I find this truly beautiful, and haunting. It makes me want to write. It reminds me of Harris Burdick. It inspires me. I hope it does the same for you.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
2.14.2007
today
I find this truly beautiful, and haunting. It makes me want to write. It reminds me of Harris Burdick. It inspires me. I hope it does the same for you.
Happy Valentine's Day.
2.04.2007
Custom Erotica Source
I "auditioned" recently to become a writer for Custom Erotica Source, a VERY cool erotica website run by Sage Vivant and M. Christian. With their permission, I am posting an excerpt from the story. The challenge was to write a very specific story, with characters and plot outlined for me, in one week and in 1000 words. Yikes! To top it off, I had a 9 hour class on one of my two weekend days that week. Here is a bit of what I came up with.
Blooming
by Riain Grey
The woman standing on my stoop was very pretty; a bit unusual looking somehow. Her eyes were a nice woodsy shade of hazel that perfectly complemented her light brown hair. She had a lovely figure, happily unobscured by the yellow summer dress she was wearing. Her breasts were firm and small, with thick nipples that jutted out proudly. Judging from the look of the dress, I was betting that there wasn't much on underneath. If anything. I felt myself get hard at that thought, but I did my best to ignore it. It wouldn't do to leer at the help. There were all kinds of laws about that. At least in the tropical heat of the greenhouse, her nipples wouldn't be quite so --
Suddenly I realized I was staring. Oops.
"Hi," she said, offering her hand for me to shake. "I'm Beth Stevens, here to see Alan. Is that you?"
"That's me. Come on in."
I ushered her into the front room and waved towards the couch. "Go ahead and take a seat, and we can get started. Can I get you something to drink?"
By ten minutes into the interview, I knew that I was going to hire her. She had a nice vibe and had done a lot of different things in her career. She seemed friendly and willing to learn. And I was looking forward to sharing the greenhouse with somebody.
"Why don't you come take a look," I said. "See what you think."
She nodded and followed me through the back of the house. Steam swirled out as soon as I opened the door.
"Wow," she said, surprised.
"I know," I said with a grin. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. I don't even feel it anymore."
She took an exploratory sniff and then breathed in appreciatively. "It smells so good in here. Like my grandparents' farm. It's...homey, somehow."
I nodded. "For me, this is home. I sleep in here now and then." I gestured to the far wall. "This is where we'll be planting." The tangle of vines and foliage looked a little intimidating, but she just looked around the greenhouse with a broad smile on her face.
"I'll take the job," she said.
Blooming
by Riain Grey
The woman standing on my stoop was very pretty; a bit unusual looking somehow. Her eyes were a nice woodsy shade of hazel that perfectly complemented her light brown hair. She had a lovely figure, happily unobscured by the yellow summer dress she was wearing. Her breasts were firm and small, with thick nipples that jutted out proudly. Judging from the look of the dress, I was betting that there wasn't much on underneath. If anything. I felt myself get hard at that thought, but I did my best to ignore it. It wouldn't do to leer at the help. There were all kinds of laws about that. At least in the tropical heat of the greenhouse, her nipples wouldn't be quite so --
Suddenly I realized I was staring. Oops.
"Hi," she said, offering her hand for me to shake. "I'm Beth Stevens, here to see Alan. Is that you?"
"That's me. Come on in."
I ushered her into the front room and waved towards the couch. "Go ahead and take a seat, and we can get started. Can I get you something to drink?"
By ten minutes into the interview, I knew that I was going to hire her. She had a nice vibe and had done a lot of different things in her career. She seemed friendly and willing to learn. And I was looking forward to sharing the greenhouse with somebody.
"Why don't you come take a look," I said. "See what you think."
She nodded and followed me through the back of the house. Steam swirled out as soon as I opened the door.
"Wow," she said, surprised.
"I know," I said with a grin. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. I don't even feel it anymore."
She took an exploratory sniff and then breathed in appreciatively. "It smells so good in here. Like my grandparents' farm. It's...homey, somehow."
