M. Jonathan Jones's Blog: Spilt ink, page 3
June 28, 2020
Write as well as read; tell as well as show
As the title of this post suggests, I'm going to have my say about two of the most common bits of advice doled out to wannabe writers (of which I am one), namely: read as much as you can, and show, don't tell.
The read one is easily ticked off, because unless you actually start writing at some point, all those fantastic ideas and characters and plots are just going to stay imprisoned in your head. In my case, I find reading is kryptonite to my writing: I struggle to find my own voice and ideas if I'm immersed in (and especially if I'm enjoying) another writer's books. I'd also say that in the experience I have to date (4 books, going on 5), you learn an immense amount on the job and through self-editing. So reading helps, but you can always read more: if you want to write, write.
Show don't tell is also a very common piece of advice, and also much debated. I find incluing - showing not telling - a lot of fun, but also very tricky to pull off. It's great to see a world through the eyes of the characters without the constant 'travelogue' of some narrator, but it can be overdone. I've just reviewed The Quantum Thief which is great but could be greater if it gave the reader a bit more of an idea what is going on.
I found an example I really like of what might be called 'layered incluing' from Thin Air by Richard K. Morgan, so here it is. And spoiler alert: if you've not read the book, this might give a few (low level) reveals.
Hakan Veil is talking to Hsu/Xu/Gradual, a member of the Chinese triads from Hellas (they're on Mars) who is trying to infiltrate the organised crime scene on the Mariner Strip/Gash. Veil and Gradual have a disagreement and almost come to blows. Morgan says this (p. 57):
"She twitched back, hands rising, ready. Most of these Crater triad guys have some moves; their 489 wouldn't draft them in for duties in the Gash if he didn't think they could handle themselves."
So, here is a bit of incluing: what is a 489? The context does a great job of showing us through Veil's internal monologue without telling us directly - we can easily guess that a 489 is someone (he primes us it's a male) who is in charge of an operation, some kind of chief. This in itself is a great example of how to set up the context to make the incluing seem natural but informative.
But Morgan goes further. Things cool down enough for Veil and Gradual to talk, and Veil ends up making a demand which he signs off with: "Now you go back and tell that to your 489, because we're all done here." (Also p. 57).
This is also good, because it not only sets up tension in their relationship, it also gives the reader another shove that their assumption from earlier was correct and a 489 is some head honcho type.
To which Gradual responds (p. 58) "Mr Veil, I am the 489 for this context." Only then does Morgan actually tell us what a 489 is, a full page later: "She looked back at me out of lenses gone suddenly transparent - almond-shaped eyes hard and watchful but offering no threat that I could discern. 489 - traditional triad notation - command enforcer. She'd been central to my dealings...[etc. etc.]"
This is showing and telling, and that's why I think it works really well. It gives the reader everything they need to work stuff out for themselves, but it doesn't leave them fumbling around in the dark. It also has a neat twist in that Gradual is a female 489: Morgan wrong-footed us from the off.
Incluing is hard, and reading can offer great lessons in how to proceed, but as I said at the start of this post: unless you write, you'll never learn to do it for yourself (or appreciate how difficult it is).
The read one is easily ticked off, because unless you actually start writing at some point, all those fantastic ideas and characters and plots are just going to stay imprisoned in your head. In my case, I find reading is kryptonite to my writing: I struggle to find my own voice and ideas if I'm immersed in (and especially if I'm enjoying) another writer's books. I'd also say that in the experience I have to date (4 books, going on 5), you learn an immense amount on the job and through self-editing. So reading helps, but you can always read more: if you want to write, write.
Show don't tell is also a very common piece of advice, and also much debated. I find incluing - showing not telling - a lot of fun, but also very tricky to pull off. It's great to see a world through the eyes of the characters without the constant 'travelogue' of some narrator, but it can be overdone. I've just reviewed The Quantum Thief which is great but could be greater if it gave the reader a bit more of an idea what is going on.
I found an example I really like of what might be called 'layered incluing' from Thin Air by Richard K. Morgan, so here it is. And spoiler alert: if you've not read the book, this might give a few (low level) reveals.
Hakan Veil is talking to Hsu/Xu/Gradual, a member of the Chinese triads from Hellas (they're on Mars) who is trying to infiltrate the organised crime scene on the Mariner Strip/Gash. Veil and Gradual have a disagreement and almost come to blows. Morgan says this (p. 57):
"She twitched back, hands rising, ready. Most of these Crater triad guys have some moves; their 489 wouldn't draft them in for duties in the Gash if he didn't think they could handle themselves."
So, here is a bit of incluing: what is a 489? The context does a great job of showing us through Veil's internal monologue without telling us directly - we can easily guess that a 489 is someone (he primes us it's a male) who is in charge of an operation, some kind of chief. This in itself is a great example of how to set up the context to make the incluing seem natural but informative.
But Morgan goes further. Things cool down enough for Veil and Gradual to talk, and Veil ends up making a demand which he signs off with: "Now you go back and tell that to your 489, because we're all done here." (Also p. 57).
This is also good, because it not only sets up tension in their relationship, it also gives the reader another shove that their assumption from earlier was correct and a 489 is some head honcho type.
To which Gradual responds (p. 58) "Mr Veil, I am the 489 for this context." Only then does Morgan actually tell us what a 489 is, a full page later: "She looked back at me out of lenses gone suddenly transparent - almond-shaped eyes hard and watchful but offering no threat that I could discern. 489 - traditional triad notation - command enforcer. She'd been central to my dealings...[etc. etc.]"
This is showing and telling, and that's why I think it works really well. It gives the reader everything they need to work stuff out for themselves, but it doesn't leave them fumbling around in the dark. It also has a neat twist in that Gradual is a female 489: Morgan wrong-footed us from the off.
Incluing is hard, and reading can offer great lessons in how to proceed, but as I said at the start of this post: unless you write, you'll never learn to do it for yourself (or appreciate how difficult it is).
June 7, 2020
W(h)etting the appetite...
Progress on Fire and Flood, third book in the Tethys Trilogy has been patchy of late, what with lockdown and homeschooling and work, but there has been some. Here's a little taster fresh from the hard-drive. It's work in progress, as I said, so who knows if this will make the final cut in its current form, and be warned - there are spoilers (impossible to avoid). Hope you like it, and if you're tempted Ultramarine and Thalassa: Aqua Incognita will be cut price on Kindle soon; I'll post an update. So, here (minus some formatting) goes:
****
You couldn’t rely on drunks.
