Tag: WIPs

Coming right along

I’m making good progress on The Sword Keeper, but I keep having to push it back to help a friend remodel his basement. His wife is having a baby in a couple of weeks, and he needs to get things finished before his mother-in-law comes over. There have been a ton of setbacks and delays, mostly having to do with the shoddy construction work done by the guys who built the place, but we seem to have passed the biggest hurdle which is to install the bathtub. Now, it’s mostly a matter of installing insulation and putting up drywall.


There’s this really fantastic game that I’ve been looking at called Stellaris. It seems like a combination of Masters of Orion and Europa Universalis. Really really tempted to play it, but as of right now, I’m holding back. When I finish this WIP, though, I may just treat myself.

Also, I recently signed up for a 30 day trial of Instafreebie, a site that (among other things) lets authors do ebook giveaways in exchange for readers’ email addresses. I’m running a giveaway for Genesis Earth, which you can pick up here if you haven’t already gotten a copy. Depending on how things go, I may sign up and run a few more campaigns in the future.

I’m really, really itching to get back to work on Gunslinger to the Stars. That will probably be the next full-length novel that I publish. In the meantime, I’ve got a bunch of short stories that should be coming out soon, starting with a Sad Puppies related piece that is sure to make a lot of people smile. Look for that one in June.

That’s pretty much it for now. Thanks for reading!

Breaking down the elephant

I came to a realization about productivity just recently. It’s one that I’ve known for a while now, but never really applied to my own quirks and strengths.

In order to accomplish a massive, multi-stage task (like writing a novel), you have to break it down into manageable chunks first. Otherwise, you’ll just get overwhelmed. If you try to eat an elephant in one sitting, you won’t be able to do it, but if you process the ground elephant meat into meal-sized tupperware containers, put some recipes together, set a meal schedule, and freeze the meat until you need it, then eating an elephant becomes much more doable.

The question is, what’s the best way to break down the elephant? The answer, of course, is that it depends on the person.

Some writers break their WIPs down into chapters. Others prefer raw word count as a measure of progress. Others use story beats, or a timer, or a hard and fast deadline. A lot of writers don’t use much of a system at all, which is probably why so many of them fall behind.

The hardest part of writing is often just getting yourself to sit down and do it. The blank page really is the most intimidating part of the job. If I had to guess, I’d say that about 50% of writer’s block is not having a good way of breaking down the elephant. And by “good system,” I mean one that is personalized to work for you.

I’ve tried out a lot of systems that didn’t really work—for me, that is. I’m sure they work just fine for other people.

For a long time, I used raw word count, but then I found myself cutting corners by dropping a project and going back to revise a half-finished one, just to get a higher word count boost. After that, I started tracking hours worked per day, but again the quality of my work fell as I started looking for busywork just to feel like I’d accomplished something.

I bounced back and forth between unfinished projects, sometimes starting new ones, sometimes making progress on old ones. Every once and a while, the story would hit me in just the right way to compel me to finish it, which is how I’ve finished probably 80% of the books I’ve written over the past three years. But that’s a very unreliable way to write books.

Then I started using a timer to break my work down into short, measurable writing sessions. The main reason I did this was to work my way up to hitting 10k words in a day (something I’m still working on). The idea was to develop more focus and train myself to write faster. What I didn’t realize until now was that this is a great way to break down the elephant.

Before, I would wake up in the morning and think “how am I going to write X,XXX words before the end of the day?” Understandably, this was a bit intimidating, and over time it tended to grind me down. But now when I wake up, the question is “am I ready for the day’s first writing session? Why not—it’s only 20 minutes.” And then I’m off.

Now, I’m not completely in that mindset yet. I still tend to think in terms of daily word count, which can make me fall back into the old habits of procrstination. And if the day starts off with something non-writing related, it can really throw me off. But using this method, I was able to get through 66% of Gunslinger to the Stars in about six weeks. And if I keep working on it, I’ll bet I can accomplish much more.

I do not consider myself a fast writer. Some of my professional writing friends think that I’m fast, but there are tons of indies out there who write much faster (and better) than me. But a lot of it really just comes down to the psychology of breaking down the elephant. And now that I’ve got a system, I just need to be better about using it.

If you guys are interested in keeping track of my writing progress, I’ll go back to using the WIP progress bars. I took them down in order to keep the sidebar from getting too cluttered, but that is a major reason why readers come to an author blog (to see the ongoing progress on the author’s next book), so I’ll redesign things a bit and figure it out. It would certainly help me to get back on the horse, knowing that people are following this sort of thing.

Right now, I’m about 35k words from finishing The Sword Keeper, a project I’ve been working on and off on for the last four years. It’s a fantastic book, perhaps even the best I’ve ever written, and getting it done is going to be huge.

After that, I’ll probably finish Gunslinger to the Stars. Put it on the back burner after LTUE, but it shouldn’t be too hard to finish it up. It’s a rip-roaring adventure that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and I could frankly use the break.

And then? I think it may be time to finish the Genesis Earth trilogy. Book two, Edenfall, has been on the back burner for a looong time (almost five years), but there seems to be a lot more interest in it now, with sales of Genesis Earth increasing and readers posting reviews that say “can’t wait for the next book!” When you guys speak, I listen.

So that’s the plan for the next couple of months. Beyond that, I have a couple of short stories coming out soon, so be sure to keep an eye out for those.

Thanks for reading!

WIP Excerpt: The Sword Keeper, Chapter 4.1

This is the first scene from the point of view of Alex Andretzek, the warrior tasked with protecting Tamuna until she comes into her own as the last sword bearer. The interesting thing about their relationship dynamic is that Alex was in line to become the next sword keeper, and because of Tamuna, that honor will never be his.

Tamuna, Nika, and Alex are the three major characters in the book. Nika is the lovable if slightly incompetant friend, and Alex is the highly competant one who’s constantly aloof, to the point where Tamuna wonders if she hates him. He doesn’t, and he’s actually very loyal in his own way, but as you’ll see in this excerpt, he has a lot of stuff to work through.

To set up this scene: Tamuna and Alex leave the village under cover of dark and are immediately pursued by a band of horsemen led by the evil bearer of the bloodstone blade, Araste. They narrowly escape and run into Nika, who has left by an alternate route in order to catch up to them. Miffed, Alex decides to take them to the nearest town, Kutaisa, where at least they will be safe in the short term. It is now a few hours before dawn, and the three of them are walking along an empty but well-worn country road.

