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I suppose that it could also be called ghetto. Whether you choose to call what I write ghetto or niche (profane or polite) it doesn’t change that fact that it is what it is.
Even as I write this post, I know that someone will snap up pieces of it as a justification for their own choices.
I proved myself to myself in my youth. Yes, I rant and I rage at times, but in those still, calm moments, when I am centered and at peace, I would not change what I have.
I don’t know how many of you ever listened to Frank Sinatra, but his song “I did it my way” has always touched a chord with me. I always did it my way.
It was never easy and there was hell to pay for it more often than not. My grandmother despaired of ever teaching me anything as a child, because for every good solid suggestion she made to me, I came up with a different (frequently less workable) solution to the problem we were discussing.
My daughter is like that also. Many times I just want to slap her. But then I have to shrug and grin, because we all know that paybacks are a bitch. Everything that she does to me, things that infuriate me most, are the exact same things I did to my grandmother.
I keep dragging my feet about trying to get an agent, or even finishing something new to submit to an agent or a publisher.
It all comes down to ‘my way’ and wanting to do things my way.
While I would love to have books published by the majors, I would have to give them what they wanted.
My way. My way is not their way. I have enough fans and an audience base to enjoy. But more important is my lifelong inability to compromise.
So instead, I will keep my niche and plant roses in the flower boxes of my ghetto, and be satisfied with what I have.
Because I can do it my way.
Instead of simply finding a word on my website and attempting to shake me down, they should have taken a long hard look at just who and what they were dealing with.
I was shaken initially. I called my gunslinger and had him deal with them while I pulled myself together. I went over 30 hours without sleep, living on coffee, smokes, and chocolate candy, while I investigated them and contacted my experts.
And I posted across the net, certain that, as always people would come to me with leads and information.
They did.
As the investigation continues, I will say that they may be facing criminal charges as well as a countersuit should they try to carry out their threats.
They sent an email to the owner of sfreader, Dave Felts, and he posted it on the thread I started. Their so-called legal beagle did not know proper legal language nor the difference between libel and slander.
The name of their legal beagle does not show up on a search on either the Canadian or American Bar Association membership rosters.
In addition to everything else, I may have skin cancer. I got way too much sunshine while living in Southern California. My skin is too fair to tan, so I got sunburned a lot. My doctor is in the process of making the appointments to have a specialist remove the moles from my face that have turned strange and examine them.
On a more up beat angle, I’m also going to be getting a fresh run of physical therapy for my leg.
They increased my meds and my feet stopped singing again. It had become intermittant, but now it should stop entirely.
When I see the doctor again on the 31st of this month, they are going to make appointments for me to get my ears and hearing re-checked and possibly be able to do something for them.
As usual, I have kept putting all of this off and it piled up on me. Sovay and Natalie kept nagging me until I surrendered and agreed to make a list of my complaints and take them to the doctor. I changed doctors, but am still going to the same clinic. My new doctor is very together and was far more thorough than the previous ones.
And yet, I was not made to feel like a bug under glass or a germ on microscope’s slide.
The revisions on If Truth Dies has just passed the 79,000 word mark
Loyalty is still sitting at 55,000, but I’ll get back to that one soon.
Fireborn Law is now available. The cover is by CrystalWizard. The book is CritGit approved.
The House of Representatives passed the libel tourism bill I mentioned in a post about a month ago, when the Phleabitten war at Goodreads was heavy. And it looks like it will pass the Senate shortly. This is a major victory over those foriegn doody-heads who are persecuting American authors.
Once it passes the Senate, I intend to write a fresh post about Philbin and his extradition threats just to laugh at him.
HEY PHLEABITTEN, NYAH! NYAH!
I’m rather fond of this chapter. More behind the cut
CHAPTER ONE
LAWGIVER
Pandeena Moonbow rode into the quiet village of Running Horse at the southern edge of the mountain fastnesses of Clan Silverpaw. She had not been here in centuries, yet it had changed little. Cubs played along the streets: in human form wearing scruffy traditional robes; rolling, barking, and darting about in wolf form; two who had mastered the hybrid form wrestled near a horse trough. Myn walked the tree-shaded main street, most of them wearing the traditional wraparound robes with loose ties, made of embroidered cloth for the bitches and rope for the dogs. The human clothing styles, prevalent in some of the larger towns, had not yet reached Running Horse. She saw few males in trousers and shirt, and no bitches; which made Pandeena all the more conspicuous in her freeranger-style dark green leathers, trousers and jerkin with a pale brown shirt. She carried a Sharani longsword at her shoulder and a pair of lycan fighting knives at her hips. A two-chambered bow case rode beneath the flap on her heavy lycan saddle.
I’m doing these in the order that they happened while I’m reading A Brief History of Medieval Warfare: the Rise and Fall of English Supremacy at Arms 1314 – 1485 by Peter Reid.
