Spencer Luster: Knights of the Full Moon

Showing posts with label Knights of the Full Moon. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

WorldCon 2012

Four of the five members of my writing group went to WorldCon 2012 this year in Chicago. We had a fine time with some nice surprises, a little disappointment, and an odd experience booking rooms.

Beth, Helen, Bob and I represented our group. Alas, Marc couldn't make it this time. Bob was also accompanied by his girlfriend Alice who turned out to be a lovely person with deep roots in Chicago like my own. (BEAR DOWN CHICAGO BEARS!)

Altogether we booked three rooms at the Hyatt. Without going into detail, the billing wound up being optimized to be as wrong as possible while still involving the people who actually stayed in the rooms. Still, they were very nice rooms and the Regency Club on the 35th floor was swell.

My disappointment was that I had arrived prepared to pitch Knights of the Full Moon as well as Shattered Home to any appropriate agent, editor or publisher who wasn't fast enough to run away. I had my 5 second elevator pitches locked and loaded, as well as brilliant half minute synopses almost guaranteed to leave the ~~victim~~ potential ally breathless for more. Alas, despite my pretty good efforts, no such opportunity arose. The closest came while I attended the Night Shade Books presentation of what's new. Turns out, however, that they don't publish YA stuff. :-( While SH is actually YA/adult cross-over, KFM is definitely YA, and my work in progress (currently titled The Other Side of Space) is for MG to YA.

One of the good surprises was seeing Teresa Frohock at Worldcon. She's a very nice lady whose work I had the pleasure of critiquing some time ago on the Online Writers Workshop, and whose comments from long ago you can find here somewhere. Her first book is titled Miserere--An Autumn Tale. Here's her site: www.teresafrohock.com

Another excellent surprise was having Neil Gaiman show up for the Hugo ceremonies! His Doctor Who episode (The Doctor's Wife) won for best dramatic presentation, short form. Quite interesting that three nominees were from Doctor Who, with a fourth (an episode of the U.S. sitcom Community) apparently inspired by Doctor Who.

Coming up some time I'll talk about an amazing writer named Jack Skillingstead!

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Scrabble Poetry

I'd not blogged for more than a handful of months in part because of so much going on -- "The vicissitudes of life" as my old friend Victor Lyons used to say.

I was prompted to get back to it recently because of something my daughter Jamie said. Yet when I did, I started (yesterday) with a note about my new novel Knights of the Full Moon.

So I decided to try again, but realized I wanted to take more time than I really have at the moment to write about Jamie. That's when I noticed how I mention Scrabble at the top of this blog, and yet I haven't said anything about it yet.

So, without (much) further ado, here's a Scrabble poem that I wrote some time ago during a fierce war with my friend George. It was the opening volley in a horrible conflict.

How do I spell thee? Let me count the ways.

I spell thee OBI, OBE, and OBEAH, all are right,

We know even when the book is out of sight,

But FATTEND upon all seeing made me lose face

I spell thee XI and CHI and KI, with definitions not the same,

I spell thee freely, what 'ere it takes to win the game

I spell thee with passion that all can feel,

And thus bluff the phony, so you will think it real,

In thinking of GRIEFS, is it I before E?

Do ADZ and ADZE both correctly use my Z?

With my lost challenge, I'll spell thee again, but not the same,

But now the spot is gone. Damn!

I shall spell thee better next game.

With lazy apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning. More later!

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Knights of the Full Moon: 1st Draft Complete

Huzzah! I've completed the first draft of my latest YA/SF novel. [81K words] I'm currently waiting for my group's feedback on the final chapter, but I'll be proceeding post haste with writing the second draft starting at chapter one.

Beth Vaughan and I operate the same way -- save everyone's running comments, but continue writing new material until the book is complete. *Then* go back and start fixing your huge, steaming pile of --

Of course she has 5 (or 6?) more books worth of experience at it, and a very nice publishing track record. One step at a time. :-)

Spencer

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

(excerpt from chapter three)

"What I'm looking for," Jason said, bouncing back on his feet, "is a package of fusion grade boron 11 from Earth. Seen anything like that?"

Maggie looked up at the ceiling and scratched her cheek. "Boron? That's one of those "element" things, isn't it? And you say it's used in fusion, eh?"

"Maggs!"

The black woman chuckled and hooked her thumb backwards. "Check the crate next to the lathe. I ordered the squid to unload it at highest priority and drop it here. The rest goes to Computer Science."

Jason jumped up and almost banged his skull on the low ceiling. When he landed, he leaned over and hugged Maggie. "You're the best!"

"Tell me something I don't know," she said. "Not that it does me any good."

