Reminiscences about Old Libraries from an Old Librarian, Part 1

       I have worked in really old libraries and in brand new libraries and in some of a middle age, and while the new ones were more roomy and convenient, it's the old ones that I have the fondest memories of, and also some of the weirdest.  All libraries have their eccentricities, but the old ones are like pixillated little old ladies and gentlemen.  You never know what they will do next.

       The first library I ever worked in (and the one where I studied as an undergraduate) was the one below.  I attended Colorado College from 1957 through 1961 and during that time I worked as a student assistant for the summer after my sophomore year (the summer after my junior year I took beginning German and I never tried to work and go to school at the same time -- I've never been a multitasker).  Then I worked again as a circulation assistant the summer after I graduated, before I went to Cornell to study for my MA.  In 1962 CC's brand spanking new Charles Leaming Tutt Library opened and I worked there  that same summer (starting only a few weeks after the building opened -- they were still laying carpet) before I headed to UCLA for my library science degree.  I was to return ito the new library in 1963 as Catalog Librarian, but that's a whole different story.

Coburn Library, Colorado College, 1894-1962
A Postcard View
From http://www.cardcow.com/103698/coburn-library-colorado-college-springs/

       Here is some information on Coburn Library from

http://www2.coloradocollege.edu/library/SpecialCollections/Walk/Coburn.html

The building was constructed of "peachblow sandstone quarried near Aspen."  It's a beautiful red stone and several of the early buildings on the campus were constructed of that material.  "Coburn cost about $45,000 to build. The major donor was the Hon. N. P. Coburn of Newton Massachusetts, a childhood friend of CC President Slocum. In 1940, to make room for the growing collection, a four-story addition with room for 60,000 volumes was built for $20,000."



Interior View of Coburn Library, ca. 1895

Thanks to
http://www2.coloradocollege.edu/library/SpecialCollections/Walk/Coburn.html

       "The building, judged inadequate even after the addition, was razed in 1963. The statue of Winged Victory of Samothrace, seen here in an interior view ca. 1895, disappeared around that time. We hold out hope that it will come back home to roost one day."

       This interior view may be from 1895, but when I was in college, it looked exactly like this, except the addition at the back had done away with that half-moon window.  Everything was decked out in beautiful warm-hued, polished woodwork. The rare book collection was housed in a locked closet in the upper left hand of the picture, reached by a metal circular staircase.  Nike was still there in my time -- when I was pondering my reading at a table, I used to look up at that statue in some fascination.  The circulation desk was always over there at the left, and I presume the small card catalog seen at the left in the picture included all the books the library contained in 1895.  By my time the library had maybe 100,000 books (I honestly have forgotten, so I don't swear by this figure) crammed into that small space.

       You see those balconies at the upper right?  By my time bound periodicals were shelved there, and sometimes a little old lady would ask you so sweetly to get a volume down for her. What can a student assistant do but comply?  You had to climb up a really tall ladder while dangling halfway out over the edge of the balcony.  Honestly, it was scary! 

       Not seen in this picture (which looks north) is the balcony at the southern end of the main room.  It housed the materials in the historical ranges of the Dewey Decimal system and it seems like I was always stuck with shelving books there.  Of course there were no elevators.  You had to load up a tray of books (you know how heavy books are) and carry them up a steep, cut-back staircase, and then keep going up and down a ladder with a few books each time.  Maybe that's why I have so much arthritis in my shoulders now!  I've hauled books around all my life!

       The 1940 addition was bare-bones -- just metal stacks in about four levels -- but at least the ceilings were low and it was supplied with carrels with slit windows, so you could look out over the quadrangle when you were studying.

       Do any of you remember the smell of old libraries?  New libraries smell like fresh paint and plaster and carpet chemicals, but old libraries smell like musty, unsunned storage caves -- paper dust and old crumbling leather bindings and book glue and a touch of printing ink and furniture polish and maybe some disintegrated bookworms thrown in for good measure.   A wonderful, nostalgic smell that I can still conjure up for myself!

       Now, the spookiest and most aromatic part of Coburn Library was the basement.  It contained storage for government documents.  I presume you all know that many libraries are repositories for government documents; they automatically receive at least a selection of everything printed by the GPO.  You know how much paper the government produces.  Any academic library worth its salt has a librarian solely in charge of government documents, and those materials take up a heck of a lot of space.  In Coburn it was the basement.  It was lit only by drop lights and they didn't stay on all the time.  There were no centralized switches for the lighting, so in the evening when the library closed up, somebody had to sweep the building, turning off the lights.  If somebody requested a document in the daytime, you would have to go down there and find it for them, turning the lights on as you went.  Some of the aisles were piled with overflow from those sections of shelving. 

