Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 186

Almost done...

I have The Lyons' Den all set in paperback -- 228 pps -- and ready for uploading as an ebook soon as I complete one more step...and get cover art. I'll complete the ebook, tomorrow...then see if the artist is working on the front, at least.

I sent him a copy of LD to read so he may be doing that, now. I've been rereading it...and finding typos. Nothing massive, just a period missing here and saying Goggle something instead of Google it. It's mind-bending, but necessary. I'm not rewriting, though...which is hard...but the story's been out for nearly 5 years, now, so it would be silly to redo it.

I've heard of authors doing that, however. A book gets reissued and they do a pass over it. John Fowles is reputed to have reworked The Magus when a new edition was issued, and he's a fairly major author...so it wouldn't be unprecedented...or "unpresidented," if you use King Rump's language.

I never did hear back from either photographer. Too bad.

I'm tempted to do a colored pencil rendition of the sketch I worked up for the cover of LD, just to see how it turns out. Make it as rich in color as possible. In case the artist doesn't like the book or does and comes up with something I can't use. That's always a gamble, hoping people will like your work. I like it...like how Ace is a pain in the ass and how the story shifts tone when he's not telling it, directly. I like Daniel and the slow-burning build of interest between Daniel and Van. Like the interplay between Daniel and the other characters...

But I'm the book's mother and father, priest, uncle, sibling...you name it. To me, it will be close to perfection. Be nice if more people would just let me know if it worked or if it's too far off the chaos charts to be readable. So far, it's more liked than not...but that's only about 4 people. No telling what the general consensus is.

Maybe I shouldn't ask, but how can I learn if I don't know?

Surprise...

I actually got a nibble from the graphic artist on LD. He wants to do the the full cover, since he does this for a living. Right now I'm trying to find out his rate. If it's not terrible, I may go for it. Make up for the cover that was on the first edition...which did not really suit the book.

Here's a sample of his work. Not at all my style, and I cannot replicate the clean lines and simple use of color, but I really like it. This image got me to thinking I might do the cover with Daniel looking in the mirror to see the characters peeking around a shower curtain and tried working up a few sketches...but it was way too cutesy.

Now? I'm putting six keys on the back cover, with the new synopsis working around them with a heading reading, A mystery writer gets trapped in a bribery scandal that turns to murder and love...all in 2 hours on a Friday night.

I'm keeping the size 5.5x8.5 inches, and I doubt I'll put out a hardcover of it. Looks like the lowest I can get the price is $10.99, but that's pretty good for a book, these days. The ebook price will be $1.99. Doesn't give me a lot in royalties, but I don't care. I just want it to get seen and read.

Once this is done, I'm finishing A65 and getting it out there, then I have to focus all my energy on P/S. I've avoided it for so long and made so many excuses not to complete it, I've become a caricature of myself. How will I know what the story really is till I write it? How can I tell what Brendan wants to say till he's told me all of it?

I can't complain about anyone else being cowardly when I've been such a whimpering fool about that story.

And away we go...

I think I've found the cover for The Lyons' Den -- front and back. The keys were the key, and will be used on the back to highlight the various characters involved who show up with one...and thank you, Karl, for showing me this. I've reached out to a couple of photographers and an artist to see if they're willing to work up something for me, and I plane to do a rendition in colored pencil, just to see how it turns out.

This is what I've sent the photographers and artist. It's Daniel caught outside in the snow, wearing his shirt with a shower curtain wrapped around his waist, pistol in one hand and money in the other, a WTF expression on his face, and a key on a chain around his neck. I may do it like we're looking outside through a window, and I'm thinking of suggesting the reflections of Tad and Van in the glass...but I'm still up in the air about that.

I kind of doubt the artist will want to work on it; his style is very graphic-arts minimalism which may not translate well, but I like the pieces he's done and want to at least see if he'll try.

I used one photographer's work in my cover design for Porno Manifesto, which turned out nice, so we'll see what he comes back with. The last guy ... I haven't used him, before, but does nice shots in monochrome.

It means a monetary outlay...but when it comes to my books, I don't care. I spent today reformatting the story and reading bits of it...and I like how it turned out. It's crazy as hell and requires attention be paid, but if you're open to it you'll have a nice read. I've made notes to remind myself to keep this mindset as I rework A65.

