E.S. Martell's Blog, page 10

Just released Confederation on both Create Space and Kindle

I’m pretty happy right at the moment. I’ve got the first three books of the Gaea Ascendant series out now. Here’s the Kindle link:

 

The Gaea Ascendant Series

The Time of the Cat http://amzn.to/1tlsn7j

Second Wave http://amzn.to/1zOAL5t

Confederation http://amzn.to/1ivymYN

Two Free Chapters from my new Gaia Ascendant Novel, “Confederation”

I’m finally getting ready to release this story. Maybe a little more editing still. However, I think I’ll be releasing it on Monday, November 2nd. Anyway, I thought I’d give you (should you actually find this obscure page) a couple of chapters introducing a secondary character. Note that she may well have her own book in the future, since she turned into such a strong person.

Warning: Post-apocalyptic violence. If you don’t want to read about some of the bad crap that can happen to people or if you’re easily horrified or addicted to the politically correctness drug, stop here or else risk being offended.

 

Here are Chapter 17 and 18 from “Confederation”. If you like Hazel, let me know. Please. I’m dying for some feedback.

Chapter 17

The Mother-effers were coming again. Hazel had been doing her best to avoid the soldiers for the last week. She’d been hiding in a dry, concrete culvert that went under the narrow, asphalt road a mile from the remains of her parent’s farm. She’d been in shock for the first three days, but now her emotions were beginning to crystallize. Physical discomfort and hunger seemed to increase the effect and now she was experiencing nothing but a cold, hard anger.

Last Saturday had been bright and sunny. She’d been gathering eggs when her dad had come running around the barn shouting for her to hide. Soldiers were coming. There had been smoke from burning farms in the distance for the last twenty-four hours and she and her parents had realized that something bad was coming. Now it had arrived.

Last night, over supper, they’d argued. She had wanted to run, but her parents were adamant that they had to stay with the farm.

“Hattie, the animals need us. They won’t be able to survive alone,” her father reasoned, calling her by her nickname. “Besides, if it is His will that they come here and find us, then nothing we can do will change that.”

She wished that her parents weren’t so religious. Since society stopped years ago, their faith had only grown deeper and firmer. Now, they wouldn’t leave and she knew they’d take no steps to defend themselves. “Turn the other cheek,” her father always said.

Her mother added, “The cows have to be milked twice a day, otherwise they may get udder rot. We owe it to them to stay. They’ve supported us well in the past and we need them, too.”

They’d made it clear, though, that if armed men found them, she was to hide. Her father and mother looked at each other with worry in their eyes and then her mother had said, “Hazel, you’re too pretty to take any chances with invaders. They would probably kidnap you and you might be seriously hurt.”

Hazel knew what they were talking about. “You mean they’d rape me, don’t you. You needn’t think I’m totally ignorant. I’m nearly an adult,” she fumed.

Her parents looked shocked. That had pretty much been the end of the discussion. Her mother went into the sitting room to read her bible by candle-light and her dad went out to the barn to repair something or other. Things were always breaking.

Two weeks ago, a refugee family had come by the farm. They were headed for the mountains; the distant mountains. They hadn’t seen any soldiers, but they’d heard tales of atrocities and that was enough to drive them towards safety.

Hazel had only dreamed about the mountains. She’d never seen more than a faint purple line against the western sky. Before the EMP blast, back when she was still a child, her parents had told her that they’d take a vacation to the front range, but it never happened. They never made enough money on their small farm, since it was barely a subsistence-level enterprise. They always had enough to eat, but there was precious little left over for clothes, let alone luxuries like vacations or even birthday or Christmas presents.

She’d gone to school in the small town that was eighteen miles to the south and that was just about the limit of her exposure to the outside world. That and reading. There hadn’t been any school since the EMP burst and she’d read and re-read every book in the house.

She had turned sixteen three months ago and she had harbored dreams of a life that had more in it than gathering eggs.

At her dad’s shout, she’d put the egg basket up against the side of the chicken coop and dashed off into the corn field to the west of the house. There was a drainage ditch on the far side of the field and she made her way to it. Once there, she scrambled down into the dry ditch and waited, hoping her parents would show up.

There was a rustling in the corn and she peered over the edge of the ditch in trepidation, wondering if the soldiers had followed her or if it was her parents. Shortly a black and tan muzzle came through the corn. It was Katie, their aged, border collie.

She snapped her fingers and the dog came over to the ditch, wagging her tail. It took some pulling and lifting on her part, but she got Katie down over the edge. The old dog was so stiff that she couldn’t jump or scramble down easily.

It was hot and there was only a little breeze. They sat in the ditch listening to the insects buzzing in the corn, waiting.

Suddenly there were two shots, then three and then after a pause, a fourth echoed over the cornfield. Katie whimpered.

Hazel could hear men shouting off in the distance towards the farm house. She waited for a few minutes, wondering what to do. Her mind was abruptly made up for her when she saw a column of black smoke rising from across the field. She heard the squealing of their pig, Blackie. She’d named him in jest, since he was a white-colored animal.

His squealing rose in terror and then abruptly faded in a gurgling sound. She’d seen hogs butchered before and this sounded like he’d just had his throat cut. She thought about creeping through the corn to see what was happening, but a sudden cold fear came over her and she turned resolutely and followed the ditch down towards the culvert, taking care not to leave any footprints where the dust had blown up into thick, soft patches.

She took the dog into the culvert and they huddled behind a bunch of dried weeds that blocked the narrow tube. She’d had to push her way past the weeds, forcing the dog ahead of her and checking carefully for snakes as they entered. Once inside, there was another blockage of debris and weeds that provided shelter from the other end.

She carefully crawled back to the entrance and backed in, brushing out the signs of their entry with a piece of tumbleweed. Then she and Katie laid on the dry sand and kept quiet. After an hour or so, a group of men came down the road and walked over the culvert. She could hear them talking as they walked.

One said in a loud voice, “Pretty poor pickins at that last place, not even nothin’ much worth stealing, stupid sumbitches.”

He was answered by another who spoke more quietly, “Yeah, but we got some good bacon and that woman wasn’t too bad either. Too bad for her that she had to fight so much.”