       There is a cartoon that I think came from the New Yorker, but I'm not sure.  I've been trying to find it online but without any luck, alas, so I'll describe it.  It shows a female librarian between two stacks with a bunch of books piled on the floor just like I used to see in the Coburn basement.  Sitting on top of the books (with a drop light overhead) is a skull draped with cobwebs and the woman is regarding it with the most horrified expression.  I used to feel just like that when I had to go down there.  It wouldn't have surprised me at all to find a mummified body!  Murder in the Library!  I think that's been done in more than one mystery novel! 

       It pained me that they demolished this quirky old building.  I would have liked to see it preserved and put it on the Register of Historic Buildings.  But the college needed the land for a new administration building and auditorium, so ... Coburn is gone never to return.

       And by the way, if anybody out there knows the location of that Winged Victory, please get in touch with me!



New Goodreads Review of The Termite Queen!

       Adam Walker is one of my conlanging and conworlding associates (he's writing a book of his own that I really looking forward to because it's going to be full of fascinating aliens), and he's written a review of the two volumes of The Termite Queen.  He didn't like everything about it, but here is some of the good stuff he mentioned:

 

       "The Termite Queen (vol. 1) and The Wound That Has No Healing (vol. 2) really are one long novel in two volumes. Volume one has a logical conclusion, but the story is far from over till the end of volume two. Each of the two volumes contains two parts.
       "Personally I found volume 2 more satisfying, because I found the aliens, the "termites", more interesting than the humans. The Shshi are strange, as aliens should be, but relatable -- they plot against each other and have their customs and rituals and ways of doing things. Several of the Shshi are really fun characters, the scheming chamberlain, the child-like queen, the clever seer. Several of the warriors are especially complex as they are caught between duty and conscience trying to decide where their loyalties lie as the leadership of the termite city fractures."

 

       [I like that because nobody before has noted the complexity of the psychology of Commander Hi'ta'fu, Chief Lo'lo'pai, and Lieutenant Ni'shto'pri.]

 

       Adam goes on mention how he didn't like the romance part of the plot and then continues saying that nevertheless he really likes the book:

 

       "Languages. I love languages. I invent languages as a hobby. And the Shshi language in this book is incredible. Not only is it alien, using a non-verbal modality (radio waves!), but the version we see in the text is actually an invented language that Our Heroine invents during the course of the book as in interface between the humans, who can't detect radio waves, and the Shshi who can't detect our languages."

 

       [I like that because Adam is the first person to mention the language element that plays such a large part in the book -- the process of understanding how we really might communicate during humans' first contact with intelligent extraterrestrials.]

       Adam gave it 4 stars and recommended it.  Most of the reviews of TQ have been 4 star (I've had one 5-star on each of the two volumes, and a couple of 3-star on v.1 -- nothing lower).  I'm satisfied with 4 stars because this book does have so many elements to it (romance, a journey into human psychology, emphasis on future history, space travel, several types of extraterrestrials, conlangs, a low-tech alien culture with a tradition of heroic single combat, etc.),  With a book so heterogeneous, I'm sure everybody will find something that annoys them, but (I trust) also something to like!

 

       Give it a try here: Amazon

       Or here: Smashwords 

A Tangled Web?

Young Lochinvar Carrying Away His Love
From Misrepresentative Women by Harry Graham  (c1906)
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42407/42407-h/42407-h.htm#Lochinvar

       Remember the old quote "Oh, what a tangled web we weave / When first we practise to deceive"? Bet you don't know what it's from. Shakespeare? (Isn't everything from Shakespeare?) The Bible (less likely!) Well, I didn't know either, so I looked it up. It's from an epic poem that's pretty obscure these days -- Marmion, a Tale of Flodden Field, by Walter Scott, first published in 1808.  It's a tale of romantic intrigues involving nuns who break their vows, wronged heroes, duels, revenge, deaths at the battle of Flodden Field in 1513, etc., etc.  Modernized a bit, it might actually have something going for it! It was immensely popular in its day, although it was not a critical success; according to Wikipedia, it was castigated for the "unwarranted intrusions" of the letters to Scott's friends that head up each canto and its poetic style was called "flat and tedious." There was also a complaint that it was written solely to show off Scott's erudition.  However, the poem also contained the "Lochinvar" section that people used to read in school.  I remember that galloping anapestic rhythm very well -- and with some nostalgia ...

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar ...

       Does anybody read that poem these days?

 

       So where was I?  What was my point?  Oh, I remember -- the tangled web.  First, however, let me say that some might criticize my writing for some of the same reason they criticized Scott's (although I don't write poetry):  That my stories have "unwarranted intrusions," that my style isn't spectacularly original (although I really wouldn't call it "flat and tedious"), and that I like to show off my erudition (which isn't as mighty as I wish it were).  That's still not my point, however. 