Edward III was king of England at this point, a twenty year old man heading for his first battle. No doubt, he received a lot of input from his military advisors, but ultimately the final decisions belonged to Edward. He besieged the town of Berwick, forcing the Scots to march to the relief of the town, and then set up to deal with them.
The terrain was two hills, Halidon Hill where the English deployed their forces; and Bothul Hill. Between the two hills was a wide bog. The Scots under Archibald Douglas, concerned about the possibility of being flanked by the English, chose to march the long way around Bothul Hill. Bothul Hill is taller than Halidon, so that might have masked some of the Scottish formation.
The English had learned a lot from the Battle of Bannockburn. Out of 20,000 men, 8,000 were archers.
Armor has gotten heavier and more complex for the mounted knights, and Reid postulates that full armor would have been too heavy for the Scots to make a 1,000 yard dash across the bog on foot. The boggy terrain sitting between the two hills would not work well for bringing the heavy cavalry through.
The Scots dismounted, formed their schiltroms, and came at the English on foot. Reid estimates that the English longbowmen, deployed on the flanks of the army, were able to loose about thirty arrows each in the three to four minute arrow storm that played havoc with the Scottish troops. The schiltroms that had made a mess of the English at Bannockburn were shredded. The Scots retreated and the English infantry and cavalry went after the survivors with orders to take no prisoners.
As 50ftAnt remarked in the comments to the previous military post, choosing your ground is important. At Bannockburn, the Scots had time to choose where to deal with the English. At Halidon Hill, the English had already set up entrenched positions for their archers and such, and they had the high ground.
This is an excerpt from a work in progress by Tim Willard and me.
The Tree of Bellocar (From Mother Damnation)
Great bronze wheels shod in iron bracketed the hard rock maple cart, the exposed surface of the wooden planks stained with the blood of countless offerings. Within the cart, its roots sunk deep into the dirt filling it, a huge and gnarled old oak thrust its skeletal fingers into the sky. Not a single leaf decorated the massive tree, in place of leaves skulls dangled from bronze and copper wires, each skull carved with a miniature version of the skull festooned tree, filled in with rusted iron that left reddish stains on the skull as if the engraving had bled.
Each of the six of the huge carts were pulled forward by six braided copper cables, skulls woven into the cables, dangling free to display the fact that each skull had been dipped in iron and had a copper inlay of The Tree in miniature upon the forehead. Each cable was pulled by twenty-one half-bloods whose eyes were pierced by iron nails, who had bronze rods driven into their skulls through ears. The half-bloods were naked, their flesh, normally lean and emaciated appearing, was ample with rolls and layers of fat covering the muscles that pulled the carts forward. Upon their flesh was carved sigils of loyalty to Bellocar, and of ecstatic agony, the runes filled with an internal sickly green fire. Their feet were pierced by long thorns, plucked from the branches of the very trees they served, each step leaving a footprint of blood from each half-blood, creating a path of bloody footprints for the tree to travel over.
Around each tree, holding hands, stood priests in black and red robes. A stylized fireball, resembling a fist, done in orange and crimson and black upon their back completing the symbol of the Jihad of Fire. The symbol repeated on the ribbons hanging from the tree that were fluttering in an unfelt breeze. At the rear of the large carts were gongs, carved with the symbol of Bellocar, the same disease and skull decorated tree hammered into the bronze, surrounded by twisted runes glowing with a lurid purple light. A lesser blood was chained to each gong by heavy iron chains that were sunk into the blood’s chest. The gongman, clad only in a bronze mask of Bellocar and an iron skull with jaws wrapped around the blood’s genatilia, beat the gong slowly with a massive ebony rod with a striker cast in the shape of an iron skull whose eyes glowed a baleful red.. One on each side of the gong was a hornblower; the horn easily a dozen feet long and two feet wide at the end. Twisted runes that glowed with a ruddy orange light covering the horn’s surface. The horn blowers were female, masked with the visage of Bellocar, the end of the horn melded with the surface of the mask, and their flesh carved with symbols to the Lord of the HellGods that dripped blood down their skin and onto the skulls whose jaws were clamped to their breasts and their groin. On the outside of the rear rank stood drummers, who beat vast drums with sticks capped with bronze skulls. The drummer’s faces and chests were hidden behind bronze masks of Bellocar’s face, their genitalia gripped by the jaws of bronze skulls, and their legs were wrapped in strips of cloth died orange and black, lined with prayer runes that glowed with a purple light. They were beating the drums with fists covered by iron skulls adorned with the Tree of Bellocar wrought in polished brass. With each impact of the skulls upon the stretched skin, the beaten brass of the sides of the drum flared with different sigils, runes, mantras, and prayers, the light flaring with the impact, and fading to nothingness a heartbeat before the drum sounded again, and the runes flared again to life.
“THE TREE! THE TREE!” someone screamed, and Private Lwenious pulled his rifle off the sandbags, put the muzzle under his chin, and blew his own head off as he screamed, wild-eyed with terror. Jennings noted that the shot had sounded in time with the great bass booming of the drum. Several other shots sounded, and someone began screaming, a high animal noise of agony.
