Barry J. Northern

Micro-fiction: Misspelled japes #1

2011-12-30T22:12:00.000Z

This may well be the first and last in a series of tiny stories inspired by a simple typo or misspelling in the first sentence. I think this is a fun concept for a writing prompt exercise.

Jeremy's shoelaces were united. Increasing numbers of shoes were being admitted to the rack with elastic top-lines and Velcro straps, especially the lower sizes. The shoelaces had put up with slippers for years, they had been laceless since before anyone could remember, but now even among the old leather shoes there were more slip-ons than lace-ups. The ratio of laced to laceless was now firmly in favour of the latter, and the trend foretold the eventual decline of their race. It was time for action. The venerable laces of the Dr Marten's boots, being the longest, thread through the shiniest eyelets, and having the least corrupted aglets, stepped forward and assumed command. The laces stood together beneath him on the rack. They did not yet have a plan, but for the first time they had faith that they would prevail.

Warning: Writer Scam Alert

2011-09-10T16:32:00.000+01:00

I just received this mail from author David Farland, and had to share it as I know many writers who are beginning to publish their works electronically. I'm subscribed to his fantastic newsletter, David Farland's Daily Kick in the Pants. Sign up for it at DavidFarland.net so that you can receive news and tips like this.

David Farland’s Daily Kick in the Pants—Beware of Possible Scams

Today I got an interesting email from a writer who put his book up on a site frequented by other new authors. He’d posted a prologue, and got a critique from a reader who said, “There’s a story in here struggling to get out. Send me the entire manuscript and I’ll edit it for you.”
Well, last year I would have thought that that was a kind offer. A complete free edit? That’s very generous!
But the critique was so vague, it could have been aimed at anyone’s prologue. No characters were named. No plot was addressed. One had to wonder if the “critic” had read the piece at all. Then it was followed by a request for an entire manuscript.
Now, that is either a very generous offer, or it could be a scam. It’s a technique used by movie producers and writers in order to drum up work. They’ll tell you that your IP needs work and then offer to “help take it to the next level” in order to get a free option on your work. Sometimes the offer is even coupled with insults. “Right now, this has some great ideas, but the writing is crap. I can fix it for you!” I learned while working with cons as a prison guard that this technique—insulting the mark and then offering to help—works remarkably well. As an artist, you are at first shocked, confused, and hurt. But as the offer of help comes, suddenly you feel grateful to the con for his benevolence.
In the past, we authors haven’t had to worry too much about the theft of intellectual properties. But I mentioned a few weeks ago about the new bout of theft that is going on, where “authors” copy others’ works, slap a new name on them, and sell them.
The latest craze of course has been “Frankenstein” novels, where a crook takes published works, cobbles pieces together, and sends it out as his own. By reading the sample chapters, the reader will think that the book looks great. It’s not until you’ve read well into the novel that you find out that you have a problem. Obviously, Amazon and the other big publishers will need to address these thieves and figure out how to shut them down.
But if you were to send a completed novel out to one of these con-men, they could steal your unpublished work, re-title it, and sell it as their own. Obviously, that’s the coming craze.
So beginning today, I feel need to warn you: don’t send electronic copies of your manuscripts to people that you don’t know.
Even if you do know the people, be careful. It’s easy to lose control of a manuscript. Many of you know about how Stephenie Meyer had a copy of a work in progress stolen a couple of years ago. If I understood the story correctly, she sent it to a friend for a critique, and it got forwarded elsewhere.
Other forms of theft are a bit rarer. I did once have a manuscript stolen—a copy of STAR WARS: THE COURTSHIP OF PRINCESS LEIA, that I was making final edits on. It was obviously taken by a fan who broke into our house (who also stole some notes that had been signed by George Lucas).
I’ve heard of a couple of cases where hardcopy manuscripts were published by “authors,” including one writing professor from Montana who would steal the work of his students. A couple of authors have tried to publish chapters swiped from other people’s books, and this practice was spotted in the work of two bestsellers in the past four years or so.
So theft has always been with us, but in the past it hasn’t been a big business.
I’m concerned that pirates could hijack your work. It’s coming, and we may not be able to shut them down. Some countries are not signatories to international copyright treaties. This creates an opportunity for thieves to steal your works without fear of being jailed or sued. What if someone in China or Nigeria or Guatemala starts marketing your book electronically? You might not have a legal recourse, and you might not be able to shut them down.
So take care with those electronic files. Send them to people that you trust, that you’re close to.

David Farland

#friday flash - experimental piece #2 - forgetfulness

2011-09-10T16:02:00.000+01:00

This Friday Flash was not planned or edited (except for typos and misspells). It is off-the-cuff free-writing; an experiment in creative writing. If you enjoy it, so much the better. If it offends you then you'd better not come back here again, and you must certainly never listen to my poscast, Cast Macabre.

Today, since it's actually Saturday and I forgot about #friday flash, I'm starting with the theme of forgetfulness.

Experimental piece #2 - Forgetfulness

What? Why? I don't know anything, except how to communicate apparently. How come I can still construct meaningful sentences and yet not know the name of the language I am speaking. How can I know that I am speaking, and know words like "language" and "and", and yet not remember a single specific moment in my life. I seem to have awareness of myself. I am certainly not anyone else. Neither am I that dog over there, or that widescreen 40" flatscreen television, nor am I the squat table on which it stands, nor the smell of hot dust and clean plastic that exudes from it. Why is my hand in that socket?

#fridayflash - experimental piece #1

2011-09-02T21:45:00.002+01:00

Experimental Piece #1

The thing about artichokes is the name. I don't fancy eating something with a name like that so I pick up the swede. You can't go wrong with a swede. I've eaten swede all my life, and while I can't say I particularly liked it as a child, I can't even remember the last time I ate an artichoke -- if ever. So in the basket goes the swede. I pay at the checkout: the swede (obviously), a tube of extra-whitening toothpaste, a tub of Sudacrem (don't ask), and a big bunch of irises for Iris (it's our little joke). This is only a top-up shopping trip obviously. I think I'm all set for tonight. Should be good. I've been looking forward to it for several months.

As I leave the shop, I wonder if Bob and Henry like swede. I'm sure they do. On the way home my mind wanders and I'm struck with a sudden, deep-seated abhorrence for my life's mundanity. I put my foot down on the accelerator, wind down the windows, and turn the radio up to a rock channel. Blasting out heavy guitar riffs, the wind whipping my hair, I put my foot down more. I fish around beside me in the carrier bag and take out the swede, still shrink-wrapped. The join where the shrink-wrap was sealed feels rough against my palm as I stick my arm out the window and throw it at a community support officer. It hits her in the leg and she goes down. The rock track stops, I let go of the gas, and my moment of madness disappears. Did she see my number plate? I think of Iris, and Bob, and Henry, and their wives. I bet the artichoke wouldn't have hurt so much. Shit.

Still in Brighton -- for another two weeks?

2011-08-20T22:46:00.001+01:00

I just looked back at my previous post. Oh, if only I'd known how it was all going to go. We've had two buyers pull out, and the third drag her heels, but finally, after 13 weeks of commuting to Bournemouth, we've almost finally agreed on a moving date of 1st September. Life certainly has been happening while we've been busy making other plans.

Once we've moved there'll be lots to do in the new house, and a fair amount to do in the new job, but at least I'll be able to unpack my recording equipment, and have more time at home to write and podcast again. I can't say I'll be doing all that at my old breakneck pace for a while, but I still plan to release episodes of Cast Macabre, reopen it for submissions, and continue to enjoy editing Cast of Wonders, which is now in its fourth week over at www.castofwonders.org.

Let's hope these plans end up matching how life actually unfolds over the next few months. Until next time...

(pic unrelated, lol)

Sold!

2011-05-16T12:37:00.000+01:00

We've sold the house in Brighton subject to contract, and have had our offer accept on the new (dream) house in Bournemouth.

Here's to the whole legal conveyancing process being as smooth and quick as possible -- hopefully we'll be in by early July, which would mean much less disruption than I'd thought.

Once we're in I'll have a little out building to hide in for my writing and podcasting. You'll probably hear a change in Cast Macabre as I'll be able to shout instead of whisper!!

Moving Home

2011-05-11T14:18:00.002+01:00

I'm moving home, relocating from Brighton to Bournemouth, and I'm starting a new job in Bournemouth in three weeks, which will mean some hefty commuting until we can exchange houses. This will raise some interesting time-management issues with my writing and podcasting, which I'll report back on. It also shows how quick and simple it is to make a free, promotional, Wordpress-based webpage. I made up this page to promote my house sale in an hour:

http://15carlylest.wordpress.com/

The Wolfsbane Manifesto

2011-04-27T12:47:00.000+01:00

Wolfsbane Publishing is already publishing the Cast Macabre audio magazine to showcase new and classic horror. It'll soon be doing the same for YA Sci-fi and Fantasy with Cast of Wonders.

The next thing is to begin helping and teaching authours about all the opportunities out there. I'm not talking about the craft of writing, there's plenty of help out there for that, from established authours who have had far more practise than I.

I plan to offer business, technical, and lifestyle advice and support. Writers struggle finding the time to write, and to promote, sell, or otherwise build their audience. I'm strong on the technical side, and have been developing some interesting ways of approaching writing as a business. As I continue to learn, I aim to pass the information on down so that younger authours don't have to jump through all the same hoops that we have had to in these changing times. I don't have all the answers, but I still have lots of knowledge, and the best way to learn and grow is to teach others and find answers to their questions.

That's why I've launched the main site for my fledgling publishing company. It's a publishing company for 2011. I'm interested in the new directions publishing is taking, exploring ways that technology can enable writers to get their work in the hands of readers, and developing practices to make the business of writing run smoothly so that writers can concentrate on what they know best: the art and the craft.

I need your help. What's the number one thing you need to know about right now? Visit the site and check out my breakdown of all the topics and sub-topics I've come up with so far that I plan to write and teach about. Your topic might be on there. Please let me know if you want me to start with that, or if there's a topic not on the list.

Let's work together to pool our knowledge, and package it up for ourselves, and the next generation of writers. Comment over at Wolfsbane, or contact me at barry@wolfsbanepublishing.com

To keep up to date, sign up for the Wolfsbane Newsletter. There'll be free training products in it for you soon.

Getting Rich Is Good For Everyone

2011-04-12T22:23:00.002+01:00

The Science of Getting Rich by Wallace D. Wattles
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I have only been shown this book today and am already half way through it. It has astounded me. This book has eloquently summed up many of the ideas that I have been coming closer towards for years.

The first two main points I'd like to note are that 1) acquiring wealth is not bad or sinful, on the contrary, it enables one to fulfill their potential in all areas of life and adds to the greater good for everyone; and 2) acquiring wealth does not mean stealing wealth from others -- there is not a finite amount of resource or money -- it is possible to create wealth without taking it from others.

This book sums it up and more, and I have found that there is a whole community site surrounding it. You can get the ebook version from that site for free, but I recommend you get it from here, along with Wallace D. Wattles' other books in his series:

http://booksbuddies.com?ref=barrynorther...

One note: the authour has been dead for 90 years, so the language is a little dated -- but so clearly and eloquently written.

View all my reviews

Writing Well

2011-04-04T23:46:00.000+01:00

I'm thrilled that my first article about writing and well-being has been accepted for publication over at E-zine articles, earning me expert authour status. It's my first step into world in which I hope to serve people who are looking for something to help them towards well-being, or for a way to handle their life problems. I think taking up writing is something worth trying. It certainly makes me happy. The first article is aimed at disenfranchised twenty-somethings. This is an age-group that I personally believe is under-served when it comes to help and advice on well-being.

http://ezinearticles.com/?I-Am-Twenty-Something-And-Whats-The-Point-of-Life?---How-Creative-Writing-Can-Help&id=6123494

In Need Of Inspiration or Motivation?

2011-03-30T14:08:00.000+01:00

Evan Carmichael has put together a list of his favorite videos for entrepreneurs pulled from YouTube (plus one bonus video at the end), in his most recent newsletter.

You can also check out his most recent famous entrepreneur video at: http://evancarmichael.com/Masters/

They are meant to be for entrepreneurs, but really, that's what aspiring writers are -- lone warriors, struggling to create something from nothing and share it with the world.

TOP 10 VIDEOS FOR ENTREPRENEURS
by Evan Carmichael

Intro: Inspirational Video - Don't Quit

I made this video for all the entrepreneurs who are having a tough
time getting their businesses to what they want it to be. To
where you feel you deserve to be. The core message is: Don't Give
Up. Enjoy!

#1: Steve Jobs Stanford Commencement Speech 2005

Key Messages: Believe that things will work somehow out, follow
your intuition and curiosity, trust your heart even when it leads
you off the well-worn path, you have to find what you love, do what
you believe is great work, don't settle, your time is limited so
don't waste it living someone else's life, stay hungry and stay
foolish.

#2: Michael Jordan "Failure" Nike Commercial

Key Messages: Success comes from failure.

#3: Tony Robbins: Why we do what we do, and how we can do it better

Key Messages: The defining factor to success is never lack of
resources but resourcefulness, decisions shape destiny, there are
six basic human needs that motivate our actions.

#4: Inspirational Video - The Don't Quit Poem

Key Messages: Don't quit, stick it out, success is failure turned
inside out, stick to the fight when you're hardest hit, it's when
things seem worst that you must not quit.

