We are writing today to give our many readers a “heads-up” about something altogether NEW coming to these blog pages in mid-September, 2010. It will be a regular feature we are proud to call “Ask LongShortStories.”

“Ask LongShortStories” will be a column edited by yours truly, in which I will invite reader questions about the craft and the art of the short story form. And then I will share with you what I know and what other experts in the field know.  

Want to know why your short fiction keeps being rejected? I’ll give you some helpful answers.

Want to learn how to use power words to your advantage? I’ll give you some examples.

Want to learn about story arc and conflict resolution. Ask away!

These are but a tiny sampling of thorny issues that budding short story writers need to learn about and integrate into their own short stories. Please start sending me your questions NOW so that by mid-September we can kick off “Ask LongShortStories” with a bang.

Remember, dear readers and writers: there are no dumb questions in the land of LongShortStories — Where the Short Story LIVES! But spammers beware. We will delete you faster than  flash fiction. This is a MODERATED blog and we have  state-of-the-art junk e-mail filtration software in place, ready to defend the castle.

Please address your short story questions to Wayne C. Long, Writer/Editor/Digital Publisher via the “Contact Wayne” navigation button on our Home Page. Show Ask LongShortStories in your e-mail subject line. And try to keep your questions brief and on-topic. Thank you!

We look forward to hearing from you!

That’s right! Some came close and those will be held over into our second 2010 LongShortStories Short Story Contest, which, as we speak, is now accepting ORIGINAL, UNPUBLISHED (anywhere, including online e-zines, etc.) short stories. We check this and found some that have appeared elsewhere, which is a real shame, since they could have been contenders here.

Our judges first expect entrants to at least read the published Contest rules, found via the “FREE Contests” navigation button of this Web site.

Secondly, several of you should do more research into the proper punctuation of short story dialogue.

Thirdly, please make us really CARE about your protagonist.

LongShortStories was recently asked if we accept story submissions from all countries. Yes, of course! Let’s see what everyone’s got!

More and more and more we are seeing evidence of a resurgence in the fine art of short story writing. Is it a tsunami yet? Well, no, but it has once again lit the imagination of the reading public who, especially now, are strapped for time and may be experiencing negative effects from living and working in the “New Normal.”

Friends, LongShortStories is your ideal mental “getaway” in your harried life. Most of our short stories can be read in about 5 or 10 minutes. Perfect, we say, for the challenging times in which we live!

LongShortStories is keenly aware that publishing agents, film producers, and others actively engaged in the entertainment industry, are trolling LongShortStories for the next breakout piece.

Could that be YOURS?

We look forward with great excitement to your next submission to the LongShortStories Short Story Contest. And we welcome new readers to our global family of LongShortStories e-mail subscribers. Currently, there are more than 70 amazing short stories and flash fiction pieces in our subscription inventory.

Give a One or Two-Year subscription to a soldier.

Give one to a graduate.

Give one to yourself! It’s one of the best entertainment values out there!

Best wishes and thank you,

Wayne C. Long

Writer/Editor/Digital Publisher

www.LongShortStories.com

Where the Short Story LIVES!

George’s wickedly clever ending to the partial story I wrote results in a finished piece that surely has male readers scratching their heads, saying …

‘How far would I go to win the hand of my girlfriend in marriage?”

And more than a few females asking themselves …

“What if my dad says ‘no?’”

OR this …

“Screw Dad! Let’s party!”

Nice work, George! We will be e-mailing your first of 30 new LongShortStories to you shortly. Enjoy!

The name of our “Finish This Story” contest story is “OLD SCHOOL.” It is a fictional piece that deserves a creative ending. Will you provide a twist? Something darkly humorous? Or even fantasy or something in the horror genre? It’s your call. Complete the partial story (which presently has about 1350 words) by adding your ending as a “comment” below. The finished story should max out at 2000 words or less. Deadline:  end of the day,  June 8.

We will award our winner a 30 story subscription to LongShortStories, valued at $12, and announce the winner’s name and publish the entire story for everyone to enjoy. Good luck!

OLD SCHOOL

Copyright © 2010 Wayne C. Long

 I’m an old school father. In fact, all the males in my family, going back many generations were old school. All the daughters of all of us men understood what was expected.

 The problem was with the suitors, the young men whose own fathers lacked the backbone to insist on the old school way. These unenlightened young men wanted what they wanted, when they wanted it, and they didn’t want to have to work hard for it. We were determined to hold to the ways of our forefathers, for the good of the family.