The sword has chosen a bearer, Alex thought for the hundredth time as he crept through the moonlit woods. And the bearer is a tavern wench.

Even now, he still found it difficult to believe. Years of training and months of trekking through the high Kevonas had led him here, to this insignificant Kevonan backwater—and for what?

So the sword had chosen its final bearer. That was worthy news, even if it meant that he would never have the honor of being the sword keeper. With the prophecy already in motion, he could expect to see some major events soon. But a tavern wench? One who could barely even lift the sword, let alone wield it?

He still remembered, as if it were yesterday, the first time he’d laid eyes on Imeris. He’d been only sixteen at the time, one of the youngest novices to ever be initiated into the order. After passing all the tests and receiving all the rites, he’d finally been given a chance to draw the blade.

“Remember,” Master Ivanar had told him, “Imeris has not taken a bearer in centuries. If he refuses you, it is no dishonor.”

“I know,” Alex had said. “And whether or not it chooses me, I swear to serve and uphold the blade, even for the rest of my life.”

Master Ivanar nodded. “Do you remember the prophecy?”

“This sword IMERIS,” Alex recited eagerly, “though last to be forged, certainly shall not be the least. For in the days when the order is broken and darkness sweeps across the face of the land, he shall await the one who will wield him in truth and wisdom to free the world of men.”

“That is right. You are a worthy initiate, Alexander Andretzek.”

Master Ivanar took the sword from the table behind him. The other monks in the circle bowed their heads, and Alex knelt in reverence.

“Arise,” said Ivanar, holding out the emerald-studded hilt. Alex rose to his feet, his heart pounding with nervous energy. He stared at the sword ancient for several moments. The workmanship was extremely fine, with every detail perfectly wrought and every adornment beautifully fashioned. The emerald gleamed in the flickering candlelight.

“If Imeris chooses me,” he had asked in a subdued whisper, “how will I know?”

“You will know,” Master Ivanar had assured him. “The blade will leap into your hands, and you will feel a bond with it the likes of which you have never experienced. He will speak to you in your mind and in your heart, and you will know, without a doubt, that you are the foretold bearer.”

Alex had nodded and swallowed. His hands felt cold and clammy, but he closed his eyes and wrapped them tenderly around the handle. It felt strangely warm against his skin, as if the sword itself were alive—which indeed it was. For a brief, hopeful moment, he almost imagined he felt something. But one moment turned into two, then three. The cackling of the fire broke the solemn silence, and his stomach sank as doubts crept into his heart.

Before letting go, he gave the sword one brief, ineffectual tug. For years afterward, he’d wondered if this had been his downfall—the reason the sword had refused him. It couldn’t have been his lack of faith, or an unwillingness to serve. But patience was a virtue he lacked, and arrogance was a vice he possessed in great abundance. Either way, he’d spent the next few years running the events of that day over and over in his mind, picking it apart until there was nothing left but an awful sinking feeling he could barely choke down.

But at least he was slated to be the next sword keeper. At least that honor would one day be his.

Until now.

And of all the people more worthy than him, the sword had chosen a tavern wench?

At least she knows how to step softly, he thought to himself. The peasant boy, on the other hand, was louder than lovers in a hay loft. Between his blundering and her chattiness, it was a wonder that Araste hadn’t made quick work of them already. No doubt his brothers in the order were hard at work, leading the enemy away.

The forest soon gave way to fields and vineyards. Out in the east, the sky was just starting to grow blue, while the moon set behind them over the mountains. The road was now wide enough for two carts, with large river stones for pavement. The people of this country were too poor to build proper roads, but that was only a minor annoyance. The main city shouldn’t be more than five or six miles away. At their current rate, they would make it in a couple of hours.

He glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes in disgust. The girl was leaning on the peasant boy’s shoulder, drunk with sleepiness. She yawned and blinked as she steadied herself, but it was clear that if they stopped, even for a minute, she wouldn’t wake up until well past dawn.

“Can we stop and rest for a minute?” the boy asked. “Tamuna is tired.”

Alex narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you trying to get her killed, boy? If you knew what hunts her, you wouldn’t dare let her rest.”

The boy clenched his fists. “My name is Nika.”

“And mine is Alex. I’ll call you by your proper name when you’ve earned my proper respect.”

They went on for a good ten minutes in silence. The air was thick with dew, and not quite cold enough yet for frost. It was interesting, how these mountainous lands could be so full of moisture. In the alpine forests just below the treeline, moss dangled from tree branches like tattered clothes on forgotten clotheslines. Up where the wolves and bear were plentiful, fresh mineral springs gushed out of the rocks like untapped fountains.

“Where are we going?” the boy asked, shattering his half-bored thoughts.

“Kutaisa.”

“Kutaisa?”

Alex didn’t have to look back to detect the frown in his voice.

“That’s right. We’ll reach the city just before dawn.”

“But—but I thought we were supposed to go over the mountains to Aramand.”

Alex turned on his heel and planted his finger squarely in the boy’s chest. “If you want to get us all killed, then say that a little louder. The only reason we’re still alive is because our enemies haven’t yet put that all together.”

The boy shrank and blushed. Next to him, the girl shook her head and yawned.

“Wha—what’s the matter?” she asked.

Alex didn’t grace them with an answer. He walked off down the moonlit road, not bothering to check if they still followed him.

WIP excerpt: Gunslinger to the Stars

Here’s the first thousand words from my current WIP, Gunslinger to the Stars. It’s a departure from my usual stuff: a shoot-em-up adventure in the vein of Firefly and Guardians of the Galaxy. TONS of fun to write, and the ending is going to be absolutely spectacular. This may turn out to be the most entertaining book I’ve written to date.

But enough of me blabbering about it. Here it is!

Stranded in the Armpit of the Galaxy

The Gorinal Star Cluster is, in every meaningful sense, the armpit of the galaxy. It was just my luck to get stranded there right as shit hit the fan.

I didn’t know that at the time, of course. My ship, the Star Runner, was in pretty bad shape after a botched-up mission that I’d rather not talk about, and since the only trading commodity I had was the fuel in my tank, I was getting rather desperate for work. The Gorinal Cluster wasn’t my first choice of venue, but it was the closest place with plenty of job opportunities for a man of fortune like me.

