OK … here’s a pirate tale for you. Robin & Ben: Or, The Pirate and the Apothecary by Robert Louis Stevenson is a recently acquired favorite of mine. I read it a few years ago in a Stevenson omnibus we have in our house. (And that’s just part of the joy of books — I have no idea when we acquired the ominus, but years later I made a lovely discovery upon cracking it open. Ah, literature …)

I like this one because I find it vastly entertaining, period. A word to those who either dislike poetry in its entirety or to those who love it with rigid purist passion: This is a story, with all the traditional story parts, told in verse form. If you hate poetry, stay away. If you love poetry enough to snarl when you encounter near-rhymes, or if slight alterations of meter drive you out of your mind, then you might want to skip it, too. Stevenson employs near-rhymes and he boggles the meter now and then.

But if none of those poetical concerns bother you, and you’d like to read a brief but amusing story about piracy and thievery of various kinds, and a pirate’s no nonsense reponse to uncaring crime, then read on.

Oh, and if you are one of those misguided souls who believe end-stop rhyme is the death of all poetry — you’re wrong, but I digress. Suffice it to say this one will make you jump up on a rock and decry its clumsy end-stop rhyme. So skip this poem — and go read some Robert Frost or Shakespeare and get over your end-stop rhyme inhibitions.

And don’t give me any guff about popping a poem on here and calling it great short fiction, because this one’s a story, damn it, rhymes or not!

Anyway, have at it and feel free to come back and tell us all what you think of this one.

– Steve

Here’s another short story I really love — Split Cherry Tree by Jesse Stuart.

It’s about another place and time, but it manages to resonate today. There’s a timeless quality to it, and to me timelessness and universality of theme are what make a story great. Change is constant, and every generation will go through the things Dave and his dad experience in Split Cherry Tree. Read more »

This continues a series of posts outlining things I’ve noticed in reading short story slush for our upcoming Carnvah House anthology, “The Infinity Swords,” and in reading slush for ezines and submissions for critique groups. I’m going to highlight things that got stories bounced from consideration. I won’t identify authors or specific stories, because my purpose isn’t to embarrass anyone. And I should add I’ve committed most of these slushpile sins myself, so if you recognize yourself in any of these posts you should realize you’re not alone.

Visualize, Please

Sometimes, writers don’t clearly think through the things they write. They just write things that make the reader go, “huh?” It’s a very quick way to get bounced from a slushpile. Read more »

This is the first in a series of posts outlining some things I’ve noticed in reading short story slush for our upcoming Carnvah House anthology, “The Infinity Swords,” and in reading slush for ezines and submissions for critique groups. I’m going to highlight some things that got stories bounced from consideration. I won’t identify authors or specific stories, because my purpose isn’t to embarrass anyone. And I should add I’ve committed most of these slushpile sins myself, so if you recognize yourself in any of these posts you should realize you’re not alone.

Uneven Tone

This is a common problem. Basically, the story starts in one vein, then shifts into something else entirely, then zigs back into the first mode, then on to something else. Read more »

Hello. Today is Swords Against Boredom’s day to welcome readers who are following along on the whirlwind virtual book tour surrounding this:

Flashing Swords Presents: The Return of the Sword is a brand new anthology full of sword-and-sorcery and heroic fantasy goodness. I am one of the lucky authors involved, along with a slew of others who remember what fun a good Conan story can be, or a Fafhrd and Mouser tale, or an adventure of Ryre, or Kardios, or …

In any case, you get the point. Heroes. Swords. Monsters. Deeds That Must Be Done.

I wanted to do something special for the virtual tour, as I’m coming into it a bit late. Plenty already has been said about the anthology by this point. What the heck could I do differently?

Then I came up with an idea. Tour followers are heroic fantasy fans, right? Why not give them some? Read more »

I’m in short story mode right now, not wanting to dig into anything too thick while I await my contributor’s copy of this:

Once Flashing Swords Presents: The Return of the Sword finds my mailbox, I plan to dive right in. Until then, I’m reading short stories. I read in modes — a couple of mysteries, then some science fiction, then some fantasy, then a classic, etc. Right now, it’s mysteries.

