Posts Tagged ‘Hans Christian Andersen’
DARKFUSE MAGAZINE Managing Publisher Shane Staley announced today that the print edition of DARKFUSE 6, including my steampunkish tale “The Candle and the Flame” (cf. January 13, et al.), has been given a May 30 publication date. Information and advance ordering can be found here. “The Candle and the Flame” is a variation of sorts of Hans Christian Andersen’s story of “The Little Match Girl,” sans angels conveying one’s soul to Heaven. Because there are other uses for souls, more practical ones as one might say for those who can afford it — or maybe not. With eight stories in all, DARKFUSE 6 is planned as a “mini-hardcover” collectors edition, including several signing options, and the following contents:
“Mommy’s Little Man” by Brian Hodge
“The Friday Special” by Renée Miller
“Dare To” by Bruce Golden
“Night of the Dog” by Brian Knight
“The Candle and the Flame” by James Dorr
“Fear” by Ben Pienaar
“Where They Belong” by Aeryn Rudel
“Instant Swimmers” by Ronald Malfi
Third Flatiron Publishing, LLC, publishers of “The Reading” in UNIVERS HORRIBILIS and “Refugees” in A HIGH SHRILL THUMP (see March 1 this year and August 27 2012, respectively), has done it again. My third submission to them has just been accepted for their e-anthology scheduled for summer on the theme of PLAYING WITH FIRE. The tale itself is called “The Match Story” and may owe a certain debt to Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Match Girl.” Except Andersen’s story doesn’t have zombies.
It is, however, a Christmas story with the acceptance coming Sunday, with variable sunshine and temperatures up into the low 70s, our first truly spring-like weekend this year which even gave opportunity Saturday to do some concrete patching on the computer cave’s front steps. The trick there wasn’t so much a warm day as a promise of a dry night with temperatures still far enough above freezing to let the patch set. So anyway, come summer, up in the 90s or even 100s look for my story about little Amelia, barefoot in the snow on Christmas Eve, trying desperately to sell her matches for the wherewithal to keep herself and her family warm.
For more information on Third Flatiron Publishing, including future themes, press here. And one more thing. To quote from their website: “We would like to see some honest reviews of our anthologies get published. If you are interested, please contact us and let us know where you have submitted reviews. We can’t pay you, but we would be glad to provide a complimentary e-copy.” So on April 3 we had the offer from SO IT GOES Editor Max Booth III for e-books in exchange for reviews; we now have the same deal from Juliana Rew of Third Flatiron. Reviewers, if you should respond to either of these (or any other book where something of mine has appeared), please let me know too when your review is published — I’d love to see your opinions myself.
It seemed like a nice idea at the time — and I still think it was. At just after midnight the night before Christmas, technically Christmas Day local time, I posted my Facebook “Christmas card” with a painting, courtesy of Victorian Vampire Society UK, by Edmund Dulac (1882-1953) illustrating a 1911 edition of THE SNOW QUEEN, AND OTHER STORIES FROM HANS ANDERSEN. Little did I know at the time (drum roll up) that in scarcely more than 24 hours the regal lady would be on my doorstep, in fact literally, in drifts, covering the front porch.
So this morning came the digging out — one thing good, a package from my sister yesterday contained warm gloves. Other activities on Christmas included devouring, with a tiny bit of help from the cave cat Wednesday, a small chicken, along with sweet and Irish potatoes, green beans, onion, and salad; unwrapping the presents (Wednesday got a new toy spider which she’s playing with as I write this) accompanied with hot chocolate laced with coffee; and much, much later enjoying orange slices and cherry pie with whipped cream topping while watching NUTCRACKER: THE MOTION PICTURE (cf. December 9 — yes, since then I got my own copy) on the VCR. Music via Public Broadcasting on the TV accompanied much of the day’s activities, in fact, a pleasant time all around, although interrupted at times as the afternoon and evening progressed by National Weather Service warnings that the night and next day would bring a blizzard.
So we almost had a white Christmas, missing by only just over three hours (so I’m a night person in my natural habitat — vampires are too), and we certainly have a white Day After Christmas, my stairs now cleared enough for the Post Office guy to get from the street to my mailbox, if the Post Office guy even comes out today, another path cleared to the alley out back with a branch to my back door (I even had to shovel off the top of the garbage can). How many inches deep? — it’s hard to say with all the drifting. But one thing I can say:
From time to time I’d stop to rest, especially by the time I’d gotten to the back, and looking around, it’s stunningly beautiful.