I nodded. "For me, this is home. I sleep in here now and then." I gestured to the far wall. "This is where we'll be planting." The tangle of vines and foliage looked a little intimidating, but she just looked around the greenhouse with a broad smile on her face.
"I'll take the job," she said.
11.25.2006
wild horses
I wore silver gloves and a dragonfly in my hair. The music pounded at my feet as we pushed our way across the dance floor. The punch was sweet and cold.
We left early and went to the beach instead. I held on to every moment, the salt smell of the air, the gardenias twined around my wrist. The way you draped your jacket around my bare shoulders.
Our kisses tasted of popsicles and seashells and longing. We looked into the water, cold and silvery. After you drove away, I pressed myself against my bedroom door, breathless, and already lonely.
'wild horses' (c) riain grey 2006 - do not reproduce without written permission
We left early and went to the beach instead. I held on to every moment, the salt smell of the air, the gardenias twined around my wrist. The way you draped your jacket around my bare shoulders.
Our kisses tasted of popsicles and seashells and longing. We looked into the water, cold and silvery. After you drove away, I pressed myself against my bedroom door, breathless, and already lonely.
'wild horses' (c) riain grey 2006 - do not reproduce without written permission
11.10.2006
9.19.2006
on kink and the beginning of such
I think I always knew that I was kinky, although I didn't have a word for it. The first obvious clue was my utter fascination/obsession with the movie Labyrinth. My fixation was a common one in my age group; it was not how much I liked the film but rather how much I liked it when Jareth threatened and bullied and attempted to seduce a teenage girl. Take this statement for example: "I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I shall be your slave." Look, Mom - David Bowie is talking about power exchange in a clearly sexual context. Can I go see Jim Henson's next movie?
I started to really figure out my kinky self as a young teenager, with my well-read copy of Changing Bodies, Changing Lives, the YA version of the feminist classic Our Bodies, Ourselves. The truly brilliant thing about the book was that it had excerpts throughout, written by actual teenagers, about their own sexual experiences. I vividly remember one girl's candid description of a fantasy she had, about a strange man grabbing her on the street and raping her in the alley*. And I read and reread the story another girl told of riding through a carnival fun-house with a strange boy, and letting him feel her up in the darkness.
*Thinking about it now, it is an amazing and wonderful thing how non-judgemental the book was on this topic. The author(s) talked about fantasy as being a safe way to explore scary ideas, and emphasized that a person can have a fantasy about being raped without actually wanting to be raped. I suspect this book helped me more than I've ever realized.
By middle school, I was having my own secret fantasies, about boys I liked sneaking into my room at night. No imagined bondage, no spanking, nothing like that. Just a boy, and the key to my door, and the sound of the door closing behind him. I was also enjoying the incredibly detailed* sex scenes in Jean M. Auel's Clan of the Cave Bear series. Of particular note was the scene where our handsome hero is carefully and gently--but determinedly--deflowering a fifteen year old girl. The sentence about her frightened eyes staring up at him as he casually unlaced her blouse was the direct cause of my first orgasm, years before any boys would manage to make me come.
*and, I realize now, without shame in the physical act of sex. People fucking, and seeming to like it! How novel. Jean M Auel is probably part of the reason I starting writing porn in the first place. That's weird to think about.
For most of high school I was able to suppress any naughty feelings that seemed too, well, naughty, and just have fun making out with my boyfriends. And when you're in love with a sweet boy and you're 16 years old it's pretty easy to go with the flow. It didn't come up again (so to speak, ha ha) until I met a troublemaker at - where else? - summer school. He had a safety pin in his ear and wore a lot of black and held me down on the bed when we fucked. Of course, he was also an intellectual black hole, and I doubt he knew why he held me down.
But I was starting to know.
