Shane Kroetsch

Dark and Introspective Fiction

Shane

Making Old Things Better

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I told myself growing up that I wouldn’t be someone who is busy all the time. I’m here to tell you I failed.

I have a talent for coming up with make-work projects. Cars, guitars, bikes, and repurposing random things into furniture. Books fall into this category as well, but more on that later. My list of projects has been shrinking of late, but I’m sure I’ll come up with more soon.

The latest build came about because I wanted a new corner shelf near the entrance of the house. I’ve built a couple other crate shelves before, but this time wanted to try something different. We found the crates at Ikea. Because they need to be assembled, I thought it would be easier to refinish. I have a quick and easy refinish method that has become my go-to. Paint, distress, stain, and poly. For most projects, it’s a straightforward process. This was not one of those times. It was a pain because of all the slats and nooks and crannies. When we finished, I swore I would never do this again, but I’ve said that before. When it came time to assemble, I wasn’t happy with simply backing them into the corner, so I came up with an arrangement that I think works well. Once in place, washers and bolts run through the slats keep it together and minimise the worry about it shifting or tipping. The finishing touches came from all over the house. The J is in memoriam of my mother-in-law, Jane Arams.

The books came from my Paternal Grandma. She joined a book club in the 50’s and recently decided to pass them along. The camera is something I picked up at a garage sale years ago, but it shows my appreciation for photography and old things.

I purchased the log vase about a year ago, but it never really found a home, until now. The sunflowers are for my wife, Alicia, because they are her favourite flower.

The side tables I built last year were more straight forward. The wood came from the attic of an old shed on my Maternal Grandma’s property as we were readying it for sale. After moving our main floor living room around, I knew we needed some sort of table for coffee cups and books as we sit by the fire, and of course I would rather build than buy. They aren’t perfect, like most things in life, but that in itself reminded me of a few things. Slow down, pay attention, and eventually, things will get better.

My desk was the project that started this whole situation off. I’m not sure how I got the idea, but after finding a pommel horse for free on the local buy and sell, I tore it down and made a plan. It doesn’t get used as much as it should, I tend to sit down on the couch and do much of my work and writing in front of the TV, but it’s something I’m proud to say that I made. It’s unique, and functional, which to me is a win-win.

The anniversary of my first self-published effort is fast approaching. It was intended to be practice for my first novel, but as that project blew up into something more complex, a lot of time has passed, and I find myself more than a little out of practice. At least that’s what the anxiety is telling me. Somewhere along the line I decided to put together a companion, a short-short compilation. After realizing the amount of work I was creating, another project on top of a number of other projects, I decided to add the new stories to the original compilation. The book now benefits from new and better stories, a refined edit, and a few small tweaks to the cover. It also looks a lot nicer, thanks to a little program called Vellum.

Traditionally I format for print using Word, and for ebook using a program called Jutoh. There’s nothing wrong with either, but I’m a huge fan of simple and intuitive. As I write this, I have approved the interior file, and ordered test copies. The plan is to relaunch on its anniversary, February 21st, but it will be a quiet affair. I wanted this effort to bring it to the level I had hoped for it initially. It’s never too late to be better.

If you want to learn more about Vellum, click here.

In other news… Into the Storm is officially in the copy edit stage. If I haven’t upset my editor too much, it should be ready for another pass soon. The cover is coming together, and I’m excited for the final product. The launch. Is planned for April, and it’s a little weird being so far ahead of schedule, but we have an ambitious launch plan so. I know we will need all the time we can get.

My focus for the moment is going through and making revisions to Surviving the Storm. I haven’t looked at it in a while, not really since I chopped the first 2,000 words or so after I realized it wasn’t starting in the right place. I thought it was in pretty good shape, that opinion quickly changed. As you can see, there is a lot of red pen to deal with, or in the case of the first few pages, a lot of pencil.

It’s daunting, but I know I’ll get through it. I need to, I’ve been working on this book for almost three years now, and I’m ready to move on to any one of the eight other projects that I have in the queue. I know I’ll be proud of it, but it’s a moment in time. To some extent I’m ready to show how I’ve grown, how I’m better as a writer.

