Fantasy Writers!
Yesteryear Fiction needs you! We are currently accepting submissions in the following genres!
- Fantasy
- Steampunk
- Modern Magic
- Surreal Fantasy
- Magic Realism
- Gothic Fantasy
- Weird West
- Historic Fiction
- And many more!
Check us out online and send in your best!
http://www.yesteryearfiction.com
- - -
Get Fractal!
Today marks the launch of Thunderune Publishing's latest online addition: FRACTAL NOVELS.Fractal Novels is a collaborative art project, which means everyone is encouraged to submit!
Read the stories, find a spot that inspires you, then tack on anything (anything– paintings, pictures, words, fragments, found art, sound, anything as long as it is your own creation) and take that spot in a new direction! It's a community canvas just waiting to be painted!
Submit your side of the story today: Submission Guidelines!
- - -
Night Before Zombiemas
I’ll never forget that light, that pulsing strobe of red and green as it lit up the snowy night sky like some tainted swarm of impossibly flying patrol cars. It was terrifying, eerie as it played among the blistering, pockmarked shadows clinging to the faces of the zombie mob, the shambling horde of eager corpses that yawned on into the night, moaning as they sought every sleeping body nestled snug in its bed, checked every house for survivors twice. My house was no different; they came in through the doors, the windows, the chimney. My only hope of escape was the second story, to climb out the window and onto the snow covered roof, to find up there some way to get down or get across to the next house before their prancing feet and pawing hands could find me.
But I was not so lucky.
No sooner did I reach the slope of the roof than what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a brilliant light that stabbed down at me from the heavens, blinding and hot against my skin even as I threw my arms in front of my face. There was a whistle, a shout, a crack of a whip, and then in the haze I heard his voice, knew the terrible laugh of the one who had spurred on the zombie horde, the one whose whip drove them forward and into the sleeping streets, kept them hungry, eager for human flesh. I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick, vicious overlord of the northern skies.
There was no time, no choice– I ran, but quickly realized that running barefoot on a frosty, angled roof is no vision of sugar-plums. I lost my balance almost immediately, slid sideways and then spun on the curve of one foot right off the edge and into snowy infinity. The ground came up at me like a flash, tore open my leg and slashed up my hands. In an instant, I knew I was done for, could hear the horde as it closed in on me, hungry to taste the bruised and broken flesh that my fall had opened for them. Cruel, talon-like fingers reached toward me, and for a moment I saw my death, whole body stiffening, chilling with the harsh realization that I was about to die.
And then Mrs. Rosenschwartz appeared.
She came hurtling out of nowhere like a flash in the night, her blood-stained walker and gnashing dentures a vision of salvation, the swinging reusable shopping bag at her side crammed with goodies meant for the zombie horde. In one swift movement, she plunged one gnarled hand into the sack and tore loose a brown bottle whose white, plastic lid was no match for her porcelain chompers. I caught the twinkle in her eye as she bit free the cap and hurled the bottle into the mob, spraying countless numbers of the undead with a clear liquid that bit into their rotting flesh with foamy violence, dropping them in agonized heaps of writhing, screaming putridity.
“Here, take one, sonny.” She said suddenly, pressing one of the brown bottles into my hand with a grin. “Closest thing left on God’s green earth to holy water when it comes to these rotting punks!”
She didn’t wait for me to respond, just smiled that iridescent, be-dentured smile covered in the stains acquired in countless years of hard reps with a mug of coffee and a dedicated patience to the tutelage of a cigarette. In another instant, she was pushing her way back into the fray again, tossing bottles of the stuff right and left, draining each plastic carcass out upon the convulsing flesh of the risen dead. Awestruck and amazed, I looked at the label of the bottle, eyes wondering after the name of the magical liquid I clutched in my shivering hands. I found the name almost immediately. Hydrogen Peroxide.
I looked up in shock, saw the foaming carnage all around me. With a few well aimed tosses, old Mrs. Rosenschwartz had leveled the endless march of undead under a hail of writhing, bubbly torture whose burn fed upon the rot and disease inherent in every inch of corrupted flesh. Those zombies still under St. Nick’s control quivered in fear as Mrs. Rosenschwartz pulled another bottle of the magic liquid from her still bulging sack, but they soon lost even that speck of nerve and retreated like a host of holiday shoppers going home after Black Friday. St. Nick grumbled and hissed and gathered them all, then he hitched up his ship as his fiery engines gave a whistle and the whole horde flew away like the burning, rocket-powered down of a cyberpunk thistle.