#5: Entrepreneurs can change the world

Key Messages: You can do anything, one individual can make a
difference, all you need is a single brilliant idea, turbulence
creates opportunities, seize the opportunity to create the job you
always wanted.

#6: The Best Motivation Video

Key Messages: If you've never failed then you've never lived.

#7: Michael Gerber: The Four Mind-Sets of an Entrepreneur

Key Messages: Most people who start business think they are
entrepreneurs but they are really tacticians - they work in their
business but not on their business, the system is the problem not
the person, continually improve your system and work on your
business.

#8: Rachel Elnaugh, business mentor

Key Messages: Every entrepreneur goes through a dark period where
you think about giving up - you can survive by asking for help,
when you get it right your business can grow very quickly, great
stuff can come out of adversity.

#9: Michael Dell Shares Entrepreneurial Advice

Key Messages: Look for experiments and not perfection, it's ok to
have little failures, really successful companies are formed in
difficult economic times, know what you're good at, take advantage
of the resources around you, don't try to do it all yourself.

#10: Al Pacino's Inspirational Speech

Ok, so it's not a business video but it's one of my favorite
motivational speeches of all time and I had to include it!

Key Messages: Fight your way through to success one inch at a time,
in any fight it's the guy who is willing to die who will win those
inches

Bonus: Do Something Difficult

This is a funny addition to the list - make sure to watch all the
way to the end! It's one of the funniest videos I've seen in a
while.

Key Messages: Don't give up!

If you want to bookmark them and see them all on one page you can
visit: http://www.evancarmichael.com/blog/my-favorite-videos/

You can also check out my most recent famous entrepreneur video at:
http://evancarmichael.com/Masters/

Enjoy and stay tuned for more great information in the weeks to
come!

BONUS - Newsletter subscribers get 75% off my Entrepreneur Mastery
video training. Check out http://www.evancarmichael.com/Mastery/
and use 'ecnews1' (no quotes) as the discount code at the checkout!

Free ebook - Dark Secrets

2011-03-18T10:57:00.002Z

DARK SECRETS
a horror short story

Ben hadn't seen his dead mother for seven months. On the day it happened,
the August sun had banished every other shadow. The elm-lined street bustled with
morning traffic. Kids waved book bags and plastic lunchboxes. Younger kids held
hurried parents' hands. Molly didn't like holding hands . . .

Ben is a single father trying his best to live a good life, but haunted by the dark secrets in his past.

Community subscribers will already have my short story horror ebook, Dark Secrets. If you aren't subscribed yet then ...

Click here to download your free copy

Stab of Fear

2011-03-17T09:45:00.000Z

Is "stab of fear" a generally well known or often used term? I'm sure I heard it before, or did I just make it up?

In any case, I'm quite pleased that when one Google's it now, it shows up a generous list of my Cast Macabre "flash" episodes.

Click here if you want to submit to Cast Macabre
Click here if you want regular updates on the show
Click here if you just want to leave a comment or chat with me
Or share this post using the social media options below ...

Merry Christmas

2010-12-23T14:13:00.002Z

Yes, I still update this blog. Very busy though. Merry Christmas.

Pseudopod #209 - Corvus Curse by Barry J. Northern

2010-10-22T07:50:00.000+01:00

Read by Ian Stuart

Thanks to editor Ben Phillips, host and pal Alasdair Stuart, and Ian for his superb narration. You can isten to the episode here, if you're not already subscribed to Pseudopod in iTunes (which you should be).

Selfish Art

2010-10-12T06:14:00.002+01:00

Thanks to David Farland for allowing me to share one of his latest Daily Kick writing advice emails. If you're not subscribed, I recommend you go over to his site and sign up

Selfish Art

There is a problem with the arts, one that I have not addressed, and it is this: If you have the fortune (or misfortune) of being a gifted artist, it can corrupt you.

If you are a gifted artist, people will tend to be moved by your art. They will praise you in private letters, offer you awards, present you with valuable gifts, fawn over you, seek to seduce you, and so on, and this can corrupt and destroy you.

It starts innocently enough with praise. Every author that I know of feeds on praise to some extent. We need praise. I was fascinated a few months back to learn that the single biggest factor to predicting longevity is the “approbation of our peers.” When others praise us consistently and admire our efforts, it reduces the harmful stress in our lives and not only allows us to perform at our peak, but also lengthens our years.

But praise is a fickle thing, and few artists have a career where they are praised and receive awards on a regular basis. I have known authors who received early praise to grouse when a competing author receives a rave review, wins an award, or hits high on the bestseller list. Such authors become ravaged by jealousy and despair, to the point where such authors have been known to fall into alcoholism, drug addiction, or suffer from suicidal tendencies.

Even worse, praise is so often insincere. It costs nothing to give, and so has little real value.

Other authors buy into the belief that their talent makes them inherently superior to others, so that they somehow exist in an elevated realm above the rest of humanity, and feel entitled to favor. I was recently speaking to an author who was hoping to get an endowment from a wealthy patron. I wondered, “Have you ever considered actually working for your money? It’s not very hard to make, if you work for it.” I actually suggested a couple of ways for her to make the money she wanted—all of which per promptly rejected.

When authors become puffed up in pride, they often become demeaning or dismissive of others, and I know of authors who love to ridicule and condemn their competitors in an effort to boost their own reputation. Such authors often treat the unwashed masses with contempt, having no patience with waiters, hoteliers, or similar “little people.” Very often, such authors blind themselves to the strengths and talents of others to the point that they look doubly foolish.

This sense of entitlement often is manifested in sexual aggression. I’ve known several male authors who could not be trusted to enter into an elevator with a pretty girl who was alone. Back during the 19th Century, authors of genius tended to die from social disease so often that it became cliché.

In short, talented artists may create wondrous things but become pathetic, miserable, self-destructive people. I’m reminded by this again and again when I read about people like Poe, Michelangelo, Paganini, Mozart, and most lately Tolstoy.

Here is a quote from a recent review of a biography of Sofia Tolstoy that demonstrates the problem (in very, very small part). Sofia says of her husband:

"For a genius one has to create a peaceful, cheerful, comfortable home. A genius must be fed, washed and dressed, must have his works copied out innumerable times, must be loved and spared all cause for jealousy, so he can be calm. Then one must feed and educate the innumerable children fathered by this genius, whom he cannot be bothered to care for himself, as he has to commune with the Epictetuses, Socrateses and Buddhas, and aspire to be like them himself.”

The biographer, Cathy Porter, then notes: “In 1910, just a month before the 82-year-old Tolstoy fled Yasnaya Polyana on the trip that would lead to his death in a railway station far from his home, Sofia -- now in her late 60s -- celebrates her "name day," which is also the day that Tolstoy proposed to her. She asks herself: "What did he do to that eighteen-year-old Sonechka Behrs, who gave him her whole life, her love and her trust?" She sums up the 48 years of their life together: "He has tortured me with his coldness, his cruelty and his extreme egotism."”

May I suggest that if you find yourself the object of adoration by fans, you can remain humble by looking upon the strengths of others outside your discipline? You can treat others as equals, nurturing and loving them and learning from them the highest art from them—the art of living.

If you find yourself the object of praise one week and scorn the next, you can treasure your triumphs while learning from your failures. You need not go to bed for a week suffer from crying jags, or cook up a dose of heroin, or try to destroy the reputation of your competitors.

While your art may make great demands of you, you need not lay your life upon its altar.

Dark Secrets

2010-10-08T15:01:00.000+01:00

I am happy that my story Dark Secrets is going to appear in Their Dark Masters, the first print anthology from Red Skies Press.

Artwork in Progress

2010-09-23T23:10:00.000+01:00

Here's a sneak preview of the cover artwork for the launch anthology, Their Dark Masters, from Red Skies Press.

Multi-talented editor, Mark A. Crittenden is the artist, and has kindly shared this work in progress with me and allowed me to show it to you.

You can visit his blog, Vision Primordial, and the Red Skies Press forums for more updates and information.

Too Long for a Tweet

2010-08-31T22:41:00.001+01:00

When I first started this blog, I was still new to the internet. I'd used it for years, of course, since the mid-nineties at university, but I'd never really contributed anything to it. Search engines was about as far as I went. Back then, in a time we now think of as Web 1.0, if you wanted to get online, you started your own home page. In internet terms, that is almost ancient history. Then blogs came along, a way of having your own home page without having to be quite so technical. A lot of the coding setup was done for you, and because of this there were a lot more blogs than home pages. The quality of the content still varied widely, as it does today, but that's not my point. Now we have Web 2.0 -- social media, have had it for ages now, in fact, in internet terms anyway.

Social networking sites like My Space and Facebook gave everyone access to the internet. It became easier than ever to post your own experiences, your own content. The internet moved away from being a niche hobby, to a social tool, accessible and interesting to everyone. People love people.

Then came Twitter. It has taken me a while to understand how much Twitter has changed everything again. On the face of it, it seems so simple, but therein lies its power. The ability to follow and contact anyone, to see your own mentions, to retweet, to define, use, and share your own hashtags, has connected us, and the topics that interest us, in way we're only just beginning to grasp.

Twitter has affected this blog too. I'm not saying that Twitter has made blogging obsolete, in the same way the blog ousted those old-fashioned plain HTML home-pages, but it has taken over some of the blog's old function. This blog used to be my only way to share content and information. Facebook took away some of that originally, but now I do most of my networking on Twitter. I share resources I find, keep in touch with people, make new contacts, tell people about fiction sales, and podcast episode releases, all things I used to do here. This struck me recently when I made my first fiction sale, and I didn't even mention it on my so-called writing blog. If you've followed this blog for a while, and wondered why I've gone quiet -- I haven't -- if anything, I'm more verbose, just in shorter snatches. Follow me @BarryNorthern if you want.

So what is this blog for now? Well, for one, it doesn't have a 140 character limit, so I can write longer essays like this one. This blog also allows me to put together longer fiction pieces like Friday Flashes (podcasting Cast Macabre has taken precedence over this for a while now), and my Friday Fables, which have images within the text. Friday Fables has been on indefinite hiatus for a long while now, but I don't regard it as dead. Just hibernating. There'll probably be other things that require more space.

So what's the future of the blog? It's still my hub, the place I direct people to so they can find out about all my writing and podcasting projects. It's due a redesign. I no longer worry about how many followers I have, or how many comments I get, which a lot of the template focussed on before. It needs to load faster, and I need to cut out a lot of dead wood from the sidebar (and probably replace it with a Twitter feed). I'd like my list of published and forthcoming works to be more prominent (and up to date).

So this blog is not dead. It's just not having to work as hard, and more to the point, I'm not having to work so hard to maintain it, which lets me get on with the thing I'm only ever around to tell you about in the first place. Writing.

Thank you Twitter. Even the Luddites will understand you eventually.

Red Skies Press

2010-08-21T01:27:00.003+01:00

Check out Red Skies Press, a new small press dedicated to creating great anthologies, and paying authours. It's the home of Their Dark Masters, edited by Mark A. Crittenden. I'm really excited about this new venture, please join me in submitting stories to it.

Story Fanatic

2010-08-10T13:12:00.000+01:00

An interesting resource for writers interested in delving deeper into story structure and analysis ...

http://storyfanatic.com

New Covey Cover Awards

2010-08-01T11:40:00.000+01:00

The Howl anthology, containing my story, Corvus Curse, is up for an award for its cover art. The cover was designed and created by editor, Mark A. Crittenden.

Go on over to the site and vote for it:

http://thenewcoveycoverawards.blogspot.com/

Their Dark Masters

2010-07-26T22:45:00.001+01:00

So, that project I'm working on that I told you I'd have more on later is a story for an anthology to be published by Lame Goat Press. I promised editor, Mark Crittenden, that I'd promote the anthology and encourage fellow writers to give Lame Goat another chance. I believe it's worth it this time because this is no longer a 4-the-luv (horrible phrase) endeavour, but a paying one. I've said before that I believe writers should be paid for their hard work, and I always do anything I can to facilitate that. So here it is, a great concept for a horror anthology, I can't wait to see everyone else's stories...

Please note, this anthology has now moved over to Red Skies Press.

Twisted Tales Anthology V2

2010-07-21T14:02:00.001+01:00

I've finished writing the SF short story I started on holiday. I intend to sub it to Asimov's when I'm done. I'm letting that sit for now before edits while I write a horror story for a specific anthology (more on this later). I'm quite excited about that, over 2,000 words into it now. After that, though, I'll be starting work on a tale for this. You might like to as well.

Read the Chasing the Wind Novella

2010-06-24T09:54:00.000+01:00

The last installment of my novella, Chasing the Wind has now been posted over At The Bijou.

You can now read it in its entirety, links to all the installments are on the post. The novella is part of The Chaoswind Chronicles. Let me know if you like the novella, as it will help me to decide if readers would like to read more stories set in the fantasy world of Cryl.

Also let me know if you would be interested in an eBook or print edition of the novella. Enough interest may make such plans viable. Enjoy.

#fridayflash - 21st Century Writer

2010-06-18T13:34:00.001+01:00

Linda sat down across the table from Jerry in a quiet corner of the exhibition hall.

"Thanks for agreeing to talk to me, Jerry. I've been to World Con for the last three years and this is the first time I've gotten to speak to anyone in the biz."

"Look, it's no problem, Linda. I wish you'd found me before, I'm always happy to chat. That's what I'm here for."

"I need some advice on my writing career, is that okay?"