I started to really figure out my kinky self as a young teenager, with my well-read copy of Changing Bodies, Changing Lives, the YA version of the feminist classic Our Bodies, Ourselves. The truly brilliant thing about the book was that it had excerpts throughout, written by actual teenagers, about their own sexual experiences. I vividly remember one girl's candid description of a fantasy she had, about a strange man grabbing her on the street and raping her in the alley*. And I read and reread the story another girl told of riding through a carnival fun-house with a strange boy, and letting him feel her up in the darkness.
*Thinking about it now, it is an amazing and wonderful thing how non-judgemental the book was on this topic. The author(s) talked about fantasy as being a safe way to explore scary ideas, and emphasized that a person can have a fantasy about being raped without actually wanting to be raped. I suspect this book helped me more than I've ever realized.
By middle school, I was having my own secret fantasies, about boys I liked sneaking into my room at night. No imagined bondage, no spanking, nothing like that. Just a boy, and the key to my door, and the sound of the door closing behind him. I was also enjoying the incredibly detailed* sex scenes in Jean M. Auel's Clan of the Cave Bear series. Of particular note was the scene where our handsome hero is carefully and gently--but determinedly--deflowering a fifteen year old girl. The sentence about her frightened eyes staring up at him as he casually unlaced her blouse was the direct cause of my first orgasm, years before any boys would manage to make me come.
*and, I realize now, without shame in the physical act of sex. People fucking, and seeming to like it! How novel. Jean M Auel is probably part of the reason I starting writing porn in the first place. That's weird to think about.
For most of high school I was able to suppress any naughty feelings that seemed too, well, naughty, and just have fun making out with my boyfriends. And when you're in love with a sweet boy and you're 16 years old it's pretty easy to go with the flow. It didn't come up again (so to speak, ha ha) until I met a troublemaker at - where else? - summer school. He had a safety pin in his ear and wore a lot of black and held me down on the bed when we fucked. Of course, he was also an intellectual black hole, and I doubt he knew why he held me down.
But I was starting to know.
9.17.2006
a real post
...sort of.
i've had bloggers block for awhile now. it's a lot of pressure to come up with all those words. what i'm starting to figure out (to which the cosmos says 'duh') is that there is all sorts of stuff going on in the back of my mind that has been too painful/too scary/too freaky/too FUCKING WEIRD to really get into. and this of course creates a profound sense of writer's block. have you ever tried to write about sex when you're having a hard time (no pun intended, ha ha) just having sex with a total emotional break down? no? well, i don't recommend it.
so, herewith, i will attempt a little more honesty in this here blog. in a word, i am having some emotional "issues". it's been a long year for me and my darling; one of the first casulties was the buttloads (no pun intended) of kinky sex. once he wanted to again, i couldn't, because i was too busy trying to understand those deep, desperate feelings of abandonment that the lack of kink seemed to bring to the surface.
also there is the whole other matter of the other blog that some of you may have seen if you ever went to my profile. that was supposed to be the place to talk about this stuff - but i think that the personal fragmentation is part of the problem. i need to not banish my kinky nature to some emotional cellar. so i will be moving things around a bit and incorporating that stuff here.
i've had bloggers block for awhile now. it's a lot of pressure to come up with all those words. what i'm starting to figure out (to which the cosmos says 'duh') is that there is all sorts of stuff going on in the back of my mind that has been too painful/too scary/too freaky/too FUCKING WEIRD to really get into. and this of course creates a profound sense of writer's block. have you ever tried to write about sex when you're having a hard time (no pun intended, ha ha) just having sex with a total emotional break down? no? well, i don't recommend it.
so, herewith, i will attempt a little more honesty in this here blog. in a word, i am having some emotional "issues". it's been a long year for me and my darling; one of the first casulties was the buttloads (no pun intended) of kinky sex. once he wanted to again, i couldn't, because i was too busy trying to understand those deep, desperate feelings of abandonment that the lack of kink seemed to bring to the surface.
also there is the whole other matter of the other blog that some of you may have seen if you ever went to my profile. that was supposed to be the place to talk about this stuff - but i think that the personal fragmentation is part of the problem. i need to not banish my kinky nature to some emotional cellar. so i will be moving things around a bit and incorporating that stuff here.
