Nora Fleischer's Journal
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Below are the 19 most recent journal entries recorded in
Nora Fleischer's LiveJournal:
| Sunday, November 25th, 2007 | | 8:17 am |
Two totally unrelated bits of news... The first is a writing one. "Discovered Country" has just joined Dr. Pus's podcast anthology, "Library of the Living Dead," at http://dr-pus.podomatic.com/. This is a really fun collection of zombie-related stories and songs... check it out! The second is a personal one. My brand new daughter was born early in the morning on November 21st. She and I, and the whole family, are doing really well! She's as cute as a button, and her older brother totally adores her. | | Monday, November 5th, 2007 | | 9:47 am |
| | Saturday, November 3rd, 2007 | | 10:35 pm |
So, you like zombies?
If you haven't seen the pilot for Babylon Fields, do yourself a favor and look it up. You should be able to find it easily using Google. Wow, is this great storytelling-- too bad it'll never make it to TV. | | Thursday, October 25th, 2007 | | 5:20 pm |
| | Thursday, July 5th, 2007 | | 2:46 pm |
| | Tuesday, June 19th, 2007 | | 9:34 pm |
A public service announcement
Don't buy your pregnancy clothes from Old Navy. Every pair of pants or skirt I have bought from them has malfunctioned.
Case 1: The stretchy black skirt.
My husband and I headed out for a night on the town-- we were going to hear Michael Chabon speak. (His latest book is amazing, by the way.) And as I started walking down the street, I suddenly felt my skirt go south, ending up with the waistband right under my butt. It continued to try to make its escape for the rest of the night. Luckily we were in downtown St. Paul after 5 pm, so no one saw me.
Case 2: The white capri pants.
Fastened in place with two metal clips on elastic straps. Neither worked correctly-- the pants only remained on if I bolstered the clips with safety pins. Unfortunately, as with the black skirt, this only became clear after I had worn the pants for a few hours. What black magic do they work on these clothes to make them function until they've been worn long enough to be unreturnable?
Case three: The embroidered khaki pants.
Looked cool, felt a little painful, because they were held in place by (1) a drawstring inside the pants, which tended to bite into my swollen belly, leaving the pants gapping open, until I cinched (2) the rope belt on the outside. The drawstring broke the second time I wore the pants. Since the drawstring was sewn in place, I couldn't shift it, and one end of it disappeared into the waistband of the pants. Now how do I wear the damn things?
Repeat-- never buy maternity clothes from Old Navy. Never! Thank goodness for the clothes lent to me by the stellar Dr. Evans...
Let's hope my new duds from Target work better. | | Saturday, May 12th, 2007 | | 3:18 pm |
Free book One of my favorite writers from the OWW, SKS "Steve" Perry, has just put his novel, Darkside on the internet for free. Free! If you enjoyed Buffy, if you like humor and action and romance and all that good stuff, you should check it out. http://www3.sympatico.ca/sks_perry/DarksideHome.html | | Monday, April 23rd, 2007 | | 3:18 pm |
Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Wretch Day!
So, writers everywhere are posting free (FREE!) stories on the Internet. Here's one of mine-- it's called "Vaudeville."
Cedar Rapids, Iowa: March 5, 1907
Eloisa Moran enters first. Her blonde hair is in a neat, functional bun, and she is wearing an apron over her shirtwaist and skirt. The program says that the sketch is called, "A Young Bride's First Dinner;" apparently, we are not meant to notice that Eloisa is no longer young. "Oh, dear!" she says. "What can I do? Tom will be home any minute, and I haven't got a thing prepared!"
Tom Willoughby walks on stage, wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase and a hat. The gray in his hair suggests that he is also a little old to be playing a newlywed. Then again, standards are somewhat lower in Iowa than in New York, where Willoughby and Moran first used this script. "Hello, darling!" he says. "How glad I am to be married! I've been ready for some good, home cooking all day!"
Eloisa wails. "Look," she says, gesturing theatrically at the table. "I've been slaving all morning, and there's nothing done!"
