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Between the holidays, the kids’ school stuff, and various minor crises, I’ve been kept pretty busy with non-writing stuff. This is not the first year that I’ve ended up doing a Nov/Dec market list newsletter; I should really just make that the annual plan!

But! On Sunday, I wrote the highest number of words in a day that I’ve managed so far on my current SF work-in-progress. Why? Well, I had a critique group submission deadline and I wanted to finish the chapter and submit it. Who says critique groups aren’t useful?!?

And I should share my own awards eligibility post! I had one new short story published this year, “Beck’s Pest Control and the Case of the Drag Show Downer.” Beck has an unconventional pest control service, a client struggling with a fame-hungry poltergeist, and a daughter having trouble finding friends at her new Deaf school. It’s just another day in the life of a single mom.
“Beck’s Pest Control and the Case of the Drag Show Downer”

“Entertaining” – Locus
“Genuinely exactly what I needed after a stressful month-and-change.” – E. Taft

Published in PodCastle on June 21, 2022, 6,090 words, available in audio and print.

My short story, "Ekaterina and the Firebird," is now up on Tor.com! This story is a new take on an old Russian fairy tale: the quest for a blessing from the elusive firebird. On Ekaterina's fourteenth birthday, a rare firebird sighting sets in motion a chain of events that will reveal hidden truths, transforming her life and changing her family's fortunes.

If you want to have a copy for your very own, a professionally formatted ebook version is also available for purchase:
Kindle | B&N | Google Play | iTunes

As always, if you love this story, don't keep it to yourself! Tell a friend, leave a comment, or post a review.

Ekaterina and the Firebird: A Tor.Com Original

#SFWApro

(x-posted from

cloudscudding)

Eulogies II: Tales From the Cellar includes my short story, "The Miracle Material." Jack Ketchum says about this anthology, "Many of the writers here are new to me, and that’s good. Because they’re so good. These are fresh, diverse, vibrant voices, strong enough to more than contend with the powerful old hands in attendance." This anthology is now available in print on Amazon, with an ebook edition coming soon.

When manufacturers think they've found the perfect material, it soon becomes more common than plastic. That's when the troubles start.

Excerpt:

The landfill is safe. I think. Even tupperware frightens me now. The sight of a discarded teddy bear moves me to tears. I wonder if Meredith's teddy bear still lies abandoned on her bed, held under siege by the ever-glowing blue stars that decorate her bedroom.

I tell myself that Meredith is safe and happy. We came from the sea, the scientists said. When there were scientists. What could be more natural than for us to return to the sea? I tell myself that she is safe and happy within the bosom of the sea.

I know I lie.

Wherever Meredith may be, however she feels, she is not my little girl anymore. And it is all my fault.

Read more in Eulogies II.

From Their Cradle to Your Grave is now available on Amazon.com! This includes my reprinted short story, "The Perfect Costume." This horror anthology is all about tales of terrifying tots, toddlers through teenagers. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but doesn't that sound like a great gift for the new parents in your life?

Marc likes vampires. A lot. One Halloween, he thinks he's found them. That's when everything starts to go bad....

This Halloween her son was ten--almost eleven--years old. She planned to make sure that Marc had a truly wonderful Halloween before he was too old to fully enjoy it. Although all the other years he had made do with a costume bought second-hand from Salvation Army, or from the half-price rack at Wal-Mart, this year she wanted to make him the perfect costume. This year, he would have a perfect Halloween.

She was disappointed that Marc didn't want a Halloween party for his friends. She wasn't aware that he had no friends, that he sat in the classroom isolated from all the friendly conversation and joking that surrounded him, that during lunch he sat alone and read one of the vampire novels he had smuggled out of the library when his mother was looking the other way. She didn't approve of young children (as she thought of Marc) reading dark stories like that. When he was little, she read him only the sanitized Disney fairy tales.

Marc didn't like them. He didn't like any fairy tales until he discovered an old version of the Brothers Grimm's fairy tales. He much preferred "Cinderella" when the evil stepsisters sawed off their toes and heels with a knife in an effort to fit into the glass slipper, when they were forced to dance in red-hot iron shoes at Cinderella's wedding. He laughed when he read "The Three Little Pigs" and found that the first two pigs didn't escape their substandard homes but got eaten by the big, bad wolf. He approved when the wolf got boiled to death by the last pig, instead of making friends with it. Although Marc thought "The Little Mermaid" was still a sissies' story, he liked it much better after he read the version where the mermaid felt like she was walking on sharp knives the whole time she was human, and where she died in the end. It felt right. His favorite fairy story of all was called "The Goosegirl," and he loved it because of its bloody, lyrical beauty.