Hamilton Khan knew that from the regular drinkers who frequented the Havana Hideaway in Cuatro Corrientes when he ran the place with Danny Midnight. From before that even, from the incoherent beatings he’d get off Mama Khan when she’d roll back to their hab after a night – or very often a day and a night – on the razzle.
Not that he was bitter. He’d learnt to take the punches Mama Khan threw at him, to dive and weave and suck up the flailing shots that she somehow managed to land on him. He’d never hit her back, not once. Instead, he’d gripped that anger and frustration white-knuckle tight and taken it with him out into the rat runs of Cuatro Corrientes, to the fist fights in disused warehouses and after-hours bars. There he had used what Mama Khan’s drunken rages had put inside him to knock down men older and stronger and a good deal taller, spilled them flat to the deck like a haul of mackerel and made them stay there.
Khan smiled at the recollection. At the money that had come rolling in, a lot for a boy of fourteen. Of course, Mama Khan had drunk her share of that, but he’d still had a lot left over. Enough to pay off his dad’s debts, even though he wouldn’t leave the squat he was in.
Save your money, son. Poets don’t pass on much other than words, and words won’t pay the rent.
His father’s wisdom was not quite true: Khan had found that words could often pay a great deal, albeit less poetic ones, and it helped when there was muscle or a knife behind them.
He had squared things for his dad anyway, but he’d heeded that advice and kept the small fortune Mama Khan’s drunken rages had made for him, at least until other dames had come calling to spend it for him.
Then one time he’d used his fists to flatten a small-time hood, Soni Doyle, for putting the arm on Danny Midnight and his schoolyard betting racket. Khan had not just flattened Doyle: he had killed him, bare handed. No mistake, Khan had meant to kill Soni Doyle, damn right he had, seeing Danny cowering there, powerless, taking a beating from someone twice his age, and after that…
Well, history was history. The point was, you could rely on drunks for precisely one thing: to be unreliable. Tender and guilt-ridden one minute, raving and violent the next.
Seen from that perspective, Khan putting his faith in Abilene de Marco-Anderson was a bad idea. She wasn’t what he’d call an out-and-out alky, not yet, but he saw all too clearly the currents that were calling to her.
She lay opposite him, all elegant sea-silk curves across three of the seats in the skimmer’s passenger cabin, legs tucked up tight, frown all over her face. Bad dreams, he’d lay good odds on it. Hardly surprising, after the kind of day she’d had: shuttle hijacked, taken captive, then released by a man who was supposed to have been killed trying to bump off her now-deceased husband. A man who had – allegedly – killed Matrosi’s crew single-handed. Her word against his, and her dabs all over the murder weapon, so nothing cut and dried. And court cases – so damn messy. All those questions, all that prying; you never knew what corpses might come floating up out of the Dark once people started talking.
All in all, a tough day at the office.
Khan took a scoop of the rum and raisin ice cream that counted as breakfast, let it melt on his tongue. Compared to how stable Abilene’s mentality was, the ice cream was rock solid. He knew he couldn’t expect Abilene to endure her time in a lifepod awaiting rescue without a tipple or three. Would she spring out at Jackson’s Drift singing the song he wanted?
So what if she didn’t: drunks, unreliable, yada yada. De Marco’s PR people would lock things down tight, blame post-traumatic stress, exhaustion, whatever; the story would sink like a stiff in irons.
Abilene stirred as Khan stared at her, as if his pondering gaze had been a tap on the shoulder. She came suddenly upright in the seat, wide awake, alarm and incomprehension fading into wary resignation.
Khan smiled at her. “Sweet dreams, sugar?”
“Hardly.” The voice was a rasp, the last dregs of the bottle she had downed after he had led her aboard.
“Two coffees,” Khan said, heeling to one side to speak into the intercom. He shot a question at Abilene. “Breakfast? Upside-Down-Eddie makes a mean omelette. Or maybe a sea-slug smoothie?”
Abilene grimaced and raised a hand to ward off the idea.
“Just coffee for now.” Khan nodded and released the talk-button.
“Where are we?” Abilene asked.
“Nearly at Jackson’s Drift,” Khan replied. “About an hour off the main sea-lane to the Colony.”
Abilene nodded, empty eyes. She had indeed slept badly. Uneasy dreams. The nightmares of her waking hours had found her hiding there, and they had continued to harry her.
One good thing about hangovers – they tend to focus the mind on the present. Abilene was no longer babbling, adrift in the seas of her own sanity. She was right there, feeling the pain of the moment, which was right where Khan wanted her.
The aft hatch opened and one of Khan’s men came in carrying a pot of steaming coffee on a tray, two cups neatly balanced, cream and sugar standing sentry to one side.
“Thanks, Eddie,” Khan replied, and he gave the man an upwards nod of the head, a gesture of discreet dismissal. Upside-Down Eddie took himself off aft again, leaving Khan and Abilene alone.
“So, Abilene,” Khan went on. “When we get to the sea-lanes we’ll get you in the pod and say sayonara. As agreed.”
Abilene poured her coffee and stirred it, listening to the circular sweep of the spoon against the china, lost in the spiralling reflections of the lights on the rich brown surface.
“You remember what we talked about?” Khan prompted her. “About Matrosi and the money.”
Abilene took a sip of the coffee. A long, slow sip, letting the moment hang heavy under its own weight. Long enough for her to scrabble together all the pieces, fit them together, and see what picture they made. She didn’t seem to like it very much, and her voice when she spoke was rancid with distaste.
“Yes.”
“What did we agree? Wanna remind me?”
Abilene lifted her eyes from the cup of coffee. “Matrosi and his men stole the money. Then they fought about it. I got away in an escape-pod.”
Khan chuckled. “Good girl. That’s all anyone ever needs to know, right?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve both been through difficult times of late, you and me. It wouldn’t be right if they got anymore difficult, not for either of us, would it now?”
“No.”
“Swell. I knew I could rely on you.”
Khan smiled and took another spoonful of ice cream.
“Aren’t you worried,” Abilene began, and then seemed to change her mind. Maybe she had been about to ask whether Khan trusted her not to talk, and had thought better of it in case he decided to silence her for good. “Aren’t you worried that the lifepod will be linked back to you? After all, they’re bound to check it.”