Jerry leaned back in his chair. "Shoot."

"Well. I just can't seem to get noticed. I'm doing everything they say a writer should do these days. I'm really active on the social networks. I blog every day on my writing blog, I follow over a hundred other writing blogs, and comment on everyone's posts. I have a facebook page, and I tweet every day."

"Have you got many followers?"

"Over a hundred, yes. I run contests on my blog, and try to come up with interesting things that people can interact with."

"This all sounds positive."

"Thanks. I've also got my own writing podcast where I interview published authours."

"Impressive, I'll have to take a look at that."

"I would have interviewed you but my iRiver's busted."

"Maybe we can do it over Skype after the Con?"

"Great! My listeners would like that."

"What else are you doing?"

"I've submitted tons of query letters to agents and publishers too, but I just can't seem to get my foot in the door, you know? What advice can you give me?"

"Well, everything you're doing is great. All I can really say is don't give up, keep at it, and work hard." Jerry leaned forward in his chair as if to whisper something, then exhaled and sat back. "Look, my agency's backed up with submissions at the moment, but you seem nice. I've got a junior who I could get to look at your stuff. Have you got a copy of your manuscript with you?"

"My what?"

"Your manuscript. You know, a hard copy of your novel."

"Er." Linda looked from side to side, a nervous smile on her face.

"What's wrong? I could take it via email if you like..."

"Erm." Linda's sheepish smile begat an awkward pause.

"You have actually written a novel..."

"Well. Not. Exactly."

"A novella? Some short stories?"

"No, it's just, well, you see, I've been so busy online recently I -- it's rather embarrasing really. You see I've been so busy that it just completely slipped my mind to write anything at all."

Trifecta of Writing Buddies

2010-06-18T09:04:00.000+01:00

I posted up episode 8 of Cast Macabre last night, and it's my favourite so far.

I think I'm getting into the swing of it now.

There's lots of treats in this one. Firstly, the main story itself is by Erin Cole and is narrated by Pamila Payne.

And if that weren't enough, we've also got a lovely horrible poem from Angel Zapata.

Check it out and leave comments everywhere because I'm addicted to feedback, I'm a feedback whore, yes I am.

Now, time to make myself a pot of Top Ramen ... beef picante, fuckin' a Lucia.

A Moonlight Fable by H. G. Wells on Cast Macabre

2010-06-12T23:17:00.000+01:00

If H. G. Wells were alive no doubt he'd be blogging and tweeting right now that his story, A Moonlight Fable has just appeared on Cast Macabre.

The fact that he's neither alive nor online means that we're missing the blogosphere activity that's usually generated by our excited authour when he or she sees their words appear on an episode of Cast Macabre.

Either that or you guys just ain't diggin' the classic stories episodes.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Mark Crittenden and Laura Eno for their recent and ongoing donations, and give special thanks to supporter Ron Storozyszyn; if we had a "kick-ass donor of the week" segment like Norm Sherman does on Drabblecast, Ron, you'd be it this week for sure.

#fridayflash Molly

2010-06-10T23:16:00.000+01:00

It has grown dark around my laptop as I sit at the kitchen table, writing. I can't see beyond the rectangle of light, but I sense a presence in the doorway, even though I'm home alone. It's her again. I keep writing. She is ever silent, the ghost of my little girl, two years gone, in her long nightgown, clutching her bear. Now she's looking in at the window by the side of me, pressing her nose up against the glass. I can write no more. I close the laptop's lid. It's dark. Is she standing right behind me? I get up and go to bed before she can put a little hand on my shoulder. She's in the mirror behind me as I brush my teeth. I take the sleeping pills. I don't want to wake until it's light. She is standing at the end of my bed as I wait for sleep. I haven't had a drink in two years.

Blood Money

2010-06-02T12:37:00.009+01:00

We now have monthly and one-time support options over at Cast Macabre.

I want to raise enough to do some special things with the podcast, but my first goal is to make it a proper paying market. I believe strongly that writers should get paid for their work, and the offer of "exposure" is overused these days and is just not good enough.

Writers need to stand up and value their work because our efforts have become far too devalued over the years already. What people (editors, producers, actors -- the folks who get all the money) need to remember is that without our words they have nothing to work with. We need to fight to be better paid, so that's why I need to make Cast Macabre a paying market; anything else would be hypocritical.

What can you do? Spread the word about the podcast. The more people who listen regularly week-in, week-out, the more people feel that they are getting some good entertainment, the more likely we'll be able to raise enough money to pay our writers and voice actors. And stop giving your work away.

What about all the stories we've run so far? I've had so many kind offers and words of encouragement from the people who have donated content so far. We need to get the ball rolling after all, and I have no initial capital, so this early content is crucial. I could have used my own stories, but that isn't what this podcast is about. It is not a vanity press. Everyone who has given me their stories has been happy to do so, and thrilled to hear their stories produced in audio, but I'm firm in my belief that they should be rewarded beyond that, so the first round of donations will go towards buying everyone who has helped launch this podcast a little something to say thanks.

In the meantime, in the immortal words of Melvyn Bragg, I hope you enjoy the programme . . .

Please go to the Cast Macabre site to donate.

My Writing Nook

2010-05-25T22:38:00.000+01:00

My brother-in-law sent me a link to a writing resource the other day. It looked quite good, but I've held off posting about it until I could give it a test run. I've been using it for a week now and I seriously think it could represent a new paradigm for the way writers work.

It's called My Writing Nook. You can find it and use it for free by following the link. You need a Google account to use it, but they're free to set up as well.

When I write, I want to think about my plot and my characters, not my writing software. The technology should just get out of the way and allow me to focus on my novel. - My Writing Nook

The main page on the site lists its features, so head on over there and take a look. For my part I love the way all your files are kept securely in your google account by the app, how they're all there as links in the sidebar, how easy it is to back up to email or disk. I like the uncluttered writing space; the way it is proper plain text, no frills, no colours, no confusing and pointless Word-like features. Its dictionary in the sidebar is useful, but failed to find a few words I needed, but I love the way it's just there, all in one screen.

I find it easy to use, and the fact that it's accessible from anywhere is the game-changer for me. Now I'll always have access to all my works in progress wherever I am.

#fridayflash - #drabble - Werecabbage

2010-05-21T21:08:00.000+01:00

Each full moon I turn into a cabbage. I try to stay out of the kitchen when I start to feel the itch. The transformation is painful, but over quickly. The worst thing: I'm sentient the whole time, and I also feel an affinity for my kind. I once located another like me – in Germany – I organised a special visit only to see her chopped into sauerkraut. As a man this doesn't bother me, but one day each month I weep silent tears, which run like glass beads over my squeaky leaves. Any passerby would think I'd just been washed.

CYOA on Dragon Page

2010-05-18T09:26:00.000+01:00

We may hopefully see a renewed interest in the interblog CYOA, The Mendigans due to its recent exposure on the Dragon Page podcast.

For new visitors from Dragon Page, welcome! There's a link at the top of this blog to the CYOA page, and you can see the graph visualisation of the entire project here, which will help you find those loose ends.

I look forward to reading the continuation of the adventure ...

#fridayflash - Maison d'Etre

2010-05-14T22:49:00.000+01:00

This week's Friday Flash is also a drabble - a 100 word story, no more, no less ...

Steve returned to the recording studio in his old Edwardian study to discover he had been accidentally recording ambient noise for the last twelve hours. Out of curiosity he played back the file. Out of boredom he set the file to play back at high speed, which was when he heard her voice. The gentle floorboards' creaks and subtle moaning shifts in the walls were translated into a light, feminine voice. She sang of the man who caressed her carpets, who lit up her rooms, who warmed her fireplaces. She sang of Steve, the lover who brought her to life.

Free PDF from How To Think Sideways

2010-05-14T22:27:00.000+01:00

Holly Lisle ran a spur-of-the-moment contest recently for anyone who has taken her writing course, How to Think Sideways. I haven't, but I do subscribe to her newsletter, and she's just sent a link to a free PDF called How to write your novel - 25 amazing Think Sideways stories. I'm allowed to share it, so I am.

The contest was to write a short piece about how something from the HTTA course has helped, instructed or improved, not just the participants writing, but any aspect of his or her life. Might be worth a read, probably a few gems, or ideas for you to try.

I Must Write More

2010-05-13T07:46:00.000+01:00

I hereby publicly state that I am not writing enough, and so have set myself a weekly word count target of at least 5,000 words on a novel or short story.

Flash is not included. I will be keeping a widget on the blog to update my progress.

You have my permission to admonish me if I fail. Please!

Fish Hand at Brain Droppings

2010-05-10T23:51:00.002+01:00

How's that for an intriguing post title?

I almost forgot to mention that my little flash story, Fish Hand, got an honourable mention as part of Laurita Miller's Seaside Fiction Contest over at her blog, Brain Droppings.

See? It all makes sense now doesn't it?

Soon the bottom of the boat beat to the rhythm of a thousand flapping fish

#fridayflash - Excerpts from Alternate Histories no. 1

2010-05-07T22:29:00.001+01:00

The Rusassegens fermented a hatchling within its own shell until the shell itself became leathery and workable. Then, taking it with their rough hands, they would flatten it out until it was the size of a large dinner plate. Such delicacies were the main export of the country at that time. It was a crime for any Rusassegen over the age of craftsmanship, which in those days was only fourteen, to split the eggshell during processing, allowing its precious meat-infused albumen to leak out. The most common sentence passed would see the offender placed within the punish-hole for 43 days, with only their damaged egg for sustenance.

Corvus Curse on Cast Macabre

2010-05-04T08:52:00.002+01:00

My own story, Corvus Curse, is the latest story on Cast Macabre, narrated by Mark A. Crittenden.

Thanks also to Sean Monagan for the Venus Vulture music.

castmacabre.blogspot.com

Self promotion tip: be controversial

2010-05-03T23:26:00.004+01:00

I've been listening to a new podcast about podcasting recently called Podcast Academy from Gigavox Media. There are a few episodes about growing an audience and keeping them interested, and I've taken one particular tip to heart : be controversial. Who's gonna be motivated to respond and interact with someone who agrees with everything or sits on the fence?

With that in mind I want to declare war on those blogger award badges that go around. You might feel like you won something, but really, all it takes is a quick play in MS Paint and a browse through Blogger and you're set. There's no committee, no judges, just a load of people giving each other some links in the vague hopes of cross promoting each other and getting comments off their friends. What really happens is that you end up with a load of amateur looking graphics on your sidebar that scream: Unprofessional!!

This is why I want to launch a new campaign. Please send the following award to 10 people whose blogs you follow and tell them to send it to 10 other people. I hereby award myself with the award.

Congratulations, me, you are being controversial!

Viral Blog Thing

2010-05-02T23:07:00.002+01:00

I've recently decided I need to spend more time writing and less time mucking around on my blog, so with that in mind I was delighted when I received this viral blog thing.

Rules of the viral blog thing...

Thank the person who gave this to you.
Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
Link to the person who nominated you.
Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least oneoutrageous truth – or – switch it around and tell six outrageoustruths and one outrageous lie.
Nominate seven “Creative Writers” who might have fun coming up withoutrageous lies.
Post links to the seven blogs you nominate.
Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.

I hereby follow the rules:

Thanks, Mark A. Crittenden.
http://visionprimordial.blogspot.com
I'm a monkey, I'm a parrot, I'm a dog, I'm a squid, I'm a chocolate cupcake, I'm a tablecloth, I like Doris Day films.
Most of them are already doing this...
...oh I give up.
Zzzzz

So now that's done perhaps I can get on with some writing. ;) <-- cheeky wink

#fridayflash - 24th Century Jockstrap

2010-04-30T13:36:00.001+01:00

“Welcome to Bartle and Sons, how can I help you?”

“Coach says I’ve got too many injuries and it’s time to get a new body.”

“Very good, sir.”

After the initial introductions and signing in, clone-salesman, Edick Brent, led star footballer, Moron Systemic, through to a plush, orange sofa in a brilliant-white waiting lounge.

“So, this will be your third body?”

“Yeah, look, spare me all the sales talk okay? I’m a sportsman, I just want a straight replacement clone like before. You’ve got my DNA samples on record. Only, can you age the clone up to twenty-six years old this time though? Eighteen feels too young for me now.”

“Absolutely, sir, but since your last replacement operation we at Bartle and Sons have developed a range of new options which might suit you.”

“Look, I said no selling—“

“I’m not selling, sir, we have a few minutes to spare before we can prep you for consciousness and memory upload. There’s no harm in showing a few of them to you. And hey, we can always delete this conversation during the memory upload if you don’t find anything you like.”

“You don’t give up do you?”

“No, sir.” Edick browsed through the new options on his pad, which began with a range of female models, each with a different enhancement. “I’m assuming you wish to stay fully male?” Moron’s unmodified raised eyebrow was the only required answer. Edick kept his finger on the scroll icon. “Ah, here we are.” The image was of a muscled man with strong, smooth legs, bent back like a satyr. “This leg configuration is popular with sportsman, enabling running speeds far in excess of—“

“No good. That’s not allowed in my league.”

“Okay.” Edick skipped through more images of alternative leg configurations. “How about lung capacity enhancements? I believe they’re legal?”

“No, thanks. Had it once, all that oxygen made me feel dizzy.”

“Oh, we’ve solved that problem with modifications to the brain membrane, sir, it’s—“

“Look, just leave it okay. I just want to stay natural.”

