The Zen of Editing

If you've been wondering what Frank is doing these days and you guessed 'a brief stay in the Lafayette County Detention Facility,' well, you'd be wrong.

I've been editing. As I mentioned in my last blog post, I finished the first draft of the new Markhat novel, BROWN RIVER QUEEN.

Sure, there was wild celebration. About eight minutes of it. Because finishing a first draft gets writing the first draft out of the way, true, but it also ushers in the next phase of the process, which is the edit and re-write stage. Or, as I call it, the 'Flaying off my own skin with a rusty butter knife' stage.

First drafts are, for me anyway, limping, misshapen things. Let's say I forget the name of a street I mentioned 34 pages ago. I don't stop and go back and look -- I just type ****, which is my code for 'Go back and look this up, doofus.'

Same for the names of minor characters. The wine steward from Chapter 4? ****.  The date, if I've lost track of it? ****.

All those **** entries have to be cleaned up. Spell-check has to run.  I do my own searches on the words I habitually screw up -- discrete and discreet, I'm looking at you two. I also run searches on the characters I tend to transpose.

Then comes the re-read. Here I'm looking for repetition. Bad alliteration. Dialog tags that repeat or don't fit or are missing altogether. Plot holes. Subplots I may have started and then dropped. Notes I wrote to myself and stuck in the manuscript and forgot about. The last thing you want to do is leave an editor scratching her head over entries such as 'Make RT kr.ull w/o 9 of the thing.' You don't want to bring undue attention to the fact that you're making this stuff up as you go.

So yeah. It gets messy.

All this before I ever consider sending the manuscript out. In fact, I like to do all this more than once, because it's so easy to miss things. I know what I meant to write, and my traitorous lazy brain sees those words, and not the ones my fingers actually typed.

This time around, though, I've added a new practice to my usual round or re-reads and edits. For the frist time, I'm having my PC read the whole book, from start to end, aloud to me, while I turn away from the screen and jot down notes by hand on a notepad.

Word 2010 has a built-in speech function. I wish I had Word 2010. Word 2010 runs about one hundred and twenty bucks. Instead, I have Word 2007, which is 2010's mute sire. So I found a free text-to-speech program on CNET called Hal Text-to-Speech Reader, and I'm using that.

I pull up the actual Word file and copy an entire chapter. Then I paste that into Hal and grab my notepad. It's slow, even after setting the read rate to just below AUCTIONEER INSANE, but wow is it effective.

I've already read through the whole thing twice, and was feeling pretty good about the state of the manuscript-- until Hal started reading to me, in her robotic flat voice. Mistakes that sailed right past my eyes leaped out screaming in my ears.

Here are a few examples, taken straight my my notepad:

twenty of more (should have been twenty or more)
isn't hat right (should have been isn't that right)
is a good as (should have been is as good as)
to and from (should have been to and fro)

Those are hard to catch, when they're hiding in several hundred pages of text. But my ears caught them with no trouble at all.

I am weary of the robotic voice and the complete lack of inflection, though. And the often hilarious pronunciation of words and names I made up myself.

But it's still a good system.

The edits on BROWN RIVER QUEEN are going quickly, all things considered.

In other news, if you wanted to grab a copy of my YA fantasy book ALL THE PATHS OF SHADOW but  also wanted to wait for the price to fall, you're in luck! You can get the e-book from either Amazon or Barnes & Noble or the publisher for only $3.99, which is six bucks off the former price.

Here are some links, so click away!

All the Paths of Shadow at Amazon for your Kindle

All the Paths of Shadow at Barnes & Noble for your Nook

All the Paths of Shadow at Cool Well Press in any format

Chalk Up Another One

It is done.

I speak of the new Markhat book, BROWN RIVER QUEEN. I just added the words THE END to the first draft.

Another novel. Seventy-odd thousand of what I believe to be the right words. Written at a time of my life when frankly I'm surprised I was able to write at all.

