Ryan McFadden

Finished my latest short story. It’s called the New Kid. Once again, it clocks in just around the 3000 mark, which makes it eligible for just about every magazine out there. 3000 words is about 6 single spaced pages (this one is more because there’s a lot of dialogue).

This one is a little different than my previous as not only is not action based, but it’s no longer the weird fantasy. In fact, the fantasy/horror element doesn’t even enter until the last paragraph.

Here’s the first page:

     Jake was being followed by the new kid. He was persistent, chasing him through the neighborhood on his banana-seat bike. Jake pulled out all the tricks to lose him, but the kid was good, pedaling faster and showing top maneuverability.
    Jake turned into the schoolyard, skidded around an outcropping and waited. When the new kid rounded the corner, Jake slammed his bike into his, enough to knock him off balance but not enough to spill him.
    “Who the hell are you?”
    “I’m the new kid.”
    “You’ve been following me.”
    “I’m not from here.”
    The kid smelled funny – like tapioca. Jake didn’t like it.
    “Can I hang with you?” the new kid asked.
    “I don’t know you.”
    “I’ve got smokes.”
    Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Smokes?”
    “Yup.”
    “Let me see them.”
    The new kid dug a squashed pack from his back pocket. Player’s Menthol.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Joshua.”
    “Where’d you get those?”
    “From my dad.”
    “Does he know you have them?”
    “I only take one or two a day so he’ll never notice.”
    “Hand them over.”
    “Can I hang?”
    Joshua was holding out the cigarettes but Jake knew that they could easily disappear into his back pocket. And Jake wasn’t the type to try to take them by force.
    “You can come with me. But it can get rough. You understand?”
    The kid blew a strand of blond hair from his face. “I can handle rough.”
    “I’m not so sure. Mike and Trevor don’t like new kids.”
    “Cool.”
    They biked across the school yard and into the maze of portables. Mike and Trevor were already there, their bikes parked up against the corrugated wall. They were crouched around a patch of dirt, snapping marbles across a make-shift playing circle.
    “Who the hell is that?” Trevor asked. He was the smallest of the bunch but the one with the biggest mouth – he was used to having Mike stick up for him.
    “A new kid. He brought smokes,” Jake said.
    “You playing marbles?” Joshua asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “I have marbles.”
    “So?” Trevor replied.
    “Can I play?”
    “Let’s see the cigarettes.”
    Joshua produced the crinkled pack.
    “Hand them over.”
    “Can I play marbles with you?”
    “Sure, sure,” Trevor said, grabbing the pack from the new kid. “I need a lighter.” He held out his hand to the new kid.
    “Those things are dangerous,” he said.
    “How are we supposed to light them without one?”
    “Hold on. I still have some matches.” Mike dug into his pocket. Took a few tries before producing a weak flame. Trevor leaned in, took some quick puffs. He smiled at his accomplishment, regarded the cigarette, then took a long, deliberate pull on the Player’s Menthol. He held his breath, before hacking out a cloud of smoke redolent of medicine.

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Writing

While only a ‘yes’ is really all that matters, I can’t help but notice that a lot of my stories are beginning to get past the initial ‘no’ phase and into the second round consideration.

Second round consideration is where the true decision makers make the final cuts — so at the very least, I’m getting to the important people. Eileen sent me a link called Submitting to the Black Hole that writers use to track how long a publication responds. It’s interesting because it lists the length of time, along with the result (rewrite, sale, rejection). But you can start to see patterns.

Here are a couple of examples.

Intergalactic Medicine Show — I’m currently at 314 days. I was notified back in September that I was in the second round. If you don’t get out of the first round, you’re rejected within 90 days. The only sales listed were two both past 300 days. So I’m in good territory. Will it sell? Who knows. This is just a sampling. Now this magazine, I KNOW I’m in final consideration. It’s also a biggie (a SFWA member).

On Spec — once again, if you hear back quickly, it’s going to be a rejection. Anything LESS than 230 days is going to be a rejection. Well, I’m at 175 days. So I think I’m at the least being ‘held over’ which can be a good thing. Doesn’t seem like anyone who makes a sale is accepted within the listed guidelines (up to 170 days). It takes longer.

Recently, Dead Letter Office received second round consideration at Abyss and Apex (so I sent them Dignity Memorial, mentioning the second round consideration…and it’s a shorter story).

I’m hoping to make this a number’s game. If I can write enough stories, with enough circulating, that some of these places will actually begin to remember my name — as crazy as that sounds.

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Writing

I have a simple request. Please take notes if you need to.

Let’s say you’re making a movie. Great. Then give it a name. For the sake of argument, let’s call it There Will Be Blood.

Okay, I’m with you. Great title. But remember one thing: There had better be freaking blood! I want valleys of blood. Remember the Shining? Remember the waves of blood coming down the hallway? Exactly. That movie could’ve been called There Will Be Blood.

Now, don’t get me wrong — this was a decent movie (long, however — Brian’s girl bladder couldn’t hold out the entire movie)…but there was a lot of oil. Damn, Daniel Day-Lewis was one greasy bastard, but the blood was more of a dribble.

Imagine Jaws without the shark. Star Wars without the wars (I guess it would be called 2001), imagine XXX without the money shot. And damn it, I kept waiting for the blood like I was waiting for the money shot. It never came…errr, never happened.

I want blood.

Give me blood.

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