“That’s fine, sir, I understand.” Even so, Edick kept his finger on the scroll icon and let the images slide by in silence. Moron felt compelled to view the images, though they unnerved him. How could people like such unnatural modifications? He’d never—

“Wait, stop. Go back.”

“Sir?”

“I just saw something.”

“Here, sir, please. Help yourself.“ Edick handed Moron the pad. He thumbed back to the image that had interested him and thrust a fat finger onto it, grinning. “That one.”
Edick smiled. “Excellent choice., sir. You’d be the first to order that particular modification.”

“Really? I’m surprised. It looks brilliant. It’s just what I need. I take it it’s part of the body? Non-detachable?”

“Yes, sir, unfortunately it’s—“

“No, that’s fine. And the length of my, of the, er...”

Edick’s effeminate eyes flicked down to Moron’s groin for an instant and he smiled. “As long as you like, sir, it will be fully retractable through the openings at either the top or the bottom.”

Moron’s unmodified cheek capillaries allowed him to blush. “Great. I’ll take it.”

“Excellent, sir. Just sign in with the one-click to give your consent.” Moron pressed a glowing button, smiled at Edick, and handed the pad back to him. “It comes in a range of colours and patterns. This image was chosen because of the original genetic codes we spliced to create the enhancement.”

“No, no. Tortoiseshell is fine.”

The Chaoswind's still blowing over At The Bijou

2010-04-29T18:21:00.000+01:00

Read part three of Chaoswind Chronicle tale, Chasing the Wind, here. There are links to the first two instalments there as well.

Altered State at Flashes in the Dark

2010-04-27T08:56:00.007+01:00

Read
Altered State
at
Flashes in the Dark

#fridayflash - Naughty Cthulhu

2010-04-23T22:53:00.001+01:00

I played at the sea's edge with my son; our game was to walk out as far as we could as the waves receded and then come running back before the flowing waves could wet our feet.

My son stopped playing and I asked him why. He pointed. "I saw a tentacle."

The waves receded again, but I saw only seaweed, I told him he must be mistaken, and the next time the waves went out we both ran after them. But the waves kept on receding, too far, and then I saw the tentacles myself.

"Quick, run!" The waves were rushing back in around a large sea creature, about the size of a bear but with an orange head like an octopus. It was rising up out of the waves and coming for us. We tried to run up the pebbled beach but the creature was faster, when we got to the car it was only feet away. I dropped the keys. The creature was upon us. But it didn't stop, it just kept on running, over the car and up the hill.

"I don't think it was after us, Dad."

"No, but where is it going?"

"Uh. What's that?" I followed my son's gaze and saw an unnatural bulge in the horizon. It was a tsunami! No, the waters broke, and what appeared to be large landmass was rising up out of it, water raining down the sides. The island became a mountain, almost blocking out the high noon sun. Then the mountain opened its eyes.

"Oh my god! That other monster wasn't coming for us, it was running away from that!"

A huge tentacle lassoed over our heads, raining a torrent of saltwater and deep-sea debris. When it returned it had the smaller orange monster in its curled grip. The poor thing was screaming; it looked dried out and limp. As the behemoth sank back below the depths clutching its supposed prey, I heard its ancient underwater voice echo in my mind.

"How many times have I told you not to play near the shore? Look at you, you're dry to the bone!"

Site Optimised

2010-04-23T09:54:00.003+01:00

Start using Blogger in draft for your own blog!

I've recently optimized this site template. It seems to load a helluva lot quicker now. I saved my own template and used the new template designer in Blogger In Draft to create a new one. Then I just dragged over a few of my own CSS and HTML code for comments and scripts for doing things like loading the Kernest fonts I use (but you don't need to do that bit, the template designer is really customisable).

Blogger in draft is great. You get to try loads of new features before they are officially launched, not only the template designer but post-editor goodies too.

Try it!

Cast Macabre

2010-04-22T22:11:00.000+01:00

We've rebranded the Lame Goat Podcast to "Cast Macabre" ... bringing fear to your ears. We'll still be reading some of the best new horror short fiction out there, but as Lame Goat Press has decided to veer away from our favourite genre it made sense to forge ahead on our own path.

The first four episodes by the equally excellent Jodi MacArthur, Deborah Walker, and Sean Monaghan, are still available, and I'll be going back to edit them with the new Cast Macabre intro, although the excellent music by Pain Factor will still be there. I've been editing Mark A. Crittenden's narration of my own story, Corvus Curse for the podcast, and I promised Paul D. Brazill long ago that I'd record his Howl story too. I haven't forgotten, Paul!

The podcast still isn't officially launched yet, so now's the time to bombard me with ideas if you have any. There's no definite submission process yet either. I was originally going to read from LGP anthologies, and still will, but no longer exclusively. If you have a horror tale to share then drop me a line. I think I'll be going for reprints almost exclusively once I have the guidelines up: as they say, if a story's good enough for this podcast, you should try selling it first!

Note that Cast Macabre can only become a paying market (which I'd dearly love it to be) if we can generate a big enough following to make a donation model work. I believe that authours should be paid for their work, so please help spread the word and get people to follow the site. I've got a few ideas for give-aways to followers, including pdfs of the stories in an episodic newsletter, so it'll be worth your while.

For now, please enjoy the current content, spread the word, and follow the site over at http://castmacabre.blogspot.com/

Horror is ...

2010-04-19T13:46:00.001+01:00

What is horror fiction? It's much more than teen vampires, werewolves and zombies. It's deeper than that, as old as the fireside ghost story, and nothing to do with genre. It requires no speculative element but must elicit a special kind of reaction in the reader, at least, that's what I'm always aiming for.

Horror is not a genre, like the mystery or science fiction or the western. It is not a kind of fiction, meant to be confined to the ghetto of a special shelf in libraries or bookstores. Horror is an emotion. - Douglas E. Winter

I've two resources for anyone interested in exploring this further. The first is an interview with Howl editor Mark Crittenden over at Pulp Metal Magazine, (scroll down to Howling With Mark Crittenden! By Jason Michel).

I found the second whilst reading the submission guidelines for Pseudopod; an article entitled What Is Horror Fiction? over at the Horror Writers Association website.

Holiday

2010-04-11T21:06:00.002+01:00

I'm away on holiday, and from the internet, until 18th April.

Chasing the Wind At The Bijou

2010-04-09T00:13:00.003+01:00

The first instalment of what is to be a serialized novella of my Chaoswind Chronicle fantasy story "Chasing the Wind" is now playing At The Bijou.

If you like it be sure to keep going back every Thursday for the new instalment, and if you want to see more of the world of Cryl please urge me to start editing (in earnest) the first Chaoswind Chronicle novel, "The Birth of Magic".

The Interblog Choose Your Own Adventure!

2010-04-07T16:58:00.000+01:00

Check out my latest project, the Interblog Choose Your Own Adventure! here or by clicking the page link above.

Remember those old choose your own adventure books where you had to make a choice at the end of a chapter and flip to page so-and-so to see what happens? Well, this concept works much better in hypertext, and I came up with the idea of making it a big collaborative project where people can post their parts of the story on their blogs.

I started a tale called "The Mendigans" and sent it to Jodi MacArthur and Erin Cole, who have, or will soon be posting their parts to link to my two "choices". In fact, I think you can already follow a four-deep thread. It's going to be exciting over the next few weeks to see how many story threads come out of this.

Would you like to participate? Just follow the links and find a dead choice, and email the blog owner to see if it's claimed yet. And please, let me know if you post an installment, and remember to link back to the start, here.

21st Century Writer

2010-04-06T14:10:00.002+01:00

I've renamed this blog's subtitle to "21st Century Writer" because that's what I am, what all writer's are now, and one of my aims is to explore what I think that means and share resources that help you to be a writer in the 21st century.

Being an artist is only half the game these days, you can't just sit and write and hope someone else (i.e. a publisher) will do all the promotional leg-work, editing, business and selling for you. That's what the internet is for, and you'd better learn to use it if you want to get ahead (unless you're very, very lucky). Of course, if you enjoy writing as a hobby and don't want to sell anything or have a wide audience read your work that's fine too.

Jodi MacArthur pointed me towards a great example of this over at Shameless Creations, the blog of Bizarro Author, Kevin Shamel. Why not help him out? He's doing the Right Thing.

http://www.shamelesscreations.com/?p=610

An interview between me and Flashes in the Dark

2010-04-05T21:26:00.003+01:00

I think everyone is bombarded by hundreds of good triggers for stories every day, it’s just that writers are tuned into catching
them

I recently had the pleasure of being interviewed by Lori Titus from Flashes in the Dark.

Read it here, and then come back to let me know what you think!

Calling All Writers! The Friday Fables Competition!

2010-03-30T21:49:00.003+01:00

A while back I called an end to season one of Friday Fables and started talking about Season Two. It's no longer just about the animals, and it's no longer exclusive to Fridays. Season Two will see a rechristening of Friday Fables to "Modern Fables", which they always were anyway.

How would you like your story to be the first Modern Fable?

Calling all writers! Today I'm starting a new competition. Send me your Modern Fable. The winner will have their fable recorded by me and slipped into the iTunes feed as a teaser for Season Two. This is one of those "little extra surprises" I hinted at in Metacast One.

Get Fabling!

I look forward to reading your efforts. Runners up will be posted on the blog.

Submission Guidelines

Submissions to knanshon@hotmail.co.uk, no attachments! Subject: Modern Fable Submission : Title by Authour

No "The Fable of the (insert animal here)"
No Adult Content
No Bad Language
(Think PG12 Rating)
Can be funny, sad, or anything in between
Can be about anything, but must comment on modern life in some way

(Deadline TBD)

Ideas

The Fable of the Faulty Laptop
The Fable of the North Wind
The Fable of the Stranger's Smile

Listen to The Stone Goddess by Sean Monaghan

2010-03-30T02:07:00.003+01:00

Episode four of the Lame Goat Podcast is up.

Episode Four

The Stone Goddess by Sean Monaghan. Such a talented authour and musician, he also composed the eerie background music.

I'm turning into an artist for Lame Goat Press

2010-03-27T21:53:00.001Z

Wonderful job. The first was really good, but this new one is absolute tops - gregmiller

After producing all of the concept work and website design for my Lame Goat Podcast blogger site, I offered to provide new artwork for the original proboards site. I'm happy to say that Mr. Lame Goat himself, Christopher Jacobsmeyer, liked what I produced and has used my new banner and background texture to give his site a facelift

It's good to see the design, new Lame Goat Logo, improved text, and eye/pentagram motifs appearing on both the proboards and the podcast, I think it helps strengthen the Lame Goat brand. I hope you agree.

Really more professional looking. That eye is so creepy looking. - stevenbarrie

Check out the Lame Goat Press discussion thread, along with the new look site here:
Lame Goat art overhaul thread

And, of course, the Lame Goat Podcast blog here:
The Lame Goat Podcast

The Lame Goat Podcast

2010-03-23T01:24:00.006Z

FFS01 - The Fable of the Spider

2010-03-18T23:47:00.008Z

The Fable of the Spider

by Barry J. Northern

Why not listen along to the Fable of the Spider as you read? Just click the play button below or download the MP3

Two orb-spiders burst from their silky cocoon. They beheld a riot of shapes and colours. Earthy browns led up bowed plant-spires to a blue expanse where the great webs sparkled.

One spider turned to his brother and said. "Look at those webs. How fat the spiders who live in those towers are. How good it is for them to live such a life."

His brother replied. "Oh, to build a web like that."

A great shadow passed over the two spiders, blocking out the sky. A feathered monster shrieked upon them, and it was then each learnt there were also horrors in the world. Many of their brothers and sisters were taken, but the brothers survived, though one with only seven legs.

A great shadow passed over the two spiders

After weaving many webs, Eight spoke to Seven. "It is time for us to part, for it is the way of our kind to live alone in our webs. It is time to build your own. Now take my advice. Seek out a dark corner as I have done, away from the monsters in the sky. Also, don't exert yourself, and you won't need to feed so often."

But Seven had only one thought. He said farewell to his brother, and set off for the webs in the sky.

He climbed towards the fat spiders to see their beautiful homes, aching to be among their splendour, the brightest object in his world. Though he struggled without his right-back leg, each time he slid down, he climbed up again. Though he had to hide from feathered monsters, he did not shrink back to the shadows. And so, by evening, he was among the webs in the sky.

He stared about as if in a dream, uncaring of his footing, and trod upon a thick, non-sticky prey-line. The fattest spider of them all belied its slothful aspect and was upon him in an instant, fangs raised. Seven shrank back, and called out to it.

"Sir! Forgive me. I only wished to see your beautiful web!"

The fat spider settled down. "A youngling. It has been so long since I last saw one." It was then Seven saw all the fat spider's eyes save one were cloudy with age, though the one that remained shone with vitality. "You are lucky you trod upon my prey-line, for a youngling like you would make a fine meal for most of my fellows. You admire my web then, youngling?"

"Yes, sir. My brother told me to build my own web. I so wish I could build one as magnificent as this."

"It is good for you to dream, youngling. What else did your brother tell you?"

"Not to exert myself, sir."

"Did he?"

"Yes, sir. And to build a small web in a dark corner on account of my missing leg, sir."

"Ah. Now there we have it you see. Tell me. Do you know of any other creature in our world that has eight legs?"

Seven thought for a moment, and then replied that he did not.

