fiction

The Setting Dilemma

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A modern smart phone is compared side by side with a more antiquated "button" phone.

What do you do when you’ve written a contemporary novel, but then it takes you 15 years before you’re ready to publish it? Do you update the manuscript for current events, technology, etc.? Leave it as-is, despite the fact that it’s now dated? Make everything as vague as possible and hope no one notices when exactly it’s supposed to be set?

This is the issue I faced with my first novel, Even Heroes. Although the initial draft was completed around 2007, the editing took place in spurts over more than a decade. All throughout the process, I flip-flopped between updating the time period and keeping it the way I originally had it.

At various points during revisions, my main character was listening to music on either a Walkman, a Discman, an mp3 player, or a smartphone. Social media platforms changed as they went in and out of style, seemingly with the direction of the wind. Current events were mentioned, taken out, then added back in again.

As I came close to a blessed final draft, the setting dilemma got settled once and for all, much to my relief.

Here’s where I landed:

The original 2004-2005 time period stayed put, however, many of the more dated references to technology were eliminated.

In the end, I hoped for something that would feel almost timeless, like a kid could pick the book up in 5-10 years and understand that it was set in the past, but not be stumbling over outdated references every five minutes.

I decided not to update the setting for several reasons.

1) Technology changes too fast! Even if I made all the references current at the time of publication, it would be outdated within a year or two anyway.

2) Political climate. Parts of my book take place in Detroit, which was going through a really hard era when I was writing the book. Some of the issues the citizens were struggling with back then fit with the story I needed to tell, so it made sense to stick with that very corrupt, dark period in the Big D’s history.

3) Social climate. This is just a purely personal opinion, but I feel like we, as a society, have fundamentally changed in the last 20 years. We are harder, we are meaner, and there is no longer any such thing as “sacred” or “off limits.”

Remember when The Sixth Sense came out back in 1999? There is a twist at the end of that movie, and there seemed to be a conscious effort by most viewers to preserve that secret for others, rather than spoil it. We wanted other people to have that same moment of surprise that we felt.

There was something magic about that–the unified effort to keep a secret, the basic consideration people were showing for their fellow man.

I think that magic is gone now. If The Sixth Sense came out today, people would be vying to be the first to spoil it for as many viewers as they could in the splashiest possible way.

In my book, the main character is a superhero. Despite his precautions, someone could manage to follow him home one night and blab his secret to the whole world. Back in 2004, in that kinder world where “good” secrets were still something precious, someone would be much less likely to do this.

There is one element of my book that I actually wish had become outdated, but sadly it hasn’t come to pass.

I began writing Even Heroes in 2004, a mere 5 years after the tragic events at Columbine High School. My book deals with a similar tragedy, aiming to look at bullying, school shootings, and youth in crisis through the lens of a superhero story–something I didn’t think had been done before.

At the time of writing, I could never have even imagined that school shootings and mass shootings would become so commonplace over the next two decades that many are not even deemed newsworthy.

Four months before my publication date, we had the worst school shooting in our state’s history.

As much as I want my book to be timeless, this is one way that I would absolutely love for it to become a relic of the past. I want kids in ten years to read it and wonder how such a thing could’ve been possible–a phenomenon so heinous, it’s shocking that it was ever allowed to happen.

If we ever get to that point with school shootings in America, where kids are reading about it in history books, rather than living it in the form of practice drills (or worse), I will gladly welcome in that new era.

In the meantime, if my book–even with its slightly dated references–provides hope for even one kid out there who’s struggling, then it has more than fulfilled its intended purpose.

A New Scary Story to Tell in the Dark

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Growing up, I got to know my brother’s bedroom floor pretty well. I knew all the scratches on his black-painted wooden bedposts, the rectangular shapes made by the interconnected wires holding up his mattress, the worn-out softness of his bedraggled carpet. And no, this isn’t because he pinned me to the floor and made me beg for mercy (that was reserved for when he tied me to the swingset).

I knew my brother’s bedroom floor because I slept there every time he told me a scary story. That was the rule: you scare your sister, you get to deal with her nightmares. Truth be told, I didn’t usually have nightmares after one of his stories (probably because I was too terrified to close my eyes in the first place).

Don’t get me wrong – I was a very willing audience. I BEGGED him to scare me. I especially loved it when he read to me from a particular series of books, the first of which was entitled Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark by Alvin Schwartz.

These books were FANTASTIC. (They actually just came out with a documentary about this series, as well as a feature film based on the first book!)

Back in the day, though, the books were just, well, books. But they were also SO much more. My elementary school friends and I passed around the Scary Stories trilogy like candy. The books terrified us, delighted us, and – most importantly – made us want to read. We had no idea at the time that parents all over the country were complaining about the series, or that the Scary Stories books were actually banned in some places!

