Eric Lewis's Blog, page 3

The Swordsman’s Lament by GM White

Usually I have to concoct an excuse to put swords in the picture. No need today.

The Swordsman’s Lament is a debut novel by GM White, and occupies the same subgenre niche that I tend to squat in, which is fantasy without much or any magic. I hope this style is becoming more popular as people get their fill and then some of magic systems that require a master’s thesis to comprehend. In contrast, what we have here is a quick, easy adventure characterized by clear, unaffected writing, told in a brisk 213 pages. This is not the typical grimdark fantasy I often review, but might still appeal to those readers as a kind of palate cleanser in between having one’s soul crushed over and over. Funny story, I first heard about this book on an episode of Jed Herne’s Wizards, Warriors, & Words YouTube channel/podcast where they were crapping all over people’s cover art, including the original for this one. The updated cover is an improvement, but it just goes to show there’s no such thing as bad publicity.

The setup will feel familiar to the casual fantasy or mystery reader: the hero is framed for a murder he didn’t commit, and must escape and prove his innocence. In this case we have Belasko, the king’s champion and famed but aging duellist. A lifetime of fighting has left him with injuries of both body and mind that will never fully heal, and he’s looking forward to a well-earned retirement as an instructor. When the king’s ne’er-do-well son is murdered, Belasko is framed for it and thrown in prison. From there, he proceeds through story beats that although we may expect them, like the best comfort foods they still manage to surprise and delight in the execution. “Inevitable yet unexpected,” Sanderson might say. With the help of allies old and new he must discover the real killer and clear his name.

The story is told mostly in the POV of Belasko, with some flashbacks to earlier episodes of developing or using the skills he employs at the moment. I’m not sure they’re strictly necessary as the character’s ability with a blade is already established, but they don’t really get in the way except for a few parts that flip back and forth where the time frame is not explicit. There are a couple POV switches to other characters which are necessary to tell the story, but they’re established early enough that I was never confused. The story takes place in a city-state called Villan in a roughly Renaissance level of development. The political situation is reminiscent of Guy Gavriel Kay’s books, where the machinations of foreign powers with foreign-sounding names mimicking real world ones may or may not influence the plot. We also have criminal underworld elements that are referred to ahead of time, building intrigue and expectation until they appear. All this gives hints to a wider world that we’re only shown a glimpse of in this first story, which is an effective strategy to generate interest for future volumes.

As you might expect, the pacing is quick, with a lot of running, fighting, hiding, finding allies to hatch the next move, rinse and repeat. This works well for the plot since the main character is after all a wanted man with a whole city after him. The pacing slows a bit with sometimes overly detailed descriptions of certain acts- climbing, sneaking, etc. There is also a good amount of telling versus showing, or more often telling then showing with a little more expository dialogue than needed. I would suggest White put a bit more trust in the reader in the future, and I well know this can be a tough balancing act for a newer author. The prose is clear and straightforward, though can feel a bit basic at times, with certain characters filling very archetypical roles. A bit of Abercrombian acid wit would pair with the setting very well I think. But these are minor issues which I feel will be ironed out in future works by the author. I wasn’t at all surprised by the ending, but I was pleasantly impressed in some ways. I tend to skip over fight sequences because I find them tedious to read, but in this case it proved rather poignant.

Since The Swordsman’s Lament is explicitly the first in a series, it accomplishes its primary task of grounding the reader in the world and establishing the major characters quite well, and sets up the reader to jump right into future volumes without much additional effort. The sequel, The Swordsman’s Descent, is available for pre-order.

 

GM White’s website: https://gmwhite.co.uk/

 

Pairs well with: Magic Hat #9

Despite winter’s eternal attempts to cling to the ragged edges with grasping claws forever, spring is slowly but surely creeping upon us, though you wouldn’t know it by today’s snow flurries. So I’ve chosen to pair this book with something appropriate to the season. Magic Hat Brewing’s #9 is a “not quite pale ale” coming in at 5.1% abv and 20 IBUs, which makes for easy drinking on a spring day. It has an amber, definitely not pale color with a light head that dissipates quickly, and a light malty aroma. The first flavor you get is dry but not too dry crisp fruity apricot, though it gets less intense over time, and a lightly toasted malt underlying that. There’s no bitterness to speak of, so this could never be mistaken for an IPA. The finish is mild and slightly sour, slightly caramelly. This is an ale that drinks like a lager and goes down quickly, leaving a clean palate for whatever comes next. Like The Swordsman’s Lament it’s a deceptively light, quick option with enough darkness to be interesting, so the two pair well.