Shane

Long Live the King

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It’s quiet. For some reason, that makes me sad. Normally I’d pay good money for the people around me to shut up for a few minutes. Talking about their offspring or last night at the pub. Reminiscing about glory days never to be seen again. It’s like if they don’t have attention paid to their insignificant little lives, they’d cease to exist all together. Like most things, now that I’ve got what I wanted, what I wanted has changed.

It’s quiet because nobody knows what to say. They don’t know what to say, because there isn’t anything to say. The newspapers have it covered. Tragedy. Terror. Assassination. They only use the word assassination when it’s someone important, but then, that’s exactly what this is. It could not, in fact, be more important.

Yesterday a man brought a gun into a place that he wasn’t meant to. He used the gun, as one would, to end a life. Why he chose to end that life, in the end, I’m afraid we’ll never know. The man is what you’d call, no longer available.

A human life is a miracle that should be cherished. As far as anyone knows, it’s an anomaly, not found anywhere else in the universe. Yet, we go out of our way to ignore that fact every day. We think ourselves more important than those around us. That disregard, for another human being with a different point of view is all it took. And now, our king is dead.

***

Photo by JR Korpa on Unsplash

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Star Wars, Christmas, and a Touch of Book Depression

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December is historically a busy month, and this year was no exception. It didn’t help that I started a new job in October, and that meant no vacation days to take a break from the mayhem. I know, poor me…

A highlight for me was seeing Star Wars: The Last Jedi on opening night. It was a bit of a last-minute decision, I thought it would be tough to get tickets, little did I know that we would be sitting in a theatre less than a third full. While it may have been bad for the theatre (people really need to put more effort into supporting local businesses), it was good for this burnt out introvert.

True to form, I started blubbering as soon as the title screen started rolling. Don’t worry, nobody noticed. I think… Star Wars has been a part of my life for pretty much as long as I can remember, and as silly as it might be to some, it’s a pretty big deal for me. This being the end of the original story arc made it even more powerful. Plus, it introduced me to my new spirit animal (or droid, as the case may be).

Soon after, sleigh bells were ringing, and reindeer were flying. As odd as it may seem, Christmas Day was my only day of respite during the busy and stressful time. After the arrival of our first-born, we decided that the day would be just for us and the kids. No rushing through our morning and driving all over the country, only to sit in a cramped and noisy space wondering when if it was time to go home yet. Instead, we open presents, make a nice breakfast, and then relax for the rest of the day. It was wonderful, and Ruby the anxiety dog didn’t mind either.

New Year’s Eve was a long day. I had to head out of town on a last-minute trip for work. By the time I got home I’d covered almost 500 kilometres. I was beat, but we had plans. I walked in the door, got changed, and then it was time to walk back out again. As a family, we endured aluminum bleachers in slightly below freezing temperatures to watch the New Year’s Eve fireworks. I have to admit, it was pretty exciting.

After the show had concluded, we waited for the parking lot to clear, then stopped to pick up dinner (mmmm, Popeye’s) and went home for the rest of the night. My head hit the pillow at 12:11am. It was just enough for me to give 2019 the finger on its way out, and very nicely ask 2020 to take it easy on me. It’s been a tough year, but then, I believe a lot of you out there might understand that. Let’s just say, I’m done with it. I give up. I surrender.

Anyway, on to the books. That’s got to be better, right?

Right?

On December 8th I was a part of a “Meet the Author” day, hosted by Homegrown House + Pantry Inc in Airdrie. They are a champion of the “buy local” movement, and I was very proud to have been invited. It gave me the chance to catch up with other local authors, talk a little business, and get my ugly mug in front of potential customers.

The best part, we all got to do a reading that was live streamed on Facebook, an opportunity I’ve never had before! Of course, I chose to read one of my weirder stories. I always worry how they’re going to be taken but was pleasantly surprised at the end when I looked up and saw a lot of smiling faces staring back at me.

