Book launch: "Trails Through the Fault Lines"

Today, I'm pleased to interview April Brown, a twitter pal of mine (@UncoveredMyths), in connection with the launch of her new book, Trails Through the Fault Lines. It's an adventure set in the earthquake-prone deserts of New Mexico.

TN: April, give me your elevator pitch for this novel. What's the hook?

AB: Amber and Alex track expanding quakes and volcanic eruptions across New Mexico. The Rio Grande Rift begins re-opening the inland sea that once covered much of this region. Together, with guides Livia and Corbo, they gather information to attempt to save as many lives as possible. Amber and Alex grapple with losing best friends and family. Their world tumbles faster than the Rio Grande swirls.

TN: It sounds like it's drawing on several genres. Do you have a specific writing style?

AB: A story idea will appear, and I'll make a few notes, maybe research a bit. At this point, I have no idea if the story will occur, or stay in the notes folder.

A few weeks, or months later, I make a few more notes, and research more. A few names may appear, maybe some background notes, some of which will change.

A few months after that, I make a one page general outline (that never stays the same). I also start a background and name list. Then, I research all I can before I start, making a labelled list of sites to find more specifics if needed. Usually, I write half the novel, then set it aside for a month or so. At that point, I re-read, as a first edit pass, and finish the rest of the novel, before moving into editing stages. This often involves more intense specific fact verification. There are several edit passes based on the needs of the novel. From the basic story, down to the nitty gritty sentence structure, and then the formatting issues.

TN: If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

AB: I would have skipped the agent search, and created my book cover, rather than waiting on others. During the five year agent search, I managed to write 3.5 of the sequels, with 1.5 to go. Also, I waited on the cover design and had to change the publication order. By doing so, I may have missed a major marketing technique, as a series of such quakes were in the news at the original publication time.

TN: You've put a lot of time into this story arc. Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?

AB: I was always interested in writing. I enjoyed newspaper reporting, and yearbook recording. Then, I moved on to poetry. Writing is my way to connect with my past, present, and future. It's my only legacy to leave for others.

TN: What were the challenges (research, literary, psychological, and logistical) in bringing it to life?

AB: For this story, there were many challenges! Conflicting evidence in science reports means many scientists will not believe the Rio Grande will spilt up to Yellowstone. However, the evidence that it is occurring is there. There are traces in the rocks, the mountains, and the scientific reports on the area. How fast it will occur is anyone's guess!

Making the science entertaining for the non-scientist while not making it too fluffy for the scientific readers? That was difficult. I tried not to use too many technical scientific terms, which is one reason the characters are closer to twenty, when they would still be used to speaking to friends and acquaintances in less scientific terms about their work.

A third difficulty was that people expect romance in books, no matter how unlikely it would be in real life. So, allowing it to develop lightly, and naturally, was difficult. There are two very different relationships in this book: one almost cold and scientific, and the other, a more forced romance, based on social need of a culture that soon will not be. How these lead to the problems between later cultures created by the characters in these novels can only be discovered in the sequels. One point that unintentionally appeared in this novel is another social construct that has been in the news of late. One character, Corbo, always thought he was born in the US. That turns out to be not quite true, and it makes all the difference. He never had a birth certificate, and was really born a mile or so across the Mexican border. The US government, and the Mexican government say he doesn't exist. This thread wound it's way into the story five years ago, long before it was news.


/////

 "Trails Through the Fault Lines" by April Brown is available in ebook and paperback at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and Smashwords. You can follow April on Twitter as @UncoveredMyths and at her website, Uncovered Myths.

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Following up on crazy ideas

I had an idea today.

My first thought about it was, "Hmm, that would be a really interesting idea to pursue. Could lead to some cool stuff."

My next thought was, "But on the other hand, maybe that's just crazy talk. Would the stuff be cool? Or just wacky headscratcher stuff?"

Then came, "It is pretty risky. But if I did it right, it could be VERY cool."

Then, "But am I up to doing it that well? And furthermore, no matter how interesting the result, it would certainly have a very limited audience appeal. Even written perfectly, it's WAY too nolandesque (nolandish?) to be commercially successful."

Then, "Should I let the potential for commercial success (or, in this case, the almost certain LACK of potential for commercial success) prevent me from trying what could be a very interesting experiment? Is return on investment the be-all, end-all metric for how and what I write?"

Then, "Maybe I should tell a friend this idea. They can let me know if it's a spark of genius I should follow up on, or a dopey fever dream I should allow to pass by."

Then, "Will you let others dictate the path your art takes? Have you really lost that much confidence in your ability to gauge what is and is not valuable writing?"

