I just saw the cover images for my forthcoming book of short stories, Fables, Fictions and Fantasies: A Compendium and it looks gorgeous!
The front cover photo:
The back cover photo:
Both a shout-out and my sincerest thanks to the two photographers for sharing their gorgeous work with the Interwebz under a CC licence. Indie publishing thanks you generous artists, too!
But Chloe–you are saying to yourself–what is this collection of short stories about? I thought you’d never ask! Here’s the back-of-book blurb:
Fables, Fictions, and Fantasies: A Compendium is a collection of thirteen short stories that feature several revenge schemes; three adventures in customer service; two accidental deaths; a vegan stripper defending herself from zombie attack; and a little girl finding the cupcake of her dreams.
Quill & Quire said: “What? We’ve never heard of her, sorry.”
The Georgia Strait said: “Stop sending us email, weirdo.”
Everybody else seemed to laugh while reading it, though. Except for the first story. And the one about pirates. And . . . ok, fine: everybody laughed at the funny ones, just not the ones that are kinda sad.
I am so excited. This was a much easier journey than Blood Rain.
Here’s a fragment from chapter two of Downward Dog. A few notes:
It’s in first draft form
Jewel,the protagonist, is kidnapped the day of her husband’s funeral and stuffed in the trunk of a car. The fragment you are about to read starts with her in the trunk.
Jewel is a yoga instructor. She is very physically fit. She knows how to use her strength and height to her advantage. . . in other words, Jewel is nothing like me. I say this because– as I’ve mentioned before– people assume that writers are their main characters. Here are some nice lists that demonstrate how very wrong this is:
28 years old
Five feet, ten inches tall
47 years old
Five feet, six inches tall
Laughing out loud at the mere idea of “fitness” while I sit on my roly-poly ass typing this
Trips over own feet, barks shins on coffee tables, affectionately called “My Lil’ Flailer” by my partner.
Now that we have all that out of the way, the fragment . . .