Own Your Words

Posted on May 1, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

If you’re an up and coming, a newbie just trying to get there, or an established something-or-other, these words are truth. A lot of people like to be edgy and gritty. They like to “tell it like it is” (yep, I’ve used that one before and you’ll probably see it again). They like to be raw with a biting wit. But, to be successful, that must be tempered with some common sense, some tact. Especially if you’re gonna drop trou and let it dangle to all the world wide web.

What Goes on the Net Stays on the Net

Truer words. This is doubly true if you’re at all in the public eye, or plan to be. In an age where the click of a few buttons can bring up some terrible thing you said about one person or other, a video of you telling fans they suck, a blog post about someone you met and hated at a con, and a few more clicks bringing up your hometown, it’s important to at least cultivate some tact if you don’t already have it. Saying something terrible about some actor or writer could get you blacklisted if you ever try to break into those markets as well. Saying something bad about fans can get you less readers/viewers/listeners. Heck, saying the wrong thing about anyone, really can be detrimental to your chances at success. First, you never know who you may be talking to, and second, you never know who may get a hold of your rage-fueled rant. And once that Genie’s out of the bottle on the net, it’s nigh impossible to put back. No amount of wishes will make it so.

Think Before You Vent

This is probably the most important thing you can do. Let your brain work before you let your mouth run. Or your fingers, if it’s a post to the net or anywhere people can find it. And don’t assume texts are safe either. Think. Wait a couple days to calm down, when the rational side takes charge. Then, if it still matters, be respectful in whatever you post or say. Too often, people say things in anger or frustration and it gets them in trouble. When you operate from a place of calm and reason, you are far less likely to slip up.

On the Razor’s Edge

You can still be edgy without insulting others. It’s completely possible. You can still be real without alienating people. When you insult one person, it’s a fair bet you’re insulting a larger group of people than you think and that can come back to bite you on the ass, and frequently does if you’re in the public eye. I’ve seen many instances of people opening their mouths lately without thought and it’s been less than good. Mudslinging and name-calling are never the way to get a point across. All that does is hurt your reputation and make you look the fool. Live on the razor’s edge, but do it with a thought to your rep. Otherwise, that edge may cut.

Re! Spect! Walk!

Respect in all things. It’s a good motto to live by. You’ll earn more respect if you show respect. When you show you can rise above a situation and take the high road, you not only work from a position of strength, the high ground, but you show others that you can be rational and have discourse without resorting to infantile name-calling and Stone Age caveman rage. Give respect to get respect. They still may not become fans, but some at least will respect your civility and grace. There are always those still stuck in Neanderthal ways that will never change, but that’s the exact thing you should strive not to be. Your career will thank you for it.

Till next time,

D

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Memories of the ‘Ryche

Posted on April 26, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

Queensryche, that is.

I learned recently that one of my old favorites are going through a very painful split. I have a lot of fond memories of getting into Queensryche. Empire had just come out. I missed their concert due to a number of factors. My cousin got to go though and loved it. We’d both bought the album based solely on Silent Lucidity, finding much of it (I say much of it because I was already moving toward heavier fare) equally good, and when the concert came to Columbus, he managed to snag a ticket.

A little later, I was watching MTV, back when it was still worth a damn, and saw a video for a song by Queensryche. I knew it was them. Their lead singer, Geoff Tate, had an unmistakable voice. But I didn’t know what song. I knew it wasn’t on Empire. So I ran out to Media Play. Yeah, Media Play. I scoured the shelves, finally finding a cassette. Yeah, a cassette. Called The Warning. I checked the back, but wasn’t sure if the song was on there, because none of the names clicked. All I knew about the video was that there were eyes and mirrors. I could hear the music in my head, but couldn’t place lyrics. The Warning was not the album I was looking for, but it quickly became my favorite Queensryche album and put them to the top of my list of awesome bands. THIS. THIS was the type of music I loved. Every song blew me away.

I tried again when I had more money. I picked up Rage for Order. There was one song on here I had to get used to, but it eventually became one of my favorites on the cassette, Close to You. This was still not the album I was looking for, but was awesome nonetheless. Still, I wanted that damn song!

I tried again, finding two tapes that hadn’t been there before, likely pulled in based on the popularity of Empire. The self-named demo, Queensryche, and…Operation Mindcrime. And a song on the back clicked. Eyes of a Stranger. I listened to Mindcrime. And again. And again. I hadn’t listened to Iron Maiden’s 7th Son yet and wasn’t a Floyd fan, so I’d never really heard a concept album before. This just blew my mind.

I cut my singing teeth listening to these albums. I loved every one of them. I eventually moved away from Empire, though I do still like it. My musical tastes changed. I went more and more to metal and eventually to power metal. However, my favorite band started moving farther and farther away from its roots. I bought Promised Land but only liked maybe half the songs there. Still, all bands have albums that not every fan digs. I was sure they’d get back to being their badass selves.