7.07.2006
a friday ficlet
A fifteen minute ficlet
written in fifteen minutes (duh) and based on this word.
Fandom: Buffy/Angel
Title: My Own Man
Tell you this, anyways: I’ll be damned if I’m going to be kept on a leash, the little pet-able puppy. They might not think I have it in me, but I can still bite. Figuratively speaking, anyway.
So after patrolling with the little miss (who’s as self-righteous as ever about the whole thing), I decide it’s time to be a real boy. Head off to the bike for a last minute trip to L.A.
It’s not so much that I hate Angel (though I do, don’t get me wrong). It’s just bloody irritating the way his fixates. Two years and three boys later (including multiple filthy acts with yours truly) and he still thinks she’s coming back to him. And maybe she would, if he wasn’t off being Captain Broodypants, Boy Wonder. Which is why I’m on my way for a visit. Can’t have him sniffing around for the next hundred years of my life.
And maybe this will finally break her out of that corpse she’s dragging around, the icy shell that she lives in now. Maybe she’ll fight for something for a change. She’ll hate me for it, her and her little Scoobie gang. I don’t guess I’ll be seeing the little bit, or hanging around the Summers house anymore.
But that’s part of the point, innit? Be worth it, to feel one hundred and forty-eight dead, wooden years sliding into his chest. To watch it end, the way it’ll end for me one day soon.
I’ll be my own man, for a change.
written in fifteen minutes (duh) and based on this word.
Fandom: Buffy/Angel
Title: My Own Man
Tell you this, anyways: I’ll be damned if I’m going to be kept on a leash, the little pet-able puppy. They might not think I have it in me, but I can still bite. Figuratively speaking, anyway.
So after patrolling with the little miss (who’s as self-righteous as ever about the whole thing), I decide it’s time to be a real boy. Head off to the bike for a last minute trip to L.A.
It’s not so much that I hate Angel (though I do, don’t get me wrong). It’s just bloody irritating the way his fixates. Two years and three boys later (including multiple filthy acts with yours truly) and he still thinks she’s coming back to him. And maybe she would, if he wasn’t off being Captain Broodypants, Boy Wonder. Which is why I’m on my way for a visit. Can’t have him sniffing around for the next hundred years of my life.
And maybe this will finally break her out of that corpse she’s dragging around, the icy shell that she lives in now. Maybe she’ll fight for something for a change. She’ll hate me for it, her and her little Scoobie gang. I don’t guess I’ll be seeing the little bit, or hanging around the Summers house anymore.
But that’s part of the point, innit? Be worth it, to feel one hundred and forty-eight dead, wooden years sliding into his chest. To watch it end, the way it’ll end for me one day soon.
I’ll be my own man, for a change.
7.06.2006
new and improved
i've just done a redesign of my website! Please pop over, take a look, and let me know what you think!
While you're there, you can read my stories and flashers, look at the books my stories are in and learn more about me.
Come on, you know you want to!
While you're there, you can read my stories and flashers, look at the books my stories are in and learn more about me.
Come on, you know you want to!
7.04.2006
The Fetish Chest is open for business
They're here!
Secret Slaves, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and Christopher Pierce, and featuring one of my stories!
Ultimate Undies, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and Christopher Pierce
Sexiest Soles, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and Christopher Pierce
6.29.2006
Five Girls sold to MBNE6!
I am very happy to say that my story Five Girls has been chosen to appear in Maxim Jakubowksi's annual erotica anthology, The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Volume 6!
This is particularly exciting, because the piece was a bit odd and I was afraid that maybe it wasn't a good fit. It's also very cool because Maxim was the first editor to pay me for my fiction writing. Actually that's a funny story. I was sitting about, minding my own business, when I get this strange email about this book, which I have never heard of, asking for address confirmation for contributor's copies and payment. I write back, and say, I have no clue what you are talking about, are you thinking of publishing a story of mine? and Maxim says, I'm sorry, there must have been a mix-up in my records, because I have it that you agreed to have the piece reprinted.
