Time Carnival

It's Carnival Time! Or, rather, it's Time Carnival.

Welcome to the first Vortex Blog Carnival. We've raised the tents, packed the booths with links and giveaways and swept the midway in the hopes you'll stick around to visit them all.

First, a special offer. Leave a comment here and you'll be entered in a drawing to win a $15 Amazon Gift Card. Let us know which attractions you loved, which drew you like a pitchman to a dart game, or which had the most unique take on our theme: TIME. Return as often as you wish before midnight CDT in the US for more chances to win. Winners will be announced Friday. Good luck!

Now, step onto the midway and enjoy...

Nathan Gendizer's blog, polybloggimous.com, is just as random and snarky as The Vortex at times, but always with an eye on the future. The picture header homage to science fiction of old is, alone, worth the visit to this attraction.

Robin, of married-to-MacGyver fame, offers up "The Quality of the Day," a thoughtful essay on making each minute of the day count.

Change jingling in your pocket? How about these awesome embroidered baby and children's clothes from the ultra-hip Wicked Cool Baby Company? Wicked Cool Baby has created time-themed shirts in honor of today's carnival! New sayings include: Time is all we have until the next diaper change, Time for my bottle but Mom's busy reading Twilight and There's no time like naked time.


Loyal Vortex-er and writer Todd Wheeler has been the top "barker" for this carnival, so you can bet he's offering up something special. We met over a shared novel title involving midnight, and we also have a shared reverence for libraries from the distant past.



Just Me presents Is That a Promise or a Threat?: Do You Remember posted at Is That a Promise or a Threat?. Great to have you, Just me!

Laughingwolf offers up a deliciously creepy slice of fiction entitled "Timed Out."





Newest blogging friend, Subby, busts out a poem all Tanka-inspired about the changing of the seasons. Love that take on time.

Pam doesn't just write romance; she writes time (at least for today). "It's not the what, it's the when," tackles my obsession, evidence of time travel seeping into all genres of literature and a what-if involving a time machine.

You've reached the end of the carnival midway. Time to head back and revisit your favorite attractions. If you posted something for the carnival but didn't get it to me ahead of time, I'll be happy to set up more tents. Be sure to visit throughout the day for added attractions.

A huge thanks to all the participants and visitors who made this such a fun event. Remember to comment, comment, comment to win, win, win.

Time Carnival Call for Submissions

The tents and rides are going up. Time to get in on the first ever Time Carnival here at The Vortex.

Poetry, fiction, merchandise, articles, essays, random blog posts, links-if it has to do with any aspect of time, we'll set up a space on the midway for you. All day Wednesday, March 31st, The Vortex becomes the entry gate for the carnival's participants. We'll feature a link to your site and a blurb about your entry to entice carnival-goers.

A carnival without prizes is like MacGyver without his pocketwatch, so each Time Carnival contributor will be placed in a drawing for a $15 Amazon gift card. Blog or tweet about the upcoming event (send me a link) and you'll be entered an extra ten times. On the day of the carnival, Vortex commenters will be entered in a drawing for another $15 Amazon gift card.

Submit to the Time Carnival two ways:

1. send a link to your blog and a blurb about your upcoming contribution to la-mitchell@la-mitchell.com

2. submit your contribution via blogcarnival.com





Questions? Drop me an email: la-mitchell@la-mitchell.com. See you Wednesday!

A Frenchman and a F-Bomb

Several of you tweeted back that, yes, you wanted to see a photo of the infamous la Salle. I aim to please. Drum roll for Friday picture show...

I realized as I cropped the photo of this poor, unsuspecting man (that I did not snap, incidentally) that he bears an uncanny resemblance to Bret Scallions of I-dropped-the-F-bomb-at-a-Jenna-and-Barbara-Bush-inauguration-party-and-inspired-L.A.'s-first-romance-hero fame.

So there you have it. Crucify me for my taste.

As for time travel news, I have two nuggets. Dav Pilkey's enormously popular children's books that nurture male grossness, the Adventures of Captain Underpants series, have spawned The Adventures of Ook and Gluk, Kung-Fu Cavemen from the Future, a graphic novel from Scholastic's Blue Sky Press imprint. Huge, ginormous sales await. Score one for time travel. Also in temporal realms this week, Disney and Bedrock Studios announced a cooperative effort to send Madeline L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time into movie production. Let's home they don't go all Little Mermaid and tank its awesomeness.

