#100

Horror has a name, and that name is Fruitcake!

This is my 100th post, and to celebrate, I am holding my first annual Story Contest. It's very easy. All you have to do is write a story about the horrors of Fruitcake. Behold the horror in its various forms. All the hideous candied fruit, and you may have been the 666th person to receive this very fruitcake. If so, woe betide you.

The contest will run through January 5th, at which point we will vote on the stories. First prize will be an autographed copy of my and the ghost's book. If you already have one, I'll select something of equal value to award you. The alternate prize is most likely in better taste. If my story wins, I'll donate the price of one of my books to the World Health Organization's mental health division. Do not feel like you have to vote for my story. I am a novelist, and I acknowledge that my short stories are generally pretty foolish.

May the most malevolent fruitcake win!

Lily

'Twas the night before Xmahannuramakwanzyule and the Netherworld Hotel was at last quiet. The members of Death Cheese had fallen into a drunken stupor after playing till 3:33 AM. The Cheesemeister sneaked down to the pantry for a snack, hoping to find some cheese, fruit, chocolate, and maybe a little leftover wine--the classy kind from the box, not the rancorous rot gut that the members of Death Cheese favored.

The stair creaked, which did not particularly bother the Cheesemeister. Everything in the Netherworld Hotel was on the verge of falling apart. But when the clock suddenly struck the hour, it made her jump. That wouldn't have been so bad, but a chill went up her spine as she realized the clock had struck 6. Worse, when she looked at the clock, a simple old-fashioned grandfather clock with hands rather than digits, she noticed that the hour, minute and second hand were all pointing to the number 6. The clock face suddenly showed a malevolent, sharp-toothed grin, and the Cheesemeister jumped back. All around her were clocks indicating the number 666. Even the clock around Flavor Flav's neck when he sat upright from his drunken resting place on the lobby couch read 666, and the normally funny Flav had an evil grin on his gleaming grill.

"Yo, G, I guess you know what TIME IT IS!" he smirked wickedly.

It was then that The Cheesemeister screamed, for she heard a stomping on the roof. And then lunatic laughter echoed from the fireplace. Someone was up the chimney hole and Satan was his name.

"Ho ho ho, Cheesemeister!" laughed Unsaintly Nick. "You've been bad this year, like always, and you know it. But this year you will receive nothing so pleasant as coal. No, this year the price of being bad is truly unspeakable."

And with that, the wicked old elf tossed some sort of baleful object down the chimney. It steamed with the fires of hell and reeked of brimstone. And then the Cheesemeister's shrill keening filled the lobby of the dilapidated, cursed inn of the damned. For the thing opened its eyes and mouth. It lived! Or perhaps, more likely it lived not, and yet it moved. A malevolent intelligence shone in its glowing red eyes and in the clots of ancient candied fruit that adorned its hardened flesh. For this was the oldest fruitcake in the Universe, and Satan had chosen the Cheesemeister to receive it.

"Take care of your new pet, Cheesy One," Satan called down the chimney. "Or my new latrine cleaner for eternity shall be named. I bet you can guess what her name is too!"

As Flavor Flav took a swig of rancorous rot gut, The Cheesemeister sunk to the floor of the Netherworld Hotel lobby. She was stuck with the Universe's oldest fruitcake. She couldn't destroy it, she couldn't re-gift it and she definitely couldn't return it.

"Oh,woe betide me this Yuletide" she sighed. "Whatever shall I do? What are the chances that I'll get through the year without Soggy trying to eat that thing or Axe Man trying to chop it to bits? I'm doomed, doomed doomed!"

For extra atmosphere, here is the band that just may be Death Cheese's biggest influence.

My Biggest Nemesis

My score on The 5 Question "Worst Villian For You" Test:

Michael Myers

(You scored 13 Logic, 4 Supernatural, 4 Paranoia, 8 Skills)

http://panther.is1.okcimg.com/users/554/938/5559389992085590136/mt590360846.jpg

A common characterization is that Michael Myers is evil. The character as "almost a supernatural force - a force of nature. An evil force that's loose," a force that is "unkillable." He is more than human; he may be supernatural, and no one knows how he got that way.

Link: The 5 Question "Worst Villian For You" Test
(OkCupid Free Online Dating)

Thankfully Rare

Your Personality is Very Rare (INFP)

Your personality type is dreamy, romantic, elegant, and expressive. Only about 5% of all people have your personality, including 6% of all women and 4% of all men You are Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Perceiving.

How Rare Is Your Personality?

Mysterious Lily Strange Spotted at Stonehenge

The mysterious author Lily Strange was spotted at Stonehenge with her pet penguin Penguino today. It is reported that the peculiar pair were beamed there by a UFO piloted by the Alien Guy. Strange, reportedly, was hoping to "hook up with Mr. Spock," but Spock was advised by a certain mysterious hooded spectre holding a can of Whoop Ass that this would not be logical.

For the first time ever I am declared a genius!

Get a Cash Advance

The Fruitcake Club

I've been depressed, but this humorous post about fruitcake cheered me up a bit. Here is the response I gave.

My father is trying to indoctrinate my son into the fruitcake club. No, not THAT fruitcake club, nor even the "nutty as a fruitcake" club, although my personal belief is that if you like fruitcake you are indeed certifiable. My son likes to cook and my father is hoping that my son and my mother will cook up a dandy Xmas fruitcake. I suppose it wouldn't be such an awful thing to humor dear old Dad--he's had a rather miserable three years since the stroke and if it's fruitcake he wants, perhaps it's fruitcake he should have. But my son will probably make faces at the smell of that ghastly candied fruit. That stuff is fit only for ghoulies, ghosties, and things that go bump in the night--and I know several ghosts who wouldn't touch it either!