 

       My point is, everything I write is interconnected -- a bit of a tangled web.  I really hadn't thought about that until lately.  All of my books share characters and allude to events or people which exist in my other books.  The Termite Queen is the seminal tale.  It introduces Prf. Kaitrin Oliva, who is also the main character in "Monster Is in the Eye of the Beholder," which is laid thirty years later.  Kaitrin is also the editor of The Labors of Ki'shto'ba Huge-Head series, which begins hard on the end of The Termite Queen.  The series contains many references to events in The Termite Queen, because after all it was the coming of the Star-Beings to the termite planet that precipitated the New Time (doesn't the arrival of aliens always change things?)  Kaitrin mounts several expeditions to the termite planet after that fateful first one, and these are mentioned in footnotes throughout the series.  And Kaitrin actually does make a physical appearance as a character in the series but only near its end.

       Then of course two of the major characters in the series -- Ki'shto'ba Huge-Head and Di'fa'kro'mi the Remembrancer -- were introduced in The Termite Queen, so that's an essential interconnection.

       See how tangled it's getting?

 

       I also have a number of unwritten books that increase the tangles.  Something I plan to call The Dark Leopards of the Moon (title from a poem by Yeats) will be the story of the remainder of Kaitrin Oliva's life, and then there is an episode of her life alluded to in "Monster" as "my experiences with the Etúmanoi on the fourth planet of Foraka 3."  That one I mean to write as a separate novel (entitled The Hard, Bright Crystal of Being, from a poem by Conrad Aiken), and it also includes a couple of other characters from Termite Queen whose names I won't mention for fear of spoilers.

 

       The only story I've written that isn't tangled up with the others is The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars.  It's laid in the 28th century while TQ is laid in the 30th, and its only association with The Termite Queen lies in the fact that first contact with the bird aliens (Prf. A'a'ma's people) occurs in MWFB.  That's important, of course, but it does allow the plot of MWFB to pretty much stand on its own.

 

       I say all this only because the tangling of my characters and plots may make them a little problematical to read.  You may have read TQ and found some things not to like about it.  It has a double plot line, so you may like one plot and not the other.  Besides, it contains all that conlanging gobbledegook, which is a little bit of a specialized interest.  (However, I can't imagine anybody who wouldn't be curious about how we're going to communicate with aliens when we finally meet them.)  So I would say this: if you enjoyed the termite people in The Termite Queen, please do go on and give the Ki'shto'ba series a try.  And even if you haven't read TQ, it's summarized sufficiently at the beginning of The War of the Stolen Mother, so don't be deterred from jumping right into the series. 
       I hope to meet you there!

      

Some Random Thoughts, and a Cover Reveal

     I've been posting more regularly on my other blog lately, because most of what I've had to say involves either the Ki'shto'ba series or material about myth.  I have a special ongoing at the moment:

THE WAR OF THE STOLEN MOTHER

 (v.1 of The Labors of Ki'shto'ba Huge-Head)

will be priced at only 99 cents through Sunday, Sept. 8,

for the Kindle version at Amazon or for the Smashwords edition.

 

       I just participated in Tidbit Tuesday, a monthly event run by Patrick O'Scheen on Facebook, and I ended up increasing my likes on my FB page from 45 to 98 (at this moment of writing). A really nice reward!

       That brings up a question.  People always seem interested in my work and my ideas, and they say nice things about my drawings.  But none of this produces any sales, particularly of my Ki'shto'ba series, which I still say is superior to anything else I've written, especially for its originality. 

       Why is this?  I think I might have some idea.  My termites naturally talk is a high style -- they simply don't speak colloquial English.  That is, to preserve the fiction, Kaitrin Oliva envisions them as talking is an elevated, literary style (I had nothing to do with it -- ha, ha!) and she translates them that way.  And probably the scholarly apparatus, which I so love, puts people off (the footnotes, in particular, and possibly the asides between Di'fa'kro'mi and his scribe, something I find really entertaining, and also maybe the "difficult" names).  One person told me he didn't like the narrative form -- the fact that somebody was telling the story.  My opinion of that is that it's a personal quirk.  Lots of books are written in the first person, including The Great Gatsby.  And Di'fa'kro'mi is a Bard, after all -- it's his job to tell tales.  He participated in Ki'shto'ba's quest and it makes sense to have him tell the story as a reminiscence, as his own memoirs.  We may know he survived, but that doesn't mean that anybody else in the quest made it back home (after all in the present moment in which Di'fa'kro'mi is speaking, we never see a single other person who went on the quest), so it doesn't damage the suspense.

