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 T-zero Xpandizine
 The Writer's E-Zine

 

 Produced and published by the members of Writers' Village University since 1998    ISSN 1521-2639       
01 December 2008
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Craft of Writing

Charity Tahmaseb

Confessions Of A Contest Junkie:
How To Survive—And Thrive—In The Literary Contest Circuit

The Literary Contest Circuit: Why Bother?

They cost money. Some are scams. Some offer publication. Some don’t. Some provide feedback, while others provide feedback better off in the trash bin.

So why bother? Do writing contests help an aspiring writer, or do they simply help drain his or her bank account?

There are as many reasons to enter a writing contest as there are contests and writers. As a veteran of more contests than I care to count, I hope to provide you with some tips for navigating, surviving, and yes, even thriving, in the literary contest circuit.

What to Consider When Choosing a Contest
 
Where are you in your career?

Managing expectations is crucial to surviving the contest circuit. A beginning writer may not fair well in a large contest, such as those sponsored by Writer’s Digest. Sure, there’s a chance of making the top one hundred, but without feedback, a writer is left to wonder: Was it something I wrote?

Those ten dollars might be better spent on a smaller contest sponsored by a local writers' group, a contest that provides feedback from published authors.

Are you a writer looking strictly for feedback at this point? If so, contests that offer multiple critiques give you more for your money. Do you want to get your work in front of editors and/or agents? Looking at the final round judges can help you target contests.

Here comes the judge

What is the judging pool for the contest? Are you guaranteed a read by a published author, or is the organization pulling in any warm body they can find? Some organizations conduct judges’ training to ensure even judging across entries, but many do not. In either case, feedback can range from excellent to confusing.

Whether a contest is worth entering may depend entirely on the final round judge. Many contests publish those names well in advance, giving you time to research each judge’s writing (in the case of an author judge) or preferred genres (in the case of an agent/editor judge).

Research into both preliminary and final round judges could save you money, or tip the balance in favor of entering a contest. When all else fails, most contests provide a coordinator contact. Don’t be shy about contacting the coordinator—it’s your money, and your writing, on the line.

Who said anything about keeping score?

Many contests use a score sheet, something they may provide to prospective entrants. If one is available, obtain a copy and use it to evaluate your story. It may make an excellent revision tool, but more importantly, it will give you hints for the slant of a particular contest.

Who are you again?

Who sponsors the contest is equally important, for both the value and prestige of a contest. A small writers’ organization may not have much to offer by way of status, but the feedback and prize money may be worth the cost, and chance, of entering. Likewise, making the finals of a prestigious contest is a credit you can use on your writer’s résumé for your entire career.

Beware those contests where the sponsorship, and the contest’s purpose, isn’t clear. Is it merely a money-making venue for the sponsors? Many legitimate organizations do use contests to raise funds for various activities (conferences, special speakers, prize money and awards for the entrants), but if you can’t tie a contest to a legitimate writing organization, literary magazine, or other group, consider saving your money for the next one.

Who am I again?

Take a hard look at what it is you plan to enter in relation to the contest requirements. Your cozy mystery won’t get very far in the private eye novel contest sponsored by the Private Eye Writers of America (PWA) and St. Martin's Press, no matter how well-written it may be.

Contests are all about chance. Research can take you only so far. Sometimes what you learn about a contest doesn’t pan out in the results, but most of the time, clear cut requirements are just that. A novel without a love interest won’t do very well in a contest sponsored by RWA (Romance Writers of America). Thinking: Maybe they won’t notice is the fastest route to disappointment. The judges will notice. If the contest includes feedback, they will point it out.

Shark-infested Waters: How to Recognize a Scam

A writer once declared to me: “I only enter free contests. The rest are scams.”

Unfortunately, some of the biggest contest scams lure their victims with free entry. While free is nice, it isn’t necessarily better. These scam contests appeal to writers’ vanity and dreams of being published. You’re a “semi-finalist,” or even a “winner,” but with the bait comes the hook: to see the piece published, you must pay, sometimes a lot.

Identifying the Sharks:
  • High entry fees in relation to the prizes. Paying twenty dollars for a chance at a fifty-dollar prize is not a good deal.
  • No fee, but the contest comes with after-the-fact offers (see your piece in print, on a plaque, professionally recorded—all for a price)
  • Vague guidelines. Legitimate contests clearly state the rules, the requirements for entering, deadlines, and what rights (if any) are involved.
  • Vague or questionable sponsorship.

Shark-proof submitting:

  • Do an Internet search on the contest name or even the contest name +scam.
  • Ask other writers if they’ve heard of a particular contest or have entered it.
  • Search for previous winner lists and/or resulting publications from the contest.
  • Legitimate contests are proud of their winners and let everyone know. It’s good advertising.
A final word of caution: Even contests run by well-known organizations can have less than writer-friendly fine print. Read that fine print, then read it again. Know what rights, if any, you give up by entering a contest. By entering some contests, you forfeit the copyright to your piece. The sponsoring organization can use, print, or sell it without your consent, never mind giving you credit or payment.

Hidden Benefits of Contests

Ah, the benefits of contests: Fame. Fortune. Your name in lights.

Well, maybe a nice chunk of change and the chance of appearing in a favorite literary magazine or catching that coveted editor’s eye. But even if you don’t come out on (or near) the top, you can still benefit from a writing contest.

Proper manuscript format

Nothing ties first-time submitters into knots more than manuscript formatting. Given the emphasis on doing it right, plus contradictory advice, it’s no wonder. Contests give you the opportunity to practice formatting your work professionally. Contests with feedback can give you insight on whether your formatting meets industry standards.

Some contests are more lenient than others. I once entered one that stated all incorrectly formatted manuscripts would be disqualified. I entered just to see if I could leap that hurdle.

Is it cold in here, or is it just me?

A cold read is a valuable commodity for a writer. Notice I didn’t say “objective” read. No one reads objectively; we all bring our biases to the page. However, not even your most trusted critique partner can give you a true “cold” read.

Most contests have “blind” entries. Only the title (and sometimes category, such as “cozy mystery” or “romantic suspense”) is present on the entry. Contests are a place where no one knows your name, and that can work to your benefit.

Judges come in cold to your story. No personalities involved. No prior knowledge. All they get is your prose. Will it stand up? How do other writers and publishing professionals view your writing?

While this reality check can be painful, it can also bring rewards. Afraid you’ve been getting nothing but pats on the back for your efforts? Here’s a chance to find out. Have an oddball story that no one seems to like? A contest can shed light on what’s wrong, or simply let you know you’ve taken a chance—and it paid off.

Hone Your Feedback Meter

Now that you have the judges’ rankings and comments, you may feel a bit rankled and ready to commit yourself to another profession. Win, lose, or draw, some good can come from the experience.

One very real lesson is: no matter how well-written a piece, someone will not like it, and you may score in contests accordingly. So one judge loved your first chapter while the other hated it, same contest, same entry? Instead of despairing, you may want to congratulate yourself. Chances are, you’ve developed a strong voice. Strong flavors attract and repel. The same can be said for strong writing.

A Recipe for Dealing with Contest Feedback

I know some writers who won’t peek at a returned contest packet for weeks. For me, the suspense would wreak more havoc than anything the judges might have to say. The following steps help me survive the post-contest critiques:
  • Find a quiet place. This is not the time you want the kids, dogs, spouse, etc. interrupting you.
  • Note any pertinent information in coordinator’s cover letter (if present).
  • Read through each critique.
  • Put it away (for now).
A low contest score plus critique feels like a rejection, a personal, detailed rejection. Work through any emotions before taking a second look at the feedback.

Read through the comments carefully the second time. If the contest provided more than one set of comments, compare similarities and note differences. Do you detect any overall themes about your work?

Not all judges are created equal. The downside to a cold read is not knowing particulars about the person who read your story. When a judge tells you to brush up on your “grammer” can you take him seriously? Does it negate the other comments on your manuscript? Or were they simply trying to judge and watch their toddler at the same time?

Here’s where you learn to judge the judges. It takes time, but receiving input from outside your critique group can help give you a clearer view of your writing.

The Downside to Contests
 
Even if you hit a winning streak, contests have a downside. They cost money. Some might nickel and dime you while others are the equivalent to dinner at a nice restaurant. The cost may be prohibitive for some writers.

