Seeming, Episode Two

Here’s episode two of Seeming. Stay tuned tomorrow for episode three. You can get the whole book here for free. And don’t forget that Station Central will be available on Smashwords on November 27th. You can pre-order it now.

Sennett slipped into her apartment, trying not to wake Mason and April. She knew they didn’t like sleeping in their own rooms when she was gone at night. Sure enough, she found them both asleep on the sectional couch in the living room.

No one had expected Councilwoman Montgomery’s daughter to be on duty that night, so no summons had come for her. She was thankful because she would have hated to ignore it. She’d had no intention of being stuck on guard duty while the bitch who killed her mother stalked around the station.

Though, for all the good it had done her, she might as well have gone in.

She made her way her bedroom, intending to change her clothes, grab a caffeine bracelet and some khlav then head up to the police station on Level 10. Maybe someone had found some sort of lead. Maybe she’d get extra lucky and it would be the kind of someone who shares leads with uniforms.

“Mommy?” April called, rising sleepily from the couch.

“Hey, Baby,” Sennett said, “I’m in here.”

April came into her room, just as Sennett had finished tucking her uniform shirt in. She picked the girl up and set her on her hip. “You don’t have to leave again, do you?” April asked.

“I’m sorry, but I have to,” Sennett said, “I have to find the bad girl before she hurts somebody else.”

“But what if she comes here, and you’re gone?” April asked. She set her head on Sennett’s shoulder.

“You know what to do if that happens, don’t you?” Sennett asked. It had never happened, thank God, but no police officer was so dumb as to not have a backup plan for her family.

“Go into the closet with Uncle Mason and stay there until you come,” April replied. She played with the purple cuff on her wrist, decorated with bunnies and moons.

“That’s right,” Sennett said. She kissed April on the forehead and set her on the ground. “How about you and Uncle Mason make strawberry pancakes for breakfast?” she asked.

“Can I have cherry milk?” April asked.

“Yeah, okay,” Sennett agreed. She was jealous as she watched April run into the living room to wake Mason. She wished that a cup of cherry milk would make her feel better, if only for a little while.

She went to the kitchen to heat up a cup of khlav and a hatsu. Mason joined her there a few minutes later and started fussing with the simulator.

“How do you eat those things?” he asked, looking at her pastry.

“They’re delicious and filling,” Sennett replied.

“But they’re filled with rats,” Mason said, scratching his head.

“They’re not filled with rats, rats are from Earth,” Sennett said, “They’re made with soto.”

“And what’s a soto? It’s a rat from Khloe,” Mason said.

“How are you making jokes right now?” Sennett asked.

Mason looked over at her, looking so much older than his 19 years right then. “I’ve got to stay here and take care of April. Cherry milk isn’t going to distract her for long. If I don’t make jokes, I’ll freak out.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Sennett said. She gave him a hug and held on a little longer than normal. “Why would anyone want to kill her?”

“I’d start looking at the marshal from the Foundation Party,” he said, “He’s been the one running his mouth about how we need to do away with the council altogether.”

“Right,” Sennett said. She made herself let go. “I’ll be home when I can, but I don’t know when that’s going to be.”

“That’s cool. We’ll just hang out here and watch videos,” Mason said, “You worry about catching this bitch.”

The transit wasn’t as busy as most mornings. Sennett managed to find a seat and settled in to nibble on her breakfast and try to distract herself with her news feed. It didn’t work, but it gave her somewhere to look beside into the frightened faces of her fellow passengers.

An older man sat down next to her. “Ma’am?” he asked, “Excuse me, Ma’am?”

“Help you?” Sennett asked, looking up.

“You’re a peace officer, right?” he asked.

“That’s what my badge says,” Sennett said.

“Right,” he said, “Do you know anything? About what’s going on, I mean.”

“Only what everyone else knows,” she said, taking a bite of her hatsu.

“Oh, okay. So, um, should we be worried? I mean, do we know who attacked the councilwoman?”

Sennett sighed. “Sir, we live in a great big station hanging in the middle of space. On that station, every day, we hunt down thieves, loan sharks, killers and your garden variety asshole who just wants to get drunk and punch someone. The only difference today is that the person who was killed was someone we all know. So, I think, we shouldn’t be any more worried today than we are any other day.”

“Oh,” the man said. He got up to find another seat.

Level 10 was busy. Detectives sat at their desks, either working or doing very good impressions. Officers came from locker rooms, or supply rooms, either going on shift or coming off. Interns and office assistants bustled around, doing all the random odd jobs that no one noticed unless they weren’t done. All looked normal, same as it had been yesterday morning. The only difference this morning was that everyone wore a black band either over their badge or on their upper right arm. It was an ancient tradition, dating back to America on Earth, but an honored one. She had one on her own arm. It was nothing, weight wise, would barely have registered on most scales. She wondered if she was the only officer who felt it’s immense weight.

Sennett went to the clock in screen and clicked her name from the list on the left-hand side. It popped back to the right, indicating that she was about to be in the field. Just as she turned to check in with her sergeant, though, Commissioner Stone poked her head out of her office. “Montgomery,” she called, “Can I see you?”

She nodded, hoping she wasn’t going to be sent home before she learned anything.

The commissioner’s office was comfortable. A white desk with a sleek metal chair sat in the center of the room, with large screens on every wall. Two of Sennett’s fellow officers, Joyce and Amanda, were already there.

When the door closed behind Sennett, Commissioner Stone said, “Thank you for coming. Before we begin, Sennett, I want to extend my sympathy for the death of your foster mother.”

“Thank you,” Sennett said, but she bristled. She and Mason had never much cared for the ‘foster’ disclaimer when it had come to their mother.

“Last night, Councilwoman Sonya Voit was nominated as the new head of the council,” Stone continued, “Needless to say, she was in contact with me not long after. Her first concern is the safety of the station while we find the killer. As such, she is asking a lot of us. Doubling shifts, increasing the detectives that are investigating. Especially now that the IHP has left.”

“Where did they go?” Amanda asked, “Isn’t the whole point of the IHP that they’re supposed to protect humankind?”

“I wasn’t privy to their reason’s for leaving,” Stone said, her tone frosty. “They received a message from their higher ups, and left.”

“Great timing,” Sennett said, “All the times they’re in here interfering with our cases, and now when we could use a hand they’ve taken off.”

“No sense complaining about what we can’t fix,” Stone said, “Now, the council has also asked for some officers to help guard them. That’s what I’d like the three of you to do.”

“Do we think that the rest of the council could be targeted?” Joyce asked.

Stone shrugged. “You know as well as I do that Councilwoman Montgomery didn’t have any personal enemies. But with all those anti-council rallies recently I think it’s a good idea to at least be cautious. The council members are at their office on Level Two. Move out.”

“Commissioner, I was really only checking in,” Sennett said, quickly, “I was gonna go home if I’m not really needed, and if you’re sticking me on security guard detail-,”

“Montgomery, don’t lie to me,” Stone said, “We all know you were out last night, making trouble for the detectives.”

“I don’t think I made any trouble for anyone,” Sennett said.

“I don’t think that’s your call,” Stone replied, “You’re a uniform, not a detective. You don’t follow leads, you follow orders. Now move out!”

“You knew she was going to do that,” Joyce said as they boarded the transit. “I don’t know why you even came in. If my mom had just died I’d be freaking the hell out.”

“I’d be celebrating, but that’s me,” Amanda said.

Sennett shrugged. “There’s a killer on this station. So long as she’s out there, my kid isn’t safe.”

They arrived at Level two. No one else got off with them. People didn’t come to this level without a specific reason. It housed the council office, the post office, the offices for the Current and Foundation parties and some housing for visiting dignitaries.

Sennett and the others made their way down the quiet path to the Council house. It was larger than most buildings on the station, though it looked similar to other buildings in structure. With room being limited, buildings were made in simple, square forms. Most were made of a light, plastic-like substance that had been designed for station buildings. It was a light gray in color, giving the whole station a uniform, standard look.