Each book featured a collection of short stories that consisted primarily of urban legends from around the world. Some of them you would recognize as classic campfire tales: “The hook,” “High beams,” “The wendigo,” etc. (Basically the first season of Supernatural in the form of a children’s book, LOL.) Some were more obscure. Some weren’t even stories, just creepy vignettes with no real plot (“The thing” comes to mind here). Some were just about leaving a disturbing image imprinted on the reader’s brain…and boy, did they ever!

The entire series had these wonderfully gruesome, dripping-with-gore illustrations by Stephen Gammell that were as much a part of the appeal as the stories themselves. In one recent reprint, Gammell’s illustrations were actually removed and replaced, presumably for being “too intense” for young audiences. The trilogy has since been re-released with the original illustrations (thankfully) restored.

I can’t imagine a Scary Stories book without them!

Nor can I imagine my childhood without those terrifying tales. But as much as I loved reading them (or, even better, having someone else read them to me in full dramatic fashion), I often regretted the decision later, when the house was dark and quiet and all the little floorboard creaks and weirdly-shaped shadows that weren’t noticeable in the daytime suddenly came to life.

Thus, my childhood was a marvelous, ever-repeating cycle of hunger for scary stories followed by intense buyer’s remorse at having read them.

You wish you hadn’t read about me now, don’t you, dear little Gretchen? Mwa-ha-ha-ha!

For better or worse though, those dark, eerie, disturbing tales I shared with my friends as a kid shaped the person I grew up to be. To this day, I still have a special place in my heart for all things spooky and creepy…and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Supernatural, The X-Files, and Grimm are long-time favorite shows of mine. On my calendar, Halloween is circled because it’s one of the most exciting days of the year. And my first-ever published story, a flash fic entitled “Grisly,” is – you guessed it – a horror story.

And now, as the leaves begin to change, and the nights grow longer, I have a new horror story coming out – one that takes me right back to my childhood, and my love-hate-love relationship with those deliciously evil scary stories.

“The Haunted Fleshies” is available now in the September 2019 Issue of The Society of Misfit Stories Presents… and I could not be more thrilled:

https://books.google.com/books?id=c46sDwAAQBAJ&dq=society+of+misfit+stories+presents+issue+3&source=gbs_navlinks_s

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/956628

The story follows Grace, a little girl much like the one I used to be (and sometimes still am), who can’t get enough of her older brother’s favorite books (even though they scare the pants off her). After a terrifying nighttime encounter in her own backyard, Grace is convinced that the monsters in the books are real, and they’re coming for her. Whether or not she’s right, one thing is for certain: someone – or something – in the neighborhood has a taste for blood.

My hope is that this story will take you back to when you were a kid, sitting around a crackling campfire, swapping tales of hook men and golden arms, and laughing at how silly they are. But then, every so often, you’ll hear a branch snap or some leaves rustle and you’ll glance into the dark woods beyond your fire’s little circle of light, and wonder if maybe, just maybe, something could really be lurking out there.

Happy reading! 😉

~Gretchen

Coming up on ATHF: Book reviews for Knight’s Honor and Plain Dane: Dawn of Power, plus a review of Lucifer Season 4 on Netflix!

A Dream Come True…Times Three

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It all started with a simple dream: to complete my first novel. It took about three years – plus another two to type up the handwritten manuscript – but I did it. By the time I was finished transcribing, my heart was crowded with more dreams: write some short stories, get published digitally, get published in print, learn to write a screenplay, pen a piece of fanfiction (and have the guts to actually post it). One by one, all of these dreams came true…save #3.

I love getting published in e-zines for many reasons: your story is free for anyone to read, you can link to it on your website, and it’s just a great thing to have a sample of your work in such an easily accessible format – not to mention the awesomeness of instant reader feedback! But I must admit there’s something magical about being published in print. Just seeing your story in the pages of a book, being able to hold it in your hands and run your fingertips over the words…I wanted that. I think a lot of writers do.

And, for one reason or another, the dream just kept drifting out of reach. My very first acceptance was for a print newspaper in the city where I attended college. I was thrilled. Then it didn’t happen. No explanation, never heard from the editor again. I spent long months feeling baffled and hurt, then eventually moved on.

My next acceptance – or, as I like to call it, my first real acceptance – came from Every Day Fiction. One of the many things that drew me to them was that they were a digital market, but they also put out an annual print anthology of their best stories. Sadly, they stopped doing this shortly after I started submitting to them. As far as I know, they’ve never restarted. I think it was just too expensive. Completely understandable, but once again, I had to put the dream on hold.

