The Summoning - Chapter Two

The Summoning (working title)

Chapter Two

 

      Erick found himself lying face-down in cool, dry, matted leaves. He struggled to recall what happened when Ryan caught him. Maybe there was a punch, but he didn’t feel pain. He knew if he had blacked out he would only remember the before and after. What made this wrong was he remembered the blackness — the feeling of falling and the silent utter blackness.

      He inhaled sharply. A heavy weight pressed down on him, making it difficult to breathe in the pungent earthy air. The weight groaned, shifted, and rolled to the side.

      Erick raised himself and saw Ryan lying on his back, blinking rapidly and breathing deeply. He then took in their surroundings. They were new and strange.

      He and Ryan sat in a woods, but clearly not the same one they’d been in moments before. The towering trees looked ancient, with massive trunks and roots as thick as his leg, extending out, clutching at the ground. The canopy formed by the giants made a dark roof which blocked out sunlight and smothered any breath of a breeze making the air feel heavy and oppressive in the gloom. The most striking thing about this place was the absolute quiet. Erick couldn’t hear any of the wildlife one might expect in nature. No sound to hear at all. The eerie silence unnerved him.

      “Where the hell are we?” The sound of Ryan’s voice made him jump. The suddenness of the whispered words seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness.

      Erick didn’t answer. He had no idea as to where they could be, although he thought Ryan’s use of “hell” might not be far off. He began to feel dizzy as his eyes darted around for anything familiar. In the midst of his panic he focused on the only real thing in this surreal situation. Ryan. Ryan was real.

      A split second later Ryan rolled and launched himself at Erick, knocking him back onto the forest floor. The speed at which he came stunned Erick, leaving him helpless as Ryan grabbed his shirt and shook him.

      “What did you do? How did we get here?” Ryan panted in his face.

      Erick felt his head thud against the thick layer of leaves as he tried to make sense of the questions.

      Ryan shook him harder until Erick felt his teeth begin to rattle. “Where are we?” he yelled in Erick’s face. “Tell me! Where the hell are we?”

      Erick began to claw at Ryan’s hands to make him stop. Stop the questions he couldn’t answer. Stop the shaking that pounded his head against the ground. Stop making him more scared than he already was.

      When he couldn’t get himself free he began hitting Ryan’s arms. “I don’t know,” he yelled over and over until his eyes and throat both burned, and the impossible questions ended.

      Ryan finally released Erick and shifted away from him. He sat up, drew his knees in, and covered his head with his arms.

      While catching his breath, Erick watched while Ryan rocked himself back and forth. He felt a tightness on his cheeks and reached up to wipe the tears that hadn’t evaporated yet. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying, but the worst part was knowing Ryan knew. He continued to watch Ryan, afraid if he looked away somehow he would disappear.

      After a time, Ryan’s rocking subsided. He reached down, plucked a large dead leaf off the ground, and began tracing the edges with his finger. After numerous passes he unceremoniously let the leaf drop back to the ground, then stood and surveyed their surroundings. Erick noticed that he appeared calm, or at least had come to terms with the situation. Without a word, Ryan started to walk off into the gloom.

      Erick scrambled up, not knowing what their plan was. He quickly took a step after Ryan, reached out and touched his shoulder. “Wait—”

      Ryan wheeled around, placed his hands on Erick’s chest and shoved him back. Startled, Erick lost his footing, fell backwards, and hit the ground with a loud huff. He sat there, looking up blankly at Ryan.

      “Don’t touch me.”

      “I … I just think sticking together would be better.”

      Ryan began to brush the dirt and leaves off himself. “You can do what you want, but I’m out of here.”

      “Maybe we should stay put and wait.”

      “Wait for what? Answers?” Ryan mocked. “There’s no food, no water, and this doesn’t look like the kind of place that gets visitors often. I need to find out what’s going on, and it’s not going to happen sitting on my ass.”

      “We might get lost.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Erick knew how stupid they sounded.

      “Lost? Take a look around you and get a clue! Lost means you started from somewhere you knew with the intention of going to a place that exists and simply didn’t make it there. In case you haven’t noticed, we had no intention of coming to this place, and now we’re nowhere!”

      Erick glanced at the never-ending expanse of forest while getting to his feet. “You’re right,” he admitted grudgingly. “But we should still stick together.”

      Ryan fixed Erick with a look that could melt steel, then turned and started making his way through the ancient trees. “Make sure you keep up,” he called out without looking back.

      Erick hesitated for only a second before he hurried after Ryan. He hated Ryan more than ever, but hated the thought of being alone in this unknown place even more.

