Tweet of the Day, Who ISN’T It Hard Out Here For, These Days? edition.

I gotta agree with the general commentary here. Ross Douthat should have been able to place his fantasy novel. I’ll also say this: Ross is also a hell of a lot better off just publishing the damned thing himself. It’ll never happen, but I doubt at this point I’d even take a multi-book contract, assuming anybody was insane enough to offer me one. Traditional publishing is not designed with the well-being of its authors in mind.

10/06/2024 Snippet, CALL OF THE MOON-BEASTS.

I absolutely need to get going with this and the other story.

Derby Emi was surprisingly indifferent about Tobias walking all over her dust paintings. “Please wear the little boot-gloves,” she told him with apparent real cheerfulness. “You would not want to have the sand getting into your slippers.”

Tobias looked down. He’d never been a fan of abstract art, but he knew what he liked. He didn’t like this. In fact, he had secretly enjoyed watching Derby’s own footprints smoosh the floor design’s unsettling pattern into random chaos. “I feel strange, wrecking your, ah, design like this,” he lied.

“Don’t be, Commander,” Emi responded immediately. “That is why it’s on the floor. I may be forced to draw this, but I will have my own revenge.” A smile flickered, breaching above the surface of her face for a moment. “I have no desire to preserve it.”

10/05/2024 Snippet, THE GOBLIN.

The trick is to find bits that are interesting, but don’t give away any of the awful bits until you read them on Patreon.

Subsurface tunnels in the elf-woods don’t last long, since the trees’ roots will seek them out, but when you start from the boundary zone you can get a few interconnected hidey-holes set up that’ll last a week. I was nicely ensconced in the one farthest back into the elf-wood by the time the Wild Hunt rumbled by, a dozen feet above my head. Even muffled, they sounded nicely unhappy, and ready to take it out on anyone they found.

Just how they were supposed to be, in other words. I waited until the rumbling faded, then started scrambling up the narrow passage that would get me to the surface. Idly, I wondered how many of the bigger fish I’d get before they swarmed me.

I managed three. One was all I needed, and two would have been respectable, so three was something to be proud of.

I think I may need to reschedule my stuff next week.

I was originally going to do another 3K story (I’m halfway done with this week’s), as well as finish a couple of stories for the TALES FROM THE FERMI RESOLUTION 2 short story sampler (from the Kickstarter). But the way the schedule’s been working this week, that’s not viable. What I really need to do is just work on the sampler, and get it done*.

So I guess I’m doing that next week, instead.

Moe Lane

*Which, at the rate things are going, is only two stories away from being one of those novels that are really a bunch of short stories with the same characters and a narrative arc.

The Kenneth Hite’s Cthulhu Bundle of Holding.

Constant Reader Luke mentioned this in comments earlier, and I was meaning to bring it up, myself. Ken Hite’s bundling up a bunch of his Cthulhu stuff for Bundle Of Holding; I have everything except the Tarot already, and everything I already have is worth the fifteen bucks, all on its own. Getting the whole thing for that price is an absolute no-brainer.

10/03/2024 Snippet, THE GOBLIN.

There’s a certain mutual loathing going on here. Let me tell you right now: there’s not going to be a romance option, either. The idea would make either one of them recoil in disgust.

The vist let me know she was awake with her screaming. Well, as much as she could scream through the ballgag. I didn’t actually need her to talk for this next bit to work. Listening in horror would be just fine.

I knew she would immediately charge me, given what I was doing, but I didn’t turn until after I heard the sound of her sudden tumble to the ground. After all, I was perfectly safe. I’d checked the chain and ankle cuff, and I knew just how much range it would give the vist. 

I looked over. Nothing seemed obviously broken, which didn’t matter either way, but the vist hadn’t been improved by her involuntary roll in the filthy ground. Which was her own fault, so I decided I didn’t care. “You no move,” I told her. Technically, the vist and my people spoke a common language. In reality, the vocabulary had changed, and the accent, and I had more words to work with. So talking to them could be a headache. “Chain on foot, chain on tree. Chain on tree tight . You move close, tree choke, tree die.”

10/02/2024 Snippet, THE GOBLIN.

I don’t know whether to put up the truly horrible bits here. Because some horrible bits are coming.

You didn’t want to dry-gulch an elf while he was inspecting an elf-wood clearing, because that was exactly when he would be paying most attention to his surroundings. Picking him off before or after he got there just left you the vist to deal with anyway. So you needed the two together, only both distracted. There left a couple of good times to intervene, but you had to be careful then, too. Elves can move fast, when they’re not distracted. The important thing was to call your shot, so I waited until things just felt right.

I don’t know why the elves make vist do either submission ritual out in the open — no, wait, I do. No elf would ever drug or swive a vist in a vist shack, or really do anything else in one. If you think my contempt for the vist is vast, it’s nothing compared to the elves. They never miss a chance to demonstrate just how more important the elves are than everything else on this world, and a vist drug submission pushes a lot of elvish buttons. Probably even more than the swiving does, even. Alas for the elf, he was too engrossed at the sight of a vist writhing in ecstatic delirium from the drug to notice my approach until I was two feet behind him. That’s the nice part of an elf-wood. No leaves, no loam, just hard-packed dirt that soaked up sound.

10/01/2024 Snippet, THE GOBLIN.

So, hey, you know how I don’t do grim, much?

Yeah, the rules are gonna be different, this month. Starting with how I’m going to try to do a 3K story every week for Patreon, just because I want to icepick a couple of ideas instead of lingering over them. I’m also going to be invoking more horror this month, too. Just because.

The Goblin

It’s an elvish lie that we can only come out when it’s dark. There I was, deep in the elf-wood, wasn’t I? Right in the middle of the Bright, too. No bursting into flames, no screaming at the light, none of that. Thanks to my goggles, I wasn’t even squinting. See? Total lie.

The elves know it’s a lie, too. They just tell the vist different to keep them in their hovels at night, and too afraid to go far into the woods. I mean, sure, my people do stay out of the Bright unless we have a reason to be out and about then, but that’s just to make it harder for the enemy to see us.

It’s tricky, hunting your prey in an elf-wood. The trees kill everything that isn’t them, so there’s no brush or thickets to hide in, and any branches that fall off dry out and break up within a couple of days. I had to slip from tree to tree, trusting in my bark-colored cloak and ability to guess when it was safe to move. It also helped that I knew where the prey was going, more or less. There aren’t many places in an elf-wood that are different from each other, and I had already scouted out them all.

I try to be prepared ahead of time like that.