 My future son-in-law was such an unenlightened one. Brash, unskilled in the social graces, and used to getting his way by intimidation. That is, until he started dating my one and only daughter.

 These two had been dating for about a year and things looked pretty serious to me and my wife. My daughter, knowing things would be coming to a head soon, sat her young man down and laid out the rules of an old school marriage within this family. My daughter’s boyfriend was shocked to say the least. At least that’s what she told me the day after her heart-to-heart with Phil.

 “I won’t do it!” raged Phil. “Fuck that old school shit! I’m gonna marry you whether he approves or not! We’ll go to Vegas and get married!”

 “No you’re not!” exclaimed my Cassie as she laid out the generations-old tradition of the young suitor sitting before the future father-in-law and selling himself, proving his worthiness of becoming her husband, finally leading to the asking for the father’s blessing of the joining of the two families through marriage.

 “That’s the way my dad’s family has been doing it since they came over on the boat from the old country. You’ve gotta get past my dad or it’ll never happen. Pure and simple. And if you want that down payment on a house as a wedding gift from Mom and Dad, you better suck up your pride, Phil!”

 Somehow, young Phil scraped up the courage to call me one evening to ask if we could meet for supper at my favorite eatery. Just him and me, to kind of get to know each other better. My daughter had kindly tipped me off to expect such an invitation. Looks like the old school thing was about to happen.

 As I parked my car in the lot outside Red’s Bar-B-Que, I couldn’t help hearing the distinctive rumble of a Harley Davidson motorcycle. There he was. Ready to do battle for my daughter’s hand. This was the moment I had lived my 46 years for. This was the moment of truth.

 “Hi, Phil!” I shouted as he swung his muscular leg over the body of the candy-apple red motorcycle.

 “Hi, Mister Davis! Glad you could make it!”

 We both made small talk as the waitress seated us in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Even though Red’s was air conditioned, I couldn’t help noticing that Phil was sweating profusely.

 We ordered and then I sat in stony silence, waiting for his first move. It finally came, albeit in fits and starts.

 “Mister Davis, I’m glad you agreed to meet me here tonight. I have something important to discuss with you. It’s about Cassie!”

 With that, I raised my eyebrows in expectation of one of the most calculated, predictable sales pitches I had ever witnessed. This was going to be fun!

 Young Phil here first laid out for me in great detail how much he loved my Cassie and how she loved him too. They had many things in common. She completed his sentences. Blah, blah, blah.

 I nodded and held back any reply as this amorous gladiator fought for his very life in between delicious bites of ribs and throat-soothing pulls on his glass of Miller Lite.

 Young Phil must have wondered if he was making any progress with me, but I smiled and encouraged him to go on.

 After the dinner plates were cleared away and he stopped sweating, Phil pushed back in his chair and fumbled for something in his pants pocket.

 He burst out, hoping for the big close. “Mister Davis, Here is a 2-carat diamond engagement ring that I have been saving for for many months. Sir, may I have your permission to marry Cassie? Your blessing would mean the world to us!”

 I tried to stretch out the silence between his plea and my response. Damn, I love drama!

 Phil cast me a worried glance as I examined the open velvet-lined jewelry box with the diamond engagement ring proudly shining for all the restaurant patrons to see, if they happened to be looking our way. It was a beauty, probably costing young Phil here at least two month’s pay. Surely Cassie had given it her approval when they visited the jewelry store.

 I hunkered down in my chair and did my duty, just like my father before me and his father before him.

 “You certainly have bought a beautiful engagement ring for my daughter, Phil! I can see that you are serious about this. Her mother and I have been expecting this for some months now and I’m glad you have come to me like this to ask for my blessing. Cassie means everything to us. And I can see that she means everything to you. Before I say yes, I have a few questions for you. Okay?”

 What could this nervous young suitor say? He looked physically drained, his eyes bloodshot. He fidgeted in his chair as I rolled out my questions one by one.

 How solid was his job at the plant? How did he feel about having kids? Had he and Cassie picked out a house yet?

 It was in answer to this last question that Phil responded with just a bit too much self-confidence, having probably heard from Cassie that we would give them a check for a down payment on their first house as a wedding gift. His usual brashness and, I detected, my daughter’s tell-tale impetuousness and sense of entitlement, began to rake on my sense of goodwill. It was all about the party with these two. Pure and simple.

 “Tell you what, Phil. I like you and my wife likes you. Cassie obviously likes you. But I’m from the old school and I believe that marriage is the most serious thing a couple can enter into. It’s not a game and it’s not something that should be entered into lightly. There’s just too much divorce in this country and I, for one, won’t stand for it!”