 

       Now a random and disconnected remark ...  I've noticed lately that a lot of book covers show closeups of one or two heads with serious, strained, or possibly lustful expressions on their faces.  Hmm.  That would work only for books in The Man Who Found Birds series (yes, it will be a series).  I may have to find somebody to do the covers for those, if I can find somebody who won't charge me thousands of dollars.  I'll repeat, I can do termites and I can make my own maps, but real people?  Forget it!  The faces I've attempted improved with practice, but they are still basically cartoons.  I don't think anything I could do would work.  So stay tuned.

 

       And now I present the back cover for The Valley of Thorns.  It was Marva Dasef who suggested I incorporate the map so I could employ a colorized version.  I did a detail showing the region around the battle area.  For the full black and white map, go here. 

 

Click for larger view

 

      

BONUS excerpt from The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars!

       I announced that I wasn't going to post any more chapters from MWFB (I remind you I'm revising it for publication), but I decided to extract this piece from Chapter 38 because it would be possible to reduce what is said here to one or two paragraphs of summation.  But I just can't do it because the scene is lively and revelatory not only in advancing the plot but in displaying character, and moreover it has a lot of humor.  At the end I'll put a summation.  Tell me which one you enjoy reading more.  (And if you say, the summation, I probably still won't change it!)  Don't worry -- this doesn't spoil any of the essential story.  To set the scene, Capt. Robbin Nikalishin (now 30 years old and a genuine hero of Earth) has just taken a jaunt to view the Great Koloredo Canyon in Aridzone.  His life-long friend Kolm MaGilligoody (now Robbie's Engineer on the interstellar ship the Darter) has been visiting his home in Eira.  The spacefarers meet in the lunch bar at the Herinen Space Port where they are stationed.

Chapter 38 ...

June-August 2760

       Two days later Robbie was emerging from the lunch bar at the Research Facility when he bumped into Kolm.

       “Oh, there ye be!” exclaimed the Eirishman.  “Greetin’s, lad!”

       “Well, when did you get back?  I wasn’t expecting you till at least the end of June!”

       “I finished me essential business, and I figured ye must be dyin’ without me company, so I returned.  No, actually, I got off the flyer 30 minutes ago.  I was famished, so I just dropped off me gear, banged on the door of yer empty room, and then hot-footed it over here to get lunch.”

       “I just ate, but I’ll have some coffee and sit with you, if you’ll have me."

       Kolm picked up some crusty fried farm catfish, a big bowl of potato and chive soup, a couple of rolls with soy spread, and a slice of blueberry tart, and headed for a table with Robbie trailing after him.

       “Holy grief, Kolm, how can you eat all that heavy stuff and stay so fit?”

       “Well, I had me breakfast in Lunden and no lunch, so seein’ as how the flight left at 1100h and lasted some eight hours, me stomach says it’s near 2100 and past the hour of dinner.  Blame it on the spinnin’ of the planet.”

       Amused, Robbie watched his friend wolfing down his meal.  “So, how were the Islands and the girls that live in ’em?”

       “Green.  The Islands, not the girls, although one special lass does have the greenest eyes.  But I got somethin’ else to tell ye first.  When I first landed at Old Heathero, I went up to Oxkam before I headed to Eira.  Actually, I stopped off to see Wilda, too.  She sends ye her love.  She was a bit miffed, though.  ‘Ye mean,’ she said, ‘Capt. Robbie prefers to look at big rocks and holes in the ground over me?’”

       “So – how did you excuse me?”

       “I told her I was sure yer conscience was bothering ye every minute ye spent in that infernal land, and that ye’d call her up and make yer apologies the very minute ye got back.”

       “Well, if you wanted to make me feel guilty, you’re doing it.”  In fact Robbie had thought about Wilda early in his trek, but since he had met Fedaylia High Feather, his first love had departed from his mind.  And while it had been a relief to escape visiting his mother this go ’round, that shirking of duty had bothered him enough that he hadn’t even called to tell her he would be away from Herinen.

       Kolm was observing him reflectively.  Then he said, “Wilda’s gone back to work.”

       “Really?  May is only a year old.  She waited until the boys were three.”

       “She said with another mouth to feed, money’s tight.  Besides, she said, how could she become a legend at Sloe if she isn’t workin’?  They had agreed to use temps and hold the job for her and she felt she couldn’t ask ’em to hold it much longer.”

       “So what does she do with May?” said Robbie.

       “Her Mum and Da have moved to Watferd.  Mr. Mull’s retired from the concrete crew now and they thought they’d like to live nearer to their daughter.  So Ms. Mull comes over and watches the little ’un home or takes her home with her.  Works real well, Wilda says.”

       Robbie pondered this glimpse of how families cope; it seemed alien to him.

       “So what was I talkin’ about afore I got onto Wilda?” said Kolm, with his mouth full.  ”Oh, yeh – I went to see Prf. Flournoi.  I don’t think we’ll ever get him back this time, Robbie.  He thinks we have enough trained people in the program now and he can make a more valuable contribution teachin’ at Oxkam.”

