Rare As Mississippi Snow

Most of you are sick of snow.

So I apologize for posting snow pics. But you see, I live in Mississippi, where snow is a rare event. Snow, like funding for education or low body mass indexes, is a thing that usually happens far, far away from Mississippi.

But last week, it snowed here. We got 4 inches of the frozen white stuff. The town all but shut down for two whole days.

Here is how my wife felt about this rare Mississippi snow.

The author is shown below frolicking, as is the way of his people.

I like the pics above and below because they captured the color of the sky during the snow. Again, that's not something we often see here.

Chief subject-verb agreement dog Lou Ann enjoyed the snow as well, after she gave it a good barking.

Her enthusiasm for the cold white stuff quickly dimmed, though, as evidenced by the stink-eye directed toward Winter shown below:

The snow is gone now, leaving behind nothing but mud, sadly slumping snowmen, and a flurry of auto insurance claims.

MidSouthCon 33 Update

MidSouthCon 33 is fast approaching!

I'm nearly ready. I've done some additional work on my steampunk ghostbuster proton pack, and I've ordered the rest of my Victorian gentleman's ensemble from the Gentleman's Emporium.

Here are the latest proton pack pics. You'll notice a lot of detail work has been added -- mainly in the form of heavy-gauge copper wires and various fittings. I've also got a new light effect, which turned out to be hard to photograph.

See the glowing red copper conduit running from top to bottom? That's the new feature. I took clear plastic tubing and spray-painted it copper. Then I filled it with red EL wiring, and scored the paint on the outside. Under bright room lights, you can't tell it's been scored, since the tubing is clear and all you see is copper. But turn the lights down low and turn the EL wiring on, and the whole thing glows an eerie red. It looks good with the blue glow of the thrower and the round dingus at the bottom of the pack.

If anyone reading this plans on attending MidSouthCon 33, please come find me there! I'll be the guy in the John Bull top hat and the red vest wearing this thing on my back. Come get your picture taken and also help me up from the floor where I have collapsed from the weight of this rig.

Obligatory Book Plug

Now available for pre-order everywhere!

Should I post a brief excerpt?

Yeah, I should.

Excerpt from THE DARKER CARNIVAL:

I woke early, not rested and aching.

I heard Buttercup’s tiny bare banshee feet scamper across my roof. She giggled, and then she was gone.

Darla slumbered at my side. Her hair, black and soft as crow feathers, hung across her face. I brushed it away from her eyes and laid a kiss on her cheek and then slipped out of bed. Cornbread, the shaggy mutt that shares our home, settled into the warm spot I just vacated and wagged his tail once in thanks before snoring off into doggy dreamland.

I dressed in the dark. I tiptoed across the red Balptist rug in the living room with my shoes in my hands, got the door open and shut and locked without making a sound. I know which of the porch floorboards creak, since I loosened the nails myself, so I stepped over them and made it all the way to our waist-high iron gate before pausing to put on my shoes.

I watched my bedroom window. No match flared, no candle came quickly to life. Cornbread obliged me by not barking or scratching at my door.

Buttercup slipped her cold banshee hand into mine. I’m so used to having her sneak up on me I no longer jerk or start.

“Good morning, sweetie,” I whispered. “You’re glowing. Let’s play the hiding game, right now.”

The golden radiance that flowed from her died. She giggled and raised a finger to her lips, as I did the same.

I glanced about at my neighbors’ windows. None were lit.

And even if they had seen, what would they say?

Buttercup tugged at me, pulling in the direction of Cambrit Street, whence lay my office and, I suspected, a plate of Mama Hog’s biscuits and sorghum molasses.

The sun was more than an hour from rising. Curfew was still in effect across Rannit, which meant anyone a peckish halfdead caught outside was fair game for breakfast, and I was standing in the street with both my shoes untied.

But I had a vampire revolver in my right pocket and a ten thousand year-old banshee holding my left hand and I’d walked with the slilth not so long ago.

Boot soles scraped cobbles. My hand found the butt of my revolver.

Buttercup giggled and pointed down the street before vanishing.

A man walked out of the night and into the dim, wobbling glow of a street-lamp.

I relaxed my grip on the revolver, but didn’t pull my hand away. I could tell at once my fellow Curfew-breaker was no halfdead. He shuffled, for one thing, walking slowly while dragging a noisy burden on a wheeled contrivance behind him.

Like any breed of the rich, halfdead seldom roam the streets dragging their own carts. Too, this man’s hat was a shapeless, baggy lump, not one of Breed Street’s crisp starched offerings.