And of course, to maintain consistency, as I read I found a typo.

Fun few days...

I've been trying to avoid the news and commentary on what's going on is Washington, but not too successfully. At least I didn't watch that travesty of an inauguration. But I'm still pained by the events. Trump is already kicking the working class -- he signed an order reversing a discount on insurance for FHA Mortgages that will cost homebuyers $500 a year and set in motion the reversal of the ACA, through which I get my health insurance at a rate I can afford. I should have joined the march, today, since there was a small one in Buffalo, but I childishly talked myself out of it because my knee was hurting.

What a wimp. If there's another one, I'll wrap the damned knee and make myself go. Maybe even buy a friggin' cane.

Instead, I've focused as much as I could on working up a new cover for The Lyons' Den...and got nowhere. I zeroed in on a look I wanted that was kind of art deco and how to do it...but the test images I did looked amateurish. So I contacted a photographer who's done work for me in the past, to see if he's open to staging it with a model instead of me trying to draw it. I hope to hear back from him in a couple days.

Then I did some brainstorming with a friend of mine in LA and got a few very good ideas. Like a new tag -- Daniel thought he had the only key -- he was wrong. Then on the back a new logline -- A mystery writer gets trapped in a bribery scandal that leads to murder and love...all within two hours on a Friday night.

And this would be the synopsis on the back cover.

In this dark farce, Daniel desperately wants to get back together with his too-too perfect ex, Tad, so he reluctantly agrees to rewrite eight horrible scripts in time for Tad to pitch them as a new series for cable. If the network goes for it, he'll get a week in Bermuda to rebuild their relationship. If they don't, he'll lose the guy forever.

Only Tad wants to keep the rewrites super-hush-hush, so insists Daniel use his family's empty, isolated cabin in upstate New York to work. But as Daniel is being driven to it, a massive snowstorm blows in ... and despite being snowbound, that isolated cabin winds up the center of mystery, suspense, sex, betrayal, revenge, murder, fist-fights, shredded clothes, naked hostage-taking, a toga, frostbite, gunfire, predatory females, sneaky spying, an obnoxious caretaker, a hermit who hates everything except chipmunks, a hot shower with people who don't exist, a blazing fireplace, a bizarre shower curtain, off-key TV music, secrets heard in shadows, crooked politicians, romance with the proper stranger, truth-telling in the extreme, and enough paranoid-schizophrenia to fill a mental institution.

Using keys as the link.

I'm reminded of Notorious, that has a poster using a key with an image of Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman within its lines. My favorite Hitchcock film, bar none.

I may see about doing something with this.

Sidetracked for the day...

I got official word the rights to The Lyons' Den are reverting back to me. I signed a contract and sent it off to the publisher, and soon as I get their signed copy, it's done. I can reissue it in a second edition with a different, hopefully better, cover. And make it less expensive.

I can't say anything bad about Starbooks Press. They bought my novella, Perfection, to publish in one of their anthologies, and they did pay me royalties on LD...in fact, I got my first check from them, and the book wasn't even published until April 2012, nearly 5 years after HTRASG. But the reality is, they're doing pretty much what I'm doing, just for other authors.

So now I can drop the ebook price to $1.99 and probably get the paperback selling for under $9.99. I just need to work up a kick-ass cover. I never was happy with the one they put on their edition, and they listed the book as erotica even though there's really nothing erotic about it...unless you count the main character running around wearing nothing but a shower curtain for 2/3 of the book.

That's what I did this evening. Start working up possible covers. Tried the bathroom and shower, since that's where Daniel has a huge argument with his fictional characters...but it's awkward in too many ways...and a bit obvious. I think I've settled on gathering the entire cast of characters around the fireplace in the main room. It has a staircase that goes up and around behind it, and Daniel spends a lot of time going up and down those steps.

But if I do a photo, that's going to be expensive. So do I work up something in art? And if yes to that, in what style and media? A Derwent pencil is what I normally use...and am most comfortable with...but I can't see it being a book cover. It looks too amateurish. Preliminary. Cheap. Do NOT want cheap.

