Paddy's Wanderings

P is for Podcast

Good day folks, let me tell ya about something cool. Some of you may know all about podcasts, some of you may not. I am a babe in the woods of the podcast world. Let me explain..

I ran across the podcast-verse a few years ago now, I think. I know the first podcast I ran across was called Podhammer, and it was all about Warhammer, and kinda cool to boot. They have a neato site and some very cool stuff. On occasion, I would ramble into a podcast, take a listen, move on. I kinda understood what it was all about, sorta, but I was just not getting into it in a big way.

Flash forward and back to about a year ago. I was surfing along and I frequent Wil Wheaton's site, its pretty entertaining and he does a podcast called Radio Free Burrito, and I listened in and was entertained, it is pretty cool as well.

So far, so good. I thought it was kinda neat. I like old radio shows and that kind of stuff and it seemed to me it was folks riffing on a 'net radio show, that type of stuff. I had no idea how wrong I was, there is so much more. In my mad wanderings I surfed into author web sites that podcasted novels! I remember thinking, you can do that? I am familiar with audiobooks, but a podcast of a novel was eye opening. Late to the party I know, but it was a big moment in time for me.

I listened, and was fascinated. This stuff rocks. Good stories read by the author, or a group of folks, music, sound effects, man it runs the whole gamut of goodness. Wow. So now I consume podcasts on a pretty regular basis. Yesterday I set up my very own iTunes account (better 1/2 has the account but I wanted my own, dang nabbit!) and downloaded a ton of stuff to the laptop, some of which I had listened to before, but some new folks as well.

Scary as it sounds, I have not even scratched the surface with all the cool podcast stuff I can download from folks I have wandered into on the 'net. Because I like to share awesome stuff I run into, I am going to do a category of blog posts about all these amazing podcasts. Then if you like, you can do a quick click and go listen for yourself and see what the what is.

Any who, stop back in and look for the pPodcast category and get in on all the podcast goodness. I'll be highlighting some folks in the coming days!

Surfing The Classmate Murders

I read, a lot. I like just about any genre out there but I always go back to my first love, the mystery novel. I like a good hard boiled detective story, a good murder mystery, a gripping whodunit. When I was a wee lad, I read the Hardy Boys, eventually graduating into Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie and then into Mickey Spillane et al.

So when I got a chance to catch a new writer, a guy writing murder mysteries, well then I jumped at the chance. I ran into Bob Moats on twitter, he is @MurderNovels and being the net surfer I am I clicked on over to his website. With a moniker like Murder Novels, I figured it had to be good. I hit the jack pot.

Checking out Bob's site I find out he lives just down The Great Road from me, about an hour or so south, a fellow Michigander. Reading the first story I know the places he talks about, the roads they travel, kinda neat really, not necessary to the enjoyment of the story, but well.. neat for me. Bob is an indie writer, but not only that, he prints, yes I said prints, his own books. His website is full of cool things to check out. But let us get into the good part, the review, shall we?

Mr. Moats was kind enough to send me a pdf copy of The Classmate Murders and I opened it up with the intention of reading the first chapter or two before bed, then enjoying the reading over the next few days. That was three days ago and I finished the book yesterday. I did not read just a couple chapters, I had to stop around chapter 8 because I just could not focus anymore and totally lost track of time. You could say I was drawn right into the story, right from the first paragraph.

Jim Richards, our hero of the story, is a 60 year old guy, a bit down on his luck. After losing his job, moving into his parents house to help his mom take care of his dad, and stuck in a small bedroom with a computer and beer as companions, you would think the guy is a big loser. Jim Richards, right off the first page tells you he is a big loser. Far from it, but it is the style, the self deprecating humor that draws you into his story.

Jim Richards is an average joe who gets caught up in a murder mystery. When Jim gets an email from an old high school friend, he calls her number, only to have it answered by Trapper, the cop investigating at the scene. She has been murdered. Feeling at a lost, Jim calls his good friend Buck, a biker with a colorful past.  Jim tells Buck what has happened and Buck wants to know when they are going to start investigating. Jim and Buck are two average guys who worked security for a car dealership, not detectives, but with one old friend murdered and others on a list, they start checking it out.

