Storytelling is important, right? Yes for fiction, yes for history, and a third yes for current events. Why just report the news when you can tell about it? That’s what the Georgetown View Magazine does. Where I live, the View is a small window into the people, places, and things that share our neighborhoods. Not a local paper, but local tales. True ones.
I was honored to receive my first assignment from them last year, which went into print this past January. I took a second one for February, and I like them enough to keep on writing… Continue reading
A walk by the River
With Author A. F. Stewart
I am walking today with a young college woman. She just arrived back in town to support her family, and I’m afraid she has come in to a scene of chaos. See, tonight, I am with a number of townspeople involved in a search party. Eva’s sister Layla disappeared today: she went out for a walk by the river, and did not come back. The girls’ mother organized us to look for her. What are we finding? She was here, we can tell, but other than that, the news does not look good. It has been hours now, and we are unable to find anything except some confusing traces of her visit.
Layla is a sister by adoption — Eva’s adoption; but the two are as close as twins. That’s how I’ve known them through their entire childhood. I taught both girls a few music lessons once, but I kept up with the news of them after that. I think of my students as family, so my nerves are a bit on edge tonight. You will read that as you eavesdrop on my talk with this understandably tense young woman. I tried to hide it, but I, too was very worried about her sister. Continue reading
A priest that sees ghosts? Can he help Aunt Betty?
Interviewed by Author A. F. Stewart
Young Father Mahoney never wanted to see a ghost. In fact, the parapsychologist-turned-priest hoped for just the opposite: as a Ph. D. student, he set out to find a cure for paranormal activity. How? By fixing sick minds. College led him to the niche field of parapsych. For Mahoney, it was pure serendipity: to explain a spook as mental illness made sense to him. So, before meeting Aunt Betty and her family, Father Mahoney pursued the exorcism of all spirituality, everywhere.
It might have worked, but the ghosts had other ideas.
Betty woke up, confused and in a cold sweat. She put her hand out, searching for clues to her surroundings. An old-style paper phone book jumped into it. Slowly, she focused her eyes on the words ‘Lake Charles.’
“Oh, yeah,” she mumbled.
“Aunt Betty!” A cheery voice piped into her room from somewhere.
“Somebody’s awake.” She chuckled. Continue reading
Love, death, and books
My walk with a Librarian
and Author Danielle E. Shipley
I was privileged (?) today to walk as myself: a tall, blonde, suburban Texan woman; a new author looking for opportunities. I don’t know what to make of the character who has received me, but her invitation was so kind, so enticing. She said she wanted to offer me exclusive rights to publish my new work-in-progress.
Look, you’re an author. You know how it is, to be up in the early morning burning some outline onto the computer screen before hitting the shower and going to a “paying job”. You know what it’s like to want that one contract that can change everything; the one that brings royalties in excess of $2.98 per quarter? Look, I see your face, but don’t judge me harshly! I am new on the market, and I fell victim to a monster. Continue reading
My house belongs to “them.”
They are everywhere. I put something away, it jumps back out. I walk down the hallway, something walks behind me. The television turns itself on, the lights flicker, a dish falls to the floor. Sometimes, a piano plays. In the thick veil of early morning, I hear them and feel them. They stalk me, they surround me, I am not alone. Continue reading
Betty caught on to that early, but she stopped trying to sell it to anybody else. In Nacogdoches, they were bankers, maybe some of them, loan sharks. They came in hot and heavy after Timothy died. Hoards of them, all zombies, always looking for money-or-flesh, money-or-flesh. They stalked her with horror tales of debt and imprisonment . . . or dismemberment. “This is Texas,” they said, “just try to stop us.” Continue reading
T.N. Payne (Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | Goodreads | Pinterest) is the embodiment of science and fiction, usually spending her days in Dallas as a Research Assistant and her nights reading, staring at her computer or procrastinating (usually involving the previous two). A perpetual night owl, when she isn’t mumbling to herself about needing sleep and coffee, you’ll find her hunched over her writing notebook. Her dream is to publish at least one book in every category and to write meaningful, tear-at-your-heart-strings novels. Though it required killing her eardrums from the loud, constant stream of music needed to focus, her first short story, “Dead Man Hocking,” just made its debut with Xchyler Publishing.
That’s what you can read about her anywhere, I mean, it’s what’s on the author pages, book jacket, and everything else that has hit the book marketing circuits. Now, let’s talk, just you and me, because as usual, I have my own Notes. For me, this young person is something special.
The good niece expects her pretty aunt from twenty years’ past. What will she find instead?
Beverly gazed at the cab as it pulled out of her driveway. It had deposited someone there. A pudgy, awkward creature was staring straight up at her through the window upstairs. It wore giant sunglasses and a daisy on its head. The creature fumed and spat, or that’s what it seemed—like a teakettle on the boil. Continue reading