Transformation--A compilation of Flash Fiction

I have something for you today.

Myself and a couple of my writer friends, including best selling author Wendy Knight, have done a book of short stories--very short.

It's called Flash Fiction. Some people set the boundary as low as 200 words (since a story of 100 words is a Drabble, I suppose they don't want to get things mixed up) but we set the boundary at 1000 words.

Every story in Transformation is under 1000 words.

From fantasy to contemporary, from tragedy to comedy, there's something for everyone here.

And it's free!

Find it at BN
Find it at Smashwords
Find it at Scribd

Smashwords also has Kindle (mobi) available, as well as other formats.

When you've downloaded your copy, come visit us.

Wendy Knight
Laura Bastian
Rebecca Blevins
Lauren Ritz

Laura has recently published her first novel, Eye on Orion.

Wendy's next book, Warrior Everlasting, will be coming out on May 6th.

Cold feet

Spring is sprung! The grass is riz! what is bloomin? The flowers is!

Well, not quite yet. And I just threw away a pair of socks (holey socks!) so my feet are cold. Hence the title.

At the moment I'm feeling a little lazy. My cat is demanding my attention but I'm sitting here staring out the window.

And of course, there are stories running through my head. I worked on Fairy Ring yesterday and it turned in a surprising direction. Two of the other books in the series are out, but I need to work on a new cover for the first before making it perma-free. The cover for the third book is in transition.

So at the moment I am actively writing Fairy Ring and Let It Go, re-vamping DemonBorn, editing Guardian and Heart of the Castle and trying to figure out the marketing thing. I have Axon, Seshallass and Glory Road that I'm thinking about when there's nothing else running through my head and a dozen others that try to squeeze in at odd moments, screaming to get my attention and demanding I work on them next.

An author's life, I guess.


Excerpt from BayStorm, a novella set in the Demons Bay world. This is the same world as the DemonBorn series, Heart of the Castle, and Guardian. Heart of the Castle should be the next book out.


She should have been terrified. Instead she stared up into the dark pit of the vortex, wondering what it would be like to die.

With a growling surge the thunder wrapped around her. Mutters and screams in the thunder were certainly only her imagination. If she died she would no longer be a threat. The curse would die with her.

She raised her hands, stared into the black maw surrounded by rainbow lightning, and begged it to take her.

For a moment the winds died. The air tightened around her, making her breath come short. The air around her heated, and darkened until she seemed to be staring up a narrow tunnel toward a black sun.

Abruptly the funnel reversed itself, darting down toward the ground faster than she could follow. Darkness followed the lightning, dragging it back toward the funnel, and the wind returned to yank her off her feet.

DemonBorn Update

A few years ago (for NaNo, of course) I wrote DemonBorn. I was so excited about it that I started writing the sequel (UnderHill) in December (*wince*) and finished the third in the series about mid-year. I'm now working on number five, and the middle three are pretty good. Not perfect yet, but getting there.

The problem is that the first book is a disaster. When I wrote it I thought it was great, I was excited about the characters (who show up in later books) but there was just something...wrong. Three years later I'm still working on book one and it's not there yet.

There were originally three main storylines, and eight POV characters in a book that's less than 70k. When I started this most recent rewrite I knew I had to make some hard decisions. The problem is, I love these characters and I don't want to eliminate any of them. Also, one major storyline starts twenty years or so before the story begins (which might end up being another novel later on, but I can't think about that right now). I've already cut out three unnecessary POV's (although not the characters) and two sub-plots that just made a hash of the whole thing.

OK, so here I am with a gordian plot, and I'm afraid that the only way to unravel it is to take a sword to it. I hope not, but if that's necessary it will be better for the operation.

I'm excited to find out what it looks like when it's done.

*****

If you caught the historical/mythological reference, let me know in the comments or on my Facebook author page (LaurenRitzTheWriter) for a chance to win either a novel critique or a copy of one of my books.



Excerpt from DemonBorn:

Shadyel turned her head to let one of her side-set eyes focus on a space in the circle her team had formed around her, the place of least prestige immediately opposite from where she floated in the shifting water of the lake. Her hands moved in the familiar ameso sign language, larger than normal because she was angry. Where is Tiyet?

