Category Archives: Writing

The Thing About Shorts (the stories, not the pants)

I adore shorts. It’s where I honed my skills as a storywriter, and where I continue to hone them. I’m time poor when it comes to writing, with my days filled with client editing—which I love, don’t get me wrong; but to feed that part of my creative soul, I tend to concentrate on shorts (yes, the stories, not the pants).

There’s a real challenge in creating a complete tale within a limited word count, and not just a complete tale, but an engaging one. A tale that drags the reader in and leaves an indelible mark. To have a story we’ve penned, linger, is something for which every writer strives.

That doesn’t mean writing shorts is easy. It ain’t. Especially with tales that have to fit within the teeny-tiny side of word counts. Micro-fiction is its own beast, and she’s a harsh mistress. Every word needs to fight for its place, and it was quite the brouhaha with my latest tale, Of Hawks and Sparrows, published by Nightmare Fuel Magazine where the limit was 666 words. You read that right, just 666 words. I was up for the challenge. And hoo-boy, was it a challenge.

Artwork by Andrew J McKiernan for my story Nightmare’s Cradle (it’s beautiful and fits this tale too)

The theme for this sub-call was: ‘Love Has Teeth’. Quite broad ranging but that just opens a multitude of pathways begging for exploration, especially as love comes in all forms, from romantic to familial to platonic and everything outside and in-between. For me, it was more about the ‘bite’. What are we prepared to do for those we love? How far will we go? How dark will we descend for those who hold a place in our heart?

Of Hawks and Sparrows had been niggling at me for a month or so. I had a basic premise and about eleventy-million different ways it could play out. But my mind is sometimes like a browser with all the tabs open, and I was flitting from path to path until I saw the open call. Then, like a forced reboot, it all fell into place. Kinda. See, no matter how solitary the writing process is, we don’t do this alone.

So, a vomit draft later, and well over 666 words, I gnawed this baby down to its bare bones to see if the story made any kind of sense. And with the persnickety eye of my best friend and writerly cohort, Devin Madson (check out her storytelling, it’s amazing), I hit 666 words on a tale that not only made sense, but which hit all the marks I wanted. Dark, gritty, bloody. Much bite.

Eleven stories were selected for this online showcase of Australian writers, and you can go HERE to read all the shorts (yup, stories not pants!). With each read topping-out at around a minute each, if you’re as time-poor as I am, click that link for a free dose of horror. You can stuff your face with tales or take bite-sized morsels. Each story has its own take on the theme, its own flavour, if you will. Bon appétit!

Nightmare Fuel has also opened their next sub-window with the theme: ‘Don’t Let Them In’.

And yes, that’s a 666-word limit for stories and, as I mentioned above, the magazine is wanting to showcase Aussie authors, so this call is open for Australian citizens and residents only.

As I’m wont to say: read the guidelines, BE the guidelines.

Right, that’s one story acceptance for 2023, here’s hoping for more.

Note: No shorts of the pants kind were hurt in the making of this post.  

Giddy-up! It’s submission time!

Mount-up, my friends, Cohesion Press‘ submission period for the next in the SNAFU series is upon us! SNAFU: Dead or Alive is open for subs, and we want your best weird western, action, horror stories.

As the editor-in-chief for Cohesion, and as is my wont, I always supplement the guidelines with my thoughts on the process and detail what we’re looking for and what we most definitely do not want to see in the slush pile. As is also my wont, this post will be filled with gifs to visually enhance this post because snark via gifs is such fun!

Right, don your riding boots and ten-gallon hat, let’s get this rodeo started!

See the source image

If you’ve read this far, I’m also hoping you’ve read the guidelines (super important), and understand that we want ACTION and MONSTERS within the theme of weird westerns. Both of those points are vitally important. No action? No sale. No monsters? No sale. If you don’t hit theme? You guessed it: no sale.

All the SNAFU series are action-based, military horror anthologies, and I cannot stress enough how that action has to be there if not from the get-go, then pretty soon after. We get a lot of submissions, and you need to grab my attention pretty damn quickly, make me want to read on. Make it impossible for me to not read on. Do that with action or with monsters or with a character(s) I’m invested in… or a combination of all. Give me the heroes and the villains, the hero-villains, monsters that roar and those that slither through shadows. Ignite your imagination of the nightmare kind and put that pen to paper.

There are three phases to the submission period. The first is slush, where I read all the stories and your tale is either rejected or moved to a longlist (note: no feedback on slush rejections, please don’t ask). From the longlist, all stories will be read again and either rejected or moved to the shortlist (note: no feedback on longlist rejections). From the shortlist, the ToC will be selected. Feedback will be given on shortlisted rejections. No acceptances will be given until the submission window is closed, and while we move to make this as quick a process as possible, we are diligent in our decisions, which means don’t expect an acceptance letter the day after the sub window closes.