 

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The Heron Kings’ Flight eARC, and a new story just for Newsletter Subscribers

The electronic ARC for The Heron Kings’ Flight is now available via NetGalley! Interested bloggers, reviewers and general busybodies may request access to it from there. I also have several free invites available to anyone who asks, so if you’d like a free early version now’s your chance. If you would like access and are willing to provide a review ahead of the May 17 release date, simply contact me and I’ll send a link. Best to do so through Twitter, since all I ever get via the contact form on this site is spam. Like, I’ve literally received exactly one legit communication from it in the four or so years I’ve had this site. For some reason, the publisher decided to omit the map from the ARC, though they insist it will be in the final version. So if anyone would find a map helpful, please access it here. All maps are made by me using Wonderdraft, so any mistakes or annoyances in them are my own fault. And of course, the book itself is now available to Pre-Order!

Book 3, The Heron Kings Rampant, is coming along slowly but surely, and the first draft is currently at about 93K words. Pretty close to the end as far as plot, but I’m going to have to do a lot of rewriting on this one as well. You can check out a draft of the first 1200 words here.

 

I’ve also done a little short story tying in to the novel called “An Honest Lie.” It’s set a few years before The Heron Kings’ Flight and introduces some of the main characters from the book. In this story, a desperate fleeing peasant begs for help from the shadowy ranger band. But he’s hiding a deadly secret that could cost a whole village their lives. The story is available FREE exclusively to subscribers of my once or twice a year newsletter, so anyone wanting to read it should sign up here, then follow the link in the welcome email. No, I won’t share anyone’s info with anyone.

 

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AI Generated artwork based on some of my titles

I’ve been seeing this trend lately of people putting prompts into machine learning image generators to create abstract AI generated “artwork” based on the words and phrases. I got interested when I saw some great pictures posted to the Dishonored subreddit, so I thought I’d jump on the bandwagon and see what I could come up with. I used the Wombo Dream app, which seems to work quickly to make some interesting images. For whatever reason it doesn’t seem to export the images directly in my case, so I had to take screenshots and crop them down. Anyway, here’s what it gave me using the titles of some of my books and short stories as prompts:

The Slavemaster’s PenanceChristmas TruceJustice EnoughDemon of the MountIllicit AlchemyWhat We’re Looking ForDecoyIt Weighs On YouIn The BloodAs It SeemsTricks of the BladeHealing TouchThe Heron Kings

 

I did a bunch of other ones, but they didn’t all look quite as interesting or appropriate to the stories so I didn’t include them. You can pick an art style as well as keywords, such as fantasy, dark fantasy, steampunk, etc, to make the output fit to your prompt best. Each time you’ll get something different so you can keep trying it multiple times until you get something you like. I didn’t put too much effort into this but I thought it was an interesting exercise. Some of these are pretty creepy, others are just neat. Whether you consider this to be true artwork is a matter of opinion I guess, I just like the creepy nightmare-like imagery based on my own fiction.

 

Here are a few more bits of AI generated artwork with various word combinations I tried:

 

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The Heron Kings’ Flight to Release May 2022

This is just a brief update on the status of The Heron Kings’ Flight, which will be my second published novel (though the first one I began). A few weeks ago I received the corrections back from my excellent editor Don, who must be absolutely buried under a pile of virtual paper as the acquisitions editor for Flame Tree Press. After a slowdown over the past year or so they’re getting back up to their schedule of putting out two books a month.

The changes this time were much fewer in number and easily made, and the whole process was much more streamlined. I got the requested edits all done in about a day. Although the contract originally said 2023, since everyone was able to get the edits done on or ahead of time, Don tells me it’s now scheduled for a May 2022 release! Credit also must be given to the copy & proofing editor Mike, who’s able to root out the most minute formatting or grammatical hiccup. I would never want these guys as English teachers because I’d definitely flunk, but I’m glad they’re taking such good care polishing up my mad scribblings into a marketable product.