“Bound to,” Khan admitted, and he slithered a spoonful of ice cream into his coffee and watched it vanish. The raisins came bobbing back up, all bloated and floating face down. It had indeed been an oversight to sink Matrosi’s skimmer without first taking one of its lifepods, but they wouldn’t have been able to tow it with them anyway. Not fast. “Not much I can do about that now. But one top of the line Napier-Stokes skimmer is much the same as any other, and besides, who’s to say what Matrosi was flying? Only a dumbass would use his own skimmer to haul in a catch. The fact that dear, departed Esteban was such a dumbass don’t matter.”
They sipped coffee. Khan sucked in the raisins one at a time, crushing their soft sweetness and smiling with relish as he swallowed. Abilene’s expression was slightly less at ease with the world.
“A deal is a deal,” he added. “Right?”
He held Abilene’s gaze with his own, let the creases at the corners of his eyes harden just an instant, an I-could-kill-you-but-I’m-not-gonna look, and received a nod that he took to be grudgingly grateful.
“A deal is a deal,” she repeated, and if she had her teeth clenched as she spoke, Khan was happy to believe that was just the hangover.
“Attagirl!”
A hatch whispered open, the one leading for’ards, and another of Khan’s men entered the cabin. This one was big, tombstone teeth and hair shaved down to almost nothing.
Khan turned his head. “Riptide. What gives?”
“We got a sonar contact, Boss.”
A ripple of a frown showed on Khan’s forehead.
“Heading?”
“Intercept. Nothing random about it. Been tracking us a while.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Khan could see Abilene shift in her seat.
“It ain’t Navy,” Khan said, scything her a quick sideways look to cut her hopes down. “Navy would try to sneak up if they were planning any funny business, and halloo us if they weren’t.” Khan set down his coffee and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me a mo’, Abilene.”
She looked up, that wary resignation in her face again. “Of course.”
“You may as well help yourself to the ice cream,” he said. “It won’t keep.”
****
You couldn’t rely on drunks.
Hamilton Khan knew that from the regular drinkers who frequented the Havana Hideaway in Cuatro Corrientes when he ran the place with Danny Midnight. From before that even, from the incoherent beatings he’d get off Mama Khan when she’d roll back to their hab after a night – or very often a day and a night – on the razzle.
Not that he was bitter. He’d learnt to take the punches Mama Khan threw at him, to dive and weave and suck up the flailing shots that she somehow managed to land on him. He’d never hit her back, not once. Instead, he’d gripped that anger and frustration white-knuckle tight and taken it with him out into the rat runs of Cuatro Corrientes, to the fist fights in disused warehouses and after-hours bars. There he had used what Mama Khan’s drunken rages had put inside him to knock down men older and stronger and a good deal taller, spilled them flat to the deck like a haul of mackerel and made them stay there.
Khan smiled at the recollection. At the money that had come rolling in, a lot for a boy of fourteen. Of course, Mama Khan had drunk her share of that, but he’d still had a lot left over. Enough to pay off his dad’s debts, even though he wouldn’t leave the squat he was in.
Save your money, son. Poets don’t pass on much other than words, and words won’t pay the rent.
His father’s wisdom was not quite true: Khan had found that words could often pay a great deal, albeit less poetic ones, and it helped when there was muscle or a knife behind them.
He had squared things for his dad anyway, but he’d heeded that advice and kept the small fortune Mama Khan’s drunken rages had made for him, at least until other dames had come calling to spend it for him.
Then one time he’d used his fists to flatten a small-time hood, Soni Doyle, for putting the arm on Danny Midnight and his schoolyard betting racket. Khan had not just flattened Doyle: he had killed him, bare handed. No mistake, Khan had meant to kill Soni Doyle, damn right he had, seeing Danny cowering there, powerless, taking a beating from someone twice his age, and after that…
Well, history was history. The point was, you could rely on drunks for precisely one thing: to be unreliable. Tender and guilt-ridden one minute, raving and violent the next.
Seen from that perspective, Khan putting his faith in Abilene de Marco-Anderson was a bad idea. She wasn’t what he’d call an out-and-out alky, not yet, but he saw all too clearly the currents that were calling to her.
She lay opposite him, all elegant sea-silk curves across three of the seats in the skimmer’s passenger cabin, legs tucked up tight, frown all over her face. Bad dreams, he’d lay good odds on it. Hardly surprising, after the kind of day she’d had: shuttle hijacked, taken captive, then released by a man who was supposed to have been killed trying to bump off her now-deceased husband. A man who had – allegedly – killed Matrosi’s crew single-handed. Her word against his, and her dabs all over the murder weapon, so nothing cut and dried. And court cases – so damn messy. All those questions, all that prying; you never knew what corpses might come floating up out of the Dark once people started talking.
All in all, a tough day at the office.
Khan took a scoop of the rum and raisin ice cream that counted as breakfast, let it melt on his tongue. Compared to how stable Abilene’s mentality was, the ice cream was rock solid. He knew he couldn’t expect Abilene to endure her time in a lifepod awaiting rescue without a tipple or three. Would she spring out at Jackson’s Drift singing the song he wanted?
So what if she didn’t: drunks, unreliable, yada yada. De Marco’s PR people would lock things down tight, blame post-traumatic stress, exhaustion, whatever; the story would sink like a stiff in irons.
Abilene stirred as Khan stared at her, as if his pondering gaze had been a tap on the shoulder. She came suddenly upright in the seat, wide awake, alarm and incomprehension fading into wary resignation.
Khan smiled at her. “Sweet dreams, sugar?”
“Hardly.” The voice was a rasp, the last dregs of the bottle she had downed after he had led her aboard.
“Two coffees,” Khan said, heeling to one side to speak into the intercom. He shot a question at Abilene. “Breakfast? Upside-Down-Eddie makes a mean omelette. Or maybe a sea-slug smoothie?”
Abilene grimaced and raised a hand to ward off the idea.
“Just coffee for now.” Khan nodded and released the talk-button.
“Where are we?” Abilene asked.
“Nearly at Jackson’s Drift,” Khan replied. “About an hour off the main sea-lane to the Colony.”
Abilene nodded, empty eyes. She had indeed slept badly. Uneasy dreams. The nightmares of her waking hours had found her hiding there, and they had continued to harry her.
One good thing about hangovers – they tend to focus the mind on the present. Abilene was no longer babbling, adrift in the seas of her own sanity. She was right there, feeling the pain of the moment, which was right where Khan wanted her.