I love this book. Maybe I've hit my stride at last. Maybe I've gotten to know the characters and Markhat's world so well I'm finally able to show it with clarity to you, the reader.

Maybe I just got lucky.

Whatever the case, I love this book. It's got thrills and chills and surprises. Long-time Markhat fans, who've been along for the whole ride, are going to learn some new things, and understand some familiar faces a lot better.

Now keep in mind I've haven't sold BROWN RIVER QUEEN yet. In this business, there are no sure things. But a part of me is absolutely certain this new book will be accepted, because yeah, it's that good.

I spent yesterday re-reading big chunks of it, getting ready to write the epic dust-up at the end. I'll be honest with you -- more than once, I read a portion, and was honestly amazed that those words came from my rather addled and dysfunctional brain. Seriously, folks, it's a mess in here. Did I really write that?

Now the real work begins. A first draft is just the beginning. There will  be re-readings. There will be re-writes. A couple of people out there are going to be heartily sick of BROWN RIVER QUEEN before anything hits an editor's desk.

And, assuming the book sells, then will come more of the same. Re-reads. Re-writes. Line edits. Did I have the sun rise on page 134 and again on page 136, even though only six hours had passed? Was Markhat wearing a black hat on 98, and a grey one on 101? Did I spell grey gray or grey? Did I use stair or stairs consistently throughout?

But I'll do all that work, and I'll do it gladly, because that is the only way to put out a book worth its price.

I may never get rich at this game.

BROWN RIVER QUEEN may never sell a million copies. May never be made into a big-budget movie.

But by gum, it will be a good book. And people will read it, and say to themselves at the end "That was a darned good book."

And that's the highest praise I can conceive.

The End.

Twitter Versus Word

I've noticed an odd inverse relationship between my fiction writing output and my social media involvement.

When I'm really churning out fiction, my Tweets and blogs and FB updates dwindle to nothing, or nearly so. And when I'm writing at a crawl -- paragraphs a day, and not many of those -- I'm racking up tweets and FB posts and blog entries by the dozen.

Right now I'm on a writing roll, cranking out the last of the new Markhat novel in good solid bursts. I don't think I've been on Twitter since the middle of last week. I know I haven't blogged since last Sunday.

When I considered this just now, my first thought was 'Well, I was busy, with the real work.'

But was I?

I mean sure, I was busy. Busy writing, which is good, because if I don't get some new books out pretty quick people will forget who I am and I'll be starting from proverbial Square One when I do have a new title to sell.

But could it be I'm also harming myself as an author by neglecting the various social media?

I'm a bit envious of mid to late 20th century authors, who never had to ponder such questions. They wrote books. Maybe they did a few bookstore signings, and if they were lucky a few newspaper interviews.

Earnest Hemingway never had to look at a clock and decide whether to hit Twitter for an hour before supper or just keep on working on the new chapter.

No, I'm not comparing myself to Hemingway. For one thing, I don't have any cats. I also don't see any shotguns in my future. But my time to write is limited by unavoidable circumstance -- do I limit it even further just trying to maintain scant visibility in a sea of new titles and authors?

It's not that I don't enjoy hanging out on Twitter, understand. I do. I could do it all day, much in the same way I could play 'Skyrim' all day. But my internal auditor frowns at such pursuits because, he notes, "I'm not that young to begin with and I'm certainly not getting any younger."

So I feel guilty if I don't write. That's a good thing, one it's taken me years to construct.

Now I feel guilty, or at least a ghostly facsimile thereof, If I'm not blogging and tweeting. I'm not so sure as to the efficacy of this feeling. For all I know, it's my perpetually lazy subconscious trying to trick me into getting on Twitter and out of work. Because that's just the kind of sneaky crap my innermost self would love to pull.

So I've compromised. I'm blogging. Whining, really, but that counts.

BROWN RIVER QUEEN is very nearly done.  We're down to the climatic final scene, where everything comes to a rather violent head.  I think fans will find that Markhat outsmarts all his foes deftly this time around, with very little help from any supernatural allies.