Loud-mouth came back with, “Did ya see that stupid farmer. Imagine him trying to fight us with a pitch fork.”

Another added, “He looked pretty surprised with that hole through his head.”

Hazel sniffled and tried to suppress a sob by biting her lip. Nevertheless, one of the men said, “Say, there was some smaller sized dresses in the second bedroom. There might’a been a girl lived there. D’ya think we’d better look under the road here?”

She quivered in terror and held her hand on Katie’s muzzle to suppress a possible snarl or bark. There was a scrambling sound as the men came off the roadway and bent down to peer into the culvert.

“Na, there’s nothing in here but a bunch of weeds and crap,” Loud-mouth shouted. “It’s so plugged that ya can’t see through. No tracks going in, either.”

Hazel was glad that she’d taken the time to blur the signs of her passage, erasing their tracks. She quivered in an agony of fear that one of them would try to crawl in and discover her hide-out.

“Hey, Tim, get yer ass down here and look in this here hole,” shouted Loud-mouth.

There was another scrambling sound and someone said, “It’s pretty plugged.”

Loud-mouth said, “Why don’t ya slide in there and see what’s what?” He seemed to have only one volume setting for his voice. Hattie couldn’t see him, but she imagined that he was fat and filthy.

Tim answered with a tone of disgust, “Whyn’t you? It’s too damned tight for a man to go in that hole. An ‘sides there might be a rattler or two in there. I ain’t a goin’ a do it.”

Loud-mouth cursed and Tim called him a ‘Damned fool.’ There was the sound of a little scuffle and Loud-mouth grunted as if he’d been struck in the stomach, then said, “I’ll get you for that someday, you sumbitch.”

Tim replied, “Maybe, but I ain’t waiting down here for it. I’m going to catch up with the rest of the guys.”

There were some more scrambling noises as they crawled back up onto the road and then all was quiet.

She remained still until dark, when thirst drove her and the dog out and back to the farm.

It hadn’t been a good day and it became far worse when they reached the farmstead.

Chapter 18

She now thought of herself as Hattie. In her mind, she was Hazel no longer. That was another person who’d lived in another time. Hattie was a stronger name, someone who didn’t feel grief, someone who survived and most especially, someone who lived for revenge.

She wore a pair of her father’s overalls. The legs had been cut off at ankle length and the suspenders were cinched up to the max. A couple of tee shirts covered by a baggy sweat shirt camouflaged the fact that she had breasts. She’d chopped her pony tail off and now her hair hung in a ragged mop that could have been a boy’s.

A belt around her waist carried her Dad’s hunting knife, a butcher knife in an improvised sheath, the small hatchet and the twenty-two Ruger pistol. It was a nine-shot, semi-automatic that was covered with rust, but it was dead accurate and always hit where she pointed it, as several rabbits had found out to their disadvantage.

She was very careful when she approached the culvert, stopping and inspecting the ground for signs of an invader and also to ensure that she left no track of her own.

She was alone now. Katie had quietly died the second night they were in the culvert. Perhaps it was just old age or perhaps the dog felt as much grief at the loss of her family as Hattie did. Either way, it didn’t make any difference. When Hattie woke up, Katie was stiff and her body was cold.

She’d dragged the last member of her family into the cornfield to bury, then thinking better of it, she’d carried the dog into the farmyard and left her body to decompose behind the barn. There were dog dishes and food on the remains of the porch and the absence of the dog might make an enemy suspicious. Better to just let nature take its course.

By now, the crows and other birds had been at the bodies. Hattie wanted to bury her parents, but the same consideration held. The act of burying implied survivors and survivors meant there was someone to hunt. She didn’t want to send that message.

She’d been lucky to find the pistol hidden in the tin box under the floorboards. Her dad hadn’t believed in guns, but for some reason he had hidden the small pistol and three boxes of long-rifle ammo along with the deed to the farm. The box had also contained her parent’s marriage certificate, two hundred dollars in paper money, some older silver coins and three gold coins.

The paper money wouldn’t buy much. She knew from hearing her parents talk that the only thing most people would take were silver coins. Nevertheless, she carefully hid the box under a rock at the edge of the field. She’d keep the marriage certificate in remembrance.

The deed to the farm had no meaning in this world. Things belonged to those who were strong enough to take and hold them. That was an obvious truth to her. Her parents hadn’t been strong enough.

She’d hidden through two additional incursions of the Motherland Army. The last time they’d been in the farm yard, there had been a lot of cursing about the fact that the place was already stripped. One of the ragged men had gone on about how big a mistake it had been for him to join the Motherland Army and ended by calling it the ‘Mother-effin’ waste’.

Hattie thought that was far more appropriate. Motherland somehow had the connotation of a desirable thing. The army she’d seen was in no way desirable or admirable. She was dead set on staying out of their hands and their appearance reinforced that desire. She had no delusions about what would happen to her if she were captured.

She was lurking just inside the edge of the cornfield watching the mostly burned-out house. She’d seen a small group of men heading down the road towards the homestead and she’d finally decided that she was ready for revenge.

Today’s group of self-styled soldiers was coming down the road. There were just three of them, walking cautiously along, keeping a close look-out for trouble. They rounded the barn and immediately took to cursing, just like the last group.

“Damn it! Some greedy SOB has already taken this place down. There ain’t nothin’ here worth the walk,” said the apparent leader.

His nearest companion added, “Looks like two dead homesteaders here. Woman over there probably put up a fight or they’d a taken her with them.”

The leader responded, “Maybe, less she wasn’t pretty enough. I’d as soon shoot an ugly one as have to listen to ‘er complaints.”

The third turned with a laugh and said, “You’d shoot her alright, but what gun would ya use?”

They all laughed at that.

Hattie didn’t laugh. She was aiming the little Ruger at the leader.

The pistol snapped viciously and the leader grunted and then said slowly, “What?”

He opened his mouth again and a stream of blood ran out over his beard. He slowly put his hand on his chest and then toppled over.

