The following was inspired by a huge fly that got into Katie’s apartment last night and pissed me off with its flyness and flyosity.
Once upon a time, there was a fly. He was not a sly fly, nor a cry fly. He was not my fly or your fly or anybody’s fly. He was Guy the Fly, just a simple fly in an unsimple world, a world where he could find no picnics to sample and faced all sorts of predators that wanted to predatize him with their predatory ways.
One day Guy was fleeing…no…flying…away from one of these predators when he saw with his hundred eyes a rectangular-shaped cave. It was cool in the cave, and Guy could see with his hundred eyes that there was raw chicken breast on a baking sheet in the kitchen. “What luck!” He buzzed. “I can eat a tiny bit of that chicken and there is nothing that will attack me. This is paradise!”
The cave closed shortly after Guy the Fly flew into it, but Guy was not perturbed. He had flown a long way before he saw the cave, and was not afraid of such odd occurrences. But when a giant, fleshy hand swatted at him, Guy went from unperturbed to very, very perturbed.
The final proof is done. The Layout is almost done. The cover is almost done. Cold Iron, the sequel to The Watchmage of Old New York, should be here by the end of the summer. Here’s the backpage blurb to get your metaphorical mouths watering:
It is 1856, and New York is burning.
When a series of devastating fires tear through Manhattan, Nathaniel Hood, Watchmage of New York, finds himself battling against a weapon beyond even his considerable power. Both Nathaniel and his police detective son, Jonas, scramble to catch the culprit, only to uncover a deep conspiracy mired in fanatical politics, greed, and a blood-soaked grudge. Is it a rebellion of Veil Dwellers, supernatural creatures trapped in our world and under Nathaniel’s charge? Is it renegade magelings seeking power beyond their control? Or is it something altogether different, unknown, and far more deadly?
Cold Iron is the sequel to the award-winning novel, The Watchmage of Old New York. The price of failure is higher, and the moral choices for both Nathaniel and Jonas threaten to change both them and the city forever. New York is as cruel and unyielding as iron bars, but in the Watchmage’s world, even iron can burn.
Btw: Watchmage is 99 cents right now, so now is the perfect time to buy it. Get in on the story just in time for the sequel. Every purchase is a big boost to a struggling artist like me. If you like my writing, 99 cents is a worthwhile investment.
I’ve been away from here for a while. Things have been happening, and they’ve been too heavy to write about here. I’ll give a brief summary
- Last month, my gramma died just short of her 101st birthday. She was in agony and had dementia for many years, so it was more of a release than a tragedy. She was free from her pain. After all, who can complain about 101 years of life, except that maybe it’s too long? Arranging the funeral and Shiva (like a Jewish wake, with deli meat and Entenmann’s Cakes) with my combustive family was hell. I worried for weeks over how I was going to keep fights from breaking out or drama royalty making it about themselves. In the end, I must’ve done a good job. Only minor drama.
- The nightmares are back, they are constant, and they are worse than ever. I can’t sleep. i wake up 3 or 4 times a night in a clammy sweat. During the day, the nightmares are always on my mind. The doctor can’t give me meds for them because they are contraindicated for people with asthma. I am in a fugue state.
- The sequel to The Watchmage of Old New York is behind schedule. I thought it would be out by now, but it likely won’t until August. This really messes up my presentation schedule. I was ready to sell some heckin books, but I have been too messed up to work to my fullest (see above).
- I’m giving the commencement speech at my old high school. I’m pretty excited about that. But I have to pretend that I’m a success and not the hot mess we know I am 😛 Then again, I think we’re all hot messes in one way or another.
- The contract for Song of Simon with Caliburn Press ran out, and they won’t even get back to me to tell me if they took the 3-year option. I’m ready to call my lawyer.
- I may have a severe, possibly life-threatening illness. We will find out in the next few weeks when the tests come back. Dammit, I’m not ready to face life-threatening shit again. I can only dodge so many bullets. I’m not Neo.
And I have too many books in me to die just yet. Then again, so did Val, and the Reaper didn’t give a fuck.
I wrote an article on Pinkster in New York, just in time for the Pinkster festivals this weekend. Don’t know what it is? Click the link below.
via Pinkster in New York
I’m trying to figure out why I haven’t been blogging here. Is there some backlog of stuff in my brain that’s making things hard to focus. Or do I have some issue that if I start writing about, all of my insides will come pouring out through my fingers (probably from under the nails) and onto the screen.
I don’t know. I want to write, but something is stopping me. At least I’m getting a lot of editing done. Dilly dilly.
Are we still saying dilly dilly, or is that over?
I don’t want it to be over.
Don’t let it be over.
William Faulkner trying to tweet using only 140 characters
Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman sexting
Psst…Hey…Check out my historical fantasy, The Watchmage of Old New York. It’s only 99 cents for the holiday season, and available in paperback too! Books make great gifts, and ebooks are great (cyber) stocking stuffers.
Once there was a terrible winter, with terrible cold, terrible snow, and a terrible lack of hot chocolate (with tiny marshmallows). The insects in the Woodly Woods barely survived, except for the ants, who had foresight and hid away enough food to survive the terrible cold, terrible snow, and terrible lack of hot chocolate (with tiny marshmallows).
Come Spring, Alexandra Ant, the leader of the ants, realized that the ants must help their fellow insects. They set up a great insect convocation. The beetles were there. The stinkbugs were there. All of the bugs were there.