So, what to do? Follow up on this idea, knowing that the only recompense for doing so would be the satisfaction of an artistic itch scratched? Or let it go, embracing the cold-eyed rationality which calculates that it was sure to be a losing waste of time anyway?

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#NaNoWriMo: Writing about the army

In this year's NaNoWriMo, I'm stumbling along WELL BELOW the requisite pace of 1667 words per day. In fact, on this, the tenth day of November, I have only just broken 5K. I'm not terribly upset about this, because those five thousand words represent more fiction than I've written in the preceding ten months of 2014.

Yes, I know they are mostly crap. Yes, I know that any right-thinking person would quail at the idea of writing so much mostly useless dreck. Yes, I know that the blob floating just outside my field of view is the word FUTILITY carved onto an agglomerated mass of dust motes.

But you know what?

The word FUTILITY is so very, very close to UTILITY. That's what NaNoWriMo is for me this year. There's no way I'll even come close to 50K, but this horrid, fit-for-the-ashcan writing is far from pointless. Its value - its UTILITY, if you will - lies in the fact that it is, in fact, writing.

Which means I haven't forgotten how. I wasn't misremembering. The whole thing was not a dream that the hero wakes from on the last page. I haven't gone dry, or come to my senses, or been abandoned by my muse.

Writing is still there for me if I want it to be.

Now, if I could just write about Victorian army life more compellingly than I have up to this point, I could salvage some of this crap.

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Free for #AllHallowsRead - Verbosity's Vengeance

For #AllHallowsRead, enjoy a free copy of "Verbosity's Vengeance", the superhero/sci-fi/lit humor ebook you've been waiting for!

Alex Graham’s genius designing video games brought him happiness and made him a fortune, but he never expected to see his work misused by military scientists. The collapse of the mysterious Project Unicorn left Alex with scars, nightmares, and strange powers unlike any other superhero. Years later, as the Grammarian, he uses the strength of supple syntax and the power of perfect punctuation to fight for justice on the mean streets of Lexicon City.

When his arch-enemy Professor Verbosity threatens with a mysterious new superweapon, only the Grammarian can stop him… just as soon as he hires a decent sidekick. Mix in the interference of the Avant Guardian (a goofy superhero wanna-be), a vicious stranger who strikes from the shadows, and a beautiful, brainy college professor with an obsession for superhero technology, and the Grammarian has his work cut out for him.

A mix of techno-fantasy, superhero science fiction, and humorous wordplay, "Verbosity's Vengeance" will thrill and delight. 


Available in multiple formats (Kindle, Nook, iBook, PDF, HTML, etc.) from Smashwords, "Verbosity's Vengeance" is free for a limited time. Normally $2.99, this special offer is made to celebrate #AllHallowsRead and to promote literacy all year long. Just use coupon code ER63S when you check out! Click here to order!

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Giving a Gamer Fangirl What She Wants

 [The Grammarian, lexicographical superhero, is in his civilian guise of Alex Graham, rare book dealer. The scene opens as Alex is wrapping up a visit to the research facility of Prof. Kate Hunter, materials scientist. During his visit, he met Dr. Angela Fong, a postdoc in Kate's program.]

...
...
As they were leaving the section of labs, a voice called from behind.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Graham?” Alex and Kate turned toward the stairs.

Angela Fong was running to catch up with them. Since she’d left the lab coat behind, Alex could see that she was wearing an orange T-shirt that read “Gordon Freeman Lives”.

He groaned inwardly, then squared his shoulders for the inevitable. He hated being recognized this way. Usually, being out of context was almost as good as being invisible.

“Mr. Graham? You are A.I. Graham, aren’t you?” she said, her voice hopeful.

“In the flesh.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe this! Mr. Graham, I am a huge fan, just a huge, huge fan! I knew you lived here in town, but I never thought I’d meet you in person. God, this is so random! I saw you in Montreal last year, at WorldCon? You would never believe how many hours I spent playing your games. Mine Strike and Laser Colony Assault and -”

Alex cut her off. “I’m glad you liked them. But they weren’t just mine, of course. A lot of great designers worked on those.”

“This is a huge honor, Mr. Graham. Really. I can’t tell you. I grew up playing your games. They must have cost me a full point off my GPA back in high school!”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t do you any permanent damage. It’s nice to meet you, Angela.” Alex turned to go, but Kate, missing the cue, scuppered his attempted escape.

“So, Angela, how do you know Alex?” she said. “Do you collect first editions?”

“First editions?” Angela’s face screwed up in confusion. “Uh, no. I’m not really into the retro gaming scene. No offense, Mr. Graham. They were great games, fantastic for the time. I’ve got a few of them on emulators, but I don’t collect the old first edition cartridges.”