Five of the council members were already in the conference room. It had a set of Vue windows, currently set for what Sennett had been told were Earth cornfields. The walls were a gentle blue color, with creamy flooring. The whole room spoke of calm.

Councilwoman Sonya Voit stood at the head of the circular table. She was a slight woman, with short silver hair that curled around her head. She gave Sennett a sorrowful look when she came in. “Honey,” she said, “I didn’t know Commissioner Stone would send you. You should be at home.”

Sennett knew everyone in the room. There was Councilwoman Emma Mostevich, a tall woman with dramatic blond hair that hung down to her waist, who’d sent her toy cars every Christmas when she was a kid. Councilman Kevin Chan, who’d moved to the station from China on Earth before they closed their borders forever. He had come to dinner and gotten into loud arguments with Mom about weapons laws. Councilwoman Heather McAvoy, a heavyset woman, hadn’t liked Mom and made a point of sending gifts of loud toys whenever she had an excuse. Councilwoman Shannon Heart was a gorgeous woman with dark black skin who always wore her hair in a tight bun, strung with silver chains that glittered in the light. Sennett had greatly admired her until she’d learned Heart’s opinion of a man’s place. While she still bristled at being stuck here instead of looking for the killer, she was less inclined, just then, to walk out on these people. They were her family.

“Thank you, Councilwoman,” Sennett said, “but right now, I’m needed.”

Sonya raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t argue further.

The door opened again. Godfrey Anders stumbled in. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, “I had to close the shop up, and there was this-,” He stopped when he saw Sennett.

“It’s fine, Councilman Anders,” Sonya said, gesturing to a chair. “Have a seat, and we’ll get started.”

“Can I ask why we have police officers here?” Godfrey asked, sitting down while he gave Sennett a dirty look.

“They are here to protect us. There will be an increased police presence all through the station,” Sonya said.

“Until we catch this assassin, our first priority is the safety of our citizens,” Councilman Chan said.

“And we’re sure an increased police force is the right way to do that?” Godfrey asked, “No, never mind, I understand. Pretend I didn’t say anything, please.”

“If we can focus, please,” Sonya said, “we have a busy day, today. The IHP has left the station, and I’ve been getting reports from Station 83 and 7 that they’ve left those ones as well. In addition to that, we have meetings with Howard Stoat and Saul Mai. We’ve got a meeting with Commissioner Stone about the assassination. And, if we have time, we need to look into the matter with the mail.”

“What’s going on with the mail?” Godfrey asked.

“No one’s been getting anything from Earth,” Councilman Chan said.

“For how long?” Godfrey asked.

“At least six months,” Sonya said, “But, as I said, that is not the first priority today.”

“Did the IHP give any indication as to why they were leaving the stations?” Councilwoman Heart asked. “Isn’t it their job to protect humans in space?”

“They did not share any information with us before they left,” Sonya said, “And, as we have no time frame for them coming back, we must rely on our own police force.” She gave the officers a smile, “I have every confidence in them. Honestly, I doubt we’ll even notice the IHP are gone.”

“Except for the fact that they handled security on Level one,” Councilwoman Mostevich said. “They also patrolled around the station. Do we have enough officers to take over those jobs and still patrol inside?”

“What if we had some citizens keep an eye on lower crime areas?” Godfrey asked, “Or even academy cadets? That way the more experienced officers can focus on the larger tasks.”

“Great idea,” Sonya said, “We’ll suggest it to Stone.”

From the table came the voice of the secretary. “Council, Marshal Howard Stoat is here for his meeting,”

“Thank you, Francis. Send him in, please,” Sonya said. “And if anyone hears something reliable about the IHP, bring it up as soon as you can. I don’t like not knowing things.”

The door to the conference room opened. Howard Stoat, the marshal of the Current Party came in. He was a tall, slender man, with a neat beard. He wore an earpiece in one ear, and a wrist cuff tucked under his jacket sleeve. He saw Sennett when he came in, and winked at her.

“Marshal Stoat,” Councilman Chan said, “Good to see you. Have a seat?”

“Thank you,” Howard said, settling into a chair. He looked, as he always did, as though he belonged right where he was. “Good to see you all today. Are we still waiting for Saul?”

“No,” Sonya said, her face suddenly dark, “Because the two parties are so different, it seemed better to meet with the two of you alone. That way, we’re hearing all that each party has to tell us.”

“That was thoughtful of you, thank you,” Howard said, but Sennett noticed that he frowned, for just a moment. He must have thought the same thing that she did. To divide the marshals, when they stood together on a subject for once, would weaken their position.

“The council was created on the ship here from Earth, did you know that?” Howard asked, “Six people, out of the 100 that originally came, were put in charge of running the whole thing. As those six members either passed away or retired, they were replaced by the other five.”

“Thank you, we all took sixth-grade History and Government,” Councilwoman Heart snapped.

“I bet it didn’t mention this,” Howard said, “The council was only ever supposed to be a temporary situation. Their job was to keep order on the station, but their second job was to decide upon a system of government. Instead, they simply kept replacing people as they left, with no outside opinions allowed.”

“You’re here now,” Councilwoman Heart said, “Aren’t you an outside opinion?”

Howard raised an eyebrow at her. “Councilwoman, I beg your pardon, but it took me a year and a half to make this appointment. I think it would make all of us feel better if there was some transparency in the way council members are selected. You make all of the decisions about our lives, and we have no say who is on the council and who isn’t. I see that Godfrey Anders has joined your ranks. Maybe some people might have had an issue with a man who just arrived on Station 86 a few years ago being in charge. Maybe we would have preferred someone who had lived more of his or her life here.”

“Maybe some would have preferred someone who didn’t have a Khloe wife, too,” Godfrey muttered.

Howard raised an eyebrow. “Someone from your own party might have made that objection, Councilman, not mine. But I know you. You oppose artificial births, food modification, human mechanical adaptations and I am not comfortable with you on this council, sir. I am very afraid that science will take a step backward if you’re making decisions, you should forgive me for saying. If you had been voted on, if the majority of people on this station had said they wanted you making our choices, I would maybe shut up about it. No one got that chance, though.”

“What are you suggesting?” Councilwoman Mostevich asked.

“Voting rights,” Howard said. “Elections. Not even right now, but when the council loses another member. Let the people chose who will sit with you.”

The council members looked around at each other. Finally, Sonya said, “That is something we will have to discuss. It may seem like a reasonable thing to you, but-,”

“But there is a reason we’ve never done that,” Councilwoman Heart said, “The people have a tendency to vote for the very worst reasons. Fear, manipulation, greed. I remember hearing stories from Earth about people voting for a leader because they felt like they could have a beer with them.”

“I was elected based on voting,” Howard said, “I don’t think most of the people who voted for me feel like they want to have a beer with me.”

“Thank you,” Sonya said, “I appreciate that you came to us. Perhaps a step toward compromise would be speaking to the marshals more often. Get the people’s opinions. What do you all think?”

“It would be a good idea, I think,” Councilwoman Heart said, “Assuming you can stop the protests, Marshal Stoat. We won’t talk to people who are screaming at us.”

“That’s fair enough,” Howard said, “I’ll talk to the people of my party, see what I can do.”

He got to his feet, giving the council a quick bow. “Thank you for your time. And, if there’s anything the Current Party can do to help you in this trying time, you know how to reach me.”

The door opened again, and Marshal Saul entered. He was younger than Howard, with a bit of stubble on his chin and a well-defined upper body. Sennett, like most of the straight women on the station, thought he was good looking. She was sure that was how he’d gotten elected.

The two gave each other curious looks. “I thought we were meeting with the council together,” Saul said, just the hint of accusation in his voice.

