Bonus Poem of the Week: A Message for All Aspiring Novelists

A Message to All Aspiring Novelists
April 18, 2017

No one likes being rejected and tossed into the muck,
Having noses turn up at him or her and wished “Best of luck.”
No one likes being cast out from where he or she wants to be
Or denied that which he or she’s been fighting for. Believe me.
No one likes to struggle, especially when it comes to
Simply getting through the day. This I can assure you.
Even when there’s a pot of gold at the rainbow’s end,
Crossing said rainbow can be a chore. On that you can depend.
So much of a chore it is, too, that time and time again,
Too many people throw up their arms and walk away in the end,
Never to realize their dream, whether they deserve
To live that dream or not, all because of how their nerves
Have become shot over the course of months or years at a time,
And in the case of the worthy folks, it really is a crime,
For who’ll ever know the stories they could’ve shared with the world?
Certainly not the commonplace man, woman, boy, or girl
Or anyone who’d benefit from the messages within,
Even if said benefit is merely escaping the sin
And vice that’s been gripping the world for far too many years now.
Trust me…we all could use some escapism these days…and how!
We all deserve new stories with each year that passes by.
We all need something new to feed our hungry ears and eyes.
Otherwise, the old tales, good and bad, will grow stale,
And as they do, so will our minds, lest new storytellers prevail
To provide us with new substance with which to enrich our souls
And awaken within us the will to carry on into the fold
And accept each day as it comes, no matter what’ll be in store
When it happens to arrive, so long as it isn’t an utter bore.
After all, life’s one big adventure that we all undertake,
And it’s up to us to make the most of it with what we make
In terms of goals and other decisions and the choices that lead
Us down one path or another, and what better way to heed
This message than gleam inspiration from the stories we learn
To spark our thoughts and ambitions and help our hearts’ fires burn
With the passion that keeps us going every hour of the day.
That being said, why let rejection keep getting in the way?
The dream is still worth having, even though it may not seem so,
So keep your chins up and your noses to the grindstone and tally ho!
Keep your wits about you, too, and learn what makes a sale,
And may courage, creativity, and wisdom help you prevail
In the seemingly never-ending saga of chasing a dream
That might actually be more attainable than it might now seem,
For stories are more important than even you may ever know,
And only a sharp mind and a strong heart will help you see just so.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Stupid Media, Stupid People

Stupid Media, Stupid People
March 10, 2017

Stupid media
Stupid people
People without standards
People with dead morals
Morals gone down the toilet
Morals and values
Values we all should have
Values we’ve all given up on
On TV
On movie screens
Screens filled with bleakness
Screens filled with gratuitous crap
Crap like brazen sex
Crap like excessive violence
Violence already rampant
Violence without levity
Levity from toxic stimuli
Levity that we all need
Need and want
Need but don’t have
Have we no spine
Have we no mind
Mind to reject this filth
Mind to demand better
Better for tomorrow’s generation
Better from media creators
Creators with more cash than credibility
Creators with more praise than talent
Talent elsewhere being ignored
Talent elsewhere being rejected
Rejected for little to no reason
Rejected at the gate
Gate locked tightly
Gate locked shut
Shut on new ideas
Shut on fresh ideas
Ideas that could reinvigorate
Ideas that could revitalize
Revitalize a scene so stale
Revitalize a scene so deprived
Deprived of vitality
Deprived of human interest
Interest from a new generation
Interest in something different
Different times
Different measures
Measures to be taken seriously
Measures to be taken now
Seriously!
Now!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: What Awaits on Your Wings?

What Awaits on Your Wings?
May 21, 2016

Good grief! Listen to what you’re saying!
Why are these the games you’re playing,
The movies you’re watching—and TV, too—
When they all make you scream “Screw you!”
At someone who doesn’t even exist?
I don’t understand it. What’s the gist
Of flipping your feces over obvious fiction
When there’s plenty of stuff causing friction
In the real world like disease and war,
Economic crises, street crime galore,
Bigotry, bullying, promiscuity—
Just to name a few things threatening you and me?
Alas, you don’t care, for you too involved
With some fake person to even try and solve
Any of the dilemmas rocking the world
And making things rough for all boys and girls.
No, let’s whine about Character X
And how the pain in the neck leaves you vexed
With how she makes things worse for the girls,
Boys, women, and men in his or her own world—
A world you can never go to and be,
By the way—and makes regular folks say, “Gee,
What a lazy, obnoxious, condescending brat!
I’m glad he or she’s nowhere that I’m at.
Just get a load of all the heinous trash
He or she gets away with. That pain in the ass!”
Then, normal people would walk away
To carry on with the rest of their day,
Not stew in their hatred for someone they
Cannot control nor will meet in any way,
And when they move on, their minds are free
To do with they can to support family
Or otherwise contribute to society
And keep it afloat for the likes of you and me.
They don’t throw tantrums or write death threats
Or biased fanfiction or, more shameless yet,
Write journal entries or make videos
Flashing their fangs over minor woes
Pounding their desks like horny apes
Whose carnal appetites they’ve yet to slake
And screaming like banshees atop their lungs
All ‘cause they felt the need to be high-strung
At one single character from media,
In which he or she can just say “See ya!”
And never play, watch, or even listen to
Again. Now, tell me: Is that really you?
Are you really a whiny, oversensitive brat
Who doesn’t know where your sanity’s at
When it comes to someone who doesn’t exist,
Or is there a fact about you I missed
That shows me you are sane after all
With brain cells aplenty to get through it all
And can function like everyone else
Once you tuck that media upon a shelf?
The question’s yours to answer honestly
When you wish, but really, enlighten me:
Is this habit of yours what you want it to be?
Do you really enjoy being this way,
Or do you want to see a brighter day
When you can walk away from fiction clean
And not act so outlandish and obscene
Over something so petty in the grand scheme of things.
Come now, my friend. What awaits on your wings?

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

In Relation to My Work: Stuff I’d Like to Read about in (What’s Left of) the 2010s

How’s it going, readers?

For the longest time, I’ve been trying to find the perfect topic to discuss on this blog in between poems, and after giving it much thought, I finally…finally…decided to discuss the kind of themes and other traits that I myself would like to discover in whatever books become published in whatever’s left of 2016—and, quite frankly, this entire decade. I’m sorry, but I simply can’t buy into the whole idea of originality being “dead,” even now. Rather, I believe that there are some ideas out there that can translate well into good novels, should the right author come around and craft his or her next book with at least one of them in mind. As a matter of fact, I’ve been able to come up with eight such ideas that would make for a novel that I myself would like to read—not even as an author myself, either, but as a fan of good literature. Who knows? Maybe by the chance you folks read this blog post, at least one of these ideas will have been made into such a publication.

Keep in mind, of course, that the following list simply reflects my own preferences. If there’s any kind of idea you have in mind that would also make for a good book, feel free to share it in the comments section below. Also keep in mind that each of these ideas need not be limited to material for novels, either, but also materials for other works of fiction like movies, television shows, video games, comic books…whatever medium might suit the premise at hand. After all, with the way various forms of entertainment often receive adaptations into other forms of media (e.g., books receiving movie adaptations) and the way people have become disenchanted with entertainment as a whole these days, trying these ideas out might be worth a shot to revitalize things somewhat. That considered, then, I hope you enjoy my list.

When the traditional werewolf story just isn't enough to whet your appetite...

When the traditional werewolf story just isn’t enough to whet your appetite…

1. A story involving the scientific explanation of popular supernatural creatures.

In an age where one can argue that vampires, zombies, werewolves, and other such monsters have been done to death, it can be pretty hard for readers to find a unique, compelling story involving these creatures. However, even seemingly tired characters can be revitalized with the proper twist, and in this case, rather than stage the usual supernatural romance, interspecies war, or monster apocalypse, why can’t someone create a story with a premise that mirrors that of X-Men or Bloody Roar? In this example, monsters like the ones I’ve just described live amongst baseline humanity and use their inherent abilities either for the good of all humankind or for their own selfish and oftentimes destructive desires. However, scientific breakthroughs within the reality in which this setting takes place have revealed that the abilities of such individuals aren’t strictly supernatural per se, but actually the result of previously undiscovered advances in human genetics. According to this model, humans are either born with regular DNA or with a strain of genetic material that grants them one of a number of unique supernatural conditions such as vampirism, lycanthropy, and the like. These conditions grant their possessors the abilities and even relevant weaknesses of the monsters with which we are familiar.

Porphyria and rabies: Two diseases that scientists have, in not-too-distant times, associated with vampirism

Porphyria and rabies: Two diseases that scientists have, in not-too-distant times, associated with vampirism

For example, humans with vampirism are generally nimbler than baseline human; have keen nocturnal vision; are more resistant to toxins, pathogens, aging effects, and physical damage; and can (and must) subsist upon the blood of their prey—or, at the very least, artificial blood plasma. On the other hand, they likewise must subsist on foods with a low sulfur content to survive, hence their aversion to garlic, and are incredibly allergic to solar radiation and running water, among other classic weaknesses. What further makes this model interesting is just how real life science ties into the myths revolving around creatures of this nature, particularly specific ailments from the real world that sparked the myths behind such monsters. Porphyrias, for instance, are rare inherited or acquired disorders of particular enzymes that normally help to produce heme (a component of hemoglobin, a.k.a. the red pigment of blood cells, and various other hemo-proteins) that are also cited as a collective explanation for the origin stories behind vampires based upon given similarities between the ailments and vampire fiction of the 20th and 21st centuries. Some forms of this condition, according to The Brain Bank at ScienceBlog.com, lead to the deposition of toxins in the flesh that activate via exposure to sunlight and eat away at the skin, most notably the lips and gums. Such a condition would account for the dislike of sunlight that we associate these days with vampires, and the lattermost part in particular would explain vampires’ fanged, corpse-like appearance. Rabies have also been linked with vampire folklore, according to the research of Spanish neurologist Dr. Juan Gómez-Alonso. Usually transmitted through the bite of an animalspecifically that of a bat or a wolf, both of which recorded history has associated with vampiresthe rabies virus affects the brain of such animals (as well as the brains of dogs and humans) through the peripheral nervous system and has been known to produce traits in its sufferers that are similar to the traits we’ve long associated with vampires. One symptom of rabies, for example, is hypersensitivity, which could very well be the cause of vampire’s susceptibility to light (including sunlight), water, strong odors such as that of garlic, and similar stimuli that cause spasms in the facial and vocal muscles that can in turn result in the baring of teeth, the utterance of hoarse sounds, and especially the bloody fluid frothing at the mouth for which people have most frequently associated with rabies. The disease also attacks the brain’s limbic system, which regulates emotions and behavior, and as such results in disturbances in regular sleeping patterns (thus explaining vampires’ nocturnal nature), hypersexuality, and the tendency to bite people. There’s even the legend of how a person who was not rabid could look upon his or her reflection, which harkens back to rabies sufferers’ aversion to stimuliin this case, mirrors and other reflective surfacesas well as to the myth that vampires have no reflection. On that note, both porphyria and rabies could very well be precursors to vampirism in the reality of this setting, and sufferers of either of these two diseases could either be mistaken for vampires or possibly even become vampires themselves at some time during their illness. Such is how other genetic mutations would work in this story as well, which could very well keep the baseline human characters (and even some of the genetically enhanced characters) of the setting on their toes and wondering who’s who, what’s what, and how to prepare for the worst case scenario.

Another aspect about this storytelling model would be the idea that the protagonists need not be genetically gifted. Unlike X-Men and Bloody Roar, which follows a specific handful of characters who happen to be of the “alternative breed” of their reality (i.e., the X-Men themselves being “Homo superior” and the heroes of BR being zoanthropes), one can still have the heroes of this franchise be baseline humans and be able to tell a compelling story. In fact, said story might be better off having regular humans as the leads so as to better illustrate the masses’ fear of the unknown and thus give the setting a feel that is more akin to the standard horror genre. For a better idea of how this setup would work, one needn’t look much further than the likes of Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments book series; television shows like Supernatural, Grimm, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer; or Aegis Studios’ table top RPG Contagion. In each of these franchises, the heroes are, for the most part, ordinary human beings who find out that the world around them isn’t exactly as mundane as they think, but rather filled with many a creature that most other people would expect to find in myths and fairy tales. Then again, rather than take the approach that these franchises take in investigating the bizarre and macabre, this particular setting would handle the existence of these beings in a manner more reminiscent of The X-Files and examine these creatures’ existences, capabilities, weaknesses, and such from a scientific point of view. This approach would also help to nullify the obligation of having the chief protagonist possess a legacy of some sort that he or she must fulfill throughout the course of the story (i.e., Buffy’s calling as a Slayer and Nicholas Burkhardt’s legacy as a Grimm) as well as a set of metaphysical powers with which he battles the forces of evil. Sure, such a hero can still exist, but even in said character’s absence, the writer can get away with having his or her focal characters simply be commonplace folks with, at most, exceptional skills in monster hunting. This model also leaves open the possibility for genetically gifted characters to become members of the party without any pressing necessity, allowing such protagonists to exist as they learn about their strange conditions and those with whom they share their extraordinary nature while accompanying their fellow heroes to achieve a greater good for the ever-evolving society around them. As a whole, then, this model would provide a wide berth for whatever direction the author wishes to take his or her story.

Speaking of supernaturally endowed humans, however…

An example of a ríastrad as shown in the British comic book Sláine

An example of a ríastrad as shown in the British comic book Sláine

2. Any story that focuses on (or at least involves) ríastrads

In Celtic folklore, a ríastrad is a state of body-distorting battle frenzy in which the subject’s muscles twitch violently and undergo a warp spasm that transforms him or her into a mighty and terrifyingly grotesque monster that fights with reckless abandon. Such a condition is known to be the supernatural gift of both Cú Chulainn of the Ulster Cycle of Irish folklore and Sláine, the titular hero of his own Celtic-themed barbarian fantasy adventure series as created in 1983 by the “godfather of British comics” himself, Pat Mills. To my knowledge, however, these are the only two documented characters to possess such a talent, although Marvel Comics’ very own Dr. Bruce Banner’s ability to transform into the legendary Incredible Hulk can be compared to it, regardless of its origin (i.e., gamma radiation vs. supernatural endowment). This thereby makes ríastrads quite unique in comparison to episodes of similar blessings/curses such as lycanthropy, and it’s because of this that I’d love to one day read any story in which they play a part. Imagine, if you will, a protagonist who happens to be a distant descendant of Cú Chulainn and, as such, an inheritor of the hero’s gift who must learn to cope with her birthright and keep it under wraps as she tries to live an ordinary life among the rest of humanity. Unfortunately, her secret leaks out, and she soon finds herself on the run from both those who come to fear and hate the monster that lies beneath her skin and those who want to exploit her inheritance for their own selfish goals. Then again, perhaps one could also write a story in which it isn’t the protagonist who undergoes warp spasms, but the antagonist, who could either be a straight-up villain who revels in his strange power or—if one would rather—a sympathetic character like Dr. Henry Jekyll doing everything he can to suppress the evil Mr. Edward Hyde within him. The possibilities are practically countless, especially with a broad array of subgenres of fantasy, horror, and even science fiction from which to choose. No matter what, though, one cannot deny that ríastrads make for a rather underused plot device as far as monster stories are concerned these days and would certainly help to breathe new life into the whole supernatural scene with which today’s audiences have become at times a little too familiar.

