Life, Writing

Dreaming Big

If you read some of my latest posts, you know that I am currently working on book 3 in my YA fantasy series. I am really excited about finishing an entire trilogy.

However, I’m also gearing up to start a new and arguably more nerve-wracking writing project.

I want to write a book and have it traditionally published!

I want to do this for several reasons; some of them are complicated and I don’t think I’ve fully worked them out in my head yet. But, here is where my thinking currently is:

  1. I want to walk into a bookstore and see my book on the shelf.
  2. I want someone other than my sister (though I do appreciate the support) to buy my books.
  3. If I could have one thing in my life, this would be it.
  4. I think at the end of my life, if I don’t at least try to get published, I will regret it.

That last one is the biggest reason why I want to try. I don’t want to regret never trying or putting in the work to get published. It still might never happen, but it can’t happen if I don’t try.

So, if you are reading this and you know of any resources, or have any advice for me, please feel free to comment or message me.

I’m nervous excited!

Happy reading and writing today and every day!

short story, Writing

Creature in the Woods

April 2021’s short story of the month (late but finally done)

He had hunted and hiked and led backpacking trips through these woods for twenty years, and he had never seen an animal track like that. At first glance, it resembled a bird. But it was too big. Way too big. He estimated its length to be close to eighteen inches from toe to heel. Did ostrich feet even get that big? And why would there be an ostrich in the woods? They didn’t even live on this continent. He took a picture of the track with his hand placed beside it for comparison. He would share it online. Someone would know.

After his daily hike checking to make sure the trail markers were still visible for others, he uploaded the photo online with the caption “What bird could this be?”. He asked anyone to comment.

He waited five minutes but nothing.

The next morning before school, he checked his post; no one had commented yet.

“Settle down everyone!” he said to his unruly fifth period students.

Most of them slumped into their desk chairs and stopped talking, but they still shifted their belongings around loudly. He waited while they tested his patience. It was always this way in fifth period; he suspected it was because they had just finished lunch and were hyped up on sugar.

“Ok, now that I have your attention. Let’s continue our discussion on our local flora and fauna.” This was his favorite unit to teach each year. The students actually seemed more enthused with things they could personally relate to.

The next forty-five minutes went by quickly as he showed them slides of the various trees found in the local forests. Class was coming to a close, and he wanted to keep them excited until the next meeting.

“Over the weekend, consider taking a hike on the marked trails. You never know what you’ll see in these woods.” He clicked the mouse, and the photo he’d taken yesterday appeared on the board.

Most of the students chuckled thinking it was his attempt at teacher humor.

“Nice one, Mr. Smith. What did you do, track Big Bird?” asked a student. His fellow classmates laughed along with him.

He let them laugh, and as he looked around at their smiling faces, he noticed one student wasn’t smiling. In fact, she had a look of terror on her face. She was noticeably pale, and her mouth hung slightly open.

He knew better than to call on her. Daisy was new this year, and she was painfully shy. But she was having a very strange reaction to the photo.

The rest of the school day was uneventful. As he was packing up his things, he couldn’t help but think back to the reaction Daisy had when she saw that photo. Maybe it was just shock. He knew she’d been home schooled; she just wasn’t as jaded as the rest of his students. They’d assumed it had been a fake, a product of photoshop or something.

He left the school and went to the trails. He usually enjoyed his afternoon hikes; the clean clear forest air melted the stress of being a high school teacher away. Today though, he kept searching the ground around him hoping to see another track like yesterday. By the end of his hike, he had a knot in his neck and shoulder muscles from looking down so much. When he got back to the car, he rode home feeling worse than when he’d left school.

Eating a microwave dinner while he booted up his computer was not helping his mood. He almost dropped the plastic tray when his email popped up. He had hundreds of emails relating to his post.

People from all over the world were contacting him. Some wanted to know how he’d faked such a realistic footprint. Others gave him suggestions for what it might be, none of which made any sense for where he lived. The discussion was rife with debate. He ignored all the comments except for one.

The poster’s name was DaisyChainIRL. She wrote, “Looks like a harpy track to me. LOL. Weird post dude?! Totally faked!”

He sat back in his chair and scratched his head. It couldn’t be Daisy from his class. But, if it was, and she had gone out of her way to find his picture online and comment on it…

He didn’t know what to think. He read her comment over and over again. He stopped reading the whole thing and just read her first sentence. Could that be why she had looked surprised in class? Did she think it was a harpy track?