I just wrote about 600 words about the development of this book and its history and personal significance to me. Then I realized what I was saying sounded real familiar, and it turns out I already did a post saying all that, which you can read here if you’re so inclined, so I deleted the text from this post

Like the first book, this one is also a self-contained, stand-alone story. I set it about a hundred years after the first with all new characters, so you can read each in isolation. Of course, one would obviously get more out of the second from having read the first. No unfinished series here I promise! The final draft comes in at 114,973 words, and likely won’t change much before printing. FTP has a hard limit of 120,000 words, so no doorstop sequels like you see with big publishers.

I expect to see the ARC in the next few months. If any actual humans are reading this post and would like one, just comment below and I’ll see about getting a link from NetGalley. I’ve only ever gotten spam comments on my posts, so make it clear you’re not one! Meanwhile, please subscribe to my infrequent newsletter on the sidebar, and check out my latest short story collection As It Seems, which contains several short tales that either inspired or were inspired by the Heron Kings books. Other stories are available in various forms from the short fiction page. And please pre-order!

 

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The Heron Kings Has Earned Out!

Last week I received a slim envelope from my bank in the mail. Oh, great, I thought, what is it now? Through the thin paper I could make out the words Flame Tree Publishing. Crap. It’s something to do with my book. A bit of mild panic set in. Were they canceling the contract for The Heron Kings’ Flight? Did they want their advance back? Did they just take right out of my bank account without asking me because it’s 2021 and corporations to whatever they please to whomever they please???

I opened it right then and there without even going inside. One sheet of paper. A few lines. A…wire transfer statement. Huh. Wait, it was a transfer to me, from the publisher? Okay hold on, lemme read this thing. Well, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather. Or a grain of sand. A C60 Buckyball would do it. It was a payment. A royalty payment. Royalties for my first novel, The Heron Kings, for the first two quarters of this year. The amount was…not much, but we won’t talk about that. It was money, in addition to my advance that I had already been paid.

What does this mean? If you’re not familiar with how the basics of publishing work, you could be forgiven for asking this. An advance is paid to the author on or before a book’s release, the amount based on how many copies they expect to sell. You don’t see any more money until the amount you get from the book’s earnings, usually 15-ish percent of the revenue, matches the advance. This is called “earning out the advance,” and many books don’t actually get to that point. Earning out is usually a good sign that the book has met or exceeded the publisher’s expectations, and it is definitely no longer a waste of money.

I kind of understood these things, but I wasn’t sure if this was the case or if there’d been some mistake. I’ve been watching the book’s rank on Amazon (cursed be its name) and it is not selling at all, even the Ebook, but I don’t have access to actual sales numbers. Well, I got up the courage to email the publisher’s accountant and ask straight out. Yesterday she got back to me and confirmed that yes, The Heron Kings had indeed earned out. Yay! Now, it was a very tiny advance, token really, so in money terms this doesn’t mean much. What it does mean is that they should be more enthusiastic going forward about publishing my second book, The Heron Kings’ Flight which we already have a contract for, and possibly my third, The Heron Kings Rampant which I’m drafting now.

This is an extreme relief to me, since I have considered (and to some degree, still consider) the book to be a failure. After all, no one’s buying it, reviewing it or posting about it on any of the online groups dedicated to similar books. But at least enough are that there might be some further role for those ornery rebels yet to play in my world before its ending. Even if no one likes them, they’re still here. I can empathize.

 

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Cobbled Bits Of Bone, A Dishonored Fanzine

Dishonored is my absolute favorite game, and at my age it’s the only game I play anymore, mostly for nostalgia purposes. I love the aesthetic and the world, bleak as it is, for its art style and the completeness of the lore. The game came out way back in 2012, and the 2016 sequel was a bit lackluster thanks in part to the botched, broken release. The dearth (there’s a million dollar word, eh?) of content in recent years has spurred some direct action from the fans in many ways, including an upcoming fanzine. Don’t feel bad if you don’t know what that is, just go look it up. I know a lot of people kind of look down on fanfiction, but it has served as the nucleus for several successful book and film products in the past, so I wouldn’t be so quick to look down my nose at it.  Especially cause my nose is really short and stubby and it would be physically difficult.