_______________________________________________________________
Hey Mikakke, this is real writing.
You’ll notice on the tabs that there is an “About the Legion” page atop my blog. It has been there ever since my last visit from Philbin. I guess he must have gotten unhappy with the fact that I’ve been leaving his name off my tags lately, because he just left two comments on it. The usual shit.
Here, Mikakke, I have put a tag on my blog post with your name on it. Happy?
Edited to Add: and little stinky snookums made a blog entry about me and linked it. Screenshot in case he takes it down per his usual bukakke
Edited to add again: Pacione says we should stop terrorizing Philbin
I’m hunting around for everything that the Committee needs to make Jean take down all of my books at various places. I need to spent a day digging through my filing cabinets for the contracts I signed. That and various emails I sent to her and her replies are also part of it. This might get sticky, but I’m working on it. I want to have everything tidied up when I send this next book to the agent who is interested. He informed me that the best thing I could do was to get all of my rights back so that some of them could become part of a package offering if he likes the new book.
At this point, it looks like the one I am going to send is Loyalty. It’s standing at just over 53k this morning. I ripped out a couple of scenes I thought no longer worked in light of the direction some earlier, newer scenes took. Once I start fleshing out a rough, it just grows and grows.
50ftAnt is an incredible writer and extremely knowledgeable. If Mother Damnation gets finished ahead of Loyalty (these things do happen), then it will go to the agent instead.
However, I am beginning to find myself drawn back toward working a bit more on Sins of Innocence. I love the pack of nasty sa’necari mercenaries I created for that one.
I have gone through a lot of agents over the years, including non-fiction agents. I need to empty all the trash containers and place one next to the filing cabinets (or maybe a dozen. 
) It’s incredible how much shite I have stuffed into the cabinets that does not belong there or should have been tossed a long time ago. Such as ten year old and long ago paid off bills.
I have taken on a new collaborator on the Mother Damnation series. We are completely revising and pretty much gutting portions of the earlier book. 50ftAnt and I have a fabulous collaboration going.
I am extremely happy with it.
First the Nitwit news:
Dagstine is getting ready to announce his plans to take over the Genre.
Loyalty news:
I was told that the word count meter I was using is very inaccurate on percentages so I’m going to just put down the word count according to Word. 49,973 words. I threw out a few more bits, but I’m writing new ones and I may have just created a demon that is too tough for Jordan Sinclair to whomp single-handed. I am having to think heavily about it to come up with some logical ways for Jordy to defeat it. I may just have Neacal arrive and shoot it in the head with a crossbow. But that would be kind of cheating. So I might not.
I’m playing catch up today on things that I promised Susie Hawes.
Loyalty
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|
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48,963 / 100,000
(48.0%) |
I am spending the weekend writing because I got a reminder from that agent who wanted to see the first book in a new series. I guess the one I send him will be Loyalty since that is what my muse wants to work on.
Then back to work on the rest of what I need to get done on Monday.
With a hat tip to Rusty Nail
Secret military files have recently been unearthed! The movie Them has been proven prophetic. A biohazard near Los Angeles has spawned a 50 Foot Ant that is leaving a swath of destruction in its wake. It appears to be headed for Chicago. Residents are fleeing the city.
Sabledrake Loses Fur! Rumor has it that the black dragon known as Sabledrake is going bald. Doctors and Scientists are baffled as the great one becomes a nudist.
REVOLT OF THE MINIONS! Reporters on the scene watch from behind the barricades as maddened minions storm Castle Koehler. Literary vampire quoted as saying that if they keep getting out of hand she will put the bite on them.
Lake Fossil has become an endangered species as Armored Goldfish Invade Chicago River. Conservationists are appalled and demanding military intervention to save the Lake Fossil.
It had recently been reported that SirOtter was seen Leaving a Werewolf Bar. The paparazzi had a field day with candid shots of drunken author with his arms around two furry females in thongs.
Jodi Lee made headlines today when she hooked the Creature from the Black Lagoon while fishing in her neighbor’s swimming pool.
Noted expatriate British author Willie Meikle shaved beard, revealing that he is actually Oscar Wilde.
A tragic misfire occurred in Finland when Autoaim shot the balls off one of the last of the endangered species known as Homo Suidae. Pacione still attempting to sew them back on with pink thread. When interviewed by reporters, Autoaim shook his head and replied, “That wasn’t the part I was aiming for.”
ExposeTheTard Exposed! Noted blogger ExposetheTard was recently discovered to be a frustrated Tallulah Bankhead look alike and small time stripper who calls herself Ninochka. “I’ll strip anyone down to their bare nuts … except Nicky. He doesn’t have any.”
Giant Lobster Hovers Over Oxford! Mike Philbin has been coated in cum from a Giant Lobster that emerged from the Thames looking for Bukkakeworld.
