Edward Hoornaert's Blog, page 77
October 20, 2015
Top Ten Tuesday: Dear Book Genie
The Top Ten Tuesday meme is hosted by The Broke and the Bookish. Today’s theme is 10 Wishes I’d Ask The Book Genie To Grant Me. YOU DREAM IT AND THE BOOKISH GENIE CAN DO IT.
There’s always the stereotypical wish: a million dollars. The only problem is that inflation has rendered that amount trivial. Okay, then, how about a billion dollars? Or is that too mercenary?
Yeah, you’re probably right. Back to some bookish wishes.
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>>> Thirty more years of life for Jane Austen. I figure that should have given us an additional ten or twenty books. Drool.
For starters, I’d like to know how she would’ve turned Sanditon into a great book. The fragment she left us is far from encouraging, IMHO, but I have faith she would’ve managed it.
>>> 
More books from my favorite romance author (and fellow University of Chicago alum) Kathleen Gilles Seidel. She’s still alive but doesn’t seem to be writing.
Although relatively unknown outside the romance genre, Seidel’s complex plots and deep understanding of the human mind makes her worthy to be read by anyone interested in people, regardless of genre. Her award-winning novel Again is a great place to start.
>>> Extra Literary Perception, so I could KNOW ahead of time whether I’ll enjoy a book.
I have far too many books I haven’t read and never will.
>>> And its extension, Emotional Extra Literary Perception.
This would enable me to lay my hand on a book’s cover (it doesn’t work on e-books — sorry!) and feel all over again the emotions a beloved book roused, without having to reread the entire book. Sorry, EELP works only on books you’ve already read.
>>> And finally, being mercenary again (can’t help myself, folks; sorry again!). One of my novels (any one of them, take your pick) on the New York Times bestseller list.
The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station, perhaps my most accessible tale, would be a good place to start. Hey, a guy can dream!
<< –==– >>
Be sure to check out the top wishes of other hopeful readers.
October 19, 2015
Smardy Kat #2
Smardy Kat here. Mr. Edward Hoornaert (also known as Mr Valentine, for some abstruse reason), has shown the excellent sense to engage me every Monday to elucidate matters of science for his legions of readers. As Mr. Hoornaert writes science fiction, I deemed it within my dignity to acknowledge his request with an acquiescent purr.
In case your curiosity equals those of us who hail from the Felis silvestris catus classification, I get paid one piece of cat food per chuckle and two pieces per laugh. So laugh, you human idiots gentle readers!
View other Smardy Kat posts.
View posts by Smardy’s cousin, Effing Feline.
October 17, 2015
Effing Feline introduces his cousin
Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior posts on Mr. V’s behalf
In my supra-human wisdom, I, Effing Feline, have chosen another snippet from Ed Hoornaert’s The Trial of Tompa Lee. It follows soon after last week’s snippet, in which Tompa attacks Dante Roussel after he disobeyed orders to come to her aid in a trial by combat. As a street person, she has serious issues with police.
The one Shon who supports her, Awmit, tries to help her fight Dante, and we learn of her feelings for the old Shon.
“This one races supportively, graceful human,” Awmit called from the cliff.
When Roussel tripped, his eyes met hers, and the damned asshole didn’t even have the grace to look terrified—just resigned and sad. She raised the club.
An inhuman shriek stopped her — Awmit had lost his grip and fallen down the cliff.
Tompa ran toward him, but as she neared the motionless body of her friend, she slowed to a fearful walk and whispered, “Awmit?”
He let out a whistling groan. The wrinkled, grey membranes that covered his eyes fluttered as though trying to open.
“You’re alive,” she whispered; she hadn’t expected that, she really hadn’t. “Is anything broken?”
“Pride,” he said, eyes still closed, “shattered ingloriously.”
Effing Feline here again. What kind of stupid creature hurts himself when falling? Why didn’t Awmit just land on his feet? Dumb of him.
BTW, my cousin Smardy Kat, has a new weekly gig on this blog. Check her out.
Finally, make sure you read the snippets by other great weekend writing warriors.
The first book in The Trilogy of Tompa Lee is free. Yes, FREE!
