Excerpt: November Elf

this is a key excerpt from “November Elf.” The setting is a typical business-district downtown street in a major city. Up to this point, the story has been a traditional first-person past tense. But memory, especially with this character, is a tricky thing. And at his age it’s just beginning. Still, if the encounter is what he believes it to be, this portion of the story conveys, as well as I could capture it, the confusion that should accompany the experience. If it is at all intriguing, please visitHogglepot and read the story.

I felt a light tingle in my temples. Was he erasing my memory? “Hey, wait a minute!” I yanked the glasses from the bridge of my nose.
“You’ve had trouble remembering,” he said.
“Well yes, but—”
“Then it’s a fair trade,” he said. “You’ve been most kind. Thank you.”
“What trade?”
He stared back pleasantly. A bus arrived. Its door opened with a whoosh and a clunk.
“Third Street,” said the driver.
I shook my head. The door hissed closed and a cloud of diesel followed the bus away. I checked the time on my cell. If I didn’t get moving, the commute would be torture.
I don’t recall why I sat at the bus stop that day, but the moment is vivid in my memory.

There is more leading up to this point, of course, and a little more that folllows. The narrative has been described as light and “breezy,” although the story itself is anything but.

New Story: Seed of Doubt at Untied Shoelaces

Untied Shoelaces of the Mind published my flash story, "Seed of Doubt," in its seventh issue. The online fiction magazine features quality stories of many genres and provides an audio version of each story. Here is an excerpt from the very short story:

"He's an illusion. I can erase anyone I want because I control reality."

"What?!" Bobby scrutinized Madison's expression. She seemed dead serious. The notion was nonsense. But what exactly should he say? He glanced again at Dean. "He's right there, stupid." 

"To you."

Bobby pointed. "To anyone."

She rolled her eyes. "He's an illusion. Only morons can't tell the difference. And if you don't leave me alone, I'll erase you. "

Bobby's neck tingled. Madison's threat was hollow. But if he didn't prove it right now she would think he believed her. He had to call her bluff.

Bobby drew a steeling breath. He sidestepped Madison's plastic structure, stopped ten inches from her and planted his hands on his hips. "Go ahead."

"I don't want to."

"Do it."

"I don't have to."

"I dare you."

"I don't feel like it."

Her expression remained fixed. She did not seem intimidated. If anything, she seemed even more arrogant. Bobby could not let this continue. His heart pounded. He grabbed her arm. It was thin and weak. He balled his right hand into a threatening fist. "Now!" he insisted.

Her lower lip quivered. He felt strong.

"Maybe I will!" she snapped. "You can hit me and I won't feel it. You'll be gone, and it won't be real!"

Bobby squinted.

She tightened her lips and glared.

Bobby has his pride, and Madison has a plan. Does one prevail over the other? Please read the story and decide.

Smooch Contest Deadline January 1, 2013

Open to all Romance Writers of America members who are unpublished in book-length fiction, the deadline for the Yosemite Romance Writers’ annual Smooch Contest is 5:00 p.m. PST, January 1, 2013. Entrants submit a “first kiss” scene of eight pages or less, double spaced, from an unpublished work in progress in any romance genre. The price of entry is $25.00 ($15.00 for YRW chapter members). The Grand Prize Winner will receive the 2013 Smooch trophy and $50.00. Second and third place receive certificates and a prize. To learn more about entry requirements, the judging process and the contest in general, see the YRW Smooch Page.

If you have not entered a writing contest before, let your first kiss be your first time. The page limit, low entry fee, and fun topic make this a delightful and accessible contest. TheYRW chapter of RWA is a great group and feedback to contestants in past contests has been very good. So polish up that first-kiss scene and give it shot.

NaNoWriMo 2012 -- Short Excerpt

NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is a writing-community project for as many as possible (around 300,000 this year) to complete a novel of 50,000 words or more in the span of 30 days. November is the chosen month. Many NaNoWriMo participants go on to publish their works. The end product of the November writing blitz is, in my experience, generally a rough first draft, which is one heck of a lot better than no rough draft at all. 

This year, my NaNoWriMo novel is a science fiction romance that takes place in the very far future with some extraordinary technological advances, but with human nature being pretty much just the same as it has always been.

Here is the short Prologue. Remember: rough draft. Revisions to the entire piece will take place in the months to come. But whether the following remains in the final draft or not, I like the setup.

