book promotion, Flash Fiction, Stories, Uncategorized, Writers Co-op

Jim Webster, Guest Author

“Gentlemen behaving badly”
 – by Jim Webster

The blame for this whole sad episode I lay most firmly at the feet of Mutya Ardlevice, daughter of Calthrop Ardlevice. Old Calthrop himself was a usurer, a man of substance, one of the wealthiest and most respected men of business in Port Naain. He was universally known as Ballplein from his habit of messing about with mechanical contraptions in his leisure time. The name came from his bald pate being considered remarkably similar to the hammer he tended to carry. His wife, known to everybody, (including, apparently, her husband) as Madam Ardlevice, was a patron of mine.

Young Mistress Mutya was a delightful child who grew up to become an attractive young woman. The presence of two younger brothers ensured that she was prized rather than spoiled. As is the way, she had many close friends amongst the young ladies of her age and they tended to meet socially on a regular basis.

One summer, they formed a picnic club. They would chose a location and meet there for a picnic. There was safety in numbers and whilst all you would see was the young ladies, just out of sight but still in earshot were domestic staff with ponies, traps and hampers. To be fair I merely heard about these events as the ladies entertained themselves and could fill a pleasant afternoon with convivial gossip and good fellowship. They did not feel the need for the services of a poet.

They made a rule for themselves that their picnics would be ‘ladies only.’ Whilst at any given time a number of them could boast gentlemen admirers, it was felt that they needed a space in which they could relax. Not only that but it meant that they had a forum where, should it be necessary, the failings of someone outwith their fellowship could be discussed in confidence. So the unreasonable demands of mothers, the financial constraints imposed by fathers, and the inane activities of brothers all got a proper airing.

These are doubtless reasonable, even proper subjects for discussion. Yet Mistress Mutya took things to another level when she discussed a young gentleman called Crisanto. It appears that this individual had caught Mutya’s eye and she was disposed to smile upon him. Crisanto seemed to be flattered by this attention, but seemed to be a most inconstant admirer. She had no evidence of him paying court to other ladies, but he seemed to struggle to ‘fit her in’ and she could go for days without hearing from him.

This got other young ladies pondering the issue. Finally one of them, Sissi Clearsmith, who was ‘walking out’ with Bromar Heel, rather smugly drew the attention of the meeting to the fact that Bromar was always charming and attentive. The meeting took heart from this. This inattentiveness wasn’t a universal failing. There were gentlemen out there who could behave properly.

Once this was accepted by the meeting, the discussion moved on to what should be done about it? Some sort of corrective action was obviously called for. The problem is, what should this action be? On this note the picnic ended but the young women agreed that they would ponder, and suggest remedies when they met the following week.

Unfortunately Sissi Clearsmith decided to discuss the matter with Bromar Heel. The problem she faced was not that he was unwilling to dance attendance upon her, but that she had great difficulty finding excuses to go and meet him. It might help if I were to explain that there are two opinions about Bromar Heel. A fair number of ladies consider him to be charming, personable, and excellent company. A lesser number of ladies and virtually all men regard him as a cad and dastard. Indeed I have known men with no female relatives whatsoever who will still instinctively reach for their horsewhip in his presence. Sissi’s father could not say the man’s name without spitting. It was only because her mother rather liked the young man that Sissi could get to meet him at all.

When Sissi brought her problem to Bromar Heel, he did not hesitate. “Any man so discourteous as to ignore the wishes of a lady deserves to be taught a strong lesson. A flogging is too good for him.”
To be fair to Bromar, when you have been threatened with as many floggings as he had, the temptation to get your revenge must be overwhelming. Unfortunately whereas an older or wiser lady would have disregarded his comments, Sissi hung on his every word and reported them verbatim to her confederates when they held the next picnic.

Again here I find myself wondering at the unfortunate combination of circumstances. Whilst this collection of young ladies might lack experience of the world, they were not to be treated lightly. Their parents were successful people, prone to take decisions and act decisively. These weren’t the daughters of a decayed aristocracy. These were the daughters of men and women who had made the most of their advantages and had worked hard to get where they were. I have noticed that this sort of thing can rub off on their offspring.

So Sissi made her suggestion, it was generally agreed and various of those present put forward names of young men whom they felt were in need of correction. Mutya was deputised to arrange matters, and the ladies all chipped in a sum so that there was a budget for the project. Mutya’s childhood nurse, now retired, was the sister of an elderly enforcer, Brag Three-Teeth. Mutya merely dropped in on the old lady and finding the Brag present, gave him the list of names and the money to go with it.