This, dear reader, is pretty much where the fun ends.

The process of writing and the business of publishing has been causing more hurt feelings than happy ones lately. The week before Christmas, something in my brain snapped. The hurt and the disappointment was too much, so I packed everything up and shoved it in a closet. I’m not kidding, books, marketing and reference materials, pencils, and note pads. I needed a break, and this was the only way I could make it work. Deep down, I knew it would be temporary. If I had been slightly less dramatic, that fact might have filtered down to the people around me. Unfortunately, it didn’t, and the act caused problems of its own. In the end though, I’m glad it happened. It only took a week before my mind started running again. Ideas for stories came, and the drive to get things done did as well. That being said, I could tell that the freight train that would normally be barreling down the tracks at full tilt had eased up a little. I seem to have found a slower, more reasonable gear. I want my deadlines to be more reasonable, and to be able to manage the workload without making me and the people around me miserable.

So, here’s what the next few months are going to look like. I’m going to work on being a better writer. Hopefully, these will help.

Instead of putting out a new short, short story compilation. I want to beef up the existing compilation and tweak the cover and format to make it the best it can be. I want to take a couple of my unpublished stories and set them aside for the purpose of submitting for publication. It’s not because I’m after exposure, but I honestly believe the process will help me DO BETTER.

The Storm series is still moving along, but I’ve pushed the first installment back to April. This will give us time to make the finished product as polished as our current skill set allows, and to test out some new promotion ideas. I hope you stay tuned for more.

That’s all for now, friends. Happy New Year! I wish the best of everything for you in the months to come. Here’s a spoopy ghost for no other reason than you’re wonderful.

Shane

Dream – Raven

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I remember the waves as they broke along the rocky shore. The sting of the spray and the taste of salt on the cool breeze. The sun just a muted orb nearing the horizon against a sky of grey slate. It was like watching a muted television, but at the same time being inside the picture.

I stood as naked as the day I was born, keeping my delicate bits covered with my hands. Apparently, I’m self-conscious, even in dreams. My toes dug in the sand and the grit worked itself deep in between.

A weight occupied the back of my mind. Like something needed to be said, but I wasn’t the one with the idea. It fought to break through as the waves in front of me slowed until they froze. Fine mist hung in the air, and sea foam strung the length of the shore like dreary cotton candy.

Movement above me caught my attention. A raven circled in a tight, lumbering arc. At what altitude it was impossible to say. It almost seemed I could reach out and hold it in my hand, but at the same time it grazed the stratosphere and would eclipse a jumbo jet.

The sensation in my skull became urgent, frantic even. I caught a glint in the raven’s eye. It focused on me as it made one final lap, then set a course toward the open sea. The pressure in my head eased, and then along with the raven, it disappeared.

***

Photo by sajjad aslani on Unsplash

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Tattoo Fever and News About Books

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It’s been ten years since my last tattoo. I’m pretty particular, so it shouldn’t come as a shock that it took something pretty important for me to head in for a new one, or in this case, three things that made a huge impact on me this year. This is a bit of a long story. Hold on tight.

Initially the plan was to have each of the elements stand on their own. I had a hard time deciding where to place them and which one I would get first. That’s when the idea came to mash them all together. The image of a messy desk stuck in my brain, so I printed everything out and started ripping up paper. I reached out to an amazing local artist for a consult, and soon enough the appointment was booked. If you’re in Airdrie, I highly recommend checking out Danica with Human Kanvas. I gave her a couple scraps of paper and a lot of trust, and she gave me something to be proud of.

I talked about my plans and introduction to self-publishing last month. The process was stressful, but it showed me how wonderful it can be to spread your creative wings. With all of the good feelings still front and centre, I talked my best friend into helping me take my publishing company Pencil on Paper (insert hyperlink) and grow it into something more. Now we offer services to help writers bring their own dreams to life. It’s been a rollercoaster ride, and perhaps the tattoo was a little premature, but even if this goes no further it’s been one of the biggest experiences of my life, so that’s why the PoP logo is right up top.