But I swear that I heard him say as he roared out of sight;
I’ll get you next Christmas kid; you just got lucky tonight.
- - -
Santa Claus believed in E.S. Wynn when he was a child, but later found out that the man in the khaki shorts and loud hawaiian shirts that wrote novels on the wall on Christmas Eve for an offering of cheese danish and Doctor Pepper was actually just his father in disguise.
But I was not so lucky.
No sooner did I reach the slope of the roof than what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a brilliant light that stabbed down at me from the heavens, blinding and hot against my skin even as I threw my arms in front of my face. There was a whistle, a shout, a crack of a whip, and then in the haze I heard his voice, knew the terrible laugh of the one who had spurred on the zombie horde, the one whose whip drove them forward and into the sleeping streets, kept them hungry, eager for human flesh. I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick, vicious overlord of the northern skies.
There was no time, no choice– I ran, but quickly realized that running barefoot on a frosty, angled roof is no vision of sugar-plums. I lost my balance almost immediately, slid sideways and then spun on the curve of one foot right off the edge and into snowy infinity. The ground came up at me like a flash, tore open my leg and slashed up my hands. In an instant, I knew I was done for, could hear the horde as it closed in on me, hungry to taste the bruised and broken flesh that my fall had opened for them. Cruel, talon-like fingers reached toward me, and for a moment I saw my death, whole body stiffening, chilling with the harsh realization that I was about to die.
And then Mrs. Rosenschwartz appeared.
She came hurtling out of nowhere like a flash in the night, her blood-stained walker and gnashing dentures a vision of salvation, the swinging reusable shopping bag at her side crammed with goodies meant for the zombie horde. In one swift movement, she plunged one gnarled hand into the sack and tore loose a brown bottle whose white, plastic lid was no match for her porcelain chompers. I caught the twinkle in her eye as she bit free the cap and hurled the bottle into the mob, spraying countless numbers of the undead with a clear liquid that bit into their rotting flesh with foamy violence, dropping them in agonized heaps of writhing, screaming putridity.
“Here, take one, sonny.” She said suddenly, pressing one of the brown bottles into my hand with a grin. “Closest thing left on God’s green earth to holy water when it comes to these rotting punks!”
She didn’t wait for me to respond, just smiled that iridescent, be-dentured smile covered in the stains acquired in countless years of hard reps with a mug of coffee and a dedicated patience to the tutelage of a cigarette. In another instant, she was pushing her way back into the fray again, tossing bottles of the stuff right and left, draining each plastic carcass out upon the convulsing flesh of the risen dead. Awestruck and amazed, I looked at the label of the bottle, eyes wondering after the name of the magical liquid I clutched in my shivering hands. I found the name almost immediately. Hydrogen Peroxide.
I looked up in shock, saw the foaming carnage all around me. With a few well aimed tosses, old Mrs. Rosenschwartz had leveled the endless march of undead under a hail of writhing, bubbly torture whose burn fed upon the rot and disease inherent in every inch of corrupted flesh. Those zombies still under St. Nick’s control quivered in fear as Mrs. Rosenschwartz pulled another bottle of the magic liquid from her still bulging sack, but they soon lost even that speck of nerve and retreated like a host of holiday shoppers going home after Black Friday. St. Nick grumbled and hissed and gathered them all, then he hitched up his ship as his fiery engines gave a whistle and the whole horde flew away like the burning, rocket-powered down of a cyberpunk thistle.
But I swear that I heard him say as he roared out of sight;
I’ll get you next Christmas kid; you just got lucky tonight.
- - -
Santa Claus believed in E.S. Wynn when he was a child, but later found out that the man in the khaki shorts and loud hawaiian shirts that wrote novels on the wall on Christmas Eve for an offering of cheese danish and Doctor Pepper was actually just his father in disguise.
New Site!
One of the keys to bringing the things into your life that you want is not to wish for them and see them as being separate from yourself, it is seeing yourself as having those things already and truly living within that better life.
Manifestation Wall exists as a place where you can weave reality. It is a place where you can dream among the global consciousness and reach out to the universe, projecting a reality that you want to see come to pass. It is a place where you can write your dreams as reality, live as if they had already come to pass, and place that reality into the greater fabric of human global consciousness.
Take a look around, see some of the dreams that have already been put out there, and contribute some of your own.
Write 1 Sub 1 2011
Up for a writing challenge next year? Check out Write1Sub1, where writers like you will be following in the footsteps of legendary author Ray Bradbury by writing and submitting a new story every week!