The name’s Sam, by the way. Sam Kletchka. I was born on Gliese 832c, othewise known as New Texas, but didn’t spend much time there. Shipped off to Earthfleet Academy when I was nineteen standard years and dropped out after my first year to seek my fortune among the stars.

You see, back in those days, Earthfleet consisted mostly of 20th century submarines, lifted into orbit and repurposed for space. Only thirty-five years had passed since we’d made contact with the galactics, and we were in a mad scramble to put as many colonies on the starmap as possible. The Immortals had promised not to build a jumpgate within fifty light-years of Sol, and tech trading had given us fission-powered FTL and cheap ground-to-orbit. All of this meant that Earthfleet’s resources were tied up in the Gliese colonies—no boldly going where no one has gone before, at least not for members of Earthfleet.

Fortunately, we didn’t have to seek out new life and new civilizations—they were more than happy to come to us. So after dropping out of the Earthfleet Academy, I signed up on a Hyadean star freighter and never looked back.

The voyage out to the jumpgate at Aldebaran was long and boring. Like most ships built by the galactic junior races, Hyadean starships aren’t designed for long-range FTL. The reason for this became apparent when we arrived. Imagine an ancient ring almost five kilometers in diameter, built out of virtually indestructible material. When you look through the ring, you’re looking at a whole other starscape, light-years away. It very literally is a doorway to the stars, and it’s always open, with no gatekeepers to stop anyone from coming through. The Aldebaran gate has been open for hundreds of thousands of years—more than a hundred times older than the pyramids—and it’s one of the younger ones.

From there, it was a simple matter to travel between stars. The Immortals built the jumpgate network more than a hundred million years ago, and it runs almost the whole length of the galaxy. They don’t levy fees for it, either: the gates are as much a feature of the galactic landscape as planets, or black holes, or nebulae. Anyone can use them, and no one wants to live in a galaxy without them.

Which is why it freaked the hell out of everyone when the Gorinal Prime jumpgate went dark.

I had just flown the Star Runner through not fifteen minutes before. My ship only had about a half-tank of deuterium left, thanks to some evasive maneuvers I’d been forced to pull, and I’d also dumped most of my cargo, so I was pretty much flat broke. To add injury to insult, my right sublight engine was shot all to hell and the cabin was venting atmo. Like I said, I’d rather not talk about it.

In any case, I was navigating my approach to G-Prime V when the jumpgate shut down. Went dead. Turned off. There wasn’t a flash or anything, just a very brief flicker across the portal membrane, and then it was nothing more than a giant floating ring.

The comms went haywire almost immediately. A massive Nidrexian freighter has been passing through (one of those insanely long jumpgate hopping ships) and had effectively been chopped in half. Emergency first responders from the nearby monitoring station were scrambling to help out, and all the other ships queued to leave were filling the airwaves with all sorts of chatter. No one knew what to do, because nothing like this had ever happened before.

Yes, I’ve heard all the theories. No, none of them are true. How do I know? You’re jumping ahead. Trust me, it’s worth it to hear the full story.

So there I was, staring slack-jawed at a screen that showed the impossible: a jumpgate that had just shut down. Realizing that I was broke and stranded, I did what any sensible man would do: I headed to the nearest bar to get a drink.

The fifth planet in the Gorinal Prime system is the only one that’s habitable, for a given value of “habitable.” The world is essentially a giant desert, with oceans of sand instead of water. Fortunately, the spaceport that served as the main hub for the system was on the planet’s north pole. The weather was cool enough there to have clouds, rain, and even a couple of salty seas. Figuring it was the best I could do on a half-empty fuel tank, I decided to go down and try what was left of my rapidly deteriorating luck.

The first thing I learned after leaving Earth-space was that every jumpgate hub has a seedy cantina somewhere nearby. Sure enough, the place I was looking for was just a couple hundred yards outside the main spaceport entrance.

The second thing I learned was to get used to being the only human everywhere I went. Oh, it’s not so bad in the Orion Arm, where you can usually find a small expat community if you look hard enough. Xenopoligists, merchanters, vagabonds, and men of fortune like myself are all pretty common in that corner of the galaxy. But the Gorinal Cluster is in the Scutum-Crux Arm, on the far side of the galactic core. In that part of the galaxy, humans are as rare as ice on a neutron star.

So you can imagine my reaction when I saw a twenty-something blonde at the bar—one who was definitely not happy to see me.

Gunslinger to the Stars
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State of the Vasicek 2015

I recently read a post over on Brandon Sanderson’s blog where he did an exhaustive recap on his writing and update on all of his WIPs, and called it State of the Sanderson. Since it’s the end of the year and I’m already looking back in order to make some new resolutions for 2016, it seems like a good opportunity to do something similar myself.

In 2015, I managed to publish five books, including two novels, a novelette, and two short stories:

In addition, I wrote a number of short stories that are currently on submission to the major markets, and will probably be published (by myself or in the magazines) sometime in 2016. These include:

  • Killing Mr. Wilson — Time Travel (950 words)
  • My Name Is For My Friends — Sword & Sorcery (2,000 words)
  • Utahraptors at Dawn — Cyberpunk (1,950 words)
  • Welcome to Condescension — Sci-fi Humor (750 words)
  • A Less Than Perfect Game — Sword & Sorcery (1,250 words)
  • Elusive Eden — LDS Science Fiction (2,200 words)
  • The Janus Anomaly — Space Opera (4,400 words)

All of these stories will get out eventually, though it may take a while. I’m putting them on submission to the short story magazines and anthologies that pay at least semi-professional rates, since none of them buy exclusive rights to the stories. Why rush to self-publish if I can get paid twice?

In a lot of ways, it was a pretty decent year. In other ways, I wish it had been more productive. I didn’t publish anything for the first six months, except for A Hill on Which to Die, which I later unpublished in order to take it out of Kindle Unlimited (the first and probably last time I will ever experiment with exclusivity). I made up for it later, but still.

Next year is going to be a lot more productive, I hope. I started a lot more projects this year than I finished, so in 2016 I plan to refocus on the writing and substantially increase my output.

As for writing projects, here is what I’m working on:

Major Projects

Sons of the Starfarers

There are five more books before this series is complete, and while I know more or less how the series is going to end, I’m still in the process of writing it. However, I’m making good enough progress to publish at least two more books in the series this year, possibly three or four.