Both of the others were trying to look in every direction at once, their rifles at their shoulders. The single shot had echoed off the barn and the men were looking suspiciously at the barn door, the chicken coop and the hay-mow window, which was hanging open.

Hattie aimed carefully and shot again. The third man screamed, dropped his rifle and clapped his hand to the side of his neck. A bright red gout of blood sprayed through his fingers. He sat down in the dust. The drops of blood were splattered across the area to his right making a somewhat artistic display, bright red against the light-brown dust.

The last man was shooting at the barn. He still hadn’t figured out where Hattie was hiding. She waited for him. His rifle fired several three shot bursts and then the bolt locked open. He started fumbling at his belt, trying to open the magazine pouch there. Just as he got it open, Hattie shot him in the stomach. The little slug splatted home and he grabbed his gut with a curse.

She shot again and he dropped the rifle when the bullet hit his upper arm. He was trying to move towards the back of the house, heading around the cistern and staggering away from her. She stepped out of the corn and yelled, “Hey, Mister. You came to the wrong place.”

He turned slowly to look at her. His face betrayed amazement, “A stinkin’ kid! I been shot by a stinkin’ kid.”

She just nodded and answered, “Yep. That’s the way it is.” She paused, but he didn’t say anything, so she added, “And, I’m going to finish the job.”

He turned and started to hobble faster. She lifted the little Ruger and carefully shot two rounds into the center of his back. One of them must have hit his heart. He slowly folded at the waist and toppled forward, landing face first in the bloody dust.

She sighed, shook her shoulders to clear the tension as she popped the magazine out of the bottom of the pistol’s grip. Seconds later she had reloaded it with six more cartridges. Her mind was blank, no emotions at the moment, just attending to business.

She collected the three rifles and the soldiers’ knives. One of them, the leader, also had a nine-millimeter Glock. She took it along with two full magazines he had in a pocket. Next she checked the others pockets. One had some jewelry that she kept for possible barter and the other had a nice pocket knife.

The rifles were military carbines of a standard sort. She didn’t know much about weapons, but these looked like the ones she’d seen somewhere. She couldn’t remember if she’d seen them in a magazine or on TV. It had been so long since the TV went out and she’d been a child then. She didn’t want to think about it.

After fiddling with the various buttons and knobs on one of the weapons, she figured out how to release the magazine and how to operate the bolt. The safety was a little rotating lever on the left side of the bottom by the magazine well. It had several positions, allowing for, she surmised, single shots, automatic fire, and a safety position.

She took a moment to climb into the barn and looked out the hay mow window. The road was easily visible from this height and there was no one coming or going in any direction. She decided to experiment with the rifle. Sliding the safety lever to the first position, she shouldered the weapon and aimed at the first raider’s body. The rifle banged, much louder than she’d expected, but the recoil was largely absorbed by a spring in the stock. The corpse jerked with the impact. Shooting the thing wasn’t so bad. She pulled a rag out of her pocket and tore off a couple of small pieces to stick in her ears.

The next shot wasn’t nearly as unpleasant. She’d aimed at the second body and the round showed that it was far more powerful than the little Ruger. The corpse’s head practically exploded. She laughed out loud in surprise, then shot the third man also. With her laugh, her emotions started working again.

She’d expected to feel horrified about killing people. She was amazed. She felt good. Empowered and, maybe a little bit, satisfied.

She carried all of the weapons to the culvert and hid the jewelry in the tin box under the rock, taking the silver and gold coins out and putting them into a small pouch she carried. Back at the culvert, she loaded up all of the magazines in a bag with a shoulder strap that she’d taken off one of the men, got her canteen and other supplies that she thought she’d need and then deliberated for a moment over the Glock. She ended up leaving it in favor of the Ruger. She could hit with the twenty-two and it wasn’t loud enough to give her away if she had to hunt. She didn’t know about the Glock, but it was undoubtedly a lot louder. She holstered the little twenty-two pistol and climbed up on the road carrying the best one of the three rifles.

Hattie looked both directions and then set out towards the south. The nearest intersection was there and she was going to head towards the mountains.

.

You’ll have to buy the book to read more. Sorry. I do need to make some money once in awhile.

Namaste.

Eric

Status Report and Random Thoughts about Series Development

A few more chapters, a few more hours and Gaea Ascendant 3: “Confederation” will be ready for proof printing. I really dislike the editing phase right now, even though it allows me to tighten the prose and catch errors. The problem is that I’d rather be writing my next book.

I’ve got most of the planning done for the next one. It’ll be a single novel incorporating time travel into prehistory blended with a strong romantic theme. A little different for me, but it’s a story and I enjoy telling stories.

Meanwhile sales of the Gaea Ascendant series have slowed. I expect releasing “Confederation” (cover art above) will boost discovery a bit. The thing is, I like the money from sales, but I don’t have to have it. There’s a lot of easier ways to get paid.

Instead, I have this vision of entertaining people in much the same way I’m entertained by reading. I like the feeling that I get when I think that I’ve provided a few hours of enjoyable diversion for someone.

It occurs to me to mention that Gaea Ascendant started as an idea for a single, short novel of the kind that were written in the early days of science fiction. Then it morphed into a trilogy when it became apparent that the story was much longer than a single, reasonable sized book would hold.

Most people have no trouble reading something between 80-110k words, but 300k in 700 or 800 pages is a little too much. Besides, print costs for such a tomb are high. So, the trilogy came into existence.

Each book is stand-alone and complete in itself although there are enough clues leading to the next part of the story to maintain the thread from one to the next. I dislike books that end on a cliff-hanger note with the obvious intent of forcing the reader to buy the next installment. I actively rebel and refuse to read the next installment when I encounter that and I don’t want my readers to have the same feelings of exploitation that this tactic engenders in me.

While it might not be apparent when reading the first two books, the whole Gaea Ascendant series is oriented towards exploring the nature of human civilization. If our current civilization were destroyed and we had the power to remake it, how would we go about that task? What is important? I’m of the opinion that we need a different way of living with each other and the series explores that idea.

Of course, attack by aliens with evil intentions would probably have the effect of bringing humans together to a certain extent. The differences we commonly hold against each other would be exposed for the trivialities that they are if we were attacked by creatures who meant to destroy all of us.

