Tag Archives: writing fiction

Someone to whom I Aspire, and a Side Note

Check out this nice little write up about Victor Hugo, one of the writers that inspires me regularly.   I hope his story will compel you to continue writing.

Now, more than ever, we need to be writing.   We are living in as historical a moment as Hugo lived, our voice will matter to future generations, to History itself.  I know it’s difficult to get up every.  single.  day.  to some new disappointment or other in the headlines and the insecurity it brings.   To exacerbate the issue, many of us writers are Highly Sensitive People so our reactions to national insecurity is felt more acutely, it resounds within our thoughts more; we have to work at giving our focus boundaries and keeping our mind from going down a dark road.  So writing, some days, can present itself as more of a challenge than others.   But I encourage you to slog through the thick mire and at least put something down on paper, or build up that word count in the bottom left corner of  your screen.   It is important right now.   It’s not important to us per se, it’s not even important to our cohorts or elders, but it’s imperative to future generations.  It’s imperative for the lens of History to have your story woven amongst the backdrop of change and restoration.   It will be significant to your progeny to understand where you stood in all the noise – what did great-grandma’s voice sound like against the others?

It doesn’t matter today, but it will matter greatly tomorrow whether or not you set your mind down to write.  Here’s to one of the best examples for doing so…

Yours,

Frankie

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This Writer’s Reflection

I was grateful to have come across this video the other day as it explains the difficulty in finding young adult books with leading female characters.

It was poignant for me since the motivation for writing ‘Caysee Rides’ was born solely from my sister, mother of two daughters, who exclaimed, “Do you know how hard it is to find books with strong female characters?”

CayseeRides_Final_resized

Now available on Nook and Kindle

I didn’t set out to be a young adult children’s author, but the comment made an impression and the idea for the book sprouted, grew, and is now bearing fruit.

The story is a bit trite, I am aware of that.   But I also know that there is nothing new under the sun.  We only have a few story lines to choose from as writers, composers only have eight notes with which to work – such is the way of things.   Yet we have the ability to infuse our own imagination into our work, thus demarcating it and setting it above others. I focused upon the subjects of freedom and friendship, and enjoyed the process of enabling two strong characters to form an eternal bond while pursuing the right to live their own lives.

I am proud of this story.  I am proud that it fills a need in the market to have strong female characters and to have their voices heard. I am proud that it inspires others to stand their ground.  I am proud that it exemplifies a young woman’s ability to be true to herself and enjoy her independence.   Trite or not, the story serves it’s purpose and does what I set out to do:  create a book with ‘Strong female characters.”

And thanks, Francesca Cavallo and  Elena Favilli for observing the same and creating Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls.

Here’s to more books with strong female characters.

Frankie

 


Keep on Keepin’ On

This was one of my mother’s favorite phrases, she would say it to me at the end of almost every  phone conversation.

The words are never so imperative as they are now.  There are many of us who are still trying to make sense of our new political climate, trying to find where our creativity fits in among the dark cloud hanging over our nation.

As for me, I’ve decided not to write about today.  In my work with economics, I am certain that  at this point we are unable to pull out of the tailspin in which we find ourselves. Instead, my work is written for the future, for tomorrow, for the young men and women who will have to reckon with the consequences of this administration in the next decade.  They will get my energy and time.  They will get my wisdom and compassion.  They are the muse for my writing.

To accomplish that goal, I am currently working on a short story to submit to the Pearl S. Buck writing contest.    I enjoy working on a small project like this, it challenges my editorial eye and allows me to break out of the tediousness of working on a longer manuscript.   Writer’s Digest recently posted some good reasons for short story writing as well.

We are not the same nation we were a few months ago.   Nor will we be when all is said and done by this current president.   But our voices are still important, and will be more so for the generation that follows us.   “Keep on keepin’ on,”  write a story for them, submit it to a contest, get those creative waters flowing,  it is the only thing we can do.  But it is empowering.

Yours,

Frankie

 

 


Mac’s Gig: The Formation of a Transgender Character

Caysee needed a sidekick.  And I had a deep desire to make this a story about friendship as much as freedom.   I wanted the message to get across that friendships are imperative; they deepen our life experience and keep our souls renewed.   Mac originated from these premises.

