Read for Animals!

I've gotten involved in a project to publish an anthology containing stories about animals, with the proceeds going to support animal shelters!

 

Follow the publishing progress and learn about the contributors on

http://www.readforanimals.blogspot.com

 

I contributed the Prologue from my WIP The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars.  It will appear under the title "Survivor."  The book will include fiction, poetry, short accounts of personal experiences involving animals, and some artwork as well!  And all for a great cause!

 

By the way, intelligent extraterrestrial termites don't count as animals, I fear!  Still, I've found a way to include something from an unpublished volume of my Ki'shto'ba series!

 

 

 

 



For Indie Publishers: Who Gets All the Loot after You Die?

       Of course, that title is delivered somewhat tongue-in-cheek, especially in my case since so far my books have hardly been best sellers.  However, every author needs a literary executor and especially (as in my case) if they are no longer spring chickens and they have a large body of manuscripts and computer documents that have not been edited or published yet.  I want my material to be preserved and treated with respect after I die, and I would hope somebody would like my books well enough to want to take on the task of continuing publication. 

       Unfortunately, I have no relatives or friends who would want to do this or even know how to attempt it.  My present will has no provision in it for a literary executor, and I had better get on the stick and at least discuss the situation with an attorney.  Maybe reading the following article will get me started.  The links included in the article and the comments on those links are also valuable, particularly the first one cited.

The following is reblogged from The Story Reading Ape:
http://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/2014/01/28/dun-writin-now-whut-a-series-by-susan-uttendorfsky-owner-of-adirondack-editing-10-what-happens-when-you-die/comment-page-1/#comment-6760

Dun Writin’—Now Whut?

A series by Susan Uttendorfsky – Owner of Adirondack Editing –

(10 What Happens When You Die?)

 

       Wait, wait, don’t run away. This is not a religious post. This is a practical, necessary discussion about your writing, your books, your accounts, etc., when you bite the dust.

       It’s going to happen to all of us, sooner or later, and writers have additional details to worry about—or their heirs and estates, if the writers don’t address it. What happens to your copyright? What happens to your accounts? Who can keep selling your books? There are lots of questions to answer, and it’s best if you think about it ahead of time. You’ve learned a lot through your journey of writing, publishing, and marketing. How many years did it take you to get where you are today? Are your heirs going to have automatic knowledge and know what to do? Probably not.

       First, let’s learn the language. What we’re talking about are your “literary assets” and “literary estate.” Your writing can also be called your “intellectual property” (IP) and “intellectual property assets.” The person who manages these things after you’re gone might be called a “literary trustee.”

So what does happen to your IP after your death? That’s up to you, so start thinking. Who is going to be your trustee? How will royalties and income be distributed? Will there be any provision for extending your copyright, which expires 70 years after your death?

       This article is fairly big on questions and fairly skimpy on information. That’s because each country, state, and family is different. What works for one author might not work for another, so you have to make your own decisions. I can only offer places to start. A lawyer will be needed to set up the trust and other arrangements. A will is a definite necessity!

       Here are the blog posts from which the ideas for this theme were taken:

http://www.thepassivevoice.com/11/2013/death-and-the-self-pubbed-writer/

http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/2013/11/death-and-self-pubbed-writer.html

       Along these lines, I mentioned accounts. Passwords will be needed by your trustee in order to manage your assets, so be sure you keep a list—somewhere, offline, frequently updated!—of your important passwords. Your Amazon.com password, CreateSpace, private printers, etc.—anywhere you do business on a regular basis. Your trustee will be able to find account numbers and usernames on the subscribing emails, if you kept them, but passwords change. Without the passwords, your trustee’s job will be much more difficult. Many companies, not just those involved in publishing, neglect policies and procedures for transferring accounts to an heir or trustee. They just don’t think that far ahead. So you need to.

       We’re Dun for today, so keep on Writin’!

Susan

Susan Uttendorfsky

Owner, Adirondack Editing

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New 5-Star Review of The Termite Queen, v.1

Thanks to Chris Graham (the Story Reading Ape himself) for the following 5-star review, which appears on Amazon, Amazon UK, and on Goodreads.

