Now Available from Amazon Shorts

My short story, “Portrait of a Pretender” is now available from Amazon Shorts.

Portrait of a Pretender

Right now it is on page 11, rank 124 of 2,892 results. Please buy a copy and help move it up!
It’s only 49 cents.

A while ago, I started another story in the Brink universe, but I never finished it. I didn’t expect this story to be available so soon. I supposed I had better start cracking on the sequel!

Remember, the other story set in the same universe is still available too, in WomanScapes

The Amazon Short Portrait of a Pretender is less than two quarters, and WomanScapes, while a bit more at $16, goes to help starving orphans.

* * *

Art vs. Writing

Sorry for the long silence. I had numerous obligations in November, and then on top of it all, I entered NaNoWriMo with three or four days to go. Sadly, I didn’t win… 😉

I’m doing the edits for a novel under another pen name right now. In addition, I have yet another name and career, as a visual artist. That career is taking an interesting turn: I’m opening a eBay store. Up until now my sales were all commissioned work (wedding portraits, mostly). Ebay has less certainty than commissions, because I paint first and sell next. Portraits, I sell first and paint later. It’s a different kind of stress.

With portraits, I am always worried that the client will look at the final product with that expression you sometimes see on Trading Spaces. The couple comes home to their new living room, which has been painted pepto bismo pink with hay glued to the walls, and they have this expression that says, “Oh god, this is so aweful it deserves to be burned, but I don’t dare say so out loud because I’m on television.”

With an eBay auction, the buyer has already seen the work, so presumably they like it. You just have the misery of waiting out the seven day auction to see if anyone likes it or not.

Even this, however, is instant gratification compared to writing. First of all, it takes quite a while to write a novel, much longer than it does to paint even a fairly large painting. During November, I was trying to do both, so this point was driven home to me! But let us suppose that one does take a whole month, eight or ten hours a day, to paint a piece. One can still turn around and sell it (or not) immediately. The client pays, and the starving artist can finally make that much overdue trip to the market for more ramen noodle.

For comparison, what happens when a writer finishes a novel or a short story? The writer sends in the piece to a likely publisher. Two or more months later, the publisher expresses an interest. Some more correspondence may then, at last, lead to a sale.

But that’s not the end of it. The writer may recieve an advance for the novel, in which case, hallaluyah, the writer can buy some ramen noodle for her long suffering husband. However, the novel or story is still far from published. It must be bounced back and forth, through the galleys and whatnot, and this takes several more months. Then it is set up for print, again, more months.

And when it finally comes out in print, the thing has to sell itself all over again, this time to the consumer.

I think that’s the crux. A writer must sell her work twice, first to the publisher, then to the reader.

Anthropology: Pig Herding of the Tsembaga

“Small numbers of pigs are easy to keep. They run free during the day and return home at night to receive their ration of garbage and substandard tubers, particularly sweet potatoes. Supplying the latter requires little extra work, for ths substandard tubers are taken from the ground in the course of the harvesting the daily ration for humans. Daily consumption records kept over a period of some months show that the ration of tubers received by the pigs approximates in weight that consumed by adult humans, i.e., a little less than three pounds per day per pig.

“If the pig herd grows large, however, the substandard tubers incidentally obtained in the course of harvesting for human needs become insufficient, and it becomes necessary to harvest especially for pigs.

“…The work involved in caring for a large pig herd can be extremely burdensome. The Tsembaga herd just prior to the pig festival of 1962-63, when it numbered 169 animals, was receiving 54 per cent of all the sweet potatoes and 82 per cent of all the manioc harvested.”

–Roy A Rappaport, “Ritual Regulation of Environmental Relations Among a Ne Guinea People,” Environment and Cultural Behavior: Ecological Studies in Cultural Anthropology, ed. Andrew P. Vayda.

“I’m a Short Story now, but what I really want to be is a Novel.”

Some authors prefer writing short stories. Some prefer novels.

I’m a novel girl myself. I tend to ramble too much for shorts (although writing flash fiction is excellent discipline for me). And besides, once I create a world sufficiently interesting that I want to spend the time of a short story there, I’m inclined to stay long enough for a novel to unfold.

