Author Archives: Mike Schulenberg

The Hidden Dance World

Except for The Dresden Files and the first Twilight book, which I reviewed here, I haven’t read much urban fantasy.  Not out of any dislike of the genre–it’s just how my reading habits have unfolded over the years.

But I think I have a sense of the genre’s possibilities.

I’ve also never seen any dance films like those exemplified by the Step Up series.  But after seeing a number of movie trailers, reading various capsule reviews, and consulting learned scholars, I’ve realized something…

Urban fantasy fiction and dance films have a lot in common.

They both tend to depict a hidden world coexisting with our own, where rival factions battle each other for supremacy.  In one such world, ancient vampire clans wage war against tribes of shaggy werewolves, armed with guns, fangs, and angst.  In another, rival dance gangs prowl the streets in flashy shoes, their pounding boomboxes and “mad whack” moves leaving swaths of humiliation and ruin.

What could be more natural than to fuse these two familiar genres into something new?

Something like urban dance fantasy…

*     *     *

Ella Swain hesitated outside the alley.  The darkness within stretched like a chasm between her and the lonely light flickering over the battered metal door at the far end.

I guess it’s one of those underground dance clubs or something.

She shrugged and let the darkness of the alley devour her.  Her heels click-clacked on the pavement.  Her fingertips grazed the rough brick on either side, guiding her–reassuring her–as she drew near the light and the door.

The shadows swirled and shifted, and a man flowed out of the darkness to stand in the light before her, blocking the door.  He held a black cloak about him so that only his face was visible, impassive and pale, cold and beautiful and glowing like chiseled moonstone.

“W-who are you?” Ella asked.

“Ah…you are beautiful,”  he said, his voice as soft as the whisper of half-remembered dreams.  “Come closer, my dear.  Let me drink you.”

“Uh…excuse me?”

“Who better to slake the thirst of my loneliness?”

“Yeah, well…I don’t think so.”

Ella turned back the way she came.  The man chased after her in a rustle of cloth, a swift and hungering presence that threatened to quickly overtake her.

She sprinted toward the street, the click-clack of her heels echoing like machine gun fire.

When she emerged from the alley, something caught her ankle and tripped her.  Falling forward, scraping elbows and knees, she cast a frightened glance behind her.

Close now, the man in the black cloak grinned in wicked triumph.

She tried to push herself to her feet, but a firm hand held her down.  “Relax, lassie.  I’ll take care o’ him.”

“Did you just trip me?” Ella asked.

At first she thought the newcomer was a young boy because of his stature, but his thick red beard betrayed a wild and rugged manliness.  He wore a tailored green suit with wide lapels and a giant clover thrust through one of the button-holes.  Light from the streetlamp gleamed in the golden buckles adorning his green hat and black, polished shoes.

She blinked in disbelief.  “Did you know you’re a leprechaun or something?”

The leprechaun winked and turned to face her pursuer.

“You.”  The man halted, his cloak settling around him.  “You defy the ancient Vampire-Leprechaun compact?  For her?”

“Aye,” the leprechaun said.

The vampire sneered.  “Then you know this must be resolved in accordance with the old ways?”

“I do.”  The leprechaun’s grin sparkled like a mouthful of good luck charms.

“So be it.”

Sweeping his cloak behind him with pale, delicate hands, the vampire dropped into a crouch, fangs bared and a low growl in his throat.  The leprechaun folded his arms across his chest in disdain.

image via umnet

The vampire surged forward.  He leaped and spun around the impassive leprechaun, cape flapping like the wings of a great, angst-consumed bat, a whirlwind of intricate dance moves that mesmerized Ella with a fluttering magnificence the likes of which she had never seen.

When he finished, the vampire drew back behind his cloak.  “Do you despair before the ultimate power of my moves?”

“Och!  My buckled dancing shoes’ll speak for me, they will.”  The leprechaun erupted into a frenzy of traditional stepdancing, his feet moving in blurs of black and gold, scattering bits of newspaper like dried leaves blowing in a storm.

Cowering in the face of the leprechaun’s fury, the winds of the dance buffeting him, the vampire tried to shield himself with his hands.  The leprechaun’s feet began to glow.  A rainbow lashed outward in a tongue of multicolored fire, searing through his enemy’s flesh.

The vampire shrieked and dispersed in a cloud of mist and bats that flapped away in wide-eyed terror.

Ella had to force herself to start breathing again.  The leprechaun took her hand, his touch gentle and electric.

“And now, my dear, come with me,” he said.  “Fancy a bit o’ dancing?”

“I…think I’ve had enough of dancing for tonight,” Ella said.  “How about some dinner instead?”

“Fine, fine…I know a place that serves fantastic leprechaun food…”

image via Aquarian Bath

*     *     *

Is “urban dance fantasy” a vast new market waiting to be tapped?  Any other genre mash-ups out there waiting to be unleashed?  Perhaps romantic horror…

“Oh, no!  A creature from another dimension is stalking us one by one!  I think I love her…”

Lather: The Twinkle Jackson Story – A Round-Robin Tale, Chapter Two

image via Laird Sapir

Last year, some of my writer friends banded together to fight crime take turns writing an epic saga, The Octopus Knows.  Each writer contributed a chapter on their blog, and together they discovered a harrowing drama replete with mystery and glittering pageantry.

