I might take some flak for this post, but I have three problems with this new holiday.

The first is the obvious one: Why do we need it? The Emancipation Proclamation (January 1, 1863) freed the slaves; Abraham Lincoln got the ball rolling, but that little thing called the Civil War, the deadliest war ever on American soil (unless you count Covid), got in the way. It’s no wonder that it took so long (June 19, 1865) to let everyone know about it—there were massive casualties on both sides, including the Union, so there were few soldiers to spread the word. In fact, it’s remarkable it was done so quickly with the war going on. In any case, we should be celebrating the Emancipation Proclamation, not when the last Southerners were forced to free their slaves. Of course, everyone’s still blitzed every January 1, and there’s all that football, which Blacks like to watch as well as anyone else. (And play better than most anyone else, I might add!)

Secondly, because Jim Crow policies in the South continued into the next century, what real meaning does the Emancipation Proclamation or Juneteenth really have? Why not celebrate when the Civil Rights Act was signed into law on July 2, 1964? Blacks had to suffer through one hundred years of segregation, oppression, KKK violence, and economic inequality in the South and elsewhere, waiting for even that hint of true freedom to occur. Oh yes, that suggested date would have usually interfered with the July 4^th weekend, so Congress opted for MLK’s birthday, January 17, to celebrate gains in civil rights.

Thirdly, and most importantly, how can Congress be so hypocritical to pass legislation creating the Juneteenth holiday and not pass important and necessary legislation to finally seal the deal, the one that the Emancipation Proclamation, Juneteenth, the Civil Rights Act, and others have failed to seal? After 160 years of waiting, it’s high time to ensure voting rights, reform policing, and improved quality of life for Blacks and all minorities! Our representatives in Congress didn’t dare vote against the Juneteenth holiday, and probably did so for all the wrong reasons, hoping that would quiet things down a bit, especially those Good Ole Piranhas who are worried about their chances in 2022. In other words, the GOP still is still hoping with the holiday to keep Jim Crow alive, albeit in new clothes by using the excuse of promoting election integrity—everyone who’s rational sees through that ploy. They continue to call the January 6^th insurrectionists just a few peaceful tourists, ignore the George Floyd Bill, and keep exploiting Blacks and other minorities while widening the income gap between that 0.1 percent and the rest of us.

This last reason corresponds to an existential problem that must be solved if this nation is to survive: We must stop promoting fascism, a fascism all too often based on racism, because fascists like to create scapegoats. Is any current member of the GOP better than a KKK member? Only a few! (Hell, even Joe Manchin should join them.) Reforms must be made, or the oligarchs and plutocrats controlling the strings of their GOP marionettes will have their way and turn us into a country that’s worse than any apartheid or autocratic state (they want it to be both!). Given the current evidence, they’re all well on their way to do just that. They must be stopped!

***

Comments are always welcome.

Leonardo and the Quantum Code. Trouble again finds Esther Brookstone on her home turf. An old friend from her Oxford days is developing encoding and decoding algorithms that involve entangled quantum states and quantum computers, all motivated by some of Leonardo Da Vinci’s ideas found in a newly discovered notebook of the artist. His project is financed by MI5, but both the Americans and Russians want his results…and so does a mysterious stranger. Cloak-and-dagger suspense abound in this fifth novel of the series. Coming soon from Draft2Digital to all quality ebook retailers (but not Amazon nor Smashwords)!

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

On my “Join the Conversation” web page, you will find a list of useful websites. I’ve debated with myself recently about including on that page some that I can’t recommended. For the moment, in lieu of doing that, I offer this post. I name only a few names, but only because there are generic organizations writers should avoid. (Consider this post an addendum to my little writing course “Writing Fiction,” which contains a lot of advice about this writing business and is available as a free PDF download—see the “Free Stuff & Contests” web page.) Here goes:

Literary agencies. Stay away from them. The very few helpful and open-minded agents who remain aren’t worth the risk of subjecting yourself to the bad ones who are only gatekeepers (who generally know nothing about writing!) to big publishing conglomerates (the Big Five, soon to be Four) that still exist in the twentieth century, if not the nineteenth. Most literary agents are like real estate agents and sales people—they’re scurrilous pariahs only interested in getting their commissions. I have yet to meet one or an agency that doesn’t fit this stereotype. I’m sure there are some. (I’m just unlucky, I guess.)