What are your thoughts on fruitcake? Is it a maligned delicacy or merely malignant? Was it put on Earth by the Devil Himself to torture good Christian souls on their favorite holiday? Or is it some sort of alien creation like the pyramids and Stonehenge are rumored to be by the UFO-philes? Whatever the case, I am frightened of it. It looks like a block of mold. The only good fruitcake I ever had left out the horrific candied fruit and replaced it with maraschino cherries and Brazil nuts. That was not Satan fruitcake, as is the majority of fruitcake. That was angelic fruitcake.

That's your lesson for today, Kiddies. Be good for goodness sake. Or not only will Santa Claus call you out, but if you're run over by a reindeer walking home from someone's house on Christmas Eve, you will be eating fruitcake in hell for all eternity.

If the clergy really wanted to get people into church, they'd forget all this talk about premarital sex and promiscuity. They'd be preaching about eternal damnation complete with daily fruitcake rations. Now that's enough to scare anybody into devotion!

I think it might be fun to come up with some hellish holiday tales. Maybe I'll have a contest of some kind. Since I'm broke I don't know what the prize will be other than the love and admiration of your fellow contestants. But perhaps something will strike me and jar my brain out of its comatose state e'er the holiday season is o'er. After all, there has to be something fun about this stressful pair of months following my and Alice Cooper's favorite holiday!

Silent Sibling Rivalry

The picture that goes with this latest effort can be found here. If you're not tired or proud, or if you're tired and not proud, or if you're just plain bored, feel free to add to it.

Kimi desperately wished that her sister Nita would tell her wretched little goblin of a son to get his ill-behaved butt off the table before Aunt Kimi went Samurai on his ass. At the same time, Nita was thinking what dreadfully stuffy little prigs Kimi's children were and it was all she could do to keep from smacking them upside the heads with a bo-stick to get some sort of a reaction out of them.

Just happens to be my favorite season

You Are Fall!

Thoughtful Expressive Creative Poetic Smart

What Season Woman Are You?

I feel a bit brain dead tonight so I'm doing these things

The return of Indie

Indie is back. So here is the first short-short story I've been able to write in awhile. Remember, you can add to it if you want!
Missi went to one of THOSE schools where art and writing were sneered at and only science and math were respected. The only place she could find to draw was in the girls' bathroom at lunch. This worked pretty well until the one day when Priscilla the Math Club Queen walked in on her.
"Ooooh, I'm gonna TELLL!!!!" Priscilla cried.
Being caught involved in artistic expression was far worse than being caught smoking in the bathroom. Even being caught smoking crack would have been better than this. Missi was doomed.

When I'm feeling low (which I have been for the past day) I start feeling sorry for myself, wishing that when I put out a piece like this people would actually participate like they do at Doug's or Indie's blogs. I'm not begrudging them their popularity, they fully deserve it. Sometimes I revel in being a big scary freak with red eyes and blood dripping from my fangs and claws. Other times I kind of wish that people would mistake me for cute and cuddly...at least until I was able to get them into my web of deceit and eat their intestines for lunch.

This Shite is Driving Me Crazy!

It's probably really nitpicky and anal of me, but this sign at work is driving me crazy. The name of the program is "Every Time I Feel The Spirit." I think the intent was to write "Ev'ry Time I Feel the Spirit" to make it seem more folksy, but instead they wrote "Eve'y Time I Feel The Spirit." Well, now ev'ry time I see that sign I cringe!

Would you pronounce that "Evie" or "Evay?"

This drives me slightly less nut's than people who put apostrophe's where apostrophe's don't belong, making word's that shouldn't be possessive possessive.

One of the more glaring examples of this was on a sign in front of a restaurant indicating that the breakfast special was "Ham and Egg's." I kept wondering "Ham and the Egg's what??"

In spite of being perfect in eve'y other way, I do have a bit of trouble knowing when to use its and when to use it's. I usually use the motto "when in doubt leave it out" with apostrophes and let my editor figure it out. I can tolerate a dropped apostrophe. But an added apostrophe where there shouldn't be an apostrophe is just plain aggravating!

Our press release!

Our publicist wrote this press release and is sending it to numerous publications. It's much better than the crap one that I wrote and had no idea to distribute it to!
If you're a writer in need of a publicist you need to write Lee at mrg@usatek.net
His fees are reasonable enough that even my broke ass could afford them!
Here's the press release masterpiece. You'd want to check it out if you read about it, wouldn't you? Genius!

======================================
NEW HORROR NOVEL WRITTEN BY PSYCHIC WITH HELP OF GHOST

(BOULDER, Colorado) – A new horror novel
titled “Lost Beneath The Surface” is a story of demons,
angels, gods, goddesses and a vampire – and it was
co-written with the help of a ghost, according to author,
Lily Strange.

“I never set out to write a book with a ghost, it just
happened,” said Strange, who began writing the book 15
years ago as her marriage began falling apart. “It began
as a 2-dimensional Gothic romance, but it ended very
differently.”

In 2005, Strange says she met a spirit who began working
with her on the manuscript. The story then took on an
entirely different tone.

“In my family, there are a lot of people with psychic
abilities,” said Strange. “One of my maternal
great-grandfathers always knew when people were going to
die and saw ghosts.”

Strange made contact with a dead musician who ended his
life in suicide. The ghost was receptive to Strange, as he
was quite lonely, she said. Soon, Strange began to work
with the ghost.

“He would read over my shoulder while I was working,” said
Strange. “He asked if I might like to hear some ideas he
had and before I knew it he was contributing enough that I
could only see fit to call him my co-author.”

The author, who says she has seen ghosts since the age of
16, said she wrote the book under a pen name, because she
is “sensitive about enduring the criticism that revealing
this supernatural partnership will subject me to.”

The complex horror novel blends true details of the
hard-rock-underground of the late 80s and early 90s with a
fantasy story. The result is an intricate and interwoven
tale of Terry Bruckham, a popular author who can’t catch a
break. Terry falls in love with London blues-rock singer,
Elvin Barris. Soon, in Terry’s dreams a terrifying threat
is revealed – dark forces that put the universe at stake.