Captives in Obscurity (Book V) is already written and ready to send off to the editor. Trouble is, cash is kind of tight right now and I probably won’t be able to send it off until after I’ve filed my taxes, which I hope to do early February (I always try to get a jump on tax season each year). For now, that means I’m looking for a launch in May.

Patriots in Retreat (Book VI) is my current WIP, and I hope to have the first draft finished before the end of January. A lot of stuff happens in this book—it’s kind of like the Empire Strikes Back episode, where crap hits the fan and things get real. Then again, Friends in Command (Book IV) was kind of like that too, and Captives in Obscurity has some really crazy developments… point is, I think you guys are going to like these books.

Haven’t outlined any of the other books in the series yet, but I’m a pantser so that’s normal. I do have a climactic ending that I’m working toward, which will tie in this series with all of my other books in the same universe. It’s going to be great to see it all come together, and I expect it will over the course of the next year!

STATUS: Book VI currently in progress.

Gunslinger to the Stars

I started this book in earnest a few months ago, then hit chapter 2 and realized I had a beginning and an end but no idea what to put in the middle. So I put the project on the back burner, letting the ideas percolate until I’m ready to pick it up again and go full throttle. With luck, that will happen very soon.

This is a really awesome project, and one of the ones I’m most excited about. I’ll post a few excerpts in the next few weeks to give you guys a taste, and I think you’re really going to like it!

STATUS: On the back burner, will resume again soon.

Queen of the Falconstar

A few of the readers who enjoyed my Star Wanderers books have mentioned that they wish Jeremiah, Noemi, and Mariya had ended up in a polygamous relationship. While I don’t think that would have worked for that particular story, in Queen of the Falconstar, it’s a major plot point. In addition, the book is an origin story for the Hameji, which should be a lot of fun for readers of my other books as well.

I’ve been working on this project off and on for the last year or so, and while I have a pretty good handle on the main storyline, I’m still a little iffy about how to proceed. It may have some promise as a hybrid between Space Opera and Sword and Planet (sword and starship? Is that even a thing?). The Princess of Mars books are on my reading list, so I’ll probably revisit this project after reading through some of those.

STATUS: On the back burner.

The Sword Keeper

I really need to finish this book. It’s already more than half written, and has some really fantastic potential. For the last three years, I’ve been working on it off and on, but 2016 will definitely be the year that I finish it (though it might still be a while before it’s published).

STATUS: On the back burner.

Secondary Projects

Starship Lachoneus

In spite of finishing the prologue and publishing it as “Worlds Without Number” under my J.M. Wight pen name, I haven’t yet made a serious attempt to write this book. The main reason is that it’s a passion project that I don’t expect to pay off very well or earn me much prestige. Still, when my career is at a point where I can afford more time for a passion project, I will probably pick it up.

STATUS: On the back burner.

The Genesis Earth Trilogy

Genesis Earth is a standalone book, but I realized soon after finishing it that I could easily turn it into a trilogy. Back in 2011, I even started writing the second book: Edenfall. But one thing led to another, and it got put on hold in favor of Star Wanderers.

The trilogy is still on hold, but if there is enough interest, I could certainly resume work on it. I made Genesis Earth free for the month of December, and it’s had a much stronger free run than I’d anticipated (especially with almost no advertising). Depending on the feedback I get from readers, I’ll finish this project sooner or later.

STATUS: On hold, may resume soon.

Mercenary Savior

This is a prequel to Bringing Stella Home that I’ve had kicking around in my head for the last two years. The interest in Heart of the Nebula has been surprisingly steady, even more than a month after publication. If either of those books starts to break out, then I will definitely pick up this project. Otherwise, I can’t justify making it a priority.

STATUS: On hold.

Empress of the Free Stars

Empress of the Free Stars is a sequel to Stars of Blood and Glory that I started back in 2013 but never got further than the prologue. Again, unless my Gaia Nova books start to break out, I can’t justify prioritizing this over my other WIPs.

STATUS: On hold.

Children of the Starry Sea

This one is a novelized sequel to Star Wanderers, with all of the major characters from that series. I know there’s some interest in this one, but for now I think my time would better be spent launching new series rather than returning to old ones. But in 2016, that may well change.

STATUS: On hold.

Lifewalker

This is a standalone I started back in 2013, and I even got several chapters into it before I put it on the back burner. Haven’t touched it since, so right now it’s really more on hold, but my Dad keeps bugging me to finish it (he read the first chapter and really liked it). So yeah. Someday.

I will say this, though: if the short story that’s derived from this book gets picked up by one of the magazines, I will definitely move it up in the writing queue.

STATUS: On hold.

A Brotherhood of Swords

This book is supposed to be a Sword & Sorcery prequel to The Sword Keeper, but since I already have plans for that book, this one is on hold. I did get a really good short story out of it, though.

STATUS: On hold.

That pretty much does it. This next year is going to be super, super busy, and hopefully productive as well. My goal for 2016 is to get back in the saddle, writing full-time again as soon as I can. There are other resolutions I plan to make as well, but those can wait until Thursday.

Going for fun

They say that you should put as much of yourself as you can into what your right, and that’s true to some extent. But when you’re writing SF&F, there’s a much more important rule:

BE ENTERTAINING.

While I don’t think I’ve necessarily broken this rule, I haven’t always paid close attention to it. So for my current WIP, I’m pulling out the stops. I figure that the best way to entertain people in a book is to make it fun to read, and if it’s fun for me to write, I figure it will be fun for my readers as well. So my primary goal with this book is to have fun.

The working title is Gunslinger to the Stars, and if I had to give you the Hollywood pitch it would be this: Monster Hunter International meets Guardians of the Galaxy on the set of Firefly.

The main character is a freelance starship pilot named Sam Kletchka, who travels the galaxy taking various mercenary jobs. He was born and raised in the Gliese colonies, on a planet called New Texas, but although he was a gifted student, he dropped out of Earthfleet Academy his freshman year because he didn’t get stuck on a refitted Cold-War era submarine protecting colony ships in Earth-space (the galactics gave us cheap ground-to-orbit, which means that we used what we had when building our first fleet of starships).

The book starts when he gets stranded in the armpit of the galaxy, natch. The only other human who’s stranded there with him is an attractive twenty-something xenolinguist named Jane Carter, with whom he has a history. Let’s just say that she isn’t all that enthusiastic to see him.