Traditional publishers. There are three strikes against them, so they’re out: First, they take the lion’s share of royalties even though you, the writer, do most of the work. Second, you no longer get many perks from them. You say, “They get my book into bookstores and help pay for marketing.” No and nada! Here’s the main problem besides the royalty issue: They’ve all started to use formatting software to cut costs. They say, “It’s still Ingram.” I say, “Sorry, I can use formatting software too—Draft2Digital, Smashwords, or Lightning Source.” The latter is basically what most traditional publishers now use, but you will find that all software formatting packages need more TLC than traditional publishers are willing to give them. It’s software, after all, without humans in the loop, unless you do it yourself, or pay an independent and trusted formatter to do it for you. And forget about Amazon! If you insist on getting a .mobi ebook file, both Draft2Digital and Smashwords’ formatting software can produce that.

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Tim Cook was in court not long ago defending Apple against Epic Games, the company that made Fortnite. I’m rooting for Epic. Just to be clear, I’m not a gamer; I hate computer games, because the stories they tell, if they exist, are anemic. I hate Apple a lot more, though! (Almost as much as Amazon.) Just recently we discovered that Apple gave in to Trump’s DOJ subpoenas and released phone records of corporations, reporters, and at least two congressmen who Trump considered his enemies. I assume the company is not completely fascist like some German ones in the 1930s, but they’re certainly not fighting fascism!

From its birth (a bit like Rosemary’s baby’s), the company has bamboozled consumers, making products that are so propriety that they generally worked with only other Apple products. In my old day-job, managers, who stupidly loved playing with their new toys purchased from the tech giant, would struggle to make slides produced on Apple machines compatible with other machines, or vice versa, even though people were supposedly using the same software (usually Microsoft’s, so Bill Gates’s company is also culpable). Even syncing and sharing emails and data from an Apple device was torture for other device users (yes, I remember the iPhones-to-Blackberry problem—Apple won that battle…unfairly). And Apple didn’t give a rat’s ass. They still don’t, because, like Bezos’s Amazon, they think they’re the center of the tech universe!

The legendary arrogance of the corporation isn’t its only sin, of course. How dare they try to monopolize the gaming and music industries? They’ve tried to monopolize the ebook industry too (there’s some weird comfort in that they compete with that evil retailer, Amazon). They farmed out most of their manufacturing to China in order to pay workers less and make more profit, to the detriment of US workers, and they signed deals with that fascist-capitalistic state that would never be permitted in the US. And they’ve invented an anti-tracking app to combat tech spying (I doubt it blocks their own tracking!)—that’s one of the biggest tracking culprits claiming they can police themselves. C’mon!

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Dr. Carlos and the Ambassador

Copyright 2021, Steven M. Moore

[Note from Steve: I’ve written several Dr. Carlos stories, most of them collected in a free PDF download—see the list on my “Free Stuff & Contests” web page. Carlos Obregon is the chief medical officer on the explorer starship Brendan, and his stories are a bit before Rogue Planet. This one harks back to his first tour on the starship when he joins its crew. Enjoy.]

“You look a bit lost,” said the towering Tali who was eyeing Carlos Obregon with suspicion, although Carlos only knew that by the twitching ears. “This shuttle is bound for the starship Brendan.”

Carlos felt no shyness when he marched up to the Tali and showed him his orders on his tablet. The ET took them in one ebony hand and scrolled with the other, all this a necessity because Carlos was not yet linked to the Brendan‘s AI. The Tali’s hands matched his inscrutable black, leathery face; otherwise the Tali looked like a rusty Earth bear, now extinct because that Tali invasion of the Human’s home planet long ago had destroyed much of the local flora and fauna.

The Tali studied Carlos for a moment and then made a rumbling sound. Carlos knew that was the equivalent of a Human laugh. He had socialized with Tali at the Academy, something some Humans still found hard to do because of that invasion so long ago. In fact, as a doctor, Carlos knew Tali inside and out, mentally and physically, and he could save their lives if needed—he’d even written several papers on special surgical procedures for them—his knowledge about the many non-Human citizens of ITUIP, the International Trade Union of Independent Planets, was required because starships often had mixed crews.

“You almost didn’t make the shuttle, Dr. Carlos,” said the Tali. He tapped his right ear, both had stopped twitching, and lowered his head slightly, a gesture Carlos knew to be a type of greeting. “Better get aboard. I’m your pilot Marshak. There’s no co-pilot on this last run.”

Carlos was familiar with starship shuttles; he even knew how to fly them, although he was no expert. Having studied Brendan, he knew this was one of two, and either could be used to ferry personnel to and fro between orbits and planetary surfaces as its crew worked to fulfill the Space Exploration Bureau’s charter to find new planets to add to the catalog of potential colonies.