After seeing the everyday hatred, terrorism, discrimination, repression, etc. in the news, I’m almost at the point of thinking that an alien attack would be a good thing. (Provided we would survive it — not a sure thing.)

All serious issues aside, I wrote the series to entertain people. The philosophical concepts are a little extra that may be easily ignored, since they’re buried in the story.

Namaste!

Speculation in Science Fiction

I’ve been reading some on-line debates about science in science fiction. The genre covers the gamut from pure fantasy to stories that try to remain realistic with lots of hard science included. Science fiction that slants heavily towards fantasy may have very little science involved in the story and still be quite entertaining. On the other hand, science fiction that has too much hard science runs the risk of either intimidating or boring readers.

While there are those who will argue either side of the issue, I’m of the opinion that a certain amount of science can add interest to a story. It can help the reader immerse himself in the author’s world and, in certain cases, it can be predictive of future scientific discoveries or developments. It may even lead researchers to investigate lines of research that they may otherwise have ignored. If the last idea is even partly true, science fiction serves a heuristic function.

My own stories utilize ideas drawn from science. I usually try to give the reader an insight into how a particular technology could work without being too specific. I enjoy reading a wide range of scientific articles ranging from astronomy and astrophysics to paleontology to quantum physics to mind sciences and more. My habit of reading such material usually gives me some ideas that I try to weave into my stories. Ideas that a physicist might scoff at, but which may have some validity interspersed with the speculative parts.

In light of the fact that I’m stubbornly independent, I generally don’t like to go along with the fashionable trends in science fiction. I started my first story, “The Time of the Cat” with the idea that I was going to write something that would approximate the vintage stories that I enjoyed as I was growing up. This attitude allows me the latitude to come up with weapons and space travel that I believe many of today’s authors would think are too speculative. In short, you’re not going to find worm-holes and conventional rail-guns in my stories.

I’m currently involved in finishing the last few chapters of “Confederation”. This is the third book in my trilogy “Gaea Ascendant”. Since the story relies on alien-supplied technology that is a step or three ahead of human technology, I use some ideas that are common in human physics, extend them by making what I consider a logical step or three steps beyond our current knowledge, and then describe the resulting device in vague enough terms to give the device in question a certain degree of face validity. In other words, if I can describe it so that it sounds like it could be real, given a high level of technology, than maybe my readers will say something like, “Sounds like it might work and it blends into the story in a believable fashion.”

Or, so I hope. Below is a passage from Confederation that describes how the Sunnys’ anti-matter weapons work. The description is given by Frazzle, a Sunny who is technically astute, but whose mastery of English leaves a little to be desired.

So, please read the description below and see what you think. If you want to comment, I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts. (Keep in mind that this is an unedited first draft.)

“I don’t want to upset either of you, but I need some information about anti-matter,” I answered, trying to ease into the conversation.

Frazzle let his shoulders droop and I knew that he was upset, but Red pushed him unexpectedly and hard.

“Get over dat!” she said. “You and me both know dat there be plenty of need for the shooters. Tell Dec what he need to know.”

Frazzle sort of shook himself and then asked, “Whats you want to know. I can talk about the technology an I tries not to think about the use.”

I considered how best to ask. “What I want to know is a simple explanation of how they work and what could go wrong with them unexpectedly. I don’t want to be surprised at a critical moment.”

He seemed to be thinking it over and I added, “I’d also like to know about their limitations and true capabilities. I feel like I’ve been lucky so far and I need to know more.”

He drew a breath and began to explain, “Making de anti-matter particles normally takes much energy, but we cheats. The weapon creates a field that gathers positively charged virtual particles from the sub-field of space – ”

Here I interrupted, “What’s that mean?”

He continued, “You call it de quantum plenum. It’s full of particles of all sorts coming and going, so there plenty of anti-particles to grab with the weapon field. The power of the weapon, the little power packs for the hand weapons and the ship power for the big gun first are used to grab these particles. All sizes of guns work the same, just the smaller ones can’t grab as much particles.”

He paused for breath and I interrupted again, “What happens to the particles once they’re captured by this field?”

He smiled; a closed-lip tightening of his cheek muscles, and looked aside at Red. She nodded her head.

“Dat a good question and it’s the next thing that the power pack does. It powers a circular field that uses the strong magnet force. The positive particles pulled from the virtual plenum become real here and are trapped in the circle field. When the button to shoot is pushed, the field opens and the particles, whoosh – ” waving his hand wildly, “fly out. The direction tube (by which I thought he meant the barrel) has its own magnetic field that keeps the particles in the tube and away from the sides. That field also makes the particles go faster. It uses electric force to make them accelerate to close to light speed. You know what happens when anti-particles hit regular matter. Fswhoosh!” He threw both paws up in a gesture intended to represent the annihilation.

“Okay. That sort of explains how the things work,” I said, thinking about what he’d just told me. “What can go wrong with the system? Does it wear out or break?”

“De direction tube and the place where the circle field is can sometimes get eroded by leaking particles. This happens most when the power pack is low and the magnetic field not strong enough. So, we put limiter on the weapon. It won’t work if not enough power. The hand-held ones have flashing red light when power packs get too low. But this not a problem for the big shooter attached to ship-power. It not run out of shots and power is enough to keep erosion very low.”

He scratched his nose and then continued slowly, “De only problem you have with the big ones is that regular atoms in air or space dust get dissolved and thin the anti-matter pulse down. If too much dust or try to shoot through too much air, the pulse gets used up and no damage to the target happen. Same happens to small guns if try to shoot too far.”

“Frazzle, I’ve always thought that anti-matter reacting with regular matter would create an explosion. Why doesn’t that happen?”

“The shooters project a long burst of particles. Not much hit at once, though very fast. Difference like dripping water on dirt compared to dumping whole bucket at once on dirt pile. Best I can ‘splain,” he shrugged in a very human-like gesture.

Our, or maybe I should say, my grasp of physics wasn’t up to much more than this anyway, so I went on to my next question, “How far and how fast do the big ship cannons shoot?”

