Sela C

Do you care if a book has won an award?

Pulitzer, Man Booker, Newberry, Edgar, Rita, whatever.

Does it make a difference when you're picking a book to read for your own entertainment?

I've read the Black Jewels trilogy and loved it, but where do I go from there? I've heard mixed reviews of her other books, though. What other novels of hers are good reads?

This is the introduction to a short story I've written. It's a slightly different style than what I usually write. More formal than my typical casual contemporary voice. It's called "Runespell."

The water was freezing cold, weighing down her body, turning her muscles to ice, her blood to slush. And so dark. The headlights of her car were invisible now, broken perhaps, or just too deep for her to see.

*I’m sorry.* She didn’t know for what, she was just sorry. Guilt for things unsaid, deeds unforgiven, obstacles unconquered.

A final rush of pain stiffened her limbs, and she fought against it, arching her neck, staring up as the last glimmer of moonlight on the surface was blocked by a large shape.

Something, a hand, reached out to her and she took it, her arm floating up as she sank further into the cold darkness.

The hand was warm, and soft, and huge. It tugged her toward itself, also warm and soft and huge. And then she was gone.

*~*

She wasn’t breathing. He lifted a hand to bang on her chest, shock air back into her lungs, and realized what he was. As the bear, the blow meant to give her life would likely kill her. He had to change first.

The magic was painful. Part of the curse. He knew and accepted the pain, let it wash through him until he huddled, as cold as the woman before him, shuddering. He leaned over her, tilted her neck back, pinched her nose, opened her mouth and gave her his breath. Over and over, he breathed for her. Over and over, he pumped the heels of his hands between her breasts. He began to despair. His sacrifice, his efforts had been for nothing.

Until she breathed. Choked, sputtered, murky water gushed from her mouth and her nose and he turned her to her side, helping her rid herself of the river.

Her eyelids fluttered up and he couldn’t move away, couldn’t hide himself, found himself not wanting to hide from her. Her lips were pale blue and wet, but they lifted at him. For him. She smiled and whispered. He bent closer to hear her words.

“Thank you.” And her eyelids fell again.

No matter. She breathed. She lived.

He put his arms under her and lifted. Unlike the fairy tales, she was not weightless as down, but a moderately sized woman. Had he been at his full strength, had he been warm and dry at least, he could have carried her back to his home with little effort. But he had spent his energy in the river, and more in the transformation. So he gave the last of his human fortitude in a final change.

Now she felt light to him, as light as a kitten in the arms of a giant. He settled her on his back, careful to balance her so she would not slip and injure herself again. Then he turned his face toward the north and began his journey.

Before he left, he looked again toward the river, toward the bridge that spanned it. He watched the men who had chased her car over the edge. They did not see him.

~*~

Mai opened her eyes to darkness so complete she thought she must be dead. She certainly hurt enough. She tried to frown, but the movement sent sharp pain through her lips. Then she gasped from the pain and her lips ripped open, layering in more hurt. She was burning up, and her mouth tasted as if it was filled with grave dust and blood.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “I’m in hell.”

“Not quite.” The voice next to her made her jump. Well, it would have been a jump if she was capable of that much movement. As she was, however, it was more like a full-body twitch.

“Stay still,” the voice said. “You’ve been injured.”

That explained a lot of things. She thought she must be in shock because her voice sounded far away when she asked, “Am I blind?”

“No. It’s dark in here.” The voice hesitated. “It’s for the best.”

Without warning, numbness collapsed into terror. She choked on a breath of fear and fire exploded in her chest and throat. Strong arms, sleek with fur, propped her up as she struggled for air. She coughed and couldn’t stop, each breath tearing through her chest like the thorns of a bramble. Mai clutched at him, afraid of what she held, afraid of letting go, until she could finally breathe again.

“You’re fine. You’re not seriously hurt. Don’t be afraid.”

She gulped, nodding convulsively while tears flooded down her face. A soft cloth fluttered by her cheek and she took it, wiping away the worst of the fear.

“Where am I? What happened?” Her voice was a shredded whisper.

“Don’t you remember?” He sat so close she felt his breath, clean and earthy. The sound of his voice reverberated through her body like a heavy bass thrum, synchronizing the beat of her heart to his.

Mai closed her eyes to block out the darkness of her surroundings and search through the shadows in her memory. She remembered.