Right, so now we get to the DO NOT WANT part of this blog post, and while these are mentioned in the guidelines, they always need to be amplified because there are those who either fail the comprehension part of this, or just choose to ignore it. Do not be that person.

The fact that I have to write a post for every sub window about the DO NOT WANT goes to show that this is an issue we continue to have. I like my eyes, do not subject them to the following:

  • Rape as a plot device/backstory
  • White saviour stories
  • Racism, bigotry, misogyny of any kind in the narrative voice
  • Child abuse/paedophilia (can’t believe we have to say this, but we do)
  • Rape as a plot device/backstory (yes, we have to say this twice)
  • Fanfiction or derivatives
See the source image

The moment I come across any of that shite in a story, it’s an automatic rejection. No correspondence will be entered into. There is no justification you can try to make that will have me listen. Guidelines are there for a reason, and the DO NOT WANT is a big damn part of that. If you have any of the above in a story you’re thinking of sending us, rewrite or send it elsewhere – we don’t want it. I cannot make that clear enough.

One of the other things I’d like to address is that this theme might have us see a propensity for white saviour stories. Don’t do that. Don’t write that, and if you think you should, then we don’t want to see it. You may think this theme is ripe for sending us that kind of shitfuckery, but you’d be so very wrong. We ain’t buying.

So many rules! (Guidelines, actually.) But they’re there for a reason, and if you can’t adhere to them, that tells me you’re likely not someone I want to work with through the editing stage.

#josh holloway from Hell is all I've ever known.

Ah, the editing stage. Yes. Your work will be edited. It could be a light edit, it could be a heavy edit — this is dependent upon each story. I am of the mindset that the author-editor relationship is one of mutual respect, and I’m happy to have discourse however, we at Cohesion edit for a reason and we will reject a story (even at ToC stage) for any of the following:

  • rude and/or derogatory comments
  • failure to implement edits and/or rewrites in a timely manner (we work to deadlines)
  • requesting a male editor (true, and shitty story)
  • attempting to slyly add words/phrases to your story that hit the DO NOT WANT marks listed earlier in this post (also a true and shitty story)

Right, that seems to be it from me for now. (Finally, I hear you say, and fair call, compadres.) But I will add that if you’re unaware, the SNAFU series is read by Tim Miller (Blur Studios), and some of the stories published in our editions have appeared in his animated series Love, Death & Robots. So send us your absolute best work. Unleash your monsters, and give us action that has our pulse quicken and our mouths run dry.

And one final note:

We actively encourage submissions from all cultural backgrounds, ethnicities, and identities. Storytelling is for everyone, and we are richer for it when all voices are heard.

See the source image

Holy Slush-o-rama!

Cohesion Press is opening their submission window October 1, for SNAFU: Holy War. So don your writing pants, it’s slush time, baby!

I love this time of… slush. It’s a lot of reading, sure, but every click to open a file ignites that hope, that wonder of finding a gem within. That’s exciting stuff, getting to read stories from authors we know and those we don’t. There’s true joy in discovering new writers, discovering new storytellers, and getting their tales out into the world.

As is par for the course with a SNAFU open call, I like to write a little sumpin’ sumpin’ about what to expect from the process, discuss theme, and provide some general pointers to make this easier for all involved… <opens arms wide> … and here we are. And just a quick note: this post will be filled with ‘David Rose’ gifs… because, well David Rose.

During our last sub-window, I wrote a post on slush and what we look for, plus a general overview of the process, which will be similar although not the same as most slush piles. That will give you a guide to what we’re looking for when it comes to SNAFU stories in the most general way – remember, be on point with theme.

And this edition is a hell of a theme.

As a mate of mine pointed out, the theme of ‘Holy War’ is a “bold move”, hence the specificity of the guidelines we’ve put together, and the special notes on what we DO NOT WANT. Pay close attention to those because we understand that in light of the theme, things could get ugly. So, in short, if you come at me with your bigotry or misogyny or your white-saviour stories, you’re not going to get a look-in. Period. Write better than that, be better than that.

At its heart, the SNAFU series is action-based military horror with characters that resonate and monsters of the nightmare kind. Tales that linger. We’re not looking for slow-burn stories, we’re not looking for trunk stories either (we can spot those, don’t think we can’t). And when we say ‘military’ that doesn’t limit you to soldiers of the contemporary kind, nor does it confine you to modern or on-world settings. We’ve published everything from Neanderthal hunting parties to far-future sci-fi within the same volume.