Every web is a gift to Our Lord El'Araned

"Well, youngling, that is because Our Lord El'Araned made only one creature in his own image – us. So you see, even though you have lost one leg, you still have one more than the juicy-ones, three more than the furry beasts in the canopies, and five more than the feathered monsters. So my advice to you is this. Follow your dreams. Build a web as big and as high as you can, for then you will catch many juicy-ones and grow quickly. Also, as you get bigger, always build as big and as high as you can. Never say to yourself 'this web will do', for every web is a gift to Our Lord El'Araned."

The fat spider let Seven spin his first line there, it caught the breeze and soon found purchase. This is how Seven took his first step towards his dreams.

Two summers passed, and Eight crawled from his hole to watch his sons and daughters burst out into the world. He chuckled at their delighted amazement, knowing it would not last, for the world was a cold, hard place.

He looked up into the sky for the first time in years, and beheld the great webs there, turned to his wife, and said. "Look at those fat spiders, showing off their wealth. I wager they laugh to see us down here, crawling about in the mud. Oh to be high-born. Life isn't fair." Then he shouted after his sons and daughters. "Don't climb up there! Quick! Get inside before the feathered monsters come to gobble you up!" Many came back, but one youngling's heart soared when he beheld the webs in the sky.

It took the youngling two full days to climb up, and once there he called out to the fattest spider. "Hey, mister! My dad says you're rich because you are high born, and that life isn't fair. How come your web is so big?"

The fat spider crawled over, and spoke to the youngling. "Look at me well. I achieved all this with only seven legs, how much easier will it be for you? You can stare up at us in jealousy , or you can work hard and build webs in the sky.
The choice is yours."

Friday Fables is now distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales license, which means you can share it, but not sell it, and while you are free to modify it, you must share it on the same license, just as we have with the music kindly provided by magnatune.com.

Artist: David Modica
Album: Timeless

Sneak Preview : The New Lame Goat Podcast

2010-03-13T00:05:00.007Z

Recently I've been working with Christopher Jacobsmeyer and Mark Crittenden to produce a new podcast to showcase works from Lame Goat Press.

There'll be a new website (wordpress I expect, more on that soon) and a proper feed, which I'll get into iTunes.

But for now, here's some direct players for the first three episodes, all from the Howl anthology. Feedback very welcome, especially before we go "live".

LPG - S01E01 - Their Dark Master by Mark Anthony Crittenden

LPG - S01E02 - Berserker by Deborah Walker

LPG - S01E03 - Lacerta by Jodi MacArthur

The Lame Goat Podcast is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales license, which means you can share it, but not sell it, and while you are free to modify it, you must share it on the same license, just as we have with the music kindly provided by magnatune.com.

Would you like to share these episodes? ...

LPG - S01E01:

LPG - S01E02:

LPG - S01E03:

Please consider posting the Creative Commons blurb along with these episodes too.

Howl on Amazon

2010-03-12T23:05:00.008Z

Howl: Dark Tales of the Feral and Infernal

My first print story's on Amazon!

My first print-published story, Corvus Curse, is now available as part of the Howl Anthology from Amazon.com

Corvus Curse is the tale of a young lad whose life is turned upside down when his parents split. Worse, his mother soon starts showing signs of a terrible curse; a curse that may turn out to be inherited.

Read this, and many other great dark tales (more than a few by authours on my blog-roll).

FF Metacast One

2010-03-08T21:40:00.002Z

Friday Fables Metacast One

A brief audio update on what's happening with Friday Fables.

... look out for the Spider and the Peacock coming down your feed

Their Dark Master by Mark Anthony Crittenden

2010-03-06T13:45:00.000Z

I've recorded and produced a recording of Mark Crittenden's story, Their Dark Master, from the forthcoming Howl : Tales of the Feral and Infernal anthology, from Lame Goat Press.

There may be more of this to come. Watch this space . . .

The low-down on authour/publisher rights

2010-03-02T23:18:00.000Z

I received my first contract for a story today. I've listened to a lot of advice about contracts on various podcasts like Dragon Page, I Should Be Writing, and Writing Excuses, and the contract seemed fair, and just what I wanted, but I thought I'd make sure I understood what I was signing.

An authour's copyright is like a bundle of sticks

I found an article on Writer's Write called A Novice Writer's Guide to Rights, by Claire E. White, an attorney with over ten years' experience in major law firms.

It's a useful, short overview of the different rights you may be asked to sign over to a third party in a contract between an authour and a publisher. It's a little old, but I found it to be a good introduction to the basic flavours of rights.

One thing that I'll remember is the useful simile that an authour's copyright (which magically springs into existence once you've finished the story, no need for disclaimers or footnotes) is like a bundle of sticks. Each stick is a different type of right to the work, and you can sell off each one separately to different third parties (although commonly a third party while want a big handful).

Hope that helps. And I hope you all get lots of contracts to ponder over in the year ahead!

Howl Trailer

2010-03-01T08:47:00.011Z

Here's Howl editor Mark Crittenden's great trailer for the upcoming Howl : Tales of the Feral and Infernal anthology from Lame Goat Press, featuring my tale, Corvus Curse.

To share this on you own blog or website copy/paste the code below.

Large:
<param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/d2E_S0oN6cE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param></object>

Medium (same as above):
<param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/d2E_S0oN6cE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param></object>

Small(good for sidebars):
<param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/d2E_S0oN6cE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param></object>

The future of Friday Fables

2010-02-26T22:18:00.015Z

As some of you may have noticed, the Friday Fables podcast has become fortnightly the last two episodes. This is in part because I've needed more time to keep the stories fresh and new, without echoing previous episodes, and in part because of the web dev work I've been involved in recently.

I'm now at a natural break with twenty episodes, and am tempted to do four more in the current run, and then call that Season One. The first two of those twenty need to be re-recorded, as their quality is not good enough, which is why they don't appear in the iTunes feed yet.

So what about Season Two? I'd love to hear what you think. Have you got any suggestions for Friday Fables? I currently write the fables with these rules in mind:

True to life. Animals only exhibit real-world behaviours.
Moral comes from animal's choices, not its inherent nature. E.g. a lion isn't evil when it kills a zebra, so it's not right to base a moral about, say, inflicting pain, on that aspect of its nature.
True to animal's point-of-view. The animal can only know about the things in its own world, and only sees things from its perspective, not ours. E.g. a swallow calls a house a "man nest".
When an animal "speaks" it is communicating in its own way, not in English. Cross-species communication isn't often allowed, although I had the slow-worm talking to the pigeon, under the conceit that they share a common reptilian genetic ancestry, which is why Fletch had never heard an earthworm "speak".
More than just the moral. I try to make the fables richer than a simple set up for a one-liner proverb.

But I can't keep doing the same thing forever, that'd get boring for everyone. Should I try some different rules for Season Two? Do you like it as it is? How about moving away from animals and doing inanimate objects like tables and wigs? Or abstract concepts like trust and anger?

If you like Friday Fables, please feedback in the comments, or post to your blog about it, or email your friends, and help spread the word.

The future of this blog

2010-02-24T21:10:00.001Z

Hello everyone. I've been out of the blogosphere for a couple of weeks developing a website for my wife's new cupcake business. You can see it here. How is this relevant to us blogging writers? The website is actually a heavily customised Blogger account.

I've edited the account's CSS template to remove the navbar at the top, change the favicon from the default Blogger logo, and used Blogger's new Pages feature to add pages (you can have up to ten). Best of all, it's all totally free. Even the art package I used is free, it is called Gimp (and is almost as good as Photoshop).

The only outlay was for the domain name, which I purchased for 2 years from GoDaddy.com for only $12. And thus, a Blogger account can look like a regular website. As a hosting solution, its content management system is easy to use and familiar.

I'll talk more about this in future posts, and once the Mummy Cupcakes website is finished I'll be customising this blog to separate out things like writing advice, writing updates (rejections, acceptances and so on), technical help, and podcasts/podcasting.

My writing schedule has obviously been squeezed by this. I have story ideas leaking out of my ears and making a mess on my shirt. I'd like to get back to a situation where I'm writing at least one short story a week or around 7-8k words of a novel.

Listen to this recent Dragon Page episode to hear Nina Munteanu likening the story submission process to a bus terminal. Her advices chimes with Algis Budrys' : send it out, and when it's rejected send it straight back out to the next market. Nina takes this further by saying that you will begin to build a rapport with different publishers and start to understand what each market prefers.

The Fable of the Slow-worm

2010-02-19T00:17:00.001Z

The Fable of the Slow-worm

by Barry J. Northern

Why not listen along to the Fable of the Slow-worm as you read? Just click the play button below or download the MP3

A slow-worm had searched in vain all night for slugs, but come morning he was forced to settle under rocky shadows by the threat of the rising sun.

As the morning waxed and warmed the rocks above his head, he felt less cold, but the sun's comfort could not sooth his stomach's hollow ache.

Then he saw a slug. A long, old slug with a ridged back and orange side-stripes. The best kind. It was moving slowly, no doubt caught out by the day's sudden heat. Did he dare risk it? His belly answered yes.

After feasting, the slow-worm felt fat and happy. Not since the days of his youth had he been out in the light like this. He'd forgotten the beautiful blue of the starless sky. He'd also forgotten to be wary of the flying shriekers. A sudden downthrust of air was his only warning before a shadow descended upon him, followed by a taloned foot.

He looked up at twin towers of red wrinkled skin and beheld the curve of a grey-feathered belly. He called out. “Hey there! You're a pigeon!”

"Yeah, so what if I am, hey, hang on a minute, since when could worms talk?"

"Sir, I am not a worm. I eat worms like you do."

"You look like a worm to me."

"Pigeons don't eat my kind."

The pigeon brought his beady eye to face his prey. “Well, I'm one very hungry pigeon, mate. I reckon you might be worth a try.” The bird's weight had shifted forward and compressed the slow-worm's neck, squeezing out all protest. “You see, my dear old Pa, he said to me, 'Fletch me boy, you gotta learn to take what you can get'.” Fletch straightened up, puffing out his chest.

The weight shifted off Fletch's toes, relieving the poor slow-worm somewhat. He took a desperate gasp. "Urgh."”There ahead: a hole in the grass, a good burrowing hole. Safety was but a few inches away. "Urgh."”

What was that?” Fletch bent down to quiz the slow-worm again, but his shifting weight once again precluded a reply. “Sorry, mate, I thought you said something. As I was saying. When I was a young squab, it took me a while to learn that there were pickings to be had around these parts. Oh the things I could tell you about the tasty morsels I've had since I found these little parks among the boxy cliffs. I ain't seen a worm quite like you before though, son. I reckon you might be worth a nibble. Question is, how fast will you slither away if I let you go?

Now Fletch made the mistake of moving his foot down to the slow-worm's tail in order that he might peck at him without fully letting go. The slow-worm felt a twinge at his tail's base. It was that muscle; the muscle his mother had always told him to ignore. It clenched and he felt a back-bone shatter. Sharp pain become numb fear as his grey-scaled skin sphinctered blood's flow to a trickle from a wound where his beautiful tail had been. Instinct drove him down into the hole, where he hid until long after Fletch's protests had died on the wind.

The tail grew back, of course, although it was never quite as fine as it once had been. While it rained, slugs were easily found, but a dry spell soon begat a hungry night, and once again the hollow-bellied slow-worm spied a daytime meal crawling across the lawn. But he did not venture out to fetch it. Nor did he venture out upon seeing another following its slimy wake an hour later.

Once bitten, twice shy.

The Fable of the Slow-worm by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive
Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Guitarscapes, and provided by magnatune.com

The New Flesh : Write Us Now!

2010-02-15T15:30:00.000Z

Go read my new tale over at The New Flesh, Write Us Now!"

A cautionary tale about what can happen if you ignore your writerly impulses.

Many thanks to New Flesh co-editor, Suzie Bradshaw, for accepting my first tale to this brilliant flash fiction site.

The Fable of the Tarsier

2010-02-05T22:24:00.001Z

The Fable of the Tarsier

by Barry J. Northern

Why not listen along to the Fable of the Tarsier as you read? Just click the play button below or download the MP3.

A tarsier sat upon his branch, chewing on a large cricket he had just caught. A warm jungle breeze rustled the leaves about him, and above, stars twinkled through the forest canopy.

He heard approaching footsteps on the branch and swivelled his head, fixing his large eyes upon a brother hurrying towards him. The younger tarsier waved his arms and chirruped. So hurried was Chirrup that Cricket-Catcher did not at first understand his words.

“... coming … quick … coming … this big.”

Cricket-Catcher smiled around a mouthful of food as he watched Chirrup extend his little arms as wide as his slight frame would allow.

“Big, eh?”

Chirrup jumped up and down and nodded. “Yes, yes. Big it is. Quick.”

“Quick too?”

“No, no quick, we must go.”

“Where? I've just caught this cricket. I'm not moving.”

This sent Chirrup into another frenzy of arm-waving and high-pitching singing. “... coming … big … snake.”

This caught Cricket-Catcher's attention. “A snake? A big snake is coming?”

Chirrup sighed and deflated. “Yes.”

“Relax. Snakes are slow.”

Cricket-Catcher spotted a Striped Tree Frog sneaking up the tree's wide bole below him. Finishing off his cricket, his mind already on his next meal, he spoke idly to Chirrup whilst eyeing the frog. “You know, those are clever little things. Tasty though. Worth catching. Can't leap as well as us. I saw one in the morning once, just before going to bed.”

