I Love My New Place

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I Love My New Place

As many of you have heard, I moved back to my hometown of Vicksburg, Mississippi. And, honestly — aside from the hassle of getting a new hard drive when one of my other ones crapped out on me (more on that particular misadventure tomorrow) — I’m loving it. It is taking me some time to get used to again — I’ve got to relearn the folkways a bit. I still get surprised by men hurrying to open a door for me or offering to help me with my bags when I’m out shopping. I’m surprised by how sweet everyone can be and how they look at me a bit funny when I seem apologetic for bothering them to ask them where I might find something in a store because my accent says I’m from here but my manner says I’ve been away for a long, long time. I’m also still getting used to the fact that they don’t mind it if I say hello to a toddler in the cart who is cooing and squawking a bit (people in New Jersey tended not to like strangers interacting with their kids much). And, I no longer have to ask “do you have sweet tea?” because the answer is “yes, honey, of course we have sweet tea.”

 

I’m re-adapting to the heat and humidity very quickly. The first few days were tough — I would get headaches and feel nauseated easily. But now, I can sit out on my balcony during the heat of the day (I have a *balcony* and it overlooks a *lake* where there are fish and pelicans and turtles and frogs and at night I can hear the crickets singing and the bullfrogs roaring!) and not be bothered overmuch aside from normal sweating. Air conditioner is standard *everywhere* (for those of you who haven’t visited the South, the temperatures here get to the upper 90s (F)/ mid 30s (C) regularly from April – October and the humidity increases the feel of it so that we have to factor it into the Heat Index which often surges into the 100s (F)/ upper 30s (C)) which means I no longer have to worry about my computer overheating during the day.

 

And my apartment is huge. It’s massive. I have a guest bedroom *and* an office as well as a dining room (just need a table and chairs), a decently sized (for my needs) kitchen, a master bath AND a second full bath (with loo AND shower and sink), and a living room. And also a balcony.

 

Have I mentioned that I have an honest-to-God balcony? One that I can sit on and smoke on even when it’s pouring down rain and I still don’t get wet? One where I can hang some plants? And that it overlooks a freaking *lake* that has fish and frogs and turtles and trees and birds? Because the balcony is my favorite thing here. It’s shady, it doesn’t get a lot of direct sunlight. It’s cool(er) during the day and I have a good breeze. I can get a gas grill and have little cook-outs out there. I have room to invite people to come over and they’ll actually be comfortable. I can get my niece Mini-me to spend the night up here. I get to see my parents whenever I want. I can see my grandmother whenever I want. I can go down and see my niece Mini-me and my nephews whenever. I can swing by and visit with my sister-in-law and her wife.

 

And, good Lord, the people down here are so nice and chatty. Last week, I went to take care of my rent so I wouldn’t have to deal with any late fees. The woman who runs the main office and I just sat there talking about all kinds of different things for about a half hour. I wound up telling her that if she ever needs help with computers or game advice for her son, to just come by my place. A few days ago, I ran into a guy who was friends with my little brother up at the firehouse he used to be part of. We were just standing in line together at the local convenience store/gas station and I thought I recognized him. I run into people who know my family or who I went to school with all the time now. They’re always asking me what I’m up to, where I’ve been, what brought me back home, and if I’ve got any more books out. When I went to Liturgy on Sunday, everyone in the church who had known me years back kept staring at me trying to figure out who I was. When I told them, every last one of them wanted to hear everything I’ve been up to since I left Mississippi back in 2002.

 

It’s weird. I’ve lived in more urban areas ever since I got out of college in 2002. But moving back “home” doesn’t bug me. Yeah, I’ll probably wind up missing running into people who speak accented English. But…this place is home. And my apartment is fucking awesome. My mother picked it out and, even though she and I don’t always understand each other, she picked the right place for me. It’s close enough to town that I don’t burn too much gas when I need to go get groceries but far enough out that it’s quiet and I don’t have to deal with drunks hollering, kids being rowdy, or the police running past at 50 MPH on a residential street. The quiet and the closeness (but not too much closeness) to nature is a real boon to me as a writer. I’ve gotten more work cleared away in the past few weeks than I had in the three months before it!

