Updates and News (June 2016 edition)

A new thing I’m trying out: I’m going to start each month with a quick list of updates, and news you might have missed. That way, I know everyone who follows me online has seen them, and I don’t have to plaster the internet with handbills.

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There’s. Just. So. Many. Bills.

Ready? Here we go…

In June, I had surgery to remove half my thyroid, found out I had (but no longer have) cancer, and spent most of the month recovering. I’m better now.

I finished the general education portion of school (mostly through transferring classes in, but some I took here), yay! Because I owe money to my college before I can register for fall, I’m putting together a small collection of my Mythos fiction. You can help me out by pre-ordering it via PayPal for $2, or donating to the fundraiser in exchange for rewards like podcasts and beta reads and art.

This collection will have 5 stories; two were previously published by Chaosium, and the other three have never been seen before. I’ve started sharing excerpts:

I still need $695 to make this happen, so please consider telling your friends.

In June I also sold three stories – two reprints and an original – to three magazines. I’ve signed contracts for two, so I shared the news about one sale so far, “One Echo Of An August Morning” to Kaaterskill Basin Literary Journal. Click here for more information on that.

I shared two poems with my readers last month. One was “Ephyra” – a short poem inspired by the place where mythic women and jellyfish meet. The other was “The Wanderer’s Lament”, an Old West-theme ballad in the style of cowboy songs. I posted that to my Patreon page, unlocked and open to the public. You can read “Ephyra” by clicking the link, and over here is the “The Wanderer’s Lament“.

In other, not good news: I’ve no work for July, and bills/rent already [past] due. Time for a sale on editing services! I’m experienced, available, and desperately need to fill a last minute cancellation, even book ahead, so I’m offering 50% OFF EVERY EDITING SERVICE. You can find me at  or use my contact form here.

If you like my work as an editor, please share this sale with anyone who might be interested.

I’m in a hard spot, financially, that I haven’t been in for a while. It’s tough not to feel as if it’s one step forward, two steps back, but I know overall life has been better lately, and with the medical stuff out of the way now, I can focus on work. Writing, editing, making a career and a name for myself. If it seems like I’m trying to monetize everything I can, well, I am. I’m doing every kind of work I can do under the circumstances to support myself and my son; freelancing, side gigs, the Mythos project, you name it. I hope there’s something in there that appeals to you, that you can support.

Now, on to July…

#SFWAPro

New Collection/Fundraiser Update: An Excerpt from “The Night Hours”

Right now, my fundraiser is at $805 out of $1500, with a goal of publishing a collection of five stories (two reprints, and three originals). With every $300 reached, I officially add another work to the book, so right now, the two reprints are definitely going to be packaged together for everyone who contributed. At $900, I’ll add in a brand new story, “The Night Hours”.

The first two stories include my science fiction tendencies: a tale of robots fighting ghouls after the world has died, and another where the worst of Miskatonic’s dark knowledge finds new life online. “The Night Hours” is different: heavily influenced by pulp detective stories, it follows a Filipino man living in a creepy little coastal town, in Massachusetts, in the 1930s, whose girlfriend has gone missing. He’ll have to risk his life to save her… probably.

If he decides to. It sort of depends on the day.

It was about eleven o’clock at night, mid-October, and Epifanio was supposed to be washing dishes in the back of the steam-filled kitchen. He was wearing a dull (but mostly white) buttoned shirt, with his sleeves rolled up, and a stained apron that belonged to the joint. The shirt was his, along with the black pants and scuffed but comfortable black shoes, but resented that he was required to wear them, and grouched about it, often. He leaned against the doorway, not quite in the bar, and not quite in or out of the kitchen, either. It was a neutral space, that square foot of in-between, where he could claim to be doing other than what he was: watching Willie Green blow the roof off the place with his horn.

“Hey, Chinaman,” the bartender growled. “Stop ogling the skirts, and get back to work.”

Epifanio wasn’t Chinese, or ogling, but didn’t argue the point. Mickey, the barrel-shaped Irishman who ran the place, hired him because he couldn’t tell the “Orientals” apart. So there were some things Epifanio knew to be wrong but didn’t say. Truth is, there were a lot of things like that.

The kitchen was a square, squat, low-ceilinged room with no windows, but it had three entrances. The single maroon door, with the round porthole, Bob let swing shut behind him as he left the bar. The black double doors led into the restaurant, where round, red, lacquered tables and pretty girls in embroidered satin gave the impression that this was where traditional Chinese cuisine was happening. Except it was New England, and Epifanio had never seen that particular blend of tables, patterns, and ink-wash paintings in any kitchen he’d been in before. But he’d never been to China, so what did he know?