Then, just last year, I got the acceptance I’d been waiting for: one of my stories had been selected for a print children’s collection. Cloud Nine, here I come…right? Wrong. In December, I received an email from the publisher that they were no longer doing multi-author children’s collections and there was no guarantee they would ever publish my story.

I started to think I might be cursed. I started to think this particular dream would have to stay just that: a dream. I started to think maybe it was time to let it go.

Thankfully, I didn’t listen to those little whispering cockroaches of doubt. I kept submitting to print markets, and finally, it paid off. A few months ago, as I shared right here on ATHF, I received notification that my story “The Greatest Gift” would be published in Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cat Did What?

But the awesomeness didn’t stop there. A few weeks after that, I got another email from Chicken Soup for the Soul: my dog story, “Legacy,” had been selected to appear in Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dog Did What?

A few weeks after that, the unimaginable happened: my werewolf story, “Burn,” was accepted to appear in the August 2014 issue of Trysts of Fate, a dark paranormal romance magazine presented by Alban Lake Publishing. A print magazine.

After all those times the dream had slipped away, it seemed just too good to be true. When the hyper excitement wore off, I began to worry that maybe it was too good to be true. Both of these publishers were very reputable, but still, I’d been burned in the past – multiple times. I couldn’t truly let myself believe – not until I could hold the books in my hands. Like, for real.

In mid-July, I got my wish: the first batch of contributor’s copies arrived, and I ran my fingers over the glossy cover of Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dog Did What? for the very first time. I touched my name on the page, saw my words in print at long last. Less than a week later, I was holding a contributor’s copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cat Did What?, caressing the pages, smelling the crispness of fresh ink on paper. Then, about a month after that, my third baby arrived. Trysts of Fate was just as glossy as the other two, the striking cover art looking even better in person than it had on the publisher’s website. There was even something special about just knowing that they were advance copies – something most people weren’t able to read or touch just yet.

Nowadays, of course, anyone can hold my babies. Anyone can read them. The Chicken Soup books officially came out on August 19th, and can be purchased in bookstores and online. The August 2014 issue of Trysts of Fate is available in Alban Lake Publishing’s online store.

The dream has finally, officially come true. And in the process, two other dreams got fulfilled, as well: 1.) I got a non-fiction story published for the first time, and 2.) I got published in a book with one of my absolute favorite authors: Beth Cato. (Her wonderful stories “Welcome to the Navy” and “All About the Balloon” also appear in Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cat Did What?)

So, now that I’ve had a month or so to bask in the glory, what’s next?

More dreams, of course! I have so many waiting in the wings: do a non-profit book signing, run a workshop with my writing group, finish my nano novel (yeah, still working on that…I think it’s become a trilogy at this point), have one of my stories illustrated, write a TV pilot, write a spec script for Castle, write a movie script, attend the Austin Film Festival, and of course the biggie – become a published novelist!

But that’s just me – what about you? What are your writing dreams, and how are you pursuing them? Maybe the only difference between a dream and a goal is doing something to make it happen…or simply not giving up the hope that it actually could.

Whatever your dream is, don’t give up on it. Even when Fate seems to be telling you, in a firm and convincing voice, that things are simply not going to work out for you. Sometimes there’s a nice surprise – or three – waiting just around the corner. 🙂

Keep writing!

-Gretchen

New Writing Contest: Horror in 100 Words

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One of my writing group members told me about this contest over the weekend, and it sounded so cool, I just had to post it on here! This is a flash fiction contest for stories 100 words or less, and each story must somehow tie into one of two themes: Creation or Destruction. All stories must be scary (it’s a horror contest!), and any given author is allowed to submit only one story per theme. The top ten stories will be posted on the Horror Novel Reviews website to be judged by readers. Winners in each category will be awarded fifty dollars via PayPal, and the best stories may even be published in an anthology. Sound cool? Go check out the details:

Enter Our New Contest, ‘Horror: Told in 100 Words’ to Earn Some Cold Hard Cash and Publication!

Personally, 100-word stories have never been my strong suit.  Matter of fact, anything under 500 is not really what I consider myself good (or even competent) at writing – but that’s why I love it! I want the challenge! I want to get better at writing those super short-shorts! So, I am definitely in. I hope you are, too! Dial up the spook factor, and send in your submissions before the deadline on September 30th.

May the best creepy stories win! 🙂

Keep writing!

-Gretchen

Writing Challenge: Day Eight (Plus Awesome Screenwriting Links!)

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Before we get to the challenge, I thought I’d share some super-helpful links for budding screenwriters. If you’ve always dreamed of writing a screenplay or teleplay but didn’t know where to start, these are the links for you. They will give you all the info you need, laid out in simple, easy-to-understand instructions. You’ll come away from these websites knowing all the terminology and formatting rules you need to get started writing your very own script.

