First, I’d like to say a warm hello to all my recent visitors from Canada! Welcome and I hope you enjoy what you find.
Second, the draft of Carpathian Campaign: A Novel of the Houses is done and has been put “on the back of the stove” to simmer while I work on a few other projects.
Third, the last edits on Circuits and Crises are finished, the cover art has been firmed up, and all looks on schedule for a mid-March release. It is much like the Elisabeth von Sarmas books – battles, Lander artifacts, the Turkowi, valiant deeds against terrific odds, and other fun stuff.
Fourth, I will be away from the Internet next week (yes, it is possible) and will close comments while I’m gone, so no one languishes waiting for approval. I do have posts lined up.
Fifth, I still need alpha readers for the Cat Among Dragons novel, A Cat at Bay. Please contact me at AlmaTCBoykin at AOL dot com if you are interested.
Caution: Serious Post Ahead
“There is no joy in [ideology].” Said by any number of political, religious, and other fanatics in the 19th-21st centuries.
No one ever depicts Marx, Engels, Lenin, Brezhnev, Gromyko, Erich Honecker, or the Ayatollah Khomeini smiling. I’ve seen posters of Stalin with a benevolent sort-of-smile, and Mao smiling at children or happy industrial workers, but there’s a reason most people over a certain age do not associate the Soviet Union, P.R.C., or the Islamic Republic with happiness, despite the propaganda. Nor do the words “environmentalism” and “pleasure” usually appear in the same sentence. It seems that among individuals or nation-states, first thing that disappears when a great ideological cause is embraced is the sense of humor. Because revolution and bringing about paradise on earth are serious business, and there is no room for laughter or joy in [ideology.] Or in some kinds of fiction, it seems. Continue reading
The cranes flew over yesterday. High, grazing the bottom of the clouds, a score and more of slender shapes passed overhead, graceful and enormous. Their wild, trilling call caught my ear as I shoveled snow. I glanced up and saw the sandhill cranes for the first time in several years. The Siberian cold had finally driven them south, long after the geese and ducks had already fled for warmer lands. The brown shapes flew quickly past, looking for thick grain stubble and water.
Is a hover tank too much to ask for high school graduation? Really? All I wanted was a hover tank, with an instruction manual, some extra rounds of ammunition for the smaller guns, and money to hire the rest of the crew with. No? I would have settled for an Abrams or Merkava. Yes, I had a serious armor addiction when I was younger. I blame history books and David Drake. Continue reading
I need a few brave volunteers to read the draft of A Cat at Bay and poke holes in it. I know there’s some rough spots, but I also suspect I’m not seeing a few others. Please e-mail me at AlmaTCBoykin at AOL dot com if you are interested. here’s a bit of a teaser
Chapter 1: Home from the Hill (Autumn 2004)
Major Rahoul Khan winced as bright light flashed across his eyes his eyes, blinding him, then leaving him seeing spots as the beam swept around and down. He heard metal slide on metal, and a voice muttering curses in a language he’d not heard for three years.
“If you are telling off Lucius, Prince of Darkness, or Corporal La Grange, ma’am, I agree. Can we shift it without starting it?”
“Yes, Sergeant St. John. Lower the bonnet and I’ll disengage the brake. We’ll need someone to push as I steer.” Continue reading
There’s something about choirs, processions, and habit that summons the Imp of the Perverse faster than any incantation ever used. I’ve sung in groups large and small, secular and sacred, in the US and elsewhere, and nothing but nothing will cause chaos faster than trying to get said group of singers into position while singing. Doesn’t matter if it is a hymn, anthem, introit, art song, or choral response. Combine singing, motion, and relocation and a tangle of tenors, a basket-case of basses and a surprise of sopranos ensues. (The altos usually leave early and go out for beer.) Continue reading
An hour at the gym. 4500 words on Carpathian Campaign, with the rest of the story taking shape and starting to make sense. The book will not cover as much as I had hoped, but I’d been planning on a second book anyway. There may be a third, or a set of novellas and short stories.
The cover for Circuits and Crises is in the sketching stage, with plans firming up for the art for Blackbird as well.
As we had sneet, rain, snow, ice pellets, ice pellets in sunshine, and sunshine, all in five minutes this afternoon.