If common marketing wisdom can be trusted—and who'd dare to
question it—I'm a failure. I'm supposed to be blogging, twittering, and filling
Facebook with outpourings of wonderful me. The problem is, I'm a grouch, and
social media wakes up my antisocial tendencies. Also, unlike
Neil Gaiman, I live a boring life. All
the drama and action happens in my head—just the way I prefer it.
I've been writing—two-thirds through a trio of short stories
about a skinny necromancer with penchant for body piercing, whose new neighbor
turns out to be a (male) witch with a secret. I took a break from it to pen a
short story, which I plan to put out for free.
Short stories take me a disproportionate amount of time.
They require the use of a different set of writing muscles, and it can be a
challenge. Some are on the opinion it's impossible to tell a satisfying story
under twenty or thirty thousand words, but anyone thinking so only need to read
Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman.
A Study In
Emerald especially blew me away. After finishing it I was saddened by the
fact that I'll never be able to read it for the first time again.
Oh but I should be talking about
me, not blasted Gaiman. Another short of mine,
Tomfoolery has stuck to
the
top twenty of Amazon's freebie GLBT romance list for over three months now. I'm proud of the kid—it gets
knocked off time to time, but claws its way back. Meanwhile Jo Myles'
Pole Star seems firmly stuck in the #7
position. At least, I designed the cover for it.
Speaking of short shorts, and not the kind Kevin Kline wears
in The Big Chill, one of mine will be
appearing in an anthology by Cleis Press.
Sexy Sailors is available for pre-order, although the
release date is not till November. I think. Jo Myles has a story in the
collection, and I think JL Merrow too. I don't know who else, but it's edited
by Neil Plakcy. It's all erotica, not romance--you've been warned.
Next up: I need to plot my third paranormal story. I think
frogs will take center stage. Or maybe toads. Since
Last Stop I've been writing plottier stories, and I'm still amazed
every time that I manage to come up with mostly coherent scenarios. Going on a
hike, away from the internet, and other distractions has proven very fruitful.
Otherwise I'm a lot like Lisa Simpson in
The Book Job. It's one of the best
Simpson episodes in a long time, and not because that blasted Gaiman plays
himself in it.
Curse you, Neil Gaiman, curse you!
PS. This is the point where I'm supposed to tag my post with
Neil Gaiman, so all those innocents looking for him get lured into my web of
hairy man-love. I will refrain.