“Go! We go now!”

“Yeah, yeah. Just a minute. It was pale coloured. You never see them pale like that at night. It's like they change colour to fool us. Argh! A snake!”

Cricket-Catcher had never before seen a snake as large as the one that loomed up from the shadows beyond the small frog.

“I told you!” cried Chirrup as the pair leapt upwards into the canopy where the branches were thin and the snake could not follow.

“I know. But did you see the size of that thing?”

A picture is worth a thousand words.

The Fable of the Tarsier by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive.
Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Guitarscapes, and provided by magnatune.com

Audio Book Review on Dragon Page : Eoin Colfer's "And Another Thing . . ."

2010-02-02T09:50:00.001Z

The most recent episode of the great show, Dragon Page Cover to Cover, features my audio book review of Eoin Colfer's continuation of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series.

They also do a large library segment this episode -- short previews of loads of new speculative fiction books coming out this year.

If you like reading, writing, tech surround that or all of the above, do yourself a favour and subscribe to the podcast.

http://www.dragonpage.com/2010/01/29/cover-to-cover-393b/

The Fable of the Pigeon

2010-01-29T00:01:00.001Z

The Fable of the Pigeon

by Barry J. Northern

A young pigeon, not long out of the nest, squabbled among his fellows around the legs of one of the wingless giants who sat upon the strange wooden bush at this time every day.

His father stayed close to him. “Look Fletch, this here giant is dropping bits of giant food already, good as grain that stuff. Oh, he'll fling us his scraps at the end, but you wanna watch out for anything you can get.” His father laughed at the older pigeons at the front of the crowd, fighting for scraps. “Look at em go. That's the way!”

“But, Dad?”

“Yes, my son?”

“Can't I just have grain mash? You've still got crop milk. I like it with a bit of crop milk.”

“Look son, I told you already, you're off the milk now. It'll dry up soon anyhow.”

“What about Mum?”

“She's got your brother to worry about. Look, you're not a squab any more.” His beady red eye darted ahead of a sharp-turned neck. “Look out! He's dropping scraps! Go on, get in there my son.”

Fletch, wanting to impress his father, pushed his way in. Everyone said Fletch was big for his age, and he was pleased that he had weight enough to force through the crowd of adults and defend his own patch. There were grains among the fluffy giant-food. He picked at them, they were delicious but few. He tried one of the giant's fluffy grains. “Ergh!” He spat it out. In his moment of disgust he lost his place and was forced to the back of the crowd.

“What happened, boy?”

“Those fluffy grains are horrible, Dad. There were hardly any proper grains, you know, like the ones you and Mum give me.”

“Son, if you live long enough to have squabs of your own, you'll wanna rear em on the best pickings. But you gotta learn to take what you can get now, lad. You're on your own.” And with that he flew into the mêlée and pecked at the floor with gusto.

Fletch flew around the green square of woodland for a while, not daring to venture into the giant's cliffs that surrounded it. He searched for good grain, but found little, and after several days he was so hungry that the next time the giant sat upon his wooden bush, Fletch was the first at his feet.

“Beggars can't be choosers.”

The Fable of the Pigeon by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.
Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Guitarscapes, track 5 Reality Check, and provided by magnatune.com

The Circle of Friends Award

2010-01-27T23:36:00.000Z

Allow me to propagate a recent viral blog phenomenon. I've recently been awarded this honour by fellow blogger-writers, Erin Cole from Listen to the Voices, and Linda Wastila from LeftBrainWrite.

I'd add those, but I'd like to add five new ones

Bukowski's Basement - for whisky, audio prose poems, and class.
Sophie Playle - for updating us on how the other half (editors) live.
CRIME FICTION - published authour, Leigh Russel, for showing us what can happen if you keep on believing.
Fiction Writer ~ Jodi MacArthur - for being a writing buddy of the first order.
The Bathroom Monologues - for a steady stream of funny and original.

Check out my blog roll for more.

Short Story Acceptance : Howl Anthology

2010-01-25T21:30:00.003Z

Hooowwll!

My short horror story, Corvus Curse, has just been accepted into Mark Crittenden's Howl : Tales of the Feral and Infernal anthology, from Lame Goat Press.

I'll let you know the release date as soon as it's announced. I'm so excited, and looking forward to holding that book in my hands, and seeing my words in print.

Good luck to all those who are submitting or writing their stories now, and well done to anyone reading this who has also been accepted.

The Fable of the Elephant

2010-01-22T23:01:00.002Z

The Fable of the Elephant

by Barry J. Northern

A young elephant trailed behind the herd, trying not to be noticed. She wanted to play with the young ones, as she always had done, but Mother had told her that this year she was old enough to help with mothering duties.

The first of the new calves had been born the previous night. It had been a wonderful time, all the women of the herd celebrated, but Kijana now feared she would soon be set to some task or other.

The fear of impending duty grew within her until she could no longer bear it.

"Mother!" she called out. "I'm just off to the water-hole. I won't be long."

Mother turned around, her trunk swaying, ears flapping. "All right, dear."

Kijana had expected an argument. It seemed there were some advantages to being a little older, she thought, and stomped off to the water-hole alone. She was still young enough to feel nervous about leaving the herd behind, but felt emboldened when a pair of impala skittered away from her shadow.

Now it was Kijana's plan to escape the herd to avoid mothering duties, so she had decided to take the longest route to the furthest water-hole. She would make some excuse about needing a wash, for the water at the local hole was hardly deep enough for that. She chuckled at her own cleverness.

At the water-hole, however, she found she really was in need of a bath, for the it was further away than she had realised, and the day was hot.

After she had spent a long time washing, which was not one of her favourite duties, the sun had already begun to set, and she could barely see her herd's distant dust-cloud. She knew it was time to return, though she would gladly have rested longer.

On the way back she saw a she-lion stalking a herd of zebra. The herd was large, and Kijana feared that the she-lion might decide that a young, lone elephant was easier prey, so Kijana gave the lion, and the herd, a wide berth.

The journey back took over half as long again as the journey out, so that when she eventually returned to the herd she was quite out of breath and ready to sleep.

"And where have you been all afternoon, young lady?" said Mother, "I wanted you to help with Abla's calf. She needs time to forage you know, she's eating for two now. I explained this to you yesterday, Kijana. That calf of hers is a thirsty one."

"I know, Mum," said Kijana. "I just wanted to have a bath."

Mother's great grey brow wrinkled. "Well, it's too late to help with anything now. You can help tomorrow."

Kijana knew the same trick would not work again, and sighed. "What exactly will I be doing, Mum?"

"Don't look so distressed, Kijana," said Mother. "I only want you to play with the pup while Abla's off foraging."

She who avoids labour works twice as hard.

Elephants are highly social creatures, though it is females who stay together in herds, while the mature bull elephants are mostly solitary. Like human children, elephant calves require constant care for many years as they grow and develop. Unlike most animals, but again like humans and primates, elephant calves are born with few natural instincts, and so need to be taught about the world around them. The whole herd -- often closely related; mothers, daughters, sisters, and aunts -- is responsible for looking after the young calves. Such non-maternal care is known as allomothering, during which young females will also learn parenting skills before becoming mothers themselves.

http://www.psychology.stir.ac.uk/staff/plee/documents/AllomotheringAnimBehav.pdf

The Fable of the Elephant by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here. Music by Daniel Berkman from the album, Calabashmoon, track 4 Two Rings, and provided by magnatune.com

Charity and social networking on writer's blogs

2010-01-20T22:23:00.001Z

Fellow blogger, Linda, over at Leftbrainwrite has come up with an interesting idea to help the people of Haiti whilst also generating traffic to her site. I want to say that I applaud both of these things, and see this being in no way cynical. Her generosity and desire to help others is genuine. She has pledged to donate $1 for every comment her post receives until midnight EST this Friday. At the time of writing she has 24 comments.

http://linda-leftbrainwrite.blogspot.com/2010/01/helping-haiti-cash-for-your-comments.html

She has also pledged to double that dollar if the commenter also links to her post. So I guess that's now $26 and counting.

This is just another example of what I talked about on episode 392a of Dragon Page Cover to Cover.

Well done, Linda.

Howl : Dark Tales of the Feral and Infernal, Cover Art

2010-01-19T21:10:00.008Z

Submissions are still open for Mark Crittenden's new horror anthology.

With cover art of this quality you can be sure he'll only be looking for the best.

I'm doing my best, hoping, and submitting, are you? Click here.

Walking with Dragons

2010-01-19T07:54:00.001Z

Today my ghost story, A Long Walk, is appearing over at Flashes in the Dark:

http://flashesinthedark.com/2010/01/19/a-long-walk-by-barry-j-northern/

You can also hear me on the latest episode of Dragon Page Cover to Cover

http://www.dragonpage.com/2010/01/18/cover-to-cover-392a/

talking about how Social Networking opportunities can help new writers. Listen to the ensuing discussion between podcasting hero Michael Mennenga and New York Times Bestselling Authour, Michael Stackpole.

The Fable of the Swallow

2010-01-15T23:15:00.001Z

The Fable of the Swallow

by Barry J. Northern

A large roost of swallows settled about a tree, whose thinning branches fractured the sunset. One swallow among them stood on a high branch before her brood and proclaimed the end of Summer.

"My children. It is time for us to journey towards the Sun, to our wintering grounds."

The children became excited, especially one young lad from the first brood who had been dreaming of the wintering grounds ever since an old swallow told him of the burnt fields, teaming with fat flies. More than the promise of a great feast under a strong sun, however, Firstborn desired to make nest and find a wife.

He saw a younger brother on a lower branch, and hopped down to say farewell.

"I'm going now, brother, for I cannot wait. Will you fly with me?"

Secondborn laughed. "No-one may fly as fast as you, brother. But what is the hurry? Will you not roost here tonight and wait for the flock to leave?"

"No, I want to be there as soon as possible. I'll make the finest nest you ever saw!" And with a flicker of feathers Firstborn was gone.

Secondborn rose with the flock the next morning. He enjoyed the leisurely pace and the nightly roosts. Though he caught his food on the wing and kissed his wavering reflection as he passed over lakes to slake his thirst, he still took the time to look about him at the changing landscape. He had never imagined the world so large, nor so varied. The trees and mountains, sprawling man-nests and glittering seas, all of it swelled his heart through his glistening eyes.

Another young bird took to flying with Secondborn, for she too admired the lands over which they travelled. They began to sit together when roosting more and more, and the old ones smiled and sang.

Meanwhile, Firstborn flew with relentless speed towards the wintering grounds. He fancied he could see lines in the sky drawing him forwards, and he never doubted his path. He had passed other flocks, and roosted with them on occasion, but so eager was he to reach his destination, he always set off before the rest of the roost were roused by the rising sun.

If it were a choice between taking a diversion for more plentiful fields and clearer waters, or a less desirable but shorter path, Firstborn always chose the latter. He reached the wintering grounds days before the rest of his brood. He stopped and looked around him for the first time since beginning his long flight. He felt drained of purpose. The fields were lonely, not at all as he had imagined, and though the food was plentiful, he almost felt too weak to feed.

But feed he did, and his strength soon returned, though he had not the energy nor the inclination to build a nest for several days. He had still not begun to built when Secondborn arrived with the flock. The younger brother had already married his sweetheart on the journey, and as the happy pair settled down to make nest, they congratulated Firstborn on his speed, and spoke of all the wonderful sights they had seen on the way, but Firstborn just smiled, for he had seen nothing of which they spoke.

"Success is a journey not a destination."

The Fable of the Swallow by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.
Music by David Modica from the album, Stillness and Movement, track 2 Fresh Breath, and provided by magnatune.com

Nomination for the #fridayflash Reader's Choice Award 2009

2010-01-12T20:19:00.000Z

I am happy to be able to tell you that one of my Friday Fables, The Fable of the Great Horned Owl, has been nominated in J.M.Strother's #fridayflash Reader's Choice Award 2009.

If you liked that story, then please vote here (on the right-hand sidebar).

I'm down at the bottom of the polls at the moment with only two votes, but up against some stiff competition from the likes of fellow bloggers, John Wiswell, and Linda Simoni-Wastila, both of whose stories I loved.

Nano novel update, 20 days to go

2010-01-11T21:16:00.000Z

Today I passed the 60,000 word mark. I'm hoping I'll see an increase in my daily word rate as I get back into it. I've taken the novel in new directions for fear of becoming stale and boring. The ending is starting to take shape in my mind, and it's not as happy as I once imagined, but I can't wait to get there.

60326 / 85000

Nano-novel update. 8 days down, 23 to go.

2010-01-08T21:47:00.001Z

Today I reached the 57,000 word mark. I'll keep to posting the daily word count and totals after today. My minimum daily target is currently 1,217 to reach 85k. It may be longer, it may not be finished by 31st, but whatever happens, I'm going to keep writing it until the first draft is done.

Here's a new word count progress widget.

57000 / 85000

The Fable of the Rhino and the Oxpecker

2010-01-08T00:01:00.095Z

The Fable of the Rhino and the Oxpecker

by Barry J. Northern

One morning, a black rhino looked up from the thorny bush he was stripping with his hooked lips, for he heard the distant rumble of hoofbeats.

He squinted against the savannah sun and could see only a cloud of dust with a vaguely darker kernel, for his eyesite was poor.

He set his feet to the ground and charged off to meet this new threat, for the bush was good, and the females were nearby.

