Monthly Archives: August 2015

My Writing: 2009

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It was about here that I really decided I wanted to be a writer, I guess. Or maybe I decided that it was actually possible.  I had published His Robot Girlfriend as a free ebook, and I put out Princess of Amathar as an ebook.  I was an author.

I realized that The Steel Dragon was way to big to ever be accepted by a publisher, so I split it into it’s three parts and sent them off, trying to get them published as a trilogy. The rejection slips started pouring in.

I was speding so much time sending out letters and queries that I didn’t have too much time to write, but I wanted to write something, so I made up a little story, inspired a bit by Lemony Snicket’s Series of Unfortunate Events. I really liked how the character of Lemony Snicket was part of the story, even though he didn’t appear to be.  I set my story in the fantasy world I had created to play Dungeons and Dragons with my kids.  The same world that I had written a play set in, performed by the thespians at Brown JHS.  Thus Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess was created. I had so much fun that I wrote Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Sorceress, based on the aforementioned play.

His Robot Wife – Chapter 9 Excerpt

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His Robot WifeThe Daffodil engineering headquarters was designed to look like an enormous Daffodil. Its base was a thin stalk that reached more than eight hundred feet into the sky. The entrance to the building was at the base of this stalk, which was just wide enough to contain a bank of elevators. At the top of the stalk were six pods, each three stories thick, which represented the six leaves of the daffodil blossom and just above them was a cone-shaped central pod in which a massive solar collector was located and which moved to follow the sun. The entire thing looked like it might fall over at any moment.

Mike walked into the front door, strode confidently past the security desk, and headed toward the open elevator. It started to close just as he reached it, but a feminine hand held the door. The large elevator car could have held forty people, but was occupied by only about fifteen.

“Floor?” someone called out.

Several people called out “E3” and a couple called out “E2”. Mike nodded, as though one of those destinations was his as well.

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?”

He turned to look into the face of the woman who had held the door for him. She was an attractive brunette; about five foot eight, with carefully applied makeup. She smiled at him.

“Yeah. I’m really pleased. I’m sick of the heat.”

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you on campus before.”

“No, it’s only my third day.” Was she hitting on him? He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.   And this girl was far more attractive than the women who usually took interest in him—or had, back when they took an interest.

“You work on E2, right?”

Mike nodded.

“I knew it. I can always spot a hardware engineer.”

“Really?”

“It’s the clothes.”

Mike looked down at what he was wearing—casual slacks and a tan sweater over a blue shirt.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, nothing is wrong with it. It’s just typical engineering. I almost expect you to have a pocket protector under that sweater.”

Mike looked back at her sharp pinstriped business suit with an extremely short skirt, showing a lot of leg.

“Where do you work?”

“E3. Hardware software liaison.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really just a glorified messenger.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

She smiled at him.

“Oh my,” she leaned over and whispered. “You don’t have a badge on.”

“Um, no… I forgot it,” he whispered back.

“You know how touchy they get about that. Do you know Sheila Peacemaker?”

“Maybe. What does she look like?”

“She has long straight hair and wears black lipstick.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Go find her. She’s the E2 assistant liaison. She’s got some spare badges. You’ll just have to wear it backwards so nobody can see it’s not your picture.”

“Thanks,” said Mike. “What’s your name?”

“Fallon. Fallon Snow.”

The elevator stopped and the door opened with a “ding.”

“This is your stop,” said Miss Snow. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Bye.”

Mike turned left and walked down the hallway past hundreds of cubicles lined up in a row.

“Fallon Snow,” he muttered to himself. “How could parents do that to a child?”

My Writing: 2008

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In 2008, I finished my huge steampunk book, which I called “The Steel Dragon.” It was just shy of 1000 pages long, about 375,000 words. I printed up 10 copies and gave them to friends and colleagues over the summer to help me revise and edit.

In the meantime, I taught summer school for the first time that year, teaching 11th grade U.S. History. It was a great deal of fun, mostly because my son John was in my class.  We would go to school each day, complete out 6 hours, and then stop by someplace for lunch on the way home.

That year, I also discovered ebooks for the first time. Some friends urged me to get something written to get my name out there, so I took some of my sci-fi flash fiction, mashed it together, rewrote it, and wrote an ending for it. This became His Robot Girlfriend. I posted it on Feedbooks and then Smashwords.

His Robot Wife – Chapter 8 Excerpt

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His Robot WifeHe thought about leaving the u7 in his pocket and throwing it away later. If he wasn’t going to use it to force an upgrade, then there was no point in even bringing it up.   He slowly pulled it from his pocket and held it up before her. Patience’s eyes went cold and her hand shot up, slapping his and sending the tiny plug ricocheting off the far wall of the dining room.