That my friends, is just a synopsis of the first chapter. Jim and Buck are great characters and the other players fit right in the story. Trapper, the tough cop, Penny, the damsel in distress, the bad guys, its all in there, all very real and very believable. I was hooked because it has all the elements of good murder mysteries but told in a different way. The characters are unique, well thought out and just plain interesting, even the bad guys.

Now I am not gonna say anymore, it is a murder mystery after all, you'll have to read it for yourself. I will say this, I like it. That simple really. The Classmate Murders is a good mystery novel, a real page turner and has all the skill and elements you associate with a good mystery story. Heck I was not even sure who the bad guy was until the very last chapter when Jim and Buck figure it out, no kidding, and I pride myself on figuring out mysteries. The good news is that this is just the beginning, there are more Jim Richards crime novels to be had, and I will be buying them, no doubt about it.

See here mack, it was a shweet ride and Moats has the goods see. So leg it over to his place and pick up a bindle of words on the cheap. Tell him Paddy sent ya.

Surfing Momma

Welcome to another edition of pBooks, where I talk about the latest book, short story, bit of prose I have read and would love to share out with you fine wanderers. This time around I have a short story by Paul Elard Cooley, the Fiend Master himself, titled Momma. If you look over on the right side of the page in the blog roll, you will see a link to Shadow Publications, that is Mr. Cooley and that is where you can get all the cool stuff, including Momma and some cool podcasts and all kinds of goodies. But, let us take a look at Momma today..

This my friends, is an excellent story and I really enjoyed it. It is a story of a letter, written by a son to his momma on their birthday. A nice letter to the momma he loves and all seems normal. Then with a good, slow build up, Mr. Cooley takes us right into the truly terrifying. If you like a good story with a nice, horrifying end, well then, just cruise on over to smashwords and get a copy for free. Yeah, can you believe it? I said free, no kidding. Go here and snag a copy. Here is a brief description from the page.

Ebook Description

A serial killer writes his mother a letter... This is the first story of the Shadowpublications.com "Fiends" collection.

Parental Rating:

This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

Check out the story, check out the site, and enjoy. I did, and I will be going back for more, the stories are already in the reading que as well as more podcast goodness.

Happy Anniversary!

Okay, I have lost my mind. I started this post a week ago, then forgot about it, then added some stuff, restarted, then forgot about it again until right now. Well lets just chat off the cuff, time to wing it.

So on April 24th of 2009 I started this strange trip. Here is the first post. Wow, I've danced a strange waltz since then. To be honest, I had no idea if I was ever really going to do anything with this blog. I was reading some blogs and enjoying them, but I thought I just wasn't gonna commit to this kind of thing. I wanted to spend my time writing fiction.

Then about a week into it, I was stuck, again, and I could feel that old demon stirring and I thought, oh oh, here comes the block. Instead I blogged,and it was freedom. A year ago I was complaining about hand writing in my notebook, pining for my old typewriter, which had died a good death, a few years ago. I just wasn't into doing anything on the puter. I was pig headed and wanted to keep on, keeping on with the old way of doing things.

Seriously. I would send out stuff via U.S. Mail, no web submissions, no web presence other then a gaming group on yahoo. Well I started transcribing the closet of doom, writing a bit here and there, and blogging. And.. I started submitting stuff via the 'net. Crazy huh? But it illustrates my love/hate relationship with the technology, and the 'net.

Well.. I don't hate the 'net, its just I liked the old way, was comfortable, ya know? But nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? I sent out stuff, some stuck, collected a lot of rejection letters, and I still keep on keeping on, just.. electronically. It has been cool. It has been strange and wonderful.

So a year into it and I get all weird if I don't blog daily. Funny huh? And.. I write fiction, a lot of fiction, more then ever. I also got back into the novel insanity. All good. My goal was to do it for a year, keep at it, and keep the writing flowing along. I succeeded beyond imagination.

So what will year two bring? I don't know. I have been pondering goals and such and I am unsure where to set the bar. I don't know what I can do, so what will be a successful year? Consistency in blogging and really getting the stories out there. Perseverance in the goal to get the stories to the folks, and to hopefully entertain along the way. Finish this novel and like it enough to get it out there.

I don't know, I wander too much. I talk too much. But if you stick around for a laugh or three, I think I can do that much. Thanks for tuning in, I do appreciate it!