Anyway, Cobbled Bits of Bone is a fanzine that will include original art and fiction set in the world of Dishonored, all created by and for the fans and not in any way officially licensed. You can see why I was drawn to the thing. The call for submissions included content creators for art, merch as well as fanfiction, and for the submission process I wrote two very short (1500 word max) pieces. Some of the digital art I’ve seen for this project really blows my mind, and there’s no way I could even conceive of the skill needed to produce it. For the written pieces, the creators selected a nice variety of content, and the piece of mine they preferred is one focusing on the character of Slackjaw, a gangster in the world of the game, and Granny Rags, a mysterious witch. The short story, “Granny’s Gift,” will appear in the fanzine when it’s published sometime around January 2022. The other piece I wrote, titled “Home, If You Want,” included characters that were already well covered by other pieces in the ‘zine, so I am including it here. It details a first meeting between a minor character, Thomas, and two major characters, the assassin Daud and his lieutenant Billie Lurk. An excerpt from this short story was used for my contributor profile in the official announcements from the Fanzine Twitter account. Until the final product is released (for free, as it truly is a labor of love, and cause of copyright law stuff), here’s a taste of what might be in store. Enjoy!

 

“Home, If You Want”

Dunwall, 1829.

 

The youth tailed his target at just the right distance. It wasn’t a trivial calculation, he’d learned through painful practice. Too far and he’d lose his mark in the gloom of Dunwall’s streets that seemed to devour even full moonlight. Too close and he’d get his ears boxed. Or worse, the City Watch would be called. He had it down to a fine art, picking rich pockets, and this particular pocket was richer than most. The nobleman’s overcoat bulged with the outline of an antique war medal still in its original case, the tip of which poked out just enough to catch his eye. No doubt destined to be bartered for a bottle of King Street or a night at the Golden Cat. It had become a popular way for the wealthy to avoid the Empress’ new taxes, converting coin into precious baubles that couldn’t easily be traced, then back again. Such a precious would feed the boy for a month or more, if he could fence it.

But first to get it. The nobleman, whoever he was, drew ever closer to the Estate District, and the boy knew he wouldn’t be allowed to set even a foot in there. It was time to act. Only a few common citizens defied the Abbey’s admonition to remain indoors after nightfall, and none were paying him any attention. He walked faster to catch up with the nobleman’s steady, aristocratic gait. Closer, closer…

“Gyah!” The boy jumped back as he was nearly run over. It was one of the new electrified carriage cars, cutting straight down the street without heed of whoever might be in its path. He stumbled backward, stomping in a muddy puddle and sending a loud splash echoing off the surrounding brick buildings. The noble glanced back for only an instant, then continued on his way.

“Outsider’s cock,” the boy spat. The mark was getting away! He ran now, his head screaming at him to be careful and his legs utterly ignoring the advice. He turned another corner and came to a broad, open plaza. The boundary of the walled-off Estate District was straight ahead, the Clocktower looming high above. A lone Watch officer wearing the light blue jacket of the aristocracy guard stood idly beneath whale oil-powered streetlights smoking a cigar, and the mark was making right for him. It was now or never.

A cloud passed in front of the moon, and for one perfect moment the boy was as good as invisible. He dashed forward on the tips of his toes and, quiet as a rat, plucked the medal from the noble’s pocket. It was a chilly night, and the woolen greatcoat was heavy enough that the mark seemed not to miss its weight. An amateur would follow his instincts and take off running, no doubt attracting attention. But the boy was experienced, and only changed his direction a bit to cross the street. A few tense moments later he ducked into an alleyway and let out a triumphant breath.

“Got it!” He held up his prize. Such a silly thing to hold so much value. A bit of colored ribbon and crossed bars of metal. But it would bring coin, and coin would quiet his rumbling stomach for a while. Whistling an old gaffer’s tune and smiling for the first time in a long time, he stepped out of the alley…

A withered hand lanced out of nowhere to take a surprisingly strong hold of his wrist. The boy cried out in pain and surprise. It was the nobleman! He’d somehow discovered his loss and tracked the boy down. Seething with rage, the old man wrenched the medal away and struck the boy across the face. He fell to the hard cobblestones, leaving a comet-tail of blood trailing behind him.