But he had to have his own story, his own motivations.   As I let the storyline and Caysee’s character guide me, Mac showed up and his past along with him.  I wrestled with the idea.  I knew that by keeping true to his original appearance I would perhaps also be creating a provoking manuscript, one that opens up entirely different kinds of conversations, and I wasn’t certain I wanted to pursue them.  I thought about some other way for him to have the kind of conflict that would drive him out of the house, or get him on the street.   I could not make him fit any other shape than the one that I presented.  I felt I had to be true to his essence in the way it teased itself out of the ether.

I purposefully didn’t do any research about transgender issues other than an occasional light peruse of headline stories.  I wanted to sniff out a reasonable reaction to the sort of prison in which Mac was living.  Most importantly, I wanted the character and struggle to be composed entirely on my imaginings, with as little influence from the real world as possible. This approach felt right and authentic to me.

Upon reflection, I’ve observed that Mac’s story can serve to inspire.  How many others, identity aside, find themselves in circumstances less than optimum?  How many of us understand the impossibility of thriving when our environment keeps us focused solely upon the task of surviving?  It could be a job or a relationship and maybe we inadvertently put ourselves in the situation, but I’m willing to bet that there are others out there who will be able to draw strength from Mac’s need to be staunch about where he could give up his sense of self and where he couldn’t, as well as his need to find an atmosphere that provided him opportunities to be free to express himself.  At least that is my desire.

When I made the decision to become a writer several years ago, I did so with the goal of always challenging people to think, myself included.  It doesn’t matter that a reader necessarily agrees with my point of view, I am content if I have caused another to at least consider an optional idea.  Even if there is disparity in the final analysis, we are all better for at least having weighed the other side of a thought. My hope is that Mac’s character, and the book as a whole, have achieved this endeavor.

Thank you for reading…

Frankie

‘Caysee Rides: A Story of Freedom, and Friendship’ is available for FREE on Amazon’s KDP Select  for three more days.


Newest Published Work

Finally…after a nightmare editorial experience and much research about ebook
publishing, I have released my newest work, “Caysee Rides” today. I decided to publish on Amazon since it has 75% of the ebook market reach at the moment, which means it is FREE FOR THE NEXT FIVE DAYS if you are a Kindle Unlimited member…just in time for the long holiday weekend.  Click here to link.  Happy reading…and thanks for all your support!

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Cover art by Aaron Phelps

 

 

 

 

 


Sample Chapter – Caysee Rides: A Story of Freedom, and Friendship

Fourteen year old Caysee is making her escape from a war-stricken Chicago where her parents died to the hopeful Pacific Republic where she has the opportunity to go to college and be free. She travels with Mac whom she met just before leaving her home town.   They Ride the Wagon Train together out of the Northern Province and into freedom, but the escape challenges both of them, and the Underground Network, in ways that changed them and the continent forever.   Look for the full book to be released by the end of March.

Reflection:

The trio stood, stretched, and made their way to the stairs that led to the hatch. Bryant stood off to the side and let Caysee, then Mac climb their way from the inside of a dark train car to a thick, overcast morning that was brightened by the greenest grass either of them had ever seen in their life.

“Wow.”  Was all Caysee could manage to say when she looked at the sight. A dark cloud cover provided a low, cozy ceiling to the scene.  On their left a wide grey river stretched out, its far shores decorated with pine trees in a dark green hue that contributed to the serious color scheme.  On her right, foothills full of bright green grasses and small trees led her eyes up to the grey Rocky Mountains, whose uneven white tips took up the entire horizon with arrogance.

Nobody said anything for a long while once they settled on top of the car.   The morning was still cool so they huddled together in a bunch to keep warm, but their thoughts were entirely their own. The river guided the tracks along like an imaginary platoon leader, while the mountains stood like soldiers overlooking their travel.