The Trial of Tompa Lee is reminiscent of the best of classic Star Trek. – TheBestReviews.com
Ed Hoornaert is a marvelous writer: a terrific, engrossing storyteller and a consummate stylist. – Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo-Award winning author
Hold a tissue ready, as Mr. Hoornaert knows how to squeeze the heart of the reader. – Love Romances
October 13, 2015
Bookstores I Love: Powell’s Books
Is any kind of store more important to a writer than bookstores? Absolutely not! That’s why I’m writing this series on bookstores I love.
Today, a special treat: I’m writing this LIVE from my oldest son’s favorite bookstore, and one of mine, too — Powell’s Books in Portland, Oregon, where I’m visiting. (Note that I wasn’t able to post this until I returned to my hotel.)
Powell’s is the largest independent used and new bookstore in the world, with over a million books at their flagship location in downtown Portland. It may not look big in the picture, but it fills every single building in its square block.
If bigger is better, then Powell’s is the best. I dare you to take in the whole store on one visit. I just dare you! You’ll need a map to find your way around, but luckily the store provides one.
The author at the entrance to Powell’s
The store is such a landmark that Time Magazine pegs it as number four of the top ten things to do in Portland. That’s my kind of store.
Powell’s boasts a very large science fiction section, a very small romance section, and a sort-of-small paranormal romance section. Science fiction romance is mixed in with SF.
Among the store’s unique features are the pillars holding up the building. On one pillar, employees have listed Hugo winning books.
Science fiction authors who’ve spoken or signed at the store have signed another pillar. I noted at least one spurious signature, though: Lawrence Block, who writes mystery. How dare he! ;-)
On this trip, I bought two science fiction books by Julie Czerneda. The one I’ll read first is Ties of Power, which is book two in her Trade Pact Universe trilogy. I read book one awhile back but didn’t read on, for some now-forgotten reason. I’ll remedy the omission.
I was privileged to meet Ms Czerneda at last year’s Toronto book festival. The two of us, along with author Karina Sumner-Smith, manned (womanned?) the booth for the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writer of America. Julie was humble and gracious, and I was delighted to make her acquaintance.
L to R: Karina Sumner-Smith, Ed Hoornaert, and Julie Czerneda
Next time you’re in Portland, check out Powell’s Books, and tell them I sent you.
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Check out other Bookstores I Love. What about you? What bookstores do you love?
October 12, 2015
Introducing Smardy Kat
Fart-Fueled Flying Feline here. If you’re new to Ed Hoornaert’s blog, I write a weekly column here on Sundays. I have many fans! I am adored far and wide!
I’ve used my increased clout to get a gig for my cousin, Smardy Kat. Smardy, who is also known to the family as Snooty, likes to think she’s brilliant. (Yeah, right. Not as brilliant as me!) In keeping with this site’s science fiction theme, she will be educating you about science.
What do you folks think? Anyone need the joke explained? Shall we keep Snooty Smardy Kat?
To read more of my (Effing Feline’s) posts, click the picture below … and notice that my picture is bigger than Smarty’s. I made sure that got written into my contract.
October 10, 2015
Effing Feline deigns to purr
Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior posts on Mr. V’s behalf
In my infinite feline wisdom, I, Effing Feline, have chosen another ten sentences from Ed Hoornaert’s The Trial of Tompa Lee. It’s the first book in his science fiction trilogy that continues with The Tribulations of Tompa Lee and ends with The Triumph of Tompa Lee. Clever human, that pet of mine.
In last week’s snippet, Dante Roussel, a Space Navy policeman, has bravely disobeyed orders (which is exactly what I or any other cat would do, of course) and charged off to help Tompa fend off her 300 accusers in a trial by combat. She’ll be grateful for his heroic sacrifice, right?
Swinging the club wildly in front of her, Tompa shrieked as she charged the shadowy figure, hoping to gain the upper hand through sheer ferocity. The creature stumbled back from her onslaught and fell.
“Stop,” it said.
Tompa raised the club for a crushing blow despite her blisters. When the figure scrambled to a standing position, it was sturdy and tall, a lot taller than she was; and for the first time, she really looked at it.
“Ship’s Ward Lee, I order you to stop.”
It was a human: Roussel — the roach responsible for putting her in this mess.
“Put down the club.”
With a scream, Tompa flailed the club in an x-shaped pattern so he couldn’t duck, but the club glanced off his arm. She drew it back to hit him harder.