I finished a novel the other night — Dashiell Hammett’s “The Dain Curse.” This is one of Hammett’s Continental Op detective yarns, which set the template for later hard-boiled heroes. Very enjoyable, full of curses and ghosts and weird cults and morphine and bodies dropping like rain.

Hammett’s book reminds me why I prefer to write from the vantage of a single character, rather than hopping from the mind of one character to the next. Sticking with one character is a terrific way to build suspense. In “The Dain Curse,” the reader experiences things as the Continental Op does — and if the Op’s mystified, so is the reader. The sense of mystery would be lost if Hammett jumped from the Op’s point of view to the villain’s, or to a potential victim’s, or to anyone else’s.

That’s probably why most of the really good mystery writers stick with single-character point of view, huh? It also works well for sword-and-sorcery, horror or anything else in which you want to inject some suspense. A lot of what I know about writing a sword-and-sorcery yarn comes from reading Hammett, Chandler, et al.

In “Dain,” Hammett put single-character point of view to particularly good use during the Op’s fist fight with a spectral figure. Yes, this is a mystery and it plays by the “mystery rules” so all the supernatural stuff has a natural-world explanation — but the Op doesn’t know that while he’s tussling with this weird shimmery thing in a dark room, so it reads like a horror story at this point. It’s that first-person, single-point-of-view thing at work, and it’s rather effective.

Now, I’m perusing the other end of the mystery spectrum. I’m reading some of G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown short stories. These are eloquent and bizarre little mysteries, with a mousy cleric as the detective. Don’t let that fool you, though; there is no Miss Marple cuteness to these stories. Along with the bizarre crimes, etc., there is a fair amount of psychology and philosophy to chew on. And some gentle humor, too. Father Brown is a memorable character, but it takes a while to get to know him.

And, of course, Chesterton bounces from one point of view to another, just to prove you don’t always have to stick with one character, even when writing a mystery. Chesterton keeps the mysterious mysterious by writing in third person and by having Father Brown say things that make sense to him, but leave other characters in the story — and the reader — absolutely flummoxed. The effects are mystifying and rather funny. Imagine a highly perceptive, highly intelligent fellow spouting off about things that are obvious to him, whilst the rest of the crowd wonders what the flaming goo he’s talking about. Good stuff.

When it comes to mysteries, I bounce between hard-boiled (Sam Spade, Travis McGee, the Continental Op, Phillip Marlowe) and cerebrals (Sherlock Holmes, C. Auguste Dupin, Father Brown, Ellery Queen). That’s probably why I like Rex Stout’s tales of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. Those offer an eccentric genius detective with a wisecracking, tough-guy right arm — the best of both worlds. Nero is more set in his odd ways than even Sherlock Holmes, and Archie is no fawning, befuddled Watson. They’re an entertaining, capable pair who complement and exasperate one another to a wonderful degree.

Once upon a time, I thought I’d be a mystery writer. I still might do that someday. Until then, I enjoy reading them.

Anyway, I’ve got dozens of Father Brown stories to keep me occupied until my anthology comes in the mail, all short and compelling enough that I can finish whatever I’m reading right away and then give all my attention over to heroic fantasy.

Sword mode!

The Return of the Sword anthology includes a never-before-published Faceless Sons story from me, called The Mask Oath. I’m also eager to read what Ty Johnston, S.C. Bryce, James Enge, Michael Ehart, Bruce Durham and others have written. I can’t get enough of that sword-slinging goodness.

Click the button below if you feel the same way.

– Steve

I’ve often pointed out here that I like a good pulpy story, but I’ve never really sat down and tried to describe what a “pulpy” story is. So, when Paul Jessup asked about the fascination with pulp-style stories, I decided to see if I could delineate what I’m talking about when I say “pulp.”

I have no expertise with the heyday of the old pulp magazines. All of the stories from that era came to me via anthologies and collections, or reprints in magazines. I know some of the garish covers with aliens clutching semi-nude women, or shadowy gunmen hovering over bleeding babes, from collections and anthologies, too. So when I talk about pulpy stories, I’m not talking about the entirety of what you would have found off the news rack in the pulp era. I’m talking about the stuff that survived.

I’m also talking about paperback original novels, of which I have a bunch. Those aren’t technically pulp, of course, but to me they share a few things in common with what I think of as pulpy.

So, what is pulpy? Read more »