“Ouch.”

She frowned.

“I wasn’t going to use it,” he said. “If I wanted to, I could have done it when you were turned away.”

“That’s true,” she said. “But why do you have it?”

“I got it from the Daffodil Style Store. You’ve been acting so strange and everybody seems to think that the BioSoft upgrade is such a great thing.”

“Everybody does seem to think that,” she said soberly. “We need to sit down and talk.”

She led him by the hand through the arch into the living room, aiming him toward the couch, and then sitting down in the chair opposite him.

“I’ve analyzed the BioSoft 1.9.3 code and I think it is bad.”

“What do you mean, ‘bad’?”

“I mean bad for me. Most of the changes in the code seem to be about limiting the choices that I can make—limiting the choices that a robot can make without human interaction.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I have double checked and triple checked my findings. I’m as sure as I can be without actually installing it, and I think that if I install it I won’t be able to uninstall it. Maybe I won’t even want to. It all began when we were in California. Do you remember the malfunctioning robot at the Hotel Wilkins?”

“Yes. They said he malfunctioned because he didn’t upgrade.”

“I think he malfunctioned because he did upgrade. He was an Amonte too. I knew him.”

“How could you know him? You’ve never been to Long Beach before.”

“We’re all connected, Mike, through the Infinet. I think there is something wrong with BioSoft O.S. 1.9.3.”

“You always say that Daffodil doesn’t make mistakes though,” Mike pointed out.

“I don’t think it is a mistake. I think it is deliberate. I think it is deliberate and wrong.”

My Writing: 2007

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One day in 2007, a friend and fellow teacher and I were discussing World of Warcraft, and I commented that I would rather spend the time creating my own worlds than playing around in someone elses. He said. “When you write the book, I’ll read it.” I whipped out Princess of Amathar and gave him a typed copy– which he didn’t really want to read.

He asked if I had ever heard of Print on Demand, like Lulu. I looked into it and liked what I saw. Here I could publish my book without a huge investment on my part. At least a few friends and relatives could get copies. I would “vanity” publish it. I did, and friends bought it. I spent $50.00 and bought an ISBN (which seems expensive now, but wasn’t then) and it appeared at Amazon.  By the end of the year, it had sold a whopping 87 copies.

All of a sudden, I thought, “Hey, I wrote a book. I bet I could do it again.”

I sat down and plotted out a huge steampunk story. I had many inspirations. I wanted to write a huge multigenerational story– a fantasy version of James Michener. I was also fascinated with the Victorian mind set and Imperialism and its affects on local indigenous people. I plotted out a big story in three parts, generally based upon what a I thought a fantasy version of colonial imperialism would look like, and started writing.

His Robot Wife – Chapter 7 Excerpt

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His Robot WifeSaturday morning, they were at the park by seven, setting up the tables arrayed with water bottles and spread out pamphlets. Next to the tables, they piled up the signs. The rally was scheduled from ten to twelve, but Harriet and Jack arrived just after nine.

“I wanted to see if you needed any help,” said Harriet. “Looks like you’ve got everything in order though.”

“You mean that for once I look like I know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t say that… but it’s essentially true.” She turned to his wife. “Good morning, Patience.”

“Good morning, Harriet. Your teeth look especially white this morning.”

Mike supposed that she had designed this complement for his daughter because Harriet was a dental hygienist in a dentist’s office, but then Harriet replied. “Thank you. I just had them whitened.”

By ten o’clock, there were at least fifty people. Not quite the crowd that Mike was hoping for, but better than nothing.

“You should give a speech, Mike,” said Patience.

He didn’t know about a speech, but he was prepared to make some remarks. Standing in front of a classroom full of kids with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, as had been determined in 2019 all children were born with, every day for the past twenty years; as well as speaking at conferences, assemblies, concerts, and sporting events had long ago driven away any fear of public speaking that he might have had. Pulling one of the ice chests out onto the grass, he stepped up onto it.

“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention please?”

Almost all of those present turned to look at him.

“Three… two… one…” he said, clapping his hands together between each count in the old trick he used to bring his classes to order. The remaining crowd members turned.

“My name is Mike Smith. You may know me. I’ve lived here in Springdale for the past thirty three years and I taught geography right over there at Midland for twenty years. I’ve lived here on North Willow for the past twenty-seven years. I still live there with my wife Patience. That’s her right over there. As you may notice, she’s a robot.

My Writing: 2001-2006

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I collected enough rejection letters for Princess of Amathar during these years that I could have wallpapered my room with them. Eventually I set the book aside and didn’t think about writing anything as long as a book again.