Effing Feline here again. Gratitude, thy name is Tompa!
But then, she’s only human. Is Mr V sufficiently appreciative when I deign to purr in his lap? Hah!
Make sure you read the snippets by other great weekend writing warriors.
<< == >>
Ed Hoornaert here. Thanks for the purrs, Effing. I do appreciated them.
I usually try to read and comment on all the weekend writing warrior’s posts, but this weekend I’m pretty busy with music. (Like Jennifer Lawrence, I play the oboe.) My traffic jam of performances may interfere with getting to you as quickly as I’d like. My apologies in advance.
As mentioned above, the Trial of Tompa Lee is the first book in The Trilogy of Tompa Lee.
The Trial of Tompa Lee
Only her enemies can save her from alien injustice.
(The book is free, so you can’t go wrong.)
The Tribulations of Tompa Lee
Goddess or Madwoman? Even Tompa isn’t sure any more.
The Triumph of Tompa Lee
Now the prey stalks the hunter — to the death.
October 6, 2015
Top Ten DNFs
The Top Ten Tuesday meme is hosted by The Broke and the Bookish. Today’s theme is Top Ten Books I Did Not Finish (DNF).
I have way more than ten, so I’ll take ten at random. I used to finish every book I started, but life’s too short for that. With each grey hair, it seems I get fussier and less patient, so not finishing these books says more about me than about the books.
Evelina, Or, the History of a Young Lady’s Entrance into the World, by Frances Burney
I love Jane Austen, and this was one of her favorite books. Turned out that didn’t mean I like it, too.
Brothers in Arms, by Lois McMaster Bujold
Bujold’s Vorkosigan books are great and many people love them. Personally, I’m rather tired of Miles Vorkosigan.
My Life and Loves, by Frank Harris
I don’t even remember what impelled me to start this autobiography of an obscure nineteenth century writer.
The Rafael Sabatini Megapack, by Rafael Sabatini
Maybe this doesn’t belong on the list, because I read three or four of the TWENTY (!) books in this compendium. That’s enough Sabatini to last me a long time.
Treasure Island, by Robert Lewis Stevenson
I loved this as a teenager, but the magic just wasn’t there the second time around.
The Extroverted Writer, by Amanda Luedeke
I read many great things regarding this non-fiction book about how a writer can build his audience. Who knows, I may go back to it, because I sure need to build up my audience.
APE: How to Publish a Book, by Guy Kawasaki and Shawn Welch
I know how to publish a book; I’m a hybrid author, published both traditionally and on my own. On top of that, I’ve “self-published” dozens of software manuals. I could’ve written this book, so I’m clearly not its intended audience.
Chihuahua of the Baskervilles, by Esri Allbritten
My wife recommended it. Let’s just say our tastes differ.
Hangar 18: Legacy, by Jennette Marie Powell
I bought this science fiction book strictly because of the cover, which uses the same model as on the covers of my Tompa Lee trilogy. How dare Ms. Powell!
Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoeyevsky
I’ve read much Dostoeyevsky, but not this one, his most famous work. Alas, I no longer thirst for long books — I cringe, instead, thinking of all the shorter books I might read in the same amount of time — so I don’t know if I’ll ever finish this one. It’s my loss, I know.
October 3, 2015
Effing Feline admires disobedience
Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior posts on Mr. V’s behalf
In my infinite wisdom, I, Effing Feline, chose another ten sentences from Ed Hoornaert’s The Trial of Tompa Lee. In last week’s snippet, Mr. V’s lowly heroine, Tompa Lee, has been framed for terrorism on an alien planet. Dante Roussel, a Space Navy policeman, has handed her over to Shon justice.
The Space Navy is famous for leaving no sailor behind, and the sailors hate to abandon Tompa to be slaughtered by aliens. But only one of them is willing to disobey orders to fight at her side against 300 accusers.
“None of you,” Carolyn ordered the humans observing the trial, “is going to sacrifice yourselves to defend Ship’s Ward Lee—and that’s a Code Magenta order.”
Magenta: the color splashed across Dante’s mind. Code Magenta meant an order of ultimate importance he must instantly obey, no matter what—but magenta was also the color of blood, of life and of death; of Tompa’s death.
Doing this to an innocent girl wasn’t fair. The confusion and uncertainty of the last few days crystallized into a vivid, magenta decision. Dante dashed down the steps, chasing after Tompa Lee.
