In my last post, I announced the limited release of a special preview of my upcoming book, Of Seaweed and Chocolate, to support a worthy cause. In this one, I'll talk about what's inside the book and how it came to be there.
It all started when I was planning a story that needed a nonhuman character. A stock extraterrestrial wouldn't do; this guy needed to feel real, and his species had to be believable.
Then one evening I got a toothache. It wasn't bad enough for the emergency room, but it was clear that I wasn't getting any sleep that night. So I got as comfortable as possible and set out to distract myself with a story while I waited for morning. My mind wandered back to the Chuzeks, but the setting was Earth this time.
That got the ball rolling, and in 2008, I entered a contest with a Chuzek story called "The Mammal Cage:"
When Piper Craven wakes up in a desert badly sunburned, she finds herself among strange people in a world not suited to human life. The locals save the alien primate's life and shelter her from the deadly sun. But when they can't figure out what to feed her, her life is once again in danger.
When "The Mammal Cage" won, I began to think I might be onto something. So I wrote more Chuzek stories, and about ten years ago, I released a collection of them in print.
Looking through the book again more recently, I was disappointed and embarrassed. It just didn't adequately communicate my vision of this world and its people.
I weighed my options. Leave it and hope readers will notice the publication date and understand that my writing has improved since? Hit delete and move on? Revise heavily?
I chose the last one.
I kept two of the stories, "Deployment" and of course, "The Mammal Cage," and wrote six more. Some of these present characters and events from the stories they replaced, but in a fresh way, while others are entirely new. And a ninth story threads throughout the book and ties them all together.
I'll leave you with the first few pages. If you want to help me support the Nashua (NH) Soup Kitchen and Shelter, follow the link and keep reading. Until the end of January, all proceeds will go to the soup kitchen.
ULPS, TEXAS, 1990
The plain white cargo van that pulled into the crumbling concrete lot in front of the diner was oddly tall.
Inside the stainless-steel-clad building, with a table all to himself near the glass front wall, a man sat savoring a plump hamburger laden with the usual vegetables. He took a bite, then got up and moved his chair six inches to the left, where the cheerful figure of an old man, drawn on the window in colored wax by an untalented artist, would no longer impede his view.
The first passenger out of the tall van was a little girl – about eight, brunette, with pigtails. The man took little notice of her and kept his eyes on the van.
Close behind her, another little girl appeared. Her bald head was covered with spines, and nascent ridges grew on her brows, cheeks and chin. The two were clearly friends, staying close together and talking as they disappeared behind the van, and again when they emerged on the other side. But the second girl didn’t attract the man’s attention for long, either.
The third person to step out of the van stood seven feet tall with a powerful physique. Like the second girl, his head was hairless. His cranial spines and facial ridges, while similar to hers, were larger and more defined. Gold markings gleamed on the front of his armored grey uniform, and combat boots with shin guards came up to his knees.
The man by the window, who had just taken another bite of his burger, now swallowed it down in a gulp without chewing. “Get Marilou out here,” he shouted. “Quick!”
Half the customers jumped to their feet. “What is it?” someone asked.
A server in blond curls and an aqua dress stopped in the middle of refilling a coffee mug. “What’s wrong, Ed?” She started toward his table.
“We got Chuzeks,” Ed replied.
The server set the coffee carafe down on the nearest table and ran to the counter. “Marilou!” she called. “Is Marilou back there? She needs to come out here quick!”
A moment later, a fifty-something woman with a tired face and a rusty red perm ran into the dining room, lit cigarette in hand. Her aqua dress matched the server’s.
“The Chuzeks are here,” Ed announced.
Marilou’s face turned a few shades lighter. “Well, we knew it would happen eventually.” She spoke in the scratchy baritone of a larynx damaged by decades of heavy smoking. “Wish me luck,” she said, and marched out the door.
In the parking lot, the big stranger made a gesture to the girls, and they got behind him.
Marilou walked straight up to him and got to the point. “We’re not involved, I swear,” she said without introduction. “No one here is. We’re completely neutral. The workers, they’ve got nothing to do with it. And ever since the surrender, we’ve all been making every effort to stay in compliance. They’re just people with families trying to make a living.”
The stranger said nothing, just stood there gazing down at her.
She squirmed and looked away. “Well,” she sputtered, “I mean, my sons were in the army, of course. But you have to understand, they were drafted. They would have thrown them in jail. They had no choice.”
“Mrs. Lopez,” said the stranger, “I have no problem with you, your workers or your sons.” He waved his left hand in a dismissive gesture, as though flicking the thought away. His leathery fingers ended in lethal claws.
Marilou stared at the claws for a second, then back up at the scaly ridges of the stranger’s face. “You don’t?”
He shook his head. “My daughter wants a traditional Earth beverage.”
“You came here to eat?”
“Perhaps.”
When Marilou stepped back into the diner, nobody was eating. “We have customers,” she said, looking directly at the server with the blond curls.
“Me?” the server grimaced, begging with her eyes.
Marilou answered with a desperate shrug as the party from the van approached and the door began