Friday, September 26, 2008
After having been a straight-A student, Karina Fabian has made a career of Fs: Family, Faith, Fiction and Fun. Karina's writing career began with writing about parenting issues, the Catholic faith, and artists and community leaders. She's written for over 50 publications, including newspapers, magazines of all sizes and radio. She doesn't just write about family, but with her family. She wrote three craft books for a EcceHomo Press by using her kids to test, create and model the crafts. She and her husband, Robert, write science fiction stories while on dates.
After having been a straight-A student, Karina Fabian has made a career of Fs: Family, Faith, Fiction and Fun.
Karina's writing career began with writing about parenting issues, the Catholic faith, and artists and community leaders. She's written for over 50 publications, including newspapers, magazines of all sizes and radio.
She doesn't just write about family, but with her family. She wrote three craft books for a EcceHomo Press by using her kids to test, create and model the crafts. She and her husband, Robert, write science fiction stories while on dates.
When did you know that you wanted to be a writer?
I've always wanted to write and dabbled with stories from the time I was in elementary school. However, in 1996, after getting out of the Air Force active duty (I was still in the reserves), and going a little stir-crazy with two kids at home, I decided to really devote myself to my dream.
Do you have any advice for new writers?
Too often, I heard writers answer this question with, "Never give up" or other well-meaning but not useful comments. The fact is, writing is a job, like any other job. You need to learn how to do it, how to market your works and yourself. No one owes you anything just because you wrote a story or a book, no matter how good you think it is. Learn the business.
Set goals; set hours. Plumbers don’t stop working because they "aren't inspired." Can't write a story? Write a press release; read a book about writing, edit something--or sit down and make yourself write out the scene, even if it's the worst piece of prose you ever slapped out on a keyboard. You can always fix it.
What is the best thing about being an author? The worst?
Best thing: Seeing my stories come to life on the page, seconded only by hearing my kids laugh when I read one to them.
Worst thing: Dealing with the business side of getting published. I'm not a good business person.
What person has helped you the most in your career?
My husband. He's the one I go to when I'm stuck for an idea, need to bounce a scene or a letter off someone, get a fact straight, or cant' think of the perfect name, event or place for something. He has a brilliant mind, a quirky sense of humor and my taste in literature.
What's the best piece of advice you ever had on writing?
Don't take rejection personally. Editors reject manuscripts for thousands of reasons, from it doesn't fit their guidelines to they just hired someone else to write that idea to they don't need another gun-slinging vampire romance. It's a business, not a power play. If you keep that in mind, you can take any advice they have, and move on to the next submission.
When was your first publication?
I was a Freshman in college and wrote an article on my uncle's cogenerator business. I'd done it for a technical writing class and sold it to North American Co-Gen for $125. I was thrilled. My first fiction sale was to Aberrations. I got $14 and they never printed the story. I sold it again later. My first anthology sale was "DragonEye, PI" to Firestorm of Dragons, and it's my favorite to date, as I've written many stories and novels in the DragonEye universe.
What are you working on right now?
I'm editing Live and Let Fly: From the Case Files of DragonEye, PI, a novel coming out in 2009 by Swimming Kangaroo. In November, I'll finish my sci-fi novel, Discovery. I'm also shopping around Asylum Psychic, a fantasy, and compiling a second volume of Catholic SF, Infinite Space, Infinite God II.
What is your favorite genre to write? To read? Authors and books in that genre?
Science Fiction and Fantasy are still my favorites to write and read, though for reading, I've been branching out lately into other forms of literature, from chic-lit to mystery to straight literary.
Favorite authors: Madeleine L'Engle, Mercedes Lackey (though mostly her earlier stuff), Robert Asprin's Myth series, and of course, Terry Pratchett.
complete bio and interview on http://ghostwhisper.proboards29.com/index.cgi?board=talktotheauthors
www.fabianspace.com, where you'll find info about her, her writing and her eclectic writing/homeschooling/humor/just-gotta-say-it blog
www.virtualbooktourdenet.blogspot.com, where she'll gladly advertise your book if you'll return the favor to someone else
www.dragoneyepi.net, where you can learn more about the fantasy noir dragon detective Vern, his partner Sister Grace, and the world of Dragon Eye, PI.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
MEAT the movie – full steam ahead!
Current mood: Proud
In principle, the optioning of MEAT has been on the cards since February when Antshake producer, Sean Kelly, first read the novel and decided he wanted to make it into a film. The whole process became bogged down when we reached the paperwork stage, slowing progress considerably. I'm happy to announce that we finally signed our agreement (with rusty scalpel tips dipped in our own blood) yesterday. Development now begins in earnest.