The others' hands fluttered without meaning. Sunlight sprayed in curious ripples from the surface of the lake above them, obscuring some motions and accentuating others. Trees wavered beyond, two moons almost indistinguishable from the clouds.
Not able to get away, Giyac reported after a short pause, his hand-signs very small as if he wanted to avoid Shadyel's notice. The identifying pattern of scars along his arms in ameso form almost made him seem to fade into the water behind him.

Shadyel indicated her contempt for the absent ameso woman, fingers almost shouting the words. No excuse.

She turned her head, looking to her second, but Oyai was staring up through the water. All gazes followed, to see the faint outline of a human standing on the dock.

Economic Stimulus (A short story)

"Jerry, you get back here!" Liza sighed, stopped the loaded cart with some difficulty. The front wheel tended to turn at the exact wrong moment, and sure enough when she pulled back on the shopping cart handle it swerved into a display of kitchen utensils.

"Jerry! Do I have to put the leash back on you?"

He was too old for the leash. It was currently being used to tether his four year old brother to the shopping cart handle.

PB (Short for Peanut Butter, since that’s all he would eat at the moment) stood there sucking on his finger and staring down at the mess.

Jerry wandered back over.

"Jerry, help me with this." Making sure that the baby was secured (she had three escape artists on her hands, and she was NOT going to be saddled with another one. Maybe) she bent and started restacking the display, rather haphazardly, just piling the stuff back into the spaces with no concern for where things were supposed to go.

Nearly finished, she looked up, alarmed at the silence.

"Jerry?"

To her surprise, he was just at the end of the aisle. She got the cart started again and moved in that direction. He turned as she approached, pointing. "What’s that, Mom?"

Liza sighed. "I’m going to need another cart." She looked around, rather vaguely, and stuck the binky back in the baby’s mouth.

"But what is it?"

"The president says it’s going to help the economy."

Jerry looked at the big blank box labeled “Economic Stimulus.” Small print on one corner of the box stated Some Assembly Required.

"But what is it?"

"I don’t know, Jerry. The president said we all need to buy one to help the economy. Go get another cart, will you?"

With another sigh, she stared at the display next to it, clearly labeled "Health Care."

"Buy, buy, buy," she muttered. "Sight unseen, doesn’t matter, we’ll find out what’s in it later. Doesn’t matter that I’m on a tight budget and can’t afford to buy a pig in a poke."

She smiled as Jerry pushed another cart down the aisle. She smiled at him as she piled one of each into the cart. "Doesn’t matter that no one else is buying it. Come on. Let’s get home and put this thing together. Let’s find out what we bought."

* * *

Jerry darted into his bedroom, and she let PB off his leash. With a squeal, he ran after his brother.

Liza sighed and carted in the groceries, and then the two big, anonymous boxes. Suspecting she’d need it she got out the tool box. "Jerry!" she shouted across the house. "Where’s the Allen wrench?"

No answer. Not that it mattered at the moment. She might not need it. The president had promised it would be simple. The radio droned in the background, just noise.

She opened the first box, peered in, and almost panicked. She fished through anonymous pieces thrown randomly in the box, and finally looked around at an acre of plastic and metal on her living room floor. She winced as she realized that one piece was leaking oil. "No instructions?"

The radio static finally penetrated, the chirpy voice of the announcer finishing up today’s spiel. "And today, the President has announced another Economic Stimulus package. It will be on shelves in one week, and everyone needs to buy one."

Liza wanted to shoot the radio, but she settled for turning it off.

The president could spit in his own eye, and stimulate the economy himself as well. She didn’t have the money for it, or the patience. Well, at least the president was doing something. When dealing with politicians or children, silence meant they were up to mischief.

"Jerry?" Silence.

Cover Reveal for Dark Spirit

My cover for Dark Spirit is finished!

This story was supposed to be out last October, but *wringing my hands and wailing* it got pushed back because I just couldn't figure out the cover.

