Tag Archives: Evil Author

From The Dreaded One’s Desk: Attack of a Supervillain

Dreaded One picThe Dreaded Author stretched out in her favorite writing chair, laptop ready, note cards spread out on the desk in order of planned events. With a fluffy polar fleece and a hot cup of tea, she was ready to spend a long comfortable morning indoors making characters suffer, jotting down evil plots and reveling in writing bliss.

“Bwahahahahaha!” Someone else’s maniacal laugh shattered the peace of the Dreaded Office.

Narrowing her eyes, the Dreaded Author flexed her claws, ready to deal out punishment to the intruder, but startled as a stranger descended from the ceiling. Wearing yellow spandex and flapping his cape, boots landed on top of the plot note cards and his white teeth flashed in a far too bright grin. “I challenge you, Dreaded Author! And you will lose! I am Synopsis Man, and evil knows no bounds!”

“I’m not afraid of something as short as a synopsis,” snarled the Dreaded One. “You’re nothing but a summary with a fancy title to sound more erudite. And I’m busy, writing! Minions!”

“They won’t be coming.” Synopsis Man gloated. “This contest in between just you and me.” Synopsis Man pulled out a sheet of paper and waved it. “It’s a contest you can’t refuse, if you want to enter the PNWA novel contest and prove your evil superiority that is!”

“Wait a minute! How did you get into my files? That’s mine!” With a roar, the Dreaded Author jumped to her feet and snatched the piece of paper away from Synopsis Man.

“Only four days left to enter, and look, right here!” Synopsis Man poked a yellow-gloved finger at the paper.

Despite wanting to send him flying across the room, the Dreaded Author couldn’t stop herself looking down and reading, The 28 page limit includes your 1 page double-spaced synopsis and the first 27 pages of your book (beginning with chapter one or prologue). While synopsises (or was that synopsi? The Dreaded Author wasn’t sure) were not part of the evil plan, this contest was. Contests being one way to gain the notice of big name editors. The Dreaded Author snarled in annoyance.

“So, Dreaded One, let our contest begin!” Synopsis Man shouted gleefully.

The Dreaded One shoved Synopsis Man hard in the chest, sending him flying back off the desk. “I already have a synopsis on file for this novel, so there!”

Synopsis Man though flared out his cape, gracefully swooping to the ground. “Ah, but that’s one page single spaced, and you need this one page double spaced! You have to cut half the words in the synopsis.”

With a twinge of trepidation, the Dreaded Author opened the document, and saw to her horror what the supervillian said was true. The synopsis was far too long. “Noooooooooo–”

With evil intent, Synopsis Man closed in, chocking off the Dreaded Author’s cry of horror.

***

Calico Avengers (blog)Enough of this silliness. All paws on deck and prepare for the final launch of The Jolly Growler! I am pleased to announce I have a firm release date for Captain Bull and the Calico Avengers. Next Monday, Feburary 21st! Only a week and a half behind schedule, so pretty good, if I say so myself. I’ve gotten a book page up for it already on this site with the first chapter, if you want to preview it.

Also, Feb is the month for contests… time is running out both for the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award and the regional PWNA contest (if you’re in the Pacific Northwest). So, get those entries in.

From the Dreaded One’s Desk: Horde on the Move

Dreaded One The Most Evil Dreaded One dug through the pile of laundry.  “Someone is going to pay for this!”  She growled, throwing laundry everywhere.

The minions by the door ducked.  “I’ve heard unmatched socks are all the fashion rage, your dreadfulness,” one of them suggested.

“And you could just wear your pajama pants to work,” the other one said, dodging a pair of pants.

“Next you’ll be telling me dirty underwear is trendy.”  The Dreaded Author aimed, fired, and made two direct hits with a couple pairs of aforementioned clothing items.

The head transportation minion leaned into the doorway.  “It’s time to go, your awfulness!  We must fine the new evil lair!”

“I don’t know what’s so exciting about that,” muttered the Dreaded One.  “I just moved into this parental basement four months ago.”  Seizing the prize of clean underwear and two almost matching socks, the Dreaded one slammed the door on the minions.

Forty-five minutes later found the Dreaded One looking over a shabby apartment.

“As you can see, this tower apartment offers an airy living room and a great view of the park.” The rental agency minion swept a clawed hand grandly across the room.