She said something else, but Jason had already changed focus to the blue crate. One unfastened lid and one layer of packing foam later and the silvery cylinder full of boron 11 was in his hands. Combine the contents with some plain old hydrogen in the fusion reactor of Argo, and billions of joules of energy were his to command. Black space would belong to him again!

Jason put the cylinder down to replace the lid of the crate. He dropped it in place and was about to reseal it when his hands stopped.

Had that been a box from Quellan's under the fusion fuel?

He popped the lid off again.

Sure enough, that deep red label with the spiral galaxy pattern was unmistakable.

Mom worked for Quellan's.

He hesitated before picking up the box. The last time she'd sent anything to the station had been half a year ago, a week late for Jason's fourteenth birthday. The Whirl-O-Ball had been something he'd begged for—back when he was five years old. She had included a note, and it was a whole sixteen words long.

Still, if this was from Mom at least it showed she was thinking about him. Correction, at least it showed she had thought about him, however long ago she'd ordered whatever this was.

"Hey Maggs, you said this crate is for the Computer Center or specifically for Dad?"

She slid out from under the small spacecraft, welder still in hand. "What's the transfer label say on the side?"

Jason looked. Dr. Anson Blackstone. Personal. "It's for Dad."

"You thinking of hauling that to your father yourself? A squid would be easier."

"No," Jason said. "I was just curious."

A grunt was Maggie's reply.

Jason stared at the Quellans box. Maybe Dad had simply ordered something for himself. Or if it was from Mom, that didn't mean it was for her son who she hadn't bothered to see in three years. And even if Mom had sent it, and even if it was for him, it was probably dumb and thoughtless and she'd had someone else pick it out.

His curiosity beat out his bitterness. Curiosity and hope.

The box wasn't much bigger than his hand, but it had surprising mass, maybe a whole kilogram. The ribbon around it was real, shiny fabric, not one of those printed things. He untied it. The box top slid off easily.

Jason stared at the gold rectangle that had alternating violet and black stripes. He only recognized it because of who Dad was. The thing was a "Delphic Oracle", the core of a computer that some people said could have almost infinite, instantly accessible memory. Not even the FAs had that kind of tech. This wasn't for him. Definitely for Dr. Anson Blackstone, Chief Computer Scientist.

It was a dream that Dad had talked about, a theoretical device the cyber ginks played with based on speculation about four or more dimensional space. Except this was the real thing!

No. It couldn't be real. Dad was one of the people who'd proved that it couldn't work. The big chip was probably one of those mock ups for some fancy presentation. But it sure was a beautiful model. Jason twisted the latch of the clear plastic cover. He just wanted to feel it, and then put it back.

His finger touched the surface, right on one of the violet stripes. It was cold, very cold. He hadn't expected that. The black stripes were the same.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take it out, just peek at the other side. He started to lift the chip, but then thought about how delicate the leads of real chips were—one wrong scrape and you've turned a very expensive piece of technology into a ballast rock. Even if it was a model he didn't want to take the chance. Dad would show him later. Jason eased the chip back and closed the cover. He returned the plastic case to the box.

Then he felt the pain at his fingertip.

At first he thought he'd poked it on something sharp in the box, but he couldn't see anything. Then the pain flared up and it felt more like a burn. "Ow! Crap."

He looked at his finger. Nothing there. He rubbed it with his thumb.

"What'd you do, Darlin'?" Maggie asked from under the ship she was working on.

"I don't know, but it sure—Oh, Jeez!" The pain exploded now, a dozen times worse. The burning felt like it could have been from a rocket exhaust. He almost put his finger in his mouth, but pain started at his thumb now too and something made him stop.

He looked again.

Now he could see a change in the skin of his finger. It was rippling in little waves, almost as if it was…boiling. The skin puckered and bubbled until tiny drops of blood seeped out, but they quickly boiled into red foam. Smoke came off as the foam evaporated, and the puckering continued up his finger and along this thumb and God oh God oh God did it hurt! "Maggie! Maggie! Something's burning me up!"

Jason twitched wildly and banged into the crate. He wasn't thinking, just trying to get away from the agony. Smoke now billowed from his hand and it stunk and—

"Jason! Let me see it!" Maggie grabbed his wrist hard with both hands. She still wore her welding gloves.

His eyes were closed tight against the pain, but he forced himself to open them and look. Through the smoke he could see that his finger and most of his thumb were…gone. How could they be gone? The skin of his whole hand boiled, ready to vaporize next. He screamed, "What's happening?"

Maggie shouted, "You're not burning! You're being disassembled by nanoids!"