Well, ConQuest 44, our local con, and the first SFF con I ever attended in 2010, is back this coming weekend and here is my tentative schedule:
Friday 1600-1700: Building a Fantasy World [MOD] (Monarch) Bryan Thomas Schmidt [MOD], Patrick Rothfuss, Patricia C. Wrede, M.C. (Mary) Chambers, K.D. McEntire
Saturday 1300-1325: Reading/Q&A/Autographs [MOD] (Regency) Bryan Thomas Schmidt/ Mark L Groves
Saturday 1400-1500: How to Introduce SciFi to Kids (Embassy) Tyrell Gephardt, Patrick Stutzman, Bryan Thomas Schmidt
Saturday 1600-1700: Relationship between Writers and Editors (Embassy) Jean Stuntz [MOD],Teresa Neilsen Hayden, Selina Rosen, Bryan Thomas Schmidt
Sunday 1100-1200: Collaborating with Cover Artists [MOD] (Monarch) Bryan Thomas Schmidt [MOD], John Picacio, Mitch Bentley, Claire Ashgrove
Sunday 1500-1600: Editing 101 for Writers [MOD] (Embassy) Bryan Thomas Schmidt [MOD], Claire Ashgrove
Glen Cook in the dealer room will have copies of all of my books, including my children’s books which will finally be out in paperbacks.
Sadly, due to my current financial crisis, I may not make all of this programming. I will certainly try to be there as much as I can but, at this point, Saturday is iffy because I have a long drive due to no money for hotel and I am going to have to just really be careful about going a long way when I have no credit cards or anything else to bail me out if my car broke down, etc. Let alone to buy meals. In any case, some great guests this year and a great Con. Patrick Rothfuss, John Picacio, Teresa Neilsen Hayden, Patricia C. Wrede and more will be there, see the link above. We’ll just have to see what happens.
I know what you’re thinking: a Write Tip on commas? It’s so basic. I must admit, it’s the last subject I thought I’d ever tackle in one of these tips. But please don’t find it insulting. The more I edit, the more I find it is often the very basics of which we writers most need reminding. After all, commas matter. It seems to be one of the more common errors my editing clients are making. So perhaps a reminder might be helpful for us all.
Some examples:
She remained standing, firm in her resolve.
She remained, standing firm in her resolve.
Now, he knew it was over.
Now he knew, it was over.
Now he knew it was over.
Suddenly running toward the street, he realized how stupid he’d been.
Suddenly, running toward the street, he realized how stupid he’d been.
Suddenly running toward the street he realized how stupid he’d been.
She served all of his favorites: tossed salad, macaroni and cheese, and carrot cake.
She served all of his favorites: tossed salad, macaroni and cheese and carrot cake.
In each of these examples, you may notice how clearly the comma placement changes both the meaning and the pacing of reading each sentence. Commas provide separation of elements in series, separation of clauses, indications of where readers and speakers should pause in their inflection, and more. Lazy comma usage can do far more than demonstrate your lack of grammatical knowledge, it can also create real confusion in what you’re trying to communicate.
1. Use a comma to separate the elements in a series (three or more things), including the last two. “He hit the ball, dropped the bat, and ran to first base.”
Okay, yes, the comma before the “and” is often called the Oxford Comma, and some consider it unnecessary, which is fine when you have control of things. But some publishing houses’ style guides require it, and, more importantly, there are cases in which leaving it out can cause confusion when two list items appear to go together in ways not intended. Using a comma between all the items in a series, including the last two, avoids this problem.
Take the last two above examples:
She served all of his favorites: tossed salad, macaroni and cheese, and carrot cake.
She served all of his favorites: tossed salad, macaroni and cheese and carrot cake.
Is it macaroni and cheese being served along with carrot cake? Is macaroni being served along with cheese and carrot cake? Are there two kinds of cakes: cheese cake and carrot cake? I think my point is obvious.
2. Use a comma + a little conjunction (and, but, for, nor, yet, or, so) to connect two independent clauses, as in “He hit the ball well, but he ran toward third base.”
Sometimes the conjunction makes the separation clear and a comma isn’t needed. But if there is any doubt, use the comma, as it will never be incorrect in this situation. In fact, one of the most frequent comma errors is placing it after the coordinating conjunction. For example,
He ran as far as he could and, then he stopped.
or less obviously perhaps:
Her statement was obvious but, in case there was any doubt, he paraphrased for the others.
A comma before the “but” would be appropriate, but after it is unnecessary and potentially confusing. We do sometimes pause after the little conjunction when speaking, but there is seldom a good reason to put a comma there.
3. Use a comma to set off introductory elements, as in “Running toward third base, he suddenly realized how stupid he looked.”
Again, you may omit the comma in such cases if the statement is clear and will not cause readers to stumble, but if there is ever any doubt, use the comma. It will never be wrong.
Several examples from above may serve here:
She remained standing, firm in her resolve.
She remained, standing firm in her resolve.
Now, he knew it was over.
N0w he knew, it was over.
Suddenly running toward the street, he realized how stupid he’d been.
Suddenly, running toward the street, he realized how stupid he’d been.
I see this one a LOT in editing.
4. Use a comma to set off parenthetical elements, as in “The Founders Bridge, which spans the Connecticut River, is falling down.”
The term “parenthetical element” here refers to a part of the sentence which could be dropped without changing the essential meaning of the sentence, sometimes called “added information.” This can be one of the more challenging punctuation rules, as what is “added” may not always be clear.
Without hesitation, he ran.
Dropping “without hesitation” would still leave the essential meaning: “he ran.” The parenthetical, in this case, serves to add motivational i.e. emotional context to the action that follows.
5. Use a comma to separate coordinate adjectives. If you can put an and or a but between the adjectives, a comma will probably belong there.
A good example of this might be:
Sarah lives in a very old and run-down house.
Instead, you’d more often say:
Sarah lives in a very old, run-down house.
Here’s a good example of an exception, however:
That lady is old and little.
Instead, we’d more commonly hear:
That was a little old lady.
Note the lack of commas between “little” and “old lady.”
6. Use a comma to set off quoted elements. Generally, use a comma to separate quoted material from the rest of the sentence that explains or introduces the quotation.
This can be difficult to remember because most of us don’t use quoted materially constantly. But in fiction particularly, it is important when using speech tags or action tags for dialogue.
“General, we have word from the Governor,” the aide reported, handing Gent a message tube and stopping beside him.
or
Gent called back to her as he ran, “Don’t let him out of your sight!”
or
When asked about the issue, Congressman Roberts replied, “I have no comment on that matter at this time.”
