The Story of Stuff

The Story of Stuff

The Story of Cap and Trade

The Story of Cap and Trade

The Story of Bottled Water

The Story of Bottled Water

Fabulous Flash Award

I don’t usually get involved with blog memes like the Fabulous Flash Award (originating with Mad Utopia); however, this one was bestowed upon me by P.J. Kasier, whose flash fiction I admire – check out her Tuesday Serial, The Pianist. Unless I'm mistaken, the award is for my controbution to the Tuesday Serial community, The Bike Mechanic. However, I have a few other bits of flash fiction floating around: Beyond Peaking, Dog Fight, and The Last Act. (I also publish longer work if you're interested: Click Here.)

Enough about me. Here are a few flash fiction authors that I read:

• Alexandra Wolfe, wrangler of The Hive Mind writers. You can find her fiction at Fantastical Flights of Fiction. You'll no doubt want to check out her flash fiction story "Obituary." 
• Karen Schindler, editor of Pow Fast Flash Fiction. - She posts her controbutions to #fridayflash on her website, Miscellaneous Yammering. 
• Tonya R. Moore, author of numerous web serials that can be found at Tremendous Universe.  
• Amy Letts, author of Epic Fail. - Okay, so Amy draws and writes comic panels, which is stretching the purpose of the Fabulous Flash Award, but her work deserves attention. See, I shouldn't get involved in these things - I break rules. 

Congradulations! The four of you have been awarded the Soulless Machine's version of the Fabulous Flash Award! Enjoy!

Bike Mechanic: 9 Trouble

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If you missed a previous chapter, you can find them archived here: Bike Mechanic Chapter Archive

9.  Trouble

Seward’s search results generated hundreds of entries for emergency plumbers, and only three for Jed’s. Each of those entries were for speculative websites that claimed to monitor the movements of several Federal agencies. Before Seward panicked, he refined his search to include Minnesota. Again, his results only generated speculative websites. Now, Seward thought it was likely that who ever was in the van was on to his searches and knew that he  knew that Jed’s Emergency Plumbing was a front.

           

Instead of panicking, which was what he really wanted to do right now, he pulled out a blank work order stated making two lists: 1) Pros, 2) cons, for helping Inez. It was soon obvious what his next course of action should require of him. He should walk out side, cross the street, and knock on the side of the van. He should give Inez up. His work in the community was worth more than the affections of a beautiful woman.

           

What the fuck am I doing, Seward thought as he crumpled up the work order. She needs my help.

           

Seward walked back to the spare room. Before he knocked, his imagination got away from him. He saw her naked, but before he could explore her curves with his mind’s eye, the door opened.

           

Inez stood in the doorway. She was wearing one of his blue work shirts. The half-rusted half-sparking new crank-and-gear logo rested above her left breast. She had left the top four buttons unfastened, and her tan legs were bare. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair.

           

Seeing Inez in one of his work shirts was better than anything he had started to imagine. Struggling to keep his composure, he asked, “Umm…yeah. Do you know by chance if you were followed?” He lifted his arm to point to the front of the store. “Because I’m fairly certain that the Feds are parked out front.”

           

Inez’s eyes popped open. She looked a like deer caught in headlights, panicked, defenseless, and unable to move. She managed to squeak out, “Help me.”

How to feed the world ? from Denis van Waerebeke

How to feed the world ? from Denis van Waerebeke on Vimeo.

Lumberjack World Championships - Hayward, Wisconsin

I'm off to work this morning. Then, after teaching, I'm off to Hayward, Wisconsin for the Lumberjack World Championships. If you are interested, I'll be Tweeting and Twitpicing all weekend as long as I have cell reception.  

Bike Mechanic: 8 The Ride

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If you missed a previous chapter, you can find them archived here: Bike Mechanic Chapter Archive

8. The Ride

Seward fell in behind the others after they hit the Greenway. He might have talked up his riding skills, but he knew that he was a slower rider. They were going to average twelve to eighteen miles-per-hour, while he hung back between seven and ten. When he saw Jason look over his shoulder, Seward waved him on. He hadn’t joined them on the ride to keep up; he had wanted some time away from Inez and the shop to think. Something about Inez didn’t seem right, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

           

For a few minutes, Seward just enjoyed the ride. The Greenway was busy this morning. There were families, in-line skaters, commuters, joggers, and walkers; name a mode of fossil-fuel-free transportation, and it could be found on the Greenway. Seeing all those people using human-power to move around gave Seward hope.

There was one couple on a tandem bike having difficulty deciding who in charge. If they were smart about it, they would quickly determine that the person in front should make decisions about turning and speed. The trick to a two-person ride was communication. If they were going to turn, the lead position should find a way to single the person in the back or they could topple. The same thing went for stopping and staring; it took coordination and practice, which this couple obviously didn’t posses.

After Seward passed the couple on the tandem bike, he relaxed a little more and turned his thoughts to Inez. Damn women, he thought. If a guy would have walked in and asked for the same kind of help, he would have told them to fuck off; but a dark haired, sun-touched woman was another story.

Maybe, Seward thought, if I’d gotten laid at some point in past five years, I wouldn’t be thinking with my cock. Axle grease and my hand make for a poor lover.

Before he knew it, Seward was pulling to a stop at the Hiawatha Bike Trail over pass, next to Jason and the others.

“Seward,” Jason said, “We’re going on to Minnehaha Falls before we turn around.”

“Sure. I have to re-open the shop, so I catch up you guys tomorrow morning.”

“I know you’d cut it short.”

“I have a business to run.”

“Sure. Excuses.”

“Jason, you’re ass.” Seward shifted his weight and started to back up, but then he had a thought. “You should stop back by the store later. I need your help with something. We’ll unless you’re too hip to get your hands dirty.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“No. Just show up later this afternoon.”

“See you later.”

Seward waved, and he sat on his chopper watching the others ride off for a few minutes before turning around to ride back to the shop.

The sun was still low in the sky, so as Seward road west he decided to lose the sunglasses. As he approached the Bryant Ave exit ramp near his shop. His shoulders tightened up.

Inez.

On the ride back he had committed to helping her, and when he was done, he had decided to go see Al in the hospital – rules or no rules. Still, he had a bad feeling that helping Inez was taking him down a path that he did want to go down, a path that he had thought he’d gotten off of years ago.

As he pulled out the keys to unlock the door to shop, he noticed a white van parked on the eastbound side of W Lake Street. The logo on the side indicated a plumbing service that he’d never seen before today. However, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked for a plumber.

Had this business with Inez made him jumpy, or was Emmet’s paranoia of covert government operatives out to get him slowly returning and shifting in to a higher gear? Either way, the first thing that Seward did after flipping the shop sign to OPEN and parking his chopper was to Google “Jed’s Emergency Plumbing.”