“Filthy lickspittle! Try to steal from me? You just committed suicide, boy. You know I pay extra for the pleasure of dismembering mudlarks like you for sport?” He lay dazed, looking up at the aristocrat’s swirling visage. And just beyond that, something…moving? Something on the rooftop of the building across the way? The old man pulled out a slender stiletto. “Come here, I’ll show you why nobody dares cross an Estermont.”

“What’s going on there?” The shout came from the officer guarding the Estate District. With the nobleman momentarily distracted by the cry, the boy kicked away, stumbled to his feet and ran.

“Thief! Stop! Guard, after him if you know what’s good for you!”

The boy tore off down the alley with the Watch officer on his tail. He knew the streets of Dunwall well enough, but between the darkness and his desperation he soon found himself lost among the maze of buildings. The heavy footfalls echoed behind him. He ran as fast as he could, still dizzy from the blow he’d suffered and making random turns to try and lose the guard.

At some point the sound of his pursuer vanished, and not long after he tripped. The ground swung up to welcome him once again. “Shit!” He pushed himself up on skinned hands, then turned to see what he’d tripped over. Something big. Even in the dark he could still make out the light blue of the jacket. It was the officer! Blood oozed from beneath the body and into a gutter. Already a rat was poking at the feast. Who’d killed him? And so silently?

No matter. The boy was on his feet again and running, making far too much noise for someone trying to slip away. He found himself once again at the plaza, having gone in a jagged circle. He ducked behind a public notice board and peeked out to see the aristocrat who’d called himself Estermont prowling the streets that were illuminated by the expensive whale oil lights, but not venturing far beyond. He held his stiletto out in front of him like a magic whalebone talisman. Still hunting for his bloody entertainment, it seemed.

The boy was about to sneak away when something caught his eye. There was no mistaking it this time, something was on the rooftops. Someone, moving swiftly and silently. Another guard? Some rich fop out for some voyeuristic slumming? No. He watched as the figure, dark against darkness, crept along the ledge of a banking house with an advertisement for jellied eels painted on the side. Then there was the tiniest flash of light, and to the boy’s amazement the figure appeared instantly on the ledge of the next building over.

“By the Void!” the boy breathed. He’d heard stories, rumors here and there but never believed them. Could it be…? The figure was looking down at something. Into the plaza. No, at Estermont. In a flash he put it all together. That officer wasn’t the target of any planned killing, he’d just been in the way. And now Estermont stood in the middle of a well-lit square, far from any overhanging rooftops.

An idea came to him, a crazy and dangerous but maybe a brilliant one. He stepped out into the light, his hands shaking and stomach doing tumbles. “Hey! Hey you, you old choffer! I’m right here. Come get me!”

Estermont’s mouth turned into a rictus of hate as well as gleeful hunger. “There you are! I’m going to rip open your belly and wear your intestines as a belt! I’ll drain you like a whale! I’ll make sure it takes you days to die!”

“You’re welcome to try,” the boy said, then ran off, none too quickly, towards the end of Greasley Boulevard where it entered the Estate District. The way was closed for the night so it was a dark, dead end. But there were plenty of buildings all around, and plenty of rooftops.

The boy stopped just short of the heavy metal barrier closing off the street and turned around, his eyes scanning the ledges on either side for any sign of movement. If he’d guessed wrong, his guts would feed the hagfish of Serpentine Canal.

Estermont appeared at the end of the boulevard, huffing and puffing to catch up to the boy. He now stalked forward, an evil grin revealing gold teeth. He waved his stiletto in playful circles. “Nowhere to run now,” he said with a guttural snarl. “Let’s have a little fun, shall we?”

The boy held his ground, ready to dash past the nobleman if necessary. Estermont crept ever closer, as though he were now the one planning to pick pockets. “Come on, come on,” the boy whispered.

Estermont was upon him and ready to pounce, his excitement at the prospect of eviscerating the boy seeming to give him the strength of a younger man. “You have no idea..how much I’m going to enjoy what…comes next.” He leaped forward.

Or rather, he started to. At just that moment a gloved hand reached out of the darkness and yanked him backward, while another drew a long, angular whale butcher’s knife across the nobleman’s throat. Blood gushed forth, and Estermont spasmed in his killer’s grip for what seemed a long time. The strong arms let go, and the aristocrat’s lifeless body flopped to the ground. In his place stood a grim-faced brute with a scar running down one side of his face. “Was it everything you hoped for?” he said to the corpse, his voice a husky rasp.