She grew visibly more uncertain as she spoke. Kate’s look of confusion had deepened into complete mystification. Alex just hoped that his growing irritation wasn’t showing the same way.

“I meant rare books,” Kate said. “Do you collect rare books?”

It was Angela’s turn to be mystified. “Um... no. Why would I be interested in rare books?”

They looked at each other uncomprehendingly for a moment, before simultaneously turning to Alex for help. He made a show of checking his watch.

“Oops, look at the time. I’m afraid I’ve got an afternoon appointment, going to have to run soon.”

“Hey, are you going to be working with us?” Angela said. Her face lit up like a kid promised a pony for Christmas. “That would be fantastic! I’m sorry I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you upstairs and show you my work. But I was just so, you know, flustered! I mean, my God, it’s just a regular day in the lab and to see A.I. Graham himself come walking in. Talk about things being out of context! It’s like getting dumped into a boss fight on the first screen...” She smiled and leaned forward, inviting Alex to share the joke.

Reluctantly, he gave the expected response: “... armed with just a crowbar.”

Angela dissolved into delighted giggles while Kate stared at them, completely at a loss. Alex laughed politely while he tried to work out a good way to detach himself. In some ways, gamer fangirls were worse than fanboys.

Thrown off-balance by the entire interaction, Kate tried to regain some footing in the conversation. “I don’t understand what you mean, Angela. Working with us? Alex was here for an informal tour, a social call. There’s no professional involvement.”

“Oh.” Angela’s disappointment was clear. “That’s too bad. Still, I guess it doesn’t make very much sense, does it? I mean, the work we’re doing in Dr. Hunter’s lab is all about stabilizing charge displacement of quantum tunneling effects, and isometric boson vector alignments, physical stuff like that. I wasn’t aware of any direct applications to the video game industry.” Her face brightened again. “Unless it’s some kind of adaptation of your on-the-fly polygon frame-rate substitution algorithms to advanced computer simulations? Like maybe of that venturi modeling you used for Blades of the Assassins?”

What a typical gamer, he thought. The young woman just would NOT take a hint!

“No, I’m afraid not,” said Alex. This was really not a conversation he wanted to be having, not in front of Kate. He very pointedly looked at his watch and said, “Hey, I’m really going to have to run if -”

Oblivious, Angela said, “I mean, the algorithm modeling in those games were fantastic. The blood spatter effects alone meant I had to buy a new video card. It cost me a fortune, but it was... worth it...” She trailed off, finally becoming aware of the social cues in front of her. She blushed again, an even deeper shade of red than in the lab. They stood in an awkward silence: Alex anxious to be rid of his admirer, Angela’s sudden embarrassment finally overcoming her excitement, and Kate looking back and forth between them, trying unsuccessfully to understand their conversation.

Alex cleared his throat. “Well, it was nice to meet you.” He put a hand on Kate’s arm and guided her toward the hallway door.

Angela stuck out her hand for another shake. “Oh God, the pleasure was all mine, all mine!” She pumped Alex’s hand, hesitated for a moment, then leaned in. In a conspiratorial voice, she said, “I know this is TOTALLY none of my business and you can absolutely tell me to buzz off, but just between you and me... is ‘Blood Lance: Halls of the Damned’ gonna have cloud-independent NPC controlling intelligence, or is it gonna be parallel behavior isoforms?”

Alex gritted his teeth. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get out of this without throwing her a bone of some kind. He leaned in close and spoke in a voice that was melodramatically low and confidential.

“Well, the NDAs with Lighting Stryke Entertainment mean I have to be pretty tight-lipped. I’ll tell you this much, though: when you fill out your party roster, you’re going to need a necromancer. And keep at least two equipment slots open when you go into the Caves of Ice.” Alex made a dramatic gesture of sealing his lips. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

Angela threw up her hands. “OH, MAN!” she shouted. “Oh, man! I knew it! I knew it! The boss fight is the Frost King, isn’t it? Back from the Pit of Stygian Fire, and thirsting for vengeance? I knew it!”

“Remember, you can’t breathe a word about this. It’s still in final development.”

“Oh, no worries, Mr. Graham. I’m great at keeping secrets.”

Kate laughed. “Angela here is one of the co-investigators on some of our privately funded research grants. She’s excellent with confidential information.” Angela blushed again at this praise.

“Is that right?” Alex said. He considered for a moment. “Listen, we’re going to be releasing a limited beta of the Caves of Ice level. It sounds as though you’d be the kind of person who could really put it through its paces. You’d have to sign an NDA, but if your gaming rig is up to it, I’ll see if I can get you in the pool of beta testers. Interested?”

