar and went strong up until July. After that...well. We only have to look back at my blog to see what happened.

So here's the plan...get one story finished prior to NANOWRIMO. Complete a draft of a novel, even if it does turn out to be as rancid as my son's last diaper, during November. Do two more stories in December. Rest for half of January, then kick my big rear back into gear. Luckily, I now have three days off a week, working 4 days a week, 10 hours a day. My wife and I have agreed the extra day is a no-kids, no-distractions writing day, 8 hours from rising to resting in front of the P.C., 4,000 words a day. That...well, honestly shouldn't be a problem for me. My normal daily limit for 2-3 hours is 1,000 words, and that's counting distractions.

I'm counting on you fine folks, then, to harass me every Wednesday on whether I've finished my work or not. Beat him, harangue me, cajole me. Hell, get my phone number and call me incessantly to ask if I'm at the computer.

As for the project above...right now it's research and trying to secure interviews. I have to get the family, coworkers, cops, and journalists to talk to me, secure 15 year old case files, get audit reports, find friends/witnesses willing to talk to me, and secure a photographer. I also have to turn my coal room into a kid-proof lair where I can tack up crime scene photos in all their gory details. It isn't horror, but damned if what I have (just in two interviews and news clippings) doesn't lead me to believe there's a story there.

For now, though, I have to help train a class of new hires tomorrow, so off to bed I go.

Peace,
J.C. Tabler

Ay yi yi

So, I've been away a bit again. This time I have a good reason. Recently I was struck with what has been a recent blog topic: writer's block. Yes, the block. It isn't that I don't have ideas. I do. The problem is that I every time I sit down to work on these ideas I get my nightly limit (1,000 words) out, then read over what I wrote the next day. After making retching noises, I promptly do the electronic version of balling up the sheet of paper and tossing it in a wastebin.

When something is flowing well, however, there are interruptions. Work, family, a squalling child with enough chemical weaponry stockpiled in their Huggies to elicit UN sanctions...take your pick. After dealing with these minor crises, I end up sitting back down to realize I no longer have any clue where to go with the story, and once again the highlight and delete functions are employed.

So, procrastination or block? Not sure really. I have an outline for my NANOWRIMO project, and look forward to writing for the sheer joy of it. In the meantime, I'm abstaining from anything distracting that isn't absolutely necessary until I get at least one of these ideas crowding my head onto paper in some form. This means no television, no bars, no internet surfing, no good books...just typing reading, walking the block, and more typing. Nothing's flowing easily right now.

So, there we stand a storyless month in September, well below my goal of four stories, and it's shaping up to be a pretty barren October. Through willpower and coffee alone will I force November into being productive for 50,000 words. I can assure that much. Until then, I will be the invisible author attempting to finish a story with a baby in one arm and a coffee cup in the other.

Peace,
J.C. Tabler

Pushing my stuff

Yes, it's been a while. Explanations are coming, I promise. Best I can say is the twins decided not to sleep through the night, a Dia de los Muertos submission is whipping my rear, and I'm trying to get back on a sleep schedule since it was thrown off by a doctor's appointment this week. So why am I here when I should be shaving? Why, to pimp my work.

"Poppa Bear" went up over on Underground Voices. The direct link is here. Of course, I'd love for everyone to give it a read, but hell. If you can't, you can't.

Now, to take care of the Three S morning routine.

Peace,
J.C. Tabler