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#FICTION - Truth Before Breakfast - An Ella Fiction - Alternate Ending

3/26/2019

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TRUTH BEFORE BREAKFAST
           
I can feel his eyes on me, but I do my best to ignore the irritation and concentrate on the story. However, it’s not working. A wall prevents me from entering the world and I can’t hear the characters running around in my mind. The cold seat against my bare legs further distracts and I glance at the bed, locking eyes with Saul.
           
“Can’t write?” he asks. I don’t think he is trying to anger me. His concern seems genuine, but I just don’t care right now.
           
“Don’t.” I’m not in the mood.
           
“Why can’t you talk to me about your writing? We share a bed…” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.
           
“I’m writing a letter to Ray if you must know.”
           
His eyebrows lift and a low chuckle escapes his lips, sending a ripple of heat into my cheeks. “Writing letters to imaginary husbands?”
           
Putting my pen on the desk, I roll the seat towards the bed and crash into his leg hanging over the side.
           
“Ow,” he screeches.
           
“Imaginary?”
           
“Ella, I’m tired of walking on eggshells. I never know when it’s story and when it’s real life. Answer me for once: when is the last time you saw Ray? No story, no lies.”
           
Closing my eyes, I trace in my memory for a picture of him, waiting as years fall away in my mind. I can see him standing outside the convenience store waving goodbye to me the night before my 13th birthday.
           
“The day I killed my father.”
           
I hope he understands this explanation will be the totality of what I give him. Pushing the chair to the desk, I take the pen in hand once again. I read the short beginning out loud to myself, almost trying to will Saul’s presence out of the room.
           
“You haven’t seen him since you were 13?” he asks.
           
“I will not explain basic math, Saul.”
           
Laughing, he sits upright on the bed and pushes his big gorilla feet into slippers. I grind my teeth in expectation of needless drama.
           
“What I give…” he says before stopping to consider his words. “…you can’t get from an imaginary husband.”
           
“Is that a fact?” I say. Crossing my legs, I lean on my elbow and wait for him to continue.
           
“I give you what you need.”
           
I fight to suppress a yawn. Men always think this way. Yes, boys, all I dream of is getting rapey rough fucked all day. I don’t want orgasms.
           
“Need? Come back to me when you learn to use your fingers and tongue properly.”
           
That wipes the smile off his face. It’s my turn to laugh. Men never want to hear the real truth.
           
“Yes, I have to finger-fuck myself thinking about an imaginary husband because you’re such an inadequate lover. Now get out of my room before I slice your throat.”
           
To my surprise he rises in an instant and walks from the room without even grabbing his clothes, striding down the hallway naked. In anger I grab the remote and turn on music. I feel the need to play a different song.
 
I’m just a girl.
Take a good look at me
Just your typical prototype
           
When will all these men understand that what I want most has nothing to do with fucking. I want to watch you die. When I close my eyes and let my mind wander, I imagine your blood soaking the bed as I laugh and laugh in the last moments of your life. But you keep thinking about fucking, poor little animal. That’s all your good for anyway.

             

GET A SIGNED COPY OF
ELLA

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CRUMBLING UTOPIAN PIPEDREAM: A Review by Anthony Dragonetti

3/10/2019

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CRUMBLING UTOPIAN PIPEDREAM: A REVIEW
ANTHONY DRAGONETTI

9th March 2019

​
No book I've read fucks around less than Crumbling Utopian Pipedream by Scott Wozniak. You want a blurb, there's your blurb. 

These poems are hollow point bullets. They are meant to cause maximum damage in a compact shell. By the end of these 55 pages, you'll have gone through hell. If you're an addict, especially one in recovery, you'll be familiar with this particular corner of it. As a society, we have a tendency to glamorize junkies. Well, the young and skinny ones who lead exciting lives in the big city, anyway. No one particularly romanticizes the Oxy addicts in your small to mid-sized town, though. That's too real, too common.

Wozniak's poetry is a few things at once. It's a bitter eulogy for the dozens of people he (or his narrator) lost to diseases of sorrow. The ghosts of pill heads, heroin addicts, and alcoholics haunt these pages. It's also an acknowledgment that the person who has lived these poems somehow got lucky enough to not be included in that body count. I hesitate to call it a celebration. There are traces of guilt about still being alive, though the struggle to survive was certainly hard fought.

What, then, do you do with this new lease on life? Post-jail, post-rehab, what's an ex-addict to do with this new sobriety and second chance to make things right? You want to watch the world burn, naturally. Yes, in a desire for chaos (the only thing that makes sense), but also to burn the world clean like a wound. No one falls into the cycle of drugs, incarceration, and death because they're thrilled with the state of things. Wozniak has a vision and it's one of blood and flames.