The man saw me, halted, waved.

“Good morning to you, friend,” he said. He pitched his voice carefully, so that it just reached my ears, but wouldn’t carry much further. “Might I inquire as to whether you live hereabouts?”

I wasn’t sure he could see a head-shake, so I took a half dozen steps ahead and spoke.

“Nope,” I replied. “I’m just a man out for a stroll.”

He nodded, smiling. “Well, count your lucky stars, man out for a stroll. They call me Shango. Shango the storm-sniffer. I’ve walked all night, following a stink. And it leads right to yonder door.”

He pointed out the door. Naturally, he pointed out my door.

The spear-ends of shiny steel rods poked through the tarp on his cart, here and there. Some were worked into the shapes of angels. Some as devils. One worked in the shape of a half-moon turned in the dim lamp-light.

I sighed.

“I’m guessing you sell lightning rods,” I said. The Church tried and failed to outlaw lighting rods inside Rannit a few weeks ago, apparently on the basis that the long steel sticks committed the cardinal sin of actually preventing lightning strikes. “Thwarting the will of the Heavens,” cried the priests. “I’ll take two,” cried the homeowners. Now the streets were lousy with lightning rod salesmen.

He shot out of his slouch. “Indeed I do,” he said. “But not ordinary lightning rods. No, friend. I sell the kind of lightning rods even the rich cannot buy.”

“Good for you,” I said. I started walking, hoping he didn’t notice my damned traitor shoe-laces flopping at my heels. “Now if you don’t mind, I always take my breakfast with the Regent.”

He laughed, but he kept the sound low. “Won’t you at least have a look, Mr. Markhat? Won’t you at least have a look?”

I produced my pistol and let him see it.

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

“But I told you mine,” he said. If the thick black bulk of my vampire-built revolver gave him pause, his dirty face didn’t show it. “Shango. I smell storms. I can’t hold back the wind, friend, but I can damn sure turn the lightning.” He nodded back at his cart. “No man should lack protection from the fickle wrath of Heaven.”

“I’ve got all the protection I need.”

“No,” he said. His eyes, which I still hadn’t seen beneath the bill of his pork-pie hat, glittered just for an instant as the moon briefly peeked out from the clouds. “I tell you plain, Mr. Markhat, that you do not.”

“Get out of my way.”

“I’m not what’s in your way, friend,” he said. He stepped aside, sniffing at the air. “I’ll be working these parts for a while, I will. Ask for Shango, should you change your mind. Ask for Shango.”

I put my gun back in my jacket pocket.

About the time the squeak of his cart’s wheels bit into the silence, Buttercup took my hand again.

“Let’s go get some breakfast,” I said, and with Buttercup skipping beside me I walked all the way to Cambrit, without a lightning rod of any kind to guard me from the fickle wrath of Heaven.

...and that's all I'm posting! You can read the whole thing starting April 28. And just so you don't get busy and forget, you can take your click-happy little fingers here and reserve a copy, if you want.

Book Release!

A good friend of mine, Elyse Salpeter, released a new book!

Here's the link. These are great books, check them out!

Quest for the Empty Tomb

Final Words

On a sad note indeed, we in the SF/F community lost a legend this week. You know who I mean.

Live long and prosper, my friends.

Something Well-Dressed This Way Comes

The big news this week, of course, is below....

The new Markhat novel, The Darker Carnival, is available for pre-order on Amazon!

The book goes on sale April 28, but Amazon, ever helpful, is now taking advance orders. Click below to see the product page, read the blurb, and gaze in wide-eyed wonder at the awesome cover art!

The Darker Carnival Amazon pre-order!

Prefer Nook books? No problem, the Barnes & Noble pre-order page is live too. Here's a link.

The Darker Carnival at Barnes & Noble

If you'd rather order direct from the publisher, the Samhain page is also up and running. They'll let you choose from any format at all.

The Darker Carnival from Samhain (all formats)

Kobo is also set up to take pre-orders!

The Darker Carnival from Kobo

So choose your flavor and dive right in.

MidSouthCon News

MidSouthCon 33 is right around the corner -- less than a month away now. If you haven't signed up or booked your room at the Hilton, you'd better hurry! The Con space will fill up fast, if it hasn't already.

I'll be there, and I'm on a number of panels this year. I'm even hosting one -- "Humor in Fantasy." So if you've ever wondered how to use humor in your own writing, you'd probably want to avoid this panel because so far my presentation notes consist of suggestions on where in the room to hide.