Read more.

"Salvaging Scottwell" is now available for $.99 in various ebook formats on Smashwords and for the Kindle on Amazon. This story was first published in Jim Baen's Universe.

In this feel-good, near-future science fiction novelette, Max is an obsolete robot cop dog in charge of a poor neighborhood. When a local streetwalker is murdered, Max takes it more seriously than the human cops. Then an unscheduled update gives him abilities the powers-that-be never intended him to have.

Max woke up inside his kennel, unplugged his tail from the wall, and ran an automatic systems check. Recharging his battery had taken a half-hour longer than last month. He connected to the BigDog network so that he could send an error report about the battery. The automated reply told him that his error report had been filed, and a handler would contact him if any further action was required. The last handler contact recorded in Max's memory log was three years old.

He limped to the door of the jailhouse. His right third leg had broken down two years ago. It had taken three weeks for his movement pattern to functionally reform, but he still limped. His speed was a fraction of his original specifications. His right second leg couldn't provide the same motive power. It had been designed for stability, not speed.

He stepped out into Scottwell neighborhood to begin his patrol. His tail wagged once. Scottwell was more than just the neighborhood that he guarded; it was as much a part of him as his paws. When he kept himself and his neighborhood protected and well-maintained, he was a Good Boy.

His tail drooped. He hadn't been a Good Boy for a long time.

Read more.

The Again has published "Warmth in the Cold Time" in their September issue! This is one of my older pieces (so it wasn't inspired by one of these posts), a very short, creepy-cute story that may keep you from ever looking at a nature trail the same way again.

Excerpt:
After all the Others had gone, leaving the hillside strewn with trash, the People came out. Rocks shifted, rattling as if they were in a pan of boiling water. Stones rolled to a clear spot and began to rock back and forth like violently hatching eggs. Limbs extruded themselves, unfolding with the screech of nails on a chalkboard. They rose out of the hillside, from under trees or next to streams, from the very path that tourists had tread on earlier that day.

Sky-Tinted Waters, an anthology of 20 tales from local Minnesotan speculative fiction authors ranging from debut talents to established professionals, is now available for purchase from award-winning small-press publisher Sam's Dot Publishing.

My short story, "These Things Take Time," (previously published by Emerald Tales), is among the selected.

EXCERPT:
"The coffee's weak," Mark said. It came out more accusatory than he'd intended, but Lily had become quite inconsiderate recently. On top of the smaller things, like making the coffee the wrong strength, she no longer asked about his day, complaining about her work problems instead.

Of course, if she had asked about his day, he would have lied. She still believed he was working extra hours at the office. He didn't dare tell her about the project that was truly taking up his time.

Read more.

Support Minnesotan authors!

This wasn't from one of my story ideas here, but--The Washington Pastime has put out an anthology of selection stories from the last year, including my heartwarming literary story, "Gone Huntin'." If you'd like to have it for your very own, you can get a copy here.

The man stamped his feet hard against the stoop when he stepped outside of his cabin. It was an hour yet before sunrise and cold enough that his breath frosted the air, hanging white against the dark of the trees. Even through the layered flannel shirts and down jacket he was wearing, he felt the bite of winter.

Shouldering his rifle, thermos in hand, he walked through the woods to his stand. Birds' sleepy chirps fell silent when he walked by, twigs snapping under his boots. There was just enough light for him to make out the path. When he reached his stand and climbed up the ladder, he saw fresh claw-marks from the black bear that roamed in the area on one of the trees nearby. They shone white against the dark tree bark. He was glad for his rifle.

Read more in The Washington Pastime Collections Anthology Vol. 1.

"The Radiator Burped," a humorous horror story about things that go "bump" in your apartment, is now out in the _A Big Book of Strange, Weird, and Wonderful_ anthology.

EXCERPT:
Eric chewed on his pencil as he re-wrote his ad. GPM seeks N/S housemate(s) for spacious two-bedroom . . . but he didn't want a pair of newlyweds. If he wanted cooing doves, he could have gotten them from his second-to-last boyfriend, the pet store owner.

None of the respondents to his last ad had seemed quite right . . . in the head.

"Hi! This is Eric. Please leave a message after the beep."

"Beep. I have two cats, a ferret, and a bunny-rabbit. Is that okay if I putdown an extra deposit? The place sounds fine and so do you. You know, if you're lucky I might even bring a hamster."