Promised Land came at a really bad time for me. I’d just come out of the hospital for a perforated bowel due to Crohn’s disease and was recovering. Then, my cousin tells me that Queensryche is coming to Dayton. We go. In my crappy Chrysler station wagon with the timing belt system going out on it, barely topping 45 MPH despite flooring the pedal, with an ostomy bag attached to my stomach. But I had to go. The concert was awesome. They had amazing energy and played not only stuff from their new album, but stuff from Mindcrime and a little from The Warning. It’s still the best concert I’ve ever been to, even with as far back as we were.

Hear in the Now Frontier came out and I began to wonder. It didn’t help that rumors began to spread about dissatisfaction in the band, some drinking issues, and DeGarmo leaving. And listening to the album, I wondered if it was showing in the music. Geoff wasn’t up to full form, the music just wasn’t there for me. It was at this point I began to move away from fandom. Still, I wanted to see the band again. I got a ticket for the concert in Columbus at the Polaris Amphitheater. There was a giant ear onstage. The band came out. Geoff gave a little introduction about it being the Ear in the Now Frontier. Then they played. For about half a song. I could tell in the intro that Geoff sounded hoarse. Then, he wasn’t hitting the notes. He was actually shying away from them. Then he walked offstage. DeGarmo was left to explain that Geoff hadn’t been feeling well and they were canceling the rest of the show. I was stunned. There were a lot of people in the audience disappointed that day. But what can you do. Even singers get colds and crap. It happens. I had nothing against the band. Ticketmaster gave refunds and all was good in my book.

Unfortunately, I didn’t care at all for Hear in the Now. Hearing other rumors after DeGarmo’s departure, I started losing hope the band would ever go back to its roots and I was not surprised when Q2K failed to thrill me. Thankfully, I was able to listen to samples on the internet first. I never bought the album. Or the next. Or the next. In fact, it seemed with every album, I could hear less and less caring for the music. It was like watching someone you loved wither away and die. Eventually, I forgot about paying attention to new releases and kept listening to the demo, Rage, Warning, and Mindcrime, wishing for some sort of kick in the pants that would bring the band back.

But I didn’t want it this way.

Reading everything that’s been going on now, I see how far the once mighty fell and it saddens me to see such a great band laid low. I don’t know how much is true or false, but I honestly didn’t know they’d made anymore albums past Mindcrime II, nor that they sold so poorly, nor that they were playing burlesque shows and cruise ships near the end. A band that once played to thousands in sold out venues like Dayton that had me way back near the back wall and still loving every minute of it.

I know Geoff wanted to move away from their old stuff. I don’t have to read about it. I could hear it in every song after Promised Land. I know his voice went and he never managed to get it back. I don’t have to read about it. I have an ear for music and voice. Especially his. He was one of the reasons I wanted to actually get into singing. I worked and worked to sing like him. Hell, my wife calls me her own personal Geoff Tate. And when I lost my own voice for a year and a half, trying to baby it back to sing songs off The Warning again, I had a deep understanding of just how bad it could be. It’s still not 100% and I’m closer to Bruce Dickinson now. Still, there are other ways to make the music work, to change the voice and still rock out. Look at Falconer. Matthias Blad doesn’t even sing high notes, but his voice is spot on and the music is killer. If you really care about what you’re doing and the roots and power of your band, you’ll figure out a way to make it work. Hell, Def Leppard’s drummer lost a whole arm, that didn’t stop them from making it work.

So now there’s terrible court issues, a Yoko Ono/Beatles style breakup, a rift in the fanbase, animosity on all sides, and two Queensryches until the court decides who owns what. Yeah, it’s not what I wanted when I prayed for them to get back to their roots and it’s definitely a shock. Geoff was always an awesome singer, but no one member is the band. Without a band behind him, the singer’s just a lone voice on stage. One instrument. I think too many lead singers and front men forget that. They forget the rest of the family they have behind them. And there are other singers out there who are more humble, and a voice is not unique. I know this well. A band is not *me and them,* a band is *us,* it has to be one unit, a family almost, if it’s to continue to thrive. No one person is more important than the other. Sure, you can have squabbles and disagreements, but in the end, if you can’t come to terms with people you’ve known for quite a bit of your life, then maybe it’s time to call it quits amicably.

All that said, I’ve heard the samples for the new Geoff Tate Queensryche album. It’s not terrible, but it’s not my thing. I think the only one I might have liked is Cold. The rest of it is more of what Geoff wanted to move toward, and that’s fine. It’s the same thing from all those other albums I never bought. Then again, I’m a metal-head from way back and always will be. I’m listening to Hammerfall right at this moment. I hold no anger or animosity toward Geoff Tate. How can I? He made me want to sing in a band, and finally, I’ll be giving it a shot here soon. I wish him the best of luck, but I won’t be following that version of the ‘ryche.