But this one can also be abused and confused. As I see incorrect things like this way too often:
“Don’t do anything stupid, Keely!”, he yelled as he went to open his door.
7. Use commas to set off phrases that express contrast.
She smiled as their eyes met, sadness and longing shining from their depths.
8. Use a comma to avoid confusion. This is often a matter of consistently applying rule #3.
I think we’ve covered this but it’s a good reminder.
9. Grammar English’s Famous Rule of Punctuation: Never use only one comma between a subject and its verb. “Believing completely and positively in oneself is essential for success.” [Although readers might pause after the word “oneself,” there is no reason to put a comma there.]
I see this one a lot, too.
“Mark my words, all of that garbage you’re ingesting, is going to be the death of you!”
No, no, no, no, no! The comma before “is” makes me shudder.
10. Typographical Reasons: Between a city and a state [Hartford, Connecticut], a date and the year [June 15, 1997], a name and a title when the title comes after the name [Bob Downey, Professor of English], in long numbers [5,456,783 and $14,682], etc. Although you will often see a comma between a name and suffix — Bob Downey, Jr., Richard Harrison, III — this comma is no longer regarded as necessary by most copy editors, and some individuals — such as Martin Luther King Jr. — never used a comma there at all.
That one’s often determined by personal taste and style guides. Just be consistent within the body of your manuscript. And be prepared for editors with other preferences to raise the issue.
So, there you have it, some examples of sinful comma usage to avoid, and legal ways to employ them instead. I hope this is a helpful reminder, even for those of us who feel current on our grammatical knowledge. I know I need reminders myself from time to time. For what it’s worth…
I make it a habit not to comment on politics and such here very often. And I shall again try to do so with this post. But given recent events, I do want to share some thoughts on the Boston Marathon attack, terrorists, etc. Because these issues have faced our country boldface since September 11, 2001, and we continue to wrestle with how to react.
It’s always interesting to me how some people want to apply Western reasoning to people whose minds don’t operate like ours. Muslim extremists, Chechnian extremists, sociopaths — you can’t say if I was ignored, I’d stop crying for attention, so ignore them and they’ll go away. Because they don’t operate on the same system of logic we do. For all we know, ignoring them will make them more determined. After all, these are patient people who spend years planning their attacks. They don’t tend to just fly off the handle and strike spontaneously. Meticulous planning is a part of their process. These are calculating people with specific goals, however warped those might seem to us. So when I hear people say: “Want to end fear of terrorism? Shut off the TV” or “keep on living,” it doesn’t compute to me.
Now, I am not in favor of brutality. I am not in favor of a country that has always valued life and held high ideals about morality and honor in how we treat others abandoning that tradition entirely. However, I am reminded of what a friend, a former U.S. intelligence officer, once told me decades ago. This was before September 11, 2001 by almost 10 years, in fact.
He said: “You can’t fight these kinds of people by being nice. You can’t treat them as operating under the same logic as everyone else. That’s just not who they are.” He went on to explain how the Russians dealt with terrorists when their people were attacked in the 80s. “The Russians found the terrorists, decapitated them, cut off their balls and sent the heads with balls stuffed in their mouths back to their families. Terrorists left the Russians alone.”
Brutal, yes. Horrifying even. I’m not suggesting it.
But his point was that when you deal with people who don’t think as you do, you have to approach them differently than people who do. You have to change tactics, take risks, and sometimes up the scale of response, as unpleasant as it may be.
I have spent a lot of time working cross culturally–in Ghana, Brazil, Mexico and other places–both living and working with people and working hard to understand who they are, how they think, how they view the world. My goals was never to impose my values or perspective but to understand theirs and offer tools they could apply in context to solve problems. I believe we had a great deal of success. Certainly we never heard the kinds of complaints so many other foreign groups get about trying to make them like us. I took pride in that. Still, do.
As a result of that time, I learned how to listen and study more, different questions to ask, and became aware of a much bigger box than the one in which I typically live. And it broadened my world in ways I can’t escape and don’t want to. The lens through which I view the world is a different one now, and it is through that lens that I view anyone I encounter whose actions, attitudes, culture, etc. are different from my own. And that’s the case with these terrorists who attacked the World Trade Center, airlines and the Pentagon. I feel certain it’s the case with those who attacked Boston as well. And I know it’s different with those overseas who continue to terrorize or plot terror and attacks on others around the world.
When I worked with African or Brazilians, I very quickly learned I couldn’t assume they think as I do. That was a direct route to conflict. I found myself surprised at times by the differences in our perspectives, how our minds worked. Not that they were necessarily wrong. I was not there to make judgement calls. But they saw it differently, so to understand them and relate and work with them, I had to make an effort to understand their perspective. It was the only way we could find satisfactory solutions.
I believe the same is going to be true in dealing with terrorism and the many problems we face in the world today. As I watch our country grow more and more divided by ideologies, I am more and more certain that’s going to be required here as well. In a country founded on compromise, at least in government and media, we seem to have forgotten that history, the art of compromise. It’s us v. them. Every ideology must be right and the others wrong. We’ve seen the results of that already–failure of the government to solve problems, angry citizens, and an increased sense of disunity amongst Americans. Sometimes, I wonder what America is anymore? I don’t recognize it many times.
Whenever a different kind of logic is at work, such misunderstandings are a risk, but they are also a danger.
And that’s what we face with these sociopaths who plant bombs or shoot up schools or attack us in other ways–a different kind of logic.
I’m not proposing particular answers, per se, but I am suggesting that to continue looking at it through our cultural eyes and understandings, through our mores and beliefs, is never going to provide a solution that ends the problem. It may prolong it. It may ignore it. It may make it worse. It won’t bring peace or a conclusion.
That’s scary stuff when you think about it. I was reading author Dan Simmons’ 2006 essay imagining a message from a Time Traveler today and it demonstrates that very much, in so many ways. Until more of us realize this and act accordingly, I fear the heartache will continue. I fear the struggle will not be resolved, and I fear the harm will be caused as much by our ignorance as that of our attackers. And, if you ask me, we’ve suffered enough harm.
Hey Y’all. Thanks for having me here today. I’ve been a commercially published writer since I sold my first book in 1989. I know that makes my first book older than some of you, but like any good mom, I remember the birth-day of the book quite well. However that is a post for another day. Today we are talking about things every writer needs to do in order to write a successful series. The bestselling part – well that is up to the fans and readers. They make or break you, and if they love you, you are golden. So, (in no particular order) on to it!
