“Where Was I, Tessa?”

  • by jenit was an accusation
  • a sort of swinging pocket
  • Six hours after injection
  • grandmother is calling me a “home-wrecker”
  • There was one reason.

Tune in next time part 247                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Where was I, Tessa?” I could hardly believe her. “Where was I? Where were you?”

“What kind of question is that?” she asked.

“It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation. You were so busy fucking around with John I bet you don’t even know that Tallulah is on the loose.”

“You think my mission with John is just ‘fucking around’? Like I’m in a sort of swinging pocket of 70s hedonism while you’re out there saving the world all by yourself?” She sounded furious and her tears had stopped.

I didn’t want to fight with her, but lately fighting was all I knew. “You gonna let me out of these handcuffs?”

“Six hours after injection,” she said, brandishing a syringe. “By then we’ll be safely at our destination.”

I flinched away from her. Could I make it into the Viscount’s wacky crystal castle? Surely he had handcuff keys in there somewhere. Or at the very least a hacksaw.

“Don’t even try it,” Tessa said. “You know how your grandmother is calling me a ‘home-wrecker’ all the time? Well, I finally decided to live up to the name.” She held up a little remote control and pressed the button.

Viscount Arlo’s architectural wonder exploded in a fireball of molten plastic and toxic black smoke.

I couldn’t think of any reason Tessa would do that.

Well, that’s not true.

There was one reason.

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Forecasting 2018 (In Which Jen Tries to Keep Her Expectations Realistic)

Dire warnings of Bomb Cyclones and blizzards have been echoing around the writing cave, and while we aren’t in the path of any of the really nasty stuff, we’ve been locked in a deep freeze since before Christmas and it’s showing no signs of lifting. Today’s high is supposed to be 7º!

Since the weather forecast blows (both literally and figuratively), let’s see if things look sunnier in the fiction mines.

Grandson of Science Novel is moseying along toward the finish line, and finishing it up is our first order of business. In her secret heart Jen is dying for a deadline, but she’s terrified of missing another one. For now we’re winging it without. She’ll probably declare a deadline when we’re close enough to the end to touch it, and claim that she’s had it in mind all along. And Kent will humor her.

Once Grandson is done, the whole Science Trilogy will be in the can. Our major goal for the year is to publish the first one. It’s been edited a couple of times already, but there are many steps before it will be ready for its debut, and those will eat up a lot more time than Jen expects them to.

While the Science Novels rest between edits, we will devote our time to outlining the novel we are currently calling Sibling of Music Novel. As you may recall, we have the Music Novel, and Son of, written in full, but now we’ve decided that Son is really the third book in the series and we need to plug that hole in the middle.

If, after polishing Science Novels and writing Music Novels, we have any extra time, we’ll get started on brainstorming our Ghost Series.

We currently have no release dates to announce, but when we do, you’ll be the first to know. Check this space for updates!

And Happy New Year to you!

Viscount Arlo Dispatched His Henchmen

  • by KentWhere were you when I needed you?
  • ugly ghosts from the past
  • followed after him in a wild mob
  • hardened crystalline structure
  • You knew this was inevitable

Tune in next time part 246                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Viscount Arlo dispatched his henchmen to go after Jason. When the van left, he turned back to me.

“You knew this was inevitable,” he said. His sneering accent made me want to punch him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to uncuff me. He droned about being the one responsible for all my hardships, a monologue I ignored as soon as it became clear that he had all the facts wrong.

I looked past him, at the strange building like a hardened crystalline structure of some milky, waxy substance. It had to be his lair. I wondered if it was as fragile and unstable as it looked, or if it would offer him protection if all the people he wronged ever followed after him in a wild mob, if ugly ghosts from the past would be thwarted by its opalescent faceted walls.

Suddenly, Arlo’s insufferable monotone stopped. He slumped from the waist, revealing Tessa standing behind him, holding him up by his belt. I smiled, but she didn’t smile back.

Her lips curled in a snarl as she let Arlo finish collapsing to the ground. She swatted a tear from her cheek and cried, “Where were you when I needed you?”

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Before My Mind Melted Completely

  • by jenbetween the invisible man and the tramp
  • in response to the touching of tiny buttons
  • as if they were his own
  • I don’t know whether Stephanie
  • started pointing fingers

Tune in next time part 245                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Before my mind melted completely I managed one coherent thought: those ninjas must have been covered in some sort of contact hallucinogen. I’d foolishly fallen right into their trap. The walls around me rippled like water.

When I came back to my senses I was bound hand and foot, and a good deal of drool was leaking from my mouth onto the floor where I lay. I seemed to be in the back of a van. There were two people in the seats up front. I kept my eyes closed and listened to their conversation.

“We’ll be lucky to get the full bounty on this asshole,” the driver said. He had a gravelly voice and a Contrarian accent. “And our expenses are through the roof. I mean, between the invisible man and the trampoline he bounced in on, we’ll be lucky to break even. That guy doesn’t come cheap.”