This first website has numerous sections, based on what type of script you’d like to write (e.g. movie script, tv episode, etc). This is where you learn all the most basic elements and how to use them on the page:

http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/eng/howtoguides

Once you’ve mastered the bare bones, go to this website for slightly more advanced info about how each page of your script should look, and what to do in special situations, like when a character’s dialogue runs over onto the next page, or how a complicated action should be conveyed:

http://www.simplyscripts.com/WR_format.html

Both of these sites have great, detailed examples. Once you’ve gotten the hang of writing for the screen, another important thing to do is look at examples of actual scripts that are similar to the one you’re working on. These are plentiful on the Internet, and easy to find thanks to Google. If you’re writing an action film, try to track down scripts of other action movies. If you’re writing an episode of Supernatural, hunt down some bona fide Supernatural scripts and be sure to model your teleplay after the style and format used by the show’s writers. This is really important for spec scripts, because every show has its formatting quirks.

A few final notes about screenwriting:

1.) Re: Fonts: Courier and Courier New are NOT the same. Use Courier.

2.) Re: The Art of Screenwriting: If you’re a fiction writer, like me, the transition to writing scripts can be a little bit bumpy. It’s a very different artform, and to be honest I didn’t like it that much at first. I thought it was “clunky” and lacked the artistry of short stories and novels. Then someone mentioned to me that a script isn’t the final product. Short stories and novels, once sufficiently edited, are ready to go out and meet the world. The reader of a short story or novel experiences the words exactly as they are written on the page. With scripts, this is not true. Scripts are a blueprint – a guide that will help literally hundreds of other people, including actors, directors, make-up artists, special effects people, and cameramen, all collaborate to create the final version: the version the audience sees on screen. When I started looking at things this way, I fell in love with the idea of being a part of such an amazing group effort, and I fell in love with the art of script writing. I hope you will, too.

And now, on to Day Eight of the Writing Challenge, which is the last of these challenges I’ll be posting (unless I manage to dig up the old notebook where I wrote Day Four).

Author’s Note: This is a not-for-profit work of fiction. No offense or infringement is intended. Please don’t sue me.

Day 8: Rewrite a fairy tale from the bad guy’s point of view.

It’s been done before, and it’s been done better, but I still couldn’t help myself. I give you:

 

The Big Bad Wolf: A Barbara Walters Exclusive
by Gretchen Bassier

Announcer:  It was the story that shocked the nation: A senior citizen, eaten alive. A beautiful young woman, viciously attacked. A very big, very bad wolf.

Since his 1998 conviction, Mr. Wolf has refused to speak publicly about his alleged crimes. But tonight, in an exclusive Barbara Walters interview, we take you inside Sing Sing for a live chat with the big baddie himself.

Barbara, what are your thoughts right now, as you wait for the guards to bring him in?

Barbara:  It’s hard to say what my thoughts are, Steve, but my heart is racing. I’m sitting here in front of bulletproof glass – looking at what appears to be a large dog kennel – while holding a panic button in my hand.

Announcer:  So, not a standard interview, then?

Barbara:  Not by a long stretch, Steve.

Guard #1:  Ms. Walters? They’re going to be bringing him in, now.

Barbara:  All right.

Guard #2:  Get in there, you! Go on! Crate. Crate! Okay, now sit and stay. STAY!

Barbara:  Will he be able to talk, with that muzzle on?

Guard #1:  We’ll take the muzzle off, as soon as he’s shackled. See? Now Mike’s going to secure the cage door…Those are titanium bars, by the way, so you should be perfectly safe. Theoretically.

Barbara:  That’s reassuring…

Guard #2:  Okay, we’re good. Just remember, if you feel threatened at any time, all you have to do is press the button. We’ll be right outside.

Barbara:  Thank you.

Guard #1:  We’ll also be listening for distress noises, in case you don’t get a chance to press the button.

Barbara:  …

Guard #2:  Good luck!

Barbara (to camera):  …All right, if you’re just joining us, we are sitting here live inside of Sing Sing prison, where Mr. Wolf is currently serving a life sentence for crimes almost too heinous to mention. Now, for the first time ever, Mr. Wolf is reaching out to the media, hoping to tell his side of the story.

Barbara (to wolf):  Good evening, Mr. Wolf.

Wolf:  Good evening, Barbara.

Barbara:  Can you hear me all right, behind all that glass?

Wolf:  I can hear you very well. I can see you even better.

Barbara:  That’s good. Now, Mr. Wolf—

Wolf:  You can call me B.B.

Barbara:  All right, B.B. Since you brought it up, do you feel that your parents giving you the name “Big Bad” predisposed you to a life of crime?