 

I’ve always been the adventurous kid. Always a bit of the black sheep in the family. I’ve been the geeky nerdy one in a family filled with working-class people, businessmen, and traditionalists. I left Mississippi years ago convinced the only way I’d move back here for very long was to take care of my parents when they got Really Old (they’re not Really Old yet). I hated this place when I was younger because this is where I got teased and tormented for preferring to read and hang out in bookstores (I was on a first-name basis with the ladies at Waldenbooks) or play Dungeons and Dragons or watch Star Trek or Star Wars instead of shopping for clothes and slathering make-up on and gossiping non-stop about boys. This was where I felt like being different meant being damned. But now, now that I’m back here, I’ve found out that my neighbor beneath me is a girl I went to school and church with growing up and she thinks it’s awesome that I write books and have three published. I mention things like having lived in New Jersey or France to explain where I’ve been and people look at me like I just announced I climbed Mount Everest. So many people tell me that they could never imagine going off and living somewhere where they didn’t know anyone or didn’t speak the language but to me, that was easy. I could pack up next year and go and live in Scotland or California or the Moon and not knowing anyone wouldn’t bug me a bit. I’ve never needed a lot of friends or to have people close by — for years I’ve been fairly content to just spend my free time writing and have resented the occasions where I was obligated to go out somewhere and be sociable. I am an introvert by nature and while I don’t dislike people, I prefer them in small doses (for the most part. A few really close friends and relatives who understand that I don’t need to fill every second with small talk and that sometimes I need to just go off and be alone for a few minutes or to sit with them quietly are fine).

 

Still, moving to Mississippi and to the awesome flat my mother found for me has made me feel something that I didn’t think I would really ever feel again. I feel like I’ve come home. Even if, in the long run, I wind up moving off again, this place is and always will be home to me, no matter how rootless an existence I lead.

 

And that doesn’t bother me nearly as much as I once thought it would.

 

— G.K.

*brushes off the dust*

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*brushes off the dust*

Okay. It’s been ages since I updated this place. First things first, I am still alive. The last few months have been hectic because I’ve moved back to Mississippi. I’m working remote for my employer and will be picking up a few local contracts on the side. I’m working to pay off the moving bills and just trying to get settled in to my new digs which, by the way, are awesome. It’s quiet and calm out here where I am and I have plenty of time and energy to write — which is what I’ve been doing. I’m most of the way through The Penitent (should be sending it out for beta reading by the end of summer max). I’ve completed the rough drafts on three short stories (I’m going to do a collection soon). I’ve gotten most of my research and notes done for Realpolitick. I’ve even started working on a series of one-offs for a new quasi-fantasy serial that would work great as a comic (if I could draw more than stick people). I’m also working on rough chapter drafts for Lanar’ya Three and for another novel.

 

Still, I should be updating more. And, now that I’ve kind of got the worst of it all behind me, I am planning to do just that. There’s been a lot going on in the publishing industry and the fantasy/sci-fi community that I want to comment on. But, for now, you’ll just have to put up with this super-short update and bookmark this place to come back and check later for my “pearls of wisdom.”

 

— G.K.

Star Trek vs Doctor Who — America and Britain at Their Best

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Star Trek vs Doctor Who -- America and Britain at Their Best

In order to understand this entry, head over to the Stratosphere Lounge and watch episode 67 starting at the 23:48 mark. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

 

Done? Good.

 

Bill mentions that Star Trek is all about the frontier and exploring. Everyone has guns because you can’t just trust that the natives will be friendly. The crew of the Enterprise (a ship named after the American strength of commerce and trade) is genial and magnanimous, open to working with anyone peacefully but ready to defend themselves or their ideals against any enemies. Also, anyone can eventually become part of the Enterprise crew. Kirk is a farm boy from Ohio. McCoy is a doctor from Mississippi. Scotty is an engineer from Scotland. They’re normal people in extraordinary circumstances.

 

He also mentions that the Doctor is an aristocrat. He’s a Time Lord from Gallifrey. He’s got the power of a god and is pretty much immortal. His TARDIS is a hidden, magical world tucked away in a perfectly ordinary police call box. It’s done that way because it’s very British. London (and most of the rest of the United Kingdom) had been settled and explored since the classical era — there is no frontier in the American sense. The Doctor takes on companions who could be anyone but no one can become the Doctor. That divide is much like the British divide between commoner and royalty — nothing can breach it.

 

Or so Bill says. I think he’s wrong. Let me explain why before you lynch me.