“That’s what I thought, too. But, what can we do?” Howard asked. He clapped Saul on the shoulder, and said, “We’ll meet up after and compare notes, alright?”

“Sure, yeah,” Saul said, but he didn’t look convinced.

As Howard left, Saul started to take a seat at the table. “Actually, we’d prefer if you stood,” Councilman Chan said. His voice was suddenly cold.

Saul looked confused but did as he was asked, clasping his hands behind him. “My esteemed council,” he began, but Sonya held her hand up. “Stop. I’m afraid you’re not here to discuss politics with us.”

“I beg your pardon?” Saul asked.

“Saul Mai, do you know a young lady named Elizabeth Conrad?” Councilwoman Mostevich asked.”

“Of course, she’s my goddaughter,” Saul said, looking confused.

The council members, except for Godfrey, nodded at each other as though this confirmed their worst assumptions.

“Do you mind telling me what all this is about?” Saul asked.

“Elizabeth is ten years old, is that right?” Councilwoman Heart asked.

“She is. Council members, I’m not fond of games. Why don’t you all stop hopping around and tell me what’s going on?” Saul demanded.

Sonya got to her feet. “Accusations have been brought to our attention that you, Saul Mai, had sexual relations with Elizabeth Conrad.”

Saul turned pale. “That’s not possible because that never happened,” he said.

“I think it’s very possible,” Sonya said, her face dark, “I’ve seen the proof.”

She tapped the table before her. A screen appeared that was out of Sennett’s line of sight. But she could hear the noises just fine. A little girl, whimpering with ill-hidden pain, and a man grunting.

“Sonya, what is this? This isn’t real,” Saul cried, “You’re part of my own party! You voted for me!”

“And I am sickened by that now,” Sonya said, “We find ourselves in a particular position. What you’ve done isn’t technically illegal. When we founded Station 86, we thought that mankind had evolved past that sort of illness. It seems that we were wrong. Still, we can’t arrest you for something that wasn’t illegal when you did it. We can and will arrest you if we find that it happens after today. I suggest, if you don’t want this to become public knowledge, you quietly resign as marshal of the Foundation Party.”

“This is outrageous!” Saul cried.

“We don’t have time for your lies,” Councilwoman Mostevich snapped, “You’ve seen our evidence and you have two choices. Resign, or we’ll inform the rest of your party of this. Let them decide what to do about you.”

Saul looked back and forth at the faces of each council member. Finally, he landed on Godfrey. “You must know this isn’t true,” he said, “They’re just doing this because people listen to me! Godfrey, are you really going to let them do this?”

Godfrey was looking at the table, a hand over his mouth. “I, I can’t-,” he said. He looked up at his fellow council members. “You should have warned me that this was going to happen today.”

“I’m sorry, there wasn’t time, under the circumstances,” Sonya said, “We can’t let this happen again.”

“Go back to your home now, Mr. Mai,” Councilwoman Mostevich said, “Consider the choices before you.”

Saul looked like he had much more to say. But instead, he turned, and left.

After the door closed, Sonya set a hand on Godfrey’s shoulder. “I am sorry, dear,” she said, “We should have warned you.”

“You’re right, though, there wasn’t time,” Godfrey said. He still looked as though he wanted to throw up. Sennett wondered if he was regretting his decision to join the council right then.

“We do have to move on, now,” Councilman Chan said, “We have much to discuss.”

It was hours later when the meeting concluded. Sennett felt as though she was losing her mind. She’d not come into work to guard people sitting in a secure room, she should be hunting down the killer. She tried to stretch her back without being noticed, being accustomed to walking for her shift and not standing in one spot.

As the council members rose to depart, Sonya said, “I’ve sent a request to Commissioner Stone for two more officers to join us. They’ll escort you all home.”

“What about you?” Godfrey asked.

“I was just declared the head councilwoman less than twenty-four hours ago,” Sonya said with a chuckle, “I believe it will be weeks before I see my house again. Good thing there are bedrooms here.”

“Someone should stay with you, Councilwoman,” Sennett said and regretted it at once. The last thing she wanted was to blow her whole night, watching Sonya while she did tedious paperwork.

Much to her relief, Sonya said, “I’m fine. There are guards here at all times, and everyone coming in or out of this level is monitored. Actually, if anyone else wants to stay with me, I wouldn’t think that a bad idea.”

Councilwoman McAvoy chuckled. “Sonya, no. And I’m not going to be shepherded to my house, either, thank you.”

Some of the other council members shook their heads. Councilman Chan looked concerned, though. “I think it’s a necessary precaution, Heather. At least for now.”

“Kevin,” Councilwoman McAvoy chuckled, “I’m a grown woman, I can look after myself.”

“Thorn was a grown woman, too,” Godfrey said quietly.

Sennett’s heart jumped, hearing her mother’s name in his mouth.

“No,” Councilwoman McAvoy said, folding her keyboard closed with a snap. “Have a good evening gentlemen, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She left, with no one else making an attempt to stop her.

“Officer Montgomery, will you escort me to my home? I think we live near each other,” Godfrey said, tucking his keyboard and screen into a canvas bag.

She wanted very badly to refuse, but as she couldn’t think of a polite way to do so, so she just said, “I didn’t know we lived near each other. I’m in section four of Level eight.”

“I know, I’m in section three. It’s right on your way,” Godfrey replied.

“That works out well,” Sonya said, “Sennett, perhaps you could also escort Councilman Anders here tomorrow morning?”

Sennett suppressed a groan. “Of course, Councilwoman,” she said.

They left the office together, making their way towards the transit “Sorry to spoil your afternoon,” Godfrey said, “Maybe you’d rather just let this person kill me?”

“I want to be hunting the bitch that killed my mom, not babysitting you,” Sennett said, “At this rate, I’m only gonna get a chance at her if she comes after you. Though, that might be a win-win for me.”

“What’s your problem with me?” Godfrey snapped.

“Really?” she replied, “You don’t consider yelling at me about ‘unnatural food’ poisoning our kids, artificial births making us less human to be in any way offensive? It’s not like you even have kids, I do.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about kids or the future of the human race,” he said, “You and your party, on the other hand, would rather trade our humanity for a quick fix for dinner.”

“Ignoring science and technology isn’t making you more human, it’s just making you backward,” Sennett said, “Is this why you asked me to take you home? So you could harass me?”

He took a deep breath, and said in a quieter voice, “I wanted to ask you a favor, actually.”

Sennett raised an eyebrow. “You picked a fascinating way to start off,” she said.

“Look, I’m sorry, but this is important,” he said, “I know what you just heard about Saul is, well it’s terrible. And I know you want to tell your party about it. But, please, if I could ask you to wait-,”

“Why do you think I would tell my party?” Sennett asked, “I know you don’t think much of police, but we do have a code of honor. That’s what’s keeping me from beating you, and what will keep me from even being tempted to share anything I heard in there.”

“Oh,” Godfrey said, “Well, I’m sorry that I offended you, then. But, I don’t know how much I believe that he raped Elizabeth,”

They boarded the transit. Godfrey took a seat, while Sennett stood in front of him, scanning the crowd. The car they were in was all but empty. “Why?” she asked, “You saw the proof.”

“I saw a video,” Godfrey said, “But I also know the man.”

Sennett leaned against the wall. She tapped her wrist screen and started scrolling through messages. April had sent her roughly seventeen drawings.

Just as they reached Level Three, her emergency program went off. “All officers, Councilwoman McAvoy has been attacked on Level 7.”

Sennett stood up straight, glancing at the indicator that showed what level they were on. “Four,” she muttered, “By the time we get there, she’ll be gone.”

“I don’t know what you want to do about it,” Godfrey said, but Sennett was already pulling a small disc from her belt. She tapped the center of it, and it grew in size until she could comfortably stand on it. She waived her wrist screen in front of the window on the transit, opening it. “Come on,” she said, grabbing Godfrey by the arm and pulling him onto the disc.