An excerpt from the prologue:

“This is a story of love and loss, of triumph and
destruction, and of the knowledge that nothing in this
world will last forever … This is, if you will, a love
story.”

To purchase the e-book for $5.00, visit:
http://www.lilystrange.com. It is also available for
$16.95 at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.

Half of the profits from book sales will be donated to the
World Health Organization's mental health division.

CONTACT: Author Lily Strange is available for interviews
with the media by calling (insert telephone#) or via e-mail at lilystears@gmail.com.

Magic

Here is a small paragraph from Lost Beneath the Surface to start this week's story. See what you can do with it!

Sigrun presented the youth with several different backgrounds and he transformed to blend into each one. When he was through he seemed drained but pleased by the praise he received. He went to one of the sleep chambers to rest. Sigrun and Thrud led Greta to Yama’s chambers.

Rabbit Rabbit for October

MySpace Graphics

The Grim Reaper knows a vorpal rabbit when he sees one.

Geena's Journey

Geena wondered about the wisdom of leaving the light at the end of the tunnel behind. She wondered indeed about the wisdom of venturing through the tunnel. Who knew where it ended, how long it would be before she encountered light again? Yet she had lived so long alone in the light, fearing the darkness. Her loneliness drove her to venture out and seek what was beyond the beautiful but empty world she'd known for as long as she could remember before she died of despair.

This story was originally posted at the Indeterminacy website. We are glad that Indie's wife is recovering from her auto accident and hope she continues to advance back to health.

Deities Locking Horns

Yes! We met the challenge and the aforementioned chapter is complete--in first draft form, at any rate. Here is a short paragraph that you can have fun speculating an outcome for, should you wish.

Don't worry, I'm not using this as a method to steal material. First, I have the whole chapter completed before I ever submit a paragraph for this exercise. Second, usually the things that other people come up with are completely removed from what's actually going on in the chapter, and that's part of the fun. So have a go at this if you like!

Freya looked away for a moment and sighed. She was weary of this conversation and it had only begun. Thor and Tyr both seemed to be taking accusing postures and she wasn’t sure what Hades wanted. That one played both sides, just like Hel. His demeanor was serene but she was sure he had ulterior motives. Still, at the moment she would much rather deal with Hades than Thor and Tyr.

Creating

I'm in the process of creating a chapter and I'm so tired I can't even think. It was dangerous for me to drive to work tonight, that's how exhausted I am. All I know is that I want the chapter to include Thor, Tyr, Hades and Freya. There's an argument about the Conquering Hero being imprisoned for an impulsive decision. Oh yeah...and my IBS is killing me. Being an author is very glamorous, folks. If you are one of the Beautiful People you should probably consider another profession. If, however, like me, you are mentally unstable, have numerous physical problems, have a great face for radio and a head full of ideas that have caused others to tell you that you really should consider checking into Happy Acres for a little stay and maybe a lobotomy, being a writer just might be for you!

Little Goals = Big Accomplishments?

I've been doing a program called Tools to Life and this is what I posted on my blog there. Check it out and if you decide you might like to do it, tell 'em Cheesemeister referred you.

I think Day 9 has been the most relevant to what I needed to hear. There are no big accomplishments, only big results of multiple small accomplishments. It makes all the little "bullcrap" I have to do every day seem not quite as unimportant.

Promoting this book is an unimaginable horror. The book itself is a horror novel--the plot pales by comparison to promoting the sucker! I think a goal I could realistically achieve would be contacting one radio station or reviewer a day to attempt to promote it. I avoided papering my walls with rejection slips by publishing on demand because major publishers these days won't touch an unknown. Guess I get to have rejection slips anyway. Ah well, joke 'em if they can't take a f**k.

Screaming In The Night

Here is a short paragraph from my book to play with.

A cloud passed over the moon. Behind them a woman screamed.
"Oh Jesus! Oh Lordy Jesus!"

Go ahead and decide what she's screaming about. Be creative! And being humorous is acceptable.

Getting Busy

I'm working on the new manuscript. I'm more comfortable with it this time. The new book should be ready in 2009 rather than taking another 15 years to come to life!

Fiona the Plant Hater

Kimora the tree-hugger had warned Fiona against her aggressive attitude towards plants. Fiona had enjoyed kicking the buds of black-eyed Susans, lopping the leaves off lilacs, stomping on lamb's feet, and ripping roses out by the roots. Kimora had said that one day the garden gnomes would get revenge on feisty Fiona. Fiona had just laughed. The flora-phile had obviously snorted too much pollen.
But now Fiona wished she'd listened. When she came into the garden this morning to mutilate some maples, she got the surprise of her life when she was met by Rolf the head garden gnome, who informed her that it was time to pay the phyto-piper. Then the garden gnomes began to chant.
The next thing she knew, Fiona was imprisoned inside a blade of grass. And now she saw the lawn mower coming.

Feel free to add your own ideas to the story.
Original appearance here.

Sweet Tooth

Belinda and Irene wanted to maintain their girlish figures. But the cheesecake was so tempting. They thought that if they rubbed it on their mouths they could taste it without absorbing the calories. They wanted it more than sex, more than fame. They were torn. It was terrible. Were they not above gorging on cake?
They went to Yam Man's Self Actualization Workshop, where they discovered their Inner Fatty, and decided to heed the words of Marie Antoinette, who said it was perfectly all right for them to eat cake.

The story originally appeared here.

Literary intelligence

Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

What Kind of Intelligence Do You Have?

Yeah...I'm feeling a little discouraged about my book's potential right now, but ok.

