shameless self promotion UPDATE

Hey, if you followed the link to The Cassandra Project  and felt that she shipping cost was a little … much–there was a bit of confusion there that has since been fixed:

Those of you who have bought chapbooks from me before will know that I usually do free shipping on them and just factor that into the cost.  I hadn’t wanted to do that with this one because I felt like it would overly complicate things with wanting to donate the whole cost of the book to RAINN, and that it would be easier just to have you guys pay shipping to Etsy.  And while I was at it, why not have them calculate the costs of the shipping?  Nice.  Simple.  Easy.

IT TURNS OUT – Etsy goes for the expensive shipping with tracking and stuff that costs way more than the book, and that feels pretty damn weird to me and apparently it felt weird to some of you guys too.

SO.  I went back and figured out how to enter flat-rate shipping.  If you’re in the U.S., it’ll cost you $1.50 for shipping.  You won’t be able to track it, but I don’t think anyone’s lost a package so far, and everyone seems to get theirs in a few days.  So for anyone who looked at the book, looked at the price, and then looked at the shipping and had a minor heart attack – go back.  Check again.  It’s better now, I swear.

So, yes, if you were interested in this one, please head back over to the Etsy site and order the book now that shipping has been changed.


Shameless self-promotion!

My story, “Four Cassandras,” is in this chapbook anthology: The Cassandra Project!

The description, from the ordering site:

The Cassandra Project was born out of a frantic post-election desire to do something, anything, to make the world a little brighter. I settled on the very sensible solution of compiling, editing, and printing an anthology about the mythological figure of Cassandra (as you do), and using it to raise money for charity. A little over a year later, and certainly much to my surprise, The Cassandra Project is a real, honest-to-goodness chapbook, featuring: poetry by L.S., Moriah Norton, Emily Bascom, Kimberly Beverage, Rowan Burns, and myself; fiction by Naomi Tajedler and Laura E. Price; art by Naderegen, Heather Bain, and myself; and this thing Alyssa Fowers did involving graphs and statistics that I can’t even describe but goddamn it’s cool. Every penny raised by the sale of this book is going to benefit RAINN, the United States’ largest anti-sexual violence organization.

I’m so happy to be a part of this, and I cannot wait to see that cool graph and stats thing, it looks amazing.  I’ll be posting a little bit about the story in the next couple of days, too.

So please click on the link to order your copy; all proceeds go to RAINN.

The unexpected sweetness of Sandman Slim

I’ve not made it a secret that one of the things that’s gotten me through the past six months of general “what in actual hell is going on?” has been catching up on Richard Kadrey’s Sandman Slim series via audiobooks in my car.

I started reading these shortly after the first one came out–I checked it out of the library along with In Cold Blood and another book with a climax that involved the main character walking barefoot through Hell (I think it was an Orpheus retelling, maybe? But with more blood and demons).  That was quite the month of reading, let me tell you.

But I dug Stark and his revenge quest, so I kept reading them.  And then for whatever reason I got behind on the books, and it occurred to me to see if the library had them on audio–and they did!  Like, all of them!

And McLeod Andrews is exactly what I imagined Stark’s voice to sound like.  (I’ve read a number of news articles about the president in that voice, and as I said on Twitter, if this is the end of democracy, at least it’s being narrated appropriately.)

So I’m on The Perdition Score now, and there was a scene I heard last night that struck me …

(and there will be spoilers below, so tread carefully …)

Continue reading “The unexpected sweetness of Sandman Slim”

I get tired of NPR and music periodically, so I’ll check out audiobooks from the library to listen to in my car.  The interesting side effect to this is that I’ll end up reading things in the voice of whatever narrator I’ve been spending the 60 minutes I spend on my daily commute with (that’s total, not one-way).

So my novel revisions were partly ‘read’ by Lin-Manuel Miranda (Dante and Aristotle Discover the Secrets of the Universe).  One short story was revised in the voice of Edward Herrman (a story in a Ray Bradbury-homage collection).  And the first few stories about the Comey firing were read in the voice of Sandman Slim (Kill City Blues, narrated by MacLeod Andrews), which let me tell you, is quite the appropriate way to narrate the Trump administration.

stuff Laura’s read recently: The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps by Kai Ashanti Wilson

I got Kai Ashanti Wilson’s The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps after reading a review of the second novella (which I just started).