       “He’s probably right.”

       “I told him about this creeping-jump fixation of the Board and I showed him Prf. Eiginsh’s new mathematical models and some of the virtual engine designs based on ’em.  He seemed a bit bemused by it all.  He thinks some of those anomalies in Eiginsh’s formulas are more significant than any of us thought.  He even pointed out some flaws that none of us noticed.  I don’t think even Lara noticed ’em.”

       “Really?  I’d like to review that.  Lara will want to, too.”

       “Yeh, but I don’t want to get Eiginsh in trouble.”

       “How can it get him in trouble?  If there are problems with his models that would translate into fatal errors in the designs, it would benefit everybody to expose them.  This is difficult stuff.  Even the best of us can make mistakes.”

       “Well, ’course.  It’s just that I never knew Karl Eiginsh to make serious mistakes.”

       The two spacefarers sat in silent thought for a moment, and then Kolm said, “What’s been goin’ on here, regardin’ the Board and all?”

       “Actually, nothing.  I could have stayed away longer.  Adm. Hurtline’s gone home to the Chemical Capital of the Plains, and Prf. Lara’s in Moska and Yang is in Edmunten and Glencrosse is up in Mitchican and so on and so on.  Only Eiginsh is here.  I was sort of surprised when he told me he wasn’t going home this year.”

       “Huh.  Maybe he knows somethin’ is wrong with his formulas and he wants some time to work on ’em without bein’ hassled.”

       “Maybe.”

       “So how was the western world?”

       “Wonderful.  You’ve never seen anything like those mountains, Kolm.  And the Big Canyon – goddam, it’s humbling!  I finally saw a condor on my last afternoon.  And I saw hummingbirds!  I even shot some vids of them, although the images aren’t very good.  I never can hold the damn cam steady, and I get blurry pictures even with autofocus.”

       Kolm was chuckling.  “It’s yer mother’s plumbin’ all over again, Robbie.”

       “Yeah, I deserve to be laughed at, brother!  But, Kolm, I have to tell you this!  Right at the end there, I met this girl.”

       “Uh, oh.  Why am I not surprised?  So what’s her name?”

       Robbie told Kolm all about Fedaylia.  “Honest to god, Goody, she’s the most unusual girl I’ve ever met.  She’s tall – maybe a couple of centimeters taller than I am … ”

       “I thought ye didn’t care for tall girls.”

       “What gave you that idea?”

       “Well, I was just jumpin’ to a conclusion …  Wilda and Sushmita were both short and I can’t recall ye ever involvin’ yeself with a tall girl.”

       “You’ll just have to unjump your conclusion, then, because I felt very involved with this one.  She’s amazingly beautiful, in this unusual sort of way.  It’s just – the way she moves … the timber of her voice … her hair … Kolm, her perfume … well, I just can’t describe it!  And her eyes – she’s got eyes like amber … no, like smoky quartz … no, that just doesn’t do them justice … ”

       “Jaysus, it sounds like her arrow hit ye square on.”

       “Oh, it did.  But I’ll never see her again, probably.  We didn’t arrange to stay in touch.”

       “Where’s she from?”

       “She was born up north of New Washinten, in a precinct called Daymoin.  Her parents split when she was about six, she said, and she grew up with her father.  But he was a rail inspector and was gone a lot, so she kept getting shuffled around among relatives, on both sides of her family.  Must have been hard for her.  But she seems to have turned out perfect.  Kolm, she’s a Prov-En at Castle Bluff Flight Academy.  She’s going to be a Com Officer.  Isn’t that strange?  I seem to have this thing for Com Officers.”

       “Huh.  Yeh, a bit.”

       “You know what I’m thinking?  I’m thinking, maybe I can pull some strings – get her assigned to Herinen after she gets her commission.  Maybe I can even get her on the Darter …”

       “Now, Robbie, don’t mess up yer professional standards.  Pilar is a fine Com Officer – what excuse would ye use to transfer her?  And ye don’t really even know this girl.  Ye spent, ye say, one day together?  Did the two of ye go to bed?”

       “No, she refused.  Said she didn’t know me well enough yet.  That didn’t make me very happy at the time, but I kind of admire her for it – women are always itching to jump in bed with me just because of who I am.  But she seemed really pleased to have met me, and she laid a very heavy kiss on me as we were saying good night.”

       “Really?  Ye say she kissed you?”

       “Yes,she initiated it.  And … well, it was different from any kiss I’ve ever experienced.”  He touched his finger to his lip, which still had a welt on the inside three days later.

       “So you think she’s sweet, do ye?”

       Robbie laughed.  “Sweet?  Well, I don’t think I would describe her quite that way.  Sushmita was sweet.  Fedaylia is more – volcanic … ”

       “Volcanic!  Holy cry, Robbie, the last thing ye need in yer life right now is a volcano in yer bed!  Maybe it’s a good thing she’s not to hand!  Give ye a chance to cool down a bit!”

