Parched Patreon: Hot

I wrote “Hot” in the dead of winter, coldest day of the year, with the wind howling outside the windows and the thermometer reading 8F. I was thinking about how my earlier complaining about the snow and cold would soon give way to complaining about the suffocating summer heat, giving the impression that one could never be truly satisfied with the weather.

The story went a long way toward cementing the Tribe as a running series; after writing it, I edited older stories to match its setting. The town of Ashton, Maine, a former mill village with a population of around 9,600, puts in its first appearance, 24 miles from Carver Cabin in Carver Gore, the territory of the Tribe and the 152 werewolves who call its dozen or so square miles of unincorporated land their home. The Tribe’s leader, called simply “The Master,” is a young visionary celebrated throughout the Pack for his problem-solving skills, though the people remain largely ungoverned. The Pack’s freedom is partly due to the legal maneuvering of Gabriel Blaine, a member of the Pack who passed the bar and created a non-profit trust granting the Pack stewardship of Carver Gore.

The werewolves of the Tribe are an indolent, goofy lot, though they do have the ability to lock-in when one of their own is in danger, and they have little tolerance for hostile humans. “Hot” asks a lot of its two protagonists: what do you do next when you’ve achieved your greatest dream? When does ennui turn into depression? How do you encourage someone else to take the reins of your life? And is the problem really just the heat, or is it something deeper? As Breakwater and Patrick stumble out of the woods on their fool’s quest to briefly join civilization, they’re confronted by their neglect of a part of themselves as beautiful as any beast.

Post-pubescent Patreon: Path of the Hunters, Part Two

I feel like I want to come back to this world at some point. Two mighty tribes have been at war so long that there hasn’t been a battle in centuries, and their conflict has evolved into a rigid slate of rules and courtesies designed to prevent violence from flaring up and involving both tribes. Two fierce warriors of these opposing tribes meet in the ruins of an ancient city, and cautiously dance around each other, trading insults and shaking weapons to cement their antagonism. Waltz of the frenemies.

Torvik continues to struggle with growing up; he thinks it’s a stupid idea and doesn’t want to do it, not that he has a choice. His body has been making some bad decisions for him lately, and he’s feeling churlish and short. His easygoing Kahjah opponent pities him somewhat, which outrages him further, and he’s picked a fight he hasn’t a prayer of winning…

Post-Apocalyptic Patreon: Path of the Hunters, Part One

I was going over this story for about the third time before posting it to Patreon when a random neuron fired and I suddenly remembered a story I first read in high school called “By the Waters of Babylon,” by Stephen Vincent Benet. Suddenly, scenes from it sprang fully-formed in my mind, images I haven’t thought of in nearly forty years.

I’ve written a lot of post-apocalyptic fiction that uses an urban environment being crushed by encroaching nature, and in the abstract, “Path of the Hunters” is just another in the conga line. None of it was written with “By the Waters of Babylon” in mind, at least not consciously, but this story probably falls closest to it on the scale.

Procrastinating Patreon: Solitary Company / Wanderers in the Dark

It’s interesting to rub these two stories together and see how werewolves have evolved over thirty years; “Solitary Company” would have been written in the early 1990s, while “Wanderers in the Dark” was written just a few years ago. Banning Deerblood is a heavyset, leather-wearing biker who owns a dive bar on a decrepit back road; Garrebor and Tarrock are ascetic scouts for a secluded tribe of New England werewolves. Banning is shy and timid, keeping his dual nature under his hat for discretion, while Garrebor and Tarrock are loud and fulsome about their circumstances.

But the one that caught my eye is that Banning Deerblood can shapeshift, and Garrebor and Tarrock cannot.

The elimination of shapeshifting was an odd turn for my writing to take. It’s pretty much what werewolves are famous for. In fact, a lot of my characters would have a much easier time of it if they could shapeshift. But in my current work, becoming a werewolf involves finding a Pack that will have you, and undergoing a grueling initiation and painful transformation. Nobody gets randomly bit during a hike in the gloaming. And the transformation is one-way. There’s no going back.

Payoff Patreon: Junkyard Dog, Part Two

A while ago I was asked to split a story into two parts for an anthology series. I was a little stumped by the request; the story wasn’t terribly long and I wasn’t sure how to build suspense for a cliffhanger in the middle of it, just when everyone was getting comfortable. Somehow I managed it, and the story was accepted.

For these longer works, I’m looking for a happy medium between just dropping the axe in the middle of a word and having to concoct suspense in an inappropriate scene, just to cleave to the 4,000-6,000 word-per-week rule. Clearly, some of these efforts are going to be a challenge, and “Junkyard Dog” was long enough that it had to be divided very carefully, meaning it leans more toward dropping the axe. At least I had a reveal at the end of the first part. Maybe with practice…

Partial Patreon: Junkyard Dog, Part One

Didn’t take long for me to post all the low-hanging fruit I had in storage; stories that hit between four and six thousand words that were in good enough shape to show the world. From here on in, I guess I have to work for a living.