Scouting for locations has already started, as have plans for casting and raising finance. Fans of MEAT with a hankering for big screen notoriety may get the chance to appear as extras – there's a possibility we may hold a competition later on to see who's suitable so watch this space.
I'm delighted to be working with producers Sean and Kath of Antshake and John Costello – a script writer with serious talent whose writing classes I used to attend. For an author to be included in development and consulted on the script is a very, VERY rare thing indeed. It practically never happens. So I can tell you with hand on heart that I am utterly ecstatic to be involved from the ground up in this project.
More news, as it happens, right here…
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
You are 48 %Treasurer, have 71% Seafairability, crave 65% Bloodlusting, and lust 32% in Wenchwanting!
Captain Moody you scalleywag, you! You crave only two things in life, bathing in the blood of your victims and sailing the high seas. While these two are good in themselves, you need to expand your horizons to your whores and plunder. I know you enjoy the fear your name and flag brings to Merchant Vessels, Royal Navy Officers, and Privateers; red meaning no quarter given and your idea of a symbolic sick joke: 'Your Time Alive Flies Away by the Hand of my Sword'. The truth is, Moody, anyone can be a good sailor and kill his enemies, but to be a real pirate you need to rape and pillage, and you're just not cutting it.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
SFReader is pleased to offer reviews on speculative fiction novels and anthologies (all flavors of science fiction, fantasy, and horror). We don't review other genres (such as mystery, western, romance, etc.).
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By: Andrea Allison
Leyla searched for months to find the perfect office to start writing her new novel. Her apartment was too small and uninspiring. Moreover, she hated to be cooped up all day. She stood before a grotesque building, staring at her new professional haven. The rest of the block was new. Most of the other buildings had been restored to their former glory days, but this one was never touched. Interesting enough, no one seemed to mind either. It was as if they accepted it as the odd one out, which made it that much more appealing to her.
"Hellooo? Leyla?” Raina said. “Wake up, girl. According to you, we have a lot of work to do."
“Sorry, it’s just so mesmerizing. Don’t you think?”
"What planet are you from?” Raina said. “Here on Earth this is a Hilton for the homeless. The other buildings are laughing at it."
"So, it's not fancy. But it's cheap and close to my apartment. Besides, you haven't even seen the room yet. It has lots of potential.”
“If you say so.’ Raina rolled her eyes.
They approached the front door guarded by two eroded granite sculptures. As they walked through the lobby, Leyla examined the room which played host to scattered trash, peeling wallpaper, and broken furniture. It looked like a tornado swept through, and no one bothered to clean up.
“This place is really growing on me,” Raina said.
“Will you please stop with the sarcastic comments?”
Raina put up her hands in surrender.
“Thank you. The stairs are this way.”
“Stairs? You didn’t say anything about stairs. What’s wrong with the elevator?”
"Well...it's kind of broken. It's only a few stairs. You'll barely break a sweat," Leyla said, biting her lower lip. Raina reluctantly nodded and followed her to the stairway.
As they climbed, Raina complained, "Oh, sure. It's only a few stairs. I feel like I'm climbing a tower. You couldn’t tell me about this yesterday?”
"I know, and I'm sorry. But look at it this way. It's exercise," Leyla said, panting heavily. “We only have one more flight to go.”
They struggled up the last few stairs like toys winding down. After taking a short breather, they proceeded down the narrow, graffiti-covered hall. "Here we are." As Leyla slid the key into the lock, she continued, "Raina, prepare to be amazed." She tried to turn it but the key wouldn't move. Leyla jiggled the knob until it finally gave. The door squeaked as it swung opened.
"Oh! What is that funky smell?” Raina said, masking her nose and mouth. “Did an animal die in here or what?"
"Ummm...no. The smell is new." Leyla dashed to the window. She pulled and pulled, pleading for it to open. The window finally released its grip. "Maybe if it airs out for a little while, the smell won’t be so bad. Other than that, what do you think?”
Torn floral wallpaper exposed the dull lime color paint. Unidentifiable stains tainted the hardwood floor. The only object occupying the room was an old radiator nestled in a corner.
"Well...," she shrugged and continued, "I guess it has potential. But do you really want to put money in to transforming this place?”
"I understand what you're saying, but I still want to do this. It's not going to cost all that much. The electricity is already connected and there is a decent restroom down the hall. All I have to do is take down the wallpaper and add a few coats of paint. Strip the floor and polish it. Have a phone and DSL line installed. I have all the furniture I need in storage. It is going to be great when it's finished. I just know it.”