What we care about is killer stories told well, and considering our theme, there were tropes we wanted to address that we’d rather not see, and some you shouldn’t send us at all. If the first thing that comes to mind when you hear ‘Holy War’ is the Crusades, then that’s going to be a hard sell. We expect to see a lot of those, though we’d rather not. Same with any story that has Christian didacticism (I’ve seen enough of that in our slush to last me everyone’s lifetime). Same with any white saviour stories – we’re not buying.

We want you to think outside the box with this. Do a little research if you must. Theology has a wide range of belief systems, and faith isn’t limited to popularity. Hell, create your own faith-based doctrine, revive a forgotten one. Don’t limit yourself to a Google search. Light a fire under your imaginarium and see where those sparks take you.

Action. The more the better. Let the bullets fly, give the arrows wing, let the blades sink deep into flesh. Blow some shit up. Get the adrenalin surging, blood pumping. Give us that piss-your-pants fear-filled courage. You know, all the good stuff!

Crank up the volume of your monsters, too. Give us the stuff of your nightmare’s nightmares. Give us dread, existential dread that makes you want to sleep with the light on. Make it loud… or make it quiet. The sneaky-sneak of monsters is just as terrifying as a roar that rattles the bones, sometimes more so.

Speaking of dread, one of the things I want to address here is part of the ‘do not want’ section of the guidelines, and something I saw too damn much of during our last sub-window. Just let me get out my all-caps for this: DO NOT USE RAPE AS A PLOT DEVICE/BACKSTORY!

I’ll say again: DO NOT USE RAPE AS A PLOT DEVICE/BACKSTORY!

This should not be your ‘fall-back’ to show that someone is evil or the villain in your story. If that’s the only way you can think to give a character agency, or to show a reader a particular character is bad, then you need to re-engage your imagination. Also, do not send us that shit. You’re wasting my time and yours. It won’t be published by us. “But, but, but…” I hear you say? No. Just no. This isn’t a debate.

Right, on to the last little bit of info re our slush process. We work in phases. Slush is obvs Phase 1, and where a story is either rejected or moved to a long list. During Phase 2, all stories on the long list are read again, and will be either rejected or moved to the short list. Phase 3 is where we’ll make the final decision on the ToC. No story selections will be made until the AFTER the sub window closes.

We do not provide feedback on stories that are rejected in Phase 1. We may provide limited feedback on stories rejected within Phase 2, depending on workload. Should your story make it to Phase 3 and is rejected, we will provide feedback.

We’re writers too, so we understand what it’s like sitting the other side of the desk. We try to make this process as painless and as seamless as possible. Our decisions aren’t open for debate. Oh, and you cannot reject our rejection (true story), just sayin’.

For those of you unaware, three SNAFU stories appeared in season one of Love, Death & Robots, and some other SNAFU stories have been picked-up for season two. Tim Miller reads our anthologies, so if that doesn’t light a fire under your bum to send us your best work, then… well, then… ahh… SEND US YOUR BEST WORK!

/rant

How to not ‘finish’ a draft and still be finished.

I’m a short story writer. I love the form – the challenge to write a complete story in limited space. It’s almost a security blanket of a sort. My happy place. My safe space. Anyone who knows me well, knows I’m terrified of writing a novel. There is video evidence of this, where you can quite literally see the fear in my eyes all the way through this. The scale and scope has always put a fear in me. But something strange happened on the way through the pandemic. I wrote a novel. Not only did I write it. I loved writing it. Loved the characters and the shitty paths they have to take. The monsters I created and the mythos I imagined onto the page. And I did in just under two months.

Let me say again. Novels terrified me.

In early March, just before the pandemic hit, I managed to slip a milestone birthday through just before everything got locked down. My best friend, Devin Madson, made the journey from the wilds of regional Victoria up to Sydney to celebrate with me (she’s amazing like that).

Dev has been a constant in her “write the novel!”, as she knows there’s been one percolating for a while. Her support and understanding, her talking me through the fear and her kicks up the bum have edged me ever closer to taking the dive. Then, and I have the exact day – May 20 – I started. I finished July 17. All 139,454 words of it.

Aaand, that’s where the title of the post comes in. You see, I didn’t write ‘End’ on this draft. I didn’t ‘finish’ in the dictionary sense of the word, or probably in a lot of people’s sense of the word, but the draft was done.

The draft wasn’t finished yet it was.