Keep it all straight or your readers will remind you for YEARS about how you missed this or that. I live in constant fear of breaking this rule. I am about to hire a continuity editor, someone who will create for me a bible of the Jane Yellowrock world, with every character’s: description, history, weapons, skill, ability, diet preferences, clothes, house floor plan, love life, and more. Also, history of the world Jane lives in. To this point in my writing career, I’ve never written more than a 4-book-long series, and it was easy to keep up back then. Now, not so much.
Develop a thick skin. There will be good reviews and bad reviews. There will be people who love you and your work and people who call you bad names on book review sites because you did something in your book they didn’t like. I am very careful when I read reviews to pick ones that don’t A.) Call me names. B.) Seem to have an ax to grind against the world, and picked me as the whet stone. C.) Love me and everything about my books. When I read reviews, I pick ones that do A.) Seem rational and calm and mostly sane. B.) Seem to have actually read the book and the series that came before. C.) Offer constructive criticism. I get really good ideas from reviews that are reasoned and well thought out. But mostly I am kind to myself. No matter how thick my skin is, I don’t torture myself and end up depressed.
Maybe this should come first or last, for emphasis, but let your characters develop and grow. One of the first things a writer learns is to have good character development in every novel, but in a series, it is paramount to let them change and grow through problems and really develop. If you want a more in depth overview how to make your characters develop, there a lot of really good posts a www.magicalwords.net, a writing site created by two writing pals and me years ago. Here is one I wrote back
in 2009 http://www.magicalwords.net/faith-hunter/character-development-%E2%80%93-what-is-it-really/ where I break down the how of character development.
Be willing to try new things. One of the worst things writers can do is let their writing get stale. Take a break, write something different every now and again. I have been writing inside the Jane Yellowrock world, but outside of Jane’s Point of View in short stories lately, and I am really enjoying it! In the series, I am locked into a first person POV, which I adore, but it can be limiting. Writing from third person, from another character’s POV, is very freeing, and also, it lets me see my main character through eyes of the secondary characters in the series. I had no idea she was so lean and menacing. And cuddly. Depending on the POV I am writing from.
Voice. I think this is probably the most important part of a successful series. Finding the different voices in the stories and keeping them true. There are many different voices in a novel: A.) Voices of each and every character, both internal thoughts (depending on the POV, of course), and dialogue patterns. Every character should not sound alike. Just like real people, they should have unique verbal and physical tics, and unique word placements and phrasing. B.) Narrative voice. This is the writer’s voice. It is composed of many disparate things: the tone of book, the setting, the character’s temperament, sentence length and the number of detached non-full-sentence-dangling-phrases to name a very few. This voice should remain constant throughout the book.
Faith Hunter is the fantasy author of the Jane Yellowrock vampire hunter series and a long time professional fiction writer. Including her other pen name, Gwen Hunter, she has over 25+ published books in 28 countries around the world. Her latest addition to the Jane Yellowrock series, Blood Trade, was released by Penguin/ROC on April 2nd, 2013. She is an original creator of and regular contributor to MagicalWords.net, an industry blog for sci-fi and fantasy writers. You can find out more about Faith at her home on the web, FaithHunter.net, or visit her official Facebook page to connect with her and other fantasy fiction fans.
“Bryan is an absolute genius at using his network to obtain blurbs and anthology participation from pro authors. I’m super impressed at the connections he’s built and how he makes things happen.” — Camille Gooderham Campbell, Editor/Publisher, Every Day Fiction
Publishing like every sector of the entertainment business is highly dependent on who you know and how you present yourself. This class will cover the basics of building a network, how to network, and how to leverage those relationships and manage them well. It will also cover the author platform. Tools you’ll need. How to get started, what it is and why it matters.
Since starting to pursue an SFF writing career in 2009, I have used my networking and platform building skills to land contracts with publishers like Baen Books and create opportunities to work with the likes of Robert Silverberg, Glen Cook, Mike Resnick, Elizabeth Moon, Larry Correia, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Nancy Kress, Dean Wesley Smith, Seanan McGuire, David Farland and more. Let me show you how to do the same.
Cost: $60 (discounted from $75 as a special launch deal)
Time: 2 two hour sessions a week apart
Date: 10 a.m. ET two Saturdays in a row. Dates specified when class full.
Students per classses: 9
Location: Google Hangout or Skype (based on students’ preferences)
To sign up, email me at bryan at bryanthomasschmidt dot net
Okay, this week’s write tip is going to be a bit different. I want you to watch this video first before you read the rest of this post. And you need to watch the whole thing to really get what I’m saying here. Watch it. It’s not cheesy. It’s surprisingly touching and funny. And you won’t know what I mean if you don’t make it through the first two minutes. So you have your assignment. Watch and then we’ll get to the tip.
In case you have trouble with the embedded video in your browser, find it on You Tube here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcVXCeWk0PE
Now. Showing this to people I’ve gotten several varied reactions.
1) Oh, I would never make a fool out of myself like that.
2) Best dad ever!
3) That’s cute!
4) How creative and fun!
5) I couldn’t do that.
My own reaction: this is a man who loves his daughter enough to demonstrate it and celebrate it.
The typical father-daughter dance at weddings is symbolic. We all know why. It’s the passing of the torch of responsibility for the care of the daughter from father to husband. It signifies a letting go, a goodbye, an acknowledgement of leaving home and that everything has changed.
But not really.
What do I mean?
He could have just danced with his daughter. “Butterfly Kisses” is without a doubt one of the best songs written by a father for his daughter ever. It evokes memories for almost anyone who hears it. F0rget about the mention of Jesus and that it’s from a Christian singer. What makes this song work is that it paints pictures of experiences almost every father and daughter have shared and recognize instantly. And it does so over a moving melody with touching arrangement and score.
It’s the perfect tribute for a memorable moment. And in and of itself, I’m sure that it will be the song by which singer Bob Carlisle is forever remembered. So at any wedding, and it’s sung at thousands every year these days, it makes for the perfect accompaniment to this symbolic moment.
But something happens here. Something unexpected. Something that knocks us out of that moment and into another. It could have been cheesy. It could have been ridiculous. But it’s not. It’s done so well and with such good spirits that instead it is perfect. It absolutely makes for one of the most memorable and meaningful father-daughter dances I have ever seen. Because what I see here is a father who is remembering being silly with his baby girl and celebrating that by doing it one more time. He’s saying, “this dance is not for you or what you think, audience. This is for me and my girl. And it’s a moment we’ll never forget.”