At one point, he describes his guns:

MERCY is a supressed Ruger 22 Charger™ Rimfire Pistol. She’s fairly small and doesn’t pack much of a punch, but she’s as silent and stealthy as a Zan cloakship in deep space. Besides being perfect for cloak-and-dagger type stuff, Mercy is also good for hunting small game, on the few occasions where I’ve been stranded planetside without supplies.

The next two guns are really different components of the same gun, an AR-15 with two uppers that I can swap out depending on my needs. FAITHFULNESS is a suppressed 300 Blackout with a 9” barrel, perfect for boarding action. I use a homemade subsonic round with the ballistics tuned down just a notch, to allow for onboard fire that won’t accidentally puncture the ship’s hull. The suppressor is excellent for firing in confined spaces, and the standard 30 round magazine gives you plenty of firing capacity to stay in the fight.

RIGHTEOUSNESS is a .50 Beowulf upper that I can swap out for Faithfulness. This massive gun packs an enormous punch, enough to blow through a bulkhead and vent some atmo. I mix an oxidizer in the cartridges to allow it to fire in a vaccuum, making it an excellent weapon for extravehicular assaults. You just have to be careful to lock your magnetic boots firmly onto the ship’s hull, otherwise Newton’s third law will send you flying.

JUDGMENT is an M203 grenade launcher that attaches quite nicely onto Faithfulness and Righteousness. She makes the rifle a little heavier, but in zero gravity, that doesn’t really matter much. With the proper munitions, Judgment can light up a firefight like Christmas.

PRESERVATION is an 18” Mossberg 590A1™. She’s a tough little girl that can pack a serious punch. I keep her on the wall of my cabin within easy reach for home defense purposes. She has a capacity of 8+1, but I usually don’t load her with slugs unless I’m doing a breach and entry. The best thing about shotguns, though, is that the ammunition is super easy to fabricate. If I were going away for a while and could only take one gun with me, it would be Preservation.

LOVE is my father’s trusty old 1911. She’s been in the family for quite a while, and when I left the Gliese colonies for the stars, he wanted me to take her with me. She’s chambered in 9mm and has a capacity of 17+1. In spite of the .45’s stopping power, I prefer a good 9mm handgun simply for the increased accuracy and carrying capacity. Besides being stupidly rugged, the 1911 is also quite easy to maintenance or to fabricate replacement parts. For that reason, it’s the handgun of choice for most offworld colonists.

KINDNESS is the Gliese Arms 2011 .45 ACP that you’ve already met. The 2011 is a lot like the 1911, but the 140mm double stack magazine allows for a capacity of 14+1. As you already saw from the gunfight at the Oasis, Kindness has gotten me out of a lot of tough spots.

TRUST is a Himalayan Imports Chainpuri 15” Kukri: not a gun, but an excellent combat knife. The Nepalese Gurkhas were some of the most badass warriors of Earth, and the kukri is their signature weapon. I acquired Trust at the Earthfleet Academy on Luna, after winning a game of poker with my fellow cadets. She’s such a beauty, I wouldn’t dream of ever gambling her away.

Thing is, he’s as good with guns as he is horrible with women. As you can probably guess, hilarity ensues.

The book was actually inspired by the most recent Schlock Mercenary storyline, where one of the subplots involves rescuscitating Vog, the twelve million year-old member of an alien race that is functionally immortal. When the mercenaries revive him, he’s lost ten million years of his memories and thinks he’s an elite warrior from when his race was in its prime. Little does he know, his civilization has collapsed, and the mortal junior races have gotten a little uppity.

Thinking about the implications of immortality on intergalactic politics made me come up with a fantastic idea for a near-future space opera universe. When CERN does a new sub-atomic particle experiment, it alerts the galactics to our presence, much like Zefram Cochrane’s first flight with the warp drive alerts the Vulcans in Star Trek. The galactic junior races have all been patronized by the Immortals, who have built a massive jumpgate network that unites the galaxy together. The Immortals don’t interact with the junior races directly however: they use mediator races as proxies. And the Immortals aren’t interested in ruling the junior races so much as… I won’t spoil it for you.

In any case, that’s the story I’m writing right now, and even by chapter three it has been loads of fun so far. Lots of shooting, lots of action, lots of intergalactic secrets and intrigue. With luck, Gunslinger to the Stars should be out sometime early next year.

#WIP excerpts: THE SWORD KEEPER, chapter 2.1

I really like this excerpt. I wrote it while I was living in a farmhouse in rural Georgia (the country, not the state). A lot of the stuff from this scene was pulled directly from my own experience. We had chickens, cows, pigs, sheep (dumbest animals I’ve ever seen!), and grew grapes, pomegranates, persimmons, and a whole bunch of other stuff. It was pretty awesome.

In the late summer, the hens had chicks. At first, there were about twenty little fuzzballs following each hen, but as the chicks got bigger, their numbers became fewer and fewer. Then, just as the winter snows started to hit, a wolf came down from the mountains and ate one of the mother hens. Only one of her chicks survived—the smallest of the brood. He almost didn’t make it, but I went out the way to take special care of him, and he survived.

So yeah, this section is pulled almost directly from my own experience. Nika is the kind of gentle boy who would do exactly that sort of thing, and that carries over into his friendship with Tamuna.

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“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Nika stopped at the farmhouse gate and sheepishly turned to face his father. “To the tavern,” he muttered, hoping that was an acceptable response.

“Why, son? The tavern’s closed.”

“Sopiko said she still needs me.” And Tamuna’s been sick all day.

His father jabbed the pitchfork into the ground and cursed. “That damn woman had better be paying you for this. Have you had your supper yet?”

“No, sir, I—”

“Good. Eat it there.” He turned to the yard, where Nika’s two older brothers had paused in their work. “Giga! Lasha! What are you doing standing around? Get back to stacking those cornstalks!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember, who doesn’t work, doesn’t eat!”

Nika took that as his cue to leave. He slipped out the gate and pulled it shut before dashing across the dusty lane and into the fallow field across the farmhouse. The tall grass brushed against his legs, ticking his skin through the holes in his pants, but he kept running until he was well out of his father’s sight. Only then did he slow down enough to catch his breath.

Tamuna had been sick all day, so sick that Sopiko had closed down the tavern, which she never, ever did. When he’d arrived in the morning, the door had been locked—only after knocking for several minutes had Sopiko finally opened it.

