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Flash: Caution: Storm Warning

Caution: Storm Warning

You Can’t Just Storm In Here, Storm Out There

The face of Golfball. A haggard-looking man with a limp Mohawk.

There’s a definite scent to the air that spells rain. A breeze in the air holds a hint of the weather. Dark purpled clouds are building to giants. A soft distant rumble echoes through the streets from afar.

Nobody looks, nobody watches, as the clouds slowly part as if ignoring the wind. The break in their darkness, a quick sliver of light, pierces through dust and etches a trail. The streaming band of light settles on a plant. A tiny little sapling, still mostly green, perks up at the touch. It noticeably rises.

A young woman’s fingertips brush at the fledgling tree’s leaves. She crouches and settles to sit on her heels. She smiles, showing missing teeth, as she hums a slow tune.

“Funny that. How you stop for every bit of green.” A haggardly man, hands shoved in his pockets, stops walking to lean and rest on a lightpost. He closes his eyes and shifts to find comfort. He reaches up with a yawn and brushes aside blue strands of a limp Mohawk. Twin tattoos, on either side of his head, display a smiley-face with an expression that is largely ambivalent.

The woman glances up while continuing her wordless song. She shrugs, smiles wider, and looks back to the plant. Callused fingers snap away bits of unwanted growth and pull off dead leaves from the tender branches.

“I mean, not that I mind, really. It’s pleasant, watching you do what you enjoy. And shit, better than some hobbies out there. At least you do it cause you care.” The man keeps his eyes closed. He seems nearly-liquid against the post. Melting against the pole as if trying to become a part of its surface.

The two remain in their chosen positions as if momentarily frozen in place. Minutes pass. Five. Ten. Both are engrossed by each and every moment. They are not feverishly busy. They are the opposite. They are lost in calm focus. They’re not the stillness of statues but the peace of calm sleep.

The young woman stirs and pets the tree and reaches into her purse. She pulls out a bottle of water and unscrews its cap. She waters the little plant. “What’s for dinner, Golfball?”

“Hmm.” The gaunt man rubs his face. His hands, even bonier than the rest of him, pop at the knuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “Pizza, maybe?”

She nods, capping the water bottle, and stands with a breathy yawn. “Okay.” Her purse clicks as the clasp closes. “Where to?”

Above them, far above, the clouds shift and swirl. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the shaft of light disappears. The gap in the overcast shrinks like a healing wound. A uniform gray covers them once more. The day returns to its early partial-twilight.

Golfball gestures with a wobbling jut of his chin. “Down this way. A good enough place just round the corner.”

They walk together without looking companionable. The young woman keeps her arms crossed. She’s leaning, ever-so-slightly, away from her acquaintance’s jutting elbows. Her eyelids drift shut, occasionally, for longer than a blink. Dark circles carve extra shadow beneath her eyes and her shoulders droop. “I really need to eat.”

“Stay calm, Erin. We’re almost there.” Golfball walks like a praying mantis might. If it were on two legs and learned to swagger. His knees are skewed outward and his gait is a lazy lope of rocking from heel to toe. He looks like he should fall with every step, but somehow his next step manages to catch his fall.

Erin’s skin has gone pale. Paler than before. It takes on a bluish tint. “Better be good pizza.”

Around the corner, they stop. The sidewalk is blocked by a squat older man. He’s in overalls and a red shirt and a pair of combat boots. He has a handlebar mustache that’s as wide as his face. “Erin.”

“Shit.” Golfball grunts. “This that asshole you talked about?”

“Ethan, now is not great.”

“Never seems to be great, eh? Now, does it ever? Now will do as ever.” The squat man’s face is too-red and his hair is too-orange. “But if you’d just come along we wouldn’t have this arguing. Get away with you, punk. We need to be going.”

“She needs some food,” says Golfball. He scowls. His pointed-chin juts forward. His wrinkling nose waggles a septum piercing. “I’m doubting you’d want any of the shit I got stored up for hapless idiots.”