An oxpecker, who had been working at a tick near Rhino's ear, flew up above his head. "Charge, my tick-infested friend, charge well. Don't worry about your wounds, for I will keep them clean for you."

Rhino called back. "Thank you little friend. I will be back as soon as I have dealt with my enemy."

Rhino charged, and soon shortened the distance between himself and the approaching blur. The hoofbeats grew louder, until soon they were as loud as his own, and the distance closed so that even Rhino could clearly see his enemy -- another male, like himself.

He called out to him. "Begone, my enemy. There is no room for you here." Then horns collided, and huge pointed heads glanced across each other forcing the pair eye-to-eye for an instant. Then the energy of their momentum was spent, and then their heavy bodies pounded the hard dirt beneath them in a slow cycle of stand-off and head-butting.

The pair fought for several minutes, but Rhino was the largest, and so, before long, his rival backed away. "You are the better beast. Perhaps one day I will match your skill." Then Rhino's enemy turned and fled.

Rhino chuckled, but it was only as he ambled back to his bush that he began to feel his injuries.

When Rhino returned, Oxpecker was waiting, perched on the thorny bush. "Are you hurt my friend?" he said, and if Rhino's ears hadn't been ringing, he might have heard the hint of hopefulness in Oxpecker's voice.

"A little. Nothing really, just a few scratches along my neck."

"Oh dear, oh dear," said the bird, fussing over him. "You feast on your bush while I fe-- er, clean your wounds."

Rhino bent his head down. "Thank you my friend."

As he ate, Rhino insensibly ignored the sharp pains caused by the duplicitous bird's eager 'ministrations' as the Redbilled Oxpecker set about earning his name.

"A good enemy is a better person than a false friend."

It is commonly held that the symbiotic relationship between the Redbilled Oxpecker and the large mammals of the African plains, such as the Black Rhino, Impala, and Wildebeest, is mutualistic, that is beneficial to both parties. Recent research has shown that the tickbird's behaviour might not reduce the tickload of such animals, and even that it only feeds on engorged ticks to get the food it really wants -- the animal's blood. This is corroborated by observations of the birds drinking and eating from small wounds on the animals, and evidence of them keeping wounds from healing and enlarging them. Such evidence suggests the relationship actuallymay be parasitic, or that perhaps the relationship itself changes to suit environmental factors.

Red-billed Oxpeckers : Vampires or Tickbirds? http://beheco.oxfordjournals.org/cgi/reprint/11/2/154

The Fable of the Rhino and the Oxpecker by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.
Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Guitarscapes, track 5 "Reality Check", and track 11 "Waterfall", and provided by magnatune.com

The Nano Novel Continues

2010-01-06T22:26:00.001Z

I've finished the first draft of a short story for an anthology I'll be submitting next month. The deadline is in March, and I want to leave it for a while before I go back and edit it in February.

I have also managed to add 5,000 words to the 50k Nano novel I started in November. I'm back into the swing of it now and have decided to aim to finish it by the end of the month. Ideally I'd like to reach 85k by then, which means hitting a daily word count of 1,200 words. I may go over that, but it's easily achievable, and less pressure than my personal Nano daily target of 2,000.

I'm telling you this to help me hit the target. It worked well for Nano. The fear of public shame should I fail will spur me on . . .

The Fable of the Rock Ptarmigan

2010-01-01T23:15:00.000Z

The Fable of the Rock Ptarmigan

by Barry J. Northern

High upon a rocky outcrop, a Rock Ptarmigan shed its last white feather and so his thoughts turned to finding a lady. Now Rock Ptarmigan men are proud of their fine feathered feet, and their thick plumage, which changes colour with the seasons, but most of all each is proud of his comb, for it is with the quality of his comb that he attracts a lady.

Rock worked his way down the outcrop towards his favourite spring, thankful that winter's touch no longer hardened the puddle from which he drank. As he bent down he regarded his comb's reflection. He thought it too small to impress or intimidate, and sighed, for he derived his greatest pleasure from the praise of others, and without it he knew he would strive for nothing beyond foraging for buds and catkins, and drinking from his favourite spring.

As Rock worked his way farther down the outcrop, he met a young man parading in front of a lady. Both were younger than he, and Rock was gratified when the man, taking one look at his comb, immediately stood aside and bowed.

“My Lord, I will continue to court this young lady's affections only by your leave.”

Rock smiled, and so flattered was he by the earnest young man's concession that he too bowed and said, “I grant you my leave, young sir.” His pride was further bolstered by the favouring look the young lady gave his comb as he passed by, and he also fancied he saw a flicker of disappointment pass across her delicate features.

Farther on down the slope, Rock spotted a less refined young man leaping around in front of a group of three women, crying, “Look at my comb, is it not the finest comb you ever saw? My ladies, which of you will be lucky enough to be mine I wonder?”

Rock smiled at the ladies' barely concealed laughter. “At least I am not as vain as that immodest youth,” he thought,and fluffed his feathers. Then he laughed at himself, for he was wise enough to realise that the very thought made him, in fact, vain of his own superior modesty.

He continued on down the mountainside, confident of finding good fighting and fine ladies to be won, and noted with amusement how his spirits had risen as he'd descended the slope. Indeed, it was a good time of year to be a fine Scottish Rock Ptarmigan.

The Fable of the Rock Ptarmigan by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.
Music by Tanya Tomkins and Eric Zivian from the album, Beethoven Piano and Cello Works, track 17 Sonata in D Major op. 102 no. 2 Allegro fugato, and provided by magnatune.com

The Fable of the Honey Bee

2009-12-25T00:01:00.013Z

The Fable of the Honey Bee

by Barry J. Northern

A honey bee worker emerged from her brood cell and immediately set about cleaning, for her new baby sister would need the nursery soon.

The Queen Bee inspected her work. "One has not cleaned it well enough. One must try harder."

Princess was mortified, for she only desired to be worthy in her mother's eyes. From then on she vowed to work harder than any other worker bee in the hive.

Princess and her sisters were eager to see the outside world and smell the flowers, for the source of nectar and pollen must be wonderous indeed, but it is the way of honey bee workers to attend to many tasks before they are old enough to go out and forage.

Firstly, Princess nursed her new larval sister, feeding it her own jelly. She enjoyed watching her sister grow, knowing that her elder sister had done the same for her. Before long it was time to ween the new princess onto honey and pollen, and the flow of jelly turned to one of wax.

After that, Princess left the brood cell and worked hard to impress her mother. She and the others used Princess' wax to build the combs and seal new honey within its cells.

Some of her sisters became attendants to the Queen. Princess was disappointed to not have been chosen, but she worked hard, and contented herself with dreams of flowers.

One day, an old forager came home with a substance from the flowers that Princess had never seen before. She took it in her hands.

"It is sticky."

"Yes," said the old worker, "we need you to spread it around the hive entrance. It helps keep the hive clean."

"Right away!"

Princess rushed to the entrance, eager for her first glimpse at the outside world, marvelling at what other amazing things the flowers might provide. When she got to the entrance, her sisters were busy plastering the sticky stuff around, and such was the intensity of their activity, she felt compelled to join them in earnest and did not stop to glance at the bright outside.

As Princess worked she became hot, and she noticed the others around her becoming sluggish. A large entrance guard bee came up to her.

"The propolis is helping, but we need more water to cool the hive. Go out and fetch some from the leaves outside the entrance."

Princess swallowed. "But I've never been outside before."

The guard laughed. "There is nothing to it. Just remember to stay away from any stranger bees, for if you pick up their smell my brothers might not let you back in."

As Princess walked towards the entrance, she became concerned about the effects of the heat. The mortuary bees could barely lift the dead away from the hive. The feeders struggled to carry honey to the drones in their crops. Worst of all, the fanning bees' wings were flapping too slowly to cool the hive.

By the time Princess reached the entrance, her only thought was to collect water, and so on her first foray out into the world, she did not stop to look at the glorious sun in the blue sky, nor at the wide green leaves around the hive, nor the stretches of blue flowers carpeting the floor beneath her.

Thence forth, whenever Princess left the hive, first for more water, and as she grew older and flew further, for more pollen and nectar, her thoughts were always bent on the list of tasks she had yet to do. She never once stopped to enjoy the fruit her hard work had wrought.

One day, she flew further than ever before, and she began to struggle against the weight of her old body, and feel a creaking in her wings. She landed on a large rose and set about collecting nectar as she had always done. She had heard tell of the beautiful rose, but even so, as soon as her crop was full, she headed straight back.

The entrance guard bees waved her through, and when she landed a young princess came and took the nectar and pollen from her. When the worker had emptied Princess' crop she felt no lighter. She tried to move, but she found she could not.

A mortuary bee glanced her way a couple of times, and when Princess lay down, she came over.

"It is almost your time."

"No."

"You have served the hive well. We honour you. You will rest among the flowers."

"I wish to see them."

Either her voice had grown weak, or the mortuary bee ignored Princess, for she did not answer her, and walked away to find help.

As Princess lay there, she spotted a young worker hurrying out towards the entrance, and remembered the days of her youth. The hive was cold today.

Princess smiled when she saw the young worker pause for a moment on the lip of the hive. Even the sun was cold.

The young worker was still there, looking up at the sky with wonder in her eyes. The light was fading.

The young worker flew out. Princess hoped she would stop to smell the rose.

The Fable of the Honey Bee by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.
Music by Eileen Hadidian and Natalie Cox from the album, Dolce Musica, tracks 17 (Star of County Down) and 12 (Lord Gallway's Lamentation), and provided by magnatune.com

Friday Fables promo on I Should Be Writing

2009-12-23T14:34:00.000Z

What a pleasure it was to hear my promo for Friday Fables on one of my all-time favourite podcasts this week -- I Should Be Writing:

http://isbw.murlafferty.com/2009/12/17/isbw-137-stop-thinkinggail-carriger-interview/

Thanks, Mur!

The Fable of the Kangaroo

2009-12-18T00:01:00.000Z

The Fable of the Kangaroo

by Barry J. Northern

A young Joey peered out of his mother's pouch for the first time. His eyes were wide with wonder as he gazed out into the world, for it was far larger than he had ever imagined nestled in the warmth and safety of the pouch.

Out on the plains, some fascinating creatures were jumping around. "What are those, Mummy?"

Flyer looked down at her Joey. "Oh, my son, you are out of the pouch. I think you are too small to come out yet. Why don't you go back inside?"

"All right, Mummy," said Joey, and settled back down into the warm pouch.

The next day, Joey woke up remembering dreams of the open plains and the jumping creatures, and so he poked his head out again. The creatures were real -- he had not imagined them. "What are those, Mummy?"

Flyer looked down. "Oh, my son, you are out again."

One of those jumping creatures had a small head in its belly. Joey laughed. "They are creatures just like us aren't they?"

"Yes dear."

One of the other Joeys jumped out of its mother's pouch and sprang about around her in delighted circles.

Joey laughed again. "Look, Mummy, the other children are playing. Can I come out too?"

"Oh, my son, those children are bigger than you. You are so small. I think you should go back inside."

"But why?"

"It's not safe, my son."

"Why?"

"The world is not a safe place."

"Why?"

"You are too young to understand my son, please go back inside. You can come out when you're older."

Joey watched the other children playing around on the plains. It looked like fun, and he couldn't see anything unsafe, but he was a good boy, so he went back inside.

The next day Joey woke up remembering dreams of playing with the other children, but he also remembered what his mother had said, so he stayed inside. After a while, though, he heard the sounds of children playing. He peered out. There they were, having fun, jumping around. He watched them for a while. "Mummy?"

"Yes, my son?"

"The other children don't look bigger to me."

"I think you are still too small to go outside, dear."

"But I--"

"No arguments. You can go out when you're older. It's not
safe."

Many weeks passed, but still Flyer did not let Joey play with the other children, and she did have a reason. Once, many years ago, she had heard about a pack of dingoes that had snatched a child away. She had never seen a dingo, but she knew they were fearsome creatures, for everyone said so, and she had vowed that she would always protect her children from such foul creatures.

One day, Joey looked out and saw the children playing, and without asking his mother, he leapt out and landed on the ground at her feet. Flyer gasped, but then she saw how big her son had grown, and she felt it in the sudden absence of his weight. "Oh, my son, you are quite big now. I think you are old enough to go out. Remember this though. If you see any strange creatures, just jump back to me as fast as you can. All right?"

Joey looked up at his mother and smiled. "All right, Mummy." He looked towards the other children, but stayed where he was.

"Go on then, my son, off you go."

"But, Mummy. Is it safe?"

"Yes, my son, it is safe. You are big enough to jump now."

"But, Mummy?"

"Yes?"

"I've never jumped before."

Mother was worried, had she kept him inside for too long? She knew in her heart that it was past time for her son to leave the pouch. "Go on, my son. Off you go and play. I won't be far away."

Joey took one tentative leap forward and stumbled. He looked back at his mother. "Mummy?"

"Go on."

Joey jumped forwards, slowly at first, but with increasing confidence as he neared the other children. When he got there, Flyer was upset to see the other children shy away from him, for they did not know who he was. She also saw that her son could not jump as well as the others, for they had been jumping for weeks and their legs were stronger.

She watched as Joey's jumps became lower and shorter, and before long he stopped playing altogether and limped back to her. The other children pointed and laughed as he climbed back into her pouch and hid.

