“I loved words. I love to sing them and speak them and even now, I must admit, I have fallen into the joy of writing them.”
Tag Archives: gothic
A Frankenstein Million
Who would have thought a mirthful challenge would last two centuries and spark a horrific enterprise?
Last month a first-edition copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein sold for USD 1.17 million at auction at Christie’s Auction House; much more than its estimated value of USD 300,000. Only one of 500 known existing first-print copies, the book is the most expensive tome by a woman ever sold. Published in 1818, Frankenstein: or, the Modern Prometheus is now considered to be the first science fiction novel. At the time, however, it was met with lackluster reviews – many of which bore an obviously sexist bent. “The writer of it is, we understand, a female; this is an aggravation of that which is the prevailing fault of the novel,” noted one reviewer in the “British Critic”.
Looks like Mary Shelley has had the last laugh.
Filed under Classics
In the Beginning…
It’s great to know the e-version of my debut novel is now on sale at Wal-Mart – right next to the cheesy romance stuff. But hey, a writer has to start somewhere, right?!
Juan Miguel thought of his great-aunt again and suddenly recollected another death even further back – one of his parents’ friends. He’d never met the woman, but watched his mother, Marisol, become overwhelmed with grief; an unusually emotional response from a woman who’d driven herself to the hospital during evening rush hour, when she thought she’d gone into labor with him.
She and some other old friends had gathered shortly after the rosary – another long-ass rosary – to reminisce about their younger days and quickly found themselves laughing in the sanctity of the funeral home.
“Like I’ve said before,” his father, Armando, interjected, almost philosophically, “you need to get together.”
And everyone agreed. They needed to get together; reconvene under more pleasant circumstances and relive the best parts of their lives. They promised to call each other and do something; have lunch or dinner – anything! Just stay in touch before it was too late. Then they left – and his parents never heard from anybody.
Until someone’s name popped up in the obituaries.
Filed under The Silent Fountain
Chief Writing Wolf 