      They trudged through the stifling gloom for what seemed like hours. Erick studied his surroundings while he hiked after Ryan. Bushes wove themselves around the massive tree trunks. Tortured branches shrouded by large dark leaves, grew right out of the ancient giants’ sprawling roots. They reminded him of parasites using a host to survive in this forbidding place.

      Erick noticed the forest dimming, but wasn’t sure if it was the coming of dusk or his eyes playing tricks on him. The thick canopy didn’t allow him to see what direction the light came from, and everything seemed unchanged. They could have been going in endless circles, like rats in a maze, but Ryan’s desire for a way out kept them moving.

      The silence between them became magnified in the still forest, punctuated only by the sound of their breathing and the steady swoosh of feet swiping through dead leaves. Erick followed Ryan steadily and unquestioningly. Why not? He had no more of an idea where they were going than Ryan did, and questioning him didn’t seem wise. Ryan never looked back to see if he followed, but Erick was sure he could hear him.

      When darkness overtook them, Ryan came to a stop at a particularly overgrown area and sat with his back against a large fallen tree. Erick hesitated, then sat a few feet from Ryan, resting against the same tree. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He felt random pulses flickering through his tired legs and tried to ignore the thirst parching his throat. In all their wandering they had never once come across any type of water.

      “What’s your name?”

      Erick jumped slightly at the sound of Ryan’s voice, but kept his head back and eyes closed. “Erick. Erick Porter.”

      A long pause followed. “I don’t remember seeing you at school.”

      Erick felt like saying, It’s kind of hard to notice a white spot on a white wall, but decided to keep it simple. “We don’t have any classes together, and I don’t play sports.”

      Ryan snickered. “Yeah, I can tell.”

      Erick let the remark slide mainly because he was tired, and Ryan’s assessment rang true. Although nearly as tall as Ryan, he was slender and not in any way athletic.

      After another long pause, Ryan broke the silence again. “Don’t you want to know my name?”

      Erick opened his eyes and glared at Ryan. “I know who you are.”

      Ryan gave an arrogant nod of approval. “That’s good. It’ll make things much easier between us. While we’re here, you’ll do everything I say. If you don’t like it, then you can take off any time you want. If you become a problem, I’ll ditch you without a second thought.” Ryan stretched out beside the fallen tree and turned his back to him.

      Erick wasn’t surprised at Ryan’s words and knew it was a pointless waste of air to say anything back. He picked a smooth spot on the ground to spend the night, noting the still air remained comfortably warm. He was only in short sleeves, his sweatshirt left behind with his backpack.

      Fear began to steal through him as he peered out into the forest. His eyes strained against the encroaching blackness slowly swallowing everything around him. Erick found himself envying his backpack. More than anything he wanted to be home with his parents where it was safe and everything known. This place offered nothing but the unknown. Alone in the silent dark, and with nothing to distract him, his unanswered questions hammered against his brain.

      A chant of whispered words began to fall from Erick’s lips, weaving a calming spell. After a few moments, he realized he was praying. Actually, it was more like begging and pleading, but he didn’t care. He even threw in a few promises for extra emphasis. After his self-pitying litany ran its course, and weariness began to leave his mind numb, he decided to focus on the only good thing in this situation. Thanks for not sending me here alone.

 

TO BE CONTINUED...







The Summoning - Chapter One



    This is a YA fantasy novel I started six years ago.  Because it was my first attempt at writing anything, there have been issues I've had to deal with.  I decided to start posting it on my blog as a serial for a couple reasons: one - it will give me an opportunity to start working through the issues, and two - hopefully I will gain feedback from readers.  I plan on posting chapters every other week.  So, here it is!

The Summoning (working title)

Chapter One

 

      Thomas plunked himself onto the cafeteria bench. “I’m so going to get my ass kicked.”

      Erick barely looked up from his sandwich at the announcement. Thomas was prone to creating drama out of nothing, but as his friend, Erick felt obliged to show interest. “How come? Did you fail your bio test?”

      “Worse than that.” Thomas fingered the plastic bag holding his sandwich while his eyes darted around the crowded cafeteria as if looking for someone. Seemingly satisfied by what he saw or didn’t see as the case may be, he looked back to Erick. “I wrote down all the wrong answers and Ryan copied them. He’s going to get an F.”

      Erick shrugged. “So you both get Fs. Big deal. Maybe he’ll find someone else to start cheating off of.”

      “You don’t get it.” Thomas shifted on the bench, his eyes focused on his hands. “I changed all my answers to the right ones while he was turning in his test.”

      Erick paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “What?” he finally said because he must've misheard. There was no way anyone would intentionally cross Ryan. But the look on Thomas’s face told him otherwise. Erick briefly closed his eyes while setting his sandwich down. “Why?”

      Thomas scowled in response to the reproving tone. “I don’t know.” His words tumbled out. “I study for those tests, and Ryan thinks he has the right to use my answers. It’s crap.”

