The Apex blog has also been running intermittent featurettes called "devotionals" which are essentially mini-interviews with Dark Faith authors about themselves and their story in this anthology. They haven't picked everybody, and they skipped me - but I figured I would do my own, here, just to prepare anyone following the state of play for the discussion of my own story, "Night Train", which is slated for Monday. So, answering their questions in the order asked over at the Apex blogs for some of the other writers -here are MY answers.
Who are you?
I am a work in progress. I am a daughter, a wife, a cat-mom, a friend. I am a writer.
I live in my own worlds, in a cottage filled with character in a town that isn't on any map, on the corner of Hope and Despair and bordered by a back alley into which my yard opens an occasional gate (often when I am not looking) called Serendipity (or Luck, for short, by the locals). My house smells of fresh baked bread and summer sunlight and books. There are photographs - I will tell you about them if you ask. There is a reading chair by the window in a pool of light. There's a hand-made Afghan draped on the back of it. There are shelves on every wall and they are full of books, and some of those are my own but many are not. This is a house I raised with my own hand, built of passion and hope and dreams, with words, with images, with the help (and often enough the hindrance) of every character who's ever drifted through one of the stories that I've told.
I am something that nobody else could ever be.
I am myself.
Tell us about your story.
I already did, on this blog, right here, but that is a story on how the story happened to be born. More on the matter, see next question.
How does your story tie into the concept of faith?
Faith is one of those numinous things that ties into so much else that makes a human being into a human being. Faith was raised in place of reason, so many times, back in the day when reason didn't have all the answers for everything - and it was easier to believe that there was a vengeful god throwing down firebolts when you were ducking lightning during a thunderstorm than it was to believe that it was all completely irrelevant and random and you happening to be right there underneath the lightning bolt was completely meaningless, and you might as well have been a sheep or a maggot or a blade of grass for all the lightning cares. It was easier, it was less empty, to believe that something existed up there even if it DID seem to have it in for you in particular. But that was YOU believing in THE GOD, and you giving the god the power to exist at all. But what if faith ran both ways - and a loss of faith in something greater makes that something, and maybe even you yourself in the end, simply losing faith in YOU? What happens when somebody stops believing - what happens to the thing that was once so strongly believed in? Can you guarantee existence... by pure faith...?
Every year, Maurice Broaddus throws a convention in honor of himself (Mo*Con). How do you feel about this fact?
And why not? There are worse reasons to throw a good con.
Excerpt from “Night Train”:
I remember the night I saw the ghost god.
It was late fall, and I remember stamping my feet on the damp wind-blown platform, tugging the collar of my coat higher around my neck and pulling a pretty but wholly inadequate hat down about my ears. My skirt twisted about my legs in the wind; my calves were open to the bite of the cold air. I could see my breath come out in pearly clouds against the dim yellow sodium lights as I breathed into my chilled, gloveless hands, peering down the track, hopeful that I would glimpse the lights of the train approaching behind the leafless trees.
The train was late, and day was quickly turning into night. And night trains had always been haunted… by a quiet sadness, by hopelessness, and occasionally by wraiths on the way to nowhere...
Pick up the antho, read the rest of the story, come join the chat at the GOodreads group on Monday. I'll be there.