The boy stood transfixed by shock, even though things had played out exactly as he’d wanted. Another shape appeared next to the killer out of thin air. The smaller form pulled off a whaler’s mask to reveal a young woman only a bit older than himself. With a sneer she kicked the body once. “Humph, it was almost too easy,” she said, sounding disappointed.

“Don’t complain Billie, easy is good,” said her frightful companion. “Coin is better.” He knelt down to pull the war medal once again out of the dead man’s pocket. “We’ll need this, as proof of the contract’s fulfillment.”

The girl turned her hard gaze on the youth. “What do we have here?”

“Another street rat, it seems. Like you were.”

“A witness. One we can’t afford.” She began to pull her own long blade, and the boy’s bowels clenched.

“Wait,” said the man with a halting hand. He turned to the boy. “That was quick thinking, luring him here. But dangerous. We didn’t need your help.”

“W-well, I needed yours,” the boy replied shakily. “He would’ve had the entire Watch looking for me if you hadn’t got him.”

“Hmm. You know, I think I could use someone like you. I make no guarantees about what you might become, but join me and you’ll never have to run from anyone again.”

“R-really?”

“If you choose to.”

The boy looked down at the remains of Estermont, at the pool of blood flooding between the cobblestones. “Then I choose to.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

“…Thomas.”

“Thomas. Let’s go home, if you want.”

###

 

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Roadside Attractions by Eric Lahti

 

This has been long overdue, but I’ve finally got around to writing up this review for Roadside Attractions, Eric (no relation) Lahti’s smartassed, fast-paced genre-bender packed with ghosts, ghost investigators, witches, devils, and one jackalope.

This is a bit of a departure from the often grimdark fantasy I’ve posted before, and indeed defies any one genre classification. Paranormal fantasy, satirical horror, supernatural thriller, maybe acid-induced fever dream is accurate. I suppose the best way to describe it is the opening scene, in which a kidnapped heroin junkie is being sacrificed to a gang of incompetent satanists, and it is hilarious. Wait, before you call any of the various alphabet agencies on me, understand it’s from the POV of the victim Jennine, a woman for whom life has become intolerable and narrates the deadly ordeal with dripping sarcasm. When she immediately turns into a ghost, one gets the sense that the fun is about to begin. The style of prose struck me as almost a younger, bolder Stephen King without the thousand pages of filler. Jennine is quickly taken in by The Stranger, a powerful spirit working some hidden scheme of his own. We are also quickly introduced to Jordan and Char, a perfectly paired paranormal investigator and a powerful witch for hire to fulfill all your ghost extermination needs, and later in the story Lilith, an enforcer sent from Hell to kick ass and not really bother taking names. One thing I appreciated only after finishing the book was that there is no one main character. At various points I thought maybe it’s one of these or another, but really it’s a true ensemble cast. This can be tricky for some writers, switching POVs like that, but here it’s no problem. I feel I got a sense for who each character was and never got confused about who was speaking, as each has a unique, individual voice.

The story mostly takes place in the desolate desert town of Dragoon, Arizona. However, there’s almost nothing of the town in the story, as we really only encounter two of its residents, and pretty loathsome ones at that. It might’ve served the story better to be set in a completely uninhabited stretch of road, since most of the action takes place in and around a convenience store connected to, as the title proclaims, a roadside attraction hilariously named …The Terror! What …The Terror! is and what it really is unfolds in a very satisfying archetype of the escalating stakes, where what begins as a curiousity when Jordan and Char are mysteriously summoned to Dragoon to investigate a run of the mill haunting, and becomes a literal save-the-world type situation. As the cavalcade of supernatural characters emerge, there’s an almost Anne Rice-like attention to world-building, with an exposition of the histories and motivations of each ghost and devil that shows how they got to where they are, and an intricacy to the mechanics of magic spells that Brandon Sanderson might approve of. Some of the characters do get a bit preachy at times, smugly lecturing the dumb as rocks humans about their wrongness about literally everything, and these eye-rolling soliloquies can slow the otherwise brisk pace.