       Robbie was laughing more heartily, his eyes crinkling.  “Goody, you may be right!  I think it’s too late, though.  I think Fedaylia High Feather may just be the woman I’ve looked for all my life.”

       “Aliluya … I guess.”  Kolm was scratching his nose, in a gesture that meant he was concerned.  Then he said, “Do ye think ye can simmer down for a minute and listen whilst I say somethin’ about me and Dana?”

       “What?”

       “We set the date, Robbie me boy.  I convinced Dana we ought to get married and we’re gonna do it.  Holy cry, man, don’t drop yer jaw like that – a bug’ll fly in yer mouth.  Why should that be so unexpected?”

       “Well … well … it isn’t really …   So … when … ?”

       Now Kolm was laughing.  “Ye really should see yeself.  But the date is the 20th of August.  I knew it had to be during this unexpected extra-long break we’re gettin’, because who knows when they’ll let us go again?  But me Mum nearly had a coronary – ‘Mairin, Mairin save us!  Only two months to get ready!’ she’s a-wailin’.  ‘And meself it is that has to do the work alone, for the bride as well as the groom, seein’s how Dana has no family alive … !’  And me Da’s goin’ on as to how, what did she mean, alone – wasn’t he still part of the family?  Did she think he was just gonna sit on his duff the whole time and do nothin’?  And me sisters shriekin’ and going berserk …  That’s why I said me essential business was finished – I thought I’d best go away and leave the women to work.  Honestly, Robbie, be glad ye don’t come from an Eirish family!”

       Robbie was laughing again, but he felt a little shaky inside.  “So … so … where will you live after … after … ?”

       “She’s gonna stay on her farm and I’m gonna stay in SkyPiercer, like I told ye, until we’ve gone to a star and come back.  It’s not right for me to jeopardize the program by droppin’ out sudden-like.  So don’t be feelin’ bad, Robbie.  It’ll all work out fine.”

       “I hope so.  So – what happens in an Eirish wedding?”

       “Well, there’s this kind of old Romish ceremony, see?  We have somethin’ called Praysts, ye know.  There’s a family of ’em lives over in Wicklo – claim to be descendants of Praysts that were still practicin’ in Eira when the Romishers fell apart in the 24th century and the last Headman over in Roma was assassinated.  It’s one of them as must urge along the words of joinin’ … ”  Kolm broke off.  “Don’t look so mazed, lad.  It’s quite a bash, really, and not all pious mouthin’s – you’ll enjoy it!  There’ll be a monster feast afterward – apple-raisin cake with sour cream frostin’ and plenty of lamb stew, and the good Eirish stout flowin’.”

       “So … so … you want me to be there?”

       “Be there!  Robbie, ye’re gonna be me Best Man.”

       “Your what?”

       “Best Man!  Every groom has a friend who stands up with him at his weddin’ – kind of holds the groom up and keeps him from collapsin’, and makes sure he gets there on time with his shirt buttoned up proper and all – but in this case it may be the groom who’s havin’ to hold his Best Man up!”  Kolm was laughing so hard at Robbie’s reactions that he nearly choked on his tart. 
       “Kolm, I’m not – remnant Romish.  I don’t know anything about it.”

       “Doesn’t matter.  It’s the feelin’s that count, man.  And what man in the world could I have nearer feelin’s for, Robbie, than you?  And it’s flatterin’ meself I am that you would say the same about me.”

SO HERE'S THE SUMMATION (IT'S JUST NOT ME!)

       Kolm returned from his vacation only two days after Robbie got back.  The Engineer was full of news.  He had seen Wilda, who had returned to work even though May was only a year old (the extra mouth to feed made money tight).  Kolm had also visited Prf. Flournoi and discussed the problems with Eiginsh's new models.  Flournoi pointed out flaws that even Lara had missed and he agreed that the situation regarding the creeping jumps was concerning.  After some additional debate, Robbie couldn't resist telling Kolm all about his meeting with Fedaylia High Feather, but then Kolm responded with personal news of his own.  He and Dana had set a wedding date and he wanted Robbie to be his Best Man.  Robbie was overwhelmed -- he knew nothing about Romisher weddings. But it seemed he was going to get a crash course -- the pair arrived at the MaGilligoody farm on 15 August.

       IF YOU THINK THAT'S MORE FUN TO READ THAN THE LONGER PASSAGE, THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU!  LOL  However, I'm not ruling out some additional surgery -- just not a complete excision.

Two Years in Social Media: So How Do I Feel about It?