See? Just writing the above, I had an idea concerning the final dust-up. It's just a tiny detail, but it will add something genuinely creepy to the business at hand. I'm off to add it.

See you all later!

BROWN RIVER QUEEN Update

The new Markhat novel is nearing completion!

How near?

I just finished an outline for the last three scenes. True, I don't normally do outlines, but there are a lot of things happening fast and the order and flow is crucial. I have to make sure Event A happens to Person B while Person C suffers Fate D as Band F plays Song H. And so on. One slip-up here means a lot of editing later, so I've got a timeline I'll be following from here on out.

I don't like putting a number or a date on these things, but we're looking at another 10K words or so. Even a writer as glacially slow as myself will be able to whip that out in a matter of a week or two.

So, for all you Markhat fans who've been waiting patiently to see what happens next, your wait is nearly over!

I will of course keep you posted, here and on Twitter (I'm @Frank_Tuttle there) and on Facebook (Frank Tuttle).

The climax to this one is a lot of fun. If by 'lot of fun' you include a few severed heads, the walking dead, and Mama Hog doing things with her cleaver that you won't see on The Food Network. But I think fans of the series will really enjoy this latest outing.

If you're not already a fan of the series, might I suggest trying it? Here are the Markhat books, in the order I suggest you read them in, with handy links.

Dead Man's Rain

The Mister Trophy

The Cadaver Client

Hold the Dark

The Banshee's Walk

The Broken Bell

If print books are what you want, Amazon has those too -- The Markhat Files contains all three of the first Markhat adventures (Dead Man's Rain, The Mister Trophy, and The Cadaver Client).  Hold the Dark and The Banshee's Walk are also available in print, and The Broken Bell hits print this September.

If epic YA fantasy with hints of steampunk and humor is more your taste, check out the first entry in my new YA series, All the Paths of Shadow.

I keep a better list of all my books here.

Okay, back to work for me!

Friday Roundup

This has been one heck of a busy week.

Fletcher, our shall we say mature dog who was recently diagnosed with canine diabetes, is now on a new form of insulin. The old insulin simply stopped being very effective, and after a valiant attempt to find a dosage that worked, our vet suggested we try another type of insulin altogether.

Let me pause to give a shout-out to Dr. Ware Sullivan, of Oxford, Mississippi. He cares what happens to Fletcher. He and his staff don't just do their jobs, and stop there. No. They're genuinely and sincerely committed to treating their patients with everything they've got, and if Mr. Fletcher could say thanks out loud, he would. But I can, so I do. Thank you.

There is no canine-derived insulin. We're using human insulin to treat Mr. Fletcher, which makes the possibility of rejection by his doggy physiology a good possibility. It's common in these cases to switch insulins at least once, and that's what we're doing.

Fletcher endures the blood tests and vet visits and the days spent away from home with an easy, good-natured grace. I don't know how, but I believe he knows we're all working hard to help him, and he appreciates it and shows his appreciation by being a trooper.  Is it obvious my wife and I love dogs? Well, we do.

And there's been the usual hectic business of life. Today culminated in a long drive in a small pickup with no air conditioning, one large dog, a pizza, motorcycle gear, two backpacks, and two adult humans. But it was fun. We even made it there and back with the pizza intact.

Best of all, I've gotten some writing done! I'm really pleased with Brown River Queen, and I hope fans will be, too. Markhat's world gets deeper and older and more interesting every time I write about it, and I think that's a good sign.  I'm thinking I'll be sticking THE END on this one in the matter of a couple of weeks, at most.

Of course, I'll still need to edit it and then submit it. I wish I could say my fame had reached such lofty heights that a sale was not just certain but inevitable, but that isn't exactly he truth. Heck, it isn't even in the same building with the truth.

But it's a good book. I think it will sell.