Shouts arose even before he reached the powdery dust of the arena, but he kept running, expecting with every step a sudden, burning agony to terminate his dash. Ignoring a Code Magenta was an act of mutiny.
He didn’t dodge or weave. He owed the Navy a clear shot at his back even more than he owed Tompa Lee her safety—or, to be more realistic, the small grace of not dying alone.
Effing Feline here again. Brave guy, eh? With such sterling bravery, Dante is obviously part cat. Or at least a cat lover who hates, loathes, and despises dogs!
Make sure you read the snippets by other great weekend writing warriors.
The Trial of Tompa Lee is reminiscent of the best of classic Star Trek. – TheBestReviews.com
Ed Hoornaert is a marvelous writer: a terrific, engrossing storyteller and a consummate stylist. – Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo-Award winning author
Hold a tissue ready, as Mr. Hoornaert knows how to squeeze the heart of the reader. – Love Romances
<<< === >>>
Finally, I found this on the SFR Brigade group and just had to share it with fellow writers. If you aren’t into science fiction, substitute your own genre.
October 1, 2015
Recipe for a Book
Recipe for a Book
People often ask if there’s a formula for writing a book. The answer: Nope — no formula. Sorry.
But for one of my books, The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station, I have the next best thing — a recipe. If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll let you in on my secrets.
I feel a special fondness for Guardian Angel. I think it’s probably the easiest entry into my work, partly because it’s short. But I also love it because of how easily it came together. I put together ingredient A with ingredients B and C, mixed well, added some secret sauce et voila, c’est magnifique !
Ingredient One
I couldn’t sleep one night, so I watched a movie on TV — Amelie, a French comedy about a hapless woman who goes around trying to do anonymous good deeds. She struck me as so fascinating and admirable that I simply had to write a character like her.
Thus Sandrina was born. A childhood trauma involving space pirates left her unable to speak, making her life as a homeless orphan on Farflung Space Station both impoverished and lonely. But she’s SMART! (Yes, in capital letters.) She teaches herself to resurrect an abandoned section of the station and then taps into the station’s computers. In secret, she becomes the most powerful of the station’s 3000 inhabitants.
What does she do with her power? She performs anonymous good deeds. Gotta admire someone like that.
Ingredient Two
Sandrina is the polar opposite of the stereotypical kick-ass heroine (K.A.H.) so beloved in science fiction romance. What the heck — I decided to add a K.A.H. as Sandrina’s foil.
And so Princess Lockey was born. She’s everything Sandrina isn’t. Gorgeous. Rich. Self-confident. Full of wisecracks. And tough — so tough she can beat bigger, more experienced men in any known martial arts.
In one way, though, Lockey is like Sandrina. They both have their hearts set on the same man.
Ingredient Three
Duke Dukelsky was born. Since my female leads are vivid and distinctive, I felt that the romantic interest should be earnest, even serious. Duke is the head of station security, handsome, new to his job but good at it. After living up to his reputation as the black sheep of his distinguished military family for too long, he’s determined to prove himself worthy.
And he isn’t just a pretty face. Underneath the testosterone, he’s wise enough to appreciate Sandrina’s silent goodness just as much as Lockey’s surface flash. This gives him the depth to counterbalance the rival women’s flamboyance.
The Secret Sauce
In a word: Space Pirates! (Uh oh, that’s two words. Okay, then: spacepirates!)
The short length of a novella means less space for world-building, so I opted for bad guys whom readers could understand without pages of explanation … although we learn eventually that these ‘space pirates’ aren’t what they seem to be.
When a hundred space pirates take over Farflung Station, Duke leads a two-woman army to liberate the station. Plenty of action ensues, during which Sandrina and Lockey constantly vie for Duke’s affection. A grand time is had by all.
Except, of course, for the pirates.
How to Get your very own Guardian Angel
The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station is available wherever fine e-books are sold, including:
Direct from the publisher
Amazon
Amazon Canada
Amazon UK
Amazon Australia
Barnes and Noble
Kobo Books
Read chapter one of Guardian Angel for free.
And be sure to check out the other great writers involved in the SFR Brigade Showcase.
