“The Fallen” 4/19

And we draw to a conclusion of the second interlude. As they learned a lot, losing the drone is not particularly a failure. There is another on the way. And, I suspect, that if Nichole thought Allie was in mortal danger, she’d be head-first down the tunnel, orders or not.

Speaking of, we’ll be back underground. Allie accepted she was alone, found something extraordinary, met a distant relative, then was alone again. Even for a demi, that gain-loss dynamic must hurt. And I bet it hurts more to a fifteen-year-old girl. Underground. In the dark. I hope Nichole was able to reach her, give her a mental life-line. We’ll see. Things might get even darker.

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B17. Name and Cover

“Ice Inundation Intelligence.” This speaks to Canada, Mars, and the plight of Eloise Patel and the two men trying to keep her alive.

What is likely the cover is below the fold. The front is obviously southern central Canada. Sgt Konev on the left, Patel in the middle (love-sick for Hardt), with Hardt on the right. Who’s the guy on the cart in the back, I wonder?

From the blues and blacks of the front we see a still-red Mars, being terraformed. Empress Faustina – showing off without her helmet – and her son Edward look out at Arabia Terra (there will be a map page in the book), watching the inrush of water from the Second Inundation.

When I have my copyedit back, it will take several days to two weeks to implement the changes, get a proof copy, then release it to the wild. Thanks, everyone, for reading along and any suggestions. I’m playing with some ideas for two more stories and hope to start posting again, soon. Deus vult.

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LibertyCon 35

Post-mortem sounds prejudicial, so lets say reflexions, instead.

I told my daughters, growing up, that, “if everyone in your life is an asshole, it’s you.” So I am really trying here. From Thursday evening, wandering over to the Chattanoogan Convention Center to get my bearings, I found the Registration table and asked if I could check in. This is not unusual for cons as it helps to lessen the crush for Fridays. I was told by a hipster Tribesman that they’d be open tomorrow around eleven. “So, ten thirty? Eleven thirty?” I asked. “I said eleven!” “No, you said around eleven and I was seeking clarification. Thank you.” As I walked away, my wife heard (I’ve some hearing loss), “You’re fucking welcome.” This was not an auspicious beginning.

After getting checked in the next day, I had about thirty minutes before my first panel, “How to Elevator Pitch Your Game.” I wanted to learn how to do that with a book, but that panel was Sunday at 1400, so I dropped in. The panelists were Bill Fawcett and Steve Jackson; yes, that Steve Jackson. I explained my situation and Fawcett said, fine, you’ve got thirty seconds. I started in on Machine Civilization and he stopped me after one sentence. I tried again and made it to the second sentence. He stopped me again at “demi-human”: NO JARGON. Deep breath. I made it three sentences and he said good enough. That’s why I go to panels: I’m ignorant and want to learn. I want harsh, constructive criticism. We were both dicks but he make me older and I appreciate him for it.

The other panel which clicked was QED, Quantum Electrodynamics, by Hans Schantz. It was very professionally done and also hilarious. We have enough information for electrical engineers to build the tech world we live in but it seems all, ALL, of the underpinning math is either guesswork or wrong. So much for science.

Which led to the Quantum Brain panel. Given what I write about, the nature of intelligence is of interest to me. It was semi-adversarial, with Robert Hampson taking the wetwork approach and Travis Taylor a more theoretical. Very interesting. Until the end. I didn’t have the chance to ask my question, so I stopped Taylor on his way out. “Are you familiar with the works of Julian Jaynes and the bicameral mind? That consciousness might be very recent in humans and even now not widespread?” “Are you saying most people are NPCs?” he laughed. “Yes, I am. So you are familiar with the idea?” He turned on his heel and walked away from me. Fuck that guy.

The other panels were, well, here goes my objectivism, like the con, overrun by Boomers. At 56, I was one of the youngest people there. And the panels on Self-publishing, Marketing, ChatGPT/AI, were all off the rails in minutes. I’ve given many lectures and have run many panels in very different environments. I allow short questions while I’m talking but reserve most to the end. These panels were hijacked and ruined by, “well, back in the 70’s, the law says…” It’s not the fucking 70’s, you old fool. That world is dead and the only law comes from the barrel of gun.

The only publisher of note in the so-called Dealers Room was Three Ravens, a good company, in my opinion. I didn’t stay to chat as I’ll see them in a month at Imaginarium.

Saying all that to say this: I’m happy my wife got to play tourist and visit the Tennessee Aquarium, Rock City, and other places while I watched my life burn. I have no intention of ever going back to LibertyCon.

A tiny update

Following attending Imaginarium in Louisville, Kentucky, I am older about submitting short stories for contests. I made some improvements to Tay’s story and sent it off to Mysterion Sunday before-last. I re-worked the opening chapter of Friend and Ally into a stand-alone story and it went to Writers of the Future this past Sunday. I’m now tinkering with Ceres for an anthology from Three Ravens Publishing. I’ve got some time for that one so am not rushing any ideas.

Hurty words and RealLife(tm)

Yes, yes: daily commitment to posting something. And now I’m about to lose my DayJob because some people of a certain gland and fake faith have decided that the last three male pharmacy techs at the hospital must go.

What? You thought a quarter-million (low end estimate) of hospital medical deaths per year just happen? There are people who work tirelessly to get rid of competent staff for the Good of the Narrative, comrade.

More importantly, in my last post of a story, I got Aurelia’s age way too high. She’d be closer to fifteen, not twenty, so I’m puzzling my way through that right now. Hopefully real content tomorrow!

Utterly Useless

To you, my content consumers, that is. I’m not going to take the time to look at the records, but it is quite possible that this January which just passed was the only time I did not post for an entire month. Yes, in the post preceding, I mentioned I would have much on my plate… But I’ve no excuse, so I won’t make on.

The most important news is that “Obligations of Rank” is now out and available. I have yet to port it over to Smashwords; if I did nothing here you can bet I did nothing there.

In novel news, my short story about Allen and Ryland is now not only a 48,000 book, but it is already in the hands of both my copyeditor and my cover designer. With chance and luck? Call it released in two months. It is my first romance-only story; no horror or anything like Cursed Hearts. Are there complications? It would be a damn poor story if there were not! Each of the four parts of the book are these two youngsters getting permission to marry; from his parents, from hers, from her cousin the empress, and from the Machines. Not to mention the huge problem this creates for the Texas Navy.

Podcasts? Yeah, sure. I did at least take the physical step of moving my mic and stand from my quiet corner in the freezing cold basement to here at my right, next to the laptop on the dining room table, where I work. The only excuse to not start talking is… again, I have no excuse. Apologies.

So, that’s the update. New book out; newer book already on the way. No reason to not inflict my voice on y’all again. Let’s get to it.

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