Words of wisdom from Michael Hyatt on one aspect on how to leave a positive mark on the entertainment industry

Words of wisdom from Michael Hyatt on one aspect on how to leave a positive mark on the entertainment industry

3. A literary work that investigates the morals and values of the entertainment industry and how things can change for the better.

Many people these days have complained left, right, and center that movies, music, television, video games, and books aren’t what they used to be, and for good reason. Sure, one might chalk things up to such people simply being “bitter old fogeys” longing for the “good old days” and resistant to the changes that the world has undergone since then. I can’t say I blame anyone for saying such a thing, either, considering that not everything from the 21st century has been trash, nor has everything from yesteryear been as golden as I myself would like to think it’s been. Trust me, though, folks: Simple, attentive, straightforward observation is often enough to show anyone that things can indeed be—and, in some regards, have been—better than what they’ve presently become. In one regard, one could equate matters to how overtly cautious society has become in recent years and how certain people’s oversensitivity has actually held certain forms of entertainment back from being as gutsy and, in turn, as wide-reaching and appealing as they once were. Comedy is one particular genre that a good number of individuals have claimed has suffered over the years, which I myself can’t help but agree with, and for reasons that I’ll explain later on in this article. In contrast, there are those people who have become convinced that the masses have settled for mediocrity, period, regardless of how politically correct or incorrect such material may be in the long run. Again, I agree, as I myself have seen one form after another of unfiltered smut and vulgarity smeared across the American landscape, promoted to be the next best thing in its particular neck of American (and sometimes world) culture, and go on to make millions upon millions of dollars for its creator(s). Meanwhile, countless individuals have created other forms of media with all the tender loving care in the world and have ensured that such creations possessed at least some substance to them, and yet, such creations have by and large been ignored and rejected in one way or another, never to be elevated by the masses as the genuine forms of entertainment that they truly are. It’s a sad thing, in my opinion, and I’m sure that there is at least one person out there who has made note of this fact and even written an essay on the matter that, if read, would surely drive the matter home into all but the hardest, greediest hearts in the entertainment industry. To read about this phenomenon in novel form, however, would really hit home with countless readers by presenting the issue in a way that would make them feel as well as think and as such get them talking about the state of modern entertainment to want to change it for the better. It might not immediately change the way people are entertained, but at least it will get the idea out there and encourage people to think outside the box to where they can identify genuine, quality entertainment and distinguish it from the crap with which we’ve been bombarded for so long.

The cast of The Carol Burnett Show, Jonathan Winters, Victor Borge, and Foster Brooks: All classic examples of timeless, beloved comedy that today's comedians can (and, in some cases, SHOULD) learn from today

The cast of The Carol Burnett Show, Jonathan Winters, Victor Borge, and Foster Brooks:
All classic examples of timeless, beloved comedy that today’s comedians can (and, in some cases, SHOULD) learn from today

4. Any story that involves good old-fashioned humor that will actually encourage people to laugh.

It’s been said that laughter is the best medicine, and from what I’ve seen, too much of what has passed for comedy in the 21st century thus far has left the masses in a rather sickened state of affairs. On one hand, we have humor that plays it so safe that it’s practically flat, sterile, and devoid of personality and therefore can hardly be called humor at all. On the other hand, sadly enough, is the most mean-spirited and obnoxious sleaze that anyone with an ounce of self-respect could ever stand to sit through—the kind of “comedy” that takes the laziest, cheapest, most thoughtless route possible to appeal to its intended audience’s funny bone. You know what I’m talking about, right? The kind of drivel that patronizes its intended audience by flagrantly clobbering it over its collective head with as much excessive profanity, sexual content, toilet bowl humor, flippant and unabashed bigotry, exploitation of real-life tragedies, and other tacky and insulting subject matter it can to get a cheap laugh. Thankfully, we still have our fair share of talented comedians on the scene today who don’t have to resort to such cheap tactics—or, for that matter, steal other comics’ material—to get a laugh from an audience. All these people have to do, really, is tell a funny story or a series of amusing jokes, one right after another, to put people in a good mood and subsequently earn their respect.

Such is the comedy I want in a book these days: simple, honest, and good-natured without being too timid to be a little “out there” at times or going out of its way to shock and disturb people. Granted, it’s the kind of comedy I expect from the entertainment world in general, but believe me when I say that if books that had this kind of humor were promoted more, then maybe—just maybe—the literary industry would benefit in the long run, and we would be able to see more books that are simply fun become best sellers. Then, if that were to happen, it could even be that the television and movie industries would follow in suit. Wouldn’t that be a treat?

The Justice League, the Avengers, the Power Rangers, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: All popular action heroes, even today...but why should they (and others of their era) be the only ones going strong today?

The Justice League, the Avengers, the Power Rangers, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles:
All popular action heroes, even today…but why should they (and others of their era) be the only ones going strong today?

5. A brand new action adventure.

Nostalgia has become quite the thing in the 21st century, which even I can understand. I mean, come on! Who doesn’t want to go back in time and relive the days when tough-as-nails heroes battled evil masterminds who wanted to either take over or destroy the world in one way or another? Sure, the formula can be pretty cut-and-dry at times, but the very basic nature of this premise was what made it work back in the day. Not only that, but there still are several—if not, in fact, hundreds of—different ways in which authors can tweak the formula to suit whatever story they may want to tell. However, I specifically would like to see some new superheroes and other action heroes come forth in American media following 2016, even if only for the reason that today’s youth deserves such icons of their own. Don’t get me wrong, however, for I’ve got nothing against any of the superheroes from the Marvel or DC Comics universes, nor do I resent motion pictures, TV shows, and the like reintroducing today’s kids to G.I. Joe, the Transformers, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the ThunderCats, or any other franchise from the 1980s and ‘90s that has experienced a revival in the past couple decades or so. Nonetheless, I’m sure there are some aspiring artists out there who’ve drawn inspiration from these figures to create heroes of their own who could help carry the torch for the next generation to enjoy. After all, we can only go to the well of yesteryear so many times before things dry up and we either have to move on to the next big thing or risk rendering the beloved brands from our childhood stale. Furthermore, despite this particular genre arguably being more suited for comic books, motion pictures, and television shows than it would novels, I’m convinced that taking a more literary approach to this genre just might offer something fresh and fetching for fans of this particular subgenre. Never mind the notion that the hero or heroes in question would stand out from the competition on account of their literary beginning, either. Rather, the story itself would stand out against other middle grade and young adult novels and offer readers and alternative from the usual supernatural, sword and sorcery, and post-apocalyptic adventure that’s been on the market for so many years by this point. Additionally, I myself wouldn’t object to seeing the usual action tropes translated in novel form. If nothing else, I’ve seen them presented many a time in such novels as First Blood by David Morrell and the Failstate series by John W. Otte, so there’s no reason why they wouldn’t work well again for whatever new action heroes could be in store for readers in the future. If nothing else, it’s worth a shot.

Moving Forward Motivational Poster Kid (MoveMeQuotes.com)6. Any story revolving around the theme of moving forward.

I will freely admit that even here on my blog, I am guilty as sin for showcasing a lot of negativity in the poems that I post, no matter how much of a spin I try to put on them otherwise. Even so, I myself know that when it comes to reality, there is only one direction in which time flows: forward. Sadly, in this day and age when the economy’s still not in all that great of shape and news stories of violence and political turmoil seem to come one right after another, we all must remind ourselves that this era isn’t going to last forever and that each of us must do everything he or she can to not only keep our spirits up, but also to ensure that the years to come are a relief from all that we’re having to endure now. Many is the story, too, that has taken this concept and crafted it into a narrative that has touched the heart of many an audience member and stuck with him and her throughout time to remind him or her that no matter how great a loss one has suffered or how imposing another kind of obstacle one might face in life, all one needs to do to succeed in the end is take a deep breath, screw one’s heels in, take action, and never give up until one finally conquers said obstacle. However, no matter how many writers have created stories with this theme in mind, I doubt that there could ever be enough, and quite frankly, I’d love to see one such novel top the best sellers list this year based on general principle alone. After all, it’s a lesson that—even if only in my own opinion—we all must remember as we carry on through life.

The Shēngxiào according to the 2005 cartoon Legend of the Dragon

The Shēngxiào according to the 2005 cartoon Legend of the Dragon

7. Any story based on folklore.

If there’s one thing I always enjoy, it’s learning about another culture’s mythology—heroes, deities, monsters, artifacts…you name it. I’m quite thankful to know, too, that such a series as Rick Riordin’s Percy Jackson and the Olympians has garnered as much success as it has since its inception, and I wish for Mr. Riordin nothing less than the same amount of success with Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard. That being said, I look every bit as forward to the next literary adventure involving one kind of folklore or the other simply because of how fun it is for me to learn about the tales of old that influence a given people’s history. Even when writers only give their readers bits and pieces of mythology in the stories they write, it’s enough to encourage said readers to delve deeper into the mythos they’re learning about and find out more about it. On that note, why can’t writers and publishers encourage these people to explore these tales even further by writing more novels involving the folklore of civilizations past and present and allowing such tales to be published for the masses to enjoy? One doesn’t even have to retell the legends themselves, even though that in and of itself would still be very compelling—especially for lesser-explored tales like the Lament for Ur (a.k.a. the Lamentation over the City of Ur) from Sumerian legend or the Raven Tales of the indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast. Instead, simply including elements of these myths can help a writer tell a story that would appeal to readers who want to escape modern reality for a good hour or two. I’ve already mentioned Percy Jackson and Magnus Chase as two solid examples of stories that use bits of mythology to help direct the plot, but television’s own Hercules: The Legendary Journeys based itself on ancient Greek lore—even if only superficially—to illustrate the fictitious adventures of the legendary Greek hero and his loyal friend Iolaus. Granted, the show has been known to confuse its timeline from time to time, according to Wikipedia, as well as mix in elements of Far Eastern, Egyptian, and Medieval culture as well as the occasional 1990s reference for an occasional gag here or there, but even then, the show was popular enough to run for five seasons from the January of 1995 to the November of 1999. Heck, I could even throw the 2005 BKN International cartoon Legend of the Dragon onto this list on account of how its premise revolved around many elements from Chinese mythology, particularly the twelve animals of the Shēngxiào (Chinese zodiac) and the principles of Yin and Yang, and managed to gain a loyal fanbase in spite of lasting a mere two seasons. Such just goes to show that franchises with this specific theme do have their place in today’s society and can be adaptable enough to tell whatever story the writer has in mind. The only real limit to consider is one’s own imagination.

Will any book series of the 21st century garner a legacy for itself the way Harry Potter has since 1997?

Will any book series of the 21st century garner a legacy for itself the way Harry Potter has since 1997?

8. The “Next Big Thing” in middle grade and/or young adult fantasy.

Many has been the franchise that has captivated younger readers and shown them that reading can be every bit as exciting as watching a TV show or a movie. Then again, when it comes to more recent times, no other literary endeavor has proven this to be true to the extent that J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series has. Dating as far back as its UK release on June 26, 1997, the saga of this orphaned boy wizard has enjoyed a decade-plus-long lifecycle on bookstore shelves in original releases alone with the seventh and final book in the series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, hitting the market initially on July 21, 2007 and having an estimated worldwide sales record of forty-four million copies. Not since have the masses received a new Harry Potter book, and yet, the titular hero’s legacy continues to touch readers, even with so many franchises—including Percy Jackson, Mortal Instruments, the Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini, Suzanne Collins’s Hunger Games series, Veronica Roth’s Divergent trilogy, James Dashner’s Maze Runner quintet, and even Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series—coming to light since its inception. Many of these literary franchises are quite beloved, too, but only a handful of them have even come close to garnering the same level of celebration that Harry Potter has gotten since day one.

All this achievement in mind, that’s still no reason for authors to not try to produce something of equal prestige to Ms. Rowling’s signature series, especially with Writer’s Digest’s Writer’s Handbook 2016 reporting the rise in popularity of juvenile (picture book, middle grade, and young adult) literature (p. 8). According to their reports, Nielsen data shows that juvenile e-book sales since 2004 have grown from twenty-three percent to thirty-seven percent of the total book market with 2014 having the highest reported sales since records began. Juvenile fiction overall, furthermore, grew eight percent since 2009, which further indicates a growing trend towards the popularity of books aimed towards a younger demographic. Hopefully, then, that should make enough room for the next breakout series to emerge in the not-too-distant future, and perhaps that very series from book one onward will garner every bit as much good fortune as Harry Potter did in terms of movies, merchandising, and all-out fan support and become as iconic for our times as Harry has for his.

*****

Well, that should do it for this entry. Sorry it’s been a while since my last article and that I’m particularly late in writing up this one, considering how far into the “new” year we’ve already gotten. I still hope you’ve enjoyed this article nonetheless, and believe me when I say that I do look forward to some new, talented authors come to the forefront of the literary industry so that they can offer today’s readers some excellent stories that can hold their own with the timeless classics that the masses have come to love and help cleanse our memories of the garbage that has tainted the literary scene. Chances are, too, that by now—as I’ve said before—there’s already at least one story that has used one of the eight ideas I’ve presented here as its basis, and if there is, I’d definitely check it out. If there isn’t…well, then, maybe it’ll be up to me to provide such a work for someone to read. Stranger things have happened, after all.

Anyway, that’s enough rambling for now. I’d like to thank you all for reading this, and as always, be sure to visit my author pages at Smashwords.com, Amazon.com, and Amazon.co.uk to see what I have available, and please stay tuned for more content in the near future. Until then, happy reading!

Regards,
Dustin M. Weber

*****

PS: All credit for the pics used in the above article goes to as follows:

After Sunset: Werewolves
https://Rare-Diseases-Conditions.Knoji.com
Imgur.com
IrishComics.Wikia.com
MichaelHyatt.com
CrazyAboutTV.com
PasteMagazine.com
IMDB.com
RetroVideo.com
ComicsBlend.com
Marvel-Movies.Wikia.com
TheComicBookCast.com
BeAGameCharacter.com
ClipArtBest.com
MoveMeQuotes.com
LegendoftheDragon.Wikia.com
Infinite-Loops.Wikia.com

Additionally, cited fact in Section 8 belong to the following source:

Friedman, Jane. “Juvenile Remains Strong Growth Area.” Writer’s Digest Writer’s Yearbook 2016: 8. Print.

The opinions discussed within, however, are the author’s own.

What I’ve Been Working On: Dream Weavers

Happy Thanksgiving, America!

Well, it’s finally done. My manuscript for Dream Weavers is officially complete. Presently, I am searching for the right literary agent to represent it to publishers, but in the meantime, as a special Thanksgiving treat, I’ve reposted the introductory chapter to my novel below for your reading pleasure. Hope you like it!