Here Mutya was lucky. Provided you aren’t fussy about your instruments it is remarkably cheap to get somebody killed in Port Naain. Admittedly at the cheaper end of the market one has to deal with drunken psychopaths who will probably kill the wrong person. Still when Brag looked at the names and the sum of money he had been given, he realised that he could hire competent assassins. At this point he decided that for Mutya’s sake he would instead merely hire ruffians to administer a beating. This took a mere third of the budget and the money saved would keep his sister and him in some comfort through the next winter.

Now it may be he had been too economical.  Had he paid somebody who had enough good hard lads to deal with everybody on the list on the same day, then matters would doubtless have gone much as he expected. Unfortunately he gave the job to Young Maggins. This doubtless capable individual was starting out for himself. No longer satisfied to just wield a truncheon at somebody else’s direction, he had decided to put together a team of his own and to tender for contracts directly. I confess I can see where Brag was coming from. We ought to encourage those just starting out in business. But in this case, whilst Maggins was conscientiously working through the list, there was only him and three lads. The list was going to take him a couple of weeks. So inevitably word got round. Young men, realising that a friend of theirs had been beaten up by hired professionals, would take more care. Indeed they made a point of going round in groups. Soon, rather than administering a perfunctory beating, Maggins found he was forced to fight pitched battles. Others got drawn in, and generally things got out of hand and over budget. Finally when one brawl had brought Ropewalk to a standstill the Watch took an interest. Maggins, his leg in plaster and with his head aching abominably, confessed that it was Brag Three-teeth who had given him the work. But because Brag had been sadly loose-mouthed, Maggins also mentioned Mutya.

Here the watch was discreet and efficient. Rather than go through the proper procedures, they merely raised the matter with Madam Ardlevice. As I was present, helping to organise Madam’s Summer Ball, I was retained by Madam as a witness. Mutya was summoned to her mother’s presence, and on being questioned, candidly explained how the situation had arisen. Madam, to my surprise, was more exasperated than angry.

“Mutya my girl, would you describe your father as a good father?”

Somewhat surprised at this line of questioning, Mutya loyally answered in the affirmative.

“So Mutya, would you say he is ever attentive, constantly dancing attendance on my, and pandering to my every whim?”

Here one could see Mutya’s instinctive loyalty to her much loved father battling with her innate honesty. “No.”

“For as long as I’ve known him, your father has had a fascination with mechanisms. Indeed when we were courting there were times when I realised that he hadn’t time for a lady-friend and his beloved steam engines, and I loathed those little engines because of it.”
I could see from Mutya’s face that she both followed her mother’s argument and agreed with it. Madam continued. “But when I became the wife, I realised I loved those little engines for exactly the same reason. He still hasn’t time for lady friends and steam engines.”

Here the slow dawning of realisation was visible on Mutya’s face. “You mean….”

“Yes, no woman in Port Naain has a more loyal or obliging husband than I.”

With this Mutya was silent and I could see her mother watching her. It was obvious to me at least that the older woman was struggling to remain stern-faced.

“Do your brothers have hobbies?”

Mutya looked up. “Yes.” Then with a note of distaste she added, “Their rooms are filled with stuffed animals or insects pinned to cards.”

“All men have interests they follow assiduously throughout their lives. They are by nature collectors. But you will notice some men seem to avoid this, and instead they will be charming and attentive and ladies find them excellent company.”

Cautiously Mutya said, “I have noticed this. I assumed it to be a norm from which other men had fallen.”

“No Mutya, they are merely men whose hobby is women. Have you ever known a collector whose collection stopped with one specimen?”

Swimming for profit and pleasure  Tallis Steelyard, Deep waters, and other stories

Jim’s Amazon author’s page:
https://www.amazon.com/Jim-Webster/e/B009UT450I?

 

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When is “done” done?

– by Victor Acquista

I recently completed a novel. Well, I think I completed it. But I’m not sure. I have doubts, uncertainties, and insecurities. Am I really finished? Would another round of edits, or input from additional beta readers spot something or provide input that leads me to change something, improve something, give the writing additional buff and shine?

How do you know when a work is done to final completion? How do you decide? When all is said and done, any work can undoubtedly be improved. Where is the point to invoke the law of diminishing returns?

Recently, I’ve immersed myself into the world and nuances of editing. Macro and micro editing, developmental, line, content, and copyediting, constitute a confusing maze to negotiate. Do I trust an editor to tell me everything is good to go?

This particular novel is written under contract with a publisher. At the end of the day, they decide if and when the book is ready to be published. If I was self-publishing, the decision is entirely my own. In this particular instance, I am responsible for providing a finished work that is “editorially acceptable”. That designation is a term of art. Isn’t there something subjective about what is or is not acceptable? Where is the line drawn? How am I to know? Have I indeed finished this particular novel?