 I gave Phil a chance to suck some oxygen into his body before I went in for the kill.

 “Cassie’s mom and I had been planning to give you two a down payment on your first house for a wedding present, in the event that you came to me to ask for her hand in marriage. You have answered my questions and, by your actions, sealed your intent to marry my daughter.”

 I kind of laughed to break the tension in the air and then said this to my bewildered future son-in-law.

 “I give you permission to marry Cassie, Phil!”

 He rose out of his chair to vigorously shake my hand, voicing every word of gratitude he could muster. I motioned for him to sit back down for a minute. I wasn’t quite finished with him.

 “One last thing and then I’ve got to get on home, Phil!”

 He eyed me like a cornered animal, not knowing what move I’d make next.

 I opened with “I have decided not to give you money for a down payment on a house. Instead, I want to protect my investment.” He squirmed.

 “You can marry Cassie but I will be putting that down payment money in a special interest-bearing account at my bank. If you and Cassie can stay happily married for at least ten years, that money will become yours upon your 11^th wedding anniversary. Those are my conditions. Pure and simple. Now, do you still want to marry my daughter?”

Here’s just a sampling of what’s in store this week:

• Save money when you subscribe. For one week only, a One Year (30 stories) subscription has been slashed from $12 to just $5. Ignore what the Web site text says, since this special discounted price has been set up behind the scenes by my Web site guru Eugene Barnes. Two Year subscriptions (60 wonderful short stories) have been slashed from $20 to just $10 for this one-week LongShortStories anniversary.
• “Finish This Story” contest. Today, I will be posting an unfinished short story titled “OLD SCHOOL.” This unfinished piece has approximately 1350 words. Now all you creative folks out there can do your thing to finish it (total word count cannot exceed 2000 words) by adding your ending as a “comment” to the original post. At the end of our week-long celebration, LongShortStories will select the best story ending comment and award that lucky person a 30-story subscription, valued at $12.
• We hope to have some celebrities check in during the week. Please check back daily.
• For all you existing subscribers, LongShortStories will be awarding one 30 story extension to your existing subscription for the best review of your favorite story from the extensive LongShortStories collection (which now totals more than 70 great short stories and flash fiction pieces). Send me that review via e-mail!
• LongShortStories continues to look for the best new, unpublished (anywhere, including online) short stories in its LongShortStories Short Story Contests. Our prizes are fabulous. Consider submitting during this week’s celebration.
• Don’t forget our troops. Give the gift of reading to your favorite trooper. Send Wayne an e-mail with the name and e-mail address of your chosen recipient and we’ll help you get them their LongShortStories every 12 days via e-mail like clockwork! They’ll love it!

Let me take this opportunity to thank every single LongShortStories visitor and subscriber for your wonderful support. I am exceedingly grateful!

Now, let’s party!

If you are a subscriber, then you know what I am talking about. Your positive feedback has been most welcome. If you’re not yet a subscriber, then you are in for a real treat.

We are planning some pretty nice things for the party. Mark your calendar for Tuesday, June 1.

See you then!

Wayne C. Long

Writer/Editor/Digital Publisher

www.LongShortStories.com

Where the Short Story LIVES!

Mom has been more than patient with her errant kids. And still, she soldiers on, tolerating too many abuses. And freely giving all that bonding and love and nourishment. What a woman!

But one thing you may not know, or want to know, brothers and sisters. Mom loves us best!

I know, I know, it’s hard to hear but LongShortStories is the apple of good ol’ Mom’s eye. And we want to continue to have her put our stuff up on her refrigerator door for everyone to see and nod with approval.

LongShortStories has such a tiny carbon footprint that you would almost think we weren’t even here!

But we ARE here, turning in our creative homework on time, always dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s, and winning every spelling bee that Mom enters us in.

So now that we’ve strutted our stuff for Mom, please follow our lead and do something nice for her:

Put this blog onto your RSS feed.

Read our Free Sample short stories.

Buy a few stories to check out our quality and veracity.

Join our global subscription family.

Enter our Contests.

Oh, and one last thing.

Please donate to fund the LongShortStories Contest prize pot. Do it for Mom!

I can just hear Mom saying. “Do you think money grows on trees?”

Don’t make her mad. Her volcano is acting up right now.

If by that you mean that the keen ginsu blade of LongShortStories can slice and dice the rotting tomato that is today’s troubling world.