Copied from http://orangutanmarketing.com/social-media/what-is-social-media-exactly/

       I'm not very social by nature, so about two years ago when I decided to self-publish, I had never done anything with social media.  It was about this time of year in 2011 when I first joined Twitter.  At first I was vague as to what Twitter all about, so I largely ignored it.  A few months later, I started looking for followers and posting promos about my books and occasional personal remarks.  Then I joined Facebook, started following other peoples' blogs, set up my own blog, and then set up a second one for my conlangs.  The latter morphed later into a promo for my series, The Labors of Ki'shto'ba Huge-Head, and ultimately broadened into a vehicle to discuss myth in literature.   I discovered the Language Creation Society through Twitter and after joining that organization, I took a third blog through them and devoted it to my conlangs.  (Bet you didn't even know that one existed -- I haven't done anything with it for maybe a year, although it has some interesting material.  Here's the link: http://remembrancer.conlang.org )

       My goal was to make contacts and try to get myself recognized.  I've accomplished that to a certain extent.  Along the way, I sort of learned to understand the difference between selling and marketing.  With selling, it's one-on-one -- make a contact and pitch your book to that person.  With marketing, you have nobody specific in mind -- you simply aim to get the attention of  as wide a range of people as possible.  A billboard or a mail flyer or a TV ad is marketing; soliciting by phone would be selling.  Pitching your book directly to somebody on FB would be selling, as would sending a promo to a new Twitter follower.  Getting mentioned on somebody else's blog or through a Twitter retweet would be marketing.

       I have met some wonderful people over this past two years.  I can still remember my three initial Twitter encounters.  One of them has become a quite good friend and I'm still in touch with the other two through FB.  I've gotten quite well acquainted with several other people through my conlanging contacts and through Google+.  All of that has been quite rewarding; it makes all that effort worthwhile even without the potential of selling books.

       So which of those social media entities listed in the logo above have I joined?  A few of them I never heard of, like Digg and MeetUp and Delicious.  But I joined Reddit when somebody listed one of my posts on that site and I garnered a huge number of page views.  I don't think I use Reddit as much as I should.  I can't use YouTube, which I think is terrific, because I don't make videos (I'm technologically stone-age).  (YouTube is also a wonderful research tool -- whether you want to know what an alpenhorn sounds like or view the chair dance at a Jewish wedding, you can find it on YouTube!)

       I went with Blogger instead of WordPress (although my conlang blog is powered by WordPress) and I'm glad I did, because it's so much simpler.  (My only complaint is I don't have drop-down menus.)  I joined Pinterest and put up some of my drawings, but I really see no use for it except as a passtime, and I don't have that much time to pass.  And I only recently joined LinkedIn.  I'm still learning what that's all about.  It's really geared to people looking for work or to hire others.  I'm not looking for work -- mine's already cut out for me!  It does, however, open an avenue to a wider range of people.  One of my problems is that  my contacts are mostly other self-published authors, who (for the most part) would rather sell their own books than read other peoples'.

       One that's not listed on the logo is Goodreads.  It's rather difficult to use, so in the beginning I floundered.  I've gotten a little better with it lately.  It's good for record-keeping and for reviews.  It has a lot of avenues for giveaways and special promos, but I've never seen any results from using these.  I've also joined several specialty sites, like Mythic Scribes (I heartily recommend this one to fantasy writers), WANAtribe, and the Indie Writers' Network.  Some of these have forums.  I'm not crazy about forums.  They're difficult to use.  I always get my posts in the wrong categories.  I also follow a few FB groups, mostly for blog promotion.

       Which of these do I enjoy the most?  Lately it's been Google+.  I honestly like it better than FB, which still gets me confused at times.  I never get any traffic on my FB page; my own posts get lost there, so I pretty much ignore it.  Google+ has a lot of communities slanted toward your personal interests, and these can be quite valuable.  And I've set up a community of my own  called Books by TermiteWriter (see top of sidebar for link).  It's only been up about two weeks and I've already got 51 members.  It took about a year to reach 30 on my FB page.  I treat Books by TermiteWriter like a kind of mini-blog.  I can put up brief posts most days that don't require a lot of time or thought, as a kind of diary of my writing and publishing efforts.

       Has all this paid off in sales of my books?  I laugh out loud as I say, not really!  But if I hadn't done anything, I wouldn't have any sales at all!  I just keep nibbling away, expecting a big breakthrough!  So help me out by giving one of my books a try!  You can find them at Amazon and at Smashwords. 

Man Who Found Birds: In Which a Writer Confesses Her Sins

       I naturally write long stories!  Mea culpa!  No matter how good my intentions are, this is something I cannot overcome!  "Monster Is in the Eye of the Beholder" (about 19,000 words) is the aberration.  The Termite Queen ran to two long volumes, but it never seemed long to me.  The Labors of Ki'shto'ba Huge-Head was planned as a three-volume series, but I'm chopping it into at least six moderately long volumes.  This works quite well because my termites' adventures are episodic.