“Wait, what the hell are you doing?” Godfrey cried.

“Not letting her get away,” Sennett muttered. She tapped her heels on the disc, working the controls to lift it out of the window and up through the air.

“Oh, shit!” Godfrey cried, clinging to Sennett’s arm, “Why wouldn’t you just leave me behind on the transit?”

“I was told to protect you, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Sennett said, maneuvering onto Level Seven, “Don’t be afraid.”

“That’s asking a little much at this point,” Godfrey said. They landed, and Sennett grabbed her disc off of the ground before taking off at a run.

Officer Clark was already there. She was on one knee next to Councilwoman McAvoy, who was sprawled out on the ground.

Sennett looked around. She saw scared people, hiding behind trash bins or lying belly down on the ground, their hands over their heads. She didn’t see what they were cowering from, though.

Suddenly, there was a popping noise. A woman, dressed all in black with a cloth over her face, appeared behind Godfrey. She pulled him out of Sennett’s reach, pushing a gun into his temple.

Seeming, Episode One

Just in case you’ve never read Seeming, here’s the first chapter. Don’t forget that Station Central will be available on Smashwords on November 27th. You can preorder it now.

In the year 2099, a company called Galitech launched the first space station meant for recreational use. They shipped up food, sand, sea water, a whole lot of booze and somewhere around a thousand employees. What they created was called Station Center. It floated just beyond the moon and was advertised at the ultimate vacation destination.

Once everyone was convinced that the whole thing wasn’t going to devolve into some terrifying human behavior experiment, the overcrowded Earth started looking skyward. In 2104, what was later called the Summer of The Stations, 99 space stations intended for residential use were launched.

At first, they were populated by the brave and the bored. Celebrities thought it was posh to move off planet. Eventually, moving to space was the equivalent of moving to another country.

In 2117, something happened that mankind had pretty much assumed was an inevitability. We made First Contact. A race of people called the Khloe found a random station, Station 86. The thing that surprised people most was that they weren’t really all that different from us. While it was true that their skin was red and their hair hard and crystal-like, they were a far cry from the ‘alien’ everyone had in mind. Even so, it was a day that no one would forget, least of all the children on the station, including a little girl named Sennett.

The Khloe people weren’t the last to find us. A few years later they were joined by a race called the Ma’sheed. They caused quite a sensation because they glowed. They sent envoys to stations and lost no time becoming friends. Finally, the Toth quietly made contact. A tall and exceptionally calm race, it was sometimes hard to tell them apart from an Earthian. The only real difference was that their nails and eyes were black.

Over time the four races got along with varying degrees of success. Because Earth was too far away, Station 86 became the political outpost for inter humanoid relations.

These are the stories of Station 86

Godfrey Anders leaned across the counter of his food district booth, scowling at the tablet in his hand. He’d been trying to write this letter for twenty minutes, and so far all he had was ‘Dear Dad’. He took a deep breath and shook his mane of dark curls out of his face, then tried again.

I know we haven’t really talked since Ki and I got married, but…

No, what the hell would that do? It was his dad that wasn’t talking. He backspaced, and tried again.

I miss you, and Ki would love to come meet you.

That was a lie. As much as Ki would love to see Earth, she had no desire to meet a man that she called, ‘that racist asshole.’ No sense starting this out with false expectations.

I’ve just found out that I’m terminally ill, and…

No, that would just make him think he’d been right all along. It wasn’t bad enough that his only son had run off to space to open a glorified food truck, but then he’d gone and married an alien. In the mind of Matthew Anders, a terminal illness was exactly what Godfrey deserved.

He wished people were in the habit of writing letters on paper still. Hitting the delete button wasn’t nearly as satisfying as crumpling up a page when writing became difficult.

Across the aisle from him was a screen, on which the news was playing. With no customers to distract him, Godfrey turned his attention to it.

“The station is all geared up for the homecoming of Head Councilwoman Montgomery this afternoon,” the news anchor said, a large grin on his face. “Down here at level one, security has been tripled due to recent anti-council protests. But that’s not going to stop anyone from having a good time! There are no less than 15 hospitality stands, where citizens can buy drinks, frozen yogurt, klav and a vast collection of other treats.”

“Excuse me,” said an older woman at the other side of his counter. Godfrey turned to her with a smile. She pointed to the sign above his head. “Do you really have fresh fruit from Earth?”

“The seeds are from Earth,” Godfrey said, “and the soil is. But the fruit was grown right here on Station 86, in my own little greenhouse.”

“But it’s real?” the woman asked, “It’s not simulated?”

“Nope, not simulated,” Godfrey said.

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “How do I know it’s real?” she asked.

Godfrey laughed. He took a yellow apple from a basket next to him and grabbed a small knife. “You can tell by the taste.” He cut a wedge of the apple for the woman. “Try this, and tell me it’s not real.”

The woman took the slice, still giving him a distrustful look. All around them, people were milling around on the market level of the station. It was right in between the lunch and dinner hour, so no one was particularly interested in the food isles. Instead, they passed by, mostly men laden with shopping bags, running errands while the kids were at school.

The woman took a bite of the apple slice. As soon as she did, her eyes lit up. “I haven’t had an apple like this since I was a kid,” she said.

“I told you,” Godfrey said with a chuckle. “Simulators just can’t reproduce that taste.”

The woman started to reply but was interrupted by shouting.

They turned to see a young girl, her hand partway in the pocket of a man’s jacket. Holding her arm was a police officer that Godfrey recognized, Sennett Montgomery.

Godfrey guessed that some might have found Sennett attractive. She kept her long hair set in thousands of small braids, corralled in a metal band. She was tall, with dark brown skin and brown eyes. He, however, was too put off by the amount of tech she wore to find her very attractive at all. She had the three circular circles on her temple that indicated a virtual screen. On her wrist, she wore the receiver, a thick silver band that reached nearly halfway to her elbow.

“Let me go!” the girl cried, as the man moved away, looking disgusted. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Sennett snapped, giving her arm a shake. The girl wrenched left and right, trying to get out of Sennett’s grip.

Sennett shook her head and pulled the girl along with her. As they passed Godfrey’s stall, the girl thrashed, kicked the front and knocked his tablet to the ground.

“Hey!” Godfrey cried. “Can’t you keep your prisoner’s under control, Officer?”

Sennett scooped the tablet off of the ground, and looked at it, still holding the girl by one hand.

“It’s not bad enough you’ve been poisoning my plants, you’ve got to let pickpockets smash up the front of my stall?” he snapped, “I’d like that back now.”

“You made your complaint about me, it was looked into, and no evidence was found,” Sennett said, “So you can shut up about your greenhouse, I haven’t touched it.”

She took a step, just outside of his outstretched hands. “Well, what’s this?” she asked, “Are you applying to the council?”

She held the tablet up to show him the application form. Apparently, it had opened when the tablet fell.

“That is really none of your business,” Godfrey said, snatching the tablet from her.

“You’re a Foundation Party member, though. Isn’t it the Foundation Party leader that’s trying to overthrow the council?”

“Saul Mai just wants the council to be more transparent,” Godfrey said, “And if you don’t want that too, you’re a fool. No one has any say on who’s selected, the council chooses their own members. No one even has an idea of what happens during their closed-door meetings. I would think the Current Party would have a problem with that, too.”

“So your way to fix that is to be one of the people doing things with no transparency?” Sennett asked, “Yeah, that seems like pretty common Foundation Party doublespeak.”

“Yeah,” the girl said. Godfrey noticed for the first time that she was wearing the four intertwined circles of the Current Party as a pin on her jacket. Godfrey himself had the four overlaying squares of the Foundation Party on his own.

“You’re under arrest, “ Sennett said, giving the girl another shake, “You don’t get a say.”

She continued on, dragging the pickpocket along with her.