“De direction tube on the big ones use lot of energy with each pulse. By time the pulse reach the end of tube, it going nearly light speed. That gives very fast shot. Distance determined by matter in between like I ‘splain. Only thing is shooting at long, long distance, pulse take a while to get there, so target can move,” he answered, waving his finger in the air with an attitude of admonition.

“Okay, so keep the targets fairly close. The atmosphere must not be too much of a problem for the big gun. It had no problem burning a wide path through the middle of the Pug-bears position from space.”

“Dat’s correct. It more a problem for the hand-held weapons. They’re not nearly as powerful. But, when we shooted Boulder to get the Pugs, I boosted power in the gun so the circle magnetic field built up much more particles than normal. Can’t do that much and it take some time. Try too often and the erosion becomes a problem,” he answered.

I judged that I’d gotten about as much information as I could understand. “Thank you! I’m going to go talk to Rudy. You two continue where you left off.” They laughed as I turned to the transporter. I was still smiling myself when I came back into the bridge.

That’s it. What do you think?

The story is approaching the critical juncture in the last third of the plot at this point. I plan on releasing it sometime in July 2015.

Namaste!

Eric

Science Fiction’s Relationship to Science

The title of this post may lead some readers to quip, “There is none,” but I think it can be demonstrated that speculative science fiction can play a valuable role in scientific endeavors.

Let’s begin by considering the scientific method. It’s basically a mental tool that has evolved to explain the phenomena of nature. It is supposed to be used in a way that leads to testable predictions that can be used by humans to manipulate their environment in a reproducible way. The steps of the method involve creating an hypothesis – a thought story or explanation of an observed phenomenon. The hypothesis must fit well with other known facts related to the phenomenon. Tools such as Occam’s Razor are often applied to ensure the hypothesis is as simple as possible.

The primary criterion for an hypothesis is that it lead to testable predictions. If it can’t be tested, then its explanatory value is roughly akin to that of magic. Science generally doesn’t operate on the basis of, “It happens because it happens,” or “It happens because of a wizard who wants it that way.” For those who are so minded, one can say, “It happens because the universe is so constituted,” but that still doesn’t fit the criteria for testability.

The hypothesis is used to create predictions and then experiments are designed to (hopefully) test the predictions. I’m not going to delve into the problems with experimenter bias except to state that it exists and can innocently lead to mistaken assumptions about how to test the predictions. Of course, there are those who are biased and who intentionally design experiments to prove their bias, or even falsely report the data. Modern science is vulnerable to such problems due to the selection of experiments with sexy, positive results for publication and the relationship of being published with tenure and grants. But, that’s a structural problem that can and mostly is overcome by careful and conscientious researchers. There can also be bias due to established scientific fables; things that are believed by a consensus of scientists that later turn out to be incorrect.

When a hypothesis generates predictions that turn out to be correct, it can be woven into existing knowledge to create a scientific theory – a logically reasoned and self-consistent model.

The benefits of this approach are well known. In essence, modern society is largely due to our use of science as a tool for manipulating our reality.

Now that we’ve looked at what science is, lets back up for a moment to the point before an hypothesis is generated. This may be during the progression of a course of research by a scientist or scientists, but it might also be the result of curiosity about a novel question asked by nearly anyone. This is where science fiction can come into play as an entertaining, but possibly useful method of asking questions.

The science fiction genre covers all sorts of stories ranging from those that postulate fictional (and often impossible) worlds, those that deal with social issues such as gender identity or political structures, and those which deal with worlds that are more in line with the reality we’re presented with daily. Those latter forms of speculative science fiction can postulate devices, principles, and discoveries. Devices can range from communication devices (who knew that Captain Kirk’s communicator would end up as a personal cell phone with an unlimited number of functions) to weapons such as rail guns, plasma cannon, etc. to space ships of various types.

Speculative science fiction read by the right person can lead that person to ask critical “what if” questions in a form that might eventually lead to scientific discoveries and thus to the creation of new tools that can be used by humans to, “Boldly go where no man has gone before,” and this result is not an insignificant or trivial thing. To the extent that speculative thought leads to creation of novel hypotheses, science fiction likely plays an heuristic role in human development.

In light of this conclusion, I’ve tried to create devices such as FTL engines, matter transporters, and weapons that are loosely related to current research or, at least, speculative theories. My crystal ball broke the day before I started writing, though, so I doubt that my speculative devices will come into existence – at least in the form that I’ve described in my books.

Errors

Someone told me, “Being an Indie author gives one a lot of freedom. I can write what I like and publish it when I believe it’s ready to be read.”

There is a lot of truth in this statement, but my main problem is that I, personally, often get too anxious to publish and sometimes release my baby (work in progress) prior to its being actually ready. Needless to say, this happened with my first science fiction book, “The Time of the Cat”. I’ve been playing catch up on editing (more on that in a second) and am now on the 4th edition.

Regarding editing: There are a lot of great, free-lance editors available, but they all have one thing in common. They want to be paid for their work! Who knew! Seriously, I’m of the opinion that they certainly earn their money the hard way. Unfortunately for me, as a starting author, I’m still in the red. I made the decision to provide professional quality covers and art work isn’t free. As much as I’d like an editor, I’m really not ready to spend the money until I’ve become more established. This means that you, Dear Reader, will sometimes be faced with mistakes. Ugh!

My writing process is sporadic. I sit down and begin writing and sometimes I only write a few hundred words; other times the story flows and I do five or six thousand. If I could only keep up that rate, I’d do a novel a month, but all that sitting is hard on the body. Anyway, when I really get going, I’m more concentrated on getting the story line out than on being precise about spelling or grammar. Before I started self-publishing, I thought that I was a good writer. Now I’m not so sure. BUT, I’m getting better.

Using spell check is a no brainer in terms of finding misspelled words, but the secondary question that spell check doesn’t address is: Are they the right words? They’re – There – Their – You’re – Your, etc. I have one review that mentions that my story consistently confuses loose with lose. That’s a valid and appreciated criticism. It’s being fixed in edition 4. It was something that I didn’t notice that probably slipped in via spell-check or search and replace.