“Oh please, boy-o. You’re a spot of loose skin, aren’t you? Get away and quit you’re playing at protector. This here is between me an Erin.”

She slips a trembling hand around Golfball’s wrist. She grips as hard as she can, and the bit of red still left presses from her fingers. “Don’t. You’ve been so good. We’ve done so good.”

“Well you ain’t going with him,” grumbles the punk. He pulls out of Erin’s grip. He whips his hair back. The Mohawk keeps drifting into his eyes. Strands of blue get caught in his piercings, little silver rings in his brows, and he brushes them back yet again. “You hear? She’s not going with you. Not now. Not ever.” He leans forward. His shoulders draw up. His posture arcs into a grotesque hunch. “And she needs. To eat.”

Ethan studies the two with a sudden questioning raise of his brows. He makes a small, “Ah!” And then he begins to tut. “So that’s what’s going on here. Bit of symbiosis, is it? You two. She heals…” He waves his hand sloppily. “Whatever it is that ails you, and you act a bit as the bodyguard? Cute.” He snaps his fingers over one shoulder. “Jasper. Danny.”

There’s the sound of doors opening. A nearby car, deep blue, sits at the throat of an alleyway.

“Ethan, this is more than just me and him.” Erin hugs herself. She glances down the street. Toward the pizza place just a few buildings away. “If you don’t let me eat, I can’t hold him anymore.”

“Hold him? Girly. He don’t deserve you’re attentions. Let him rot and come home. We’ve missed you.”

Two toughs walk from the parked car. They’re big bulky men with waists as wide as their shoulders and necks that try to match. “Ethe, there’s a few eyes on us, just to say.” One of the two thumbs toward a second-story window. Blinds close in a rush.

“Well, fuck it all,” says the red-head. He raises his chin. Looks down his crooked-nose at Golfball. “But that ain’t gonna stop us from making this difficult. You don’t play nice, well I suppose you’ll have witnesses to your failure.”

Erin moans, soft and restrained, before falling forward.

Golfball catches her, helps her to her knees. “You okay? Fuck, but you and your plants.”

The young woman smiles despite her moment of weakness. “It will grow so well. So big.”

“Well I can feel the bones again now. I take it you’re done then?”

She nods. “For now.” Sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Ethan gestures toward Golfball. “Alright gents, take this skinny bother out and away will you? Just give him a quick little nap. Erin’s not feeling well so we’ll be needing a fast exit.”

“Fuck,” grumbles the punk. His hunched form begins to hunch more. His head droops, wobbles, and then drops forward. “Hate this shit.”

“Giving up already?” One of the toughs walks up to Golfball with a laugh. He clicks his tongue. “Jasp, maybe it’ll be we just have to carry some dead weight.”

Golfball’s legs straighten. And their knees pop. And then they bend backwards with a wet slurping sound.

The closest henchman, Danny, jumps backward. “Oh! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

“What the fuck?” asks Jasper. He’s stopped in his tracks.

“This shit?” says Ethan. “You found some crazy like this?” He glares at Erin. “What the fuck did you do?”

Erin, still resting on her knees, struggles to raise her head. “Some wounds don’t heal. You know that.” She glances at Golfball. “Some infections can only be held at bay.”

The punk falls completely forward. His hands slap against the pavement, but his wrists rotate too far around. A full one-eighty and yet the fingers splay out with more sickening crackling joints. He’s become some kind of insect with his abdomen held low to the ground and elbows and knees pointed at the sky. His head hangs loosely with the Mohawk dragging on the pavement.

Golfball’s back arches. His shoulders are horrendously distended beneath a patchwork jacket of green. They’re like wide plates pointed at the two men. As if that’s the eyes of this creature. He, it, whatever, has a full-body spasm. A twitch. It jerks to the right. Toward Jasper.

“Shoot the fucker!” yells Ethan.

Jasper pulls out some generic semi-automatic pistol. He untucks it from its shoulder-holster, flicks the safety off, and squeezes the trigger in one fluid draw.