I do hope to read and then deconstruct a couple of humorous passages and scenes. Humor is one of the most effective tools in the writer's toolbox, but it's also the riskiest. A joke that falls flat is likely to take the book down with it.

But we'll talk about that in the panel! Come prepared with questions and small airplane bottles of hard liquor for the author. That way he might get distracted and you can all slip out and go watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show screening instead.

I've been working on my steampunk Ghostbusters proton pack, and it's nearly finished.

If you remember the last set of images I posted, the thrower part of the pack was a big long copper thing that actually shot confetti. Well, it's nice, and it works, but it's also huge and heavy. So I've built a second much smaller thrower that I'm pleased with. Pics of both are below!

Step Right Up -- The Darker Carnival Can Be Pre-ordered!

Markhat fans, I have great news!

The new Markhat novel, The Darker Carnival, is now available for pre-order on Amazon!

The book goes on sale April 28, but Amazon, ever helpful, is now taking advance orders. Click below to see the product page, read the blurb, and gaze in wide-eyed wonder at the awesome cover art!

The Darker Carnival Amazon pre-order!

I'm excited about this book. It is, I believe, the best thing I've ever written.

But you can judge that for yourself in April!

Possum Jackets

I have a book signing this Wednesday!

Fig. 7A. In which the Author demonstrates his usual decorum and restraint.

The signing is being sponsored by a Collierville book club. A portion of all sales go to charity, which is always a good thing, and I get a chance to stumble my way through a presentation in front of a new potential audience.

I'm always nervous before any kind of public event. There's so much potential for disaster, a small part of my brain is quick to point out. What if your belt inexplicably gives way, and your pants fall down? What if feral opossums have nested in your seldom-worn sports coat, and emerge during the reading? What if you you are suddenly possessed by A'Sha'Dasa, infernal Lord of the Inappropriate Anecdote Delivered to a Room of Horrified Elegant Ladies?

I really hate it when that last one happens.

But I'm sure everything will be just fine, and I'll even shake out my sports coat before leaving home.

Here are a few tricks I like to use to keep the audience engaged during a signing. Use them at your own discretion, and in accordance with the laws governing your city, state, nation, or planet of residence.

• Bring a target pistol. Nothing drives home a printed exclamation point like discharging a pistol to add emphasis. 
• If you can't voice your own characters well when reading dialog, bring along a troupe of voice actors, and remember -- there's ALWAYS room for interpretive dance.
• Deal with hecklers as you would any small game animal. If the venue is a library, use a silencer, or brass knuckles.
• Don't put out a tip jar unless you also put out a dance pole.
• Most venues suggest your reading consist of no more than 3 to 5 minutes. I say give people more than they expect; read your entire book, except for the last page. It's not your fault the audience didn't bring cushions, or supper.
• Make yourself stand out of the crowd with proper dress, good grooming, and a live chicken strapped to your head. Nobody ignores a live chicken. Nobody.
• If a cell phone rings during your reading, laugh it off politely and continue. You don't want a repeat of Chicago. So much blood. So. Much. Blood.
• Remember, you're an author. It is widely and correctly assumed that authors are walking compendiums of mental illnesses, substance abuse issues, and rampant Bohemianism. If you climb atop the podium midway through your reading, strip down to a Wonder Woman costume, and have a sudden violent altercation with a stuffed aardvark, people will just take that as the signal that a fresh wine and cheese tray has arrived and will act accordingly.

In other news, progress on the new (new) book continues. See you all next week!

Write Or Be Rich!

Lately I'be been inundated with ads and emails of a certain singular nature.

"Write Your Way to Riches!"
"Quit Your Day Job and Write Full Time!"
"How to Publish Your Way to Financial Security!"
"Write and Grow Extra Appendages!"

I made that last one up, although now that I've released it to the internet a spambot out there is already parsing it and thinking 'Yeah, okay, makes sense."

I don't bother clicking n any of these pleas that I garner vast wealth simply through the brilliance of my prose. I am writing, and I am selling, but I enjoy a distinct lack of urgent attention from Porsche salespeople, and I receive very few inquiries from shipyards concerning the trim on my luxury yacht.

Writing your way to being rich, as a business plan, is right up there with 'traveling to Europe via a hot-air balloon assembled from items in your garage.' Technically, it might be possible. If tens of thousands of people tried it, a few might make it across the Atlantic.

But most will wind up bobbing in the drink. That's just a reality.