Fanboy Fiction: Waste of Time or Productive?

I’m a big H.P. Lovecraft fan, and I started a project a while back. I wanted to review, here, all of his fiction (what I’ve reviewed thus far). I may get back to that project at some point. However, when I read his work, or the work of any strong writer, I end up writing something in the same vain – same world even. Any true Lovecraft fan knows what I’m talking about: You’ve read his work, and now you want to contribute. I’m not so different.

I’ve written several stories that would not just be considered derivative of Lovecraft’s mythos, but Fanboy Fiction. I’m not embarrassed about these stories. They were great practice stories. However, now what do I do with these stories. Do I revise out the Mythos and submit them, toss them, or try to find a home for them in a Fanboy journal?

What do you think about Fanboy Fiction? Is Fanboy Fiction worth the trouble or should it be avoided? Weight in.

Bike Mechanic: 7 The Greenway Collation

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If you missed a previous chapter, you can find them archived here: Bike Mechanic Chapter Archive

Seward had held Inez until she had calmed down. When he had finally let go, he had told her that she needed to get some rest, and that there was a cot in the back room. And like anyone else trying to recover from shock, he found comfort in routine. He had opened the shop just in time for the morning meeting of The Greenway Collation, a group of concerned bike enthusiasts that helped keep the city’s longest stretch of bike path clean and safe. They also petitioned the city council on a regular basis that was responsible for the construction of a hundred new miles of converted railway and side-of-street paths over the last couple of years.

The Greenway Collation had made Seward’s Custom Cycle Repair & Junk Yard one of their home bases. Seward was member. The shop was only a block away from one of The Greenway’s on-off ramps in Uptown area.  It was also located across the street from a couple of coffee joints and a hipster bowling ally and restaurant that was popular with the single-speed and fixed-gear crowds. The synergy of the neighborhood worked.

Seward noted that their ride was going to be light today. There were only three cyclists sifting through parts. When the ride was this light, he’d typically close the shop and join in, but today was very different. He had Inez to worry about, but he needed to clear his head, and he felt like a ride. He wrote a quick note for Inez and taped it where she would find it, on the handle bars of her Big Dummy.

“I’ll ride along today.”

Jason, a single-speed fanatic that road a self-constructed grasshopper green road bike with white tires and handle grips said, “Great, where really short today.” He looked around the shop. “What are you going to take out?”

“My chopper.” Seward pointed to a tomato red cruiser with tires that were big enough to support a small motorcycle. The frame was elongated and based onKustom Kruisers’ Sick Daddy, but with the modifications that Seward had added, it looked more like Tetsuo’s low-rider motorcycle from the animated film Akira.

“Cool.” Jason asked, “Do you think that you’ll be able to keep up with that monster?”

“I just added new cruiser hubs that store some of energy though friction, and then they release it when I stop peddling. They’ll keep me going about twenty miles an hour, so the question is, can you keep up?”

“You’re cheating. Where’s the fun it that?”

“Hey, these babies will have more average people commuting to work on bikes this year and next. They’re worth it.” Seward pushed his bike to the door. “Besides not everyone can be as cool and hip as you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The rider of an elite road bike, dressed in all the proper clothes said, “Jason, you’re kind of an ass.”

LUNAR ANTICS by Robert Walters

Lunar Antics

@LunarAnticsZed directed messaged me with a link to above trailer for Robert Walters' Lunar Antics, and I thought that I'd pass it along. I'd recommend it for anyone who is a fan of the TV show The Big Bang Theory on CBS. However, the characters in the comic are disturbed by the idea that they are composed of something called DNA. Truly fun stuff.      

What Just Happened?

What just happened? Where did all of these posts come from?

I'm coming back to his site. I'm leaving an experiment behind, so I moved all the good stuff from that site to this one.

Ha!

I’ve been assimilated by The Hive Mind

The Borg: We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.

In the case of The Hive Mind, why would I want to resist? The Hive Mind is collective of talented speculative, science fiction, fantasy, and horror writers, and I'm honored to have the opportunity to work with them. If you take the time to scan the Meet the Authors page, you'll see that I've been listed among the following literary movers and shakers from all over the globe:

• ALEXANDRA WOLFE (Quebec, Quebec) — Web | Blog | Facebook
• MARK J. HOWARD (Lancashire, England) — Web | Facebook
• BREN MACDIBBLE (Melbourne, Australia) — Web | Blog | Facebook
• TONYA R. MOORE (Sarasota, Florida)  — Web | Blog
• JOHN CLAUDE SMITH  — Facebook
• MARIA DI GIROLAMO (London, England)
• BONNIE KELEHER
• STUART SHARP (East Yorkshire, England) — Web
• TRACIE McBRIDE (Melbourne, Australia) — Facebook

They are all widely published, and I'm looking forward to exploring their writing further as they assimilate me. Here is what they had to say about me today: New Member – Aaron M. Wilson.

Bike Mechanic: 6. The Test

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If you missed a previous chapter, you can find them archived here: Bike Mechanic Chapter Archive.

6. The Test

It had been a long time since Seward had used the railroad cards. He read the question on the card he'd flipped over to himself a couple of times. He felt the answers flood back. It had been a simpler time when he'd written a plan for smuggling eco-fugitives, but most of the rules still applied. He wondered if the next station was even in tact. Susan could have moved. She might be more out of practice he was, and she might turn Inez down. Any number of things could go wrong. However, Seward had built a fragile system for a reason. He didn't want anyone to get hurt. Still, he didn't believe in running anyway. In a world that respected and created short-lived media-stars, the only way to truly draw attention to your cause was to get caught, go to trial, go to jail, and serve your time.

Seward had only built the railroad at Helen's request. Seward had loved her, and she had gone a long with his crazy stunts because she'd loved him. They'd planed a life together, but he'd needed to prove his values to a bunch of freshmen. He had let himself be arrested, and well, that was that.

He put the card down. "Fuck the test. Just talk to me." He brushed the cards into a pile, straightened them by tapping them on the counter, and sealed them back in the leather box. The test seemed distant and unreal, a hippy's dream. He liked to think of himself as a businessman now, someone who thought through things with reason and logic and didn't act on his passions.

"Why did you run?"

Inez looked around. "Can we sit?"

"Sure." Seward motioned for her to come around the counter. He had three barstools behind the counter. He got up on one. "I'm just so used to standing all day that I forget that I have these."

"I…" Inez paused while she moved a seat closer. "I…The bomb that I used should have only taken out the plant's pumps. No big deal right. But something happened and it raised the building."

"Shit."

"I'll be charged and tried as a domestic terrorist, A.K.A, Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols. You know the Oklahoma City bombers who took out the Federal building."