The gunshot rings as the twisted-version of Golfball skitters forward. Skitters with the slick fluidity of water across a hot pan. It moves as if its merely gliding at its foe.

Blood spatters as one, two, and then three bullets hit the strange punk-form’s body.

It does nothing to slow its attack.

Jasper goes down in a crunch of broken bone and ripping flesh. Something, something deep down within the tough’s chest, makes a loud crack and blood spurts out into the street.

“Where’s you’re fucking gun?” asks Ethan.

Danny’s hands are trembling to open a knife. “Couldn’t. Fucking. Buy one!”

And then his scream rises as Golfball leaps ten feet from one dead body to the next.

Ethan runs. He turns without another word. He heads for the alleyway with the dark-blue car and he even gets in the seat.

Then the hood of the car crumples. Bone-tipped fingers pierce the metal skin. The front window shatters. A not-quite hand rips Ethan from his seat.

He arcs across the road and smacks wetly against the side of an old brick building. Bits of paint fleck off. A few bricks crack. And then the body unsticks and drops down below.

Erin sobs. She clenches her fists. She doesn’t look up to see what’s happened.

Golfball’s bent and twisted form gallops down the road.

Gritting her teeth, summoning her strength, Erin pushes to her feet. She stumbles to grab the side of the closest building. She uses it’s aid to get her down the sidewalk.

Step by slow-shuddering step, she makes her way for pizza.

The owners are outside. They’ve all run to see. They’re calling for help from ambulances and the police.

A little bell tinkles as she pushes through the door. Erin sighs with relief at the sight of displays with ready-made slices. She leans over the counter, grabs one and devours it in just a few bites.

She takes a little more time with the second piece. By the third, she’s taken a seat.

Again, the little bell tinkles as someone pushes through the door.

Click. Click. Click. “Hello.” Click. A woman’s bootheels click. “There have been reports of a strange creature here.” Her words are like the dryness at the back of a nervous throat. Every syllable is clear and crisp.

She takes a seat at Erin’s booth.

“Who are you?” asks the young-woman.

The other smiles without showing her teeth. “My name is Valerie Knox. I need you to tell me where he is.”

“You aren’t getting him either.” Erin shakes her head. “There’s a storm coming, and none of you have earned that right. Don’t you know? He’s got no power. He’s just a victim of chance.”

“Tell me, creature. How do you feel about Florida?”

“What?”

Valerie chuckles. “He will find you again. I am sure of that.”

Erin, suddenly wide-eyed, pushes up from the table. She turns to run with a muttered curse.

She’s stopped in her tracks at a touch. Something like the buzz of electricity fills the small pizza-shop’s room. Erin’s eyes close and she grits her teeth. All she seems to do is strain.

Valerie’s hand settles on Erin’s shoulder. Tattoos of bright blue glow to life. They’re in the shape of some stick-figure people. The delicate lines begin to blur. “You will be a help.”

Erin collapses to the floor.

Flash: The Rising Cost of Automatons

Taendragor Ends Trade Negotiations with Galania

Nosson's skyline.

Business leaders pressured government trade representatives to halt crucial talks.

Breysa Eyon introduced an international petition against discussions aimed at new international treaties. The Eyon Industries CEO and Taendragonian powerhouse of netwabi production brought all talks to a standstill. A delegation of company leaders met in secret over several months to organize the movement. Their message focuses on spirit use and sustained interaction with the gods. Supporters implore resistance toward government intervention and spirit-directed treaties.

Officials granted the industry giant a visit to the trade conference after weeks of delay. Attendants within the meetings cited a concern about bribery and corruption. However, it seems that curiosity won out as the conference leaders allowed the visit.

As usual, Ms. Eyon attended in the latest fashions and with her personal bodyguard. This time, her oft-seen party-crazed tabloid persona was noticeably absent. Instead the young woman presented herself with a stern grace more-reminiscent of her departed mother. Without more than a stilted curtsy, Ms. Eyon presented a signed statement with approximately 150000 signatures. The statement was co-signed by twelve partnering spirit-tech CEOs. Additional signatures were from community leaders across the Taendragor continent. An infodisc, reportedly containing an additional million signatures, was said to represent “additional peoples of Nalan that choose to resist unrepresented choices toward a dark future.”