      His shoulders slumped as he tossed his sandwich back into its paper sack. “School has really sucked since October. Figures he’d be put in half of my classes. Wish I was smarter and in the geek classes with you.”

      Erick bristled. He knew he shouldn’t be so sensitive, but minus the glasses, he thought he made a pretty good poster-child of the stereotype; book smart, but not so good at normal stuff like sports, socializing, and, well, girls. “Honors classes. They’re called honors classes.”

      “Yeah, yeah, honors, whatever.” Thomas brushed off Erick’s comment. “What do I do?”

      The desperation in Thomas’s voice smoothed down Erick’s hackles. Thomas wasn’t this good of an actor, and had really stepped into a pile this time.

      Blowing out a breath, Erick ran his hand through his hair. “When does the test usually get graded?”

      “Mr. Konig usually has the grading done the next day.”

      “Try to stay around as many people as you can tomorrow and Friday. I’ll meet you at the front gate right after school to walk home. Don’t let yourself be alone for any length of time.”

      “That might work.” Thomas gave Erick a weak smile. “Maybe by Monday Ryan will forget.” Thomas crumpled the brown bag containing his uneaten lunch. “Maybe getting beaten up won’t hurt much. Hell, it might even be worth it to get his sorry ass expelled.”

      “It’ll be okay,” Erick said, even though he had his doubts.

 

***

 

      With his backpack slung over his shoulder and gripping the strap, Erick hurried through the deserted hallway to get to the main doors. He was late getting out of class and knew Thomas would be waiting. They’d walked home together every afternoon since fifth grade.

      Erick gave his head a shake, trying to make some sense of what happened earlier. He’d often long for something to happen to liven up the day to day routine that summed up his life, but this was so not the way to do it. Of all the people Thomas could piss off, he would pick Ryan Warner. Everyone knew him. From day one his name swiftly filtered through the student body. Erick had no classes with Ryan, but that didn’t stop him from hearing the stories.

      It wasn’t the pseudo anonymous attention grabbing pranks, like letting off a smoke bomb during a homecoming rally, or stopping up toilets to flood the bathroom that had students laughing in the halls. Incidents linked to Ryan were personal and usually involved pain.

      Did you hear? Derek needed stitches in his head after making a crack about Ryan Warner’s hair. Kevin missed two weeks of practice because his shoulder got wrenched after taking a swipe at Ryan. Cameron got an elbow rammed in his gut just for stepping on the back of his shoe. Mess with Ryan Warner and you’ll get hurt.

      Ryan was easy enough to recognize on campus and, even though Erick assumed him to be sixteen as well, hormones had obviously been unfairly kind. He was big enough to be a starting running back on the high school football team, and earn all the jock fame and cheerleader entourage to go with it.

      This wasn’t the case and certainly wasn’t the reason Erick took notice of him; there were a lot of big guys wandering the halls, after all. It was Ryan’s self-assuredness, an unwavering confidence that elevated the gossipy rumors to a divine truth. The common knowledge held by everyone that Ryan was somebody to avoid was a fame all of its own, but earned none the less.

      Erick was sailing by a restroom when a familiar voice stopped him cold.

      “No, man, I wasn’t setting you up.”

      Erick pushed open the restroom door to see Thomas backed against the wall with Ryan towering over him. Large hands placed on either side of Thomas’s shoulders formed an inescapable cage around the smaller boy.

      “Then why’d I get an F and you got a B?” Ryan leaned forward bringing himself closer to Thomas. “It looked like you were changing answers, so I talked with Mr. Konig at lunch. He showed me the tests after I gave him a bullshit story about not feeling well today and how you’d helped me study.” Ryan paused, dropping his voice. “Good news — he’s giving me an extra credit assignment. Bad news — I found out what you did.”

      While this exchange went on, Erick felt the temptation licking at his nerves to take a step back and let the door close. It would be easy. He hadn’t been seen and no one would know.

      Did you hear? Thomas had his head stuffed into a toilet because … Erick Porter was there, but the coward just … Mess with Ryan Warner, you …

      Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Erick tried to silence each thought as he crept into the restroom. He slowly shrugged off his backpack and let it come to rest silently on the floor. He didn’t know what he would do, but found the school wide conflict resolution policy sorely lacking in real world application right about now. Although he seriously wasn’t considering jumping Ryan, a distraction could be the compromise needed to buy Thomas enough time to escape.

      Erick spotted two backpacks lying on the dingy linoleum floor. He recognized Thomas’s navy pack, so the black one must be Ryan’s. He scanned the backpack and noticed something electronic visible through a mesh pocket. An iPod. He took a couple of steps and reached forward with a trembling hand. You’re being a complete idiot, he thought as his fingers closed on the thin rectangle and wrenched it free.

