Feedback continues to filter in for Cold Iron. It seems to be pretty positive, and I think I’m mostly at the ‘fussing’ stage of editing. Instead of worrying about big chunks of narrative or major character turns, I’m ensuring that spacing, spelling, grammar, and other tiny things are all in order. The time is fast approaching when it will be ready for public consumption.
To that end I’ve retained the services of a graphic designer. Now, I do have access to things like Photoshop. I can do some photo editing and image manipulation that produces passable to decent results. But there is no way I’m going to make my first true commercial fiction endeavor come off like amateur night. A professional photo shoot (which turned out extremely well, thanks to the talents of J.R. Blackwell) deserves professional design. I have a few tips on how to proceed after that process is complete, and I will admit to feeling a little nervous about the whole thing.
In the meantime, three major characters have been interviewed, an outline has taken shape, and soon actual prose for some science-fiction pulp-inspired adventure is going to start hitting paper. I may also start putting together elements for a Cold Iron follow-up (depending on how the rest of the test read process goes) and of course I’m waiting to hear back from Angry Robot on Cities of Light, which may get another round of edits & test reads regardless of what is said. So there are a lot of irons in the fire, as they say. Some loose ends to tie up. A few fingers in several pies.
I’m going to stop before I start mixing those metaphors.
For this week’s Terribleminds flash fiction, I thought I’d tease you all with a bit of Cold Iron prequel action.
I know I shouldn’t.
Morgan frowned as she contemplated the bottle of pop in her hand. She had enough bad habits between the coffee, the take-out, and the relatively nocturnal sleeping schedule. On the other hand, a cool glass of Coke reminded her of summer days with her father. She wanted to hold on to pleasant memories like that while she could. It kept some of the darker things in the night at bay.
Maybe a bottle of the Mexican stuff on my way out.
She replaced the large bottle on the shelf and pushed her cart towards the pet section. While she tried to feed Nike decent and fresh food often, the cat was less picky about her litter. Morgan grabbed a container of what was on sale. She was wrestling it into the cart when she caught a particular movement out of the corner of her eye.
It wasn’t anything major. Just a guy walking down the dairy aisle towards the milk products, but his movements were a little too deliberate, a touch too fast. It set off alarms in Morgan’s head. She pushed her cart to the end of the pet care aisle, turned, and moved towards the milk, where the man was speaking to a young woman.
“I’m almost certain we’ve met,” he was saying to her.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’d probably remember.”
“Maybe I could refresh your memory?”
It was on the corny side, but she seemed to be falling for it. Even as she approached, Morgan could feel a change in the air. It was something warmer and sharper than she should be feeling this close to so many cold products. She had to test her hunch. She gave her cart a hard shove and it banged into the man’s backside, causing him to spin on her.
“Oh, I’m sorry! It got away from me.”
For a moment, the man’s eyes flashed red. Morgan didn’t smile. She didn’t want to give away the fact the man’d just been made.
“That’s all right. Happens all the time.” He stepped away from them. “I was just inviting my friend to a party. Maybe you’d like to join us?”
Morgan shook her head. “No, thank you. I really don’t think I’d be into your scene.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “And what scene would that be?”
Morgan said nothing, simply holding his gaze. It was like staring down a panther, or a velociraptor. The woman backed away, grabbed her cart, and moved on. The man sighed a bit without looking.
“Humans can be such fickle creatures. They tend to spook easily.”
“Yeah. Major bummer. Speaking as someone who’s still human, as opposed to simply being a former one, I’d appreciate it if you moved along.”
“I don’t know who you think you are…”
“Morgan Everson, Special Homicide.” She even showed him her badge.
“Ah. That explains it. In that case, excuse me.”
He brushed past her as he walked towards the exit. Morgan took a deep breath, then fished out her phone and called her partner. Allan Bowman wasn’t too far away, and while neither of them were technically on duty yet, Morgan considered it good policy to keep him informed of whenever she saw one of those things.
“I guess he got bored of the stereotypical nightclubs,” Allan said after Morgan described the perp.
“Could be. I didn’t think to ask. Anyway, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for him.”
“Do you want me to swing by, boss? Just in case?”
She thought about it for a moment. “You know what? Yeah. Just in case. You can even help haul my groceries into my place if you want.”
“Oh, no. I know how that works. First it’s hauling groceries, next thing I know you’re asking me if you’re trying to seduce me.”
Morgan chuckled. “You know me better than that, Bowman. Just get down here.”
“Right, boss.”
She finished up her shopping, grabbing a wooden mixing spoon along with the rest of her items. She paid for everything and headed out towards her car. She got the first round of bags into her trunk before he attacked her.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her away from the car. The bags that had been in her hand came open, spilling their contents on the pavement. She went for her sidearm but he was fast, incredibly fast, grabbing her wrist and pulling it out of her jacket in spite of her struggles. In the shadows of the early evening parking lot, she could clearly see the red in his eyes.
“I think we’ll be partying after all, Detective.”
“Shall we dance, then?” Her teeth were grinding together against the pain in her wrist. “I know a few steps.”
She brought her knees up and drove both of her heels into the attacker’s groin. The sensation was sudden for him, and either on instinct or due to the actual pain, he released her and backed off. One of the bags she’d been holding had contained the spoon, which she grabbed as she scrambled to her feet. As he recovered, she broke it over her knee.
