Welcome Newbies!

It’s been a busy McWeek here in McSciFi land a/k/a The World’s Weirdest Amusement Park. Turning SPLICE: The Movie into SPLICE: The Novel has proved to be an interesting challenge. There are things which look amazing on screen but are excruciatingly dull to read. Contrariwise, there are delightful side roads you can wander in a book that would infuriate an audience. Of course, in SPLICE, those side roads are often bloody and dark. So that’s fun.

Anyway, since a few of you have asked if there was any way to get a preview of the book, the answer is yes, and I’m including a snippet here. I’ll provide author review copies, upon request, after it’s edited, which will be a couple of months from now. I need to finish writing before it can be edited.

Until then, welcome to the world of Lillian Goldsmith. Hotel owner, part time prostitute, and full time realist.

She treated herself to another shot and happened to glance up just in time to see two tough looking men carefully ascending the back stairs.

She grabbed her dime store binoculars and knew immediately they weren’t cops. Fine by her, she wasn’t a fan of the pigs anyway. A second look at their guns told her all she needed to know.

She was going to be shy one guest.

Oh well, they’d all paid in advance so no skin off her nose.

She saw two flashes in two sixteen and smiled. Robby Castelano thought he’d been slick, signing in as Tommy Hilfiger, but she’d recognized him from his numerous appearances on the real news. Word was he flipped.

Had. Past tense was clearly the correct tense now.

She watched the two men walk casually back down the stairs and smiled widely now. Clearly professionals, they weren’t going to bother her at all.

She glanced back up and saw they’d left the door open.

That was good news. 

Now she didn’t have to find the body. She could wait for the inevitable screams, call the cops, and play as innocent as a politician in the middle of a brothel.

“Why no, officer, how would I know what was happening here? I swear the schedule said ‘Youth Groups for Jesus.’”

Or.

“You mean he wasn’t the real Tommy Hilfiger? Well, he paid cash in advance and had ID. What was I supposed to do?”

You’re welcome. I’ll provide updates when I can but, for now, just be assured this bad boy is coming to life.

More below.



In other exciting news, GOPTRI OF THE MISTS is in the capable hands of Azoth Khem’s editing team. “What’s GOPTRI OF THE MISTS?”, you ask politely. Well, it’s a collection of notes I had left over from when I wrote THE BRITTLE RIDERS. While that series was set in North America, the events depicted were global. After all, you can’t write about the death of every man, woman, and child on the planet if you’re not using the whole planet.

Think of it this way, this book is the answer to the musical question no one asked; “What would happen if The Brittle Riders was set in India?” Unlike TBR, Goptri doesn’t change grammatical tenses based on the personal philosophies of the characters involved. Although, you have no idea how relieved I was people understood what I was doing and enjoyed it. Also, unlike TBR, there ‘s no defined hero, just a prominent, and lethal, villain.

Look, if you wanted normal you wouldn’t be following me. Here’s a snippet from GOPTRI OF THE MISTS to help you get by. Say hi to Rama Llandhaven, the undisputed Sovereign of Dravida.

As one of the four simian brands made by Rohta, he felt his Rumel brand was the most handsome. He slicked his facial hair, using a lightly scented pomade, and tightened his cravat. He walked down the hall, as he did after every breaklight, paid perfunctory – if insincere, homage at the various hallway shrines, and greeted his staff. He’d learned through many Suns of trial and error that treating the help with some semblance of respect garnered him more obsequious service than threats did. So, to get what he wanted, he was nice to the cretins.

He stepped out onto the balcony as an aide handed him his one new obsession, a cup of mint tea from the Shin-Sen, and smiled at the clear blue skies.  Grishma was his favorite season; clean and dry. While his staff worked to prepare the table for his first meal of the turn he nodded his appreciation to them as he suddenly felt something tweak his forehead. 

Then he felt the back of his head disappear.

Then he felt nothing at all.

Oh, yeah, a lot more individualized death in this than in TBR.

I mean, LOTS more.

More below.



Lastly, I’ll remind you that THE BRITTLE RIDERS is coming out as an omnibus edition. That means you can have 1200 pages of coo-coo coolness you can use to impress your friends, or bludgeon your enemies. Seriously, it will make a great weapon.

Since the release of Book 1 in 2016, this series has been on many adventures, led to more fascinating stories, and made my life kind of fun. Not many authors can say they got ripped off by Russian trolls and then ended up a wanted human in Russia for perverting their morals.Go ahead and read that again. I’ll wait.

The stuff they stole, and resold, didn’t meet their moral code, and that’s my fault.

Fuck Russia.

In the meantime, thanks for sticking around. I hope you have an amazing week full of unicorn farts and singing angels.

See you next week.