Addictions by Neliza Drew

Neliza Drew has a pretty good knack for telling stories. Her ability to create interesting characters clearly comes from the wide range of people she's been able to associate with throughout her life, and the people she tells you about in her blog post are the kind that I love to read about.  In fact,  the world needs more characters like Davis, Neliza. So, you know... get on it! I have to say that my only disappointment with Neliza's short story in the Feeding Kate anthology is that it was just that; a short story. 
   
Addictions

The story that ended up in Feeding Kate had been in the works, in fits and starts, for months before the crazy idea to do anthology happened on Twitter one morning. At the time, it was more a collection of notes, snippets of dialogue, the sorts of things “writers” build stories out of and I collect in notebooks like a word-hoarder.  Doing the anthology pushed me to actually pretend to be a writer and assemble the word piles into something resembling order.

Laura Benedict was gracious enough to offer her editing support and without her input the thing never would've come together. It would have never found enough structure to call itself a story. She is fantastic and I won’t let anyone tell me differently.

As for the content, the characters, the snippets that eventually found themselves mashed together and forced to play nice? It grew out of characters I’d met and characters I’d built out of random traits and behaviors. It’s always all about characters for me. Rarely does an event or plot come to mind so much as these fully-formed, or close to it, people appear in my head and demand to be acknowledged.

This time, one of the main “people” was a drug dealer who was a combination of a former neighbor’s pot connection from years ago – a guy who sold just enough to buy a canoe – and the vegan speaker who used to do presentations at my school. Merged, this guy I’d never met (only heard about) and this guy I’d seen, but never really talked to became the pot-and-pill dealer.

Davis, on the other hand, has been living in my head so long, she’s like her own person – which can be hard to explain to non-creatives. “Oh, no, there’s an imaginary person who lives in my head. No, I don’t need medication. I’m fine.” Yeah, right. See, I've written several longer “stories” about Davis, but none of them have escaped my computer. Maybe one day. I like her. Well, I like her as long as she lives in my head. If she were real, we’d probably never cross paths and if we did we’d have nothing to say to one another. She’s dangerous and kinetic. I’m a lazy bookworm who lacks coordination.

Her boss, Tom, grew out of a private investigator I met years ago during my brief stint as a receptionist for a bi-polar attorney. Tom’s inspiration was near retirement and used to hang out in the spare office the attorney couldn't seem to fill with anyone else because of his emotional outbursts and emotional abuse. I asked him one day why he hung out in there. He told me he’d been a cop before he retired and he’d already heard it all. It was cheaper than renting an office and it was close to most of his clients, who were all other attorneys.

Come to think about it, Davis was a little inspired by a former stripper who’d been the lawyer’s secretary for a couple of years. She told me one day, after he’d called her a lazy stupid slut, that she’d heard worse and every time she threatened to quit, he offered her a raise. By the time I started there, she was making enough to put one whole check a month into savings and had nearly paid off her condo. “As soon as it’s paid off, I’m out of here.”

Other than that, she had very little in common with Davis, whose past is largely a product of having spent nearly a decade listening to kids in “juvie” tell me about their lives.  Her attitude comes from a place of having been a survivor in a landscape where everyone else was, too, to some extent or another. It’s a fatalism combined with a resourcefulness and stubbornness that expects to go down, but won’t do it without a fight, and probably a long, nasty one.

And by now, I think this post is almost as long as the story and probably not as interesting.

There are, however, much better stories in Feeding Kate and if you haven’t already picked up a copy, you should do so. Not only does it benefit a great cause, but it’s a good way to meet Thomas Pluck’s former-convict, Jay, who I hope you’ll be seeing again. Johnny Shaw’s tale is damn funny yet heartfelt. Stephen Blackmoore’s is the sort of gonzo L.A. story I think we've all come to expect out of him. And Holly West makes being a good employee seem like the creepiest thing ever.