Contemporary Authors Bio

This is my bio for the contemporary authors database:

I used to write simply as an outlet for the overwhelming emotions I always experienced, which I now know are due to bipolar disorder. I was always fascinated by the horror genre, perhaps because horrific creatures and scenarios could be used as metaphors for powerful emotions and sometimes uncontrollable situations. It also served as a catharsis for the terrifying nightmares that I have experienced all of my life.
Now I write for these reasons and additionally to allow my co-author, a discarnate spirit who lost his life to suicide, to have a creative outlet for his emotions and to impart his very important messages to the world as well. He is a great partner, incredibly intelligent, creative and supportive, and I can't imagine working without him ever again. We refine and balance each other's ideas.
I once wanted the glory of being published under my own name, but due to the controversy of my belief that I am creating my works with a somewhat notorious spirit, this is not possible. At first I grieved the loss of my dream of possibly having my own name recognized alongside the likes of Stephen King.
My personal renown no longer matters. What matters is the message my co-author and I can impart through our stories. We literally hope to save lives through our works. 50% of the profits from our books will be donated to the World Health Organization's mental health division.
In the long run, it really doesn't matter whether or not the reader believes that I'm actually working with a ghost. What matters is that he or she is intrigued enough by the book to buy a copy and hopefully tell their friends to do the same. Then we can help the World Health Organization prevent suicides and end the stigma that those with mental illness endure.

Promotion Crap

Trying to promote the book--the horror! Writing the thing was the easy part by compare. I've never been any good at self promotion and really getting noticed seems to be for established wealthy authors that actually have two pennies to rub together. Shit on a shingle! And I was dumb enough to think all I had to do was write stuff!

Book Description

This is the description of my book that I submitted to Amazon. What do ya think?

Description:
Horror fiction meets metaphysical truth in this tale penned by one incarnate and one discarnate author. The story, which began, in author Lily Strange's words, as a standard "lonely lady meets sexy male vampire" Gothic romance, made a drastic metamorphosis to include mythological creatures from various pantheons and allusions to real events which occurred in the extreme Metal underground in the 1990's. This metamorphosis was due to the incarnate author's accidental contact with a spirit who had inside information regarding certain incidents. This spirit is highly imaginative, and in Lily he found the perfect medium to not only help him exercise his frustrated creativity but to impart an important message to those who are still living--especially those struggling with severe depression or other mental illness that might prompt them to harm themselves. Fifty percent of profits generated from this book will be donated to the World Health Organization's Mental Health Division.

Author bio(s):
Lily Strange has had precognitive dreams ever since she can remember. She is able to sense the emotions of both the living and the discarnate. She does not hear the voices of spirits with her physical ears, she discerns their thoughts and emotions. She is also adept at reading Tarot cards. Lily copes with Type II Bipolar Disorder. This disease is characterized by severe depression alternating with periods of heightened self-esteem and optimism. Type II Bipolar is not characterized by extreme mania and is therefore difficult to detect. One of Lily's missions is to end the stigma that the mentally ill endure. Lily's co-author wishes to identify himself simply as "the ghost" at this time. He does not wish for any Earthly notoriety, much of which he considers to be "false advertising" to be a selling point for the book. He has two very important missions that he wishes to accomplish. His first mission is to prevent more souls from enduring the trauma caused by suicide, the reason for his own death. He hopes in some way to improve the current treatment available to those who are suicidal, which is why he wishes for his portion of the profits to be donated to the World Health Organization's efforts to assist the mentally ill and lower the suicide rate worldwide. "Those in so much pain that they consider ending their own lives should be treated with sympathy, not disdainfulness," he says. His second mission is to warn people not to mess with forces they don't understand. He says that while these forces may seem very attractive to a person whose life is going wrong, they have no allegiance to nor affection for those who call on them and will be perfectly happy to "bring even greater unhappiness to those foolish enough to mess with them." His third mission, he says, is to "prevent people from reading crappy writing." Therefore his recommendation is for everyone to "throw out all your other books and read this one. In fact, drop everything else you are doing and read it now."

Backcover copy:
With her long-awaited second marriage finally about to become a reality, acclaimed novelist Terry Bruckham is besieged with painful and terrifying memories. Those most closely associated with her are also assailed by disturbing dreams and obsessive thoughts. A sinister plan is being enacted in the Earth's Dreamlands, home to the sleeping and the Earthbound dead, as a troubled spirit wrestles with the warring pieces of his own psyche for the well-being or destruction of everything that exists. Discover the world beyond the wall of sleep and its marvelous residents, both good and evil. Lily Strange is the pen name of a creative soul who describes herself as "a reluctant medium." In real life, she is an emergency medical technician by profession. She is currently employed in a retirement community. Due to her innate abilities and personal challenges, Lily is also a lifelong student of both psychology and parapsychology, inspired by psychic and empathic experiences from her earliest memories, and challenged by emotional difficulties due to type II Bipolar Disorder, which onset at puberty. While editing a story which she had created 14 years previously, Lily had an experience which radically transformed not only the story but her own perspective on the living world and the world that lies beyond the veil of material existence. Inspired by the works of classic horror writers such as Ambrose Bierce, H.P. Lovecraft and Stephen King and aided by the skillful contributions of a literal "ghost writer," Lost Beneath The Surface is the first in a unique series of esoteric horror novels. Lily reluctantly decided to publish her creative work under a pseudonym due to the desire to protect the privacy of her family and to preserve her professional life from the potential ramifications of her controversial beliefs.

Inside-flap copy:
A group of psychically and emotionally bonded friends battle deities and demons to prevent the germination of the Dark Mind.

Author comments:
This is a much more unusual book than I had ever intended to write. The original story was simply a literary expression of the pain I was feeling about my decaying marriage. I picked it up again after it had collected dust for some thirteen years. Not long after, I accidentally contacted the spirit who would become my co-author. Neither of us had any intent for this to happen. It just worked out that way. I now consider my co-author to be as real a friend as any of my incarnate cohorts. He is very present in my life. The truth about him may surprise people. He is brilliant, imaginative, and, in spite of rumors to the contrary, has a great sense of humor. While I often consider my mediumistic abilities to be a mixed blessing, in this case I feel very blessed to have made such a treasured friend. Both authors hope that their their literary efforts will entertain, inform, and lead to a greater understanding and better treatment of the mentally ill.