I blame TV and the movies for the odd notion that publishing a book brings immediate wealth. How many TV and movie characters find themselves on whirlwind book tours, or buying new houses with cash, after their first sale? How many fictional authors live in luxury and ease, without ever appearing to, you know, write (I'm looking at you, Castle)?

What annoys me most about these silly tropes is that a writer had to write them down. A writer had to push aside his daily bowl of congealed Ramen noodles, take a swig of warm Discount Brand beer, and use the instantly-wealthy author as a plot device. I'm left to shake my head and ponder why any writer would commit such a heinous act of treachery.

Wish fulfillment? Bitter irony? Do scriptwriters actually make that much money?

I have no idea.

What I do know is that the writing business is located a vast gulf away from the realm of easy money portrayed by the spam emails and the media.

Writing itself is work. Hard work. It's not just typing. And even when you put in the hours and do everything right, there's no guarantee you'll see any sales. Worse, there's no guarantee you'll live long enough to see your wild fame rise and grow. Poor Edgar Allen Poe never knew he'd adorn tee shirts a century after his death. Note to the Universe: If I'm going to be on tee shirts, I want to see that. Make it so.

So, to add authenticity to the spam emails and the fly-by-night 'writing courses' and sketchy vanity presses, here are a few fact-based subject lines they should consider.

"Writing Your Way to Skinny: The Royalty-Only Author Diet!"
"Which Organs You Can Safely Sell, and Where: The Author's Guide to Supplemental Income"
"Deals With the Devil for Dummies"
"Scratch and Dent Canned Soup of the Month Club"

You're welcome, spammers and scammers.

Meralda and Mug News

The new installment in the Mug and Meralda series hit a minor snag this week when I realized each of the 78 pages completed thus far shared one small flaw -- they sucked.

Well, that's a bit harsh. The pages themselves weren't bad, but they weren't the book I want to write, either. So, after a few days of blank staring and incoherent mumbling, I've figured out where the whole thing went wrong (page one, chapter one) and I know how to fix it.

All those hours of work? Gone, but not wasted. Yes, I'm starting over, but I try to look at it this way -- charging off in the wrong direction led me to the unexpected clearing that caused me to pause, blink in the sudden sunlight, and realize I'd been going the wrong way all along.

That's just the way it happens, sometimes. You take a few deep breaths, start a new file, and keep going.

All the Turns of Light

All the Paths of Shadow

Markhat News

The Darker Carnival will be available for pre-order on March 29! Here's the 'coming soon' page at Samhain, including the funny warning label for the book.

The Darker Carnival

That's it for this week! Remember, tonight is the season premier of The Walking Dead! If you're a Walking Dead fan -- even if you're not -- you should watch the short video I'm posting a link to. It's hilarious -- love the singing walkers -- and you don't need to watch the show to enjoy it.

Carl Poppa

You can't handle my flow!

Cosplay and Cons and Certain Bad Behavior

From MidSouthCon 32.

I'm giving you guys a break from steampunk ghostbuster pics this weekend. I'm still working on the rig, sure, but the changes have been subtle and the number one rule of blogging is 'Don't bore your audience.'

So I'll post pics when significant progress has been made.

Also from last year's Con.

I did mention that this year's MidSouthCon will mark my entry into the world of cosplay, as I'll be attending in full Victorian steampunk regalia. I'm looking forward to it, largely because I'm a big believer in never acting one's age, but also because the people I've seen engaging in cosplay always seemed to be having fun.

But as I started reading about cosplay at cons, another side of the experience was revealed to me, and it's not a pretty side, either.

Yes, I'm talking about the awful treatment some female cosplayers endure at Cons.

I must be pretty naive. I always thought of SF/fantasy cons as safe places, where intelligent, imaginative people gather to celebrate the art and literature for which they share a love. That's what I've seen, in the four or five years I've been attending MidSouthCon.

But sadly, that's not everyone's experience. I read a lot of accounts by cosplayers (female, almost exclusively) who were groped, insulted, stalked, mocked, or even assaulted because of their costumes. No, not at MidSouthCon, let me make that clear. I haven't read of anyone being troubled there.

Let me just say this to my male counterparts who will be attending the Con. I know most of you are upright gentlemen, who wouldn't dream of grabbing a woman simply because she's in costume.

So it's up to us -- all of us -- to keep an eye out for the few among us who might stoop to such bestial behavior.

We men can all help. Don't laugh at crude remarks. Don't encourage lewd conversations. Make it known that you neither condone nor tolerate such things. If we, the menfolk, can establish an air of civility, we've eliminated at least one aspect of the environment that fosters bad behavior.

