Monkeying Around in a Good Cause...with Benefits

See this monkey here?  (No, it’s not me. I didn't grow a beard overnight. Hush!) This monkey marks the start of a new Silence in the Library project: Monkeying Around fora Good Cause: The CJ Henderson Benefit Anthology.

If it were just an anthology, Dance Like A Monkey would be awesome.  The list of contributors at the basic funding level includes some of the biggest names in the industry: Kevin J. Anderson and Rebecca Moesta, Maggie Allen, Jack Dann, Ed Greenwood, Joe Haldeman, Nancy and Belle Holder, Tanya Huff (insert fan girl squee here—I’m in a book with Tanya Huff and Jack Dann!), Gail Z. Martin, Danielle Ackley-McPhail, Jean Rabe, Mike Resnik, Hildy Silverman, Janine Spendlove, Michael A. Stackpole, Anton Strout, Kelly Swails, Robert E. Vardeman, Elizabeth A. Vaughan, Bryan Young, Jean Marie Ward, Gene Wolfe, and Timothy Zahn. And, of course, CJ Henderson. 

The artists contributing to the project include Christina Yoder (who drew the wonderful dancing monkey topping this article), Alan M. Clark (who contributed the beautiful cover shown below), Mark Dos Santos, Ben Fogletto, Thomas Nackid and Matt Slay.

But wait!  Like the classic TV commercial says, there’s more!  Beyond the Veil’s own Sheryl Nantus is one of the stretch goal authors for the project. Yes! If you contribute now—and we make our stretch goals—you’ll receive another book’s worth of wonderful stories, including Sheryl’s!  And you know she writes wonderful short stories.  If you don’t believe me, check out the selection on her website.

The other stretch goal authors ain’t exactly shabby, either: Aaron Rosenberg, Alan M. Clark, Allan Gilbreath, Alma Alexander, Tera Fulbright, Cynthia Ward, Davey Beauchamp, Dylan Birtolo, James Chambers, Jeff Young, Jennifer Brozek, John Hartness, Maxwell Alexander Drake, John L. French, Jonathan Maberry, Keith R.A. DeCandido, KT Pinto, Michael Ventrella, Misty Massey, Patrick Thomas, Pete Prellwitz, Stuart Jaffe, David B. Coe (aka D.B. Jackson), Vicki Steger, and Mike McPhail. 

And every single story by every single author will feature a monkey.  Even I got in the act, as you can see from the excerpt of my story "Burning Down the House" here.

Why? One of CJ's favorite sayings is "I'll dance like a monkey for a nickel."

But why CJ? Why now? And what makes this project any different than any of the other crowdsourcing projects I've been involved with recently? I think Silence in the Library publisher Ron Garner said it best:

“The purpose of this anthology is to provide...support to author CJ Henderson. Let me start off though, by saying that this is not charity. We are not simply collecting money and handing it off to a needy individual to help pay medical expenses. No, what we are doing here is endowing a grant. A grant that will allow CJ to continue to produce the kinds of stories that CJ writes. Stories with the power to entertain and captivate us all. We are making an investment in CJ."

An investment with dividends for you.  Are you an aspiring writer, or do you know one?  Bestselling author Gail Z. Martin and writer/publisher Janine Spendlove are offering mentoring programs.  Both programs include an in-depth review of the first 200 pages of your novel-length manuscript.

Or how about a short cut to immortality?  You can be Tuckerized--have your name and characteristics assigned to a character in a published story.  Monkeying Around offers three Tuckerization options.  You can get written into anthology editor Jean Rabe's next novel, The Cauldron, or Danielle Ackley-McPhail's upcoming novel, Daire's Devils.

You want more?  How about a certain author and her equally demented spouse doing their best to live up to the anthology's title?


How about making them stop?  

I thought that would do the trick. J Just so you don’t have to scroll back, the URL is: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/monkeying-around-for-a-good-cause .  

Click it.  Share it.  Help out.  I guarantee you won't be sorry.

Jean Marie Ward

When the Owl Hoots and the Calf Rolls

We island folk are a superstitious and deeply spiritual lot. It's not surprising when you look at where our ancestors come from. Africans, Europeans and Asians all contributed various beliefs, leading to a true hodgepodge of superstitions and things that go bump in the night. I thought it might be... well... not fun exactly, but perhaps interesting to take you on a little walk with a man I'll call Johnny Dread, who's having what is quite possibly the worse night of his life, Jamaican style. (Words marked with * are explained a little more in the glossary after the story.)