 

Great Britain and the Northern Enlightenment are what gave birth to the foundational ideas of the United States. The Founding Fathers were all loyal British subjects before they rebelled against a tyrannical Parliament and Crown. They were almost all educated in the traditional British aristocratic manner. George Washington was part of the aristocracy through his family and his service to the King. He was called “His Excellency.” And, only in England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland could a commoner, through uncommon courage and wisdom, be raised up to the aristocracy. Hell, my own distant paternal ancestor Baird was raised up by King William of Scotland1. You didn’t see that happening much in the Mediterranean or Iberian areas of Europe (and yes, I include France and Germany in that). Embracing a commoner and disdaining pure blood and breeding in favor of action is a very Anglo-Saxon-Celtic-Gaelic thing. But the Norsemen and the Gaels recognized that uncommon valor could be found in the most common of men2. So they raised them up an example to the rest of their followers.

 

Britain’s ideals prior to the Great War are very much a part of the American DNA, if you will. Yes, we have diverged from our Islander cousins in the past few generations but we still have more in common with them (and the Canadians, the Aussies, and the Kiwis) than we have with any other country on this planet. And, the Doctor — he’s a bit of a rebel. He has the power of a god but he rarely uses it to force his will on anyone. He does have more in common with Scotty, McCoy, and Spock than he has with Kirk. After all, he has a police call box so that he can be called to help out. He carries a screwdriver to fix things instead of a gun to blast enemies. He has two hearts so he can love all the more deeply. But, at the end of the day, he is willing to fight for what is right — even using a gun or sword (NuWho: Dalek, Bad Wolf, The Parting of the Ways, The Christmas Invasion, The Family of Blood, Journey’s End, The End of Time Part II). He’s willing to lay down his life to save the life of a friend. He could have become the ruler of Gallifrey and all the Time Lords but he turned his back on that to explore time and space. No matter his incarnation, he’s filled with wonder at the cosmos and curiosity to see it all. Yes, sometimes, he’s a bit of a controlling git and manipulates those around him. But he’s a god who wants very desperately to be human. He would give up everything just to live a common life, to marry, have children, grow old, and die. As a matter of fact, he does this in Journey’s End when he convinces the meta-crisis to go off with the one woman the Doctor will always love and live out a human life with her.

 

The Doctor is not just a British superhero — he’s a very American figure. He holds himself to a standard far higher than that which everyone else uses. He refuses to use his power (with the exception of him going a bit mad during The Waters of Mars) to force anyone to do his bidding. Instead, he continually risks his life to save mortals from peril. He continually risks his hearts in taking on companions he knows will leave him for the very kind of life he envies — a life with a house, doors, carpets and things.

 

The Doctor, like the crew of the Enterprise, is the best that both Britain and America have to give to the world. Just look around today. There are only two countries continually turning out movies and TV series with heroes — the US and the UK. Are our heroes the same? No. Are our stories the same? Again, no. But we are much closer to our British cousins than we ever will be to the French, the Germans, the Italians, the Japanese, the Chinese, or any other nation or race on this planet. We have so much in common, so many shared dreams. It is truly a shame whenever an American discounts one of the greatest British television series as being “too British” instead of embracing it as part of his own cultural heritage.

 

Only two peoples on the face of this planet have had the power to subjugate it and dominate it, enslaving the rest of the nations to their will. Those two nations are Britain — who had an empire until they discovered that imperialism took too much energy and gracefully allowed their colonies to go free (as opposed to the French who fought it tooth and nail and dragged an ally into a losing war in Vietnam) — and America, who, right now, could demand that every nation worship her as an Old Testament style god or face wrath, fire, and destruction3.

 

And yet, neither of us has done that.

 

Yes, we might bicker over our trifling differences. Yes, the British are much more socialist and collectivist than Americans — that comes from being crammed together on a tiny island for centuries. But, we are both nations that understand the frontier. We are both nations that dream the big, impossible dreams. And we are both nations that believe that there are true heroes out there. Sometimes it’s an alien Time Lord and sometimes it’s a farm boy from Ohio. But, at the end of the day, they’re both good men which circumstances have forced to become great men. The Doctor belongs to America just as much as Captain Kirk belongs to Britain. They’re both part of our cultural DNA.

 

And I hope to Cthulhu4 we always remember that. The day we turn our back completely on our cousins, our shared history, and our common heritage is the day we will lose a very precious and very vital part of who, and what, we are as Americans.