At this point Maxim expresses his sincere apologies if I didn't want the piece reprinted, but the book is actually ALREADY IN PRINT, so is that okay?
And I say to myself, hmmm, let me think. A well-known editor found one of my stories online (at CleanSheets, as it happens), has put it in a book, and now wants to send me a check and a free copy of said book. Um, okay! It was completely exciting not to mention that since the book had gone to press several months before, I didn't have to wait six months to see it in print.
This will be my third appearance in this series, and I am just pleased as punch. And in a blatant bit of self promotion, here are the other two, just in case you feel like buying some good porn.
This is particularly exciting, because the piece was a bit odd and I was afraid that maybe it wasn't a good fit. It's also very cool because Maxim was the first editor to pay me for my fiction writing. Actually that's a funny story. I was sitting about, minding my own business, when I get this strange email about this book, which I have never heard of, asking for address confirmation for contributor's copies and payment. I write back, and say, I have no clue what you are talking about, are you thinking of publishing a story of mine? and Maxim says, I'm sorry, there must have been a mix-up in my records, because I have it that you agreed to have the piece reprinted.
At this point Maxim expresses his sincere apologies if I didn't want the piece reprinted, but the book is actually ALREADY IN PRINT, so is that okay?
And I say to myself, hmmm, let me think. A well-known editor found one of my stories online (at CleanSheets, as it happens), has put it in a book, and now wants to send me a check and a free copy of said book. Um, okay! It was completely exciting not to mention that since the book had gone to press several months before, I didn't have to wait six months to see it in print.
This will be my third appearance in this series, and I am just pleased as punch. And in a blatant bit of self promotion, here are the other two, just in case you feel like buying some good porn.
6.26.2006
Secret Slaves
Rachel Kramer Bussel's new anthology Secret Slaves, which features my story Prix Fixe, hits the bookstores on Saturday. On top of that, I've received a lovely mention from Rachel in her introduction:
"...Riain Grey perfectly captures both sides of the bondage equation "Prix Fixe," where a slave and her master show how perfectly in sync they are. "When you open the door I am kneeling with your drink between my chained hands. My fingers and toes are tingling, my ass full and hot," says her horny slave as she scurries to do his bidding, turning herself on unbearably in the process. Her master does not take this woman's raw need lightly, either—it's not a power trip for the sake of exerting power, it's much stronger, and when he says, "The trust in her electric eyes feeds me," you know they've made a kinky love match."
Wow!
I'm also delighted to announce that I will be one reading at Rachel's erotic reading series In the Flesh. I hope to see you there! Visit the blog for more info!
"...Riain Grey perfectly captures both sides of the bondage equation "Prix Fixe," where a slave and her master show how perfectly in sync they are. "When you open the door I am kneeling with your drink between my chained hands. My fingers and toes are tingling, my ass full and hot," says her horny slave as she scurries to do his bidding, turning herself on unbearably in the process. Her master does not take this woman's raw need lightly, either—it's not a power trip for the sake of exerting power, it's much stronger, and when he says, "The trust in her electric eyes feeds me," you know they've made a kinky love match."
Wow!
I'm also delighted to announce that I will be one reading at Rachel's erotic reading series In the Flesh. I hope to see you there! Visit the blog for more info!
4.27.2006
go forth and purchase, my children
This anthology features one of my stories and will be out in July of this year! It has a cool cover! And you can even buy it ahead of time!Yes, that's right, this is shameless self-promotion. But seriously, this book looks pretty cool. It's edited by the fabulous Rachel Kramer Bussel, too, so you know it will be good!
I will be sharing the ToC with the likes of Tara Alton, Simon Sheppard and Zaedryn Meade. Rockin'!