My Three Offspring

This is one of those cases where the picture was necessary for the story to make any sense. The story and picture originally appeared here. What can you add?

"Bleeding hell, I do hope that Father doesn't expect us to stuff our arses into this thing to go to the North Plodqiddle Social," Master Jerry, the middle brother of the Wallingford clan muttered through his teeth.
"I think it might be right good fun, rather," said Master Garry, the youngest of the trio.
"Shut the bleeding hell up so they can take the picture," Master Nicholas, the eldest brother snarled menacingly through his perfect smile. "And then I'll have a chat with Father and see if he has truly lost his marbles. I simply can't see having the three of us stuffed into the back seat and Father riding up front with Xerxes when we've a perfectly good limo that will hold all of us comfortably."
"All in, Lads," said their father Sir Barry cheerfully. "'T'will be a bonny drive in the countryside this fine summer afternoon. Chop chop now!"
"Bleeding hell, he has lost his marbles," Jerry moaned.
"Nah, I think he's just been nipping at the rum Cook was using to flavor his birthday cake." Garry remarked. "Oh, come, lads, it will be fun, you'll see!"
"Bally chip off the old block," Nicholas groaned, thinking that in another month he could return to Oxford and concentrate on his forthcoming career as a dedicated purveyor of fashion.

More writing, but less silliness. Purchase my novel, Lost Beneath The Surface. 50% of proceeds donated to the World Health Organization's mental health division.

The Heat of a Dying Sun

This story originally appeared here. Can you continue it?
"Remember what it was like when the sun still shone yellow on the Earth?" Lisa asked Quint.
"I remember what it was like when the air was sometimes moist and the seas weren't all evaporating," he said.
"Do you ever wonder if eternal life may not have been such a wise plan after all?" she asked.
"It will be a moot point soon," he said.
They held hands and watched the gigantic red sun set over the drying sea, glad of the night and dreading another scorching day when it rose again.

Post Sponsor:

Have you checked out the Crystal Cavern yet?

Ziggie's Folly

This story originally appeared here. Feel free to add to it.

"Snot!" said Ziggie. His favorite thong had gotten caught between the dryer drawer and the rotating drum. It was messing up everything. Now he would have to call the repairman, and he wouldn't have his lucky thong to wear on his date with Charles.
"I hope that wearing a not so lucky thong doesn't mean I won't get lucky," Ziggie mused.

Ziggie and his friends get lucky with videos from Adam Male.

Chef, Cook and Bottle Washer

I guess I'm doing pretty well considering that I'm everything but my own editor and publisher. I'm the author, the agent, the advertiser, the webmistress. And I'm damn tired!
The website has a new improved look. Please check it out. Consider becoming a sponsor. Currently the price is a link or banner exchange. If I ever get to be a big deal? Well as much as I've struggled I figure I'll charge big companies a lot and sincere small business people will still get to be a sponsor for the price of a link or banner exchange!
You can come advertise on my plugboard. I don't get a lot of traffic yet, but it's free! You will need an 88x31 banner. If you don't know how to make one, I can do it for you. Email cheesemeister@q.com to find out more.

Thinking about publishing your own book? Check out my publisher.

On To The Next One

I'm working on what actually is the prequel to my current book. The chapter we're dealing with now is going on 8 hours worth of work. Of course when finished, it won't take 8 hours to read!
Here's a preview sentence that you can play with. What do you think will happen next?

Jarius smiled tiredly.
“I am ready, Elan. Ready for this cursed fatigue to end. Ready to be undefeatable. I am ready to learn the ways of thy gods and goddesses and to receive their blessing. But I have one question. If my body is to be in the process of dying before reawakening to eternal life, how can it be explained to my family when I rise from the grave?”

That's all I can give ya--especially since the chapter's in first draft form! In the meantime, buy my current book and other cool stuff at my newest web store!

Paint This!

Who Should Paint You: M.C. Escher

Open and raw, you would let your true self show for your portrait. And even if your painting turned out a bit dark, it would be honest.

What Artist Should Paint Your Portrait?

Forever With Head In The Clouds

You Are a Dreaming Soul

Your vivid emotions and imagination takes you away from this world So much so that you tend to live in your head most of the time You have great dreams and ambitions that could be the envy of all... But for you, following through with your dreams is a bit difficult You are charming, endearing, and people tend to love you. Forgiving and tolerant, you see the world through rose colored glasses. Underneath it all, you have a ton of passion that you hide from others. Always hopeful, you tend to expect positive outcomes in your life. Souls you are most compatible with: Newborn Soul, Prophet Soul, and Traveler Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Buy my book and see what kind of strange soul I really am.

War Games

The original story appears here.

"Sorry, gentlemen," the Lieutenant said. "The transport bringing the ammunition has a flat and ran off the road into a ditch. So we won't be having war games today. We'd best start walking back to camp. I know it's hot now but the weather report says we'll have a deluge later."
"That drunk sonofabitch Sanderson!" Victor muttered aside to Eldon. "The only reason he gets away with this crap is because he's the damn general's grandson!"
"Something you want to say, Corporal?" the Lieutenant asked.
"Merely that it's a fine day for a walk, Sir," Victor said, looking at the cloudless sky and wondering if the weather reporter might be a relative of the general's too.

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Samara's Lament

This short story originally appears here.
"Oh dearie my," sighed Samara. "If only my hands weren't so cold. I'll never find a man that can bear my icy touch. Maybe if I send up this balloon with my wish, the deities of death will bring someone who is undead like myself for me to make love to."

Feel free to add to Samara's story.

Brought to you by:

Giving In

I've been having suicidal thoughts and have been reading a lot of psych blogs today. I've incorporated both my own feelings and those of other survivors of abuse.

