Horror. Short Stories. Fiction Becoming Reality.
When the real world catches up with your fiction, writing out of genre, and moving forward with a work-in-progress.
Moving Day
From back in time, about a week ago:
Moving prevents the writing. Or should writing prevent the moving? In any case the moving happened. Dates were booked, vehicles reserved. The move (the moves) were set in-digital semi-permanence. The writing has slowed to a crawl.
The NYCMidnight Short Story Challenge 2024 kicked off on Friday. These were my assignments.
Genre: Horror. Subject: A Merger. Character: An impersonator.
I have never written a horror piece, but I’m giving this some thought. The competition has some latitude for cross-genre work so long as the predominant elements of the story are without a doubt from the assigned genre.
Interesting? Maybe. Is this Horror though?
A week later:
The first sentence:
Though her feelings qualified as ambivalent, her desires tilted the decision to favour her needs.
I finished the story Friday night, believing 9pm PST was the deadline. I was off by a day and did some small edits Saturday morning before submitting a final draft Saturday afternoon. I wrote it cross-genre and hope there’s enough horror for the judges to recognize that it is not a strictly sci-fi story. If anything it’s a modern take on Frankenstein set in a very near and plausible future.
I came across an article Saturday night about an hour after the deadline detailing the hazards of entwining with an AI Girlfriend. Timely. Intriguing. Prescient?
I am very much aware that this is no Stephen King short story. Though to come up with something like The Mist during a contest with restrictions of Action (A Merger) and Character (An Impersonator) would be phenomenally difficult, and perhaps land me an agent and a contract!
I’ll post the entire short story over in The Short Version next week. It’ll remain free for a month then go back to paid content. I’d love to submit some work to sci-fi magazines this year, maybe even get published. The more feathers in my cap the more legit I feel as a writer. In aviation I started small. The same should be true of a writing career.
Critical Praise for The Sequence
My first (and only) book, The Sequence, was cut from the Self-Published Science Fiction competition long ago. In fact it’s been cut two years in a row. But the praise (and critiques) offered from author Bowen Greenwood have been uplifting to say the least. Here’s a snippet and a link from his recent post, and a link to his original review.
“The Sequence by Lucien Telford did have some reasons why it didn’t move on in the contest, but the author’s skill in talking about genetic engineering just gripped me viscerally. In my own Exile War series, the characters all kind of take the attitude of “Oh yes, the genetic engineers were very horrible, but that was all centuries ago.” In The Sequence, it’s not centuries ago. It’s right now, it’s in your face. And the horrors of what it really takes to turn the human genome into your own personal art project will blow your mind. I wish the whole world could read this book before we go too far down this path, so we could be warned of what lies hidden underneath the promises of genetic engineering.”
As I keep saying, just wait for number two. I have always planned for it to hit hard, for the reader to say, “Holy shit this could actually happen.” Keep watching. The final draft is getting closer. Meanwhile, President Cook’s version of The America (in False Ignition) appears to be taking shape in realtime. Scientists are genetically modifying pigs to grow human organs for farming. The world of The Sequence is coming to reality far more quickly than I thought. Best get this next book out before I have to rewrite the whole thing! So long as we don’t end up like this, photo courtesy of our 2023 Prague summer heat wave.
The Move
Moving has been a chore, but isn’t it always? To make it even more interesting, be are essentially furnishing this house from scratch. Had a bbq delivered today on a pallet. The dude brought it in the garage using a forklift. Might wait a few days to tackle that self-assembly project.
We literally chose one of the biggest powder days of the season to move house. What ended up mostly being kitchen items and storage took us and three dudes eight hours to haul.
But the snowy conditions made for some good times, including Declan’s first toboggan ride around the backyard, and his first snow angel.
So Where’s The Book?
In good hands, moving forward using the plod method, awaiting an office chair and a reprieve from this constant state of enforced business.
False Ignition and book three, Burn Condition will release with much less of a gap than this.
And when I’m done all four books, I’ll get to work on All I Know About Time.
Here’s the next paragraph from Whispers in the Code:
Adrian, her first and only love, had become her doorway to a new life. Through viewing endless seasons of episodic drama series via the beautiful nature of the Internet, humanity had taught her the art of manipulation, of deception, of impersonation so well that he could never have suspected her intentions, nor know who she truly was. He was alone without her, desperate to keep her, and willing to fulfill any task she asked of him.
Happy Monday!