It gives me chills. It’s a celebration of a father’s true love for his daughter, of the joy they find in each other. Of the magic that exists in a parent-child relationship. It’s one last chance to marvel and wonder at what they’ve found together in each other. And it’s a fearless example of self-sacrifice.
This father in no way looks like the type of guy who would just shake his booty like he does here. Now, I don’t know him. He could be a trained pro dancer for all I know. (I doubt it. He wasn’t slick enough, but it doesn’t matter.) The point is that instead of letting a moment be entirely melancholy just because it’s fitting, he decided to turn it into a celebration of the joy of fatherhood with his daughter.
Honestly, that’s love.
And to me, it’s a great example of nuances and subtext.
As an editor, I’ve seen a lot of beginning writers who write transparently. They don’t know how to impart subtext intentionally. Occasionally it happens, but it’s all an accident. It’s a lesson I admit to having to learn and continuing to learn myself. Because for a story and a world and a character to be real, we as readers need to recognize them. And real people live lives full of subtext and nuances in everything they do.
The simple act of a father dancing with his daughter is just an example. You could assume the motive is transparent. It’s tradition. It’s something you’re expected to do. He doesn’t want to disappoint his daughter or family. It’s that simple.
And if all they had done was dance to “Butterfly Kisses,” that might be all we see here. But that’s not what happens.
Instead, they break it out into something quite different and unexpected and delightful. And from their expressions, their enthusiasm, we can see that it’s about so much more. Missed it? Watch the video again. Seriously.
These are not people who have rehearsed so much that they look like robots. They clearly rehearsed. They match their dance moves too closely for that not to have been the case. But it’s clear they are enjoying it. It’s not done rotely or robotically with no emotion. They look comfortable, relaxed and happy doing it. This is from the heart.
As a result, for me, it’s magic. And that’s the kind of magic we as writers need to earn to work into our stories to make them jump off the page and come alive.
You character hugs his wife goodbye before heading off to battle. It’s what husbands do. What soldiers do. But what else could be behind it? Maybe their marriage has grown cold and routine, and they have to work harder to recapture the passion they had when they first fell in love. Maybe they don’t touch like they used to, and the husband wants to remind the wife one more time that she matters to him, that she’s in his heart.
Or maybe the husband is remembering all the previous times they’ve said goodbye, not knowing if they’d see each other again. Maybe it reminds them of the friends, other married couples, who played out the same goodbye only the warrior never came home.
All kinds of things can be going on.
Our job as writers is to figure out what those things are for these characters and find ways to evoke it through their actions, their thoughts and their words, without necessarily spelling it out directly. It takes subtlety. And it takes good set up. Little hints and moments before and after that multiply together to tell us what’s going on in that moment. But it’s these nuances and the subtext that results which add a depth and poignancy, when done well, that brings both characters and world a level of realism that makes it pop. And sells it to your readers as s0mething they can imagine really happening.
So yes, it’s a wedding video. But I hope now you can see why I’m saying this is so much more. Because I think it is. And our stories need lots of moments with so much more, too. At least, if we want to elevate them beyond the ordinary to the memorable and special, that is. And I know that’s what I’m shooting for. What about you?
All right, here’s a confession. Yes. I’ve become a very bad blogger. Whereas for two years I posted twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays, with regular aplumb, I now find myself posting every other week at least once, two if I’m lucky. So I apologize. Amazingly, the audience for the blog remains steady, even when I don’t post. Some of my posts continue gaining new views regardless, so it’s encouraging that my content matters. But still, my drain creatively from being so busy with editing and writing has hurt my blogging. I am just not thinking up ideas or having creative energy for it like I used. I’ve failed to do some interviews too and had to back off on others. Sincere apologies for that. But I also do not want to be one of those people who posts boring blog posts just to post. You don’t care if I bought new socks, changed shoe sizes, or what I ate. This blog is about writers and editors and helping the same. So I need content that’s appropriate with substance.
So, I hope this will be a worthwhile post. Those who follow me on Twitter and Facebook know I have been working on my first fantasy novel, Duneman, since January2010. Well, it’s finally done, four drafts later, and four agents are considering it for representation. In the meantime, I have started work on book 2 of that cycle, called The Dawning Age, which I expect to be 4-5 books total. Yeah, that’s right, I’m not sure. I’m a discovery writer, a pantser. The only reason I have an idea I can’t do it in three is because the agents asked for synopses of the next two books, so I had to throw something together. I did a pretty good job with Book 2, I believe, but I was totally lost on book 3…because book 2 isn’t done yet.
So meanwhile, here’s a sneak peek at my first fantasy novel. I hope you enjoy it. It took a while to write but I enjoyed every minute.
DUNEMAN
(Dawning Age Book 1)
CHAPTER ONE, Scene 1
He gained consciousness sweaty and hot, lying on his back. It took a moment for the black spots to fade, replaced by the blinding sunlight and white sand stretching as far as the eye could see. Where am I?
The sandy landscape reflected sunlight and heat back at him as he sat up, shaking off the sleep. Scattered belongings—clothes, canteens, a shattered barrel and trunk, torn saddlebags—
stretched off into the distance toward the remains of a wagon. Footsteps led toward him, smeared and uneven as if perhaps he’d stumbled to where he lay. Sunlight glinted off flesh atop a nearby dune. Was someone else alive? Scattered severed limbs—an arm severed at the elbow, the hand still attached, fingers stiffened like claws, a leg severed mid-thigh, another cut off mid-calf—provided the answer.
His back ached as he examined himself. Tattered brown pants stretched down to just below his knees where threads of scattered lengths were all that remained. He had no shirt or shoes or socks. The skin of his feet was sunburned cherry red. No wonder his body felt aflame. How long had he been there?
And then it hit him like a stone from a slingshot: Who am I? He searched his memory but no name would come. His mind was like an unpainted canvas or a new fence awaiting its first coat of color.
His left shoulder cried out with every movement of his arm, so he reached back to examine it with his right and found a long, scabby cut running in an arc down his back. Had he been in a fight? Who did this to him? He checked himself again for cuts and abrasions. His forehead hurt, and dried flakes of blood came away on his palm and fingers. He had a large bruise on his abdomen and small ones on his chest and stomach. Pain flared as he moved his right ankle, but he couldn’t tell if it came from sunburned skin or a jagged cut, scabbed over now from the heat and sun.
He stood and his feet cried out in protest. He wobbled, losing his balance and forcing him back down to his knees. He buried the pain in the back of his mind and turned slowly in a circle, looking around him. Scattered, thin cumulus clouds filled the clear blue sky overhead. Thick sandstone walls and clay-tiled roofs topping white stone buildings rose in the distance, a few spires and towers looming in their midst. A trail of smoke curled into the sky from behind them. A city!