4.26.2006
woefully behind
Where the hell have I been?? I keep thinking that maybe this blog will update itself. So far, not so much.
A few quick pieces of news:
1. I'm delighted to announce that I will be reading porn at In The Flesh this August! In The Flesh is an amazing reading series curated by Rachel Kramer Bussel here in New York City. Cupcakes and dirty stories will be served. More details to come!
2. The lovely Tara Alton is my featured guest at my website this month. Go here to read one of her very naughty stories!
More soon!
A few quick pieces of news:
1. I'm delighted to announce that I will be reading porn at In The Flesh this August! In The Flesh is an amazing reading series curated by Rachel Kramer Bussel here in New York City. Cupcakes and dirty stories will be served. More details to come!
2. The lovely Tara Alton is my featured guest at my website this month. Go here to read one of her very naughty stories!
More soon!
4.07.2006
a real post
Checking in from crazy-land, where I am currently a full-time resident. I'm very happy to be almost done with the planning for a poetry workshop I'm leading tomorrow. I think it's going to be a wicked workshop and I'm really looking forward to it. However, it was (is) a large amount of work which I totally underestimated.
I'm thinking I must have been feeling fried anyways, since I went to bed at 9:00PM last night and slept through until 8:00 this morning. That felt good but did nothing for my productivity. Now I'm awake and done with the workshop planning and ready to get back on track with my own thing.
Got another very nice rejection letter today. It bothered me even less than the last one. Either I am developing a thicker skin, or I am just aware that the story in question is not my best work. I think I'm going to put it in the trunk for awhile and start working on other things.
Had a horrible nightmare about Clarion West last night. I'm trying so hard not to fixate, since the likelihood of my getting in is teeny-tiny (hey, especially since one of the stories I sent in is being routinely rejected - d'oh!). It's hard not to daydream about it. I'm trying to keep at least one foot on the ground, so that I'm not broken-hearted if I don't get in. After all, there's always next year!
I'm thinking I must have been feeling fried anyways, since I went to bed at 9:00PM last night and slept through until 8:00 this morning. That felt good but did nothing for my productivity. Now I'm awake and done with the workshop planning and ready to get back on track with my own thing.
Got another very nice rejection letter today. It bothered me even less than the last one. Either I am developing a thicker skin, or I am just aware that the story in question is not my best work. I think I'm going to put it in the trunk for awhile and start working on other things.
Had a horrible nightmare about Clarion West last night. I'm trying so hard not to fixate, since the likelihood of my getting in is teeny-tiny (hey, especially since one of the stories I sent in is being routinely rejected - d'oh!). It's hard not to daydream about it. I'm trying to keep at least one foot on the ground, so that I'm not broken-hearted if I don't get in. After all, there's always next year!
4.05.2006
sometimes it's a good thing
I got the nicest rejection letter last night. The editor was kind and wished me luck placing the story elsewhere and welcomed future stories of mine. You can't do any better than that - at least without getting the story accepted. So yay!
And, I did the brave thing which was to send that story right back out. So am now waiting for rejection letter #2.
Today I have a busy day - my normal work things plus planning for a poetry workshop I'm helping lead on Saturday. Exciting!
And, I did the brave thing which was to send that story right back out. So am now waiting for rejection letter #2.
Today I have a busy day - my normal work things plus planning for a poetry workshop I'm helping lead on Saturday. Exciting!
4.03.2006
my very first ficlet
and my first piece of fan-fiction.
the challenge: you have fifteen minutes to write a complete ficlet, taking place in any fandom, using a given word as a theme.
try it for yourself at 15 minute ficlets.
Fandom: BtVS
Spoilers: through Season Six
Pairing: Willow/Tara, sorta
Title: dunno, i suck at titles
It wasn’t just that she would never see Tara again. Never touch her skin or feel her energy sparkling. That was bad enough. It was that she didn’t understand where Tara was.