I'm also writing a short how-to book, which I intend to use as a text when I teach a summer fiction writing course to a group of talented teenagers this June. That's been fun too. I'm going to give it away for free on my website during the course, so if you're at all interested, stay tuned. I'll provide links shortly.

And of course there's the upcoming podcast.  I've decided to name it BRACE FOR IMPACT. Because that sounds evocative and adventurous, and honestly, what could be more adventurous than a 48 year old fantasy author sitting behind a microphone and blathering for 20 minutes?

So I've been busy. Busy in a good way.

It's Friday night, and it's nearly eight o-clock, and that means only two things -- SUPERNATURAL, and FRINGE. Yeah, I dig the Winchesters. And Agent Dunham. Hey, even writers need to relax, right?

See you folks soon!

Live From the Dark Side of the Moon

I've also been fascinated by radio.

And gadgets. Radio and gadgets. And loudspeakers.

So that's radio, gadgets, and loudspeakers. Along with other things. But, for the sake of brevity, we'll stop there.

There's always been something inherently magical in the idea that a hairy man can sit in a tiny room somewhere and speak into a metallic contrivance and have his voice heard, if not all around the world, for hundreds of miles away. I can remember, as a kid and even as a young adult, listening to a lot of late-night radio. I spent most of the 80s working the graveyard shift, and in those ancient days of yore it was the radio, not the net, that kept us supplied with music and entertainment throughout the night.

And the DJs were the masters of the air. Rock 103 in Memphis was the closest genuine rock radio around, and many a night we busted a proverbial gut listening to the decidedly offbeat musings of the DJs. Ah, youth.

But this is the space-age a go-go 21st century, baby, and radio is something old folks talk about (see above). No, this is the Age of the Net. No more fiddling with antenna or tuners. Well, okay, some of us still do that, but we do it quietly, and in the privacy of our homes. At night. Wearing masks.

But I digress.

I still believe there's something unique about hearing another human voice. Too, to be perfectly honest, I've been told that podcasting (the new equivalent of a radio show) is a good way to promote one's books.

I have books. I like money.

It seems a natural fit.

And so, I have decided to embark upon a journey of creation. In addition to this blog, I will also soon begin publishing a twice-a-month audio-only podcast. Why audio only, you ask?

Have you seen me lately? Sure, back in the day, I was always being mistaken for George Clooney, so much so, in fact, that I actually starred in the sequel to 'Ocean's Eleven.' But time has not been kind, so it's an audio only podcast.

Now, when I decide to undertake a task, I do it right. I research the topic. I analyze other works in the field. I hurl abuse upon street mimes. Granted, that doesn't really help the process, but I hate those guys.

Researching and preparing for a podcast has been great fun because, as I mentioned, I love gadgets. Especially audio gadgets. I've got a bunch of loudspeakers that I designed and built, and they sound great, if I may say so.  And when my research immediately indicated that I'd need to get a decent microphone, I was ecstatic.

Sure, I could get by with a twenty-dollar WalMart special. It would allow me to record my voice.

And it would also sound like, to be blunt, crap. As do the microphones built into pretty much any piece of consumer electronics (and yes, that includes Macs, sorry).

That led to a bit of a problem, since I lost most of my fortune in the Great Dirigible Crash of 1911.  Happily, my research turned up a pro-grade mic I could actually afford.

I give you the Blue Snowball microphone!

It lists for a hundred bucks, which is a steal for the quality and specs. I got mine from Tiger Direct for a mere $69 plus shipping.

My Snowball arrived today, and here she is, in all her chrome-plated metal glory!

Yeah, I know, but I'm my own photographer too.

Now, was the Blue worth the money? Let's just see.

Click on the thingy below to hear an audio sample of my voice recorded by the mic in my Dell netbook. I'll wait right here.

Frank speaking into the built-in microphone.

It's intelligible speech. It does sound distant, and lacks any kind of tonal character.

But now try listening to the Blue, and hear the difference...

Frank on the Blue Snowball

Now that is a microphone.