"Don't worry, darling," says Tom. "I'll show you how." He places the hat carefully on the table. "First, we'll crack an egg into this bowl." Tom does so, neatly.
"I see," she says. "Like this?" She seizes an egg and cracks it-- directly into Tom's hat.
Tom does a double-take, and Eloisa gasps, horrified. "How can you ever forgive me?" she said. "Your nice new hat!" She clutches her hand before her eyes and sobs.
"Don't cry, sweetheart," he says, "It's all right. See?" He puts the hat on his head. Egg slime trails over his ears.
"You're such a kind man," she says. She gives the audience a wicked, wicked grin.
After several entertaining minutes, Eloisa remains neat and clean, while poor Tom is bespattered with Eloisa's mess. Nevertheless, the two of them embrace and sing a rousing version of "I Dream of a Nest with my Angel Dove."
Cleveland, Ohio: May 20, 1907
Tom sits on a bench and there is a bit of business with him looking at his watch several times. "Where can that dratted girl be?" he says. Perhaps his language is a bit strong for Cleveland. The manager makes a note of it.
Eloisa saunters on stage. "I was visiting the beautiful roses in the park," she says. She seems unusually ebullient.
"You're always late," he says.
"Yes, Mr. Willoughby, but shouldn't time fly when we're together?"
"But that's the point, Miss Moran, we're not together."
There is an uncomfortably long silence. Then Eloisa drops her purse and sits down next to him on the bench, forcing him to slide over. He looks startled. "Tom, let's skip this rotten stinking dialogue and go right to the song." She forms her hands into a megaphone, her legs crossed in an unladylike manner. "Hey, audience. You want to hear a song?"
There is scattered laughter from the audience, and a few people calling, "Yes."
Tom stands, bows to Eloisa, and helps her to her feet. She sways a little, sassily. Too much for Cleveland. They sing, "Time Means Nothing to Me." As the curtain drops, those in the front row can see that Tom is pushing up Eloisa's sleeve, and that there is a bluish, fan-shaped bruise in the crook of her elbow.
Fort Wayne, Indiana: June 18, 1907
"But they'll all say that you love me for my money, and I love you for your looks," says Tom.
Eloisa touches him genteelly on the shoulder. This is not burlesque. "But Mr. Willoughby, I think you're a fine figure of a man."
"An old man like me?"
"The distinguished gray in your hair-- it's like silver." She mimes an aside to the audience. "Like the silver I'll get for marrying you!"
"Your hair is like gold," says Tom. And it is like gold-- an even brighter gold than it was in Cedar Rapids.
"Your impressive carriage," says Eloisa. Stage whispered: "Like the horseless carriage in your garage!"
"Say you'll marry me today," says Tom, seizing her in his arms.
"Oh, yes! Lock, stock, and barrel!"
They sing, "They Call Us May and December." Perhaps this is unfair to Tom, who is a September at most. Yet Eloisa makes a vibrant May. It is only when she dramatically swirls at the end of the song that the scabbed, purple lines at the back of her knees are visible.
Amarillo, Texas: August 23, 1907
Eloisa has lost a great deal of weight. Her dress is loose at breast and hip, and too long in the hem. She sits on the bench. "Oh, dear me, where can my lover be?" she says.
Tom walks on stage warily. "Darling," he says.
A man in the front row leaps to his feet. "Cradle-robber!" he cries. "Get off the stage!" The crowd begins to throw peanut shells, cigarette packets, and balled-up programs.
Eloisa cowers into Tom's arms. Sheltering her from the worst of the debris, he escorts her offstage.
Kansas City, Missouri: January 9, 1908
A little blonde girl-- maybe six years old-- toddles onstage. "Hello," she says. She walks to the edge of the stage and looks confidingly at one of the men in the audience. "Do you know where my daddy is?"
He shakes his head.
"Oh," she says, adorably squinching up her little face, "I wish I knew where my daddy could be!"
Tom stands, in the third row. "Sweetie-lamb, what are you doing on stage? Come down from there right now!"
"Not until you sing with me!"
The audience is appreciative. They like this bit of business.