Mac watched the landscape and let the rhythm of the train put him in a kind of trance.  All he could think about was being free.   Free to enjoy the air cutting across his face, even if it did bite at his eyes.  Free to gaze at the water mirroring the cloudy sky, if he looked carefully it was hard to tell where the reflection ended and the clouds began.  Free to just be himself and to feel what it was like to know he had a place in the world after all.  Free to set his own path, not dictated by others or circumstances, but a carefully thought out path, with meaning and purpose.   Free to breathe without worrying if someone was watching him.  Free to speak without having to carefully pick through every word.  Free to be happy and content in a moment such as this without being afraid to let his guard down.

Free.   ”Was there anything worse than being confined?  Is there anything worse being robbed of your ability to follow your own path?”   He thought of the friends he knew while he belonged to the IP.  Not one of them could really choose their own way, even if they felt they were doing so by rebelling against their conditions. He realized now that they were rebelling because it was the only choice they felt they had:  join the masses and let Execs dictate their fate, or exercise what little control they could muster and give into the gang mentality of the Posse.   Neither choice was optimum.  “The only real choice,” Mac decided, “was to take the risk and run toward freedom.”  He could see now that he would rather have died in the pursuit of it than let it be taken from him completely.

He almost did die, thanks to his appendix.  Mac took a moment to remember what he went through:  the painful walk to the abandoned mall – he recalled, for the first time, that Caysee propped him up in some doorway and that he thought she left him for good.  Because of Mac’s dreamlike- fever-state, it seemed like days before his friend came back.  When she did, he wanted to tell her to just leave him.  “Go on.  I am so tired I don’t want to move anymore.  My mind is outside of my burning hot body and I’m begging you to please just let me lie here.  It can’t be much longer and the rest of me will follow.  Go.  You’ll be just fine without me.”

Caysee’s voice acted like a tractor beam of energy that reached out to catch Mac’s mind and attracted it back to his body, “Come on Mac, let’s get you inside.  We got help coming, I promise to take care of you.”

Hell came next, Mac remembered.  He shuddered at the thought of it.  He remembered Caysee floating in and out of his dreams, forcing him to drink water against his will. Every sip was a silent battle between them; Caysee was always stronger and won.

Hell and Pain.  The same knife taunting his body, its blade never dulled and it always found the same opening on his lower right side.  Every muscle was cramped and burning from heaving, he could not move without them screaming and stinging.  Caysee’s voice sang somewhere up above his awareness, echoing in the heavens far above Mac’s hell, and at the very least reminded him that he was not alone.

At some point a man’s voice made its way down to Mac’s hell and he knew that it was important but he wasn’t sure why it should be.  Then magic.  The pain went away.  Everything was quiet.  His body was still.  His breathing was normal.  He could sense light outside.

He grew out of his hell and closer to the voices.  Even though they still sounded faint and far away, Mac knew he was coming back to life.

“Drink, Professor, drink.”  He could hear Caysee reading from one of her books, was her voice shaky?  Was she crying?  She let the book fall to the floor and moved the chair closer to the bed, “I’m so glad you’re going to be okay Mac. I don’t know what I would do if you left me right now.”  She held Mac’s limp hand and sobbed into the blanket it rested upon for a long time.  Mac was somewhat awake and a bit confused by Caysee’s behavior; he hadn’t realized yet what a close call he had with death. He could sense a kind of relief in the sobbing.   Caysee had to be strong for Mac and to do that all of her emotions were shoved aside so that she could make clear, smart decisions.   Once Dr. Greg declared that Mac was going to be okay, Caysee could finally let her emotions out.  The passage in the Harry Potter book reminded her of every fight they had over every sip of water.  It was a memory that triggered her meltdown just now.  It wasn’t necessarily pretty, but the relief and exhaustion Mac sensed in the sobbing made an impact on him; no one had ever cared for him like this.

