Home Fran    Walker In The      Kitchen In The Garden Around New Zealand At The Keyboard Online Forum L-J Baker

I write and edit:

♀♀  Short stories

♀♀  Flash fiction

♀♀  Erotica

♀♀  Non-fiction

♀♀  Anthologies



     I write fantasy, science fiction, horror, erotica, and contemporary fiction, and I have a particular fondness for the short story form.  Many of my stories feature lesbian characters. If you'd like to see examples of my fiction, scroll down the page.


     I edit the annual Year's Best Lesbian Fiction anthology.  If you run across a published lesbian short story that you enjoy, please email me the information (title, author, publication venue) so I can consider it for next year's volume.            


     I'm a moderator at the Lesbian Fiction Forum, where I maintain a Market List of current calls for submissions for lesbian, lesbian-friendly, and feminist short stories, novels, and non-fiction.  I'm also one of the forum's author-advocates -- we offer advice about contracts and publishers, and we run a critiquing workshop.  We also talk about lesbian novels, the craft of writing, the world of publishing, and the world in general. Come on over and join us, or email me if you have a specific question or problem.



Edited Anthologies

 Year's Best Lesbian Fiction 2008 (Bedazzled Ink Publishing, 2009)

     A collection of contemporary, literary, and genre short stories, featuring works by Andi Marquette, Dejay, Kathleen Bradean, Lois C Hart, M Christian, Mary Douglas, Mary A Turzillo, Meg White, Melissa Scott, Ovidia Yu, Renee Strider, Sandra Barret, and Tracy Shellito.



 Lavender Ink: Writing and Selling Lesbian Fiction (Bedazzled Ink Publishing, 2009)

     Authors and editors Andi Marquette, Nann Dunne, L-J Baker, Sacchi Green, and Fran Walker discuss everything from point-of-view to setting and pacing, talk about how to write sex scenes, pick apart punctuation and sentence structure, and explain how to read and negotiate a publishing contract.

 The Transplanted Writer (Women and Words, 2008)  FREE TO READ ONLINE

     Each city has its own unique smell. Each culture has its own cuisine, customs, fashions, and limitations on personal space. Its own vocabulary. Words are defined through a different frame of reference and carry a different set of baggage.  Having a new country smack you over the head with all its differences makes you as a writer more aware, more observant, and more descriptive.



 First Love (Fickle Muses, 2009)  FREE TO READ ONLINE

     Now my cousin is dead, and his children long since moved away to Nemia, Thebes, Sparta, Macedon. His widow has gone back to her own family. I am alone. I have no dreams of a husband or fine clothes or servants of my own.  But I find myself dreaming of love. Of being loved.

  Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness (Khimairal Ink, 2009) FREE TO READ ONLINE

     Ahead pulsed one of the blood vessels that provided nutrients for the tumour cells. Now it offered an escape route. The other tumour cells cringed back, calling Mel and Lana traitors, deviants, perverts, as the pair edged past.

 Look But Don't Touch (Three Crows Press, 2009) EROTICA/FREE TO READ ONLINE

     The sun sets over Mount Ruapehu. The roof timbers of my house start creaking, and I shudder. They sound like old bones, or like fingernails clawing against a locked door. As the kitchen darkens, I lick my lips and let myself remember the lovers in my past.

 Between Desire and the Sun Gold Sea (Circlet Press, 2009) EROTICA/FREE TO READ ONLINE

     Aihe pressed her forehead to mine and whispered something. I watched as her face and body changed, and felt my own changing in tandem. Nostrils and breasts and shoulders became a blowhole, mammary slits, a half-moon dorsal fin.

 Halfway There (Read These Lips: Second Helpings, 2008) FREE TO READ ONLINE

     Yvonne paused, letting the waves slosh over her calves. What was happy? She remembered her mother’s joyous weeping at Yvonne’s wedding; her husband Geoffrey’s beaming face when Yvonne announced her pregnancy; their daughter Raewyn bouncing and shrieking when she was offered that high-powered job in London. Why were all her memories of other people’s happiness?

Communion (Khimairal Ink, 2008) FREE TO READ ONLINE

     A calendar lay on the kitchen floor. Sharon picked it up and traced a finger across the red crosses Gran used to mark each time she'd taken Communion. Take this, all of you, and eat of it: this is My body. Sharon shivered, remembering her childhood revulsion at seeing her grandmother eat the white wafers containing the two thousand year old dead God's flesh. The Mass's jumbled litany of sit, stand, kneel, stand, kneel had instilled no reverence, just the false hope that if Sharon prayed hard enough, Gran's God would send her a sister or brother.

Wellington Nights (Girl Crazy, ed. Sacchi Green; Cleis Press, 2009) EROTICA

    "It’s okay to just sit here and continue our conversation, if you like," Natasha said, switching on a lamp near the bed. "We don’t have to—"

   I must have gaped at her like an idiot. She smiled, moved closer, and bent her head. Her lips touched mine. Her strong hand settled at my waist.

 Reflections (Chilling Tales, ed. Patti Henderson; P D Publishing 2008)

     Caroline got up. A baleful moon showed no Veronica, no car in the driveway, nothing. Just the old house, its walls furred with some kind of feathery-leaved ivy. The raw edges of its smashed windows glittered silver and black. Then clouds scudded across the sky, obscuring all but a few edges of moonlight.



 Sweet Dreams (Arkham Tales, 2010) FREE TO READ ONLINE

     Julia strolled across the fresh-cropped lawn. Her dress was cut low enough to display a curving bosom. Rosy lips with a similar curve begged to be kissed. For a moment, her blue eyes seemed to darken to green, and her blonde curls shimmered with a silvery light. I wanted to scream aloud.

     It was too late. The death-woman had shown her face.

 Till Death (Women of the Bite, ed. Cecilia Tan; Alyson Books, October 2009) EROTICA

     Just as I slid up and snapped her neck, a dozen or more security guards came into the auditorium and turned on the stage lights. What I’d thought was a wall were the stage curtains, which rose to expose me stark naked with a corpse in my arms. All that was missing was an orchestra playing a fanfare.


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