*****

Well…this was it…the first day of school…

As Tyler eyeballed the single story brick building in front of him and gulped hard, he tried to force himself into thinking that the day would be just like any other first day of school: He’d meet his new teacher, make friends among his new classmates, dive right into whatever lessons were awaiting him, and so forth. Sadly, no matter how much of an effort he made to convince himself that everything would turn out fine, he couldn’t bring himself to accept the fact that this wasn’t the same school he’d come to know since kindergarten. Miles upon miles away was he, in fact, from all the friends he’d made over the past four years, and now he doubted that he’d ever see them again. Worse yet, as he observed the kids who were entering the building, he noticed that they were all white. Well, okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate; there were a few Hispanic students, from what he could tell, as well as the occasional Asian kid here or there. For the most part, however, all the other students were Caucasian, which left Tyler—at least from what he could tell so far—the only child of African descent in the entire school. Great! Just what he needed: one more reason to stick out from everybody else aside from simply being the new kid.

For a while, Tyler could do little else than shake his head sadly and wish that things hadn’t come down to this. If only he could’ve stayed in his old hometown and surrounded himself with the people he’d come to know just for a couple more years until junior high. By that time, he’d have been ready to move on to bigger and better things without any problem. Not now, though—not when he only had two more years of elementary school to finish first. Sadly, it was too late to ask for such things, which left him no choice but to take a deep breath and screw his heels in before heading on into the building, doing everything he could to blend into the crowd of kids who were also entering. Soon enough, he was inside…so far, so good. Now all he had to do was find his homeroom. He was on his way, too, before he heard a voice calling out to him.

“Hey, wait up!”

Tyler turned around to see a small boy around his age with a pale complexion and sandy brown hair hustling toward him. As he watched this new face approach him, he took note of how the kid leaned forward with his massive backpack on his back, making him look like a hunchback of sorts as it seemed to pull him forward via its own free will. Soon enough, though, the boy put on his brakes and stopped short right in front of Tyler, then took a moment to catch his breath before speaking again.

“You’re in Milton’s class, too, right?”

Tyler nodded and asked, “Why? You having a hard time finding her classroom?”

The boy laughed nervously and replied, “No, I’m okay. I’m just trying to make sure I’m going the right way, is all. By the way, the name’s Brad…Brad Posey.”

“Oh! Cool. I’m Tyler.”

Tyler then raised his arm to give Brad a high five, which the smaller boy openly accepted, and the two of them immediately started walking together towards their new classroom—that is to say, of course, Tyler was the one who was actually walking while Brad resumed letting the mass of his backpack propel him forward. Hey, whatever…it was all cool by Tyler’s standards. If nothing else, at least he had someone to talk to on his way to the classroom, and thankfully, Brad was more than willing to chat with him.

“So, Tyler, are you new here?”

Tyler chortled. “How could you tell?” he asked wryly.

“Eh…couldn’t, really. Just trying to start up some small talk, is all. Anyway, I’ve actually been looking forward to school this year, and I can sum it up in two words: science fair.”

Tyler looked over at Brad curiously. “Really?”

“Yep. Every winter, fourth and fifth grades participate in an annual science fair in this district. I know because my dad’s been a science teacher at the local community college for several years now and has been invited to be a judge for many of those years. I’ve got to tell you, too, that I’ve had a great idea for a project that’ll surely rock the judges’ socks off. Even my dad will be impressed.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

Brad then stopped in his tracks and swiveled around to face Tyler, nearly smacking a pair of fellow students who were just passing by. Luckily, they were quick enough to step out of the way just as his pack swung around in their direction, and when they spun around and saw Brad standing there and staring back at them with a blank expression on his face, they turned back around and walked off in a huff to wherever they were headed. It was only when they had left that Brad turned back to Tyler and resumed the conversation.

“Dream studies.”

Tyler raised his eyebrows dubiously. “Seriously?” he responded. “I don’t know. Sounds more like a psychology project to me.”

“Hey, psychology’s a science, too, you know,” Brad protested. “Just because it doesn’t involve beakers and test tubes and microscopes and all that doesn’t mean it’s not a science. The human mind is quite a fascinating frontier, after all, and I honestly believe that the more we try to understand it, the more likely we’ll be able to fix much of the garbage that’s going on in society today.”

Sheesh! Talk about getting worked up over something. Then again, Tyler really couldn’t blame the kid for having an interest that he was passionate about, so he decided to tread lightly on the matter from thereon out.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean—”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Brad interrupted with a sigh. “Most people I know don’t associate psychology with all the other sciences, either—not even the adults. I try not to let it get to me, but…well, it always does to some extent.”

And with that, Brad went back to lurching forward and heading off in the same direction he and Tyler had been going before. As they did, Brad went on about his fascination with psychology, explaining how his mother had helped him become so interested in the subject, how many books he had read and websites he had visited discussing the study of the human mind, and what exactly he had learned from these sources—no doubt a mere fraction of what he’d learned, of course, considering the amount of information he was regurgitating at the moment and the speed at which he was doing so. Tyler honestly tried listening to him, even if only for the sake of being polite, but with so much information coming out of the kid’s mouth at once, it was quite a tough task to do—especially considering the fact that he was also trying hard to pay attention to the room numbers above each doorway that the two of them passed in hopes of locating their new classroom. Eventually, though, he finally came across the number he had been looking for and was just about to head on in when he noticed that Brad was still trucking on down the hallway chatting away with essentially nobody. Before he utterly vanished from site, Tyler called out to him.

“Brad!”

Brad spun around again as he heard his name.

“Our classroom’s right here.”

Brad chuckled once more in embarrassment and came straight back and joined Tyler as the two of them headed on into the classroom together. As they walked in, they met their teacher right off the bat—a tall, willowy, young-looking woman with raven-black hair and a warm smile who welcomed them immediately as they stepped inside the room.

“Well, hello there!” she greeted sweetly. “Welcome to your new classroom. What are your names?”

Tyler gave a quick nod and introduced the two of them. “Hey. I’m Tyler. This is Brad.”

“Oh, that’s right! You’re the new student Principal Brewster had told me about the other day. It’s nice to meet you.”

Tyler couldn’t help but blush at Miss Milton doting on him the way she was at the moment. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be able to tell that he was, however, although Brad was quick to make sure of that once he cleared his throat and caught her attention.

“Not to be rude or anything,” he said, “but what exactly am I, this guy’s trusty sidekick?”

Tyler reared his head back in shock at his new classmate’s apparent need to be so forward, especially towards their teacher and on the first day of school to boot. It didn’t help Brad’s case much, either, that Miss Milton herself was showing just how taken aback she was with the expression on her face and the tone of her voice as she tried to speak again.

“Oh! Um…sorry for ignoring you, Brad,” she said uneasily. “Tell you what, though: Why don’t the two of you have a seat at the last pair of desks at the back of the room?”

The two boys peered on over to where Miss Milton was gesturing and could see for themselves that all the other seats in the classroom had indeed been taken, save for the two desks that were smack dab in the middle of the final row in the very back of the room. Well, Tyler told himself, he and Brad may not have been left with much of a choice, but at least what they were given was better than nothing at all. It was with that in mind, too, that he headed on over to that pair of desks and chose for himself which of the two he would prefer to sit at. As he made his way to the back, he took a gander around him at his classmates, most of whom were too busy reading, writing, chatting away with one another, or double-checking their school supplies to be bothered by his presence. There were a few, on the other hand, who raised their eyes to look upon him as he walked on past, and while he did his best to not worry too much about them, he still couldn’t help but wonder what was going through their minds. Still, he kept his head held high, even as he finally sat down at one of the desks and took a good look at his surroundings…or at least until Brad clumsily smacked him with his backpack as he sat down right next to him.

“Hey! Easy does it!” he cried out.

Brad took a gander over at Tyler. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

Tyler then heard some snickering coming from the side of him and, out of little more than instinct, swiveled around in his seat to find out precisely who was laughing at him. As he did, he could see for himself that in the corner of the room sat two boys, one of whom had beady eyes and the bushiest, most unkempt brown hair he’d ever seen in his life. The other boy wasn’t quite as remarkable as the first one, but hey, if nothing else, at least he was somewhat easier on the eyes. Either way, Tyler could feel his gut tell him that these two were bound to be trouble.

“Don’t pay any attention to those two. They make fun of so many other people that even they don’t know why they do it.”

Tyler turned his head in the direction of where the words were coming from and found himself staring directly into the plump-cheeked, Asiatic face of the boy sitting on the other side of him. As he regarded this other classmate of his closely, Tyler readily took note of his smile, which actually seemed rather sincere—not mocking or condescending or anything else of the sort, but quite genuine and amiable. On that note, then, Tyler felt at ease enough to smile back and exchange greetings with him.

“Oh, hey there!” he said as he stuck out his hand. “I’m Tyler.”

“I’m Tommy,” the other boy returned. “Nice to meet you, Tyler.”

Tommy then reached out and shook hands with Tyler, and as he did, Tyler thought, Gee…only my first day here, and already I’ve made two new friends. So far, so good. Speaking of friends, he could feel Brad nudge him across the aisle between their desks and, when he turned to look at him, see him gesture to himself as if to insist for an introduction. At first, Tyler was reluctant to do just that, seeing as how he was so forward with Miss Milton only moments earlier. Then again, he knew that refusing Brad’s request would be downright rude—a blemish upon his school year that he couldn’t afford to bring upon himself in the slightest, especially not at this stage of the game. Therefore, without further ado…

“Tommy,” he said as he turned back around, “I don’t know if you know him, but say hi to Brad here.”

Brad then gave Tommy a short wave and—just as the other boy began to wave back—instantly leaned forward and began to strike up a conversation with him.

“So,” Brad began, “are you a big fan of psychology?”

Tommy chortled with uncertainty. “Um…I guess so. Why?”

Oh, boy…now it’s his turn, Tyler told himself. No sooner had he thought that, too, than Brad started on up with more or less the same spiel about all the things he’d told Tyler about only a minute earlier in the hallway. Great…just what he needed to hear…more discussion about the human mind and Brad’s captivation with how it worked. Not only that, but the fact that he was sitting between the two of them meant that Brad was buzzing in his ear again, only more directly as far as volume went. Tommy, meanwhile, just sat there smiling and nodding for the sake of being polite. Safe as it was to say, then, Tyler could find little else better to do to bide his time other than to let his eyes wander for the time being and take a closer look at each of his classmates, hoping to at least learn each of their faces and pick out more potential friends before class was officially underway. As he did, he just so happened to catch out of the corner of his eye something that he was surprised he hadn’t seen before, for in the very front of the classroom sat a girl who appeared to be of the same background as he was. On top of that, as he noticed her conversing with the lanky blonde girl she was sitting next to, he could tell that she was quite pretty, what with the way she smiled with her pearly white teeth and how her eyes seemed to sparkle as she and the other girl chatted away with one another. Wow! Apparently, Tyler wasn’t the only black student in the entire school as he’d feared after all. Granted, the question still remained as to whether or not this other girl was as friendly as she looked, but hopefully, he’d discover the answer to that question soon enough. Indeed, her presence was enough to make him forget about the two boys who’d been laughing at him before, even if only for the time being. He would have loved to dwell on that little fact for a bit longer, too, except that the first bell of the day at long last rang, and once it did, Miss Milton stood up at the front of the room as if on cue and called for the attention of the entire class.

“Okay, everyone! Settle down and give me your attention, please.”

All the students in the room promptly quieted down and looked forward towards the front of the room as per Miss Milton’s instructions—everyone, that is, except for the two boys from earlier, who remained blissfully ignorant of what was going on and kept joking with one another as they clearly had been before. Miss Milton was quick to take note of them, however, and tried once more to quiet them down.

“Hey, fellas,” she said, “time for talking’s over. I need your attention up here, please.”

The two boys stopped talking at last and reluctantly turned their attention up front along with everyone else, but not without showing their disgust. Once they did, Miss Milton made sure to thank them before continuing with her introduction.

“Thank you,” she said simply before clapping her hands and addressing her class as a whole. “Well, then, how is everyone this fine first day of school?”

The students responded in unison in a mishmash of answers—some enthusiastic, others calmer and more reserved. Regardless of how each particular student felt, however, it seemed as though Miss Milton was impressed with the response she was getting, so she felt no need to stop right then and there with her speech.

“Alright! Glad to hear it. I’m looking forward to this year as well, but before we get into that, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Miss Milton, and I’ve been teaching at this school for a solid five years now, so…”

A number of the students actually began applauding their teacher once she said this as if it were that grand an accomplishment, which took Tyler aback somewhat. All the same, he didn’t want to stick out from the crowd any more than he already did, so he decided to join in with them. Miss Milton seemed grateful to receive such applause, too, judging from how she was smiling and nodding in reaction to it even as it died down.

“Thank you!” she repeated. “I really appreciate that. To tell you all the truth, though, I’m actually interested in finding out more about each and every one of you, so I’ll tell you how we’re going to go about doing just that.”
She then briskly walked on over to her desk and picked up her clipboard and a black pen and began reading from the attendance sheet before her.

“Okay, now,” she instructed, “as soon as you hear your name, please stand up from your desk and tell us a little something about yourself, starting with…Joyce Anderson.”

The lanky blonde girl who’d been sitting in the very front of the room bolted up from her seat almost as if she’d just sat on a tack and immediately began telling the class all about herself.

“Hey, everyone!” she greeted enthusiastically. “My name is Joyce Anderson. My family and I’d just gotten back from our summer vacation up in Nova Scotia, which I can’t wait to talk about because of how a-maze-ing it was! Aside from that, I’m big into basketball and dancing, I’m currently involved in the park district’s cheerleading program, I love—love—all kinds of animals, and I’m definitely looking forward to this year of school because…well…I just have a good feeling about it. Simple as that.”

Joyce then sat back down with a broad smile on her face and the rest of the classroom—Tyler included—staring back at her blankly as they tried to absorb her exuberance. Miss Milton wasn’t quite as perplexed, however, and readily smiled back at her after hearing her response.

“Thank you, Joyce!” she replied. “I’m definitely looking forward to having you in my class this year as well—especially considering just how much energy you have.”

Joyce shrugged. “It’s a gift,” she said simply.

Some gift, Tyler said in his head, trying his best not to be too judgmental of this new classmate of his. She didn’t seem like too bad a girl, really, but truth be told, he wasn’t too sure if he could ever warm up to someone so…well…bubbly, for lack of a better word. At any rate, Miss Milton kept reading down her attendance list and called out the name of the next student.

“Roberta Andrews.”

Ah…Andrews, huh? Well, if nothing else, that was one more name beginning with “A,” which gave Tyler time enough to wrack his brain in hopes of figuring out just what he was going to say. Then again, it didn’t exactly hurt that he had the luxury to sit back and listen to at least a couple more classmates tell the rest of the class who they were and what they were about. For the time being, then, he could take it easy for a moment and begin to feel at ease with his peers until Miss Milton inevitably called his name after the third or fourth student had given his quick little self-narrative.

“Tyler Booth.”