Years later, Joey grew into a strong, young Boomer and had children of his own. He knew about dingoes, but never kept his children from enjoying the open plains, for he wanted them to grow strong and learn about the world.

Only once did he ever see a dingo -- a thin and scrawny thing -- lurking around a far off rock, looking at the court with hunger in its eyes. His children recognised the creature, for he had told them about it, and they jumped back to the court on their strong hind legs, as he had told them to do. He knew then that they were far safer and happier than he had ever been as a child. And he also knew that sometimes the only thing to fear is fear itself.

The Fable of the Kangaroo by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-NoDerivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.
Music by Jay Atwood

Male kangaroos are called bucks, boomers, jacks, or old men; females are does, flyers, or jills, and the young ones are joeys.^[11] The collective noun for kangaroos is a mob, troop, or court. Kangaroos are often colloquially referred to as roos.

Writing Update

2009-12-17T22:34:00.001Z

I've decided to go back to writing a few short stories and getting my short submissions process going again after working exclusively on my Nano novel (and Friday Fables, which is always on-going). I'll come back to the novel afterwards, hopefully with some more ideas.

I've been ruminating on a short story for the howl anthology all week. The story has developed and improved in my mind the more I think on it. I've heard this called "composting" before, but I call it rumination. Rumination is good, I'm going to do more of it. It's an essential part of the creative process, but it can so easily turn into procrastination. I'll be writing the first draft soon. No matter how much I compose the story (dough) in my head, I know that first draft will still need many edits (kneads), breaks (time to allow it to rise) before it's ready to send out (be baked and sold).

The Fable of the Magpie

2009-12-11T00:01:00.021Z

The Fable of the Magpie

by Barry J. Northern

There was once a magpie who built a nest for himself and his wife. It was a good nest, and they were happy. In their first two Springs they raised healthy clutches, and were proud each time their children left the nest. Yet Husband was not content.

"Will each year be the same as this?" he asked his wife.

"Are you not happy then, Husband?"

But he only said, "I am, my love," for he did not wish to upset his wife.

Later that day, Husband flew abroad searching for something with which to adorn his nest, for it was dull to his eyes, and he wished to improve it. He chanced upon a shiny object, and though he knew not what it was, he admired it, and so flew down to retrieve it in his beak.

Back at the nest, his wife looked up at Husband's return. "What have you there, Husband?"

He saw his own love for the shiny object reflected in her eyes. "Something to adorn our nest, my love," he said, and worked the object into the walls of their nest. He stood back to admire it, and said. "Now we can truly say our lot is improved."

Husband and Wife were pleased with their new decoration, but as time passed they grew accustomed to its beauty until they no longer noticed it.

One day, Husband flitted to the edge of the nest, and said to Wife. "I will fly abroad once more and look for something else with which to adorn our nest."

Husband soon came back with another shiny object, and for a time it made them both happy. Before long, however, they grew used to it as before, and so Husband once again flew abroad to find something else.

This continued until the next Spring, when the urge to make ready their nest for the new clutch came upon Wife. She looked around the nest, and said. "My love, our nest is beautiful, but there is no room for our clutch this year."

"Worry not, my wife. What we need is a bigger nest. I will build us one on the other side of the tree." And so Husband spent many days building a new nest, and both he and Wife spent many more days taking their possessions from one to the other, but eventually, after much toil and argument, the new nest was ready.

Wife alighted upon the edge of their new home and smiled. "Oh, Husband, it is wonderful." And for a time they were both happy raising their new clutch.

It was not long, however, before they grew used to their new home, and so Husband flew abroad again for things with which to adorn it.

By the following Spring, the house seemed too small again, and as dull as their first nest had been. As the years went by, no matter how big they built their nests, nor how many shiny objects they adorned it with, the pair were not happy for more than a few days at a time, for they were never content with what they had.

The Fable of the Magpie by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.
Music by Eileen Hadidian and Natalie Cox from the album, Dolce Musica - A Contemplative Journey, track 5 "O Pastor Animarum (Arr by Eileen Hadidian)", and provided by magnatune.com

Magpies may be more like us than we once imagined: http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/09/27/1096137168806.html

The Fable of the Weaver Ant

2009-12-04T00:01:00.001Z

The Fable of the Weaver Ant

by Barry J. Northern

A family of weaver ants chanced upon a fresh young mango tree one day and decided to make it their new home.

It was not long before one of the family found a good leaf to begin the work of building a nest. He sought out the edge with his feelers and began to pull. His brothers and sisters saw him at his work and joined in beside him, adding their strength to the effort of bending the leaf, which was many times bigger than they were. They spoke to each other as they worked.

"We must pull this edge up to the leaf above us."

"I will lead a group to that leaf to help receive it."

"Collect the younglings, we will soon need their silk to bind the edges."

"1 - 2 - 3 - Heave!"

"You there! Go and recruit more workers!"

More of their brothers and sisters came and joined the bustling activity of construction. The chatter and noise of their collaboration created an atmosphere of joyous labour, and soon the leaves were bent close together. It was time for the chaining.

"Hold on to my waist, brother. I think the gap will take four of us to span."

"Reach out and grab my waist, sister, that's it, pull!"

Soon a chain of ants spanned the gap, and in this way the family could pull the leaves together so that the binding could begin.

Now one of the ants in the chain had been recruited by an eager sibling who had picked him up in his mandibles and brought him there to aid in the task without first checking if he was fit for work. The young ant had been up all night foraging for food, and was tired, and so as the chain made one last effort to bring the two leaves together he became exhausted and cried out,

"Help me! I can't hold on!"

"You must!"

"Don't let go!"

But though the young ant tried to hold on, his tired legs gave way and he let go of his sister's waist.

Despite every other ant in the group being strong and fit, once their weakened brother let go, they were unable to hold the leaves together. The leaves sprang apart, spraying the family of ants in a splash of turning bodies, thus illustrating that old proverb,

A chain is only as strong as its weakest link

The Fable of the Weaver Ant by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here.
Music by Ricahrd Savino from the album, Mertz - Bardic Sounds, track 7 "Study", and provided by magnatune.com

The continuing fight against plagiarism

2009-12-03T11:29:00.000Z

Many of us will remember the flash fiction plagiarism fiasco first discovered and reported by Angel Zapata over on his blog. Many of us shared and discussed this on our own blogs, proving that plagiarism is a hot subject for us writers.

Now that discussion has opened up to a wider audience. At the time I sent off some feedback to The Dragon Page podcast, and they have discussed the whole thing in a recent episode. They gave it top billing on one of their "A" shows, which is really good since most feedback gone through is discussed in their "B" shows.

You can listen to the show, and read the show notes, here: http://www.dragonpage.com/2009/11/17/cover-to-cover-382a/, which includes a link to Angel's original post.

Thanks Dragon Page!

NaNoWriMo : Now what? Advice on editing your novel

2009-12-03T07:55:00.000Z

There's still a lot of great information and forum discussion going on over at the NaNoWriMo website, post November, including this interesting article about novel editing, which describes several ways of going about that mammoth and daunting task.

http://www.nanowrimo.org/nowwhat

One of the best nuggets of advice I picked up from this is that editing should be fun and exciting, because you are crafting your story ever closer into its final form. I think I'll try the PostIt note idea once I've finished the first draft.

NaNoWrimo Update : I won!

2009-11-30T00:08:00.000Z

Hurrah! I've been using all my writing time on my Nano novel for the last few days, hence why I stopped doing the daily word count blog updates. I was seriously worried I might not make it yesterday when my word count sat around 43k. With over 2k written last night I was left with 4K today. I figured 2k tonight and 2k tomorrow, but I was worried about that deadline. Just exactly what time was it? They said local time, but what if it was wrong and I missed the deadline because of a time zone problem? I was worried enough to carry on writing. I drew out a long scene where the characters were ordering fish and chips, but it actually turned out quite well in the end I think. I'm not going to read anything back until I finish the novel. At 50K it's still only two thirds in or so I reckon. With Chrismas coming it's unlikely I'll keep up the frenetic pace, but I'll try to finish it before the end of January.

Anyway. I won! Hurrah! 50k in 29 days. It can be done!

Apologies

2009-11-27T13:29:00.000Z

Sorry to everyone expecting a Friday Fable today. I've had several things happen at once, including being on some medication that has been making me extremely tired by the evening. I've been doing some work on my NaNoWriMo novel and updating the Nano website, but I've not had the energy to continue the Nano Blog updates here either.

I'm going to try to find the time to get to 50K words by Monday, so watch this space.

NaNoWriMo : Day Twenty-Four

2009-11-24T23:30:00.000Z

Today I wrote 2,132 words, bringing my total to 40,104.

I also crafted a fake pineapple out of an old tin of coffee creamer, strips of cardboard, and poster paint, for my son's fifth birthday party on Saturday. It's been a productive day.

NaNoWriMo : Day Twenty-Three

2009-11-23T22:16:00.000Z

Today I wrote 2,898 words, bringing my total to 37,972.

I wrote from five to six-thirty this morning, and from nine to ten this evening. I'm trying not to stay up so late because I have a busy week. I'll be keeping a closer eye on that average daily word count now that the month is drawing to a close.

Words per day left : 1,718

NaNoWriMo : Day Twenty-One

2009-11-21T22:56:00.001Z

Today I wrote 2,066 words, bringing my total to 35,074.

No words yesterday, but >2,000 again today means I'm still on track. It feels good to get past the 35,000 word mark. The remaining 15,000 don't seem that daunting now. It's the home stretch. Let's work out the minimum daily word count: 15,000 divided by 9 days left equals : 1,666 -- spot on target. I'd like to be ahead, but I'm happy with that, and it's a busy month for me. November always is. Nano would be much easier in January, after the holidays, not in the busy run-up to them. (We'd get an extra day too.)

The Fable of the Glow-worm

2009-11-20T00:01:00.001Z

The Fable of the Glow-worm

by Barry J. Northern

There was once a glow-worm who emerged out into the world for the first time, and beheld the night sky. While her sisters took their places on the blades of grass to await the menfolk, she stayed gazing at the stars.

Before long Stargazer's sisters began to glow and twinkle around her in the grass. To the young glow-worm it was a pretty sight, but not as glorious as the stars above.

Now it is the way of glow-worms for the menfolk and womenfolk to each be blessed with a different gift. The menfolk may fly among the heavens, yet are dull to behold. The womenfolk glow like gems, yet are wingless, and must remain among the tall grass.

It was time for each of the womenfolk to attract a mate with her beauty, and so soon the evening air buzzed with the flapping of the menfolks' wings.

Said Stargazer; "I desire not to be like my sisters, for they live an ordinary life." And so she began to climb the tallest stem she could find, looking up at the stars all the while as if trying to reach them.

From time to time she would look back at her tail, and she began to believe it glowed more brightly than her sisters', for the higher she climbed, the smaller her sisters' lights appeared, and the larger her own glow seemed to her.

One by one Stargazer watched her sisters' lights go out, for as soon as each one was paired with a mate, she would glow no more, and would settle down to make family with him.

"Why can't I be like the stars," said she, "and burn all night, high in the sky for all to see and love?"

She came to rest at the top of the great stem and thrust her tail high and bright. Many menfolk came to her, but she turned them all away, saying, "I shall not let you dim my light, I must share it with the world."

After a time her's was the only light left among the grasses, and seeing only light-less glow-worms crawling beneath her, living ordinary lives, Stargazer believed she must be special like the stars.

The night grew cold, and Stargazer began to feel tired, but she would not dim her glow, for she sought to impress those beneath her. Before long a young man, the only glow-worm without a mate, alighted atop the great stem in front of Stargazer.

Said he; "Your light is the highest and brightest, and you are beautiful to behold. Will you make family with me?"

"I will not," said she, "for then I will glow no more and become as dull as everyone else."

"Tell me," said he, "how long do you think your beautiful glow will last?"

"For as long as the stars."

"Then what will you do come morning? For the sun outshines them all."

Stargazer felt more tired now, and her glow was already beginning to dim. She made no reply.

The young man took flight, saying. "I will return again soon. If you then choose not to accept me I will bother you no more."

At first, Stargazer scoffed, for the young man was dull, but the more tired she grew, the more his words made their effect on her. She dwelt upon what the future might bring, and when the young man returned, she had the sense at last to agree to make family with him.

Though her light went out, she loved her husband, and when her children were born she beheld that the slow-burning fire within her heart was brighter than any star. It was an invigorating light not a tiring one, and it was a light that would never dim.

The Fable of the Glow-worm by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.
Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3 here.
Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Meditative Guitar, track 1 "Lullaby", and provided by magnatune.com

NaNoWriMo : Day Nineteen

2009-11-19T22:46:00.001Z

Today I wrote 1,538 words, bringing my total to 33,008.

A lower word count on Nano today, but still up to my 33,000 word target for day nineteen. I have an excuse though if you add the 600+ words I wrote for today's Friday Fable. Posting that next.

NaNoWriMo : Day Eighteen

2009-11-18T23:48:00.000Z

Today I wrote 2,415 words, bringing my total to 31,495.

Didn't start till late again, having various other things to do. The ironing pile doesn't go down on its own after all. The writing flowed well despite the late start this evening, and I've left it in another good place to kick off again tomorrow, which is just as well. I need all the advantages I can get tomorrow because I still haven't written the Friday Fable, and I have run out of the backlog I'd built up as well. I have an idea though, and that's the hardest part sometimes.

Right. Bed, bed, bed, or I shall surely perish before Nov 30th.