***

There was room in the shuttle for pilot, copilot, and ten crewmembers, twenty if ten stood in the cargo area, which was generally filled with supplies stored behind two small helis. Between orbital observations and planetary surveys, a new and unexplored planet could be catalogued in twenty standard days or less.

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I’m referring to covers of others’ novels as well as my own. Note that no cover considered here is from the Big Five—most of theirs are terrible, looking like some kid did them with PowerPoint. Let me consider others’ first:

Scott Dyson’s Odd Man Out. Scott specializes in horror stories, short fiction so far, and mostly horror. I think he does his own covers. I love this one. (Stephen King might covet this cover…and wish he’d written this tale too.)

Saralyn Richard’s Murder in the One Percent. Saralyn’s novel is a mystery in the Christie tradition. Her detective here is even named Parrott, a take-off on Poirot. Great novel, great cover. The cover is from Jackson Cover Designs, by the way, once associated with Black Opal Books, but gone in the re-org of that small press. (They also did the cover of The Last Humans, first book in “The Last Humans” series.)

Stan Brown’s The Legacy. Like Scott with horror, Stan got me back into fantasy a bit (as opposed to sci-fi—or is this novel also a horror story?). Also like Scott, all Stan’s stories are good. So is this cover…again by Jackson Cover Designs.

Hugh Howey’s Wool. Here I’m referring to the original ebook “trilogy” edition, which seems to be unavailable now. Houghton Mifflin’s cover is one of those Big Five PowerPoint failures. I guess they made him remove the original ebook edition. Figures. Howey was once a self-published author who sold his soul to that Big Five devil. He originally published the three wooly parts separately, even though they were soap opera episodes and not stand-alones. (Something I hate as a reader. I waited for the bundle, which really amounts to just one novel, but the stitching-together still remained to annoy me.) Good cover on that original trilogy, though (sorry, I don’t know who was the cover artist).

And now for my own covers:

Survivors of the Chaos. The old Infinity trade paperback and ebook editions had a great cover, a scene straight out of the book and very sci-fi-ish, consisting of a space-suited figure on a moon of Saturn looking at the ringed gas giant. This novel now has a second edition contained in the ebook bundle of the complete “Chaos Chronicles Trilogy”; I just borrowed the cover from the last book for that (yeah, lazy me), also an excellent cover by Sara Carrick.

Soldiers of God. Again, the old Infinity trade paperback edition had a great cover showing a Juan Valdes-like fellow on his burro looking at a mushroom cloud in the distance. (Read the novel to find out why.) That novel also has a second ebook edition with a spiffy new cover I like a lot too, thanks to Sara Carrick.

Gaia and the Goliaths. This is another great Sara Carrick cover.  The world is burning, thanks to global warming and the fossil-fuel industry’s conglomerates. (In the book, Detective Castilblanco champions nuclear energy as the best alternative to fossil fuels.) Great cover by Sara Carrick, but a disturbing novel?

Leonardo and the Quantum Code. Let’s call this a “cover reveal.” I’ve used the same artist, Betti Bup, for all three of my Draft2Digital books published so far. They’re all good, but this new cover is the best. For those of you who follow my oeuvre (hopefully most of you who read this blog), you will know that this cover is for an ebook not yet published, but it soon will be. This cover seemed like ESP in action between me and the cover artist because it depicts a scene from the book I had just finished! (A preview of the story is found at the end of Palettes, Patriots, and Prats. The cover of that book, in my mind’s eye, at least. shows the mysterious road one main character, Bobbie MacDonald, must traverse as she escapes two thugs sent  to kill her.) I’m sure Betti Bup is a pseudonym—you can find her artwork at TheBookCoverDesigner.com).

Do covers make the book? No, but they add to it, and they are often better than any advertising an author or publisher might pay for. The Big Five haven’t learned that lesson yet, or they forgot it. In their arrogance, they stopped learning lessons, or applying lessons learned, two decades ago. I haven’t read any fiction published by the Big Five in a while. Why subject myself to formulaic stories…and terrible covers!

My list of covers tomorrow might differ from this one. Like a book’s content, appreciation of cover art is subjective—you never can tell what might turn readers off…or catch their eye. (Big Five covers generally make me say, “Ugh!”) Whether you like the cover or not, you should always “peek inside,” either at your favorite online retailer or with a visit to your friendly neighborhood bookstore.

***

Comments are always welcome!

