Okay, a new blog, just to chock up the internet with more pointless waffle of the "My name's Persephone, I'm 8 years old, here's a poem about my cat" variety...
All right, maybe not, but given this is supposed to be all about my writing I suppose I should start with a state of the nation address of some sort.
Having walked out of my much-loathed job in the middle of July with the prospect of a little less than 6 months Long Service Leave before me, I decided to set myself a couple of targets before they forced me to return in early January: write at least 12 short stories, including another in my series of Father Muerte stories and turn my 35000 word, hole-riven first novel draft into a shiny, gleaming, 90000 word magic masterpiece. Hmmm.
If I want to be a full-time writer and escape Public Service Hell, I thought, I'm goign to have to prove that I can do the business. Hmm and double hmm.
So, how am I going, halfway through my idyll?
Not too bad, actually. I've completed and sent out 5 stories: Goodfellow, a speculative romance starring the Merry Andrew manifestation of Puncinello; His Calliope, a murder/horror story set during the London Blitz; Jaracara's Kiss, a vampire story that takes place amongst the snake-handlers of 1920's Appalachia; Stalag Hollywood, in which the famous Holywood 'uglies' are rounded up and herded into a forced labour camp; and Rise of Nations, a feghoot with a truly awful pun. I even have a poem under consideration at Andromeda Spaceways In-flight Magazine, a rare occurrence indeed. The novel has been line-edited, and I plan to spend the next couple of weeks ploughing through and filling the many holes and correcting the pages and pages of horribly clumsy writing it contains.
Currently in production are: The Imprisonment of Marianne, a good old fashioned ghost story concerning a young female prisoner and the deal she makes with the spirit trapped in the walls of her cell; Through The Window Merrilee Dances, an anti-fantasy in which I try to inject just a little bit of reality into the traditionally shite fantasy milieu of castles and Kings; Elyse, a post-apocalyptic tale of what it means to be an invader, and how invasion doesn't always involve territory; Vortle, a first-alien POV story about a different kind of first contact; Dying With Eddie, a story about immortality and the choices that go along with it; A Fork In The Sky, an actioner set in on an island community thousands of metres above sea level; The Communion of Big Numbers, about death, loneliness, and little messages on bits of paper; Eat The Moon, a story about Old Gods and what happens when they visit new towns with old names; Raquelme & Palermo, a mainstream story about two friends on a mercy dash; and Penny on the Tongue, about how childhood pranks have to change to keep pace with technology.
And in late, just-breaking news--- I've just this moment received an email telling me that Aurealis want to buy Father Muerte & The Rain, the sequel to my story Father Muerte & The Theft which appeared in Aurealis 29 last year and went on to make the Recommended Reading List in Datlow's Best SF & Horror Vol 16. Happy dance of joy! Father Muerte & The Truth , the third story in the series, is in pre-production (ie: the reading piles of books phase) so this is a real fillip to get in and get the new one started. Pope Joan, globsters, the Tunguska meteor and Lowenmensch statues. That's all I'm saying at the moment, coz that's all I've got... :)