Now, the second Queensryche, with Todd La Torre and most of the original band founders. I believe it has potential and could deliver on their promise to return to their roots. Still, I’ve only heard one song. It’s a badass song though, truly back to what I loved about Queensryche. In truth, even if they weren’t to call themselves Queensryche, I’d continue to follow them. They look and sound as though they’ve found that energy once more that they lost. They play the old songs with a drive that I haven’t seen for a long time. La Torre delivers a solid Tate-like vocal but different enough that it has me interested in seeing where they go with this change.

I wish things had gone differently, but I’m interested to see where it goes. The best split would be allowing both bands to play the songs up to and including Mindcrime and beyond that, produce new stuff. From accounts I’ve read, it sounds as though Geoff wanted to stop playing them anyway, so it wouldn’t be a great loss. Geoff should just stick with calling himself Geoff Tate or come up with something else. Followers of his voice and new style will stick with him no matter the name. “Voice” of Queensryche or not, he was only one-fifth of the band. Majority may rule in this instant.

I guess we’ll see what happens.

Till next time,

D

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BIC

Posted on April 26, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

No, I’m not talking about lighters, but I need one of those too. Mine’s out of fluid… This is about what’s affectionately known as, Butt-In-Chair, or to be more precise, “You won’t get anywhere if you don’t log in the work.” But let me backtrack.

I read over on Chuck Wendig’s blog about some writing teacher and author who believes that the admonition, BIC, is nothing more than “vapid cliché.” That it’s useless as writing advice and can actually be detrimental. Even stranger, that people came out of the woodwork to actually defend what was said. I think those who feel it’s not useful advice don’t really get the meaning of the advice.

Wanting to be a writer and being one are two very different things, and that’s why BIC is a more useful message than people might think. You can’t truly learn the craft, can’t log in the time, can’t finish what you started, can’t become a writer, without sticking your ass in the chair and writing. Anything else is pretending. You can take every class, read every book, but if you don’t log in the actual practice, put words down, all that’s useless. Just taking a bunch of classes and reading a bunch of books on writing doesn’t make you good at it. That takes practice. That takes actually doing the work and finding out what works for you and what doesn’t.

I’m coming from a long time of reading those, this-is-the-way-to-write-successfully, how-to books of old. The ones that said flat out, if you want to be a success in writing, then this is the way you do it. I read a lot of ‘em. And you know what? They didn’t really work for me. It wasn’t until much later that I learned a) there is no one right way to do this, and b) you need to log in the time, the practice, the sticking your flabby glute parts into a chair and actually writing, to figure out what works for you and to become good at it.

All the books and creative writing courses in the world will not make you into a writer. Only by sitting down and writing, will you improve. Learning what works and what doesn’t, for you, by doing. Everyone comes at this in their own way. Hell, I practiced my ass off for years to get to the point I am now in the craft. What works for King or Koontz or Rowling, or that accredited teacher, may not work for you. And you only figure that out by sitting and writing.

Now, I’m not saying that all those courses and how-to books aren’t useful. They’re very useful. Learning the rules and tricks of the trade can give you a leg up. But in the end, they are indeed useless if you don’t apply that knowledge by doing. Without practice, they’re so much wasted money and time.

There’s a rule out there that talks about logging 10,000 hours of practice to become really good in something. I can’t say I agree fully with that number, but you do have to dedicate yourself to it, you have to practice. If you don’t practice, you won’t improve. Lessons are just a part of it. Having some teacher tell you how you should be doing it is just part of it. You must log the time. And in writing, that means putting butt-in-chair and doing the work.

There seems to be this perception that writing is easy. That anyone can just hammer out words and make a bestselling novel. Obviously, by all the barely edited sub-par works on Amazon. But it’s not. It’s work. What’s more, it’s hard work. And if you want to be successful at it, it’s a job and needs to be treated as such. Writing’s not easy. It takes practice, lots of it, to become good enough to sell. And, whether writer’s block is real or not aside (a post for another day), the only way a book comes forth is by writing the thing. It doesn’t just spring forth out of the aether, or through some sort of bizarre mitosis. Push aside distractions, shut off the net if you have to (quite a few laptops have a little button to shut the wi-fi off and you can unplug the modem if you gotta), carve time out of the day and say in no uncertain terms to those around you that THIS IS MY TIME!

And it may not come right away. You may have to write other things. You may have to write about why you can’t write today. You may have to write that little short tale that’s been bouncing around in your skull. You may have to get a bit of dialogue out or an unrelated scene or jot down a quick synopsis for an idea for something else that sprang to mind, but with practice, and training yourself, you’ll get there, you’ll become a writer. And then a novelist.

But I guarantee you’ll never get there if you don’t sit your butt-in-chair and just do it.

Till next time,

D

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Chuck Wendig Challenge: Choose Your Opening Line

Posted on April 12, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

Another flash fiction, Choose Your Opening Line dropping in at 760 words.