“My car. They ran me off the bridge.” She had a moment’s regret for her car. She’d finally gotten the seat just where she liked it. But more important issues intruded. “Eda’s runestone. Where is it?” She drew away from the warmth he

1. Do you have an e-reader?

2. What do you read them on?

3. Where do you buy/download them? Online libraries like Gutenberg? E-publishers? Fictionwise? Amazon?

Caveats:

1. This isn't about whether e-books or physical books are better. Don't go there.

2. Please don't tell me about your illegal pirate downloads. I'm an author and it ticks me off when people steal books.

I haven't stayed current enough on this issue to understand either the politics or the finances. Can you give me a brief rundown on this?

Novels, graphic novels, e-books, zines -- what have you read?

I've read HG Wells and Jules Verne, as well as "The Difference Engine" by William Gibson.

I read "Steampunk" the graphic novel. I just discovered yesterday that my library has all the volumes of "Girl Genius," so I'm thrilled.

What have I missed that you think is Steampunk in theme?

Steampunk defined at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steampunk

I'm asking in all seriousness. I see a lot of people suggest it here, but I can't understand why, especially for fiction that's supposedly mainstream.

I guess I could see it if you were writing a memoir that you only wanted to distribute to family, or if you were writing something that was so incredibly niche that you could conceivably reach your entire audience with one e-mail blast. But fiction?

As a writer:

It costs YOU money.

The returns are minimal at best.

There's no distribution -- you can't get it into any bookstores.

All the marketing costs and responsibilities are on you.

As a reader:

It doesn't go through any gatekeepers -- there's no one who reads it, knows the market, and believes that it's worthy of publication.

There's no guarantee of editing of any kind.

A lot of self-published books cost more than a regular mass-market paperback, so it's no bargain to buy them.

I've heard the "It's too hard to get published" argument before. Yeah, it is. For a reason. Readers have high expectations. There are good writers out there who have a hard time getting published, but it's achievable.

I just don't understand why anyone would do this, other than the aforementioned niche markets. Can someone explain it?

Or notebook?

Not just ideas, but stories that you've started and not finished for whatever reason?

I just counted, I think, 11 on mine. I also have at least half a dozen plain ideas -- just a character sketch, or a what if, or a random scene -- that I haven't developed at all.

So, what's on *your* hard drive?

Just a theoretical question. There are no wrong answers, although sparkling is, frankly, iffy. ;)

Does he need fangs?

Must he drink blood?

Can he shapeshift? (bat, wolf, mist, etc)

Does he have to sleep in a coffin? Or lie in his native soil?

How does he feel about garlic? Crosses?

How can he be killed? Is it enough to stake him through the heart or do you also have to behead him?

Can he walk in sunlight?

What are your hard and fast rules and where are you willing to give a little?

Article?

Short story?

Novel?

School assignment?

What's it about? Keep your blurb to 100 words or less.

So that it shows up automatically when I participate in Yahoo Groups? I've been c&p'ing my signature, but that's getting really old, really fast. I can't seem to find any option for saving a signature line.

What do you think are the pros and cons of conferences and conventions for writers?

Which ones have you attended?

Did you learn anything or was it primarily for networking?

What was your most valuable experience at a conference? Or was it a complete waste of time?

I've been to RWA three times and hope to attend my first comic con this fall. I'm not sure what to expect from the comic con, though. Mostly, I'm going to look around and have fun. No professional aspirations for that one.

I just encountered a great blog post about Chapter 1 Pet Peeves for literary agents.

http://www.guidetoliteraryagents.com/blog/Agents+C...

What are your Chapter 1 Pet Peeves?

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080803/wl_nm/russia_s...

I had genuine trouble reading The Gulag Archipelago, but it can't be denied that the man had a major impact on the world and how Communist Russia was viewed by the West. He was a dissident, an activist, and a true hero who sacrificed much for the truth.

I must have answered several dozen queries of the last few weeks from people wanting free downloads of current novels still covered by copyright law.

I just noticed today that one the questions I answered was resolved. The best answer went to the person who directed her to a pirate site. Her reply? "Thanks. That's just what I wanted."

Seriously?

Even after I and several other posters explicitly answered that what she wanted was illegal, she persisted.

I'm baffled. And utterly disillusioned. What the heck is wrong with people?!?

What are your strengths and weaknesses as a writer?

Do you rock at dialogue? Are you gifted with metaphors?

Do your endings fizzle? Are your secondary characters clichéd?

I'll answer:

I do rock at dialogue. I love working with themes and intertextuality. My voice is witty.

I stink at subplots. The endings of my rough drafts often feel trite. Sometimes I have so much dialogue it looks like I'm writing a play instead of a novel.

Your turn!