NELIZA DREW has worked with crazy lawyers, crazy boat captains, crazy advertisers, and crazy students. She lives in Florida with her husband and furry minions (okay, they’re cats). When not writing for the dust bunnies in her desk drawer, she’s a delinquent wrangler, awkward martial artist, and infrequent blogger (nelizadrew.com). She eats a lot of tofu, but makes up for it with booze and swearing.

Feeding Kate: A Crime Fiction Anthology is available from Amazon. All proceeds from Feeding Kate benefit the Lupus Foundation of America.

The Jaws of Life by Laura K. Curtis

I'm super happy to have Laura K. Curtis on the blog today.  Not only is she the light of my life... *giggles* she's the tweeter behind the beginning of the Feeding Kate campaign, and a woman I'd love to spend a week walking the streets of New York City with.  Her story, The Jaws of Life, found in the Feeding Kate anthology, has firefighter Kate reminiscing about her first extrication, solving crossword puzzles with an elderly Mr. Simmons in her free time, and redefining what it means to save a life. Laura's post today gives us a small look inside the world of firefighting; the men, the women... the heroes.

When we first started talking about creating Feeding Kate, and my tweet stream was full of talk of jaws, my husband had just been through extrication classes with the local fire department. So naturally, all I could think of was the Jaws of Life (officially known as a Hurst extrication tool). He loves to take classes which is good, because it means that over the years he’s acquired a useful set of skills with the FD. And I am super-glad I don’t have to do it, since the last one he took—pump ops—was all math…and math is definitely not my strong suit!

The Fire Department is a big part of my life. Not only is my husband an engineer and driver for his company, he’s their commissioner as well. And then there’s the fact that I’m treasurer of the Women’s Auxiliary. Which, if you knew me at all, might just make you laugh yourself sick.

Fire departments are all different. In fact, fire companies are all different. In my smallish town, we have four companies: two engine companies, a hook and ladder, and what we refer to as “fire police.” Each of those houses has its own character. People happy in one would likely be miserable in another. And our town’s whole department—while set up similarly to the nearby towns’—is still unique.

Some fire departments in the US—mostly in the big, crowded, urban areas—are full-time, paid departments. Some have members who get paid by the call they make. Some have officers and drivers who get paid by the call. But the fact is that the majority of this country’s firefighters are volunteers. Men and women who train for hours and risk their lives for no financial reward. It’s easy to idolize that. It’s a really big deal. But I have a kind of cognitive dissonance when it comes to the FD. I see how heroic it is that these guys (because our town has no female firefighters) do what they do, but I also see the underside: the frat boy aspects and the occasional drunken antics.

Anyway, I tried to put some of all of that into “The Jaws of Life.” Both the heroic and the not-so-heroic. I hope you enjoy it.






Laura K. Curtis has always done everything backwards. As a child, she was extremely serious, so now that she's chronologically an adult, she feels perfectly justified in acting the fool. She started teaching at age fifteen, then decided to go back to school herself at thirty. And she wrote her first book in first grade. It was released in (notebook) paperback to rave reviews and she's been trying to achieve the same level of acclaim ever since. She lives in Westchester County, NY with her husband and a pack of wild Irish Terriers, which has taught her how easily love can coexist with the desire to kill. Her first novel will be out in November, 2013, from Penguin.  http://www.laurakcurtis.com/blog/

Feeding Kate: A Crime Fiction Anthology is available from Amazon. All proceeds from Feeding Kate benefit the Lupus Foundation of America.

Why Blackbirds Don't Eat Wax Fruit by Dan O'Shea

I'm super thrilled to have Dan on the blog today. Not only is Dan an incredible writer,  he also has the voice of an... angel. Okay, maybe not an angel angel, but he definitely has a voice that can make your ear tickle with delight. He's the man behind the voice of bad-boy character Oscar Martello, and soon to be the voice behind the audio version of his novel PENANCE.

FEEDING KATE opens with his short story WAX FRUIT, and Dan's post today shares the back story behind the story of Hilary Martin's depressing paranormal-like gift, heartbreaking loss, and sweet revenge. 