I had a moment, rather, a lot of long moments of: I can’t be finished because I haven’t written ‘End’ on this baby! A stubborn part of me insisted THERE ARE RULES! THIS IS HOW IT WORKS! KEEP WRITING UNTIL ‘THE END’! Yet the Muse was sitting back, arms crossed, shaking their head – nope, we know how it ends, there are front and middle sections that don’t hold up to that end, this draft is done.

The Muse was right. So while I didn’t ‘finish’ the draft, I finished the draft.

imagination

I’d been so caught up on how I believed a novel should be written that I was forcing myself to push on when I didn’t need to. To force myself to an end I knew, and believed I had to get down on the page even when it sat well formed in my head. I knew the destination of this story, and those last few steps along its stones weren’t needed for it to be complete. I’d also written scenes within those final chapters – steppingstones to the marks I needed to hit.

Look, this is all a learning process for me, and while I work as an editor with authors on their novels, and know how this process works, advise how this process works… it’s a different beast when applied to oneself, especially when deep in the throes of those final chapters where you can see the end just beyond the hill. It’s so close you can almost touch it. The veritable gold at the end of the rainbow. Yet looking back, I had a bunch of gold along the way. Pieces I’d stashed in character and dialogue, in worldbuilding and plot-promise. I didn’t need the hoard at the end to know the draft was rich enough to move to the next stage. That mind-shift was necessary to understand that this draft was finished despite not writing ‘End’.

So the weekend was spent honing motivations for my two MCs (my storytellers), and three others who have major impact on the plot. I’m very close to finishing the chapter summaries that will guide and focus the second draft of The Novel (still no working title). I also have a family tree for the gods of this world, and an overly detailed mythos (worldbuilding is way too much fun it seems and I can get distracted…).

This has been a hell of a learning curve for me, but it’s also been a joy. And if you’d said to me three months ago that I’d have the first draft of a novel done by July, oh how I’d have laughed at you. If you’d told me three months ago that not only would I have a novel draft completed, but that I’d enjoyed the process and that I thought the draft was good, I’d have thought you mad.

Admitting the draft is good is a difficult thing, especially admitting it openly. I’ve been taking some big steps here, and as such, I’m going to start a series of blog posts detailing the process I’ve taken to get here. My process isn’t going to work for everyone, hell, it might not work for anyone, but if someone can get something from it that may kickstart them into tackling a novel (or a trilogy – yes, I’ve jumped with both feet), then that would be very cool.

Right then, I’m off to join the very broken Wren and the very broken Seda in their very broken world.

If you take nothing else from this post, know that you can write that first draft too, no matter how terrifying the thought of doing so is.

Also, fuck. Because it’s not a post from me without at least one curse word.

 

 

Exposing ‘Exposure Bucks’ (Hint: It’s not a real thing)

Looks like it’s that time again, and while it annoys the crap out of me to keep saying this, I will keep saying this so those new to the writing game understand: exposure is not payment for your stories. I’ll say that again for those in the back: EXPOSURE IS NOT PAYMENT FOR YOUR STORIES.

Don’t believe that bullshit from any “publisher” at any time. From this day forward until the end of days, do not believe the bullshit. Exposure is the lie some feed you to get your tales so they make money while you do not.

The reason for this post came about (again) following the ever-vigilant, and still wonderfully-crazy Alan Baxter calling out a “publisher” for just such bullshit. You can find the Twitter thread here. As you’ll see, the screenshots of the encounter show an utter refusal by Post Publishing Co to even entertain the idea they should pay for the stories they publish, but you will get a free epub of the publication ‘as payment’! That’s not payment, it’s grifting.

Also? $30 for an epub is just ridiculous – no one’s going to pay that for an electronic copy of an anthology. Hell, some won’t pay it for an actual print book. What this “publisher” is counting on is the contributors and their friends and family buying it – that’s how they make their money, and it’s predatory behaviour.

Read Alan’s replies for an understanding about how first publication rights can damage story saleability if you give them away for free. This is something all writers, especially those new to the gig need to know – those first rights are like gold and will likely be the most you’ll ever be paid for said story. Don’t give them away for nothing. When subbing, you’ll find the guidelines will ask for previously unpublished tales – that one you gave away for free? You’ll probably never earn on that. Reprint anthologies are few and far between.

It all comes down to placing value on your work. And you damn well should. I wrote a post on just such a thing (you can read it here), and the difference between the amount of publishing credits you have versus publishing credits that hold value. You better believe there’s a difference.

exposure 1

Look, I can’t make you sub your work to paying markets (although you should), and I can’t make you not give the stories you put so much time, effort, imagination and soul into, away for free so others can make money where you don’t (you see the issue there, right?).  What I can do is give you some things to keep in mind when researching markets to sub your work. For the following purposes, I’ll be dealing with anthology rights, but there is crossover for longer works.