Tyler paused for a second and took a deep breath. Just be yourself, Tyler, he told himself. That’s all anyone can ask of you. Brimming with gumption, he stood up from his desk, cleared his throat, and prepared to let everyone know just who he was.

“Hey, everyone,” he began. “I’m Tyler. My dad and I just moved into town not too long ago so that he could be closer to the place where he works. As for me personally, I’m pretty big into writing and reading, and I’m also pretty good at playing sports of all kinds.”

Miss Milton nodded pleasantly. “Interesting,” she remarked. “Is there anything in particular that you like to write about or any particular sport you prefer playing?”

Tyler shrugged. “Anything that comes to mind, more or less,” he answered plainly yet honestly. “A poem here, a short story there. Nothing too fancy. Same thing with sports. I don’t really have a favorite. I just like going outside and getting some exercise.”

“I see. I also understand that your father has quite an interesting job. Would you like to tell the class what your dad does for a living?”

Tyler was quiet for a moment or two, then answered, “He’s a toy designer for Blue Rex Toys.”

The class murmured upon hearing this, and as he regarded his classmates, Tyler could see for himself that some of them were genuinely impressed with what he had just shared with them. This included Joyce and, more importantly, the girl who’d been sitting next to her, both of whom shifted their attention between each other and him as if to silently muse with one another over the fact that they were attending the same school as the son of a toy designer who was working for one of the nation’s biggest toy manufacturers. Indeed, it was hard for him to deny how great it felt to see the other girl beam at him with her pearly white smile, and maybe it was just his imagination, but did he perchance see a sparkle in her eyes as she looked at him? Well, whatever the case, it was nice to see that he had caught her attention in a good way. Unfortunately, not everyone in the classroom was so impressed to know Tyler’s father’s profession, judging from the extra-loud snicker he heard from the opposite front corner of the room. Against his better judgment, he turned his attention in that direction and saw that the two boys from earlier were cracking up, much to his chagrin. He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, too, as he heard them snorting like a couple of pigs mocking him for little more than honestly answering a question that he’d been asked. Rude as they were, though, he decided instead to simply keep his disgust to himself and carry talking to the rest of the class…assuming, of course, that there was any chance of the duo doing him a favor of simply shutting up and blending in with the others, which sadly didn’t seem to be the case.

“Blue Rex, huh?” the bushy-haired one repeated. “You’ve got to be joking. That company hasn’t put out a top toy line in years.”

Tyler scoffed. “What are you talking about?” he refuted. “Blue Rex has made plenty of top-selling toys: Super Duper Squirters, Karaoke Kids, Lullaby Critters…”

Pbth!” the second kid interjected. “Whoopee stinking do! All little kid stuff. You’d think that with a name like ‘Blue Rex,’ that stupid toy company would come up with at least one decent action figure lineup.”

“Action figures? You mean like the Justice Juniors?”

Again, the duo laughed him off, making Tyler feel all the more ill at ease with himself with every second that passed. Luckily, none of the other students felt like joining in on their little two-man bash fest against him, but that still wasn’t enough to keep him from wanting to hide his face in shame. He knew he had to stay strong, however, and as such kept his chin up to show everyone that their insults didn’t hurt him as much as they actually did, even if only out of fear of offering them more ammunition with which to snipe him.

“Man, please!” the bushy-haired kid cracked. “The Justice Juniors are for little kids, too—just a bunch of kiddified Sentai Saviors who fight monsters who aren’t even scary enough for Sesame Street. Honestly, if your old man’s company ever wants to be taken seriously, they’ve got to stop selling out to the twerps and start making stuff for the rest of us.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Miss Milton scolded as she finally decided to step in. “I don’t know what your name is, young man, but—”

“It’s Randy, Miss Milton. Randy Voight,” the boy interrupted. He then gestured to the other boy and added, “This here is my buddy Scott Salnave, in case you’re wondering.”

Miss Milton sighed with exasperation. “Very well, then, Randy. What I expect of both you and Scott right now is to quiet down and show a little respect towards Tyler. It’s his turn to speak, after all. You’ll have your turn soon enough.”

“Hey, we’re not saying anything bad about him, Miss Milton,” Scott chimed in to say. “We’re just talking about the company his dad works for.”

“Even so, Scott, you and Randy both need to keep your opinions to yourselves. You don’t like Blue Rex toys? Fine. That’s your preference. Nobody else needs to hear about it, though—at least not in the tone of voice you are both using. I hope, then, that you two will show a little bit of respect while the rest of us find out more about Tyler. Is that understood?”

Neither boy bothered to answer Miss Milton and instead chose to look away with sullen dejection—not exactly the reaction that the teacher was surely hoping to receive, Tyler presumed, but if it meant that they would be quiet all the same, then so be it. At any rate, as Tyler started gaining back a little confidence in himself, Joyce raised her hand.

“Yes, Joyce?” Miss Milton responded.

Joyce lowered her hand and asked, “So, Tyler, how often does your dad give you the opportunity to test the final product for any of the toys he’s designed?”

“Oh, pretty often,” Tyler answered. “Mostly, he gives me a good look at the final designs of the action figures and some of the more creative toys he comes up with. Same with some of the outdoor toys, too. Basically, he runs the idea of most of his stuff by me, and if I like the design and think there’s a cool idea behind what he’s making, I give it an a-okay.”

“Oh, yeah?” Scott piped back up to say. “What about the dolls? Does your old man let you playtest those as well?”

He and Randy then started laughing all over again, leaving Tyler standing there blushing—and breathing—harder than before. At first, he felt as though he was about to vomit, and for a moment, so did Tommy and Brad, who both stood up to hold him by his shoulders and console him right then and there. Thankfully, Miss Milton stepped in again to take control of the situation.

“Alright you two, that is it!” she snapped. “One more insult out of either of you, and it’ll be a trip to the principal’s office. Now, don’t say another word.”

The boys hushed up immediately once more, not bothering to peer around them at the slew of irritated faces that were glaring at them or offer an apology for their disruptive behavior. An unsettling silence then took over the room for quite some time as all eyes fell upon Randy and Scott until Miss Milton spoke up again to take control of the situation.

“Thank you, Tyler. You may be seated.”

Tyler immediately thanked Miss Milton with a nod and sat back down, and though Brad and Tommy both tried to comfort him, he still couldn’t get over how embarrassed he was to have already been on the receiving end of two of his classmates’ bad attitudes. He did what he could to remind himself that Randy and Scott were only two out an entire classroom of twenty to thirty students, himself included, and that not every last one of his classmates were as rude and as rotten as they were. Brad and Tommy were certainly easy enough to get along with, that was for sure, but even they weren’t enough to help him take his mind off the other two boys. In fact, even as he sat as his desk, he allowed his eyes to wander on over to those two and stared at them distrustfully, wondering to himself just exactly what they got out of making fun of him. After a while, though, he eventually shook his head and gave up on the matter. Really, though, what was the point? The fact stood either way that Randy and Scott were trouble, period, and the less time he had to spend dealing with them, the better. After all, he had other things to concern himself with this year, and so long as those two kept their distance well enough, Tyler knew he could put his best foot forward and make the most out of his current situation. All he really needed was a chance to prove to himself and everyone else that he had just as much a place at this new school of his as anyone else.

*****

Well, there you have it, folks—the first chapter to my latest novel. Any feedback you folks may have for what you’ve read here is welcome, and in the meantime, wish me luck for the right agent to come along and be willing to represent it to the right publisher. otherwise, thanks again for stopping by, and as always, happy reading!

Regards,
Dustin M. Weber

Author Pages: Smashwords.com, Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk

Poems of the Week: The Friendship of Frick & Frack and The Three D’s of Self-Destruction

Greetings, readers!

As promised last week, here are two poems from my latest novel, Dream Weavers. Both take place during poetry duels that young Tyler Booth, the story’s protagonist, finds himself partaking in against the henchmen of the Queen of Clubs, a troll matriarch who plans to usurp control over the Kingdom from its current ruler, Princess Janice. The first poem, The Friendship of Frick & Frack, details the friendship of two trolls whom Tyler crosses paths with early on in his quest while this week’s second feature, The Three D’s of Self-Destruction, is narrated by three separate trolls whom Tyler bumps into while trekking through the Forest of Uncertainty later on in his journey. All that being said, then, feel free to leave a comment to either of these two works, and enjoy!

*****

The Friendship of Frick & Frack
October 2, 2013

He is Frick, I am Frack, and we always watch each other’s backs,
For no one else tends to our needs, ‘cause other people’s petty greed
Blinds them to our race’s plight in emerging from the blight
Of Somnia’s swamps, once rich with life, now long abandoned after years of strife.
Such is the way things have long been, and it’s because of this mess we’re in
That we’ve learned to take care of each other. After all, we’re practically brothers,
And I know that whenever I’m in some sort of beastly bind,
I can always turn to him to help me out of it upon a whim,
And I would certainly do the same, for as you see, in this world so untame
And rife with danger at every turn—not to mention drama—I’ve come to learn
That life can be both lonely and rough without someone to help you tough
Everything out and come out on top, and that’s why our friendship will never stop.

*****

The Three D’s of Self-Destruction
October 3, 2013

Dread, Desolation, and Despair—here we are, three siblings fair.
The Forest of Uncertainty serves as the home of all us three.
‘Tis here where we run, hide, and play, pestering travelers night and day,
Making them face their darkest fears, all the while grinning from ear to ear.

I am Dread, and I strike first, and under their breath, my victims curse,
For when they venture through places unknown, they know all too well that that’s where I roam.
I’m the first to sink into their hearts, and from there, their self-doubt starts,
And once it’s gone, they lose the nerve to take on tasks that would better serve
Their character and value in the long run, for it’s the unknown that they shun,
Though if there’s a chance they don’t flee, that’s when Despair kindly covers for me.

Hey, everybody! I’m Despair, and I cause hopelessness without care.
Anytime Dread deals the first blow to some unsuspecting shmo,
I jump right in and take away his or her heart and leave at bay
The fool to drown in futility and defeat at the hands of me.
Paranoia’s all they have left, for of their courage they’re left bereft,
And soon their lives crumble, bit by bit, and I can’t help but find joy in it.

And now we come to me, everyone. I’m Desolation, and I’m loads of fun—
At least I think so; you might disagree, especially if you fall prey to me
After Dread and Despair get you down and leave you with nothing but a frown
On your face and fear in your hearts, for that’s exactly where my pain starts—
The feeling that you’re left all alone with no friends or family waiting at home
To comfort you in your time of need. Such is the product of my mental seed.

Dread, Despair, and Desolation—partners in emotional desecration,
Knaves all three, or so critics say, for if you don’t overcome us, you’ll pay,
And you’ll have none to blame but yourself for not conquering us, you mangy whelp,
Which leaves one question. Answer, please: Are you ready to fall down to your knees?

*****

Well, that should do it for this week. Thank you all for stopping by, and if there is anyone who is interested in further discussion about my latest project, please be my guest to leave a comment below. Also, be sure to visit my author pages at Smashwords.com,
Amazon.com, and Amazon.co.uk for some early holiday shopping, and as always, happy reading!

Regards,
Dustin M. Weber

What I’m Working On: Dream Weavers

Hello, readers!

Today I figured I would post something on this blog that would stand out from the brunt of the content that I’ve been putting out lately, and quite frankly, what could be more suitable than the first chapter of my most current work? This particular book that I’ve been writing recently is a young adult novel that I plan on making the initial book in a complete series. The topic of this novel, Dream Weavers, is simple: A young boy named Tyler Booth is new in town and is trying to fit in with the other kids at school while his widower father tries to design a new line of action figures for the toy company he works for. As a consolation gift following their move, Tyler’s father gives him the prototype for one of the figures: a wheelchair-bound writer named Edgar Crow, Poet Laureate. Sure enough, that night is when Tyler’s dreams begin as Edgar takes him on adventures through the Kingdom of Somnia and teaches Tyler some very important lessons in building his self-confidence, dealing with bullies, building his identity amongst his fellow students, and otherwise coping with the issues he faces as “the new kid.”

Below is the first chapter of this book to give you all a sample of what it’s all about. Hopefully it gives you all an idea of who Tyler Booth is and what he must deal with at his new school. Without further ado, then, enjoy!

*****

Well…this was it…the first day of school…

As Tyler eyeballed the single-layered brick complex in front of him and gulped hard, he tried to force himself into thinking that the day would be just like any other first day of school: He’d meet his new teacher, make friends among his new classmates, dive right into whatever lessons were awaiting him, and so forth. Sadly, no matter how much of an effort he made to convince himself that everything would turn out fine, he couldn’t bring himself to accept the fact that this wasn’t the same school he’d come to know since kindergarten. In fact, this school wasn’t even in the same district as his old school was or, for that matter, the same city. Miles upon miles away was he from all the friends he’d made four years prior, and now he doubted that he’d ever see them again. Worse yet, as he scanned the place in search of at least one other person who looked like him, he made a particularly disheartening observation: All the other kids he saw were white. Well, okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate; there were a few Hispanic students, from what he could tell, as well as the occasional Asian kid here or there. For the most part, however, all the other students were Caucasian, which left Tyler—from what he could tell so far, least ways—the only child of African descent in the entire school. Great! Just what he needed: one more reason to stick out from everybody else aside from simply being the new kid.

For a while, Tyler could do little else than shake his head sadly and wish that things hadn’t come down to this. If only he could’ve stayed in his old hometown and surrounded himself with the people he’d come to know just for a couple more years until junior high. By that time, he’d have been ready to move on to bigger and better things without any problem. Not now, though—not when he only had two more years of elementary school to finish first. Sadly, it was too late to ask for such circumstances, which left him no choice but to take a deep breath and screw his heels in before heading on into the building, doing everything he could to merge into the crowd of kids who were also entering. Soon enough, he was inside…so far, so good. Now all he had to do was find his homeroom, which shouldn’t have been too much of a problem, seeing as he and his dad were allowed to scope the place out a couple of weeks before school started to find out where everything was so that he wouldn’t get lost or anything. He was on his way, too, before he heard a voice calling out to him.

“Hey, wait up!”

Tyler turned around to see a boy roughly a year younger than he was with a pale complexion and sandy brown hair hustling toward him. As he watched this odd new face approach him, he took note of how the kid leaned forward with his proportionately massive backpack on his back, making him look like a hunchback of sorts. Wow! he thought to himself. That kid sure knows how to move around with that thing. It was either that, or the pack was actually pulling him forward out of its own free will, what with the way he was trudging forth as if being pulled in that direction by one guiding force or another. Soon enough, though, the boy put on his brakes and stopped short right in front of Tyler, then took a moment to catch his breath before speaking again.

“You’re in Milton’s class, too, right?”

Tyler nodded and asked, “Why? You having a hard time trying to find her classroom or something?”

The boy laughed nervously and replied, “No, I’m okay. I’m just trying to make sure I’m going the right way, is all. By the way, the name’s Brad…Brad Posey.”

“Oh! That’s cool. I’m Tyler.”

