Cornfield Meet

Things collide here.

A hundred awesome things arrived in the mail today.

100 Stories for Haiti

290 pages from around the world.

Yes, I’ve written about 100 Stories for Haiti a lot over the last month-and-a-half, from hearing about the project in late January to teasers from the first 34 stories last week.  (I was going to link to all the entries individually, but you know what? Here – I’ve made it easy to catch up by doing the blog search for you.) But I’m humbled and amazed and proud to be a part of it, and if Ive babbled and badgered even one person in to buying a copy – electronic or paperback – choose your own! – then the Red Cross relief effort wins.

So even though I’ve been reading my e-version, I was thrilled to find the actual paperback in my mailbox this afternoon.

And it turns out there are way more than a hundred awesome things in here.

You figure the stories for starters, even though I’m not counting my own  – not because I’m not proud of it but because I don’t want to go around saying it’s “awesome,” especially in light of the stunning work I’ve encountered so far, and I’m only on page 135. Then there’s the introduction, which is easily worth a point on its own, and the dedication, and the special thanks page, which again reminds me that I’m in the company of many incredibly talented and generous people. And again, there’s the reminder of why all this was done in the first place, right there on the cover: “All proceeds go to helping the victims of the Haiti earthquake.”

That is a lot of good stuff packed into a little package from Liverpool.

March 15, 2010 Posted by | Books, Current Affairs, Fiction, Web/Tech, writing | , , , , , | 1 Comment

One-third of a hundred: Glimpses into 100 Stories for Haiti

You’ll find some slice-of -life, some meta, some science fiction, some fantasy, and a whole bunch of good quick reads in 100 Stories for Haiti. I’m just over a third of the way through my electronic edition, and already I’ve gotten way more than my money’s worth.

Rather randomly in some cases, I’ve picked out one sentence from each of the first stories, plus, because it worked out well, exactly one-third of a sentence from the thirty-fourth story, hoping to pique your interest and give a little idea of what a tremendous variety of writing is in here. Enjoy – and then go buy your own!

Thirty-three and one-third sentences from contributions 1-34 in 100 Stories for Haiti:

There was a memorial garden in Latimer, and a park in Trenchard, and people said if you touched the earth in either place, you could feel the exothermic heat of decomposing fools and thugs who’d been slow to show respect. (All-or-Nothing Day by Nick Harkaway)

She’ll go to hell for adding one untruth to another. (About Time by Mo Fanning)

You used to have this little yellow duffle coat with a big hood – you thought it made you look like a fireman – and I swear I lost count of the times I had to grab onto that hood and pull you clear of the road, or next door’s pitbull, or the duckpond in the park. (Amplified Distance by Sian Harris)

Sometimes they stood on one another, sometimes they would laugh and sometimes they would take a rest. (And the First Note Sang by Catriona Gunn)

Nineteen’s heart leapt as Anna passed by the veranda where he sat working. (Anna and Nineteen by Claudia Boers)

Emma walked her fingers across the table, closer to the boy, a spider stealing a cookie. (Apple Pie and Sunshine by Mary Walkden)

Once, though, during a lull in conversation, he brought a bone from his pocket, held it above the centre of the table and said, ‘I think he was a pilgrim.’ (The Archaeologist by Andy Parrott)

It was in the shape of some poor animal with its mouth open which was appropriate for Mrs Blake never let an opportunity pass to tell you what she thought. (Attachments by Jack O’Donnell)

The kitten scratches me but I am unhurt for it is a symbolic kitten representing my compassion. (Authority by Katy Darby)

Once met, the fog rolled easily in again. (The Baby by Rachel Shukert)

‘I escaped for the sake of my children – they’ll not be dragged back to the bogs and the busybodies.’ (Back to the Land by Nicola Taylor)

Her brother didn’t say anything and I didn’t like to ask. (The Beautiful Game by Jean Blackwell)

I snuck a look at my brother’s Code Book for some inspiration (Toby is a secret agent in his spare time). (Betsy Fudge & the Big Silence by Maureen Vincent-Northam)

The members were ruthless when a badge was at stake. (Birds of a Feather by Lauri Kubuitsile)

Knowing still that theirs was a marriage of enemies not allies they marched to the registrar hand in hand. (Blow by Blow by Jane Thomas)

But his were not gentle ways. (Call Centre by Elizabeth Reeder)

The language police hadn’t cracked that code yet or all his clientele would be lost by now, in translation. (Channelling Blues by Sylvia Petter)

‘Noodles.’ (Chatting in the Closet by Tim Maguire)

His left eye twinkled and kept the bad dreams away. (The Cloud Dragon by Sarah Ann Watts)

Her face is shiny and her hair is parted in a funny way from where she’s been running her fingers through it. (Clubs and Societies by Deborah Fielding)

The memory sticks. (Coming, Ready or Not by Jac Cattaneo)

And one time I got a text not to ride home with Alan Pierce, you know, on that Wednesday when he had the accident. (Contact by Jason E. Thummel)

You don’t want him to catch you looking. (Dinner for Two by Trevor Belshaw)

The dragons of the land looked upon her with greed. (Dragons by Fionnuala Murphy)

The second thing he noticed were the boots floating in puddles. (Emergency Response by MCM)

Something red. (Emily’s Stone by Julia Bohanna)

He knows that she is watching him the whole time he’s at the counter. (The Encounter by Francesca Burgess)

He’s out at sea most of the time, riding the flurries and swirls of the Atlantic, but when there’s enough storm heading our way, he’ll find passage back to Cornwall. (Enohn Jarrow, a Warning by Emily George)

‘Stop bugging me about them wings,’ her Momma said. (Escape from Crete by Ozzie Nogg)

For the past few days there has been rawness to the air that makes smiling easier than usual. (Eve by Billy O’Callaghan)

Just a yellow taxi, nothing worth remembering. (Fleeting Thoughts by Nadene Carter)

‘But it felt real,’ he’d said. (Folding Paper by Debz Hobbs-Wyatt)

Over Harold’s Cross Bridge. (The Forgetting by Layla O’Mara)

The problem was, Sharon couldn’t sleep. (The Garden by Gwen Grant)

Nineteen hours later, (Going, Going … Still Going by Danny Gillan)

March 10, 2010 Posted by | Books, Current Affairs, Fiction, science fiction, Web/Tech, Weblogs, writing | , , , , | 1 Comment


%d bloggers like this: