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.

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.

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.