Mickey didn’t let colors mix in his dining room. Chances were pretty good that no one eating the roast duck and pan-fried rice knew it wasn’t authentic. Or maybe it was now, a new traditional, a true Innsmouth dining experience, the kind we’d all be getting used to soon enough.

That last door, a scratched steel slab, was all that stood between Epifanio and freedom at the end of the night. It was the service entrance, which Mickey like to call the “servants” entrance, because the staff wasn’t allowed in any other way. Oh, sometimes, one girl or another would get the privilege of walking in through the front door for a few weeks, but we knew the price they paid. All through the evening, the sound of loud voices and clanking silverware burst into the kitchen at regular intervals as the waitresses glided through to pick up their orders, and then back out into the fray. Later, the diners would fade away, and the bar would pick up their slack. On a good night the sound of jazz would leak through under the other door, making our last hour of clean up not quite so bad.

If we stayed late enough, sometimes old Chen dealt cards and we cooked dinner for ourselves, the way our mothers would have, then all of those other sounds faded away, and the only thing creeping in was the pernicious Innsmouth fog, that stuck its fat fingers under doors and slithered in on its belly. Not even the steel could keep it out.

I’m running out of time to pay off what I owe so I can register for Fall, so please, if you can contribute today. I can take contributions via PayPal here (Anything sent this way is still eligible for the same rewards, and I add it to the total at GoFundMe so everyone can see where we are). If you’d like, you can use the GoFundMe instead.

Sale: “One Echo Of An August Morning” to Kaaterskill Basin Literary Journal

I hinted at this last week, but have signed the contract so it’s official: my story, “One Echo Of An August Morning” will appear in the Summer 2016 issue of Kaaterskill Basin Literary Journal (coming out mid-July).

This will be their 3rd issue; you can read the first two for free online here. While I got lucky that one of their editors likes SF – and this story in particular is squarely on the edge of speculative/literature – most of the work they publish is what you’d hope to see in a “literary journal”, and I’m pleased to be in that company.

New Collection/Fundraiser Update: An Excerpt from “No Hand To Turn The Key”

No Hand to Turn the Key by Carrie Cuinn tells the tale of an alternate future where humanity has been wiped out by Mythos horrors leaving only automatons behind to defend what remains of Earth’s human legacy. The result is a touching tale of sacrifice and hope in the face of overwhelming odds.” – Alan Loewen

The second reprint story in the new collection originally appeared in Steampunk Cthulhu: Mythos Terror in the Age of Steam, out from Chaosium in 2014. It was actually one of the first Mythos stories I wrote, and is an example of what I like best when writing Lovecraft-inspired work: playing at the edges of what came before me, exploring the long-term effects of the Old Ones, with characters you wouldn’t expect.

Want to know a secret? It’s set on the UPenn campus (in my favorite building, Van Pelt-Dietrich Library Center) and mostly in my favorite place, the 6th floor. That’s home to the Kislak Center for Special Collections and Rare Books.

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I spent a hundreds of hours of my life here.

The story begins after all hope had been lost…

The University didn’t have many buildings to choose from. She’d spent time in the Downtown division, where troopers could sit in a 10th story windows and pick off intruders with ease, but having been promoted to defend a more delicate area, she was also forced to do more work. The tallest building on the quad was the New Library, so she headed up the large gray steps toward the wood-paneled doors long-gone construction units had rigged together when the original glass one was busted, decades before. Her heavy armor weighed on her as she moved herself up each worn piece of concrete but there wasn’t time to rest. There was barely time to wind.

Past a pair of dim-witted sentries and into the lift she’d held her back straight and her head high, but alone in the box she finally allowed herself to slump against the wall. Deftly undoing the multitude of fastenings on her coat, she slipped one hand inside and found her windup key – an ornate cog slowly untwisting against her otherwise plain chest. She gently moved her fingers across its intricately engraved surface, feeling the motion of the cog as it clicked down.

The lift slowed at a floor lower than the one she’d been aiming for, and suddenly her moment of privacy ended under the gaze of a male she didn’t know. His eyes widened, taking in the scene.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I can wait for the next one.” He dropped his gaze.

“No, of course not,” she replied. “Don’t waste the energy. This one is already going up.”

He nodded, entered the box, and turned to face the closing doors, still looking down at the floor.

She realized too late that she had left her hand inside her jacket, fingers idly fondling her chest.

I’m running out of time to pay off what I owe so I can register for Fall, so please, if you can contribute today. I can take contributions via PayPal here (Anything sent this way is still eligible for the same rewards, and I add it to the total at GoFundMe so everyone can see where we are). If you’d like, you can use the GoFundMe instead.

