Showing posts with label submissions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label submissions. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

New short story: Don Giovanni, Lately of Rome, by Linda Colman


Don Giovanni Bassi, by Linda Colman

Red, red is the sun,
Heartlessly indifferent to time.
The wind knows though
The promise of early chill.
Bashō

Don Giovanni, Lately of Rome

Once, long ago, in medieval Rome, there lived a nobleman named Don Giovanni Bassi. Don Giovanni was a wealthy man and a great sinner, known throughout the city for debauching children and defrauding widows. He was also a man of significant influence. The Law was never able to touch him, and Don Giovanni lived in comfort until the day when he woke up, looked in the mirror, and found himself an old man. Now nearing the end of his life, Don Giovanni, a man of faith, began to worry about the punishment that awaited him in the afterworld.
Don Giovanni had surrounded himself with a coterie of learned men, counselors versed in the ways of church and state. Now he called upon his counselors to purchase for him an indulgence for his sins, a document for which he was willing to pay any price. But when his counselors approached intermediaries of the Holy See, they were told that Don Giovanni was too great a sinner to be granted a remission, even under the circumstances of a generous offer.

In despair, Don Giovanni consulted his oldest and dearest friend, the Bishop of Ferrara. Was there any way Don Giovanni could obtain forgiveness on Earth, preferably in the form of a binding document? But the Bishop only sighed and shook his head, counseling penance, fasting, and prayer. Don Giovanni, though he believed in the power of God, was a man who never prayed, for he feared any type of conversation that would lead him to the truth. Moreover, he was a sybarite of longstanding, and penance and fasting were out of the question.

Concluding that he would never be pardoned on Earth or in Heaven, Don Giovanni threw himself into one last desperate flurry of debauchery and sin, protected as he was from the consequences of his acts by his loyal coterie. One morning though, as he was recovering from a particularly wicked round of sinning, Don Giovanni received a visitor from the country.

The visitor, a priest from a small hamlet near Ostia, told him of a merchant who lived in this hamlet: a sinner, and no nobleman, but one who called himself Don Giovanni Bassi. And this merchant Don Giovanni, born in a country parish to an obscure branch of the Bassi clan, had recently purchased an indulgence for his sins. For a small recompense, the priest would disclose to our Don Giovanni the whereabouts of the merchant’s holy document.

The wheels in the mind of our Don Giovanni began to whirl rapidly round and round. Could God Himself be defrauded? This happenstance of the other Don Giovanni might provide the ultimate test of the old sinner’s skill at deception. If only our Don Giovanni could obtain the indulgence granted to this so-called Don, this Giovanni Bassi of Ostia.

Soon the old sinner, disguised as a peasant, was on the road to Ostia. Against the advice of his counselors, he had decided to carry out this important mission on his own. When he reached the hamlet that had been described by the priest, he asked directions to the home of Caterina Bassi, a poor widow and the mother of the merchant Giovanni Bassi. Old and handsome as he was, and looking rather pathetic in his rustic peasant’s costume, our Don Giovanni easily gained admission to Caterina’s home, where he was offered a warm meal and a bed for the night.

The country priest had whispered to Don Giovanni that the indulgence was kept hidden in a bucket at the bottom of Caterina’s well, gone dry these many years. For Caterina’s son was a superstitious man who believed that the indulgence, like some stolen treasure, ought to be concealed from prying eyes. Now, at midnight, Don Giovanni slipped from his bed in the widow’s house and crept out to the well. It was a moonless night, but the old man succeeded in groping his way to the well, and was quietly hauling up the bucket when he heard a rustling sound. Perhaps a creature in the dry brush? ... 

Full text can be found at our Indie sharing site, Barista Books  Independent Visual artists, authors, musicians, filmmakers and more.  Barista Books "Indie Done Right"

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Writer's Circle Review of S.A. Hunt's breakout novel, The Whirlwind in the Thorn Tree

Writer's Circle

S.A. Hunt's breakout novel, The Whirlwind in the Thorn Tree, is a great read.  As book one of The Outlaw King series, it sets the stage for what promises to be one heck of a gun-toting, monster-slaying, dimension-transversing adventure.  I have to admit, it was hard to put down.  It had me on the edge of my seat, and even cracking up a few times.  We can't wait to see what comes next!  