So of course it falls together in a day once I make my mind stop playing and actually do some work. :)

Here it is: The second book in the Spirit Cycle.

Is Without A Voice a thriller?

I talked to one of my readers the other day and she said that she found Without A Voice frightening.

I can't get my head around it. It's alternately described by other readers as suspense or a thriller, but even that I can't quite figure out.  Thriller? When I think of thrillers I think of chainsaw murderers. I don't like thrillers. I don't like blood and guts and extreme violence, so I don't write it.

The book is tense, yes. It faces topics of domestic abuse, stalking, etc, but there are only two violent scenes and even those are what I would consider extremely mild. I cataloged it as suspense for a reason.

I think my idea of "thriller" must be seriously out of whack.

What do you think?  Is Without A Voice a thriller? Did you find it frightening?

My life in jigsaw

I have a puzzle on my desk. Well really I have five of them, but one I'm working on. The idea is to make sure all the pieces are there and send it off to the thrift store.  Otherwise, if the pieces aren't all there it's going in the garbage.

My nephew said I should just count the pieces and I told him it wouldn't be as much fun.

My life is a lot like a jigsaw puzzle.  Not these nice, neat puzzles with the perfectly shaped pieces that might fit anywhere in the frame--a jigsaw puzzle. Of course if all the pieces are the same shape that creates a different problem.

My problem isn't finding out where that black piece goes--it's that every piece of my life is a different shape. Making them all fit is near impossible.

It's the writing, and the puzzles, and the laundry and the books I want to read. It's looking for a job and wondering where the money is going to come from and thinking about the herbal stuff and a science project. The old language project and I need (i.e., want) to make a batch of soap but if I get the soap stuff out I'll get distracted by all the other projects I haven't finished. And the garden, the weather, politics and dancing. And that book of magic pictures is calling my name, which brings me back around to the writing because magic, you know.

Tomorrow I'll go off on another tangent. But no matter how hard it is to put all the pieces together I wouldn't trade the craziness for that perfect puzzle with all the pieces precisely the same size and shape. I graduated from that one a long time ago.

Chinish

Do you remember when you were growing up, the old man who always yelled at everybody to stay off his lawn? He appeared for maybe thirty seconds, threatened to call the police, and disappeared again.

Welcome him to my blog, please! The old cranky man as you've never seen him before!

*Wild applause*




Chinish peered through the crack in the curtains, waiting. The animals were playing in the street, kicking their ridiculous toys around. A little further. Just a little further. One darted after the ball, trying to catch it before it flipped past the end of the wall and into his yard.

The ball rebounded from the curb and skittered along the low wall to where his property dipped down below street level.

He sucked in a breath in anticipation of the feast.

The ball bounded through the gap. The animal hesitated, looking back at its companions, then gingerly made its way down into the yard. Chinish struck as soon as the child was within range, an arrow into the soul that sucked, sucked, sucked, pulling all that energetic power. This one had more power than most, and a new thought occurred to Chinish. His eyes widened.

The child started, turned toward the house instinctively for a moment, its eyes frozen wide. When no one appeared in the doorway it worked its way through weeds to where the ball had come to rest and Chinish threw the door open. "Get out of my yard, you filthy animal!" The child was close now, close enough to see the patterns in the wide eyes. So close that the flow between them was visible.

The child's fear was sweet, increasing the flow of power. Chinish sucked it all down, careful not to reach too far or take too much. Oh, sweet. Like a draught of cold spring water after a long walk in the desert. It filled him, chilling him from the inside out until he thought he might shatter.

The child stood, terrified, then grabbed its ball and scurried through the weeds to the street.

Chinish kept the contact, let the power soak into him. He felt the child's exhaustion, heard through the link the complaint of a headache. I'm going home.

Chinish smiled and kept the contact. Tonight, after all memory of the incident had passed, the child would die peacefully in his sleep. Chinish had never emptied one completely before, fearing repercussions from those who might be able to sense his interference on this plane. But maybe, just perhaps the surge of power as the soul left the body would be enough to open the portal again, to send him home.