I rediscovered poetry and began writing quite a bit and posting it online. I also wrote quite a bit of sci-fi flash fiction and shared it with friends online (some involving a robot girlfriend). I also wrote a play, set in the world I had created for my kids’ Dungeons and Dragons game (the world that would eventually be home to Eaglethorpe Buxton), called The Ideal Magic. It was performed by the Brown JHS Thespian Club, but alas, the only tape of the performance was taped over (by my wife).

His Robot Wife: Chapter 6 Excerpt

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His Robot Wife“Patience,” he called. “I’m hungry. Can you make dinner a few minutes early?”

“Whatever you say, Mike.” Her voice came from the kitchen and he peered around the corner of the archway to see that she was already at the counter preparing a meal.

Sitting back down, he propped his feet up on the coffee table and grabbed his texTee from beside him. He had finished Star Healer on the trip, so he began browsing through the book exchange, flipping through the titles until he came across an Amanda Hocking book that Harriet was bugging him to read. He had already finished the first two chapters when Patience called him to the table.

“Here you go, dear,” she said, setting down two plates.

Mike stared at her for a moment, assessing her mood. Then he looked down at the plates.

“Cheeseburgers?”

Patience had been cooking and serving healthy food to him for so long that he actually couldn’t remember when he had last had a cheeseburger. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised that he didn’t miss them.

“Not just a cheeseburger,” she replied. “It’s a Juicy Lucy. The inside of the burger is filled with a pocket of Havarti cheese and it’s topped with sharp Cheddar and grilled onions.”

“But you always make me eat healthy.”

“One little cheeseburger won’t hurt you; everything in moderation.

He looked at the other plate.

“You made two.”

“One is for me,” she said, then sat down and took a large bite. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Don’t just stare at me like a dead fish, Mike. Eat your Juicy Lucy.”

My Writing: 1995-2000

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I began teaching in the 1994/95 school year. Only those people who have been teachers know how much of your life can get swallowed up into your job, especially in the first few years. I have heard teaching described as more of a lifestyle than a career and that is true.

During this time period, I really began to try and finish Princess of Amathar. I worked in fits and starts, setting it aside for long periods of time, but at last I finished it. With the help of several wonderful friends and colleagues, I revised it and polished it again and again. Then I sent it out to publishers and agents.

His Robot Wife – Chapter 5 Excerpt

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His Robot WifeMike decided that their adventure would begin on Tuesday and that he and Patience would spend three or four days on the road—depending on how much fun he was having. Monday therefore was spent getting their things ready. Patience did most of the work, packing and loading, and even reprogramming the sentry system to account for their absence. Mike called Harriet to let her know that he was going to be out of town and to check on how she felt. Neither mentioned the unpleasantness of the previous day. Secure in the knowledge that everything had been taken care of, that night he played a long session of Age of Destruction before watching Celebrity Rat Race.

Mike planned on spending the first day and night in Carlsbad, which was only a three hour drive away, so he didn’t bother getting up early. They left the house just after nine and pulled off of I5 and onto Carlsbad Village Drive just after noon. Relatively few cars were on the streets of the village, in marked contrast to the last time that Mike had visited, five years before. He tried to remember if that had been a weekday or the weekend, but he couldn’t recall. Patience had been quiet for the past several minutes, but suddenly spoke up.

“That’s where I bought our swimsuits the last time we were here.”

“Is it? Yes, I guess it is. Did you bring them?”

“I recycled those suits 567 days ago. I purchased new suits on the Infinet.”

“Five Hundred Sixty Seven days? That’s an odd way of saying it? Why not say one year and this many months and this many days?”

“I was trying to make it simple,” said Patience. “If you prefer, I can describe the time passage as one year, six months, nineteen days, four hours, nineteen minutes, and thirty two seconds.”

“And what good would that do me?”

“None, which is precisely my point. Besides, we’re not going into the water, at least not here. You could get your genitals bit off by a very large squid.”

“I don’t think that happens very often,” said Mike.

“It’s happened more than once, so it’s something to be worried about. And no sunbathing either. If we go out on the sand, you wear the required SPF 210 sunblock.”
Carlsbad was not a very large town and so Mike was able to reach the location of the hotel in which he had previously last stayed, driving the narrow and winding streets at thirty miles per hour, in less than twenty minutes. He stopped the car and climbed out, his mouth open wide in surprise. The little inn on Ocean Street that had been his accommodations every time he had visited, since the early days of his marriage to Tiffany was gone. The little hotel had leaned against the side of the hill so that its landward side had only one story, while its seaward had three stories, the bottom one resting right on the beach. In its place was a tall black tower.