You see, the traditional publishing world is comprised of just a fistful of accountant-driven firms whose big-box business model has finally met its match.

Not for much longer will readers shell out big bucks for reams of paper that are clear-cut from the pristine forests of the earth.

Not for much longer will today’s ecologically-informed readers accept the giant energy footprint left upon our teetering planet by old-school energy-wasting book distribution channels.

Not for much longer will readers pay for formulaic, genre-driven fiction that, in the end, stifles true artistic creativity.

[Enter LongShortStories, stage left].

LongShortStories is a new and exciting way of looking at Mother Earth.  A new way of showing her the respect she so dearly deserves if there is to be a sustainable future for us all.

LongShortStories throws off the chains of traditional short fiction, and shines like a beacon in the new global artistic bazaar: the Internet and its golden sibling, electronic publishing.

LongShortStories are NOT long short stories. They are owned by me, copyrighted by me, and even bear my last name, LONG,  in the brand. So don’t be fooled by imitations.

LongShortStories are carefully crafted miniature masterpieces of contemporary short fiction ranging from a microsized 100-word gem of Flash Fiction to as many as 3000 or so word jewels. But LongShortStories is not about counting words. Or pigeonholing fiction in the straitjacket of traditional genre fiction. No, LongShortStories is all about finding the unique! The uniquely beautiful, the uniquely horrifying, the uniquely fantastic!

But, you say, can LongShortStories really save the world?

Yes it can, if by that you mean can readers, by reading these cutting-edge pieces, be personally altered by a new approach to entertainment content.

Yes it can, if by that you mean that their author has focussed his state-of-the-art mental camera on the pressing issues of today and beyond.

Yes it can, if by that you mean that Wayne C. Long has his wordsmith motives clearly squared away and can therefore employ his unique second-sight talents to reveal for the first time in recent years the innate power of the short story form, a power thought lost to a bygone era. An era of Poe. Or Hemingway. Or Faulkner.

For LongShortStories is a Brave New World.

A world worth saving.

A world …

Where the Short Story LIVES!

While I’m not Irish, I want to channel the luck of the Irish to all visitors to this Web site.

So, from today until the end of March, 2010, every OTHER person who purchases a One-Year (30 original short stories) subscription to LongShortStories will get their money back from me. It’s like finding that pot of gold. Or that shamrock!

Now then, will it be YOU whose subscription will be FREE? Only the spirit of St. Patty knows for sure!

Grab your major credit card NOW, then go to my Home Page at www.LongShortStories.com and click on the “Subscribe” navigation button. Then click on the green (of course) “New Subscribers Click Here” button and follow the easy instructions. It’s simple and fun!

I look forward to entertaining you with the finest in short fiction!

Good Luck!

Wayne C. Long (or should I say Wayne O’Long?)

Writer/Editor/Digital Publisher

www.LongShortStories.com

Our SECOND-prize winning short story is a power-packed 150-word Flash Fiction piece, a piece true to our credo that “less is more” when it comes to the magnificient short story form.

But before I introduce this amazing piece, I want to again encourage all readers and writers to submit your best UNPUBLISHED, ORIGINAL short story entries to us as soon as possible. Our Contest rules can be found on our Web site’s Home Page at www.LongShortStories.com . Click on the Contests navigational button.

It is now my distinct pleasure to introduce you to Kendra Lisum of Missoula, Montana. She was recently awarded our Second Prize of $150 cash and a one-year subscription to the first 30 stories in the LongShortStories collection.

Kendra was born and raised in northeast Ohio. She attended the University of Nevada, Reno, and graduated with a degree in Creative Writing in 2006. In pursuit of her writing goals, she moved to Missoula, Montana, where the community and the beauty have influenced her writing in many ways. She loves the challenge of short stories, and has recently finished writing her first book.

Neckties and Lilacs
Kendra Lisum

It wasn’t that I wanted to do it. Not really. I saw you together and it all fell apart. The plan. The story. The ending.
The room smelled of lilacs–stale, faintly sweet. Like bodies after release. I imagine, even now, that I can smell them on the edges of a breeze. But there is no breeze.
If there is a god, I’ll ask him–her, I think it’s a her– I’ll ask her why lilacs smell of fornication and death. The intoxicating, over-before-it-begins smell of life.
The tie is soft but strong. A birthday gift from a nephew I never met. Arrived in the post one day signed “Love, Maria and Thom.” I don’t have a sister named Maria or a nephew named Thom, pronounced “Tom” but with an H. And it wasn’t my birthday.
The definition of irony: I’d never worn a necktie until today.