A few hours later, Godfrey was closing up when his wife, Ki, arrived. She looked tired, still dressed in her uniform from the hospital.

Even tired, Godfrey thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She’d been the first person he’d met on the station, and her red skin had caught his attention right away. Her hair was a brilliant red, hard a stone, and chipped short to her head.

“Hey,” she said, giving him a tired peck on the cheek.

“Hey,” he replied, “Do you still want to go down to level one and see Councilwoman Montgomery come home?”

“Yeah,” Ki said. She pressed a button on the side of the counter, letting loose three scrubbers. They scooted across the counter and the stove range, cleaning all of the surfaces. “It was just a day. David and the new Ma’sheed girl both pulled no-shows. Then, some kid at the college accidentally melted half her lab. No one was seriously hurt, but the ER was full of whiny college kids and freaked out parents.”

“So we’ll stop by a stall with some booze first thing, then,” Godfrey said, pulling a tray of clean dishes from the washer. Soon enough they had the whole shop cleaned up. They pulled the front shutter down and made their way to the transit station.

The transit had fascinated Godfrey when he’d moved there, five years ago. People moved from level to level on a set of train cars that traveled in a corkscrew formation along the outer walls. The clockwise trains went down, the counter-clockwise trains went up.

They obviously weren’t the only ones interested in seeing the head councilwoman’s return home. There was a line for the first train, Godfrey and Ki ended up having to wait for another. A group of college kids was waiting as well.

“Hey, check out the Cherry skin,” one of them called. Her fellows chuckled. Godfrey looked over at them and was saddened to see that they were wearing Foundation pins. “Won’t your parents be ashamed to hear about this,” he called, “when I tell them about it?”

When the kids looked unimpressed, he said, “Kathy, Rodger, I know your moms will have something to say about this.”

Realizing that they’d been recognized, the kids slunk a little farther away, shooting Godfrey dirty looks occasionally.

“Little punks,” he muttered, pulling Ki close. She rolled her eyes and said, “Kids are kids, no matter the planet.”

They boarded the transit and took their seats. He pulled out his tablet and started scanning through the news. “Take a look at this,” he said, pointing out an article to her. “There’s a new poll out that says Saul Mai’s got the highest likability ranking of any Foundation Party leader in the past decade. He’s more popular than most of the Current Party leaders, too. Even that new guy they just voted in, Howard Stoats.”

“Is it normal for Foundation Party leaders to be unpopular?” Ki asked.

“Well, it’s always been the smaller party,” Godfrey said. He sighed, and added, “I know we’re in space, but there’s still a place for tradition, and history. We’re out here to assure that our cultures live on forever, all of us.”

Ki sniffed. “Honey, you know I don’t understand this obsession Earthians have with political parties. It just gives everyone something to fight over.”

“No, it gives the people the numbers we need to get our voices heard,” Godfrey said.

They reached level one, the docking level. Godfrey hadn’t thought it possible that it could be any more crowded than it normally was, but somehow the people of the station had managed it. The hospitality stalls were packed, and any surface that could be sat upon was in use. Kids, clinging to parents or perched on shoulders, shouted everywhere. He was sure that everyone who lived on the station was there, from every planet. He kept a good hold of Ki’s hand, especially when they passed a collection of officers. Their blue uniforms were meant to resemble American police officers on Earth, and they did a horribly good job as far as he was concerned.

“Come on!” Ki cried, pulling him forward.

“I’m coming,” he said, laughing at her excitement. “It’s a big ship, we’re not gonna miss it.”

Ki looked back at him and knocked into someone holding a child. “Oh, sorry,” Ki said.

The woman turned. It was Sennett, now dressed as a civilian in jeans and a hoodie, holding what Godfrey assumed was her daughter, April. She looked very much like her mother, but with a head full of fluffy, dark hair. She was a cute kid, but Godfrey noticed that Sennett had her teched out as well. She wore decorative wrist cuffs and had an earpiece in one ear. Godfrey couldn’t even imagine what a four-year-old needed an earpiece for.

“No problem,” Sennett said. Next to her stood a man who looked to be a couple years younger than her. He was pale, well built, with dark hair that was shaved close to his head. Like Sennett, he wore the three metal dots on his temples. He also wore the Current Party pin on his jacket.

“What are you doing here, Hypocrite?” Godfrey asked, “After bitching about the council?”

“Wanna watch your mouth in front of my kid?,” Sennett said.

“Councilwoman Montgomery’s our mom, Dumbass,” the boy said.

“Mason, could you shut up?” Sennett asked.

“Well, that makes sense,” Godfrey said, “Not only are you a cop, but you’re a cop with connections. That’s why you’re getting away with poisoning my plants.”

“Give it up,” Sennett said, “I’m not doing anything to your damned plants.”

“Well, they’re not dying on their own,” Godfrey replied.

“Oh, why don’t you take you’re damned lame accusations, and-,”

She was interrupted by cheering. A massive screen behind them lit up. The Councilwoman’s ship was nearly home.

Godfrey grinned. He supposed it was nothing major. The head councilwoman was in and out of the station several times throughout the year. But there was always this pomp and circumstance, this celebration when she returned.

The ship was sleek, thin and silver, meant only for short trips between the stations. The screen changed from the exterior view to an image of the Councilwoman. She was older, with gray hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She was smiling at all of them.

“Hi, Grandma!” April cried, next to Godfrey. Councilwoman Montgomery must have heard her because she laughed.

“Hello, everyone,” she said, “It is good to see home again. I’ve got to stop going away so long.”

The crowd let up a cheer.

Then the screen went black. The next moment, it sounded as though several large things hit the side of the station, just outside of the loading docks.

From the front of the room, Godfrey heard yelling. The screen remained black. Several IHP agents, dressed in black suits, began to move towards the docking bay and their ships.

“What is this?” Sennett whispered.

“Everyone, please remain calm,” said a voice over the loudspeaker. “All officers and IHP agents are now on duty. Report to your squad leader or immediate supervisor for orders. All civilians please return to your homes, now.”

From the front of the crowd, someone yelled, “The councilwoman’s ship’s blown up. She’s been killed!”

“Are we under attack?” Ki whispered, pulling Godfrey closer.

“No,” Sennett said. She’d set April on the ground, and was looking at her receiver. “That ship couldn’t have been taken down by anything besides station mounted weaponry. It had to have come from the station.”

Station Central is coming to Smashwords

We’re coming close to the end of the year. And what a hell of a year it’s been. 

Some good things have happened, of course. Including a bevy of great new books. Man, some really good books came out this year. Mexican Gothic, Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Savage Legion. I put out a book of my own, Falling From Grace.

Now, I don’t have another book to put out this year. I’m working on a few, but nothing’s quite ready yet. However, I do have some exciting news.

Station Central, the last book of the Station 86 series, will be available on Smashwords as of November 27th. That’s Black Friday for those of you not in America.

As always, there will be some events and promotions over the next few weeks. Watch here and follow me on Twitter to learn when special sales prices will be available. I might even give away a few copies.

That’s it for now. Hope you’re as excited as I am. I loved writing Station Central, and I can’t wait for everyone to get a chance to read it on any platform. 

Don’t Stop Us Now

The American election is pretty much over now. There are still some things to wrap up, but for the most part, we’ve done our bit. And man, did we ever do our bit. More people voted in this election than literally any election before it. That’s astounding. This whole election has been astounding. Also, terrifying, heartwarming, stressful, heartbreaking. I’ve been voting since I turned eighteen, never missed an election, and I’ve never seen anything like this. People way older than me are saying the same thing.

For some of us, this feels like a big win. It feels like the light at the end of a fucking long tunnel. It feels like after four years we can finally take a break. Sorry, I have some bad news.

We can’t. 

We cannot stop paying attention to what our politicians are doing. We still need to pay attention to the news, pay attention to what’s going on in the world around us. 