This was crazy. Harpies weren’t real. But, who would have gone out of their way to fake a giant bird track on a trail that almost no one hiked but him? Either way it was crazy. It was fake or it wasn’t. If it wasn’t then it was a track of something living.

His mind was racing and racing and going places that made little sense. He stopped letting his wheels spin and researched harpies on the internet.

Most of what he found was written for fantasy novels and roleplaying tabletop games. He even found some very elaborate cosplayers in harpy costumes.

He tried searching for “real sightings of harpies” and it mostly brought up results for Loch Ness and Bigfoot sightings. That’s apparently the reality he was now looking at. Was he actually suggesting that a harpy was real? And not only that but there was one living in the woods near town?

And then something else occurred to him. If it was real, and it was a real harpy track, how had Daisy known that?

Something bigger was going on here than he could understand at this point. He needed to ask Daisy, but he didn’t want to message her. That was severely inappropriate for a teacher. He could ask her after class tomorrow, but he had a feeling she would claim she was just being a teen or something equally flippant. He knew she knew something, but how could he find out more?

Maybe he didn’t need to.

He’d lived in this town his whole life. He basically maintained the trails on his own, just like his parents had before retirement. He knew everything about these woods. He could find a harpy.

If it was out there somewhere, he would find it.

Book, Life, Writing

Update on Novel #3

This point in the year is usually when I sit down and assess how my yearly goals are going. One of my goals this year, as you might have guessed, is to finish and publish novel #3 in my YA book series.

So how is it going?

It’s actually off to a great start. At this moment, I’m a little over 50,000 words into the story, and I’m not finished with the second part yet. If you’ve read my other two books, you may have noticed that both were broken into three parts. This book is also sectioned that way.

This story is also going to be the last part of this trilogy. I may come back and write more stories in this world later, but I think I’m going to work on a different project after this. (I’m also going to work on getting published the traditional way. Wish me luck).

I don’t plan to abandon Jamie and her friends forever, but I want to work on something I’ve been brewing for a while now. When I do return to Jamie’s friends, I’m thinking about writing a story from a different character’s point of view. I think the story of Zak and how he became a unicorn hunter at such a young age would be fun. I also want to write about what went down when the two worlds collided. And then there are the Sisters of Rising Magic. (So many options…).

Anyway… back to novel #3… I’m not quite 2/3 of the way done, and this one is tying up many stories and ending with something epic (no spoilers). That being said, this book will probably be a bit longer than the other two. I want to give Jamie and her friends an ending they deserve.

When I wrote the first two books, I wrote the first 2/3 of each book in about the same amount of time it took me to write the last third. Even though I always start my book knowing how I want it to end, I work carefully and slowly on the end to make sure it makes sense how it got there. For me, the last third needs to be solid.

With that in mind, I am rereading the first two thirds right now and making sure details connect the way I want them too, and then I will write the last bit. I’m very excited about the last third (no spoilers… but it’s gonna be good).

If you haven’t read them yet, there is definitely still time before book #3 comes out… Check them out by clicking the titles below:

Unicorns Are Really Vampires

Black Market Unicorns

Happy writing and reading today and every day!

short story, Writing

Magic Doesn’t Fix Everything

March 2021’s short story of the month (super-duper late)

“Maybe the doctor was wrong,” Annie said, though her voice cracked revealing her disappointment.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm myself. “He wasn’t wrong.” I didn’t want to have this argument again. I tried to steady my nerves, but it wasn’t working. My hands were shaking, and I was dripping sweat. Lately my anger was getting the better of me, and I needed to find a way to not let that anger out at home. It was just too much at once.

Work was becoming increasingly difficult. Being a water mage was always stressful during droughts. It was like the world was blaming all the water mages for manipulating water and droughts were our punishment.

For the record, we didn’t cause the droughts. People did, normal people, magic people, all people. Mages were not at fault for the damages to the environment, not entirely. Everyone had a share in that blame.

Despite the global calamity, right now, those problems seemed to pale in comparison to my home life. But I couldn’t deny that the stress from one wasn’t making dealing with the other more difficult. My wife and I were having a rough time.

“This is the third specialist we’ve seen. All of them have said the same thing.” I kept looking at my hands, avoiding making eye contact with her. I knew she would be tearing up, but she needed to accept the truth. “We can’t have children because you are barren.” I didn’t mean for it to sound so cruel, but she needed to hear it.