The Perfect Partial Syndrome

Contests become addictive for some writers, especially after a few wins. There’s nothing like positive reinforcement in a business where rejections reign. Those writers work hard, polishing the first three chapters and synopsis to enter again and again, while the rest of the manuscript languishes on their hard drive. Or worse, the rest of the manuscript doesn’t exist.

Repeated rounds on the contest circuit in pursuit of an editor judge is one thing, but resting on your laurels and not writing new material is another. And more than one writer, having caught an editor’s attention, didn’t have the rest of the manuscript to send.

Does Size Matter?

The Little Fellas

The perception exists that small contests aren’t worth the time or money because they don’t cut much (or any) ice with agents and editors. Small contests can provide a testing ground for beginning writers, offering them feedback and a chance at placing. They can also offer a much-needed ego boost. In one of the first contests I won, it wasn’t the prize money or certificate that thrilled me, but words of encouragement and praise the contest coordinator scribbled on my copy of the winners’ list.

Small contests can also lead to publication in small but respected literary journals, and a chance at greater rewards. One of my short story wins was not only published, but nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Small steps (and contests) can help build a writing résumé.

The Biggies

So do you even bother with the big guys? The Writer’s Digest contests, the Glimmer Train ones, the RWA Golden Heart or one of St. Martin’s mystery novel contests?

The conventional advice holds true: if you don’t enter, you can’t win. Some other things to consider:
  • Are you ready? You may not win or even place, but is your work the best it can be? Putting forth your best effort bolsters your pride and helps your craft.
  • Managing expectations—again. These are true “send and forget” contests, easy on the ego. Didn’t make the final round? Guess what? Neither did hundreds (or thousands) of other writers.
  • Rite of passage: For certain genres, some contests hold a special place, such as RWA’s Golden Heart Award. Few writers make the finals, even fewer win, but everyone loves to compare scores, the good, the bad, and the confusing.
The Nitty-Gritty: Contest Etiquette

Many excellent stories miss the final round because writers failed to follow the formatting rules, or entered their manuscript in the wrong category. Save yourself—and the contest coordinator—the grief by following the requirements.

One method to ensure you don’t overlook something important is to take the printed requirements and highlight the essential information. If after reading the rules, you’re still confused, contact the contest coordinator for clarification.

Thank you, sir. May I have another?
 
So you spent the money, sent your entry, and received your not-as-hoped-for scores. Now, according to the contest coordinator, you can pen thank-you notes to the judges. Are they serious?

Yes, they are.

This is not the time to vent about how you’ve been judged. While some contests pay judges an honorarium, many draw from a pool of volunteers, other writers who take time from their own writing to judge. You can thank them for their time and effort if nothing else.

But sometimes, something a judge says really clicks. Or they loved your entry and wrote words of encouragement. While judges are often wary of revealing their names, a thank-you may open the door to a friendship, or even a mentorship with a published author. A thank-you note sent to a final round editor/agent judge may result in a request. If nothing else, it establishes you as a professional.

So, is vetting your writing on the contest circuit worth it? It can be, with research, targeting, and some soul searching. It can also prepare you for the time when readers and reviewers voice opinions about your writing: the good, the bad, and the confusing.

Contest Resources:

Romance:

Donna Caubarreaux’s Contest Alert: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ContestAlert/

Romance Authors Contest Link: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/RomanceContests/

Multi-genre:
 
Writing Contests: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/writingcontests/?yguid=2139302

Creative Writers Opportunities List: http://lists.topica.com/lists/crwropps

Ralan’s SpecFic and Humor Websstravaganza: http://www.ralan.com

Writer Organizations:

Pikes Peak Writers Conference (Paul Gillette Memorial Writing Contest): http://www.ppwc.net/

Writers-Editors Network: http://www.writers-editors.com/index.htm 

SouthWest Writers: http://www.southwestwriters.org/

Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers: http://www.rmfw.org/

Pacific Northwest Writers Association: http://www.pnwa.org/

Mystery:

St. Martin's Press/Malice Domestic Contest for the Best First Traditional Mystery Novel: http://www.minotaurbooks.com/minotaur/malice.html

The Best Private Eye Novel Contest Sponsored by the Private Eye Writers of America (PWA) and St. Martin's Press, LLC http://www.minotaurbooks.com/minotaur/privateeye.html


About the Author
Golden Heart Finalist and Pushcart Prize Award nominee, Charity Tahmaseb is a Minneapolis-based freelance writer. You can learn more about Charity at her web site: http://www.charitytahmaseb.com


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Craft of Writing

Christine Amsden

Cuss Words: It’s All About the Truth

In order to make stories more realistic, many fiction writers claim that profanity should be used if and when a realistic character would use it. The trouble is that reality cannot be shown, only experienced, and the goal of fiction is to reveal truth, not reality.

I have read fantasy tales set in other lands with sorcerers and elves that evoke a stronger sense of realism than some stories set in modern times, using familiar names and places. Evoking a sense of reality in the reader is a matter of suspending his or her disbelief, and this is not always done by maintaining perfect realism. Reading is a highly emotional experience, whether we want it to be or not, and our opinions are swayed by elements of the story that our intellect might consider inane.

Evoking reality comes from emotional sympathies. Have you ever read a book or watched a movie in which you knew, intellectually, that something was true but you were unable to experience it on an emotional level? Or perhaps you read a far-fetched tale that had more holes in it than Swiss cheese but you fell in love with the tale nonetheless?

The difference between these two tales goes to the heart of the truth that writers propose to show through their work. Truth cannot be found in stories that bar our emotions from entering, even if they allow our intellect inside. But truth can be found in stories that welcome our emotions, even if some of our intellect needs to be left behind for a time.

The best way to learn is through example so let me paint you a picture. Suppose you want to reveal the truth of the plight of inner-city youths who have fallen in with gangs. Their story would be unjustly told if the reader went away believing that these were simply young hoodlums, evil to the core and with no hope for redemption.

The reality is that these youths cuss. They cuss a lot. To show realistic dialogue amongst gang members you might even have to research cuss words you had never heard before. But if you do this, your intended truth, that these are more than evil hoodlums, will fall by the wayside.

We are taught from an early age not to sympathize with people who use profanity in this way. The hero becomes the bad guy, and the reader is blocked from the truth. On the other hand, if you withhold the cussing from the mouths of gang members except to punctuate a highly emotional scene, then the haze that has kept many from seeing and understanding is lifted and the truth shines through. Yes, this is a tiny white lie. Yes, our intellectual sides may even notice this, but they may not. Emotion has a way of blinding our intellect. And yes, there are many who would prefer your profanity-ridden piece for its sense of reality, but there is no need to speak the truth to most of these people; they are the proverbial choir.

So if you were to write this piece, you would need to ask yourself what the point is. Is it more important to show the reality or the truth? Herein lies the answer to the question of whether or not to use profanity in your fiction.


About the Author
Christine Amsden is an aspiring science fiction and fantasy writer. She lives in the Kansas City area with her husband and two kittens.


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Craft of Writing

Pamela Occhino

Writers’ Jargon-ese

According to the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary, the word jargon means:

1 a: confused unintelligible language b: a strange, outlandish, or barbarous language or dialect

2: the technical terminology or characteristic idiom of a special activity or group

Every profession has its own jargon–ese and the field of writing is no exception. To the newer or specialized writer, learning what phrases mean is more important than just creating a warm, fuzzy, belonging feeling. By learning industry terminology, the writer is better able to make positive decisions for his/her career as well as being able to exude a professional persona.

Below are some terms and their distinctions to help you decode this specialized language.

Anecdotal Style – is a style of article writing that uses a human-interest story to illustrate a point. A good example of this technique is found in personal essay writing. Learning this style can bring insight and color to a fact-filled article.

Article Peg – is the one angle of an article that is focused on. Most article ideas can be narrowed to concentrate on one aspect of the topic. A good article idea will lend itself to at least three or more angles to focus on. For example, the topic on “How to Get Started in a Freelance Writing Career” could be angled toward what a writer has to do legally to start-up a home-based business; how and where to acquire clips (published samples of your work); or choosing a niche (a specialized market). Each one of these angles is considered a peg.

Article Slant – Gearing an article to a particular publication's readership (a particular market) is called a slant. By discovering the demographics of the readership, you can isolate stages of life, hobbies, interests and socioeconomic status, angling the article to that readership segment. This is why studying past issues of the publication by reading both the advertisements and articles is advisable.