The point is, I really want to deliver the best reading experience possible to my readers. I’ve read (as I’m sure you have also) lots of ebooks that are filled with mistakes. Sometimes these mistakes can be so disruptive that the story suffers. I’d like to avoid that, so your comments pointing out mistakes are very welcome.

My offer to you is if you find a serious mistake or a section of writing that doesn’t flow, let me know. If you want, I’ll give you credit at the end of the book or maybe name a minor character after you.

Namaste!

Drawing for Signed Paperback Copies of both Gaea Ascendant Books

Releasing a book that you’ve just finished is remarkably similar to going on a blind date. You’ve prepared (hopefully, thoroughly), you don’t know what the result will be, but you hope like crazy that the result will be good and they’ll like you. Once you’ve gone through the work of writing for months, weeks, days, minutes, – who knows maybe even seconds are involved – and you’ve spell-checked, edited, proof-read until you’re blind, you’re more than ready to give the blasted thing to someone else to read.

Unfortunately, you still have to struggle with a cover. You can have that professionally created, do it yourself, or use the CreateSpace cover maker. I contract with a brilliant artist (credited in each of my books) for the artwork and then place the titles myself, resize the work and upload it to KDP and CreateSpace. After that step is complete, it just remains to upload the text (after struggling for an hour or so, trying to remember how to get OpenOffice to make the Kindle version’s Table of Contents live). Then you upload the text, but after it’s up, you realize that you have an illustration or two, so the entire package needs to be placed in a zip file and re-uploaded.

Next you have to wait for KDP to check the files and make them live. While you’re at it, you can upload the PDF to CreateSpace and then proof it online and order a paperback proof copy. They mail the proof copy out within 24 hours, but you’ll still have to wait until you receive it before you release the paperback version. At least I do. I like to read through it first.

Once the book shows up on Amazon, you find yourself checking the download reports far more frequently than is absolutely necessary. When there aren’t many initial downloads, you think, “Does anyone even notice that I typed my fingers off? Does anyone care?” Well, some may care, but most probably haven’t found the book. So that leads to additional effort in promotions.

The next step in the process is to start marketing like crazy. This is the step that makes me think that I must be crazy. There’s so much noise out there, it’s really hard to come through. Still, you hope that people will find some enjoyment from your work, if they can find it.

If this sounds chaotic, it’s probably just my unorganized working method speaking. At any rate, I’ve just released Volume Two of the Gaea Ascendant Series: Second Wave. This story is set four years after the events in The Time of The Cat. Many of the same characters appear along with some new and hopefully memorable ones, including a couple of other alien species. (Links to both titles are in the sidebar.)

 

Free Drawing Announcement

To promote the release and also to obtain some additional reviews, I’ve decided to offer a drawing for signed copies of both books.

Here’s the rules:

Drawing will take place on February 28th, 2015. All entries must be complete by that time.
There will be ten winners.
Winners will receive paperback copies of both books, signed (as if my autograph could be valuable, but I’m going to sign them anyway.)
Winners solemnly promise to place a review on the book’s Amazon Sales Page as soon as they complete reading them. (That’s the only catch – however, providing a review is not required, unless your conscience says it is.)

How to enter:

Use this link to sign up:
Once you enter, you can enter again by simply Tweeting: “#ReadSecondWave Science Fiction adventure” Prior to the drawing, I’ll search that hash-tag and credit your additional entry.
If you’d really like to win, you can review either or both books on Amazon and email me with your review name. I’ll award one entry per review.

The registration starts — Now!

Good Luck!

Namaste!

Eric

A brief reflection on being an author

I’ve got to admit it. I’m struggling. I’ve finished the first draft of my second science fiction novel, Second Wave and I’m now in the editing mode. For me, this phase is the least pleasant. It’s a lot easier to tell a story than it is to go back and fine tune it.

For all of the advantages that the digital model of publishing has given the writer by freeing him or her from the traditional publishing house, there are two places where the model fails. The first is in the editing mode. I could hire an independent editor, but it would cost thousands — justifiably so, considering the work. For me to spend thousands on a book that may not find many readers would be a mistake. I already spend several hundred dollars on nice cover art, even though I don’t have any guarantee of recovering the money.

The second place the model encounters trouble is in marketing. I don’t have the funds to print thousands of books and distribute them to bookstores. Nor, do I have an infinite amount of time to work social media for so-called “free” promotion. It’s not “free” when it takes hours out of your day.

To summarize the digital model: I can write what I want and publish what I want and get a larger percentage of each sale rather than a tiny royalty. With that freedom come two major headaches: editing and marketing. Both of these suck up the author’s time and keep him from the main task of creative work. She can fish or cut bait, but not both at once.

I wish that I had a solution for these two problems. The best I’ve been able to do on editing is to order proof copies of my book from Create Space – it’s cheaper than printing the thing out on my laser printer – and read through them with a red pen in my hand. I’m a fast reader, but reading the same 107,000 word story five times in a row is a daunting task. I’ve read The Time of the Cat to my wife aloud three times and have gone through it three more times silently. Even so, there are still errors.

It reminds me of the story about the publishing house that decided to publish a perfect book. They went through numerous edits and finally got it to the bookstores. The president of the company went to a bookstore with a friend to purchase a copy and the friend pointed out that the title on the cover had a spelling error.

Marketing poses an equally difficult problem. There are so many books on Kindle that your book will easily go undiscovered unless you push it on social media. This can take a lot of time and also can alienate your followers if you promote too often. I’ve read a number of books on marketing your book and the best I can say is the authors of “How to Market” books are probably making more money from struggling authors than the authors are making by following their advice.

The digital marketplace is still evolving and the days of being able to throw just about anything up on the net and make money are gone. This brings me to my conclusions.

First, I want to thank those early readers that got edition one of my first book. They received a work-in-progress. The second edition is far more readable and the story is smoother. I’m making every effort to polish the second story so that it flows better. Writing is a learning curve and the first novel is the steepest part.