Delegates from every kingdom, nation, and state-entity were at the negotiations. The visit initially garnered intense scrutiny for its interruption of international politics. However, Ms. Eyon’s position in the market has left an expectant caution toward her presence and the petition’s demands. Analysts discussed the possibility of shared technology agreements that could arise from forced alliances. The petition may be a perfect catalyst for the change long-desired by private-sector markets. However the results fall, industry experts warn that this power-play has begun a larger movement to negotiate directly with world governments. Eyon Industries may be positioning itself toward a takeover unseen in recent history.

From the Company to the World

The Automaton Doctrine, an Eyon Industries internal policy, provides much of the groundwork for Ms. Eyon’s petition. Many tenants are pulled straight from pages of company guidelines. Normally, the doctrine’s audience is intended for participants of high-level acquisition decisions. The Automaton Doctrine sets her political beliefs as a matter of company policy. Every employee attends mandatory training on Spirit Singing and its dangers. Weekly regional briefs include an overview of regional gods and cultural foci.

These company policies have been examined and ridiculed before. Opponents state that the training is useless and dangerously biased. Others feel as if the practice is understandable though a little heavy-handed. Ms. Eyon maintains that the training is crucial for a company environment so steeped in the use of Spirit power. For safety or not, Ms. Eyon is a well-known proponent for open-spirit laws. Her policies have been used to make notable progress against Taendragor’s restrictive practices.

Now, that policy has been rewritten into demands toward an international audience. The petition is outlined in a prioritized list with the following sections of argument:

  • A restriction of government interference in all matters of Spirit.
  • A call for the immediate and complete deconstruction of any wards and netwabi that trap, limit, or otherwise influence the gods.
  • Limit, or end entirely, any practice that knowingly redirects worship toward mortal deification.
  • Destroy any records of true-names, god-names, or Aldyati.
  • Consolidate idolized imagery into one of the four elder gods.

The Cost of Automatons

Outside of Eyon Industries, the largest contributors to the petition are well-known Automaton manufacturers. This has been identified as a key reason for the sudden intervention. Technological limitations have kept Automaton development stagnant for years, and the proclamation of true automation still seems ages away. Researchers have been complaining about restrictive legislation for years, even outside of Taendragonian borders. There is little public research that reveals how legislation has limited the Automaton developers, but recent polls show that popular support is on the rise for deregulation on Spirit Singing.

Advanced Automaton models seem more than capable to serve as household assistants and constant workhouse aides, but the cost of such devices has hardly diminished over time. Netwabi-borne machinery has been developed for the better part of a millennia in most developed state-entities. Despite this, critics argue that their functionality is mostly refined rather than improved. Miniaturization has led to advances in the number of functions available to customers, but these gains are incremental rather than transformational.

These claims, and topics, were discussed in earnest in a little-seen interview with Ms. Eyon several months prior to the meeting. She stated that “…transformation will only arrive when we let go of these power-hungry caches that we have developed. Everyone has them now. Has had them for ages, I suppose. They have to go.”

Ms. Eyon’s opinion on the matter seems to have grown more serious. She left the trade meeting after this brief speech: “I know that you think of me as something of a fluke. I take it, from your rather shocked expressions, that I have surprised you with this bit of seriousness. But let me be clear. We need to change. And I will no longer idle away my time waiting for government to reach the conclusions that we must all arrive upon. Nalan will die if we do not release our control on Spirit. The world needs the gods returned to their natural state. This petition guarantees that.”

Shock and Ambivalence

Galanian Counselor, Deffar Eyresia, disagreed with the intent of the petition and its source. “Breysa Eyon is well-respected for her company’s contributions to the world, but we are not beholden to her whims and beliefs. International law is no place for profit-minded decisions, and the spiritual nature of these demands is an affront to the multitude of religions we represent as an international consortium.”