Do better comes next. It became a near daily reminder that we all can do better, and it’s something we should all be aspiring to. It doesn’t matter how far along you think you are, how good you think you are, there’s always room to do better. While writing it out myself would make sense, I really wanted someone special to write it out for me. Long story short, because there’s a lot going on behind the scenes with this that I don’t feel it necessary to share, I reached out to an artist, singer-songwriter seems too simple a term, that I am a huge fan of. The idea came to me, and it was just crazy enough to give it a shot. You only live once, right? I reached out, and they graciously obliged. I still feel weird about it, because I’m weird and why wouldn’t I feel strange about asking a public figure for something?

So it goes is on the bottom. I typed it out on my 80-year-old Remington portable typewriter. Kurt Vonnegut wrote it originally, and used it to what I feel is great effect in his novel Slaughterhouse Five. The last two years have not been easy on a personal level. It’s been a time filled with loss and conflict, sometimes brought on by the very things that are supposed to bring happiness. We’re constantly put into situations to learn a lesson, but the path isn’t always easy. It’s up to meet the challenge, or not. Life gets in the way of your dreams. People leave. Hearts are broken. Nothing is forever. So it goes.

The finished product.

Now it’s time to talk about all the books that I made mention of last month.

The opening novella in The Storm series will be off to final edit in two weeks. Then it will be time to format the interior and finish up the cover. It seems rushed, and it is, but it’s necessary so that we have enough time to proof and order test copies before launch in February.

This time around I’m looking to try something new with distribution. I distributed This and That through Ingram Spark and have few complaints. The plan for The Storm is still bubbling away in my brain, but at the moment what I want is to launch the ebook on Kindle Unlimited, and print a limited run of paperbacks for local shows and give-aways.

As if there’s not enough going on, we’re also about to launch a new short, short story compilation. It’s titled More of the Other, and if it’s not apparent, is an add-on to This and That but Mostly the Other. Would you like a copy of the new compilation for free? I’m going to send the file to anyone who subscribes to blog notifications here. If that’s not your thing, click the contact link in the header or send me a message through Twitter or Facebook (scroll down for links) and tell me what your favourite story is from This and That, and I’ll still send it along to you. Haven’t read This and That but Mostly the Other? It’s available for only $0.99 on Kindle and Kobo! You can find the links here.

Until next time…


Shane

Just a Bad Dream

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My whole body flinches and my eyes open to dim, grey light.

Sasha half rolls toward me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat and force my breath to slow. “No. Bad dream.”

She rolls all the way over and tucks the sheets under her chin. “What happened?”

Shadows weave across the ceiling as a car drives by outside. My chest is tight, and I draw in the air that my body is calling out for. “What was going on in the background isn’t important. Something about a weird old car and a joyride. It was the look you gave me at the end that woke me up. Maybe it was out of embarrassment, or because you were ashamed of something. Then you wouldn’t talk to me or look at me. You just stared at your hands. I didn’t know what else to do, so I walked away. It hurt. A lot.”

Sasha brushes her hair behind her ear. “But it’s not real. It was just a dream.”

“The way it made me feel is real, and that’s the problem. I don’t think it would be affecting me this way if there wasn’t something behind it.”

“So, that’s it. You think I’ve done something wrong?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“I don’t know.”

Sasha moves away from me. “Great.”

I turn my head to her. “Don’t be like that. I know it was only a dream. I…”

She adjusts herself, sinking deeper into her pillow.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”

When her voice comes, it’s timid and quiet. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for getting upset. I understand, how the feelings can linger.”

“Yeah.”

Sasha rolls back toward me and props herself up on one elbow. Her eyes are clear and her breath warm. She leans in and kisses my cheek, then looks away, like she did in the dream. “I’ve got to get ready for work.”

She pushes the sheets back and swings her legs to the floor. I watch her silhouette move to the bathroom and disappear behind the closed door.

***

Photo by Zach Guinta on Unsplash