That's all I have. Except this...(thank you, laughingwolf)

and this...Vortex-ers are the best. You know me so well. We're up to fifty-eight subscribers and counting! Tell your friends about the upcoming Blog Carnival on March 31st and let's see if we can't get that number to 100. Serious time travel partying when that happens.

Have a phenomenal weekend, everyone.

Today's random question: If you could have a remote control for anything, what would you choose?

The Kite String

Once, my palm mapped only a few, distinct courses. The lines showed clarity; the spaces showed youth. I remember because at ten I studied palmistry the way a future engineer studies suspension bridges. Time, I suppose, had a hold of me even then.

Today, my hand is littered with pink lines blown in random directions, the sign of a nervous personality. Someone who worries. Is this change nothing more than decades of repetitive hand movement? Perhaps. But as the years pass, I can't help but think there is a glimmer of truth to this transformation. Yes, life inevitably hands us more responsibilities and greater burdens and takes us to unimaginable emotional extremes, all with the potential to transform that map. But for me, someone who plans incessantly, calculates all choices and weighs them against potential outcomes, considers and reconsiders every angle, I have forgotten I was once acquainted with the spaces between all those lines.

To say it is because I am a woman is narrow-sighted. Men worry, too. Maybe not to the extent or in as much technicolor, but burdens know no gender. To say it is because living in the city introduces more stressors doesn't hold, either. Cars still break down. Taxes still saddle rural roads. Family members still say goodbye. To say it is because I am blessed with many who depend on me pales in comparison to the person who worries alone.

When I look back at all the times where senseless worry tainted life's experiences, I'm saddened. I wish I could send a message back. Transcribe it into one succinct, pink line for my ten-year-old self to discover so that it would remain like a touch point whenever I needed it. Instead of worry lines etched at the eyes and brow, this new pink line would be called the don't worry line, appropriately placed equidistant from the head line that structures decisions and the heart line that guides them. Translated, it would be this: Stop letting worry taint this day. You'll be fine. It will all turn out for the best.

Ever present, I would have glanced at it the night I wanted to throw up when I realized my first kiss was someone's joke. I would have found it when I was ten thousand miles away from home and couldn't find a way back. I would have touched it when I heard the word "cancer". A thousand times between then and now, I would have known its power to help me find space again.

Today, I christened one. Ironically, near my fate line, it trails from my wrist like a kite string. It's strong and deep and pink with life. I never learned enough at ten to know its true meaning, but I've attached my own interpretation. It will still be there when I am ninety-two, but this time, and a thousand other times between then and now, it will say, "Stop letting worry taint this day. You'll be fine. It will all turn out for the best."

What do you think of palmistry? Did you find your don't worry line?

A Hair Metal Vortex 10

I think you'll forgive me when you find out I was remiss in posting last Friday due to a particularly impressive day. The flavor of such a slaptastic experience? That, my dear Vortex reader, you'll have to wait for until the end of today's housekeeping.

First, a dusting-off of last week's news. The winners for the Chase the Dream Contest were announced Friday. Though you'll notice there is no sign of my manuscript in the winner's circle, I am not one to rest on the cricket chirps. In fact, being a finalist has carried me beyond my expectations. I couldn't be more pleased with the industry and reader feedback along with the wonderful opportunities I've been given behind the scenes. Be sure to head over and congratulate the winners. And for those of you who voted for The Chosen One, may your Monday be a velvet-lined bag filled with trinkets of happiness. Thank you so much!

The Speculative Literature Foundation is offering a $750 grant to writers fifty and older who are just beginning to work at a professional level. Application deadline is March 31st.

Enough of you expressed an interest, via blog and email, to participate in a blog carnival. It may end up being the Large Hadron Collider of my blogging history, but it sounds like fun and there might even be dancing geniuses. I've selected March 31st because it is Gabe Kaplan's birthday and statistically the highest traffic day of the week for blogging. It was Gabe's idea to have prizes, so bloggers who participate will be placed in a drawing to receive a prize (I promise, it won't be a red telephone booth pencil sharpener or a Fabio CD) and everyone who comments at the Vortex that day will be placed in a drawing for another prize. It is my fervent hope that the event will drive new friends through all participants' blogs and Gabe will get some much-needed press. Here's what you need to do to participate:

1. Email me at la-mitchell@la-mitchell.com or comment on this post to let me know you wish to participate.
2. Prepare a March 31 post for your blog that aligns with the blog carnival's theme.
3. Visit all the blog carnival's sites and encourage your readers to do the same.