Here is the teaser and a link to where you can get it:
ROSS GREW UP TO BE A WRITER just like his dad, Hugo Award nominee E. R. Brigham. The thing is, he's never published anything worthwhile in his life. So when his father dies unexpectedly and leaves him the obligation of finishing the final book in his wildly popular gunslinging fantasy series, Ross thinks he's got the world on his shoulders.
What he discovers is a trail leading to the fantasy world of his father Ed's outlaw novels, where the proud Gunslingers of Ain protect the land of Destin from an army of immortals bent on destroying every world in existence -- real and fictional.

Visit us at Barista Books to get it now!




Tuesday, March 26, 2013

This month's creative writing prompt



Barista Books.  Indie Done Right.
Indie Music, Film, Writing and Visual Arts.  90s coffee house style.  Yep.

Poetry Corner -- Barista Books -- Indie Done Right




She said she didn't like singing and blushed when I asked her to. So selfishness, adventure, and that pink color of her flushed cheek combined into the goal to hear it, to hear her voice stretched and naked, like a lover waiting to be touched, her words like a silk sheet covering her secrets like the tiny freckles on her shoulders like the mole on her stomach like her scars and their stories that still make her cry. when she tells them. Her voice could be out of key, hell, it could shatter glass and make dogs howl at the moon, I would still love it, because it's hers. it's the skin beneath her skin, it will be beautiful. It will rattle my bones and take my breath. She said no, No way. she laughed and hid her face. But I pressed and I prodded and I begged constantly, because there is something dizzyingly sexy about a single voice and an audience of one. There is something about watching her eyes close and hair fall back as she would lift her face to the ceiling. and at last it happened. I can't place exactly why, Maybe it was because we were, in no uncertain terms, "a little too high" , or maybe I just wore her down. But as we laid together watching the iTunes visualizer, her head on my chest, she joined in with the music. Her voice rang out and carried to the stars came back down, broke through my ribs, and with warm nervous hands, held my heart and stopped my blood. The whole time she faced the laptop screen, Her eyes reflected all the colors of an interstellar nebula I let the moment surge through my soul, I tried to keep my gaze trained on her. but like a solar eclipse I needed protection and I almost went blind starring into this, her unveiling. She said she couldn't or she can't but she did and she is beautiful. She always was, she just hid this side. She was just like her voice, imperfect, quiet and scared but damn beautiful. It was sacred beauty it was profane beauty. mundane and fantastic beauty. It was Eve removing her fig leaf for Adam, Beauty Saying "I brought some garden with me" Beauty It was Lady slurping pasta and kissing the Tramp, Beauty. Two dogs eating garbage, But it was beauty. It was the first time I heard her sing she said she doesn't remember, but How could I forget?



Once there was a town so dark
Gloom and mist would fill the park.
Children played on broken swings
And told tall tales of the things
That lurked under each child’s bed
At night when all was asleep or dead.
Sorrow permeated this town’s people,
Dwelt above the church’s steeple.
Frustration bred an angry hate
For the cloud that sealed their fate.
Growing angry, the townspeople prayed,
Lashing out at the God who’d made
All this pain- perpetual plight,
And kept them in eternal night.
They never really stopped to see
That the cloud was gone and they were free.
All they saw was gloom endowed
Because in their hearts was still the cloud.





If your way is paved with thorns and fears
and your barefoot heart withdrew
I can shelter you to a new frontier—
I will move mountains to be with you.

If your feet can't move another foot
and fire's set to all you do
I can pull you through the ash and soot—
I will move mountains to be with you.

When the day is hot and night turns cold,
when my love for you seems worn and old;
just look behind you and remember, dear,
I have moved mountains to be right here.