I did notice a slight pop when I pronounced the P (say that really fast ten times), so I rummaged through my junk drawer and came up with a pop filter, shown below.

Yes, it's a piece of scrap felt sandwiched between the metal grille elements of an old air filter, supported by a length of flexible aluminum wire, a hose clamp, and a heavy metal thing from who knows where. But it works, as you can hear below:

Pop Filter Test

See all the fun I've had? I got to play with a gadget, build something, record audio clips, move them from netbook to PC using the Cloud, and mess around with Audacity, the free sound editing software I'll be using.

Oh, and yes, I actually wrote, too. Brown River Queen is coming to a close, people! And it's been one heck of a ride. 

I'll leave you with one last image. I found this while clearing up free space on my website -- it's a genuine, unretouched screen shot from June of 2009. It doesn't need any explanation -- just look at the names and the rank numbers.

That was a very good day.

Top of the world, Ma!

Get you some!

Tax Tips for Writers, 156th Edition, With Illustrations Throughout

Certain eldritch signs portend various significant turnings of the year. Birds fly south. Or maybe north. Frankly I don't spend much time outdoors with a compass charting the movements of waterfowl.

But even a dedicated indoorsman such as myself can observe the anguished faces on the street, and hear the plaintive cries of agony borne on the night wind (and no, I don't know from which direction the bloody wind is blowing, let's leave that to the meteorologists, shall we?).

Even I can see the chalk outlines left by those poor unfortunates who at last cried 'No more, enough!' before shuffling off their mortal coils by way of extreme over-tanning or a full-on single-sitting read of Snooki's 'A Shore Thing.'

And even I know what these grim signs portend -- tax time.

That's right, gentle readers, if you are a citizen of the US, it's that time of year when Uncle Sam takes you fondly by your ankles and shakes you until every last cent you've seen in the last year falls out of your pockets, because let's face it, war ain't cheap.

Now, if you've made any money off your writing in the last year, I'm here to help. Because if there's anything the US government holds dear, it's the idea that every American is free to earn a profit by the sweat of his brow and the set of his jaw. Equally sacred to the American governing psyche is the ideal that they get a slice of that sweet free enterprise pie.

The first thing writers need to know about filing their writing income is this -- FILE IT. That story you sold to Ominous Bathroom Squeaks and Eldritch Attic Squeals Monthly for 15 bucks? That pair of flash-fiction entries you pawned off on Public Transit Funnies, a Bus Station Free Magazine for three bucks and a coupon for $2.00 off any foot-long club at Subway?

Maybe you're thinking 'Hey, why bother reporting that, nobody knows about those!'

And how wrong you are, Grasshopper.

They know. Maybe it's the Carnivore communication surveillance system. Maybe the CIA has an Obscure Small Press Reporting Division. Maybe that mean-eyed old lady down the street is on the phone with the IRS every day, after she goes through your mail and steams open all the envelopes -- it doesn't matter how, but believe me, they know.

So, the first thing?

Report it.

Now if you've made any serious coin you've been sent a 1099-MISC from the publisher(s). You should keep up with these things. I used to put them in a folder and them lose the folder and then move to Mississippi and assume a new identity as Frank Tuttle when I realized I'd lost them all, but then I got married and she keeps important papers in a brilliant thing called a drawer. I'll bet you have some of these drawers  in your place too. Open them up and put stuff in them, it's an amazing time-saver compared to identity theft.

At the end of the year, you take all these 1099 forms, wipe the tears from your face, and enter them in the boxes according to the helpful prompts on the TurboTax software. When the crying diminishes to a bearable level, proceed.

Next, let's consider deductions. The word deductions comes from the Latin dede, which means 'not for,' and uction, which means 'you.' In tax parlance, deductions are money amounts which everyone but you can subtract from the taxes they owe.

For instance, I write on a PC. I built this PC myself, from components I purchased separately, for the sole purpose of writing.  Now, if I were anyone else, I could deduct the total cost of the machine from my taxes owed, since it's a business expense -- but since I am demonstrably me, this deduction does not apply, and, notes TurboTax, 'ha ha ha.'