Simple, right? Some of you have already guessed the theme: TIME. What else is there at the Vortex? Remember, your post can be any format, any medium, any take, any ramble or a mad cluster of links, as long as it has something to do with TIME.

Now, on to something even more fun than TIME...

Friday night found me front row, center at a Dokken/Skid Row concert, sans ear plugs. I know what you're thinking: your cilias are dead forever now because of that? Yes, and it was beautiful save one thing. Was I the only one who didn't know Sebastian Bach wouldn't be there? Is there any crime greater than a teen infatuation left to languish into thirty-hood unnurtured? I came away wiser, though, and wish to pass that wisdom on:

A Hair-Metal Vortex 10

1. Beer spit from the mouth of an 80's lead singer that lands in your eye is infinitely more awesome than beer spit from the mouth of the skinny guy showing his butt crack beside you.

2. Aged groupies, let me tell you Victoria's real secret. Your right breast you tattooed that autograph into has stretched into a name worthy of the largest collective Puerto Rican family known to man. Cover it. Please.

3. Murphy's Law of Front Row, Center: Every band member will clench your hand but the one you most desire contact with.

4. Never underestimate a woman who has stood for five hours straight, forsaking liquid refreshment and bladder relief, to hold her territory. I may look the demeanor of Laura Ingalls, but I am acquainted with Iron Maiden's beast.

5. The drunkest guy in general admission will be the one still holding tight to the lighter-during-power-ballads routine. The sea of cell phone holders wearing Aqua net, beware.

6. Guitar players, no matter how advanced in age, still make those faces when trying to impress you with their riffs.

7. Don Dokken, while confessing to having the ass of a shar pei, still looked wicked hot in a pair of jeans. Thank you, Don, for not resurrecting those animal-print leotards.

8. Yelling "Watch out for that....amp" doesn't rise above the 150 db din of Slave to the Grind to prevent the non-Sebastian from spilling over backwards.

9. Asking the crowd to echo "Yee-haw" in Texas is akin to asking us if we all have longhorns on the front of our cars and ride horses to work. J.R. has left the building and so should you.

10. And finally? No one, but no one, can replace Sebastian Bach.

I hope everyone had a great weekend. Chime in about the blog carnival and tell us about the last concert you went to...

The Tapestry Redux

Today, the Nobody Writes It Better blog officially shut down. While I can pinpoint the reasons for this blog's short run, I do not consider our endeavor a failure. The 2007 Golden Heart finalists were the first finalists to conceptualize, create and carry out a group blog dedicated to readers. We united from three different countries and twice as many subgenres of romance. We will always be Bond girls in more ways than one; and in that spirit, we have elected to turn our management funds over to an RWA-sponsored scholarship fund to help writers in need achieve their dreams.

So InkyLuv, walkingman's Bond-girl name for me, is no more. I did, however, want to bring over my favorite post from the NWIB run before it disappears or is relegated to Google's cyber-vaults forever. Appropriate today, because as you read this, I'm blessed to be spending this beautiful day with my Dad. Love you, Dad.

The Tapestry

(original post 9.16.09)

People who adore time travel novels cite different reasons. To some, they are the ultimate fish-out-of-water story. For others, the fictional journey is a classic game of “what if” with no boundaries, allowing the reader to revisit her life choices in a safe, fantastical way. The endless possibilities are enough to keep a writer’s idea book filled for three lifetimes. What compels me to write time travel stories, however, is one question:

How can a moment, a single thread running the length of our life’s tapestry, be so powerful and yet so fragile?

Before I was born, my father negotiated the sale of cattle, Brahma bulls more often than not, all over the world. He traveled extensively to Central and South America, often to remote agricultural areas accessible only after days of harsh overland travel. On occasion, the wealthiest landowners would commission pilots to fly him from major airports to their property on a single-engine Cessna. We all laughed during family slide shows at the 1960s pictures of him sharing expensive cigars and guaro with men who looked straight out of a drug cartel movie. It never occurred to me to ask why my father had stopped his travels abroad, why he took a job in another state, why he never really spoke about those days unless prodded. It never occurred to me to ask until someone mentioned he’d done what few can claim: He’d survived a plane crash in the Andes.

