Original Fiction: Beta-Test Boy

Editorial Note: And now for something (mostly) different. While I’ve had a few published works dotted around the blog, it occurred to me that I’d not posted a story in full. This here is one I wrote a bit over a year ago (in looking back on it, it’s interesting to me to see the positively visible wisps of Working Through Some Stuff). My style’s evolved since then, but I’ve kept a soft spot for this one. And I hope it inspires a bit of the same fondness in you, dear readers. 

A Quick Summary: Michael is an indie game maker who meets a fellow aspiring artist in designer Nolan. The two fall into a business partnership that becomes a romance, though Michael can’t help but find himself uneasy at his the physical changes in his partner or the way she would much he think of her as one of the guys. He becomes fixated on the private sketchbook she spends hours with, wondering if Nolan’s visions for the future will be able to match his own.

He notices her first because she doesn’t want him to. It’s dark, and there’s a pounding in his head and what might be a growing stain on his pants. He scratches at it – definitely a stain, and the question will turn to what it’s made of as soon as the lights stop jittering for more than a minute. His attention wanders back to the girl, something he’s not trying too hard to fight.

She’s not dancing, and there’s something novel about the stillness in the cataclysm of movement all around them. Later on this friends will ask how he knew, how he could’ve spotted the prize under all that illusionist level material, and if he wanted a cut of the bets that’d been traded in exchange for telling them the nasty details.

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Professional Words, Unprofessional Nerves (November 2013)

Instead of an editorial this week, I wanted to take a moment to highlight two published pieces of mine, as well as a short (and somewhat surreal) author interview. Worry not, I’ll be back to Lupin on Friday and ocer-anaylzing the world of fiction by Monday next.

Courtship by Wire:

“I woke up one morning and thought that you might be a serial killer. I never told you why.”
Published September 2013

Flash Fiction. Proof that the painfully awkward misunderstandings of first love are by no means limited to the real world. Not all of us become convinced the person who gives us the warm fuzzies is secretly plotting our death, though.


Genre Surfing:

“The radio on his belt grows from faint hiss to incoming frequency in the middle of dinner, detailing a horror story of shattered lives. I fill in the emptied spot at the table.”
Published November 2013

Flash Fiction. Wrap yourself up in stories long enough, and you start thinking of everything that way. It’s a lot easier to turn family into late-night TV than to wonder if they’re ever coming home again, isn’t it?


The Interview:

“Subtlety is bizarrely easier to grasp once you’ve let it all hang out.”
Published September 2013

A series of oddities and observances, all the stranger for being divorced from the questions that the lovely editor originally sent to me. But they run the gamut from style questions, to the world of writing at large, to my unwavering obsession with HP Lovecraft’s hilarious fear of seafood. If you’ve any lingering questions, please feel free to ask them around here – I consider this blog a sort of informal, ongoing AMA.

A fantastic week to you all, and glad tidings additionally. See you Friday!


Back to my usual swanning about
(thanks to Rainbow Jacket for the screencap)