See how that works? It truly simplifies filing.

Let's look at some other deductions which you, as a writer, cannot claim:

•  Home Office Deductions. Oh, you have an office, in which you write? Well, let's have a look. It can't be attached to your house. It can't house a TV or other casual entertainment device. It can't possibly, under any circumstances, be even remotely suited for any purpose other than writing, and it can't be very good at that. So you have a detached office which contains nothing but a chair, a desk, and a PC running nothing but Word? But it has a roof?  'Ha ha ha,' intones TurboTax. 'Trying to pull a fast one, are you? DENIED.'
• Office Expense Deductions.  You're a writer, and even the IRS grudgingly concedes that the act of writing might in some way involves putting down words on some medium, be it electronic or paper. Okay, this looks promising. You bought a printer to print out manuscripts. You pay for internet service because 1950 was 73 years ago. These seem to be legitimate deductions, so let's investigate further BUZZ HA HA HA NOT SO FAST, TAXPAYER! Those deductions are only valid in years  where acceptable total solar eclipses occur in northern Peru (see Schedule 117863-E, 'Solar Interruptions, South American Totality Table 167-75E, lines 46 through 78), and guess what pal, this ain't it.
• Other Deductions. Mitt Romney has a 376 page embossed-leather-bound acid-free paper book with gold-gilt edges filled with 'Other Deductions.' Are you Mitt Romney? Didn't think so. Move along.

Sadly, that about covers it. You've toiled over every word, you've poured over ever sentence, you've labored long into that good night trying to illuminate a single tiny facet of the flawed jewel that is the human condition.

Or, in other words, you've earned slightly more than minimum wage. 

Bon appetite, my friends!

And for the love of all that is holy, don't miss the filing deadline. 

Mangled Monday Horoscopes

Curious as to what the stars have in store for you next week?


Me neither. Given the obvious ill-will the stars display towards all things Tuttle, I'd just as soon be kept in the dark until the last possible moment, i.e., until I see the muzzle flash. But if you are of a metaphysical bent, and if you do have excellent life insurance, read on.


Me, I'll be down in the bunker, adjusting my Kevlar vest and tightening my flak helmet.


ARIES (March 21-April 20)

Okay, so you don't manage to land the plane successfully. But, on the bright side, next Tuesday's fiery crash into the oil refinery will result in more stringent fire-suppression codes for future petrochemical facilities.

TAURUS (April 21 - May 20)

Seriously, no one has been killed by a falling piano since 1929. Until you step outside next Thursday.

CANCER (June 21 - July 22)

Yeah, you'd think X-ray machines had fuses, or some way to prevent accidental massive output surges. Maybe they will, after your estate gets done suing General Electric (Medical Division). 

LEO (July 23 - August 22)
All things considered, your brief outburst on Wednesday isn't the worst set of last words ever spoken, despite what the 52% of the commenters on YouTube say.

VIRGO (August 23 - September 23)

On the bright side, they'll never figure out how your frozen body wound up in the Atlanta Aquarium wearing nothing but Abraham Lincoln's famous stovepipe hat.

LIBRA (September 24 - October 23)

Before Monday, there will be no recorded instances of fatal parrot attacks on humans. Even the stars are curious about this one -- just what do you say to that bird, to make it so angry?

SCORPIO (October 24 - November 21)
See, what happens Friday at the petting zoo is why you should never tempt grumpy Fate by asking the (usually) rhetorical question 'At least it can't get any worse, right?' 

SAGITTARIUS (November 22 - December 21)

If it's any consolation, hardly anyone could improvise a working emergency breathing apparatus out of an ice machine and an office supply closet. At least you go down fighting.

CAPRICORN (December 22 - January 19)
Turns out they aren't kidding about that pufferfish eat-at-your-own-risk warning. 

