AML top 100

Wow! I just found out one of the anthologies I edited for Immortal Works Press, All Made of Hinges, has been chosen as one of the top 100 most influential works of Mormon literature of all time by the Association of Mormon Literature. Although I can hardly take credit, considering the idea was almost entirely conceived by D. J. Butler, and he was one of three other editors who worked on the series, it is still a great honor to be represented on this list next to pillars of the community like the Work and the Glory series, A Short Stay in Hell (see my related anthology: Windows Into Hell), and The Backslider.

You can see the entire list here:

Kovel Award 2022

Today I was honored to receive the prestigious Edward M. Kovel Award.

I want to appreciate the many people who have helped me reach this new height in my writing career. I couldn’t have done it without the inspiration of so many people. Thanks to each and every one of you.

The Problem with World Building

So, I spent way too long on these RPG game manuals (thanks to Wilbert Stanton for the covers).

And then, predictably, my mind spun a huge epic series of books. I resisted starting them, for all I was worth. But in the end, I just couldn’t stop it. So, I started an outline and some character summaries. If this happens, it will take years. The first draft of the first book, less time, obviously.

My last series (The Actuator) took years to put out, and I think it lost some reader momentum because of that. So if I do another series, I’m toying with writing the whole thing before the first one gets published. And, It’ll probably involve another anthology… or something even bigger.

What have I gotten myself into???

On the plus side, Spring has been very nice this year. 🙂

New RPG Covers by Wilbert Stanton

I’m thrilled to give you an early preview of the covers for a project I’ve been working on for over a year. A good friend of mine, Wilbert Stanton, recently decided to start doing photomanipulations for book cover art. After seeing some of his work, I mentioned that if he was looking for something to practice on I had a four part series I was working on that he could play around with. The results are nothing short of awesome. It probably won’t surprise anybody that he has since been picked up by a publishing company to do covers for them. And I get to say I knew him before he was famous! Thanks, Wil.

I’m actually still in the middle of writing the third book. So, the project is far from finished. He just got these covers done fast and I was too impatient to not put them out in the world. I’m looking for people to playtest the game, so please e-mail me if you’re interested. It’s a rules-light, “unlimited” character system.

Book 1: Cryptic Paradigm

Forget what you think you know about this life. History books spread lies. Most people live blissfully unaware of true human nature. The real history of the earth is the history of magic. The people who wield it and the monsters they make will ultimately determine the fate of the world.

This base rule book covers the basics of how to play a role-playing game for anybody who has never played one before. It also details the fast-paced, rule-light D:2xL RPG system. It covers the world as we know it, and the parts we don’t know. If you’re looking for espionage, underground movements, and military clashes, it’s all here. Of course, the book also covers monsters, magic, and superpowers if you crave a darker urban fantasy adventure.

Book 2: Brutal Relics

From ancient times through the dark ages, elemental magic ruled. Empires rose and fell as monsters and strange humanoid races coexisted, albeit savagely. The balance tipped when magic relics changed the medieval world. If you love swords, sorcery, and epic fantasy heroes, this is the D:2xL book for you. It’s the only time in history when wizards and monsters could live out in the open without fear of being hunted to extinction.

Book 3: Horrible Alchemy

Detailing the magical renaissance, this D:2xL rulebook covers the centuries when magic was forced underground. It also contains vital information for Steampunk and the monsters from classical literature. If you’re a fan of Jules Verne, black and white horror, or noir detectives, these are the rules for you. These stories, set between the golden age of piracy and the turn of the millennium, are sure to give you the dark atmosphere you’re looking for with just a touch of madness.

Book 4: Fractured Spacetime

In the near future, humanity’s destiny splits and follows three different post-singularity paths: Cyberpunk, Nuclear Apocalypse, and Space Migration. All the technology from faster than light spaceships to true artificial intelligence lies ahead of us. If you’re into science fiction, check out this D:2xL rulebook where you can play in the brightest ideal or the darkest dystopia. To save humanity, we must embrace magic and bring all three branches back together to obtain transcendence.