Yeah, okay, I sound like I'm preaching. Maybe I am, a little bit. But I believe I'll find a lot of support among men, especially if enough of us come forward and say out loud 'We don't want this behavior in our ranks, and we won't tolerate it, either.'

I know this attitude is shared by all the men I've met at MidSouthCon. And I'm proud of that.

So, fellow gentlemen of cons and cosplay, let be vigilant. As my cosplay character Artemis Watson would say, "There should be no room among gentlemen for crudity against ladies, and no tolerance for those who would practice it."

Good day.

Steampunk Ghostbuster Part 3: MidSouthCon 33

For the last couple of weeks, I'm been working on a steampunk ghostbuster's backpack unit. That build is nearly complete; all I need to add are a few finishing touches, some antiquing, and of course the straps that will (hopefully) keep the back on my back.

But the pack is only half the device. There's a hand-held 'thrower' unit that attaches to the pack via a thick cable. The thrower emits the stream of luminescent rarefied aether which allows our intrepid steampunk hero to capture pesky specters.

My thrower comes with a built-in surprise, which I hope will lend a bit of theater to the Con's opening ceremony.

Below are the parts which went into the thrower:

As you can see, there's nothing extravagant here. Mostly, it's sturdy high-pressure (schedule 40) PVC pipe and a few fittings. The gray thing with the red handle is a 2 inch ball valve. The gauge is a working 0 to 100 PSI air pressure gauge. The other metal item is a simple air fill valve.

After drilling and threading holes for the valve and the gauge, I used PVC solvent to build the rest. Then I painted it copper and added a few touches of texture here and there. The thrower isn't quite finished, but you get the idea.

What's the surprise, you ask?

It's a surprise. Some of you have probably already figured it out. If not, I'm saving it for the MidSouthCon 33 opening ceremony.

Here's the pack and the thrower, shown together from various angles:

This thing is going to be beautiful once the final finish is applied. Beautiful and heavy -- I think the pack alone weighs around 35 pounds.

I also picked out a hat, and it's on its way here. I choose a John Bull top hat, shown below:

Hey, you can't be a proper steampunk gentleman without an excellent hat. Going about hatless just isn't done, old chap.

Hey Look I Still Have Books to Sell!

Wherein Our Hero plugs a few of his titles, because 2 inch ball valves and elegant top hats aren't cheap.

All the Turns of Light -- Airships! Sea Monsters! Magic gone mad! And coffee, lots of coffee...

The Five Faces -- A murderer taunts his victims with drawing depicting the date and manner of their gruesome deaths. The killer hasn't been wrong yet -- and now Markhat's drawing has arrived. Can any man, even Markhat, escape Fate?

The Darker Carnival -- Out in April, so be watching for it!

Steampunk Ghostbuster, Part 2: MidSouthCon 33

In yesterday's blog (click here if you missed it), I started building a steampunk ghostbuster's backpack. I got a lot of work done today on the pack, and while the unit is a long way from being done, I'd thought I'd share a few pics in a rare non-Sunday blog post.

Here's the rig, with some copper and widgets added:

Please keep in mind none of the actual detail work has started yet. This is all rough high-level stuff going on. It's the little details that really bring a piece to life, and those aren't there yet, but I'm still pretty pleased with the look.

At the bottom of the rig -- to the far right in the picture above -- you'll see a blue disk-shaped affair. That part lights up, and it;s working. Below is a pic of the EL wiring in action.

It produces the eerie blow glow I was looking for. I'll hide the red LED and the power/switch unit with widgets later.

The main problem I'm going to face is the sheer weight of the backpack. All that copper and steel isn't light. I may have to hire an able-bodied assistant to discretely follow me around and hold the pack up if it gets any heavier.

After the antiquing and the detail work is done, I'll start work on the thrower, which will attach to the backpack via a flexible metallic conduit. The point of attachment will be the copper thing sticking up from the center on the far left in the first photo.

The thrower will also incorporate some lighted elements.

That's it for now -- more pics this weekend!

Steampunk Ghostbuster, Part 1: MidSouthCon 33

It takes a lot to get most writers excited. Face it, we're a surly, neurotic bunch, constantly over-caffeinated, often sleep-deprived, and our heads all ache from staring at the dreaded blank page that, unless filled, means the end of our stint as an author.