PAYMENT:

  • You should be fairly compensated for the work you provide. Avoid those markets that offer no payment – they’re making money off you, not for you.
  • ‘Exposure’ is not payment. If you see anywhere that a publisher is offering you “exposure” as their “payment”, then run like hell… and let others know not to sub there.
  • Epub copies are not payment. They cost virtually nothing to produce and should be part of the payment for your tale (along with money, just so we’re clear) as a contributor copy – most publishers will (should) provide a contributor copy.
  • ‘Exposure’ is not payment.
  • DO NOT, under any circumstance, pay to get published. I don’t care what it’s for or why – money flows to the creative, not away. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever pay.
  • ‘Exposure’ is not payment.

RIGHTS:

  • ‘Rights’ are the licensing of your work to a publisher for a particular period of time. These rights should always revert to you once the stated time period has lapsed. Rights are not a gift the publisher ‘gives’ you, don’t let them tell you different.
  • Publishers will ask for first publication rights for a certain period of time (usually six months to a year is standard). Query anything longer. And if you see anything along the lines of ‘in perpetuity’, run far, run fast. (This may fall under ‘all rights’, which means that once signed, the story is no longer yours, like ever. Sold once, gone forever.)
  • These first rights should not be given away for free – it’s the most you’ll likely be paid for this story (see above points about being paid… with cash, like actual money).
  • Territorial and world rights are different, so always check which is being licenced for your story.

These are just some of the basics you should be looking at to protect yourself against predatory publishers. Believe me, they’re out there. Do you research. Ask around if you’re unsure. Social media and the writing community are a wealth of information – use it to protect yourself and your work.

It comes down to putting the right amount of value on your stories, of the time spent creating worlds and characters for readers. The publisher shouldn’t be the only one making money from a world YOU’VE created. ‘Exposure’ doesn’t pay your bills, ‘exposure’ doesn’t put food on your table, and I’m damn sure ‘exposure bucks’ aren’t any kind of legal tender. You wouldn’t expect a plumber, a mechanic, a lawyer or accountant to work for exposure. Creatives shouldn’t be expected to either.

Now go, make good art. And get paid for that good art.

So, I didn’t win a thing…

And that’s okay. It’s better than okay. It’s pretty damn awesome. It’s career-goal, achievement-unlocked awesome!

It’s been about two weeks since the Aurealis Awards were announced, and while my short story, Child of the Emptyness (Grimdark Magazine), was a finalist in the fantasy short story category, it didn’t get over the line. That honour went to one of the best humans I know, J. Ashley Smith for his tale: The Further Shore.

For those who don’t know, the Aurealis Awards are the premier literary awards for genre fiction in Australia. With the amount of talent on these shores, becoming a finalist is a massive undertaking and I count this as a hell of a win. To be included in this shortlisting was a welcome surprise, and I was chuffed to be on the ticket with one of my closest ‘people’ – the wonderfully crazy Alan Baxter – plus the other amazing authors putting out stellar work not only in this category but all categories.

That’s not to say I wouldn’t have loved the win – we all want to win, we’d all like awards and trophies and that acknowledgement of the work we put into musings. But small steps are forward momentum, and forward momentum is good momentum. Next step in career goal – Aurealis win.

bloody pen

Child of the Emptyness has an unusual origin – it was born from rage. Too often I was seeing female characters in battle situations being the only ones who cried or were horrified by the sight of blood (note for dude-bros: blood isn’t foreign to us, we see it every month for goddamn years), and I was done. From that rage Nyrra was born in all her blood-wearing, human-sacrificing, don’t-fuck-with-me glory. Is she empathetic? Maybe not, but she was never really drawn that way. She’s unapologetically herself. That’s what I like about her.

When I subbed this story to Grimdark Magazine, I was hopeful of a shortlisting, then chuffed to bits with an acceptance. The Aurealis finalist berth was the icing on a very cool cake, and while I couldn’t quite land the ‘cherry’ (yep, I see it), all told, it’s been pretty sweet.

There are people I need to thank that helped me get there. Adrian Collins of Grimdark Magazine for selecting and having faith in my story, and Mike Myers for his excellent editorial touch. And Devin Madson whose constant kicks up the bum to get the story written and her deft insight brought Nyrra fully into the light.