Free Halloween Anthology

I haven’t forgotten you. This year I have a special surprise for Halloween… A FREE Anthology of Flash Fiction stories. It features my story, The Calling, which you might have seen last year. But it’s also got a lot more spooky fun. Get it now!

Excerpt from The Calling:

When she heard the cry of wolves in the distance, Amy closed her eyes and kept quiet. She already knew nobody else could hear them. Her parents said they believed her. They took her to counseling, and had her hearing checked. Friends found it novel at first, but soon stopped sympathizing with her little quirk. In the end, people became impatient, even accusing her of making it up to get attention. College was hard enough without feeling isolated and weird. So, she just kept to herself, waiting for the soulful wail to fade. (Keep Reading…)

If you prefer, you can get this book in paperback.


Yule Shade

Through December I posted this serial Christmas ghost story on Facebook under #yuleshade. Here it is in its entirety for you. Happy Holidays! 🙂

Yule Shade

As a rule, Karen never returned anything. She didn’t want to add fuel to her name being used to brand a certain type of woman, or court the inevitable connection. But if she had the money to buy a second replacement TV she probably wouldn’t have had to relocate across two states to the house her great aunt left her when she died. How run down must that thing be? She couldn’t make enough to keep an apartment in the city anymore, so she took her meager savings and rented a moving van. Who cares if the customer service associate at Walmart thought she was “A” Karen, anyway? She’d never be back in this city again. Well, except to visit family and her husband’s grave. If she could find a job quickly, even minimum wage, she should have enough to buy food for two people for two weeks. In a way she felt she’d lost her son when her husband died. He’d retreated so far the counselors she couldn’t afford hadn’t been able to bring him out of it. Maybe living in the country, a new environment, would help. For now, she just needed to get a TV that worked. Smile. “I’d like an exchange please. Here’s my receipt.”

As she stopped the moving van and turned off the Christmas music in front of their new home, Karen wanted to cry. A heavy blanket of snow couldn’t hide this Victorian house’s sore need of repairs. The roof sagged or had fallen in on one side. A window below that was cracked like a spider web. It had been so long since it was painted that she couldn’t even tell what color it used to be. And the garage door sat crooked, and probably wouldn’t open. Her son didn’t notice, head down playing a game on his Nintendo. A sudden gust of wind moaned around them, sending a chill up her spine. She wiped the bottom rims of her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come on, Jared. One of your chores is shoveling the walk… and that starts now.” He scowled, then hopped out into the calf deep snow. She wondered how long it would take him to realize they didn’t own a shovel.

Karen managed to get the water turned on, but the electricity and gas companies wouldn’t send anybody until tomorrow. The one thing that had gone their way was her aunt had left a good stack of firewood in the garage, which they could only access from the inside. While she waited for a pot of water to get hot, Jared just crunched his Ramen noodles right out of the plastic. He’d used all the power on his game device and phone. He’d used most of the power on her phone, too, before she made him stop in case they needed it for an emergency. Huddled around this fire, the room looked almost cozy. And, small miracle, her son even talked to her. It wasn’t deep, but it warmed her heart almost as much as the fire. The upstairs creaked, and occasionally, a low moaning sound caught their attention. There was one room up there with a door jammed so tight they couldn’t get it open. When he stopped mid sentence to listen, with eyes a bit wide despite him insisting nothing scared him, she said, “It’s probably a hole in the roof. The wind makes that sound when it blows past.”

