Five More Days
Mama always said, We may be low, but we know how to stay clean.
October 29
Dear followers:
A while ago, I put out a plea to reblog the shit out of the soon-to-be-released Hevun’s Rebel.
You all did a wonderful job reblogging that one post.
What I need is all of you spreading the word about the other posts. The ones where it’s the cover, the date, and a small collection of words… they get ignored.
Those are the ones I need you to spread around.
And not just on Tumblr.
Spread the word around on every social network you can reach (pick places that would/might be interested, of course. TinklyFairyland fan-forums don’t want to know about a Sci-Fi book featuring slavery and sundry horrible things) tell your friends. Tell your relatives. Spread the word. Everywhere you can.
Hell, help me come up with advertising phraseology that catches folks’ interest.
The five followers who distribute the most word will receive a free copy of the second book.
Incentivised yet?
YO! Beta-readers!
You have until THIS FRIDAY to get back to me with anything.
Then, after I finalize the premiere edition, I will be sending out the second book.
In the meantime: I would very much appreciate pithy little quotes I can attach to the cover art via twitter so I can advertise the fuck out of my own book.
I would appreciate even more, folks reblogging the cover-art shill I’m doing on a daily basis here on Tumblr.
Must generate buzz. Anticipation. Without putting out spoilers.
All help in this endeavor is appreciated.
October 29th
Sahra was on the opposite side of the station to Ore Processing when it blew up.
Dear Followers:
Yesterday (or thereabouts) you all saw this on your dashes:
This is, as you may have surmised, the cover to my first novel.
Let me tell you a little thing about this cover.
- It is not my work.
- It is the work of a very patient artist at Bespoke Book Covers.
- It is hella expensive.
- …and I’m broke.
I say “very patient” because we went through several-ty hundred revisions before we got to this. I’m currently dragging the poor soul through revisions of the third cover. He is earning every last cent of the money we’ve paid.
Now. In order for this to be worth it, I actually have to make sales.
Which means I won’t be making a red cent out of this until the second book’s published.
I need to generate buzz about this book and the two sequels. I need readers.
So I need news of this (and the following books) coming out to go as far and as fast as possible.
And my advertising budget is all in the cover art.
I need all of you to share the news. Let folks know about the publishing date (Oct 29, Eastern Australian time) and how awesome it is to have the book existing at all. That sort of thing.
Any fascinating ad copy you can come up with is just icing on the cake.
I don’t want anything as ludicrous as the Three Wolf Moon treatment. Just… buzz.
So. Between now and about two weeks after the 29th of October… signal boost the living shit out of this book, okay?
Challenge #00282: The Kindness of Strangers
In the bottom of one of the many pockets of the bag, forgotten but apparently not for that long, was a slightly battered perfectly pink apple. It had been on many journeys, and was remarkably unscathed considering how easily apples usually succumb to bumping about in a bag full of other odds and ends.
There was a face on it. A happy face made of two small circles and a larger arc. Cut into the skin by someone else’s knife.
It also smelled sweet. And made Tia’s stomach rumble.
Tia bought it closer to her mouth.
And gasped in shock as a gnarled old hand snapped onto her wrist. “That’s not yours, young lady.”
His eyes were older than the rest of him. And full of so very much pain.
Tia didn’t let it go. “You gonna eat it?”
“No.”
“You gonna let it rot?” she made a face.
“It won’t rot,” said the old man. “It’s… a memory. From an old friend.”
Tia’s stomach rumbled some more. “I’m hungry. Got anything edible?”
“Edible is a big word for a little girl.”
“Not really. It only has six letters. If you want a big word, try ‘condescending’.”
A warm smile. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He dipped into his coat pockets and presented a banana like a man pulling a rabbit out of his hat. “I don’t often have my bag of memories out. Here. This one’s edible.”
Tia swapped it for the apple. She watched the old man kiss the stylized face and slip it back into the bag from whence it came.
The banana was delicious. It filled the empty places, but not quite all of them. “That bag’s bigger than it looks. You got lots of stuff, mister.”