Tyler then raised his arm to give Brad a high five, which the smaller boy openly accepted, and the two of them immediately started walking together towards their new classroom—that is to say, of course, Tyler was the one who was actually walking while Brad resumed lurching forward and letting the mass of his backpack propel him forth. Hey, whatever…it was all cool by Tyler’s standards. If nothing else, at least he had someone to talk to on his way to the classroom, and thankfully, Brad was more than willing to chat with him.

“So, Tyler, are you new here?”

Tyler chortled. “How could you tell?” he asked sarcastically.

“Eh…couldn’t, really. Just trying to start up some small talk, is all. Anyway, I’ve actually been looking forward to school this year, and I can sum it up in two words: science fair.”

Tyler looked over at Brad curiously. “Really?”

“Yep. Every winter, fourth and fifth grades participate in an annual science fair in this district. I know because my dad’s been a science teacher at the local community college for several years now and has been invited to be a judge for many of those years. I’ve got to tell you, too, that I’ve had a great idea for a project that’ll surely rock the judges’ socks off. Even my dad will be impressed.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

Brad then stopped in his tracks and swiveled around to face Tyler, nearly smacking a pair of fellow students who were just passing by in the process. Luckily, they were quick enough to step out of the way just as his pack swung around in their direction, and as they felt a gust of air blow upon them from the pack swinging in their direction, they took a quick look behind them, saw Brad standing there staring back at them with a blank expression on his face, and glared back at him before once again darting off to wherever they were headed. It was only when they had left that Brad turned back to Tyler and resumed the conversation.

“Dream studies.”

Tyler raised his eyebrows dubiously. “Seriously?” he responded with. “I don’t know. Sounds more like a psychology project to me.”

“Hey, psychology’s a science, too, you know,” Brad protested. “Just because it doesn’t involve beakers and test tubes and microscopes and all that kind of equipment doesn’t mean it’s not a science. The human mind is quite a fascinating frontier, after all, and I honestly believe that the more we at least try to understand it, the more likely we’ll be able to fix much of the garbage that’s going on in society today.”

Sheesh! Talk about getting worked up over something. Then again, Tyler really couldn’t blame the kid for at least having an interest that he was decidedly dedicated to, so he decided that it’d be wise to tread lightly on the matter from thereon out.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean—”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Brad interrupted with a sigh. “Most people I know don’t associate psychology with all the other sciences, either—not even the adults. I try not to let it get to me, but…well, it always does to some extent.”

And with that, Brad went back to lurching forward and heading off in the same direction he and Tyler had been going before. As they did, Brad went on about his fascination with psychology, explaining how his mother had helped him become so interested in the subject, how many books he had read and websites he had visited discussing the study of the human mind, and what exactly he had learned from these sources—no doubt a mere fraction of what he’d learned, of course, considering the amount of information he was regurgitating at the moment and the speed at which he was doing so. Tyler honestly tried listening to him, however, even if only for the sake of being polite, but with so much information coming out of the kid’s mouth at once, it was quite a tough task to do. This was especially true considering the fact that he was also trying hard to pay attention to the room numbers above each doorway that the two of them passed in hopes of relocating their new classroom, which felt like seemed like a chore at times with Brad talking to him the way he was. Eventually, though, he finally came across the number he had been looking for—403, to be exact—and was just about to head on in when he noticed that Brad was still trucking on down the hallway chatting away with essentially nobody, as he was so wrapped up in what he was saying that he’d made himself completely oblivious at that instant of Tyler’s whereabouts. Promptly, then, did Tyler call out to him before he utterly vanished from site.

“Brad!”

Brad spun around once again as he heard his name.

“This is our classroom right here, man.”

Brad chuckled yet again in an attempt to shrug off the embarrassment he surely was feeling at the moment, then came straight back and joined Tyler as the two of them headed on into the classroom together. As they walked in, they met their teacher right off the bat—a tall, willowy, young-looking woman with raven-black hair and a warm smile who welcomed them immediately as they stepped inside the room.

“Well, hello there!” she greeted sweetly. “Welcome to your new classroom. What are your names?”

Tyler gave a quick nod and introduced the two of them. “Hey. I’m Tyler. This is Brad.”

“Oh, that’s right! You’re the new student Principal Brewster had told me about the other day. Well, you know something, Tyler? It’s nice to meet you.”

Tyler couldn’t help but blush at his new teacher—Miss Milton, he reminded himself—doting on him the way she was at the moment. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be able to tell that he was, however, although Brad was quick to make sure of that once he cleared his throat and caught her attention.

“Not to be rude or anything,” he said, “but what exactly am I, this guy’s trusty sidekick?”

Tyler reared his head back in shock at his new classmate’s apparent need to be so forward, especially towards their teacher and on the first day of school to boot. It didn’t Brad much, either, that Miss Milton herself was showing just
how taken aback she was with the expression on her face and the tone of her voice as she tried to speak again.

“Oh! Um…sorry for ignoring you, Brad,” she said uneasily. “Tell you what, though: Why don’t the two of you have a seat at the last pair of desks at the back of the room? That way, I can assign you those seats, and we can all start off today as a class.”

The two boys peered on over to where Miss Milton was gesturing and could see for themselves that all the other seats in the classroom had indeed been taken, save for the two desks that were smack dab in the middle of the final row in the very back of the room. Well, Tyler told himself, he and Brad may not have been left with much of a choice, but at least what they were given was better than nothing at all. It was with that in mind, too, that he headed on over to that pair of desks and chose for himself which of the two he would prefer to sit at. As he made his way to the back of the room, he took a gander around him at his classmates, some of whom were busy chatting away with one another, reading books, writing, or simply double-checking their backpacks to make sure they’d remembered to bring all of their school supplies. There were a few, on the other hand, who raised their eyes to look upon him as he walked on past, and while he did his best to not worry too much about them, he still couldn’t help but wonder exactly what was going through their minds. He wasn’t even referring to the ones who were staring at him blankly, either, and were otherwise looking at him on account of not having anyone or anything else to project their attention on at the moment. Rather, he was thinking about the ones who were either looking him up and down as tough his very presence offended them or the ones who looked on him with such wide, fish-like eyes that he couldn’t help but ask himself if they’d ever seen the likes of him before in their lives. Truth be told, the more he thought about all the questioning, disdainful, or otherwise uneasy looks he was getting, the more uncomfortable he was starting to feel. Still, he kept his head held high, even as he finally sat down at one of the desks and took a good look at his surroundings…or at least until Brad clumsily smacked him with his backpack as he sat down right next to him, much to his irritation.

“Hey! Easy does it!” he cried out.

Brad took a gander over at Tyler. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

Tyler then heard some snickering coming from the side of him and, out of little more than instinct, swiveled around in his seat to find out precisely who was laughing at him. As he did, he could see for himself that in the corner of the room sat two boys, one of whom had beady eyes, a glaring gap between his two top front teeth, and the bushiest brown hair he’d ever seen in his life. The other boy wasn’t quite as remarkable as the first one, but hey, if nothing else, at least he was easier on the eyes Either way, Tyler could tell right off the bat that these two were bound to be trouble for him this year—something that he was not looking forward to in the slightest. Even so, he swallowed hard and tried his best not to give them any further than he’d already given them because really, they weren’t worth the attention. Then again, he wasn’t the only one who thought that, according to the words that he heard from nearby.

“Don’t pay any attention to those two. They make fun of so many other people that even they don’t know why they do it.”

Tyler turned his head in the direction of where the words were coming from and found himself staring directly into the plump-cheeked, Asiatic face of the boy sitting on the other side of him. As he regarded this other classmate of his closely, Tyler readily took note of the smile that played upon his face and the two rows or small, pearly white teeth that peeked out from between his lips. This smile, however, seemed rather sincere—not mocking or condescending or anything else of the sort, but quite genuine and amiable. On that note, then, Tyler felt at ease enough to smile back and exchange greetings with him.

“Oh, hey there!” he said as he stuck out his hand. “I’m Tyler.”

“I’m Tommy,” the other boy returned. “Nice to meet you, Tyler.”

Tommy then reached out and shook hands with Tyler, and as he did, Tyler thought, Gee…only my first day here, and already I’ve made two new friends. So far, so good. Speaking of friends, he could feel Brad nudge him across the aisle between their desks and, when he turned to look at him, see him gesture to himself as if to insist for an introduction. At first, Tyler was reluctant to do just that, seeing as how he was so forward with Miss Milton only moments earlier. Then again, he knew that refusing Brad’s request would be downright rude—a blemish upon his school year that he couldn’t afford to bring upon himself in the slightest, especially not at this stage of the game. Therefore, without further ado…

“Tommy,” he said as he turned back around, “I don’t know if you know him, but say hi to Brad here.”

Brad then gave Tommy a short wave and—just as the other boy began to wave back—instantly leaned forward and began to strike up a conversation with him.

“So,” Brad began, “are you a big fan of psychology?”

Tommy chortled with uncertainty and hesitated for a good long while before saying, “Um…I guess so. Why?”

Oh, boy…now it’s his turn, Tyler told himself. No sooner had he thought that, too, than Brad started on up with more or less the same spiel about all the things he’d told Tyler about only a minute or so prior in the hallway. Great…just what he needed to hear…more discussion about the human mind and how Brad had become so intrigued by how it worked. Not only that, but the fact that he was sitting between the two of them meant that Brad was buzzing in his ear again, only more directly as far as volume went, and from what he could hear with the other, it didn’t seem as though Tommy was all that interested in what Brad had to say. If anything, he was just sitting there smiling and nodding for the sake of being polite. Safe as it was to say, then, Tyler could find little else better to do to bide his time other than to let his eyes wander for the time being and take a closer look at each of his classmates, hoping to at least learn each of their faces and pick out more potential friends before class was officially underway. As he did, he just so happened to catch out of the corner of his eye something that he was surprised he hadn’t seen before, for in the very front of the classroom sat a girl who—believe it or not—appeared to be of the same lineage as he was. On top of that, as he noticed her conversing with the lanky blonde girl she was sitting next to, he could tell that she was quite pretty, what with the way she smiled with her pearly white teeth and how her eyes seemed to sparkle as she and the other girl chatted away with one another. Wow! Apparently, Tyler wasn’t the only black student in the entire school as he’d feared after all. Granted, the question still remained as to whether or not this other girl was as amiable as she looked, but hopefully, he’d discover the answer to that question soon enough. Indeed, her presence was enough to make him forget about the two boys who’d been laughing at him before, even if only for the time being. He would have loved to dwell on that little fact for a bit longer, too, except that the first bell of the day at long last rang, and once it did, Miss Milton stood up at the front of the room as if on cue and called for the attention of the entire class.

“Okay, everyone! It’s time to settle down and turn your attention up here, please.”

All the students in the room promptly quieted down and looked forward towards the front of the room as per Miss Milton’s instructions—everyone, that is, save for the two boys from earlier, who remained blissfully ignorant of what was going on and kept joking with one another as they clearly had been before. Miss Milton was quick to take note of them, however, and tried once more to quiet them down.

“Hey, fellas,” she said, “time for talking’s over. I need your attention up here, please.”

The two boys stopped talking at last and reluctantly turned their attention up front along with everyone else, albeit not without rolling their eyes in disgust at the very notion of them having to do so. Miss Milton made sure to thank them once they did, however, before continuing with her introduction.

“Thank you,” she said simply before clapping her hands and addressing her class as a whole. “Well, then, how is everyone this fine first day of school?”

The students responded in unison in a mishmash of answers—some openly showing their boundless enthusiasm for the school year to come, others being more reserved in expressing their hopes of the year at least going well, and even a couple of students openly expressing what Tyler at least hoped was little more than feigned displeasure. Regardless of how each particular student felt, however, it seemed as though Miss Milton was impressed with the response she was getting, so she felt no need to stop right then and there with her speech.

“Alright! Glad to hear it. I’m looking forward to this year myself, but before we get into that, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Miss Milton, and I’ve been teaching at this school for a solid five years now, so…”

A number of the students actually began applauding their teacher once she said this as if it were that grand an accomplishment, which took Tyler aback somewhat. All the same, he didn’t want to stick out from the crowd any more than he already did, so he decided to join in with them. Miss Milton seemed grateful to receive such applause, too, judging from how she was smiling and nodding in reaction to it even as it died down.

“Thank you!” she repeated. “I really appreciate that. More about each and every one of you. To tell you all the truth, though, I’m actually interested in finding out more about each and every one of you, so I’ll tell you how we’re going to go about doing just that.”

She then briskly walked on over to her desk and picked up the clipboard that had been sitting on it the entire time along with a black pen and began reading from the sheet of paper that had been attached to her clipboard.

“Okay, now,” she instructed, “as soon as you hear your name, please stand up from your desk and tell us a little something about yourself, starting with…Joyce Anderson.”

The lanky blonde girl who’d been sitting next to the  of the room bolted up from her seat almost as if she’d just sat on a tack and immediately began telling the class all about herself.

“Hey, everyone!” she greeted enthusiastically. “My name is Joyce Anderson. My family and I’d just gotten back from our summer vacation up in Nova Scotia, which I can’t wait to talk about on account of how a-maze-ing it was! Aside from that, though, I’m big into basketball and dancing, I’m currently involved in the park district’s cheerleading program, I love—love—all kinds of animals, and I’m definitely looking forward to this year of school because…well…I just have a good feeling about it. Simple as that.”

Joyce then sat back down with a broad smile on her face and the rest of the classroom—Tyler included—staring back at her blankly as they tried to absorb her exuberance. Miss Milton wasn’t quite as perplexed, however, and readily smiled back at her after hearing her response.

“Thank you, Joyce!” she replied. “I’m definitely looking forward to having you in my class this year as well—especially considering just how much energy you have.”

Joyce shrugged. “It’s a gift,” she said simply.

Some gift, Tyler said in his head, trying his best not to be too judgmental of this new classmate of his. She didn’t seem like too bad a girl, really, but truth be told, he wasn’t too sure if he could ever warm up to someone so…what was the word? Bubbly? Meh…maybe not, but it would do for the time being. At any rate, Miss Milton kept reading down her attendance list and called out the name of the next student.

“Roberta Andrews.”

Ah…Andrews, huh? Well, if nothing else, that was one more name beginning with the letter A, which gave Tyler time enough to wrack his brain in hopes of figuring out just what he was going to say. Then again, it didn’t exactly hurt that he had the luxury to sit back and listen to at least a couple more classmates tell the rest of the class who they were and what they were about. For the time being, then, he could take it easy for a moment or two and begin to feel at ease with his peers until eventually—inevitably—Miss Milton called his name after the third or fourth student had given his quick little self-narrative.

“Tyler Booth.”

Tyler paused for a second and took a deep breath to steady himself, then found himself looking to either side of him—first at Brad, then at Tommy, and then back to Brad—as he tried to make his final decision on what he wanted to say. As he did, he drew forth from them whatever strength he needed to believe in the notion of just being himself and not letting anyone get him down, and once he finally felt himself all brimming with gumption, he stood up from his desk, cleared his throat, and prepared to let everyone know just who he was.