The problems in our country didn’t start with Trump. And they won’t end with him being booted out of office. Though I’ll personally rejoice to think that he’ll never again set a diet coke on the Resolute Desk without a coaster.

We the people found our voices this year after far too many of sitting complacently at the sidelines. We cannot go back to that.

I will not go back to that. 

There are still marches to walk in. Laws to fight for or against. There are still kids in cages at our border. Millions of Americans still don’t have health care. We still need a Green New Deal. We still have to defend a woman’s right to chose. Flint Michigan still doesn’t have clean water. There is work, so much work, to be done. And it doesn’t start at the top. It starts with us.

I get that this is overwhelming. But it’s where we are. And if we’ve learned anything in the last four years, it’s that we cannot expect our elected officials to fix things for us.

If you, like me, want to make sure you’re doing your part in the coming years, here are some things you can do.

Know your local politicians.

I’m sort of bad about this myself. I didn’t even know our Lt. governor here in PA was a damned king who I need to pay more attention to. But this is where real changes that will impact you start. Who’s your mayor, state representative, governor? You should know their names, where they stand on issues that impact you, and what their email addresses are. Maybe even where their office is.

Yass, King

Vote in local elections.

When you know who your local politicians are, you can vote with more understanding. And you should vote. There are elections at least every two years. Know when yours are, and make a plan to vote in them. These people are going to make decisions that impact your life whether you vote for them or not. You should have a say in who they are.

Pay attention to the news.

Yes, I’m fully aware that this is hard. The world can be dark and scary. But we have to know what’s happening to make it brighter. I subscribe to The Skimm, which I read every morning. I also follow independent journalists and look into the information they provide. Just don’t shut down. Knowing what’s happening is the first step to doing something about it.

Call or write letters about things you care about.

This may seem like a waste of time, but I promise it’s not. We have to have our voices heard if we’re going to get anything done. Don’t ever forget that your politicians work for you. And you should tell them what you think of the job they’re doing. 

I know that life is hard. There’s so much to do. Adding anything to our already bloated to-do lists seems like an impossibility.

But not paying attention is what got us here. It’s like in Phantom Tollbooth when Milo ends up in the Doldrums. Tock, the Watchdog, asks him how he ended up there. “I guess I wasn’t thinking,” Milo tells him.

“Then what do you think you need to do to get out again?” Tock asked. 

We got here by not thinking and not paying attention. So, what do we need to do to get out? 

The holidays are going to look different this year

Every year I write a blog post about the holidays. And I’m not stopping this year. Normally I write about saying no, honoring your boundaries and only doing holiday things you actually like. This year’s post is going to be a little different because this holiday season is going to be a little different.

No, fuck that. This year’s holiday season is going to be really different. Let’s be real here. 

There are going to be a lot of people missing loved ones this season, for one reason or another. People are going to have lean holidays, as they’ve lost their jobs. And I’m sure some people just aren’t talking to family members at this point. 2020 has just been a shit show, and it’s really hard to feel thankful or festive.

Okay, but it’s still the holidays. There are still things to be thankful for, still reasons to celebrate. So let’s talk about what we can do to make the holidays good. Not like what they’ve been before, but still good. 

Make a list of what you want to do

Lists are always my go-to for a good reason. If we fail to plan we plan to fail. So grab a nice cup of chai tea and write down everything you want to do for the holidays. Then make a plan to make it happen. Grab the other members of your family and figure it out now.

Go for good, not perfect

We can’t expect everything to be like it’s been before. We can’t gather together as family and friends this year. All sorts of things aren’t happening for me this year. Normally I go Christmas shopping with friends, celebrate Yule at Starbucks with some other girls, enjoy Secret Santa fun with co-workers and hand out a stack of Christmas cards.

If you just lost your job, you’re not going to have a big bash. There might not be a huge turkey, new bike. If you’re just struggling with depression or anxiety, you’re not up to planning a bunch of magical activities. And I know that when the holidays don’t look like how I expect them to look, I feel like it’s a personal failure on my part. But it’s not. Flat out, it’s not your fault that this year ended up how it did unless you’re a politician. So what do we do, give up? Decide to just not do the holidays this year? No, I’ll not have it. I’ll have a good enough holiday, and be happy with that. 

Get creative

This might require us to get creative. And that’s okay. We are creative souls. If we can’t buy gifts for each other, we can share experiences instead. If we can’t get together in person, we can visit virtually. We can ship gifts to loved ones, send cards through the mail, do drive-by caroling. I’ll be doing some virtual coffee visits with friends. I’m pretty excited about it.

Think of others

I haven’t lost my day job. I’m thankful for that. And I’m thinking of ways to help others. For instance, we’re not doing a Thanksgiving dinner. We’ll probably get takeout, tip the waitstaff well. We’re going to buy everything for a full Thanksgiving dinner, and donate it to a food cupboard. While I’m sure the darling husband and I will get little things for each other, I plan to focus mostly on getting stuff for Toys for Tots and other local charities. The gifts we do buy will be from local shops so that our money supports what we want to see more of. If you’re blessed enough to still be working, please consider helping others have a good holiday.

If you need help, get it

This doesn’t just go for the holidays. It goes for pretty much all the time. If you can see a therapist, do it. If you need to just vent to a friend, do it. If you lost your job and need to reach out for assistance, do it and don’t feel guilty for one second. We all need to pull together right now. Accept assistance now, plan to pay it forward when you can. 

Plan now for virtual visits

If you have elderly loved ones, reach out now to plan virtual visits. Do not assume they know how to use Zoom. Talk to them now, help them out before the day of the event. Do some test runs with them. Then set up your laptop at the table and enjoy dinner together, apart. Watch Muppet’s Christmas Carol with your best friend on your phone. Have a glass of mulled wine with your buddies on screen. We can still see each other, still celebrate the days, without risking killing your relatives. Just don’t leave planning until the day of, or it’s just going to cause unneeded stress. 

Remember the reason you celebrate

I don’t know what holiday you celebrate. But not a damned one of them is about getting gifts and eating food. The holidays are about love, gratitude and celebration. They’re about shining a light in the darkest time of the year. They’re about family, friends, joy. They’re about having fun. You can have all of those things without a single gift or bite of turkey. 

I want to hear from you about what you’re planning for the holidays this year. Let us know in the comments.

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My favorite short scary stories

Horror always works best in short form. Which isn’t to say that I don’t love a good scary movie or novel. I do. But there’s something about a short horror story.

A good short story creeps into your brain and lodges there. You might not even know it at the time. It’s only when you’re letting your mind wander. It’s when something is waiting to remind you of its existence in the dark of night when all you want to do is pee and go back to sleep.

Today I want to share with you my nine favorite short horror stories. Some of them are classic horror shorts, some are creepypastas. All are chilling.

The Snowman, from The Wrong Station

This is a recent find for me, this podcast. I wrote a review about this podcast on Haunted MTL, you should check it out. 

But this one story managed to get on my list. It starts as a conversation between good friends who haven’t seen each other in a while. They’re just catching each other up about what’s been going on in their small town. That’s all it seems like until suddenly it’s not.

The Monkey’s Paw, by W. W. Jacobs

There’s a good chance you’ve seen this story redone or parodied somewhere. Even if you have, you should read the original. It’s spooky. The premise is simple. A couple who just lost their child makes a wish to have him home. This, of course, goes awry. 

Scary Stories, by Alvin Schwartz 

I’m not going to list a specific story here, because they’re all awesome. The missing toe and Harold are probably my favorite. Yes, I know these are technically for children. No, I don’t give a damn. 

Rap Rat, Creepypasta

Try as I might I can’t find an author to credit for this story. But it’s one of the first CreepyPasta stories I ever heard, and it’s what got me hooked.

Rap Rat is an old board game that came with an eerie VHS tape. After watching the tape, people report having horrible nightmares. And that’s just the start.

