Why It Works for Me – Fritz Leiber’s “A Pail of Air”

Feel the chill

This is the second in a series I’m doing wherein I discuss why a particular piece of writing works for me, aka, this author’s work taught me something about writing, encouraged me to be a better writer, engaged me, captivated me, educated me, et cetera.

Previous entries in this series include:

As I’ve written elsewhere, it’s one thing to know something is good, it’s a better thing (in my opinion) to know why it’s good and then be able to copy what’s good about it, to learn from it so you can be as good and (hopefully) better.

This time out, Fritz Leiber’s “A Pail of Air”.

 

 

The Little Flower’s in Harvey Duckman Presents Volume 1!

I am so honored.

I jokingly tweeted my short story, Morningsong, was in Harvey Duckman Presents #3 and someday I hope to make it to #1

Team Harvey Duckman DMed me they were reissuing Volume I and I had a place in it if I wanted.

Are you kidding?

An editor wants my work?

Well just give me a second now…have to think this over…YES YES YES!

 
And then it got better.

They told me they wanted more of my stuff for future issues.

Whoa!

And lots of other fine authors are in HDP1 as well.

(subscribers may remember an earlier version of A Tale of the Woods: The Little Flower

Inheritors Chapter 12 – Resa ValJean, XXX Cavalos Era

Read The Inheritors Chapter 11 – Lucifer

Creator and above level members can download a PDF of this chapter to read offline

Note: the reason for “XXX” is I’m not sure exactly where this goes in the timeline. Some chapters may get shifted. I’ve learned to live with such things.

Inheritors Chapter 12 – Resa ValJean, XXX Cavalos Era

 
Resa heard a tapping. She looked around. Sand. Trees up on a rise. Moon.

Something else. There had been something else. She was sure of it.

The tapping came again. From the hatch. In the ground. She’d come here through that hatch. A Librarian waited for her there.

She lifted the hatch. Bertrand’s eyes flashed at her in the cold moonlight. “I must return soon.”

“Bertrand, did you hear anything up here before you opened the hatch?”

“No. I can hear line-of-sight only or when something is hot enough to be seen.”

“Of course, sorry. The other Thinker who caused the disturbance in the Labyrinth, was his name Thomas Ayers?”

“No, it was ‘Tommy Ayers’. If he had other names I do not know.”

“Show me what he looked like, please.”

An image formed on each of the Librarian’s eyes. The air quavered a foot in front of him as he built on the optic thermals until his eyes cooled and the images spun like a slow hologram in the vibrating air.

“Yes, that’s him. That’s Thomas Ayers. Tommy. Thank you, Bertrand.”

“I must return, Resa.”

“You go back, Bertrand. I’ll find my way back. Right now I want to think. I’ll be back before I’m needed in the Neuroscaphe tomorrow. I promise.”

The Librarian closed the hatch. She reached over and opened it again. “Bertrand?”

The Librarian’s pale, hairless, babe-like head and pulsing eyes poked up through again. “Yes, Resa?”

“You can see after images, can’t you, when something’s hot enough?”

“Yes, Resa.”

“Can you see anything here?”

“No, Resa.”

“Are you sure? I think…I thought…someone was here, something which produced enough heat to keep me warm in the night.”

“No, Resa. Who do you think it was?”

She hesitated. “I thought it was the Christian Devil.”

“I would not be able to see it, real or not, Resa.”

Resa focused on Bertrand’s eyes, looking to see if the Librarian joked or not. “What do you mean, you wouldn’t be able to see him, real or not?”

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Boo does not like Opie

Our dog, Boo, has issues with some wildlife.

We’re not sure why.

We’ve never encouraged it. Quite the opposite. We’re open and friendly with all the Old Ones who visit.

Some times Boo is asleep, wakes up, and see’s me going out to say hello.

He’s jealous.

We’ve explained there are outside friends and inside friends.

We think it’s something more primal.

Something long ago and lost in canine and didelphine memory.

A opossum and a wolf walked into a bar, perhaps, started toasting each other’s good health, someone said something, you know how these things happen.

I doubt it started with an argument over a mate, even though the original Powhatan/Algonquian word means “white dog.”

Maybe an opossum or a dog was slumming, spending time with the other, got caught by their peers and later generations still carry the shame?

Don’t know, except that Boo doesn’t like Opie.

 

Sabine Rossbach Reading Excerpts from Cymodoce

I am blessed to have friends who perform kindnesses for me.

Case in point, Sabine Rossbach.

Sabine is a gifted and well-known stage, movie, and television actress in the EU (she’s quite tolerant of me butchering French, German, Italian, and even English in our exchanges). She’s also a reader of my writings.

The first work she read was Cymodoce and she wrote “Storytelling at its best: A feast for someone who loves the written word…” Next she read Empty Sky and wrote “Dreams make the world go round: If you like inspiring, fantastic, elaborate stories, this is your novel…”

Obviously, Sabine is an intelligent, articulate person.

So when she offered to do a dramatic reading of Cymodoce (and after I got back up off the floor) I of course said “YES YES YES!”

So watch, enjoy, and let us know what you think.

And also know Sabine is interested in doing similar dramatic readings for other authors. You can contact her via her website (and please do. She knows what she’s doing).