AQUARIUS (January 20 - February 19)
Even the coroner will be aghast -- all that blood on the ceiling, from an exercise bike accident?

PISCES (February 20 - March 20)
Look at it this way -- how many people can claim it took two Hearses six hours to convey their remains to the cemetery? At least the radiation levels allowed mourners to watch the burial from a safe distance. 

Frank's Fantastic Free Friday Fiction Free-for-all, With TANTRUM.

Today I'm embarking upon a grand experiment in greed.

Oops. Did I say greed? I meant publishing. Specifically, I've entered a title into Amazon's KDP Select program.

For you, that means Passing the Narrows is free. That's right. Gratis. No charge. You click, and it's yours, delivered via the magic of Amazon, elves, and unicorn snorts.

"But Frank," you opine. "What do you get out of this?"

I rub my furry paws together in an overt display of unseemly glee. Because, dear reader, what I get out of it is exposure. So don't fret, because that might interfere with your clicking. Wouldn't want that, heavens no.

The magic of KDP Select is that I might get a thousand -- nay, ten thousand -- downloads in the next two days. And if people enjoy this freebie, well, they might be willing to part with the modest cost of my other works.

There is a catch, of sorts. Passing the Narrows is only free today (starting midnight March 30) and tomorrow (March 31). After that it resumes its normal price of forty-eleven dozen hundred gazillion dollars.

Okay, so it's free, and there's a link right above and another one right here. But some of you haven't clicked the links!  Why?  Reasons include:

• You hate Frank, and are only here looking for incriminating blog posts with which to line the walls of your makeshift lair.
• You bought Passing the Narrows already and you're beginning to think the guy with the makeshift lair has the right idea.
• You are a Tibetan yak, and your attempt to Google 'hairball relief' was hampered by your hooves.
• You aren't sure if you want to read anything about steamboats or the Civil War.

Okay, fair enough. I can't help numbers one through three above, but maybe I can nudge you fours into springing for something free. I did mention it's free, didn't I? I did? Good.

Passing the Narrows is the tale of a stubborn Mississippi riverboat captain and his downtrodden crew of Civil War survivors. Which probably sounds all too familiar, but hang on, this American Civil War was fought with spells and magics along with cannon and cavalry. 

Which makes it a sort of alternate history Southern fantasy. A darkish one, at that.  

Here's a taste of the opening, just to whet your appetite:

PASSING THE NARROWS

The Yocona surged ahead, paddle-wheel churning, cylinders beating like some great, frightened heart.

"Dark as Hell and twiced as hot," muttered Swain from the shadows behind the clerk’s map-table.

A ragged chorus of ayes answered.  The Captain checked his pocket watch; ten o'clock sharp.  Old Swain and his hourly announcements hadn't lost a minute in twenty years.

The Captain snapped his pocket watch shut and peered out into the darkness.  There, to port, loomed a hulking mass of shadow twice the height of any around it -- Cleary's Oak, last marker before the riverboat landing at Float.  "We're an hour from Float, Mr. Barker. Notify the deck crew we'll be putting in for the night."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"She won't like that," said Swain, whispering.  "Fit to be tied, she'll be.  Full of fire and steam."

"Who, Swain?"

"You know who.  The wand-waver.  The Yankee."

"Go back to sleep."

"I heard her talkin’ while the boys were hauling me up the deck,” said Swain, gesturing with the stump of his missing right arm.  “Said she was aimin’ to make Vicksburg 'fore the moon came again.  Said she had orders, and papers, and -- "

"I give the orders here, Swain.  Not any damn Yankee wand-wavers."

Swain cackled.  The Yocona churned past Cleary's Oak, picking up speed as the Yazoo River turned narrow and straight.  The Captain rang three bells, and the thump-thump-thump of the pistons slowed.

The Yocona’s running lamps began to touch the trees on each bank of the Yazoo River.  Shadows whirled and twisted, caught mid-step in some secret dance before fleeing back into the impenetrable murk beyond the first rank of trees.  Some few seemed to run just ahead of the light, capering and tumbling like shards of a nightmare given flesh and let loose to roam.