The original story appears here.

A SURVIVOR SUCCUMBS

No matter how long she stayed in the water, Wendy couldn't wash away the feeling of self hate that stopped her from living life. It wasn't the matter of taking some pill the doctor said would make her become closer to normal. It wasn't the matter of listening to a therapist tell her that she'd never be normal, but here were some ways that she could act so she'd pass. Deep inside, Wendy knew she was dirty, ugly and unlovable.
"You can't wash away the filth on the inside," Wendy thought.
She would never be loved. She would always be used and abandoned, just as all men had always used and abandoned her. Starting when she was very young, she must have been created simply to fulfill the pleasure of others and never receive love in return. She was worthless. And now Ellen, whom she thought was her salvation from all the horror and sorrow that had come before, had apparently used and abandoned her too.
Wendy glanced down at the straight razor sitting on the edge of the tub.

Would you open yours?

Here is my follow up to the two stories I linked to in the last post:

"Crap," said Eddie. "Do I open the fortune cookie or don't I? My friend Phillip opened a fortune cookie. It told him he would find the perfect woman. Which he did. But then he turned into a horrible monster and swam out to see to find R'Lyeh, whatever the hell that is. Then again Leonard opened a fortune cookie and it told him he'd take over a large business and be insanely successful. Oh, what to do, what to do?"
"Place is closing," the owner called to Eddie. "You going to eat that fortune cookie or no?"

Stories from beyond the stars

Here are some stories from my Mythos Encyclopedia blog.

Phillip's Woman
The Transformation

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More Publisher Drama

Got this message from Mago regarding my publisher crap:
The opinion of a non-business-man.
If the issue can not be cleared and nobody reacts when asked about this particular text - print it and bam: There's a book.
When somebody afterwards claims a violation of his copy-rights, so be it: Document the actual situation and what has been done and the reactions for your protection - it can not be that the non-reaction of somebody prevents a work of art from being published. There is always the possibility of a later agreement.

Publishing is publishing, no matter whether the result is printed professionally and in hardcover or via web and printed on my shruddle-ink-pissing-machine.
End of unreflected brabbling.
63mago | Homepage | 06.19.07 - 11:42 am | #

And I responded thus:

Mago,
I agree with everything you say. The need to have a professional looking book in hand is simply a personal desire. The book is no less a book if it's delivered in electronic form. But---waaaah! I want a BOOK that people can later pry from my cold dead hands--something where I can wave it around and say "I did this!"
I'm one of those authors that believes publicity is good, and as long as someone properly attributes my work to me, we're good. I wouldn't even take them to court for insulting me because there's no such thing as bad publicity, although I probably would rip them a new asshole.
By the very anal interpretation of the rules this publisher is using, I couldn't write a historical novel in which I quoted "Mein Kampf" to show what a nut case Hitler was and what drove him to his crimes against humanity because it was published in 1925. By their interpretation of the rule, the book would have to have been published before 1923. But nobody holds the copyright to this material, and unless Hitler discovered the fountain of youth and didn't actually commit suicide in his bunker but instead was beamed up by aliens from Sirius, he's dead.
Clark Ashton Smith has been dead for 46 years. I haven't been able to find any heirs nor any copyright holders. The material was used under fair use rules by Chaosium Publishing. I've never heard of anything this insane in my life! There is such a thing as too literal of an interpretation of a rule in most cases.
Cheesemeister | 06.19.07 - 6:06 pm | #

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Discouraged

I'm not feeling discouraged on the whole about writing but am feeling discouraged because of the publishing thing. I'm feeling pissed that I spent so much money on the publisher, totally went into hock, and now I may not be able to get the story published after all because of some little hang up. By law I actually could publish the book as it is, the publishing company are just being sticklers. I may have to give up on the idea of having the book in printed form and have to form a pay site, charge $5 for people to be able to access the book online, donate $2.50 per sale to the World Health Organization. I'll do it if I have to. The sooner I know what the hell is going down the better. This sucks.

Hang Ups

I couldn't have been born normal. Oh nooo. I had to be a writer. But I couldn't write nice romance novels. I had to be a freakazoid who talks to ghosts! And now my stupid novel is held up in the production. This is the cryptic letter I got from the publishing company.

Hi Cheesemeister,

While in the pre-publication phase of your manuscript, we noticed some potential copyright issues. Your manuscript may contain images and/or passages of text that are problematic. Here are our guidelines:

If your manuscript contains any images and/or text that you did not personally create as original material, you may not have the legal right to include such material in your manuscript. Such material includes lyrics to songs; excerpts from published stories, books, or poems; published and commercially produced images; images containing the likeness of someone you do not know personally (living or dead); and photographs taken by someone other than you or an immediate family member.

Outskirts Press will only publish images and/or text created or produced by someone other than the author if the material was first published before 1923 or if you have obtained written authorization from the legal owner of such material to publish it as part of your manuscript. Please be aware that Outskirts Press will not accept “Fair Use” claims nor will we accept bibliographic information acknowledging the source of the copyrighted material in lieu of written authorization.

If your manuscript contains images and/or text created or produced by someone else and you have not already obtained this written authorization, you must do so before we can publish your manuscript. Written authorization from the copyright holder is sufficient. I have attached a copy of the Authorization to Publish form for your convenience. Please fax all signed documentation to Outskirts Press at 888.672.6657.

If you need assistance securing permissions or verifying your rights to use, we can provide you with the name and contact information of a specialist who works and charges independently of Outskirts Press.

If you are unable to secure appropriate authorization or decide it is not worth the bother or expense, please remove the material from your manuscript so we can proceed with publication.

Outskirts Press has adopted this policy for the protection of all writers and creators of original images and photographs, and once you are published, we will protect your work in the same diligent manner.

Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns about this issue, and I’ll be happy to help resolve them. I will wait to hear from you regarding this matter before proceeding.

