The Backworlds Book Launch Party

A vision of how humanity might colonize the galaxy some day in the distant future?

The Backworlds is here!

The first story in the Backworlds series by M. Pax. 

 The Backworlds

After the war with Earth, bioengineered humans scatter across the Backworlds.

Competition is fierce and pickings are scant. Scant enough that Craze’s father decides to

hoard his fortune by destroying his son. Cut off from family and friends, with little money,

and even less knowledge of the worlds beyond his own, Craze heads into an uncertain

future. Boarding the transport to Elstwhere, he vows to make his father regret this day.

Available from: Amazon / AmazonUK / Smashwords / Feedbooks

Other links to more outlets can be found at either Wistful Nebulae or MPax

The Backworlds is an ebook and a free read at Smashwords

and Feedbooks as of now.

It’ll take a few weeks to a free read status on Amazon Kindle. It will also be

available on B&N and iTunes. Sign up for M. Pax’s mailing list to be notified the day it

does go free on Amazon, and when the book becomes available at other outlets. You’ll

also receive coupons for discounts on future publications. 

NEWSLETTER

M. Pax’s inspiration comes from the wilds of Oregon, especially the high desert where

she shares her home with two cats and a husband unit. Creative sparks also come from

Pine Mountain Observatory where she spend her summers working as a star guide. She

writes mostly science fiction and fantasy, but confesses to an obsession with Jane Austen.

She blogs at her website, www.mpaxauthor.com and at Wistful Nebulae. You’ll find links

there to connect on Twitter, Goodread, FB and other sites.

The sequel, Stopover at the Backworlds’ Edge, will be released in July 2012. It will be

available in all ebook formats and paperback.

Wrong Timing?

After two months, back with my entry for Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 100 words plus the prompt in bold.. Check the other pleasure trips there.

The interview had held a lot of promise, one of the better ones she had given in recent times. Nevertheless, waiting for the elusive call was unnerving. She went about the everyday chores, no longer languorous. The meals were planned,  their calorie content checked, examined her closet, deeming most of the clothes as good enough for office wear. She checked her inbox a dozen times a day. The phone went everywhere she went. Today, at lunch, a beep was heard. She unlocked the screen in nervous excitement. The message read, “It is our pleasure to invite you to Exhale holiday homes, nature awaits.”

my origins

 A nervous hi, takes a seat...
"My origins...from India, so I guess ..." jumps up in alarm as Robyn Engel  from Life By Chocolate, present here on persistent pleading butts in.
"Rek, Rek...%&#$@" does a face-palm, accuses me " You hoodwinked us all this time!! Took you to be a smart, witty woman who knows her ifs and buts..."
I , as usual, burst into tears melting her kind heart. She pats my head (in a petting way) " Come now, here, have a chocolate."
Pouting "Hello, trying to lose weight here."
She mutters" More like losing steam and our audience."
"Alex! Tbone!" she hollers, literally yanking them off their chairs...giving them a 'don't mess with me' look
"Be my guest!" and thunders her way out.
I whimper, still licking a dark bit, "Robyn, Wait!"
Tbone clears his throat, "Look Lady, We don't have all day...220 odd others waiting, so cut the crap!"
In a stronger, cocoa dipped voice, "Written essays and poems in school and college and such...read books too. Summer vacations meant my cousins would hide away their books lest I spent less time with them."
Alex looks at Tbone, a telepathic exchange, 'Next time, our Blogfest is by invitation only!' and emphatic nods.
"My 8th grade(13yrs) English teacher liked my story, especially about a ranch horse...it reminded her of Black beauty...she loved my first line for another one, the one which went,"Under the star lit sky, with only the full moon for company, here I lie in a corner, a street dog."
Looks around for applause, none...stammers on, "But never aspired to be a writer, a published one at that."
Alex ""Finally!"  Tbone "No grovelling for sympathy!"
"Ok." "Written on and off for two decades now, till I joined Twitter in 2009 after my ... hmm...still a very bad word  here 'D'. Met two cool bloggers (now friends) T.S Hendrik and  Aditya, followed their blogs for a year before taking the plunge."
'"Joined some creative blog groups for poets and flash fiction writers, their encouragement helped as did that of my first few followers...then gave into my ambitious, pestering brother's advice and took up writing full time in 2010.""Ok." "Written on and off for two decades now, till I joined Twitter in 2009 after my ... hmm...still a very bad word  here 'D'. Met two cool bloggers (now friends) T.S Hendrik and  Aditya, followed their blogs for a year before taking the plunge."
'"Joined some creative blog groups for poets and flash fiction writers, their encouragement helped as did that of my first few followers...then gave into my ambitious, pestering brother's advice and took up writing full time in 2010."
"Moving out of Mumbai meant I couldn't even get a part-time accountant's job since I never managed to crack my C.A (C.P.A equivalent) final exams. I lick my wounds with the hard fact that in the 90s only 3% of 15,000 students got that elusive title every year, maybe because of fewer job openings then... sigh...but on the flip side, I have a lot of time to read, write, research, submit and get rejected, photograph, fabric paint, mess around with different software applications and blog now."
Alex softly "Lets get back to writing."
"Did I mention I got a commerce degree just because Arts is not a cool career option for the great Indian Middle Class! To cut the long story short...finally found the courage to get around doing what I love and what I think is one of the few things I am good at. So, if my books get printed or not, sell or not....I am and will be an Artist/Writer!!"