My academic obligations prevented me from participating at the time, so I missed out on the fun.  Now everyone is collaborating on another story, and this time I’m able to contribute.

As the universe itself is a rather structured place, it follows certain rules.  This narrative effort is no different:

1) each writer must pick up the story where the last person left off and continue it on their own blog, and

2) provide a link back to the person who wrote the entry before theirs as well as a link at the end of their chapter directing readers to the next person on the list.

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Random Thought of the Day

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Lao-Tzu

Since going back to college, I haven’t had as much time to write as I would like.  I take a notebook with me to school, and during idle moments before and between classes, I write what I can.  Over time, it’s added up to quite a bit of raw material that’s worth revising, including six short stories I want to release as a collection.

But finding the time to revise all this material has been another matter, since it’s not as easy as whipping out a notebook in whatever location I happen to be at the time.  I need, like, a desk and my computer and ceramic wizard and stuff.

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The Next Big Thing: My Turn

And so I reach forth to summon my blog from the Beyond, where it has languished for too long in silent obscurity:

Earlier this month, the generally excellent Ellen Gregory tagged me in one of those blog things where people tag each other and stuff.  I had been searching through dusty tomes of arcane lore seeking powerful knowledge with which to resurrect my blog, but the tag thing promises to be much easier.

It’s called The Next Big Thing–a vehicle in which we are to answer ten questions regarding our current writing projects, such as…

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There’s Something a Myth: Psyche and Cupid

image via SodaHead

Recently in my college English class, the instructor gave us an assignment: write an explanation of who Psyche is in mythology and turn it in for extra credit.  Since mythology and extra credit are like the chocolate and peanut butter of the academic world, I availed myself of the opportunity.

After surveying my handiwork, I realized the content would be a pretty good fit for this blog.  My current fiction projects draw inspiration from mythology in general–Chinese and Norse mythology in particular.  Exploring the timeless tales of heroes and gods seems like a good use of Writer Time™.

After all, what would these ancient stories be without the realms of perilous wonder in which they take place?

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The Algebra of the Damned

Where does the time go?

When last we journeyed through realms of perilous wonder, I unveiled my mad scheme to go back to college and get a degree.  This summer I turned mad scheme into bold action, taking not just one, but x+5=7 algebra classes.

Each class condensed a semester’s worth of knowledge into a five-week period.  While I was able to keep up with some fiction writing beneath that workload, unfortunately the blog languished this summer.

It’s the 21st century.  Why can we not implant knowledge directly into our brains, Matrix-style?

Me:  Whoa…I know algebra!

Master Algebragician: Show me.

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I Was a Middle-Aged College Student…

I is a College Student (image via zazzle.com)

…except by “was,” I mean “am.” Starting next week, I will become something I once was, for a brief time, and never thought I would be again.

A college student.

Sometimes our journey through life is a placid river voyage, with serene waters to guide us, and gentle changes in direction that are visible long before we approach.

Other times it is a blind rush through tangled undergrowth, thorns tearing at our flesh, while scavengers stalk us from the shadows, lured by the scent of blood dripping from wounded dreams.

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The Versatile Blogger Award: My Turn

When the incomparable Tami Clayton tagged me for the game that spawned These Questions Three, she also nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award.  As with the Liebster Blog Award, rules must be followed so that interdimensional beings do not awaken and devour our world:

  • Thank the person who nominated me.

Thanks, Tami!

  • Include a link to his/her blog.

The astute blog visitor will notice I already linked to her blog when I thanked her.  I’m efficient like that.  You should see my sock drawer–there are also pants in there.  If I need socks, chances are I probably need pants, too.

Dark Wings of Mister Flappy

In the tradition of the recently-renamed Curse of the Devil-Possum–now with provocative photo illustration–comes another horrifying tale of an invader from another world.  Read on, gentle blog visitor…

image via The Cimmerian

One Saturday afternoon I sat in my office at work, toiling at my desk.  Out in the hallway, a thing darted through the air past my door.

I looked up.  What was that?  Some kind of flying organism?

But having work I wanted to finish before going home, I shoved my curiosity aside and began toiling once more.  And once more, the Thing in the Hallway™ darted past my door, this time in the other direction.

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These Questions Three

Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.

-Bridgekeeper, Monty Python and the Holy Grail

image via tvtropes.org

Okay, so really it’s more like “these questions eleven” than “these questions three.”  And instead of a mystical bridgekeeper with wild hair and skin in desperate need of a soothing ointment, we have the delightful and always-pleasant Tami Clayton, who was kind enough to think of me when it was her turn to tag people for some sort of question-themed blog game.

But I couldn’t pass up a chance to deploy a Monty Python and the Holy Grail reference, now could I?

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