Category Archives: Just Stuff

Wrapping up The Magic Happens Year

 Wow, December 2018 already? Doesn’t quite seem possible. Yet, we are in process of saying goodbye to 2018 and preparing to greet 2019 with the “write stuff.” 

 Up and ready for your enjoyment is The Magic Happens Magazine December 2018 Edition 

 We asked out writers to ponder what they would do with the Prompt Words:

MANTLESEECOURAGE

 Here’s what I came up with…

Role With us Baby

Shoulder to Shoulder

It’s All Good

Building a Peace Bridge

 YOU are the REASON we are enjoying this SEASON! Thank you for reading and sharing us. May all the joy you find in your life, be only the beginning of more to come!

Peace be with you! Annette Rochelle Aben, EditorThe Magic Happens Magazine

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Tell Me a Story Craig Boyack

Speculative Fiction Author, C.S. Boyack is featured on Tell Me a Story

In this podcast, you’ll get to know more about magical hats, a yak guy and a robot gal named Lisa Burton!

 Entertaining Stories are his specialty!

Of course, this is what Craig HAS put forth, but what does he have on the horizon? Listen and find out.

You can also visit his BLOG and keep abreast of all things speculative!

All the podcasts of Tell Me a Story are listed in alphabetical order, which includes that of Craig Boyack

Tell Me a Story is a presentation of The Magic Happens Radio Network hosted in The Magic Happens Magazine

 

Only Themselves to Blame – Tallis Steelyard Six Men in a Boat

Charlon Drane is the eldest son of Garrat and Taffetia Drane. This often comes as a surprise to those writers and poets who consider that his arrival in this world was due to him being summoned, like a particularly necrose demon. Indeed I have heard some speculate, in all seriousness, as to whether he was born or spawned. Various unlikely and undoubtedly blasphemous unions have also been suggested.
Yes I have it on excellent authority that as a child he had a remarkably open and sunny disposition. Indeed those who knew him then always stress how he was such a joy to be with. A happy laughing little boy, utterly devoid of cynicism or malice who, even into his late teens, seemed determined to see the best in people.
Thanks to the excellent education given to him by his mother, he loved nothing better than reading and could always be found with his nose in a book. Indeed if he ever went missing, his mother always knew where to find him. He’d be sitting in a quiet corner of Alen Gaetz Books, his nose stuck in some dusty second hand volume.
Thus when they were looking for somebody to edit the Port Naain Literary Review he wasn’t an entirely remarkable choice. Yes, at the time he was a usurer’s clerk and only in his mid twenties but still when the editorial board interviewed him they were won over by his natural charm and his obvious love of books.
To be fair he was, and is, an excellent editor. His knowledge of the field
is encyclopaedic; his own prose is crisp, clear and lucid. He sets a very
high standard for his contributors. Unfortunately, to put it bluntly, when he entered upon his new profession, he was an innocent abroad. There he was, a commissioning editor with a budget out of which to pay contributors.
Writers clustered around him like rakes around the drunken chorus girl at the society wedding! Had they merely approached him soberly, he could have coped. A nicely written proposal would have elicited from him a sober letter of acceptance, or alternatively a polite refusal. Instead he had writers of all genres and genders offering him sexual favours! He had poets standing in the street outside his bedroom window bellowing out their verses in the middle of the night.
He dined at one restaurant, (which I will not name, the proprietor is
entirely guiltless in this matter) where the waiter, instead of a menu,
proffered Charlon a selection of his verses. He tried to relax in the
Goldclaw Baths, only to discover a poet was frantically scribbling lines
from his latest poem, on the tiled wall in wax crayon. On one occasion he took a sedan chair and discovered he’d been hijacked. The bearers locked the doors from outside and he was forced to listen to a novelist read large excerpts from his three volume novel.
Then there was the issue of unsolicited submissions. Initially he made  it his rule to actually ready them. He felt that if the Port Naain Literary Review was to live up to it’s name, it ought to review things.
So, on his first day in the office, he sat down next to the pile of manuscripts, picked up the first one and commenced to read. Forty minutes later, his head swimming, he put the manuscript down. The author seemed to have written it using a system of spelling and punctuation known only to herself. He wrote a brief note, suggesting that the author find some kind friend to help her in this area and had it sent back to the return address on the envelope.
The next manuscript was easier to read, but that was perhaps a disadvantage. The writer had presented their diary for publication. In some cases this is an excellent idea. More than one lady has discovered the truth of the old saying, ‘keep a diary and one day your diary will keep you.’ Yet this presupposes that the keeper of the diary has actually done something worth hronicling. In the case of this writer, the highlight of one week was a successful bowel movement. This was sent back with a brief note saying that the editor felt that Port Naain was not ready for such dissipated excitement.
He worked steadily through the day, sending perhaps a dozen manuscripts back to their proud authors. That night he retired to bed feeling that in some small way he might have done something to improve the standard of literature in Port Naain. Whilst not rendered smug by this observation, he did at least allow himself a warm glow of self-satisfaction.
Next morning he was besieged by the writers whose work he had critiqued the previous day. Each wanted to debate his comments in detail, in some cases with a stout cudgel in hand. Charlon was forced to leave his office by window that opened out into a little used alley way.
In retrospect this may have been the last straw. Next day he instructed one of his clerks to place all unsolicited manuscripts into the coal scuttle. These he would toss onto the fire whenever the room started feeling chill. By taking this simple step he felt he’d improved the standard of literature in Port Naain immensely.
Then there were the published works to be reviewed. To be fair, some work published in Port Naain is published by a publisher who spots a book that will sell and invests their money in it. On the other hand far too much work is published by the author, or by a moneyed friend over whom the writer has too much influence. This second category can include some excellent work. My own Lambent Dreams falls into this category. On the other hand it includes an awful lot of dross. Charlon picked up his pen and reviewed them all. He held nothing back. His reviews were the work of a man who had been seen the future and who knew it was likely to be far worse than the present, unless he took a stand.
I still treasure that issue of the Port Naain Literary Review. He reviewed over two hundred books in a single issue, a feat that was never attempted before and has never been attempted since. Many reviews are but a single line. Of Bossop’s ‘Poems inspired by toothache’ he wrote, ‘Too many words, few of them good.’ Muntal Vergwil’s ‘Collected musings’ produced the comment, ‘I lost the will to live.’
Then in response to the three volumes of Madame Glorwan’s ‘A life well lived,’ he wrote, “This book was recommended to me by somebody I thought I could trust.” Mind you, these got away lightly. Lancet Foredeck submitted a monograph on the meaning of literature in the modern word. Charlon merely commented, “A village somewhere appears to have misplaced its idiot.”
My own Lambent Dreams was described as, “A gratifyingly slim volume.” I confess that in the circumstances this seemed almost like praise. From that day onwards Charlon has remained sternly acerbic. Anybody attempting to enter his office without an appointment is summarily ejected by two of the largest and most muscular clerks I’ve ever met. It has to be said, whilst he is not loved, it is generally agreed that he has done wonders to his magazine’s circulation. Whatever the quality of the books reviewed, the standard of insult remains gratifyingly high.
And now the hard sell!
OK so perhaps the not so hard sell. It’s just that this is part of a blog
tour which is peering into the lives of Garrat Drane, and his lady wife
Taffetia Drane. Now we are meeting their various offspring, delightful
people and pillars of the community. Or perhaps not.
But still now is your chance to meet them and inadvertently you may discover their importance to our hero, Tallis Steelyard. Tallis has his own blog at https://tallissteelyard.wordpress.com/
But actually the purpose of this blog is to draw your attention to the fact that a new book has been published. ‘Tallis Steelyard: Six men in a boat.’
Rather than a collection of his anecdotes, this is indeed an ‘adventure’ as Tallis ventures forth from the city of Port Naain.  Questions are asked that may even be answered, why is Tallis ‘run out of town’ by hired ruffians? Why does a very sensible young woman want his company when plunging into unknown danger? Who or what was buried in the catacombs? And why has there been so much interest in making sure they stay dead? Also featuring flower arranging, life on the river, and a mule of notable erudition.
Treat yourself; you know you’re worth it!
Jim Webster