The aft hatch opened and one of Khan’s men came in carrying a pot of steaming coffee on a tray, two cups neatly balanced, cream and sugar standing sentry to one side.
“Thanks, Eddie,” Khan replied, and he gave the man an upwards nod of the head, a gesture of discreet dismissal. Upside-Down Eddie took himself off aft again, leaving Khan and Abilene alone.
“So, Abilene,” Khan went on. “When we get to the sea-lanes we’ll get you in the pod and say sayonara. As agreed.”
Abilene poured her coffee and stirred it, listening to the circular sweep of the spoon against the china, lost in the spiralling reflections of the lights on the rich brown surface.
“You remember what we talked about?” Khan prompted her. “About Matrosi and the money.”
Abilene took a sip of the coffee. A long, slow sip, letting the moment hang heavy under its own weight. Long enough for her to scrabble together all the pieces, fit them together, and see what picture they made. She didn’t seem to like it very much, and her voice when she spoke was rancid with distaste.
“Yes.”
“What did we agree? Wanna remind me?”
Abilene lifted her eyes from the cup of coffee. “Matrosi and his men stole the money. Then they fought about it. I got away in an escape-pod.”
Khan chuckled. “Good girl. That’s all anyone ever needs to know, right?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve both been through difficult times of late, you and me. It wouldn’t be right if they got anymore difficult, not for either of us, would it now?”
“No.”
“Swell. I knew I could rely on you.”
Khan smiled and took another spoonful of ice cream.
“Aren’t you worried,” Abilene began, and then seemed to change her mind. Maybe she had been about to ask whether Khan trusted her not to talk, and had thought better of it in case he decided to silence her for good. “Aren’t you worried that the lifepod will be linked back to you? After all, they’re bound to check it.”
“Bound to,” Khan admitted, and he slithered a spoonful of ice cream into his coffee and watched it vanish. The raisins came bobbing back up, all bloated and floating face down. It had indeed been an oversight to sink Matrosi’s skimmer without first taking one of its lifepods, but they wouldn’t have been able to tow it with them anyway. Not fast. “Not much I can do about that now. But one top of the line Napier-Stokes skimmer is much the same as any other, and besides, who’s to say what Matrosi was flying? Only a dumbass would use his own skimmer to haul in a catch. The fact that dear, departed Esteban was such a dumbass don’t matter.”
They sipped coffee. Khan sucked in the raisins one at a time, crushing their soft sweetness and smiling with relish as he swallowed. Abilene’s expression was slightly less at ease with the world.
“A deal is a deal,” he added. “Right?”
He held Abilene’s gaze with his own, let the creases at the corners of his eyes harden just an instant, an I-could-kill-you-but-I’m-not-gonna look, and received a nod that he took to be grudgingly grateful.
“A deal is a deal,” she repeated, and if she had her teeth clenched as she spoke, Khan was happy to believe that was just the hangover.
“Attagirl!”
A hatch whispered open, the one leading for’ards, and another of Khan’s men entered the cabin. This one was big, tombstone teeth and hair shaved down to almost nothing.
Khan turned his head. “Riptide. What gives?”
“We got a sonar contact, Boss.”
A ripple of a frown showed on Khan’s forehead.
“Heading?”
“Intercept. Nothing random about it. Been tracking us a while.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Khan could see Abilene shift in her seat.
“It ain’t Navy,” Khan said, scything her a quick sideways look to cut her hopes down. “Navy would try to sneak up if they were planning any funny business, and halloo us if they weren’t.” Khan set down his coffee and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me a mo’, Abilene.”
She looked up, that wary resignation in her face again. “Of course.”
“You may as well help yourself to the ice cream,” he said. “It won’t keep.”
March 17, 2020
Second Book Slump
***WARNING: NERD ALERT***
Recently, I was made aware of the publishing phenomenon called 'Second Book Slump' which, as it says on the tin, involves Book 2 selling fewer copies than Book 1. With me so far? Yes, how could you not be, because in the absence of any expertise or research whatsoever it seems natural to me that book 2 would inevitably sell fewer copies than book 1. It's unlikely to sell more, after all.
But how many?
Thus intrigued, and without bothering even to search DuckDuckGo (my search engine of choice - Google is far too fond of itself for my own liking) for actual sales figures*, I set about to investigate.
*I've tried to find these in the past, actually in the bad old days of using Google: very difficult.
Instead of sales figures I've used the numbers of Goodreads ratings. I've looked at a number of multibook series that I've read of late or have liked in the past - a pretty superficial trawl of my memory. These were: A Song of Ice and Fire (George R. R. Martin), Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling), the Expanse (James S. A. Corey), Mortal Engines Quartet and Fever Crumb and Larklight and Railhead (Philip Reeve), How to Train Your Dragon (Cressida Cowell), the Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien), A Land Fit for Heroes and the Takeshi Kovacs books (Richard K. Morgan), and the First Law and Shattered Sea books (Joe Abercrombie).
Of course, the number of actual ratings varies hugely: from about 6.5 million for Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone to 2,312 for Railhead. So what I did was treat the number of ratings for book 1 as 100%, and calculate the ratings for any subsequent books as a percentage of that number (e.g. 2.5 million ratings for Harry Potter book 2 is 38% of the 6.5 million ratings for book 1). Note here: not the actual score, but the number of times someone rated the book, whatever that score was. There's a nifty Excel graph, but images are tricky to post here, so I'll stick to figures.
On average, book 2 nets 44% of the ratings of book 1, and book 3 nets 34%, so there is a definite slide. There's some variance here (12.7 and 13.6, since you ask...) but most books on my list grab around 36% of the ratings for book 2 that they got for book 1. The averages are affected by a couple of books which do really well: the Expanse has 59% ratings for book 2 and 49% for book 3, and Lord Grimdark himself, Joe Abercrombie does even better: 60% for book 2 of Shattered Sea, a whopping 70% for the First Law. Another outlier is A Land Fit for Heroes, whose devotees continue to rate book 2 at 55% of book 1. Outliers excised, most series that have three books or more score around 30% for the third book.
For those series that have more than 3 books things slide apart a bit more after book 3, but in no cases - except one - do any later books pick up more ratings than a preceding book. That exception is Harry Potter: the finale of the series garners 40% of the ratings of book 1, compared with 35% for the penultimate book.
