A Writer's Reader
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We've found a common theme in these six short stories. Where these new authors, not only explore their own thoughts, ideas, and angst through their own fiction, but also take apart their own ideas about how writers write.
Here you'll see writer's block, the solitary writer's romances, the revenge of stalking stories, being transported by another writer into one of their worlds, and even examining the idea of your pet cat being responsible for a writer's output - or lack of it.
Nothing is sacred to these authors as they turn their fiction microscope on themselves and their own profession.
A Short Story Anthology Containing:
- Story Hunted by J. R. Kruze
- A Goddess_Visits by J. R. Kruze
- Cats Typing Romance: Two Short Stories by R. L. Saunders
- The Caretaker by C. C. Brower
- Keyboard in the Sky by R. L. Saunders
- To Laugh At Death by J. R. Kruze
(From "A Goddess Visits")
At first, I thought there was a naked woman in my cabin, reading my books.
And then I realized, it was just my goddess. Come to visit again, to remind me again of what I should be doing.
It was that gossamer outfit she wore. You know, the stuff made out of spider webbing. Thinner than silk and almost see-through, but tough enough to be tear-proof.
“Well, hello there, big boy. About time you showed up.” She unwound herself from the desk chair she was reading in, set the book down on the desktop and slunk toward me. “You’ve been busy since we last had a conversation.”
I looked her up and down with a glance and then focused on her eyes.
She pouted. “You know I dress just the way you want me to, the way you expect. So if you don’t like this (but I can tell you do) I’ll just change into something more comfortable - for you.”
At that she had on one of my flannel shirts, buttoned only half-way up, and some soft shorts I wore in hot weather to be able to write comfortably when I knew I wasn’t going outside.
She continued moving toward me and I could see that these two items were all she wore.
At last she was close enough to put her arms around my neck, but only touching there.
“Because I need to have your attention, but not distract you so much. This way you can look into my eyes without strain,” she said.
Of course I could feel her heat between us, and smell the cedar and violet scent of her.
“Well, of course. You think better when you’re stimulated - subtle does it, doesn’t it?” The goddess purred.
“And what is it that you need to tell me?” I asked.
“You’ve been doubting yourself. That’s not good.” She replied.
“Oh, those thoughts about not having the sales I should, not having the audience or network to bring in real income from my writing?”
“Yes those self-limiting thoughts of yours that only hold you back. You can hear me reminding you that the world - your world - is what you think it is. That you have to give before you can get. That faith is internally created, and you need to practice it. That belief creates fact. All these things.” The goddess took one hand to stroke the edge of my right ear.
“That’s all true, but…” I started to explain...
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