Low visibility. Pilot error. Maybe a combination. But to hear him describe how a mountain can rise up out of a dense fog bank, the precise sound of a struggling engine, the men in the cockpit who shared little common language but the greatest fear of human nature and how they overcame it all to help each other once down leaves this writer without words every time. The hour my father and I spent together on a drive through the Texas Hill Country last summer, him reliving every detail so someone would know, was a defining moment in our relationship. A true gift. A shared understanding of that one powerful thread that wove into the man he became and the fragility of all that moment could have unraveled.

To me, this is the heart of a time travel story. It is history and present and future intertwined in a way we may never fully realize until the tapestry is complete, much like our lives. It is the realization that one missed bus, one false move of the rudder, one single moment in time has the authority to change everything that comes after. It is the gravity of how that vulnerability affects our human condition.

Your turn. What do you believe is the heart of a time travel story? And, more fun than that, what is the most amazing/important thing ever done by one of your ancestors?

The Cinematography Was Good, Though

The Time Traveler's Wife and I have a bit of history. Word of mouth about the book spread fairly early to me because of the time travel element, shortly after it had gone to second printing. I struggled through those first, awkward pages of a dual first-person narrative, convinced I could rise above it because the premise was so me. Ultimately, I fell in love with Niffenegger's rich prose, dimensional and imperfect characters, and the complexities of a love story told through the lens of fractured time. I had conversations with my agent about the path it took from tiny print to bestseller and its potential impact the same market I was aiming for. I wanted so much for the movie to find Titantic success, both for selfish I-want-to-adore-this-film reasons and for market reasons. It became important to me to find out how Audrey Niffenegger felt about the movie. It became my must-see for the year.

And I put off seeing it.

I'm sure you can guess why. I had built it up so much in my mind, fretted over how Niffenegger's melodic prose would fall through the cinematic cracks of a screenplay written by someone else, wondered if Eric Bana was the right man to play Henry because he looked nothing like my Henry. I wondered which pieces the writer and director would butcher in order to package it into a story experience that lasted no longer than the time it took to devour a large popcorn, extra butter. I was convinced I would be disappointed, so I waited through a mourning period of theater release until I could view it at home in the same chair I'd consumed the book all those months ago.

Bottom Line: I had sabotaged it from the beginning.

Brad Pitt, the actor tied to it at the movie's inception, would have come closer to my Henry. The at-times clunky dialogue would never have wormed its way into Niffenegger's prose. Because of those time constraints, we were only privy to Claire's fully-realized life through the lens of Henry's scenes and the moments that advanced the love story. The story of The Time Traveler's Wife became The Time Traveler's Love Affair and her character became all but lost. The tears I shed at the book's end were nowhere to be found amidst the sweeping cinematic music meant to evoke some cathartic emotion I didn't feel because I hadn't re-visited the depth and scope of their relationship together. In the book, Claire has moments where she wrestles with fidelity to a lover she doesn't see for years at a time. We witness her grow into a woman, not exclusively in Henry's shadow, but through her art and other relationships. In the movie, all we see is Clare's unyielding adoration from age six. Passionate? Yes. Deep Tragedy of Struggling Lovers? Not so much.

So in the end, this experiment proved nothing more than that which we avid readers already know: the book is almost always better.

Did you see TTTW? How did it compare, in your mind, to the book? Can you think of any movies that were better than the book?

Ten Indicators You've Traveled Through Time at Camp

1. You prefer transportation via the spitting llama named Tina than the front of an open trailer pulled by a Chevy Silverado bumper-high in manure.

2. Your newly-minted orienteering skills make the Tang you drank at breakfast seem like it's been riding shotgun in your bladder for twenty years. 293 degrees. 121 steps. And, no, that over-large critter hole is not an outdoor latrine.

3. Your demonstration on force and friction carried you across the zip line like an H.G. Wells traveler on crack. And; while holding the MacGyver-taped tarp between your legs demonstrated wind resistance and dignified grace, the real physics lesson came from the directly proportional relationship between the Cheesecake Factory's Chocolate Mousse slice you ate the previous night and your speed on the zip line. Whee!

4. You encounter a camp counselor dressed as the 1600's French explorer Rene-Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle in the forest and you wish three things: (1) that you had not just challenged your Lady Speed Stick to a three mile hike and lost (2) that you did not have aforementioned compass around your neck so you could ask for a very long, very detoured escort back to civilization and (3) that he had not achieved the perfect balance between a French accent and GQ bone structure because it left you stammering like the native tribe women he so eloquently spoke of.

