Douglas J. Bornemann's Blog, page 3

A House of Cards: Now Live!

I’m pleased to announce that A House of Cards, the second book in the Heiromancer Trilogy, is now officially live. A launch celebration will take place at The Raven Book Store in Lawrence Kansas this coming Thursday. For those who prefer their reading experience to be more socially mediated, AHOC is also on Goodreads. I’d love to hear what you think, either here, or in a review.

A House of Cards

Primed for Celebration

To celebrate the upcoming launch of A House of Cards, the Heiromancer Trilogy’s prelude, the ebook version of The Demon of Histlewick Downs, will be on sale for 99 cents for a limited time starting Monday, July 15th (Prime day!) Get it while it’s hot (and in Kansas, at least, it will certainly be hot).

Three down, one to go!

A Long-Awaited Party

I’m delighted to finally announce the launch of A House of Cards. The festivities will take place July 25th and will be hosted by the quaint and curious Raven Bookstore here in Lawrence, Kansas – couldn’t ask for a better-suited or more-supportive venue. If you’re in town, please consider dropping by to share some fascinating story snippets and perhaps a spot of tea.

Tell me about it

Ordering proofs can be a sobering experience. Don’t get me wrong, clutching an actual copy of a book you slaved to create is a tremendous thrill. But once that moment fades, you’re faced with the prospect of communicating what makes your work special to a prospective reader—without giving anything important away.

“Tell me about it.” That deceptively simple question not only invites you to dance through a spoiler minefield, you’re also expected to do it while naming that tune in three notes. If you write high-concept novels, the “three-notes” part is a bit less daunting— “the story is about snakes on a plane, or about high-school-student Buffy, who moonlights as vampire slayer.” But if you’re an author who strives for something a bit more nuanced, complex, and less easily pigeonholed, the temptation to spew enough notes to craft a symphony is real.

So, unless there are sharks in your tornadoes, the goal can’t be to identify specific notes—it’s got to be more about distilling the novel’s essence. What, then, is A House of Cards about? After boiling the pieces in the old flask for a while, here’s what finally condensed:

A House of Cards is about an ensemble cast of smart strong-willed people working at cross purposes in the context of a Victorian-style society where the Church has so effectively suppressed magic that most doubt it even exists.

OK, it doesn’t have the brevity of say Ghostbusters, but at least it fits into a single sentence.

If you’re still reading, perhaps your interest is sufficiently piqued that you’re wondering what types of characters that ensemble cast includes. At the risk of waxing symphonic, I offer the following examples of the lives that collide in A House of Cards:

A gifted young woman who sets her sights on becoming a professor at a University that has only recently begun admitting female students.
A spinster scion of a wealthy family who wreaks subtly crafted vengeance in a man’s world.
A disaffected professor drunk on his first taste of forbidden magic who chafes at the restrictions imposed by his more-cautious mentor.
An honorable cleric who has devoted his life to atoning for his father’s sins by assuming the position his father held while committing them.
A wily old priest who schemes against the Church’s uppermost echelons for nebulous if not downright-nefarious purposes.
A dutiful son who risks everything to protect his family’s explosive secret.

Fair warning: A House of Cards is an integral part of the Heiromancer Trilogy rather than a stand-alone novel. With respect to structure, think The Lord of the Rings, where The Demon of Histlewick Downs serves as a stand-alone prelude to The Heiromancer Trilogy in much the same way that The Hobbit kicked off The Lord of the Rings. A major feature of The Heiromancer is the way it interleaves multiple characters’ stories into a coherent whole. Achieving that end required a longer-than-standard format. These non-standard features contribute to a story calculated to provide the reader with a refreshing and unique reading experience. Do these non-formulaic elements also increase the difficulty of communicating to potential readers what they should expect?

Yeah, tell me about it.

A Deal with the Demon

In anticipation of the upcoming release of A House of Cards, the second installment in the Heiromancer Trilogy, I’m making the series prequel, The Demon of Histlewick Downs, available at a significant discount. Go ahead – give into temptation. At this price you can afford to curl up with The Demon without having to sell your soul. 