Why Blackbirds Don't Eat Wax Fruit

So my story for Feeding Kate… yeah, kinda plagiarized that. Well, not exactly.

Let’s back up. You’ve read Chuck Wendig’s Blackbirds, right? And Mockingbird?  (Well if you ain’t, you oughta.) See Miriam Black, the protagonist of those books, she’s got this problem. If she touches you, she sees where and how and when you’re gonna die. Which, if you get to thinking about it, would kinda suck.

Thing is, I read Blackbirds and, as much as I loved it, something kept eating at me. Miriam’s reaction to her “gift” was to hit the road, become a drifter. On one level, I get it. She avoids any permanent attachments, so those folks she does touch, well, maybe it hurts less to know all the depressing details of their final breaths if they stay strangers. And besides, sometimes she finds ways to cash in on her knowledge.

Problem is, that’s exactly the opposite of how I’d react. I’d never leave home again, never touch anybody again if I could help it. I’d become a cross between Howard Hughes and Emily Dickenson.  Maybe it’s a matter of personal temperament. Chuck seems a tab extroverted, seems like the sorta guy who’d happily wander the streets pantsless starting random, obscenity-laced conversations with everyone who passes. I’m half way to being Howard Hughes as it is. And not the rich genius part either. The never-leaving-the-hotel, don’t-have-much-use-for-people part.

Which gave me this problem. I had Chuck’s kick-ass death-touching premise rattling around my head, but I had this entirely antithetical take on it, which left me with a story-telling itch I really wanted to scratch. So I dropped the Chuckster a line, asked if he’d mind if I riffed in his sandbox. Chuck graciously gave his permission, and Wax Fruit was the result.

Hilary Martin, my protagonist, seems about as far removed from Miriam Black as she can get. Instead of Miriam’s hellish dysfunctional upbringing, Hilary was raised in a relatively loving home.  And she’s a genius. OK, she’s got her issues, suffers her tragedies, but she’s got a lot going for her that Miriam doesn't  Funny thing though, the story ends up in a place where it just might have if it had featured Miriam. I can almost hear Ms. Black giving out a dark chuckle and saying “Thought you could hide from death bitch? And you think you’re the smart one.”

Anyway, hope you like the story. Hope you like the whole collection, ‘cause it’s pretty fucking hot.

Just like the chick who inspired it. 

Dan O'Shea is the author of PENANCE and the short fiction collection OLD SCHOOL along with the forthcoming novel MAMMON. Dan is represented by Stacia Decker at the Donald Maass Literary Agency. You can find him on the web at www.authordanoshea.com.

Feeding Kate: A Crime Fiction Anthology is available from Amazon. All proceeds from Feeding Kate benefit the Lupus Foundation of America.

Alien Cupcakes, Gorillas, and why Magicians Beat Whistleblowers by Clare Toohey

This is quite the interesting post from Clare... I think I've learned more about her personality reading her story "That's a Sweet Invasion, Craig" and preparing this blog post than I have ever learned during our face-to-face conversations at Bouchercon. Believe it or not, I don't think I'd mind bowing down to a "telepathic cupcake as our imperial leader."  Especially if said cupcake leader didn't place a ban on eating cupcakes in general. 

Alien Cupcakes, Gorillas, and why Magicians Beat Whistleblowers wh
y Magicians Beat 

My story for the Feeding Kate anthology was called “That’s a Sweet Invasion, Craig” and features a telepathic alien cupcake appearing here as an advance scout for his persecuted people, or cakes, whatever. Since the fiction collection was to benefit Sabrina’s ability to nosh her favorite goodies, including a cupcake was pretty obvious, but once I got the extraterrestrial notion combined with it in my head, I couldn’t shake loose.