Happy Wanderings!

The Bag of Milk Affair

Last night was a ton of fun. I got together with a double handful of folks over at TCA, The Creative Alliance, for an online chat. For over an hour, we chatted happily away about helping each other promote our creative endeavors. That is indicative of what the Alliance is going to be all about I believe. A great group of folks, gathering together, to help each other in the creative community. It was a blast too!

Now if you have been wandering in lately, you have seen a few changes, and there are more today as well. If your new to my little slice of the wacky web, well welcome, have a chair, its kinda fun around here. The biggest change that I felt I needed to do was clean up the page. Frankly, the ad idea was lame. It took up too much space and for the few pennies rolling down the pipe, meh.. it is just not worth it to me, or to you the reader. What I can do, and I am going to do, is fill the space with cool content that is more apropos to what I am trying to accomplish.

An ad for car insurance? nah.. how about a link to something really cool, like a book, story or podcast I have found and got a kick out of and wanted to share. Much better.. With that in mind, those ads are gone. Now to the cool stuff I can really stand behind, like all the creative folks whose work I enjoy.

Much better.. I like that. And you will too! Check it out. You can sort through my ramblings by category, I figured it out and got it right.. for now. But it is not just about my space. Oh no. Check out the new and improved blog roll. Yep, that is gonna grow as well, but for now, there is some cool new links for you to click. Go ahead, I'm just sitting here given the old scowl right back at Elric.

I know you'll find something that tickles your fancy, and if your like me, you'll try to consume it all. Fear not my fellow wanderers, take your time, stroll through it and enjoy, the links will be there. When I get a new linkie, I will remind you with a post and a shout out to the creative force behind that link. Share the wealth, a good motto to embrace, and I like sharing.

Before I go wander off and try to work some more blog magic(tech-noob doing magic again, duck!) I guess I should explain the milk bag affair.

Some of the creative peeps over at TCA are from the Great White North, take off eh? And these fine folks are super cool and well our neighbors to the north have some.. interesting.. stuff. For instance, you buy milk in a bag in Canada. As the confab was winding down, somehow, the bag of milk thing entered the conversation.. strange creative types right? No really, it comes in a bag. I have seen pics and even a video on how to use one. Go here if you don't believe me. Strange huh? But kinda cool too, so if you ever feel the need to bag your milk, well ask our friends from the North, they got it going on!

Happy Wanderings!

Rambling Muse

For the past few days I have been battered pretty hard by allergies and haven't had much energy to do anything. So I have not blogged at all and I miss just rambling, or posting up new and unusual wanderings. Today I feel pretty crappy but I thought I would post up something of value, maybe.

The past few days I have been working on short stories, when I could breathe normally and not just sit and stare vacantly at the box. Which means, after watching two episodes of Home Improvement, which I like, and then finding myself halfway through an episode of Raymond, which for the record, NOT everyone loves, I am a case in point there, I discovered that I was bored out of my mind and I must be ill. Medication is the answer, but it makes me loopy, more then normal that is and it slows the fun stuff way down.

But I did work on the collection of short stories that I believe will see the light of day, slowly, inch by inch, they will appear for all to look upon. That is if I figure out to properly format them for digital consumption, which I will admit, is proving elusive to me at the moment. Ah well, I'll figure it out eventually.

Today though was to be a chat about muse, or the creative process. Some of the peeps I trail around on the 'net have talked a bit about it lately and I don't have a short answer, so here is a longer then tweet, less then a novel answer that probably won't make sense, but there it is.

I don't carry a muse in my pocket. If I ever find one of the wee beasties, I would probably have a chat then let it go. The glimpses I have caught paint a fickle picture of mostly frustration and anxiety, I can pass on that I think. I am not looking for consistency or to cage the inspiration, far from it. But to chase the will-o-wisp to the point of distraction seems a futile gesture that will lead to some serious, heavy drinking. In the end, it seems better to pass.

On occasion, I chat with the inspiration that comes along. Oh it comes from just about anywhere and at any given time, there is that consistency issue again.. For me it is all about taking that idea and running with it as far as it goes. Sometimes it is a hop, skip, and jump and others its a decades long diversion. Sometimes several ideas form together into something greater, sometimes not. It is a catch as catch can type of thing. Inspiration, the muse, is always welcomed, but at best it is a guest of indeterminate length. That's cool.