 

— G.K.

 

1 If I recall correctly, according to my elderly cousin James Beard, our family hails from Lanarkshire in Scotland. Our ancestor, Baird, was raised up by King William of Scotland for killing a boar threatening his royal party.

 

2 The Anglos and Saxons were a bit unique in that, since primacy in war was paramount to their societies (due to the Norse worship), commoners who showed uncommon valor were prized above nobles who failed to show that same valor. American culture has been shaped quite heavily by this meritocratic view.

 

3 Seriously — this is why I get pissy with people who are like “but America is Imperialistic.” No, we’re not. We saw how much trouble this was right after the Spanish-American war. We let the Philippines go without a fight. We continually ask our commonwealths (who are not states) if they want to stay, go, or become states. We have enough firepower and enough nukes that we could go to the UN tomorrow and say “Hey, ya know what? We’re sick of all the bullshit. China, you’re gonna become an open democracy or else you’ll all die. And Russia, seriously, stop with the bullshit or you’re all dead. Europe? You wanna quit that shit or die? By the way, you have three minutes to decide before the missiles are on the way.” *insert Jeopardy theme music here.* “Oh, and all you fuckers in the Middle East hating on Israel? Tell Allah we said ‘hey, shitface’ when you and your people see him in *checks watch* oh, about fifteen seconds.” We could force the rest of the world to bow to us and do whatever we want but we have absolutely no desire to do so. We just want to be left alone. Name me three other nations that have had this power and refused to use it and maybe I’ll hear you out about how imperialistic the United States is.

 

4 I said I wasn’t going to swear to real deities anymore which is why I’m always swearing to ones that don’t exist.

Midnight of Lanar’ya Now Available Through Rooster and Pig!

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Midnight of Lanar'ya Now Available Through Rooster and Pig!

Whoo-hoo! Happy Release Day to me! The second book in the Fall of the Lanarian Empire series is now up on sale at the Rooster and Pig store. It will be available via other retailers soon.

 

You guys have no idea how glad I am to have this monster off my plate. This has to have been the most stubborn book I’ve ever written. The story just did not want me to get it all down but, by the grace of Cthulhu, (I gave up swearing to real deities for Lent, Mom) I finally got it down. It took several rounds and quite a few times I thought Midnight was gonna have me pinned to the mat but I wrestled it into submission.

 

Red wine and dark chocolate may or may not have played a helping hand. The jury is still out on that.

 

My current plans are to finish The Penitent and get it out to my beta readers by the end of May at the latest and then turn my attentions to the third book (and final) in the Fall of the Lanarian Empire series. I may or may not take periodic breaks to either crank out some short stories (I have five almost finished) or work on the treatment for my political-procedural-without-the-ideology Realpolitick which I’m hoping to have done and pitch to Amazon or Netflix as they’re the only players who are really into experimenting with the Internet as an entertainment distribution medium.

 

I also wouldn’t mind finally having a best-seller so that I could quit my day job and write without having to worry about how all those pesky bills are going to get paid. 🙂

 

For now, though, I’m off to finish getting ready for work and then, tonight, I shall celebrate by doing something productive… that may or may not involve fermented grape juice and dark chocolate and classic Doctor Who. Jury’s still out on that.

 

— G.K.

The Best Part of Being an Aunt…

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The Best Part of Being an Aunt...

…is hearing my niece or my nephews say “I love you.”

 

Granted, I live in New Jersey and don’t get down to Mississippi to see them near as much as I’d like to but they love me anyway. I talk to my youngest nephew Jacob whenever I happen to pop on to Battle.net. He’s a gamer like me and we have a lot in common. I’m hoping that he’ll take up programming and go to college for it and eventually work for a gaming company doing something he loves. My nephew Seth and I don’t have as much in common but I do try to figure out what interests we might share so that I can be close to him, too. Thus far, it’s just football (and he’s way more into it than I am) and Southern history that we both like but I’m hoping that, deep down, there’s a history buff underneath the football player who I can connect with.