I created Junkyard Dog in the 1990s when I was creating anthropomorphic characters left and right; he was the sane half of a duo living in the New York underground with a grubby, impulsive idiot named Packrat. It took a long time for him to find a story, but he eventually ended up in this tale about an unpleasant, anti-social anthropomorphic Wolf protecting a mountain of metal junk from avaricious merchants who want to use it to suppress neighboring tribes.

I’ve got some notes indicating that this story is set in the White Crusade universe. This was also the second time after “Found: One Apocalypse” that I wrote a story featuring elemental smelting; in my defense, I don’t know much about metallurgy.

Protective Patreon: The Protectors / Judaism and the Art of Model-T Maintenance

When I went over “The Protectors” to decide if it was fit for Patreon, I was a little surprised at how old it was. It reads like a proto-“Tribe” story, with Chorou as an early version of Gabriel. The story is date-stamped 1996, but it could have been written any time in the last twenty years. I’m no longer a fan of characters talking like barbarian kings, but I wanted the werewolves in this story to be alienating to the human characters so they’d have to temper their unease. The two rivals clinking champagne glasses at the end is also something more likely to show up in a later story. Looking back, I’m surprised I never tried to get it published.

“Judaism and the Art of Model-T Maintenance” was written for a college writing class, probably in 1992. I learned a lot in college writing classes: I learned that they were an easy A, I learned that I’d never get an honest critique in them, and I learned that writing professors eat up this sort of derivative literary pretension with a spoon. I also learned that I’d much rather write genre fiction than literary fiction and that I do not write to order well. I did write some good stories as homework, but that just wasn’t the path I wanted to take.

Peculiar Patreon: Swirlie / Monster’s Buffet

I don’t really have an explanation for “Swirlie.” I don’t remember exactly when it was written, but it was long before the “anything for attention” social media days, where people gleefully light themselves on fire for clicks. I did see one disturbing little TikTok recently in which some kid proudly drank out of the toilet, so I guess the possibility of “Swirlie” was always there, even if the medium wasn’t.

“Monster’s Buffet” is one of the “Licensed Beasts” stories. The Tribe also uses licenses in some cases. Werewolves are allowed to move unrestricted among humans as long as they’re licensed; there’s a fee and a written test, and the license has to be renewed every five years. And if a human accuses a werewolf of threats or violence, it can be revoked. It’s a terrible form of oppression, but it’s also not taken seriously. Some towns are strict about licenses, others don’t bother to check. Public places decide more or less on an individual basis to enforce licensing, and judges may be strict or lenient on whether those licenses are revoked.

What it does create is a wonderful incentive for werewolf-hating humans to pick fights, knowing that werewolves can’t even show their teeth without risking everything. An unlicensed werewolf basically has no rights; if they’re lucky, they’ll just be handed over to their own Pack and told to stay out of town. If they’re unlucky…well…they’d better hope they’re lucky.

Past Patreon: Cave of the Bear Clan / In the Cave

“In the Cave” was written as a college assignment in the early 1990s. To be honest (rub back of neck, nervous glance about the room) I didn’t get much out of college writing classes. I never received anything but the most ebullient praise in them, which is nice, but one doesn’t learn much from it. I would have been better served with lessons in an absorbing opening, rising action, building suspense, characterization, and a memorable climax. Instead, it was a circle of a dozen students reading their prose and clapping each other on the back for their genius. The professor might as well have gone out for coffee.

Later, I rewrote “In the Cave” into “Cave of the Bear Clan.” There’s not much resemblance between the two stories, and I bet you can guess which one has bear-people in it. They’re both about troubled college students exploring a cave and discovering how the past and present can redeem each other.

I don’t know much about spelunking myself, as I’ve seen enough YouTube videos to horrify me out of ever visiting any cave that doesn’t have a tour guide and a gift shop. (Seriously, what are you people doing?) So the caves in these stories are big and roomy and atmospheric instead of the tight little cracks in the rock that seem to attract every claustrophile with a selfie stick looking for a granite hug. Honesty, props to the mission, but it’s not for me.

Precarious Patreon: Baggage

This week brings a horror story suggested by Stephen King himself.

Not directly, I hasten to add. I never met the man and would probably be too gobsmacked to say anything if I did. The story comes from a writing prompt in his book “On Writing,” a must-have for any writer that fits very neatly on the shelf next to Strunk and White and the most recent Writer’s Marketplace.

The prompt is a little dated, so the story is a little dated; I doubt I wouldn’t have made the antagonist quite so cartoonishly evil if I’d written it today. The Internet being what it is, there’s always the possibility of unintended interpretations. That’s the gamble you take.

Ask Stephen King.