Counselor Eyresia has been a long-time defender of religious freedoms and has rejected 90% of all bills brought before the Galanian Council on religion. Galania is also home to the world’s leading research institution on netwabi development. There seems little chance that the Galanian Union will capitulate to Ms. Eyon’s demands. It is, as of yet, uncertain as to how the young CEO plans to enact her proposal. Eyon devices are fashionable and well-loved by fans of the company, but Galania markets account for less than 5% of Eyon profits.

Taendragonian leaders were unavailable for a statement on this developing situation.

 

Reporting by Lefon Anterah
Nosson Journal

Review: Grimbargo by Laura Morrison

The text Grimbargo and Laura Morrison
Grimbargo by Laura Morrison, cover cropped

‘Jackie’s theory was that a lot of deep thought was the result of pondering death and the meaning of life, and that post-Greywash there was just no urgency anymore to explore those topics, so people just shoved those musings to the back of their brains to rot.’ – Jackie (Laura Morrison, Grimbargo)

Grimbargo is a sci-fi thriller murder-mystery in a world without death. I mean, mostly without death. You see, there’s been one of those: A death. For the first time in over a decade.

Weird, right? Could you imagine what would happen if nobody could die? For years? Years upon years? Well, Laura Morrison does just that. In fact, it’s the core premise that drives this book and many of its characters’ actions. The Greywash, a worldwide nanotech event, has rendered everyone immortal.

As Jackie points out above, the lack of mortality changes things in a world that no longer fears time. Injuries, even death, are just healed away. However, Grimbargo focuses on the aftermath rather than the event itself. Throughout society, people have fallen into a stagnant philosophical pond of meaninglessness. It’s only been a decade, but culture is already starting to get weird. Groups form to test different methods of suicide. The religious struggle to figure out which apocalypse happened to who. Killing a bad driver is almost acceptable. Eating, breathing, and sleeping become frivolous luxury.

Yet this is just background. The world is set, described, and put in motion within the first dozen pages. Plot gallops forward after that friendly hello with world building. One thing is clear from the start, this book will not be boring. Setting, characters, and plot weave together in a frantic rush toward secret plans and frantic escapes. The wild-ride of Saturday-Morning doomsdays pays enough attention to reality to toy with fantastical ideas, but the story lets fun triumph over hard-science. After enough twists, turns, and deaths to paint a maze red with blood, Laura Morrison leads readers to a satisfying ending of farce sprinkled with depth.

Characters

Jackie Savage, on a reporting job, is doing a fluff piece on how people feel about the anniversary of the Greywash. She’s a sarcastic sort, and starts with a glib air toward her fellow undying. Jackie shows herself to be sarcastic, stubborn, brave, and impulsive with a core of distrust and fear of losing control. Most of her actions seem driven by rejecting greater responsibility, and throughout the story she seems to struggle with sincerity to avoid self-reflection. Jackie’s arc consists of accepting a place in larger schemes and surrendering to events outside of her control.

The face of a woman in a nun's outfit.
Grimbargo Cover Art

Docent Jamie Nguyen is introduced giving a tour inside the Women’s Institute of Sciences and Technology (WIST). Risk-averse and rules-minded, Jamie develops as a strong opposite to Jackie’s flippancy while maintaining strength in self-confidence and logic. She lived with WIST her entire life and indoctrination shows in her actions and mannerisms. Pleasantly, Jamie gets a breath of freedom as the story progresses which leads to entertaining fish-out-water moments along with lovely long-term growth. There’s a solid arc leading from timidity toward authority figures to the sensible questioning of even the most well-regarded leaders.

Readers meet most of the cast within a few dozen pages at a more-than-manageable pace. Each of the characters stand-out without having to wonder who they were. The important individuals certainly stick in the mind. Morrison crafts voices that are comfortably distinct per person. However, only the main villain, Lady Airth, is truly unique in tone. She felt like the strongest presence throughout the book. Others, such as suicide-club leader Trigger or WIST conspirator Lady Morse, seem diminished by unfulfilled potential. A reoccurring element of the characters is that they are nearly entirely defined by their actions. Though a strong element of character development, it leads to well-defined individuals only if they have time on-page. The less-seen characters might have benefited from an extra jolt of additional sensory elements.