      “Now I’ve got to figure out what to do with you.” Ryan seemed to take pleasure in his cat and mouse taunting of Thomas.

      “I … I won’t do it again.”

      “Oh, I know you won’t after I’m done.” Ryan’s hands shifted to grab two fistfuls of Thomas’s shirt. He whirled him around only to stop short when he saw Erick.

      Erick stood at the outside corner of the bathroom stall closest to the door. His right arm extended behind him at an odd angle so he wouldn’t be trapped in the stall. The iPod dangled above the toilet.

      “Let him go.” Erick wanted the words to have some bite, but found his mouth dry, leaving his tongue thick and hard to maneuver.

      Ryan’s eyes narrowed as they darted between Erick and his iPod. “This is none of your business.” His hands unclenched slightly on Thomas’s shirt, giving Erick a sign that somehow this would work.

      “He’s my friend, so I guess it is my business.”

      “You really don’t want to mess with me, so put that back where you found it and get the hell out of here.”

      “I’m not messing with you. Just let Thomas go." Erick thought it came out more like a plea than a threat.

      “You got it,” Ryan said, but the tone was far from conciliatory. He let go of Thomas’s shirt, then gave him a quick shove that sent him landing on his ass. Ryan’s eyes locked with Erick’s. “It’s you and me now.”

      Erick stared back while his heart pounded in his ears. This was not going the way he’d envisioned only seconds before.

      Thomas turned over and scrambled to get himself off the floor. In his haste, his shoes couldn’t get a grip on the worn linoleum.

      Ryan took a step toward Erick just as Thomas’s foot shot out from under him, right into Ryan’s path, causing him to stumble forward.

      Erick jerked back to avoid the impact, but felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder as his movement was stopped by the stall partition wall. The pain caused his fingers to relax enough for the iPod to slip through and make a dull plop as it hit the water.

      One long second passed for Erick to see his empty hand, then instinct took over. He swore as he darted over Ryan’s sprawled form, wrenched open the restroom door, and ran. Clearing the door, he could hear Ryan scrambling up, cursing.

      Erick sprinted down the empty corridor and slowed only enough to round the corner bringing him to the main doors. Running full speed, he banged against the doors, pushing them out of his way, and launched himself into the warm spring air. He never broke stride as he darted through the large metal gates and past the staring students still waiting for rides.

      If he was thinking clearly, he would have gone into the safety of the office. His only thought was to run. He crossed the street, barely casting a look for oncoming cars, fleeing into the weed-strewn vacant lot across from the school. Erick’s eyes zeroed in on the small stand of trees beyond the edge of the lot, the last vestiges of a natural landscape overtaken by suburban sprawl, and like himself, living on borrowed time.

      He ran toward the trees. If he could just make it to them, he’d be okay.

      The foolish thought was extinguished when he heard the crunch of feet behind him. The fast-paced footfalls grew louder.

      A masochistic curiosity drew Erick’s eyes over his shoulder. He saw Ryan swiftly closing the distance between them.

      Erick’s chest burned, and blood pounded in his head as he willed himself to go faster. The effort was futile. Ryan wasn’t going to give up.

      He pumped his arms harder. The edge of the wood came nearer.

      Just inside the line of trees a small area shimmered in the dappled shade, like heat waves coming off blacktop in summer. Erick felt drawn to the gentle distortion that beckoned to him as if it could protect him from the mess he created. He ran toward it.

      Panic grew as his strength waned, and he now could hear Ryan’s heavy breathing. He stumbled only a few yards into the quiet woods, and the strange haze engulfed him. Suddenly, he felt the hard clap of a hand coming down like a manacle on his left shoulder. Erick’s knees buckled, then he was falling.

 

TO BE CONTINUED....





Interview With Author Jared Lillis

   Jared Lillis is releasing his first book, Groundhogs: The Supercharged Forecaster on February 2nd, 2016.  I had a great opportunity to interview this up and coming children's author and am sharing it with you.

Author/Illustrator Jared Lillis

Tell us a little bit about yourself.

   I have an art degree and, in recent years, added writing and animation programs to my education. However, I have worked with children for most of my career—formerly at a YMCA and currently in the field of mental health at a pediatric clinic. With my new children’s book I was able to combine my creative arts pursuits with my love for kids.

What is the name of your latest book and what inspired it?

   My book is titled Groundhogs: The Supercharged Forecaster. The story idea hit me when I saw the online cover of the picture book Groundhog Weather School by Joan Holub. Joan’s book is a humorous, educational book featuring groundhogs who can’t actually forecast the length of winter. My idea was to take this fun legend of weather-forecasting groundhogs to the extreme, thus the supercharged forecaster was born.

