An Alien Signal

Crow and Tree - Heaven and Earth in Winter Just before dawn it was clear, but as I’ve been at the computer, mist has risen from the earth, hanging in the trees. It’s a nice way to begin, and I have the short story slated for today. I’m either going to finish it, or get it to a place where it can be finished soon.

I don’t know what it is about short stories–each time, I have an idea that will work, I pursue it, and then I have to throw it out and come at it sideways, and I end up with a completely different story that is unrelated in a specific way to the original one. The original one, half-born, waits around until it becomes a second attempt at a completely different short story. Unlike my novel process, the short story process doesn’t change with each one. But still, I would rather write novel or novella-length than short story. I find shorts difficult, temperamental, nerve-wracking. It’s good practice, but like many other good-practice things, it’s uncomfortable and I’m always glad when it’s done.

My dreams have been odd of late, even for me. Coherent stories, but…odd. Escaping from Soviet Russia, cakes with hard, bittersweet chocolate shells, bonfires of paint. It’s not even a mental housecleaning, it’s like a very particular frequency of static, a burst right before one starts receiving an alien signal. Added to this, the crows on my morning run have begun greeting me, and we play little games, which Miss B doesn’t like. She hates chasing things that can fly, their taunting disturbs her but she’s helpless to stop.

I know you guys are waiting for the second half of Napoleon’s interrupte. I’ll write it when I’m ready, thank you.

And now, back to the short story. Either it or I will perish today. *buckles in*

photo by: h.koppdelaney

2 Replies to “An Alien Signal”

  1. Dear Lili,

    I finished your book Nameless, and I have been trying to find it on the web so I could right a review on it. Unfortunately I have been unable to do so… So I’m going to write it here for you.

    Nameless is a celebration of akwardness and strangeness. It is everything YA’s fear or feel. Its identifiable. The main character, Cami, becomes so real, you could reach out and touch her. She is the antithesis of “hero” yet in the end is and becomes “heroic” but not in the usual sense. There is no sword swinging, no spell casting on her behalf, just a lonely foundling girl with a bad stutter.

    I think all women and girls can identify with Cami and her female friends. I think at one time or another we’ve all worn those shoes.

    The prose is beautiful and drags into the heart of the story. The everday world goes away, and you find yourself in the dangerous world of the Seven Families, Jacks, Twists, and a place where Faeries don’t sound like they’d be as nice as Tinkerbell.

    It is this first retelling of an old Faerie Tale, (not telling you which one, read it and find out yourself) that kept me guessing right to the end. Its only when all the pieces come together, that you remember that the author has given you pretty brazen hints throughout.

    This book honors the women/girls that have lived with or through abusive situations, and depression. Shows that no matter how damaged we may think we are, we are still loved/lovable and cherished by those that truly know us. That “Family” is not what blood runs in your veins, but those people that accept you and love you unconditionally regardless.

    Ms. St. Crow has done it again. Made a living breathing world you are loath to leave, and makes you keep your fingers crossed that she writes more stories based in this very ecclectic, vibrant world

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