Johnny and the Rollin' Calf

Johnny got off the minibus at the intersection, and stood watching it drive away. It was after one o'clock in the morning, and when the sound of the revving motor faded away all he could hear was the rustle of leaves and animals in the bush at the side of the road. There were no streetlights on the narrow country road leading the the village of Stone Heart, but the moon was full, lighting his way. Hitching his bag higher on his shoulder, Johnny turned to begin the five mile walk toward his grandmother's house. Just as he took the first step, a white form took flight from a nearby mango tree and soared across the road above his head, letting out a long, loud WOO...

"Bumboclaat*!" Johnny dropped down, stooping as low as possible, covering his head with his arms. "Patoo*!"

The owl seemed to understand the words, circling back over Johnny, hooting again. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, and in complete silence, it was gone.

Legs shaking, clutching his bag to his chest, Johnny got up and stared up into the trees, trying to figure out where the owl had gone. This was bad. Raasclaat*, this was bad-bad-bad. He knew he shouldn't have come, but his mother had begged him to help her clean out Uncle Juckoo's house. He had missed the funeral, and had heard the people in the village suspected someone had worked Obeah* on Juckoo, but he hoped it wasn't true. If the Obeah woman had stolen his spirit, the rest of the family was in big trouble since it would be used against them. Worst of all, there had been no ninth-night* gathering. At least if they'd had a ninth-night, there was a chance his spirit might appear, be captured in the water bowl and then set free outside. Seeing the patoo was a bad omen. Now it seemed Johnny himself was walking into danger. Was Juckoo's duppy already being used against him?

The quicker he got to the village, the better, so Johnny started jogging down the narrow asphalt road, hoping a car would come along and the driver would stop to give him a lift. The road dipped into a little valley, and Johnny started running, using the slope to gain momentum. Just as he got to the bottom something moved in the bush at the side of the road and, seeing two points of light shining out from among the leaves, Johnny skidded and almost fell. He tried to shout, but fear caught the sound in his throat and it came out as a strangled moan. With a mwraw! a black cat jumped out of the bush and streaked across the road.

"Oh, Lawd..."

First the patoo, and now a black puss*? Could it get worse?

He was shaking so much now, it was a struggle to get up the hill, but finally he was at the top and, in the distance, could see the village. Not too much farther now, especially if he ran all the way. Galloping like a mule, his bag slapping against his side, Johnny made a break for it. Down into the next shallow valley, then up again. All he could hear were his own footsteps and the rasp of his breathing. One more hill, and he would almost be in Stone Heart.

Suddenly, without any warning, Johnny found himself in fog. Not the light mist that sometimes came down into the hollows during the night, but a thick, blinding white covering. Barely able to see the road ahead, Johnny stumbled to a walk, but didn't stop. It felt as if the fog had gone into his ears, because he could no longer hear his footsteps. Even his breathing seemed to be coming from far away, and was accompanied by a rattling sound he'd never heard before in his life. Then he realized the sound was coming from behind him, getting louder, as whatever was making it came closer.

Ignoring the fog, he started to run again, ignoring the potholes, just wanting to get away. But now he could hear a deep, demonic snorting sound mixed in with the metallic rattle of chains and the rapid tuc-a-tuc, tuc-a-tuc, tuc-a-tuc of hooves. He didn't want to look back. If he could stop himself looking back, maybe the rolling calf* would just go past...

But he couldn't stop himself from looking over his shoulder as he ran.

A huge, black bull, wrapped in chains, wreathed in fire, charged toward him. Fire also blazed from the beast's eyes and, in what seemed to be the last moment of Johnny Dread's life, he found the strength to scream...

Next morning it was the sun that woke him, as he lay between the roots of a huge old cotton tree*, covered in mud and shivering in the cool morning air. It took a moment to figure out where he was and what had happened. When he did, Johnny stumbled to his feet and took off running, not stopping until he got back to the main road, where he could catch a minibus back to Kingston.

He'd never go back to Stone Heart again...

Glossary
'Bumboclaat' and 'Raasclaat' - Jamaican swear words.

'Patoo' - The name given to an owl, usually a barn owl. Seeing a white-faced owl is considered a sign of extreme bad luck or death.

'Obeah' - A religion brought from West Africa, connected to the god Obi and closely connected to Myalism. It is believed an Obeah practitioner can draw the spirit from a person and trap it in a cotton tree. Eventually the person whose spirit has been stolen will die, if no one can be found to "dig out" the spirit and bring it back. If the person dies, the spirit can be used by its thief to bedevil the rest of the family.