Take my coat, the winter's rolling in,
take my shoes to warm your feet.
Take my heart, you will be safe within;
use my fire to warm your sheets.

If you take my hand and walk with me,
and if your faith's the size of mustard seeds,
Whether many or just a few—            
I will move mountains for you.


Submissions always welcome.  Visit us at Barista Books to see quality Indie writing, music, visual arts, and film.  Our motto is "Indie Done Right."

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Trinkets






We may not be able to sit down together in a 90s style coffee house (yet), but these trinkets and gizmos help us feel more like we're there.  Have suggestions for us?  We love new things.  And my wife loves to shop.  Maybe don't show us new things.


The products for sale on Baristabookstore.com help us fund the cause of allowing all Indies an audience and home.  If you like what you see, please visit us to see larger images, more offerings and to order through our links.  Help us fund these artists' causes and keep our lights on.













Visit our Submissions page on Baristabookstore.com, like us on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter, and mention us to your friends.  All of us knows an artist who's really great just waiting to be discovered.



Submit your Fiction and Non-Fiction


We are DYING for fresh voices from self publishing "do-it-yourself-ers".  All you need is a great read, a good cover, and your work to be accessable in the Amazon marketplace (IE: Kindle Direct Publishing, etc).  Let us know if you or someone you know fits the bill so we can get them up on our page!


Visit our Submissions page on Baristabookstore.com, like us on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter, and mention us to your friends.  All of us knows an artist who's really great just waiting to be discovered.




Submit your iTunes and Amazon music



Do you have a great track just waiting to be released?  
Hit us up!

​We are happy to help a starving musician.  We encorage you to first get your original songs uploaded to an online site so that we can connect listeners with your music, and hopefuly put a couple bucks in your pocket as well.  As of right now, we are only able to feature products that are found on Amazon, so make sure we can get the hyperlink from them.  

*In the Subject heading, type "Music", your name (or band) and the name of your song.

*In the message, give us a link to where we can listen to it for free, or give us a promo code to access it.  If we like it, we'll post it, along with a hyperlink to where others can get it, along with the price for the track.  

*Make sure you are clear in the email which link is for Barista Books to listen to and where you want your fans to go.  

*Lastly, don't forget to place again in the body of the message your song's name, your band's name, and where your fans can reach you (website info, etc.)

By submitting your music, you are agreeing to let Barista Books post it, publish it and even advertise it.


Visit our Submissions page on Baristabookstore.com, like us on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter, and mention us to your friends.  All of us knows an artist who's really great just waiting to be discovered.




Submit a Short Story


We'd love to take a look at your short stories.  We accept all genres, so long as they are appropriate for a variety of audiences.  That requirement is more content related than subject matter related.  If it is part of a series you're working on, tell us about it.

If we like it, we'll post it, so just check the site for it.  By submitting, you are granting us permission to publish the story online, or even as part of an anthology.  

We don't pay by the word or anything, but if you also provide links to your website or other work, we are happy to make that available to the public when we post your story so that you get exposure and traffic.

Visit our Submissions page on Baristabookstore.com, like us on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter, and mention us to your friends.  All of us knows an artist who's really great just waiting to be discovered.

Submit Original Artwork




Little Sisterwater,
Liz Barclay
This month's artist:  Liz Barclay


Whether winning a Scholastic Gold Key Award for her sketch Emily Water, or designing beautiful body art, Liz Barclay has a knack for capturing life within her drawings.  Relaxed and laid back, hers is a talent worth keeping an eye on.
 Below are some of our favorites from her blog.  Little Sisterwater is one of my personal favorites.  
She's open for commision on any project from tattoos, to book illustrations, to album covers, so hit her up on her blog by clicking the picture on the right.  Don't forget to share her hard work with your friends!

Emily Water,
Liz Barclay



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If you have original art you'd like to share, let us know.  

We'd love to see any medium you work with, photographs or paint or whatever you felt like.


Visit our Submissions page on Baristabookstore.com, like us on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter, and mention us to your friends.  All of us knows an artist who's really great just waiting to be discovered.