       About 1000 years from now, Earth and its inhabitants have survived several apocalyptic events, climate change, religious and political wars and even a 'Dark Ages' type period, resulting in a future where politics, religion and people's mindsets/priorities are quite different from ours in many respects.
       Space exploration was revived, resulting in a first contact, which eventually introduced Humans to three other diverse types of intelligent beings who allowed Humanity to join their Confederation and accompany them on their exploration of other worlds.
       A new world is discovered. Unfortunately, the intelligence of one of its creature races was not discovered until after the death of one of them and the abduction and death of another. The reason was simple, unlike the Confederations four races, these creatures did not speak vocally, nor were they telepathic, they communicated in a completely different way.
       As well as creating a believable future Earth and four non-human extra-terrestrial
races, the author cleverly explains how to surmise a language from a previously unknown form of non-verbal communication.
       Although the story involves all five races, the emphasis is on the discovery of intelligence, the building/understanding of a new language and the return journey to the newly discovered world (including a romance between two scientists who are polar opposites in every respect).
       This book enticingly paves the way for the next book in what promises to be a fascinating series.

 

For good measure, here are extracts from another review of the same book and from a 5-star review of v.2, which concludes the 2v. novel.

 

On v.1: "If you like science fiction that's full of science, this is for you. If you like a side of emotion and romance, this is doubly for you. I'll be moving forward to see what happens and to ultimately settle my opinion on the central characters...mostly I'll be carrying on to observe more of the alien culture, which is the most polished and shining aspect of this book(in my opinion)." -- T.A. Miles

 

On v.2: "The whole of the story is also high and sacred myth retold. We find nods to the Mabinogi, classical Greek myth and the New Testament as well. Of the former, some aspects of Gwidian's life mirror the old Welsh tales. Kaitrin's retelling of the Polyphemus episode from Odyssey for her Termite audience is a real hoot and requires a good bit of cross-cultural gymnastics. Always a bit of an enigma for Taylor's 30th century, post-religious, humanistic and generally agnostic humans, the Nameless One -- the Creator as she is known by the Shshi -- and her communion with her Termite children comes across very well from the Termite perspective. Here we find several nods to the New Testament, including the sacramental nature of the Termites' nectar and how the goddess describes humans as 'not knowing what they believe'; and thus she must resort to vaguish signs to communicate with them rather than the more direct visions she uses with the in many respects more innocent Shshi. It struck me as an interesting parallel to the teaching of Jesus that one must go to the Heavenly Father "as a child" (i.e., with innocence and openness) and this pretty well describes the Shshi vis-a-vis the Mother. They have a kind of innate openness and innocence and acceptance that I think humans lack. Very nicely done!" -- Chris Brown

 

See links to all TermiteWriter's books in the side bar of this blog!

What Has TermiteWriter Been Up To Lately?

       Neglecting her termites, that's what!

Neglecting her blogs, too, but that's less important

 than neglecting her termites!

 

       So why have I been so shiftless lately?  It's not the holidays, because I don't do much for Christmas.  It's my WIP, The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars.  I may have mentioned before that I have a beta reader for this humongous piece, and he is totally involved -- he loves the opus and keeps wanting more of it!  This has impelled me to work diligently to get parts of it ready to send to him. 

I may not draw very well,
but this really does capture
what the Captain looks like.
 

       I'm supposed to be shortening it (Hah! Famous last words!)  Actually, mostly I'm just reading it.  It's been a long time since I went through it and I've become completely absorbed, and the farther I get into it, the more intense and compelling it becomes.   On the bright side, I've not added anything to it and I actually have shortened it a little, but only by way of cutting words like unnecessary "that," and "just" and "now" (which I overuse).  I do occasionally condense a paragraph or cut a sentence, but those emendations are like grains of sand plucked away from a beach. 

       I honestly think I could shorten it more drastically, but I get caught up in the story and the flow of the dialogue (the piece is heavy on dialogue, like all my writings), and I never can achieve any distance.  Maybe after I  finish this pass-through, I can manage a more objective look.