       But then we come to The Man Who Found Birds among the Stars.  It is a hopeless, unfinished sprawl, with a middle where I started improvising, bunches of characters (each of whom shouted "Hey, you, I've got a story of my own!"), and an experimental effort in a later part that I'm going to have to abandon and completely rewrite.      

       So why does this happen?  It happens because of the reasons why I write.  I want to express what's inside of me.  I don't write intending to produce a commercially popular book or to appeal to a particular group of people, like young adults or fans of a particular genre such as paranormal or horror or romance or even generalized science fiction, although MWFB does fall into that genre.  In fact, I don't really write for other people at all, although of course like any author I want my books to be read and relished. But I can't compromise my own way simply to make people buy and read the books. I can't write in a particular form on demand.  Therefore, I will probably continue on my path of sin.

 

       So if MWFB is so imperfect, why have I decided to work at least part of it  into something capable of being published?  Well, I acquired one serious fan in the process of posting early chapters on this blog.  Those posts also received many page views, if that means anything.  People did seem interested.  I've had a few other favorable comments as well.  Maybe this book could actually be my break-out piece!

 

       The book is cast as biographical fiction written to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the death of Capt. Robbin Haysus Nikalishin, who commanded the first mission to a nearby star system and while doing so made humanity's first contact with intelligent extraterrestrials.  So there's my signature nod to scholarship:  the book is really authored by Prf. Tania Barden of Oxkam University in the Islands of Britan.  For comparison, The Termite Queen is laid in the 30th century, when interstellar travel and contact with extraterrestrials has become commonplace.  In MWFB, you'll get an occasional aside mentioning how things were done differently 50 years before, in the 28th century; otherwise it's a quite straightforward narrative.  I purposely tried to write a more colloquial style than what I used in TQ or in Labors (my termites are quite formal little beasties, as I've said elsewhere). 

 

       Now comes the painful part of my confession: the facts about the length.   The first 37 years of Robbin Nikalishin's life has consumed about 780,000 words, and that doesn't even get him to the stars.  I'm working on reducing that awful length, but I think this early part of his life will require three or four volumes (still undecided).  My tentative titles are v.1: Eagle Ascendant; v.2: Eagle Falling; v.3: High Feather; and v.4: Survivor.  It would be nice if I could shorten vols. 3 and 4 enough to make only one volume out of that, called Survivor.  If you've been reading my posted chapters, you'll recognize that those titles derive from the "Prologue."

       Volume One started at 179,173 words and after an initial cutting effort, it's now 175,203.  That's shameful!  I'm about to start a second pass-through, trying to look at each chapter objectively and determine if any huge chunks could be cut.  The best place to cut would be in the technical aspects -- my take on future fictional physics.  The problem here is, my fictional temporal quantum physics plays an enormous part in the unfolding of the plot, so I don't know.  I'm comforted by the fact that v.2 of The Termite Queen is 196,000 words, running to 572 published pages.  At least this one won't be that long!

 

       Now you may be saying, if this book is worth publishing, then why don't you hire a professional editor to cut it?  Arrgh!  Then it wouldn't be my book any longer!  I don't care how much better it would be -- I would have to disown it!  So I'm going to plow ahead and we'll see what happens.  The cover will be a problem, however.  No termites in this book -- it's all about human characters -- and I'm not much good at drawing anything but termites.  I might be able to do something with eagles.  If not, I might have to get some professional cover art.

       So please bear with me.  I think that in the long term you may just find this story compelling and captivating!  I know v.1 has the most exciting and suspenseful ending I've ever written for any book!

       Here is a facsimile of the title page of the "original edition," published in 2849:

THE MAN WHO FOUND BIRDS AMONG THE STARS

A Biographical Series

Issued in the year 2849 as Part of the Commemoration
of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Death of
Capt. Robbin Haysus Nikalishin
(10 May 2799)by
Prf. Tania Barden
Fellow, Brassnose/Queens’ College
Oxkam University

VOLUME ONE
EAGLE ASCENDANT

I decided to embarrass myself further
and post a cover I drew way back in 2004.
I got better at drawing faces as time went along, but these are not the best
and I have no intention of publishing with this cover.
Note that I originally entitled the early volume Ikarus.   
That's Robbin Nikalishin in the middle, of course.
Otherwise, the characters are, clockwise from upper left:
Sterling Nikalishin (Robbie's mother)
Robbie's friend Kolm MaGilligoody (horrible -- eyes aren't anything like right)
Dr. Madeline Souray (the Project's Medical Officer)
Wilda Murchy (Robbie's most enduring friend)
At the upper left is Robbie's toy space plane
and at the upper right is Kolm's medal of Mairin and Jaysus.