 Alternate version

There was a little girl who was a bit different, impulsive, hot tempered, rebellious dreaming false worlds when she should have been studying some more. The daydreams grew larger, more verbose and sometimes silly. As the space between the grey cells shrunk, she took to writing on pieces of paper... some saved, some frittered away carelessly...she never showed them to anyone lest she be mocked at by the uncaring. Then it happened, the stuff that her fears were made of. Unlike other kindred spirits, the more she read others, the less pieces of her own got written till a day when the dreams knew better and took flight to the nether regions of her mind, a self  imposed exile.

Time flew, walked, crawled, the dreams peeked out now and then and verses took shape that were protected fiercely for years and yet the best ones cast one day into the fire of battered self esteem (especially the ones dedicated to her fiancé-husband who broke her spirit)....and then after years of grey bleakness, the tumultuous life led her back to the road she had long ago abandoned, the only one left she could travel through, to save her sanity. The journey was risky, shaky, encouraged by loved ones who had secretly read her amateur works...she trots along enjoying the passing scenery.


And lo behold,
 The Twin, The  Muse Ran Away....
leaving behind a sci fi that is just about a quarter complete, a fantasy barely written, a poetry collection due for e publishing in March with quite a few missing pages, short stories to be drafted and rewritten from scratch.
She filled a complaint with the "Missing Muses Retrieval" writers club in December but yet to hear from them.
Anyone who sees 'Reka Sang' slouching around in the upper decks of cyber space, do cajole her to come back please...as said she is moody and cantankerous, gets offended easily. Will this be enough praise to melt her heart??

Penned bold thoughts /

Heart never speaks of /

Love this muse //

 3-5-3

 This is how the Muse looked when they last met....maybe the lady should check Facebook, for sure she is whiling away time with those mindless games or the news rooms where she is flirting with the big boys.

 The strain of these online searches and researching in her absence simply translates into nothing written in the last 3 months.


Wrtiten for a blogfest

Why this private blog?

Will be adding as and when I write, some may not make it here. The poems and stories still have to go through another round of edit even a rewrite . Someday will write enough to print...atleast before my 45 th bday??

One Can always Write and Hope, can't One?



This  private blog accessible only to beta readers and critiques will contain material for:

1. A. Poetry and Micro fiction collection    free ebook june 2012
20 poems + 30 pieces of fiction
poems
freeverse    12
form            4
haiku            4

Micro
55 words                             5                                                          
69 words                             5
50 words (dribbles)             5                                                                
100 words (Drabbles)         5                                                        
Hint fiction - 25 words        5                                                      
Tweet fiction or 140 Fiction 5                                                    
(140 characters including punctuation marks and spaces between words.)


1.B.     An urban fantasy short story  free ebook aug 2012  around 3000 words                  
 (500 words on paper so far)

2. Poetry Collection           64 Poems  including
(submit  to publishers by dec 2012 ....if rejected by six of them, self publish as Ebook  through Smashwords.com/Amazon in mar 2013)

 Freeverse                            40
Styled poems                       22
 (Japanese forms)
Tanka                                     1
Haiku                                   10
Picture Poem.                         1      (the poem will resemble the image it is based on).


It contains my stories  (will be edited and added)

3. Flash and Micro fiction collection                                                         50 Pieces - 16000 words
( Ebook by self through Smashwords.com/Amazon in jan 2013)

 Flash Fiction - anything between 300words to 1000 words
Micro Fiction - between 10 and 300 words or less than 500 characters
                                                                         done           left
50 words (Dribbles)       10     250w                   -              10
100 words (Drabbles)     10    1000w           5 ready          05                                  
200 words (Droubbles)   10    2000w           3 ready          07                                    
300 words                      05    1500w           3 ready          02                          
500 words                      05     2500w          3 ready          02                              
713 words                      05     3565w          5 ready           -                                  
1000 words                    05     5000w          2 ready          03
                                     50     15835w          


Some of these poems and flash fiction were posted on my regular blog http://www.achronicleofdreams.blogspot.in/ for feedback from blogging friends and now deleted from there...hence may find certain posts with comments

4. Short stories collection (between 1200 to 2800 words)     12-14   around   28000 words i.e 110 pages. (done by jan 2013 for submission)
 Written   Edited   Rewrite                Wip      outline/idea
 3                1        2                          2             10

5. Photo Book Collection of sky and landscape  40 Snaps 
( at lulu 2013)

Taken by
Me  (Rek)                        30
My Brother (Prak)           10


6.A. A Picture Book           >= 10 pages ( Single copy for my nephew Akshay) April 2013

 6.B. A Children Book             25-30 pages ( single copy for my nephew Sidartha) April 2013


7. A Ebook Toon Collection       30 Toons
(for fun)

By finish means...one drafts and one edit by self...read by at least 3 betas, second draft and edit, formatted as per standard and ready for a critique partner to read.