       Another thing that the story requires is new chapterization and that I'm managing to do.  Since the book is cast as a biography, I began by heading the chapters with nothing but dates and places.   This makes it impossible to know what's going on by looking through the ToC, so I've never been able to find anything in the story.  The chapters were also too long, so I'm chopping them into shorter chunks and adding chapter titles.  I like books with chapter titles.  I think they can draw a reader in.  For example, here are the titles of the first ten chapters of The Valley of Thorns (v.3 of The Labors of Ki'shto'ba Huge-Head):

 

The Marchers Muster before the Hot Gate. 11

The Hosts March South. 22

The Battle of Wei’loi’bao’cha. 32

The Aftermath of the Battle. 4

Peace Negotiations. 5

The Return of the Envoy. 5

The Evacuation of Wei’loi’bao’cha. 7

The Bite of the Tooth77

The Horn Is Broken

Mourning

 

       Now doesn't that list make you interested in reading the book so you can learn what all those intriguing titles imply?

       As I add chapter titles to MWFB, I'm also retaining the dates covered in the chapters, since it is a biography.  All this is taking some time, but it will make further revision easier.  I'm still not saying I'll ever be able to publish it because it is in fact the quintessential million-word novel -- all one humongous story.  The Termite Queen was too long for one volume, but it fit nicely into two.  MWFB will need maybe five and that's just for the part I've completed -- it isn't finished, you know.  It can't be a series in the traditional sense, which implies that each volume stands alone.  This is all one long story, just like people's lives are one long story.  You need the contents of v.1 to prepare you for v.2 and v.3, just as you need to know what happens in a man's childhood to help you understand his actions at the ages of 30 and 50.

       Just the same, I'm sorely tempted to publish the first volume, which I call Eagle Ascendant.  I takes Capt. Robbin Nikalishin to age 31 and drops him at a huge cliffhanger.  It would be a long book in itself -- at the moment it's 171,000 words.  But my beta reader was crazy about it and said he didn't think I should lose a word.  So what's to do?  Will anybody else be similarly impressed?  Only the space gods know!  If readers did take to it, it would be worthwhile plowing ahead with the project.

 

       So that's why I've been neglecting my poor little termites!  But they are still there, demanding attention!  Why don't you all go out and help keep them content while I cook this big pudding that is The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars?  You can find Ki'shto'ba and its cohorts at Amazon or at Smashwords.

 

       A footnote on the genre of Man Who Found Birds:  I almost have to call it a piece of literary fiction.  It just happens to be laid in 28th century and to involve space travel and future history, but what it really deals with is the human spirit, with all its triumphs and all its failings.  Really, all my books, including the ones inhabited by extraterrestrial termites, deal with that subject.  Mythmaker Precept No.  17: 

There are creatures on this planet [amended later to in the universe]

 who speak, form symbols, and share emotions;

these may be called human.

 

 

  9

Christmas in Ireland, 28th-century style

Farmland and View of Wicklow Town
From Wikipedia Creative Commons, copyright David Quinn 

       My WIP, The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars, is a fictionalized biography of Robbin Haysus Nikalishin, the starship Captain who made the first contact with extraterrestrial intelligent life in the 28th century  As a child attending the Epping Science Academy in the Islands of Britan, he became close friends with a fellow student, Kolm Magilligoody, who hailed from Eira, as Ireland is called in that period.  Kolm's home is an agricultural co-op not far from Wicklo, and when Robbie was 17 years old, he went home with his friend to spend the Midwinter Holiday.

       Many of you will remember that in my future history, Earth has banned the open practice of religion because of the evils that dogmatic religious institutions have perpetrated over the millennia.  However, remnant groups of several different ancient religions have persisted and are tolerated as long as they keep a low profile, do not proselytize, and do not form organized entities dedicated to the promotion of their beliefs.  The Remnant Romishers in Eira are one such group and Kolm came out of this culture.  Parenthetically, Robbie's middle name, Haysus, is an anglification of the Spainish Jesus, so he is always curious about the linking of the name to a god.

 

       Here is an excerpt from Chapter 9: Robbie's First Visit to Eira.