There is definitely a level of campiness to the whole story with a ton of pop culture references (and a surprisingly large number of physical porno mags for this day and age), but it never overrides the action-thriller aspect or descends into farce, and the stakes are fully felt. This requires a careful management of expectations, but the setup in the first half threads this needle nicely. Indeed, along with the humor, ghosts are in fact portrayed as mostly tragic figures, and hauntings the result of scared and confused spirits who might just need someone to hold their noncorporeal hand a bit. The pace is appropriately fast, with short chapters that keep the action moving along. I found myself reading far beyond what I’d expected in any given reading session, turning each page without really feeling the need to take a break. But unlike the gimmicky cliffhanger technique of, for example, Dan Brown, the momentum here felt earned, as each twist and turn in the plot really is an important development in the story. But this does make some of the drawn-out fight scenes, with expository speeches and witty one-liners awkwardly intercalated at certain points, disrupt the pacing just a bit.

I won’t say too much more about the plot since the interconnected lines make it difficult without spoiling it. I will say that if you’re looking for a fun paranormal thriller that doesn’t take itself too seriously even when threatening to unleash Hell itself, this would be a great choice for a weekend read. The ending leaves the door open for a sequel, even though the story stands alone as is, so watch out for more in this vein from Lahti.

 

Eric Lahti’s website: https://ericlahti.com/

 

Pairs well with: Arrogant Bastard Ale

Given the Devil mascot on the bottle, this was an easy one to pair with this book. You might think this is a bit of a cheat, since I already did the Double Bastard in the Rye version of this ale, also I’ve drunk a lot of this stuff. You would be wrong. That was a strong barleywine, while this is the standard 7.2% abv strong ale. I first had this back in…I don’t know, 2010 maybe? Back then it only came in 22oz bottles, with the taunting phrase “You’re Not Worthy” printed on it. Since then the maker, Stone Brewing Co, has split off from the Arrogant Bastard and now makes, as far as I can tell from my most recent trip to the liquor store, infinite varieties of IPAs? That’s tragic. Anyway, this is a well-known ale now made by Arrogant Consortia in Escondido. It remains one of the few very hoppy ales I really like, because all of its other big, bold flavors mostly balance out in the end. Thus even with its 100 IBUs it won’t kick your ass like some of the newer experiments in bitterness extremism, but keep in mind when it first came out back in 1997, it was a bit of a revolution compared to the watery macros that were mostly available. It’s got a dark red amber color with a medium head that lingers but doesn’t overstay its welcome. There’s a light, malty aroma with a bit of floral and citrus character. The hoppiness is almost, but not quite balanced out by the maltiness, along with dark tea hints, caramel, grapefruit and pine. It’s actually surprisingly light-bodied with medium carbonation, not too sweet and doesn’t stay on the tongue very long. Though there is a long, bitter finish that dries out the mouth and nudges you on to another sip. This is a craft beer that was ahead of its time in years past, and set the stage for what we have today. It remains a perfectly respectable addition to any bottle shop or beer cave, though the devils in Roadside Attractions would definitely scoff at the claim that they’re “Not Worthy” to handle it in 2021.

 

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Lockwood Swords SL1009 Type XVIIIb Longsword

I received my order from Lockwood Swords recently. It’s a Type XVIIIb longsword, modified from the standard model 1009 by replacing the crossguard with that of the model 1006. I’ve wanted a blue sword ever since I first saw Gandalf’s Glamdring in LOTR, and I finally have one!

This sword is an absolute work of art, equal to Albion in every way I can see, though I haven’t cut with it yet. The grip is blue with wire overwrap shaping, same as Albion does. The fittings are antiqued, though they look darker in person than the pictures show. It also came with a very nicely crafted belt and adjustable suspension system but I forgot to take pictures. It was very hard to photograph this sword, since it’s very long and I’m…not. I tried a few pics outside, but the glare was making me crazy, so I moved inside.

The pictures are mostly true to color, and you can see a bit more green in the grip versus the scabbard, but it’s not terribly noticeable. The only tiny blemish is a small dark spot along the blade, but again it’s not too noticeable. It’s stupidly light which I like, so it would probably qualify as a precision cutter rather than a heavy cutter. It’s also very easy to keep on point, with an overly long grip compared to the blade.