Unfortunately, it’s difficult to convince an agent or a publisher to take a chance on a novel if the author has no previous publishing record. Thus having a few short stories published first is a good career move. This created a conundrum for me. I peeked at what other authors had done.

Take Mercedes Lackey. She had a series of loosely connected stories set in her Valdemar universe. This allowed her to publish shorts in anthologies such as Sword & Sorceress. The same characters reappeared in each story, using the same world as her novels.

Or how about Phillip Dick. Many of his short stories later turn up bundled together into a novel.

I created the brink world to do the same thing. It is actually a novel, published as a series of independent short stories.

There are some drawbacks. Each short needs to have enough info-dumping for a new reader to catch up on basic concepts of the world, such as what a brink is and how it is created. Even more challenging is that each story has to have an ending that is satisfactory as an ending, yet still leave enough open, even hanging on a cliff, to encourage the reader to want the next installation. This makes it different from a chapbook, which should end on a frank cliffhanger, the more dire the better.

Then there’s the problem of drama. In a novel, not all scenes have equal dramatic value. Not only would that exhaust the reader and make the book read a bit hysteric, some “softer” or “quieter” scenes are needed to establish character or build tension. This allows the tension to rise slowly through the course of the book, so that the ending is more exciting than the beginning. (Hence the reason one refers to the point of highest tension, close to the conclusion, as the climax.)

A short story, on the other hand, needs all the drama it can take, right now. It’s all the reader is going to see.

Drawn to the Brink was rejected by one editor because she didn’t like the ending. And it’s true that it’s a rather “open” ending. I couldn’t offer to change it, because a more conclusive ending would have precluded future encounters between Sajiana and the brink.

Likewise, a part of me worries about Portrait of a Pretender. Is it interesting enough of a story to reward the reader brave enough to test it against their forty-nine cents? Is the ending intriguing enough to make the reader want to know if Othmordian suceeds in hunting down the brink?

Excerpt from “Portrait of a Pretender”

“You were always a moody one, Othy,” said Forthia. “Even as a child. A stray child, mother called you, last born, when she thought her time for bearing past. You were born the same year Arnthom married Tulthana, and during all the years they tried and failed to conceive a babe of their own, Arnthom would pat you on the head and promise you his throne. It was a blow to you when Drajorian was born. Suddenly you went from heir apparent to being packed off to a lonely school on a distant moor.”

“It was a relief to me, not a burden, to be spared the throne, Forthia,” Othmordian said. “And as for the school, that was my request as well. I wanted to study magic. And I first went when I was thirteen, three years after Drajorian’s birth.”

“Yes,” Forthia said, “I know. After you tried to kill him.”

Othmordian frowned.

“No one told me,” she said. “I have my ways of knowing.”

“So I have discovered,” he said dryly.

“If you were willing to kill your nephew when he was but a toddler, how much more so now that he is almost twenty-five and the only remaining threat to your power?”

“And you think I killed our brother too?” Othmordian asked, his anger barely controlled.

“There is more,” she said.

“Say it then.”

“No one allowed the glamourers to perform an investigation of our brother’s death. Nonetheless, I secretly asked the Head Glamourer of Mangcansten Lodge to report his findings to me. He confirmed that Arnthom was killed by a brink. He also told me about your time as a student at his school, before you were expelled. And why you were expelled.”

Vivid memories flashed across Othmordian’s mind: the drunken smell of paint thinner, the sound of scribs on linen parchment, the giggles in the dark after the proctors extinguished the candles in the boys’ dorm. Most wonderful of all, had been the early mist-filled mornings walking out alone on the moor, with only a sketch pad and a pack of wild dogs for company.

“He told me,” continued Forthia, “That you were a mediocre artist, not a true glamour caster, except in one area. You could draw dogs like no one else, all kinds of dogs. He said that you even inquired into a forbidden area, how to make a certain kind of brink called a Smoke Hound. The Smoke Hound must be drawn with a burning coal. When it is brought to life, the hound moves with a hide of flame and smoke. The artist, however, is left with a burnt hand.”

Forthia held out her palms. “Put your right hand in mine, Orthmordin.”

He did so. His right hand was swathed in bandages.

***

Cover Art for “Portrait of a Pretender”

Amazon does the cover design for the Shorts, but here is a hypothetical cover for “Portait of a Pretender.”