"Sure, I could see the charges being steep, but you didn't kill anyone did you?"

Inez sucked on her lower lip.

"Did you?"

"The bomb killed 5 people."

Seward's mouth hung open. He knew that sometimes people got hurt when activist went too far. He'd known the risks. It was why he'd always hit small operations at night because he'd know they wouldn't have a third shift.

Inez sobbed. Her body shook. Hugging herself tightly, purple rivers of dark mascara ran down the sides of her nose. She started to gasp as if hyperventilating.

Seward asked himself why evolution had hardwired him with a sympathy-gene for desperate women that triggered an irrational savior complex. He'd never killed anyone. He counted all of the destruction he'd caused over the years, and somehow he'd managed to only ever cripple machines. Even though he was thinking that he should call the cops and turn her in himself – perhaps they'd finally stop watching him – his body was up and moving. He found himself hugging her tightly to him. "Don't worry." Seward murmured. "We'll get you safely away."

Bike Mechanic: 5. Civil Disobedience

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If you missed a previous chapter, you can find them archived here: Bike Mechanic Chapter Archive

5. Civil Disobedience


Seward didn't say anything for a few minutes. Instead he felt the need bang on something. He walked around the counter to his workstation and picked up a bent wheel rim and a truing mallet. Seward took a couple of swings at the rim, thwacks and twangs rang though the otherwise silent shop.

In-between his hammer swings, he could hear Inez trying to tell him something, but the ringing in his ears blocked everything out. Until he thought he had heard her say something about Al and a railroad. He let his shoulders sag, and he put the mallet away. "Come again?" Seward turned around. "What was that about Al?"

"He told me that you were part a railroad."
Seward snorted.

"Can you…I don't know." If she would have been blond, she would have flipped her hair off her should. She wasn't. So she demanded, "Make me disappear."

"Disappear? Disappear. Did you even bother to read my activism manifesto?" Seward raised his hand. "Don't. I know you didn't. Abby's characters might have cut and run, but I sided with Henry David Thoreau. Civil Disobedience without a face is nothing more than a pointless criminal act."

"Thoreau never said that."

"Your right. He didn't, but I did." Seward pulled a small leather box out from under near the register. He opened it and paused. "If no one takes credit for an act of extreme activism, it becomes a random act of violence."

Inez shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Is that why you stuck around and got arrested? We just thought you were sloppy."

"Sloppy?"

Inez took a couple of aggressive steps forward. "Yeah, sloppy."

"I took responsibility. Taking responsibility is not sloppy." Seward didn't back down. Instead, he let Inez invade his personal space. She was close enough that he could feel the heat from her body, but they weren't touching. "Thoreau spent time in jail for tax evasion. He stood up for what he believed in. He followed thought."

"The laws are different now. The acts are different."

"No. I disagree."

"You can disagree all you want, but I'm not going to jail." Inez stepped back. She turned her back to Seward. "Al told me that you might not want to help me, so he gave me a few other names, but he said to try you first." Inez pulled out a wad of bills. "If you need money…"

"Put your money away."

"So you'll help?"

"Yeah, I'll help." Seward stared to line up index cards on the display case. "But not until you tell me more about Al."

Inez picked up one of the cards. "What are these?"

"The railroad."

"What do you want to know about Al?"

"How is he?"

"Not good. I had to get special permission to visit him in the hospital."

"Let me guess…"

"He has lung cancer, but he couldn't stop talking about the good old days."

"Well, they weren't so good."

"You should go see him. I could tell you where he's staying. I know that's not how it works, but you should go see him. He seemed lonely."

"We're all lonely, and you're right, it's not how it works." Seward took the card back and placed it on the counter. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"You're sure." Seward looked into her eyes and saw a fierce quality that he could admire. "You only get one chance at this. If you answer any of the questions incorrectly, or I feel that you'd put the railroad at risk, I'll stop. You'll be on your own."

"I'm ready."

Seward flipped over the first card.

Bike Mechanic: 4. Bad Ideas

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If you missed a previous chapter, you can find them archived here: Bike Mechanic Chapter Archive.

4. Bad Ideas


Inez retrieved a map. She spoke as she walked across the shop to the sales counter. "The University of Michigan's chapter of The Monkey Wrench Gang is still active. We're still under your original charter. Did you really write the charter as a freshman?" Inez opened a map of Northern Michigan and flattened it out on the glass counter top.

Seward listened. He didn't want to believe that the student club he started his first year in college was still active. He'd read The Monkey Wrench Gang and several other of Edward Abby's novels in high school. Seward might not have grown up in the Southwest, but the encroachment of man on nature was everywhere. The characters in Abby's novels took action. They didn't wait around for justice. They took revenge on the behalf of billions of voiceless species and ecosystems that were being poached, abused, and degraded. "Actually, I wrote the charter when I was fifteen." He grinned, looking a little embarrassed.

Seward's smile quickly tuned into a vicious snarl when he saw the markings on the map Inez had unfolded. "Tell me you didn't." He pointed at a red fist drawn in Mecosta County, MI.
"Don't you listen to the news?" Inez put her hand on her hips.

"I try not to."

"We'll you should." She looked around the shop. "No radio?"

"I'd be tempted to listen to Minnesota Public Radio." He had allowed her to shift the conversation again, but he'd not give up. "I'd be tempted to get involved. Being involved got me nowhere and nothing." He waved his hand around the shop. "If you really want to change the world, stop talking about it do something local. Raise awareness in your community. Not only does this shop keep kids off the street and out of trouble, but if you check the logs," he pointed to the wall left of the front door, "You can see the amount of carbon and CO2 we've prevented."

Inez shook her head. "What happened to you? You're soft." Inez started to fold up the map. "Soft like everyone else. You've been lulled into believing that the small things matter."

Seward snorted. "So, what did the hard-boiled-eco princess do?"

"I think you know."

"You attacked the Nestle water bottling plant in Mecosta County." Seward shook his head think that she'd likely broken in and tampered with the equipment. The damage would be a temporary setback, costing hundreds of thousands in lost hours of productivity. This was also likely his fault.
He had drawn up detailed plans that outlined three options for escalation. Option 1: disrupt shipping. Option 2: disrupt pumping. Option 3. demolition. Demolition was never a real option. He had made that clear in the charter. Options 1 and 2 would result in criminal misdemeanors, while option three would almost always result in a felony conviction if caught. "Which of my plans did you carry out, option 1 or 2, or a little of both?"

Inez twisted the map in her hands. "I blew it up."