Book Challenge #3: The Great Book of Amber

Decades before Game of Thrones, Zelazny had already penned the quintessential sprawling fantasy epic. Amber instilled in me an abiding passion for thoughtful intricate plotting, complete with a  multitude of exquisitely drawn characters whose distinct personalities leap from the page. Indeed, the first installment of what eventually became a vast tome in 10 parts was entitled Nine Princes in Amber. The nine princes are the sons of Oberon, the mythical realm of Amber’s powerful and enigmatic ruler, who has disappeared leaving no instructions for succession. Before all is over, you’ll get to know each and every son–and all their sisters too. The sons’ struggles for survival (and the shifting allegiances they entail) rock the very foundations of existence–itself an overarching theme that takes the concept of world-building to a fascinatingly literal extreme. Zelazny assembled the story in installments, each intertwining with and adding complexity to the one before it. The work is a testament to ability of detailed organically grown storytelling to keep readers enthralled. With his signature elliptical style, which always left out just enough of the current machination to keep me slightly off balance, Zelazny kept me ever hungering for more. I confess Amber inspired the Tarot Cards in the Heiromancer Trilogy, and though the use to which I’ve put them is entirely different, my chapter entitled “Trumps of Doom” in A House of Cards is an homage to the identically titled 6th installment in the Amber series. For my money, Amber Trumps Thrones any day!

A House of Cards – Cover Reveal

As the release date for A House of Cards, the third book in The Dreamweaver Chronicles, draws nigh, I’m seeking feedback on the latest cover mockup. If this cover popped up on your screen during an Amazon browse, would you give the book a closer look? All viewpoints, impressions, analyses, questions, and constructive criticisms welcome!

 

Book Challenge #2: The Dying Earth

Vance’s work, Tales of the Dying Earth, is jaw-droppingly creative. Two aspects in particular stand out. The first is a ruthlessly Machiavellian main protagonist (Cugel) who is endlessly inventive in devising new scams to further his relatively straightforward goal of returning home. The second is Vance’s breathtaking use of stylized language. No word is too large for Vance, and if a sesquipedalian example isn’t handy, Vance doesn’t hesitate to improvise. Despite that proclivity, the prose has a gorgeous otherworldly flow to it that makes those often bizarre word choices seem somehow inevitable. Nothing else I’ve read even comes close. Of course, this peculiar combination won’t be for everyone, so if you read only a sample, make sure it’s Chapter 2 of Rhialto the Marvellous (entitled Fader’s Waft), in which rival magicians pursue the affections of the ravishing Lady Shaunica. When G’s spirits are flagging, I’ll pull that out for a reading, and regardless of the intensity of the current complaint, it never fails to elicit at least a grudging chuckle.

Book Challenge #1: The Fellowship of the Ring

In response to friendly prodding from Mary Vensel White, I’m on the hook to list 7 books that somehow influenced me. Number one on that list is J.R.R.Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. For me, this series was to fantasy what Star Wars was for sci fi movies–it forever changed how I viewed the genre.

Two characteristics in particular stand out. The first is obviously the exquisite detail and consistency of Tolkien’s universe–there’s still nothing I’ve read to rival it. Faced with that depth of background, other fantasy novels pale, each seeming more like the facade of a spaghetti western than a living, breathing universe ripe for exploration in all directions.

The series’ second remarkable trait is Tolkien’s incomparable flow. His gentle prose lures you into the scene, with each word somehow anticipating the next so effortlessly that once you reach it, you’re convinced you knew it was coming all along without the bother of thinking about it. The result is subtle, immersive, and mesmerizing in ways that would put Saruman to shame. Even that trek through the dead marshes couldn’t set me free.

It’s the only series I’ve multiply re-read, and I discover new marvels each time.

The Rescue

Hanging with my bud.

The very day after I e-published The Demon of Histlewick Downs (a tale of a young man’s quest to rescue his parents) in July of 2014, our much-loved 25-pound lynx point Nero passed. Within the month, my wife Genelle moved from California for a year to test drive a faculty position at the University of Kansas, while I stayed behind to ready the house for potential sale. Loss of my two constant companions was rough, but I kept busy–we’d been in the house for 13 years, with all the attendant deferred maintenance that implies.