For a moment, they stood staring at each other, crouched, tensed, each ready to strike the other. He moved first, hands extended, fangs bared. The inhuman hiss made Morgan’s skin crawl, but she stood her ground. At the last possible second, she dipped under him, grabbing one of his arms in her free hand. He slammed into her car and, as he turned, she plunged the splintered end of the broken spoon into his chest with a sickening crunch.
His eyes went wide in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gush of blood. His nostrils, ears and eyes soon bled as well, and he slumped to the pavement, unmoving. Morgan felt her legs go rubbery and she sat, facing him.
When Allan arrived, she was still sitting there, drinking a bottle of Coke.
Since I’m now done with rewriting, and will hopefully just be editing, it didn’t seem right to continue to call this “Rewrite Report.” I’ve started getting feedback on Cold Iron and it’s nominally positive. I know I need to always be writing, and as much as I look forward to starting a new project, some thoughts I’ve had give me pause.
I worry about Cities of Light being too stereotypically fantastical in some elements. I worry about Cold Iron‘s take on the modern supernatural. I worry about tackling sci-fi in a way that’s too soft, too camp. I find myself longing to see, cheer for, and write more pulpy, adventure-flavored, generally optimistic sci-fi, but the question I’ve been asking myself is “Why?” and I can’t seem to nail down the answer.
I guess I’m a little pissed at Star Wars and Mass Effect and other such tales that present a very interesting and in-depth universe with all sorts of story potential and hamstring themselves in one way or another. I think my motivation comes from wanting to do that sort of story “right”, but I’m wondering if there’s a broader reason why those stories consistently fail. I want to see John Carter to find out if the majority of critics are right in their rather negative assessment of it. I need to refine the universe I’m creating and, more importantly, ensure I have interesting characters and a good story to tell in it. I guess I could work on a sequel to Cities of Light or Cold Iron instead, but I’m leery to do that since I don’t know how the originals will do yet.
Summer is proving to be a busy time, and I can’t do everything I want. A family reunion is on the horizon, requiring a certain investment, and I plan on moving before September. In order to save money, I won’t be attending the Philadelphia Writer’s Conference this year. I was really looking forward to it, but practical matters need to come before others. I remain in the unfortunate position of needing to balance my need to write with my responsibilities as a nominal adult.
I’ll get there, but I’ll need to keep making decisions like these along the way.
Weighing in at 39,574 words, the rewrite of Cold Iron is complete.
I’m going to be inviting test readers to take another crack at the work. Invites will go out over the next day or two. The goal is to only have some minor tweaks to make here and there throughout the story, provided it actually works and is not terrible. Once any edits that arise from the test reads are complete, it’s on to severely untested waters: preparing for publication.
I have some cover photography from the inimitable J.R. Blackwell, and a graphic designer interested in actually making the cover look presentable. I don’t trust my own rudimentary Photoshop skills and untrained eye to put together a cover that’s professional, appealing, and in line with the story’s mood and themes. If I’m going to do this e-publication thing, I’m not going to be a scrub about it.
I’m also going to ask some people I know (or kind of know at least) to do review reads. I’d like to get a couple snippets of impressions, hopefully good ones, which can then be used for promotional purposes. Thinking your story is great is one thing; having someone who actually knows what they’re doing say it’s worth reading is quite another.
This is uncharted territory for me. A part of me wants to just call the whole thing done and start up new and exciting projects, even if it’s just fan fiction or game character backstories or running around the house naked covered in marshmellow fluff. But I need to reign that shit in. The writing may be (mostly) done, but the project’s not near finished. Not yet. And by God, I will finish what I start.
Good wishes, offers to test/review read Cold Iron, and general shenanigans are quite welcome.
I haven’t taken an exact word count of Cold Iron, but I know I’m near the end.
I’m currently working on the last ‘new’ bit of material. It smooths over one of the truly clunky transitions in the story and allows more character growth and interaction. From there, a couple scenes get rearranged and the ending will be tightened up. That will be the easy part.
I will once again ask for volunteers to do a quick read-through, mostly looking for stilted dialog or gaping plot-holes. After that, I’m going to look into getting some quick reviews from people. Established authors, editors I know, and so on. I don’t feel right simply posting the novella on various markets with just my pithy blurb to support it.
I also don’t feel right doctoring up the cover. The photography work is absolutely phenomenal, and I don’t want to fuck that up. I’m familiar with Photoshop and Illustrator but my eye is rather untrained, and I don’t trust it to produce something both appealing and balanced to work as a novella cover, even if it’s only in electronic form. That means hiring a designer. I’m comfortable with this but I may have to put off the initial deposit for a bit. I’m trying to be a bit more responsible in my spending, and as much as this is a serious investment in my future, bills gots to be paid.
With things looming the way they are I’m trying to hold off some feelings of anxiety and nervousness. I remind myself I have to trust in my talent, my work, and my characters. If it were crap, people would tell me. Just because some similar thematic elements exist in it doesn’t mean the work is without merit. I don’t think it’s going to set the world on fire, but we all have to start somewhere.
Thoughts of encouragement or offers to volunteer are much appreciated.