I admit to enjoying lore of the strange and unexplained, and so does my character Gracie, a misanthropic young oddball to whom appears the frosted E.T. In one part of the story, she recaps the “UFO flap” over the skies of Washington D.C. during late July of 1952. That’s real-live history, and thousands of witnesses, FAA radar returns, citizen and Coast Guard sightings up and down the eastern seaboard, and journalistic coverage exist. Here’s a Wikipedia page with background info and more about the official decision to “debunk” in order to calm public anxiety.) 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1952_Washington,_D.C._UFO_incident

It shouldn’t be personally threatening or damaging to admit things exist we can’t explain, should it? Science is a process by which we can expand and refine our understanding. We, not to mention the world and universe, are filled with as-yet inexplicable wonders, like yawning as one example. (Did you just yawn reading that? Do you know why?) But this circumstance only makes for open issues, not insults to reason and civilization.

So what about the particular subject of difficult-to-categorize aerial oddities gets people so roiled, so ready to pigeonhole questioners as members of the Tinfoil Hat Brigade, local order #WTF? Well, on this bit, I do have a theory. In the following popular video, viewers are asked to count the number of basketball passes made by one team’s players. While doing that, about half of the viewers will miss seeing something important, and the psychologist who designed the attention-grabbing experiment explains why: 

If we have a limited amount of processing power to decode the world around us into comprehensible pieces, it matters what you’re mentally up for at any given time. If I’m running late to a nerve-wracking appointment, hearing about traffic snarls ahead, then realizing I just forgot something and calculating whether I have time to retrieve it, I won’t see the Invisible Gorilla. Not even if he’s handing out free ice cream. Extraneous things that try to siphon my attention—even a wave hello from a dear friend I didn’t expect to see—are more liable to earn scowls than smiles unless I can force myself from one mental groove and into another.

Now, consider that there are several well-established think tanks concerned with developing public guidelines for what they call extraterrestrial “Post Detection Policy.” 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post-detection_policy

I’m not arguing that these organizations assume extraterrestrials exist. In fact, they assert there’s no empirical evidence for that conclusion at all. What I am asserting is that there are deep-pocketed people who’ve spent considerable effort to figure out how to handle what would be the Big Daddy of Suddenly Visible Gorilla problems, should it ever occur.

Other people speculate that whatever may be perceived in UFO encounters (and there are many types and classes), it’s existed side-by-side with humans for millennia. They base this notion on ancient myth and representations, from cave art to Renaissance paintings, and the way those dovetail with modern reports of incidents. We didn’t used to know about microorganisms. Just seeing them via microscopy didn’t make them any more inherently dangerous, but new awareness did make some people extremely nervous, even to the point of risking the development of superbugs through overuse of antibiotics and antibacterials. And maybe the way the modern media typically handle stories—that is, with BIG, SCARY OMGs—has something to do with that. I’m not on the side of the Presumed Gorilla Hiders, if such exist, but I can see where the manner of introduction matters.

When you buy a ticket to a spectacular magic show, you’re hoping to be fooled in a dazzling and entertaining way. In fact, you’d feel angry and ripped off if they didn’t succeed in deceiving you. But part of the fun of being fooled is your certainty that is isn’t really supernatural at all. Today’s best magicians know a lot about psychology, physiology, neurology, and the way people are both hard-wired and culturally acclimated to respond, so they’re experts in hiding the gorilla. And when you settle into your seat to enjoy their fictions (or, dare I suggest, even ones on the page), you’re inviting the Invisible Gorilla trick to happen to you. And that welcoming attitude of delight may make all the difference.

When unanticipated situations or truths pop into people’s conscious awareness, perhaps even things that were always present but disregarded or minimized, words come up like “horror” and “nightmare” and “trauma.” Think about the confirmation of an awful family secret everyone suspected. The unpleasantness is frequently compounded with utter “shock” that such an unexpected, and therefore unwelcome, thing could have disrupted the predictable rhythms of life. It’s always just an ordinary day until it isn’t.

I think vampires may have the right idea about needing to be invited in. Look how popular the bloodsucking murderers have become in the cultural consciousness while cattle mutilations and crop circles remain, despite a lot more forensic evidence of their existence, relegated to wackadoos on the fringe. I say forget about trying to push any topic people don’t ask to hear. If they’re not primed, any revelation is pointless and may even be counterproductive.

