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In Fabula-divino
In Fabula-divino
In Fabula-divino
Ebook126 pages1 hour

In Fabula-divino

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Take eight authors, work them like they’ve never worked before and what do you get?
Working for the devil, running from zombies, talking your way out of a throat slashing...
The In Fabula-divino project – eight months of mentoring, editing and publishing.
Those eight stories are joined by four tales from some of the biggest names in speculative fiction – Kevin J Anderson & Rebecca Moesta, Trudi Canavan, Angela Slatter and Kaaron Warren.
You’ll be entranced, entertained and inspired.
And maybe even find your own halo...
With stories by:
Holly Kench
Tony Owens
Janett L Grady
Joseph W Patterson
SG Larner
AE Decker
PJ Keunig
Lily Ariser

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 8, 2013
ISBN9780987500069
In Fabula-divino
Author

Nicole Murphy/Elizabeth Dunk Publications

I self-publish short stories, novellas and novels as both Nicole Murphy and Elizabeth Dunk. As Nicole Murphy, my work is predominantly science fiction, fantasy or horror, sometimes with a big splash of romance. As Elizabeth Dunk, my work is contemporary romance or erotica, sometimes with a touch of the paranormal. At all times you'll find strong women, hunky men, and danger and excitement.

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    In Fabula-divino - Nicole Murphy/Elizabeth Dunk Publications

    Introduction

    It was 2009. I’d just sold my urban fantasy trilogy ‘Dream of Asarlai’ to HarperCollins Australia. While that was keeping me busy, my thoughts drifted to other ambitions, other dreams.

    One was to get back into editing again. In 2005/2006 I’d edited both ‘The Outcast’ anthology for CSFG Publishing and Issue 25 of Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine. I loved the process of working with authors, showing them the weaknesses and flaws in their stories and helping them turn them around and make them shine.

    Another was to get more involved in teaching/mentoring. After several years break from teaching (I was a primary school teacher in my first career iteration), I had started moving back into it via writers’ workshops and was loving it.

    The answer came, as most great thoughts do, in the shower. If I took a story a month, mentored that writer and answered any and all questions about the industry, made them go through the rigours of a professional editorial schedule, then I could publish said story. At the end of the year, I’d have twelve stories and with a few friends coming on board, that could make a great anthology!

    I loved the idea, but there was one problem—money. We didn’t have much, and I wasn’t sure what to do. So I pinned my hopes on using the advance from my next novel sales to fund the project.

    I waited. And I waited. And I waited. As the sales figures for the trilogy came through, it became crystal clear I wasn’t going to get that advance any time soon.

    My idea for the project seemed doomed to never be.

    But then late 2011/early 2012 saw the rise of crowdfunding. I looked around and decided to give Indiegogo a go (mostly because Australians weren’t then able to put projects up on Kickstarter— sure, we could support them and I did several, but we couldn’t start one ourselves). In March 2012, I started raising funds.

    I didn’t get all the money I wanted, but I got enough to get started and so I got to work. I decided to call the project In Fabula-divino—a loose Latin translation of the term The Tale Tellers. I developed my submission guidelines, set up the website and formulated the contract. Then I opened for my first lot of submissions on April 1, terrified no one would come.

    They did. That first submission rush reminded me of something I’d learnt during my first editing run—you know when you’ve found a story you love. There’s an instant connection. If you don’t have that connection, if you’re umming and ahhing— don’t take it, that’s not the story for you.

    And lo, there was a story I instantly fell in love with. And when I found out the story was one of the very early publications of a woman from Tasmania, I was over the moon.

    I was publishing a woman, in an industry where that’s not always easy. I was publishing an Aussie and it’s important to me to support the home team.

    Most importantly—I WAS PUBLISHING A ZOMBIE STORY!

    So began the In Fabula-divino maelstrom of work and emotions.

    The project shifted a bit after a few months. Due to a whole lot of problems here at home, I had to go back to work. I tried to keep up the one story a month idea but it was too much and so I stretched the publishing out over two months. So congrats really need to go to Holly Kench, Tony Owens, Joseph W. Patterson and Janett Grady who edited their stories in just one month (three weeks actually, once you took in the submission and decision period).