Check out Write1Sub1!
- - -
Check out Write1Sub1!
- - -
New Projects
In my quest to explore art in all its forms, I have taken it upon myself to write a screenplay. It's definitely proving to be a new experience with its own unique challenges, but it's fun too! Once the work is complete, I'll be releasing it in book form for readers to enjoy. Stay tuned-- once the piece is done and polished, the next step will be putting together everything needed to put it on the stage! No obstacle is insurmountable! Full speed ahead!
How To Move On
New article up on Hubpages: How To Move On After Being In An Unhealthy Relationship! Check it out today! :)
The Death of Sci-Fi
Something interesting was happening in sci-fi in the 1980's, or rather, wasn’t happening. While US, Australian and Japanese Sci-Fi took off, Britain’s contributions died steadily until, in 1986, the only sci-fi left which was being produced domestically was the long running series Doctor Who , a few projects that were quickly killed (like Star Cops) a handful of books, and a few radio adaptations. Why did this happen? Where was Britain in the middle of what was arguably one of the most, if not the most profound decade in the history of science fiction? Find out -->
Libraries and Funding
Funding issues. They’re one of the biggest challenges any library today faces, one of the most difficult obstacles to overcome when they hit, and one of the most dangerous things to navigate around– issues that can even prove fatal for any library in the worst of circumstances. To read more about the problem (and some of the current solutions to it) click here or click the picture above.
Tribalpunk
The Man With The Obsidian Eye
There is a story that is told
Of a man with an eye of cut obsidian
Sharp as an elder’s arrowhead,
Lashed to the shaft of a stare
As solid as a shaman’s soul.
There is a story that is told
Of men who have tried to snatch that eye
Snatch the power of his stare
And steal a piece of that shaman’s soul,
And there is a story that is told
Of how those men died
At the point of spirit spears,
Their throats crushed
In the stony grip
Of his shaman’s soul.
- - -
Walter Rhein
Walter Rhein is the author of Rhemalda Publishing's new Fantasy novel "The Bone Sword." Recently, I had the pleasure of interviewing him! Check it out and pick up a copy of his novel today!
E.S.: So Walter, tell us a little about yourself.
W.R.: I graduated from college in 2001 with a degree in English literature and a minor in Physics. I started studying Physics because I got fed up with the subjective nature of English and I wanted to take some classes where I could just believe everything the professor said (and not get into any arguments). Also, I was getting a little fed up with people laughing at me for being an English major. In my opinion, English can be either the hardest major or the easiest, but it's kind of up to you to put the work in. However, it's been my experience that having some hard-core science on your resume isn't going to close any doors for you.
Actually, when you really think about it, Physics is the most philosophical science class you could take. Once you get into relativity and quantum mechanics you're basically just dealing with abstract models that require a lot of creativity to be able to discuss. I remember that I always wanted my teachers to explain how the universe looked from the point of view of a photon. They tended to get a little frustrated with me (apparently nobody had ever asked them that before).
After I graduated, I moved to Lima, Peru where I lived and worked for 10 years as a teacher, writer, and editor. I really didn't have a game plan down there, but I figured that if I was learning Spanish that pretty much justified the time I was spending. I'm fluent now.
In 2009, I got married to my lovely wife Zulma and we moved back to Chippewa Falls, WI. My wife wasn't all that happy with me during her first Wisconsin winter. On July 25, 2010, we had our first child, a beautiful baby that we named Sofia Aurora. Sofia is the goddess of wisdom and Aurora is the goddess of the dawn, so I like to think that her name means "dawn of wisdom." I told that to my uncle and he thought that was a lot to live up to. I suppose he's right, but no less than the names of goddesses were good enough for MY little girl!
E.S.: Very nice! Alright, how long have you been writing?
W.R.: I've been writing pretty much since I could first form letters. I had my first story published when I was a Freshman in high school. There was a little magazine we were all submitting to (at the urging of our teacher), called "The High School Writer." I was the first in my grade to get something published in there.
I majored in English Literature, so that required a lot of paper writing. Any writing is good practice, but writing college papers isn't the same as creative writing. Actually, by the time you're done putting together all the necessary mechanical components of your typical college paper, there's no space left over to say anything original. Initially it was my idea to write a novel as my college thesis, but then they told me I couldn't since I was a Literature major and not a Creative Writing major. To this day I don't understand the logic of how somebody who has studied novels is not qualified to write one...but whatever. I decided to write a novel anyway. That first one wasn't very good, but it's got its moments. If you write me and ask for it, I'll send you a copy (walterrhein@gmail.com).