 

       Robbie had never heard of anything like the Eirish Midwinter festivity; his knowledge of the Romish religion came solely from a brief exposition in one of Prf. Doone’s classes.  Kolm’s father explained that the celebration took place on the solstice and incorporated elements from what ancient Romish worshipers had called “Krismess.”  The MaGilligoodys set up an array of little figurines in a cave-like setting; they called it a “kraytch.”  There was a woman in a blue gown with sparkly trim on it, a baby lying in a cradle, and a man standing beside them.  From the top of the cave projected a wire with a star on it, something like the star on Robbie’s space plane.  Sheep and donkeys and (mystifyingly) a camel were arrayed around, and winged fairies were stuck up on the wall behind.  Facing this tableau were two men dressed in bright robes, holding out a box and a vial. 

       Kolm said, “There are supposed to be three of those, but last year one of ’em disappeared.  I think maybe one of the cats got holt of it and carried it off.”

       “What’s it represent?” asked Robbie, watching Kolm’s Grammy lighting fat beeswax candles at each end of the scene.

       “It’s the birth of that god-man Jaysus that’s on me medal,” said Kolm.  “That’s his mother Mairin watchin’ over him.  He was supposed to have been born this time of the year – that’s what we’re celebratin’.”

       “Who’s the man?  I thought you said he didn’t have a father.”

       “It’s his foster father, name of Josef.  Mairin was married to him, ’cause that was back in the days when women had to have men to look after them.”

       “What’s the star for?”

       “They say it burst out bright in the sky at Jaysus’s birth.  Probably a supernova, you know, if it ever really happened a-tall.  And the family was so poor that the babby was birthed in a barn, and yet this star set up right atop it.  Those chaps in the robes – they call ’em Wise Men – Professors, most likely … they got its coordinates and brought fancy gifts to Jaysus to show they recognized he was a god.  It’s supposed to have happened somewhere at the east end of the Mediterrian, where it’s all a Devastation Zone now.  A pretty tale, it is.”

       “And you Eirish really worship this god?” asked Robbie, looking at Kolm’s father.

       “Oh, I don’t know that I’d call it worship, lad,” Mat MaGilligoody said.  “But we Eirish tend to be a superstitious lot.  If it’s not gods, it’s fairies, ye know.  Two of those even got hooked up in this tale, ye can see there.  It’s just part of our tradition to do these here things at Midwinter – a nice, peaceful way of celebratin’.”

       Robbie found it totally bizarre, but nevertheless he stood looking at the baby and at the mother and at the star, unable to interpret the emotions stirring within him.

       On the solstice they had a big feast (the main course was goose, which made Robbie a little uncomfortable, afraid he was eating the one whose acquaintance he had made) and then they sang traditional songs.  Some were in an ancient tongue whose meaning was unknown even to the MaGilligoodys, but one was in an archaic dialect of Inge. 

Silent night, holy night ...
       All is calm, and all is bright
       Around the virgin mother and child –
       Holy infant, all tender, all mild …
       May they sleep in a haven of peace …
       Sleep in a haven of peace …

 Robbie thought he had never heard a song so tranquil and so moving.  “That mother and child – that’s your Mairin and Jaysus?” he asked.
       “Right.  The same as is in the kraytch,” said Mat.
       “I can’t help being a little surprised.  I thought the ancient religions were supposed to be violent and evil.  This doesn’t seem that way.”
       And Kolm’s mother said, “I’ve an idea, friend of me son, that none of them was violent in its heart.  I think it’s the hearts of humans that misunderstood the Right Way and made ’em so.”
       Later in the evening, Kolm played a tin whistle, a talent Robbie hadn’t known he possessed, and Kolm’s father played a grotesque musical instrument where the air was forced through a bag.  They told ancient Eirish stories about vanishing cities and wandering lights and they drank mulled ale; it was not Robbie’s first taste of alcohol, but it was his first time to drink a little more than was wise.  The next morning he was privileged to experience his first hangover.
       When the time came to return to school, the boys treated themselves to a sea journey – taking an excursion boat across Sainjorge’s Channel instead of catching a wing hopper.  The craft was operated by Gwidian Tours, the enterprise of an old family of seafarers from Kardif.  It was yet another first for Robbie – his first time to bob on the waters of the sea.  He got a bit queasy, but it excited him tremendously, and he hated to see the trip end.
       “Ye’re kinda quiet, lad,” said Kolm, as they neared the harbor.  “What are ye thinking about?”
       “I’m thinking that I envy you, Goody,” Robbie replied.  “I didn’t know – I couldn’t have realized – how happy people could be … with a family like yours … ”
       Kolm clapped him on the shoulder.  “Well, ye do seem to have had a bit of a rough time in yer life, friend of mine.  But ye’re welcome in my family.  Ye’re welcome to come back and soil yer boots in the goose shit as often as ye like!”