Bike Mechanic: 3. Hayduke

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If you missed a previous chapter, you can find them archived here: Bike Mechanic Chapter Archive

3.  Hayduke

"I run a bicycle junk yard," Seward crossed his arms defensively and took a step back. "Look around." He was going to elaborate on the ecological value of recycling bicycles and getting people out of their cars, but didn't want to get sidetracked, so he unfolded his arms, putting his hands in his pockets, and asked again, "So, you know who I am. I'd like to know who told you where to find me?"

Inez put the wrench in her hand down on the counter before meeting his eyes with her pale green-grays. "Al sent me."

"The fuck he did." Seward quickly looked around the shop. It was still empty except for the two of them. He turned and walked to the front door, flipped the open sign to closed, and locked it. He picked up seat-post still connected to ratty looking saddle and slowly walked back over her WorkStation.

Seward looked quickly to the early morning street though the display windows. The streets were will empty. He raised his improvised club. "You have until ten to give me the safe word before I feed you to my compost heap." He looked back out at the street. "One, two, three, four…"
Inez didn't seem to be frightened. She put her hand on her slender hips. The only sign that seemed to indicate that she was taking Seward threat seriously was that she had taken two steps backward and now had her back up against the worktable.

"…five, six…" Seward was ready. He wasn't going to let past mistakes ruin what he had going here. His life wasn't perfect. He was always strapped for cash, and some weeks he had to go without a few meals, but he was his own boss. He also felt that he was doing the local community a service by giving teens a place to hangout and work on their bikes after school and on the weekends. He was teaching them a life skill. "…seven, eight…"

Inez reached into her pocket and pulled out a small laminated card with a clenched fist in a circle, lines radiating out from the fist. She held it up and read the word on the back, Hayduke. She held out the card for Seward to take. "Really, Edward Abbey. Seems, I don't know: cliché"
Seward wasn't sure he wanted to put the seat post down. He looked at her bike and for a split second thought, he could get way with killing her and make a tidy profit. Instead, he shook his head and dropped seat post at his feet. "That person is long gone. I haven't been Emmet Seward in over fifteen years."

Seward took the card. "Wow. Earth First." Seward rolled up his sleeve exposing a tattoo that matched the emblem on the card. Then he opened his hand indicating that she should look around the shop. "My activism these days is what you see here."

Inez looked around. "I like it."

"So," Seward rolled his sleeve back down, "Why do you need Emmet Seward?"

Bike Mechanic: 2. Customer Service

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If you missed a previous chapter, you can find them archived here: Bike Mechanic Chapter Archive.

2. Customer Service

She leaned the Big Dummy against a wall, opened up one of the panniers and pulled out a multi-tool and a half-eaten sandwich. After taking a bite of the sandwich, she looked to be taking in the place.

Seward picked up a flyer, what he liked to think as the Seward Coop Menu of services, and made his way over. He held out the flyer. "What can I help you with?" He would have rather given her a pick up line, but he needed money. Even in the current economy, people still tended to buy new bikes rather than parts, and the rent on the building was due again in a few days.

Looking Seward in the eyes, she took the flyer. "I've got a long haul ahead. I was just passing by when I saw your sign. Thought I'd take a look around." She handed the flyer back. "I think that I'd like to use your bathroom, and…" She looked over Seward's shoulder, "I might make use of a station."

Seward shrugged his shoulders. "Five dollars an hour. Plus parts and lube." He walked back to the counter and picked up a key. He held it up. "Key for the bathroom. There's a shower back there. Feel free to use it." He knew she'd been on the road a while by her offending orders. Normally, Seward found sweaty women all that more attractive, but she smelled spoiled.

"Really?" She opened the other pannier and pulled out some clothes. "You have a towel?"

Seward had stocked towels when he opened, but found that he hated laundry day more since then, so he stopped. "Sorry, no. However, there is a couple bars of soap and some really cheap shampoo." He bunched up his face as if tasting something bitter. "If you feel so inclined, there is jar back there. If you can spare anything to help keep it socked, it'd be much appreciated."
As she hurried by, she said, "Thanks Emmet."

At hearing his middle name a loud, Seward's typical relaxed demeanor was replaced with one of panicked curiosity. Emmet, he thought. No one round here knows me as Emmet. Well, no one beside my parole-officer, and I haven't had to see him in a couple of years. Everyone I know knows me as Dan or Seward.

His thoughts kept spinning round and round until he landed on the last time he'd used his middle name. It'd been more than ten years, back when he was in college in Michigan. At that time, he'd thought that he'd been Dan in high school, so in college he'd wanted to see where Emmet would get him. Funny thing, Emmet didn't get him very far. Sounded too southern, and northern folk equate southern with slow and stupid.

Well, he thought, pondering wouldn't pay the bills. He picked up the next ticket and found a real rock-jumper that needed suspension work. He found the bike in his lined up orders and placed it on his WorkStand. As he lifted the bike, the suspension fork dropped to their full extension.
After securing the bike, he applied pressure to the front tire to test the suspension. The fork easily slid all the way up as if there wasn't air in them. First things first, he thought as he collected an air pump. He opened the damping valve and attempted to re-pressurize the fork, but just after a few pumps, he realized that the seals were blown, and he'd have to take the suspension a part and rebuild it with new seals. Luck for the customer, Seward kept replacement seals on hand. They were hard to come by because the manufacturer would rather have the sale of a new fork for $1,600 than four-dollar replacement seals. And so would most retailers for that matter, while Seward just wanted to get people back on the road and out of their cars.

Seward put all of his focus into repairing the suspension fork, but in-between steps his mind drifted off to the woman using the shop's shower. Other than her off putting odor, she was very attractive, and she somehow knew his middle name. He'd couldn't escape imagining her naked body. He could bet that she'd have more tattoos than those on her arms. Those thoughts led him to imaging her opening the door to the shower and inviting him to join her, which of course ended in their having the best sex he'd had in years. Which wouldn't have been difficult seeing that it'd been years since he'd last had relations with a woman.

Before he knew it, he'd pressurized the suspension fork, taken the bike down off of his WorkStand, and parked it with the others ready for pick up. He was about to call and leave a message for the bike's owner as the woman came out from the shower drying her hair with a t-shirt.

"Thanks. I really needed a shower." She put down five bucks on the counter. "For the workspace for next hour." She packed her clothes back up in her bike and rolled it over to the station furthest from the shop's windows.

Seward watched her for a few minutes as she tinkered, tightening a few bolts and checking her tire alignment before going back to his pile of repairs. He picked his phone up again to call the customer when he decided that he wanted to know how she knew his middle name more. He put the phone back down and walked over to her workstation.

He wasn't one to beat around the bush, so he asked her outright. "How do you know my middle name?"

She put her tools down slowly and turned around. Her eyes were wide.