    Unfortunately, even that shift wasn’t enough and eventually I realised I couldn’t give the project the attention it deserved, and I didn’t want to do it half-arsed. Not to mention the money I’d raised had run out. So I called a halt and the last story was published in December.

    Eight stories wasn’t quite the twelve I originally expected, but I thought with the addition of some friends, it would end up a reasonable anthology. So I emailed some writer mates, begging them to come on board with a reprint.

    Thankfully, they said yes. Three sent me reprints. One sent me a brand new story. All four stories were wonderful and beautifully complement the In Fabula-divino stories in content and tone.

    I myself have gained a great deal from the In Fabula-divino process. Working through other people’s stories is a great way to think objectively about what story is and what makes a story work. I myself have become a stronger writer because of the time I’ve spent working on In Fabula-divino.

    I’ll leave it to some of the authors to share if it worked for them—their thoughts are at the end of each of their stories.

    Reading through the submissions was a wonderful experience. There’s some fabulous writers out there, enthusiastic and with wonderful ideas. I was always nervous, but also excited to read through and find out what gem I was going to select that month. Some months it was early. Some months it was hard and took a long shower to think through and work out.

    I definitely still want editing to be part of my overall life plan. There’s a real thrill from seeing a story come together—the detritus removed, the remains carved and polished until they shine.

    Hopefully one day, my life circumstances will shift and I’ll again be in a position to re-open In Fabula-divino. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these fabulous stories.

    Wishing you all happiness in life.

    Nicole Murphy

    Queanbeyan, March 2013

    XXXX

    A lot of people have gone futher than they thought they could because someone else thought they could.

    ~ Unknown

    Sea Dreams

    by Kevin J. Anderson & Rebecca Moesta

    Julia called me tonight as she has so many times before. Not on the telephone, but in that eerie, undeniable way she used since we met as little girls, strangers and best friends at once. It usually meant she needed me, had something urgent or personal to say.

    But this time I needed her, in a desperate, throw-common-sense-to-the-wind way…and she knew it. Julia always knew.

    And she had something to tell me.

    Alone in the tiny bedroom of my comfortably conservative Florida apartment, I felt it as surely as I felt the cool sheets beneath me, and the humid, moon-warm September air that flowed through my half-opened window. At such times, common sense goes completely to sleep, leaving imagination wide awake and open to possibilities. And she called out to me.

    Julia had been gone for five years, gone to the sea. Others might have said drowned, might have used gone as a euphemism for dead. I never did. The only thing I knew—that anyone could know for certain—was this: Julia was gone.

    It had begun when we were eleven. That year, my parents and I left our Wisconsin home behind to spend our vacation at my grandmother’s oceanside cottage in Cocoa Beach, Florida.

    I had grown up in the Midwest, familiar with green hills and sprawling fields, but nothing had prepared me for my first sight of the Atlantic: an infinite force of blue-green mystery, its churning waves a magnet for my sensibilities, a sleeping power I had never suspected might exist.

    Excited by the journey and the strange place, I was unable to sleep that first night in grandmother’s cottage. The rumble of the waves, the insistent shushing whisper of the surf muttering a white-noise of secrets, vibrated even through the glass…and grew louder still when I got up and nudged open the window to smell the salt air.

    There, in the moonlight, a young girl stood on the beach—someone other than grandmother, her friends, and my parents, talking about grown-up things while I patiently played the role of well-behaved daughter. Another girl unable to sleep.

    I put on a bikini (my first) and a pair of jeans, tiptoed down the stairs, and let myself out the sliding glass door onto the sand. As I walked toward the ocean, reprimanding myself for the foolhardiness of going out alone at night, I saw her still standing there, staring out into the waves.

    She seemed statuesque in the moonlight, fragile, ethereal. She had waist-length hair the color of sun-washed sand, wide green eyes—I couldn’t see them in the dark, but still I knew they were green—and a smile that matched the warmth and gentleness of the evening breeze.

    Thank you for coming, she said. She paused for a few moments, perhaps waiting for a response. As I carefully weighed the advisability of speaking to a stranger, even one who looked as delicate as a princess from a fairy tale, she added, My name is Julia.

    I’m Elizabeth, I replied after another ten seconds of agonized deliberation. I shook her outstretched hand as gravely as she had extended it, thinking what an odd gesture this was

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