Tyson Adams

Putting the 'ill' back in thriller

Archive for the tag “short story”

Good News Everyone!

A while ago I had my short story, Hard Wood, accepted into the second Pulse Pounding Tales compilation by Matt Hilton. I’ve held off on making this announcement until the submissions were officially closed. For those unfamiliar with volume one of Pulse Pounding Tales, buy it now. You’ll thank me later. Volume 2 is due out later this month.

Cover for the second edition.

Cover for the second edition.

The first edition included short stories from many renowned and upcoming thriller authors, including: Matt Hilton (duh!), Zoë Sharp, Stephen Leather, Adrian Magson and Steven Savile. If the previous edition and my submission (Hey! I’m allowed to think I’m awesome) are anything to go by, this second installment should be just as awesome. For more on whose stories you will get to read, see here.

Hard Wood is about Steve: disabled in the war in outer Desert-stan, he now makes sure containers at a shipping yard aren’t lonely at night. Steve stumbles across some heavily armed smugglers and decides that he is the only one who can stop them escaping before the police can arrive. Pity that Steve is not heavily armed and is missing a leg. For a little background to the underlying topic of the short, read this little non-fiction synopsis about illegal logging.

I’d like to thank Matt for the opportunity to publish my story with him. I’d also like to congratulate my fellow authors who I will be sharing pages in the compilation with.

Update:

Here’s the final line-up to ACTION: Pulse Pounding Tales Vol 2 everyone:

CONTENTS
Introduction by Matt Hilton
Dirk Ramm: Unsheathed by Matt Hilton
Sins of Omission by Ian Graham
See Saw by James Oliver Hilton
Uninvited Guests by Rod Glenn
The Missionary by Paul D Brazill
Hard Wood by Tyson Adams
Black Tuesday by Alex Shaw
.50 Contingency Plan by Jochem Vandersteen
Cold Redemption By Les Morris
Kokoro by Andrew Scorah
Get Cutter! By James Hopwood
Jardine Rides Again by Ian McAdam
Jack Be Nimble by Gavin Hunt
Exit Wound by Steve Christie
As Heroes Fall By Frank Sonderborg
Goofy Brings The House Down by Richard Godwin
Grand Central: Terminal by Terrence P. McCauley
The Fixer by Dean Breckenridge
Soup Sandwich by Christopher L. Irvin
Pasnuta Means Arena of Death! by Richard Prosch
Mududa’s Revenge by Graham Smith
97 Ways To Die In Istanbul by Paul Grzegorzek
It’s Noir or Never by Absolutely*Kate
Push by Kevin Michaels
You Only Die Once by Rhesa Sealy
Man About Town by Alan Griffiths
Hanoi Heat by Iain Purdie
Hammertime by Asher Wismer
When The Devil Catches Up by Lee Hughes

Bonus Tale
Suited and Booted by Matt Hilton

Perth Writers’ Festival 2013

Another year has come and gone for my local writers’ festival. Once again I joined my fellow reading nerds and aspiring authors to descend upon the grounds of UWA. This year there were 30,000 of us who felt the need to spend three days of lovely weather discussing books.

This year I spent a lot of the three day in writing workshops and less time at discussion/interview sessions. There is always room for improvement in writing, so what better way than sitting down with an expert and two dozen peers to discuss and practice. I’d like to thank the various experts who all had some interesting insights and tips: Susan Midalia (short stories – literary focus), Belinda Castles (finding your voice and turning that story into reality), LA Larkin (thriller writing, great tips and she is also running a longer course with the Sydney Writers Centre) and Parker Bilal (crime writing, developing the characters and structure).

This isn’t to say that I didn’t get the chance to see any talks. The discussion of Antarctica was fascinating and puts it on the list of places I’d like to visit before climate change has its wicked way with it. The discussion with Major General John Cantwell and former WA premier Geoff Gallop about why it is necessary to help remove the stigma around mental illness was fantastic. John managed to pretend he wasn’t suffering PTSD for 20 years, which is just amazing considering some of the the ramifications it was having on him. Another great session was with David Petrarca, Sue Masters and James Bradley discussing how TV storytelling now rivals cinema and literature. It is quite clear that subscription TV and services like Netflix are changing the game for production of TV, which is why we are seeing great writing, great acting and decent budgets to give us programming I actually want to watch. James Bradley made a very poiniant comment: we have to stop ragging on Master Chef and other boring and mindless TV shows, their popularity allows decent TV to be funded. Finally, on Sunday I was introduced to two new (for me) authors in the panel discussion on thrillers with Andrew Croome, LA Larkin and Steve Worland. I’m looking forward to reading Andrew and Steve’s books, and of course Louisa’s new novel Thirst.

But, now the festival is over for another year. This picture sums up the take home message for me from this year’s Perth Writers’ Festival:

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Short stories now on Amazon

That’s right. I decided that there was no better way to learn how to publish my novellas than to practice with two of my short stories. I’m now prepared for the task of crossing the threshold into “professional author” territory, letting my creations escape the confines of my head and harddrive. I’ve priced both short stories at the Amazon standard $0.99, which is about what I think short stories should go for – novellas $2.99, novels somewhere between $7 and $10.

Running-the-Cross Rum-and-Roses

So if you would like to read some short stories, may I suggest you download mine from Amazon. Running the Cross is “A test of mind and body, running the cross is the ultimate test. A dozen rail lines, thousands of tonnes of freight trains travelling at high speed, a race across the tracks to prove yourself. Will you survive?” Rum and Roses “The police don’t like ‘Skinny’ McAfree, but they do like him for the disappearance and possible murder of his next door neighbour.”