I want to provide a fully polished work-product that is as good as I can make it given my writing skill set and level of accomplishment. Am I at that point with my current work? Is now the time to submit it? Would another set of eyes see something that I am missing? When you are fully immersed in a plot and characters, when you have read and reread, and tweaked things ad nauseum, objectivity is lost.

When do you say, “enough is enough”? How can you make that determination? Is there a process, a guideline, an invocation or end-ritual to help determine that I am done? When is “done” done?

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About Writers, blogging, inspiration, Uncategorized, Writers Co-op

Why Write

– by Morgan Smith

I don’t know why I write.

The internet is filled to bursting with writers, and with on-line writing groups. I’m in a lot of those groups, and I read their stories, and bios, and Twitter posts on motivation.

To a man and woman, they seem to have known that they were writers from the moment they first encountered a book. To a man and woman, they know that writing is as necessary and natural to them as the oxygen-to-Co2 exchange they perform 12 or so times per minute.

I still don’t know why I write.

I know why I wrote my first novel. You can read about in detail here:

https://morgansmithauthor.wordpress.com/2015/11/09/the-genesis-of-a-novelist/

But TL;DR? Someone dared me to.

I think the next novel was just scratching a vague itch over a throwaway sentence in the first one (the bit about Keri being given her grandmother’s old chainmail shirt) and hearing from everyone in the self-publishing field that more books equal more sales.

The memoir? That was just me entertaining myself on cold winter nights in hotel rooms, because my job required me to go to and stay in every out-of-the-way small town in my province, and there was, literally, nothing else to do after 6pm.

(Well, I could have gotten drunk. Many of my co-workers did. But since the job also required me to be awake, dressed, and coherent at 6 AM (!) this seemed unwise.)

But even at that point, I didn’t think of myself as a writer.

Hell, even after deciding to self-publish, I had a hard time thinking of myself as a writer.

On the other hand, I have realized that I was “writing” all along: I just didn’t get it down on paper.

I created characters and sent them on adventures, but only in my head. Keri, Caoimhe, and now Tamar: these were people I had actually known and lived through vicariously in my imagination, for literally YEARS, as a way to get through long and boring hours of mindless employment. Like many another person in North America, I’ve had to take jobs that not only gave no personal satisfaction – they could be done using less than 3% of the brain power it takes to chew gum.

So maybe I was a writer all along?

No. I think I was Walter Mitty.

I think almost everyone is.

I’m just self-esteem-ey enough to think I can sell this stuff to other people.

But not so ego-driven that I can’t see it as the plain, unvarnished truth: I am not special. I’m not a sacred talent.

I’m just another girl with a laptop and internet access, and the nerve to throw my stuff onto Amazon..

Long may we wave.

About the Author
Morgan Smith has been a goatherd, a weaver, a bookstore owner, a travel writer, and an archaeologist, and she will drop everything to travel anywhere, on the flimsiest of pretexts. Writing is something she has been doing all her life, though, one way or another, and now she thinks she might actually have something to say.

In progress: A Trick of the Light – Book Three of the Averraine Cycle
(Please don’t ask me when this will come out. The protagonist is in a very sticky situation just now, and I don’t know how or when she’ll get out of it.)

Follow Morgan on social media:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/morgansmithauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/morganauthor1
Blog: https://morgansmithauthor.wordpress.com
Website: https://theaverrainecycle.wordpress.com/2017/06/18/welcome-to-averraine/

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Booksie First Chapter Contest

Enter the first chapter of your book to win $1,000 and exposure.

Have a book or a novel idea you’ve been noodling? Enter your first chapter into the Booksie First Chapter Contest and see how it does. You don’t need to have finished the book. You don’t even need more than the first chapter. We’re looking for a start that will grab our attention, that is original, that is well written, and that makes us want to beg you to see what comes next. And for those we find, we’ll provide some hefty awards to inspire you to finish writing the book or, if finished, to help get it published.

You can submit your entire book but only the first chapter will be judged.

Prizes

Grand prize winner

  • $1,000 cash award
  • Gold winner badge
  • One free week of Boosts for any content of the winner’s choosing (Boosting features the story in front of Booksie’s millions of monthly readers)
  • A review of the winning chapter by Sol Nasisi, the publisher of WorldMaker Media.

Two runner-ups

  • $150 cash
  • Silver winner badge
  • One free week of Boosts for any content of the winner’s choosing (Boosting features the story in front of Booksie’s millions of monthly readers).

Judge

The judge for this competition is Sol Nasisi, the founder of WorldMaker Media, the publisher of  Screaming in the SilenceState of VengeanceMy Own Worst Nightmare, and For the Love of Babies. Sol is also the founder of Booksie.com and the online writing workshop TheNextBigWriter.com.