The Dreaded One crossed her arms and glared a fiery red glare across the room. “And the bedrooms are the size of postage stamps. Next!”

“Well…”  The minion waved his hand, sending them teleporting to the next one.  “What about this one?  It’s dark and dank, just like an evil lair should be.”

The Dreaded One creaked down the stairs to eye the half-basement bedrooms. “It’s the prisoners, not the Dark Lord who live in a dungeon! Next!”

Poof!  “This one is newly renovated.  Three bedrooms, huge living room, two car garage–”

“What’s that?” The Dreaded One eyed the slightly roach-shaped objects at the bottom of the toilet.

The minion flushed it.  “Oh, I guess the bugs keep getting in when I keep the door open… showing this house far too much…”

The Dreaded One marched back to the kitchen, unimpressed.  She peered in the sink, opened, the cupboards… nothing.  Then she opened the fridge.  A cockroach waved its antenna at her, slowly, probably since he was chilled.  “I don’t think so!”

Many apartments later, the Dreaded One was losing her patience.  “No upstairs garrets with no ventilation or air conditioning, no houses the size of a pickle jar, no kitchen linoleum that has more wrinkles than a grandmother, and no basement should smell better than the rest of the house!”  The Dreaded One roared, flexing her claws.

“Fine fine.” The rental agency minion held up his hands.  “You’ll just love this one!”

Poof!

The Dreaded One sniffed suspiciously.  “Doesn’t it smell rather like smoke?”

“Oh, no!  These older apartments just smell a bit musty.”

The Dreaded One sniffed again.  “Definitely smoke.”

“That’s impossible.  We–”

The Dreaded One jabbed a claw and muttered a spell.  With a scream, the minion went up in flames. “Told you it was smoke.”  The Dreaded One sauntered out of the apartment to the waiting hoard.  “Forget agencies.  We’ll pick the next best castle we see and conquer it!  Muahahahaha!”

The minions scrambled after her.  “Um, Your Evilness, shouldn’t we pack first?”

“Or what about the laundry?”

“Did you forget all the weapons are carefully packed up in storage?”

“We simply cannot attack until we’re moved into a new Evil Lair, Your Awfulness,” instead the Second-in-Command Minion.  “It just isn’t done.”

“Fine,” the Dreaded One snarled, feeling distinctly trapped and hating moving with a passion. ” Where was that one with the view of the apartment getto out the window on one side and the parking lot on the other? We can set fire to things while we move.  That should improve the view.”

Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long.  The list of backlogged character in need of torture was painfully long.

From the Dreaded One’s Desk: Evil Consequences of the Writing Life

“What is this?” roared the Most Evil Dreaded one, poking the sloppy gray substance in her bowl.  “I asked for breakfast, not the latest kitchen mold experiment.”

“Bran-wonder Surprise,” the serving minion said with a smirk.

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“Eh, hem.”  The Second-in-command Minion (SICM for short) marched into the room.  “I’m afraid there’s been a change of menu, my Dread Lord.  As you were over twenty pounds overweight on your physical exam the other day, we’re instituting evil weight loss measures.”

“What?”  The Dreaded One swiped the Bran-wonder Surprise off the desk with a swipe of the back of her hand.  The serving minion’s swift jump backwards saved him from getting hit, but it slopped all over the SICM.

With a grunt, the SICM wiped bran cereal off his face.  “I meant you must lose weight, Your Dreadfulness,” muttered the SICM.  “Your doctor says–”

“Time to go gut the doctor.”  The Dreaded One growled, propping her feet up on her desk.  “I need to get some writing done.  Hurry up with this nonsense and go remove that doctor.”

“You already did that, Your Awfulness… several times.”  The SICM sighed.  “Listen, you can’t just keep gutting doctors, it won’t solve the problem.  If you want to succeed in world domination, you need to be in good health.  That means less ice cream, more whole grains and living a more active lifestyle.”

“My muse can’t function without ice cream.”

“I’m afraid it’ll have to learn to make do, Evil One.  Ice cream will now be reserved for birthday parties only.  The kitchen will be setting up a nutritious new diet that will help feel your muse without layering on the pounds.”

“Somehow I’m skeptical.”  The Dreaded One gave the smirking serving minion a glare as he picked up the empty cereal bowl and beat a quick retreat.

“Most importantly, Evil One, you need to live a more active lifestyle, more action, less sitting.”  The minion gestured at the desk and computer with his spear.