A, B. Carolan’s Origins: The Denisovan Trilogy, Book One. One group of hominids survived to dominate Earth, but some of their descendants and those of the other groups are “out there.” What happens when their scientists return to the home planet? And which group does Kayla Jones belong to? Available at Smashwords and all their affiliated retailers (iBooks, B&N, Kobo, etc.) and library and lending services (Scribd, Overdrive, Gardners, etc.)…but not on Amazon.

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

,,,are malleable, gullible, despicable, and stupid human beings. Those adjectives and more came to mind as I watched a bit of yet another Trump rally on C-Span and yet another mealy-mouthed speech from their fuehrer as he channeled Hitler, Putin, and every other despot from the sad history of this world, autocrats who have preached hate to their misguided populations. How can this scurrilous human horde of Trumpers love such a fascist? Let’s put these bugs infesting our democracy under the microscope to see if we can’t design a pest spray to neutralize them.

When we’re not laughing at their crazy religious and hypocritical fervor or stupid beliefs in far-out conspiracy theories, we need to recognize what a danger Trumpers represent to democracy. Some are just unthinking lemmings; others are dangerous fascist SOBs who desire power over the rest of us. The first group might be harmless for the most part if the second group, members of a fascist oligarchy/plutocracy like Russia’s, didn’t convert them into mindless zombie hordes.

Trump’s book could have been titled Art of the Steal for many reasons, of course (read Cohen’s book), but a major reason is that this Big Loser (the majority of Americans did not vote for him) was the grand manipulator of everyone and anyone who voted for him in 2016 and 2020, a culmination of the grand steal that has occurred over the last forty or so years culminating now with the top 0.1% of the US population having as much wealth as the lower 90%…and paying little or no taxes!

Biden did not steal the election; Trump aka Il Duce stole it in 2016, with help from Mr. Putin, and he tried to steal it in 2020…with help from Mr. Putin! And all that was done for the fascist oligarchy/plutocracy that has been like Dracula sucking the life-blood from the American public.

Trump was the capo of what we might as well call Kremlin-West, a mafia group akin to Putin’s, complete with a favored family and other select mobsters who want to destroy American democracy for their own gain…and were doing so long before Trump. If we aren’t careful, he might yet succeed in this nefarious enterprise, considering recent events, pleasing those plutocrats; but more of his past crimes are being discovered, so hopefully not. The oligarchy/plutocracy might need to find another “f%$#ing moron” to manipulate the marching morons.

The following bears repeating many times: Trumpers are not conservatives; they’re fascists, even the dumb ones (and especially them!). They’re just as fascistic as Hitler and Mussolini’s crowds were and the men who exploited them. It’s peculiar how no one in America, not even ardent anti-Trumpers, want to use the words “fascist” and “fascism”! Misguided and overblown political correctness! Trumpers are typical fascists. Why play the game of political correctness with these words when they’re so applicable to and appropriate for Trump and his evil minions, or even to the mindless fools out there who are stupid enough to believe their crap? If you’re a follower of Trump, you’re a dangerous fascist! You have ceased to be a conservative. Period.

And that’s no joke! It’s an accusation. You, as a Trumper, are giving those who exploit you an opportunity to create a situation in the US that parallels the rise of fascism in 1930s Europe. You believe Trump et al have correctly identified all your enemies, the scapegoats they have chosen for you to blame for your own miserable lives, just like most Germans did with the Jews. (The oligarchy/plutocracy has included Jews as scapegoats too, of course.) You are too stupid to realize you’re being used! Moreover, you have proven you have no moral backbone, no common sense, and no ability to distinguish right from wrong. For you, what Trump says is right; what anyone else says is wrong.

If you think that’s harsh and insulting, too bad! I intend it to be. You can blame me and others like me for all your problems; I’m just an old white guy like Biden…and like many of you SOBs. Know what? I blame you for all of mine, especially this dangerous turn to fascism in our country. You elected your fuehrer in 2016 and failed to reelect him in 2020. Thank God for the latter! Thank God for fair elections…although you’re trying to end them with your fascist maneuvering. Now Biden is showing you the Big Lie and how gullible you are to believe it. Talk about stubborn stupidity!

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A Life Not Lived

Copyright 2021, Steven M. Moore

[Note from Steve: If you read my short story “The Case of the Carriageless Horse” in World Enough and Crime, or listened to the inimitable Donna Carrick read it in her podcast (see the link on my Home Page, you know that its subject is Detective Castilblanco’s first case. This is another early case, something like a sequel to that first story. Chen is around somewhere, just not yet Castilblanco’s partner.]