The thought of it overwhelmed him and Mac leaned back slightly on top of the rail car to watch his friend and savior for a few seconds.   Caysee’s hair was growing out, its color reminded Mac of the browning wheat fields they passed on the way to Saskatoon: golden? sandy? silvery?  He noticed the hair clip was finally getting some use.  It was holding the hair from her face and the dragonflies seemed to coast in the wind the way a vulture can glide for hours at a time. Her face was fuller, Mac thought.  Her skin was healthy instead of kind of dull, a sign that she was eating better.  She held her face straight on, her shoulders square and confident even in the slicing wind. Her lips rested naturally in a half smile. A wave of gratitude came over Mac. Caysee had showed him what a true friend was, someone who stuck around no matter what kind of mess a person might find himself in.   Mac had never known this kind of unconditional devotion and now that he had, he was determined to be the same kind of friend.

Freedom.  Greens and greys and muted whites flashed before Mac and while he let it all move past him he let all of his old life stay behind, blown off in chunks by the wind, no longer needed, no longer wanted.

Freedom.  Deep breaths of air, pure and unpolluted by either chemicals or sounds of bombs and guns.  Freedom.  The long metal chain carried them both closer.  Closer and closer.

Caysee decided she would never get tired of the air moving across her face as the metal chain cut through it with ease.   It was good to feel the wind in her hair. “It’s so cool to have hair again!” she thought, “To be traveling and moving again too!”  These past few days of moving and adventure had awakened many forgotten memories for Caysee.  Most of them were fuzzy, some were quite clear, but they were all memories of going places with her parents.  “Are you ready for another plane ride Caysee?” her mother’s voice was nearly audible.  She was probably around four and she remembered she was sitting on her parent’s bed, surrounded by neat piles of clothes ready for a suitcase.   “We are going to go to the ocean where there’s lots of water and warm sun.  Daddy wants to show you the dolphins.”  Her mom leaned in to smooth her hair over then kissed her on the cheek, and tapped her nose with her finger, “I love you Caysee Jo.”  Caysee didn’t remember the dolphins, but that small fractal of a recollection of her mother was much better.

She suddenly realized that her parents would always be with her, no matter where she went. Every little thing her dad taught her, every story her mom read to her, every camping trip they had together gave her the strength and tools to survive on her own these past three years.   A part of them hasn’t died and that part was her.

Of course!  Caysee thought about this idea for a very long time while the movement of the train rocked them to and fro.  At some point, a feeling of peace overcame her.   Understanding that her parents would always be with her and live on in her gave Caysee the sense of peace that she longed for.   At last, she didn’t have to hold on to their memories so tightly, they would still be there.  At last, she realized she didn’t need to feel guilty for letting them go, they would always be with her.   At last, the past she was hanging on to was finally laid to rest, Caysee could now focus on the future.

It’s a luxury to think about the future Caysee thought, the fresh, cool moving air somehow made her more observant.  She was used to being in survival mode, only able to look as far ahead as maybe tomorrow, no further.  There simply wasn’t the time or energy to consider a future when a girl was always forced to think about eating and a safe place to sleep.  Caysee allowed herself to dream for just a moment about teaching in a classroom while the train rocked the three riders back and forth.  She couldn’t tell the age group or what she was teaching, but she could picture herself standing in front of a group of people and lecturing.   “Yeah, “she thought, “I can do that.”

Bryant sat in the middle of all this thinking and did a fair amount of his own.   “I haven’t been along this route in a while.”   It was a kind of magic to him that nothing really changed.   A fallen tree was new, the river’s bank changed slightly here and there, but the mountains and the green and the vastness of the scene were the same.  Solid.  Secure.  Unmoving.  He marveled at the idea, he could always count on Mother Nature.  For the thousandth time he thanked whatever gods or fate there was that allowed him the freedom to have the life he had. Bryant knew he was alone and he treasured his freedom .  But now, Caysee and Mac captured his attention and held it. For one thing, it was good to have someone his own age to speak with.  Most of the Riders that came through that were his age were scared and with their own adults, he never really took the time to make friends with any of them.  As he hung out with Caysee and Mac he found himself reminded that he was still a kid in some ways.  There was a kind of comfort in knowing he wasn’t an adult yet, that he still had some growing to do.  It made him feel like he had a future.  He couldn’t see it, just as sure as he couldn’t see around those proud mountains, but he knew it was there and he knew there was a lot of it.  He would have to make sure Caysee and Mac were part of it.  They were two of the toughest people he ever knew.  So many of the Riders were skittish and wary, which made them dangerous because he couldn’t count on them to know what to do in a pinch.  But not these two.  He was impressed with Caysee’s ability to live on her own.  Allen gave Bryant a good idea of her life, but the way she held herself and spoke with confidence intimidated Bryant, and though it made him uncomfortable, he respected her for it.  Not many people intimidated him and usually they were much older and wiser for their experiences.  She would be a good friend for him.  Her confidence was contagious.