“You’d better come back later,” Sopiko had told him when he’d come around back. “Tamuna’s taken ill, and we’ve closed down the tavern until she comes around again.”

“She has?” Nika had asked, his stomach falling. “What do you mean? Is she going to be all right? What happened?”

“We don’t know. We found her passed out on the floor in the private room, and she hasn’t woken up since. Come back this evening—we may need you then.”

Nika had wanted to ask more, but Sopiko had pressed a few coppers into his hand and sent him on his way home. His father had thrown the money angrily against the wall, and probably would have beaten him, except that his mother had intervened. He was a harsh man, and as the youngest, Nika wasn’t his favorite. Sometimes, Nika wondered if his father cared about him at all.

Thoughts like these always made him feel dark and oppressed, as if he carried a heavy weight on his shoulders. But the cool autumn breeze and the splash of gold across the evening sky soon lightened his spirits. A rooster crowed somewhere in the distance, and the sound of cows mooing in the thicket made him smile. Old Tom’s cow had had a calf just a few days ago, and he’d been there to see the birth. It was amazing, how the little ones could walk almost from the moment they left the womb. He always loved the way the mothers cared for their young—not just cows, but every animal.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t busy, he liked to sit in the shade of a tree and watch the mother hens roam the yard with their brood. While the little chicks pecked and played, the mothers always stood watch over them, chasing away anyone who dared come close. And in the evening, while the other chickens flew into the trees to roost, the mother would stay on the ground and gather all her chicks under her wings, keeping them safe throughout the night.

Of course, there was always a straggler who was smaller than all the others, who didn’t get to the food as fast, or couldn’t keep up with the rest. Nika’s heart always went out to them—he knew that the mother hen wanted to help, but with so many other chicks to look after, there wasn’t much she could do. He would often take the straggler aside and hand-fed him to make sure he grew up strong. It didn’t always work, but sometimes, it was enough to save them.

The footpath through the field opened up to the wide lane that led from the village to the mountains just beyond. He passed a few cows and a small clutch of geese, who moved to the other side of the road as he walked past. He stepped quickly, almost running even though the tavern wasn’t far and there was still a good hour of daylight left. If Tamuna was still sick, that would be very bad. He wished there was something he could do for her.

She had a habit of coming to him, after her chores were all done and she had a chance to talk. He often stayed in the stables late into the night just to hear from her. In a lot of ways, she was a straggler just like him. She didn’t have any older brothers or sisters to push her around, but she didn’t have a lot of friends either. Everyone in the village still saw her as an outsider, including her own aunt. Just as the mother hens knew the difference between their chicks and the ones that didn’t truly belong to them, Sopiko knew that Tamuna wasn’t her true daughter. It showed in the stern way she often treated her, though Tamuna would never believe it, no matter how much he tried to point it out to her. When she needed someone to talk to, though, he was always there. Life was tough without a friend to confide in—he knew that all too well.

When he arrived at the tavern, the CLOSED sign hung on the front door, but a strange commotion seemed to be coming from inside. Nika frowned as he opened the gate and walked over to the stables. To his surprise, he found them almost completely full—not with the short, gray-haired Kartlis that were so common in the Kevonas, but mighty Arbuli war horses. They whinnied and stomped their hooves as he entered, clearly not used to being confined.

“There, there,” he said, picking up his brush. “It’s all right, it’s all right.” He glanced over his shoulder at the house—something was clearly happening over there, but much as he wanted to see what it was, he knew he’d be chided for lapsing in his chores. Still…

Tamuna is in there, he told himself as he returned the brush to its hook on the wall. I have to make sure she’s all right.

#WIP excerpts: THE SWORD KEEPER, chapter 1.1

I thought it might be fun to post an excerpt every week or so from my current WIP. It’s been a few months since I published anything, and I figure this would be a good way to keep in touch and let you guys know what I’m up to.

The big project I’m working on right now, and the one that I hope to finish by the end of April, is an epic fantasy novel titled The Sword Keeper. It’s the first part of what will eventually become The Twelfth Sword Trilogy. The basic premise is that there’s an ancient brotherhood of enchanted swords that bond telepathically to their bearers and pass on knowledge, skills, memories, and experiences. Over hundreds of years, these swords and their bearers become so powerful, they are able to unite most of the world in peace under a benevolent empire. But then the swords go insane, the empire falls into civil war, and SHTF, so to speak.

That was all a thousand years ago. The twelfth sword, recognizing what was happening, went dormant and refused to take a new bearer. Its last bearer formed a secret order of monks to keep the sword safely hidden, carrying it from place to place until it finds the one who fulfills the prophecy to become the last sword bearer. According to the prophecy, the last sword bearer will rise in a day when darkness sweeps the land and save the world from an enemy who seeks to enslave all mankind.

So yeah, pretty standard for epic fantasy. Instead of a farmboy, though, the heroine of the trilogy is a young tavern girl. Here’s the opening scene of the first chapter.

(SIDE NOTE: Since this is a WIP, it might need some editing or have some other issues that need work. Also, this scene might turn out substantially different in the final published version from its current form. Still, I thought it would be fun to post it. Let me know what you think!)

====================

The candles were lit and the tables had already been served when the mysterious traveler arrived from the west. Tamuna was tending the bar as the clatter of hooves on the old stone road announced his arrival. She paused in her work to peer out the tavern window, but the sky had already faded, blending the leaves with the shadows.

“Better put another spit on the fire,” Aunt Sopiko said as she came back from serving the tables. “When that’s done, see to the room upstairs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Tamuna. She ran to the kitchen, hoping to finish her chores in time to catch a glimpse of the unexpected guest. The harvest season had just ended, and the villagers had already put away their corn and grain for the winter. Occasionally, a herder would come down from the mountains, but only during the day—never at night.

The tavern was one of the last places for room and board before the Kevona Mountains. In the spring, travelers from the south and west sometime came down from the mountain passes in the waning twilight. Tamuna loved to hear their stories of faraway lands and peoples, and often stayed up into the early hours of the morning listening spellbound to them. But this late in the season, it was rare for travelers to come down from the mountain pass. Perhaps, then, it was someone from the east on their way to Khevsura or Aramand? But why would they stop at a village tavern when they could sleep in comfort at Kutaisa?