I went to greet Rob Jackson when he got out of prison. My old mentor at NYPD, Al Dempsey,  had put him there twenty-six years earlier for the rape and murder of a teenage girl. I wasn’t partnered with Dempsey back then, but I thought he’d want me to express regrets to Rob. Our justice system not only moves slow; it can make some really bad mistakes. Good old DNA freed Rob and made the crime into a cold case.

Rob spit to the side of me after giving me the finger—couldn’t blame him for taking out on me his frustration—and said, “Dempsey was a bro, but the SOB always believed I did it. May he rot in hell!”

“He still would have been here, even if you don’t believe it. Can I drive you somewhere?”

“The Bronx.” He now managed to direct a smile my way. Maybe he figured I wasn’t responsible for his misery? “Thanks. Need to see the old ‘hood before moving on. I have a bus ticket, but you’ll get me there faster.”

“Where will you go after that?” I said, knowing ex-cons often received a raw deal from society, wherever they ended up. And, in this case, it was society that had really committed the crime!

“Got some family in North Carolina. They tell me our kind doesn’t get much respect down there, but they’re the only family I got.”

I nodded. That Mason-Dixon line still indicated about as far south as I liked to get. Hispanics weren’t popular down there, and, taking states’ rights to the limit, both Blacks and Hispanics had a harm time voting down there, so nothing much changed for the better—it had only become worse, in fact.

***

Rob became mute at the beginning of our journey, but opened up a bit later on as his justifiably sour attitude dissipated.

“You must know how it is, Castilblanco. You get two strikes ‘gainst you just for being born in the Bronx and being black, and that damn place gives you the third one real quick-like. I had my first knife fight at eight.”

“It’s tough,” I admitted. “Anyone who survives that deserves a combat medal.”

“You’re ex-military, right?” I nodded. “That’s one way to escape the damn place. Did combat seem as bad as here for minorities?”

“Different, because you’re fighting jerks who lump all Americans together as the enemy. In the Bronx, you’re white, black, Puerto Rican, whatever. Often seemed like warring tribes. It’s better now, Rob.”

“I read the rags and listen to the news. You could be right. Just want to see for myself.”

We then talked about a lot of things—family, religion, politics; most things a guy inside might want to hear about when he gets out. Prison life sucks.

I left him at an old friend’s place. Teddy was in a wheelchair, so Rob had to bend down to give him a big hug.

***

Two weeks later Rob was murdered. Teddy called me, but I already had the case. Felt kind of weird going through the preliminary motions when the victim was someone I’d just met…and liked. Old ME gave me the silent treatment for the most part, but got enough info out of him to know it was murder, another one for this new homicide detective, but a case I didn’t particularly want.

“Do you want to recuse yourself?” my lieutenant said.

“No, I’d like to bring Rob’s murderer to justice.”

“Then get outta here and do it, or do you need me to change your diaper first?”

Lieutenant was like that. Didn’t put much stock in my service record overseas or the few cases I had already solved. So I started to snoop around the Bronx. Knew it well enough. Hadn’t changed much, but I was seeing things through cops’ eyes now—a prodigal son who didn’t quite feel at home.

My first stop was Gretchen’s Grill. That grill is really a sleazy bar, and Gretchen was really Smiley, a big black fellow with a squished nose who probably never had the need for a bouncer. Nice guy, though, and Teddy had hung out there, recently taking Rob along with him. Teddy had suggested I talk to Smiley.

***

I had to look up at Smiley…literally. I’m not a small man, but he’s really big! With that gap in his upper teeth, he looked a bit like Strahan on steroids. Shook my hand, leaving it numb.

“Nice guy, that fellow Rob. Talk about bad luck. Never got to live his life.” He eyed me from up there in the clouds. “You put him away?”

“My old partner. He’d be regretting it now.”

“Lady Justice is blind, as they say.” He thought a moment. “I’d check with Mr. Grasso. He knows most everything bad that’s going or gone down in this city.”

Grasso was a local mobster. Hadn’t met him yet, and didn’t know if I wanted to.

“And he does nothing about it?”

“He’s responsible for some of it. Won’t tell you about that, I ‘spose. If he’s not involved, he might help you, though. To eliminate the competition, you know.”

What’s the adage? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? I went to see Grasso. Wasn’t in his usual hangout. I told his toadies I’d be back in the morning.

***

Morning meant eleven in mobster time. Gangsters tend to have late nights, doing crap never seen in movies. I get home late but not that late—different kind of crap—I watch the Channel 7 news. That’s a lot more legal than what Grasso probably did, although I do have a crush on one crime reporter I admire from afar. Maybe I’ll have a case where I’ll meet Pam Stuart someday?