Who were these guys? I cracked my eyelids open and watched the portly guy in the passenger seat lean forward to fiddle with the radio. In response to the touching of tiny buttons, the vehicle filled with Contrarian hip hop. Portly guy knew his way around the sound system controls as if they were his own, suggesting that this van was not a rental.

Portly cranked the volume, and we drove on for hours. The music and the accents suggested my captors were working for Fleur. Or maybe her warlord father. I wasn’t sure which idea scared me more.

Much to my surprise, though, when the van stopped and the doors opened, I found myself face-to-face with Viscount Arlo. He looked at me with his one eye, and sniffed. “I don’t know whether Stephanie forgot to mention,” he said in his precise Svenborgian cadences, “or whether you’re utterly incompetent, but I wanted both him and Jason.”

The driver and Portly immediately started pointing fingers at each other, making excuses for their failure.

Arlo turned to me and sniffed again. He ran one hand back over his bald head. “I’ve been enjoying your wife’s company ever so much,” he said. “She’s currently my favorite lover. Would you like to see some pictures?”

That guy is such a dick.

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Like Sands Through the Hourglass

December is coming to a close, which means it’s time for our annual Year in Review post, 2017 edition.

At the beginning of the year we rather optimistically predicted that we might finish up both Son and Grandson of Science novel, and at least get a start on the third Music novel. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! We were so fucking naive!

While we did manage to get the last two Divided Man books polished and released, we didn’t even come close to finishing the Science novels. Jen was already frustrated at our lack of completion last year, so just imagine how thrilled she is now that it’s a whole year later and we’re still not done!

So what did we accomplish, if not everything on our wish list?

In January we had a belated launch party for Miss Brandymoon’s Device, and fretted a bit about what we would do once we finished writing our current trilogy of trilogies. February was spent editing various Divided Man books.

March brought the release of Tenpenny Zen. Yay! 

In April we seem to have wrapped up the first draft of Son of Science Novel, and were somewhat disappointed by its size. In the months since, we have added a bit more to it and, you’ll be relieved to learn, it now checks in at just a hair over 104,000 words. That’s still a bit slight, but is much less frightening. It’s now closer in size to its Mama.

Along with flowers, May brought major edits to Elsewhere’s Twin, and an important decision about the Music novels. And some delicious Greek food.

June was full of chainsaws — real ones, this isn’t an editing metaphor. When we got done bitching about that, we diagnosed some of what was missing from Son of Science Novel and finally got started composing Grandson.

By early July we’d already banged out 11,000 words for Grandson, which begs the question of why it’s still not done. Some of the blame should lay with Elsewhere’s Twin, which needed more edits before its release.

In August we took a road trip to attend a concert, and had a wonderful time. The band was great, and we used the car time to brainstorm ideas for the Middle Music novel. We also topped 20,000 words on Grandson of Science.

All we could talk about in September was the release of Elsewhere’s Twin. Have you seen the gorgeous cover? Our first trilogy is complete! We felt quite the feeling of accomplishment. We’re very proud of those books and all the work that went into them.

October had the new novel’s word count at 40,000, which is nothing to sneeze at. It also had us jetting off to Europe, which we didn’t talk about until November because we like to keep you guessing. And as soon as we got back from overseas, we turned right around and ran off to a writing conference.

And here we are again, back in December. Grandson of Science Novel is sitting pretty at 70,000+ words, which many people would consider novel-length. Just not us. Apart from that being far too short to fit in with our other work, we’re nowhere near done telling the story we set out to tell.

Our 2017 was quite successful, with the editing and publishing of two novels, the completion of a third, and a really good start on a fourth. Just try telling Jen that. She needs to recalibrate her expectations to be more in line with reality, and Kent is doing his best to help her with that. Maybe 2018 will be the year she finally gets it figured out.

The Corridor Took Me to a Stairwell

  • by KentHis cheeks were like roses
  • I had nothing to dread
  • he held tight in his teeth
  • he was chubby and plump
  • the prancing and pawing

Tune in next time part 244                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

The corridor took me to a stairwell. I went up.

On the third landing I encountered another ninja. His cheeks were like roses and his fists were like mittens filled with mashed potatoes. He punched me ineffectually a few times and then I flung him down the steps, confident I had nothing to dread from him or any of his compatriots.

I left the stairwell at ground level, finding another corridor. Up ahead I spied another ninja. He was posing as a drinking fountain, crouching and spraying water from a nozzle he held tight in his teeth. He was chubby and plump, and was spraying water continuously even though no one was there to get a drink, which would have tipped anyone off that something was amiss. I plugged his nozzle with my fingertip, then carried on down the passage while he gagged and spluttered.

These were the worst ninjas I had ever met.

And, this was one of the longest, most monotonous hallways. I glanced back, and stumbled, catching myself against the wall. Behind me, rather than a long, straight passageway, there was a tee intersection. I turned to face the way I’d been heading, and gasped. The corridor now sported a 90-degree left turn about ten feet ahead of me.

Suddenly I found myself in a maze. Strange sounds reached me, echoing around the corners. I held my breath to listen, closed my eyes to shut out distraction so I could identify the noises. I kept them shut, trying to gauge the size of whatever it was that was making the prancing and pawing sounds.