“Hey, everyone,” he began. “I’m Tyler. My dad and I just moved into town not too long ago so that he could be closer to the place where he works. As for me personally, I’m pretty big into writing and reading, and I’m also pretty good at playing sports of all kinds.”

Miss Milton nodded pleasantly. “Interesting,” she remarked. “Is there anything in particular that you like to write about or any particular sport you prefer playing?”

Tyler shrugged. “Anything that comes to mind, more or less,” he answered plainly yet honestly. “A poem here, a short story there. Nothing too fancy. Same thing with sports. I don’t really have a favorite. I just like going outside every once in a while and getting some exercise every now and then to keep my body fit and my brain sharp.”

“I see. I also understand that your father has quite an interesting job. Would you like to tell the class what your dad does for a living?”

Tyler was quiet for a moment or two, contemplating to himself the words he’d use to describe his father’s occupation, then answered, “He’s a toy designer for Blue Rex Toys.”

The class murmured upon hearing this, and as he regarded his classmates, Tyler could see for himself that some of them were genuinely impressed with what he had just shared with them. This included Joyce and, more importantly, the girl who’d been sitting next to her, who were presently shifting their attention between each other and him as if to silently muse with one another over the fact that they were attending the same school as the son of a toy designer who was working for one of the nation’s biggest and best-known toy manufacturers. Indeed, it was hard for him to deny how great it felt to see the other girl beam at him with her pearly white smile, and maybe it was just his imagination, but did he perchance see a sparkle in her eyes as she looked upon him? Well, whatever the case, it was nice to see that he had caught her attention in a good way. Unfortunately, not everyone in the classroom was all too impressed to know Tyler’s father’s profession, judging from the extra-loud snicker he heard from the opposite front corner of the room. Reluctantly, he turned his attention in that direction and saw that the two boys from earlier were cracking up, much to his chagrin. He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, too, as he heard them snorting like a couple of pigs mocking him for little more than honestly answering a question that he’d been asked. Rude as they were, though, he decided instead to simply keep his disgust to himself and carry talking to the rest of the class…that was to say, of course, if there was any chance of the duo doing him a favor of simply shutting up and bending in with the others, which sadly didn’t seem to be the case.

“Blue Rex, huh?” the bushy-haired one repeated. “You’ve got to be joking me. That company hasn’t put out a top toy line in years.”

Tyler scoffed. “Dude, what are you talking about?” he refuted. “Blue Rex has made plenty of top-selling toys: Super Duper Squirters, Karaoke Kids, Lullaby Critters…”

Pbth!” the second kid interjected. “Whoopee stinking do! All little kid stuff. You’d think that with a name like ‘Blue Rex,’ that stupid toy company would come up with at least one solid action figure lineup.”

“Action figures? You mean like the Justice Juniors?”

Again, the duo laughed him off, clearly unimpressed with hearing the name of Blue Rex’s most popular action figure series as yet. As they did, Tyler felt himself growing less and less at ease with himself with every second that passed by where he had to look at their ugly, gloating faces. Luckily, none of the other students felt like joining in on their little two-man bash fest against him, but that wasn’t really enough to keep him from wanting to hide his face in shame. He knew he had to stay strong, however, and as such kept his chin up to show everyone that their insults weren’t quite as hurtful to him as they actually were, even if only out of fear of offering them more ammunition with which to snipe him.

“Man, please!” the bushy-haired kid cracked. “The Justice Juniors are for little kids, too—just a bunch of kiddified Sentai Saviors who fight monsters who aren’t even bad news enough for Sesame Street. Honestly, if your old man’s company ever wants to be taken seriously, they’ve got to stop selling out to the twerps and start making stuff for the rest of us.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Miss Milton scolded as she finally decided to step in. “I don’t know what your name is, young man, but you’d better—”

“It’s Randy, Miss Milton. Randy Voight,” the boy interrupted. He then gestured to the other boy and added, “This here is my buddy Scott Salnave, in case you’re wondering.”

Miss Milton breathed deeply to keep her composure before continuing, then said, “Very well, then, Randy. What I expect of both you and Scott right now is to quiet down and show a little respect towards Tyler. It’s his turn to speak, after all. You’ll have your turn soon enough.”

“Hey, we’re not saying anything bad about him, Miss Milton,” Scott chimed in to say. “We’re just voicing our opinion about the company his dad works for, and as far as we’re concerned—”

“No, Scott. As far as I’m concerned, you and Randy both need to keep your opinions about Blue Rex to yourselves. You don’t like Blue Rex toys? Fine. That’s your preference. Nobody else needs to hear about it, though, especially since it’s not the topic at hand. The least you two can do then, is show a little bit of respect while the rest of us find out more about Tyler. Is that understood?”

Neither boy bothered to answer Miss Milton and instead chose to look away with sullen dejection. Naturally, it wasn’t the reaction that the teacher was surely hoping to receive, Tyler presumed, but if it meant that the two boys would be quiet all the same, then so be it. At any rate, Tyler started gaining back a little confidence in himself, which was especially good for him, considering that Joyce was raising her hand—no doubt to ask him a question.

“Yes, Joyce?” Miss Milton responded.

Joyce lowered her hand and proceeded to ask, “So, Tyler, how often does your dad give you the opportunity to test the final product for any of the toys he’s responsible for designing?”

“Oh, pretty often,” Tyler answered. “Mostly, he gives me a good look at the final designs of the action figures and some of the more creative toys he comes up with. Same with some of the outdoor toys, too. Basically, he runs the idea of most of his stuff by me, and if I like the design and think there’s a cool idea behind what he’s making, I give it an a-okay.”

“Oh, yeah?” Scott piped back up to say. “What about the dolls? Does your old man let you playtest those as well?”

He and Randy then started laughing all over again at Tyler’s expense, which left Tyler standing there blushing—and breathing—harder than before. At first, he felt as though he was about to vomit, and for a moment, so did Tommy and Brad, who both stood up to hold him by his shoulders and console him right then and there. Thankfully, Miss Milton stepped in once again to take control of the situation on his behalf.

“Alright you two! Stop it!” she snapped. “That is it. One more insult out of either of you, and it’ll be a trip to the principal’s office. Now, don’t say another word.”

The boys hushed up immediately once again, not bothering to peer around them at the slew of angry faces that were glaring at them or offer an apology for their disruptive behavior. An angry silence then took over the room for quite some time as all eyes fell upon Randy and Scott, and an air of tension filled the room until Miss Milton spoke up again to take control of the situation.

“Thank you, Tyler. You may be seated.”

Tyler immediately thanked Miss Milton with a nod and sat back down, and though Brad and Tommy both tried to comfort him, he still couldn’t get over how embarrassed he was to have already been on the receiving end of two of his classmates’ bad attitudes. He did what he could to remind himself that Randy and Scott were only two out an entire classroom of twenty to thirty students, himself included, and that not every last one of his classmates were as rude and as rotten as those two were. Brad and Tommy were certainly easy enough to get along with, that was for sure, but even they weren’t enough to help him take his mind off the other two boys. In fact, even as he sat as his desk, he allowed his eyes to wander on over to those two and stared at them distrustfully, wondering to himself just exactly what they got out of making fun of him. After a while, though, he eventually shook his head and gave up on the matter. Really, though, what was the point? The fact stood either way that those two were trouble, period, and the less time he had to spend dealing with them, the better. After all, he had other things to concern himself with this year, and so long as those two kept their distance well enough, Tyler knew he could put his best foot forward and make the most out of his current situation. All he really needed was a chance…a chance to prove to himself and to everyone else that he had just as much a place at this new school of his as anyone else.

*****

Well, that pretty much does it for today. I hope you all enjoyed reading this first chapter in the book I’m currently working on, and I especially hope it was a nice diversion from the constant stream of poems I’ve been posting up on this blog recently. Unfortunately, I cannot promise exactly when I will be able to release this novel, but honestly, my goal is to have it published by a major publisher and become my first official book as a more widely recognized author than what I already am. Therefore, for anyone who has any kind of constructive feedback for this work so far, feel free to leave it in the comments section below, and in the meantime, thank you for reading.

Regards,

Dustin M. Weber

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

                          Amazon.com

                          Amazon.co.uk

Amazon News: New Author Central Pages at Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk, Amazon Publication of UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment, and more!

UWWX: The Underground Women's Wrestling Xperiment: Now available at Smashwords.com.

UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment: Now available at Amazon.com.

Happy Holidays, readers!

This just in: I’ve officially started up two Author Central pages with Amazon, one on Amazon.com and another on Amazon.co.uk, which you can see for yourself at the two links below.

Dustin M. Weber’s Amazon.com Author Central Page

Dustin M. Weber’s Amazon.co.uk Author Central Page

On these pages, Amazon shoppers can check out which books I have available for sale, start up a discussion about my work, and catch up with me at my Twitter account (@DustinMWeber). Plus, Amazon.com shoppers can even check out the latest entries here at my blog.

Additionally, I’d like to let everyone know that just yesterday, I’ve managed to publish UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperimenton Amazon.com, which you can check out for yourself here. Not only that, but my three previously published works have also dropped in price as mentioned two days ago when I announced the
official Smashwords.com publication of UWWX
.

That’s all for now, but as always, thank you for stopping by and seeing just what I’ve been up to. In the meantime, please check out my new Amazon Author Central pages, and feel free to download an ebook or two. Otherwise, Happy Holidays, and happy reading!

Regards,

Dustin M. Weber

Now Avaliable at Smashwords.com: UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment (Plus Price Updates on Preexisting eBooks)

UWWX: The Underground Women's Wrestling Xperiment: Now available at Smashwords.com.

UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment: Now available at Smashwords.com.

Happy Holidays, readers!

Well…it’s here at long last…my latest novel, UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment. After a much longer time than I’d anticipated, I’ve finally—finally—published this work on Smashwords.com, where it’s now available for download for $7.99 and in a variety of formats: Kindle, Epub, PDF, Rich Text Document, LRF, PalmDoc, and Plain Text. Being twenty-seven chapters and approximately 165,459 words long, this ebook has something for both genders to enjoy. For the women, it has a strong, dynamic female protagonist who doesn’t take trash from anyone along her quest to seek acceptance in a male-dominated industry. For the men, it has plenty of hard-hitting action and a focus on a sport that has a long tradition in being aimed towards a male audience. Therefore, gentlemen, please don’t let the novel’s category of “Women’s Literature” throw you, for there’s something in this book for you, too.

For the sake of convenience, I’ve included the description of this new novel below…

*****

UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment

A new breed of women’s professional wrestling emerges form the ruins of the long-desecrated pro wrestling industry with the promise of bringing back the respect that women’s wrestling has long lost.

For far too long, wrestling promoters have treated women’s professional wrestling like little more than a glorified burlesque sideshow featuring beautiful women dressed in outrageous and provocative outfits while reciting horribly lowbrow comedy skits and engaging in simulated catfights with one another. Such is exactly how Ladies’ Wrestling League veteran “Chainsaw” Charlie Bradshaw feels, leastways, especially when approached to become a part of yet another novelty women’s wrestling organization called WrestleKittens. Needless to say, once she hears about an opposing and equally newly formed women’s wrestling promotion—the ragtag, gritty, and aptly named Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment—she jumps ship the first chance she gets. However, even with this new federation’s promise to reinvent women’s pro wrestling and hence bring some respect back to the sport as a whole, Charlie still finds herself up against many a challenge, such as coexisting with certain rivals on the UWWX roster and learning to cope with the unorthodox management and on-the-fly booking style of the promotion’s founder, Katherine Flynn. Nonetheless, it is up to Charlie to rise up to the occasion and become the locker room leader that her newfound home needs to help spur it to the top of a crippled industry and win the hearts of an increasingly jaded mainstream wrestling audience. Only time will tell, then, if she is indeed up to such a task or if the UWWX will remain nothing more than a pipedream for everyone who has become sick and tired of a venue with little more to offer than cheesy costumes, tacky humor, and flagrant chauvinism.

*****

…as well as the first chapter:

*****

“You have got to be kidding me!”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard come out of the guy’s mouth, and by “the guy,” I meant the fat, disgusting middle-aged slob in the deep blue Jerry Clower tuxedo—complete with pink cummerbund and bowtie—whom Commissioner Fielding had invited me into her office to meet. I turned my head briefly to the side to see what she herself thought about what her guest had just told me, and from the way she was palming her face, I could tell that she was pretty embarrassed, and rightfully so. Sadly, as I turned back to the man, he showed no signs at all of either shame or guilt at what he had just said, much to my dismay. In fact, he managed to keep a straight face as he dared to repeat that which he had just said.

“Actually, Ms. Bradshaw, I’m quite serious,” he said. We want you to be a part of our show. It’ll actually be a great opportunity for you, what with us finally getting a television deal and all this year. You’ll finally be able to garner some exposure with the casual wrestling audience—something every wrestler in the independent scene dreams about. Who knows? You might even become a huge star.”

“Yeah, at the cost of my own dignity and identity,” I countered. “Forget it, pal. I don’t want anything to do with your precious little comedy fetish smutfest.”

The pervert only chuckled and retorted, “Why, what’s the matter? Are you afraid we’ll be suiting you up with the worst gimmick we can think of?”

“Buddy, knowing you and that braindead sidekick of yours—who, just for the record, hasn’t had an original idea in his thick skull since he last booked Max Diamond’s little hole-in-the-ground promotion ten years ago—you two couldn’t come up with anything close to being good even if you actually tried. I still remember that last project of yours, that corny-as-all-hell Hotties of Wrestling show that you made for the Loads of Laughs network, and all I can say is thank Heaven and Hell both that LOL had the good sense not to showcase that farce on their beloved channel. Honestly, your little project must have been that big of a disgrace if even they wouldn’t air it, especially considering the kind of garbage they’ve hosted before.”

“Listen, Charlie, I know that this latest project of ours doesn’t sound very promising, but J.V. and I have been assured by this current network that our deal with them I secure.”

“Yeah, for the first month-and-a-half. Then the ratings will go through the floor thanks to the lack of decent advertising and a crapload of much-deserved negative feedback from the Internet crowd, and the next thing you know, you two ass clowns and each and every self-loathing money whore who’s desperate and stupid enough to sign with your little joke of a company will be back out on the street where you all belong, and those of us who chose to stay true to true to who we are will be laughing our asses off at your stupidity while the promotions we work for—this one included—will stay standing thanks to our loyal fanbases. Granted, Fielding here might take in some of your strumpets and stick them in the job squad out of little more than pity, but you and Hart would sure as all else be out of a job. That anyone can guarantee.”

I didn’t bother to redirect my attention to Fielding, but I didn’t need to know that she was nodding her head at my sentiments, regardless of how gruff I was being with our “honored” guest. Honestly, I could have figured out from the way she had initially called me in and introduced me to the wannabe Hugh Hefner that she, too, hated the bastard every bit as much as I did, if not more so, which would have been saying something in and of itself. Even so, she managed to keep her cool as she at long last had her say about the idiot and the skanky schlockfest he was insisting I become a part of.