So I easily kept more or less to Grasso’s schedule, showing up at the little cafe in Little Italy from where he ran his fiefdom. He was sitting on a bar stool snarfing down fried eggs and bacon and drinking black coffee. Thought he might need the sugar—he didn’t look sweet and lovable.

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…by the standards the publishing industry has for measuring failure: With all the novels I’ve written, not one has been a “bestseller,” whatever that means. That means I’m also a failure in the eyes of the editors of the NY Times “Book Review” section (most small press and self-published authors are failures using that metric). Guess what? Borrowing Rhett Butler’s phrase, I don’t give a damn!

There are many reasons for my attitude. Here’s one: I’ve had a lot of fun telling my stories since I started thinking about publishing them in late 2000. (Maybe not so much fun after finishing a manuscript—see the previous article—what comes after that is often painful for any author.) I do everything I possibly can to make these stories entertaining, exciting, and relevant. I think they’re as good as anything other authors produce. Maybe even better! As a very young man, I knew I could tell a story as good as anybody else’s, and I wanted to do just that. The problem was finding the time to do the writing.

Here’s the most important reason, though: I consider each story a success if it entertains, excites, or seems relevant to at least one reader. That’s a different metric the publishing industry ignores as well as many readers; The industry never considers this in its quest to make oodles of money exploiting authors. And, in that sense, a large percentage of my books are a success! Take that, you people hooked on “bestsellers” and the NY Times “Book Review”!

These two measures are really all any person needs to determine their success as an author, or even to call themselves an author. Many writers probably aren’t satisfied with them—especially if they’ve left their day-job to write—or they get discouraged and quit after the first book that doesn’t sell thousands of copies. Some of them might peruse my oeuvre and wonder if I’m a masochist (is that a more appropriate word than “failure” in my case?), because they don’t accept my two metrics as valid measures of success.

All the above brings me to my third reason to continue spinning my yarns: I had this burning desire to tell my own stories since I was a kid. I was an avid reader even then, reading far beyond my age as determined by an educational system that has always taught to the average. I knew I could tell stories as good as those I was reading, so that my goal was to do it. Life got in the way of achieving that goal; I had to choose other work that could support my family more easily than a writing career. There was a lot of competition even back then. And I didn’t have Dean Koontz’s wife backing me up—I wasn’t even married yet!

But that burning desire never died. When I could find the time to do it (busy jobs in academia and then R&D often took up my evenings as well as my days), I returned to satisfying that desire to write. I don’t pretend to be the only author with that bio—in fact, I have many author friends who have a similar one—but that bio goes a long ways to explain my output. (I often describe this by saying my muses are really banshees with Tasers who pressure me to tell my stories!)

So I didn’t begin publishing my stories as an ego trip or just because self-publishing is easy. In fact, when I started, it was either go the traditional route or use a vanity press. I found the latter option appalling, so I tried traditional. I thought an agent was required (I didn’t realize at first that small presses often don’t require them, using only an acquisitions editor instead), so, after 1000+ rejections, I tried some POD publishers (Xlibris and Infinity, which still exist); ebooks were just starting up at that time, but I experimented with them too when they came along.

The rest is history. I’m now a mongrel, both self- and traditionally published. Sure, there have been potholes in the road. I wrote about one not long ago involving Amazon (contributing to my decision to boycott them from now on)—in general, this online retailer thinks it’s the center of the publishing universe, if you believe their bots actually think. (No “help desk,” of course; or maybe those bots are just asleep.) Dumb bots, but maybe the people programming them are dumber?

I’ve also had more than my share of trolls as reviewers, and flagrant piracy, the latter to the point that I have no idea how many readers each book has had—how do you count those readers who have purchased or downloaded pirated ebooks? (Mark Coker of Smashwords pays no attention to book pirating; he even goes out of his way to encourage it, which is why I’m seriously considering boycotting Smashwords more too by using Draft2Digital!)

There are many other slings and arrows of misfortune in my writing life, but my reasons listed above still make it all worthwhile. I shall continue to publish my stories, one way or the other. Damn the torpedoes (and the NY Times)! Full speed ahead.

***

Comments are always welcome!