A caravan and the mercenaries protecting it arrive at the last stop before they head into the wildeeps, which is a dangerous, magical wilderness.  The Sorcerer is a new guy (or it seemed so to me?).  He uses big words that don’t exactly translate, has a bag that’s bigger on the inside, and he and the Captain are different from the rest of the group.  They have special talents and abilities, and though these abilities aren’t identical, the fact of their having them sets them apart in the same way.

There was a lot I liked: the language, which has been touted all over the internet, is a really interesting (and fun, nobody mentions how much fun it is as it bounces around) mash up of high fantasy, slightly more regular English, and African-American dialect/slang.  There are also multiple languages being spoken, and even though they’re all expressed as English, I really liked how our main character goes from sounding perfectly fluent to completely not when he’s speaking an unfamiliar language.

The worldbuilding is also the sort that I love–drop us in the middle and let us sort it out, with a bonus of our being able to sort it out fairly easily.  And I’m very interested in this world.  It’s one of those “science fiction world has evolved into fantasy world” universes, which I’m always up for.

The characters are all POC, the main character is gay; about my only complaint is no women except for wives at home and the main character’s aunty (who, I admit, was awesome when she was around) but considering how much it’s already got going, I’m willing to take Aunty and be content.

I will say that I’m not sure Wilson stuck the landing at the end–I could see how it was supposed to be emotionally affecting, but the ambiguity didn’t help me feel it.  And I don’t think I ever got invested enough in the characters to feel how I was clearly supposed to when I hit the last sentence.  I’m not sure if that was a flaw of the book or if it was my being distracted by cool worldbuilding, though.

Still, very much worth the $2.99 I paid for it, and honestly, I’d have paid more.

Stuff Laura’s read recently: The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule

So Sarah Monette does the Unread Book Challenge, and one of the books she blogged about was Ann Rule’s The Stranger Beside Me.  And I decided to read it.

Everyone remarked on my reading this book–Jason asked me why I was reading it, Scott asked me why I was reading it–hell, even my nine year old kid asked me why I was reading it.  And to be honest, I’m not totally sure?  

I’m from Florida.  I remember listening to the radio the day Ted Bundy was executed; I was on my way to school.  My father and I talked about it–my father has read a bit of true crime in his day; it’s not a Thing for him the way the Kennedy assassination or Steve McQueen is a Thing for him, but he went through a phase–and one thing I remember is my father saying that Bundy really screwed up when he tried to grab a cop’s daughter, because she’d been taught about this sort of thing and was smart, and she told her father when she got home.

That really stuck with me, a lot: be smart, don’t trust the guy trying to coax you into the van, and tell a grown up.

I’d also read Small Sacrifices and found it pretty compelling.  Granted, that was sometime in college (I think?) so many years ago, now, but I remember the thing with folding the towel to figure out the blood stains, and learning about narcissism, and those kids … and Ann Rule hadn’t actually known Diane Downs, so surely the book about the serial killer she’d worked with would be even more compelling.

Um.  No, actually.

It is definitely a product of its time.  Diction, sentence structure, word choice.  I also found it kind of coy, but I think that’s a problem that stems from hindsight.  We know Bundy confessed, but when the bulk of this book was published, he hadn’t (there are three updates at the end of the book, one detailing the time before Bundy was executed).  Rule was convinced he was guilty, he was convicted.  But the book separates his movements and the murders.  It feels like we’re supposed to wonder if he did it.  And maybe that last shred of “maybe” is why she wrote it like that–or maybe she was ordering this book by her own discovery of the murders and her eventual conclusion that he committed them?  But either way, it really didn’t work for me.  I felt very distanced from it all.

And my father’s story about the cop’s daughter didn’t include her brother showing up and scaring the guy off, nor that they followed the van (and got the license number?  I think?) before going home and telling their father–and I wonder now if he did that on purpose.