As Eleanor Roosevelt said: “The reason that fiction is more interesting than any other form of literature, to those who really like to study people, is that in fiction the author can really tell the truth without humiliating himself.” Want to expose something uncomfortable, even awful, and have people thank you, as opposed to pulling out the pitchforks? Tell them first it’s all a lie then make them buy a ticket.

Cupcake image from http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/green%20aliens?language=tr_TR

UFO images from http://ufocasebook.com/

BIO: Despite Clare Toohey’s background in art and music, she gives store-bought greeting cards and plays the ukulele poorly. As a writer, she aspires to genre hack-dom, and as a fan, she appreciates the trashy and inventive. She’s the site editor and manager of CriminalElement.com, Tweeting @clare2e and blogging more foolishness at WomenofMystery.net P.S. Go Red Sox!

Feeding Kate: A Crime Fiction Anthology is available from Amazon. All proceeds from Feeding Kate benefit the Lupus Foundation of America.

Cakewalk by Chad Eagleton

I know Chad from twitter. It's funny how friendships are made, isn't it? On twitter we grow to know people without really "knowing" them and find ourselves offering words of encouragement on a bad day; medical advice to each other when another in the group is diagnosed with new ailments; our time and our talents, not to mention our money, when others are in need... this list could go on and on. But this, this is how I know Chad. We've offered each other words of encouragement and vented to each other over frustrating medical news, and both of us, no, I'm sure a lot of us, believe that this is how the world should work... all the time, every single day. And for the most part, especially on twitter, the world does work this way.

Our tweet time might be limited, Chad, but I'm thankful I've found you among the chatter. *tweet tweet*

Cakewalk by Chad Eagleton
When I wrote “Cakewalk,” my story in the Feeding Kate anthology, I was revising a section of my Shane Stevens bio, re-writing the chapter on the forgotten crime writer’s fourth novel. In Rat Pack, we accompany four African-American youths on their hunt for the big score during a single New York City night. It’s a slim book, but as sharp as a shiv and twice as deadly. The power of Steven’s only novella comes from his masterful use of perspective. Every encounter between pack and victim(s) or pack and victimizer(s) is marked by misconceptions and misperceptions.

And that’s so often the problem isn’t? So much of the things we do, the things we allow, and the things that get us into trouble comes down to the difference between what’s true and what we think/want to be true. Not only is it a life truism, but, if you can pull it off well, it helps with characterization. And character is king. Character hides the worst plotting and gives the best its resonance.

In “Cakewalk,” a stripper and her security work a private party being thrown for a man newly released from prison. When two youths with a grudge against the party boy raid the shindig, violence ensues. That alone is enough for a certain type of crime story. All the beats are hit: stripper—check, ex-con—check, guns—check, violence—check, a good dose of profanity—check. But I don’t want to write that kind of story. I want to deal with what really leads to moments of trouble and awfulness. I want to know those people—know more than the stripper’s breast size and what model weapons the boys from Bed-Stuy are carrying into Bensonhurst. Anything less, I think is a disservice to the reader, to our art, and to our fellow human beings. Sure I want my work to be entertaining, but if I’m not dealing with something, with people, what’s the point? I could just show you a picture of the scab on my elbow from when I skinned it cleaning the gutters and say, “Nasty, huh?”

Now, here’s the point of this whole thing. When I learned about Sabrina’s jaw trouble and the surgery she needed that, of course, insurance wouldn’t cover, I knew I wanted to help. I’ve probably talked to Sabrina less than any of you reading this post. Sure, when we have spoken, she’s always been nice and, in fact, I challenge you to find a nicer person in the crime community, but nice isn’t it. To me, the whole purpose of our society is to work together, to look out for each other, to provide things—security, comfort, and care—that would be impossible to provide on our own. If society did not function this way, if we weren’t all on this ride together, we’d still be saber-toothed tiger food—assuming our species ever made it out of the caves. The problem is that we forget that. The problem is we forget our connection to people. The problem is we get caught up in...What? Yes, that’s right, confusing what’s true and what we think/want to be true.