Palettes, Patriots, and Prats: Esther Brookstone, Book Four. After book three in this series, you might have thought that I’d leave it as a trilogy and send newlyweds Esther and Bastiann van Coevorden off to enjoy their golden years in peace. Ha! Not with my muses, who are really banshees with Tasers. This one starts with an innocent castle tour with a duke and duchess, but trouble soon finds the artist of a painting the crime-fighting duo observes there. Esther and Bastiann become embroiled yet again in fighting an international conspiracy. Available wherever quality ebooks are sold (not on Amazon or Smashwords).

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

Any novel worth the name has a lot of words. Mine are generally between 65 and 85 kwords in length without counting front and back material. There’s always a chance that a few editing errors remain. Annoying reviewers focus on them, some even going so far as to state, “Look, another poorly edited self-published (or small press) book.” I resent such remarks because, in my case, I go through an extensive editing process.

I catch many copy-editing errors myself in reading or reviewing mode, even in those TV banners that go by so fast that the average viewer probably doesn’t notice. (For example, a recent ABC news item had one about “gama rays.” From some new sci-fi weapon?) I have an eagle’s eye for editing, but even an eagle misses his prey sometimes!

First, let me state that I often notice errors even in traditionally published books from the Big Five. No editing process is perfect. Of course, that’s no excuse for others’ or mine. We can complain that reviewers are probably more lenient with a Baldacci or Deaver book. (NY Times reviewers certainly are, and their favoritism goes to the extreme of never mentioning editing errors, bless their biased souls.) That’s like most things in this life: The rich and famous get a pass when they screw up, while us poor clods take the heat!

Second, I edit my books to hell! SOP: Two edits from me (again I’m referring to copy editing—I content edit as I go), one on screen and the other with the printed manuscript (a different look); a beta-read and edit from a pro to catch any remaining errors (even though I send this person a very clean manuscript), beta-reading to check for logical lapses and more copy editing for the errors my old eyes didn’t catch; and proof reading after formatting (that process can create errors not in the manuscript). For my traditionally published works, I have to suffer through the publisher’s editing “corrections,” many of those reducing to my preference for the NY Times style manual over the antiquated and incorrect Chicago one that orgs like ITW force publishers to follow and no author can afford. After all this, errors can still remain.

As a reader, I’m tolerant of editing errors…up to a point. I know a book is similar to computer code because I’ve written both (an ebook is computer code): There’s always another bug! (Even in Big Five books…and they steal a lot of royalties to pay for those staff editors!) But like computer code, editing errors are egregious only when they keep the code itself from doing its job (the reader isn’t clear what the author intends).

As a reviewer, I’m also tolerant, albeit a bit more demanding, especially about content editing, which no copy editor should be allowed to do! I content edit as I go and feel that’s more the author’s responsibility to make sure the story is logical and a faithful representation of his personal style. An editor might be asked to save a book, or be so bold to presume he can make it better (meaning make it look like he wrote it!), but authors should resist that. (I almost withdrew the manuscript of Son of Thunder because a brash editor insisted on “improving it”—he didn’t, but he didn’t completely ruin it, so I threw up my hands and said to myself, “Screw it!” because I already knew that small press and I would soon go through a divorce. (Their insistence on changes was just one of the final straws.)

As an author, I know I have to own all the editing errors that remain, even though someone else missed them, or even created them. That’s the fate of any working group leader getting the code ready for a software project. Well, almost. The formatting process for a book is now often done with software, which is more computer code, code that’s allowed to change other code! I refuse to share those errors, but knowing they exist, I grin and bear the proof-reading chore. (That aforementioned small press also irked me by changing to Ingram’s clunky formatting software, making that proofing hellish!) Errors in formatting code can create errors in the final product. Sometimes they can’t even be fixed! (Consider the margins in Son of Thunder and Death on the Danube, two different formatting engines.)

I’m posting this article so readers can understand what goes on behind the scenes after I finish a manuscript. It’s easy to publish a book nowadays, but the process can never be perfect. Think about that why you’re cursing and saying, “How could author X let that error get by?” X might be a beta-reader, editor, or formatting software, and not the author! My advice: Don’t dwell on the errors if you’re enjoying the storytelling.

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Comments are always welcome.

Palettes, Patriots, and Prats: Esther Brookstone, Book Four. After book three in this series, you might have thought that I’d leave it as a trilogy and send newlyweds Esther and Bastiann van Coevorden off to enjoy their golden years in peace. Ha! Not with my muses, who are really banshees with Tasers. This one starts with an innocent castle tour with a duke and duchess, but trouble soon finds the artist of a painting the crime-fighting duo observes there. Esther and Bastiann become embroiled yet again in fighting an international conspiracy. Available wherever quality ebooks are sold (not on Amazon or Smashwords).