“You’re only wasting your time with us, Mr. Bellasarus,” she informed him. “The idea you’re proposing has already been done before back in the 1980s with Wrestling’s Most Glamorous Ladies, which only succeeded for as long as it did because the masses back then didn’t care about whether or not what they were watching was real or not and as such were much more able to sit back and just enjoy pro wrestling for what it was, regardless of how downright phony their favorite product could be.”

Bellasarus’s fat ugly mug suddenly twisted into a disdainful scowl. “Now, just a moment, Ms. Fielding,” he retorted. “I don’t appreciate you insulting my promotion the way you are now.”

“Let me finish, please,” Fielding scolded before continuing. “I am not intentionally insulting WrestleKittens, but let’s be honest: Not only do you have a program that’s enough of a niche product as it is, being a women’s wrestling show and all, but you have made it into even more of a niche product by elevating the sexuality and taking away your wrestlers’ identities by dolling them up in the raciest costumes the industry has ever seen and having them play cheesy, over-the-top, embarrassing characters that wouldn’t exist in any way, shape or form outside the realm of ‘sports entertainment.’ On top of all that, the network that will be broadcasting your show is virtually unknown to the general public, which basically spells suicide for a product like yours that already lacks appeal and staying power as it is. Be honest with us, now: Do you truly expect today’s wrestling fans, as jaded and as demanding as they are, to buy into such pageantry—especially considering how the majority of them have been yearning for a more serious, sports-oriented wrestling product for years now? Seriously, the only wrestling fans who would dare to watch such a show are those with a morbid enough curiosity to tune in to one episode just to see how campy it is and later make an issue out of it on a forum or even their own blog.”

“Okay, well…where’s the harm in that? At least we’d still be earning a rating. Who knows? That one person might come to like our show down the road, even if he or she doesn’t initially, and spread the word about how great we are to the point of possibly even getting the rest of the so-called Internet Wrestling Community to check us out-especially when they find out whom we have on the roster.”

“Yeah, a big bunch of money-grubbing sellouts and a handful of dumb-bunny goofball bimbo model-types who have no business even being near a ring, much less in it,” I horned in. “Really, who gives a crap whom you’ve managed to weasel onto your payroll if the booking sucks and makes even the talented girls look like bumbling buffoons? I’ve seen what Hart’s booking looks like in action, and believe me when I say that even his best work is so sloppy and poorly thought out that it makes that idiot Sal Struthers look like Antoine D’Amore in comparison. Forget it, Bellasarus. You’re not conning me to join your stupid little Vegas sideshow. I refuse to turn my back on the people who made me who I am, and I definitely refuse to drop a match to any scrawny, braindead, no-talent model twit you might have me try to make look good.”

That was when I bolted up out of the chair I had been sitting in and started storming out of Fielding’s office. Before I could so much as open the door, however, Bellasarus thrust his hulk in front of me and blocked me from exiting.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” he blurted out. “Hold on a second, would you?”

I stood there with my hands on my hips, tapping my foot impatiently for whatever the portly pimp had left to say to me. Seeing me standing in front of him the way I was, he chuckled nervously before daring to continue.

“You honestly think I’m going to job you out to any of our homegrown talents? Because if you do, I can readily assure you that such is not the case at all. You may question my business practices, Charlie, but even I know better than to make a woman of your skill and girth forfeit a match to—”

Excuse me?” I interrupted as I grabbed the bastard by the collar and pinned his shoulders up against the nearest wall.

“Charlie—” Fielding protested as she stepped out from behind her desk and hustled her little keister towards us.

Bellasarus only giggled nervously in my face and swallowed hard. “Um…err…sorry about that. I suppose I should have used the term ‘mass’ instead. You’re clearly not fat by any means…‘buxom,’ perhaps, or even voluptuous, given that you’ve got an all-natural bus that most women would kill to have and a nice tight booty to match. In fact, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, I’d be willing to bet that out little promotion would have several fans—if not, in fact, several hundred fans—who would pay dearly to see you squeeze your sensuously full figure into a bikini—”

CRACK!

Bellasarus’s piss-poor attempts at flattery only warranted a stiff backhand from me that nailed him so hard that his blubbery body fell to the ground with a thud. Luckily for him, he remained conscious, especially of his fat, swollen, crimson cheek that he promptly put his hand on as he struggled to his feet. Naturally, I didn’t bother lending the horny little toad a hand up and instead stood with my arms folded across my “buxom” chest, glowering menacingly while Fielding tried helping him lift his bulk up off the ground. Eventually, Bellasarus was back on his feet and still holding his swollen cheek in a manner that made him look as if he had a nasty toothache that needed immediate dental attention. Truth be told, I was actually a bit disappointed in the fact that I hadn’t knocked any of his precious pearly whites out of his fat ignorant mouth, but hey, maybe the sting he was feeling was satisfaction enough for me, although his little admission of defeat only made the whole deal sound even sweeter.

“Well,” he blubbered, drooling all the while as though he had just emerged from his dentist’s office after a very invasive root canal, “it seems as though I’ve overstayed my welcome here. I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Bradshaw, that we couldn’t work anything out. If you change your mind, though, please don’t be afraid to drop me an email sometime, and perhaps J.V. and I can write up a contract for you that would be to your liking. Until then, ladies, good day to you both, and good luck.”

Hmph! “Good luck,” huh? With what? Unfortunately, it looked as though I would never get the chance to find that out, seeing as how Fielding managed to lead Bellasarus out of the office and close the door behind him before I could bring myself to ask him. Then again, the whole thing didn’t really matter all that much, especially when I had Fielding shifting her gaze toward me with her own arms folded in front of her to signify how disappointed she was with me at the moment. She was not afraid to give voice to her feelings right then and there, either, and pretty readily gave me a piece of her mind.

“You didn’t have to take it that far,” she said as she shook her head.

“Give me a break, Fielding,” I scoffed. “What I did to him was nothing compared to the righteous ass-kicking he really deserves.”

“No matter. That still doesn’t give you the right to lay a finger on him. He can very well now turn around and press an assault and battery charge against you, and trust me when I say that I don’t want that to happen to you in the least. After all, if we want people to know that our promotion is the one worth investing in, we can’t afford to draw the slightest bit of heat, even if we do get a few particularly rowdy supporters on our side on account of actions like yours.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Let your brother get some sort of partnership with these idiots? You just said yourself that their joke of a product has no staying power, and believe me—it would make me sick to my stomach to see any of our other gals trek on over there for any reason and join the ranks of all the other glorified hookers who’ve given up on what wrestling is supposed to be.”

Fielding only sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said simply. “Believe me, if I had full ownership of this company, I’d do everything in my power to make sure we would never have to deal with the likes of Bellasarus and Hart. How I’d go about it exactly, I’m not sure…try to acquire a respectable television deal of our own, I suppose, or perhaps work out some sort of agreement with the Global Wrestling Corporation whenever they themselves start treating women’s wrestling with respect like they used to instead of putting on the glorified ‘boobs and booty’ show that they’re now putting on with their women. Unfortunately, Colt has convinced himself that this current recession our industry has been going through has affected us even more than it actually has, and he’s desperate enough to try anything to preserve the Ladies’ Wrestling League regardless of the fact that we’re not faring that much worse since the day he and I first founded this humble little promotion.”

“I take it, then, that you haven’t been able to get it through that knobby little skull of his that he’s full of more crap than an overflowing colostomy bag?”

Fielding shot me a look of disapproval. “Don’t talk about my brother like that!” she scolded. “You know just as well as anyone else that Colt means well, no matter how foolish he can be. Granted, even I get exasperated with all the times he has let his ambitions get the better of him and all the flighty notions and harebrained ideas that pop into his head on account of them, but even then, his interests are still for the betterment of the LWL.”

I snorted. “Whatever,” I grumbled. “If he ever gets the idea of buddying up with that dirtbag Bellasarus and forking over any of our gals over to him to become live action burlesque cartoon characters, I’ll beat so much snot out of him that he’ll have all the room in the world to finally stuff some sense into him. I don’t care what kind of motive he’d have to pull such a stunt, either. Even he should know by now that pro wrestling is a sport—a worked sport, maybe, but a sport all the same. That’s why I became a wrestler, after all. I wanted to become an athlete, not just an actress.”

“Point well taken, Charlie, but listen,” Fielding insisted as she tried to calm me down. “You’re just letting this whole ordeal get to you now. Tell you what, then: Why don’t you relax for the rest of the evening? Just head on back to your hotel room and unwind. We’ll be heading on out for Chicago first thing tomorrow morning, so you’ll definitely need your beauty sleep.”

Now had come my turn to shoot Fielding a look. Seriously, though, “beauty sleep?” Did she really have to use that term with me? Especially considering how much she knew about my personal hatred for such über-girly bullcrap vernacular, which she immediately became reminded of once she caught sight of me giving her the evil eye.

“Sorry…” she said with a gulp, “…but you know what I mean. You just need to cool off, is all I’m saying. Trust me—you’ll be in a much better frame of mind for tomorrow’s show.”

I shrugged my shoulders and admitted, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll take you up on your offer, then.”

“You promise?” Fielding demanded, eyeballing me suspiciously. “I don’t want you ‘venting’ over what just went on here and getting yourself in trouble because of it.”

“Ha! And you’re telling me that I’m the one who needs to relax. Take it easy already, Fielding. I may be rough and tumble, but even something as flat-out asinine as WrestleKittens isn’t enough to send me flying into a psychotic rage, so don’t expect me right away to be roaming the streets in the middle of the night looking for losers whose skulls I can cave in. Check you later, then.”

Having said, that, I sauntered off out of the office and back to the locker room to grab my gear and head back to the hotel. On my way out, I could feel Fielding’s eyes watching me, and without so much as taking the slightest glance back at her, I could guess what she was thinking: Honestly, just what kind of trouble is she going to get into? Of course, I really was in no mood to get into any kind of trouble. Sure, there was a certain someone whom I wanted to stick it to again, right along with all the morons he surrounded himself with, but honestly, I was too tired to do anything about that at the moment. Ah, well…there’s a time for everything, I guess. For the moment, though, all I really wanted to do was take a load off and be fresh for yet another busy day.

*****

Also, I’d like to let everyone know that I’ve permanently lowered the prices on my other three ebooks, as you can see via my author page at Smashwords.com.

Kyle Summers, Booker: $4.99

The Sun Shan’t Set on Me! Poems from My Younger Days (Ages 16 to 23): $3.99

Best of Luck, Jeff Babbage!: $3.99

My sincerest apologies for the delay on this book’s release. Hopefully, though, UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment hasn’t arrived too late for those of you who are still looking for that one last gift for that special someone. At any rate, feel free to download your copy of this or any of my other books from Smashwords.com, and please keep your eyes open on this blog or my Twitter account @DustinMWeber for further information on the release of UWWX and other works of mine elsewhere. Until then, happy reading!

Regards,

Dustin M. Weber

Short Story: To the Woman Who Could’ve Been the Future Mrs. Owen E. Stevens

Hey, readers!

I know this blog here has been bereft of material for the past couple of months, particularly August and especially when it comes to non-poetic works of mine (i.e., articles, short stories, and product release announcements), and I would like to take the time to personally apologize for that. However, I promise you all that once I finally—finally—finish editing my latest novel, UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment, I will get right back to work with such material, particularly the articles in my “In Relation to My Work” segment. For the time being, though, I have managed to come across an old work of mine in my collection of original short stories that I feel is appropriate for this blog, and not just because it is similar in tone to a number of works I have published here recently (e.g., Vow of the Imperfect, The Meaning of Love, and  Visions of Love). Granted, that’s part of the reason, but moreover, this particular story was an experiment in storytelling for me in that it taught me how to take a familiar format (i.e., a love letter) and put a twist on it for the sake of narrating that which was on my protagonist’s mind and to illustrate the events that have gone on in his life up to the point where he is writing his letter. Without a doubt, too, this piece is perhaps one of my favorite short stories out of all that I’ve worked on for reasons that I hope each of you will be able to see upon reading. Therefore, without further ado, here is To the Woman Who Could’ve Been the Future Mrs. Owen E. Stevens. Please enjoy!

*****

To the Woman Who Could’ve Been the Future Mrs. Owen E. Stevens
by Dustin M. Weber
March 1, 2007

March 1, 2007

To the woman who could’ve been the future Mrs. Owen E. Stevens:

Hey, it’s me–you know, the guy who could’ve been your husband, had the passage of time flowed more favorably for us, or at least me. Personally, I’m not certain how life has treated you up to this point–perhaps extremely well, perhaps very poorly–but I’ll admit right now that I sure could’ve used your love and affection to help me get through this pathetic first stage of my adulthood and would have gladly returned the favor, lest I have been the one to initiate our romantic connection. Trouble is, though, I doubt that I would’ve been very good at being a reasonable caretaker for you under my present circumstances, seeing as I’m still trying to financially restabilize myself after the biggest kick to the groin I’ve ever taken. Personally, if things had gone the way I wholeheartedly believe they should have, I’d have never been in this mess to begin with. Truth be told, I’d have been far more successful in that reality than in this one, with far more money rolling into my bank account than spilling out as well as a much better career–not to mention job history, while we’re on the subject–than what I have now or have had in the past. Not only that, but I’d have moved out of my parents’ house long ago and started living my own life without having them baby-sit me. Additionally, if I were a better man all the way around, I’d have been far more mature, responsible, and otherwise amiable than the spiteful, antisocial freak of nature I’ve all but degenerated into. That won’t necessarily stop me from improving myself for future events in my life, of course, but I still believe that if I had paid closer attention to how I was growing up and what I was metamorphosing into as the result of my childhood and adolescent choices, I’d have actually done something with my life that even I would’ve been proud of. Hopefully, things’ll change for the better soon, but it’s an unreasonably tough situation all the same, although I can assure you now that I’m not giving up just yet–especially since I can’t afford to.

Okay, that’s enough whining from me about my present financial and professional situation. Now the time has come for me to discuss something completely different: my desire to make it through this life successfully so as to earn your admiration in the next. I know it may sound as quite an abstract notion and as such a little too bizarre to be discussing with friends in everyday conversation, but since this letter is more about me coming clean about my feelings for you than just a casual hello, I’ll explain what I mean. You see, I’ve been thinking about you off and on for a matter of years since college, and most recently, I’ve had this longing feeling in my heart for you–the same kind of longing that I’d had since I first started teaching at that ungrateful community college that I’d now much sooner forget I was ever employed by. Granted, between my release from my contract with that school and these past few weeks, romance and marriage were the furthest things from my mind, as I was wrapped up in all the drama concerning my need for reemployment and my desire to prove myself as a self-reliant and sophisticated man rather than a needy, bratty mamma’s boy in a man-suit. Even so, my longing for a lasting relationship has never fully left me, and even though I may very well remain a bachelor until my final days in this world, I find it hard to believe that I’ll ever truly be happy without a woman by my side. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for coming off so theatrically, but with all due veracity, I cannot emphasize enough my realization of just how important a long, lasting, loving relationship has become for me, even as a figment of my own imagination.