Sincerely,

Eager Beaver

Aw, for fuck's sake!

I think I know which item might be the problem. I hope it isn't more than just this one thing. But could they have been SPECIFIC? You know, told me which thing was the problem instead of leaving me to guess? Oh noooo! That might be helpful!

I quote material from H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, William Drummond and Clark Ashton Smith in the book. I obtained permission from Arkham House to use the Lovecraft material. William Drummond was a poet from the 1500's. Edgar Allan Poe died in 1849. The Clark Ashton Smith story I quoted was published in 1935 and I credited him as the source, mentioning the story I got it from and where it was published. This magazine no longer exists. I thought enough time might have passed that I could use the material simply by crediting the source but it has to be before 1923. Shee-at! So I wrote to Chaosium to ask them where they got permission from to use Clark Ashton Smith's character Quachil Uttaus in their RPG books. Smith died in 1961, and I'm hoping that there won't be problems with the occasional blurbs (usually couched in double entendre) in some of my other text, using Mayhem lyrics because my publisher isn't going to buy that the guy who wrote the lyrics also wrote the sentences--through me, seeing as he died in 1991! But whatever the case may be, could my publisher perhaps have SPECIFIED what the problem was rather than leaving me to shoot in the dark? Criminy!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck!

Sometimes I really wish I was normal!

Easy To Be Hard

This week's sentence seems easy. But sometimes the easy ones are the most difficult!

You remember last year when I went to Norway with Tore to spend the summer with him and his cousin Gudrun in Oslo?

This silly literary game brought to you by Tore and his cousin Gudrun, and by:

One Letter Makes All The Difference

On an announcement for the Friday night birthday dinner at the Gerri Atrik Retirement community, the notice read:

Power Point collection of colorful grave rubbings.

Which I initially read as:

Power Point collection of colorful grave robbings.

Wars have been started by the misinterpretation of a single letter!

This thought-inspiring post brought to you by:

A New Sentence

Arr, Matey! Here's a jolly good sentence for ye lubbers today!

Greta sighed and shook her head, putting an arm around him and gently encouraging him to rest his head against her shoulder.

Have fun with it and don't do anything that I wouldn't do!

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Back After A Long Pause

Sorry to have gone missing in action. Here's your first snippet for May.

“Christ! Stop it,” Elvin shouted, shaking his head as if to dislodge the distasteful words. But the mocking voice continued relentlessly.

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Yes!

The book is now being set up for print! (I haven't had much chance to work on the promotion site because I've been buried under the necessities of setting up the e-commerce site.) So a pat on the back for me and my co-authors, and here's your sentence! Don't say I didn't ever give you anything!

“No. I never get sick of listening to you," Horst said. "You listened to me when I needed you to. I just want to help you, Pelle. You and Dead. You’re trying to figure out what’s going on and why Dead’s suddenly acting in this hostile way again. I want to discover that too.”

Hint: It might be helpful to reference this post for inspiriation in building this week's offering of insanity. Just a thought!

Sentence of the Week

Here is this week's inspirational sentence. Say hallelujiah!

Aldon was sure he knew the face that was revealed when the boat sailed into the moonlight. This was the Dark Mind, star of one of Terry’s most famous books.

“You never really forgot,” Aldon said. “Why did you pretend that you did?"

The Book Has Flown

In honor of the submission of the manuscript, I wish to offer up an extra sentence. It's a nice, harmless, friendly little sentence for your consideration!

“I rather enjoy iced tea,” Jake said, “though most of this lot thinks I’m barmy for it. Have they any of that?”

Have fun!

In memory of Spooky

January 16, 1969-April 8, 1991

A Deviant Entry

Dare you answer Cailleach's question?

“What is deviant in his desire to have a place to dwell where he does not feel like an outcast? What is deviant in his desire to have a mate with whom to spend eternity? What is deviant in his desire to offer sanctuary to other outcast souls? What is deviant in his desire to have the happiness he was denied in life?” Cailleach demanded.

Sob...

I guess I didn't give y'all enough to work with in the last post.
Sob! I am not worth!

This paragraph is from one of "The Spooky Guy's" contributions to the book. He looks forward to seeing what you can do with it. I do too!

“Come off it, Dead, what’s this really about?” I asked him. “We’ve had this foolish argument before. The poetry is mine, with some embellishment from you. You’re the performer, and after the death of our body it became clear that you had the gift of shape shifting. This isn’t why you’re displaying such hostility towards me. Now, tell me what your problem is before I am forced to ask that you be imprisoned until such a time as you have redeemed your behavior.”

My 50th Post

What type of person do you attract? Your Result: You attract artsy people! Those free spirited artists with great imaginations find you interesting. They are usually interesting themselves, so its not a bad thing, but they CAN be a bit wifty and choose odd goals. If you like life to always be a bit 'different' from the norm, but not too extreme in any one direction, these are the people for you. If you seek logical decision making skills and good money management, you may want to change something in the way you appear. Artsy people are fun for adventure and exploring, so, have fun! (smoking weed helps too)
You attract geeks!
You attract unstable people!
You attract Yuppies!
You attract rednecks!
You attract models!
What type of person do you attract? Quizzes for MySpace

I'm just farting around. And I'm not sure why, but there's a real "weed" theme going on with my blogs right now!

Finally...

At last, here's another sentence for you to play with!

“He can’t always,” Adam said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “But know that this particular thought he shares with you.”

Truly Wise

Here are some great quotes from Ovid:

A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow. Ovid

Either do not attempt at all, or go through with it. Ovid

First thing every morning before you arise say out loud, "I believe," three times. Ovid

It is convenient that there be gods, and, as it is convenient, let us believe there are. Ovid

Love is a kind of warfare. Ovid

People are slow to claim confidence in undertakings of magnitude. Ovid

The sharp thorn often produces delicate roses. Ovid

There is no such thing as pure pleasure; some anxiety always goes with it. Ovid

You can learn from anyone even your enemy. Ovid

Read more wisdom of Ovid here.