So what do we learn from this? Well, first off: second book slump is real, at least of terms of ratings, and fairly consistent across authors. But it is possible to buck the trend, and Joe Abercrombie, Richard K. Morgan, and James S.A. Corey do just that. These authors know their stuff and have devoted fanbases, but bear in mind that these figures are just the number of ratings not the scores: if you write a fantastic book 1 and a howler of a book 2, chances are you might buck the trend too. Considering the current obsession with feedback, gotta be worth a shot, eh?
Recently, I was made aware of the publishing phenomenon called 'Second Book Slump' which, as it says on the tin, involves Book 2 selling fewer copies than Book 1. With me so far? Yes, how could you not be, because in the absence of any expertise or research whatsoever it seems natural to me that book 2 would inevitably sell fewer copies than book 1. It's unlikely to sell more, after all.
But how many?
Thus intrigued, and without bothering even to search DuckDuckGo (my search engine of choice - Google is far too fond of itself for my own liking) for actual sales figures*, I set about to investigate.
*I've tried to find these in the past, actually in the bad old days of using Google: very difficult.
Instead of sales figures I've used the numbers of Goodreads ratings. I've looked at a number of multibook series that I've read of late or have liked in the past - a pretty superficial trawl of my memory. These were: A Song of Ice and Fire (George R. R. Martin), Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling), the Expanse (James S. A. Corey), Mortal Engines Quartet and Fever Crumb and Larklight and Railhead (Philip Reeve), How to Train Your Dragon (Cressida Cowell), the Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien), A Land Fit for Heroes and the Takeshi Kovacs books (Richard K. Morgan), and the First Law and Shattered Sea books (Joe Abercrombie).
Of course, the number of actual ratings varies hugely: from about 6.5 million for Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone to 2,312 for Railhead. So what I did was treat the number of ratings for book 1 as 100%, and calculate the ratings for any subsequent books as a percentage of that number (e.g. 2.5 million ratings for Harry Potter book 2 is 38% of the 6.5 million ratings for book 1). Note here: not the actual score, but the number of times someone rated the book, whatever that score was. There's a nifty Excel graph, but images are tricky to post here, so I'll stick to figures.
On average, book 2 nets 44% of the ratings of book 1, and book 3 nets 34%, so there is a definite slide. There's some variance here (12.7 and 13.6, since you ask...) but most books on my list grab around 36% of the ratings for book 2 that they got for book 1. The averages are affected by a couple of books which do really well: the Expanse has 59% ratings for book 2 and 49% for book 3, and Lord Grimdark himself, Joe Abercrombie does even better: 60% for book 2 of Shattered Sea, a whopping 70% for the First Law. Another outlier is A Land Fit for Heroes, whose devotees continue to rate book 2 at 55% of book 1. Outliers excised, most series that have three books or more score around 30% for the third book.
For those series that have more than 3 books things slide apart a bit more after book 3, but in no cases - except one - do any later books pick up more ratings than a preceding book. That exception is Harry Potter: the finale of the series garners 40% of the ratings of book 1, compared with 35% for the penultimate book.
So what do we learn from this? Well, first off: second book slump is real, at least of terms of ratings, and fairly consistent across authors. But it is possible to buck the trend, and Joe Abercrombie, Richard K. Morgan, and James S.A. Corey do just that. These authors know their stuff and have devoted fanbases, but bear in mind that these figures are just the number of ratings not the scores: if you write a fantastic book 1 and a howler of a book 2, chances are you might buck the trend too. Considering the current obsession with feedback, gotta be worth a shot, eh?
March 12, 2020
Status Update - March 2020
March 2020 still has the ring of the far future in my ears: can this really be 2020? Aren't we supposed to be driving flying cars and living in space by now? Which goes to show: at any one time, more than 90% of the present looks pretty much like maybe 80% of the previous decade, and 50% of the half century before it. I'm guessing here, and there's no doubt things are changing, but perhaps the only safe prediction to make about the near future is that it won't be as different as we think.
One thing that has improved for me over the last year is my health. This time last year I was still in the thick of post-concussion syndrome, and writing this would have been unthinkable, especially after the couple of hours of text and screen that I've had already today. I'm still not 100% better, still have the odd bad day, and the odd twinge inbetween times, but in the past week I've managed to write around 6000 words, so that's not bad (I'm also on leave from the day job, which makes a big difference). It feels like progress.
Those 6000 words were a couple of chapters in Fire and Flood, the third and final book in the Tethys Trilogy that started with the (now rebranded) Ultramarine. I still can't say for certain when I'll be done with it - the ups and downs of my continuing recovery make what would normally be at best a very vague guess even less reliable - but it is getting there. Not all the kinks in the plot are ironed out, not every loose end ties up, but that's writing for you.
Alongside that I've been developing some new ideas. Undoubtedly, a few of those will make it and others won't: I've learnt now that what seems at first like a great new project doesn't always take off. Like any endeavour, there's a certain amount of 'wastage', but I try to be positive about that - exploring ideas is never a bad thing, and even if some ideas don't make it on their own, they might find their way into something else as a subplot or bit of the backstory.
One effect on my output alongside the lingering dregs of concussion is my reading habit. I love reading - mostly since the concussion in 2018 that's actually meant listening to audiobooks - but it has a marked effect on my own ability to write. It seems like most writers' advice to those wanting to write books is to read first: to the extent that my own opinion counts alongside real writers, I would say the most important thing is to write. In my own case, I've seen more films (movies) than I've read books, and moving pictures have undoubtedly furnished a lot of my inspiration and subconscious leanings. Reading helps, no doubt, but it can be difficult to find your own way when you're still dazzled by someone else's work. And reading after writing has given me insights which I'm pretty sure I would have lacked otherwise: insights into pacing and technique. Now when I read something. I often catch myself spotting what I feel is a more conscious intervention by the writer to solve a problem that's arisen from the more creative aspects of the story. Maybe I'm just a bit dense, but that's how it's worked for me.
In any case, that book won't write itself, and no amount of reading will help get words down. Nor, for that matter, will blog writing; on that note, I will head back to the wilds of Tethys.
One thing that has improved for me over the last year is my health. This time last year I was still in the thick of post-concussion syndrome, and writing this would have been unthinkable, especially after the couple of hours of text and screen that I've had already today. I'm still not 100% better, still have the odd bad day, and the odd twinge inbetween times, but in the past week I've managed to write around 6000 words, so that's not bad (I'm also on leave from the day job, which makes a big difference). It feels like progress.