For the next week, Leyla and Raina worked inexhaustibly making the room presentable. After Leyla finished painting the window trim, she laid the brush across an open paint can while watching Raina reveal the refinished floor.
“What do you want me to do with these sheets?” Raina asked.
"Just put them in a pile somewhere. Since we're almost finished, how about I go and get us something to eat.”
“I’ll go. The paint fumes are starting to get to me.”
"All right. Could you put these extra brushes in the car, please?" Leyla asked, handing the brushes to her. "Wait. I have one more." She walked over to the paint cans near the window. "That's odd.”
“What’s wrong?” Raina joined her. “What? It’s just a can of paint.”
“Yes, but I just laid a paint brush on it a second ago. Now it’s gone.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you already gave it to me.”
"No. I set it right here," she said, pointing to the can. "Things have gone missing all week. First, the trash bags, then an entire can of paint, and now a paint brush. What's next?”
“Don’t worry about it. I think someone has been stealing out stuff,” Raina said.
"I don't know." Leyla sat down, arms crossed against her chest. She took a few deep breaths.
“Calm down, girl. It’s no big deal.”
"I know. But I think it's a sign. I feel that maybe my dream is turning into a disaster. Yeah, the supply disappearances are pretty trivial. But what if this is just the beginning of something worse?”
"I don't think I've ever seen you like this. What happened to that happy, confident girl last week?”
"I don't know. It seems like the more time I spend in this room, the more depressed I feel,” Leyla said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"How about we get out of here for a little while. Let’s go get a few slices of pizza at Joe’s. We’ll finish this later.”
Leyla knew going out would do her some good, but an overwhelming feeling convinced her not to. “You go. I’ll stay here and maybe clean up a bit or unload a few boxes from the car.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ok. I’ll be back. Don’t have too much fun without me,” Raina said, winking.
Leyla didn't acknowledge her friend's reluctant exit. Instead, she began packing up supplies. As she was packing up, Leyla noticed a small box hidden under a metal folding chair. "Where did this come from?" A black light sat nestled inside the mysterious box. It couldn't hurt to see if this room had any secrets. She turned off the lights and pulled down the shade. Positioning herself in the middle of the room, she flipped the switch.
“Don’t tell me it needs batteries,” she said, shaking it vigorously until it finally worked.
She examined every aspect of the room. Leyla couldn’t believe what she found.
An hour passed before Raina returned. Leyla waited patiently on the floor with the black light clenched against her chest.
After switching the light on, Raina asked, "What are you doing sitting in the dark? Better yet, why are you on the floor and what is in your hand?”
“Turn off the light,” she mumbled, gazing at the wall.
“Why? What’s going on?”
"Turn the light off now." Raina hesitantly flipped the switch. Once the room was dark, Leyla turned the black light on again.
“Oh my god. What is that?”
“I’m not sure,” Leyla muttered, “but I think it’s blood.”
"Are you sure it's blood and not paint or something? What language is that?" Raina asked, admiring the hidden words.
"I read somewhere that the only way to see blood undetectable by the naked eye is with a black light. I think it’s someone’s diary.”
“What language is it? Do you know what it says?”
"Yeah, it’s Spanish." Leyla stood and shone the light on a particular section. La angustia es tortura en el alma de una persona. Usted sufiria apenas como tengo.
“And that means what?”
Leyla ran her finger under each word as she translated. "Basically it means: Heartbreak is torture on a person’s soul. You will suffer just as I have.”
"Oh please. This is just some stupid prank. Didn't this building used to be a college dorm at one time?”
"Yeah, in the 80s I think. I don't think this is the product of a bored teenager, Raina. I can't explain it, but something is really off about all this.”
"Whatever," Raina said, stumbling her way to the light. "I think the paint fumes are starting to get to you, Leyla. Let’s call it a day. We can go to RJ’s, have a few drinks and flirt with some guys. It’ll be fun.”
“What? No. I’m not leaving. Not after finding this,” Leyla said, sitting on the floor.
“Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you here.” Raina struggled to pull Leyla to her feet, but she wouldn’t budge.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Leyla said, folding her arms like an angry child. “If you want to leave, just leave then. I’ll be fine.” A voice in the back of her mind told her to go with Raina but she couldn’t shake the urge to stay.
Raina pleaded for her friend to come with her but Leyla stood firm with her decision.
“Fine. Stay then. It won’t be my fault if something bad happens to you. I don’t know why I even try anymore,” Raina said.