New Collection/Fundraiser Update: An Excerpt from “CL3ANS3”

I’ve got just under $750 to go on my fundraiser to help me put out a small collection of Mythos fiction, in order to pay for a couple of college classes. The collection – which I’m calling Black Mud Sun, Blood Red Sea – will include two previously published and three original stories. All varied, inclusive, a little sexy, and a lot of fun to write.

Here’s an excerpt from one of those stories, “CL3ANS3” (originally appearing in Eldritch Chrome: Unquiet Tales of a Mythos-Haunted Future, Chaosium. December 2, 2013.)

A handsome boy delivered glasses of chilled water to our table, singing out, “Hydration!” as he slid one in front of each of us. They were always lovely, the ones who served our food and smiled as they took our coats.

I watched him walk away as Marc sighed heavily.

“You do look feverish,” Hassa said, concerned. “You’re sweating.”

“You should notify medical,” Elda added.

“Yes, I think …” Marc paused, putting a hand to his forehead. “I think I’ll go there now.” He lurched to his feet and left, bumping into our handler as he passed her. She looked shaken but managed to get our meal on the table in the right order. Her long hair was brushed straight and bound behind her head with a black bow. I thought about my own hair, cropped close to my head, the way it had been for years. Data processor chic; we all wore it this way.

“He’s gone to medical,” I said when I realized she was still standing at our table, Marc’s food on her tray, a lost look on her face. “You can take that back to the kitchen.” She smiled then, brightly, and retreated.

Mid-shift break never feels as if it’s long enough.

I settled into my couch, removing the cover from my data jack and slipping the transfer cable inside. The world fell away, and my real life came back into focus.

As I was unpacking the last file for the day, a vid with partial frame loss, a message flashed: my Architect advising me that I was needed on the University project. Marc’s project. I put the vid aside and sent her a reply, questioning.

“We have two processors out with illness,” she answered back. “Is anything in your queue a priority?”

“No, I’m clear to transfer,” I thought back at her, and she changed my queue with a quick “Thank you.” File attached. Info for the University. I put it aside for the next day, cleaned up my video, and placed it with the rest of its mates.

I wish I could say that I had some premonition of what was coming, but I slept dreamlessly and woke up refreshed. We have pills for that.

I’ve collected reviews of the story here.

I’m running out of time to pay off what I owe so I can register for Fall, so please, if you can contribute today. I can take contributions via PayPal here (Anything sent this way is still eligible for the same rewards, and I add it to the total at GoFundMe so everyone can see where we are). If you’d like, you can use the GoFundMe instead.

Poem: Ephyra

EPHYRA

Dressed in darkness, I tumble into dawn
To run salt-scented, empty asphalt
Space my neighbors have abandoned
Since streetlamps, transfigured
Hatched airborne jellies, now
Untethered, slowly drifting past
Sporadic bioluminscence:
An ocean’s liberated dream

Close to these shy miracles, I
Regret my awkward novice stride
And that I slept while they were born
Now icy puddles splash bare feet
Knees ache carrying my weight
Skin sweats, chaps, and chafes –
But above me, floating free,
Those silent creatures light my way.

– Carrie Cuinn

Continue reading

College Update: Done with General Ed!

Between transfer credits, what I’ve done at my current school so far, and a few creatively-worded waivers, I’m done with the General Education portion of my degrees. From here on out, it’s all Writing Program courses.

I’ve got two semesters until I graduate with an AA in Creative Writing in 2017, and then I can transfer for two or three semesters at SUNY to get my BA in English/Professional Writing. That’s the dream, folks. A Bachelors degree is my ticket to getting dependable work at a pay rate that covers a reasonable cost of living for this area. It’s the culmination of my educational efforts so far, all the time and energy I’ve put into community college in California, and my time at the University of Pennsylvania and the setback from having to leave school when I got divorced and was suddenly a single parent, and now going back to college here…

I feel like I’ve passed a milestone. Caught up with myself. Everything I’m learning from this point forward is useful and not only relevant to my freelance work, but whatever job I’m going to have after I graduate. I’m no longer retaking classes that didn’t transfer or fulfilling requirements that should have been filled but because of bureaucracy, weren’t. I’m no longer “wasting” time and money.

If you’ve been following along with my fundraising efforts to pay for school, I’m still about halfway from my goal, and could still use your help. (I need to register for my Fall classes to ensure I get the ones only offered once a year!) Plus, you get fiction and other goodies from me.

You can contribute in the following ways:

 

You Can Now Preorder My Mythos Collection for $2

Many of you know that I’m raising money to put out a new short collection of Mythos- and HP Lovecraft-inspired fiction. This collection will have 5 stories; two were previously published by Chaosium, and the other three have never been seen before. If you donate through my GoFundMe Page, you get access to reward levels like podcasts, original art, naming a dead body, and more.