Seward noticed her fearful reaction the question, so he took a step back and rephrased it. "Ah, I mean, no one round here knows me as Emmet. I go by Dan or Seward." He held out his hand to her and smiled. "Hi. I'm Dan Seward."

His awkward back peddling must have lighted the mood because she took his hand and replied, "I'm Inez."

Seward let go of her hand. "So, Inez…" He let the question tail off as he looked at her bike. "What do you think of the Big Dummy?"

"It's a little heavy, but it's the station wagon of hybrid bikes."

Seward nodded. "I like to think of them as SUVs."

"Manlier." She put her hand on her hips. "Either way, they get the job done."

"Yeah. That they do."

Inez still looked nervous, but as her shoulder's sagged, she opened up. "You're Daniel Emmet Seward." She looked around as if to check for eavesdroppers. "You're the environmentalist who took out the lumber mill a few years back near Ann Arbor." Inez paused. "I was told you might still be sympathetic to the cause – that you might help me."

Bike Mechanic: 1. Big Dummy

#TuesdaySerial Guidelines

1. Big Dummy

Dan Seward stood behind the display counter with tire leavers in both hands admiring the bent rims, broken spokes, and flat tires on the Specialized hard tail mountain bike he had up on his RockStand WorkStand. He yawned thinking that it was too early to be up. His customers wouldn't up for several hours yet, so why did he think that opening up by eight everyday was a good idea. He didn't know, but it felt right to be at work in the morning. His father and mother had always been out the door before six, which was something that Seward had always promised he never submit himself to for very long.

Slipping the tire leavers between the rim and the tire sidewalls, Seward slowly bent and twisted the tires off without pinching the inner tube. Even though he liked the simplicity of a hard tail, there were times and places for full or half suspension bikes. Looking at that abuse that this bike had taken, he was sure that the owner had bitten off more than the bike could chew.
Seward tried to imagine what the rider looked like. If the bike was any kind of tell, the rider was likely in bad shape. The work ticket on the bike didn't have any clues. It was just the usual: "Scrap if repair exceeds value." Most people didn't try Seward's Custom Cycle Repair & Junk Yard first. They'd try the high end places first like Erik's with clean well spaced and orderly displays, helpful sales people, and overnight service. Customers wouldn't find those things at Seward's.

At Seward's customers were encouraged to fix their own bikes. Seward had started Seward's Custom Cycle Repair & Junk Yard to fulfill his required community service hours, doing something that he felt gave back to the community and had some sustaining potential for the future. The shop was more like a garage that was sectioned off into several fully equipped workstations. Customers would rent a station by the hour and make use of any and all of Seward's tools. There were also buckets of parts that could be scavenged, nothing more than five or ten dollars, which he'd salvaged from bike just like the one he was working on now, when the owner decided that the cost of repair was just shy of something newer and shinier.

It was sad. Most people were only willing to shell out a couple hundred for a bike, which meant they were looking at cheep inferior parts; however, again, for most people those bikes were adequate. However, when someone took a two-hundred dollar Wal-Mart special, like this one, even though it was from a quality name brand like Specialized, it just wasn't build to rock-hop. Seward had tied to explain that to a few customers before giving up by asking if they'd feel safe taking a Yugo off-road.

After better inspecting the bike, Seward decided to call the customer and deliver the bad news: his labor to true the rims and straighten the front and rear dropouts would likely exceed the cost of bike. As he went to take the bike down off his WorkStand, the front door chimed. In rolled a Big Dummy: the very popular Surly model with an extend frame that allowed for a rider to haul a hell of a lot of stuff in two oversized panniers. Big Dummies were very popular with the outdoors types that liked to camp, eat granola, and smoke more than their fair share of weed.

Seward looked up from the bike to the owner pushing it in through the door. She was something out of a Bike Magazine fantasy: tall, fit, tan, raven black hair cut into a bob with blue poking out from underneath around the back of her neck. Her forearms were bare and covered in a chaotic rainbow of flower tattoos. Suddenly, Seward thought he had woken up in a Dick Tracy noir, and he found himself thinking that she was going to be nothing but trouble.

eFictionMag: The Premier Internet Fiction Zine

Visit eFiction Magazine and download the June issue today. It's Free!

I've been featured in June, of eFiction Magazine: The Premier Internet Fiction Zine. The editor, Doug Lance, interviewed me and asked several good questions about my writing background and process. The June issue also contains three of my short stories:

1. "Keeping Watch" is the story of a possible future where the people of earth are enslaved at worst or indentured servants at best to the people who have escaped to live in orbit. The story follows the struggles of Randal Haus who works in immigration, processing applications. One day, on his way to work, Randal witnesses an event that shatters this clean and orderly world of numbers and applications.
2. "Running of the Cows" is a story about a ghostwriting reporter who recounts an atrocity at the newly constructed border wall between The United States of America and Mexico. What he witnessed is nothing short of horrific.
3. "A Tea Party" is about a boy with abusive parents. He does everything right, but his parents still fight about everything. All he wants is to have an adventure that he can share at the school lunch table – a real adventure. Therefore, when a young girl covered in dirt approaches him, he pursues her when she takes off down the alley all in the name of adventure.

It is odd is that I wrote the first two stories in 2006. I was trying to come to terms with some of the border issues between The United States of America and Mexico, and the construction of a Wall of China like border fence. In both of my stories, The United States of America (or the metaphorical representation of a U.S. like destination) has constructed a barrier to keep out the unwanted. In "Keeping Watch," the barrier is space. In "Running of the Cows," the barrier is a fence with machinegun turrets and a minefield.

Either space or a heavily guarded fence, these stories are still relevant today. Immigration is still a hot button topic in both The United States of America and Mexico. The newly passed law in Arizona that requires police offices to ask for proof of legal status is another chapter in U.S. immigration debate. I only hope that we can solve our immigration issues and retain some semblance of our humanity.

And one more time, please visit eFiction Magazine and download the June issue today. It's Free!

Soft Whispers Magazine’s “Seventeen Syllables”

Soft Whispers Magazine just published "Seventeen Syllables," an anthology of haiku, which contains twelve by me: "Ceropia Moth (Hyaloperhora cecropia)," "The Day Fish Learned How To Cry," "Guest," "Light Show," "Basic Need," "Michael Pollan's Food Rules," "Escaping the Cold," "www.myfootprint.org," "January," "Morning Commute," "When to Eat Apples," and "THE small FLIGHT OF DRAGONS."

I'm most happy to have found a home for "THE small FLIGHT OF DRAGONS," a series of haiku about some of my favorite butterflies. The anthology is free and available for down load: "Seventeen Syllables."

I hope you enjoy them! If you do, please please Tweet (@SoullessMachine), Facebook, and blog about it. Help me get the word out!