About Booksie Contests

Booksie has run writing contests for the last three years. Our sister site, TheNextBigWriter has run writing contests for the last thirteen years. Click here to view a list of previous Booksie winners.

Please note: Booksie is an online writing site. By entering the contest, your first chapter will be posted on the site. If you do not want your first chapter to appear on Booksie, do not enter the contest. You can delete your entry at any time.

Cost: $7.95 / entry

Start: January 08, 2019

Deadline: June 14, 2019

Prize: Grand prize: $1,000 cash, one free week of exposure, and a gold contest badge. Runner-ups: $150 cash, one free week of exposure, and a silver contest badge

Here’s the link: https://www.booksie.com/contest/booksie-2019-first-chapter-novel-contest-15

You can also find this on Facebook.

There must be many similar contests. Who knows of others?

I’m entering. How about you? Potential wide exposure, screw the money.

Just found this:

We hope you are enjoying the May Issue of The Writer’s Newsletter. As well as some interesting articles on writing there is poetry and wonderful short stories, and we have updated the competitions and festivals for around the World. The serialization of Lex Talionis finishes this month and we hope you have enjoyed this feature. We are now looking for another book to serialize starting next month.
https://thewritersnewsletter.com/new-competitions-and-festi…

The monthly newsletter contains a list of writer contests. The post is not opening up for me. Facebook is extremely slow this weekend. I’ll try again later.

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About Writers, blogging, book promotion, humor, Uncategorized, Writers Co-op, writing technique

Drunken Discourses of the Unusually Perturbed

by Margret A. Treiber

A beta reader recently asked me if I was tripping while writing one of my short stories. I had to laugh because, for the most part, I write completely sober.

Frequently, I’ve considered getting bent and sitting in front of the keyboard. I figured some really righteous shit could pour out of my already twisted mind with the aid of a chemical boost. I mean, I write all manner of altered dimensions as it is. Imagine what madness I could produce on some kind of bender!

No such luck.

An intoxicated Margretbot is a slacking Margretbot. As hard as I might try, there is no way to prod any words out of my brain and into written word while I’m “beyond reason”. I can get to the waters of inspiration, my muses whispering in my ear with enthusiasm and gusto, but I can’t get the crap out of my head and into a file. So I sit there, giggling, my own personal entertainment being played and replayed which I am unable to share with the universe at large.

But what if I could? What if these wonderful musings could be somehow captured in print? It would be awesome! Would it not?
Then I reflect on the drawing of BigBrainia and the map of the giant penis that hung on the wall of my post-college apartment bedroom.

Knowing the massive potential for creativity among myself and my roommates, we plastered a large piece of craft paper on my wall to jot down all our amazing ideas so they would not be lost to sobriety. And yes, it was so freaking hysterical when we were toasted and giggling on the floor of my room.

In fact, it was magnificent.

We had quotes and drawings, maps and diagrams, and depictions of all the kings of imaginings you would expect to come out of the head of young, twenty-something, liberal arts grads in their first apartment.

The problem – it barely made any sense when we were sober. Wasted again, it was the most glorious written document in existence. Nursing the hangover, we squinted at it trying to figure out what penis map actually meant.

So, after reflection and consideration, I realize that although I write like I’m stoned, I’ll probably never write while I’m stoned. It would never work. Yeah, maybe if I was lucky, a handful of drunkards and meth heads may get a giggle but are meth heads really known for their eBook consumption?

So for now at least, until I’m in a nursing home on forced medications, all my crazy shit is coming to you unfettered and clean. Yes, this is how I think “normally”.

I leave the plastered pros to those better equipped to pull it off.

Margret’s prolific writings:
http://themargret.com/
(tread with caution)

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About Writers, blogging, book promotion, book reviews, book sales, editing, Flash Fiction, Google Ads, humor, inspiration, Legal, Literary Agents, Literary critique, Magic and Science, mythology, publishing, reading, Research, Satire, scams, self-publishing, Stories, Uncategorized, Welcome, world-building, Writers Co-op, Writers Co-op Anthology, writing technique

An Invitation to Blog

The Writers Co-op is looking for a few good bloggers. Anyone in the writing life is welcome to submit a blog. If you have something to say about writing, editing, publishing, marketing or just want to share news of your latest effort, we’re interested. Submit a new blog, or, a link to your current blog page.

Members should post their blog in the draft section. Others should submit their their blog or link to GD <at> Deckard <dot> com. Blogs are posted every Monday or Thursday morning on a first-come basis.

Remember that readers are likely to be people in the writing life interested in learning from one another. Sharing our successes, failures, insights, knowledge and humor is a big part of the life we lead.

I look forward to hearing from you.

– GD Deckard, Founding Member

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