Those 6000 words were a couple of chapters in Fire and Flood, the third and final book in the Tethys Trilogy that started with the (now rebranded) Ultramarine. I still can't say for certain when I'll be done with it - the ups and downs of my continuing recovery make what would normally be at best a very vague guess even less reliable - but it is getting there. Not all the kinks in the plot are ironed out, not every loose end ties up, but that's writing for you.
Alongside that I've been developing some new ideas. Undoubtedly, a few of those will make it and others won't: I've learnt now that what seems at first like a great new project doesn't always take off. Like any endeavour, there's a certain amount of 'wastage', but I try to be positive about that - exploring ideas is never a bad thing, and even if some ideas don't make it on their own, they might find their way into something else as a subplot or bit of the backstory.
One effect on my output alongside the lingering dregs of concussion is my reading habit. I love reading - mostly since the concussion in 2018 that's actually meant listening to audiobooks - but it has a marked effect on my own ability to write. It seems like most writers' advice to those wanting to write books is to read first: to the extent that my own opinion counts alongside real writers, I would say the most important thing is to write. In my own case, I've seen more films (movies) than I've read books, and moving pictures have undoubtedly furnished a lot of my inspiration and subconscious leanings. Reading helps, no doubt, but it can be difficult to find your own way when you're still dazzled by someone else's work. And reading after writing has given me insights which I'm pretty sure I would have lacked otherwise: insights into pacing and technique. Now when I read something. I often catch myself spotting what I feel is a more conscious intervention by the writer to solve a problem that's arisen from the more creative aspects of the story. Maybe I'm just a bit dense, but that's how it's worked for me.
In any case, that book won't write itself, and no amount of reading will help get words down. Nor, for that matter, will blog writing; on that note, I will head back to the wilds of Tethys.
December 22, 2019
Happy Winter Solstice Celebration!
The shortest day is here again for those of us in the northern hemisphere, a time for hygge and evergreens, and the last few days before the arrival of that portly eflin fella on his sleigh, riding the sky roads and trespassing with wild abandon. I thought I'd join in - not in any sense which involves reindeer and chimneys - by offering a freebie of Race the Red Horizon, which will be free for Kindle from 23rd until the feast of Sol Invictus (25th).
Happy Holidays, and all the best for 2020*!
*Which still sounds like the very distant future.
Happy Holidays, and all the best for 2020*!
*Which still sounds like the very distant future.
November 19, 2019
Aqua Incognita freebies
Just a quick - and wholly promotional - post to say that Thalassa: Aqua Incognita is FREE for Kindle 19th - 23rd November (inclusive). Link to listing on Amazon.com here.
Fire & Flood, part 3, is coming along nicely. Slowly, but nicely. On which note, back to Tethys...
Fire & Flood, part 3, is coming along nicely. Slowly, but nicely. On which note, back to Tethys...
August 27, 2019
Ultramarine
With some months to go (at least) before the third part of the Tethys Trilogy, Fire and Flood, is ready, I've made the decision to relaunch the whole trilogy. The most significant part of the relaunch is a bit of rebranding: Thalassa: The World Beneath the Waves, part 1 of the Tethys Trilogy, has now become Ultramarine.
The title change is a major difference - less wordy and more dramatic than the old one - and a few other aspects of the book have changed too, but it's still essentially the same story. The big differences affect the first five or six chapters, and to be honest I've never been happy with those. I've reinstated the Prologue from the first edition and tweaked the first few chapters to make things more tense, with Moanna at the centre of the mystery from the very beginning.
Thalassa: The World Beneath the Waves has been out since March 2016 and I've been very lucky to have received a lot of support and encouragement. Thanks so much to everyone who has read, rated, or reviewed it. Publishing Thalassa has been an enormously positive experience, and I've learnt a lot from it.
Over the next few weeks I'll be working on a new edition of Thalassa: Aqua Incognita, but this will involve minimal superficial revisions (so far I've changed one single word). And then it will be back to Fire and Flood for what I hope will be a final stint. My recovery from concussion is still not complete, but if I'm careful most days I can do as much as I want (or rather, as I have time for). I can't give a date yet for Fire and Flood - always in motion is the future, and I'm wary of jinxing things and getting myself in a GRRM-style pickle - but early-mid 2020 looks very possible. With luck, the second edition of Thalassa: Aqua Incognita will contain a preview chapter of Fire and Flood, which I will also publish here. Stay tuned...
The title change is a major difference - less wordy and more dramatic than the old one - and a few other aspects of the book have changed too, but it's still essentially the same story. The big differences affect the first five or six chapters, and to be honest I've never been happy with those. I've reinstated the Prologue from the first edition and tweaked the first few chapters to make things more tense, with Moanna at the centre of the mystery from the very beginning.
Thalassa: The World Beneath the Waves has been out since March 2016 and I've been very lucky to have received a lot of support and encouragement. Thanks so much to everyone who has read, rated, or reviewed it. Publishing Thalassa has been an enormously positive experience, and I've learnt a lot from it.
Over the next few weeks I'll be working on a new edition of Thalassa: Aqua Incognita, but this will involve minimal superficial revisions (so far I've changed one single word). And then it will be back to Fire and Flood for what I hope will be a final stint. My recovery from concussion is still not complete, but if I'm careful most days I can do as much as I want (or rather, as I have time for). I can't give a date yet for Fire and Flood - always in motion is the future, and I'm wary of jinxing things and getting myself in a GRRM-style pickle - but early-mid 2020 looks very possible. With luck, the second edition of Thalassa: Aqua Incognita will contain a preview chapter of Fire and Flood, which I will also publish here. Stay tuned...
June 20, 2019
The long road back...
A year ago, I suffered what seemed at the time to be a fairly innocuous head injury. A simple bang on the head. No blood. No loss of consciousness. I didn't even get a bump. However, it left me with what I now realise was probably a pretty severe concussion - it was even difficult to talk - and paved the way for about ten months of almost constant vertigo, migraines, and nausea. I couldn't read, or watch TV. I couldn't even scroll or swipe a touchscreen. For most of the first two months I couldn't even go out for a walk, and even after that, my trips were limited. This is the horror of post-concussion syndrome, poorly understood but more common than you might think; there have been some recent high-profile cases in the English women's hockey team.