 

And my niece. My little Mini-me. Nothing can brighten my day like talking to her on the phone and hearing her tell me how much she likes Doctor Who. When her mothers mention that she’s got a smart mouth, I grin ear-to-ear knowing that she got that from me. She looks just like me and she seems to love her ol’ Aunt G.K. When I last visited for Christmas and had a migraine, she just had to follow me into my room when I went to lay down with a cold cloth on my forehead to try to get rid of it. She snuggled up next to me and fell asleep with me. She even said she had a headache, too (though she didn’t. She just wants to be like me, I guess, which is weird but awesome).

 

I don’t have any kids of my own (yet). But I still love hanging out with my nephews and my niece. I love my parents and my sisters but nothing can make me smile as brightly as hearing one of the kids say they love me and that they’re looking forward to seeing me again. Nothing.

 

That’s the most awesome part of being the weird aunt. Because, at the end of the day, no matter how strange I am, those kids think I’m awesome enough to call me “Aunt Kelly.”

 

— G.K.

L’affaire Eich

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L'affaire Eich

In case you’ve been living under a rock, last week, Brendan Eich, the CEO of Mozilla, was pretty much forced to resign his position due to having donated to Prop 8 back in 2008. OKCupid dug up his name from a list of donors and changed their website so that if a person using Firefox visited, they were shown a page suggesting a different browser because Eich was CEO of Mozilla and was blasted as “anti-gay” for his donation.

 

As someone who is totally in favor of gay marriage, I’m with Sarah Hoyt and Andrew Sullivan on this one. It’s disturbing that someone’s private beliefs and personal donations can be used to force them out of a position especially after they’ve committed themselves to inclusiveness and equality in the workplace for LGBTs. The man believed that gay marriage shouldn’t be legally recognized. A lot of people believe that. That doesn’t make them anti-gay or homophobic. It makes them against changing the definition of marriage. Yes, some of them will be bigoted arseholes but most of them are not. A good many might favor civil unions that would have all of the same rights and privileges of marriage but just wouldn’t be called marriage. Others might fear that legalizing gay marriage would force religious institutions to perform weddings that go against their teachings — and, in light of some of the lawsuits against bakers and photographers* who don’t want to offer their services due to religious beliefs, there could be something to that fear.

 

But beyond that, do we really want to live in a world where you can be hounded in the streets, driven out of your job, and harassed for something you believe? If we start granting corporations the right to pressure workers — yes, even executives — to hide their personal beliefs and constantly hold the company line, do we really have freedom of speech anymore? Sure, it’s not the government that’s interfering. It’s just your employer. And, it’s not like we’re in the midst of a recession or anything, right, so there are plenty of jobs to be had, right? And, how does this hounding help the gay marriage cause? Is it going to change anyone’s mind? Is it going to make people more receptive to arguments in favor of gay marriage? Or is it going to cause opponents of gay marriage to become more entrenched, to move to insulate themselves more? Is it going to cause greater division in society by forcing gay marriage opponents to work only for others who share their views, putting themselves in an echo chamber?

 

Would you feel the same way about this issue if it were not gay marriage? Say that Brendan Eich supported keeping pot illegal. But, he promised not to fire anyone who thought pot should be legal, who advocated for legalization, who donated to efforts to make it legal, etc. Would it be right for legalization advocates to hound him out of his job? After all, putting people in jail over what they want to put in their bodies in their own time without endangering others is a far sight worse than simply saying “I don’t think marriage should be redefined.” The first denies people their liberty. The second denies them a tax break.

 

And would you want to be in his position with your own employer? I’m sure that most people work at a place where they may not agree with every single thing their employer believes or supports. Would you want someone fired because they were a creationist (when that belief had nothing to do with their job whatsoever)? Would you want someone fired because they were pro-choice (when that belief had nothing to do with their job)? Pro-life? An atheist? A libertarian? An anarchist? A smoker?** Someone who enjoyed a glass of wine of an evening? Coffee drinkers? Someone who had a copy of Chris Rock’s Bigger and Blacker? Do we really want to open our privately held beliefs to scrutiny by our employers? Would you really want to live in a world where that plays out?