A warning: This one’s pretty dark. Read at your own discretion.

The Appointment
Daniel R. Davis

The problem with the ringing phone wasn’t how loud it was, or that it hadn’t stopped ringing for an hour, but that Tom didn’t have a phone. He’d never had a need for one. Those who wanted his services knew how to contact him. It was only since the invention of the telephone that some jackass—and he could guess which one, though he couldn’t voice it—decided to use the irritating noise to alert him that he was needed.

For that matter, his name wasn’t really even Tom, but he’d gotten used to using it over the years, and it was close enough.

The caller surely knew his true name, and Tom would answer when was good and ready. He knew what the call was about, but he wasn’t finished yet. No, this particular job took a lot of finesse, and he was enjoying this one. He would take his time.

A faint clink let him know it was time to get back to work. He stood, pushing away a teacup and saucer that sat in front of him on a quaint little mahogany breakfast table with the red stain in the middle that was a perfect reminder of why he was here.

The ringing stopped. A simple relief. It would begin again soon enough. The one on the other end was ever an impatient sort. But one couldn’t rush perfection. He crossed to a door where the clinking continued and slowly turned the knob. He pushed, grinning at the low, echoing creak that seemed to go on forever.

“Enjoying your stay?” he said, his voice low, gravelly, ominous. He had a way with such as these.

The man who hung suspended gasped as best he was able with a mouth sewn shut, his breath soon coming in quick, short, terrified bursts. Tom had gotten tired of hearing the man say he was sorry. It was a lie. Tom knew it. He could always feel it. Those who tried to lie to save themselves, to be released. This one, just like the rest, wasn’t truly sorry.

Tom had removed the man’s genitals days ago, but he was regretting that decision now. He missed seeing him piss himself at the sound of his voice. Blood oozed from various carvings in the man’s flesh, names, script, symbols. His eyes were gone, as well as his fingers, fed to Tom’s pets. Barbed hooks held him firmly to the chains that rattled as he shuddered.

The ringing began again. Tom sighed. He would have to answer soon.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” Tom said, drawing out the words. “I would love for it to continue on forever. And it will.”

The man whimpered through the leather cord sutures, trying to speak, to beg once more with further lies.

“Now, now, Father,” he said, the title dripping contempt, “we both know what you did. The names are there. One on the very table outside. And we both know you are not sorry. Though in time, you will be. And one of the cloth. Tsk, tsk. I take special pride in dealing with those.”

More wordless pleas and blubbering ensued. Tom ignored them as the buzzing of a fly.

“Still, it sounds as though I have work elsewhere and will have to leave you in other capable hands. But I promise, my pets will take good care of you.”

The man, Father Jones, Tom knew—just as he knew the names of each dead child carved into flesh—screamed as best he was able, a forlorn howl that filled Tom with tingling elation. Through the walls, hunched beasts emerged, horrid, hulking things, their red eyes filled with glee for their task, their bodies gorged with excitement.

He left them to their work, closing the door behind.

“What is it already? I’ve been busy,” he said and the ringing stopped.

There was never really a voice, at least, not one in the traditional sense, but words nonetheless translated within his being. He looked at his left hand, and a name appeared, seemingly burned there in fire. In his right, the reason for the service.

“Hmm, a simple murderer. Shouldn’t take too long. Perhaps, a hundred years or so. And then I can return.” He grinned at the idea. “Thy will be done.”

The connection ended and Temeluchus turned an ear one last time to Father Jones’ personal Hell, his blood red eyes glittering with satisfaction at the sounds within.

“My work is never done.” He chuckled, shook his head, and then moved on to his next appointment.

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It’s a Trope! 10 Classic/Silly/Cliche Story Tropes

Posted on April 11, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

We’ve all seen them, those little bits of plot on screen or in novels that signal that something is going to spiral out of control very soon. When we realize that the hero or other character missed something important or an untimely death is foreshadowed. Well, in this little piece, I’ve compiled 10 of the little gems off the top of my head and given them common titles (arbitrarily, as I see them). One day, I hope this will be a road map for future generations to understand all the little quirks of fiction stories and…oh, who am I kidding, it’s just for fun!

1. The Akbar Epiphany: That point in a story when a character suddenly realizes that…IT’S A TRAP!

2. The Ben Dickson: The name for this one comes from an episode of Robotech: Macross Saga. This comes into play when a death is being foreshadowed by making a character vow to do something when he comes back from a mission, like coming back to eat the juicy steak he just left on the counter as he goes to fight in a space skirmish, and the last thing we see is the steak sitting there forlornly on the plate. You pretty much know at this point that he’s not coming back.

3. Got a Bad Feeling About This: The sudden nagging feeling that something really bad is going to happen, or someone is about to die, right before it happens, usually a few pages later or the next scene. Someone looks at a fellow pilot and gets a nagging feeling they’re seeing them for the last time. They have to shake the feeling off and ignore it, even though they’ve never had the feeling before because, after all, it’s just a routine mission…right? Then the pilot dies in a fireball, typically while the hero watches helplessly.