“Fiiiiine,” the Most Dreaded One snarled.  “I’ll shelve my current plans and write an action scene today.  Perhaps a battle or two.”

The SICM sighed. “Um, that’s not exactly what I meant, Your Awfulness.”

“Oh, I see.  Right.”  The Dreaded One rubbed her face with a hand.  “Active, not action.  Well, I’ll highlight all my be verbs and work on eliminating boring ones like look and seen as well.  It’ll be a hassle but considering my health is at stake, it’ll be worth it.

“No, no.”  The SICM flushed and held up a claw. “You misunderstand.  You need to  exercise.”

“Well why didn’t you just say so!”  Snarling the Dreaded One swung her feet down from the desk, and pulled open the drawer to yank out several books. “I’ve got loads of exercises I can do.  On voice, characterization, description, even plot. I’ll just make sure I slip in what… 40 minutes of exercises three days a week and–”

“Em, excuse me.”  The SICM grabbed the writing exercise book off the table.  “I meant physical exercise.  As in: MOVING your body.”

“What?” The Dreaded One gave him a blank stare.

“Like a sport.”

“Writing is a sport.”

“An active sport.”

“I told you, I can add active verbs and more battles.”

“Listen!”  The SICM slammed his spear down on top of the desk, sending papers everywhere.  “You need to do something that evelvates your heartrate, moves your muscles, and challenges your body physically in order to lose weight. Nothing involving  writing counts.”

The Dreaded One narrowed her eyes at the SICM, going deathly still, but he held her gaze.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”  The SICM bared his fangs.

The serving minion had taken this moment to return with a plate of boiled broccoli as a breakfast alternative.  It sniggered as it shoved it down on the desk.  The Dreaded One glanced at the green mush, then at the minion’s gloating expression.  A twitch of her tail was the only warning.  The serving minion tried to spring back, but was too slow.  The Dreaded One grabbed him by the throat, hauling him up.

“Um… just what do you think–” The SICM was cut off as Dreaded One grabbed him by the shirt with her other hand, lifting him off his feet and making him drop his spear with a clatter.  “What are you doing?”

“Urrrgl.” The serving minion struggled scream but couldn’t manage it with the Dreaded One’s grip on his neck.

“I’ve picked a form of non-writing exercise,” snarled the Dreaded One, sweeping both minions over towards the window.

“Dare I ask what, Your Awfulness?”

“Weight lifting.”  The Dreaded One hurled him out the window.  “With a mind towards shot put!” she shouted before throwing the serving minion after him.

Turning around and wiping her hands off on her pants, ignoring their screams all the way down to the distant thud as they hit the ground, the Dreaded One looked around for the nearest minion cowering near the door.  “You!  You’re my new SICM.”  She tossed the plate of broccoli at him, and he ducked, letting green goop and ceramic shards splatter across the pillar by the door.  “Get that cleaned up, and bring up a big bowl of ice cream.  I’ve got an  active writing exercise to write.”

From the Dreaded One’s Desk — What to Write Today

The Most Evil Dreaded Author sat down at her desk. It was a bright fresh morning, with a nice cool breeze coming in over the moat of green slime, a perfect day to get some writing done. With a sigh she settled back into her comfortable chair, stretched her claws and grinned evilly, showing off her many teeth.

“All right, what’s next up on my evil author agenda?”

“I am, your dreadfulness.” The snot-nosed novella crept forward.

The Evil Author narrowed her eyes at it. “Wait a minute… aren’t you rather large to be the novella? You’re supposed to be short.”

“But I had to add some extra character development,” the novella wiped its nose on its sleeve. “You need character development, right?

“That shouldn’t make you that much longer.” The Dreaded One frowned.

“Well… but we needed some ninjas… and pirates! They’re pretty cool. And a whole extra point of view character to fix the tensions, and then—”

“Arg! Enough. Fine, so you’re longer, I’ll write you later, what else do I have around here? Guards! Next idea!”

“But your evilness… if we could just add some gladiators as well—”

“Guards!” roared the Dreaded One, drowning out the novella’s bid for even more additions. The minions hurried in to drag it out.

The next novel idea was a rather handsome looking main character with a charming grin. “Greetings, Your Evilness.” The novel gave a sweeping bow.

“Wait, who are you? I don’t remember you.” The Dreaded One rubbed her face.