September 30, 2015
The Bear at the Door
My wife, way back when
Judi was browning Swedish meatballs on the stove, filling the air with the tempting aroma of frying meat and the mouthwatering promise of one of my favorite meals. I forget what else was for dinner, because this was several decades ago. Mashed potatoes? Doesn’t matter, really.
What matters is that THEN—
(You may not believe it, but it really happened.)
THEN, with a thump and the rasp of tearing wood, a bear scratched at our door.
Now, that kitchen door didn’t latch unless you closed it. Hard. And if the door wasn’t latched, a vigorous shove would open it.
A vigorous human shove. A half-hearted shove from a full-grown black bear would surely do the trick.
For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost for the want of a shoe the horse was lost, for the want of a horse… Had I closed the door hard? Had Judi?
Funny, in a non-humorous way, the flimsy little fulcrums on which life’s big moments can turn.
Like a horseshoe nail. Or closing a door.
This is a true story, by the way. If I’d made it up, I would’ve devised a more dramatic ending. You know, like I killed the bear with my bare hands, because I’m such a formidable guy.
Back then we lived on the outskirts of a small British Columbia town of 1500. I say ‘small town,’ but it was the largest settlement for 75 miles in all directions, surrounded by wilderness. Surrounded by bears, too, though they didn’t usually wander so close in.
Our pooch Lion, outside the house the bear visited. This picture was taken in the month of APRIL, believe it or not. It snows just a wee little bit in the BC mountains.
But that summer we’d been plagued by a bear getting into our garbage and making a mess. Because of trees, a hill, and distance, there weren’t any neighbors close enough to see, and I never heard of the bear bothering anyone else.
We kept a close watch on our dog, Lion. You see, dogs and bears don’t get along. Dogs bark, trying to scare off the bear, and when that doesn’t work (bears aren’t afraid of dogs), the dog runs back to you, looking for protection from the angry, four-hundred-pound bear chasing it.
By the way, don’t believe that ‘man’s best friend’ garbage. If dogs really were man’s best friend, they’d let the bears eat them rather than lead the bear straight to their masters.
But I malign poor Lion. She wasn’t to blame for this particular bear story. She merely urged me, with frantic barks, to do something.
I was a teacher working for the summer as a part-time naturalist in Wells Gray Provincial Park, a huge tract of forest, mountains, extinct volcanoes, and waterfalls. For some reason, probably scheduling, I was talking on the phone to Trevor Goward, the park ranger, when the bear came a-visiting.
SCRATCH
“Trevor,” I said, or something similar, “there’s a bear at my door.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, or something similar.
SCRATCH
“Screech,” Judi said in an oddly calm voice as she fled into the living room. Lion, her voice far from calm, barked madly at her heels. Ordinarily, my intrepid wife wouldn’t have fled from a mere bear (we were pretty used to them) but she was expecting our first child at the time.
Helmcken Falls, at 463 feet North America’s tallest on a river (not creek), is Wells Gray Park’s prime attraction.
“No, really,” I yelled into the phone. “I gotta go!”
“Yeah, right,” Trevor said.
SCRATCH
I tried to hang up the phone, missed—and then went back to hang it up properly. Dumb of me, I know. I was terrified to go to the door, afraid maybe the bear was a Jehovah’s Witness, but was also terrified to wait and see if it could get in. Didn’t want a bunch of Watchtowers littering the place.
But with my wife watching, what else could I do? She expected me to deal with all spiders, mice, and bears. It was in our marriage vows.
So I screwed up my courage, ignored my pounding heart, and hurried to the door, where the meatballs still smelled great. Bracing myself against a kitchen cabinet, I kicked the doorknob and pressed it as hard as I could.
I didn’t hear the latch click, maybe because of my pounding heart. Or the dog. Or maybe it was already latched, and all our terror was for naught.
One thing’s for certain, though. That bear was nothing but a big bully who turned tail when I pounded the door. It stopped fifty feet away and stared back at me, wondering if I had enough meat on me to be worth the bother. Then it ambled into the woods.
I tried to talk Trevor into coming into town to see the scratch marks on our kitchen door. All he said was, “Yeah, right.” Or something similar.
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Trevor Goward isn’t just a great guy. In the years since the bear, he’s become an authority about the BC central interior. Literally an authority; he’s written books, like this one about Wells Gray Park.
For more information about Wells Gray, click here.
