sci-fi bites

Radio Interview: Speculative Fiction Cantina

Speculative Fiction Cantina

On March 24th, I did a radio interview with the host of Speculative Fiction Cantina, S. Evan Townsend, and William J. Jackson, another indie writer. As it always happens in life, planning a speaking even several months in advance almost invites fate to give one laryngitis! I was luck to prepare my reading piece days in advance, and with the assistance of lots of tea and Advil went on the air. It was an interesting interview and I did manage to talk about ideas for creating sympathetic, diverse characters that evoked empathy among my readers. I am very grateful to Evan for this opportunity. Please visit the Speculative Fiction Cantina for many many interviewers with authors from all over the country. Evan has been doing these for years and has quite a library of conversations and readings. It’s worth the exploration — one never knows where your new favorite author will be discovered! As for my reading, here’s a little video of the first chapter from The FATOFF Conspiracy. You can read a few more chapters here, or get a free ebook from Amazon Prime. Enjoy! And thank you for listening.

A Short Radio Story

Hitler Baby

Over the weekend, I’ve created two short audio pieces: “Baby Killers” and the first chapter of “The FATOFF Conspiracy.” While you will have to wait until Friday for the Speculative Fiction Cantina hosted by author S. Evan Townsend to hear the beginning of my dystopian novel about fat, “Baby Killers” is now available. Feel free to read the story along with the video. Enjoy!

Baby Killer

Baby Killers' Dinner

Baby Killer Brian was running away. He dumped his laundry basket into the trunk of his car, wrapped his computer in a towel and stuffed it underneath the mixture of dirty and clean clothes, and took off North. His college midterms went poorly and the paper he wrote for the world philosophy class was just dreadful. He was tired and haven’t slept in a very long time. Life had gotten to be too much lately and he had enough of it. He drove into the night. He liked staring into the passing lights, it was easy to lose oneself in the monotony of the highway in the dark — nothing to really see, just the passing the headlights, reflectors, and the lit highway signs. He drove most of the night. In the gray pre-dawn, he noticed a small billboard for a rest stop, offering hot coffee. Without making a conscious decision, Brain found himself turning off on a small side road and then into a parking lot of a medium-sized diner. Quite a few cars were already parked in a cluster around the front entrance. Soft yellow light spilled out of the curtained windows. Brian parked his car in the…

100% Life-Light Child

Life-Light

“Order! Order, Honorable Educators!” The lights and devices flashed again, as the power was cut and restored in rapid successions to bring the room back into a productive discussion mode. The screaming and arguing had gone on for at least two minutes now — unacceptable, life-light dimming behavior. “The school haven’t had a perfect child in over two decades,” Educator 1 said. “This is our chance to regain our standing in the World School Rankings.” “Be careful, Educator 1, envy is punishable by bedimming,” said Administrator. This was the second reminder during this session alone. Some teachers were sure to have their life-lights bedimmed before this incident was over. “Twenty three years!” said Educator 2. “I wasn’t even a teacher at the school back then.” “It’s unfortunate that the latest generations are not as bright as they were during our own time,” said Administrator, gently rubbing her own life-light still at nearly 75% after all these years. “But the question stands — do we accept Addam’s account of the incident and allow the dimming of his life-light? Or do we reject it as a bias story, told to save a friend from becoming a darkling?” “I understand Addam’s desire to…

Radio Play: The Red Pen

The Red Pen

An evening of The Carmen Online Theater Group’s Chronicles of Terror. The Full Transcript of the Story The package arrived battered and ripped. Exotic stamps covered so much of the brown paper exterior that it was hard to read the sender’s address. But David Gatewood’s address stood out just fine, as well as the “To Editor” addendum next to his name. Most requests for an editor came via email these days, but hey, work is work. David took the package to the kitchen table and pulled out some kitchen scissors, which were clearly necessary to unwrap the package—it was liberally smothered in packing tape. But twenty minutes later, all David had to show for his efforts was a paper cut on his finger and a slash across the palm of his left hand; jabbing scissors into several layers of tape and cardboard hadn’t been a good idea. The person who had sent the package had obviously made the box himself (or perhaps herself, no point in being sexist here) from several boxes. Underneath the rips and tears, David could just make out an Amazon logo. With so many packages delivered by that behemoth of a company, it wasn’t a surprise…

SciFi Bites: Toy Maker

warrior queen toy

The cold crept in like a thief in the night. “Is that you Ian?” Toy Maker called from his workshop. “Close the door!” Ian walked in quietly and shut the door. The snow that sneaked in with him twirled at his feet before melting on the stone floor. The toy workshop was large but dark, lit only by the two power tables — one was the Toy Maker’s work desk and the other served as a kitchen table. Two circles at the center of each table glowed red-orange, giving the whole space a look of warmth…just not the feel of it. Ian shivered. Behind one of the glowing tables, there was a wall full of Toy Maker’s newest creations. They were arranged in rows on shelves, organized by species. There were about two hundred on display there, all still gray — the color didn’t come until much later. The maker first sculpted the essence of each figure and then scanned it into the computer. The final details were added virtually and then printed in 3-D. The painting was the last touch. Ian admired a shelf of warriors. They were lithe and tall, with elongated, almost wasp-like waists. Some had wing…

Sci-Fi Bites: The Black Queen

The Black Queen

The Black Queen I’m a seed. Plant me. All night it called. A rat came by to investigate. It sniffed the small smooth sphere, but the object didn’t smell like a seed or food of any kind. The rat scurried away. I’m a seed. Plant me. The cat passed by without even a glance. A family of raccoons stopped by. Poked. Left. The sun came up. A fractional mind crawled over. It tasted and touched, walked about and left a pheromone trail for others to follow. Soon dozens of fractional minds surrounded the sphere. By this time, the object grew to the size of a very large marble. I’m a seed. Plant me. It kept repeating to them, flaunting itself for them. And they gathered in greater and greater numbers to roll the sphere underground. Just about the time small sinuous lines started to appear of its surface, a big black bird flapped over. I’m a seed. Plant me. The sphere called to the raven. The bird prodded the object, which was now the size of a tennis ball, with its beak. It wasn’t food, like it claimed. And it wasn’t one of those shiny, sparkly objects that the bird…