Plot

The recipe for Grimbargo is not going to take anyone by surprise. Two ordinary folks are caught in a murder mystery that reveals a worldwide conspiracy. However, the roads that lead from start to finish are fun and the scenery is pleasant. The driver, Morrison, enjoys taking both shortcuts and the scenic route. She routinely throws characters into awkward absurdity at their expense but lets that absurdity lead to a splendid cold-storage location for medical samples. Many similar moments were happy detours into silliness and lighthearted philosophical ranting.

Yes, sometimes the plot took a break and got a drink in a bar down in some back-alley locals’ place. At one point, this results in a hilarious discussion about cold-blooded animals that does little to progress the story. But, as stated before, the author seems more intent on having fun and enjoying the journey. It’s refreshing to see characters that are almost stupidly human. Some might find frustration in some of the roundabout developments, but the very nature of the characters being “average” is that they were unlikely to take the most direct route. The result is a surprisingly relatable series of decisions in an insane world.

A ready suspension-of-disbelief is going to be helpful for this story, but there isn’t anything that stands out as an egregious error in the chain-of-events. Some of the character motivations, such as Jackie’s willingness to overcome painful risks, could be strengthened. Still, there’s enough in her characterization to suppose the reasons why. Key conflicts, like a certain plane ride and the departure of the scene’s antagonists, would also have been helped with some tweaking of the deus ex machinery. However, the rationale and understanding are comfortably available without straining through mental gymnastics. The plot is solid and follows genre-honored rules of action and overcoming danger. Morrison’s execution of many moments, such as the main antagonist’s final departure, are grin-inducingly amusing twists of fate.

Overall

Grimbargo is an entertaining action-adventure-mystery that’s hilarious and bright despite some rather dark elements. The characters are either likable or understandable enough to empathize with their plight whether supposedly evil or not. The plot is quick and clear without being boring or predictable. Everything fits in this world, and there are hints of depth behind the sarcastic banter and witty snark. The core ideas, that of death and bodily-autonomy, are great foundational ideas to ponder and work well within a vehicle of immortality through nanobots. There’s scenes and ideas and imagery that are sure to be entertaining for conversations. All-in-all, Morrison provides a delightful escapist sci-fi story of colorful characters that’s easy to read.

Four Stars!

Get it here: Purchase on Amazon
Published by SpaceBoy Books

The Author: Laura Morrison

Clarity and Readability – A star for rating stuff.
Originality and Interest – A star for rating stuff.
Cohesiveness and Setting – ratingStarHalf
Characters and Development – ratingStarHalf
Enjoyability – A star for rating stuff.

*Note: A digital Advance Reader Copy (ARC) was provided to facilitate this review.

– J.A.

RSS Feeds, And You!

Keeping Peeps in the ‘Know’

Or How to Feed Audiences

Let’s say you want to tell someone you updated your website. Or your blog. Or that story thing you’re writing. Hey, maybe you came up with a cool new Thing they could experience!

How would they know?

Oh, I suppose you could let them know via social media or something. Tweet. Tumbl. Face…Book? And you should. Keeping in touch through those methods is pretty essential. Yet, there is another way. Potentially unobtrusive and allowing for a list of all your favorite things for readers to enjoy. How, you might ask? Or not, as the answer is in the title of this blog.

So, RSS Feeds can provide a kind of notification stream and content listing for your work. They are often used by offsite systems to build links and listings and tables of data. Search-bots and content algorithms sometimes use them too. Note, whether or not you want to provide all of your information for easy access like that is a conversation for another time. Right now, let’s consider how an RSS feed can be implemented and how it can be used.