Karen woke up freezing. Her son, under a blanket in front of the fireplace, lay curled up shivering. She picked up a poker to try and stoke it, but the cold of the metal handle seemed to bite into her hand. She couldn’t find a single hot coal amid the black wood and gray ash. What happened here? She put Jared’s coat over his blanket and tucked him in. Then she put some fresh wood and paper in, holding the long-neck lighter at the base. She burned page after page, but the wood wouldn’t catch. It wasn’t wet. Howling wind rattled the windows as the temperature dropped steadily. Why wouldn’t it light? If she couldn’t figure it out, they’d have to use the heater in the moving van to keep from freezing. She didn’t want to go outside to siphon gas in this weather. Slipping on her shoes, she rummaged through the kitchen supplies until she found a bottle of hand sanitizer. 80% ethanol should work. She squirted half of it on the logs and lit it. The blue flame sputtered, as if struggling to to get air. When it threatened to go out, she squirted more on. Jared lifted his head. “That stuff’s flammable?” She tucked a few small pieces of wood in the bottom and squirted them, too. Eventually, the cold surrendered and the wood began to catch. She bit her lip. If the heat wasn’t on by tomorrow, she’d have to spend some of their food money on lighter fluid.

Karen couldn’t believe her good fortune finding a job at the local gas station within walking distance of their house. She’d left her son with one job while she was at work– get that upstairs room’s jammed door open. Two hours later he texted her. “Can’t open it. Borrowed a pry-bar from the neighbor, but when I went up there, the house growled at me. Like a crazy dog. Every time I try, it happens again. I don’t need my own room. I’ll sleep on the couch.” It bothered her for a long time, but before her shift ended, she decided to forget about it. The heat and electricity were on and either the vent in that room was closed or snow covered it. Either way, they weren’t wasting a lot of money on it. Besides, it’s not like she had any money to fix whatever was wrong with the roof. She couldn’t quite let it go, though. The house made a lot of weird sounds. She’d dismissed it as wind or creaking floors, but growling like a rabid dog?

It was late in the night when Karen heard a woman’s voice. She thought she’d dreamed it. Wide awake now, she got up to check on things and realized it was once again bitter cold. Why was the heat off? She wrapped in a robe and slippers. Downstairs she found Jared on the couch shivering. Nothing woke him. She started a fire, with lighter fluid this time. All she could hope was that whatever was wrong was on their side, because she didn’t know how she’d pay for repairs if it wasn’t. Tucking in by her son’s feet, she planned to stay up, but found herself being roused by the same scratchy voice. She couldn’t mistake it for wind now. Tomorrow they would get the door open if she had to hack it up with an axe. Only she didn’t have an axe.

When Karen told the assistant manager at the gas station about the problem with her house, he offered to come over and take a look at it. He was younger than her by enough that she didn’t see it as turning into a problem. Her son had joined the school play, which was a miracle considering how introverted he’d been lately. She suspected he just didn’t like being home alone in this creepy place, but she didn’t care as long as it got him out interacting with people again. The house seemed fine when they got there. It always took several tries to make the lock work. “That roof doesn’t look good,” he said. She showed him upstairs and he pounded the door with his shoulder. “Looks like it’s become load bearing. I have tools in my truck, but I’m beginning to worry that more of that roof will fall in if you do get it open.” A low scream vibrated the door when he touched the handle again. He rushed down the stairs and outside. “Maybe an animal living in there,” he offered as he drove away.

After the assistant manager left, while Jared was still at play practice, Karen found herself alone in the house. Snow fell on the 18″ already blanketing the small town, blocking the sun and making the world quiet… except for the house. Wood creaked here and there, following a broken rhythm. Howling emanated from the locked room, despite weak wind outside. The heater, working at the moment, couldn’t penetrate some of the cold areas. Karen wanted to put up the Christmas tree, but she couldn’t. She had to deal with whatever this was. So she set a folding chair in front of the jammed door, leaned her forehead against it, and cried. “I can’t… I can’t take it. What do you want from me? I have nowhere else to go. What did I ever do to you?” Behind the door, a hoarse laugh rose to a scream.