As she stoked the cooking fire, the door to the yard swung open, and Nika the stable boy came in carrying a bucket of water from the well. His curly brown hair spilled out beneath his woolen skullcap, and his boots were covered in mud.

“Hi Tamuna,” he said, setting the bucket on the table with both hands. “Thought you might need this.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling in gratitude. “Any news from the village?”

“Old Tom’s cow gave birth to a beautiful little calf. He’ll probably sell her in the spring—the calf, not the cow.”

“Of course.”

“Anyway, she’s a gorgeous animal. I really wish I could save up and buy it. Do you think your aunt could… well…”

Tamuna drew in a long breath. She knew what Nika was asking, but Aunt Sopiko was far too miserly to ever agree to such a request. If Tamuna asked her to raise Nika’s pay by even a few meager coppers, she’d probably be whipped for it. But Nika couldn’t save very much either, since his family took almost everything he earned from his job at the tavern. They needed the money as badly as they needed a cow.

“I’ll do what I can,” she said softly. Then, putting a hand on his arm, “maybe we can save up enough together.”

His face brightened. “You really think so?”

“Sure. And with all the eggs the chickens are laying, maybe Sopiko will let us sell some at the Kutaisa market.”

“Oh, Tamuna!”

Nika threw his arms around her, kissing her enthusiastically on the cheek. He still smelled like dirty hay and horse manure, though, so she squealed and pushed him away.

“By the seven rivers, Nika, haven’t you had a chance to wash up yet? You smell like you’ve been bathing with the pigs!”

“Sorry,” he said, grinning sheepishly.

“Well, what are you still here for? Go and wash up already!”

She shooed out of the kitchen, but just as he turned to leave, she remembered the traveler.

“Wait—did you see the man who just came in?”

He frowned. “Who?”

“The traveler who rode in not fifteen minutes ago. When I’m finished here, I—”

“Oh my gods!” said Nika, his eyes widening like saucers. “I wasn’t in the stable when—sorry, gotta run!” Without another word, he dashed out the door and disappeared into the deepening twilight.

Tamuna put her hands on her hips and sighed. Nika was a good boy, and without a doubt her most loyal friend, but he had a way of missing what was right before his face. As she glanced down at all the mud he’d tracked in, she couldn’t help but shake her head.

The door to the main room swung open, and Aunt Sopiko came in with a stern look on her face. “What was that?” she asked. “Were you chatting with Nika instead of doing your work?”

“No, ma’am,” Tamuna said quickly. “That is, I—”

“Well, no more distractions. Our guest wants to take his dinner upstairs, so go up and fix the room double quick—no dallying.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tamuna said dutifully. She hurried out of the kitchen, her cheeks reddening at her aunt’s rebuke. How foolish of her to let herself get distracted so easily, especially when there was work to be done. She would have to do her best to make sure that Sopiko wasn’t disappointed in her.

From the hallway closet, she pulled out a thick woolen blanket and linen bed sheets. A half-burned candle waited on the ledge by the base of the stairway. The old wooden stairs creaked all the way to the top, and the light from her flickering candle made shadows dance along the walls. She paused for a moment to light the lamp at the head of the stairway, then opened the door to the private room and set the candle on a ledge near the doorway. Outside, the cool autumn wind blew hard against the window, whistling through the gaps in the panes and making the wall groan and creak.

I’ll have to light a fire before I leave, she thought to herself as she made the bed. The chill air made her shiver a little, so she worked quickly, wishing that she’d brought a shawl. Fortunately, it didn’t take her long. She’d readied the private room more than a hundred times, and knew exactly what needed to be done. Soon, she was engrossed her work—so engrossed that when she turned to start the fire, she was surprised to find the guest standing in the doorway.

“Oh!” she said, taking a quick step back. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were coming. If you want, I’ll—”

“That’s all right,” said man, laying down down a heavy rucksack in the corner. He was old, probably in his fifties, with silver-gray hair and a well-trimmed beard. Even so, he stood very tall, with a broad chest and muscular arms and shoulders. His brow was deeply furrowed, his jawline sharp, yet his eyes exuded a thoughtful kindness that put Tamuna at ease almost immediately.

“Here,” she said as he slipped off his heavy woolen cloak. “Let me help you with that.” He turned and let her pull it off his shoulders, revealing a simple white tunic underneath. A gold embroidered cross took up most of the back of the garment, but other than that, his clothing bore no ornamentation.

“Are you a monk?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“I am,” said the man. He knelt over the rucksack and pulled out a sword, sheathed in a dull black scabbard. With great care bordering on reverence, he laid it on the wooden table.

Something about the sword drew Tamuna’s gaze. The hilt was made of steel and burnished with what appeared to be silver, though it was difficult to make out in the dim candlelight. Intricate carvings appeared to tell a story, one that she very much wanted to hear. The handle was long and straight, designed for two hands, with a dark leather cord wrapped tightly around it for the grip. At the pommel, a single emerald jewel glowed in the mouth of a dragon, pulsating in the flickering candlelight.

Something about the sword almost seemed to call out to her. Tamuna blinked and shook her mind clear, turning to the traveler who had stooped down to start the fire. She was about to offer help, but his body language told her that he would rather be left to himself.

“Let us know if you need anything,” she said on her way out. The man grunted his assent, and she shut the door quietly behind her, sneaking one last glance at him and the sword.

Back in the kitchen, Sopiko was cutting bread and stacking it on the tray for the stranger. A kebab sizzled over the fire, while the pot of beans bubbled by the edge. Tamuna opened the cabinet and pulled out a small plate of cheese, cutting off generous slices onto the tray.

“Did the traveler say where he’s from?” she asked.

Sopiko shook her head. “No, he didn’t say a word about that. Just asked the price of a room and where he should leave his horse.”

“Did you see the markings on his tunic? I don’t think he’s from around here. Maybe even—”

“Best not to pry,” said Sopiko. She finished with the bread and turned to the spit over the fire.

Tamuna bit her lip, but went on preparing the food without asking again. She could tell from Sopiko’s tone of voice that any more questions would not be tolerated. Her aunt wasn’t a harsh woman, but she could be stern, especially when it came to how she ran the tavern. Tamuna sometimes wondered if her mother had been like that: stern and domineering. She had no memory of her, having been taken from her home when she was just a little girl. All that she had of her were stories.