I really love it and I can strongly recommend Stephan for your high-end semi-production sword needs.

Here are some stats:

Overall length: 48.1″ / 122.2cm
Blade length: 36.06″ / 91.6cm
Grip length: 9.62″ / 24.4cm
Blade width: 1.62″ / 4.1cm
Blade thickness: .375 to .125″ / .95 to .32cm
Guard width: 9″ / 22.9cm
Pommel diameter: 1.9″ / 4.8cm
PoB: 4.38″ / 11.1cm
CoP: 21.62″ / 54.9cm
Weight: 2lb 10.8oz / 1214g

 

Pictures!

Hilt outdoor shotHilt unsheathed outsideFull length unsheathed outsideUnsheathed insideHilt unsheathed insideJust the tipAlong the gripPommel close-upGuard detailMaker’s markSuspension systemGrip & fittings colorScabbard mouthGrip & guard close-upGrip side viewPommel taperTip side viewBlade / guard seatingMore blade / guard seatingSpot the spot?Scabbard back seamScabbard chape

 

 

 

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As It Seems: A Short Story Collection

As It Seems: A Short Story Collection.  I recently took stock of all the short stories and flash fiction I had recovered the rights to after first publication, and having become exhausted with trying again and again to resell them to pro markets, I decided heck, why not just bundle them all up into one collection and self-publish them myself?

I was surprised at how little effort it took. The stories were already written after all, and edited several times over. Of course putting them all together made it much more obvious that I reused names of characters multiple times across stories, so I had to change some. But really that was the most work. I assembled them into one document with consistent formatting, picked the order, then plugged it into the KDP software.

The end result is a collection of eighteen pieces, ranging from under 200 to almost 10,000 words. Not all are reprints; it includes four or five that I haven’t been able to sell elsewhere. They’re generally rather grimdark, but some are positively lighthearted. “The Slavemaster’s Penance” is one of my oldest stories and still one of my favorite, and I was particularly sad when it was rejected by Grimdark Magazine. So it finally will have a home here. I don’t feel the need to describe the stories in detail–you can read the loglines on my Short Fiction page if you’re interested. You’re not, but whatever. The title of the collection just comes from a general characteristic of pretty much all my stories–people either are deceived or misinterpret the truth with often disastrous consequences. Nothing is as it seems. Which I guess is the basis for any story to some degree.

The cover art. Man, what a disaster of an experience. I see all these wonderful custom covers on the grimdark fiction readers & writers FB group, and I know I could never afford anything at that level. No, that’s not right. I could afford it, but I couldn’t justify the cost because I know no one’s going to buy the book. No one’s buying The Heron Kings, no one buys anything I write. I’m not in the Kool Kids Klub where you have the right friends and they all support you and everything works out and you become successful and popular. So why bother? I was browsing the thousands of shitty premade “cover art” on shady websites, looking for something that would be at the very least usable, and I came across one image I thought was neat. It cost $85 for a standard license and I’d had a few bourbons, so what the hell.

I posted the picture to the GFRW group (which is divided into the aforementioned Kool Kids and the peanut gallery who’s only function is to observe and applaud the Kool Kids), and thus found out that the picture was a minimally processed piece of stock art available elsewhere for far less, and also bore a striking resemblance to a certain anime character that I, having no involvement with anime whatsoever had never heard of. Fucking great. Because of course that’s the kind of thing that would happen to me. Of course. But I already paid for it, so whatever. I changed the color a bit to try and make the resemblance less obvious, but I went ahead and used it for the cover of the Ebook. Here it is:

 

During the oh-so-fucking-scintillating discussion thread about the image, someone claiming to be a freelance artist said he could do an image of similar quality for not much more money, so I may commission something else to use for the paperback and take the loss as a cheaply-brought lesson. But that’s still to be determined.

Anyway, the Ebook is available for just $0.99, and I’ll set it to free as often as I’m able. Check it out maybe, if you’re feeling bad and would like to feel worse.

 

 

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A Foray Into Self-Publishing…

So, I just made my first cover art impulse buy. This is a planned collection of basically whatever isn’t under contract at the time that I hit ‘publish,’ so no idea what stories will be in it. But I just spent $85 on the art, so it’s happening in some way, sometime…

I’ll update here as possible.

 

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