Belles Lettres – translates literally to fine letters. They are found in literature, enjoyed for poetic eloquence, admired more for beautifully expressed language than for practicality or informative value.

Magazine vs. Journal – The journal can look similar to either a magazine or a tabloid newspaper. The magazine is published to serve the public sector, whereas the journal is primarily published by and for a professional segment such as physicians, contractors, realtors and, of course, writers.

On Spec vs. On Assignment – On Spec means on speculation. An editor responds to your query (a writer’s proposed idea to a publisher) with a response that she/he will take a look at it for publication. No promises and no kill fee (a percentage of an assigned article’s fee paid even though it won’t be published). It may be a quick sale, or you may have to peddle it elsewhere. On Assignment means that the query is a go. You are assured of agreed-upon payment and often a kill fee.

Potboiler – is a writing work that will bring in some quick cash while the writer continues to work on a major project such as a book, news or magazine article or a copywriting project. It is for the writer, an easy, nearly effortless piece, requiring little time and research.

Sidebar – A brief assemblage of information, boxed and often presented distinctively different from the news or magazine article it accompanies. It explains or adds to an aspect of the article that would be bulky if presented in the body of the article. It could include something of factual additions, human-interest value or the listing of key information.

Slushpile – A pile (often located in the trash bin) for unsolicited manuscripts to a publisher.

Tearsheet – is another term for a sample of a writer’s published work. It's named for the tearing of the published work out of the newspaper or magazine, to be sent to a queried publisher.


About the Author
Pamela Occhino is an entrepreneur, presenter and freelance writer. In addition to writing business programs, training segments and presentations, she is a frequent contributor to her local newspaper’s personal essay column as well the writing trade. Her most recent publications include Fellow Script, Write From Home, Absolute Write and Writers Weekly. 


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Humor: Torment Behind the Art The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Humor: Torment Behind the Art

Edward L. Flaim

The Mystical Audience

At the conclusion of last month’s column, I indicated that we would address the concept of audience this month. Humor directed at the American Academy of Pornographic Artists would not play well before the National Conference of Bishops. Actually the concept of audience is simple. Whether you realize it or not, you know your audience. Think about this inherent knowledge while I try to distract you! Yes, for those of you have had any doubts, Ed is a cruel beast not of this planet. Hannibal Lechter required all of those security measures not to protect the public but to protect him from Ed, located in the adjacent cell.

In addressing the significance of audience in the creation of humor, I ostensibly focused on the differences between humor in the English-speaking nations of the United States, Canada, England and the Penal Colony of Australia.

I located repossessers of these nashuns by excreting the postings on WVU Boreds. The barbarian nations of Canada, England and Australia always misspelled "humor" as "humour." Only Americuns spilled humor correctively, which demunstraights our superiormess in righting words good! Dam! Doesn’t our interconnectivity shine dense through the English frog?? [For those who partook of too many cyber tokes, Bogarting same, misspellings and other errors intentional.]

We began to discuss humor and humour, trying to determine whether the spellings in and of themselves created a distinction between American humor and British and colonial humour. The "humour" devotees insisted that the greater numerical length of "humour" indicated that "humour" had greater content. I pointed out without much fervency that the additional "u" was most likely due to the blurred vision of some inebriate and remained that way as the British are traditionalists and merely started a new tradition to display their faux sophistication. However, it didn’t seem to be a point worth arguing.

The atmosphere soon changed. What began as a civil and mature academic discussion with these barbarians quickly degenerated into argument and cyber fisticuffs. We began as friends. We parted with cyber screams, vicious battles with cyber swords, guns, pots, pans, whatever was handy, and insults superbly illustrated by the less than witty representative of Great Britain stating, "Would you gentlemen and lady kindly insert it into your anal apertures?"

The demure, petite and extraordinarily beautiful female representative of the penal colony of Australia rose slowly and majestically from her chair and with the erudition expected from a woman of her stature and status screamed, "You wankers! I don't have a friggin’ 'it' to insert and I certainly wouldn't borrow any of yours, gents! Your opinions are like arseholes. Everyone has one and yours ain’t worth the bullshit they expel!"

The Canadian tossed his half cent into the ring. "Most of our citizens may still be learning to tie their shoelaces, but we did found Second City."

"And lost it!" said I, the only words I spoke that WVU will permit me to quote.

We fled from our desktop computers, grabbed our notebooks and fled to the nearest hot spots to reconvene our conversation.

"How did it go?" I asked my friends.

"You wanker!" responded my Aussie beauty, adding a ROFL to convey a nuance lacking in Internet communications. "That depends on whether the readers, if you have any readers, thought about your statement, that they already knew who their audience was."

"Yes, Ed," responded my British friend. "If they didn’t become entangled in our nonsense and focused on your truism, all is well."

My Canadian friend indicated with a LOL that his next statement was meant in jest. "We started Second City! I need comment no further!"

LOL all around, followed by disconnects. These vapid pustules abandoned me to fend for myself!

In "On Writing Well," William Zinsser addresses audience. He contends that if you have mastered the craft of writing, there is only one possible audience. You! In writing humor, fiction and non-fiction, we must realize, "You are writing for yourself. Don't try to visualize the great mass audience. There is no such audience—every reader is a different person.

Don’t try to guess what sort of thing editors want to publish or what you think the country is in a mood to read. Editors and readers don't know what they want to read until they read it."[1] Zinsser further conveys a concept I consider both profound and encouraging, especially when receiving negative critiques based not on mechanics but thoughts. "……..Whether the reader likes you, or likes what you are saying or how you are saying it, or agrees with it, or feels an affinity for your sense of humor or your vision of life, don't give him a moment’s worry. You are who you are, he is who he is, and either you'll get along or you won’t."[2]

Recently I was required to write a "How To" story to gain admission into a writing program. No, this was not a matchbook program but a reputable institution that actually rejects two-thirds of applicants planted beneath tombstones. Those at WVU who know me realize that I don’t even know how to find my ass. So I played on my imbecility and wrote "How to Escape the First Tee."

First, rent a gas-powered golf cart and remove the governor regulating speed. The experienced golfer is always prepared for a quick getaway from the First Tee.

Second, toss a new Titleist into the ball cleaning machine. It matters not that you just opened the box. You want to admire this costly little sucker, for it will never look the same again.

Third, grab a tee from your pocket. I recommend a black tee as it is most apropos for the dark experience awaiting you. Shove it into the ground.

Fourth, place the Titleist on the tee. Avoid gazing at your playing companions so they won’t detect the tears swelling in your eyes.

Fifth, pretend to be choosing a club. Look thoughtful, even though you know you will select a four wood. With this wood you at least have a chance of hitting the ball into the air. Avoid the temptation of choosing a driver unless you’re fond of watching a smiling ball roll fifteen yards down the fairway.

Sixth, approach the teed ball and take a practice swing. Notice how you don’t strike the ball. Get used to this feeling.

Seventh, address the ball, waggle the club a bit and swing. When you completely miss the ball, remain calm and convey the impression that this was your second practice swing.

Eighth, address the ball again, this time in prayer. Think, please let me hit the sucker, please, please, please!

Ninth, swing once again and watch your new Titleist shank towards the clubhouse, bouncing on the hard concrete before shattering the clubhouse window.

Tenth, run to your cart, floor the mother, abandon your companions, haul ass to the clubhouse and have your first of today’s many drinks.

Eleventh, call a cab, ask some semi-sober duffers to haul you to the cab, direct the cabbie to your home if you remember where it is and promise never to attempt this imbecilic game again.

This nonsense confirms Zissner’s contention that when writing, the writer is the primary audience. Admittedly I’m more than a bit biased. I believe that this article is mechanically correct and written in conformity with the rules of fiction inundated into me by the excellent facilitators, mentors and peers at WVU. People may disagree with my opinions, arguments and analyses but will find little wrong with the style of my writing. Many will accept my opinions. Others will reject them. But since I am my primary audience, I'm pleased with the results and only my opinion counts. Please don't interpret this statement as an unwillingness to accept criticism. The number of people I would have to credit for my few works that work would consume more space than the writing itself.

It does mean that if we write considering ourselves as the primary audience and we write well, the audience is there. Venturing into cliché, "If you build it, they will come."

All comments, criticisms and verbal executions are welcome. Please send to Ed@wvu.org. To make my life a bit easier, please place "Humor Column" in the subject line with a cyber toke.

