Some exciting news! My short story “Beanstalk” has been published in OG’s Speculative Fiction. This is my first time appearing in that magazine. You can read the current issue here.

Now, I know I haven’t posted here in a while. So, here’s what’s happened regarding my writing since my last post: I received a rejection from a professional market (sigh!) but it came with news that the story made the second round, and an invitation to submit again - which I haven’t done, as I don’t think I have anything suitable for that market.

I’ve been posting weekly over at Adventures in Writing. And I’ve been writing posts on another non-fiction blog dealing with a criminal case that has gotten my attention.

Also, on the non-writing side, I’m taking some online courses for my regular day job. I’ve been doing these on my own time, and yes, it’s time-consuming but important, and as a result my own fiction writing has been suffering a little lately. I’m not worried about it though, as I’ll be done with this course work soon.

I’ll be writing more regularly and posting here again soon, and also, I’ll be catching up on all the blogs I like to read.

Okay, quick, what do you think of when I say…   science-fiction fan?

We all know the stereotpyes: a socially awkward but very smart nerd, with pocket protector, high waters, a fast computer, but no girlfriend; an unemployed 30-year-old playing video games in his parents’ basement; nutty 40-year-olds who show up at conventions dressed as Klingons. Certainly, nobody cool.

Most women I know read mainstream, or chick lit, or mystery, but decidedly not science fiction. Or fantasy either, for that matter. So, what’s a woman sf fan to do? Keep it under wraps? You bet. Call it by another name? That too. Live a lie? Yes! Because, you see, we are supposed to be interested in other things. You know: shoe shopping, going out with the girls, having complicated relationships. The peer pressure is terrible! 

All of this brings me to a story. My daughter works in a restaurant. An older waitress said that her husband, former English major that he is, has been writing a book for ten years. The book is literary fiction, and it’s all about his experiences growing up. The waitress thinks this is a boring subject – who wants to read about that? she says.

To which Daughter says: My mom’s writing a book, too.

Oh? says Waitress. What’s your mother writing about?

And Daughter says, Killer satellites.

Ahem.

Yep, it seems I am a female nerd. Okay, so I’ll own the name, and with good humor.

But only when it slips. Otherwise, I’m just a regular woman. 

And in case you’re wondering, the answer is no; you won’t find find a pair of Spock ears anywhere in my house.

My short story “Tower of Bones,” is now appearing on the online version of December’s Aoife’s Kiss. You can read it here if you like.

You can also vote for your favorite online stories. The winning story will be offered a spot in a future anthology from Sam’s Dot Publishing. The place to vote is here.

If you do read the story, I hope you enjoy it. And if you do feel inclined to vote for me, thank you. 

UPDATE: Well, I didn’t win this one. Since all of the December stories as well as the place to vote for them have been removed from the AK website, I’ve removed the links.

I just received an acceptance from OG’s Speculative Fiction for a science fiction story entitled ”Beanstalk” which I wrote over the summer. This will be my first time appearing in that magazine, and I’m very excited about it, though I don’t know the publication date yet.

I’ve decided to post the opening of my as-yet-unrevised sf novel Beamstar. The excerpt below represents the first 400 words of the novel, and is followed by a scene break. Please feel free to comment.

*   *   * 

            The disaster happened without warning. It happened this time in a small village far across the wide sea from the great and populated land of Ofrelia, with its teeming cities and ports. It happened far from Briwor College with its learned old men and young scholars. It happened in a place that most citizens of Ofrelia knew only as the wild backworld. It happened in a place of no consequence.

            It happened in the morning, as a mother of nine children stood washing breakfast dishes in her sink. She was angry at her eight sons, and had scolded them before sending them out about their morning chores. She was angry because one of them – she did not know which – had apparently said something hurtful – she did not know what – to her youngest child and only daughter, and now the child had run away.  She had no doubt gone to her hiding place – maybe in one of the caves along the sea, or in the hills overlooking the village, or in the abandoned palace with its cracking terrace – her mother did not know where this secret place was.

The child’s nurse, a handsome robot with concern for the child programmed for perpetuity into his dark eyes, had offered to go looking for the girl. But the mother was feeling peevish and irritated with her daughter, too, that morning, and she commanded the robot to stay in the house. Let the girl sulk, and come back when she would. 

            And then it happened. In one six-thousandth of a second, a point in the sky – a point visible only through a telescope – pulsed. And in one six-thousandth of a second, the mother at her sink, her husband still lying in his bed with a broken leg, her eight sons at their chores, and twelve hundred other inhabitants of the targeted village were reduced to a thin vapor. When the attack came, it came in a space of time smaller than an instant, and so the mother never knew it, and thus she never had time to wonder if her daughter was safe.

            Meanwhile, the child, whose name was Yola, finished sulking, and returned home when the sun was already high. She found her village a ghost town, and her house empty, except for her robot. He wrapped the frightened girl in his padded arms, and told her that now, he would be her parent. 

*   *   *

I was idly surfing around, and I came across this famous short story by Kurt Vonnegut, all about a boy and a Handicapper General. I first read it when I was in high school many, many moons ago. You might remember it, too.

Anyway, it was definitely worth rereading, and I just thought I’d share the link:  http://instruct.westvalley.edu/lafave/hb.html

A story acceptance to report: “The Arena” will appear in NOVA Science Ficion issue #23, due out next spring. This will be my second short story to appear in that magazine.

I came across this blog, which is maintained collectively by a group of science fiction and fantasy novelists. The blog features a wide range of topics, and I thought it would be of interest to others who visit here and who write in this genre.

Here’s the link: http://www.sfnovelists.com

I haven’t posted in a several days, mainly because I’ve been busy writing the draft, and I haven’t really had any news to report, other than the fact that everything is on track, and it looks like I’ll finish within my projected time-frame. (I took today off from my writing because we visited an amusement park, but tomorrow I’ll get back to work on it.)

Here is the basic premise (hope it doesn’t give too much away): the world is plagued by an old and decaying grid of killer satellites, weapons in some ancient war, which are still randomly and occasionally killing people. The technology which produced these satellites is lost. Now one group of people is seeking a way to control the satellites and use them again.

There is no magic in this story.

From the beginning, I thought of my story as science fiction. Now, I’m thinking it’s actually science fantasy, because the world is made-up, and the science (though integral to the story) is also made-up. I don’t where where the line is between science fiction and science fantasy.

Last week’s short story – science-fiction; 4000 words, finished and submitted, even though it had some typos and should have been more carefully proofread; will be fixed before the second submission

This week’s short story – fantasy; 1500 words written so far; first person narration, which is unusual for me; goal to complete this story - Monday

Novel – working on an outline to bring book back into shape; in word-count, no measurable progress to report