From the embers, a new beginning

Fire Dog is a weird story, even for me.

The basic idea came to me while I was drinking by the fireside and noticed a log in the center of the fire (pictured, on cover) looked vaguely like the snout of a dog emerging from the embers. My mind wandered, collecting and sometimes discarding the ‘what ifs’ that formed the foundation of the story.

I liked the idea of a system of magic, or at least one niche of a larger system of magic, that would allow sorcerers to look out through different campfires across the world of Korin and send messengers or minions to strike secretly at their enemies.

Gradually, the idea of the Heatstone developed from the murk drugs and alcohol and, the theft, the tension between the main characters, Korson and Glory, and the connection to the world of Korin.

What makes it weird is that I didn’t know what it was about until three or four paragraphs from the end–and then I realized it wasn’t an end at all, but a beginning. Perhaps that’s true of all short stories, but this particular beginning means retrofitting some other stories to meet this new concept. Or maybe not. I’ll decide that when I continue this story (because it is, in fact, just a beginning.)

Although Fire Dog takes place in the same world as the Keegan stories, Unclaimed and Three Sacrifices, along with Keeper of the Dead, Two Cows Too Many and The Sigilist, and features one of the same characters (sort of), the story itself stands on its own. It’s another snapshot, another entry point, another look at the world as it takes shape through the eyes of the people that live in it.

I hope you’ll take a few minutes, spend a buck and check it out–and, as always, let me know what you think!

Bet on your Beta readers

Recently a friend of mine had a little extra time on her hands and was looking for new things to read.

I, sheepishly at first, suggested one of my stories on Amazon. Specifically, I picked A Better Way, because it had always been a favorite of mine, it was difficult to classify and I wanted an honest take on it. It had been up and published for a while with no reviews. (That, sadly, is still the case).

It had been a while since I wrote it, too, and that gave me the chance to experience it again through fresh eyes — hers.

“You’ll have to let me know what you think,” I told her via text. “Even if it’s stupid. You won’t offend me, but I’ll ask you why.”

Because A Better Way, while being a favorite, is a bit of an odd story. Conceived and written post 9/11, it is about government overreach and how we are all, at the end of the day, beholden to the corporations that employ us and under the suspicion of the government that oversees us. The main character, Darryl Johnson, is based in name on one of my cousins, may he rest his soul. His name is the only similarity. In the story, Darryl has a rather convoluted thought process; he’s a bit of a wool-gatherer, with thoughts the circle and meander like Billy walking around his neighborhood in those old Family Circus cartoons. Good for character (I hoped) but not necessarily good for advancing the plot–and, of course, you are not supposed to waste a word in a short story.

Darryl becomes under suspicion from a shadowy branch of the government because he’s a bit of a clueless yoke and he placed one too many American flag stamps on his envelopes upside down. It gets a bit more bizarre from there. It probably doesn’t help that it was initially based on a fart joke and a ‘word of the day’ that came across one of my social media apps.

Anyway, a tough story to market.

My beta reader, in many ways, validated what I tried to do.

“We’ve all been Darryl a time or two, haven’t we?”

“I love his thought process. Funny how we’ve all thought things like that; some so off the wall you kinda catch yourself like: ‘that’ll be five seconds I never get a back.'”

And, most importantly, “OK, I wanted more. You need to add to it!”

I forget who said it, but someone once described a short story as a prelude to a novel. That’s what Darryl’s story is to me. He was so much fun to write, with an occasional universal truth sneaking out of his macaroni and cheese mind.

Beta readers can be a hit or miss proposition. Many of them, your friends in particular, are afraid of offering honest feedback because they don’t want to hurt your feelings. I say: tell them not to worry about it and then do your best to keep up your side of the bargain. If you don’t agree with the criticism, you don’t have to apply it to your work. If they tell you they think it sucks, put aside your ego and ask what doesn’t work.

You can always learn something from a fresh pair of eyes (even if it’s not to use that particular fresh set of eyes again…) and you may inadvertently validate the hard work you’ve put into your story.

Write on!