[1] William Zinsser, "On Writing Well," pg. 25
[2] William Zissner, "On Writing Well," pg. 26


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Literary Lights The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Literary Lights

Priscilla Fagan

Part III The Elements of Fiction – Point of View

Point of view is the most complex element of fiction. Janet Burroway

One of the earliest fundamentals we are introduced to in fiction writing is point of view. I’ve said often, if you don’t know POV, learn it. You can’t be a successful writer without understanding viewpoint and its importance.
 
Gary Provost, Viewpoint is the place from which the reader views your story. If you imagine your story as a movie, then viewpoint is where you place the camera. Usually the camera is inside a character’s head, looking out through his eyes. He is the viewpoint character and the camera records what he sees, smells, hears, and tastes. But the viewpoint is an emotional camera, not a mechanical one, and when you choose a viewpoint you are also choosing what the viewpoint character feels, thinks, and believes.
 
Point of view comes in many forms. But, you really have three to choose from: first, second, or third person; me, you, or him/her. I’ll make it even easier; unless you’re Walter Cronkite, save the second person for your recipes. Choosing which form and sticking with it throughout the story is one of the author's obligations to the readers.
 
Head-hopping, going from one character’s thoughts to another’s without a transition,  will only lead to confusion.
 
Joel Rosenberg, Your point of view choice is also important in that the point of view affects how much the readers can believe in the story being told. A proper choice can lead to the willing suspension of disbelief. Getting our readers to pretend what they are reading is real is precisely what we, as writers, strive to attain, the ability not to remind the reader that our story is a string of lies.
 
I’ve touched on only the most common and basic aspects of choosing point of view. Yes, it can be confusing, especially when you throw in ‘omniscient’, ‘subjective’, ‘objective’, etc., etc. But, I can’t stress it enough, POV is one of the, if not the most, important elements to learn and learn well when writing fiction.
 
Priscilla, the eternal optimist


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Tips to Jumpstart Your Writing

Suzan L. Wiener

How To Find Out If Your Work Is Accepted—Immediately

Do you wait with great anticipation to find out if your work has been accepted or rejected when the mail finally arrives? Do you tear open the envelope only to find it's been rejected once again? This won't be stress-filled if you follow this method. On the bottom right corner of your self-addressed, stamped envelope, simply mark as shown:

Acceptance ____


Rejection ____
Most editors will check the correct one for you. This way, you know at a glance which envelopes should be opened first and the rejections can be opened later when you are more relaxed.

For me, this method is fast and efficient. It's a way of knowing immediately whether you have something to be excited about. It will help you, too.


About the Author
Suzan L. Wiener has had numerous poems, stories, writing articles and fillers published in national publications such as T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine, Canadian Writer's Journal, Riverrun, Impetus, Saturday Evening Post, Poetry Press, Verses.


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Poetics Presents

Patricia Lange

Patricia Lange was born in the USA and is now a Canadian citizen living in a friendly town near Ottawa, Canada's capital.  She says, "Everything I am, everything I do—wife, mother, grandmother, medical assistant, painter, musician—contribute to the 'me' that is a poet." She is a member of the Canadian Poetry Association and a new student at WVU.  She has written poetry all of her life.

Turtle Beach

I glide
without effort through
the feeding grounds
leaving soft fields of algae
and seaweed to sway
in my wake

Disturbed youngsters
hide in the sodden fronds
that float like jelly
nannies grooming them
into seaworthy
adolescents

I wait
offshore for darkness
conserving energy, treading
receding waves filled
with tumbling grains
of white sand

My experience
does not ease the shock
of this clumsy ascent
to the nesting place
where I carefully
deposit the future

Copyright ©2004 by Patricia Lange




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Drabble Corner

Michelle Swisz

"Listen to the pouring rain" is the title of this month's Drabble—a romance by Tantri K. Orr.

Listen to the pouring rain

"Oh, is that it?" she asks, reaching for the envelope.

"Yes," he replies his fingers holding it down, almost touching hers.

Glancing down, she pulls her hand away.

"You don’t have to be like that, you know me better than that; I get pissed off when you say you’re here for one thing and you mean another."

"Yeah," he says, "I know."

Rain pours outside in blackness.

For a moment all he can see, hear and feel is memory, sweet, beautiful, warm, funny, like it was right now.

He closes the door softly. She picks up the envelope. Still raining.

Having an interesting (at least my hair stylist thinks so) love life, interesting as in the curse. "May you live in interesting times," may be good for my writing, I hope, even if it does drive me bananas.

One thing it's making me ask myself is, how do we go about working our hearts? I mean, is it best to simply let what happens in love happen? He wants to move in together—just do it? Or she wants to break up—don't resist? But what if we can't seem to help but want closeness that isn't happening; does that mean it's best that the closeness not happen? What if something is in the way that is best taken out of the way? Something inside yourself, that is—something that at the moment keeps you from further opening your heart.

Hearts melt. I don't want to add now to what has been written on that theme. What I am thinking of is letting your heart open up just that bit more where it is stuck without in the process letting it get so gooey and sticky that it seems you can't ever again pull your feet out of the muck that spilled out. That is, without pouring your whole life into the other person's life. No one can take in someone else's whole life. In the beginning, it's fun to like country music for the first time in your life because you've fallen in love with someone who does. But you can't expect to feel the same way about their stamp collection or expect them to be enthusiastic about or even tolerate going to action films or chick flicks. What they can't and won't absorb of endless merging just gets spilled out as muck on the floor. So one must open up without pouring endless muck all over the place.

Can we love (and live) without shutting each other out or attacking each other when we get hurt, on the one hand, or without opening so much so fast that we overstep our own boundaries and get excruciatingly stuck in the muck (and risking the relationship itself in the process of getting unstuck), on the other hand?

Here is our theme for November: loving well. Let's do this as a story, like last month's (rather than as an essay about the theme).

Here are the Guidelines again, and the address to send submissions: drabble@wvu.org. To summarize the guidelines: 100 words exactly, with title not included in the word count. The piece is due on the 10th of the month before the column with that theme comes out—so submissions for How Love Works are due by November 10.

See you next month.


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Recognitions

Joan McNulty Pulver

Welcome to Recognitions, a column designed to celebrate the writing successes of Writers' Village University members!

Deana Hoover won an e-book contract with her novel, Sing to the Moon, in the Easy Way to Write 2004 New Novel Contest published by Magellan Books. Her novel is a story reminiscent of books like Watership Down or Animal Farm. Told from the perspective of a pack of wild coyotes whose survival is in jeopardy, they face the elements of nature while greed and arrogance of some individuals cause hardship for many.

“I entered the contest in order to have a deadline and push myself to finish my novel. I never really believed I would win an e-book contract. I assumed that when the contest was over, I could then start sending out queries. When I opened the email announcing the winners and saw my name on the list, I read it twice to be sure. Then I ran across the house, jumping up and down (in a dignified manner) and told my husband in a singsong voice while doing a little dance (also quite dignified).”

Deana loves the written word and wrote adventure stories when she was growing up. Because of a neurological illness, Deana had to quit her job as a sign language interpreter. She decided to reinvent herself. “Just because I couldn’t work a forty-hour week didn’t mean I was going to give up. I knew there was something in me I could contribute. I knew how to tell stories, but I became determined to learn more about the craft of writing.”

About two years ago, her brother recommended she join Writers’ Village University, where he was already a member. Deana said she fell in love with the format and was hooked right away. She quickly gained practical experience in POV, self-editing, and other subjects every writer needs to understand. Deana also volunteers as a facilitator at WVU. “I have taken so many of the classes and eventually became involved in facilitating. I love that, too. I never could have learned as much for the price anywhere else. I am interested in comedy writing, column writing, novels, mysteries, and science fiction/fantasy. I’m able to apply the lessons I learned at WVU to all of my writing and am not limited to one area.”

Visit Deana at her website at http://deanahoover.150m.com to see how this talented author spends her free time, painting mainly in oils but also watercolor and acrylics, in addition to her writing. Her artwork is featured in an anthology of short horror stories called Adumbra, published by Magellan Books, which also includes her short story, "Cabin on the Bayou," due out soon.

“I find a lot of inspiration for my writing comes from opening my eyes and seeing what is around me. It often correlates to painting. A painting is a representation of the reality, the essence of truth. Fiction is the same way. It’s an image that reflects truth.”