If you want to simply preorder the book via PayPal, you can do that too! I will keep a running total of ebooks purchased this way, and add it to the total fundraiser amount, so preordering the book still goes toward my total goal. Once that number is reached, the books and rewards will be released to everyone.

Oh, and the name of my collection? I’m calling it “Black Mud Sun, Blood Red Sea”.

Preorder it here:

Pay with PayPal, PayPal Credit or any major credit card

Mythos Collection Fundraiser Update: Podcasts!

GoFundMe Page Here

I’ve raised almost 1/3 of my goal, but still need $1100 to pay off my two college classes. In addition to the collection of Lovecraft-inspired fiction I’m offering up in exchange, I’ve also got reward levels for backers: beta read for short fiction, original art, even a chance to name a body in one of these stories.

Now I’ve added another perk, and everyone who’s contributed $5 or more gets it! I’ll be recording me reading at least one story from the collection – the closer we get to the goal, the more I’ll commit to doing. If we meet the entire goal of $1500, through GoFundMe or through PayPal donations (which I’ve been adding to the GFM page so everyone can see the total raised), I’ll read the entire set of stories.

You can contribute at higher levels to get those rewards and still get the podcasts, too. It’s my gift to everyone who so generously gave to me.

As I said in my original post, you can contribute because I’m a good person going through a hard time. You can contribute because you like my writing and want to see more of it. You can contribute because you haven’t had to roll a SAN check recently. No matter why you lend a hand, I appreciate you.

Thank you.

Carrie Cuinn

PS. If you’d rather contribute by PayPal, which doesn’t charge as much as GoFundMe, you can send money using this link . If you do, I’ll add it manually here, so the total amount needed goes down.

Reviews of my Mythos fiction – get more in my new collection!

I’m funding a new mini-collection of Mythos fiction, and paying for a couple of college classes. Please go to my fundraising page for more info, including rewards. I’ve got deadlines, so this won’t be open long.

If you haven’t read my work before, I’ve collected some reviews of the two previously-printed stories that will appear in the collection…

Reviews of “No Hand to Turn the Key”, in Chaosium’s STEAMPUNK CTHULHU

No Hand to Turn the Key by Carrie Cuinn tells the tale of an alternate future where humanity has been wiped out by Mythos horrors leaving only automatons behind to defend what remains of Earth’s human legacy. The result is a touching tale of sacrifice and hope in the face of overwhelming odds. – Alan Loewen

Imagine if just the clockwork servitors of our own creation was all that was left. Humanity is gone and only they are there to try and preserve the knowledge that might save themselves, and might have damned humanity. [This story is] absolutely fantastic. – Amazon

Among the standout stories for me was Carrie Cuinn’s “No Hand To Turn the Key”. – David, Goodreads

Reviews of “CL3ANS3”, in Chaosium’s ELDRITCH CHROME

“CL3ANS3” is a beautiful story from Carrie Cuinn. Ms. Cuinn’s voice and the picture she was able to weave inside my mind was absolutely amazing, her prose was top-notch. – Brian Murphy (MU Podcast)

“CL3ANS3” by Carrie Cuinn: This story has a really cool concept about a future where all data has to be organized and that organization is done through a kind of virtual reality (it is cyberpunk after all). Carrie Cuinn does a great job of building a great world of CHARACTERS here, like Orson Scott Card did in Ender’s Game (yeah, the guy’s politics suck but he can write some amazing characters). I bring up ‘Ender’ because there are scenes in the story where the protagonist sits down and interacts with other ‘sorters’ in a kind of cafeteria and it just has this realistic feeling to it. The writing is very solid and when the virtual world starts to become tainted by Eldritch happenings the story delivers. – D. Anderson

The anthology had been described to me as ‘Cyberpunk Cthulhu’, which threw me off originally, until I sneaked a peek at Carrie Cuinn’s CL3ANS3, which is, in my opinion, the pivotal point in this anthology and its biggest sell. – Konstantine Paradias

Paradias wrote a full review elsewhere online, which says in part:

CL3ANS3 took me by surprise. Primarily, because this is one of those stories that make excellent material for experimental animation short films that have this rarely-seen alienating feeling to them. The world outlined by Carrie Cuinn in this short story is clinical, sterilized and strange beyond belief. Its main character might be an antisocial, objective narrator but the rest of the people occupying the setting aren’t all that better off.

This story forced me to do a double-take to pinpoint exactly what bothered me about it so much and guess what: it’s not the Lovecraftian Horrors, not in and of themselves. I think that this was perhaps the point that Cuinn was trying to make: the scary, strange future that waits just around the corner, its people distant and antisocial, scared more of each other than the things lurking just beyond the world.

Read the rest of his review here.