Wolf:  That’s a common misconception, Barbara. I was actually named after B.B. King. My parents were huge blues fans. And, as to my “life of crime”…why don’t we leave it up to the audience to decide whether or not I’m actually a criminal, once they’ve heard my story?

Barbara:  Then let’s cut right to the chase: B.B., you were convicted of cannibalizing an elderly woman.

Wolf:  That charge is ridiculous.

Barbara:  But human remains were found in your digestive system, shortly after your arrest…

Wolf:  Yes. Exactly – human remains. I’m a wolf, she was a person. That’s not cannibalism. That’s one species eating a completely different species. If I ate another wolf, then it would be cannibalism.

Barbara:  So…you’re not denying you ate Mrs. Hood?

Wolf:  I’ve never denied that.

Barbara:  Then what is it you wanted to tell our audience tonight?

Wolf:  That it wasn’t my idea. It wasn’t something I set out to do. I mean, why would I want to eat an old lady?

Barbara:  Well, you are a carnivore…

Wolf:  I’m also an excellent hunter. When I want a snack, all I have to do is hop a fence, corner a nice juicy lamb, and tie on a bib. So, why eat an old person? They’re boney. Their skin is like leather. They smell like formaldehyde…Does that sound like five-star cuisine to you?

Barbara:  Then why did you do it?

Wolf:  For Red.

Barbara:  Little Red Riding Hood?

Wolf:  Yes.

Barbara:  The victim’s granddaughter?

Wolf:  Yes. Although to hear her tell it, she was the victim. At least that’s the story Red hooked me with, when she asked me to do the job.

Barbara:  She asked you to kill her own grandmother?

Wolf:  Absolutely. It happened the very first day we met. I was just lifting my leg, minding my own business while preparing to, well, do my business, when all of a sudden this hot little red-head number comes skipping through the trees.

I thought she would run the moment she caught sight of me, but she didn’t. Instead, she walked right up to me – smiling, batting her big doe eyes, swinging her hips in that four-inch mini-skirt.

“Oh, Mr. Wolf,” she said, “I have been looking all over for you…”

Naturally, I was taken aback. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” I asked.

She shook her head, making that red hair flicker like fire. “I want your help,” she said. “I need your help.” Then she walked a circle around me, running her fingers right through my fur.

Now, I could’ve killed her right then and there. But I was curious. And a little impressed. So I said, “What in your life is so bad, that you’re not afraid of a big wolf like me?”

And that’s when she started to cry – big, fat teardrops rolling out of her eyes, ruby lips all quivering. “It’s my Nana,” she whimpered. “She’s wicked.”

Barbara:  Wicked?

Wolf:  That’s right. Red went on to give me a whole sob story about how her witch of a grandmother got mad because Red apparently ate some candy in the house that was just meant for decoration. Granny got so peeved, in fact, that she tried to shove Red in the oven and cook her for dinner. Now that would have been cannibalism. But somehow, Red escaped. She told me she ran away and had been hiding in the woods, cold and scared and too afraid to go home until someone did something about her grandma.

“Now, I’m just a little girl,” Red said. “I’m not strong enough to fight her off. But you, Mr. Wolf…you have such big teeth. And such strong paws. I just know you could help me.” Then she ran her fingers through my fur again, and pressed her cleavage right against my shoulder and yes, I admit it, I was affected. But I don’t do charity work.

So I said, “What’s in it for me?”

Red explained that she had an inheritance from when her parents died, but she couldn’t access the money while Grandma was still alive.

“If you help me, we can split it,” she promised. “One-point-three million each.”

From my point of view, it seemed like a win-win situation: Red would be safe, a mean old lady would be kibble. Not to mention, one-point-three million dollars buys a LOT of steak…

Barbara:  So you agreed?

Wolf:  I did. Red gave me directions to her grandmother’s house – “It’s just over the river and through the woods” – then she told me to wait until after dark. When I showed up at the cottage that night, Red was hiding in the bushes. She gave me the key and wished me luck…

Barbara:  Then you went inside and…

Wolf: Ate Nana. Like I said, not exactly five-star cuisine. I was actually still trying to wash her down with some milk when Red came running in, yelling that she’d seen the Huntsman riding up the path to the cottage.

Barbara:  The Huntsman?

Wolf:  Yes. It’s a nickname Sheriff Smith gave himself. He makes everyone call him that. It’s pretty stupid, actually, but no one wants to tell him because he’s always carrying a gun. And sometimes an axe…

Barbara:  You’ve had some experience with that axe yourself, haven’t you?

Wolf:  Most unfortunately. But that’s skipping ahead. So first, Red ran in, yelling that the Huntsman was coming. Naturally, I freaked. I had just eaten a human being, not to mention I already had three warrants out for my arrest for destruction of property and home invasion – completely fabricated, but we’ll get to that later – so I asked Red to help me sneak out the back.