James Hall’s pantoum about military life, “The Raid,” will appear in the November 2004 issue of Dana Literary Society’s Online Journal. This is the third month in a row one of his submissions has been accepted for publication and the 17th time in three years his writing has been accepted by this prestigious journal.

A high school teacher for thirteen years, he moved on to design, develop and implement software for the Federal Judicial Center before joining the corporate world. He then said goodbye to all this, becoming a police reporter for a small daily newspaper, finally settling on working as a freelance writer with two published books to his credit.

Jim, as he is known to his friends at Writers’ Village University, facilitates P103 Poetry Workshop at least twice each year. He enjoys writing lyric poetry, haiku and related forms. A lifetime WVU member, Jim's other publishing successes appeared in the Renegade Writers, North America Review, Möbius, The Formalist, Touchstone (a now-defunct annual anthology), Footprints, The Eleventh Muse (a monthly publication of Poetry West, temporarily out of service) and Cicada. Find out more about Jim at his website at http://jhall.4mg.com/index1.htm.

Congratulations, Deana and Jim. We wish you continued success in all of your writing endeavors and thank you for sharing your information with us.

We look forward to reading about your writing accomplishments in this column. If you or someone you know received recognition for writing, please send the information to recognitions@wvu.org. Let us know!


About the Author
Born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, Joan McNulty Pulver moved to Florida about 30 years ago and decided to stay. She has five children (two girls and three boys) and five grandchildren (four boys and one girl). An Administrative Secretary for the State of Florida, she plans to retire in about seven years and then start her real career, writing. Joan hopes to have at least one novel finished and published by that time. She does a little volunteer work here at WVU and enjoys this community of writers. "I have learned so much here and like helping others learn along with me."


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Signs of Life

Nancy L. Horner

Lobster Tales

Most Americans have probably managed to discover a truck stop or hole-in-the-wall dive where the food is almost as unbearably delicious as the interior is lacking in ambience. We were lucky enough to find one of those places, purely by chance, on the third day of our vacation in Maine.

Tucked up against the waterfront, with lobster boats bobbing near its back, the restaurant looked more like a warehouse than an eating establishment. It was, quite honestly, butt ugly. We walked past the open door of the plain, gray-metal building after attempting to visit a nearby museum. Since the museum was locked for remodeling, we settled on a walk to the picturesque waterfront, completely overlooking a sign that declared fresh lobster could be bought and steamed on the spot.

On the way back to our car, however, David screeched to a halt when he saw the small, painted signboard. “Hey,” he said. “Fresh lobster by the pound. We haven’t had any lobster, yet.”

I looked dubiously at the list of foods available, feeling the moist heat waft through the doorway. “But, we just ate a couple hours ago.”

“We didn’t have much,” he replied. “You have to eat lobster in Maine; it just wouldn’t be right not to.”

Not entirely convinced, I got an earful of how important it was to let the kids experience new things. Okay, yes, that worked. Far be it for me to stunt the growth of my children.

I followed the family inside and then sidled off down a hallway to find the restroom. If I was going to help eat a lobster, I preferred not to see the fellow alive before he died for our benefit.

David was positively giddy with excitement when I emerged and followed him outside. “I got a huge one, a two-pounder,” he said. “You should have seen it!”

The eating area, amazingly, was uglier than the bland opposite side of the building. Painted wooden picnic tables, gray and peeling, were topped with maps beneath clear plastic covers. A handful of tables sat beneath a rippled metal overhang that protected patrons from rain but little else. The rest, including our table of choice, sat exposed to the elements.

Since we had to wait while the lobster was cooking, I walked to the back side of the store and snapped off photos of dead fish on ice, colorful boats, a gull on a pier and two men in bright, rubber overalls passing lobsters back and forth. Why the lobsters were going from hand to hand in opposite directions rather than being unloaded one way, I couldn’t imagine. I returned to the table, told David I’d witnessed a new sport called “Lobster Passing” and put the lens cap on my camera. He politely ignored me.

The lobster arrived around the time I came to the conclusion that I was going to turn into a popsicle if I had to sit out in the sharp breeze much longer. A cold, misty rain had begun to sting our faces and our youngest son, William, pointed at my arm, giggling about the goose bumps. We could have moved to the covered area, but decided that when in Maine you should sit in the rain and shiver. The concept of cold just seemed to go with the territory and eating fresh seafood for warmth made sense.

William amused us by ravenously eating the vast majority of the lobster meat and then playing with the lobster’s immense claw. Seagulls flew overhead or landed nearby, paper napkins threatened to blow away, and an occasional boat motor sputtered to life. We all agreed we’d found a special place to eat seafood in an authentic Maine atmosphere.

On the way home to Mississippi, several days later, we had a lengthy layover in Boston. Our day had already been a long one, thanks to an early morning packing and perusing the Portland Public Market, followed by a delayed departure. We were starving and bored, so we headed to the seafood restaurant inside the airport to fill the time and our stomachs.

William was thrilled to find that the children’s menu offered a half-lobster plate. After his first lobster experience, he was so completely hooked on lobster that we’d already had to remind him numerous times that lobster was too expensive to eat daily.

After finishing a bowl of lobster bisque, I turned to Will. He’d abandoned his meal and was happily reading.

“Did you finish your lobster?” I asked him.

Will set his book down, picked up the lobster by its tail and said, “I think he’s dead, Jim.” The rest of us laughed so hard it’s a wonder we didn’t fall out of our seats.

Upon our return, I told an acquaintance that we’d just returned from Maine. “I went to Maine for lobster, once,” he told me. “My wife and I were in Boston for a conference and we decided to drive over to Maine. They told me where I could find the best place that served lobster, so we drove there and stood in line for over an hour. It was a fancy restaurant and the food was good but we like to froze our tails off. Wasn’t worth it.”

I knew exactly what that fancy restaurant was missing, after our recent experiences eating seafood in Maine. The cold was dead on, but lobster in Maine is best served right by the water with the wind in your face and seagulls dipping to the ground for scraps, with steam clouds billowing out of a metal door and men in overalls nearby, laughing as they hand each other lobsters. The colder you are, the better the food tastes; china and napkins aren’t reality. Chilly air and warm seafood are life in Maine; and that life is good.


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Writer's Read

Wynelda-Ann Deaver

The Ghost Of Reviews Past


I’m not going to be using a specific book this month but will be relying on the ghost of reviews past. Instead of reviewing a book, I want to talk a bit about form and function in writing. It is a topic I’ve seen crop up several times lately in WVU, and one that I have not seen in many books about writing.

I have, however, witnessed it in the fiction and memoirs that I’ve read.

Conventional wisdom states that you must follow the rules in order to find success. But if that is the case, then why did a book that broke almost every rule (A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius) end up on the Pulitzer short-list? How did Ahab’s Wife, or the Star Gazer pull the reader into its story despite shifts in time, tense and perspective?

I can’t speak for the authors who wrote the books I mentioned above, I can only give you my opinion as to how they seamlessly accomplished experimental forms. They may have outlined, perhaps wrote two or three versions of the same story. However they accomplished it, the finished version of the stories flowed easily and organic.

So how do we accomplish the same thing? The same way we get to Carnegie Hall:

Practice, practice, practice.

Is it better to write 10,000 words that you have to throw out because they don’t work, or is it better to not try at all? (Before you get twitchy with me, yes, I have thrown out whole chunks of novels that didn’t work.) Trying something that doesn’t work does not make a failure. It simply narrows the field.

So how do you know when a form, especially an experimental one or one that breaks the rules, is working? There is the gut feeling, the one that pumps your blood every time you fire up the computer. If it’s there, then you know that something is working. And there is also reader response. Do your readers say that they are confused? That the text lost them? Or do they say, “I loved this but noticed that you broke this rule…” As writers giving feedback, WVU group members often will comment on things like this. If you are posting an experimental form, make sure to state it before posting, and ask the group if it works on the whole. And if they still point it out? My study group in WVU has a great caveat on all of our feedback: Take what you can use, feel free to toss the rest.

Just remember that it is, finally, your story to tell. It is up to you to choose the form, whether you care to fracture a time line or have the muse speak directly to the author. Whether the form is a failure or a success, you still need to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and write it.