It is what you do with the idea left behind. It is all about the work involved, the realization of the idea. For me, it is do it, finish it, then move along. I have enough stuff floating around in various stages, that if I was to get to the move along stage and have nothing left I would be shocked. That is the key, the working until the end, to bring it all to fruition. In that, my fellow wanderers, I am severely lacking.

I believe I may have found an answer or more to the point, several answers. One of which is to blog, it keeps it all flowing. Another is to set dead lines on my self. That seems to work pretty well to keep motivated. And to lay it all out there, for all to see. By making public my desires to finish and accomplish stuff, I put the pressure on myself to not look the fool.

With that, I have a short story collection that I am desperately trying to run final edits on each story and to properly format the stuff. Plus all kinds of assorted tasks related to said project. I have a week to start the process, daylight is burning, time to just do it. That is creativity and inspiration in a nutshell right there. The desire to push it out and to do it well.

Until then.. stay tuned.

Into the Black

I did something pretty cool today, I joined a community.

I dragged outta bed, wandered to my chair in front of the 'puter, said yo to Elric, cracked open the remains of a bottle of Diet Coke and opened Facebook. Figured I would wake up, catch up with my friends on fb and start off the day. I had big plans for the day, mucho writing to be done!

First thing I see is a post by James Melzer, announcing the start up of The Creative Alliance. They started? Holy guacamole batman its ten o'clock and you sleep through the launch. WTF!? Holy crapazoid, they got it running and I was caught napping, as usual..

So I hit the link and launch twitter, and catch the buzz.. cool! So I joined the group. I even uploaded that grainy black and white photo and posted a bit on the forums, even played in the chat room. Kinda settled in, found a chair and checked out the scene.

Oh I'm sorry, you may be reading this, thinking I am a creative type person, whats it all about? Sorry.. here is the link.

Any who, where was I?? Oh yeah, the cool stuff over on the site. I'll grant you its only been up for a few hours, but there is already great forum action, some cool videos uploaded and its growing, growing fast. I believe, no wait a minute.. I know this will prove to be an excellent source for all creative people to get together and do some way cool stuff, together. Yes, I said all types. Writers and podcasters, painters and poets, new media, old media and all points on the compass.

That is way cool. I decided to take my own photos for a project I am doing. I suck at photography but I am learning and gonna keep plugging along. I know folks who rock at photography and to have a potential resource there, that I could just contact and say hey! I am looking for a photo for a project, got anything like what I am looking for? Can I buy a copy? Oh man.. that is a connection that is priceless. I am gonna try to do it on my own, but if I don't get something I feel I can use, then I am gonna hit up some folks who do photography, on the site.

See the potential? I need web design work, I want some music, how about some artwork or a photo.. It is a resource that can benefit each other. I can also tell my peeps about cool people I run into on the site, point em in that direction, spread the word. I do that now, but I can personally expand out and say, hey! go listen to this podcast it rawks! or hey check out this artwork, its cool.

That is why I joined, to be a part of a community helping each other out, networking, and having a few chucks along the way. Chucks being my saying of the day.. it is from IT by Stephen King if you missed the reference.. credit where credit is due.

So if I can stay out of the chat room, I may get some writing done. Everyone knows I talk too much and that is a siren call.. oh man is it ever. So my fellow wanderers, I am off to sharpen my wit, do some writing and later go hang in the chat room. I hope to see ya there, I'll buy you a virtual beer and we can talk about the death of kings..

A Box of Markers

I have been avoiding the novel for the past few days because I am stuck. It is a matter of getting passages to work well together, getting a certain flow, and the words and the self editing have become very hard indeed. In the past, I would shelved it and just not write, sometimes for weeks, it was depressing. But I don't do that anymore, now I just go write something else and that seems to help. I blog, or play with poetry or, as I have been doing recently, playing in the short story bin.

I was sitting here this morning and it dawned on me. Short stories are like photographs. That had never really occurred to me before, not consciously. For me at least, it was an oh yeah moment. Then I started thinking about that and tie that in with talk of self publishing and sending stuff around to collect rejection slips and it was a hard realization.

