Counting Sunrises

by SS Hampton, Sr.

Ray Bradbury died on 5 June 2012. He was an iconic science fiction and self-proclaimed fantasy writer. I grew up in Kansas reading his stories and, as a result, learned of the many worlds that lay beyond the flat, tornado-prone state. His death is a loss to the literary world, and his loss is a reminder of my own mortality.

I was young when I began brooding about death, my own in particular. In that respect I preceded the Gothic culture and its’ death-obsessed kids that became popular 10-20 years later. Now, in my late fifties, I find myself brooding about it once again.

If memory serves me correctly, I think Captain Jean Luc Picard said it far more eloquently than I could have ever dreamed of (ahem, yes, I know he’s not a real person): “There are far more sunrises behind me, than before me.”

During those angst-filled days on the Kansas prairies, I read an article about Vincent Price, the classic horror actor of the 60’s. You know, The Fall of the House of Usher(1960), The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), The Mask of the Red Death (1964), and other horror movies of a similar vein. It seems he was an art collector, gourmet cook, writer, and when Sears & Roebuck wanted to offer fine art reproductions for the average homeowner, they asked Mr. Price to choose the art. It was reported that even a museum or library asked him for all of his personal papers so that future historians could access his history and thoughts.

I was stunned by reading of such a request. Imagine—historians going over your personal correspondence to and from family, friends, even editors and publishers; reading your notes, perhaps even charting the evolution of a story from first notes, first draft, second draft, and then, a final manuscript. For someone to receive such a request seemed, to me, to never be forgotten. Never disappear from history. The idea was almost like...immortality.

Fast forward…

I kept writing, I even started seeing success—no Pulitzer Prize in Literature, or multi-million dollar contract yet, but one can always hope. In 2004 I joined the Army National Guard, was mobilized for active duty, and after almost two years stateside, I and many other Cavalry Soldiers volunteered for deployment. Suddenly, pre-deployment training was finished. We were headed for Kuwait, though the mission would take many Soldiers into Iraq every day, where insurgents waited with AK-47s, RPGs, and IEDs.

Again, my sense of mortality became somewhat acute.

I made sure I packed all of my writing folders, books, magazines, and personal papers. Each folder contained story drafts and final manuscripts, research material for that particular story, and e-mails between myself and the website or e-magazine that published the story. I wrote the museum that serves my tribe, for I am a Native American and explained where I was going. Though the possibility might be slight, I asked if they would accept my writings and personal papers, “just in case.”

The museum said “yes.” It was with a sense of relief and a smile that, during our brief leave before deployment, I set off on my “farewell tour” to visit my children, my grandchildren, and my mother and step-father—just, in case.

Fortunately, there was no “just in case.”

So, once more I am reminded of my own mortality due to the passing of someone I never met, but whom I admired and respected.

But, no matter how many sunrises remain before me, I know that when I cross over, somewhere in this world my name will remain. Maybe there won’t be many people beyond family and friends who will remember me, but my name is out there on e-books and e-stories waiting to be downloaded by someone, someday. And maybe someday, a person may pluck a thick writing folder from a special collections shelf, and wonder what the first draft of a story looked like compared to the final manuscript. They might even think, “Who the hell was SS Hampton, Sr.?”

Gee. If that ever happens it’s almost like…immortality.

SS Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to 13, and a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle (2004-2006) and Iraqi Freedom (2006-2007). He continues to serve in the Army National Guard, where he holds the rank of staff sergeant.

Hampton is also a published photographer and photojournalist, an aspiring painter, and is studying for a degree in anthropology. His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories and in anthologies from MUSA Publishing, (The Lapis Lazuli Throne), Melange Books (Intimate Journeys; R.U.S.H.; Christmas Collectibles 2010; and Hearts of Tomorrow), Ravenous Romance (Back Door Lover), and Dark Opus Press (In Poe’s Shadow), and as stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, Ruthie’s Club, Lucrezia Magazine, The Harrow, and River Walk Journal, among others. In 2012 he has another story forthcoming in an anthology from Edge SF & Fantasy (Danse Macabre), as well as a stand-alone story releasing from MuseItUp Publishing.

Confessions of a Writing Addict

by Katherine Heath Shaeffer

I have to write. Specifically, I have to write science fiction and fantasy.

I can't stop.

It's not just a matter of writing for catharsis (though there's an element of that in my writing) or of writing the story that I want to read (though there's an element of that, too). It's not just a matter of honoring, through emulation, the escapist fantasies that got me through the toughest times in my life (and to this day the writing of escapist literature is one of the noblest pursuits I can imagine) or of contributing allegorically to whatever ethical debates are in vogue this season.

I write because I'm a writing addict. Writing is an addictive and self-destructive behavior.

I believe that writing requires a specific kind of sacrifice. As I write, I find myself donating things I remember and things I've dreamed to my fiction. Because, no matter how implausible the premise, in a way I am always writing from experience: my experience of being able to imagine what would happen in the case of my implausible premise. And as I write down memory and dream, I lose them. Not wholly. I'm not giving myself amnesia here. But I don't get to keep these thoughts and images as they were originally constructed in my mind, because I have reconstructed them, through writing.