When Genelle came to visit at Christmas, I happened across a small orange tabby sunning himself on a tin shed roof within arm’s length of our backyard wall. Thinking Genelle could use a cat fix, I invited him over. He was a slip of a thing, no more than ten pounds–but he seemed starved more for affection than for food. Still hurting from our loss, we were happy to oblige.

From that day, the Orange Cat was a regular visitor. He’d pound on the front door in the morning and I’d invite him in for a bowl of milk before work. He’d be back for more when I got home. On weekends, he’d often spend the whole day with me–sometimes binge-watching Netflix on my lap, other times directing the house repairs. Come evening I’d tell him he had to return to his family. If it was chilly, I’d get a disappointed hiss–it was the only time he wasn’t upbeat, curious, and well-behaved. He loved our bed’s white feather comforter, and anytime he wasn’t with me, I knew to find him there. I’d go move him, patiently explaining that outdoor “kittehs” (that’s catspeak) who roll in dirt were not permitted there. He’d rowr and move onto some other exploit (at least, until I wasn’t looking). 

The gift.

When it came time to sell the house, his routine was firmly in place, though there were occasional surprises. One morning he pounded on the door, mewling with particular excitement. On the way to the car, I learned why–he’d brought me a nice plump rat, which he’d displayed in the very center of the front courtyard. He beamed with pride as he posed near his prize. Presuming a “thank you” would suffice, I hopped in the car and headed to work. Of course, the rat would be gone by the time I returned at 6, right? Turns out I’d misunderstood. He was still waiting for me beside that rat when I returned 9 hours later–apparently, it wasn’t merely a trophy rat, it was an eating rat. When I demurred again, he shrugged, and ate it himself.

One day I came back from work to find him sitting squarely on the dining room table, posing smugly next to the flowers I set out for house-staging purposes. I still have no idea how he got in–whether I forgot to let him out, or if he darted in when the realtor showed the property.  Whatever he did, it worked–the family shown the house that day bought it. I may never know whether he wooed them with his personal charm, or whether he simply bribed them all with rats.

Showing the house.

By May 2015, we were caught up in the whirlwind that is packing for a cross-country move, and we still didn’t know to whom the Orange Kitteh belonged. By then, Genelle had discovered that the reason he scratched so much–he was covered with fleas. It finally dawned on us that perhaps he was actually a stray. We bought a collar and put it on him with a note with our phone number and directions to call. Someone actually called that day and left a message–to the effect it wasn’t his cat. Odd, right? The next morning, our buddy returned with a brand new collar. We were disappointed, but resigned–clearly His Orangeness belonged to someone after all–though we still had no idea who. We braced ourselves for farewell.

Two days before the move, we were out in front packing up when a lady walked by, her two leashed puppies in tow. She spied our little buddy and called out to him.  “Linus, want to go for a walk?”

“So,” I said. “This is your cat!”

“No, she said, “It’s not my cat.”

“Well, then, whose is he?”

Turns out, she had replaced his collar. She hadn’t known who we were, but had wanted us to know someone was looking out for him. Linus had once belonged to this lady’s neighbors, but when they got dogs, they and Linus didn’t get along, and Linus was turned out. Now on his own, he set about wandering the neighborhood, making a broad network of friends who provided food, temporary lodging, and occasional de-worming tablets. His new friends helped out when they could, but were unable to adopt him because they already had multiple pets of their own.

“Would anyone mind if we were to take him with us?”

“He’s been on his own for seven years–we’ll be sad, but he needs a forever home.”

With only one day to spare, Genelle dropped what she was doing and hauled him to the vet. After seven years homeless, the fleas were his only health issue. We adopted him on the spot, and rechristened him “Reshi.”

On moving day, folks from the neighborhood dropped by–some we’d never met–to say their fond farewells. More showed for Reshi than for us.

Yes, he is all that. And if he hadn’t taken that time to win our hearts, we might never have realized just how much we needed rescuing.

Moving Day.