How would you categorize your book?

   The book is a middle-grade action/adventure/fantasy/sci-fi story sprinkled with humor. It has a Stuart Little flavor to it, not that any mice or groundhogs actually get eaten. J

Introduce us to your series lead character.

   The hero of my story is a groundhog named Jet. Humans become his enemy when a traumatic event occurs while he is still a cub. This event also leads to the advancement of his forecasting abilities far beyond those of any other groundhog in his community.

   When a down and out weatherman named Heath Waverly comes along, Jet’s views of humans are tested. He must decide whether or not to use his weather-forecasting abilities to save humans from natural disasters. The eco-supervillain, Forrest Cutler, makes Jet’s decision especially difficult by attempting to destroy Jet’s home.

What is it about these characters that appeal to you as a writer?

These characters are appealing because they must stand strong, both mentally and physically, to overcome great hardships and tragedy. Their courage and moral character is tested to the limits as they find their path to forgiveness of themselves and their enemies.

How did the book come to be titled?

   Due to the fact that I envision this story as the first in a series, I decided on a general title which provides a feel for the whole series, and a subtitle which identifies the big idea or hook of the first story.

Available Now

Tell us more about the cover design. How involved were you with creating the cover?

   I created the cover illustration for the book. It features Jet in a lightning storm facing off with the giant, robotic milling snakes which are intended to be used by the villain to wipe out national forests, starting with Jet’s home. I also drew fun chapter-heading artwork, as well as character designs on the back cover.

Tell us something about your book that isn't mentioned in the synopsis.

   This book involves powerful messages about forgiveness and the value of every individual without coming off as preachy. The environmental theme snuck up on me, as well. I didn’t realize I had an eco-friendly story until an editor suggested I promote this aspect. My response was to print the book and companion school supplies on wheat-straw paper from Woody Harrelson’s company, Prairie Paper, Inc..

Give us a summary of your book in a tweet.

   A scrappy groundhog must work with humans and forecast lightning strikes to save his home from an eco-supervillain planning to pulp entire national forests with giant, robotic milling snakes.

How much of your experience is in your book?

   This book comes mostly from my imagination rather than experience, with the notable exception that everyone faces the decision to either forgive those who have hurt us or hold grudges against them. And, as in my story, my experience has proven that peace comes by forgiveness.

Describe your writing process.

   My writing process has changed dramatically over time. I used to just sit down and write from beginning to end. However, this always resulted in the need for extensive rewriting, so I now start by developing a high concept, then appealing characters, followed by a plot outline with what I call the “nine necessary” story points. Only after this is solid will I start writing a rough draft. I teach this method in a youth writing program which is offered for free by my new company, teennovelist.com.

Describe your writing environment.

   Very simple. Just me at home on my computer with no white noise…or any other color of noises.

How much research did you put into your book?

   For a children’s book titled Groundhogs there was a surprising amount of research that went into it. For example, I had to study photos in order to draw them accurately, including their four digits on their forepaws, and their five-digit hind paws. I also looked into their environments before I decided that the edge of a forest by a small town would be realistic. I researched all natural predators of groundhogs. Snakes were among them, which helped me decide on giant, mechanical snakes as the best creature to harvest trees and threaten Jet. Then there are all those little-known, peculiar groundhog behaviors. Some people may know that groundhogs really do whistle to warn their family of predators, but who knew their young are called cubs, or that they can actually climb trees? I sure didn’t.

   Then there was the subject of bionics. Dr. Drizzlen, the bionics scientist who helps Jet defeat the enemy, has gadgets galore. I needed to gain a basic understanding of the subject to explain how his futuristic devices operated.

What are your hobbies, interests outside of writing? Do any of these activities find their way into your books?

   My hobbies, interests, and career definitely influence my writing due to the fact that they overlap. I can learn behaviors of kids while working at my pediatric clinic, and my experience with art and animation help me create a highly-visual storytelling experience.

What is the best advice received as an author? What is the harshest criticism? What have you learned, or can learn, from either?

   The best writing advice I have received is probably to keep striving for something better. Whether it be a story concept, an act, or a scene. There is always a way to make it better. This is why I value getting many critiques and making several revisions before calling a story finished.

   The harshest criticism may be more directed to my chosen subject matter than my writing itself. It’s the idea that children’s books are somehow less important than stories for adults. I completely disagree. My purpose is not only to entertain, but to influence my readers to make good choices in life. And I think we can all agree that it is much easier to make a positive impact on youth than adults. It’s safe to say the next title in my series will not be Fifty Shades of Groundhogs.

What advice might you give aspiring authors?

   Never give up on your dreams. This is a common phrase, but is very true. Writing is often a long and challenging process, but great stories, like anything else of real value, take time to develop. And in today’s market, no one can prevent you from becoming a published author except yourself.