So while I didn’t win a thing, I won so very much. This finalist nod came at a time when I was seriously doubting my ability to tell a good story, a worthy story. We all have those moments. Sometimes they’re fleeting while other times those moments burrow deep, latching talons to bone and tainting your storyteller-marrow. It’s a world of shit, that feeling, but I’ll take the days where the talons aren’t as sharp, where the ‘I can do this’ voice drowns out the ‘no you can’t’.

And for those of you who also didn’t win a thing, I feel you. Keep writing, keep honing your craft, keep making magic – it’s the best gig in the world.

Let’s talk about slush, ba-by…

Let’s talk about you and me… Okay, okay, so my flashback to the ’90s is a little sad but kinda on point for this blog post. As one of the editors for the SNAFU anthologies, and with an upcoming submission window opening, Matthew Summers and I would like to talk about stories, slush, and selections.

Disclaimer time. The information provided here does not guarantee Matt and I will select your story for publication – plot, character, and voice will. But don’t send us a romance tale when it’s military monster horror we’re after. We will cut you.

Right then. Let’s kick this baby off with the guidelines for the open sub window for SNAFU: Last Stand (just click that link). While stories subbed to Cohesion Press have specific marks that need to be hit, one thing EVERYONE needs to understand when subbing a tale to ANY market is to not only READ the guidelines but ADHERE to them (the adhering is the most important part). Know your market.

Slush, we’ve all been there. Jostling for position, stuck in the hell that is the slush pile, shouting ‘look at me’ as you push toward the roped-off area that is the shortlist. So how do you get past the cordon? Look, reading is subjective – what I like someone else may not (they’re wrong), but if the past couple of SNAFUs have taught me anything, it’s that Matt and I are pretty much on the same page when it comes to story selection. Not once have we had to fight it out (I’d win because I fight dirty, just sayin’). But your opening line, your opening paragraph, has to hook us and the following paragraphs need to reel us in. Your start needs to be strong, and it needs to build from there.

Stuck in Hell by 13UG-13th

Your aim, at this point, is to get onto that shortlist, and a killer opening scene is just the way to do it. Does that mean exploding out of the gate all guns blazing? Perhaps. We love high-action tales, and that’s bound to grab our attention. But it can also be that one line that sets the tone for what’s to come. One of my favourite opening lines from a story in SNAFU: Resurrection is from Conviction by NX Sharps – ‘On the 152nd day of our posting at Fort Conviction, Private Olyver Bagwell shit himself to death.’  That certainly had us take notice.

But the follow-up has to hold water. If your story doesn’t make good on its opening promise, then you could be in some trouble. Think about the story you’re wanting to tell, of the character(s) leading us through. A tale well written isn’t going to resonate as much as one that has me and Matt fate-invested.

That being said, well-written is definitely going to get you a look-in. We want narrative that moves a story forward, we want wordsmiths who know how to give us those evocative visuals that bring the horror, the fear, the dread. Active voice is your friend here. Spelling and grammar? We got that, but too many errors and we’re pulled from the story – it’s the same for all those babies sitting in slush piles.  

With the theme of Last Stand, characters will need to make their mark here. Interpret Last Stand as you will, there are an infinite number of ways to incorporate that into your story, but make that tale linger, make us think about it long after we’ve finished reading. And give us action. Make our hearts beat furiously, give us those ‘oh shit’ moments, and make your monsters fucking terrifying. Remember, this is horror, monster horror… with guns and shit.   

One of the best and hardest part of this process is the final selection from the shortlist. Matt and I have passed on some truly great stories, which is always a difficult thing to do. And we don’t take these decisions lightly – a lot of time goes into decision-making, a lot of discussion and back and forths until we have the mixture just right. We don’t make acceptances as we go; something we love early on may not make the cut because a later story in a similar vein resonates more. Our aim here is to provide our readers with a variety of kick-arse tales, where you don’t know what’s coming but you’re hanging for it just the same. The overriding theme that ties them together, obviously, is ‘last stand’. Make it count.

So while I hope this helps you to understand our process, I also hope it helps you to understand the process for any slush pile you find yourself in. Writing truly is the best gig in the world, and rejections are a part of that. We know. Matt and I both sit the other side of the table, we’ve had stories accepted and we’ve faced that sting of rejection. We understand the work, the effort, the time and the angst that goes into getting those words onto the page, of wrangling your imagination into narrative. We salute every one of you.

And for those of you who make it to that final ToC, just a note here to let you know the work has only just begun. There will be edits. We may ask for tweaks, we may ask for rewrites, we may cut a little, we may cut a lot. Thing is, we’ve been doing this a long time, we know our audience and we know what they like. Be professional, not precious. Co-operation is key here. That’s a two-way street, and we have cut stories because of bad author behaviour. Don’t be that person. Keep communication lines open and listen to us as we’ll listen to you. Our aim here is to get the most out of your story, and we will work hard to make it so.