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Fiction Short Story

by Frances Fanning

Dance of the Heart

I paused at the entrance to the performing arts studio. As I pulled a strand of hair out from under the strap of my shoulder bag, the heel from one of the heavy cleated shoes shifted inside the bag and hit me in the hip. I raised my hand to my ear to feel for the hammered silver hoops I bought so many years ago after watching my first flamenco dance performance. My body still ached to be one of those powerful dancers, stomping out their wild passions to the strum of guitars and the audience shouts of “Ole!”

Confounded by my inhibitions, I felt like a captive in my own body. My desire to learn new things is forever careening off track and hitting the wall of my fears. I dismissed all those regrets that seemed to pile on in mid-life quicker than calories from an ice cream sundae, and entered the building. Searching for the room, I heard a thunderous roar like horses in full gallop. Walking toward the clamor, I opened the door and heard a booming voice call out, “Hello there, I am Lisa. Who are you?”

I peered into the small, steamy room and saw a diminutive woman with hawk eyes that studied my frame. She had raven-colored hair that was piled loosely on top of her head and held fast with a large tortoise-shell comb. She wore a tightly fitted bodice, and her voluminous skirt, the color of Mexican pottery, seemed to swallow up her tiny frame as she spoke.

Paying no attention to my apparent muteness at ignoring her question, Lisa told me that while the class was advertised as being for beginners, they had been meeting for over a year and earlier in the morning than announced, but I was welcome to join them. “We were all beginners once,” she announced, sweeping her arm in the direction of the students whose icy stares and buzz of disapproval for interrupting the class were a dubious welcome.

I rocked on my toes, propelled back to the safety of an easy retreat, then forward to this bird woman who would teach me the ways of the Gitana. Gulping back my fear, I decided to stay. A stocky woman, whose blond hair was streaked with gray, pointed to a corner of the room and whispered to me in a thick Spanish accent that I should get changed. I slipped into the long black ruffled skirt that was required for the elegant fandangos and flirtatious bulerias and shimmied out of my jeans. Strapping on my shoes with the nail inserts in the toes and heels, I was mesmerized by the melodic sound of my own feet as I walked to where the blond had made room for me in the front of the class. On the other side of her stood a much younger woman who chewed gum and yawned when I walked by her, lazily shifting her weight from one hip to the other. Unlike most of the other students, she was wearing a tight fitting skirt that was slit up the side and fell just below her knees. Her stomach bobbed out from her elastic waistline like a fish wriggling out of a bucket. “Irma, what did I tell you about chewing gum in class, and stand up straight,” Lisa snarled as the young woman pulled up her skirt. “The hands are as important as the feet when dancing flamenco.”

Lisa began, standing with her back to us while dramatically lifting her arms over her head and rotating her hands, first with an outward motion, leading with the index finger, then inward, leading with the pinkie. I gazed intently into the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in front of me. My fingers flowed sensuously as waves of tension streamed out of my body, like a silk rebozo slipping from my shoulders. I grinned. Lisa, who had been watching me in the mirror, grinned also.

“Now we will practice some basic steps. There are only three. Watch my feet.” She scooped up her skirt and wrapped it around her like frozen custard swirling into a cone. Then she secured the end of the skirt behind her, tucking it into her waistband. She nodded to one of the students who hit a button on the wheezy tape player that sat on a rickety table next to where she stood.  Lisa shouted, “Aye!” and her tiny feet hammered into the wooden floor like a jackhammer on a concrete sidewalk. A blinding panic overtook me, and I looked into the mirror to assure myself that I had not fainted.

As Lisa broke down the steps for my benefit, I wrenched my fears inside out until they turned to determination. I blinked back tears and saw my mother and myself dancing to a Patsy Cline song and singing “Sweet Dreams of You” at full throttle, her sense of rhythm being one of the few life skills that dementia had not yet taken from her. Fear seems meaningless to me now, as senseless as the reasons we allow to grow along the path of our lives that obscure the vision of our dreams. My mother has lost all memory of her fears. She lives completely in the moment. Maintaining her dignity is all that sustains her now.

“Plante, tacon, golpe. Toe, heel, stomp,” Lisa is calling now. “Again, toe, heel, and stomp. Harder! Toe, heel, stomp! Muy bien, muy bien!” Lisa shouted to me triumphantly.

My stomps had the ferocity of a two-year-old taking a temper tantrum. I arched my back and jutted out my chin in the posture of la Gitana. As the rumba grew in intensity, so did my resolve to continue. My life, like an ephemeral soap bubble, could only contract or expand with the challenges with which I fill it.

The class ended and the women shimmied out of their skirts and packed away their dance shoes. A few with names like Giselle and Clarita stopped to introduce themselves. Others smiled their encouragement to me as they left. Lisa approached me. “You have nothing to worry about. Do you know why? You dance with your body and with Corazon,” she said thumping her heart. “Don’t think about it,” she reiterated, poking at her forehead with her index finger. “Your mind only gets in the way.”

Lisa’s astute advice has stayed with me since that first class. I have learned what Lorca called Duende, the soul force of flamenco. I replaced self-consciousness and regret with a life force of unhampered emotion and instinct in everything I do. I live in the moment now, just like Mom.

Copyright © 2004 Frances Fanning


About the Author
Knowing in my heart that I was always a writer, I took the circuitous path of the insecure artist through many other professions. Not pursuing one's dream is akin to receiving a beautifully wrapped present, but never opening it. Having opened my writing talents to the universe, I have been rewarded with a career that I thoroughly enjoy and made new friends who have been touched and inspired by my work.


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Fiction Short Story

by Susanne Shaphren

First Day Of School

Five times, we've gone through this ritual. Brand new clothes and a special lunch box. Waffles made from scratch and snapshots for the scrapbook.

Benjy's big brothers stopped by over the weekend to bring him little gifts and whisper advice that Mom wasn't supposed to hear. Jeffrey called from Hong Kong to deliver the traditional lecture about paying attention to the teacher and making the most of this wonderful opportunity to learn.

Big sister Kate insisted on coming this morning on her way to work. She'd better hurry. It's almost time.

Just this once, the breakfast dishes will be left to soak in the sink. I have a million things to do today, but first and most important on the list is walking Benjy to school. Making sure he's comfortably started on the lifetime adventure of learning. Thank goodness, his teacher said it would be fine if he got there early.

Kate hurries in just as I'm about to give up on her. "Sorry, Mom. Traffic was awful."

She gives Benjy a big hug and Spiderman pencils.

"This is for you, Mom, from Dad and the guys and me. Just a little something to remind you how very proud we are of you for not letting anything stand in the way of your dream."

The briefcase is as soft as a baby's kiss, smells just like all those leather-bound books in my father's office. Nobody will ever know I'd planned to carefully tuck my folders in a grocery bag.

And no one will ever know how many years it took to get my degree. Correspondence courses in those early years when I was working to help make ends meet. Night classes when Jeffrey could watch the babies. Once Benjy was out of diapers and in pre-school, I finished my credits in classrooms with students half my age.

Benjy hesitates at the classroom door, carefully looks around to be sure nobody is watching. Gives me a kiss on the cheek.

Two more short blocks to walk. Plenty of time. New briefcase in hand, I carefully unlock the door. Take a quick look around to be sure I haven't forgotten anything important.

Suddenly, the room is full. I carefully print my name on the board, turn to welcome my students to our first day of school.

Copyright © 2004 Susanne Shaphren


About the Author
The author is a native of Phoenix, Arizona. Her first nationally published fiction was a Fiction Award Story in Weight Watchers (in the good old days when they printed fiction.) This story, "First Day of School," first appeared in Short Stuff Magazine. Susanne's articles and fiction have appeared in an eclectic alphabet soup of print and online venues including: Authorship, Adventure Fiction Online, Better Communication, Children's Playmate, Dana Literary Society Online Journal, Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine, Monthly Short Stories, and The Writer. "Arrangements" appears in Mystery Writers of America Presents Show Business is Murder.


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Fiction Short Story

by Shirley McCann

His Just Reward

"Oh, Mr. Todd, I can't thank you enough for bringing Pooky home." Gladys Grayson opened the door of her small house, her blue eyes moist with tears, as she nuzzled her nose against another small dog. "Poor Glitzy and I have been worried sick!"

Mick Todd stroked the tiny animal's silky fur and feigned empathy, as he returned the dog to its rightful owner. “Well, I know Pooky is glad to be home himself," he said. "I shudder to think what it would be like for this little fellow if he wound up in some isolated pen at an animal shelter. All kinds of bad things can happen to lost or neglected animals in this town.”