8. A Romantic Novella or Flash novel - Skip A Beat 30000 words written 26500 words so far
( finish by july3-aug2 2012) YA/ young adult and above ie 17 yrs and above.

9. A Realistic Fiction Novella - (my own story) On Domestic Violence  - Scarred 30000-40000 words
(  finish by sept 2012) Adult that is above 21 years

10. A Science Fiction Novel - Stars Apart    80000 words  YA/ young adult and above
( finish by 2014)

11. A Fantasy/Paranormal Novel - Restless    80000 Words  YA/ young adult and above
(  finish by 2013)

12. A Historical Thriller Novella or Flash  Novel  - The Barrier 35000 - 40000 words  MG/YA/middle grade, young adult and above i.e 14 years and above
( finish by 2015)


Printed
 A 55 word story n a for luv anthology
A poetry piece in  Mag
A poetry piece to be published
 A flash fiction in post card shorts.

Scarred

Chapter 1 - The Refrain


1
"Thond dhoney, Parsa karney, aangool"*...
The musical notes wafted through, every other morning from the bathroom. Like Beethoven's Concerto...the tempo changed over the next ten minutes reaching a crescendo with the litany of accusations and filthy words directed at her, her extended family, his friends and colleagues. 
 Despite her best efforts, she didn't always succeed in blocking out the stream of words. 'Words' which riled her temper make her scream back her own versions, which was one of the reasons he kept at it...rather enjoyed would be a better word, she had realised a while back . His face that grew ugly and dark while uttering them, his eyes that moved deeper into the sockets leaving most of the whites visible were the cues.
Sometimes, she felt nothing, just a numbed existence...as though an out of body experience or seen through someone else's vision. Often felt like a dead soul trapped in a living body that didn't quite feel alive.
At times, she just to sleep and never wake up to see the morning sun. it hadn't always been like this, not during the one month of official courtship and the first two months of marriage...'window dressing' he had told her later on, blasely at that.


*'Brush teeth, take a leak, bathe'


 Chapter 4


1

Shadows crept across the wall. Lights from the opposite buliding streaming in through the thin  curtains. The night lamp, not to be outdone added to the effects…so quiet, she could hear the heart palpitate against her chest walls.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the thin brush, mixed the colours on the palette and carefully painted the petals.

‘Bitchy Prostitute’ the voice echoed, stronger than it had all week. She barely manged to pull away the shaking brush. The leaf was now shaded orange.

‘Damn!  Get a grip.’ It kinda looked nice’,  she noted with concentrated effort…autumn leaves on the blouse would stand out indeed. She glanced at the clock on the wall to her right, 12.45 a.m…half an hour more before she tried to sweet talk  the mistress of dreams.

Lost in the swirling colours that came alive in her hands, she barely heard him till he stepped close to her. Laughed at her efforts,”Well, Picasso, get back to bed.”

“ A few minutes more” the timid voice pleaded.

“You know who is up at this time of the night?”

Emboldened “Not that word, I will really leave this time.”

“Really? Poor Mrs Virgin, pity your  face didn’t find any takers in college. We both know, your parents will send you right back.” walking away.

Ignoring the rolling tears, blurred eyes sought the brush… clutching it tightly, in its strength everything faded.

2000 words in paper to be copied...sigh

Epilogue


She paused at the doorstep...looking back at the room  once more. Everything was as she had left it  two months ago....the curtains, the dining table she begged and begged for months and finally got, her favourite couch rich blue with silver trimmings, a favourite with the only three neighbours who passed his test (well most of the time at least).

          The light blue sofa still stood, a mute majestic witness to the torment sessions, mental and emotional, countless endured to the point of a breakdown, the humiliations, the constant put downs that still sent cold shivers down her spine.

         His high pitched voice with a maniac quality echoed in her brain, cold swept all over her, the heart pounding at an inhuman rate...the well recognised  signs of a panic attack. She took deep breathes the way her doctor has taught her, clutched a chair for support and moved to gather her few precious belongings, a culmination of six wasted years.

          Every piece of cloth, a book here, a C.D there, remainders of the few happy moments she had managed to gather and salvage from the wreck that was her marriage. Her bags packed, she glanced at the house for one last time ....

        The house she had tried in vain to make a home but dimly realised now was never hers to begin with. The house now stood for only loss : loss of innocence, loss of her unborn child, loss of hope, loss of dignity, loss of self worth and the greatest loss, one that would haunt her for years to come, loss of the will to live.

       The lift stopped , her and bags deposited to the ground floor, the safety zone...as she turned to hug and wave at her few friends, the only ones that would miss her...never him, never him..

       She saw at last in the afternoon sun....behind her stood the skyscraper tall, looming and lonely ....before her stood her mother and the cab, her ticket to freedom bought at a bitter price.


         She walked with a spring in her step, a tiny smile, a smile none the less that threatened to break out of the gloom, knowing that though the road ahead was not easy, too many battles still to be fought.... He could never hurt her again.....