Cut-and-dry-wise, good ol’ Wikipedia will give you an overview of what RSS Feeds are, but it’s not very applicable information. A quick summary on RSS Feeds is that they allow you to create a list, and then that list can be ‘subscribed’ to by a user or device. Browsers, for instance, can be used to subscribe to RSS Feeds. There are also mobile apps and applications that do nothing but monitor and aggregate RSS feeds. In fact, many podcasting networks are nothing more than a server-client system of RSS feeds pushing information back and forth.

But how do we use curious feeds? Well, you need three things: content hosted somewhere on the web, a place to host your RSS feed, and the XML file that is the RSS document itself.

Implementation

Let’s say you have a list of short stories that you occasionally update. Perhaps these short stories are hosted in a multitude of locations. Maybe these stories are updated sporadically throughout the year. Perfect. An RSS feed will allow users to be notified or updated only if something changes. They won’t even have to go to your website to check if nothing’s happened.

Now, let’s find a place to host that XML document. XML, by the way, is just a file format with specific document structuring required for its use. Instead of paragraphs and capitalized words and punctuation, an XML file uses tags to denote chunks of information. Instead of dividing a document up into paragraphs with shared ideas, the document is divided up into chunks of content outlined by tags written such as:

<?xml version=”1.0″ encoding=”ISO-8859-1″?>
<rss version=”2.0″ xmlns:blogChannel=”https://coolstories.list.bro”>

<channel>

<title>Cool Stories</title>
<link>https://coolstories.list.bro</link>
<description>Where you can go to find all my latest cool stories.</description>
<language>en-us</language>
<copyright>Me, bro.</copyright>
<pubDate>Sat, 13 Jul 2015 8:13:40 EST</pubDate>
<ttl>10</ttl>
<image>
<title>Cool Freaking Image</title>
<link>https://coolstories.list.bro</link>
<url>https://coolstories.list.bro/cool_image.png</url>
<width>200</width>
<height>75</height>
<description>Where you can go to find all my latest cool stories.</description>
</image>

<item>
  <title>Cool Story</title>
  <link>https://www.coolStory.bro</link>
  <description>A story about the coolest of things that ever happened.</description>
  <pubDate>Fri, 12 Jul 2015 13:54:18 EST</publicationDate>
</item>

</channel>
</rss>

As you can see, RSS XML uses words wrapped in less-than and greater-than symbols to denote the tags that make up the document’s outline or structure. First, there’s a whole section dedicated to what the feed itself is. That top part tells users where the feed is located, what the link to get to the feed is, and some information on when it was last updated. That’s the top <pubDate> tag, and the <image> up there is to allow you to include an image if some RSS Feed software will showcase your stuff with that image.

After the feed description, everything else is dedicated to feeding content for seeing. Generally, an RSS Feed uses the <item> tag to denote each story, article, or content item that you’ve published. The title is what that content is named, the link leads directly to the content you want subscribers to see, and the description tells viewers what they can expect at that link. The publication date is important too as it’ll tell the user how old the content is, but it can also be used to tell algorithms if there’s something fresh to pop in front of someone’s eyes.

The Using Part

So now you have your cool RSS document, how can it be used? Well, the most direct way is to share that feed with people. You can once again go to social media and share a link there. It’d make a great pinned tweet, for instance, or you could throw a link out every week or so to tell people, “This is where you can find all my stuff!” Alternatively, you just leave it on your website or Facebook page and let audiences find the link there.

When the link is made available, users can then subscribe through the software of their choice or just by using a browser extension that tracks RSS Feeds. Some users might even prefer to go directly to the feed itself so they can click on the links as they’re made available. To go even further, you can get onto sites like Feedburner that will track user statistics and allow users to subscribe for email updates. Other sites will add your RSS Feed to an aggregate based on the content or frequency of updates. Basically, once the feed exists you can find all sorts of ways to use it as a sharing tool.

Overall, RSS Feeds are pretty simple to setup and they can provide a lot of content visibility that goes beyond a static web site. This post only scratches the surface on RSS Feeds, but it’s definitely enough to get someone started in their use. If nothing else, think of them as another tool that can be used to get the word out that you create things and you’d like to share those things.

-J.A.