 

This is an argument I have time and time again with a lot of people and this kind of power is why I am a minarchist (rational anarchist). If we grant gay marriage supporters a heckler’s veto like this, then inevitably that power will fall into the hands of someone who is odious. If someone can be forced to step down as CEO over this, then later on, another CEO could be forced to resign for not supporting the Kyoto Treaty (which was deeply flawed) or being a Euro-skeptic or an American isolationist. In a free society like ours, eventually the other side will get into power. So, instead of having to fight, fuss, and live in fear of that (like we’ve had to with the frickin’ abortion issue for forty some-odd years now), how about we all agree that no one should have that kind of power and that we can learn to agree to disagree civilly and that the best way to deal with someone who believes gay marriage shouldn’t be allowed isn’t to hound them over it but to talk to them. To show them that it won’t cause whatever they fear it will cause. To persuade and use reason and our brains instead of bludgeoning them over the head and exiling them to the Outer Darkness for a belief that has jack to do with being a CEO (or a developer, designer, code monkey, artist, editor, etc).

 

— G.K.

 

*Seriously, if a baker or photographer or whatever refuses to serve a gay wedding because of their religious, find another. It’s not like there is a severe shortage of them. Suing them over it is asking the government to tell them that they have to ignore their views for business. No one would object to a gay photographer or baker refusing to service an anti-gay marriage believer’s wedding so why do we think the reverse is okay?

 

**Holiday Inn already does this by refusing to hire smokers. So, I don’t stay at the Holiday Inn or any hotel owned by them. I don’t think that an employer should have the ability to tell their workers what they can and cannot do when they’re not on the clock. So, if Holiday Inn really wants to do this, they should pay their workers 24/7/365 for adhering to their policy. People would scream bloody murder if a place like Wal Mart refused to hire people who ate bacon every morning which has just as much bearing on the ability to work as being a smoker (or non-smoker) does.

I’m Still Around

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I'm Still Around

Just been a bit busy lately is all.

 

So, I got Stolen Lives out the door and it’s doing fairly well. I’m cranking away on The Penitent while working on learning how various world governments work for Realpolitick. I’m also promising myself that soon I will let myself have a few hours to play the new Diablo III expansion so long as I don’t skip going to the YMCA for my daily swim.

 

Yeah, I’m on a health kick. I got sick of having a gimpy ankle and knee that bothered me incessantly (and I’m tired of being a humongous fatass) so I got a membership at the YMCA and I swim for at least 30 minutes every day (and as close to an hour as I can push it). My leg has already gotten a lot better (going up stairs no longer causes me problems and going down them only does when I’m tired). I’m hoping soon to be able to add 15 – 20 minutes of Nordic Ski or elliptical to my work out alternating that with weight lifting every other day. I’m also cutting beef and pork out of my diet and living off vegetables and fish (with the occasional treat for good behavior).

 

I’ve told myself that I’m going to set aside a whole $500 and, if I manage to get down to a healthy weight, I’m going to buy three new pairs of blue jeans and have them embroidered on the legs (and have them hemmed so I don’t have to fold them up to my ankles), two new pairs of black slacks, white dress blouses (because white goes with everything), and some new shirts. I’ll also probably redo my pajamas and all that as well. Maybe a couple of pairs of new Converse trainers (black, creme, and blue or red).

 

Oh, and my Fifth Doctor cosplay outfit. Maybe a sundress, a Sunday dress, and a cocktail dress in case I ever need to wear a dress some place. (I don’t like dresses).

 

So long as I don’t go over my $500 budget. I can sense my mother rolling her eyes at me already. She started with the “new pairs of jeans” and is probably sputtering about no dress shoes in my list (seriously, if people are going to pay that much attention to my shoes, I think it’s them that have the issue, not me). Mom and I have vastly different approaches to fashion: I know I have no fashion sense so I keep it cheap, timeless, and simple. Mom actually likes dressing up and I’d rather be strapped to the rack. Color coordination is something you do for a website skin, not your socks.

 

Anyhow, figured I’d just drop a quick line to let everyone know I am gloriously, happily busy.

 

— G.K.

Stolen Lives Now Available!

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Stolen Lives Now Available!

I’ve just released my latest novel, Stolen Lives. This novel is an indie work and is now available on Amazon and through Smashwords. As I hear back from other retailers about availability there, I’ll update the book’s page. If you do get a copy from one place and give me a review, then I’ll contact you with coupon codes for other retailers who only allow “confirmed purchasers” to post reviews on their sites if you’ll copy your review around for me.

 

Stolen Lives started out as my 2013 NaNoWriMo project and morphed into something even bigger than I thought. But now, it’s out and I’m eager to see what the rest of the world thinks about it. For now, I’ll leave you with this quick blurb to whet your appetite.