First off, I’d like to discuss how my desire to espouse you has become a distraction for me in the waking world, regardless of how pleasant a distraction it may be at times. To begin with, whenever I’m working on something at my computer–especially if it’s the one book that’ll [hopefully] lure me out of the dumps and into the reality that I’ve always wanted to live, I often find my mind going blank as if I don’t even know what I’m staring at, much less how to further move the plot of my story along. As it does, I more likely than not envision you within my mind undertaking increasingly intimate roles within my life. At first, you are an acquaintance of mine– a girl whom I’d but newly met outside the gymnasium at whatever college I’d have gone to after having stepped up against a line of guys who’d just hurled a line or two of sexually insulting dialogue at you. Later on, you become a close friend of mine who would help me cope with a particularly nasty breakup I had lately endured with my previous girlfriend, whom I had discovered to have had cheated on me with someone who apparently was more apt to fulfill her personal appetence despite my always having treated her like the gentleman my parents had raised me to become. As my thoughts send me plunging deeper and deeper into this sadly fictitious “affaire d’amour” between us, you take on even more serious provinces–namely, those of steady, fiancée, wife, and last but not least, the mother of our daughter Leslie Alexandra–and with each function formalize yourself as a crucial part of my adult life as we both take on an ever-growing list of responsibilities towards our family as a whole as well as to one another. Such is the life I’d secretly longer to live for more years than I can possibly begin to count–the same kind of life that any decent man could ever hope to live with the subject of his affections.

The problem here, however, is that I strongly doubt in my ever having the competence to fulfill such tasks for the woman to whom I’d devote my life, as my many flaws more frequently than not have demonstrated unto me just how far from perfect I really am. I’ll readily admit that my own perfectionism is by and far my greatest fault of them all, oftentimes degenerating into an absolute obsession with being perfect specimen of humanity, period. I know this is a highly unreasonable attitude for me to express, but back in the “good old days” when I was growing up, I could have had attained anything I’d wanted if only I’d tried hard enough. This was mainly due to my having nearly every possible gift a kid could hope to have: intelligence, personality, kindness, and even a touch of athletic potential–the lattermost of which I hadn’t brought out until the summer of 1996 when I tried out for the football team during my freshman year in high school, but that’s not necessarily the point. Rather, my point here is that since I’ve moved on from that period in my life–or at the very least tried to–I’ve let quite a few opportunities slip out of my grasp, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve no one to blame but myself for the unhappiness I now feel as the result of such carelessness. Thankfully, the Powers That Be have given me the opportunity to regain at least a percentage of that which I’ve lost, but I strongly suspect that I’ll never feel as complete as I could have, had I only used my gifts and talents when I first had the chance. Oh, well…maybe in the next life…

I know what you’re probably thinking right now: “Owen, nobody’s perfect; nobody’s a saint. Why expect yourself to be what you can’t?” That’s a good question, and my answer to it is simple: Because I demand the best of people, especially myself. Call it narcissism if you will, but for so many years, I’ve been under the impression that I was meant to be better than many of the people with whom I’ve interacted over the course of my present lifetime. Unfortunately, since growing up, I sincerely feel I’ve lost touch with many of those talents over the years–both my actual and my potential ones–and as such am all too aware of all the other flaws I have aside from my aforementioned preference for self-perfection. If I had to choose one of these additional problems of mine to be the most significant obstacle in my quest to reclaim myself, that one flaw would be my ever-growing intolerance for the world around me. Honestly, I can only begin to tell you just how easy it can be for anyone to find something to become impatient with, take argument against, or even become hostile over in this world. It makes no difference which decade or era one finds oneself living in, either, for even during the best of times, there’s always something worthy of complaint in the mainstream society: poverty, disease, diminished resources, environmental decimation, corporate greed, senseless violence, broken families, sexual exploitation, rampant deceit, moral degeneration, and the flagrant obliviousness of the general public. Believe me, if I hear one more word about a certain date and the specific event connected to it that the media keeps compulsively promoting and shoving down my throat for the mere sake of glorifying said event to the point of overwhelming infamy and making money off the obsession that they have inseminated the masses with, it’ll be too soon. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about here in a less vague sense of the topic, although I can never emphasize enough the corruption that befalls upon a population when only one side of the story is presented for such citizenry to see while the other side remains completely ignored by all but a few intelligent and perceptive yet oft-ignored individuals.

Sorry about that tirade of mine, darling. I know I should pay closer attention to the moments when I get carried away with an idea, but let’s face it: Such is the extent of my imperfection. Please don’t think for a minute that I actually enjoy droning on my own weaknesses as a human being, though, because doing so is more of a means of inadvertent torture than anything else. To be quite frank with you, I’d much sooner be happy with myself and with life in general than wallowing in self-loathing and self-pity for hours, days, and even weeks on end. Trouble is, though, that for the past fourteen years of my life, wallowing is all I’ve known, and despite my being completely disenchanted by it all and my efforts to feel something else other than down, my bad mood has yet to be elevated after all this time. Indeed, there’s just that much garbage going on in the world–especially here in the good old U.S. of A., where the term “common sense” has been degraded into a complete oxymoron and basic intelligence and decency have all but dissolved into vestiges of what they once were. Seriously, whom can I trust when the just have been long censored by the clueless and the self-righteous and the people whom I’d expect to speak with wisdom and discernment are blithering, egotistical morons who value frivolous and redundant mindlessness over refined sensibility? Where do I turn to when all of the noble and enlightened souls have either passed on into the afterlife or faded into anonymity if they hadn’t already retrograded into the same lot of vacuous, vainglorious fool as the rest of society? How else can I protect myself from all the soapbox preachers, teary-eyed whiners, and grandiose-stricken braggarts who think they’re such heaven-blessed heroes other than crawling into a hole and praying for such blowhards to simply up and vanish when those three types are the only variations of people I ever hear from–never anyone whose mindset is even remotely similar to my own? For crying out loud, people, grow up and leave me alone with your inauthentic, closed-minded, self-serving poppycock!

Sigh…there I go again. Why do I even bother? I should know by now that I’m not marriage material–never have been, never will be. What’s the point, then? Why am I even wasting both my time and yours with words you’ll more likely than not disregard as pure drivel from a man you probably have never met before and perhaps hope you’ll never have the misfortune of meeting in the future? To tell you the truth, I’m not sure, although I strongly believe that my main reason for writing you this letter is to get things off my chest and say unto you how I wish things were different–not only for me, of course, even though I’ve talked so much about myself so far, but also for you…for us. Like I’ve said before, I’ve no real idea about your experiences in this lifetime, but I hope that you’re doing far better than I am and are as joyous and prosperous as you could ever hope to be and that good fortune smiles upon you daily, even when things are at their worst for you. After all, even though I’ve more or less devolved into a bitter, contemptuous, spiteful creep whose primary hobby is feeling sorry for myself for being so down on my luck, I still haven’t turned into the completely despicable creature I often feel like, and though you may find it hard to believe, I actually care about you. I might go as far as to say that I love you, but that would be coming on too strong–even though I do wish I had it in me to grow up, get over myself, clean up my act, and actually show you some affection every now and then. No, no, I really mean it; it would do me some good to hold your hand every once in a while or perchance give you a hug or a kiss for the simple reason of feeling like it. It wouldn’t kill me in the least, either, to run my fingers through your hair, whisper sweet nothings in your ear, or hold you tightly in the evening when the night sky covers the land and Madame Luna watches over those in her charge. I would especially enjoy doing everything in my power to see you through your greatest grievances and to help you cope with the evils of this tainted world–you know, just to be there whenever you need someone to comfort you. Just to care for someone other than myself for once would do wonders for this blackened heart of mine–that is, of course, if I can only bring myself to overlook all of the idiots and jackasses on this planet and concentrate on those who deserve my attention. Then again, I’m sure that’s why so many people try to become involved in romantic relationships in the first place: to place themselves in another person’s shoes and accustom themselves to that other’s needs and aspirations in an effort to teach themselves to think about other people in general as opposed to only themselves.

You know, I’ve heard time and again that love conquers all–that love is so powerful a force that it can dispel any and all negative emotions that one may find oneself enduring. Even hatred, its antithesis, only barely stands a chance against its influence simply because of hatred’s purely destructive nature and love’s capacity to heal many a tortured spirit, regardless of the multitude, extensiveness, or basic severity of the wounds the subject has had to endure. Personally, I wouldn’t know, as I’ve never had a single girlfriend in my entire life, and by no means have any of my closest friends–which were few and far between, I can’t help but say–never showed me what I would consider to be “love,” as whatever respect and dignity they treated me with was a little too casual to satisfy the definition of such a label. Personally, I grew up thinking love meant more than just palling around or hanging out with someone or greeting said individual in the hallway with an affable, “Hey, how are ya?” every time I passed him or her. To me, love meant opening up one’s heart and sharing one’s deepest feelings and desires with little to no sense of shame or guilt–to share a special bond with a single, solitary human being that one couldn’t possibly share with anyone else, even if one were unscrupulous or otherwise crazy/foolish enough to try. As such, I’ve always considered lovers to engage in activities together that they never could bring themselves to do on their own or with persons whom they simply regarded as their friends–things like taking walks along deserted beaches or through empty parks just before dusk, dedicating love songs to one another over the radio, and treating each other to candle-lit dinners for two. All of these activities merely seem too intimate for ordinary friends to do with each other and are thus far more suitable for couples whose halves want to spend quality time together nurturing the sacred bond that has been growing between them for weeks into months into years on end. Such is the kind of thing I’d always wanted to experience somehow for myself, should it have been in the cards for me. At least then I would’ve come to the realization that hey, guess what–I’m not as evil as I once thought I was.

Well, I haven’t had good enough luck to experience that in the waking world, but I have in my imagination. You see, whenever I think about us as a couple–even though we never have been in this reality, as you and I both know–I always think of us as two people who thoroughly enjoy each other’s company, regardless of where we are or what we’re doing. Even a basic trip to the mall turns into a romantic getaway for the two of us, what with the way we stroll hand-in- hand from one shop to the next buying different things until we decided to take a break so that I can treat you to lunch at the restaurant of your choice. On the other hand, nothing beats a night of fine dancing, whether that occurrence takes place at a classy ballroom (a dying breed of an all-American institution, if there ever was one), a swinging 1940s-style nightclub, or even at home to the tunes playing on the radio or my CD player. Admittedly, I’ve never enjoyed the luxury of a slow dance with a girl, but I must say that I’ve thought about the notion quite frequently, so far to the point where I’ve used my CD burner to make three albums that consist entirely of love songs for couples to slow dance to. Since I’ve been so preoccupied with my studies and my job search, however, I don’t really do much with those albums other than listen to them, though I’ve often enough done just that whenever I’ve felt my sense of longing for love swell up from deep inside me. If you ask me, I’d think it’s be quite a nice change of pace for me to be sharing such a sweet, heartfelt moment with my future bride–you know, just the two of us gazing into each other’s eyes and swaying to the music, her hand on my shoulder and mine around her waist, lest I take the occasional opportunity to twirl her around and “dip” her just as all those dashing gents did with their dates in all those great romance movies from the mid-twentieth century. Who knows? We might even enjoy the pleasure of a deep, passionate kiss, thereby furthering the cementation of our “affaire de coeur.” I have to tell you, just thinking about such a moment melts the ice that has otherwise completely frozen this jaded heart of mine.

Of course, even with all this talk about love and togetherness, I’ve neglected to discuss possibly the most crucial step in our relationship–namely, our marriage. After all, if love is but a game and we are naught but players in it, then I’d at least like to be one of the players who’d play for keeps–especially if the reward were to be a lifetime of happiness with an adoring wife whom I could take care of. I don’t necessarily mean financially, either, although being a provider in that area would certainly be a great responsibility that I certainly wouldn’t shirk in the least, had I only the means to fulfill such a requirement. Basically, if I were your husband, I’d also enjoy doing many other things to make you proud to be my bride. For instance, I wouldn’t at all mind chipping in with any household chores that needed to be done, seeing as keeping our house in top shape would be just as much my responsibility as it would yours. Similarly, as much as I’ve learned to love the art of cooking, fixing up dinner for the two of us as well as for our daughter would suit me as being the ideal way of telling you both as to just how welcome you’d both be in my life and how proud I’d be to be the man in our family. Speaking of little Leslie Alexandra, I’d most definitely enjoy watching her grow up into just as fine a young woman as her mother and teach her the values of being the same kind of caring, responsible, hard-working adult that you and I were both raised to become. I wouldn’t even be embarrassed to talk about certain “women’s issues” with her, either, even if for no reason other than to help her understand the world around her and a woman’s role in it. After all, I know myself that I’d much sooner treat a woman with dignity and respect if she were to carry herself with poise, maturity, and sophistication in an effort to earn her way into society–even if she had struggle the whole while doing so–as opposed to taking the “easy way up” by sexually objectifying herself for the perverted pleasure of a bunch of boys in man-suits. Why, I’d even go as far as to give you the side of the bed closer to the bathroom so that when you would conceive Leslie, you wouldn’t have to take the long way around me in the middle of the night just to get up to empty your bladder. I know this specific instance is a particularly distasteful one for me to bring up, but when it comes to taking care of the gal to whom I’d be wed, every little bit counts.

Anyway, that’s it. I know this is a very exhausting letter to read, but when it comes to spilling my guts, I really do spill my guts–even if only figuratively and not literally. To me, thoroughness is important–if not downright crucial–when it comes to speaking my mind, and I thank you for having the patience with my mile-a-minute rambling to read me out and find out precisely what I’m talking about. Let it be known, sweetheart, that despite our never having met each other and the multiple flaws I have yet to get over, I love you like the soul mate I believe you would have been meant to be, had fate turned out the way I would have preferred it. As I may have said before, however, the chances of me marrying someone in this lifetime are slim to none, even if I do pull myself out of this rut I’m in and redeem myself for undergoing my own personal moral decline. Who knows, though? I might yet be able to prove myself worthy enough of redemption and effectively earn my right to lead a more successful, productive, and overall worthy life in the next reality, and at last we’ll have the opportunity to meet, fall in love, and exchange vows with one another just as I secretly hope we will at this moment. Not only that, but I’ll also be more competent, mature, responsible, and respectable as a man to be able to take care of you and our daughter by then, and because of that, our love will last a lifetime. Until then, of course, I can only dream, but even so, at least that dream will be one worth fighting for in the reality after this one.

So, until we finally meet, take care of yourself, and may fortune smile upon us soon.

All my love,

Owen

*****

Well, that should do it for today. Hopefully, this read has been an entertaining one for you all. If it has, please don’t hesitate to leave a response to this post. After all, who knows? I just might publish more on this blog along with my poetry and articles. Otherwise, my promise to provide more of what I had been this past summer will indeed continue once I’ve finally put UWWX on the market—possibly even sooner. You never know. It depends on how well I can get my act together in that regard. Until next time, though, thank you for reading, and please visit (if you haven’t already) my author page at Smashwords.com and follow me on twitter (@DustinMWeber). Happy reading!

Regards,

Dustin M. Weber