What kinds of books did you read as a child? Did the genre you read most influence your decision to become an author of the kind of books you write today?

   I remember Dr. Seuss books the most, but it wasn’t books that influenced me to become an author of children’s books. It was the children I have worked with over my career. When I pick up a picture book in a roomful of rowdy preschoolers and they calm down and converge on me to hear me read it, that shows me the power kid’s books can have.

What specific authors or books influenced how and what you write today?

   I haven’t been influenced by specific authors or books, as I must admit I wasn’t a big reader as a kid or an adult. I was mostly just into the artwork. Thankfully, this is changing now that I have a writing program with kids who demonstrate an interest in reading and writing far beyond what I had at their age.

What types of books do you read now for pleasure?

   The type of books I like to read are pretty much the type I like to write. Fast-moving action/adventure where an underdog hero must overcome seemingly-impossible odds to defeat the villain and save the day.

Do you have any favorite characters, and if so, what is it about them that appeals to you?

   In general, my favorite characters are those who start at rock bottom and don’t quit until they find a way to reach the top—without resorting to immoral behavior to get there. This is the type of person we need more of in the real world.

What is next for you?

   I’m currently focused on the marketing phase of this book, along with my youth writing program, but I hope to get started on the second installment in the series soon. I also look forward to finishing the third story, which is already in rough-draft form. It takes us in a new and even more humorous direction.

You can contact Jared and find out more about his book and other projects at http://www.strawpaperproject.com/  and  http://www.teennovelist.com/ .

Wearing Masks

   Oscar Wilde once said, "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth."

   I pondered the quote and found it smacked against the idea that people hide behind masks. That you really don't see who they are until the mask is removed. I thought about the me I present to people. I tend to be very introverted and view myself as rather boring. A kind of "what you see is what you get" kind of a person.

   I find the writer me much more interesting. The idea of putting on a mask and pretending to be someone else is exciting. After all, I can be anybody I want to be whether it's a teenager finding himself swept away to another planet, a police detective solving a murder, an alien discovering what it is to be human, or conversely a person realizing they may not be exactly human. The possibilities are truly endless.

   When I wear the mask of a character I create, there is a sense of freedom. Through them I can use colorful language, take dangerous risks, confront enemies, be humorous, flippant, impulsive or calculating in ways my unmasked self never would. With the mask firmly in place I can explore within myself what it is to be bad and good, scared and brave, lonely and loved, hopeless and hopeful, and it becomes part of the character. Maybe with all the different masks I don I see the real me as the words make their way onto the paper. Maybe, in part, the truth of me is what I tell readers in my writing.

The Secret

 

     I don't normally write short stories or flash fiction but here's a piece I wrote awhile ago that I thought I would share. Feel to comment.

 

 

 

The Secret

 

I stop copying the equation Mr. Rinaldi is still animatedly writing up on the board and explaining with more fervor than should be allowed after lunch. Not really his fault. He is actually a good teacher but calculus, or any other class for that matter, right after lunch is a challenge. Some students are still swept up in the conversations started at lunch but didn't come to a satisfying conclusion due to the shortness of time. Others suffer from food hangovers and find the only cure is to sleep it off. Quite a few, like me, are just plain distracted.

Laying my pencil down, I slip my phone out of my pocket, using the desk to hide it from view. I tap the screen and bring up the text I have probably viewed at least a dozen times since it came in shortly after I left A.P. Physics this morning.

Meet me at our regular place after school. Please, Lexi. I'm sorry.

Movement to the side catches my eye and I quickly close the screen and stuff my phone back in my pocket. I glance over and see Nikki leaning back in her desk and Jasmine leaning forward to whisper in her ear. I watch but their eyes never flick my way. I slowly release my breath and pick up my pencil. It wasn't about me.

I resume copying the equation. Math had become nothing but signs and symbols to explain things that simple numbers could no longer do. Complicated curves and twists whose mysteries and frustrations could be represented and solved with the formulas that graced Mr. Rinaldi's white board every day.

As I watch my pencil fill my notebook page, I wonder if there is a formula that could make sense of my situation and provide me an answer for what I should do about the text.

I glance around the class. Nikki and Jasmine aren't the only ones busy exchanging secrets as I see papers passing between desks and fingers discretely tapping on phones. After watching everyone for a few seconds I begin to change my mind. They are all smiling. Secrets don't make you smile.

Class comes to an end which leaves me with one more to get through before the end of the school day, and I still haven't decided about the text. As I walk down the hall the phrase, "Hey, did you hear...," stops me in my tracks and I listen long enough until I feel it's safe to move on. Gossip is simply a secret that escaped. Someone wasn't careful or, worse, they shared.