Leyla watched her friend storm out of the room. She felt like a ferocious dog ready to attack. But once Raina was gone, Leyla's anger disappeared. What just happened? It felt like someone took complete control of her thoughts. Leyla dashed to the door, desperately trying to open it. The knob wouldn’t budge.
"Not again. Come on. Open." As she tugged on it, Leyla noticed a shadow creeping up the door, slowly swallowing it. Her heart pounded like a drum. Her breath accelerated. Leyla backed away. The room’s temperature dropped with every step she took.
Suddenly, the air became very heavy, making it a bit difficult to breath. Something brushed against her shoulder. Leyla spun around. Nothing was there. A cool breeze swept passed her. She made another full circle. The dark figure broke away from the door. It crept slowly toward her, changing form. Leyla tried to scream but nothing came out.
She fell against the wall and slid down. Curling into a ball, she prayed for it to go away. Tears flowed down her cheeks. After a few minutes, Leyla pried her swollen eyes open. It was gone.
Leyla had no clue what happened and didn't care. She bolted to the door. "Please open!" Turning the knob, the door opened with ease. She sprinted down the hallway. Just as Leyla was about to enter the staircase, Raina climbed the remaining steps.
“Whoa. What’s wrong? Did someone attack you? I knew this was a bad idea.”
Before Leyla could speak, her mind started to spin. Her vision became obscured. Her legs buckled as she collapsed to the floor.
Leyla woke to bright lights and a killer headache. After adjusting her eyes, she began to analyze her surroundings. “Where am I?” she mumbled.
"You're in the hospital, sweetie," Raina said, holding her hand. "You passed out. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty much everything aches.”
"The doctor said you may have been exposed to some kind of gas leak. He said you should be fine in a day or two.”
“Gas leak? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, pretty sure. I bet you wish you went with me to get lunch.”
“Lunch? You saw what I saw, right? It wasn’t some hallucination, right? Right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The missing stuff? The words written in blood on the wall? Any of this ring a bell?”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I was stuck on Highway 59 since noon.”
“No, you were there. I know you were,” Leyla said. Her head began pounding harder.
“Leyla just rest now. We’ll talk about it later.”
Leyla closed her eyes. How could it not have happened? The eerie shadow was real. She knew it.
Leyla spent the next day in the hospital. She went back to her office after being released. Raina strongly advised her not to go, but Leyla had to see for herself that it was all just hallucinations.
As she entered the room, the false memories flooded her mind. Leyla searched for the black light, but couldn't find it. She went to a nearby store and bought one. Retracing her steps, Leyla turned the lights off and pulled down the shade. She switched on the black light. Shining it all around the room, she replied, "It's gone. All the words are gone." She couldn’t believe it.
After Raina turned the light on, she replied, "Leyla, I don’t think you're going to find what you're looking for. You should get your deposit back and find another space.”
No gas leak was ever found. Leyla knew her experience couldn’t have been just a hallucination. It was something more. Something supernatural. Leyla knew she should take Raina’s advice and give up the space, but she couldn’t. She felt like there was a piece missing. The first place to start finding answers is the walls of that room. Somewhere among those words is the key to unlocking the secret and Leyla is determine to do everything she can to discover it.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
The Afterblight Chronicles: Arrowhead
By Paul Kane
In a Post-Apocalyptic Future a Legend is Reborn.
In the years following The Cull England has reverted back to the Middle Ages, ripe for invasion by the Frenchman De Falaise and his group of mercenaries. They enter through the Channel Tunnel and work their way up the country. Ex-policeman Robert Stokes lost everything to the virus that ravaged these isles. Along with his wife and his son, it took Robert's whole reason for living. Retreating into the woods and forests near Nottingham, he has become a hunter, living off the land and avoiding any form of human contact until now. Pockets of survivors are now attempting to build up small communities.
But when De Falaise arrives at Nottingham, proclaiming himself the new ‘Sheriff’, Robert finds himself drawn reluctantly into the fight, using the famous legend of a Hooded Man as his guide.
Part of Abaddon’s Afterblight Chronicles (The Culled, Kill or Cure, School’s Out, Dawn Over Doomsday) this exciting new adventure, combining the best in action, heroism and SF, comes from multiple British Fantasy Award nominee Paul Kane, author of The Lazarus Condition and 'Dead Time', the story upon which Lionsgate/NBC’s Fear Itself episode ‘New Year’s Day’ was based (adpated by Steve '30 Days of Night' Niles and directed by Darren 'SAW II-IV' Bousman).