I got a box of short stories and they are very much like photos. I store em in a box in the closet haphazard and will nilly. I dig em out when I am feeling nostalgic or just feeling out of whack with the current stories or like today, when another one of the stories got a rejection slip. It is comforting, these old friends of mine.

Like old photos, some are clear, some are faded, a few have a thumb in the corner. A few are out of focus but you don't pitch those because they are expensive to develop and you can just make out what is in the picture. They are filled with memories of a day, or a trip. They are old friends, a tether to the past, a time machine to another time and place. Some are goofy and some are serious in their formality. A few panoramic vistas of a trip interspersed with a portrait of you and something spectacular, at least for the moment. It is all there, the good, the bad, and the -lets be honest- ugly.

Like pictures, when friends or family come over, you put on a slide show, start the conversation over coffee and cake with.. I should show you the latest pictures(stories) of.. and like the good folks they are, they nod, smile and say sure, ohhing and ahhing at the appropriate places. They politely listen to the argument over if that is when you were entering or leaving the state and nod appreciatively when you show a series of photos you took that have to be placed 'just so' so you could see just how big that mountain/lake/forest really was. Inside they cringe and promise to get even next time you come over to their house, just like you do when they do it to you. All very polite and civilized.

If your like me, at some point you decide to foist your box of stuff onto the rest of the world, you know, share the wealth. Sometimes its rejected out of hand, sometimes its accepted, and if your really lucky, you resonate with some one else. But I admit, I get the feeling some days that its like showing the family album of photos. Some days the demon in the corner whispers derision in your ears and points out just how silly it is to place the rest of the world into your own private purgatory.

Today I think I'll just send out some more stories, work on some stuff, maybe start a new story. Maybe I'll work on a poem or tickle the novel. I don't know. Maybe I'll self publish some stuff, still thinking that one over. Maybe I will invite you to my private purgatory. After all, in the carnival of chaos, down in the Verite, no one can hear you scream.

Surfing Between Moons

Good day fans of fiction! I have been keeping tabs on releases of the Dark Journeys collection of short stories by Jennifer Hudock. This week she released a new story, so I jumped right over to Amazon and snagged a copy. I just by pass the excerpts, for .99 cents I know I am going to get a good story. You know what? She is still batting a thousand.

Between Moons is an excellent short story, and I wish it was longer. That is not a bad thing, its a good thing! I really got into the two characters and their story, I wanted more. This is what makes good short fiction really good, the ability to take a few pages and really paint a picture and pull the reader into the story. This week we got to take a peak at werewolves. Take a look at this excerpt and you'll see for yourself..

Between Moons

Excerpt

She was jammed into a space so small her legs ached. The close confinement of her hiding place intensified the heat of her frightened breath and sweat trickled in two slow beads down the sides of her face like tears. She hadn’t cried, not yet. Her uncle had forbidden it before stuffing her into the cupboard and telling her not to make a sound no matter what she heard.

“Be brave, Em,” he said. The light behind him made it hard for her to focus on the shadow of his face. “Be silent.” She was sure his brow creased in that serious way that always reminded her of her father before he said, “No matter how scared you are, bite your tongue if you need to scream.”

“Wolves,” Uncle Raynor said. “Likely come seeking vengeance.”

“Don’t let them take her, Ray,” her mother’s voice was muffled by the distance between them and the cupboard door. “It’s not her fault.”

Uncle Raynor only nodded, and at some point before he grabbed her and stuffed her into the cupboard, her mother called out, “Everything will be okay, little love.”

Only everything hadn’t been okay. Uncle Raynor closed the cupboard door, and the latch clicked into place like a curse. Emalyn bit down on her tongue so hard that wet copper flooded her taste buds. The howling chorus of hungry intruders chilled her bones, and she bit harder. In the dark every sound was intensified. Her mother’s ragged screams rent the fabric of Emalyn’s security like a dull knife. Growling vengeance followed by a cacophony of splintered hate clenched her thundering heart. The heavy force of a scattered body, later she would see it had was her aunt, fractured bits of wood and they showered against her face. Red pain flashed behind her eyes and her teeth connected with an agonizing click.

Every snarl drove fear into her bones like frigid stakes of iron. Every growl painted a vicious portrait of terror on the canvas of her mind. Even as the beasts retreated, their triumphant howls fading into the distance, Emalyn remained inside the cupboard trembling, waiting for someone to let her out. No one came.