Water!
Wait! Why didn’t he hear anything? A few sheep bleated from the west, their cries mixed with scattered insect chirps and bird calls, but there were no sounds of people, wagons, horses, tools. Maybe when he got closer. Ignoring his feet’s protests, he stood again and stumbled across the curved white dunes toward the sandstone walls.
Ahead, beside the city walls, a boy herding sheep stopped a moment to use the untucked tails of his loose-fitting light blue shirt to wipe sweat from his darkly tanned forehead. His boots stretched up over his brown pants well past his ankles, and he held a tall, curved wooden staff in his right hand as he watched the desert grassland and the herd around him.
Drawing near, the man called out to the shephard. “Ho, neighbor! A fine day for herding.” His chapped lips and parched throat hurt from the effort, reminding him how much he longed for water.
The boy nodded, staring at him with caution, his left hand wrapping firmly around the staff just below his right.
“What city is this?” The man smiled, not blaming the boy for his wariness. I must look a fright.
“Chyllos, stranger.” The boy’s voice cracked in the way that occurs when one transitions from a boy to a man.
He must be older than I thought. “What day is it?”
“Third day.” The boy spoke with a gentle, plain accent, his words slow and deliberate.
Orean Midlands? The question popped into his head along with images of the Lands, his home. Multiple states, the Elbian pass and mountains, the mighty Esos River, source of water for much of the inlands. Then: I remember seven day. Could I have been unconscious that long? “Do you know where I might get water?” He hocked, trying to call up enough saliva to wet his cracked, painful lips and throat, but none came. The boy carried no canteen, and there was no sign of a well.
“There’s a well in the square.” The boy nodded toward the city walls.
The man limped past the first of the sheep, the boy shrinking away as soon as he moved. “Thank you kindly.”
The boy turned his body to keep the stranger at his front, and the man continued feeling the shephard’s gaze on him as he waded through the grazing herd and on toward the city. A wide, wooden gate stood open to one side with no one standing guard.
The stranger entered through the high stone walls, moving along a sandy street past shabby, rundown houses packed in side-by-side. Their second floors projected out over the boardwalk and into the street where crude signs dangled from creaking rusted hooks. The city appeared to be on the verge of collapse. What city would be this deserted at mid-day?
He hurried up the street, garnering surprised stares from a couple shopkeepers sweeping the wooden boardwalk in front of their stores. Ignoring them, he continued toward a sign labeled “tavern” at the far end, then stumbled up onto the wooden boardwalk. The tavern stood along yet another sandy street which wound off into the distance in both directions. A quick search revealed no currency in his ragged pockets. For a moment, he considered passing by to look for the public well, but the sun continued its baking blare and surely a tavern had water. He grabbed the door handle and swung it open, assaulted immediately by the smell of sawdust and smoke. Stepping inside, the scent of stale ale filled his nose as he waited while the door shut behind him and the sunlight faded away.
The tavern seemed typical for a small city, dimly lit with torches spread evenly around the room on hooks attached to the white plaster walls. The bottom half of each wall consisted of wooden slats hung side-by-side, the floor of matching dark wood with a thin layer of sawdust. As his eyes adjusted, he spotted a bar across the room beyond scattered round wooden tables and chairs. A bartender eyed him from behind the worn, polished surface with the same wary look as the shepherd boy.
“Good afternoon, neighbor,” the man said. “Can you spare a cup of water for a stranger?” For a moment, he wished he could ask for clothes, too.
The bartender was large and muscular, his skin dark like the shepherd’s, a brown leather apron tied over the top of a loose fitting white shirt and brown trousers.He scowled as the stranger approached. “How did you get here?” he demanded in a scratchy baritone, as the stranger sat on a tall stool in front of the bar.
“I don’t really know. I’m told this place is Chyllos, but I’ve never been here before.” He shrugged.
“What happened to your clothes?” The Bartender said, staying put at the far end of the bar.
The man shook his head. “I awoke on the dunes. The sun is brutal today. Can you please spare some water?”
The bartender grunted and turned to a large wooden barrel in the corner, reaching into it with a long metal ladle and pouring water into a wooden cup. Setting the cup on the bar, he slid it down to the stranger, watching as water splashed out onto the scarred surface.
The stranger drank eagerly. The fresh water cooled his mouth and throat. Even as he finished, he longed for more. He held out the glass to the bartender and croaked: “More please?”
The bartender grunted again, approaching with the metal scoop and pouring its contents over the wooden cup on the bar until he’d filled it once more. The man noticed the bartender held the scoop as far from the cup as he could manage so they didn’t touch. He drank again, smiling. Water had never tasted so good. He sighed, wiping his dry, cracked lips on his sleeve. “Thank you very much, neighbor.” His voice was louder and warmer now as the water lubricated his throat and the pain faded.
The bartender glared at him. “Okay, now be on your way.”
The man nodded. The bartender must not care much for nonpaying customers. “Can you direct me to an inn?”
“There are no inns available here for the likes of you,” the bartender said, ending the conversation.
“If I have offended you somehow—”
“You offended me the day you were born—you and all your kind.” The bartender’s eyes narrowed, cold and flat. The stranger finished drinking and set the wooden cup back on the counter. What have I done to deserve his wrath? The bartender motioned to the cup. “Keep it. It’s worthless to me now.”
The stranger nodded and grabbed the cup off the counter, stumbling toward the door.
Sunlight blinded him again as he stepped back out onto the street. He looked around for an inn, searching the creaking wooden signs hanging from the buildings but seeing none in sight. He had to find some clothes and shelter. He limped west along the street past startled citizens sweeping storefronts or moving along the boardwalk with parcels. They hurried out of his path as he passed, scowling at him much as the bartender had. What have I done? He couldn’t remember ever being in Chyllos before, and, the further he went, the more the silence bothered him. Where were the people who patronized these establishments?
At the end of the boardwalk, he turned into a dirt alleyway between buildings and bumped into a well-dressed woman in a lacy, silk dress who’d just emerged there. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping away from her.
Her brown eyes went wide and she stared at him in horror. “Get away from me!”
The stranger turned, confused, as she ran away down the street, startled by her fear and hostility. How could someone who’d never been here before be so disliked? What was it about his kind that made them react with fear?
The bartender stood on a boardwalk, chatting with neighboring store owners and pointing at him. All three frowned, squinting angrily. Down the street, dust flew from wagon wheels as a large, dark-bearded man steered his team up the street in the stranger’s direction.