 

The Magic of November

 Because every month deserves some MAGIC

Welcome to the November 2018 The Magic Happens Magazine

We offered 3 prompt words to our writers and many chose to write Theme Articles based upon:

STORMIMAGINEREACH

Check us out! And while you are there, check out my offerings for this month!

Can’t Tell You Enough

Living in the Greatest Nation

Family Literacy Month

Giving Thanks for the Months of BER

Because YOU are the reason we created this publication, it is with humble hearts, we offer our thanks for your support!  The Magic Happens Magazine is about to head into its magical 13th year and we are thrilled to have you with us!

 Happy November! Annette Rochelle Aben, Editor

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National Poetry Day

Magical Rock Tober

 All you awesome Boos and Ghouls, we have scared up a terrific Rock Tober Edition of The Magic Happens Magazine

 We challenged our writers to treat you to their thoughts on the following topics:

 HAT RAGE SWEET

 no TRICKS here…

Be sure to check out what I have to put in your goodie bags…

Crunchy Leaves and Pumpkin Spice Cheese

Every Heart is Filled with ART

Kid Tested Mother Approved

Save the Flamingos

We most appreciate that you allow us to amaze, delight and entertain you! And if you’d ever like to join our “family”let me know and I’ll show you how to make that happen!

 Happy Rock Tober everyone, from a community of #HumanityThrivingOutLoud at The Magic Happens Magazine

Annette Rochelle Aben, Editor

 

September is Filled with Magic

 We made it to the 9th month!  Wow, where does the time go? Well, when you are having fun being part of a community of #HumanityThrivingOutLoud, it’s easy to lose track of time.

  Our loyal scribes were presented three “magic” words and invited to share their enthusiasm – which they did…

KINGDOMREAPTALISMAN

 And of course, I have added my words to the mix! And here are my Direct Links

Zip Zam Zowie and Swoosh

Citizen Ken

Wow Look What I Got Here

September is National Self Care Awareness Month

That’s right!  We have a brand-spanking new edition of our digital conversation:  The Magic Happens Magazine

 September is truly filled with magic! Thank you for reading, sharing and supporting our merry band of thinkers!

Annette Rochelle Aben, Editor The Magic Happens Magazine