Mrs. Grayson narrowed her eyes as she hugged both animals to her chest. "Well, Pooky certainly isn't neglected," she responded defensively. "I can't imagine how he escaped from the back yard."

Mick quickly amended his words. "I didn't mean to suggest that your pets are neglected, Mrs. Grayson. Why, anyone can see how much you adore these little animals. I'll bet they're treated like one of the family."

Mrs. Grayson's eyes softened. "Yes, they are," she answered. She kissed both dogs on the head before placing them onto the plush carpet. "Now let's see, Mr. Todd, I owe you a reward. One hundred dollars, I believe?"

Mick hung his head. "I feel guilty accepting money for doing something like this," he lied. "Seeing you and Pooky together is really reward enough."

Mrs. Grayson ignored the remark and reached for her pocketbook. "Nonsense, Mr. Todd. Like you said, there are all kinds of terrible things that could have happened to Pooky if you hadn't rescued him. I insist you take this money."

Mick smiled sheepishly and collected his eighth reward of the week. Who needed a nine-to-five job when he had the perfect scam? Truthfully, he couldn't stand animals, but there was definitely money to be made returning these annoying creatures to their rightful owners. Especially when some of them were willing to shell out big bucks for the safe return of their furry canine friends.

Mick folded himself into his fancy sports car and started the engine. Six months ago, he'd been working for minimum wage cleaning cages at a pet store, when he'd come up with the idea to go into business for himself.

His crusade had started legitimately enough. The bulletin boards were constantly filled with frantic pet owners willing to risk any amount for the safe return of their beloved animals. Mick had simply scanned the flyers at work, along with the local newspapers and various other outlets, for word of lost animals, but he'd soon discovered that most of those animals were not that easy to locate. It didn't take him long to realize that in order to make this new venture profitable, he'd need to corner the market.

Donning different wigs and disguises, Mick would visit several pet stores in the area, feigning interest in purchasing a particular breed of animal in order to strike up friendly conversations with unsuspecting pet owners. Many times without realizing it, people would offer information about their neighborhoods, making it easy for Mick to locate them.

From time to time, he'd also peruse busy parking lots for dogs whose owners had left them inside vehicles while they made a quick stop at a convenience store. Wielding a juicy chunk of meat, Mick would gently open the door and coax the animals out.

After delivering Pooky, Mick returned home and picked up the last of the stolen dogs from the pen he kept out back, and made his final return of the day.

Mick's general routine consisted of spending the weekdays perusing the neighborhoods he'd heard about, coaxing dogs from back yards and parked cars, and then returning them on weekends when the papers were filled with promises of hefty rewards. This particular weekend he'd done extremely well, collecting over $1,000 in compensation.

On Monday, Mick resumed his quest for priceless animals. As customary he spent the afternoon exploring prospective neighborhoods and parked vehicles until he had a respectable quota for the day.

Less than one hour after his last pickup, Mick was at his kitchen table sipping coffee when he heard a knock at his door. He opened the door to find a uniformed policeman, along with the woman he recognized as Mrs. Grayson, on his front porch.

"You!" Mrs. Grayson's eyes bulged with recognition.

The officer narrowed his eyes. "Sir, my aunt has reason to believe her dog may be on your premises. Mind if we have a look around?"

Mrs. Grayson didn't wait for an answer. "Don't bother to deny it," she snapped. "After Pooky wound up missing, I wasn't about to take any more chances. Right after you returned Pooky I had both of my precious animals equipped with one of those new GPS tracking chips for locating missing pets. As soon as I got back to my car this afternoon and discovered Glitzy missing, all I had to do was activate the system in order to find out where she was."

As if on cue, a chorus of dogs yelped cries of liberation. Shoving Mick aside, Mrs. Grayson followed the ruckus to the caged animals in the back yard.

She turned to her nephew, her eyes moist. "Pooky was being punished for running away, so I left him at home while I did my shopping this morning. But now I see it wasn't his fault at all."

She shot Mick a barbarous look, her once appreciative eyes replaced with venom. "You seemed so concerned about my animals winding up in a pen at the animal shelter when you returned Pooky for the reward money."

The officer put a hand on his aunt's shoulder. "Well, as they say, Aunt Gladys, what goes around, comes around."

He turned to Mick and read him his rights. "Now you can witness first hand what it's like to spend your days in a pen."

Copyright © 2004 Shirley McCann


About the Author
Shirley McCann's fiction has appeared in Woman's World, Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Orchard Press Mysteries, and T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine. She lives in Springfield, Missouri with her husband and two children.


T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
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Fiction Short Story The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Fiction Short Story

by Bruce K. Derksen

When Parker Meets April

Parker met April in a Chicago pub after the local band played their last set for the evening and were packing up their instruments. Earlier his friends had called it a night and left him sitting alone at the long polished mahogany bar to enjoy his last vodka. That was when she sat down on the stool next to him. He watched her for a time in the full-length mirror behind the bar, trying not to be obvious. A trick as old as mirrors themselves but perfectly accepted by both sexes.

She was tall and thin with long shiny black hair that gleamed magically in the varied lighting of the bar. It spilled softly over the perfectly filled bright red evening dress with spaghetti straps over the tanned shoulders. Beneath the short line of the dress he admired her shapely crossed legs, muscled to a degree of perceived perception. These he inspected with casual glances about the bar and peeks out of the corner of his eye.

She smiled coyly at him as he slid a napkin toward her to wipe the sweat from the bar top where her chilled drink had met the warmth of the wood. After a few minutes he was certain she was alone and casually struck up a conversation. First they chatted about the weather, local politics, choices in entertainment, all of which she had a solid grasp.

Three hours and several vodkas later the talk turned to what she would do to him when they got to his apartment.

"I love a man that I can train," she whispered as she stuck her tongue in his ear while tugging open his jeans in his bedroom that night.

April made an exquisite bride. Hair, black as night massed high, creamy white gown contrasted against her coppered skin. The dress had been imported from somewhere in Europe, he thought. Parker hadn't paid attention after his pleas for a small wedding had fallen on deaf or indifferent ears. Daddy was bankrolling the big event and the word small was just not in his vocabulary. He made his fortune early in life and was now a big shot in the rapidly emerging memory swipe business. He spent most of his days informing everyone just how he had climbed the ladder of success.

The first sign of trouble came at the reception. Bridesmaid number five dropped a flower from her hairpiece and Parker picked it from the floor and helped her pin it back in place. Personally, he wanted only one attendant but had been willing to deal up to two if necessary. As a last resort he would agree to three. They settled on six. He had to dip deep into his pool of friends to find six guys to stand up for him. Numbers five and six had to be reminded of just who he was when he phoned to ask them.

Anyway, the new bride had watched the flower fastening and snapped. A mixture of too much alcohol and not enough food brought on a fit of jealousy and a torn bridesmaid dress and scattered hairpiece flowers sent number five packing and groom heeling.

Two weeks into the marriage, April began a spending spree. First she spent every last cent he had saved on a new wardrobe. Then she started to complain about how little he actually made at his job and that they were living in poverty. Then she applied for and received new credit cards in Parker's name, listing Daddy as a reference. She promptly worked at filling these to capacity.

He began to have brief panic attacks. Instead of rushing home to his beautiful bride after a long day of work, he made up excuses and started to stay later. Bridesmaid number three mysteriously appeared at his work-sites and flirted with him. Three weeks later he accepted her offers and began a secret affair. His wife had earlier started her own affair with his best man, although not as secretively as his. In a way he was quietly happy about this, since she would now pay less attention to him.

One night when he arrived home earlier than usual, he walked in on the two of them in his own bed. His friend dressed and left while Parker packed his suitcases. April alternately cried and begged his forgiveness and screamed profanities at him about how he would never amount to anything. Not like her father.

As he pushed past her in the hallway with his bags, she pleaded with him not to leave, promising him anything, trying in vain to open his pants as he walked out the door. Finally realizing her seductions were not having the desired effect, she shrieked at him to go and never come back, hurling a shoe at him.

It was more than he could take. He filed for divorce the next day, a broken and depressed man. When bridesmaid number three heard he left his wife, she quickly dropped him as well. He was once again very alone.