“There’s no time!” she hissed. “You’ll have to pretend to be Nana!” Then she threw her grandmother’s pink nightie at me and told me to put it on.

Barbara:  Did you?

Wolf:  I am sad to say, yes. I was desperate. Of course, as soon as I caught sight of myself in the bedroom mirror, I knew it wasn’t going to work – sure, Nana had a few whiskers, but she wasn’t Lon Chaney, Jr. And those glasses made my eyes look huge. But Red insisted that if I got in the bed and pulled up the covers, the Huntsman would never know. So I pulled the blanket right up to my chin, and Red ran out of the room.

For about five minutes, I lay there, terrified, trying to make old lady breathing noises.

Then all hell broke loose: the Huntsman burst through the door like a crazed axe murderer, and Red rushed in right behind him, all tearful and earnest.

She pointed right at me and said, “That’s him, Sheriff – that’s the wolf that ate Nana. And he tried to eat me, too!”

Barbara:  Were you shocked?

Wolf:  Speechless. I didn’t even have time to throw the covers off before the Huntsman was on top of me, chopping into me like some psychopath! Just LOOK at these scars! These are NOT from an appendectomy!

Barbara:  According to his testimony, the Sheriff was trying to save Mrs. Hood’s life by removing her from your stomach.

Wolf:  Does that even make sense? Think about it! I had to chew her before I swallowed her – how would she still be alive? Not to mention the fact that she was already partially digested…

Barbara:  Yes, let’s not mention that…

Wolf:  Anyway, I lost consciousness at some point while he was hacking into me. I woke up later in the hospital. They aren’t even sure how I survived. I guess once Huntsboy realized he wasn’t getting granny out in one piece, he came to his senses and called nine-one-one. After all, a Sheriff axing an unarmed suspect to death might lead to a few problems for the police department…

Barbara:  You believe he called the ambulance to protect himself from a lawsuit?

Wolf:  Absolutely.

Barbara:  He couldn’t have done it out of the goodness of his heart?

Wolf:  The Huntsman’s not the upstanding member of society most people think he is. He’s got darkness in him. Wanna know what really happened to Bambi’s Mom?

Barbara:  Probably not.

Wolf:  Good choice. That story gives me nightmares…

Barbara:  Getting back to your story, B.B…

Wolf:  Well, you know how it ends, Barbara – after the hospital, I went to jail, and then I went on trial. You should’ve seen Red in the courtroom: the cute little hooded sweater she wore, the basket of muffins she brought the judge, those big brown eyes…and of course, the waterworks. Always the waterworks. I knew I didn’t have a prayer. I was lucky to get life in prison…

Barbara:  So she duped you, and the Sheriff, and the judge?

Wolf:  She is something. From the moment she ran her fingers through my fur, I knew she was something…

Barbara:  Do you still believe her Grandmother abused her?

Wolf:  No, Red stole that story from an old newspaper article. Turns out it actually happened to some German kids back in the 1800s – Hans and Greta, or something like that…Anyway, that’s my story.

Barbara:  Shocking.

Wolf:  It’s not exactly a fairytale, that’s for sure.

Barbara:  Do you feel better, now that you’ve told your side?

Wolf:  A little.

Barbara:  Before we go, is there anything else you’d like to clear up? You did mention those destruction of property and home invasion charges…

Wolf:  I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: I HAVE ALLERGIES!

 

Writing Challenge: Day Six (Plus Twenty-Five Reasons You Might Get Rejected)

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Before rewinding back to Day Six of the challenge, I thought I’d share a nifty article I came across on the Writer’s Digest website, which discusses how optimism, insanity, and yes, even a little arrogance can be good things when tackling the difficult task of getting published. Also, there’s a hilariously accurate pie chart detailing the road to publication, and both of those can be found here:

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agents/the-importance-of-being-slightly-arrogant-as-a-writer?et_mid=596701&rid=233787571

In addition, I found a helpful link on the Flash Fiction Chronicles site, which contains a list of twenty-five reasons an agent might reject your manuscript – often after only reading the first paragraph. The list has some really interesting items that you might not think of, so definitely go check it out:

http://bloodredpencil.blogspot.com/2010/09/sept-2-top-25-reasons-your-submissions.html

Also, coming up in the New Year on as the HERO flies:

For Writers:

-The very best websites for beginning screenwriters
-Awesome flash fiction market resources
-My favorite fiction e-zines

For Fans:

-New Mentalist fan fiction
-New Supernatural fan fiction
-New episode reviews

Moving on to the writing challenge, I give you Day 6: Select a book on your shelf and pick two chapters at random. Take the first line of one chapter and the last line of the other chapter and write a short story (no more than 1000 words) using those as bookends to your story.