4. I Was Two Days from Retirement!: The old, grizzled agent or cop is about to retire and ends up wounded badly or horribly slain, which prompts the hero to go all vigilante, usually after being asked for his gun and badge.

5. Bow-Chicka-Wow-Wow!: This one’s more often in horror, but the couple that sneaks off for a little sloppy-slappy time because, hey, not like anyone’s around. No one will ever know. Wait…who’s there?

6. Wouldn’t You Like to Know: This one is where someone has an epiphany or a really cool plan, but it’s evidently on a need to know basis and the reader/viewer isn’t cleared for that level of access. Finally, I knew who the killer was, but I’m not going to tell you for another two chapters, so sit and spin.

7. What Can Possibly Go Wrong?: The opposite of Got a Bad Feeling. It’s so fool-proof, what can possibly go wrong? Ever hear of this little thing called tempting fate?

8. We Made It!: Just when the characters think they’re home free something terrible happens. The cliff face cracks away. The monster they thought they killed two scenes ago snatches one of them and they disappear down a dark hole. An alien bursts from their chest. Whenever someone says, “We made it!” they probably haven’t.

9. If It’s Wet and It’s Not Yours…: Don’t play in it. It’s a good bet it probably belongs to some nearby hideous beast, or zombie, or hideous beast zombie, or the gore of some poor sap that the hideous beast zombie just ate. Those things are always hungry. And is sticking your unprotected hand in it really going to tell you much other than, it’s still wet, and maybe warm, and somewhat disgusting, and I think it’s eating my fingers? Just don’t touch it! Or at least think long and hard about the consequences. Because bare minimum, you could be like, “Is there any way I can get it off my fingers quickly without betraying my cool exterior?” – Fox Mulder

10. Wait! You Mean I’m Good With This Thing?: Either the hero is a badass with a gun or other weapon but can’t hit the broad side of a barn when it matters, or they are only mediocre throughout and turn into Jet Li when the chips are down. This could also be called Gamer Dice Syndrome (or maybe GI Joe Syndrome). When it matters most, you’re assured of one thing, that the player’s either gonna roll a natural one or a natural twenty. It’s all at the whims of cosmic reaming.

And that’s it for that. Feel free to add more or even quote it elsewhere with a trackback. Always fun to think about this kind of stuff.

Till next time,

D

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You Load Sixteen Tons and Whaddya Get

Posted on March 29, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

Ah, another birthday. Another step closer to inevitability. Though, looking back on the recent, I’ve gained a small amount more clarity, understanding, learned some things, some sad, some disappointing, some enlightening. I believe my understanding and wisdom has expanded some, as has my spirituality; I feel I’ve evolved some philosophically and metaphysically, and that’s a good thing.

I had to amend this before posting because I wrote it before I got an acceptance from a publisher for a novella. Odd how life works. So, I’m starting off my next year of life with that positive note. It came on the heels of a rejection letter on one of my short stories, which was great and took the sting from the rejection. So, a post that was going to be all doom and gloom and will-I-be-published-before-I-keel-over has morphed into something a bit more upbeat. Yay for positive outcomes!

And I know some people say if you’re doing it for the money you’re not in the right business. But I say, hogwash. Why shouldn’t you shoot for the stars in that regard? Why should you be satisfied with mid-list? Why should you just take what you can get and be satisfied with your authorial lot in life? Sure, you have to love what you do, but if you’re not being paid for the work, or being paid a pittance, it’s a hobby, a paper route in my humble opinion. I not only want the ability to say I made it, but also the income we don’t have at the moment. I want to feel like I’m doing this for something other than to exorcise the damn word demons from my head. This is my job. I want to be paid for doing it. We’re also deeper in the hole thanks to various decisions from on high far, far out of our control, plus various health issues for all of us that need dealt with. A break for the positive is nice right now and with luck and good work, hopefully this will be the start of much more to come. A being cannot live on enlightenment and clarity alone, after all. ;)

But first step’s first. Write damn good stories, brand the pseudonym to the hilt, and get myself out there. The sales will come in time if I do, and the little bit of extra money from the sales I do get will be a good thing for doing a job I absolutely love.

Until then, here’s to 42. May it start sucking less than 41.

Sliante,

D

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Chuck Wendig Challenge: Ten’ll Get You Five

Posted on March 22, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

Yep, another 1000 word flash challenge. Went about a hundred over this time, but don’t feel like trying to cut the words/rewrite. So here it is, the Chuck Wendig Ten Words Will Give You Five Challenge

I chose, Ethereal, Storm, Satellite, Cube, Envelope. I don’t love the name, but what can ya do with limited time.

And, why yes, I do like The Outer Limits. ;)

Enjoy.