Thanks!

The importance of Watsons: an investigation of genius aids

While watching House: Teamwork Season 6 : Ep. 7 on Hulu last night, I got to thinking about Watson, Holmes' loveable but less than brilliant sidekick. In "Teamwork," Dr. House desperately goes about reconstructing his team of doctors. These doctors support Dr. House in solving complex medical cases that have stumped other medical professionals; however, they are not Dr. House's equal: they are Watsons, at worst simply witnesses to a great mind at work and at best collaborators who provide false leads that ignite Dr. House's genius.

The question the doctors, the Watsons raised in my mind is thus: is the genius-mind dependent upon the common-mind for more than simply the relational dichotomy of Good & Evil or Truth & fallacy? Could it be that in English and American literature (and popular culture) that the common-mind provides the spark that drives the genius-mind? Alternatively, is it that the common-mind seeks out the genius-mind in order to improve or seek approval, while the genius-mind must constantly find ways to prove its genius to itself by "one-upping" the common-mind?

Dr. Wilson, Dr. House's best friend, questions Dr. House's motives for reconstructing his old team (when those old team members were obviously not interested) when there are thousands of medical practitioners who would jump at the opportunity to work alongside Dr. House and gain experience in the field of Diagnostic Medicine. Dr. Wilson's question and straightforward assessment made me pause, as did Dr. House's response. Dr. House wished to keep the doctors, the Watsons with whom he is familiar, better to work with the minds he knows than those he doesn't.

What flummoxed me was how a genius-mind like Dr. House needed his team of Watsons. If genius-minds are just common-minds, in that in order to self-actualize, it must first travel Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, Dr. House was seeking to reconstruct his team so that he could manufacture the conditions that provide his genius the strongest spark. When his team was reassembled, at the end of the episode, Dr. House gloats to Dr. Wilson that he has done it: Dr. House's team is complete. This means to me that Dr. House has found his proverbial happy-place and achieved something that even Dr. Wilson can never hope to accomplish: self-actualization.

What Dr. House doesn't know is that he is confessing to Dr. Wilson that he is incapable of achieving his full potential, genius-mind, his self-actualization without the aid of his common-mind Watsons. Dr. House is dependent; the genius-mind is dependent upon the common-mind. This gives me great hope, but is also very sad: the genius-mind feeds on common-minds, and it seems that as our literary tradition ages and evolves the genius-mind requires an increasing number of common-minds to function.

Holmes needed but one Watson, while Dr. House needs four common-minds to keep the deductive spark alive.

What I'm not sure of is how to feel about the role of the common-mind, of the Watsons who support the genius-mind by providing false leads or incorrect diagnoses that challenge the genius-mind to propose alternatives to the collective common-mind's wisdom. When I say "feel," I mean that in a system or team, Dr. House and his doctors or Holmes and Watson, the genius-mind is to admired and aspired to as the common-mind is devalued and demeaned. However, if the genius-mind needs common-minds in order to function, then both the genius and common-minds have relational value. So, then why is it that both Dr. House and Holmes dismiss and belittle the common-mind that supports their genius?

I believe that the answer to that question lies within constrains of communication and language. The ability to communicate relies on language use. If a common-mind and the genius-mind do not share a foundation or shared technical language, the barrier to precise communication will foster resentment. For example, the genius-mind will seek to use the most precise descriptive word or phrase (Class:…), which is shorthand for an entire system of smaller ideas; while the common-mind will need to have the term unpacked which takes time. Alternately, the common-mind will, instead of using one word to represent an entire system will need to explain that system out (…a system of "haves" and "have-nots" that fosters desire, fear, and resentment between those that "have and those who "want").

When language disrupts communication in the relationship of genius and common-minds, the common-mind will have feelings of inadequacy that will turn into resentment or awe of the genius-mind. Either way, the common-mind's feelings of inadequacy will generate conflict. Meanwhile, the genius-mind becomes increasingly frustrated that not only does the genius-mind need the common-mind, but that it must constantly pander or dumb down its language use to ease tension and to accomplish its ultimate goal – the maintenance of the exact conditions in which its genius can flourish.

Nouns and Categories vs. Verbs and Relationships

NYTimes.com Opinionator: Western Men Are Doomed
By DAVID BROOKS AND GAIL COLLINS
Published: November 19, 2009
Are certain groups of people better suited to a changing world?

"Western parents tend to emphasize nouns and categories when teaching their kids, Korean parents tend to emphasize verbs and relationships. If you show Americans a picture of a chicken, a cow and grass, they will lump the chicken and the cow, because they are both animals. Asians are more likely to lump the cow and the grass because cows eat grass. They have a relationship" (David Brooks, Western Men are Doomed).

As a relatively new college composition and literature instructor, I have found that students truly struggle with verb, adjective, and adverb usage; not that they can't identify which is which and how they are operating, but when asked to produce one on the spot, to me at least, they seem to struggle. Also, and this could very well be lack of confidence, the writing they turn in is very plain and almost devoid of the kinds of relationships that Brooks mentioned in the above quote.

Instead, they seems to excel at placing objects into categories; when we go over how to classify as a rhetorical method to strengthen their arguments, I don't need to spend much time explaining how classifying works because it comes very natural to them. However, when we cover cause and effect, students need more time and more expiation and practice before they feel comfortable using it as a writing strategy.

I really don't know where I'm going with this line of thinking, but I do find it interesting that David Brooks feels relational thinking is better suited to solving future problems and that western comparative thinking is not. His opinion piece got me thinking about how my students learn language and process it in writing; but there must be some middle ground to the issue, value in diversity and not in either or.

Riding the coattails of @48hrmag

I haven't had much to say about me or my writing as of late. However, I did attempt to contribute to the "Hustle" issue of 48 Hour Magazine. This will be my last post about the magazine. Even though the project is worthwhile and proof that humanity is fundamentally more connected than we were even just a decade ago, I need to stop ambulance chasing.

Therefore, one last time, below please find links to the five interviews that I called for and submitted to 48 Hour Magazine with in their prescribed time frame and a couple of videos the magazine posted as self-promotion.

- Videos -

48 Hour Magazine: Hustle from Kasia Cieplak on Vimeo.

48HR Magazine – a pocket documentary from ricky montalvo on Vimeo.

- Interviews -

David Oppegaard is a St. Paul, MN based novelist whose written and published two novels, "Wormwood, Nevada" and the Bram Stoker-nominated "The Suicide Collectors."

Tonya Moore, the successful web-based author of "Dragon Lady," "Dorian's Quest," "Pandora's Lament," and "Sweet Belladonna" who blogs at Misadventurous and is involved with The Hive Mind, a speculative fiction collective.

