Tag Archives: flash fiction

Weekly writing check-in: The Potato Bug War

New short (very short) story release this week!

My flash fiction piece, The Potato Bug War, is now available in issue #19 of Pulp Literature.

This is my second historical fiction story, and like The Saint of Bright Red Things, it takes place in France during World War Two.

And it’s so short, that all I’ll say is it’s about insects, Nazis, and resistance.

Curious? You can order a copy from Amazon or Pulp Literature directly.

In other news, I’ve added about 10,000 more words to the revision exercises I’ve been doing, sketched out a few “big picture” ideas, and got knocked in the side of the head with yet another idea I might like to write. I’m resisting that mightily (for now).

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Free Fiction Friday: Flash Fiction Online

Need a quick read this weekend? Hop on over to Flash Fiction Online and read their June issue. All the stories are wonderful, but I warn you, Five Times I Have Slept at Your Bedside should come with a supply of tissues (but go read it–it’s wonderful).

And while you’re there, you can also read Steadfast, my (very) short and modern retelling of The Steadfast Tin Soldier (with an unapologetic happy ending) from the December issue.

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Free Fiction Friday: A Measure of Sorrow

A Measure of Sorrow

Previously published in Luna Station Quarterly #16 and Evil Girlfriend Media

A wolf seduced her sister, and a witch wrapped her bony fingers around her brother’s heart, so when a giant came for her, she told him she wouldn’t go.

He plucked a rose petal from the bushes that grew around his castle, and that was her bed. When the day grew hot, he offered dewy raspberries to quench her thirst. When she refused, a single tear fell from his eye and splashed at her feet. The salt on her lips tasted like sorrow. She was drenched, but unmoved.

Only when he left his almanac out—quite by accident—did she creep from the threshold of her cottage. It took all her strength to turn the pages, but turn them she did. The letters were as tall as she was, but read them, she did.

He caught her reading. If he wanted, he could have slammed the book shut, trapped her—

or squashed her. He didn’t.

He looked to the book and then to her. “Will you come with me now?”

“I am not a pet.”

“Of course not.”

“Or a meal.”

He blew air through his lips, the force of it ruffling her hair. “You are much too small for that.”

“Then what am I?”

“I need someone to tend to the mice. They are ailing. And the butterflies. My fingers are too clumsy, and I cannot mend the rips in their wings.”

“So you have work for me?”

“Good work, with good pay. You can keep your family well.”

“They would feed me to the wolves.”

“Then how am I any worse?”

How indeed? Did she trust this giant and his promises of mice and butterflies?

“Will you?” He extended a hand.

She stepped onto his palm and he her lifted higher and higher—even with his mouth, his nose, his eyes. Then he placed her gently on his shoulder.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked.

“The almanac. Will you read to me sometimes?”

“Would you like that?”

“Very much.”

“I shall read to you every night.”

Mice and butterflies filled her days. On the back of the Mouse King she rode, clutching the soft fur about his neck, racing through the castle to tend to mothers with large broods, crumbs and bits of cheese tucked in a canvas sack. With thread from a silkworm, she repaired butterfly wings, her stitches tiny and neat.

The giant peered at her handiwork through a glass that made his eye all that much larger. When he laughed his approval, the sound rolled through the countryside. And every night, when he reached for his almanac, she settled on his shoulder and marveled at how someone so colossal could speak words with so much tenderness.

Even when his bones grew old, and all he could do was move from bed to chair, he read to her. When his eyesight grew dim, he recited the words from memory, so strong was his desire to keep his promise. Until, at last, the day came when the stories stopped.

A thousand butterflies fluttered into his room. Mice came from fields and forest alike, led by the Mouse King. They bore the giant outside, where they laid him to rest beneath the rose bushes.

It was there she learned that all her tears combined could not rival the sorrow contained in a single giant teardrop.

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Weekly writing check-in: stepping outside your comfort zone

I have a guest blog post over at Nunum this week:

Use Flash Fiction to Step Outside your Comfort Zone (and step up your craft in the process)

In other news, I started writing the new series this week (and by “started” I mean I’m not sure I’ve even hit 1,000 words yet).

My current mood is neatly summed up by the picture to the left. I always feel this way when I start a story, whether it’s a five-hundred-word flash fiction piece or a 50,000-word novel.

But if it feels new and untested, if I’m–you know–stepping outside my comfort zone, maybe that’s a good thing.

At least, I hope it is.

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Weekly writing check-in: or maybe it’s the Photoshop check-in

I’ll be back with a real check-in next week. For now, here are some things I’ve been up to:

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Weekly writing check-in: Keeping Time in the New Year

I’m going to switch things up a bit for the New Year. When I started my weekly check-in, I was spending the year doing a write one/sub one with short stories. That was a great year. It got me back into writing on a regular basis and reminded me why I love writing to begin with.

But I’m not writing as many short stories as I did that first year. Or rather, I tend to binge-write them. Also, this year, I hope to focus on longer, series work. (Now that I’ve stated that, just watch. I’ll end up on some sort of short story tear.)

So I’m going to change my check-in a bit, just covering what I did the previous week. I’ll still log submissions made, stories sold and published, but the format will be more free form.

Without further ado, I give you my week:

This week

Writing: ~3,500 words, plus outlining and structure work. I can see the end from here, but I’m not quite in the home stretch. Almost though. And I may be closer than I suspect.

Published: Keeping Time is in audio over at The Centropic Oracle. They’ve done a fabulous job with the production, and the narrator is marvelous. She brings so much to my little story. If you have seven minutes to spare, go give it a listen.

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Weekly writing check-in: Steadfast

Busy week! My daughter had a dance meet this week (the first of the season) and then an invitational on Saturday. I. Am. Exhausted. You’d think I was the one doing all the dancing.

A little writing, a little work on a fairy tale project, and that’s about it. Oh, except for Steadfast, of course.

Writing work:

  • Series work (structure, brainstorming, research)
  • Fairy Tale project
  • Writing ~3,000 words

Submissions:

  • None

Rejections:

  • Moving Day

Acceptances:

  • None

Publications:

My story Steadfast is in the December issue of Flash Fiction Online.

The story is a modern retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier, with a gender flip and an unapologetic happy ending. (Take that, HCA!)

Head on over and give all the stories a read.

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