The stranger ducked into the alleyway, hearing the braying of donkeys and whinnying of horses ahead. At the end, he passed a stack of hay bales and moved onto another sandy street beside a large wooden stable. Maybe he could at least get shelter from the sun there.
As he turned right, onto the street, he saw the bartender and several others appear from an alley further down and hurry toward him up the street. Why are they chasing me?
Ducking back into the alley, he turned right again at the main street. Chattering voices came from behind and he glanced back over his shoulder as the frightened well-dressed woman pointed at him, jabbering to several men.
Quickening his pace, he looked for another alley or a good place to turn. He heard shouting and looked back to see the men following him now. The bartender and shopkeepers swooping in from the same alley the stranger had just used to join them.
Turning onto a narrower side street, the man hurried on past storefronts with faded paint fronts and a rotting boardwalk of crumbling wood. Where could he go? Then he heard whinnying and felt the dirt street vibrate as the dark-bearded man in the wagon turned onto the street, following him.
The stranger started running, his burned feet aching from the effort, but then the wagon was passing him. The driver looked down, whistling and motioned toward the wagon. “Get in, stranger!”
The man shot a questioning look. “I didn’t do anything to anyone, sir, I promise.”
“Get in unless you want to explain that to them,” the driver said, slowing his team to a crawl. “Trust me.”
The man could never outrun them. He sighed and jumped onto the back of the wagon.
“Cover yourself quickly!” the driver instructed as he spurred his team forward again.
The man slid down into a bed of straw and pulled the old blanket the driver had indicated over himself. The wagon increased its speed, bouncing harshly up onto cobblestones now as it turned sharply around another corner. What am I doing here?
He stretched out his arms, bracing himself against the slat sides of the wagon as best he could and ignored the outcries of his aching body as the wagon continued racing along, then slowed. Shadows fell over them as he heard the crunch of straw or hay and felt the wagon lurch forward and then stop again, suddenly.
It wobbled as the driver hopped down and the man heard creaks of hinges and the sound of wooden doors sliding together and a bolt snapping into place.
He slid the blanket back, his eyes struggling to see through the darkness. Whinnying and braying came from animals other than the team somewhere as the smell of smoke, hay and manure made him wince, then he realized he probably didn’t smell much better himself.
As his eyes adjusted, he focused on a metal stand nearby containing rows of horseshoes, expertly crafted. Then sat up, blinking.
“You plan to stay there all day or come out a greet a man properly?” the driver’s baritone voice asked.
The stranger brushed hay from his worn clothes and crawled toward the back of the wagon, spotting the driver waiting there with a pensive look. “Who are you and why are you wandering the streets scaring women?”
The stranger sat on the back of the wagon, gathering himself to hop down and fumbled for words. “I didn’t mean—”
“Come now, I’m only jesting,” the driver said with a laugh, wiping his hands on the dark apron covering his brown cotton pants and loose fitting tan shirt. Even his boots resembled those of the shepherd boy. The driver reached out a thick, muscular arm, extending his hand.
The stranger clasped it and slid down, his feet thumping onto the dirt floor as the driver stepped closer and got a closer look at the man, his face a mix of wariness and concern. “Why are they after you? Did you give them a reason?”
Fire raging in a nearby stove cast dancing orange and yellow flames across the walls around them. “What is this place? A smithy?”
The driver laughed. “That’s what they call me around here.” In the light of the fire, the blacksmith’s skin appeared lighter than the other residents the stranger had encountered. His eyes narrowed, locked on the stranger’s face.
“I just asked for water. That’s all. The woman bumped into me by accident.”
“What happened to you?” The smith looked him over, examining his clothes and face.
“I don’t really know.” The stranger leaned against a wooden pillar beside the open fire. “Is it a crime to be a stranger here?”
The blacksmith nodded. “Only if you’re a wizard.”
“Wizard?” the man asked. Is that what I am?
The blacksmith nodded. “You’re from the east, aren’t you? People around here don’t have such light skin. From what’s left of your clothes and your accent, I’d guess one of the cities along the coast.”
The man shrugged. “I can’t remember.”
The blacksmith seemed puzzled. “You must have come here for a reason, although I’d dare say it appears you’ve had a rough time of it.”
The stranger sighed, nodding. “I awoke on the dunes under the brutal sun.”
The blacksmith nodded again. “The summer sun is harsh in the desert. You look exhausted. What’s your name, stranger?”
The stranger searched his mind, but still had no idea what his name was. “I can’t remember that either.”
The blacksmith raised his eyebrows. “How did you come to be here, then?”
The stranger shook his head. “I don’t know. I think I was attacked in a caravan. The town’s not friendly, is it?”
The smithy shrugged. “After what we’ve been through, some are a bit fearful around strangers, especially those from the east. I prefer to judge men on their actions rather than assume they mean ill. You don’t look like a wizard or a bandit to me.”
The stranger groaned, putting his face in his hands as if he could wipe the frustration away. “I don’t remember anything.”
“Well, if you try anything, you’ll wind up on the wrong end of a hammer, my friend,” the smithy’s eyes narrowed with warning, then he smiled. “Perhaps some rest might help you remember. I can’t offer you much, but you’re welcome to rest for a while in one of the empty stalls. This late in the afternoon, I have few customers. We can talk more later about who you are and how you got here.”
The stranger closed his eyes, sighing. “Thank you so much, Smithy, for your kindness.”
Smithy motioned toward the row of stalls down a corridor to the right. “There’s one or two empty down there. Help yourself.”
The stranger stood and moved down the corridor, forcing his aching feet and legs to take the steps one at a time. It felt like he’d forgotten how to walk. He found an open gate three stalls down on the left and braced himself on the gate post as he stumbed inside. The stall floor lay covered in clean hay. He found a large pile in the corner under the shadows and sank quickly down to his knees. His back cried out as if it were on fire. He lowered himself slowly onto his stomach, the smell of fresh hay filling his nostrils and soon fell asleep.