Karen Schindler, managing editor of Pow Fast Flash Fiction, an online-market for flash fiction that doesn't pull punches. Pow Fast Flash has published some amazing work, perfect for your lunchtime internet fix, including, "Blue Line," "Foot of the Bed,"and (by yours truly) "Dog Fight."

Amy Letts, a web based cartoonist with a successful web-strip titled "Epic Fail"  about a laughable dungeon crawling, sword waving band of adventurers.

Aaron Christopher,  play-write and brains behind Urban Samurai Productions, the Minneapolis based non-profit stage company.

An Interview (5 of 5) that Didn’t Make @48hrmag

48 Hour Magazine, a 48 hour experiment where 6 editors built, from the ground up, a new born magazine.

- Interview -

David Oppegaard is a St. Paul, MN based novelist whose written and published two novels, "Wormwood, Nevada" and the Bram Stoker-nominated "The Suicide Collectors." I met Oppegaard while completing my M.F.A. in Writing at Hamline University, St. Paul. What set Oppegaard apart from other students (myself included) was he'd already written several practice novels. His motivation to write stories that entertain and make a buck doing it really impressed me.

I've have had the great opportunity to review both of his novels and interview him before our collaborative attempt to get into the pages of 48 Hour Magazine:

• "Citizen Review: Wormwood, Nevada." Magers and Quinn Booksellers. Web. 3 January 2010.
• "The Suicide Collectors." Soulless Machine. Web. 14 December 2008.
• "Interview with David Oppegaard, author of 'The Suicide Collectors.'" Soulless Machine. Web. 13 October 2008.

Oppegaard takes his fiction seriously. If you are interested in how fiction authors research their stories, you can check out Oppegaard's essay recently published in "The Nevada Review." In his essay, Oppegaard recounts his trip to Nevada in order to put the finishing touches on his novel "Wormwood, Nevada."


48 Hour Magazine: Is it hard out there for a young horror novelist?


David Oppegaard: I think it's hard out there for a young novelist, period.  It would probably make it easier for me if I could settle on one genre, like horror, instead of straddling science fiction, horror, fantasy, etc. Editors and booksellers seem to want their writing prepackaged for them into little labeled boxes, which I understand because it makes it easier for them to sell your work, but so far, I don't seem to fit that type.  I guess at thirty I'm still young enough that I care about at least trying to be original and at least trying to stretch fiction in new directions.  Eventually I'm sure I'll be broken of such idealism, like if I ever get married or spawn a child or want to buy a new pair of shoes.



48HM: What financial hardships do you face?


DO: The same as anyone else who can't stand wearing a suit and tie everyday.  I haven't had health insurance since college, back in 2002.  I work a lot of temp jobs, then write for several months, then return to temp working.  I'm not that interested in teaching composition courses and unfortunately they're not just handing out creative writing-only gigs around MN colleges at the moment.


48HM: What financial successes have you had?


DO: Ahhh…none?  Though you could argue getting paid to write fiction, even if the payment is small, is a financial success in of itself.  Or more like a moral victory, I suppose.



48HM: Have you had to prostitute yourself in anyway?



DO: I might have had a chance to write for Marvel Comics after The Suicide Collectors came out, but they were infuriatingly vague about what exactly they wanted me to write for them and acted like they were doing me some huge favor.  I'm a pretty casual comics fan and wasn't all that excited about playing with the forty-year-old toys of other writers.  I had some cool ideas for the Hulk, but was told he was "off-limits", whatever the hell that meant. And thus I passed up my chance at prostituting myself, much to the dismay of my friends and family. Oppegaard SMASH green money.


48HM: Do you have a day job?


DO: Right now I'm scoring standardized tests.  You know, those crazy written essays high school students have to do to graduate.  Yesterday I scored 205 four-to-five page essays. The topic is "Experiences With Money" and apparently there's an epidemic right now in America of kids losing their money in tragic ways.  Who would have thought that storing a hundred dollar bill in your flip phone would lead to trouble?


48HM: How does your day job keep you from working on your novels?


DO: Working exhausts me. I was not made for toiling in the digital fields, under a florescent sun, and I care not for khakis.  I barely write at all when I'm working full-time, but luckily the economy is so bad right now I'm usually unemployed.  It's not that I'm lazy, Bob, it's that I just don't care (if I may paraphrase Office Space).


48HM: Do you consider yourself a successful writer?


DO: Hell yes.  I've published two novels in a country that thinks putting books into yet more glowing rectangles is actually a good idea. I'm just waiting for the Tea Party to take over and start burning books, as was prophesied long ago by the great Ray Bradbury.

An Interview (4 of 5) that Didn’t Make @48hrmag

48 Hour Magazine, a 48 hour experiment where 6 editors built, from the ground up, a new born magazine.

- Interview -

Tonya Moore, the successful web-based author of "Dragon Lady," "Dorian's Quest," "Pandora's Lament," and "Sweet Belladonna" who blogs at Misadventurous and is involved with The Hive Mind, a speculative fiction collective.


48 Hour Magazine: Is it hard out there for a writer of web-based fiction?


Tonya Moore: Not particularly. It doesn't take much to get started but it's hard to get noticed, so that can be discouraging. I'd say it depends on one's motives for posting web fiction in the first place. It's tricky if you're trying to market web-fiction commercially too, although I knew of one or two people who have managed to do that. In my case it was more about trying something different and to get myself to keep writing. I haven't had a huge response or anything like that so I don't know that many people even actually read my webfiction. Even so, the response that I have gotten have been encouraging and quite helpful, which no doubt help me to progress as a writer.


48HM: What financial hardships do you face?


TM: Well, I work full time in a not so high paying job. Things are pretty tight for me but there are many who have it far for difficult to get by than I do, I think.


48HM: What financial successes have you had?


TM: In terms of writing? None, really. That is something I hope to change for the sake of being able to support my writing. I'm presently trying to work my way up to that…


48HM: Have you had to prostitute yourself in anyway?


TM: Haha… I don't think so.


48HM: Do you have a day job?


TM: Well, I have a night job.


48HM: How does your night job keep you from working on your writing?


TM: I work 12 hour shifts and my job is mentally exhausting. I love my job and the schedule is great but it can be hard to unwind enough to write as much as I want — plus when overtime gets in the mix, writing-time goes flying out the window.


48HM: Do you consider yourself a successful writer?


TM: No. That's just something I hope to achieve someday.


48HM: What are you working on now?


TM: Wow, what am I not working on? I just finished novella that I will be publishing via Smashwords. This will be my first serious attempt at selling my own fiction. Besides that, there's the Girl w/Guns Anthology, monthly installments of my Blood Binds fantasy series for eFiction Magazine and 2 shorts stories for 2 other anthologies. My main project this year is a horror fantasy novel, still a first draft, which I need to complete by summer, as I plan to seek out an agent as well.