The Tesseract Gamble
By Daniel R. Davis

President Riggs stood gazing through a heavy-duty protective glass out onto the huge room that seemed big enough to hold the entire White House, waiting with both hope and trepidation. It had been several months since the manila envelope slapped down onto his desk with the finality of a death knell. With those words on the front, “TOP SECRET, SECTION 12, DOOMSDAY,” everything had fallen into chaos. It was coming, and there was nothing to stop it, an extinction level event like no other.

His people had been tracking the thing for several years on satellite, calculating and praying that it would pass, but when it broke apart, all hope for a near miss were dashed. Though the pieces were smaller, nearly all of the shards of XL23976, dubbed Leviathan, would rain down upon the planet like a hellstorm of fire and destruction, wiping out life. Even should some small vestige survive, devastating storms would sweep through, making the surface a hostile and deadly place, Tsunamis would hit nearly every coast, finishing the job.

Researchers from all over scrambled, trying to come up with a solution. It was Doctor Fine, head scientist on a project called Tesseract, that brought in a possible solution, a solution that now had Riggs standing here, staring at a construct that defied logical lines. The Tesseract Shifter, a giant cube within a cube that hopefully held the salvation of humankind.

Even deeper in the complex, somewhere under his feet, an antimatter reactor more powerful than anything ever created waited to charge the construct with the power necessary to make it work. It was still something he did not fully understand, but if it was successful, the killer asteroids would not be able to hit them. And if it didn’t, they had nothing to lose. The asteroids were nearly upon them and the first tiny bits had already caused worldwide damage and created even more panic. There was no time for a test run. It had to be now.

Scientists in special suits scrambled below dealing with last minute preparations while he waited with anticipation.

“Mister President?” A deep voice jolted him from his thoughts. He focused on the reflection on the glass, which resolved itself into the massive presence of Bob Robertson, Secretary of Defense. “The Joint Chiefs are assembled.”

“Good,” Riggs said, turning. “Bring them in. We’ll watch from the monitor here. I want to see the Tesseract work.”

“They’re understandably hesitant. If anything goes wrong…”

The Tesseract Shifter was originally a military experiment, never meant to be used on this scale. Robertson was worried. He’d actually spoken against trying it, but there were no other options. “If anything goes wrong, bad or not, General, it won’t matter where they are. But that’s fine. Set them up in a briefing room.”

“And you?”

“I’ll remain here.” He grabbed a chair, slid it over to the window and sat. It was true though. They might survive a little longer this far under ground, the bunker could possibly even keep them alive for far longer than any of the poor bastards up top, but in the end it wouldn’t make a difference. Robertson nodded and left, his chiseled jaw set, his face grim.

Riggs stood once more, too nervous to sit, and tabbed a comm on the wall. “How are things down there, Doctor Fine?”

“Almost ready.” One of the scurrying men below stopped and waved. “Final adjustments and countdown will begin. I pray this works as I think it will.”

“As do we all, Doctor.”

A buzz sounded through the halls and the room below. “That’s it,” Fine said. “Proximity has the first chunks within point of no return and countdown is go.”

“Do it. And may God have mercy.”

He shut off the comm just as facility speakers chimed a countdown. Riggs hit another switch and a screen slid down from the ceiling, lighting with a feed from aboveground. He squinted, trying to see the first of the killer rocks streaking in and it wasn’t long before several small fire trails heralded the first of larger, devastating pieces. It looked like Hell had unleashed a flaming rain of death upon them. The Tesseract began to hum with power, making even the protective glass vibrate. Huge beams rearranged, slid, moved in strange ways, bringing the internal cube impossibly out to become the outside cube, and again, and again, so that Riggs felt nauseous watching. He turned away, back to the monitor instead as their inevitable demise raced toward them on plasma wings.

A sudden sickness washed over him as though he’d been lurched over a hill on a rollercoaster. A shimmering wave pulsed from the Tesseract and Riggs watched as the first doomsday chunk, a half mile across, slid through the earth without so much as a dent. He screamed, dropping to the floor in panic as all around him, fiery stone slid through him without a scrape. His horror turned to giddy laughter, and then insane guffaws. It had worked! They had shifted. The entire planet had shifted!

“Dimensional shift complete,” the cold, uncaring automated voice chimed. Riggs watched as asteroid after asteroid slid easily through the space where the Earth was but wasn’t.

Shouts of triumph outside in the hall changed suddenly and the hairs on the back of his neck and arms rose. They sounded like shrieks. He stood again, looking out at the Tesseract, which continued to churn, and his intake of breath caught in his throat.

Below were glowing forms, beautiful, like butterflies or angels. They were winking into existence one after another and hesitantly approaching the scientists below. One scientist, Riggs thought it was Doctor Fine, reached out gingerly to one of the ethereal beings. In a flash it fell upon him, enveloping him, its light blazing even as it turned from luminescent yellow to a blood red while Doctor Fine shriveled within, dropping a moment later a lifeless husk. Other scientists were caught up as well, the strange creatures glowing and becoming red. Men ran, their mouths open in silent screams, the hideous cries from the hall echoing their agonized faces.