As she finished with the cheese and spooned the beans into a clay bowl, her mind drifted back to the sword on the table. She didn’t know why, but something about it still seemed to call out to her. The more she tried to clear her head, the more it seemed that the feeling would not go away.

“Here,” said her aunt, taking the spit off of the fire and putting it onto the tray with the rest of the food. “Take this to our guest upstairs, but don’t linger too long.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it, Tamuna. I know how you like to stay and chat every time we put up a traveler, but this time,” she made a cutting motion across her neck with her hand. “Understand?”

“Yes, Aunt Sopiko. I won’t disturb him.”

“Good. Now see to your work, and be quick about it.”

He must be a very important man for her to say that, Tamuna thought to herself as she climbed the stairs with the tray. Usually, her aunt had no qualm with her listening to the stories of their guests. Through them, she’d heard all sorts of fascinating things about the world outside the village—of the vast rocky deserts to the south, with ancient ruins buried beneath the sifting sands, or the warrior kingdoms on the grassy plains beyond the western sea. But lately, it was the people of the north that everyone seemed to be talking about. Some travelers warned that the northern armies were moving toward the Kevonas, while others claimed that they were just fighting among each other. Perhaps their new guest was an envoy, or an advisor to a king—or perhaps he was the leader of a band of warrior monks, preparing himself to take part in a holy war.

All these thoughts raced through her mind as she walked down the hallway and knocked on the door to the private room.

“Sir,” she called, holding the tray against her hip. “I have your dinner, sir. May I come in?”

No answer.

She waited for a moment, then knocked again. “Uh, sir, are you there? I’ve brought your dinner.”

Again, no answer.

He’s probably just gone to the outhouse, she thought to herself. The tray weighed heavily on her arms, so she nudged the door open with her toe and stepped in.

Sure enough, the room was empty. A newly lit fire blazed in the fireplace, while the man’s cloak and rucksack lay exactly as he’d left them. She carefully set down the tray of hot food, noticing the sword that still lay on the other side of the table.

Something about the sight of it rooted her to the spot. She knew that she should return to the kitchen to help out her aunt with the chores, but all she could do was stare at the dull, black scabbard and the old, faded hilt. The blazing light of the fire made the emerald on the pommell glisten and shimmer in a way that it hadn’t before. She almost felt as if the dragon’s eyes were watching her.

I should go, she told herself, lifting her dress as if to tiptoe out of the room. Instead, her feet seemed to move of their own accord, taking her closer to the sword. One of the floorboards creaked, and she froze, glancing hurriedly at the door, but the hallway was empty—she was alone.

Aunt Sopiko is going to kill me if she finds out what I’m doing, she thought anxiously. Every part of her screamed to leave the room before someone discovered her, but something else told her not to be afraid—that she was on the right path, and that this was her destiny. She felt as if she stood on the edge of a tall cliff, with a perilous drop before her and nothing but wilderness behind. Or perhaps it felt more like a crossroads, where the path she chose now would determine the course of the rest of her life. She hesitated, an inexplicable fear threatening to overwhelm her, but an even greater curiosity drove her forward—the same curiosity that had seized her from the moment she’d heard the clatter of hooves on the stone-paved road outside the tavern.

She felt a slight tremor, like the churning of the air immediately around a fire. It made her stop and pull back, uncertain. What if the sword is magic? she wondered. What if it’s cursed? But it was too late to stop now. She took a deep breath and touched the cold metal of the hilt.

A tremendous shock surged through her, from the top of her head to her outermost toes. She gasped for air as her legs gave out beneath her. It felt as if every muscle in her body had turned to water, and she was melting all over the floor. She swooned, and her last conscious thought before falling to the floor was that her aunt was going to skin her alive.

It’s done!

Yesterday I finally finished the second draft of Friends in Command (Sons of the Starfarers: Book IV)! I know I’d said I was working on other projects, but those were intermittent—this was the main one I was focusing on. I still need to run it by my first readers, but I’m pretty sure this is the version that I’ll publish. If all goes well, you can expect to see this go up on pre-order before the end of March.

While working on the revisions for Friends in Command, I more or less plotted out the rest of the Sons of the Starfarers series in my head. There are going to be nine books total, most of them around 40,000 to 50,000 words (or 150 to 200 pages). It will probably take me between two and four months to write each of them, including sending them off to first readers and implementing their feedback. If my first readers come back with problems, though, it might take more like five or six months.

While I’m definitely committed to finishing up this series, I’m probably not going to work exclusively on Sons of the Starfarers. As much as I would like to wrap up this series and get it all out there, there are a lot of other projects calling out to me—projects that I’ve been putting off for far too long. Here are just a few of them:

STAR WANDERERS: CHILDREN OF THE STARRY SEA

Yes, I have another story in the Star Wanderers series to tell. This one is a full-length novel, though, and it takes place about sixteen years after the events of The Jeremiah Chronicles. It’ll be fun to bring back all the old characters, but this story is mostly about their children (hence the title). This WIP is still in the early outlining stages, but I have lots of ideas with where to take it. I’ll probably write it sometime over the summer, unless there’s enough demand for me to write it sooner.

THE SWORD KEEPER

This is my epic fantasy novel that I’ve been writing on and off for the past two and a half years. I put it on the back burner last summer after I got blocked, but just last month I figured out what I needed to change to get the story flowing again. I could probably finish this one in a month if I focused on it. Hopefully, this is the year that I’ll finally get this one finished and publish it.

QUEEN OF THE FALCONSTAR

This is the passion project that distracted me while I was working on Friends in Command. I wrote about three chapters, put it on the back burner, and then daydreamed the whole rest of the book. Needless to say, I’m eager to get back to this one. I think it has a lot of potential—Star Wanderers was an unplanned passion project just like this one.

KING WASHINGTON

This is a new project that I haven’t blogged about yet. I’m collaborating on it with a friend (the story was actually his idea), and we’ve spent the last two or three weeks plotting out the entire series. All that is done now, so all we have to do is figure out our collaboration style and write the thing. We’re doing it in season/episode format, with five seasons of 12 episodes each. The episodes are each going to run about 20k to 30k words, so once we have our workflow down we should be able to pump out an episode every four to six weeks.

Lots and lots of stuff to work on—that’s partially why I haven’t been blogging much in the last few weeks. I hope to change that soon, though. And even if I’m not quite so active online as I have been, don’t worry—I’m still writing!