Now things are finally almost back to normal. Although I still get symptoms almost every day, they are milder and less persistent, and the vertigo and nausea are occasional rather than constant companions. Reading and writing is still limited to a few hours a day, but I'm easing back into the day-job. Most days I can walk for hours if I want to, and I can finally cycle again. Migraine-like symptoms remain a plague, though even they have eased off. It's a long road, but I'm getting there.
For the sake of my sanity as much as to evaulate my progress, I've also been nibbling away at Thalassa: Fire and Flood, part III of the Tethys Trilogy which began with Thalassa: The World Beneath the Waves, and I'm now just about ready to start on it in earnest. It's been 18 months since I published Thalassa: Aqua Incognita and I can't say when Fire and Flood will be finished, but it is coming. And I think - I hope - it will be be worth the wait.
That's all for now, but watch this space...
Now things are finally almost back to normal. Although I still get symptoms almost every day, they are milder and less persistent, and the vertigo and nausea are occasional rather than constant companions. Reading and writing is still limited to a few hours a day, but I'm easing back into the day-job. Most days I can walk for hours if I want to, and I can finally cycle again. Migraine-like symptoms remain a plague, though even they have eased off. It's a long road, but I'm getting there.
For the sake of my sanity as much as to evaulate my progress, I've also been nibbling away at Thalassa: Fire and Flood, part III of the Tethys Trilogy which began with Thalassa: The World Beneath the Waves, and I'm now just about ready to start on it in earnest. It's been 18 months since I published Thalassa: Aqua Incognita and I can't say when Fire and Flood will be finished, but it is coming. And I think - I hope - it will be be worth the wait.
That's all for now, but watch this space...
March 25, 2019
The Trouble with the Targaryens...
As regular readers of this sorry excuse for a blog will know, I've been suffering since June 2018 from the effects of concussion, and I'm still not quite right in the head (getting there slowly, but still can't read or write much, thanks for asking). Concussion really sucks. Anyway, in those dark early days when I could do literally nothing, I saved my sanity (kind of...) by listening to the audiobooks of George R. R. Martin's ginormously popular A Song of Ice and Fire series. All of them. Just to prove I hadn't been rendered completely useless, I listened in German, a language I used to be able to speak. And it was great. I'm not going to discuss style, since I listened to translations, but Reinhard Kuhnert's voice is amazing. I've been meaning to write a review of my impressions for a while, and here it is. Oh, and be warned: spoilers are coming.
First, the scope of the story is truly vast, with multiple characters and settings within the very convincing world of Westeros and its neighbours. There are really three stories here: 1) the story of the Starks and the fate of the Iron Throne, 2) Jon Snow and the Wall holding back a tide of inhuman monsters, and 3) Daenerys Targaryen's quest to recover her birthright, that same Iron Throne which forms part of 1). Of these three, I most liked 1) and 2). I'll discuss poor Daenerys more below but for now I'll just say the best bit of her story are the Dothraki, who are basically Klingons on horseback (what's not to like?). But the Starks and Jon Snow storylines are both excellent. I really enjoyed the greyness of the characters, the way that we start off hating Jaime Lannister, and end up quite liking him. Martin does an excellent job of muddying the waters around Jon Snow's parentage (for my money: he is as so many theories suggest Rhaegar and Lyanna's son. The dream Jon has where he seeks his father in the crypt at Winterfell and doesn't find him seals it for me: it's his mother who is there). It's wonderful to follow the development of these characters, and to feel our own relationship with them developing as more of the backstory is revealed.
Westeros is also fantastic. There are some amazing places, both natural and man-made. It feels more real then Tolkien's Middle-Earth partly because it has diseases, and sex, and poverty, as well as recipes and songs that are not plot-exposition vehicles but just songs (like The Bear and the Maiden Fair), and a religion so well-fleshed out it can't be long before it appears in census data, alongside all the myth and history that you'd expect, but also I think because we see the same places through different eyes at different times. Take, for example, the Inn at the Crossroads. We visit this place with Catelyn, Tywin and Tyrion, Arya and Jendry, as well as Brianne and Jaime, and I've probably forgotten a few. It's not just a single point to visit on a single quest or a hook for events long-gone - it's a place which has a history that evolves through the story, and that makes it feel all the more real. Very clever.
The names are intriguing enough to deserve a whole blog post, but one great aspect of the books is that two or more characters occasionally have the same name, e,g. Jon (Snow & Arryn), Robert (Arryn & Stark & Baratheon), and even Eddard (Stark and some minor servant). There are story-internal reasons for this, of course, but it also heightens the sense of realism, because in reality we often bump into people with the same name (especially if you happen to be born with the luck of the Joneses).
I also liked the fact that the magic emerges slowly as the story progresses. By the time we reach the Children of the Forest, the idea of them no longer seems so alien: again, full marks for keeping things real. The shapeshifting/astral projection is also very well done.
But. Those Targaryens. I know we're supposed to feel sorry for poor Dani, and I do, but I don't like her much. She has a sense of entitlement to a throne which her forebears conquered, and is basically the last member of a (somewhat elfin) race of foreign invaders. Why should we want her to get back on top? She's the Normans in Britain, the Brits in India, the Brits in ... oh, just about anywhere. (I'm, British, by the way: bad-mouthing ourselves is what we do when the bad food and bad weather gets too much). And, the Targaryens took power using dragonfire. Dragons against swords and arrows. That's right: it's your machine-guns versus spears scenario all over again. Dani has less claim to the Iron Throne than Theon has to the Iron Isles, and we don't feel much sympathy for him. Alright, he's repugnant, but he's lived for years as a hostage, and however kind the Starks were to him, he would always feel a sense of loss and alienation, as well as the possibility of death if he stepped out of line (I know: too good for him, but hey). Dani is similarly selfish: she subjects her followers who are not blessed with that amazing Targaryen immune system to disease, and is against slavery but perfectly happy to keep her maidservants hanging on. I will admit she's growing on me, particulary the relationship with Jorah Mormont, but there are some much better female characters: Sansa, who starts out silly and becomes strong, Arya, who starts out strong and becomes a ninja psychopath, and my absolute favourite: Asha Greyjoy. So the Targaryens don't rate very highly with me. It could be the elf thing - I've never been a fan of the fair folk.