5. Your chicken fried steak at dinner was, without doubt, from 1972.

6. Your camp skit was the same one from fifth grade, minus the mean girl on the end whose hand you dunked in a bucket at midnight for revenge.

7. The silly string you wielded on unsuspecting campers proved string theory: that subatomic particles when united and tense become easily agitated.

8. The wormhole outside your cabin filled with five inches of rainwater was capable of sucking bobby pins, ankles adorned with freshly laundered socks, and your only four quarters for a Coke.

9. The Gramps who spoke about organic gardening left you for a misty moment when he recalled a place you both knew where he met his high school sweetheart, his recently departed wife.

10. You glimpse a future when ten year olds have a better cell phone than you and you realize it's the present.

I hope everyone had a fantastic week. I'll be back on Monday with a Time Traveler's Wife comparison, book versus movie. There's still time to get in on the blog carnival. Email me if you're interested: la-mitchell@la-mitchell.com. Hmm...I wonder what the theme will be.

Two guesses. The first one doesn't count.

It's Not Camp, But It'll Do

Camp: Day Three. By this point, I'm willing to bet a pile of Bill Murray's shelled peanuts that you look and smell better than I do. I'm also willing to bet I'm having more fun. So there.

I can't offer you Camp Northstar-caliber fun, but I can let you in on some recently discovered links:

50 Most Interesting Wikipedia Articles
If you can't find something on this list that sparks your interest or writing muse then you might want to check for a pulse. From a phone booth in the middle of the Mojave (they're everywhere, are they not?) to the rare-known fairy chess piece, there's something here for everyone.

Miniature Book Necklaces
Quite possibly the cutest jewelry I have ever seen. Ever. Five search pages of your favorite classics turned into adorable charms.

Telephone Songs
So you're bored and musically inclined? I have just the thing for you. Numbers that translate a few classic songs on your telephone's keypad.

Parody of Homeland.gov
A close cousin to the airplane emergency card parody site, this one tackles those ambivalent illustrations to combat today's more advanced threats.

I'll be back Friday with, no doubt, enough stories to fill a brand-new Vortex 10 List. Until then, don't have too much fun without me.

Come on Morty, Make Up Your Mind

Movie quote, anyone?

You guessed it: Meatballs. Quite possibly the only movie besides Airplane I knew enough dialogue lines to be a stand in had I not been six. I must confess to an early infatuation with Chris Makepeace (Rudy Gerner a.k.a. Rudy the Rabbit). Mostly now, I just adore Bill Murray. So why the camp lead in?

I'm headed to camp this morning, tasked with being one of the responsible ones: bug slayer, orienteering master, campfire storyteller. No underwear up the flagpole. No de-panting on the basketball court. No cots moved in the middle of the night. Truthfully, I'm one of the last people you'd want to rely on out in the wilderness. I'm not even sure what poison ivy looks like, but I'm armed with a backpack full of trivial things and enough MacGyver episodes to fake it.

I haven't left you adrift, though. On Wednesday, check back here for the mother-of-all time suck links: The 50 Most Fascinating Wikipedia Entries.

For now, here's a few favorite scenes from Meatballs. Enjoy!

A Burlesque Elmo? What?

The idea of a blog carnival speaks to my muse. What better way to trick myself into thinking I'm working on my novel when I'm actually piddling around on Blogger, right? So what is a blog carnival? Do commenters throw knives at balloon thoughts? Is there a creepy visitor with clown shoes on stilts? Will there be a burlesque show?

Not in my carnival. Unless....

Wow, that was a real Sesame Street moment for me. One of these things is not like the others...

But I digress. According to About.com, a blog carnival is "a blog promotional event where one blogger acts as the host and other bloggers act as participants. The host announces the carnival date and topic then other bloggers who write about that topic on their own blogs write a post related to the blog carnival's topic and publish it on their blogs. Each participating blogger sends the host the link to their specific blog carnival post entry."

What? No funnel cakes?

There's also a site, blogcarnival.com, where you can post the date of the carnival and ask others with related topics to join you. I know, you're thinking: how could all of this debauchery have gone on without my knowledge? and how can my blog become part of the cooking prime rib carnival?

Easy now. We don't want the creepy guy to get too excited. We're just brainstorming.