Hopefully, someday we’ll all grok that and there will never have to be another benefit anthology for anyone or anything. Until then, I’m glad to help.

You should too.

Chad Eagleton is a two time Watery Grave Invitational finalist. His story “Ghostman on Third” was nominated for the Spinetingler Award. His fiction is available in print and e-book, as well as online at such sites as A Twist of Noir, Bad Things, The Pulp Pusher, Beat To A Pulp, Darkness Before the Dawn, and Shotgun Honey.

Going Back to "The Well" by Chris F. Holm

The very first item I purchased for my Kindle was 8 Pounds: Eight Tales of Crime, Horror and Suspense by Chris F. Holm, and boy howdy did it deliver! Since then I've devoured all things written by Chris including the available books in his Collector novels, and his latest short story collection Dead Letters: Stories of Murder and Mayhem. His story The Well, found in the Feeding Kate Anthology is beyond creepy creepy... which is exactly why I love it so. Many thanks for lending this little gem of a story to the Feeding Kate antho, Chris. It's perfect... just like you!

Going Back to "The Well"

It’s a funny thing, being asked to write a blog post about an 800-odd word short story. If I’m not careful, my post will wind up longer than the tale itself.

“The Well,” which centers on a particularly scrappy little girl who has the misfortune of falling down the titular aperture, has the dubious distinction of being one of the creepiest things I’ve ever written. In fact, it’s one of two stories (the other being “A Better Life”) that disturbed me so much as I was writing them, I had to ask my wife if they were too distasteful to submit. She said no, and either she was right or you people are way more twisted than I give you credit for, because most folks who’ve read my short fiction cite one or the other as their favorites. And when I gave Laura her choice of stories for FEEDING KATE, she picked “The Well” in no time flat.

I’m not sure what kind of lesson I should take from that.

The idea for “The Well” hit me all at once – and when it did, it wanted out. That’s rare for me; typically, I have to let a story percolate a while before it decides it’s time for me to write it. Unfortunately, I was at work at the time, so over lunch I sent myself a crazy, stream-of-consciousness e-mail, getting as much of the idea and imagery down as I could.

But when I sat down at the computer that weekend to flesh it out (if those who’ve read it will pardon the pun), something wasn’t right. The more detail I added to the story, the less I liked it. It became too explicit – too graphic. I don't mind pushing boundaries every now and again, but I think that when it comes to writing horror, restraint is a virtue, and I didn't want to cross a line as a writer that I wouldn't be willing to cross as a reader.

That’s when I went back to that initial e-mail. When I reread it, I was struck by something -- my notes had what my attempts to flesh it out had lacked. Subtlety. Ambiguity. Restraint. There was no explicit violence or anything overtly objectionable. Just a pervasive, eerie mood that, either in spite of its brevity or because of it, still managed to creep me out. So I decided to try polishing up my notes rather than starting from scratch, and not long after, I had my first (and to this day, only) work of flash fiction. 800-odd words did what 5,000 couldn't. If only my novels would write so easy…

Chris F. Holm was born in Syracuse, New York, the grandson of a cop who passed along his passion for crime fiction. His work has appeared in such publications as Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, Needle: A Magazine of Noir, and THE BEST AMERICAN MYSTERY STORIES 2011. He’s been an Anthony Award nominee, a Derringer Award finalist, and a Spinetingler Award winner. His Collector novels, published by Angry Robot books, recast the battle between heaven and hell as Golden Era crime pulp. He lives on the coast of Maine with his lovely wife and a noisy, noisy cat.

Feeding Kate: A Crime Fiction Anthology is available from Amazon. All proceeds from Feeding Kate benefit the Lupus Foundation of America.