“Are you kidding? I’d love that!” Hardly able to contain her excitement, Angela scribbled her name and e-mail address into a small notebook from her pocket, tore out the page and thrust it at Alex. With many more protestations of disbelief and delight, she finally left them, fairly dancing down the hallway.

Alex and Kate watched her go. After a moment’s awkward silence, Alex turned and went quickly through the doorway that led to the foyer. Kate ran after him.

“What the heck was that all about?” she said.

“Nothing. Just some pre-release viral marketing,” Alex said, not stopping to explain.

“Viral what? Alex, I mean.... THAT. The whole thing. That was as excited as I’ve ever seen her get. I thought she was going to ask you for your autograph. What in the world were you two talking about?”

He limped down the stairs toward his car. “It’s not important, Kate. Come on, I’ll take you to lunch.”

“Well, it might not be important, but it’s surprising as hell, and it’s too early for lunch. How did she know you? And what was all that about video games?”

Alex sighed. “That’s just another line of work I do. More of a hobby, really.”

“Oh. OK.” She blinked, then frowned. “Wait, no. Not OK. From the way Angela was acting, I got the distinct impression that you’re practically a rock star. That doesn’t sound like some little hobby for when you’re not running your bookstore.”

He shrugged. “I just take on assignments from the video game companies as I want to. Only the stuff that interests me.”

“You design video games?” Her voice was incredulous. “When you’re not locating first editions and restoring old manuscripts, you design video games?” She looked him up and down. “You don’t look like a computer nerd.”

“I am a computer GEEK, thank you very much, despite my normal human appearance. And no, I don’t design the games themselves. I’m a consultant, contributing plot ideas and occasionally assisting with the scripts. Mostly, though, I work with the programming team to polish the physics code.”

“The what?”

“It’s the software that drives the way the players and characters move on-screen. A lot of games have characters that look wooden or jerky. Mine move more naturally, more believably.”

She looked at him in silence for a long time. Finally, she said, “You’re kidding, right?”

Alex’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I admit, it doesn’t really go with the rare manuscripts dealer image, does it?”

“But how did you get started doing it? Was it just a slow day at a book auction and you decided to start writing computer code?”

He frowned a bit, until he realized that she was teasing him. A bright twinkle had come to her eye that made his heart kick in his chest. It was an unfamiliar sensation. Not at all unpleasant, just... unfamiliar.

“No, the other way around,” he said. “I used to be a serious code monkey. I had a flair for writing code that made things move on-screen with terrific effect. Games that had my code looked better and sold more copies than games that didn’t. I worked on a lot of projects for a lot of different people, including some of the biggest companies in Silicon Valley.”

“So if you were so good at it, why’d you quit?”

“Oh, there are lots of reasons to quit a job.” Such as the death of everyone you ever cared about. Images of smoking blood and charred metal forced their way into his mind. He forced them back out. “Sometimes you just get... burned out.”
...
...

Read more in Verbosity's Vengeance


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On Slow-Filling Aquifers

I have a blog post mostly written, which I was going to post yesterday. I got distracted before finishing it, thank goodness. When I went back to finish it, I realized that it was not so much a blog post as it was a message. Sent from my subconscious to my waking mind, I needed a little time and distance to recognize it as such. I shelved that post and wrote this one instead.

What was the message? It's best interpreted as, "Stop trying to be a writer. Either BE a writer or give it up entirely and move on to other pursuits."

My writing is on hiatus for a while. Attentive readers of this blog (if any still exist) will note that my blogging is, too. With NaNoWriMo looming on the horizon, I'm left to wonder if that's exactly the kind of kickstart I need, or if it's only another gasp of onanistic futility.

The truth is that I've got nothing. I can tell you what I'm thinking and feeling at any given moment, but it seems I've completely misplaced my ability to make up things about people and places that don't exist. With that absence of ability comes, not just a reluctance to once again stare at a blank screen, but a fearful recoiling from the writing process.

Everything besides writing feels more relaxing, more pleasurable. What gives me pause (and what makes me continue to hope I might one day be able to write again) is that few other things are more satisfying, or give me anything close to the sense of accomplishment. After fighting this hiatus, this down time, this forced literary layoff, I've decided to give in to it and take rest from it. Willfully eating lotuses? Perhaps, but I find myself on an island where lotuses are the only things to eat.

Why so dry, guy? It's possible that my aquifer is just slow in refilling, but it's also possible that my life has too many fresh wells drawing too much water. For that, I have to wait for the world to turn and turn and turn again before I can again take up my pen.

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