The shadows reminded the Captain of Gettysburg and Oxford and a hundred other haunted ruins left in the wake of the war.  The Yazoo River was the only safe route through the countryside now, unless you 

were a sorcerer, a Yankee, or a fool.

"Eyes ahead, boys," said the Captain, softly.  "They're only there if you look."

Read the rest here! For free!

MidSouthCon 30 Roundup

MidSouthCon 30 has come and gone, and I'm pleased to say I was there for it.

I'm not going to post each and every photo I took, because A) that's what Pinterest is for and B) you've probably seen more photos of Stormtroopers than you actually need to see in a two lifetimes already. But I will post a few notables.

On the left is Dr. Ethan Siegel, who is a real live theoretical astrophysicist and part-time Spartan warrior. His Significant Other is on the right. He was a Guest of Honor at the con, and I had the pleasure of talking with him about dark matter and dark energy, which is not at all an unusual dinner conversation at an SF/F convention, regardless of how the diners are dressed. That's one of the things that make cons so exciting. The most fascinating people show up!

Fans of Dr. Who will recognize this costume immediately. For everyone else, she's a Weeping Angel. They only move when you look away or blink, and they only move when they're about to do horrible, awful things to you.  It's fun, watching them sneak up behind people and just stand there.

Storm Troopers!  Look, I've talked to a lot of these guys, and they're unfailingly helpful and polite. I know, I know, during the week they work for the Empire, but at the Cons they are a force for good.  And they're always happy to pose, and point their blasters right at you, but in this case it's all in fun.  It is all in fun, right guys? Right?

This young woman was later seen using that rifle to keep the hordes of eager fan-boys at bay. 

The lone Ghostbuster I saw Saturday had carried an amazing proton pack. I'm fairly sure it actually worked. 

Gotta love articulated wings!

Oh. this isn't from the Con. This is me, any Monday morning...

I think she was looking for a contact lens.

Now, lest you, gentle reader, decide cons are all leather and steampunk outfits, let me talk about the panels.

Panels consist of a row of editors or authors or publicists or agents or any combination thereof facing a room of festively-dressed fans, writers, and other parties. The experts impart knowledge. People like me sit in the audience and hope to soak up that critical mass of information that will send us skyrocketing from obscurity and onto the Jimmy Fallon Show.

I managed to hit several panels, and had a blast at each. But if I had to pick one panel to call my most valuable, it would be the Marketing panel.

Pictured are AP Stephens, Stephen Zimmer, Janine Spendlove, Mike Preston, and Peggy DeKay. Now, maybe you're thinking "Frank, why would you be interested in Marketing? You're a writer!"

Well, gentle reader, if you're not Stephen King, and I do not appear to be, marketing is a genuine concern in the whiz-bang electrified interweb-activated publishing landscape of the future which is, incidentally, today. 

It's market or die, baby. According to my Amazon rankings, it's mostly die. But we small fry authors have to keep swimming, regardless.

I learned a few things at this panel. Things I'll be implementing shortly. Be on the alert for a weekly podcast, hosted by me and my impenetrable Southern accent. (Side note: Anyone who has a Snowball Blue USB mic they don't want, get in touch. I maka you a deal, no?)

I met some great people at the con. The good Dr. Siegel is both brilliant and a gentleman. Janine Spendlove is both a Marine C-130 pilot and the author of a darned good book (War of the Seasons, Book 1: The Human). And publishing expert Peggy DeKay said my accent shouldn't be an impediment to creating a podcast!

My Con experience was capped off when my book All the Paths of Shadow was named the runner-up to the 2012 Darrell Award for a YA novel!

So that's my MidSouthCon 30 roundup. I enjoyed seeing my Con pals, and making new ones, and joining in the madness that is fandom, just for a bit.

Note: see more pics at my Pinterest account, here.