Another anthology has opened up, and I've got an idea for what to send them. I don't know why, but this link didn't populate the first time. Here it is, below. https://broadswordsandblasters.wordpress.com/2022/03/01/open-call-broadswords-and-blasters-presents-futures-that-never-were/
One of my favorite Indie writers, reviewing another of them. I'm going to have to read this one myself soon. N. R. LaPoint on the topic of Declan Finn.
Dusklight is a great follow-up to Chalk, LaPoint's schoolgirl-vs-abominations intro to the world and disruptive life of Raven Mistcreek, the fastest tomboy to draw a sidearm on the wall.
Jonas had never been so far up in all his life. The sidewalks he was used to had no railings because it was only twenty centimetres to the street, not hectametres. He walked more carefully, one hand against the reassuring wall. The air was clearer up here, and the early morning light was almost blue after thousands of yellow and grey-green mornings below. He looked again at the address as a tungsten-yellow Phœnix Valkyrie roared past, freely sharing bullets with the DPD at close range. Jonas pulled his coat around himself, thanked the OneTrueGod for a day out of the factory, and prayed for Clara's safety.
Kriever didn’t like public trans, and insisted on driving his old Sting Ray everywhere. He glanced over to the passenger seat, where she sat with his coat still over her shoulders.
“Which way, doll?” he asked. The rain had eased up, for now...
“I didn't like the way you treated Sam just now,” she said when he reached her table.
“Sam was begging for it.” She was wearing something much too short, but Kriever was too busy to be impressed. “Put on a coat and take me uptown, doll,” he said.
The asthmatic death rattle of the air-scrubber was a comfortable sound, a beacon home in the crushing waves of the street. It had guided him home every night now for eight years to the same drafty building and the same putrid stairs, and the same motherless little girl at the top who made it all worthwhile. Clara was eleven and all that came with it. Her father would give his life to save hers.
“What's the word, Feng,” he asked the alien as it hovered back and forth, stirring this pot...mixing that...
“I just told the blue boy I ain't seen nothing,” he mumbled. “You eating tonight?”
Read 'em while you can, lasses and lads. They won't be up forever.
Hans Schantz at ÆtherCzar has launched his Thanksgiving Ratburger Sale: all books at 99¢ or free, through the first week of December.
Welcome to this week’s Superversive Sunday Spotlight. Every week we will chat with a Superversive author that you really should be reading. This week we welcome Superversive author, J. J. Griffing...Superversive Sunday Spotlight: J.J. Griffing — Richard Paolinelli – A Superversive Scribe Yeah, go ahead! What are you waiting for?This is my interview with Mr.… Continue reading Superversive Sunday Spotlight: J. J. Griffing — Richard Paolinelli’s A Superversive Scribe
http://www.declanfinn.com/2020/01/the-night-my-father-shot-werewolf-by.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=facebook When a boy is nine, his Dad is the most important person in his life, and he should be able to look to Dad to defeat the monsters that hunt in the dark. Sean Grady always knew his Dad would do whatever it took to keep the family safe: this is Sean’s story. Thanks… Continue reading On “The Night my Father Shot the Werewolf”
In which the manosphere and GQ are both wrong.
"One of the most important things that an author should know in order to write good and even great stories, readers and future writers, is that evil in fact exists."
And by “we” I mean writers and parents and teachers, and anyone who is supposed to give them an idea of how the world works. By “children” I mean those of us who were children in the last 50, maybe the last 70 years, and although the problem is most prevalent in America, it has […]… Continue reading We’re Failing Our Children: repost from Sarah Hoyt’s blog.