He hit the comm, though he did not want to hear any more. “For God’s sake, turn it off! Someone turn it off!”

But if anyone tried, he did not know, for a light flashed in the reflection of the window and a chill entered his bones. He could not look, could not see it. They’d done it! They’d survived doomsday! Dammit, they’d done it! It was unfair!

He closed his eyes as a chilling, voice slid into his head, like the tinkling of ice, the hissing of snakes, the chill wind of the grave.

“Soooo hungryyy. So coooolllllld!”

Light enveloped him. A moment of fiery agony. And the human race was no more.

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Butterflies Are Eating My Stomach!

Posted on March 16, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

Or more precisely, I’ve been sent an acceptance letter! I’m not going to go into too many details yet until contracts are signed, but my novella was accepted. I’ve been giddy and sick for half the day. This is the first acceptance of my work since the RPG supplement and I know it’s just a novella, but it’s a publishing contract with royalties. Meaning sales numbers. Meaning a way of having myself out there so that other publishers and Agents can see what I can do. It’s a publication I can add to my queries for other sci-fi and romance works. I can’t wait!

This has also come on the heels of a lot of negative stuff over the past couple months, which makes it feel even more awesome. Even as I’m nervous and constantly pinching myself to make sure I’m not asleep, I’m seriously excited and can’t wait for the next step. I will have to think of ways to spread the word to get the novella out to as many people as I can. This is the foot in the door opportunity I’ve been hoping for.

Amusingly, their site said that they usually reject within 30 days and it can take up to 4 months to hear back otherwise, so a quick response isn’t necessarily a good thig. I heard back in 2 weeks and at first, when it came in, I figured it was just another rejection because of how fast it came back. So I took my time and didn’t look at first. Then my jaw dropped. Evidently, they loved the worldbuilding and the characters. I guess it just clicked with them right away.

So, there you have it. My novella was picked up. Now I await contract paperwork.

*Bounces around like Daffy Duck* WOOHOO! WOOHOO! WOOHOO! WOOHOO!

Till next time,

D

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They Fight Crime Wendig Challenge

Posted on March 16, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

I’ve always loved They Fight Crime! It’s a hilarious time suck and if you’ve never seen it, check it out. This week Chuck Wendig decided to use it as the 1000 word flash challenge. I grabbed a number of them that I fully plan on making into flash pieces, but this was the one I chose for the challenge.

“He’s a jaded disheveled dog-catcher fleeing from a secret government program. She’s a virginal gold-digging snake charmer fleeing from a Satanic cult. They fight crime!”

Shifter’s Charmer
By Daniel R. Davis

Where the hell was she? Dillon growled, an inarticulate sound, as he wound his way through the various loading crates at the docks. He had no idea how they’d found him this time, but he had to take their latest operative down before it did anymore damage, killed anymore people. And for that, he needed Jen’s special talents. Where the hell was she?

He’d thought this time he’d be safe from Genuscape for a while, avoid detection, but he’d done a little too good a job as the local dog catcher and evidently gained their attention. It was one of the many talents he found he possessed after their experiments. He’d always been an alpha personality. He was tired. Tired of running. Whatever happened tonight, he wasn’t about to go back and have them leash him for whatever dark scheme they had cooked up.

A shadow slid by above, obscuring the moon and he leapt backwards, his lupine legs propelling him out of reach of the thing’s claws as it landed. The genetic freak hissed, forked tongue licking out, black, dead eyes fixing on its quarry. Dillon barked, lips curling into a fierce growl, showing his fangs. He’d have to take the thing down now, with or without Jen.

The thing was humanoid, and its sinuous body moved in an undulating back and forth motion, trying to mesmerize him, but Dillon was not some human to be tricked so easily. The steel collar with blinking lights confirmed that it was one of Genuscape’s leashed. The thing lunged, fangs bared, poison drops glittering in the moonlight. Dillon met it, catching it by the throat and shoulder, furry, clawed hands grasping scaled skin. It was like trying to hold onto greased lightning. Its head thrust forward, jaws snapping, trying to get its fangs within Dillon’s flesh. Dillon jerked, pivoted, threw the wriggling minion, crumpling the wall of a steel crate. It slithered back up, hunched to spring.

And stopped.

A lithe form dropped from above, clad in a dark coat and high boots, landing in a crouch, standing within the glow of the moon. Dillon considered it both a blessing and a curse the day he’d met her. She was a gold-digger, a vamp, a femme-fatale like no other. She could twist men’s hearts around her little finger and no man had ever taken her. Dillon knew it; he could smell it. She was a charmer, and the worse the snake, the easier it was. And this one, was the real deal.