He let out a sigh and the three of them shifted their positions slightly but stayed to themselves.  He glanced down at Mac, who had shown his own strength and confidence.  “He sure does try to be tough, but the kid wouldn’t hurt a fly.  He just needs a direction and he’ll be fine.”  Bryant didn’t doubt Mac’s ability to work well for the Train or VNET, his passion for helping others was obvious.   Now he just had to think where to hook him up.

The wind was growing colder, drops of rain splattered the top of the rail car, the three of them began to shiver and they spoke almost at once the same thought:  “It’s time to get back inside.”


Waiting…In the Meantime

I am (not so) patiently waiting for my book cover artist to finish his magic so I can finally publish “Caysee Rides:  A Story of Freedom and Friendship” as an e-book.    Caysee makes her way from a ruined Chicago to the Pacific Rim where education and freedom offer a better life.  Riding a modern day Underground Railroad, fourteen year old Caysee also discovers that friendship is as valuable as freedom.  Look for a sample chapter on this site next week and the full release by the end of March.

In the meantime, I’ll be submitting a couple of works to writing contests.   I can’t encourage you enough as a writer to consider entering a competition or two.   The challenge does wonders to sharpen one’s writing skills, and what better accolades to the back of your book cover than “Winner of such-and-such award”?

I’m also doing quite a bit of writing on the economic/political scene in the US, borne of my own original research.  If that’s of interest to you, click here.

Here’s to creativity, patience, and maybe a winning poem or two.  As for me, I am grateful to call myself a writer.

Yours,

Frankie

 


Moving On…

This…..

cayseenotes

I was finally able to take this down after having it taped to my kitchen/garage door for this past year and a half!  They are my notes from my newest release, “Caysee Rides, A Story of Freedom and Friendship,” a work spurred by my sister’s comment of “Do you know how hard it is to find teenage books with strong female characters?”

Caysee Rides is an adventurous tale of just such a young female who is stuck in an area where she has few choices as a fourteen year old orphan.  An escape to a more free area of the former US is planned at the same time Caysee meets an unlikely friend who has his own desire for liberty, and a history that makes Caysee’s orphan status seem mild.   The story blends modern technology, current political/social trends, and transgender issues for a read that is satisfying but challenges the reader to think as well.   Working on final editing and awaiting patiently for my talented book cover artist to render something spectacular.   I am officially aiming for an ebook release date of February 1st.    (By the way, I strongly suggest investing in a good cover artist. This is a place where an author can’t afford to pinch pennies.   I simply placed an ad on my local Craigslist, asking for samples of their work in a response.  This was a quick way to get a good feel for a person’s ability and talent, and I could weed through their work and find what suited my needs.  Follow your instincts!  And don’t make a final decision without a meeting or two.   In my very limited experience, I’ve found that giving them complete freedom over the book cover allows for more creativity than giving them some predisposed ideas.   Things can always be tweaked but I find its better to leave them with the ability to openly interpret the text and apply that to the cover without my influence.  I feel as if I get a more objective work that way.)

So what’s next?   Replacing the notes for “Caysee Rides” are notes for “Twenty First Century Treatise”  a nonfiction work that examines the impact of nature’s laws upon human civilization.  For example, nature always strives for balance and I demonstrate that our societal structures, bound as they are to nature’s laws, seek balance as well. Originally perceived as a book, I will be releasing this work one chapter at a time per month beginning in January….look for the Introduction as well as a first chapter with a provocative angle at economics in just a few weeks.   This work has been ‘percolating’ for some six years now, I look forward to sharing it; my hope, as always, is that I give us some talking points with which we can better our future.