 

What would you do if you woke up to find your entire past missing with only your name and a few vague hints to tell you who you are? Would you try to regain what was lost or would you try to start over? How would you handle having your very life stolen from you?

 

Who are you, really? Who would you be if your memories, your identity, and your life were taken away from you, leaving you a bare, blank slate?

 

Matt Tyler no longer remembers who he was. His life prior to waking up at the Farm might well have never been lived. Was he married? Did he have children? And what of these strange dreams he has? Gwen Marshall no longer recalls her life but she knows that something is missing. She struggles to regain her memories and her identity, determined to fight her way free of the haze — even if it kills her. Together, Matt and Gwen make their way through this strange, new world, following their dreams and the vague hints that offer tantalizing glimpses of who they were and who they might become…

 

“A fundamental thesis on free will. Very, very well done.” Denis Fitzpatrick, This Mirror in Me.

 

Now, I just need to get started cracking on The Penitent and Dawn of the Destroyer whilst trying to get the treatment for Realpolitick going. After that, it’ll be A Man’s Life followed by either a Lanarian Empire prequel series, the Runebearer series, or the Remnant and the Revenants series. Oh, not to mention the short stories I’m cranking out in the background!

 

— G.K.

I’m Not Anti-Publisher…

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I'm Not Anti-Publisher...

but, by God, I am anti-gatekeeper.

 

I can remember being a teenager and being told that I would need to write things that the publishers wanted to sell. I understood that — to some extent. I understood that it would mean lying. I understood that it would mean not digging for the deeper truths. I understood that it would mean kissing the lily-livered asses of a bunch of damned Yankees (as distinct from just plain “Yankee”) elitist rich liberals who had never written an actual sentence of their own. And I hated that.

 

Understand this — the publishing industry in the United States consists of an incestuous group of NYC-born and bred “editors” who barely speak English. It consists of a bunch of people who went to the “right” schools. Who made friends with the “right” people. Who were born in (or fucked their way into) the “right” beds. None of them have a modicum of intellect. I honestly doubt that the vast majority of them could pass the FLE (Functional Literacy Exam). Instead, they’re related, by sex (oral, anal, or vaginal) to the “right” people. They have the “right” pedigrees. They went to the “right” schools. Most of them have never set foot outside the protective confines of upper-class New England. Most of them have never worked an honest job a day in their lives. Most of them couldn’t tell you which foot pedal was the breaking pedal and which was the bleedin’ accelerator, let alone change their oil own or light bulbs. These are the kind of people who, once society shits itself, will be the first to die because they’re too damned stupid to live.

 

And yet, they’re the ones we have allowed to decide who will be published and who will die unknown.

 

At least, until indie-publishing became a worthy challenge. And they hate it when someone without their Papal imprimatur makes a fortune without having kissed their feet and arses. It drives them up a wall they they rejected authors like J.K. Rowling and yet — love her or loathe her — she sits upon a fortune not granted by these limousine liberals. They hate it every time an indie author makes their way to the top of the Amazon best seller list. How dare we indie authors not seek their blessing upon our work? How dare anyone write a story that doesn’t adhere to their orthodoxy? How dare we tell them “let the readers decide?”

 

Such blasphemy! After all, weren’t they born in the skyscrapers of NYC to divine the fate of all authors? By their white skin and their quasi-Marxist credo (which, of course, leaves them as the elite destined to rule over all mankind), they were chosen to determine who shall be published and who shall languish in oblivion. How dare indies seek to publish without their blessing!

 

Well, begging my mother’s pardon: fuck them right into hell itself.

 

I don’t need some nampy-pampy, ignorant, illiterate, innumerate, lily-white, incestuous limousine liberal born and raised in the most inbred, ignorant-ass city on Earth to tell me whether my writing is good or not. Most of those little shits couldn’t hack in the real world if Jesus Christ Himself helped them. They’re nothing but Marxian-wannabe holdovers from a non-competitive era who think that just because their great-great-grandfathers were smart, they suddenly deserve the right to decide who gets published and who doesn’t. Most of them have never read a book in their lives. They couldn’t tell you how to turn on a computer, let alone write a modern novel.

 

And yet, they think that they, in their shallow, ignorant, isolated Ivory Towers in a single city upon this world, they think that they can speak for the readers of Planet Earth?

