Since I started this game, I've been fortunate to meet some really amazing, friendly, and supportive authors. Kendall Bailey is one of those folks. We hit it off right away.
It's a tough reality that we can't always do everything for our fellow writers that we would like. Happily, Kendall's and my stars aligned, and today he's stopping by to share a little bit about his new novelette, Sled Dogs, as well as his journey into writing a female protagonist.
Without further ado, I give you Kendall Bailey.
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I'm a little ashamed
to say that I spent the first thirty years of my life not being interested in
books with female protagonists. Only three stand out: Diary & Invisible
Monster, both by Chuck Palahniuk and Carrie by Stephen King. Then I wrote a novel.
Writer's hear, far
too often, how important it is to build a solid writing platform. In my effort
to do that I found many indie authors, all women, who wrote stories with
incredible ladies leading the way. In my search for an agent I discovered Red
sofa Literary Agency, specifically Laura Zats. It was Ms. Zats who introduced
me to the
Mako Mori and
Bechdel tests (if you don't know what they are, Google
'em!) which changed the way I approached writing characters.
I wanted to write a
story with a strong female lead. Sled Dogs was an exercise, or warm up, for my
2nd novel which involves a woman investigating an attack on her daughter. I
liked the result so much I decided to publish it.
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The furry mass
appeared on the opposite river bank. They sped down one side, straight through
the water, and up the other without breaking pace.
"Come on boy!
Come on!"
When the dogs were
about fifty yards away Alia noticed the red stains around their mouths. Each
dog's white underbelly was tinted pink, from this distance it looked like
they'd done a sloppy job applying lipstick. Alia stifled a laugh at the image.
They were moving too
fast and frantically to tell who was who. As they approached Alia squinted with
concentration, trying to tell them apart. The dog at the head of the pack made
a desperate full-speed grab at Alia’s left ankle. The dog lost its footing and
went tumbling past.
The next one made
the same attempt and succeeded in tearing out a small chunk of skin. Alia
gasped and fell backwards into the kennel. The rest of the pack was moving too
fast to adjust course and ran right past.
It felt like someone
had poured molten iron over her leg. She scrambled to her feet and slammed the
kennel gate closed, locking herself inside.
The pack came back
to the gate. Dogs pressed their noses through the holes and sniffed loudly,
lapping their tongues at nothing but air. Others stood back and bared their
fangs; the fur on their necks bristling. Low, guttural, growls rumbled in their
throats. Their eyes weren't the same, Alia saw; there was madness in them.
I need to keep them
here. They can’t get to me and if I keep them here they won’t get Dad or those
nice people.
Alia stood as best
she could, being careful to keep weight off her left leg. The view wasn’t great
from inside the kennel but there was no sign of her dad or the tourists. She
did notice Chicago, however. He was going berserk. Throwing his weight from side
to side, jumping around, doing anything he could to get free of the harness.
Alia wasn’t sure if
he meant to help her or hurt her. He'd been friendly with the tourists.
If he tries to help
me the others will…