"Dirk, I'm getting a spike here on the quantum core field pressure."
Cheryl positioned herself closer to the display. She placed a hand on the control pad.
She loved this job--and these brief, infrequent moments were why. Sure, monitoring the quantum drive looked boring and mindless. But it wasn't. Not when something happened. This was when years of training and study always paid off. Other than soft beeps and the low metallic thrum of the spinning space ship, the small control chamber was quiet, and Dirk's station was just 3 meters behind hers. She leaned forward and tried to get a feel for the anomaly.
"I've got nothing here," said Dirk. "In fact, it's a little cold."
That's odd. Cheryl adjusted the display, changing scale. Usually, an increase in one accompanies an increase in the other. It could be a momentary fluctuation. But this was no short-term quirk. The field pressure lurched up, dropped down slightly, and lurched up again. That should not happen unless . . .
She gasped. Her muscles tightened in a quick spasm.
"Check the wave frequencies!" she shouted, and shoved her chair back, rolling to the power grid display. There was a surge 20 seconds ago. Crap!
Cheryl's chest went cold. The protocol was clear. 'Francis,' she thought. A vision of her son—her unhappy little ten-year-old who never wanted to board the Minuend. The boy whose future she believed she was improving by taking him away from Earth to a new planet with new rules. The boy who now, along with 12,000 other residents of this colony ship, would never see the new world, and would be damned lucky to survive at all. The protocol was in place to protect them—to protect him.
Cheryl lifted a red panel and reached for a lever with yellow and black diagonal stripes. "Eject the Core, Dirk!"
"What?"
"Now!" She pulled the lever. Emergency sirens blared, red lights flashed, and the ship commenced emergency protocol Alpha—sealing and shielding the habitat.
Dirk did not eject the core. "What the hell are you talking about?" he screamed. "If we do that—"
At that moment, the instruments all stopped. They were engulfed in darkness and no time remained to act. In the hundredth of a second between the EMP destroying all circuitry, and the shock wave of the quantum-core collapse, Cheryl could only flash a prayer—that her son somehow survive, that the colonists eke a living from the ship's finite resources, that eventually, but soon enough, Earth advance enough to rescue the Minuend survivors who were now irretrievably adrift in interstellar space.

(c) 2012, J. C. Conway

Romance Excerpt: "Fog Light"

"Fog Light" is a sweet campus romance story published by Romance Flash. Shelly's busy social life almost derailed her shot at the Master's program. Now she is finally focusing on her studies and she does not need another boyfriend. Kevin, a grad student, has offered to walk her home from the library in the fog.

“I guess I’ll be going now,” said Kevin.
Shelly tightened her lips and drew a breath. She watched Kevin's Adam’s apple move up and down. Was he hesitating? It seemed so. And he looked nervous. There was something irresistible about that innocent look of uncertainty.
Shelly blinked. Say “okay” and “good night,” she told herself. This was her chance to dismiss him; to get on with her work and escape complications. It was the right thing to do—the necessary thing. But she wanted him to keep looking at her, for just a little while. Not too much. She felt her head tilt and heard the words, "So soon?" escape.
Her gut flinched. Was she listening to herself at all?

Will Shelly keep her priorities straight? Can academics and romance co-exist? The entire story can be found at Romance Flash.

For a complete list of all my available stories, click here.

"Procyon Descent": a Grim Future Tale of Hope

The idea that colonists from Earth will traverse the gulf between stars in generation ships to finally claim a new world is not new. But the backdrop is still rich with possibilities. Hardship will abound. "Procyon Descent" makes us wonder whether we today could fairly judge the actions of those that ultimately endure the traverse. Some find the story shocking, depressing or grim. I don't see it that way, but those things are there in a "Lord of the Flies" sort-of way. But I also see, at its core, sacrifice, determination and a ray of hope. Farther Stars Than These, edited by E.S. Wynn, agreed to publish the story story, and it has been well received. Of course, you can decide for yourself if the short tale is worth telling. It begins like this:

The day comes too soon. I work up the length of the crop terrace. My waist-high row is lined with scrawny beets sucking what they can from the muck of the nutrient stream. Across is a row of an old Earth grain called barley, followed by eight rows of sheet fungus and more rows of stuff we call food, lining the curved floor that turns up and out of sight behind the matching curved ceiling. It wraps around back to here, everything pressed to the floor by the spin of the ship that's been groaning under the strain for over 800 years. Or so it's told.
The lights wink.
"He's early," I complain.
Megan, two rows over, slows her gray-water flow to a trickle. "Just seems."
I gawk a moment, seeking her eye, just to confirm someone shares this feeling of being rushed. I see it's so. But it doesn't help.

You can see the rest of the story at Farther Stars Than These. For a list of all my stories online check here.

New Story: Silence of the Imbeciles

"Silence of the Imbeciles" appears now in Residential Aliens, edited by Lyn Perry. The story has been described as "very well written, understated and poignant." It follows the point of view of 14-year-old Frankie Turnbull, who is fascinated with making magic wands and is attempting to deal with the consequences of every person he knows being an imbecile.

His father’s voice boomed from the shed door. “What are you doing out here?”
Carving knife in hand, Frankie Turnbull flinched. The blade sliced into the flesh of his finger.
Ouch!
He dropped the knife and flapped his hand once. “Nothing! Okay?”
Like the blade, his response was too sharp. He knew better. But he spoke without thinking. He needed time to fix a very serious problem, and nobody was giving it to him.
Anthony Turnbull cleared his throat, telegraphing to Frankie the shallow depth of the ice upon which he’d just placed himself.
“Sorry,” he said, turning.
His father’s bulky frame filled the doorway, silhouetted by the late-afternoon sun. He crossed his arms.
Frankie’s hair tingled. “I’m almost done,” he pleaded. But it was pointless to argue with the man. He was stubborn, he could throw Frankie a country mile, and he was an imbecile.
Imbecility was the biggest problem. That was Frankie’s fault. It was the problem he wanted to fix...

(See the full story at ResAliens.)

Residential Aliens is an online magazine of spiritually infused speculative fiction presenting engaging stories that are truthful to the human experience while offering something of the eternal. The October/November issue includes two speculative stories (including Silence of the Imbeciles), followed by two science fiction pieces, and wraps up with a post-zombie-apocalypse novelette.

For a list and information about all of my stories click here.