"Oh, all right," says Tom. He walks up the steps to the stage.
She looks up at him confidingly and takes his big hand in her little one. "Hi, daddy," she says.
He blinks, awkwardly, and looks over the heads of the audience at the exits. It's a little trick that makes it appear as though he is looking at all of them, though he does not care to see them at all. "What shall we sing, Eloisa?"
They sing, "I'm Going to the Happy Golden Land." The audience loves it. | | Thursday, March 15th, 2007 | | 11:07 pm |
Podcast mentioned in the StarTribune Randy Salas of the Minneapolis StarTribune just mentioned my podcast in his column, here: http://www.startribune.com/389/story/1056841.html. Look closely and you'll discover my secret identity... Thanks, Randy! | | Thursday, February 22nd, 2007 | | 9:31 pm |
Thanks to the Audio Addicts Thanks to the Audio Addicts for calling "Discovered Country" a "Podiobook to check out." They said: "Nora has a pleasant voice to listen to as well, so I can definitely see myself getting sucked into this book. Take a listen for yourself, and get stuck in the future along with Rosemary and join her on her adventures!" Check out the whole thing here: http://societyfans.blogspot.com/2007/02/podiobook-to-check-out-discovered.html | | Friday, December 8th, 2006 | | 11:26 pm |
| | Sunday, November 26th, 2006 | | 9:02 am |
It's my birthday!
It's my 35th birthday today... it's been a great year! | | Tuesday, November 21st, 2006 | | 10:22 am |
Discovered Country is done
The podcast of Discovered Country; the Adventures of Rosemary the Librarian is now complete. Happy listening! | | Monday, October 30th, 2006 | | 7:48 pm |
I'm very excited about this one. Jeffrey Kafer is including my short story, "A More Real Life," in his Podiobook collection, More Sonic Fiction. You can hear it and a whole bunch of other wonderful stories at http://www.podiobooks.com/podiobooks/book.php?ID=89. | | Saturday, August 19th, 2006 | | 10:49 pm |
I've just written a screenplay called Zombies in Love. Here's the logline: "Jack Kershaw didn't ask to become a zombie. But now he, and his new girlfriend Lisa, have to protect the zombies of Boston from two graduate students who will do anything to get their PhDs.
A horror/comedy with Braaaaains."
If you are someone who makes movies, and you're interested in seeing the script, let me know at norafleischer@hotmail.com. | | Tuesday, August 8th, 2006 | | 3:06 pm |
| | Tuesday, June 6th, 2006 | | 7:19 am |
I found my podcast mentioned at http://www.sffaudio.com/. This is a wonderful site that seeks out sci-fi and fantasy audio novels online. Thanks, guys! | | Wednesday, May 31st, 2006 | | 11:35 am |
Discovered Country Podcast online My novel Discovered Country; or, the Adventures of Rosemary the Librarian is up! You can hear it as a podcast at http://www.podiobooks.com/podiobooks/book.php?ID=78. And it's absolutely free! Here's a description: Far from home... Rosemary Halpern, a mild-mannered librarian from Boston, found herself trapped hundreds of years in the future. A future that faced a new Ice Age. A future where ghouls walked the Earth, ravenous for human flesh. A world where she was drawn to a man who was already dead... | | Monday, May 1st, 2006 | | 8:01 pm |
A poem, and a story published Hello world! This will serve as a writer's blog. I'm going to post notices of publications, and the occasional piece of short fiction. Today I want to announce that I've had a short story, "A Man and His Son," published in Night to Dawn #9 . You can see their website at http://www.bloodredshadows.com/night2dawn.html . Today's poem: For Hal the Coyote He knew all rivers lead to it, The wart, the metal porcupine, The man-made stench of oil, tar, and steel. The city was his candle. Once he was a falcon. Once a boy Who broke his foot and couldn’t dance again, Who sold umbrellas on a sheet Appearing like a ghost on rainy days. The city was his candle. The photos were a trick. He saw the cage— New York always broke your heart up close. He was just a dog. He’d never stand Atop the Empire, Metropolis, Gotham at his feet. |
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