“Doctor,” said the old man.
“You don’t look like a doctor.”
Now the smile reached all the way into the eyes. Masked some of the pain. “I’m not that kind of doctor.”
Tia sighed. “Pity. Folks keep getting sick in the tumbledowns.”
“Don’t they have doctors for you?”
“Not the good kind. Doctor for the tumbledowns make people vanish. Underfolk don’t like those doctors.”
“Of course not,” said the old man. “So. Anything… special… about this illness?”
“Folks turn blue and go… strange. Then the doctors come and vanish them.” Tia licked banana off her fingers. “And it’s never the folks as aught to get sick. Like older folks or the littlies. It’s all the fit folks. The young folks. Everyone as should stay healthy.”
“Interesting,” said the old man. “All right. I think I should have a look. But I do have a few rules.”
Tia groaned and rolled her eyes. “Go on.”
“Don’t wander off. When I say run, run. Do not pull any levers, press any buttons or otherwise fiddle with things you don’t understand. And never. Ever. Try to touch anything strange.”
Somehow, the old man made the bag vanish on the way to the tumbledowns. He had a magic wand that he flicked around at random. Whatever it told him, Tia couldn’t figure out. Yet.
It took him ten minutes to find the monsters.
Two hours to defeat them.
After that, Tia didn’t want to quit running with the Doctor.
[Muse food remaining: 2 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
RTFM (now with nifty cover arts!) has had a slight upgrade.
And you can still get Scavenger for FREE!
…And in other news, I have reached 20K on the third book of my trilogy. YO BETA READERS! GET YOUR GD FINGER OUT!
Challenge #00269: Vamping it Up
Pierce Opal Silkyoak goes to a swanky vampire party :P
[AN: Smartarse]
She wore black, of course. Black with lots and lots of jet beads that made it shimmered in any available light. A well-selected scattering of diamonds and gold ensured that there would always, always be light.
The rest of the vamps attending the soiree showed various levels of quiet respect. Those who were her enemies backed off. Those who were her allies paid close attention to her every move. The least twitch, sneer or glare meant that someone was out of favour, and therefore out of luck.
Regular vampires were tough enough. It took real fangs and cunning to survive as a vampire in Australia.
Pierce Opal Silkyoak had arrived.
She descended the stairs with grace and poise becoming her station. Selecting a small canapé to nibble on.
It’s true that vampires need to drink the blood of the living to survive. However, that doesn’t mean they only drink the blood of the living. The thing about garlic is true, but not for the reason one might think. A careful observer might notice that there was also no asparagus served at a vampire gathering.
The live music played like automatons. This was due to them being Influenced so that they would not remember anything they saw and heard at the gathering. Fortunately, the co-ordinators had at least picked an act where looking like automatons was part of their routine.
Steam Powered Giraffe. What a name.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Fifty bucks to play something written this century.”
Pierce sighed.
There was always one.
The werewolves had Moon Moon.
She had Meikle Peridot Pine. And since he was her direct descendant in more ways than one, she was under legal obligation to protect him.
“Peridot. Try not to bribe the band. They don’t know you’re there.” She crammed a canapé into his otherwise perpetually flapping mouth. “A blessing I sometimes wish I could bestow upon myself.”
“Howcome I’m–”
“Chew and swallow. It’s been one hundred and twenty years. You think you’d learn basic table manners in that time.”
Chomp chomp chomp gulp. “So howcome I’m Peridot alla the time an’ you’re sometimes Pierce and sometimes Opal and sometimes Dame Silkyoak?”
“Peridot is the only name you possess that carries any inherent respect. Respect is important. I keep telling you this.” Pierce sighed. “And you keep forgetting.”
“…vampirenamesarestoopid…”
“There are no stupid names, dear. Only stupid vampires.”
“Can’t I at least snack on the drummer?”
“He is under my protection. Just like you are. We have plenty of thralls in the bedchambers.”