But if you'll look at the MidSouthCon image above, you'll see something that actually made me perk up. Why, I even went so far as to open both eyes and even rise from my customary slump -- because my name is suddenly on the same page with luminaries such as Cary Doctorow and Melissa Gay.

I'm not comparing myself with Cory Doctorow. I'm not worthy to cap the man's pen -- but as Toastmaster of MidSouthCon 33, I'll get to sit at the table with the real Guests of Honor and hang out with them under no threat of being removed by security.

Not bad for a Mississippi kid most often described as 'that weird dude from Yocona.'

As Toastmaster , I get to speak at the opening ceremonies of the Con. I'll also be hosting a writing panel, entitled 'Humor in Fantasy' (dates and times to be announced). So if you're aspiring author or a reader who wants a peek behind the curtain, I invite you to look me on on the Con schedule and drop by.

I've attended MidSouthCon many times, but always in street clothes. This year, hang on to your top hats, gentle readers, because I am coming in full-blown cosplay, as Artemis Watson, Spectral Elimination Agent.

In other words, a steampunk ghostbuster.

My clothing I'm going to keep under wraps until the day of the Con itself. But what is a ghostbuster, even one from 1888, without his trusty positron collider backpack and beam thrower?

A sad man in a bowler hat, that's what. Since I can't exactly order a steampunk ghostbuster backpack rig from Amazon, I'm building my own, and I'm going to record the build here, week by week, in my blog.

Now, just in case you've never seen the movie classic 'Ghostbusters,' here's the proton pack from the original movie:

It's a nice piece of special effects gear. It looks just techy enough to be convincing.

But as my own rig needs to use the technology of a fictional Victorian 1888, my pack is going to be a bit different. No machined steel, no decals, no modern insultaed cables. Wood and brass and copper were the order of the day.

Now, keeping in mind I'm a writer, you can probably guess what my budget for this project might be. Go on, guess, and if you chose '20 bucks or less,' grab yourself a gold star.

So, of to my junk crate went I, heavy of heart but filled with purpose. Here are the parts I selected, minus the 3 inch PVC sewer pipes that didn't make it into the picture:

It's a humble pile of what can accurately be called junk. Plumbing leftovers, wire, defective engine parts, a toilet fill assembly, old printer cables -- just junk.

Now view the same junk (and a few strays added along the way) after being painted one of three colors -- gloss black, hammered brass, or bright copper. With no rhyme or reason employed to select what bits of junk wound up painted what. Let Chaos have a hand, I say.

It's all still junk, but now it's junk on a mission. And that mission is to somehow fit together into what fools people momentarily into believing they are looking at a machine of some sort.

I needed something to serve as a frame for my machine, and as luck would have it I found an old wooden serving tray that was stored improperly and wound up curling due to contact with moisture. The curvature is perfect to work as a backpack, and the dimensions of the board were just right. I sanded it, stained it, and then I spent most of today bolting various items of junk to it.

I give you the basic main component installation of my Victorian ghostbuster rig.

It is by no means finished. No. The finished version will feature lights -- lots of them. There will also be copper tubes and brass wires running everywhere, as well as dials and meters.

This is just the skeleton. Fleshing it out will take days. Imagine each of the doo-dads pictured above connected to all the others. Oh, and the bottom-most thingamabob?

It's transparent over parts of its surface. I'm going to fill it with eerie blue LED or EL lighting, to give the rig some flash. A lot of the exterior wiring will also glow, since EL (electroluminescent) wiring has gotten so cheap even I can afford it.

The weird rings are actually worn-out clutch plates from my motorcycle. The tall black thing beneath the crossing of the cables is the agitator motor from a Dyson vacuum cleaner. The cable things are old school serial printer cables, and the lighted display at the bottom is a CD-ROM case with part of an old deadbolt door lock housing attached.

The whole thing is a little more than two feet tall and about 14 inches wide (perfect as a back-pack). It's already pretty bloody heavy, and I haven't even put batteries in the tubes yet. I used bolts to attach everything, so there was a lot of drilling, but other than that the construction is basic.

I'd post a plan here but I don't have any such thing. I grab parts and if they look cool together and I can figure out how to make them fit, yay, they get added. Which is also my approach to life, I suppose, and yes it does result in the occasional hot mess.

Once the backpack is complete, I'll bolt a leather harness to it, and start work on the hand-held beam emitter. And I'll post all the pics here.

Oh yeah -- buy a book! Or leave a review! Remember, every purchase helps fund my acquisition of old vacuum cleaner parts and out-of-date discount bread. Thank you very much.

All the Turns of Light 

The Five Faces