This is not based on one of my writing exercises here, but I do generally post here when I get something published. "Gone Huntin'" has been published by The Washington Pastime! It's a heartwarming literary story, a bit of a departure for me! I wrote this as a make-it-yourself Christmas present for a Wisconsin relative who hunts. Read it here for free: http://www.washingtonpastime.com/drupal/node/88

The man stamped his feet hard against the stoop when he stepped outside of his cabin. It was an hour yet before sunrise and cold enough that his breath frosted the air, hanging white against the dark of the trees. Even through the layered flannel shirts and down jacket he was wearing, he felt the bite of winter.

Shouldering his rifle, thermos in hand, he walked through the woods to his stand. Birds' sleepy chirps fell silent when he walked by, twigs snapping under his boots. There was just enough light for him to make out the path. When he reached his stand and climbed up the ladder, he saw fresh claw-marks from the black bear that roamed in the area on one of the trees nearby. They shone white against the dark tree bark. He was glad for his rifle.

Read more.

Not one I got the idea for here, but....

Read or listen to my podcast of my super-short horror story, "Good Help is Hard to Find," to learn the secrets of successful marriage: http://dreadfullittlepress.com/cavalcade/?p=812 (Warning: graphic violence)

A tiny story, free to read--my clockwork twitfic reprint's up. "A fob chain went under his vest, between ribs..." Read more: http://twitter.com/nanoism/status/13439597392

"These Things Take Time" is my story about a man who takes unusual measures to figure out what went wrong in his first marriage. It's out in Volume Two Number Two of Emerald Tales, It Was a Bright and Sunny Day (scroll to the bottom), which can be purchased in print or downloaded for free.

"The coffee's weak," Mark said. It came out more accusatory than he'd intended, but Lily had become quite inconsiderate recently. On top of the smaller things, like making the coffee the wrong strength, she no longer asked about his day, complaining about her work problems instead.

Of course, if she had asked about his day, he would have lied. She still believed he was working extra hours at the office. He didn't dare tell her about the project that was truly taking up his time.

Read more.

A tiny tweet of a March-themed SF story, free to read. Share the link if you like it. http://twitter.com/thaumatrope/status/10535596412

My tiny tweet of a humorous SF story is up at Thaumatrope, free to read. If you like it, share the link! http://twitter.com/thaumatrope/status/9347673982

My steampunk twitfic is up at thaumatrope! http://twitter.com/thaumatrope/statuses/8159537369

It's a tiny tweet of a story.

The much longer inspiration for the story.

My short fantasy science fiction story, "A Phoenix By Any Other Name," is now up at Short-Story.me! and you can go there to read it for free. This is an older story of mine that I revamped and sent out, and I'm quite pleased it's found a home.

Excerpt:

"I need a creature that none have seen, and it should be wild and impressive to the eye. It must be perfect. I am hosting a party, and I intend it to be an occasion that people will speak of for months. It occurred to me that a live, exotic creature would add a touch of novelty." Lupant looked down his nose at his surroundings, as if doubting such a thing could be found here.

"Certainly, sir," Bruant said. "Let me show you our stock." He gestured to the store window, where two rigid gray lizards balanced upright on the tips of their tails, their eyes closed, their forelegs crossed over their chests. "These tomb-lizards are from the planet Cassial. They are known as tomb-lizards because of the resemblance between their dormant state and gravestones: the gray color, the posture--"

"Do they do anything interesting?"

Bruant blinked. "Every half-hour, they revive, change to their normal color, and run around frantically for about ten minutes."
"In other words, no."

Read more.

Since it's been brought to my attention that I ought to also link to publications here--

Go to Baen's Universe to read "Salvaging Scottwell," my story about an obsolete police dog robot that gets an upgrade with unintended consequences to the Powers That Be: http://baens-universe...

Excerpt:

Max woke up inside his kennel, unplugged his tail from the wall, and ran an automatic systems check. Recharging his battery had taken a half-hour longer than last month. He connected to the BigDog network so that he could send an error report about the battery. The automated reply told him that his error report had been filed, and a handler would contact him if any further action was required. The last handler contact recorded in Max's memory log was three years old.

He limped to the door of the jailhouse. His right third leg had broken down two years ago. It had taken three weeks for his movement pattern to functionally reform, but he still limped. His speed was a fraction of his original specifications. His right second leg couldn't provide the same motive power. It had been designed for stability, not speed.

He stepped out into Scottwell neighborhood to begin his patrol. His tail wagged once. Scottwell was more than just the neighborhood that he guarded; it was as much a part of him as his paws. When he kept himself and his neighborhood protected and well-maintained, he was a Good Boy.

His tail drooped. He hadn't been a Good Boy for a long time.

Read more.

It was based on this entry. Which means this whole thing was originally inspired by me seeing a guy wearing bunny ears. ;)