Story Sentence for 3/15

In honor of St.Patrick's Day/My Brother's Birthday, here is your Story Sentence for the week!

“It sounds awful!” Kirstin said. “This place is wonderful, but oh, I wasn’t ready to be dead! I’ve got this great brother, he’s 24 years old, and my father...oh, this will kill them! I feel so torn—it’s so great here but I want to go back so my family won’t be sad. Do you ever feel that way?”

This Week's Burnt Offering

See what damage you can do with this:

Oliver had heard Metal Mass play while waiting for Percy to finish work sometimes and thought they were the most underrated hard rock act in the world. He was in awe of the fact that he was sitting and talking to them. It was even better than talking to some of the bigger name acts because none of these blokes had “rock star” attitudes. Still, he wanted to see what they had looked like in their arena rock days, and he said so.

Begin The Month With This

What's happening here? Who's lost what? Are you lost already? Find me an answer!

“Lucy’s loss is my gain,” Terry mused. “But is Patrick’s loss Elvin’s gain? Not that either Lucy or Patrick has any say in the matter now.”

Intensity

This paragraph beckons for more heavy subject matter than the preceding ones, but who knows what the handful of nuts reading this blog might come up with? I shudder to think of--I mean, eagerly await the outcome.

“Should Heaven extend its mercies even to young Per, Kristina?” Hel mocked. “Or do you in truth believe that he deserves to suffer eternally for the sorrow he caused your brother? And do you not believe deep down that he caused the death of Horst? Think carefully before you answer, Kristina. The truth can make a great deal of difference in the fates of those being judged.”

Post-birthday Paragraph

This might be the best one yet! See what you can do with it.

“It was only to be a joke,” he sobbed. “But I seem to make Kristina believe she truly look as a cow. She is so tall and big, but not really like a cow.”

Let The Game Continue!

Since I don't have to think very hard about doing this, I'm having a lot of fun. I need fun right now! Here's sentence #2 for you to conjure up your own little scenario for.

“It’s only in his experience,” Greta the observer informed Greta the participant. “If he can be convinced…”

So who is "he" and what does he need to be convinced of?

Let's Play a Game

This blog has been neglected for a long time, so people have probably forgotten it exists, but let's see what happens.

I'm bored with waiting for my editor to get the latest segment of my story with revisions back to me. But I want to do something with the story. So the game goes something like this. I'll give you a sentence from the story and you create a little paragraph or idea of your own surrounding it. It's kind of like what we do with the pictures on Indie's blog, though not nearly so clever.

Ready? Here's your sentence.

Niles couldn’t bear the pain. He began to weep.

Unlike Indie, who figures it out as he goes along, I know the reason why Niles is weeping because that is one of my great powers! And because I already wrote the story. But I want you to tell me why you think Niles is not a happy camper. Now go to it!

Decision for Anonymity

I made the decision to publish my book under a pseudonym, although I have always dreamed of seeing my name printed on a book cover and on the shelves next to the likes of Stephen King. The reason is due to the controversial nature of certain subject matter in the book. This may seem a cowardly decision--it did to me initially. These are the reasons that eventually swayed me in this direction.

First and foremost, my family.

My parents are in their elder years and my father isn't in the best of health. They don't need to be plagued by questions about what their lunatic daughter was thinking.

My brother doesn't need to be plagued by questions about whether the lunatic that wrote this book is his sister.

My son deserves to have a life that isn't overshadowed by his mother's controversial decision.

The fragile part of my psyche deserves to be protected.

Since I may well have to work a real job for the rest of my life, I want to be treated as normally as possible by my co-workers.

When I am older I may make the decision to let my real name be known.

Until then, look for a forthcoming book by one Lily Strange.

No Longer Dragged Down

But making what may seem a strange decision.

Although I intend to "advertise" the book on my blogs when it comes out, I do not intend to have a link to my blog world on the book's website.

I really prefer to have a place where I can express myself in relative anonymity.

I really don't care about getting a lot of hits on my blogs. I'd rather have a few quality hits than a lot of crap hits.

Some of my blogs have disappeared off my blog roll. They still exist but I've come to the decision that I'd rather reveal them to people who I think might actually appreciate them than make them available to the "general public" and encounter "huh?" and "I don't get it" constantly.

When the book is published, this blog will no longer be on the blog roll.

It's not one of my more high-traffic blogs, but it is one where I tend to spill my guts.

I think that everyone needs some degree of anonymity to their lives. I think that some of these celebrities end up acting like idiots because they're in the public eye too much. Some of them actually start believing their own bullshit hype. And that's a really dangerous thing. Because no-one can live up to an image, including an image that they may have created.

Images are indestructible. Real psyches are fragile.

My fragile psyche is the reason some of my blogs will become invisible to the eyes of all but a select few.

I'm not saying you should be wowed by this "honor" because I don't really think it's that great of an honor. But maybe you can feel a little warm and fuzzy if I trusted you that much, because I don't trust easily.

Dragged Down

I really feel discouraged right now.

My editor hadn't completed the segments I'd given him. His comment was "I've become overloaded with this. I've given it more attention than things I actually prefer reading. Even if it was a book I absolutely loved I'd be bored with it."

There was one chapter where I provided WTMI.

Well--guess that was very Stephen King of me. I go too in depth with secondary characters sometimes. In a way, for me there are no secondary characters. Probably because I'm bipolar I'm the queen of subplots. My pukey little brain is always going off in 1000 different directions.

I also decided to remove my Sphere of Music blog and my UNDEAD blog from the blogroll.

Why?

Because I'm sick of sharing something that I put my heart into with people that just don't get it.

Maybe I wasn't meant to write after all. Maybe I really am what everyone always said I was.

A loser.