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!

I’m considering both others’ stories and my own. First, those others gems:

“To Serve Man.” You might have seen the Twilight Zone episode based on this Damon Knight classic short story published in 1950. It has influenced all my ironic sci-fi short fiction. And Mr. Knight’s Creating Short Fiction should be on every writer’s reference shelf.

“The Marching Morons.” I’ve been using the title and referring to this novella in these pages for a while now to describe Trump’s voters (thanks to SecState Tillerson for reminding me of the story by calling Trump a “f*&^ing moron). When C. M. Kornbluth published this novella in 1951, a gem filled with irony and satire, he couldn’t have known how well it described so many voters. Moronic, lemming-like behavior often seems more contagious and deadly than Covid.

“To Build a Fire.” Our eighth-grade teacher read this Jack London gem from 1908 to us. I’ll never forget this story about desperation and struggle for survival. It too has influenced my writing. You might be more familiar with the author’s novel Call of the Wild (recently made into an excellent movie starring the ancient Harrison Ford), but this short story shows the power of short fiction—few words making a big impact.

“The Silk and the Song.” Charles Louis Fontenay’s 1956 novella is another gem that’s both haunting and a lesson about escape from slavery. It influenced several of my novels and deserves a lot more credit than it has received.

All three sci-fi stories are on my list of “Best Sci-Fi Short Fiction.” (By the way, I apologize. That and other “best” stories mentioned on my website are now archived offline. Drop me a note using my contact page if you’d like a copy.)

Now for my favorites from my own oeuvre:

“The Phantom Harvester.” Someday I might make this mystery/thriller story into a novel. Certainly enough happens, and I’d like to develop the main characters, Castilblanco’s two adopted children, a bit more. It’s mostly a dark tale about evil and the opioid epidemic.

“Portal in the Pines.” A sci-fi tale about the wrong way to approach first contact, it’s a bit dark too. Unlike “The Marching Morons,” this is a bleak warning…and differing a bit from my usual sci-fi fare.

“Fascist Tango.” Like many of my stories, but especially my short fiction, this tale is a warning of what might happen; in this case, what if the US and the rest of the world continue the current spiral down into worldwide fascism. It’s also another tale that could become a novel one day, but in its first outing here, it’s just a novella I’m rather proud of.

“The Case of the Carriageless Horse.” If “The Phantom Harvester” is post-Castilblanco, this one is pre- and about Castilblanco’s first homicide case. I never found it completely satisfying, but it does show the detective’s promise that came to fruition in the seven novels in the “Detectives Chen & Castilblanco” series. Chen only has a cameo. It’s found in the anthology World Enough and Crime, and Donna Carrick reads it on her podcast (see the link on my “Home Page”).

“Gamin.” When I lived in Bogotá, Colombia, gamines were ubiquitous—these are homeless street urchins who begged and stole. Padre Luna, a true priest and gentleman (the Roman Catholic hierarchy in that country are hypocrites), would take some of them to his farms and try to turn their lives around. I had the idea that human colonies on the moon and beyond might have street urchins too—humans will surely take their social problems “out there” if we don’t destroy Earth first—so this seemed an appropriate story for the anthology Howling at the Moon. I think it’s one of my best.

And so there you have my current favorites. I say “current” because these are the short fiction works that came to mind while writing this post. I’ve read and written so many stories that tomorrow my list of favorites might change. What are yours? (You might jog your memory with the lists of “Best…” that I can send you from earlier blog posts.)

“The Phantom Harvester” and “Portal in the Pines” are free downloads found in the list on my “Free Stuff & Contests” web page. “Fascist Tango” is found in Pasodobles in a Quantum Stringscape, Volume Three, also a free download. “The Case of the Carriageless Horse” is found in the anthology World Enough and Crime, while “Gamin” is found in the anthology Howling at the Moon—both anthologies are available on Amazon, the first edited by the Carricks and the second by #WolfPackAuthors (I’m proud to be a member).

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Comments are always welcome!

A. B. Carolan’s Origins: The Denisovan Trilogy, Book One. Syrian refugee Kayla Jones is a successful STEM student. Her bad dreams no longer torment her, but, just as she thinks she’s on her way to a rewarding career, strangers start pursuing her. With some friends who help her, she struggles to find out why. A. B.’s new action-packed mystery/thriller for young adults and adults who are young-at-heart is filled with suspense and ancient intrigue, and it will keep all readers guessing about what’s coming next. Available wherever quality ebooks are sold (but not Amazon).

Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!