Hours passed. It could have even been days for all she knew. Her legs cramped so severely that her knees were swollen and hard as softballs. Burnt and faded light prodded at the edges of the cupboard, but she couldn’t bring herself to push the door open. Somehow she knew what awaited her on the other side, and a part of her feared that one of the monsters might still be lurking. Her eyes were dried out and sore from crying, the salt of her tears burned the skin of her cheeks. She tried to sleep, but there were only moments of black in which she found herself suspended, but still aware of the danger outside the door.

It was hunger that finally pushed her over the edge. Her growling stomach would have surely given her away if they were still outside waiting. One long, low rumble, and then another, nearly as fierce as the growls that had raged outside the cupboard. Emalyn tried to stretch. She pressed herself against the door, but something heavy blocked it from the other side. Prickling pins and needles numbed her aching arms and legs as she jammed her shoulder against the door with a cry. Again and again, and then the wood gave way, breaking into sharp fragments that jabbed and poked at her as she tumbled into the kitchen.

Thick red stains dried black and brown in clots on the walls and floor, streaming lines like smeared raindrops. A mangled arm lay in a crimson pool in front of the kitchen door, and that was when she realized that when she fell, she’d landed on a stiff cushion—a body. Vomit choked her screams, the sour sickness spilling out onto her stiff hands and the corpse beneath her.

Also, for your enjoyment, an audio promo..

Dark-Journeys-Promo-1

For more cool stuff, check out Jennifer's website. The path may be dark, but fear not my fellow wanderers, it is a path worth walking..

Out of the Blue

The first thing that pops into my head lately is a quote from Wild Palms ~ 'Wake up, your having a very important nightmare'

I don't know if it is so much a nightmare, as an awakening, but even that is not completely accurate. I have been wrestling with many thoughts about publishing and getting the stories out there, or for that matter, getting more poetry out. I have talked to a couple people, read a few blog posts and listened to a couple podcasts. I think I am still swimming in a sea of thoughts.

For many years I slogged along, sending out what I write, and for the most part, collecting rejection slips. I have published plenty of poetry in the small press, mostly for nothing in return or on occasion, for contributors copies. I have not published any fiction. Lately I have been really sending the fiction out to pro markets, those markets that pay a professional rate as determined by SFWA. Yep, mostly science fiction, a couple fantasy.. but all going to the bigger publications, and so far, I have not met with any success. I have been trying that for many years, so either the stories are bad, which they may be, or I get lost in the noise from the slush pile. Either way, the stories are sitting in a briefcase or on a drive.

I can live with that, I am nothing if not persistent. I am a traditionalist. I believe that you can indeed break through into the market going down that path. Almost everyone who is currently writing in the short story market, or for that matter in the novel market, have done just that, with a few notable exceptions. This beaten path is the road to publication, on a regular basis in a career that spans years, those writers follow that path. It works, just not for everyone.

I do know that a lot of good stuff falls through the cracks. I know because I have read these stories. Some recent stuff I have shouted out is a whole lot better then what is in the latest issues of some very prominent, very large, print magazines. What does that mean and how can I, as a writer trying to break into the market, do about it? First thing to do is write better, work on the stories, and for crying out loud, write. After that, there are other paths I could follow.

Should I publish, do an eBook of poetry or sell short stories for a buck? Should I keep slogging along, sending out shorts, trying to follow the beaten path? Should I polish that novel, get it the best I can and go find an agent? A year ago I would have said follow the path, stay the course, keep sending out the short stories, re-write the novel and try to get an agent. Now I am not so sure.

I want folks to read what I write. Getting paid for it would be nice. Making a few bucks selling short stories on smashwords would be fine, but I don't have any illusions about making big bucks selling short stories and that is not why I write them. The key is to get the stories out there. To be honest, I think that about the novel side of stuff as well.

I think I will keep pondering the opportunities and give it a try. Why not? I know no, we are old friends. I think it is time to make a push. I think it is time to self publish a bit and see what I can see. My skin is pretty thick and I will know right away if the stories are good or not, and that is what I need, feedback.

Allow me to open up the trench coat.. wanna buy a story?