After that, I wrote a TON down in Peru. I've worked for several magazines and ezines as an editor/contributor. There are short stories of mine floating around all over the internet under various names. I prefer novels though, there's more room to stretch out and make yourself comfortable.
E.S.: That's definitely one of the nicer things about novels. Speaking of novels, what can you tell us about your book?
W.R.: I'm starting to think of "The Bone Sword" as a kind of counter-culture fantasy. Rhemalda Publishing is a small publisher and they're not quite so concerned about churning out cookie cutter fantasies. That being said, "The Bone Sword" isn't avant-garde. There is plenty within the book that fans of fantasy will enjoy and appreciate. However, when the time comes for my characters to make the hard decisions, don't be surprised if they go at right angles to what you were expecting.
That's really the fun of small-press books, sort of like how Indie films are more fun than the studio blockbusters. You KNOW what's going to happen in a blockbuster...an Indie film, however, is pretty much guaranteed to surprise you.
Essentially though, I was just looking to write an action packed fantasy that will keep readers on the edge of their seats! I hope I succeeded, and the initial reviews seem to suggest I have.
E.S.: Excellent! Okay, so tell me: what do you think the future has in store for the written word?
W.R.: That's an interesting question and it's certainly open for debate. Movies are so darn advanced now that you've got to write a pretty compelling book in order to compete (it's not like they're hanging paper plates off fishing poles and calling them "flying saucers" anymore). In addition to that, video games are becoming amazing, and interactive online games like World of Warcraft are taking fantasy entertainment into whole knew planes of existence.
Still, I think the written word isn't going to go away. To make a movie, you still need a script, and although they might not call it a script in an interactive online fantasy adventure, there must be some kind of written template used at some point in the game's construction. So, at least in that sense, the written word will always be necessary.
All that being said, I don't think the novel as an art form is going to disappear anytime soon. In fact, with devices like the Kindle and the iPad, novels might be on the verge of experiencing a surge of popularity. I'll start being worried when they have an all video upload version of Facebook (shoot...maybe I should invent that...call it YouBook.com).
E.S.: Even then, the world will need writers, I suppose. We always find a way to survive. Which reminds me, as a published author, what kind of advice would you give to other writers, especially those who are just getting started?
W.R.: I think the most important thing to understand is that it's all about cultivating a following. There are a lot of people sitting around "theorizing" as to what makes great writing, and those people are always going to be critical of everything you produce. We've all heard the stories about how many times various books get passed on by publishers before they finally find success. To be honest, I probably would have passed on "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" (and I would have been an idiot...but what can you do?). If you can get 20,000 people to buy your book, then you're a successful writer no matter what anyone says. That may seem like a big number but when you consider that there are something like 7 billion people in the world, a mere 20K is hardly a drop in the bucket (.000003% of the global population).
So take advantage of all the various social media sites out there (Facebook, Twitter, Digg, etc.), start a blog, and (above all) be NICE to the people who track you down and contact you. In fact, see if you can get THEM to start raving about you on THEIR blog and Facebook page (these things tend to snowball).
Rejection is simply going to happen in the writing business, so recruit an army and make it IMPOSSIBLE for publishers to reject you (threaten them with virtual force if you have to...but never stop writing)!
E.S.: Great advice, definitely! Anything else that you’d like to add?
W.R.: First of all I'd just like to thank you for taking the time to interview me! I appreciate it! I encourage anyone who reads this to look me up and send me an email (walterrhein@gmail.com) or to friend me on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/wrhein ) or on digg (http://digg.com/walterrhein ).
I also have a couple blogs you might be interested in. My fantasy blog is called Swordreaver (http://walterrhein.blogspot.com/ ) and I have a travel blog called Streets of Lima (http://streetsofperu.blogspot.com/ ). These tend to get updated pretty regularly as I'm a writing junkie (if I don't get my 2000 words a day I start shaking and drooling).
Also, don't forget to check out "The Bone Sword!" Here is the Amazon link for Paperback:
http://www.amazon.com/Bone-Sword-Walter-Rhein/dp/0982743726/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1286574459&sr=8-1
And Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Bone-Sword-ebook/dp/B004AE34RI/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&qid=1286574459&sr=8-1
Thanks again for the interview!