“Aaaawwww… Thraaaaaaalllls…”
“It’s that or the people-food.”
“How about a roadie?”
“Do not make me use your full name in front of so many.”
“Shuttingup.”
“Good boy.”
Time for some of the real business.
[Muse food remaining: 3 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Pondering…
I am mulling and mentally milling an SPG fanfic.
Yeah. A daily story, a trilogy to finish [YO! Beta Readers! Get the flip back to me, OK?] and I’m pondering fanfic about a merry band of robot troubadours.
…about Rabbit becoming Bunny.
[AnditmightcontainanOCselfinsertrobotcameo]
…ahem..
Now. Given my past in the Realm of trying to write bad ideas and having them mutate into fantastic ideas… I think this is a bad idea.
Maybe I should leave it percolate a little longer.
What do you think?
Challenge #00263: Moebius Repair
“We already fixed that”
“Wait, we fixed it too”
“We did it last night”
“How many times has it been fixed?”
*someone tallies the numbers*
“11 times, in the last 2 months”
Job #2984QEW8: Rattle in the air duct at Left Topsy-Turvy Town.
Rael’s Finder app had flagged it because it included a box of chocolates as a bonus payment. Nobody else had tagged it as theirs, so he leaped on the opportunity.
Not that he needed chocolate, strictly speaking, but tiny parcels of calories never really went amiss. That, and he appreciated the finer things in life.
He took his Everywhere toolkit with him, as rattles could have any cause, up to and including deceased rodents tangled in cables.
The Cleaners, efficient though they were, didn’t get everything. It was a little factlet to which he owed his existence. Literally.
“Heading to East Topsy-Turvy Town?” said a fellow JOAT on the same platform. Of course they were a human. They were love with rhetorical questions.
“Rattle in the vents. Time plus chocolate.”
“Ugh,” said the human. “Do yourself a favour and run away now.”
Wait. What?
Rael deliberately got on a different carriage on the tram. After that, it was tourist-dodging until he got to the right address.
Loose cable. Easily fixed with a bit of ductape.
Less than a minute, including the time it took to remove and replace the vent cover.
The chocolates were the good kind. Naturally sourced, not printed from chemical simulations. Experts said that no-one should be able to tell the difference, but experts were wrong on that one.
People took their indulgences seriously.
*
Job #2984RBZ9: Slow fan at Left Jarbingville. Time plus 1 doz. doughnuts. Repairer picks doughnuts.
Hm. Two stops further down the tramline and a short trip relative-up by Veet. Worth a dozen iced and cream-filled. Ooo, or maybe with custard.
There was the same human JOAT at the tram station. “Slow fan at Left Jarbingville?”
“…yes?”
“Hah. Then it’s a hum at Lower Erkins, then a buzz at Upper Elemeno, and finally a glonk in Windy Passage. Then it’s back to the rattle in Left Topsy-Turvy Town. On the upside, you’re paid for life. On the downside, your rep takes a sucker-punch and you’re doing the same thing forever. It’s a Moebius repair. Run. Now.”
Rael took note, but he also kept his distance. Human insanity could easily catch. And he’d never heard of any job being flagged as a Moebius repair.
The slow fan needed a little boost to its engine. Just a little tweak and he was done. And enjoying the wickedest doughnuts ever produced by the caring hands of a Gyiik.
*
Job #2983SZC0: Annoying hum at Lower Erkins. Time plus home-cooked meal.
It was the first job he’d seen with a menu choice. But, sadly, the crazy human had called it.
This warranted some deep investigation…
*
The cable that caused the rattle powered a moving part. Directly. Stilling the cable stilled the part. Which slowed the fan. Amping the fan created the hum. Muting the hum created the buzz. Stilling the buzz created the glonk and, finally, eliminating the glonk freed the cable and started off the rattle again.
Rael undid all of the incremental repairs and wrapped some soft foam around the cable.
Moebius repair, he noted on the JOATnet, is code for “look deeper”.
It was the best flakking home-cooked meal of his life.
[Muse food remaining: 6 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]