I'm fully aware that the Vortex community is a diverse bunch. Some of you are all Zombies and chain saws and some engage in quieter pursuits like lurking and enjoying Fabio's tunes (you are so busted, aren't you?). However, just as in life, universal themes happen whether you write poetry or sell t-shirts with funny sayings or send an ecard to your dog. So if anyone is interested in hooking up in the next month to throw a blog carnival, let me know. As host, my first rule will be "No Pitching Tents Jokes"

If carnivals aren't your thing, you can vacay with Fabio once more. We'll save you some funnel cake.

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A huge, mega thanks to everyone who popped over to the Chase the Dream site and voted for The Chosen One. Your support means so much. If you haven't had a chance yet, you still have five days before I send the creepy guy to your web address.

Exercise Your Right To Stand in a Phonebooth

The day has come when all eight finalists for the Chase the Dream Contest have been selected. While I already accomplished the goal I set for myself when entering, I cannot deny that a scholarship to Gotham Writer's Workshop would be more squee-worthy than David Hasselhoff's holiday wishes of good tidings in the form of a publishing contract and a time machine.

Vote for your favorite if you're into the whole democracy thing. If you're not, you still rock in my book for being here.

I know I haven't divulged much about The Chosen One (working title) and it's hard to determine from the thousand word entry, but it's the first in a four-book series about brothers who become rogue time travel agents to find their missing mentally-challenged brother whom people of a dismal future believe is a prophet. Here's a bit more about The Chosen One:

A carny worker discovers the century-old seaside pier where his brother disappeared houses a temporal grid that unleashes a past not his own.

Ex-con Zac Ward served ten years for a crime against his brother he didn't commit. When a never-forgotten summer love returns with the chance to restore that fateful night, he learns there are some things worse than a betrayal of the heart.

Rae Gillem, a temporal double-agent who secrets away children a future government agency deems non-essential, seeks atonement for her father's atrocities by pursuing leads to a mentally-challenged boy that slipped through her protection ten years earlier.

When the powerful forces of humanity collide in the past, Zac and Rae learn the burden of the future cannot rest one one alone.

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In celebration of going all-red-phone-booth, even on Gravitar and Twitter, I offer up this hybrid telephone booth-library in Westbury, England. Purchased for one pound and remodeled to accommodate books, music and movies swapped by residents of this Somerset, England village, it is now the world's smallest library.

Have a great Wednesday, everyone!

Cuff Links and Hyperlinks

In celebration of Link Monday, I present: the woman's cuff link.

No longer exclusively for male executives, though I'd reconsider the cat-and-sex-kitten ones for the boardroom. More! Give me more!

On to the happy links:

I'm not a Cosmo girl, but here are some ideas for fun dates on the cheap. The taco one falls flat, but the reverse date is just time travel-ish enough to make it a win for me.

TV Squad wants you to tune into Being Erica because you can appreciate the Canadian twist on romantic comedy and you tire of Lifetime movies, right? I want you to tune in because of the...you guessed it...time travel. Erica Strange is a literary editor and wannabe writer (win already, right?) whose therapy includes revisiting the choices in her life. Try it Wednesday nights on Soapnet.

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And while we're on the topic of time travel and television, let's talk dinosaurs. Stephen Spielberg's latest production and directorial offering for Fox is Terra Nova, an upcoming sci-fi drama about a family one hundred years in the future who returns to prehistoric times. Rumor has it that the production quality and special effects are so spectacular, the series will get a green light before a pilot is made and keep it, thankfully, clear of Land of the Lost cheese.

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The physics fans among us will love watching a water droplet at 2000 frames per second.

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Short Fiction Market news:

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My first publisher, The Wild Rose Press, is desperate for short romance (anything under 65K). TWRP is first, and foremost, an epublisher, so don't expect your short fiction to reach print, but the company just won Predator and Editor's Best Publisher Award and they're a great company to write for. FMI-Submissions.

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Dreams of Decadence, an urban fantasy and paranormal romance-oriented full-size, bi-monthly magazine, is actively seeking fiction (1K-7K) and poetry. Pays 1-7 cents/word for fiction and $5-$10 for poems, depending on the length. FMI-Submissions.

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New Love Stories magazine is seeking short, romantic fiction (2700-3800 wds). $300 on publication. Stories must be original, never-before published. FMI-Submissions.

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Lastly, the Chase the Dream contest is winding down with the sixth finalist to be announced on Wednesday. If you haven't stopped by to read the other fabulous finalists, do so. Reader voting begins Wednesday, and I'd want you to select mine only if you believe it deserving.

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Have a great Monday!