Secrets and friends are incompatible. You have to choose. It's either your secret or them. You can't have both. I've seen people who've tried and it isn't pretty.

I enter my economics class and take my regular seat somewhere in the middle. Not long after, Rachel enters and slides into the seat next to me.

"Hey, Lexi," she greets me brightly. "Some of us are going to the yogurt shop right after school. You want to come?"

"Sorry. I have a ton of homework and I got to work tonight." My lie comes out smooth and the act is starting to feel more natural.

Rachel puts on a pretty pout. "We never see you much. This is supposed to be our senior year. Time to have fun. Remember?"

I give her a smile. "Try telling that to my teachers."

She shakes her head sympathetically. "I told you to take an easier load, especially since you kept that job from the summer."

"Next semester will be better," I say as Ms. Miranda calls the class to attention.

"Promise?" Rachel whispers to me.

"I promise," I whisper back as I open my book and force myself to concentrate.

The clock seems to work against me as the hands speed closer to dismissal time. When the bell sounds, I say goodbye to Rachel outside of the classroom since I am heading the opposite way from her.

I know what I'm going to do about the text. My lie to Rachel and the fact I am heading toward the block of science classrooms indicate my choice. Then again, maybe I really knew all along what I was going to do.

Entering one of the physics classrooms, a quick look tells me no one is there so I make my way to the supply room. I try the handle. It's unlocked. Slipping inside, I turn on the light, closing the door behind me. I stare at the containers lining the shelves in front of me holding magnets, resistors, metric weights, and a myriad of other physics lab supplies. My excuse as to why I'm here is well rehearsed and always at the tip of my tongue in case someone comes in. I've never had to use it.

A few seconds later I hear the knob turning but I don't turn around. The door softly closes and I feel a familiar set of arms encircle my waist. "I wasn't sure you would come," he whispers in my ear, sounding thankful and relieved.

"I wasn't sure either," I whisper back as I lean against him.

Suddenly we tense as we hear the classroom door open, his arms drop away from me.

"Yo, Mr. Stevens. You here?" a student says rather loudly.

He turns from me, opens the supply room door a bit, and calls out, "Yeah, I'll be right there." He looks back at me. "Will you wait?"

I simply nod and watch as he slips from the room and shuts the door.

Yeah. I have a secret.

Interview With Author CW Hawes

I recently had the pleasure of interviewing CW Hawes.  CW has proven himself a versatile writer with published works in the genres of mystery, horror, and diesel punk.  In this interview we discuss his newest release, By Leaps and Bounds, from his post-apocalyptic series, The Rocheport Saga.

Tell us a little about yourself.    

Author CW Hawes

     I was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio, moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota when I was sixteen, and have lived there ever since. And no, I’m still not used to the cold — I do, though, very much appreciate warm weather and never take it for granted. I retired in January of 2015 and have been writing full-time ever since.

What is the name of your latest book and what inspired it?

     My latest book is By Leaps and Bounds (The Rocheport Saga #5).  It has a release date set for January 22, 2016.

     The Rocheport Saga began with a single sentence: “Today I killed a man and a woman.” From that sentence it grew to over 2200 manuscript pages. As to where the initial sentence came from, I don’t have a clue!

     I think the drivers for the series are my fascination with The Renaissance Man, my interest in simple living, libertarian and anarchist thought, and a desire to see a better world: a world where people truly live by the Golden Rule.

Available Now

How would you categorize your book?

     I would categorize my book in the genre of Science Fiction, with a sub-genre of Post-Apocalyptic, and a sub-sub-genre of Cozy Catastrophe.

Introduce us to your series character.  What is it about this character that appeals to you as a writer?

     The main character of The Rocheport Saga is Bill Arthur. The story is narrated through his journal entries and occasionally those of other characters in the little band of survivors that Bill leads.

     Bill is for the most part quiet and unassuming. He is a Renaissance Man and an armchair philosopher. Prior to the cataclysm, he was a nobody. Afterwards, his knowledge catapults him to a position of leadership. He knows how to survive in the post-apocalyptic world, where most around him don’t. He is a person who is not dependent upon the technology that makes up our modern world. He can live without it. Most of us cannot.

     He is also a dreamer. He dreams of a better world. A world of peace and harmony. One where people live by the Golden Rule and respect each other, even if they disagree with each other. We are all brothers and sisters in humanity.

How did the book come to be titled?

     My wife actually came up with title, not liking the one I’d decided on. I liked it and then added a sentence with the words “by leaps and bounds” so the title would have a tie-in with the novel.

Tell us more about the cover design.  How involved were you with creating the cover?