E.S.: My pleasure Walter. I'm looking forward to reading your book! Let us know when your next one hits the shelves!
- - -
Steampunk Von Singer!
Click the pics to check out your favorite steampunk heroes (and villains) on hubpages!
More steam goodness to come soon!
- - -
- - -
Interview at Hubpages
Recently I was interviewed at HubPages about my article 101 Reasons to Stay Single, which was recently optioned to be adapted for television. Check out the interview here!
Thank you everyone who has read and/or commented on the list over the last two years. I really appreciate your support and I look forward to creating more lists in the future that can be enjoyed by so many people (and for so long a period of time!)
Bizarre Writing Prompt #17
The road, the road goes on forever. Straight, locked in course, it flows like sun through sky, never curves, never meanders. Stop for a moment, breathe, and when you look around, you realize that there is no road at all. There never was.
Write your story.
Bizarre Writing Prompt #16
When the shop across the street goes up for lease, there are some who shake their heads in sadness while others whoop cries of joy.
Write your story.
MINERVA
E.S. Wynn's latest novel (and the first in a series of Thunderune Publishing's new LIGHTNING NOVELS,) is now available! Check it out and get your copy today!From the back cover:
The year is 2124.
Minerva Eclipse and Duke Industries are earth’s two largest aerospace companies, and for the past ten years, these two giants have been working on a joint project to create the world’s first faster-than-light starship, the TEV Minerva. Her first mission is simple; test the experimental Displacement Drive, spend seven days in the depths of space, and snap back. It was supposed to be quick, it was supposed to be easy.
Nobody planned on the corpse. Nobody planned on the fifty thousand year old starship. Nobody planned on the sabotage. Nobody planned on the Captain’s sudden, unexplained suicide.
Nobody planned on being stranded one hundred and twelve light years from Earth.
MINERVA is a Thunderune Publishing Lightning Novel. Lightning Novels are quick and powerful, bold and just long enough, just concise enough, to really stun you.
| Download (eBook): $4.95 Print Copy: $9.95 |
Bizarre Writing Prompt #15
The hidden worker runs supported by the fire of life. He seeks the bland, the barren plain of dust or ash upon which he can carve his skyscrapers, his metropolis of dreams. In sandy soil where others wilt, he blossoms, thrives, a succulent of mind and the clay of lives as yet unlived.
Write your story.
Why Donate to Thunderune
Thunderune Publishing was founded in 2005 by Author E.S. Wynn as a response to the corrupt and flawed practices currently running rampant in the publishing industry. His vision was (and still is) to provide an ethical alternative to the current model and hasten the approach to a future where publishing companies are run by and for the artists, authors, musicians (and their fans) instead of by business execs eager to finance their next luxury purchase (or unnecessarily extravagant ways of life.)
But no man is an island, and he can’t do it all alone. Here are some reasons why you can feel good about donating to Thunderune Publishing.
- Thunderune Publishing provides all kinds of free fiction, from our 160+ episode Sci-Fi epic “The Cygnus War” and the “Cybridized Edition” of Pink Carbide to our daily fiction magazines, Weirdyear, and Yesteryear Fiction each of which launches a new story by a different (but equally talented) author every day.
- Thunderune Publishing also provides a number of free educational resources, from the “classics that don’t suck” at Revitalit to the audiobook readings of classic literature available on Youtube and Soundcloud.
- Thunderune Publishing is committed to the ethical treatment of authors, artists and musicians, and provides not only outlets for free publicity (like Weekly Artist) but also community inclusive projects (like Fractal Novels and Chaos Grimoire).
- As part of its continuing commitment to authors, artists and musicians, Thunderune Publishing also features an aggressive expansion plan which would bring a series of new, as yet unpublished authors into the company catalog (and the public eye) with a powerful, concise publishing contract that allows authors to keep not only their copyright on a given piece of work, but grants them a generous 50% royalty on profit from sold copies. (Traditional publishers often require the author to surrender all rights and give only a 6% royalty less the sum of the advance, meaning if you get a $5000 advance, you don’t see a dime until that 6% adds up to $5000.)
- Thunderune Publishing was founded by (and is currently run by) one guy. One really dedicated, idealistic (and tired) guy who puts 40-60 hours a week into expanding and maintaining the Thunderune Network.
To help Thunderune grow (and keep a worthy cause alive!) please consider contributing to our Get Thunderune Publishing! fundraiser or pick up a gift for yourself (or someone else) in our store.
Every little bit helps!
Thanks!
Founder E.S. Wynn