The divorce legal proceedings did not go well. Snappy dressed lawyer man hired by daddy was cream of the crop and squashed Parker's sorry ass with motion after motion. April brought charges of physical and mental abuse against him and the combination of her flashing eyelashes, significant cleavage, and Harvard body soon had the crotchety judge ready to cream his robes and marry the obviously mistreated beauty himself. Garnishing Parker's wages for the rest of his miserable life would not be enough to satisfy the court and he was shamefully forced to accept a second job working in her father's employ to supplement his payments to her. At the time, the ruling had been crushing to his already stomped-on ego, but later it turned out to be a saving grace. Ex-father-in-law was the money behind the fad that had been sweeping the America's for the last three years. Scientists and neurosurgeons had combined their expertise into an operation that wiped selective parts of the brain controlling a person's memory. It became possible to clear away most recent recollections and work back in time erasing as you went. A fresh start in life without the abuses or boredom was apparently now available to anyone wealthy enough to afford it. It became a fashion statement to wipe small amounts of personal memory away as many times as was feasible. April had tried it on several occasions herself before she met Parker. He, being of middle class upbringing, had not the opportunities to make use of it, and unfortunately for him now, he was even more broke and destitute.

His loving ex-father-in-law saved a special job just for him. Cleaning the technician's washrooms at the clinic. For a time he did his best to do the work with a reasonably good attitude, but he found that just being there he could think of nothing else but his former wife. He'd be plunging out a finicky toilet and he'd see April's face in the bowl, or he'd be mopping out the showers and he'd see her reflection on the shiny floor. Soon he knew he must take drastic action if he was ever to be rid of her presence.

The technician in training was a plain young woman who, like most people of lower self-esteem, yearned for someone to show her affection. Being an affable man, Parker summoned up his last shreds of motivation and fawned a multitude of affections on her. He worried he was so over the top with his attentions that she would find him out but so starved was she that in time he managed to bring her into his confidences. One day after work hours when the staff had all left for the day, she strapped him into the machine and scrubbed his mind. He left that night with a new and positive attitude. His old constraints remained in place but he began to go about his daily living with a renewed vigor.

Six months later he sat in his favorite Chicago bar nursing a vodka, congratulating himself on the route his new life had taken. New friends from work had earlier called it a night and left him to finish his drink. He listened to the band play and decided to order one last nightcap.

Parker met April after they played their last set of the evening and were packing up their instruments. He watched her for a time in the full-length mirror behind the bar so as not to be obvious. She was tall and thin with long shiny black hair that gleamed in the smoky lighting of the bar. A tight yellow evening dress hugged her curvaceous body and amplified the dark tan of her skin.

"I love a man I can train," she whispered as she stuck her tongue in his ear while he put the key in his apartment door later that night.

Yeah, his life was definitely on the upswing.

Copyright © 2004 Bruce K. Derksen


About the Author
Bruce K. Derksen makes his living working full-time in the livestock health industry. After his normal day ends, he becomes a novice carpenter making barnwood furniture to sell. Four active sons and a wonderful supportive wife round out a lively and diverse family life. If on the odd chance at the end of the day he has an ounce of available energy left, he might collapse into the computer chair and bang out a few more words on his latest story.


T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
http://TheWritersEzine.com
Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved
Submissions Guidelines The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

Submissions Guidelines (Updated)

Until further notice, only plain text submissions in the body of the email will be considered.
NO ATTACHMENTS.

What We Pay For

Fiction: Stories should be of interest to writers in general, not just a narrow group.

Fiction should be submitted to fiction@thewritersezine.com. Payment starts at $15.00.

If considered for publication, you will be asked to return an email agreement including your name and address.

Craft Features: Queries about Craft features should be sent to nonfiction@thewritersezine.com.

Payment starts at $15.00, and, if considered, you will be sent an email agreement to fill out and return.

Poetry: Due to the large number of recent poetry submissions, a temporary hold on further poetry submissions is in place until early 2008.

Please do not email us to ask what we pay for in other categories. When we can add to our list, we will include it in these guidelines.

What We Publish

Original short fiction, poetry, and non-fiction, particularly non-fiction related to the craft of writing and interviews.

For fiction we prefer something with a plot and resolution. If we like the main character, we are more likely to accept the story. If the main character has a problem to resolve or has to make a choice, that's conflict, and we love conflict! Too many writers confuse conflict with fight scenes. Don't be one of them. Give us a protagonist who acts, makes choices no matter how hard they are to solve his or her dilemma, not a wimp who drifts along and has to be rescued.

Non-fiction should be related to the craft of writing or be good resource material for writers. Accuracy and originality are vital. No reprints. If it has already been published somewhere else, our readers will spot it and let us know.

What We Won't Publish

Anything that inspires "hate," is defamatory or is pornographic.

Simultaneous submissions.

Material that has appeared elsewhere (reprints).

Seasonal material submitted during the same month (i.e., a Christmas story in December). Our lead time is short compared to print publications, but we do need time to edit, html and proof submission. A good guideline is to submit the manuscript by the first of the preceding month (i.e., submit a Christmas story before November 1st).

Length Recommendations

  • For Fiction, under 1500 words is preferred. We will consider excerpts from longer works.

  • Poetry should fit on one printed page if possible. A maximum of five poems may be submitted at one time (when the hold is lifted).

  • Non-fiction or Craft features have the most leeway in word count. In general these manuscripts should be 750 to 2,000 words. We like to take advantage of the hypertext capabilities we have available and link to charts, graphs, lists and so forth. Thumbnail versions may be included in the body of the article.

Rights

All rights other than first electronic, non-exclusive 'anthology' (for collections of T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine works only), and non-exclusive archival rights (we keep back issues online) are and remain the sole and exclusive property of the author.

Formats We Will Accept

Plain text in the body of an email.

T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine is an HTML publication. This gives us access to a variety of options but it is also a limiting factor.

  • Underlining is used exclusively for links in HTML. Please do not underline in your manuscript. It you are including a link to a webpage for reference, please mark the link the following way: (WEB LINK) http://thewritersezine.com (END WEB LINK).
  • The less than (<) and greater than (>) signs are used to enclose HTML encoding. If you need to use brackets, please use the square [ ] ones instead.
  • Paragraph indentation requires time consuming insertion of multiple HTML symbols. Please separate paragraphs by inserting a hard, blank line between them.
  • Fonts need to be simple. No multiple fonts. We prefer standard fonts such as Times New Roman, Courier or Arial set at 12 point. If your subject matter requires something else, ask us first.
  • The curly (smart) quotes, apostrophes, the em dash (two hyphens together) and ellipsis … (three periods) become strange and exotic characters when copied from your word processor into email. Check your preferences or options to see if you can use straight quotes. 
  • Text formatting such as bold, italic, centering, bullet list, etc., should be noted in the text by using all caps in parentheses. For example, if you wanted to italicize the word submission, you would type: (ITALICS) submission (END ITALICS).

Editing

We expect you to run spell-check and to check your grammar and punctuation before submitting. We will not reject a submission for a few typos or errors, but will if there are an excessive number of errors.

Note: Since our reading audience is international, we do not require a specific version of English. Use the spelling appropriate to your region.

We will automatically correct obvious typos such as “ton” for “not” and may correct simple agreement problems. For anything beyond that, time permitting, we will return the submission to you with a request for corrections.

Getting to Know You

Fiction and Craft features published in T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine include brief third person biographical notes on the writers. For all submissions, please compose your own bio and include it to save our editors and yourself time later if/when your piece is accepted for publication. We suggest sharing a little about your background, occupation, geographical location and what inspired your story.

How and Where to Submit

We do not accept submissions via US mail. Email submissions only, to the appropriate department, in the body of the email. No attachments accepted.

Fiction should be sent to fiction@thewritersezine.com.

Craft Non-fiction should be queried first. Send query to nonfiction@thewritersezine.com.

Poetry: Due to the large number of recent poetry submissions, a temporary hold on further poetry submissions is in place until early 2008.

Include the type of submission (fiction, non-fiction) in the subject line.

Be sure to include your name and email address in the body of the email.

If you do not receive an acknowledgement that your submission or query was received within a week, please send a follow-up query with “Did you Receive?” in the subject line. In the body of the email, please include your name and email address, the title of the work submitted, and if different, the email address sent from. Do not resend the submission unless we request it.

Good luck!


T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
http://TheWritersEzine.com
Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved

 

© Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All rights reserved