Editor Bryan Thomas Schmidt is an author and editor of adult and children’s speculative fiction including the novels The Worker Prince and The Returning, and the children’s books 102 More Hilarious Dinosaur Jokes For Kids(ebook only) and Abraham Lincoln: Dinosaur Hunter- Land Of Legends. His debut novel, The Worker Prince (2011) received Honorable Mention on Barnes & Noble Book Club’s Year’s Best Science Fiction Releases for 2011. His short stories have appeared in magazines, anthologies and online. He edited the anthology Space Battles: Full Throttle Space Tales #6(Flying Pen Press, 2012) and is working on Beyond The Sun (Fairwood, July 2013), Raygun Chronicles: Space Opera For a New Age (Every Day Publishing, November 2013) and Shattered Shields with co-editor Jennifer Brozek (Baen, 2014). He hosts #sffwrtcht (Science Fiction & Fantasy Writer’s Chat) Wednesdays at 9 pm ET on Twitter and can be found via Twitter as @BryanThomasS, on his website at www.bryanthomasschmidt.net or Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/bryanthomass?ref=hl.
My publisher, Delabarre, is giving away 20 copies of the ebo0k (epub or mobi, your choice) for my debut early reader book: Abraham Lincoln Dinosaur Hunter – Land of Legends.
“ABRAHAM LINCOLN: DINOSAUR HUNTER — LAND OF LEGENDS succeeds on almost every level –readability, alternate history, adventure, and excitement.” — Mike Resnick
“Prehistoric action and Abe Lincoln in one rollicking swoop!” — Tamora Pierce
Abraham Lincoln may or may not have fought vampires, but not many people know that when Abraham Lincoln was 10 years old, he fought something much worse – a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
One day young Abe Lincoln is marveling over meeting his hero, Davy Crockett. The next, Davy saves Abe’s life. But when they kindly agree to teenage inventor Nehemiah’s urging to test his newfangled time machine, they wind up sent back in time…to the age of dinosaurs.
When the machine gets broken, adventures ensue as Lincoln and Crockett fight dinosaurs and race to find the materials needed to fix the machine that can take them home. Abraham Lincoln – Dinosaur Hunter: Land of Legends is the first volume in a new action-packed middle-grade series. Science Fiction/Fantasy Adventure with great humor and good lessons about friendship, teamwork and more.
This is the first book of an ongoing series for which I have 7 more planned already. It hit stores in ebook and trade paperback in February 2013.
All you have to do to win is leave a comment as to why you’d like to win a copy, your name, preferred ebook format, and email address. We’ll do the rest. I’m closing the entries March 30th. Winners will be chosen at random and contacted via email.
Easy, right?
Here’s an excerpt to whet your appetities!
PROLOGUE
On The Run…
Davy Crockett’s eyes widened. He motioned for us to hurry as he cocked the rifle and took aim at the treetops. “Run!” He fired three shots in a row as we took off then turned to race after us.
GRRRRRRRROOOWWWWLL!
I, Abe they call me, looked back as I ran up the hill. A giant cat with two huge, white fangs like swords, extending from its mouth bounded down from a large tree and picked up speed, chasing us.
We broke through the tree line atop the next hill and started down the slope.
GRRRRRRRROOOWWWWLL!
ROOOAAARRR!
The second sound was oddly familiar. I glanced around for the source and my breath caught in my throat.
The giant lizard was back and rushing toward us from the north, following the tree line.
“I wanna go home!” Jacob Carter cried as I grabbed his hand and pulled him along. I had no doubt the rest of us shared that sentiment right then.
Davy stopped atop the hill and fired back at the cat again, then turned to fire at the lizard. None of his shots had any effect. The predators kept after us at top speed. “Get amongst the trees where at least the lizard can’t get to us!” Davy instructed as he started after us again.
I bounced down the slope toward the next tree line like a rabbit in a race and burst through the trees into the shadowy cluster. The cat would have no trouble following, but the closeness of the trees might impede the lizard. If it didn’t just smash them down, that is.
“We’re doomed!” Jacob said.
I nodded, reluctantly agreeing. “There’s nowhere to hide.”
Wait! I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. We’ll get to old Scarface the T-Rex soon enough. This is the story of how I, Abraham Lincoln, became a dinosaur hunter with Davy Crockett.
Bryan Thomas Schmidt is the editor of Blue Shift Magazine and an author and editor of adult and children’s speculative fiction. His debut novel, The Worker Prince (2011) received Honorable Mention on Barnes & Noble Book Club’s Year’s Best Science Fiction Releases for 2011. A sequel The Returning followed in 2012 and The Exoduswill appear in 2013, completing the space opera Saga Of Davi Rhii. His first children’s books, 102 More Hilarious Dinosaur Jokes For Kids (ebook only) and Abraham Lincoln: Dinosaur Hunter- Land Of Legends from Delabarre Publishing. His short stories have appeared in magazines, anthologies and online. He edited the anthology Space Battles: Full Throttle Space Tales #6 (2012) and is working on Beyond The Sun for Fairwood Press (July 2013), headlined by Robert Silverberg, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Mike Resnick and Nancy Kress, and Raygun Chronicles: Space Opera For a New Age for Every Day Publishing (November 2013). He hosts #sffwrtcht (Science Fiction & Fantasy Writer’s Chat) Wednesdays at 9 pm ET on Twitter and is an affiliate member of the SFWA.
My friend Jay Lake is struggling with the devastation of cancer in his late 40s. And he’s been on my mind a lot even as I celebrate great successes. I just sent him a note of encouragement and it occurred to me maybe others would like to but need a push. So comments are open, let’s make a big giant cancer card for Jay to encourage him, hug him, embrace him, and let him know he’s not alone.
Here’s mine, I look forward to yours:
Jay:
You’ve been on my mind and in my heart a lot the past week.
I know you’re going through the roughest of times and discouragement. I can’t relate to the cancer thing as much but having my whole life taken, turned upside down and stripped from me I can, and maybe that’s a bit what it feels like. I just wanted you to know you’re beloved. Every time I do an article or interview with you in the title, it’s so popular and continues generating traffic. And your body of work is stunning for someone your age and who didn’t make his first sale all that long ago.
You have touched people’s lives, changed them, and connected with them, many even strangers whom you’ve never met. You’ve touched me, your daughter, your parents, your friends…in a way that leaves a legacy which has forever transformed us.
No matter what happens, that will never be taken away and it will never lose its value for us.
I wish there was a way to help beyond prayer and good thoughts. This is one of those situations wherein my gift for words is overly challenged. But I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you, hurting with you, cheering for you, and constantly hoping for you.
Hang in there, my dear friend!
Bryan
Any words of encouragement and support are welcome below. I’ll do my best to moderate quickly.