She knew where Tara wasn’t. Tara wasn’t in the earth, even if Giles did say that it was all connected. The earth, the air, the magicks, the energy. But Tara wasn’t part of that. Not under her stone by the water, not in the stained carpet in Willow’s room. Not in the sky, or in the window, or in Tara’s favorite sweater. If she had still been part of those places, Willow would have found her.
During the good minutes, Willow saw her, smiling, happy. No fear, no doubt. But then, inevitably, Willow’s jealousy and selfishness put an end to that, because how could Tara be happy if Willow wasn’t there? And then hating herself a little bit more, she would try to reinstate Tara to her heavenly grace, or at least to a universe without shrimp.
So it went, day after day, Willow sending Tara to heaven, and then just as quickly ripping her out again. How was she supposed to know which answer was the right one? The right place?
Maybe it would be better if she could just know, for sure, where Tara was. But she doubted it.
the challenge: you have fifteen minutes to write a complete ficlet, taking place in any fandom, using a given word as a theme.
try it for yourself at 15 minute ficlets.
Fandom: BtVS
Spoilers: through Season Six
Pairing: Willow/Tara, sorta
Title: dunno, i suck at titles
It wasn’t just that she would never see Tara again. Never touch her skin or feel her energy sparkling. That was bad enough. It was that she didn’t understand where Tara was.
She knew where Tara wasn’t. Tara wasn’t in the earth, even if Giles did say that it was all connected. The earth, the air, the magicks, the energy. But Tara wasn’t part of that. Not under her stone by the water, not in the stained carpet in Willow’s room. Not in the sky, or in the window, or in Tara’s favorite sweater. If she had still been part of those places, Willow would have found her.
During the good minutes, Willow saw her, smiling, happy. No fear, no doubt. But then, inevitably, Willow’s jealousy and selfishness put an end to that, because how could Tara be happy if Willow wasn’t there? And then hating herself a little bit more, she would try to reinstate Tara to her heavenly grace, or at least to a universe without shrimp.
So it went, day after day, Willow sending Tara to heaven, and then just as quickly ripping her out again. How was she supposed to know which answer was the right one? The right place?
Maybe it would be better if she could just know, for sure, where Tara was. But she doubted it.
3.31.2006
oh my god
can these be real? yes, yes, they can. Courtesy of Strange Horizons, things never to submit to speculative fiction magazines.
Stories They've Seen Too Often.
Horror Stories They've Seen Too Often.
This is similar to an amusing entry on Jane Espenson's blog.
This has, of course, never happened to me. Nope.
Stories They've Seen Too Often.
Horror Stories They've Seen Too Often.
This is similar to an amusing entry on Jane Espenson's blog.
This has, of course, never happened to me. Nope.
3.29.2006
writing is hard
...editing is harder.
just a quick note from the trenches, where i am slowly but steadily beating my latest story into submission. it's the cornerstone of my application to Clarion West, which must be turned in by Saturday. pressure much? nah.
on the plus side, things seem to be working out storywise - i'm getting close to a distint lack of suckage. that's a good thing.
more soon - i'm off to fight the good fight.
just a quick note from the trenches, where i am slowly but steadily beating my latest story into submission. it's the cornerstone of my application to Clarion West, which must be turned in by Saturday. pressure much? nah.
on the plus side, things seem to be working out storywise - i'm getting close to a distint lack of suckage. that's a good thing.
more soon - i'm off to fight the good fight.
3.28.2006
hot off the press
i'm very pleased to announce that one of my stories will appear in the forthcoming anthology Secret Slaves, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and Christopher Pierce. You can preorder the book now! It looks to be fabulous, what with my fellow contributors, including Debra Hyde, Simon Sheppard, Tara Alton, J.Z. Sharpe, Sage Vivant and Zaedryn Meade, among many others. Yowza!
3.08.2006
mmmmm
cupcakes make everything better.
http://cupcakestakethecake.blogspot.com/
have you ever seen anything more brilliant than this??
http://cupcakestakethecake.blogspot.com/
have you ever seen anything more brilliant than this??
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