I found an artist on tumbler whose style I love -- very graphic art and minimalism. I don't know if I can replicate it, and he has never answered one of my messages to him, so I don't even know if he'd do something on commission.

Maybe I should check Deviantart.com...

And a bit more...

Written out, so just posting a bit more of A65...

---------

The Punk Couple, who turned out to be named Julie and Manny Marshe-Croton (the brat's name was Dumpling something-or-other), were very apologetic and embarrassed ... especially once they learned Adam had brought no extra clothing beyond a pair of y-fronts and socks, and those he only brought at his mother's insistence.

"I'm not staying," he had told her, "so why would I need an overnight bag?"

"Just a change and some toiletries," was her reply. "Just in case. You never know what might happen. Flight might be canceled or delayed. Earthquake. You decide you love LA and want to live there the rest of your life, on a whim."

"I don't do whims."

"Adam," she sighed, "there's always a first time." And she had stuffed the briefs and socks into his rucksack.

Fortunately, the Marshe-Crotons had done carry-on so lent him jeans and a shirt and, since he was two sizes narrower than Manny, a set of suspenders to hold the jeans up. He was careful to note their home address so he could return them, once they'd returned from their death tour.

The moment the flight was at cruising altitude, the attendants allowed him to use the Business Class lavatory to clean up. He shoved all the dirty clothes into the same bag as his jacket and made certain it was tied good and tight.

When he got back to his seat, Julie had moved next to him and Dumpling was in Manny's lap, still smiling at Adam with his wicked eyes. Adam had a nice chat with Julie about the history of henna tattoos, or Mehndi, which extended over lunch, and somehow managed to convince him letting her paint a design on his left hand would be fun. Which it was, actually. She had some in her makeup case in her purse, and used a tiny brush to work up a lovely mandala, murmuring as she worked, "Lovely skin. Tight. Unblemished. On the pale side but that enhances the design."

"It's lovely," Adam said, then asked, "Does it have a meaning?"

"Enlightenment," was all she said. Then she got some lemon juice from the attendants and packets of sugar, mixed them together, applied them over the design once the clay had dried and cracked, and wrapped his hand with a bit of cellophane. "Not normally part of the ritual but does enhance it. Take it off at the end of the flight."

"Brilliant. And so quickly done."

"Do it for a living," said Julie. "Fairs. Streets. Run down to boardwalks wherever we feel like. Here's me card." She handed him a neat business card with her Facebook address on it. "I post our schedule on there."

"You do well with this?"

"Well enough. Swing by some time; I'll do one on the other hand. Balance. No charge."

Adam grinned and said, "Thanks."

Then she lay back to get a nap and he settled in to watch the movie.

(This bit is the description of the book's story, as posted earlier, so we jump to later in the flight)

The girl playing Mar-Lee as an adolescent was just right, as was the boy playing Creggan, the last surviving member of his family. They sparred as they learned combat techniques, played games, argued, just like children, and just like in the first book. Adam was hopeful.

Then they cut to Mar-Lee as a grown woman, played by Casey Blanchard, with a spectacular entrance -- walking out of fire in a protective suit, throwing back the hood to reveal a face that would have made Helen of Troy weep with envy. Sharp black eyes atop elegant cheekbones framed by hair cropped short but still female, and with a gaze that told one and all she would be a force no one could control. She then tore off the suit and went into battle mode, killing mercenaries sent by the invaders.

The fights were beautiful in their choreography and grace, Mar-Lee the epitome of an Amazon Warrior Queen as she slaughtered everything and everyone around her, with help not arriving -- in the form of Greggan -- until after she was done.

She looked around at him and asked, "What took you so long?"

To which he replied, "Traffic was a bitch."

Adam stopped the DVD. None of that was in the book.

He would have left the movie, there, except for one small problem -- Dumpling Marshe-Croton. He crawled over his sleeping mother to watch the video and then fell asleep on Adam's lap. Not a wonderful thing, but it reminded Adam of his Jack Russell terrier, Albacore, who loved to do the same thing when Adam was reading. Since Adam had a nice thick copy of Sigrid Undset's Kristen Lavransdatter to read, he figured it would be much the same ... only Dumpling woke up when he stopped the film and looked at Adam with those black, dangerous eyes. So Adam started the movie up, again.