There is also a hard-nosed defiance to some of these poems. They acknowledge the journey has been imperfect, but there's a real effort to take the rage, the sadness, and the disappointment, and do something positive with it. Like write a book of tough as nails poetry.

Stylistically, this is minimalism taken about as far as it can go without turning into the performance art gimmickry of Aram Saroyan. Every single word counts. Not a letter on the page is extra. The MO of each poem is get in and get out. It fits the theme of the pieces perfectly. Flowery language would have killed this project. Music would have killed it, too. There isn't any music here. There are the words and the venom behind them. That's enough.

At first glance, you'd be excused for thinking this is another Bukowski trip. Excused, but wrong. Bukowski never went here. He was never this raw. Behind all the hubris, there was a sensitivity, despite the vulgarity. It felt like a put on, sometimes. Wozniak doesn't come across here as playing a part. This is the real shit. Take it or leave it. I'm telling you to take it.

You can buy Crumbling Utopian Pipedream from Moran Press



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#Fiction - A DREAM - Excerpt from Preface to a Suicide - A Literary Clue

3/9/2019

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A DREAM
EXCERPT FROM PREFACE TO A SUICIDE
BY STEPHEN MORAN


 
Sirens rip the afternoon sky, forcing me to cover my ears. The beautiful fall afternoon turns into a zoo of residents running and screaming, pushing and shoving each other to escape the detonation near the bus station. Smoke billows from a RIPTA bus and I watch the driver stagger from the door, falling into a bloody heap on the pavement. Rushing forward against the grain of seething humanity, I scan the twisted wreckage for sign of her, but can’t see anything in the black plumes.
           
A hand grips my arm, a policeman attempting to keep me from the scene. Fighting to pull my arm free, I scream her name.
           
“Rose!”
           
“You mean, terrorist!” The cop responds, slapping cuffs on my wrists. “You have the right to remain silent and go to jail for the rest of your life.”
           
My brother exits the bus carrying a body and I can see the blood stains streaking blonde hair in the sunlight. Ryan approaches us and the cop laughs and laughs.
           
“You did this to her,” Ryan says.
           
The cop pulls me towards a cruiser and locks me in the back seat. When the door shuts, Ryan appears next to me, wounds covering his upper torso.
           
“What happened? How did the bomb detonate?” I ask, but I know before Ryan answers.
           
“I pushed the button, Ray. You always knew it would end this way.”
           
The cop presses the accelerator and careens out of Kennedy Plaza at breakneck speed, striking several screaming citizens attempting to escape the carnage.
           
“No!” I scream. “Stop the car. I didn’t do it.”
           
Looking from the cop to my side once more, Ryan is no longer beside me. I am alone and within moments the cop screeches the car to a stop outside police headquarters.
           
​“No!” I scream again. 

THE TERRORIST OF PROVIDENCE STREET

This short micro fiction is a clue to solve a riddle included in the bonus content of The Terrorist of Providence Street and that's all I'm going to say about that - no spoilers.

CODE: FREEPROVIDENCE 

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#Breaking - BLOOD CHILL Hits #3 on McNally Robinson #Winnipeg Bestsellers List

3/8/2019

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BLOOD CHILL
Hits #3 
McNally Robinson #Winnipeg Bestsellers List

Congrats to L. M. Bryski for hitting the Winnipeg bestsellers list with Blood Chill. And much thanks to the great folk at McNally Robinson for stocking the book! To all those in Canada, please grab a copy of Blood Chill or Book of Birds at McNally Robinson. For everyone else - click the cover image to purchase at Amazon. 
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Thank You for Coming to Buy My Book - Guest Post by L. M. Bryski

3/7/2019

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THANK YOU FOR COMING TO BUY MY BOOK
GUEST POST
L. M. BRYSKI

I wanted readers at Moran Press to hear how the book launch events for Blood Chill went from L. M. Bryski and without further delay - here's a guest post from the author of Blood Chill, Book of Birds, and The Harmonica Tree (re-releasing soon). 
'Thank you for coming to buy my book!'

That's not the typical greeting you get when you walk in a bookstore, but it's how I introduced myself at the door of a local bookstore this weekend as people walked in. It usually got a laugh and a pause to chat and often one of my books bought!

It was a busy book weekend for this Winnipeg author. First was Blood Chill's formal book launch on Friday night at the excellent McNally Robinson Grant location.  The evening saw an audience of friends, family, and curious customers gather in the travel section to listen to me take the mic. I read chapter 6, if you're interested in following along belatedly from your own Blood Chill copy.

I did quite well, except for mispronouncing 'proprietary,' which led to a discussion of whether authors should write words they can't actually say properly. I more than made up for it with a self congratulatory speech on my excellent pronunciation of the word 'chair.' It was a fun hour and the aftermath of drinks at a local pub nearby added the perfect cap to the night.