The book I selected was Ghosts Caught on Film by Dr. Melvyn Willin. I used the first line of Chapter Two, and the last line of Chapter Five (which, although I didn’t realize it at the time, turned out to be the very last line of the book).

Notes and Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters Sherlock Holmes or John Watson, and I make absolutely no profit from writing fan fiction. This story was written in December of 2011, before there was a totally and completely fabulous show called Elementary, and this fic does not take place in that universe (i.e. Watson is not a girl in this story).

Elementary
by castiello

“Can we photograph thoughts, the very pictures in our minds?”

Watson looked up from the bit of fiber he was studying. Holmes was over by the wall, gazing at a dreary oil painting of a cobble-stone street.

Watson sighed. “Not likely. ‘Thoughtography’ has no basis in science, Holmes. Scholars have disproven nearly every claim. We’ve even disproven a few ourselves, over the years. Remember?”

“Ah, yes,” Holmes murmured absently. “Of course.”

Watson went back to examining the fiber, which appeared to be silk. “What brought it to your mind, anyhow?”

“Oh, it just fluttered in, like a small bird…perhaps through that window—” Holmes pointed a withered finger at the painting “—Or maybe through…another…” His voice trailed off, cataract-dull eyes wandering vaguely.

“Maybe we should focus on the case at hand,” Watson suggested gently.

Holmes’ eyes fogged over completely. “The case…?”

Watson winced. He’d been trying to persuade his old friend to retire for years. “The one we’re helping Inspector Cartwright with. The Niesen murder.”

Holmes stared blankly.

Watson’s heart twinged. His voice softened. “Why don’t you sit down, old fellow? Have a smoke and ponder things, while I finish looking over the crime scene.”

“What crime scene?” Holmes asked, frowning. His eyes were still foggier than a London morning.

“This room,” Watson replied patiently. “The one we’re standing in.”

More fog.

Watson sighed. “This is the room where the girl was murdered,” he explained, gesturing at the clothing-strewn bedchamber, which bore obvious evidence of a struggle.

The fog evaporated in an instant. “Oh, she wasn’t murdered in here,” Holmes announced confidently.

Watson raised his eyebrows, cautiously hopeful. “How do you know that?”

“There’s not a drop of blood in sight.”

“She was strangled, Holmes.”

“Ah, yes…Just as I suspected…” Holmes nodded knowingly, making his grey mane bounce.

Watson gritted the few teeth he had left. “Why don’t you—” he started to say, but Holmes cut him off with a sudden shout:

“Look here, Watson! A clue!” Holmes began to bend down, presumably to pick something up off the floor, but he froze in mid-stoop. “Oh, dear,” he said faintly.

“What’s wrong?” Watson asked.

“My back – it seems to be locked in this position…”

“You can’t move?”

“Neither up nor down,” Holmes confirmed. “How is it that I could be stuck in such a state?”

“I don’t know,” Watson murmured, hobbling over to help his friend. “It’s a mystery we may never solve.”

New Mentalist Holiday Story on PIR

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I’ve got a brand-new, holiday-themed Mentalist story out today, written for the Paint It Red Fan Forum’s PIRvent calendar. You can read the fic here:

Little Red Bird

And also, don’t forget to check out all of the other wonderful entries people created for the calendar. The authors and artists did some really beautiful work, and you won’t be disappointed!

The PIRvent Calendar

Enjoy, and stay tuned – more holiday goodies for fans are right around the corner, including another new Mentalist story and one for Supernatural, too!

Happy Holidays!

~Cass

Writing Challenge: Day Three

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Before I get to the story, just a quick note about my favorite free writer’s market database, Duotrope: starting in the new year, they will no longer be free. They can’t afford to keep running on donations, so they’re going to begin charging for their services on January 1, 2013. It’s a bummer, I know, but the good news is that they haven’t started charging yet. If you haven’t checked out Duotrope before, you’ve still got more than a week to explore their site and see if it might be something worth paying for:

https://duotrope.com/

And now, on to Day 3: Write a setting based on the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. (Yes, I know I skipped Day 2. I had my reasons – trust me.)

Conversion
by Gretchen Bassier

The sky was rippling.

At first, Kate thought it was a trick of her eyes. She dumped the armload of firewood she was carrying and trotted back down the porch steps to get a better look.

It was no trick – the clear, midnight sky overhead was flickering. Pulsing and shivering with a strange whitish glow. Kate jogged up the steps and knocked on the front door until Annie’s curious face appeared in the crack.

“Slip your boots on,” Kate said hurriedly. “There’s something going on with the sky.”

