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…

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.