Published Work | Work in Progress | Excerpt
At present the only writing I have sold professionally are the short stories Skeeters (Odyssey : Tales From The Wonder Zone) and Tangled Pages (Realms of Wonder).
A science fiction short story, Skeeters is a part of the anthology Odyssey : Tales from the WonderZone. Published by Fitzhenry & Whiteside, the Wonder Zone books are well worth looking up. Using science fiction to inspire science literacy.
A fantasy short story, Tangled Pages is a part of the anthology Realms of Wonder : Summoned To Destiny. The first book in a companion series to the Wonder Zone anthologies, Summoned To Destiny is again published by Fitzhenry & Whiteside. This time the book is aimed at a slightly older young adult audience.
Projects in the works range, depending on my honesty and whim, from several hundred to one. I will always have ideas moving from my mind to notes to written pages.
At present I have been asked to produce a couple of short stories for potential projects up and coming, as well as looking at a couple of anthologies that are open to submissions. Hopefully by the end of 2005 I will have a few more pieces out and about to be read.
The most persistent novel in progress at this point is Forms of Frost. Incomplete it comes in, so far, at around 30,000 words.
Forms of Frost tells the story of a young woman by the name of Abria Darten. Born in a future where humanity has spread itself across the universe, she is the genetic result of those hugely varied environments. As such she has a physical ability she'd rather not have. And for the most part humanity would agree with her feelings on that.
Living the kind of hard life that normally takes several lifetimes to experience, Abria's story provides ample opportunity for me to explore interesting concepts. The heart of the story, for me, deals with the difference between being a heroine and being heroic. Being a heroine requires one Do Great Things, or at least have an appreciable impact on other people's lives. Abria's life proves that being heroic, surviving unending obstacles, can be a reward in and of itself.
From Forms of Frost
I expect people to turn, to stare. I expect the laughter to ring around me as they all snicker. I'm waiting for the fingers, the sneers. The attention and derision. But it's not going to be overt, it's not going to be obvious. Or is it?
Is that guy over there really looking forward, or is the blank look from concentrating on me in his peripheral vision? Are those two women really sharing a joke that started before I exited the lift, or are they just starting to laugh at me, now?
I'm filled with voices, with doubts and the desire to scream. I want to fly apart. There are several reasons I avoid the mains, not the least of which is that I hate crowds. I loathe them, getting in the hate for them before they can disapprove of me and make me feel small.
Not too surprisingly my legs lock up. Unfortunately the bloody things couldn't do it at the lift. No. I'm in the middle of the main, what feels like hours of walking from the lift.
Luckily, I think, where Jack takes us is close. Most people don't seem to notice when he lifts me under the arms and moves me forcibly through a circular door.
It's like a laser. One second the crowd is overwhelming, the next I'm on the edge of a giant pool of silence. It's hard to believe, as my heart slows and my eyes readjust to the lower light level, that it had only been a few seconds. Did it always feel like that, or is the Ash jumping around my brain again?
Fleeting images and memories fly past, pulling my attention to the fact that we're standing in the entrance to the Park. The air makes me nostalgic. That is the warning, the alarm in the head as my subconscious takes in the taste of the air. It's filled with growing things and earth. Tangs of acidic soil, sharp twists of citrus and the subtle moisture of a pool.
The open spaces are there. Hanging below, around, beside and above me. Green chokes the massive space, defining and obscuring perspective.
I can't breathe. I've avoided this place. It's too full. There are hints at old memories of childhood and sunlight and people. Contact. I am swallowed by the vast indifference in this glittering ball of science and nature, dancing in vacuum and paradox.
Ash swirls in my eyes and fills my throat.