I HOPE ALL OF YOU HAVE

 A VERY MERRY "KRISMESS"

AND A NEW YEAR

FULL OF YOUR HEARTS' DESIRES!

 

 

To Rewrite or Not to Rewrite: Go with Your Gut

       I'm in the process of revising The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars (yes, I'm actually thinking about publishing it, long as it is).  There was one scene I wanted to change.  It's an important and dramatic scene where we learn why a particular character acted as he did, producing disastrous consequences.  I have a friend who read all my books as I was writing them and she presented the opinion that the motivation in this scene was too old-fashioned -- that is, too old-fashioned for 21st- century sensibilities, to say nothing of the 28th century.  I do want this scene to seem urgent and believable, so I decided to adjust some of the elements to make what had happened more seriously horrendous.

       Does that make sense?  I can't tell you the details -- they shouldn't be revealed until you read the book.

       I ought to say parenthetically that when I decide to start preparing a story for publication, especially when I plan to divide it into volumes, I never work with my original construction.  I make a copy and divide into what I call Master Copies of the final forms, and then revise those.  Therefore, I still have the original piece for reference, with all the annotations, dates inserted, etc. 

       So yesterday I rewrote the scene in question, changing certain aspects.  And it came out all disorganized -- the plot points are more terrible and destructive, but the focus was diverted from the person who has to be seen as the guilty party.  It becomes more complicated -- the blame is not clear-cut.  Frankly, it just didn't work in my opinion.  Didn't feel right.

       This morning I took out the rewritten part, placed it in a document where I keep deleted segments (just in case), then copied the original from the basic manuscript and stuck it back in.  Then I started over.  I kept the same storyline but I beefed up some of the motivations and character aspects.  What happened may seem old-fashioned, but still, given the characters as they are presented, it makes a stronger and more striking case than my revision did.

       Just call me Jethro Gibbs.  My gut told me the old way was right in spite of my friend's opinion.  Sometimes you have to go with your gut and stick with what you wrote in the beginning.

 

       What problems do the rest of you have with rewriting?  Do you listen to what your gut tells you is right, or is it all intellectual analysis? 

Publishing Update: The Valley of Thorns

 

       Volume Three (The Valley of Thorns) of The Labors of Ki'shto'ba Huge-Head has been successfully published on Amazon, both paperback and Kindle, and on Smashwords!  The Smashwords went easier than it ever has (unless they find something to quibble about in considering it for the Premium Catalog).  You can download a 25% sample on Smashwords, which will include the preliminary material and approximately four chapters.  Amazon hasn't linked up the paperback and the Kindle yet, but ultimately you will be able to get a Kindle version FREE if you buy a paperback.

       I'm having an Anniversary Party as a Facebook event on November 15.  Two years ago I published my first book, Monster Is in the Eye of the Beholder, on that date.  Now I have six books published, plus the little free novelette on Smashwords, "The Blessing of Krozem." All my Facebook Friends are invited.  If you're not my friend yet but are on Facebook, go in and friend me, and I'll invite you.

 

Why would you want to come to my party?

 

Witty conversation, free virtual food,

information about my books,

maybe a surprise reveal of the unfinished

cover for v.4: Beneath the Mountain of Heavy Fear

 

Plus, I'm going to have special prices on all my books,

as well as a drawing for a couple of paperbacks

from the names of the people who attend.

Go to TermiteWriter's Anniversary Party

and check it out!