“Who are you?” Karen screamed through the shuddering door. “Why are you doing this?” The voice on the other side dropped to to a low cackle, then a cough. “Who do you think sat alone in this house year after year? No calls. No letters. Watching the world go by, forgotten?” Karen stood up. “Aunt Beth? Is that you?” Frost gathered on the door and around her so she had to cross her arms for warmth. Her breath left small clouds. “I sent you Christmas cards every year. But you stopped coming to the family parties and never called. I just assumed mom knew.” Her voice faltered. “What happened?” There was a long pause, before the voice behind the door spoke again. “See for yourself.” The door popped open an inch.

Karen touched the door to open it, but pulled her hand back. The cold burned. Her mind screamed to run away, but she couldn’t keep living like this… and they had nowhere else to go. Desperation finally overcame her terror. She pushed the door with the toe of her shoe. It creaked and stopped, wedged against the floor. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and kicked it over and over. “It’s not fair. I didn’t do anything to you.” Each time, it let out a screech as the frozen wood scraped. When the light from the hall finally penetrated the darkness, she gasped. A wheel chair next to the broken window lay sideways on the ground beneath the hole in the roof. Snow and ice scattered over a wide blood stain. Aunt Beth had somehow fallen and slowly died here. Karen whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Behind her a whisper… “You will be.”

Karen spun around, clasping one hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Floating a few inches above the ground, her aunt looked like coalesced black smoke with white vaper leaking out of her eyes to join her dissipating hair. “Nobody ever wanted me. Nobody ever cared.” She reached one hand out, turning Karen’s chest cold. “That’s not true!” Karen let her terror turn to rage. “We wanted you. I didn’t know you were cooped up in this house because you never told me. I would have helped. Mom would have helped. You didn’t need to suffer on your own.” Beth’s white eyes went impossibly wide as she floated backward into the shadow. “Nobody ever came to check.” The ghost’s niece pushed forward, unwilling to let her go. “Well we’re here now. But we can’t stay unless you stop with all of this. Please, come spend Christmas Eve with us.” Her aunt’s face scowled, then softened. The steam and smoke swirling chaotically. She opened her mouth wide as if to scream, but no sound came out.

On Christmas Eve, Karen and her son were sipping hot chocolate next to the fire, listening to soft music, and looking at the decorated tree when it happened. She’d prepared Jared over and over, but his eyes still went wide and his hands shook when the house’s former occupant finally joined them. She looked less frenzied, obviously trying to make as polite an appearance as a vengeful spirit can. “Merry Christmas!” Karen smiled and offered her aunt a seat. They chatted, reminiscing about bygone holidays, family, and the terrible weather. The door upstairs would open now, but they left it closed until they could deal with the hole in the roof. Jared relaxed as time went on. Eventually, he brought out a small box, wrapped in shiny red paper and a green ribbon, and presented it to Beth. “For me?” Small trails of white vapor formed under her eyes and she reached for it. Her hand went straight through, of course. Jared said, “Maybe I should help?” He unwrapped a ceramic vase, painted white with glaze sparkling in the lights. “I made it in school.” The apparition gasped, smiled, and thanked him profusely. Then her smoky body gently dissipated, her smile leaving this world last.

The End

Want more holiday themed ghost stories? Check out this anthology: Haunted Yuletide

Witch on the Run

Happy Holidays! I got you a present early this year: Witch on the Run. It’s about a young woman coming to grips with powers she’s been trying to hide.

You can read the whole thing here on Story Origin. Hey, a superhero origin story on Story Origin… that’s funny! Enjoy. 🙂

Reaper Novel

So, in my spare time I’ve been playing with a story that involves the Grim Reaper as a main character. It’s based roughly on a comic I dabbled with ten years ago. Nothing serious. No real end goal in mind, or expectation of it becoming anything I’d commit time to.

Then, this morning, it hit me. A really great ending. Of course I have to trash everything I wrote so far (that’s normal) and start over. And I have to construct a pretty tight outline (not my normal). But suddenly it’s turning into a legit project. And I’m like, “Am I really going to commit this kind of effort to this story?”

Yep. That’s how ideas turn into books.