'Ninth-night/Nine-night' -  A ceremony that takes place on the ninth night after the funeral. It is believed that on the third day after the funeral the spirit of the deceased rises and goes back to the residence to wander among its possessions. On the ninth night after the funeral the family and friends gather to sing and dance, giving the spirit a farewell party, so to speak. In years gone by, a person adept in seeing and capturing spirits would 'catch' the spirit and trap it in a bowl of water, which is then thrown out the window, releasing the spirit.

'Black puss/cat' - Cats are viewed with suspicion and fear by many Jamaicans, as they are said to sit on babies chests and suck the air from their lungs (perhaps an explanation for SIDS?). A black cat is particularly feared, as the color black is associated with the devil. Fully black dogs fare little better than cats.

Rollin' Calf - The name is said to derive from "Roaring Calf' but while this evil spirit is usually described as taking the shape of a bull, it also is said to take a number of other shapes, and can shift from small creatures (cats and dogs, always black) to large (bulls and horses). It rarely attacks people, but often is reported chasing them, or lying in wait for them at crossroads.

'Cotton tree' - This tree, along with bamboo clumps, is said to be the home or haunt of the rolling calf and also of the spirits stolen by Obeah men and women. Finding himself at the root of one of these trees would confirm for Johnny that he hadn't dreamt the encounter.

Short Enough For Ya?

In science fiction and fantasy, literary fiction and a couple other genres, there's a well established proving ground of short fiction markets (magazines, anthologies, etc.) where authors can hone their craft, sometimes en route to novels, sometimes in addition to novels, and sometimes instead of novels. In romance, that hasn't been the case until recently. Sure, there were Holiday Regency Surprise anthologies or random themed novella collections, but there were few to zero short story and novella markets for pure romance fiction, if you don't count the confessions markets.

The growth of small and electronic presses has changed that. Micropresses and even some of the larger presses now have the flexibility to purchase independent short fiction, particularly short erotic romances, from both little and well known authors. These get published as stand alone ebooks and in collections. At many of the publishers, these stories can earn what are considered "pro rates" by such organizations as SFWA and HWA.

I'm participating in the upcoming Beyond the Veil round robin, which will consist of short (and possibly erotic!) romance stories that take place in or around a ParaExpo convention set in the fictional Dunvegas casino. As I decide what tale to spin, it has got me thinking about short fiction more than I usually do. One of the primary criticisms I see of short fiction pieces by romance authors is that they feel abbreviated. If you read a bunch of short romance fiction reviews, reviewers who otherwise enjoyed the piece have been known to add the caveat, "It felt too short" or "I wish we'd had more time in this story/world." While that seems like a "duh" comment -- I mean, it's SHORT fiction, ya big lunk! -- sometimes I agree. Short fiction can sometimes feel more like a story seed -- like a squooshed up novel that hasn't had a chance to bloom. I've noticed this about shorts in all genres, but in romance, I see this a bit more frequently.

Two reasons. One, I believe short fiction is an art form that has to be learned, just like novels or poetry, and as romance writers, we've only recently had lucrative markets for our shorter tales. We haven't had a lot of short romance fiction to read or a lot of reason to write it beyond personal satisfaction.

Two, telling a whole romance from the beginning doesn't lend itself to a short format, if you tell the story of an interesting romance, that is. And glutton-for-punishment authors like the ones here have a tendency to throw in paranormal elements and mysteries and action-adventure to increase the word count and narrative demands even further!

A solution to this short fiction problem might be restricting the narration to a significant moment in the romance journey or describing a journey that's brief (but fascinating, of course). The story could cover only the meet-cute of the protagonists and leave readers with the feeling things are going to go well for those crazy kids. The story could describe the first sex, the "let's go steady" proposal, or the incident that made the protagonists realize they loved one other. Or how about the time when a certain person forgot my birthday even though we were newly married and I had to explain to him that yes, he still had to buy me gifts even though he'd snagged me as a wife after chasing me for ten years? (Not that that ever happened to me.)

As I decide what's going to happen in Dunvegas that's both romancey and hot, I hope one of these approaches will help me avoid the abbreviation effect. What can my significant moment be? How can the moment, the event, still have a narrative arc if it isn't the whole journey? What kind of romantic story can I tell that's brief, complete and satisfying to the reader?

And how can I work Elvis in there without a shoehorn? Because it's Vegas, baby.

To find out how I and the other participating authors rise to these burning short fiction challenges, check back often as we post our creations, starting October 19, I believe. At the end of the month, we're give away a free ebook full of Dunvegas goodness with the complete stories and maybe other treats. You don't even have to dress up in costume and knock on our door to get it.

Jody W.
A SPELL FOR SUSANNAH--Winter 2008, Samhain Publishing
http://www.jodywallace.com/ * http://meankittybox.blogspot.com/