Dumpling watched about five minutes of it then fell asleep, again. Adam waited a few minutes, forcing himself to watch Mar-lee and Creggan reluctantly agree to join forces ... then he turned it off.

And Dumpling woke up, again. Adam wound up running the film all the way through, twice, before learning that Dumpling was in trainer pants and still wet his bed. A lot. And since Adam was his bed ... well, this time they let him use the Premier lavatory, with its lovely scented soaps and heated towels. Then made him sit on a garbage bag the second half of the flight ... with Dumpling still sleeping in his lap.

A bit more of A65

Chapter One turned into 2 chapters, after reworking some things. This continues from the point where Adam and Vincent head up in the elevator.

---------

Adam had planned to wear a suit on the flight, but his mother talked him into a nice shirt, neat trousers, loafers instead of Oxfords, and a light jacket. She had been to Los Angeles so convinced him by pointing out, "This is considered upscale form, there."

"Well ... if I put a tie with it ... " he said.

"Adam, you're not meeting with anyone in their office or at a bank. You're not even leaving the terminal, right?"

Adam nodded. "They're bringing the book to me, there."

"Then casual is best, and will look better on arrival. When do you arrive?"

"One-thirty, and the flight back is at eight-fifty-five."

"That's a long time at the airport."

"I've got my laptop and an adaptor. Some articles I want to read. I hear they even have food and drink. And plenty of security. Let someone try and take this book."

"Too bad you won't see any of the town. Los Angeles is lovely. Haven't been there since the Olympics, but I'm sure it hasn't changed that much."

"I'll post you a card."

She dropped him off to Heathrow, the next morning, and he was soon ensconced in a slightly more space seat on the aisle of his flight, next to a pleasant punk couple and their punk toddler ... who smiled like an angel under his blue-spiked hair but had dark eyes filled with danger. The couple were tattooed, pierced, semi-spiked of neon-green hair, had bubbling personalities and, to his surprise, were husband and wife. Not at all what he expected ... but then, he'd never met anyone punk before. David, his oldest brother, was the closest and his version of punk was more a middle class way to "bed the birds who love a bad lad," as he put it. Now that he was married and with children, his head was shaved, his shirts had collars, and his pants had belts instead of braces, albeit in a casual truck-driver mode.

So Adam expected the flight to at least be pleasant. His laptop computer rested in his lap, Vincent's DVD of Ilithium 4, in hand -- an action Sci-fi movie whose cover conveyed more the world of Star Wars than the thought-provoking journey of a boy and girl seeking a new future after the conquest of their home by corporate raiders, only to be caught up in war and adventure.

Needless to say, Adam was not at all sure about this, but hoped they would at least be attempting to emulate the reworking of Battlestar Galactica in place of another space opera. Well, as he said to himself, consistently since being shanghaied into taking the trip, "It's for the Alice ..."

Then a flight attendant touched him on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, sir, you'll need to put those things under the seat in front of you. Doors are closed and we're about to taxi out."

He nodded to her and smiled to the punk child, next to him, who smiled even more sweetly. Then Adam bent down to slip his laptop bag under the seat --

And the child vomited on his back!

He yelped and bolted from his seat and was about to remove his jacket when another flight attendant who was next to him held his head down. "Don't straighten up," she cried. "You'll get it everywhere and we're on an eleven hour flight and it already smells something awful! Remove your jacket."

"How?" he choked out. She had his head held practically between his knees. He could barely breathe. Needless to say, it was not the most comfortable positions to be in.

"Hold out your arms," she said. "Straight out."

He did as she asked, taking a sort of diving position. The first flight attendant scurried over to awkwardly roll the jacket up his back and over his head so they could pull it off by using the sleeves. Then she shoved it in a garbage bag.

That is when a male attendant stormed up to snap, "Why are you out of your seat? We're taxiing."

The second attendant patted Adam's arm and said, "We'll clean it best we can and return it to you once we're airborne. Now please be seated. Buckle up."

He nodded and sat, casting the Punk Child a wary look ... who looked back at him, still smiling.

