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WIP: Dr. Fantastik Part V (Final)

He’s become Dr. Fantomas, for Dr. Fantastik seemed too superhero-ish for a Tabat story. Final story came to 6650 words, and I’m pleased with it. Recent reading that may have influenced it include Anthony Trollope’s Can You Forgive Her?, John Hawkes’ The Blood Oranges, and Mary Roberts Rinehart’s Dangerous Days (free on the Kindle!).

The title of the story has become “The Ghost-Eater” as well.

Before retiring for the night, he unshuttered the window, exposing a view of the restaurant’s rear courtyard, an expanse of wrought iron tables, chained to the fence as though someone were worried that they might go walking about.

He sat upright. The moon hit the window almost as bright as witchlight when first summoned. What had called him out of sleep? Some noise in the dining room, rhythmic as hammer blows but more muted. Footsteps? Perhaps.

He put on his breeches, head tilted as he tried to listen. The noises continued, stopped, restarted.

The door opened of its own accord. Charlotte. Beckoning him to follow.

She preceded him down the hallway. There was little light in its confines, but when she opened the door to the kitchen, everything was moonlight and steel, the rims of the great soup pots shining like rounded scimitars, the rack of cleavers and knives varying from the length of his forearm to the smallest paring blade possible, the tiles of the floor like moonstones underfoot, sending up a muted dazzle that mirrored the steel’s.

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"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."

~K. Richardson

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Teaser: A Seed on the Wind

The Jelly Bean Tanker Explosion
The Jelly Bean Tanker Explosion, drawn using Sketchpad Pro on the iPad, included here because a blog entry is so much more interesting looking when there's a visual element. Plus, I like this picture.
Should it be “on” or “upon” the wind? I’m torn. Either way, here’s a scrap to tantalize you a little.

He tried the drugs of Waterdeep.

He let himself be stung by wasps, each time burning like fire, melting like ice, evaporating into unconsciousness.

He chewed hallucinogenic onions and leaves so bitter he tasted them for days later.

He tried the flesh of an animate cactus and slept for three days in a dreamworld where he lived and died and rose into the form of a strange creature with ribbed horns on its head and hooves that struck fire from the rocks it ran over. It died to a wolf, and he rose that time as a vast flower, taking up a good third of the Abyss’s width, skirting the sunstrip and forcing travelers to bring him water and shit to pay passage. He lived for eons that way, then was vanquished by fungus and woke with his mouth tasting of licorice.

He listened to the dissonant orchestras whose intent was to derange the senses in tandem with a particular brew made from spit and a leafy green vegetable that had been shipped up from Ellsfall and followed it up with the discordant screeching of rodents.

He ate the eyeball-sized snails that thrifty city folk grow in barrels to sell at market, trying them raw, cooked in butter, and threaded on skewers to be marked with the grill’s deep black stripes.

He let parasites burrow into his skin and waited for the bliss of their hatching.
He huffed gritty crystals scraped from a cavern’s wall and scorpion venom.

He drank the blood of a mausel dog, although he let someone else wield the blade that killed it. He told himself it would have died with or without his intervention.

He smoked snakeskin and toadskin, and the dust of the yellow moths that come out only after a great wind.

He drifted from high to high, abandoning himself and becoming a new thing.

...

Tracking 2011

I posted earlier that I’d had nineteen stories published in 2011, and John asked for some particulars. Here they are, in a post that tries to sum up what I -did- in 2011. 🙂

I finished two large fiction projects. The first was a collaboration where the other participant dropped out, and I ended up finishing the book. I would estimate that I wrote between 50-60 thousand words on this, and it went through two sets of revisions. It’s currently being shopped around.

The second was a reworking of an earlier novel into a trilogy. I mapped this out and divvied up the existing content, and finished the first volume, which involved about 70 thousand words of new content. A goal for 2012 is to finish the second volume. It’s currently being looked at by a publisher, and I think it’s the best thing I ever wrote, so I hope to sell it this year.

I did some editing work as well, which I’ll talk about at another time.

Statistics:
Number of submissions: 32 in 2011, which is actually much lower than (imo) it should be, and which I hope to double in 2012
Number of acceptances: 18
Most rejections garnered by an accepted piece: 10 for Flicka, which is a very odd story and ended up appearing in SUBVERSION. Also notable is Whose Face This Is, I Do Not Know, which appeared in Clarkesworld after eight other rejections (clearly I should have sent it to them much earlier, but I was thinking of it as a horror piece)

New stories written (not counting flash, which I did a bad job of tracking):

  • A Querulous Flute of Bone ““ written to spec
  • Do The Right Thing ““ written at an editor’s request, who then turned it down, just rewrote and sent out for the first time
  • Five Ways To Fall In Love on Planet Porcelain ““ currently in circulation
  • Logic and Magic in the Time of the Boat Lifts (collaboration with Ben Burgis) ““ currently in circulation
  • Pumpkin Knight ““ Codex contest story, reworking before it goes anywhere
  • Talking in the Night ““ needs polishing before it goes out

Last year was actually a little unproductive in terms of stories. This year I’ve already finished: 1) a 1000 word piece for a children’s market, 2) “Space Elevator Music” (flash), 3) “Love’s Footsteps,” a S&S piece that I’m reading at Confusion this week and then sending to BCS. I’ve got a slew of half-finished stuff that I’m taking to the con as well, because sometimes I get very productive during my solo time at cons.

In 2011, I pulled one story from a market who had had it way too long and got a nice note from the editor about how the wait would make the pro sale that much sweeter when I got it and letting me know that the more professional the market, the longer I should expect to wait. I moved said market to the top of my “do not submit to these people” list.

Stories that appeared in 2011:

*This is the story I am pushing for award notice, but other notables are “Whose Face This Is I Do Not Know” and “Love, Resurrected.”

Some notes on my submission process:

I have four criteria for market that help determine whether or not I submit to them, which are pay rate, reply time, whether they take e-subs, and how much notice they get. Something that’s high in one category may compensate for something in another category ““ Tor.com’s pay rate versus the slow reply time, for example, or the amount of notice F&SF gets versus the pain in the rear nature of printing out a paper submission (it has become the only magazine I’m willing to do this for, though).

Sometimes I send things to a specific market because I wrote it with them in mind. This is what happened with “Clockwork Fairies,” which appeared in Tor.com because the first market turned it down. Occurrences like this are not uncommon. I mention this only to increase my own mystique and make editors more eager to grab my stories when they appear, but I am afraid my prolific nature works against me in this regard.

...

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