Welcome to Dead House, By R.L Stine

Goosebumps was my introduction to the horror genre. And while this is technically a standalone book, it’s still short enough to warrant being on this list. 

Welcome to Deadhouse has a twist that we can all see coming now. But as a child, it messed with me. I’d never read anything like it, never seen anything like it on tv. And it hooked me as a horror fan for life.

Laughing in The Dark, Are you afraid of the dark

I remember this being the second episode, but Wikipedia says it’s the third one. Oh well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that the episode is scary as hell and well-acted. The clown stalking the boy is horrifying, but not as much as the realization that some things can’t be made right. Some things are done and a price must be paid.

It’s the most fun in the park when you’re laughing in the dark. Damn, that line. 

The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe

This poem has been told and retold a thousand times. But my favorite version is the one from the first Treehouse of Horror. It’s read by the astounding James Earl Jones and Dan Castellaneta. This is one of those times you remember that Dan Castellaneta has professional acting training and a hell of a good voice. It shines in this as he reads the classic horror tale. 

The Mist, Stephen King

Hear me out. If you saw the movie, I’m very sorry. That movie sucked so, so hard. But the short story it’s based on is wonderful. It’s still about a neighborhood stuck in a grocery store while who knows what is waiting outside. But the ending, my goodness the ending is so good. I won’t ruin it for you if you’ve never read it. But it is so worth the read. 

The Lottery, Shirley Jackson

I don’t know that anyone doesn’t know the premise of this story. The chilling casualness of the town, as they stone an innocent woman to death. There’s no reason for it but tradition. A tradition that no one even remembers who started it or why.

Think about that. This town kills someone every year for no other reason but tradition.

I did a whole podcast about this over on Haunted MTL with my fellow Bloody Marys, which you should give a listen to. You should also take some time and read The Lottery. It’s a chilling tale that is more relevant now than ever.

So now I want to hear what you think. What’s your favorite horror short? Let us know in the comments. 

I also want to let you know that there won’t be a post next week. I’m going on vacation and will be as offline as possible. Peace out, see you in November. Happy Halloween. 

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A last minute Preptober list that you totally have time for

Today’s image is by <a href="http://Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/candid_shots-11873433/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=4489579">Candid_Shots</a&gt; from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=4489579">PixabayCandid Shots.

It’s October 16th. If you’re participating in Nanowrimo, we have half a month left to get ready.

If you’ve been procrastinating, now is the time to get started on your Preptober list. 

If you have no idea what the hell you’re supposed to be doing for your Preptober list, I’m here for you. Each of these things can be done over the next two weeks and will help you succeed in Nanowrimo this year.

List five ideas every day

Notice that I didn’t say good ideas. You should feel free to write the worst ideas you can think of. Just get yourself thinking about your story. What might happen?

Remember, you’re not required to use any of this in your novel. It’s just there to start you thinking. You might even use this to list things that for sure will not happen in your novel. 

Gather your supplies

What do you write with? I’m writing my Nano novel this year on paper because my eyes have been messing with me and I don’t want to stare at a screen any more than I need to. So, I’ve stocked up on notebooks and the specific felt tip pens I like. I’ve got a big stack of index cards for outlining. I’m ready to go.

Make a list of things you need to write your novel, and get them now.

Let the people in your life know your plans

This is especially important if you’ve never done Nanowrimo before. I do this all the time, so my darling husband just rolls his eyes.

We can’t expect our family to respect our goals if they don’t know what the goals are. So let your family know what to expect over November. You’re going to need time away, daily, to write. Figure out if things need to be taken off your plate and whose plate they can be comfortably set on.

Plan your time

When do you have time to write? Are you a morning person or do you work best late at night? Can you write right after work or during a lunch break? Would you be better off getting your writing done in one long session, or breaking it up over the day? Are there going to be days this month you can’t write at all?

Take a look at your calendar and block out time now. If you have this time in your calendar already, you’ll have fewer excuses when the time comes. 

Brainstorm for a full week

You need time to think about your story. Mull it over. Write about your characters, their background. Just play around on paper for a full week. Set nothing in stone yet. Right now, your ideas are play dough. 

Outline for a full week

If you’re a pantser, go ahead and skip this one. You’re wrong, but you can do it. 

Outlining is time-consuming. But if you do it right, it makes the rough draft a lot easier. You’re not lost, wondering what to do with the story next. I mean, that might happen when you’re outlining, but that’s sort of the point.

Keep in mind that the outline is not written in stone. In the course of your rough drafting, you might find the story going in a different direction. That’s okay, let it. The outline is just the start.

We have half a month left to go before Nanowrimo. Are you ready? 

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Should we even do Nanowrimo this year?

2020 has been a dumpster fire of a year. Literally, the worst one I’ve ever lived through. I’m not going to try to make light of this.

So what if we don’t do Nanowrimo this year? What if we throw our hands up and say it’s too much. With everything else we’re dealing with, who could add writing a novel in there? Shouldn’t we all spend November trying to just survive and figure out how to have Thanksgiving on Zoom?

Hell no. 

Mind you, I’m not shaming anyone who doesn’t participate. But I’ll be doing it. And if you were thinking of writing a novel this year, you should do it too. Here’s why.

Publishers are still buying books

Agents and publishers are still accepting queries. Books are still coming out. People are still reading. So why not write a book?

Fiction can reach hearts and change minds.

If you’re feeling helpless, write about it. Write about your story of 2020. Write out your anger, your pain. Write about losing your job, your freedom. Whatever this year has been for you, write it out. 

Or you could write a fictionalized story about a country that let a deadly pandemic run wild even though they had the means to fix it and save thousands of lives. Just a thought.

Fiction can reach hearts and minds that straight facts can’t. Think of how many times fiction has hit you right between the eyes and made you see the world differently. You have the opportunity to do that now. Writing is the voice we have in addition to voting.

Vote!

So let’s use every tool we have. Get your story into the world. 

It’s a needed creative outlet

Okay, so not everyone wants to change the world with their words. Some people just want to create something. 

It’s in our nature to need a creative outlet. To make something. To paint, sing, write, draw, knit, whatever. If you just want to write a little something for fun or to say you did it, go for it! Write something and don’t worry about what you’re going to do with it later. Just love the process.

We can get something good out of this year 

We know how hard this year has been. There hasn’t been a lot to be happy about. Everything went wrong. People will be spending holidays without loved ones they had last year. 

We have to get some good out of this year, damn it. Any good we can. And if we can end the year on a high note, be able to say we did this one big thing, that’s a win. 

Let’s win just a little this year, together.

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I’ve decided not to do a Milwordy. Here’s why

You might remember a month ago I decided to go for a Milwordy. I did a whole post about it. For anyone who doesn’t know, a Milwordy is when you try to write a million words in a year. 

I do this sort of thing sometimes. I hear about some fancy new challenge online and it just sounds fun. I can make a little chart and track my progress. I can watch my numbers go up like on a video game. It’s a good time. 

It’s also, like, instant gratification for me. If I have one complaint about writing, it’s that gratification is at a minimum. Writing books takes time. Writing short stories take time. Writing a damned poem can take time. And getting any of that work published? Don’t get me started. Years, you guys. Years. For someone like me, gratification is so important. (Not that kind, you pervert.) I need to feel like I’m accomplishing something. Word counts are a great way to feel that way. Watching them pile up is great for me.

Of course, I wanted to do a Milwordy. Especially right now, when I’m working on a bunch of projects that all need a little progress every day. Yes, a little progress adds up, but not near fast enough for me. A daily word count that includes all my little projects and any freewriting I do?

Hell yes, sign me up.

After trying for a whole month, I’ve decided that a Milwordy doesn’t serve me at all and I’m done trying. 