His mother leaned over, also smiling. "Sorry, luv. It's his first plane ride and his stomach's already weak." Then she tickled the little beast and said, in a sing-song, "But we're going on the Hollywood Death Tour, going on the Hollywood Death Tour, going on the Hollywood Death Tour, right, sweets? Get your tummy toughened up."

The child laughed.

Adam forced himself to smile then buckled up and settled in, using one of his Mother's karmic mantras to try and calm himself.

I prefer to live with ease.
Stress is no one's friend.
If I smile it brings me joy.
Breathe and breathe, again.

Which did nothing for him. So he just closed his eyes as the pilot came over the intercom to say, "Attendants, please be seated. We're cleared for takeoff."

A moment later the jet turned, they started down the runway ... and the brat let loose into his lap!

So much for the idea this would be an enjoyable flight.

"Ilithium 4"

That's the title of Casey's big action sci-fi movie and Adam refused to watch it because it's based on a classic work of science fiction...except Vincent, his boss, all but forces him to. It's what I worked on, today, and is pretty much a pastiche of a dozen different SF films, but works for now.

The book is based on Simplicius Simplicissimus by Hans Jakob Christoffel von Grimmelshausen (1668), which starts with the 30 years war that cut Germany's population by two-thirds. Simplicicus is the hero who is orphaned by the war, lives with a hermit as he grows up, travels to France, Russia, and a world inhabited by mermen, and has mercenary adventures and heartbreak and sadness and joy on the way. Supposedly inspired Voltaire's Candide, a century later.

The "SF book" splits Simplicius into male and female, which Adam thinks actually worked quite nicely. Mar-Lee, the female, is not only the heart and mind of the story, but its conscience. She can also fight. Creggan is the adventurous fool who knows military strategy and thinks of Mar-Lee as beneath him, even after she proves herself more capable than he.

Ilithium 4 is a mineral found on Skipf, a living planet of forested mountains and valleys and golden plains whispering up to green oceans, in the Torellian System. It provides an indestructible protective coating for spacecraft entering and exiting the atmosphere of planets, absorbs energy from void of the universe to provide additional power for the ship, thus enhancing interplanetary travel, and protects against battle ship weaponry better than matter-shields.

Skipf is run by a powerful family with the assistance of their own private bureaucracy and protected by their private army. Mar-Lee's father is one of their top officials, so grows up with Creggan, the oldest son of the family's patriarch. He is being groomed to take over the family's business as well as command the security forces.

Corporate raiders invade the planet and destroy the family and all who resist them. Mar-Lee saves Creggan's life by forcing him to leave with her. They are 11 years old. They find others who escaped and form a small secret community deep in the forest, and begin to learn how to fight.

Cut to Mar-Lee, now played by Casey, a woman of knowledge and vision who can hunt and fight with the best, but has heart. She will not kill a female creature, nor allow one to be killed. "Might have young." She is building a ship to get to another planet, using bits and pieces she steals from the mining sites. She wants to raise money for better weaponry...for counterattack.

Creggan tries to be a leader but is prone to anger and foolishness. "His father would have worked that out of him," says the oldest of the survivors. He's angriest when not taken seriously, but his condescending attitude keeps that from happening. His saving grace is, he is fearless in battle, and there have been more and more skirmishes between the forest group and the invaders as the mining gets closer and closer to the forest.

The invaders have taken over the production of Ilithium 4 but in rough and brutal ways, wreaking havoc on the land and harming the planet, maybe beyond repair. They have begun tearing into the forests, now...which are sacred areas. Not because of religion but because they are the lungs of the planet.

The seeress finds them and tells them Skipf is angry and will fight back with rains and earthquakes to stop the plunder. The people in the forest must get to higher ground, places more stable. Then she tells Mar-Lee, "You are alone -- and with not be alone -- and then will be alone."

The invaders attack the people in the forest, but are beaten back to the open spaces, Creggan at the head. It's a slaughter on both sides as the land quakes and rain pours. Then the invaders sling massive bombs into forest, wreaking havoc. Creggan is knocked out and Mar-Lee puts him in her space ship, for protection. She convinces the survivors to get up into the mountains and promises she will come back with help.

