August Newsletter


I don’t have much to announce yet, but I hope to have something to share within the next few weeks. I can share some details, especially since my readership here is so slim. (This is really more of a public journal than a blog. I don’t mind. I’m a good listener.)

I’ve been working on an anthology of fantasy short stories. This was my attempt to break out of my “summer blues” (read: writer’s block) by writing stories that were adrenaline-pumping, action-packed, schlock-fests. By that metric, I failed miserably. I couldn’t help myself, and from the very first story I had already begun attempting poignancy, reflective moments, and drama that rises more from internal conflict (characters) rather than from the external (fireballs, pointy objects, guillotines).

Who can say whether or not I succeeded? But I now have a product: seven short-stories (and the prologue story makes eight) that total around 15,000 words. I’m currently searching for the best market for these to find a home, one that’s a fair reward for my effort as well as one that is the right fit for the stories to find an audience.

More news on that… later.


Seems like an interesting tradition to start. Oh, what the heck: I’ll just share the title and first line of each story in the anthology. That’s fun, right? (Right?)

PROLOGUE: RED FIRES AT DAWN – “The cock crowed to the full moon, mistaking the fires of persecution for dawn’s first light.”

THE FIRST DREADLORD – “The Children of Freya marched against the First Dreadlord on an autumn midafternoon just after the Festival of Chronicles.”

THE SECOND DREADLORD – “The boy did not cry when his father marched off to war.”

THE THIRD DREADLORD – “‘At them, you bloody cowards,’ shouted the sergeant from a safe vantage behind his company of men. ‘Charge!'”

THE FOURTH DREADLORD – “In one of the curious ironies of war, it was the priests and priestesses who killed more men than any soldier or cavalier.”

THE FIFTH DREADLORD – “‘I would meet with them, my lord. I think prudence demands it, even if a soldier’s duty forbids you.'”

THE SIXTH DREADLORD – “Fire and fury, thunder and glory; Alcazar Moss rained down a mage’s artillery on the walls of the capital city, and the screams of awe and terror were reward enough for the sweat that dripped down his brow.”

THE SEVENTH DREADLORD – “The thieves took what the crows didn’t.”

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