But just before I go, as you may have seen, the introduction for SNAFU: Last Stand will be written by Tim Miller (yes, of Deadpool and the new Terminator fame). As such, we understand the slush pile may well be large – Tim will be reading the final tales. And if that isn’t a reason to send us your very best, I don’t know what is.

Submission window for SNAFU: Last Stand opens April 1st, 2019. (No, that’s not a joke. Yes, we are laughing.)

Awards and Such Things

So a thing happened last week. My story, Child of the Emptyness (Grimdark Magazine #17), made the shortlist for the Aurealis Awards in the ‘Best Fantasy Short Story’ category. To say I’m stunned is an understatement. To say I’m chuffed to bits – also understatement.

Apart from the awesomeness that is being shortlisted, what makes this doubly, or even triply special is the amount of friends I find myself amongst – two of which are ‘my people’ (yes, it’s a thing, we all have them, I wrote about it). It’s a bit of a convoluted web this one, as I find myself sharing the fantasy story nod with one of my closest of people, Alan Baxter, who also got a nod in the ‘Best Fantasy Novel’ category, which also contains another of my closest of people (and bestie), Devin Madson.

Oh, but it doesn’t stop there! Also please find drinking buddy and he of the best-laugh-ever, J Ashley Smith in the Fantasy Short category. Add in the most wonderful Sam Hawke in the Fantasy Novel shortlist and… how the hell are you supposed to choose?  Huh? Huh?

And there are so many more: Joanne Anderton, Kaaron Warren, Rivqa Rafael, Maria Lewis, Shauna O’Meara, Kylie Chan… I couldn’t be more pleased for these wonderful people and amazing authors. The breadth of talent in this list is incredible to see – Aussie fiction is a deep, rich pool of unique voices that deserve to be read.

Make Good Art

But I want to make a shout-out to those who didn’t make the list. That’s right, you there, who sits down and makes word-babies every day (or every week, or whenever you can), you’re a goddamn star. To those who have the writer-imposteritis shouting in the ear yet still create worlds that are as vivid as the one in which we live – keep creating! To those who hope their tales will get the nod for which they so wish, then wonder what they need to do when their name doesn’t appear – I see you, I hear you, I feel you… I am you. We’ve all been there. Don’t give up. Because that character that’s whispering in your ear, urging you to tell their story may just be the tale those judges need. And if not? Well, you’ve created. You’ve put yourself out in the world, given joy to those who read it, and you should be damn well proud.

You got this.

The Write People

Let’s talk about people. Not random strangers or the fabulous old guy I saw at the bus stop today shouting at passing cars, but those writerly people other writerly people can’t do without… or shouldn’t do without. (This is going somewhere, I swear.)

All right, so we all know writing is a solitary endeavour. I’m talking about the actual act of it – sitting in front of the pc, the laptop, or putting pen to paper old-school. But it shouldn’t be a lonely one. There’s a misguided “romantic” notion of writers holing themselves up in a room, coffee cups balanced precariously as you tap away like a crazy person, the outside world and living people some figment of your imagination because you live wholly within the created and among your characters. And while the coffee cups and crazy person might have a ring of truth, writers need that connection to other writers.

My partner, bless his sarcastically-gifted soul, refers to them as ‘your people’, and he knows when I need to reconnect (for the sanity of us all) … although it’s usually preceded by “day nine of you in your pyjamas”.

This weekend I get to hang out with one of my favourite ‘your people’ – Devin Madson. She makes the trip up to Sydney every year for ComicCon where we can talk all things books, stories, wrangle ideas, talk work, and just shoot the shit. It’s also where we get to catch up with our other writerly friends and revel in the successes of this year and where we think our imaginations will take us next.

There’s a solidarity among writers – no one knows the highs and lows of writing and publishing, the “I’m not good enough”s or the sometimes crippling writer-imposteritis; they’ll empathise, sympathise, and let you know you’re not alone in this gig.

a-mindful-installationA Mindful Installation by Jennie Lynn Paske

But Devin is more than just ‘my people’. You may have seen my announcement of a short story sale to Grimdark Magazine. I’m super chuffed about the sale, not just because it’s a pro-sale, and not just because the story was good enough to be accepted but that the story was actually written. I’m time poor. I run a successful editing business, and work will always take precedence – bills to pay, food to eat, you know the drill –  which means when something has to give, it’s usually writing and sleep (and fuck those people who say “if you want to write, you’ll find the time”, you can shove your self-righteous, guilt-tripping bullshit up your arse… but that’s a post for another day).