     For all of my book covers, I give the initial idea to my wife. Sometimes she runs with it as is and sometimes she modifies it. There is a back and forth process where we end up with something that pleases her eye as well as mine.

Give us a summary of your book in a tweet.  

The Rocheport Saga  (Book 1)

     Nearly everyone is dead. Can Bill Arthur save civilization?

How much of your experience is in your series?

     Quite a bit, actually. Not that I’ve lived through an apocalypse and write of firsthand knowledge. However, people I’ve known often find their way into the series. Incidents, will find their way in. Experiences such as camping, Boy Scouts, and the Army will make an appearance.

     I believe, regardless of the genre, all books are a picture of the writer and his or her worldview and life experiences.

Describe your writing process.

     I’m an unabashed pantser. I cannot outline to save my soul. In fact, I almost despaired of ever writing a novel because of the unrelenting plotter propaganda that one has to plot out a novel or somehow he or she is an inferior writer. That a pantser cannot achieve anything other than a mess for a first draft. All of which is unadulterated hogwash.

     Once I learned there is such a thing as the “plotless” novel and that many writers, yes, even famous ones, are pantsers, a weight lifted off my shoulders and I started writing.

     My process is simple. I take an idea and just start writing. I usually have no idea where I’m going. I just keep in mind I have to make my characters suffer. I have to torture them and create angst and suspense. And I have to bring the story to some sort of conclusion consistent with the character and his or her problem. The ending may not be “happy”, nor may it even result in much change. But the story does come to an end.

     I write my initial draft in pen or pencil. Then I type and make edits while I’m typing. Once typed, I read the story two or three times, checking for flow and consistency. Then ship it off to my beta readers. When it comes back, I look over their comments, make changes if I think they’re warranted. Then give the book a final read through and publish it.

Rocheport Saga  (Book 2)

How much research did you put into your book?

     I do a lot of research. Not all of it enters into the story. I use the research mostly to make sure what I’m writing is “realistically possible”.

     Generally, because I’m a pantser, I don’t do research beforehand because I don’t know what I’ll need. Very often I’m writing with one hand and have the other on the computer keyboard looking up some piece of info.

What are your hobbies, interests outside of writing?  Do any of these activities find their way into your books?

     The world is a big place and very interesting. I have lots of interests and most of them find their way into my novels in some way, shape, or form.

     Cooking and food are in everything I write. So is tea and often a fountain pen. Philosophy and music usually shows up, as well.

     One love I have is the rigid airship or zeppelin. Other than my Justinia Wright mystery series, airships make their appearance in most of my writing. And I am trying to set a mystery on one of the new Zeppelin NTs for Miss Wright to solve. Don’t want to leave her out of the fun.

What is the best advice received as an author?  What is the harshest criticism? What advice might you give aspiring authors?   

Rocheport Saga  (Book 3)

     The best advice I’ve ever received and that I can give to an aspiring author is in Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. Especially the first letter.

     The harshest criticism I’ve ever received was on a well-known sonnet board. I was getting crap that my form wasn’t perfect (and Shakespeare’s was?), when another poster said there was nothing untoward in my form. She just wondered why I bothered to write the poem in the first place. If it hadn’t been for Rilke, I might have melted.

What kinds of books did you read as a child and did the genre you read most influence your decision to become an author of the kind of books you write today?

     I read widely as a child. Without a doubt, Poe’s stories, Saki’s “Sredni Vashtar”, and Aiken’s “Silent Snow, Secret Snow” gave me an enduring fondness for the horror story. Sherlock Holmes and The Thinking Machine, for the mystery. Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Robert Heinlein, Erik Frank Russell, and Groff Conklin’s Omnibus of Science Fiction certainly gave me a taste for sci-fi that shows up today in my post-apocalyptic and dieselpunk series.

What specific authors influenced how and what you write today?

Authors I seek to emulate are:

Kazuo Ishiguro because of his focus on character and lack of dependence on plot.

Robert E Howard because of his effective use of atmosphere, suspense, and action.

H P Lovecraft because of his effective use of atmosphere and the creeping psychological terror he evoked.

Robert A Heinlein because of his ability to weave his philosophy into a story and make it part of the whole.

Isaac Asimov because of the simplicity of his writing. 

Rocheport Saga  (Book 4)

What types of genres do you read now for pleasure? 

     I read widely. My favorite genres are mysteries, especially private detective stories, science fiction, sea stories, and horror/dark fantasy.

Do you have any favorite characters, and if so, what is it about them that appeals to you?

     My favorite characters Sherlock Holmes and Nero Wolfe. I like their quirkiness and mental prowess.

What is next for you?

             Why writing, of course!

CW Hawes can be reached at:

     Website: http://www.cwhawes.com

     Twitter: @cw_hawes

     Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CWHawes1

     Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/112958634634583532051/posts