Other things going on:  A winter solstice children’s book, aiming for release for next holiday season.   I’ve managed to get a great artist to team with me on this project, I know it will go places.  I also have another web site that gets regular posts from me, The Unseen Revolution.  It is solely dedicated to American economics and politics from the perspective of the Financialization Revolution.  I invite you to peruse the site here if those kinds of issues float yer boat, so to speak.   Annnnnd, finally, the beginnings of another full-fledged manuscript.   A teenage boy is forced to hide a crucial secret from his parents, discovery of it would tear his family apart, how does Brandon resolve the conflict?  Brandon’s Diary tackles modern social issues with an empathetic voice, stay tuned for its projected release date.

It’s quite satisfying ending the year at the same time as ending a project to which I’ve dedicated two years of my life.  It’s more satisfying to have fresh ideas to work with, new challenges to meet, and an entire year to meet them with.   Here’s to writing kids!  The road is long, the work is heartbreaking, the success is always worth it.    May 2016 greet you with new ideas and creative energy…

Yours,

Frankie

 

 

 

 


Writer’s Resource

Here’s to a good start to everyone’s week.

I’ve been obviously occupied with current events lately and realized I need to balance my posts out a little better. The energy it takes to dig and find something new to create is being rerouted to edit a manuscript that I really hope is out by the end of the year, although I thought it’d be out by the beginning of summer…such is the life, right?  Current events however, provide plenty of thought provoking ideas which are not as difficult to filter through the keyboard.

In an effort to level out my own blog, I wanted to pass on a great blog site that’s quite resourceful for us writers:  Writing and Illustrating.   The authoress consistently features children’s book illustrators, agents who are seeking scripts, and useful writing tips.  I hope you find it as enriching as I do.

Go write something today!  And I challenge you to take a minute to see if there’s an imbalance somewhere in your writing choices.  As I’ve just discovered, sometimes we can focus on one thing too much without noticing.

Yours,

Frankie


Cycle Bound

Every thing is cycle bound.

The sun is burning, churning out atomic warmth powerful enough to induce life on a barren land far away. Omniscient enough to provide the light required to produce energy, food for every living being.  A star, born in the fire of our universal beginnings, its days are numbered in accordance with the delicate balance of its core. Then, blast!, a nova, a white dwarf corpse. Finite. But billions of years worth of life.

There is the rock I hold in my hand. Millions of years of layers I can feel with my fingertips, see with my eyes.  What tales they could tell!  Forged by the pressure of nature, it will be ripped apart by wind and rain; or lapped up by the ocean, dragged down to the depths where it’s forced under a tectonic plate, melted there like Sauron’s Ring and spewed out again someday to become a layered trifle once more. Finite.  But millenniums worth of life.

Every thing is cycle bound.

The tree that gives me shade has been for hundreds of years now.  Her branches reach out then follow gravity down, providing a canopy that gives more than one kind of soul shelter from the rain.   Her rings would belie her age and give away her years of famine, years of plenty.   She would fall one day, becoming one again with the earth that fed her, to feed another.  Finite.  But centuries worth of life.

A human life resounds as well, with decades as boundaries for its duration.  We pass on our genetics, but more.  We create, make things out of other things, pull characters and pictures out of thin air, we reason and analyze, progress, advance.  Until the body wears down and its soul departs for an unknown existence.  Finite. But decades worth of life.

Every thing is cycle bound.

Man’s best friend fills a place in our soul like no other and if we’re lucky we get a dozen or so years of unmitigated affection. A companionship that mystifies and deeply satisfies, a love story of the profound kind. A partnership imperative to both parties; total mutual dependence.  And then a limp, a slowing down, a greying muzzle. Finite.  But years worth of life.

Bees, like the bearing beam to a house, support the weight of a specific niche in the ecosystem. Our lives rely on their consistent ability to pollinate. Because of them we eat; fruit, nuts, and vegetables.  Queens may live three to four years, workers live for months; days compared to other cycles, yet crucial days they are. Finite.  But days worth of life.

Every thing is cycle bound.

Millenniums or centuries. Decades or days.  Every thing is cycle bound. Perpetual motion, beautiful in its own way.