It's like that family story that's about you when you were a kid: you know that the story is not the whole truth, but you hear it so many times that the 'traditional' version that your parents tell at Thanksgiving every year superimposes itself upon the 'whole truth' that you remember until one day, for the life of you you can't recall what the flaws in your parents' version were, so you just go with it. You and your family have lived with this version so long that it's the truth now, no matter what really happened.

It's like explaining last night's dream to someone after you wake up. Dreams often don't make sense, but the dream you had last night was so wild and interesting that you have to share it with someone, so you fudge the details a little, connecting point A to point B so that the fluidly juxtaposed images of your dreaming mind come together to make a story. Then, when you try to remember your dream, it is not the dream that you invoke but the story you told of your dream. Because we are humans and patterns are easier for us to remember than lacks-of-pattern. So. You've lost a dream but gained a story.

Maybe you write that story. And so it goes.

Even the most fantastic of tales are constructed from the building blocks of memory, just as you can draw a beautiful dragon using the building blocks you develop from studying the anatomy of birds, bats snakes and fish. Or turtles and pterodactyls. (Hey, it's your dragon. Draw what you want.)

It's like that scene in Star Trek: The Next Generation. (Yes, I am dipping into the great well of Star Trek metaphors. Don't judge me.) In “The Measure of a Man,” Data refuses to allow his android body to be dismantled, studied, and reconstructed because he believes that, though his memories will technically stay intact, the 'flavor' of those memories will be lost. Data makes it sound like this is a horrible thing that can only happen to androids, but to me it just sounds like what happens to any of my memories, once I try to tell it.

For me, at least, writing is erosion. It requires sacrificing those loves and fears I hold closest to my heart and reconstructing them into tools. It requires breaking down what I feel, what I remember, what I dream and writing it onto the page in a way that a reader can access. I may lose the immediacy of the feeling, but sometimes, if I am very lucky, I can translate that immediacy -- or a version of it -- to the page.

This self-erosion is both bittersweet and exhilarating.

Katherine Heath Shaeffer is a writer and graduate student who lives in Gainesville, Florida with her boyfriend and three cats. She is the current Production Editor of the academic journal ImageTexT: Interdisciplinary Comics Studies. She has a short story forthcoming in Daily Science Fiction. Katherine's article Beauty and the Body and the Beast, along with her short story The Witch, the Curse and the Prince were published in the May issue of Penumbra eMag.

Sheer maxi skirt with side slit DIY

Sheer skirts appeared on runways and have been loved by many celebrities but the buzz about them started on the web. These skirts quickly became bloggers'favorite and started to be photographed everywhere. With so many bloggers suggesting you ways to style them it's your turn to fall in love with  the sheer skirt. Today I'll show you the easiest way to make a sexy but not to revealing skirt. I added a side slit that multiplies the ways to wear it. You can put the slit on one side, on the tight (like Angelina), on the back or on the center front.
You'll need:

• chiffon fabric
• lining fabric
• 1 cm wide elastic band

bloggers -streetstyle - collage picture by bestylish.com

celebs in their sheer skirts

Fold the sheer fabric and sew the side, sew only 40 cms- Repeat the process for the lining

This is how the side slit looks

Put the lining into the sheer fabric.
Turn over the sheer fabric on the inside a couple of cms.
Make two seams with 1 cm of distance. Leave one side open. This is where you insert the elastic band.
Cut the elastic band the lenght of your waist.
With the help of a safety pin insert the elastic band into the skirt.
You're adjusting the skirt to the size of your waist and you'll gather some fabric.
Block the elastic with a few stitches and the skirt is done!

P.S. Have you seen Google Friend connect today?
It reached 1001!!
1001 thank you for reading my page!!!

Dreaming the Muse

by Lyn McConchie
(author of The Domen in Penumbra May issue)

I have always dreamed. Long dreams in full colour, audio, and often a complete story. It wasn’t until I began to write professionally that I found this useful as more than mere entertainment. My subconscious has always led its own life, as evinced by the dreams. Sometimes I can identify the strands that have gone into them, but sometimes I write out a dream, look at the result and wonder where on Earth (or anywhere else) that came from!

The second story I ever sold was from a dream, a slightly mad tale about a parking meter who disliked life in a big city. He went to live in a small country town where he is valued because he stands guard over parking spaces reserved for the disabled and ensures that they are saved for legitimate users. And yes, I can identify where that came from. I'm crippled, have a display card for such parking spaces and am often infuriated to find them filled by cars not displaying the required card. This story sold to two markets, however, so I got something out of my on-going frustration over the problem.

Another dream-story was a flash fiction tale on the origin of the Saluki, dog) and which sold in four markets in two countries. In fact, and on checking my story list, dream-stories always sell, and usually several times. Three of my books have begun from a dream. The first book I sold in America "The Key of the Keplian" was started by one of the main characters showing up in a dream and introducing herself. The book went on from there.