“Miss me?” she purred coyly over her shoulder, pale golden locks spilling down her back in glittering waves.

“Where were you?” Dillon growled through a snoutful of sharp, gleaming teeth.

“Cultists. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Dillon huffed. She’d been running from the Cult of Abaddon for years before he met her. Their leader called himself Satan, and with his abilities, it was possible he was one of Genuscape’s failures thought disposed of. One day, Dillon wanted to ask him, face to face. The snake-mutant shook its head, trying to clear it of even the partial effect of her attentions. “Can we finish this already?”

Jen fixed her eyes fully upon Genuscape’s latest, licking glossy lips, putting on her best come hither look. “Hey big boy. What does it take to get a man to offer a lady a drink?”

Dillon knew her eyes would be going all strange right now. She’d even used it on him once. No, when she looked at a man, everything melted away but those silver eyes, those ruby lips, and her words were like the words of Angels.

The minion undulated forward, reaching out a hand to her. It looked almost drunken, lethargic, a cold-blooded creature in the snow. It touched her cheek gently despite it’s black claws, no doubt feeling her magnetism and wanting to hang upon her every word.

Jen held its gaze, whispering promises that had it hypnotized. Before the beast knew it was done for, Dillon held its heart in his clawed hand and it was reeling backward from Jen’s well placed kick to crash to the ground. They disposed of it in the harbor. Genuscape would know it was dead and find it soon enough, but better that news of monsters be kept to a minimum.

“You know they’ll just keep coming?” Jen stooped to wash black blood from her hands at the pier’s edge.

“You should talk.”

She shrugged. “It’s why I can. Satan and his lackeys have been dogging me for a long time, but I’ll make you a deal. You help me with Abaddon and I’ll help you take down Genuscape.”

“Deal,” Dillon growled after a moment, then shifted, returning to full human form. She looked him up and down appraisingly and Dillon blanched. The worst part of his ability as a wolf shifter was the lack of clothing afterward.

Jen chuckled, then turned, waving. “Come on. I brought you some clothes in the car. Buy a girl a drink?”

“As long as you don’t try your wiles on me.”

“No promises.” She grinned, then studied his face. “You need a shave.”

She winked and Dillon laughed as they walked to the car, the sound echoing across the harbor.

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Hanging from the Cliff

Posted on March 13, 2013 by Daniel R Davis

Cliffhangers.

I love ‘em. From what I’ve been reading of late, others don’t. Still, a good cliffhanger at the end of a book in an extended story arc (duology, trilogy, etc) will have me champing at the bit for the next book, waiting in line at the store to find out what happened. It seems the trend of late is to make sure the end of each novel is tied up in a neat little bow for the next installment. Some say it’s this way because if the trilogy gets dropped before you finish it, at least there was some sort of even partially satisfying end. But I feel that’s possibly, quite possibly, a self-fulfilling prophesy.

Think about it. You give a satisfactory ending to the first book in the trilogy and what’s the reason to rush back to it in the first place? What’s the motivation to run out and buy it right away, driving up the sales numbers? I don’t know about anyone else, but I want to be dragged by the brainstem to the next book. I want to be antsy, pacing like a junkie denied, to find out what happened to this or that character. I don’t care if it takes a year for the next one to come out. Or two. “Dang it! They succeeded in acquiring the stone of Avatiel, but now they’re way in enemy territory and Jakko is poisoned and no way to heal him, Arimond is captured by the dastardly Grull and they had to leave him behind. Arrgghh! Arimond is my favorite character! What’s going to happen to him? And what will Lisbeth do if her brother, Jakko, dies? She’s already unstable and wielding magic she can barely control. When’s the next book? I gotta find out!”

With enough motivation, I will set other books aside to come back to a story. I will quit other books in the middle when something that left me with burning questions comes out with the next installment. I want my cliffhangers back. And so I use them. Properly used, they can drag a reader by the seat of their pants on to the next book and maybe even pull up opening day sales numbers.

Now, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have some things end satisfactorily. The good guys get the stone of Avatiel, which was their goal. They take it from the Grull, spirit it away in hopes to bring it back to the temple and use its power for good. They won the day. But at what cost? Find out in book two. ;)

And I still believe this can work equally well for the more episodic approach of a series or serial, but with those, you do have to be more careful to give a satisfying close. And It doesn’t have to be a major cliffhanger. It can be something the reader noticed but the character did not and now the reader waits with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. When will the character find out? What will happen? Who was responsible? Was it a bad thing or a good thing? Will it be in the next book or just glimpses? Never underestimate the power of bait and hook, dragging the reader on to the next book. And the next.

Give the reader a reason to choose to read your next installment over some other book. Make ‘em stop in the middle of another novel to find out what happens next in yours. Make them hang off the edge of that cliff, and when the time is right, let ‘em fall into your next novel.

Just make sure there’s the safety net of a satisfying ultimate climax awaiting them at the grand finale.

Till next time,

D

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