I looked up just as she was getting to her feet. She left the room slamming the door. I could hear her crying. She cried loudly and openly without trying to calm herself. I didn’t know someone could cry for that long without stopping.

I said it and I meant it, and I was right. Still, I wish I could take it back because there’s no way I can make it up to her, no way I can ever make her feel like she isn’t failing as a wife.

We’ve been trying for years to have a baby. Last year we decided to consult a doctor about it. We went through the tests to determine the problem. After the first round of tests, my wife didn’t believe it when the doctor said she had zero chance of getting pregnant.

I didn’t like the way the doctor talked to her, so I’d agreed to get a second opinion. After the second doctor said the same thing, though with a much better bed side manner, my wife still didn’t want to believe it.

We’d fought so many times after that. For months, if we were home together, we were either fighting or silent. Eventually I’d agreed to see one more doctor.

Today had been the final straw. The doctor we’d seen was not only a trusted and expensive OBGYN, but she was a mage, like us, with healing magic. She literally specialized in helping magic families create stronger magic bloodlines. I knew my wife would listen to her.

The crying finally stopped. As Annie came into the room, she said, “It’s not my fault.” Her face was splotchy, and her eyes were bloodshot.

I quickly went to her and wrapped my arms around her. “It’s not your fault.” Even though I said it to comfort her, the words felt hollow. I knew it wasn’t her fault, but I also knew my family wouldn’t accept that.

I am the oldest son of an extraordinarily strong line of water mages. I’d broken with tradition to marry Annie, a time mage. If my family found out about this, they would be furious.

As I stood there with my arms around Annie, I could feel her anger and sadness pouring like waves out of her small frame.

I was being incredibly selfish. I knew she was blaming herself and feeling like a failure, and all I could think about was how my family might react.

I needed to do better.

I pulled away from her and looked her in the eyes. “What do you want to do?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her shoulders sagged and she turned to walk away.

I stepped in front of her. “Whatever you decide, I’m in. All in. You don’t have to figure it out today. Take your time. Think about what you want.”

She nodded and sighed deeply as she walked past me to head upstairs.

The weeks after that day became a blur for me. I was at work longer and longer hours. There were too many droughts worldwide for the number of water mages we currently employed. We were doing what we could, but it wasn’t making that much of a difference. Sometimes nature had its own plans and we just needed to accept it.

At home, things were not great. Annie barely got out of bed and she said very little. I didn’t want to push her.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep living in what felt like a holding pattern no matter where I went. Something needed to give.

As I came into the house, something was different. I could feel it in the air.

The smell of roast and potatoes hit me in the face as I walked through the foyer. I turned the corner and saw Annie setting the table. It was set just for the two of us. There was a centerpiece with candles and freshly made rolls. She even smiled as I took my seat.

“How was work?” she asked.

“Ummm…” I was trying to act like nothing was wrong, but this entire scene was such a stark contrast to the person I’d been living with for so long now. “It was about the same as always.” I shrugged.

“Hopefully it will get better soon,” she said as she took a dish out of the oven.

I couldn’t wait any longer. “Annie, what is going on?”

She shook her head. “Let’s eat and talk about it after dinner.”

“I think maybe we should talk about it now,” I said.

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face me. “Okay. I suppose that’s a reasonable request.” She stood up a little straighter and said, “I’ve come to a decision.”

“That’s great. What have you decided?” I asked hoping for the best, but honestly, I was prepared to fight.

“We’re going to adopt.” She continued to prepare dinner.

I sat there dumbstruck. I didn’t have a response to her decision. It was a perfectly reasonable idea. I just didn’t know how to feel about it.

prompt, Writing

May’s Short Story Prompt

Let me start my post today by saying Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there. It’s a tough job sometimes, but worth every second.

I also wanted to add that as a mother, I know that many of us feel pulled in many different directions at once and sometimes we need to take a minute to find our sanity. I hope you can find that today. And remember, there is no one standard for what it means to be a good mom except doing the best you can. Happy Mother’s Day!

I am doing my best today to get back on track with things that I’ve let slip through the cracks lately. (Like working on my short stories). At this point, I need to write 3 this month. (It can be done…. hopefully).

So without further rambling on my part, here is another short story prompt:

It was just a game, of course. But it was more than that, and everyone knew it. They were from the upscale part of town, and we were from the wrong side of the tracks. Literally. North of the rail line…

Complete the Story

If you come here for the stories, they will be some coming soon!

Happy reading and writing today and every day!