I write steadily, 1-3 books, 10-20 new stories, a number of articles, a few poems, some reviews, and my blogposts each year. But my dream-stories are my favorites. They weren't written just from my imagination, they were lived in full color, with “live” characters, dialogue, and a background. The story that appeared in the May issue of Penumbra was a dream-tale, as was a story that last year won the International Cat Writer's Muse Medallion. Dream-stories often seem to have that 'certain extra something.'

Of course, I have to move quickly to catch the dreams before they vanish, but after more than twenty years of professional writing I am adept at doing so. I think that many writers dream this way, some may not like to admit that's where they get plots, others may not remember the dreams, but if you can catch that dream by the tail, hold it long enough to write down a synopsis and recreate the dream, you often have something worth recounting.

So where does my speculative fiction come from? All of it comes from my imagination with aspects of real life woven in, but now and again the story you're reading may have arrived by an alternate route. And usually they're some of the best.

Silk Ribbon statement necklace DIY

Some meters of satin ribbon and an easy waving technique is all you need to make these color block statement necklaces. They'll add color and personality to any simple outfit.
Discover the step by step tutorial to make the second necklace you'll need 4 meters of blue ribbon and 4 meters of green one, 1,5 cms wide.
The pink big necklace you see above has been made with 10 meters of blue and pink ribbons and then  twisted  to give a 3d effect to it and to better show its colors.

Click here to see the full tutorial

Random Thoughts on Writing

by Chuck Rothman

I've been writing for over thirty years, but I still don't know how it works. What works for me may not work for you. And vice versa.

● The best writing guide I had was a course I never took called "Effective Writing." The rules were:

○ Write the entire draft, start to finish, without going back.
○ Edit it until it's good.

90% of what makes a story work is in the first draft. But a first draft rarely works unless it's edited or you're Isaac Asimov.

● I hate to outline. Once I know where a story is going, I'm not interested in writing it.

● Never trust anyone who dictates how to write. They're telling you how they write.

● No one ever was taught to write in a creative writing class. However, a writing class can teach you what pitfalls to avoid, saving you from having to figure it out yourself.

● Every rule of writing can be broken. But you need to know the rules so you can know when to break them.

● Remember the three C's: Character, conflict, and change. You create a character that has a conflict, which causes change.

● There is no cliche that can't be given new life, and no original concept that can be made dull.

● My writing motto is "If it doesn't flow, it doesn't go." I have no idea what that means, but at least it rhymes.

● Note to new writers: no one's going to steal your work. You'd be surprised how many times I've come across people worrying about this.

● Someone once said the difference between a good writer and a bad writer is that a good writer only sees what's bad in his work, and a bad writer only sees what's good. If you can't see what's bad, you can never improve it.

● There's a smorgasbord of writing advice. Pick and choose what you like.

● Someone who will tell you why your story is crap is worth their weight in gold-pressed latinum.

● Forget the three C's. Plenty of stories do.

● Algis Budrys wrote about the "seven parts of a story" -- a great concise analysis of what makes a good story. When he edited Tomorrow, someone went through the stories he published for several months. None had all seven parts.

● Feel free to ignore my advice. I often do.

Chuck Rothman has been writing biographical blurbs for his stories for over 30 years, to accompany stories in places like Asimov's, F&SF, Realms of Fantasy, Daily Science Fiction, Space and Time, and many others publications. He also writes reviews for Tangent Online. He lives in Schenectady. Read more from Chuck on his blog.

Neon yellow plastic bracelet DIY

I'm sure you believe that I'm a terrible chef since you have seen me boil only plastic or bake body butter. Today the menu is not different we'll boil plastic again. After my strange cooking lessons you'll still be hungry but you'll eventually have a new bracelet.  I found these neon yellow clear spoons at the supermarket and I though they would make nice neon bracelets. Make them is just as easy as it seems. I boiled the water and then I dipped the spoon into it. It became flexible and I bent it with the help of a pincer. I took it out of the water and in no time the spoon was stiff again.  I made the first one thinking of a snake. The second one is made of 2 spoons. I curled the concave part of the spoon tightly to make a spiral. Do you like them?

Penserete che io sia una pessima cuoca visto che mi avete visto bollire solo plastica e burro per il corpo. Vi avverto, oggi il menù non cambia, bolliremo di nuovo la plastica. Certo queste strane lezioni di cucina non vi faranno venir fame ma alla fine avrete un nuovo bracciale. Ho trovato questi cucchiai in plastica traparente e li ho trasformati in braccialetti neon. Realizzarli è facile come sembra. Ho immerso il cucchiaio nell'acqua bollente e l'ho poi piegato con l'aiuto di una pinza. Una volta fuori dall'acqua il bracciale tornerà subito rigido. Ho realizzato il primo bracciale pensando alla forma di un serpente mentre il secondo è composto da due cucchiai. Di ognuno ho arricciato l'estremità concava in modo da formare una voluta.