One final word: fans are waiting for the Winds of Winter, and have been waiting for some time. I get it, I really do, in my own small way. I've written books myself and had periods when the Muse was distracting me with other projects instead of focusing on the one which was top of the pile. It happens. And I totally agree with Neil Gaiman's blunt but accurate appraisal of the author-reader relationship. But... Martin keeps on churning out Targaryen books, and I really do think at some point he owes it to the readers - and to himself, mind - to get it over and done with. It can't be nice for him. Sometimes you just have to bunker down and get on with things. Although if he wanted to write a book about Asha Greyjoy's adventures on the side, I wouldn't quibble. I'ven even got a suggestion for the title - Black Wind: Adventures of the Kraken's Daughter. That I wouldn't mind. But it seems that for now, at least, winter is not coming.
First, the scope of the story is truly vast, with multiple characters and settings within the very convincing world of Westeros and its neighbours. There are really three stories here: 1) the story of the Starks and the fate of the Iron Throne, 2) Jon Snow and the Wall holding back a tide of inhuman monsters, and 3) Daenerys Targaryen's quest to recover her birthright, that same Iron Throne which forms part of 1). Of these three, I most liked 1) and 2). I'll discuss poor Daenerys more below but for now I'll just say the best bit of her story are the Dothraki, who are basically Klingons on horseback (what's not to like?). But the Starks and Jon Snow storylines are both excellent. I really enjoyed the greyness of the characters, the way that we start off hating Jaime Lannister, and end up quite liking him. Martin does an excellent job of muddying the waters around Jon Snow's parentage (for my money: he is as so many theories suggest Rhaegar and Lyanna's son. The dream Jon has where he seeks his father in the crypt at Winterfell and doesn't find him seals it for me: it's his mother who is there). It's wonderful to follow the development of these characters, and to feel our own relationship with them developing as more of the backstory is revealed.
Westeros is also fantastic. There are some amazing places, both natural and man-made. It feels more real then Tolkien's Middle-Earth partly because it has diseases, and sex, and poverty, as well as recipes and songs that are not plot-exposition vehicles but just songs (like The Bear and the Maiden Fair), and a religion so well-fleshed out it can't be long before it appears in census data, alongside all the myth and history that you'd expect, but also I think because we see the same places through different eyes at different times. Take, for example, the Inn at the Crossroads. We visit this place with Catelyn, Tywin and Tyrion, Arya and Jendry, as well as Brianne and Jaime, and I've probably forgotten a few. It's not just a single point to visit on a single quest or a hook for events long-gone - it's a place which has a history that evolves through the story, and that makes it feel all the more real. Very clever.
The names are intriguing enough to deserve a whole blog post, but one great aspect of the books is that two or more characters occasionally have the same name, e,g. Jon (Snow & Arryn), Robert (Arryn & Stark & Baratheon), and even Eddard (Stark and some minor servant). There are story-internal reasons for this, of course, but it also heightens the sense of realism, because in reality we often bump into people with the same name (especially if you happen to be born with the luck of the Joneses).
I also liked the fact that the magic emerges slowly as the story progresses. By the time we reach the Children of the Forest, the idea of them no longer seems so alien: again, full marks for keeping things real. The shapeshifting/astral projection is also very well done.
But. Those Targaryens. I know we're supposed to feel sorry for poor Dani, and I do, but I don't like her much. She has a sense of entitlement to a throne which her forebears conquered, and is basically the last member of a (somewhat elfin) race of foreign invaders. Why should we want her to get back on top? She's the Normans in Britain, the Brits in India, the Brits in ... oh, just about anywhere. (I'm, British, by the way: bad-mouthing ourselves is what we do when the bad food and bad weather gets too much). And, the Targaryens took power using dragonfire. Dragons against swords and arrows. That's right: it's your machine-guns versus spears scenario all over again. Dani has less claim to the Iron Throne than Theon has to the Iron Isles, and we don't feel much sympathy for him. Alright, he's repugnant, but he's lived for years as a hostage, and however kind the Starks were to him, he would always feel a sense of loss and alienation, as well as the possibility of death if he stepped out of line (I know: too good for him, but hey). Dani is similarly selfish: she subjects her followers who are not blessed with that amazing Targaryen immune system to disease, and is against slavery but perfectly happy to keep her maidservants hanging on. I will admit she's growing on me, particulary the relationship with Jorah Mormont, but there are some much better female characters: Sansa, who starts out silly and becomes strong, Arya, who starts out strong and becomes a ninja psychopath, and my absolute favourite: Asha Greyjoy. So the Targaryens don't rate very highly with me. It could be the elf thing - I've never been a fan of the fair folk.
One final word: fans are waiting for the Winds of Winter, and have been waiting for some time. I get it, I really do, in my own small way. I've written books myself and had periods when the Muse was distracting me with other projects instead of focusing on the one which was top of the pile. It happens. And I totally agree with Neil Gaiman's blunt but accurate appraisal of the author-reader relationship. But... Martin keeps on churning out Targaryen books, and I really do think at some point he owes it to the readers - and to himself, mind - to get it over and done with. It can't be nice for him. Sometimes you just have to bunker down and get on with things. Although if he wanted to write a book about Asha Greyjoy's adventures on the side, I wouldn't quibble. I'ven even got a suggestion for the title - Black Wind: Adventures of the Kraken's Daughter. That I wouldn't mind. But it seems that for now, at least, winter is not coming.
December 21, 2018
2018 - goodbye and good riddance
It's been a while since I posted and the blog has become a bit dusty. The reason for this has been a knock on the noggin I suffered over the summer. You know that saying: "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger"? It turns out this is a BLATANT LIE. Sometimes, what doesn't kill you leaves you with headaches, nausea, and dizziness every time you so much as sniff the printed word. Things have improved vastly and continue to improve, but for now, screen and text have to be kept to less than an hour a day. As you can imagine, that's put a damper on practically everything to do with books.
2019 promises to be better, and then I will finally get round to writing up the 300-or-so pages of notes that exist for the final part of the Tethys Trilogy, Thalassa: Fire & Flood, the sequel to Thalassa: Aqua Incognita.
Until then, thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas, Joyous Yuletide, Felix Sol Invictus, or whatever and however you celebrate the most ancient Northern Hemisphere Winter Solstice Festival. Happy New Year for 2019!
2019 promises to be better, and then I will finally get round to writing up the 300-or-so pages of notes that exist for the final part of the Tethys Trilogy, Thalassa: Fire & Flood, the sequel to Thalassa: Aqua Incognita.
Until then, thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas, Joyous Yuletide, Felix Sol Invictus, or whatever and however you celebrate the most ancient Northern Hemisphere Winter Solstice Festival. Happy New Year for 2019!