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With Father Doling Out His Affections

  • by jento all a good night
  • a little round belly
  • then in a twinkling
  • for a long winter’s nap
  • and a twist of his head

Tune in next time part 243                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

With Father doling out his affections to all, a good night‘s sleep surely awaited him. But not me. I couldn’t get the images out of my head. Whenever my eyes closed I saw a little round belly covered by far, far too much wiry hair, and other things that I shudder to put into words. There was no way I could ally myself with a man who thought it was appropriate to engage in group sex in front of his son.

I pulled back the black velvet drapery panel and opened the door, and then, in a twinkling, radiant burst, the outside light flooded the room and nearly blinded me. It was a relief not to have to see the debauchery anymore. What I wouldn’t give for a father who would spend his days curled up on a sofa for a long winter’s nap, or watching game shows. Basically anything besides treason and exhibitionism.

In the corridor I surprised a ninja. A quick kick to his gut and a twist of his head put him out of commission for good. As I stood over him, listening in vain for his compatriots, I wondered if he worked for Father and the Svenborgian sisters, or if he was here on assignment. I decided I should get the hell out of there before anyone showed up to answer my question.

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No Joy in Mudville

There’s no way we’ll hit our end-of-year word count goal. While it’s not outrageous to think we could each grind out 1,500 words a day every day until the end of the year, it’s just not going to happen. We have visitors coming to stay for the whole week, and there’s no point in having them here if we’re going to ignore them. And anyway, we like them. We want to talk to them, not lock ourselves away in the Writing Cave and leave them to eat cookies by themselves.

But that means that we’re blowing past another deadline, and it’s killing Jen. She’s very wrapped up in this artificial goal that we (read:she) set. And even if we did chain ourselves to our computers and managed to get that 100,000 words by January 1, it would’t really make her happy. Because what Jen really wants is to have the whole first draft done, and since Grandson of Science Novel is shaping up to be more like our usual novels than its predecessor, it’s going to be bigger than that.

So Jen is in a bit of a funk, and Kent wishes there was a way to make it all better. But since he so far has steadfastly refused to work on the time machine, there’s nothing to be done. The new year will come without a finished draft, and we’ll keep plugging away until it’s done.

Next week we should have our Year in Review post. Maybe that will show Jen that we have actually accomplished an awful lot this year and she’ll be able to relax.

I Froze, Waiting

  • by Kentpull the blinds and change their minds
  • his hair is not his own
  • with his back to the wall
  • one strange similarity
  • “I say no!”

Tune in next time part 242                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

I froze, waiting for him to elaborate and keeping my hand on the seam in the curtains so I wouldn’t have to start that search over again. Father’s face floated peacefully above the swirling tangle of femininity engulfing the rest of him. He spoke clearly, if somewhat breathlessly.

“Those two were set on desertion, so your mother had to pull the blinds and change their minds. She went a little rough on them, which had permanent effects on the joker — his hair is not his own. Your mother gets carried away sometimes. She gave that joker such a fright, had him cornered with his back to the wall, and then the thief distracted her just long enough for them both to run back to their dormitory. They didn’t flee the Academy that night, but don’t you wonder why? Wouldn’t that encounter make them all the more anxious to get away? Yet they stayed, and their doings in the next few years had more than one strange similarity to sedition. So many mysterious acts of sabotage and disrespect, all officially unsolved but clearly their work. And, you were their companion, their confidant. It might seem odd that these old events still get dredged up, but they’re the key to everything that’s happened since. And to stopping what’s due to happen next. Don’t you agree that it’s time for us to work together?”

My hands had tightened into fists, and the curtain quaked in my grip.

“I say no!”

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Remembering Father’s Mistress in Her New Collar

  • by jenhe couldn’t rubberneck around
  • “Walk backwards toward me.”
  • a disgraced exotic beauty contestant is the best kind of exotic beauty contestant
  • mere will-o-the-wisps of the imagination
  • I’ll tell you a story about the joker and the thief

Tune in next time part 241                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Remembering Father’s mistress in her new collar was almost as bad as experiencing my present day reality. In that memory he turned to me and said that the best part about the collar was that when she was wearing it she couldn’t rubberneck around.

Turning his attention back to the woman he said, “Walk backwards toward me.”

While she did that he winked at me, and imparted what he considered to be paternal wisdom: “Never forget, son, a disgraced exotic beauty contestant is the best kind of exotic beauty contestant.”

But the collared beauty queen and that younger version of my father were mere will-o-the-wisps of the imagination, memories of a childhood that seemed idyllic now in light of my current sordid surroundings.

From the black velvet bed, my father called my name. When I reflexively looked at him, he met my eye and said, “I’ll tell you a story about the joker and the thief.”

I was stunned. Those were the affectionate pet names he used for John and Tessa. Was he going to actually pass along useful covert intelligence? Even though I had finally found the exit from the black velvet nightmare, I dared not leave before hearing what he had to say.

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