A Hungry Soul by Ellie Anderson

I'm thrilled to have Ellie Anderson (L.E. Anderson or Leah to me) visiting the blog today to share her experience writing A Hungry Soul for the Feeding Kate anthology.  Ellie is the author of Ante Mortem, the short story that we ran at My Friends Call Me Kate last year.  She's an incredible writer, a wonderful friend, and I'm always delighted when some of her personal experiences find a way into her writing.  She's a lover of books, good food, and ghosts... and she's an inspiration to many.  I started this book blog at her insistence, btw.

A Hungry Soul is a story of love... okay, maybe not the love love that comes to mind when you think of love between married people, but there is definitely a love for cheeseburgers, ribs, and label making, along with an incredibly skillful use of a knife. And I love it all!  A Hungry Soul is exactly what I'd expect from my friend, Ellie... or L.E. Anderson... can't I just call you Leah?  *wink wink* 

Don't forget... I'm giving away two prints copies of Feeding Kate at the end of the month. If you want a shot at winning a copy all you have to do is leave a comment during the month of May. 

 
A Hungry Soul

Feeding Kate. Amazing! Give several different writers two simple words and have each one author a short story that springs from this seemingly simple phrase.

I’m new to the world of writing (well…truly, I’ve written most of my life but not for other’s  eyes, except my teachers and professors) and was so happy to have the opportunity to be included in this project.  I was even more excited when I learned that it would benefit the Lupus foundation and my favorite blogger, Sabrina Ogden.

I have always loved writing exercises of this nature.  Give a group of people one central idea and see what sort of depravity, innocence, mayhem or mystery emerges.  My story, A Hungry Soul, was born instantaneously upon hearing the theme.  It appeared so effortlessly that I was certain something was amiss and I feared it would be the same idea everyone else had.  I was terrified when it came time to submit it, fearing that it would appear as if I had no imagination.  I never did budge from my first idea.  I tried, I really did, to take it beyond inception.  But alas, it remained true.  Surely the other writers, I pondered, many of whom are well-seasoned and published authors, would have developed more sophisticated storylines than I had.  Would the others laugh at my work?  Would they wonder why I had been included in the line-up?  The questions still ping around my head, but I carried on and went forth bravely.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?

The best stories start in the middle of the action and that’s how mine usually unfold.  Then they flash back and forth through time.  Don’t know why that has become my M.O., but it works for me.  However, A Hungry Soul starts with a back story, Kate’s, and then moves into an understated sort of madness.  Those that know me well know that much of the first portion is based on my life.  Unwittingly, this story became a source of soul-purging.  While much of Kate’s anger stems from my psyche, please be assured that she is not me.  She is, most certainly, her own person.

Biggest lesson learned from this experience?  Not everyone will like my work.  Second lesson learned?  Some people will.   When the final draft had been accepted, I was nauseated, and although I didn’t read it again until I actually had the book in my hands, months later, I was still cringing over it.  I cracked the spine and it opened up to my story and scanned the words for what must have been the hundredth time.  The words seemed foreign.  Had I really written this?  I liked it.  How could that be?

Given the chance, I would do everything different.  But I learned more than I had hoped for and I am honored to be included amongst some of the best writers I have ever read!

Ellie Anderson

(aka for L.E. Anderson, my real name)

P.S.  Third lesson learned?  Just use my own name.

L.E. Anderson (Leah Eubanks Anderson) is a paralegal for the Criminal Division of the Salt Lake County District Attorney in Utah.  She graduated from the University of Utah in 1986 with a B.A. in English.  She lives in Utah with her teenage son, two beagles and two cats of unknown origin.  She loves to ghost hunt, write ghost stories, research near-death experiences and collect Victorian funeral antiques.  Her first novel, Ante Mortem (a Della Couldock paranormal mystery), is scheduled to be released as an e-book on June 1, 2013 and the second in the series, Momento Mori, is scheduled for October 1, 2013.  Leah’s family has accepted her unconventional interests with guarded curiosity, immense love and unending support.  Her friends just think she’s weird.

Feeding Kate: A Crime Fiction Anthology is available from Amazon. All proceeds from Feeding Kate benefit the Lupus Foundation of America.