Mar-Lee sets off for another planet, Creggan with her. As they leave, waves roll over their land, changing the entire look of it...but the invaders also survive and stay.

Creggan wakes and is horrified at what he sees and hears. He wants to go down and destroy them, but Mar-Lee calms him by saying, "We will come back, Creggan, and our revenge will sends waves of horror throughout the universe."

Perfect timing...

I left London just as the rains came. In fact, it was pouring at Gatwick Airport so I began to wonder if my flight would be delayed...but no; off we went. I rode back in coach, and while there's more legroom in business class, the meal was a lot better with the masses, and the seat was just as comfortable.

The only real problem with the return was making my connection to Jet Blue. I got through Customs in 5 minutes, thanks to Nexus...and then waited 45 minutes for my bag to show up. I swear, they were putting one bag on the luggage carousel every 10 seconds...and mine was, quite literally, the last one to show up. I barely made it.

Of course, it didn't help that I was exhausted, by this point. I spent from 6am to 10pm out and about in the city. Walking. Climbing up and down stairs thanks to only half the underground stations having escalators or lifts. Hills. Steps up and down to places. Roadways where barriers make you cross at the corner. Whooh...I crashed and slept till 10am, Thursday.

Got in just before midnight, last night. Worked today. Tomorrow's the final repairs on my car...then Sunday I start inputting the changed. Got 'em all worked out...and Adam's added more details to his world, as well. What makes it great is, Casey's also beginning to.

So in tribute to my time in London, here's another shot of Tower Bridge, from between 7am and 7:30.
In the distance, between the towers, you can see Canary Wharf. It's a 9 minute ride on The Thames, and 6GBP, which you can pay for with your Oyster Card. In fact, I could have used my Oyster Card for Thameslink and not bothered with online booking. Ugh. I guess it's like the Octopus Card in Hong Kong, now -- you can even use it for meals. Put a hundred pounds on it and that'll last you for days...

Live and lear.

Job's done so did some research...

I dropped my package off to The British Library, who were very pleased, and got to my hotel and slept, then spent from 6am today running around London to check on details for The Alice '65 and Underground Guy. Glad I did.

In A65, I have Adam living in Epping with his mother, which is the last stop on the Central Line. Takes nearly an hour to get there from St. Pancras but it is a very quiet, village-like place...and traffic is a bitch; cars lined up for blocks to get through the center of the town. Houses run from 600,000 to 900,000 GBP. However, I could see it being a place to raise kids, so...that worked.

My trip through the British Library suggested I need more people working in the archival department and should define the university's collection a bit more. I'm thinking it should be a smaller, more boutique-style collection. There's no way they could compete with a well-funded organization.

The rest of A65 is LA locations and situations, and those I know, already.

I then checked into locations for UG, and those were more problematic. The book starts off with Dev attacking Reg in East Hounslow, which is filthy and not much like how it comes across on Google Maps. I need to either change that location or adjust its description. These are tiny homes and it's very busy, so for Dev to attack Reg there needs a lot of thought...and  I nearly talked myself into taking this back to West Hounslow...but reviewing those photos (from 2 years ago) it's even less workable.

Knightsbridge works well for Tawfi's embassy and his secret apartment, but there is damned little around as regards restaurants or cafes or anything like that, so it's not easy for him and Dev to have a meal, together. And them connecting in Hatton Cross is going to take some reworking...but can still happen.

I had dinner at the pub Dev goes to in the book, not far from his hotel. It is right under one of Heathrow's busiest runways, with jets roaring past at barely 400 feet above. In the night sky you can see a long line of airplane lights floating closer and closer in their approach to land.

The best part was trekking down to Tower Bridge and catching it at sunrise, as I rode a water taxi from there to Canary Wharf. That works in the book...and feeds my touristy needs, as well. The only serious problem all day was...my feet and legs are killing me, I walked so damn much...and climbed stairs to get around the tube...and hills in Epping. I'm out of practice in my walking.

I could live London...except the rents are beyond ludicrous. 450GBP a WEEK for a one-bedroom flat in Canary Wharf. Granted it's a more upscale area, but that's almost as much as a month's rent on my studio apartment in Buffalo.

It's getting to where if you want to live in a city you have to make a million a year.