“I’m your romance novel idea.” The novel beamed. “I’m charming, romantic, and I have a great happy ending!”

“I’m an evil author. I don’t do romance. I don’t even remember creating you—hardly.” The Dreaded One blushed, as the idea was starting to look familiar, actually.

“But romance is selling so well! I’m timely! Plus,” the novel idea leaned forward and winked. “I have angels and demons, knights and wizards, I’m a classic in the making!”

“I suppose…” The Dreaded One could help thinking he looked like a rather handsome idea.

“Wait!” Villain student Aun from “A School for Villains” came dashing into the room, waving a burning sword. “Do you dare! You promised to write my novel next!”

The Dreaded One narrowed her eyes at him. “Your novel? I seem to recall Danny is the main character, not you.”

“Bah. The sequel centers around me though. I’m the key character, and I’m going to get the girl. We’re evil, savvy, and have romance, so this idiot can just go jump in the moat!” Aun waved the flaming sword at the romance novel.

“I’m far more attractive than you, villain brat,” the romance novel said, drawing his own sword. “And I’m a better swordsman than you are, because I am knight!”

The two closed in on each other. The Dreaded Author took a step back to avoid getting slashed as Aun accidentally set fire to her desk. “Minions!”

The minions however, were rather slow in arriving.

“Hey, author!” A small voice behind the Dreaded One made her whirl around, cloak flapping, claws out, but at first she saw no one, then she though to look down. A small furry and bright orange troll flashed fangs at her. “My novel has readers on your critique group begging for another chapter. You should write about me!”

“I’m not sure your book is publishable,” the Dreaded One said, giving him a long look.

“But I have readers! What, you only care about money? What about art?”

“I’m evil!”

“Which means you get to do whatever you want, right?” Kest beamed up, looking far too sickeningly cute to be the Evil Author’s creation. “Like write my novel.”

“No, she wants to write my novel.” The historical fiction novel, also wielding a sword swung in through the window. I’m in final revision stages! You need to get me out to agents!”

“The author is going to write about me,” Kest growled, clawing at the historical novel. However, at the same time, the romance novel’s sword crashed down on the burning desk on the Dreaded One’s other side, breaking it in two. The Dreaded One jumped back against the windows, but was forced to side step to avoid the historical novel’s return attack on the troll.

“Guards!” bellowed the Dreaded Author.

Minions poured in, but were forced to block sword blows from the attacking novels and Kest’s claws, turning the office into a battlefield. The Dreaded One decided it was time for a strategic retreat, and so slipped out the side door.

The Marketing Minion was waiting for her. “Oh, your dreadfulness! Excellent! I just wanted to talk to you about how you’re falling off your social media campaign, and that you need to submit to some more book review blogs. We’re letting marketing fall behind this summer.”

“I want to write!” roared the Dreaded One, starting to feel a bit trapped.

“Of course, of course, just after you complete this marketing packet!” The Marketing Minion waved a large packet of papers. The Dreaded One backed up again, and right into another minion dashing through the door.

“What now!” The Dreaded One sent the poor minion flying across the room with a heavy whack.

“D-dreaded one! We’re under attack! An army of new ideas is storming the castle!”

“I see.” The Dreaded One folded her arms so no one would notice her claws shaking. “Well, get out the boiling oil and take care of them. Go on, both of you.”

The Marketing Minion grimaced. “But if you could just tweet about what you’re doing right now first…”

“Now!” roared the Dreaded One, jumping up on the windowsill. It was time to escape. She swung up, digging her claws into the stones of the Dreaded Castle, up and over the top of the tower to the roof. There, hidden between a couple of towers was the Dreaded Glider.

From the room the Evil Author also got her first good look at the invasion. Hundreds of new ideas were storming the castle. She shook her head, definitely past time to get out. The fresh morning breeze tugged at the glider as she got it out.

“Muahahahahaha!” the Dreaded One roared over their heads as she took off. The wind carried her up and over, soaring high above the army of new ideas, across the countryside, before landing in the middle of a remote swamp.

“Perfect,” muttered the Dreaded One. “Now I might be able to get something done.”

A rustling made her whirl around. Ideas popped up in camouflage all around her in the swamp, grinning. “Write us, now!”

“Aaaaaaaah!” the Dreaded One’s scream was drowned out as the new ideas dragged her below the murky waters of the swamp.