Audrey laboured dragging the body from his legs. What is he made of anyway? she thought. Stone?
She stopped at the top of the stairs panting, and wiped sweat from her forehead. “Jonas!” she shouted. “You better get your ass here right now, boy.”
No reply.
She shook her head and lumbered downstairs, the body trailing behind her. Where is Death when you need him the most? she thought.
Her victim’s head thudded hollowly on the first step. And then he slipped her grip. The body rolled and bounced and tumbled down the stairs, until it came to rest at the bottom.
She folded her arms, tapped a finger on her lip, and nodded. ” Well, if my touch didn’t kill him, that fall definitely did.”
Jonas materialised out of thin air and inspected the twisted body. “Seriously? Another one? Trying to break a record or something?”
Have you ever experienced the effect certain people, who I call “creativity leeches,” have on you? People who surround your every day life (co-workers, family members, friends, acquaintances etc) and who are so negative about and within their own perspective of the world (or the part of the world you and they coexist in) that dump on you their bile. People that seem to be afflicted with a perpetual facial sourness and they want you to have it too. So much so that their efforts wear you down? I don’t mean people who will criticise your work (be it stories, music, movies or any other form of art) but people who will actively attempt to destroy your way of thinking, your perspective of life, people who will do their utmost to diminish you as a person, as an individual, your skills, your ethics, your intelligence. In short, the work you produce at its entirety. People who will look down on you from a self-perceived pedestal that for them seems like the top of their (tiny) world. People who actually think they have authority and some sort of power over you. You know the kind of people I’m talking about?
I’ve recently come across such a person (who, by the way, did not start off as such, but evolved into it – guess I failed to see the cocoon), and it amazes me how easy it was for them to create an environment where I can’t function or create, even when I’m away from them. It’s all part of me being worn down. Every time I attempt to edit my work, or write something new, or add a few new ideas in my ideas folder, I find myself drained, absorbed over too many inconsequential thoughts that make me feel like a stretched wrapping film before the first tear appears.
Part of the fault lies with me, since I allowed them a foothold into my head, so I too am to blame. I firmly believe that these people should be isolated and left on their own devices as much as possible. Some may say that I’m being too harsh. Perhaps. However, there are other people who surround both me and the leech, and they too feel this negativity. The funny thing? The leech’s behaviour affects them too. They too failed to notice the cocoon. Guess not everything coming out of cocoons is meant to turn into a butterfly. Apparently, some turn into blood-sucking leeches. Or in my case, creativity leeches.
Confession time folks. I haven’t submitted a new short story to any literary magazine since Xmas 2016. At that time, I submitted a cyberpunk short story which, as of writing this, will be the basis for a future novel. The story is still under consideration by that magazine (yes, it can take this long, and sometimes even longer), and it’s officially the story that has taken the longest to get a response. The fact remains though: since then, I haven’t submitted any other short story nor have I written a new one. Now, I’m about to submit two: a flash fiction one and a short one, both written more than a year ago.
The reason? I was too busy editing and revising my novels. Too busy submitting my first novel to agents. Too busy wrapping my head around promotion and marketing strategies for my self-published work. Too busy with a new job. Too busy with parents’ health problems. Too busy in general.
I started drafting both stories way back in 2016. Late spring, if my memory serves me. Nothing new since then. I don’t think I’m going through a dry spell (God, I hope not). It’s just that I’ve focused on longer stories than short ones. I don’t know if I’ll work on another short piece any time soon (at some point, I probably will, perhaps a teaser prequel to one of my novels), but for the time being I feel I should focus on novels. Especially now that I’ve had a taste of the turbulent waters of self-publishing.
So for me, submitting these two stories is a big deal. Wish me luck, folks. I’ve set the bar high for both.
Many thanks to all those who read earlier and badly written versions of this story, and provided me with precious feedback.
“Okay, you convinced me. When do I start working?”
The man gave Simon a toothy grin and scratched his pointy goatee with an equally pointed fingernail. “We’ll get to that. First, the job’s perks. You will be in charge of your own self and no one can fire you. You get to travel the world. The -”
“I told you, I’m sold. When do I start?”
The man put out his hands and begged for patience. “The drawback is that you don’t have a fixed timetable. You go to work whenever you’re needed. You must always follow the day’s appointments. This is very important. You can’t miss any. Do you want to know what the job is?”
“Do I really get my weight in gold every month?” Simon asked.
“That’s right.”
“And the whole world will know of me.”
“Correct.”
“So, when do I start? Monday?”
“No, as soon as you sign.” The man took a piece of paper out of a pocket and pointed at the right spot with his fingernail. “Sign here.” When Simon took the paper, the man scratched Simon’s finger with the tip of his fingernail. A drop of Simon’s blood landed on the paper. “Never mind that. Just sign the contract, please.”
Simon did as instructed.
“Congratulations, Simon. You are now Hell’s caretaker. Have fun.”
Quick reminder that the giveaway, Bad People With Guns, will end on September 5, so if you intended to read one of the available books but haven’t obtained one yet, you should hurry, especially if you’re a fan of thrillers, suspense, mystery, or crime fiction in general. Go here and download stories from Anna Willet, J. L. Stowers, Sara Cobb, and Simon Royle.
In other news, I’m happy to announce that the last of my betas got back to me. Unfortunately, they didn’t manage to finish Through Stranger Eyes. In their words, “I haven’t had the chance to start it yet. Sorry, but I can’t do it.”
It happens. Life always gets in the way of things and sends our best intentions down the drain. That’s why it’s important to reach out to more than one beta reader, and to have a decent personal relationship with them, so that they don’t feel that they’ve put themselves in an uncomfortable or awkward position when they have to tell you, “sorry, I don’t think I can make it.” Remember, betas are hard to find, they want to help, and perform an important task for us writers for free. Cherish them and understand that they too lead demanding lives.
So, what this means is that as soon as I get back to my computer (still waiting for you, summer, to bugger off and let me enjoy some cool days), I’ll go over the notes the rest of the beta team returned (I was lucky enough to get (feedback from four people!). I expect to have a hard time going over one beta’s notes in particular, since they gave them back handwritten, which means I will have to transfer them into my digital copy. And I have their thoughts recorded on a couple of audio files, so I’ll have to transcribe them too. Which is good, ’cause I can’t make out most of their handwriting. Oh well.
This is one of those moments where I sympathise with all editors out there.
However, here’s the thing: the first thing I noticed, from almost all the betas who gave me feedback, was that they enjoyed one of my secondary characters more than the protagonist. In fact, they liked that character TOO much. I’m not sure if there’s an underlying problem with this. What I mean is, I’m not sure if my main character is badly written or if that secondary character is so dominant that overshadows everyone else in the story. If the latter is the case, I’d have to figure out a way to trim her dominance a bit, which I’d rather not do (the truth is, I too enjoyed writing her scenes). If the problem lies with my main character and he is badly written, then I have the feeling I’ll need to rewrite A LOT of my story in the next months.
Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever read a book that, to you, one of the secondary characters stood out far more than the protagonist? Did this bother you at all? I’ve made a poll for your convenience. I would appreciate it if you could share this with your friends, as this will save me not only time, but part of my sanity.