I really enjoyed writing both of these, especially Running the Cross, and hope you enjoy reading them.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B3WP0OK – Running the Cross

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B3XTKFO – Rum and Roses

I received my first story rejection

Yes, I have now experienced the bitter pill that is publishing. I’m not that fussed, as the short story wasn’t in the publisher’s hands long enough for them to have actually read it. Having submitted scientific papers to journals, I know that rejections are often just due to having had enough submissions already. Time to resubmit!

Short Story: Pleased to Meet You

I’ve been promising to post a few short stories here, the day has finally arrived to keep that promise. This post proves that it was a “man promise” and not a “politician promise”.
The following short story, entitled Pleased to Meet You, is something I’m entering in the Alan Marshall Short Story Award – this piece is 1065 words long. I wrote the original draft for this a decade ago and I was happy with it after some minor revisions and additions. As this is the first public outing for my work I’d love any feedback you have.

Pleased to Meet You

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“I never used to talk to people.”
“I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”
Sarah was slightly startled by the sudden realisation that there was an old man sitting next to her. She hadn’t notice the old man sit down at the other end of the park bench, hadn’t notice him arrive. This was her only quiet time for the day, her lunch break in the park. Out here in the fresh air she could sit in silence, away from the phone calls, conversations in the next fabric-covered cubicle, the attention seeking of her two young sons and the emotional unloading of her husband. The light breeze, the gentle late autumn sun, peace.
“Oh, I was just telling you about when I was younger. Mint?”
He seemed friendly. Old men and women tend to like having a chat with strangers, in Sarah’s experience. Sarah really didn’t need her quiet time interrupted. She took another bite of her chicken and salad roll.
“No thanks, I have my roll.” she said with her mouth full.
“It started off simply, I was born in a place similar to this. I was autistic for the first dozen years of my life until something happened, can’t remember. Except for the feeling that my surroundings had suddenly taken on a new light.”
She stared at his face, trying to look polite, while masking her annoyance. “Autistic? That must have been hard.”
“It was a long time ago.” The park bench was cold, though the day was warm and sunny. Gentle gusts teased their hair, blowing hers away from her face and neck. Sarah didn’t want to trap herself in a conversation out of politeness, though he seemed so genuine and spoke with a warmth and wisdom that made him somewhat charming.
“It was when I moved to university that I really noticed my thirst for knowledge. I began reading books, papers, journals, attending extra seminars and lectures regardless of topic. The more I read and learnt the more I thirsted for it. Book after book, journal after journal, remembering everything, soon there wasn’t anything on the campus that I hadn’t read or learnt.”
Sarah had been eating slowly, but she sped up now to excuse herself from the conversation.
“I was an anonymous figure on campus, people recognised me but few knew who I was.” He leaned in close, “It wasn’t human interaction that I craved though, it was knowledge.”
Sarah nodded, unsure, although less disinterested. His excitement was infectious.
“When the campus resources had dulled, I went abroad in search of more information. Again the more I learnt the more I craved. And with my knowledge came a gift to think quicker, learn quicker. I loved my books, but books were no longer a resource, my own thoughts and designs were becoming my catalyst.” He stopped, lost in the remembrance of happy times.
“So, what happened with these thoughts?” She heard herself say the words and immediately dropped her eyes to the ground and crammed the last of her roll in her mouth.
“An epiphany. I realised that there was more to the universe than could be possibly be learnt from Earth.”
Sarah regretted the question even more. His lined and sagging face, what little hair he had left, they were the old man. The sparkle in his eyes was just the crazy in him. ‘From Earth’ indeed.
“I invented interstellar travel, well, kind of. You know, it is amazing how easy it is to do something when you know how. Knowledge gives you the power to do anything possible.”
Sarah was about to stand up and leave, but she was slightly annoyed. It was usually peaceful out here alone but he had interrupted that peace. She didn’t need a crazy old man talking to her for the rest of her lunch break.
“Let me guess, you flew around the universe and looked at everything, stopped off at every Martian book store, and library along the way.” It came out mean and malicious, she even surprised herself.
“No. Most of the book stores were full of self help books, or trashy romance novels. I was more interested in history, evolution, science.”
“The bookstores around the universe sound a lot like the ones around here.”
He ignored her sardonic statement. “At some point you know everything that is. It then becomes more interesting to see how different peoples arrived at the same point, or how they developed were others did not. The culture of a society can prove the stumbling block, or the shining light.”
“So you’re saying you knew everything there was to know.”
“Everything important. Well everything I thought was important at the time.”
“So what was next for you, intergalactic quiz shows?”
He laughed, “No. I designed and built the universe, this universe on an alternate plain of reality to my own.”
“Uh ha. And now you’re just down here for a chin wag with your local creations?”
“I’m doing the one thing I never did in life, having human interactions. All the time I spent learning I wasn’t interacting with my fellows. I can’t remember one person I went to school with; not one. But I know the matter constant for creative dimensional flux in time streams.”
“Huh?”
“The way all matter moves through the space time continuum.”
“So you are saying you invented all of this?” she gestured to everything around her with her arms, “Even me?”
“In a manner of speaking: yes.”
She glanced quickly at her watch, “Oh, excuse me I have to get back to work.” She made ready to leave, picking up her bag and jumper. She was annoyed that her lunch, her quiet time, had been interrupted by this crazy old man. Her friends at work were not going to believe this little story.
“Nice meeting you, God.” She said with as much sarcasm as she could muster.
“Nice meeting you Sarah.”
She stopped in mid stride stunned. She turned around to look upon the old man. He was not there, gone as quickly as he had arrived. A mint wrapper blew gently from the seat and landed at her feet.

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