I admit I’m not an expert in the field of zombie stories, but I’ve got to think Maureen McHugh’s The Naturalist is a really outstanding example.
For those of you who mow the lawn with self-propelled push mowers, here’s a little learning I had last night…when the self-propeller dies, those things are a pain in the tush to use. Yes, I passed up a trip to the gym yesterday after work in order to take advantage of the weather and cut the grass. I was actually bemoaning the fact that I wouldn’t get a full workout in, but the fates apparently listened. An hour’s work pushing along a 9,000-ton piece of equipment can totally kick your butt.
I know, my life is tough.
Progress:
I’m coming to the end of this little dalliance of mine to clean up my pilot sub-story–at least I’m coming to the end of this pass at it, anyway. I’m liking how the characters are working, but my spider-sense is tingling and I’m thinking I’ll need a later pass at it to make the rest of its message resonate at the book’s scope. Bottom line at this point is that I’m feeling myself learn again–which is great. Attempting to pull this bit into a stand-alone short story was a great decision, regardless of whether it ends up fully working or not.