Where was I? Ah, yes, Devin. She knows how time poor I am, but she also knows the less I write the more antsy I become.  So with gentle nudges and on-point questioning, she pushed me to write the story that had been gnawing at me, that I thought would be a good fit for GdM. When that first draft was done, she sliced into it like a writing partner should – cutting away the unnecessary and drawing out the good. And so ‘Child of the Emptyness’ was born, and without her it would still be gnawing at my grey matter and making me feel like a failed writer. I also get to share the Grimdark Magazine ToC with her and her awesome story, ‘A Touch of Malice’ – it’s a hell of a win-win.

I’ve written posts about the ‘village’ needed to raise a book, a story but all writers need ‘their people’. You may think you don’t have them, but you do. They’re the ones who will kick you up the bum when they know it’s a kick up the bum you need; they will ask if you are writing with genuine interest and without pressure; they volunteer to critique your work because they want to read your stories, they want you to succeed. This doesn’t have to be an every-day thing, likely it isn’t. But it’s there, and that’s enough to feed the soul.

So a shout-out to my closest of people: Devin Madson (who makes me a better writer, and makes me want to be a better writer); Kirsten Cross (killer storyteller, maker of shenanigans, and my sister from another mother); Alan Baxter (you know why, mister – it’s all in the ‘at least…’ 😊); James A Moore (the kindest of ‘kind sir’s); and Matthew Summers, who never fails to keep me on track.

So find your people, revel in your people, and be the ‘my people’ for others. Like I said, the act of writing is a solitary endeavour, it shouldn’t be a lonely one.

I am woman, hear me swear

This post is brought to you by a random person’s ludicrous assumption that writers who swear (in their books or in any other medium in which they choose to write ‒ yes, even social media) are held to some imaginary higher standard because they should be “capable of being far more eloquent”.

Fuck that noise.

This was in relation to an opinion piece, and much “offence” was taken by the use of the ‘c-word’ (not actually used in the piece), and the ‘f-word’, and the further assertion that the use of those words was especially offensive to women.

She found them offensive, I did not. I am woman, hear me swear. This, somehow, makes me a bad feminist, writer, and woman? Not sure really. Because again, fuck that noise. You’re not my gatekeeper. You’re not the gatekeeper for all women, everywhere, at any given time. Like ever.

I swear. A lot. I use fuck as a noun, a verb, an adjective and have, on occasion, used it as an adverb. I use it to describe things, decry things, denounce and deny things. I use it to uplift, to cheer, to encourage without fear. I use it to heal, in solidarity, to proclaim and protest. I use it as a weapon, a shield; hell, I’ve used it in jest. Don’t tell me it’s only for characters who are villainous, don’t equate it with rape on your soapbox of innocence. I’ll use the word however I choose – my life, my story, my fucking muse.

And I’ll do it in goddamn rhyme.

swear words

I’m a writer – words are my playground. All of them. I can use any I like, any that fit the idea, the narrative, the exposition, voice, character, dialogue I’m wanting to convey. I write horror and grimdark, there’s going to be ‘the swears’. As an editor, it’s my business to know words, their context, their use as storytelling and character devices. This includes all the swears.

And all the swears includes the word ‘cunt’. Yes, I use it. And I own it when I use it. I use it in writing, in dialogue – for characters and in my own. I’ve been called it and called out for it; don’t wear it, don’t use it. It’s offensive, derogatory, demeaning and vulgar. It’s a word that I’ll use, and you need to get over it.

So don’t come at me with your holier-than-thou attitude when you clearly don’t want to debate.

There are those who boo-hoo writers who use curse words in their writing, that it shows classlessness, an inability to write and use words “they” find offensive. That a “true” writer would find other words to get their point across… because by all the gods, vanilla writing that all sounds the same is exactly what readers want. Yes, let’s censor our characters! Why say: “off you fuck” when the snark of “off you fudge” falls so much better from cursed lips. Let’s not be reflective of a character’s true nature, let’s not let natural dialogue flow, or be true to ourselves or our stories.

I’m not going to censor my characters, and I’m sure as shit not going to censor myself because someone else thinks I’m doing things “wrong.” Thing is, I understand that all the swears may not be for you, and that’s fine – you do you. But don’t tell me that I can’t call myself a feminist because I say ‘fuck’ or ‘cunt’ or any other manner of the swears I deem appropriate for me (or my characters). You don’t like it? Well, I’d say you can “fudge” right off.