Annie shoved her feet in a pair of battered Nikes, grabbed one of Kate’s old coats from the hook by the door, and stepped out onto the porch. Together, the two women crunched across frozen grass, stopping in the middle of the lawn to look straight up.

“What do you think it is?” Kate murmured, unable to tear her eyes from the shimmering lightshow.

“It’s the Northern Lights,” Annie answered calmly. “Aurora Borealis.”

Kate frowned. “We shouldn’t be able to see those from here…”

Annie shrugged, her face serene as she soaked in the sky. “It’s rare, but it happens.”

“But…shouldn’t they be in the North? Northern Lights and all?”

Annie laughed. “You’re too literal. This is definitely them – I’ve seen them before. Sometimes they fill the whole sky…”

“When have you seen the Northern Lights before?”

“On that Alaskan cruise I talked my Mom into, after Dad died. There were two nights when we could see the lights really clearly, all across the sky, and reflected in the water, too. It was stunning. Mom said it was God’s fireworks.”

“Nature’s fireworks,” Kate corrected. “It’s just an astronomical phenomenon – clouds of gas hitting the Earth’s magnetic field.”

Annie smiled. “Some Native Americans believed the lights were spirits.”

“Yeah, and they also would’ve believed my iPad was an angry god, if they’d seen the technology back then. It’s only supernatural until you figure out the science behind it. Why settle for magic and superstition when you can understand how something actually works?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Annie said softly. “Sometimes a little magic can be nice.”

The two women lapsed into silence for a moment, watching milky light flow like a waterfall, up the sides of the sky.

Suddenly, Annie let out a laugh.

The sound carried like a song through the cold midnight air, and Kate smiled. “What is it?”

“Remember that time in Colorado, when Peter had us driving all through the hills, chasing that huge orange light in the sky?”

“The light that he was convinced had to be a UFO?” Kate asked dryly.

Annie nodded, giggling.

“The light that actually turned out to be the moon?”

Annie giggled even harder, holding her belly.

“Yes, I remember.” Kate smirked. “No offense to your brother, but he is exactly why people should never smoke pot while they’re watching The X-Files.”

Annie wiped her eyes and sighed happily. “It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Kate admitted, looking back at the sky. “It was.”

A peaceful quiet settled over them again, like falling snow. All of the light seemed to flow to a single pinpoint of space, a million miles above their heads.

Finally, reluctantly, Kate ripped her gaze from the celestial dance. “Well, I’d better go get the rest of that wood…”

“I’ll get the wood,” Annie said quickly. “You should stay and watch.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d want to stay and watch.”

A smile touched Annie’s upturned face, like the sky was telling her secrets. “Oh, but I’ve already seen it. And besides, I can always look up, on my way out to the shed.”

“Just as long as you don’t trip,” Kate joked.

Annie looked over at her, eyes sparkling. “I won’t.” She took the handle of the empty wagon and starting pulling it across the crystallized lawn. “Enjoy your ‘astronomical phenomenon,’ Agent Scully.”

Kate grinned. “I will!”

As Annie’s crunching footsteps and the crackle of wagon tires grew distant, Kate watched in fascination as a hint of ghostly green seeped into the white glow all around. Kate smiled, thinking of Slimer in the movie Ghostbusters.

Who you gonna call?

The nostalgic expression froze on her face as the sky began to change again, streaks of bright, electric blue snaking above the horizon to the North, like something was tearing slashes in universe, letting whatever lay beyond shine through.

Kate’s eyes stretched round. “Annie, come back! Annie! You’ve got to see this! It’s…” Her voice trailed off, realizing her companion was already too far away. “It’s incredible…”

The blaze in the North intensified, not just blue now, but ruby and emerald and topaz and indigo. The sky was a rainbow of fire, burning up with its own beauty, tracing mystical patterns across a diamond-star canvas.

Kate stared out through eyelashes beaded with ice-drops. She clenched her hand, wishing Annie’s hand was squeezed tight inside of it. An eternity away and right in front of her, the sky-fire peaked. Kate gasped aloud. Blinding radiance of every color poured through the seams in the heavens, and she stretched her arm toward the sight, reaching for the impossible.

It faded just before she could touch it, but not before the words escaped her, in a whisper of winter smoke:

“Oh, my God…”

New Halloween Story

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If you’re searching for something to get you in the Halloween spirit, go check out my new story, “The Pumpkin Master,” published just yesterday on Every Day Fiction! It’s a gore-free, family-friendly look at my all-time favorite holiday. Hope you like it!

http://www.everydayfiction.com/the-pumpkin-master-by-gretchen-bassier/

Happy Halloween, everybody! Be safe and watch out for zombies!

-Gretchen