 

Fuck them and the horse they allegedly rode in on! Why should a handful of rich, illiterate, ignorant-ass, pasty-white Yankees decide the books of the world? They’ve never so much as ridden coach in an airplane, let alone traveled and spoken with the common man anywhere. They couldn’t tell you how different the lives of a NYC cop versus a Wall Street exec are, let alone the difference between an Australian aborigine and an Afrikaner. Shit, these inbred ingrates probably can’t tell the difference between modern France and modern Britain. And we’re supposed to sit back and let them decide which books get published and which don’t?

 

To hell with them. Let them die out like the dinosaurs of old after the KT impact. Let them be forced to compete with publishers and labels not run by one of their cousins. Let them have to deal with actual readers and actual competition.

 

And when they can’t…when they’re dying of starvation on the streets of NYC…remember to spit on them and tell them to go to hell. Because their royal imprimatur doesn’t mean a book is worth reading. All it means is that the book is considered good by a bunch of provincial, inbred, ignorant-ass, lily-white Yankees who think that they’re helping the “underclass” by condescending to them.

 

Fuck ’em. Let the readers decide.

 

— G.K. Masterson

My Dream Neighborhood…

by
My Dream Neighborhood...

Some girls spend their lives coming up with their dream houses, their dream husbands, their dream weddings… Me, I’m a bit more ambitious. I have my dream neighborhood.

 

If I were ever to win the lottery or become the next billionaire writer like J.K. Rowling, I would set aside part of my wealth to 1) found my own frickin’ country (only writers and cool people allowed in) and 2) build my dream community. It would probably look a lot like The Shire with the hobbit houses (and there would be a Rivendell and Lothlorien nearby for those of the more elvish bent). Actually, it’d probably have hobbit houses next to tree houses next to log cabins. And, the only people who would live there would be writers. Romance, fantasy, sci-fi, historical, thriller, policier, whatever. Only writers. There would be a pub/tavern/restaurant that would be a weird mix of Starbucks-meets-The-Inn-of-the-Green-Dragon where we could all hang out. There would be bookstores, of course. The native language would be Writer-esse, the government would be “whatever” and taxes…well, we’re talking about a country of writers. I doubt there would be much crime beyond “I had to smack him. He used the wrong word!”

 

It would be an eccentric, eclectic place. And it would be awesome.

 

The first people I would invite to live there would be Rayne Hall, Denis Fitzpatrick, Wallace Cass, Vicktor Alexander, Lor Rose, TN Tarrant, Brandon Sanderson, and Sarah Hoyt. Oh, and of course my quasi-sister and her wife, my parents, and my niece and nephews. They would probably be the only ones with “normal” houses. Unless, of course, I built a TARDIS-themed Earthship which would probably make Mini-me run away from home to live with her crazy Whovian aunt. Neil Gaiman would be welcome, of course, as would just about any other writer. We would build our own homes, pitching in to help like the Amish do in their communities. Bartering would be perfectly acceptable and declining an invitation “because I have to get these characters to get in line” would be a perfectly acceptable excuse. Our national pass-time would be reading and writing. Our national colors would be black and red (black for the inkstains on our fingers and faces, red for the pens we use to correct our later drafts). Our national sport would be either Trivia Pursuit or Scrabble. You could marry whoever you wanted so long as they were 18 or older and human. Civil/criminal trials (if they had to be held at all) would consist of a non-busy writer selected at random acting as the judge. It would be practically Heinlienian in some ways. And it would be the most interesting place on Earth.

 

In school, the popular kids would be the ones with the most books. Sarcasm would be considered a second language. Daydreaming would be encouraged — as would doodling and rambling. Sitting around silently reading at the pub would be considered a perfectly acceptable form of socialization.

 

All in all, it would be heaven on Earth for writers.

 

So, if there are any wealthy people with money to burn reading this who are interested in developing and funding such a community, feel free to drop me a line. Using solar panels and windmills, we might actually be able to have “free” electricity. Building Earthships or other sustainable houses might make development costs trivial. Tapping into a nearby water supply (aquifer or a river) could help with both water/sewer and electricity. And, while it wouldn’t be the richest place on Earth, it’d probably be the most interesting place.

 

Because, you see, us writers…no matter the genre…we’re interesting (aka “weird”) people. Which is why we shouldn’t have to live in the mundane world. Our inner worlds are so much cooler. Just ask anyone who’s written for Doctor Who!

 

— G.K.