This is my busiest year, writing-wise. There's a lot I hope to accomplish over the next few years, so I've been trying to lay the groundwork for that recently.

An Interview (3 of 5) that Didn’t Make @48hrmag

48 Hour Magazine, a 48 hour experiment where 6 editors built, from the ground up, a new born magazine.

- Interview -

Karen Schindler, managing editor of Pow Fast Flash Fiction, an online-market for flash fiction that doesn't pull punches. Pow Fast Flash has published some amazing work, perfect for your lunchtime internet fix, including, "Blue Line," "Foot of the Bed,"and (by yours truly) "Dog Fight."


48 Hour Magazine: Is it hard out there for a new editor of Flash Fiction?


Karen Schindler: I was actually pleasantly surprised at how much elbow room there is for new flash magazines. When I started the ezine I was lucky enough to be welcomed into the community by some of the established flash and poetry magazine editors who have published my personal work.  Several of them graciously linked to Pow Fast Flash and widened the circle. Even before starting the magazine, I was involved in Jon Strother's #fridayflash community, so it was easy to kick off the magazine with some of the stellar writing of my fellow flashers. Then once word of the kind of work that Pow was looking for got out, the circle just kept widening. Being listed in Duotrope has been a great boost to our submissions, as is the word of mouth of those who are published. Social networking tools really help in big ways for getting work noticed once it's available online.


48HM: What financial hardships do you face?


KS: This could be a really long answer, but the short answer is I would love to be able to publish Pow Fast Flash Fiction in print. But for now it will remain an ezine only due to financial constraints.


48HM: What editorial successes have you had?


KS: I edited almost every piece published at Pow in some way, and I feel that each piece is a success. Giving someone the opportunity to showcase their best work is always gratifying.


48HM: Have you had to prostitute yourself in any way?


KS: I was given advice when I fist started to hard sell the magazine and to fill it with advertising. I went a different way. I wanted people to gravitate to Pow and really want to be included in the body of work that was being collected. I also wanted each author to have a page as simple as possible so that their story could be appreciated for what it was. A great piece of work. So no, I haven't prostituted myself in any way for the magazine. It's been a life affirming experiencing all the way around so far.


48HM: Do you have a day job?


KS: Yes, I have two day jobs. Well, really three. But two of them I can do from my computer in my jammies.


48HM: How does your day job keep you from working on Pow Fast Flash Fiction?


KS: I work on my paying jobs during the week. I tend to spend Saturday mornings sending out rejections/acceptances for Pow. I edit the things I'm excited about when I have free time. The editing isn't really on a schedule, but if I like something I tend to go over it with a fine tooth comb right away so I can accept it and not lose it to another magazine. Pow is published on a rolling basis, so there aren't really deadlines as such, but I try to get back to people within a week to ten days to tell them yay or nay. Waiting to hear back on your submission can be nerve wracking for some people and I like to make that process as painless as possible.


48HM: Do you consider yourself a successful writer / editor?


KS: I think I'm a good editor. If you look at my editing website  http://bit.ly/9wSy4P, I have some endorsements in my sidebar that every time I read them they make me want to hire myself. I love helping other people put out the best work that they are able to produce. I also feel that one of the reasons I'm a good editor is because I'm a good writer. One day I'll be paid to write full time, and then all my dreams will have come true. Well, all my dreams that don't involve sprouting nifty tentacles, or having hot and cold running cabana boys in my living room.

=======
Comments that did not come over from Recreational Learning

-- Marisa Birns --

Great interview!

Hot and cold running cabana boys? Whew. Now I know what to get Karen for her birthday. She’s usually difficult to shop for since she has everything!

I can say with all honesty that Karen is an excellent editor, writer, friend, and dancer.

-- Karen Schindler --

Aaron,
Thanks so much for including me in this series. The talent you have assembled here is amazing, and the so obviously positive interactions you’ve had with each of the subjects shines through.

I love word of mouth for any venture. And I love seeing how others approach their craft. Simply being part of your process introduced me to four new people who are out there day by day putting their dreams into practice.

When dreams come true it’s a beautiful thing to witness.

Pow is growing a fan base from the ground up and it’s amazing how many people world wide have subbed even though it’s such a young market.

I really appreciate having the opportunity to sing out about Pow in another forum. Especially a forum given to me by someone as enthusiastic about writing and publishing great work as you are.

Karen :0)

-- Karen Schindler --

Marisa is right on all counts.
[She's seen me dance.]
And oh boy, now I can’t wait for my birthday.
:0)

-- lauraeno --

I agree with Marisa – Karen is so hard to shop for!

Great interview showcasing an awesome writer, editor and all round great human being. (Although, with the tentacles, I’m not sure about the human part)

Pow Fast Flash Fiction is lucky to have her at the helm.

-- Laurita --

Great interview. Editing in my jammies is my dream job. You’re living the dream, Karen (fortunately there are no tentacles involved).

-- Alan W. Davidson --

Loved the interview! I agree totally with Marisa regarding Karen as a writer, editor and, of course, a good friend. The dancing? Can’t vouch for that…but I’ve heard stuff.

I was wondering what to get her for her birthday. Umm…I think they’ve got rules against handing out cabana boys up here in Canada. Perhaps a used hockey puck. Or a 6-pack of beer.

-- catconnor --

Groovacious interview Karen. I read it with my first coffee…. I’ll read it again when I’m awake. Pretty sure you didn’t say anything about cold banana’s… hang on… oh hot and cold running CABANA boys. 

xx

-- Anne Tyler Lord --

Karen, that was a wonderful interview.

I am also putting my vote in the box for Karen being a great friend, editor and writer!! Her writing never ceases to amaze and surprise me! And, I have experienced her editing services first-hand – totally excellent!

Looks like Marisa is going to have all of us contribute to the pot to get you those cabana boys.

-- Jodi MacArthur --

Yay, for nifty tentacles! Karen, wonderful interview. Your humor just knocks me flat. And what a wonderful editor you are fine combing the stories that come your and sending a yay or nay as quickly as possible. I hadn’t realized how busy you are! That nifty plant of yours has super powers. Your writing is superb. And you are such a joy to know.

Awesome interview.

-- Jane Bretl --

Way to go, Karen!

-- Cathy Olliffe --

Working in your jammies! Eatin jam while working in your jammies. Toe jam onyour toes, eatin jam while working in your jammies…
oh, sorry… sudden fuge onslaught. It only happens when I hear Karen in action. And speaking of action, does this woman ever slow down???
Thanks for the interview, Aaron. I betcha that was fun!

===
End Comments