My second point is marketing related. I suddenly realized just how pathetic my marketing was, when I got excited about giving away several hundred copies. The book took hundreds of hours to write and giving it away seems to invalidate my sense of self worth. Still, there is a certain pleasure in knowing that you’ve shared the best story you’re currently capable of telling. That is a considerable reward in and of itself. I know how much I enjoy reading and I like to imagine that you’ll enjoy my books that much. I guess that sense of satisfaction will have to be enough to get me through the editing phase of Second Wave.

Thanks for reading! If you don’t have The Time of the Cat – the link is in the sidebar.

The Second Wave should be available in February, 2015. Then I can do what I really enjoy write the third story, already titled Confederation and roughly plotted. I’m anxious to get to it.

Namaste!

On Human Psychic Potential: A brief discussion

Some of the readers of the first book in the Gaea Ascendant series, The Time of The Cat, have written to me inquiring about the introduction of psi powers towards the end of the story. At least one of the comments had to do with the fact that I had created a straightforward story with a normal (well, exceptionally capable) human hero and it stretched the reader’s belief to suddenly give him extraordinary powers.

That is a fair objection. A major component of science fiction story-telling is to create a universe that seems plausible. This can be done in several ways. I chose the introduction of alien-originated technology along with malicious aliens. This is a possible, if rather unlikely, scenario that fits into a genre that has been explored before, thus giving the reader a feeling of familiarity. Another example of creating a believable universe is found in stories that attempt to extend the science of the current time and make predictions about the future. Although the predictions are often wrong and may appear hopelessly naïve after a number of years, the world thus created is easily controllable and the intended reader doesn’t find it too difficult to suspend his or her disbelief.

The concept of “suspension of disbelief” can be characterized as agreeing to allow the author’s world to exist in your imagination. This may be easy or difficult for the reader, but in either case it is important for the author to create a consistent story that doesn’t violate the rules of the created universe. You can blend genres such as in the movie Cowboys and Aliens, but you cannot suddenly have a cowboy pull out an Uzi and start blasting away without introducing another element into the story. Such an action would change the implicit rules.

In the case of The Time of The Cat, I seemingly broke the consistency rule. In the story there is a consistent universe, albeit one with advanced science and alien life forms and suddenly the hero develops psi powers. Is this fair or not? I believe it is fair and here’s why:

If you’ve read the story, you might recall that Dec had placed considerable reliance on his “sixth sense” to warn of impending danger from the inception, so there was at least some warning that he might be gifted in that way.

Now, I’m not going to ask you to believe that Dec’s story exists in a different world than ours, one that has different physical rules. I’m going to do something much harder. I’m asserting that psychic abilities exist within the human population of our world. Like all other abilities, they are distributed on a normal bell-curve. Dec just happens to be an outlier on that curve, although he doesn’t manifest his abilities until he is severely threatened.

There is a large body of research that proves (yes, I did say “proves”) beyond a shadow of a doubt that humans have at least a rudimentary ability to manipulate matter with their minds. The PEAR lab at Princeton University has conducted millions of trials showing that humans can impact the time of decay of an atomic nucleus. Granted, the target is very small and the effect is tiny; the experimental subjects were able to influence the event by about two percent on average, yet the millions of trials conducted mean that the effect is statistically very solid. In short, it exists.

There have been experiments that show that cells removed from the cheek of a subject still respond to his emotions, even when separated by over three hundred miles. There have been experiments that show that people who meditate together form a bond that lets them respond to each others emotions when they are isolated in separate, shielded, sound-proof rooms. In fact, there is a large body of experimental evidence along these lines that most scientists either willfully ignore (easy to do when it doesn’t fit into your worldview) or are simply unaware of.

I’m not going to delve into other forms of evidence in this brief essay, other than to note that the CIA spent a lot of money on their remote viewing program. This program involved having a viewer sitting in a lab mentally view and describe a remote location without knowing either the location or its details. Surprisingly, the results were usually far above chance. Even more surprisingly, the researchers found that normal humans all had that ability and got better with practice.

When you consider that we float in a sea of virtual quantum particles and the very atoms of our bodies may be viewed as a special form of energy, it’s easy to see the interconnectedness of everything. The recent theorizing about torsion waves that travel a billion times faster than light in the quantum plenum may lead to an understanding of quantum entanglement and instantaneous information transfer.

Energy may be thought of as a medium that can store information. If the quantum plenum may be viewed as a wave construct, then information must be stored in those waves, just as in a hologram. Since the Meta-Universe is considered to be infinite, it could store an infinite amount of information. Blending in systems and chaos theory makes it at least conceivable that such a vast store of information may have self-organized into a form of intelligence; perhaps one that is so far beyond our comprehension that it deserves the appellative “Guiding-Organizing-Design” originated by Dr. Gary Schwartz.

Be that as it may, as children of this information-universe, humans are inextricably woven into the information flow. To some extent, we sense magnetic fields, see “auras” beyond the scope of normal human vision, sense the gravitational pull of remote stars as well as our own sun and moon, and sometimes, to varying degrees, we know what other humans are thinking.

Far from changing the rules of our “normal” universe – the one in which Dec exists, I simply took his natural ability and magnified it greatly as his response to the mental attack of the old Pug-bear on Titan. It’s not too difficult to think that an human with an extraordinary ability might be able to impart some of the techniques of this ability to others.  The Pug-bear’s attack opened Dec’s mind and he was able to transfer that to a lesser extent to Liz and also, but even less successfully to Rudy. It seems to make sense to me that emotionally bonded couples would be more able to make such a connection. In the PEAR research at Princeton, emotionally bonded couples scored almost five percentage points higher on the task when working together.

So, that’s my answer. In a nutshell, I’m fully convinced that psychic abilities exist and like other human abilities it’s obvious that humans can learn to use them and get better with practice.

In the second book of the series, Second Wave, Dec’s psychic ability also plays a large part. I could say more here, but I would end up spoiling the plot. Instead I’ll just comment that you’ll see more of Dec’s and Liz’s ability in the upcoming story: Confederation.

Namaste!

