Writing a Caveman

Once a year Ellora's Cave opens submissions to the Caveman anthologies. They publish four books a year with six stories in each book. That would be twenty-four stories. From the rumors I've heard they receive around two or three hundred submissions for the twenty-four spots. Maybe they receive even more than that. Any way you cut it, that's quite a bit of competition.

When the submissions first opened, I was in the midst of a lot of other obligations so I decided that I wouldn't enter this year. I had no ideas floating around in my head. As a matter of fact, I was suffering a serious case of dead head.

Then at the beginning of this week, an idea suddenly floated up from the depths. I latched on to it with a fervency that would do a new convert proud. An idea! I dropped everything and sat down at my computer to pound out the beginning of my idea!

Well, I'm nearly finished. Tomorrow should do it. The deadline is Sunday. There is nothing like pumping adrenaline to meet a deadline. Will I be one of the lucky twenty-four? Doubtful. There are many, many talented authors out there submitting their stories. But much like the Lotto... hey, you have to play in order to win.

Anny

Where Amarinda let me hanging...

“When will he get it into his head I married him to save myself from the giant sloth I had been betrothed to in childhood by my father?” It was pretty damn simple to her.

“He says he loves you.” For the life of Leonardo he could not understand why. Gabrielle was a bitch.

“Max wouldn’t know if his bum was on fire,” she responded coolly. He had a fine butt but that was not reason enough to be with any man.

“What will you do?”

“Kill him I expect.” Gabrielle yawned. “Do you know what’s for dinner Leo?”


And where I took up the tale...

“Brussel sprouts, boiled okra and acorn chili,” he replied deadpan. “Max brought chocolate almond chip ice cream if you get a yen for that.”

Instantly suspicious, Gabrielle asked, “What does he want? He’s never brought me ice cream before.”

Leo shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t care. Just keep him out of the library. The last time he was at the fortress, he left one of my rare manuscripts out in the rain and now it’s covered with mildew spots.”

“You and your books. The way you go on and on, you would think it was an Amarinda Jones. Geez, Leo, get a grip. I gave you a Kelly Kirch, an Amarinda Jones, and some book by that Anny Cook woman last Christmas. I bet you haven’t even read them yet.”

Leonardo snorted. “That’s what you think! I not only read them, I wrote comments on their blogs—and they answered!”

“Oh, yeah? What did they say?” she demanded with sudden curiosity.

“None of your business,” he said loftily. “Now go find Max and see what he’s up to.”

Leonardo, dumped her down on the parapet, shifted into human form, and stalked stark naked down the dim hall to his suite. Time to get on the internet and let the ladies know what was up. Good thing that Gabrielle didn’t know he was a Brotherhood agent. If she ever found out, his eagle would truly be cooked.
He pushed the door open and smiled at the bruised man sprawled in his purple recliner.

“Hello, Sam. How was the trip?”

Don't forget to drop in to see Amarinda at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and then pop over to check out Kelly at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ and then...have a good weekend!