Done, done, and done
Book 5 is up and running, the paperback is in the mail. Some five years of my life are gone— five years I’ll never get back…
Admittedly, I feel a terrible sense of loss. I’ve lived with these crazy characters for a long time, and now I have no one to talk to, no one to argue with, except my cat.
Inspector Tractus Fynn has been a stalwart friend, unwavering in his generosity and keen insight. His intrepid companion Patrick Jardel, dragged kicking and screaming into the land of time travel, was the “I,” the first person narrator; and of course he’s me, well, a slightly younger version, an autobiographical version.
And the eccentric crew at the Sand City Chronicle? Chain-smoking Eleanor, Editor-and-Chief, a wisp of a woman, probably won’t live much longer. The other reporters, like Joey Jegal, half-Korean, half-Italian— he speaks to me no longer. Nor Frank the sportswriter, who has a different baseball cap for every day of the year. Well at least the ad-reps still talk to me, like Don Pagor who cannot speak without yelling, or perfect Melissa— both are willing to give me marketing tips, if I buy and ad in the paper.
Will I miss the villains? Of course… there’s cartoonish Javelin Mortimer, who just can’t help but be evil. He prefers speaking to other versions of himself, his doppelgängers. And Kali? Intent on destroying history… Well, I won’t miss her much.
I will miss the other crazy characters, like Madame Madeline and her brother, Brigadier Thomas who live in the library at the Palisades. Oh, the library… go down into the stacks, the spiraling nautilus where time passes so quickly, you come back up to find you’ve aged fifty years.
And all those nice folks in Boulder Colorado, Andy, Jamal Morris, Cindy, Kaiser Wayne— they probably hate me by now…
Will I miss Mr Quandary who lives in his ivory tower on the Cocos-Keeling Islands? And, his giant friend, Lothar, who has a penchant for gingerbread men? Hmm— the lobotomized version, or the one who possesses reason?
Hmm… How about my language instructor, Grigori Bulgakov and his family? Pretty sure they were vaporized.
Well, there’s always Pavel Mekanos and his best bud, Edmund Fickster— the tech guys. Next time I need to travel in time I’ll give them a call. And there’s Sebastian Clark, the footless concierge at the Hotel de Cirque— used to run a seaside resort on the shores of the Aral Sea— I suppose I could book a flight to Kazakistan and pay him a visit.
And so many others, I can barely remember them all… The Arbiter, Doctor Zed, Doctor Valenti, Sheriff Durbin and his son Ricky… Not to mention the lovely Anika, Chloe and Lilly, sisters who cohabit the same body.…
Okay, so now what?
Maybe I could call up some old friends, real ones, “Oh hey, remember me? I used to know you five years ago… How about a nice game of frisbee golf?”
“Go out drinking, you say? Well, maybe if I sell a book, I could buy you a beer…”
FYI— the newest (and last) Tractus Fynn Mystery, Red City, and all my other novels are here:
https://www.amazon.com/MK-Alexander/e...
Admittedly, I feel a terrible sense of loss. I’ve lived with these crazy characters for a long time, and now I have no one to talk to, no one to argue with, except my cat.
Inspector Tractus Fynn has been a stalwart friend, unwavering in his generosity and keen insight. His intrepid companion Patrick Jardel, dragged kicking and screaming into the land of time travel, was the “I,” the first person narrator; and of course he’s me, well, a slightly younger version, an autobiographical version.
And the eccentric crew at the Sand City Chronicle? Chain-smoking Eleanor, Editor-and-Chief, a wisp of a woman, probably won’t live much longer. The other reporters, like Joey Jegal, half-Korean, half-Italian— he speaks to me no longer. Nor Frank the sportswriter, who has a different baseball cap for every day of the year. Well at least the ad-reps still talk to me, like Don Pagor who cannot speak without yelling, or perfect Melissa— both are willing to give me marketing tips, if I buy and ad in the paper.
Will I miss the villains? Of course… there’s cartoonish Javelin Mortimer, who just can’t help but be evil. He prefers speaking to other versions of himself, his doppelgängers. And Kali? Intent on destroying history… Well, I won’t miss her much.
I will miss the other crazy characters, like Madame Madeline and her brother, Brigadier Thomas who live in the library at the Palisades. Oh, the library… go down into the stacks, the spiraling nautilus where time passes so quickly, you come back up to find you’ve aged fifty years.
And all those nice folks in Boulder Colorado, Andy, Jamal Morris, Cindy, Kaiser Wayne— they probably hate me by now…
Will I miss Mr Quandary who lives in his ivory tower on the Cocos-Keeling Islands? And, his giant friend, Lothar, who has a penchant for gingerbread men? Hmm— the lobotomized version, or the one who possesses reason?
Hmm… How about my language instructor, Grigori Bulgakov and his family? Pretty sure they were vaporized.
Well, there’s always Pavel Mekanos and his best bud, Edmund Fickster— the tech guys. Next time I need to travel in time I’ll give them a call. And there’s Sebastian Clark, the footless concierge at the Hotel de Cirque— used to run a seaside resort on the shores of the Aral Sea— I suppose I could book a flight to Kazakistan and pay him a visit.
And so many others, I can barely remember them all… The Arbiter, Doctor Zed, Doctor Valenti, Sheriff Durbin and his son Ricky… Not to mention the lovely Anika, Chloe and Lilly, sisters who cohabit the same body.…
Okay, so now what?
Maybe I could call up some old friends, real ones, “Oh hey, remember me? I used to know you five years ago… How about a nice game of frisbee golf?”
“Go out drinking, you say? Well, maybe if I sell a book, I could buy you a beer…”
FYI— the newest (and last) Tractus Fynn Mystery, Red City, and all my other novels are here:
https://www.amazon.com/MK-Alexander/e...
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