Eric Martell

Book Marketing: How to Write a Better Book Blurb

I don’t want to get a reputation for complaining or being a whiner, but “Damn!” marketing is a heck of a lot more difficult than writing (but, I’m going to whine anyway). Having had my book out for a month and moving a few hundred copies, generating only 3 reviews (all 5 stars and not from anyone I know, I might add with a little satisfaction) and pushing on the marketing as often as I have time, I’m a little disappointed. I know that I’m being unrealistic in my expectations. I don’t expect to have a best-seller, but I really enjoy the feeling of satisfaction I get from knowing that I’ve provided an entertaining experience for people and I want more of that.

I’ve read enough of my selected genre–Science Fiction– to know that my novel is worth reading, so I’m left with the thought that people just aren’t finding it or, if they are, I haven’t convinced them to read it. Since there are numerous other authors that get plenty of readers, I must be doing something wrong with my marketing. In either event, it’s my responsibility to find a better way to get the word out.

Book blurbs need to be concise and quickly compelling. The average reader won’t read more than the first two sentences before making a quick decision to read the rest or go on. Does the first line or two grab attention? Does the first line scream read the rest of this blurb? First impressions are critical, both in meeting new people and in blurbs, among other things.

The blurb shouldn’t tell the whole story; it may hint at various plot elements, but why read the book, if you already know how it’s going to end? However, the prospective reader must become engaged enough to want to find out more.

The purchase price of a book is only part of the equation. Most people don’t have any problem spending more as long as they believe that they’re going to receive value for value. The main unknown in the decision to buy is the buyer’s estimate of whether or not the book will be worth their time investment. We’ve all got only a limited amount of time and there’s more than enough information flowing down through the web to keep us busy every second for a billion years or more. The rate of information increase is exponential and our available time steadily decreases on a linear basis, so deciding to spend time reading what may be a poorly written story with a trite plot is an important factor.

How do you make the sale in the blurb? Assuming that the first line or two is compelling enough to grab mind-share and the prospective reader is motivated to read on, the brief nature of the blurb forces the rest of the writing to directly address making the sale, so to speak. There has to be enough information there to 1) give the reader a sense of what they’re in for in terms of subject, plot and setting and 2) get the reader to make the decision to either buy the book or to read the free preview at the minimum. If there is a video book trailer, the reader might also be directed to it to help them confirm their decision.

I find that reading the free preview is often enough to allow me to decide if the purchase is going to be worth my money and, more importantly, my time. The blurb may be well crafted and compelling, but the text may be full of errors, written in a horrible style, or essentially incoherent, nonetheless and reading the sample gives me enough information to decide. If I can identify with the characters and am caught and wondering what happens next to them, the chances are great that I’ll read the book.

There is another issue that I’d like to point out. This is one of the things that really irritate me. The blurb can be compelling, the sample text well written, the reviews all five stars, but when I download the book and find that it isn’t full length, it really aggravates me. There’s a place for novellas and short stories, but the reader should know how long the text is before they commit. It’s what I would call “common courtesy.”

I was researching book promotions and ideas (when I should have been working on finishing the second novel of the current trilogy) and stumbled upon a blog post about book blurbs. It’s worth a read, if only for the perspective: http://www.bookdaily.com/authorresource/blog/post/1584996 It’s actually the reason for this post. I was motivated by it to think about the elements of the blurb. I’ve been in sales for over 30 years and I’ve been very successful at it. In addition, my education is based on the study of human motivation, so I know what helps people make decisions.

The blurb deserves to be written carefully and rewritten if it isn’t doing its job. It is one of the main tools to sell books and it’s very important. However, it’s important to realize that there is only so much it can do. It will not convince someone to read a book that is just not in their sphere of interest. For example, I’m unlikely to read much about financial analysis for charitable causes, but I do read a lot of science fiction, new age spiritual works, and quantum physics. (I freely admit that my tastes are esoteric.)

These musings motivated me to rewrite my blurb. Below you’ll find the original and another try.

If you’re so minded, I’d love to hear what your opinion is of the two. Which is better? Which would motivate you to invest your time in reading the book? If neither is appealing, do you have a suggestion?

The original blurb:

Caution! Do Not Enter! The other side of the door might be hazardous to your health! Starting in NYC, Declan travels through a wild linkage of disguised matter transporters to rescue a beautiful woman from aliens. Together, Dec and Liz, helped by a stray tom cat named Jefferson, try to puzzle out and disrupt the invasion plans of the hidden invaders. The aliens have enlisted the aid of members of the government and pose a deadly threat to humanity. To forestall them, the matter transporter network must be destroyed before all is lost. Desperately fighting their way across the solar system with captured weapons, Dec and Liz discover that the aliens’ power is based on a horrifying symbiosis that is the foundation of the alien’s strength, but which also creates an exploitable vulnerability. As a result of being captured by the alien leader, both Declan and Elizabeth gain unique mental skills that may help save mankind from destruction. Unfortunately, the invasion plot is multi-pronged and the aliens have set up a devastating final attack that can destroy human society, forcing the survivors into a survival lifestyle. This book stands by itself and does not leave you hanging in the heat of the action, but it is the first of a series. The next story, “Second Wave” will be complete by the end of 2014.

The second try:

Caution! Do Not Enter! The other side of the door might be hazardous to your health! You might find a hidden network of alien-installed matter transporters being used to set up an invasion that will destroy humanity. You might also find a beautiful woman captured by the invading forces. You might be joined by an unexpected ally in the form of a stray tom cat. You might just find that the alien weapons are better than the human counterparts. You might find that the aliens’ strength depends upon a horrifying biological symbiosis; a symbiosis which creates an exploitable vulnerability. You might find that your own mind is a far better weapon than you believed. You might find that you can’t save the world, even if you can still stop the invasion. You might find the love of your life. You might find more close calls and firefights than you expected. You might find that you’re wondering what comes next. Please take the time to view the video trailer at DeclanDunham.com. It gives you a good sense of the pace of the story and some of the plot elements. This full-length novel stands by itself and does not leave you hanging in the heat of the action, but it is the first of a series. The next story, “Second Wave” will be complete by the end of 2014.

Thanks for your comments!

Namaste!