If you want to see more of these comics, you can find them here. Happy Halloween!

Siege War

(Here’s a serial project I started up last week.)
Siege War
Day 1
Half the hoard descended in mass. Due to the cunningly arranged battlefield, they were splintered and isolated. Despite there being no advantage, two still attempted to breach the fortress wall, with no real success. Supplies are full and so far there’s no word from the castle of any infections among the attackers, but we can’t be sure they would tell us anyway. Politics ever taints the information long before it trickles down to us on the front line. Morale is still high on the inside, but we all know it’s just a waiting game – not a matter of if, but when. And the enemy is very good at waiting. They act casual, mulling around and pretending they aren’t even interested, but the anger is always there. They may keep it down today, tomorrow, a week, a month; but sooner or later, they will find a weakness, a crack in the walls. Then they will strike – not a powerful rush of war calls and broken weapons, but a silent spreading of biological agents. The poison will seep in and defile the unsuspecting. I’ve seen it many times before, but never for such high stakes.
Day 2
The rest of them arrived, like warm Trojan horses. It’s still early days, so nothing seemed amiss. Again, two times one of them pushed against the wall. Why two? Is that how many seemingly innocent attempts they believe they can make without raising any alarm? We aren’t fooled. We know they are searching for weakness. But what choice do we have? All we can do is try to keep things calm and avoid drawing attention to the elephant in the room.
Day 3
The wall has been breached.
Only one attacker came through, and did not get far before being routed. Still, it weighs heavily. Why didn’t the others join the sprint? It’s unnatural. Unlike any normal war.
Including the one that briefly entered the fortress, there were two more attempts on the fortress wall. Why two every day? It’s like some kind of hive mind is making puppets out of the seemingly innocuous hoard. Maybe we are all puppets. In the end, one side will win the war. But will the plight of the peasants change? Will the soldiers be any worse off under one king or another? All these questions are just distractions. Our job is to hold out, and so we continue to dance with an unknown partner. So far we remain in control.
Day 4
Five today. I’m not sure whether to be relieved that the pattern finally changed or worried that it’s accelerating. Are they emboldened by having spent so much time examining the battle field, or just acting out of boredom? We have supplies and are well prepared, but the hardest part of the “game” is the mental gymnastics. Are they going to rally a full scale attack or just try to wait us out? Sometimes I catch myself wishing it would just start so we can get it over with one way or the other. But I know better than to entertain such thoughts. The longer we all hold out, the fewer people will die in the end, on both sides.
Day 5
Only one breach today. Quickly routed. The numbers are thinning. It makes me wonder if the enemy has the resources to lay any kind of sustained siege at all. Of course we’re hopelessly outnumbered if they get past. If they infect even one of us, their work will be done for them. Maybe the others are planning something special where we can’t see them? Can’t let myself get distracted. Just hold the line. Nothing else matters.
If you want to see more, follow me on Facebook at: JasWymore

Mormon Steampunk: A Mighty Fortress

mighty fortress cover

For fans of the Mormon Steampunk series, the latest (and probably final) volume is available today! Edited by Holli Anderson, this volume, like the others, includes amazing stories by bestselling and award winning authors. So wind up your clockwork heart, select the goggles with the reading lenses, and dive in!

In case you are new to all of this, Steampunk is a kind of historical science fiction. Think Jules Verne. It’s set in the past, but contains technology (usually steam powered) which didn’t actually exist at the time. So it’s a specific flavor of historical fiction. All these stories revolve around the the history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, who used to refer to themselves as Mormons. They are not religious stories, meaning they aren’t meant to inspire faith or sow doubt about anybody’s beliefs.

One might suspect that such a narrow niche might produce a large number of similar stories, but I’ve been shocked by the extremely broad range of these tales. It’s a monument to writer ingenuity.

Here are links to the entire series:

All Made of Hinges (I edited this one)

Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel

Press Forward Saints (my story, Spirit Photographs, is in this one)

A Mighty Fortress