EzzyB: Blog

During the time I was actively posting stories here those awards were in limbo before Lazeez began his excellent stewardship and started them back up again.

Rebecca Danced was something I did to try to give back a little to this community after reading stories here by the likes of Bar Bar, Wes Boyd, Argon, Don Lockwood and many others. All those amazing things just lying here to read for free!

I wrote half a dozen chapters, looked them over, then cried for help. The cry was answered by Mr. Spock who turned my pitiful ramblings into a recognizable story. I hope it and the following two were enough of a payment for the efforts of those who came before me and those who have come along since.

Thanks for remembering an old dude who managed to cobble together a few stories a decade ago.

-EzzyB

Or are they?

I got this from another author's blog. He didn't have anything bad to say about the Chaos stories. Just that there wasn't enough.

The upper limit for a work of fiction to be considered a novella is about 50,000 words. Rebecca Danced at 78,000 words or so certainly qualifies as a full-length novel. I have a PoD (publish on demand) copy of State of Chaos. It is larger than a normal paperback and over 600 pages long! It's prohibitively expense to purchase (around $17 and it's a paperback) because it's so big.

So, at least by publishing standards these stories are right in the sweet spot, which was my target when I was writing them. Still, by SoL and other online outlets' standards these are almost considered short stories. Is 250,000 words the new norm? 375,000? 500,000?

I suppose any discussion of this would have to include a discussion on what's a story and what's a serial. I believe I hadn't yet written the final two chapters of Rebecca Danced when I started posting it, but it was certainly complete in my head. I'm pretty sure the other two were completely finished, if not completely edited, before they began posting. So even though they were not released all at once I definitely consider them stories, not serials. Actually I consider them "books" or "novels", not stories.

It's an interesting view on how online publishing is changing the way we think of these things.

I don't keep up with the forums the way I used to, so it was today as I was reading my weekly couple of chapters of Argon's excellent The Return of Thomas Grey that I learned of the passing of Wes Boyd.

Wes has been a fixture on SOL and online fiction for a lot longer than I have even been reading it. Authors like him have provided us with many hours of entertainment. Wes' obvious passion for his art was second to none.

There is a lot more to the Spearfish Lake tales than can be found on SOL, check out http://www.spearfishlaketales.com/ if you are so inclined.

Tonight, raise a glass, say a prayer, or just have a quiet moment in memory of Wes. He will be missed, but not forgotten.

On our voyage through this universe, on the little spaceship we call Earth, our newest crew-member is called Leland.

You may now call me Grandpa.

May he be fearless, strong, kind, and compassionate.

Do great things young man.

This is actually a direct continuation from the last scene and the final one I have to post.

This scene was meant to blindside the reader. Not that they didn't expect it, but this is actually the end of chapter 2, not much later in the book as expected.

I consider the final words here to possibly be the most in-character dialog I've ever written. :P

"Tony," Rich said once everyone had their mirth under control, "Is this supposed to be an official get-together?" Rich just wanted to know if he should pick up the tab in the company's name.

"Nah," Tony replied, "just me this time. We'll have a big thing at the end of the year when we can hand out fat bonus checks. The company can pay for that."

That statement got a cheer. Tony had no doubt that most at the tables had earned it. The Cobblestone Digital label still only had one title in release, but State of Chaos was in a league all its own. They had simply quit trying to keep up with the sales records. Rebecca's southern rock ballad, Last Regrets, had even made it to number four on the country charts, though that was after it was the fifth song from the album to top the rock and pop charts. A&R was still planning on releasing three more singles.

"So what's the occasion, Tony? Just glad the tour's over?" Bea asked.

"Well there is that I guess," he replied. "But really, why would I gather all of my closest friends, and a couple of new ones, at Antione's? Madonna I guess."

Tony glanced at Rebecca and she rolled her eyes. "OK Tony, get to the point," she said. "I know you have one."

"I have a point," he said, taking a deep breath. "I do have a point. Actually, you are the point." Tony chuckled nervously.

Rebecca looked at him and cocked her head to one side with a puzzled look. "Are you OK?"

"I'll let you know in a minute," he said, chuckling again. "Yeah, I know, the point." Both tables were hushed. Tony gave a nervous glance at the room. Everyone was giving him an expectant look except Tina. Her eyes danced with mirth. Of course, he thought. She would figure it out. She gave him a quick wink and a nod as if to say, go ahead, you'll only have to do this once.

Tony had thought this through a thousand times and at that moment all thousand thoughts fled. He simply stood, turned to Rebecca, dropped to a single knee, and looked into her green eyes. "Rebecca will you marry me?"

Rebecca stared at him, wide eyed and open mouthed for a split second, then began to tremble. Tony thought that was probably not the worst thing, he'd been trembling for the last ten minutes. Finally she pitched forward and wrapped herself tightly around his neck.

Anita broke the silence with a giggle. "Is that a yes?" she asked.

Rebecca nodded her head emphatically against Tony's shoulder. After another moment he gently began to unwrap her arms from his neck. "Come on sweety, I was told that when I did this I was supposed to have something for you to wear on your finger." With that he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.

There is only so much that can be built atop a size four ring so Tony had a single two carat diamond surrounded by tiny emeralds. It had been custom made by what he was coming to think of as his jeweler in Macon. He'd actually had it since February.

Both of their hands trembled as he slipped the ring on. Then, Rebecca finally found her voice.

"Tony," she said, "Daddy's gonna kill you!"