Now, a quick disclaimer. Just because something doesn’t serve me doesn’t mean it won’t serve you. There are many people for who a Milwordy goal is fantastic. And it’s great! Good for you, in the most honest way possible. 

I’m also not advocating for quitting things too soon or because you don’t like a challenge. Sometimes challenges are good. Sometimes a thing will serve you very well if you give it some time to exist in your life. Even if at first it serves you like a cannon in the gut. 

But if we all stuck with everything, some of us would have screwed our lives up. Some of us would be in abusive marriages, shitty jobs, poorly chosen college majors.

That being said, I wanted to go through some reasons I’ve decided not to do a Milwordy for a few reasons. One, because I’d hate for you to think I’m just a big quitter. Two, because I hope that if you’re struggling with whether or not you should keep at something, this will help you make the best decision for you.

To start with, a million words is sort of an arbitrary number. I mean, it’s a beautiful number. It’s a nice big, round number and I love it. But when we’re talking about a million words as a word count for a year it doesn’t work. It’s not the same as, for instance, Nanowrimo. That’s 50,000 words in a month, the minimum required word count to be considered a novel. That being said, let’s do some math together. Let’s say an author writes a novel in a year at 50,000 words. Let’s say she also writes a short story every month at about 2,000 words and maybe two or three blog posts or articles a week at 1,000 words each. To be fair, let’s assume that same author does three pages of free writing a day, maybe a page of journaling. Now, a rough estimate of that word count is 300 words a page. That’s roughly 440,000 words in a year. Not even half of the Milwordy goal and that’s a shit ton of writing. Want to know how I know? That’s roughly how much I write in a year. And if you want to know how I figured out those rough estimates, keep reading. We’re going to get into that.

Yes, achieving a Milwordy is a massive goal, and it should require you to stretch and work hard. But there’s achievable goals and stupid goals. More than doubling what’s honestly already sort of a lot of writing comes down to personal abuse. 

I could probably do it, though. I’m not bragging, I probably could write a million words in a year. I wouldn’t be taking any days off, and I’d probably get even fatter than I am now. But I could write a million words. 

L.Ron Hubbard wrote a lot. A stupid scary amount. Most of it’s hot garbage. Like, bad. Sit down and read some of his stuff, it’s hideous. Hubbard was able to do that because he focused on quantity, not quality. If I wrote a million words in a year, it would take me another three years to edit, polish and publish all of it. And by that time I’d probably be sick of the whole thing. Or, let’s face it, I’d have lost my notebooks.

Let’s talk about notes now. I, like many writers, take a lot of notes. I take notes while I’m watching movies to review, when I do research for an upcoming project, or just sorting my thoughts out on the page. But notes don’t necessarily take a lot of words. I generally keep my notes pretty short, as they’re just there to jog my memory later. So, when I dreamed of pages and pages of notes filling up my word count every week, I was not considering reality. This Milwordy goal was encouraging me to expand notes unnecessarily, wasting time. I don’t have a lot of time to waste.

Now, I’d like to go back to something we talked about earlier. I have some weirdly specific numbers regarding my writing. For much of my work, my trusty computer does all the counting for me. But I do a lot of writing on paper. And that meant I had to count that by hand. 

Okay, so I didn’t count every word. I counted the words on 100 lines and figured out the average. Which works well if I’m writing out a full line.

Do you have any idea how much time it takes to count all that? Again, time I don’t have to waste. It’s one thing when I’m doing Nanowrimo, counting out words in a rough draft for a month. Doing that for a whole year? No way, Man. I’m still having PTSD from it. Try writing out several pages of nightmare details at three in the morning. Then, count it the next day. See how happy you are about it. 

Now, I can’t emphasize enough that some people benefit from doing a Milwordy. If you’re one of those people I want to hear about it. Please let us know in the comments below. But now it’s time for me to set this goal aside and focus on what’s important.

Telling stories. 

Banned Books Week, 2020

Warning: This post gets a little inappropriate. I’m going to say some words like vagina and fuck. You’ve been warned. 

It’s that time again, my favorite bookish holiday of the year. Banned Books week!

I love this yearly reminder that we’ve got to fight for our right to freedom of expression. No surprise, it’s sort of a big deal. I like to write and read about difficult topics. Maybe you do too. Maybe you don’t, but you still think other people should be able to. Maybe you also just think books get banned for really stupid reasons and you’re just not down for censorship. 

#fuckcensorship.

All that being said, let’s get into the good stuff. Here’s the list of the top ten most banned books from 2019. This information is from the website ALA.org. If you can, please check them out and help out with a donation. 

Ten-And Tango Makes Three by Peter Parnell and Justin Richardson, illustrated by Henry Cole

Banned for LGBTQIA+. When are we going to stop doing this?

Nine-Harry Potter by JK. Rowling

Banned due to magic and witchcraft, for containing actual curses and spells and for characters using ‘nefarious means’ to obtain goals. 

Really? Actual spells. Someone tried to come at this discussion by stating that Harry Potter has actual spells. Let me assure you, it doesn’t. What in the actual hell are these people thinking? Having known quite a few witches and Wiccans in my life and being honored to call them friends, I promise none of them are whipping up Polyjuice Potion. It’s more like, “Let’s put some herbs on this candle and light it, then pray that your grandma gets over that bad head cold. But also, here’s some cold medicine.”

Oh look, I just gave you a real spell! Scandalous! 

Eight-Drama by Raina Telgemeier

Banned for  LGBTQIA+. 

Seven-The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

Banned for profanity, vulgarity and sexual overtones. 

Allegedly. I think it’s banned for putting wild ideas like freedom in people’s heads. This isn’t a good book for people who want to, I don’t know, run for a third term (fourth, fifth), suspend rights to peacefully protest, strip people of their right to vote and you know, ban books.

Six-I am Jazz by Jessica Herthel and Jazz Jennings, Illustrated by Shelagh McNicholas

Banned for sexual content and matter that is sensitive, controversial and politically charged. 

Wouldn’t it be nice if we taught kids how to have a conversation about difficult topics? Just a thought. Seems like having a book as a jumping-off point would be a great tool.

But what do I know?

Five-Prince and Knight by Daniel Haack, illustrated by Stevie Lewis

Banned for, and I’m paraphrasing here, making it seem like being gay is, you know, okay. 

Four-Sex is a funny word by Cory Silverberg, Illustrated by Fiona Smyth

You know what, it is a funny word. I mean, I guess every word is funny when you think about it. Fork, pickle, card, typewriter. How do we decide these things?

Anyway, this book was banned for sexual content, LGBTQIA+ content and discussing sex education.

Our country needs sex education. Honest to goodness, there are some men who still thing women pee from their vagina. I don’t want to draw a diagram here, folks.

Three-A day in the life of Marlon Bundo by Jill Twiss, illustrated by EG Keller

Please understand that this is a book for little kids. It’s a picture book. I bought a copy for my friend’s little son. It’s a cute story about a cute bunny who happens to be gay.

But of course, that’s not okay. Why let kids know it’s okay to be who they are? Or that there might be people who are gay, and that’s okay.

Maybe we’d prefer to let people continue to force themselves into molds they were never built to fit in, then sit around and wonder why they’re breaking.

Two- Beyond Magenta: Transgender teens speak out by Susan Kuklin

Banned for its effect on any young people who would read it. What, are they afraid it would give them wild ideas about not judging people based on their gender or sex? 

One-George by Alex Gino

This one made me laugh. It’s also banned for LGBTQIA+ material. But there’s a quote here. I don’t know who said it but I wish I did. 

“Libraries should not put books in a child’s hand that require discussion.” 

Well, what the fuck do we have libraries for, then? I was pretty sure that a book was supposed to require discussion. What was the last book you read that didn’t make you ask questions? I bet it was a boring one. 

I’ll leave you now with my banned book choice of the year. This year I’m reading The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood. What are you reading for banned book week? Let us know in the comments below.

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