Saturday saw me at the welcoming and cheery Chapters Indigo Kenaston location for an old fashioned book signing. My opener line thankfully didn't get old. And it was fun to meet people and hear what they have been reading lately. I picked up a few new author names to check out, and ran out of books at one point to sell.

Much gratitude in library loads to both my bookstore hosts this weekend. It was busy fun, and I highly recommend you visit both these fabulous locations.

Lisa Bryski

PURCHASE BLOOD CHILL
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Interview with L. M. Bryski

3/1/2019

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INTERVIEW WITH L. M. BRYSKI
AUTHOR OF BOOK OF BIRDS, BLOOD CHILL, AND THE HARMONICA TREE

This weekend is the launch of Blood Chill with two live events in Winnipeg, Canada. To mark the occasion, I asked L. M. Bryski ten questions. I hope you enjoy this short interview. 
1) What's the inspiration for Blood Chill? Where did you get the idea and how did the writing process go? 

Blood Chill's inspiration came from a mixture of events happening in my city followed by my mind saying "What if..." 

What if the Virology Institute in my city was one of the places looking for answers to save a world decimated by a deadly virus? What sort of people might work there and what might some of their motivations be?

What if the missing people in that city were the most vulnerable people: homeless or impoverished? Who would they be, and how would they be related to a world searching for that deadly virus's cure? What if the detective searching for answers had a secret of his own? What would that secret be?

2) Describe Canada for your American readers without using the word Chill

Canada is a vast land of many environments and peoples. Its northern climate means shorter summers and colder winters in places. It has a strong history of multiculturalism, yet even within that mix of many cultures, we as a nation still need to come to terms with our painful past of outright discrimination. It is treaty land by grace of the first nations people, that we now acknowledge. Canadians are generally thought of as peaceful and progressive, and we try to honour and live up to that image the best we can. We also like inserting extra U's into words just because we can.

3) What are the best pancake toppings? 

The best pancake toppings are those that you prefer. My own favourite is blueberry and banana, and of course maple syrup.

4) What character is your favorite book villain ever? 

Hmmm... my favourite book villain ever is in the book Waggles and the Dog Catcher. The Dog Catcher is determined to catch a small white dog, who fools him by changing the colour of his coat over and over with either mud or paint. I read and reread that book many a time, just to see the dog catcher defeated. His malevolent visage and sneaky determination captured my imagination. Sure, he was doing his job in public service, but to my child mind he was unjust. Let the poor dog be free!

5) When Blood Chill lands on the bestsellers list and goes supernovaviralpopular, what will you do with your millions? 

Firstly, thank you for that vote of confidence! I really hope Blood Chill makes the supernovaviralpopular list! with my millions and millions of royalties, I plan on travelling to all the places I would like to more fully explore, like Vietnam, Japan, Australia... and I would of course EXPAND MY BOOK COLLECTION!

6) Tell me about your next book project - what's it about?

My next book project has the working title of Anatomy Lessons. It's based in a medical school anatomy lab. The students are dissecting a corpse as part of their lessons, and the corpse is narrator for part of the story, telling the reader about its life before it came to be a slab of flesh in the lab. Overseeing the dissection is a disgraced surgeon who had lost his OR privileges due to addiction.

7) You're a doctor in 'real life', but inquiring minds want to know - could you play one on TV? if not - what about if you stayed at a Holiday Inn Express? 

I could definitely play one on TV. I have always adored acting, but never pursued it past high school and the occasional skit production in medical school. I would be quite amateurish about it on TV, being unskilled, but would give it my best ER doc try. And I could definitely portray a doctor staying at a Holiday Inn Express. I'm very good at continental breakfasts.

8) What's one fact about you readers would be STUNNED to hear? 

For no school marks but just because it was fun, I wrote a couple plays in middle school, one of which was staged just for my classmates, but the other ended up being staged for the whole school. I had a part in both plays, of course. It was the main reason I wrote them.

9) Do you judge books by their covers? 

I do. I am very visual and am a sucker for a great cover illustration. However, I will break habit at times and pick up a great title too for perusal.

10) what authors were/are your biggest influences? 

I am fond of Tad Williams. I loved the Dragon-bone chair series for its vastness built on small character that grows in strength. George RR Martin is fabulous for his eversweeping epic. In high school, I stumbled onto the world of Anne McCaffery, Dragon Drums being my first taste of fantasy novels.

Jane Austen. It's an odd choice for me as Im quite basic, yet I love her era and her turn of phrase.

CS Lewis's Narnia. Animals who talk. Aslan. Reepicheep. Need I say more.

The list is even longer,  but maybe I'll stop there.

PURCHASE KINDLE EDITION 
BLOOD CHILL
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ALSO BY L. M. BRYSKI
​BOOK OF BIRDS

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