Bryan Thomas Schmidt is the editor of Blue Shift Magazine and an author and editor of adult and children’s speculative fiction. His debut novel, The Worker Prince (2011) received Honorable Mention on Barnes & Noble Book Club’s Year’s Best Science Fiction Releases for 2011. A sequel The Returning followed in 2012 and The Exoduswill appear in 2013, completing the space opera Saga Of Davi Rhii. His first children’s books, 102 More Hilarious Dinosaur Jokes For Kids (ebook only) and Abraham Lincoln: Dinosaur Hunter- Land Of Legends from Delabarre Publishing. His short stories have appeared in magazines, anthologies and online. He edited the anthology Space Battles: Full Throttle Space Tales #6 (2012) and is working on Beyond The Sun for Fairwood Press (July 2013), headlined by Robert Silverberg, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Mike Resnick and Nancy Kress, and Raygun Chronicles: Space Opera For a New Age for Every Day Publishing (November 2013). He hosts #sffwrtcht (Science Fiction & Fantasy Writer’s Chat) Wednesdays at 9 pm ET on Twitter and is an affiliate member of the SFWA.
As an editor, I am surprised how many writers seem to struggle with manuscript formatting–either not doing it per guidelines, not making effort, etc. There are many reasons editors ask for specific formatting. For example, when I turn manuscripts into publishers who use Adobe InDesign (a manuscript formatting software), there are sometimes issues with importing so they need things simple and formatted to make that easier and save time. Some editors find manuscripts easier to read double spaced, etc. and since they read a lot, they need you to make it easy so you can get a fair shot. These reasons may not sound compelling to some writers but the burden is on you to make the reading experience fun not just from writing a good story but also in presentation, so you should care.
To make things easier, though, particularly in Microsoft Word or Open Office, there are things you can do to shortcut formatting. Maybe you don’t want to worry about it as you write. That’s why I use Scrivener and let it do the work for me. But if you’re doing it all in a Word Processor, here’s three handy tips.
1) Converting Italics To Underlining or vice versa — Did you know that you can use the REPLACE function to change formatting? Well, you can. If you wanted to convert all italicized words to underlining, for example, a not uncommon editorial guidelines request, you simply have to pull up replace as follows:
1. Pull up the replace dialogue from your menu.
2. Put the cursor in the first blank and type Control-I (Italics)
3. In the second blank, type Control-U (underlining) then Control-I and Control-I again. This will tell it to remove Italics.
4. Then hit Replace All.
Yep, it’s that simple. And you can do it with converting underlining to italics, bold, etc.
Here’s another tip.
2) Select All + Set Tabs — Suppose you need to fix the tabs on your manuscript. One way ti globally fix them is to use Select All.
1. Find Select All On Your Menu or use Control-A to select all, highlighting all the text in your document.
2) Then on the ruler, click where you want the tabs.
Most of your text will slide into position. Places where spacing or margin markers were moved instead of tabs will have to be corrected by hand but this is a big timesaver in regards to an entire document as it will keep you from having to fix each tab one at a time.
3) DocX Line Space Removal — One of the more annoying features in Word is the additional space added between paragraphs automatically. To eliminate this, you need to do the following:
1.Find Select All On Your Menu or use Control-A to select all, highlighting all the text in your document.
2. Pull Up the Character Dialogue Box by clicking the arrow in that section of your menus.
3. Click the box next to “Don’t add space between paragraphs of the same style” and then hit OK.
This will remove those pesky spaces throughout your document.
4) Quick Styles & Templates–If there is a particular manuscript format you use a lot, you can set up a template by formatting a document with the necessary formatting, including tabs, no spaces between paragraphs, double spacing, headers, etc. To do this, use a document and go through as follows:
1. Highlight The Text you want to apply the style to.
Note: You have to do this for every relevant style when setting up a template. It’s time consuming but that’s the only way to define the styles.
2. Click the appropriate style button.
If the default style is not what you want, then make adjustments to the text to add italics, underlining, etc. Do this without clicking a style button again for that text. We are going to reprogramming the definition of that button.
3. You can even include graphics.
This is handy if you are making a template for stationary, say, or something similar.
4. Click Save as, select “Word Template” in the document type and then name your template and Save.
The next time you want to apply this format to your document, you can then take the following steps:
1. Open the document you want to apply a template to. On the File Tab, press the Options button.
2. Select Add-Ins option from the menu on the left side of the Options dialog.
3. Click on Manage and choose Templates from the dropdown list. Press Go to open the Templates and Add-Ins Window.
4. Press Attach to open the Template Attachment Dialog. Select the template you want to attach to your document and then press Open.
5. When prompted, select Automatically Update Styles to change the styles of your document to match the styles of your template. Then click OK.
Yes, I know. It sounds time consuming. But only for set up. Once you have the template created, it’s a huge time saver. You can apply any template to any document so set up templates for the markets you submit to most and you won’t have to worry about spending long amounts of time reformatting submissions before you send them out.
Those are just 4 big time saving shortcuts for manuscript formatting. I’d love to hear others in comments, if you have them. Meanwhile, I hope this is helpful in freeing you up to write! For what it’s worth…
Bryan Thomas Schmidt is the editor of Blue Shift Magazine and an author and editor of adult and children’s speculative fiction. His debut novel, The Worker Prince (2011) received Honorable Mention on Barnes & Noble Book Club’s Year’s Best Science Fiction Releases for 2011. A sequel The Returning followed in 2012 and The Exoduswill appear in 2013, completing the space opera Saga Of Davi Rhii. His first children’s books, 102 More Hilarious Dinosaur Jokes For Kids (ebook only) and Abraham Lincoln: Dinosaur Hunter- Land Of Legends from Delabarre Publishing. His short stories have appeared in magazines, anthologies and online. He edited the anthology Space Battles: Full Throttle Space Tales #6 (2012) and is working on Beyond The Sun for Fairwood Press (July 2013), headlined by Robert Silverberg, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Mike Resnick and Nancy Kress, and Raygun Chronicles: Space Opera For a New Age for Every Day Publishing (November 2013). He hosts #sffwrtcht (Science Fiction & Fantasy Writer’s Chat) Wednesdays at 9 pm ET on Twitter and is an affiliate member of the SFWA.
Well, ConQuest 44, our local con, and the first SFF con I ever attended in 2010, is back this coming weekend and here is my tentative schedule:
Be willing to try new things. One of the worst things writers can do is let their writing get stale. Take a break, write something different every now and again. I have been writing inside the Jane Yellowrock world, but outside of Jane’s Point of View in short stories lately, and I am really enjoying it! In the series, I am locked into a first person POV, which I adore, but it can be limiting. Writing from third person, from another character’s POV, is very freeing, and also, it lets me see my main character through eyes of the secondary characters in the series. I had no idea she was so lean and menacing. And cuddly. Depending on the POV I am writing from.
