The Quest # 29

No new queries. No outstanding rejections.

In the mean time I’ve done a lot of reading of other people’s queries and have changed mine around. I rewrote the central paragraphs describing the plot, and cleaned up the first paragraph. I also added that I had been published before. In hindsight it feels like a big mistake not to add that. Lincoln and Chicago from Arcadia Press. Check it out.

I am more confident with this version as I had been with the second. From here on I am going to try and build a constant query of ten agents. Back in the saddle.

I’ll post the query so if you have an idea of what it is. I think I’m going with a more classical style.

The Worth of a Stone is a high fantasy complete at 134,636 words. It falls between character-driven fantasy in the vein of Heather Fawcett’s Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Fairies and Rebecca Thorne’s A Pirate’s Life for Tea.

Pursued after a mission gone bad, spy Dinah finds herself in an unfamiliar, inhospitable landscape. Running into the heath, she finds herself taken in by a group of oddballs. Used to the long knife of treachery, she tries to manipulate them into helping her, only to discover that they are willing to look out for her simply out of kindness. As she hides from pursuit, she discovers herself in the company of friends.

Wizard Desmond Mingle ran as far away from his title and wealth as he could, scarred by the deaths of his parents and his sneering peers. An agoraphobic, he hides from the world in his home with his two companions. Ida, his housekeeper, and Brayman, the singing ogre who carries his home. He is content in his life until Dinah comes crashing through his door and inspires him to live again.

I am a writer based in Chicago. A book I wrote has been published, Lincoln and Chicago by Arcadia Press. I have not been previously represented. I have a series of novellas on Kindle and an epic poem audio book I am putting out on YouTube. I write fiction daily.

Full manuscript is available upon request.

Thank you for your consideration,

Well, that’s what I’m going with until it gives out.

Thanks for reading,

Michael

Flash Friday#26

Beneath the Walls

Aethshus watched the walls. It was fast becoming a habit. There was little else to do once he had looked over his equipment. Today was a quiet day in the siege, one where neither side tried anything. Most days should have been like that, only this siege was unlike any other. For within and without, gods stalked the lines, seeking a way to win the war.

Gods fighting a war of men. Immortal and immoral. They did not care how many thousands died. They stalked the camp boasting of their victories while being unable to take the walls or drive the besieging army away.

All the world waited to see who would waste away first.

Thudris sat down next to him with a grunt. “Still alive?”

“No,” Aethshus answered. “I’ve died and my shade is tortured by making it relive the same day.”

Thudris grunted. “They say that there is to be a wedding of the gods. A great affair of princes and kings.”

Aethshus remained quiet. There was nothing to say.

“You hear what I said?” Thudris asked.

“Yes. Yes. Damn me I heard it. The gods are getting wed. There will be flowers, and pies, and sheep, and nymphs. They party and celebrate while we stay down here to be killed. We hold the line while our wives are alone in distant lands, at the mercy of cowardly men. When this war is over, we’ll all be dead, but they’ll make peace and go back to their homes laughing.”

Thudris stared at him blankly for a moment.

“What?” Aethshus said angrily. “It’s the truth.”

“No. I’m just glad I’m not the only one cracking. But did you hear what I said? The gods and the princes and the kings will all be at the wedding.”  

“So what!”

“So…nobody is going to be watching us. No on will notice if two spear men go running off.”

Aethshus took that in. They would all be busy. There was no one to enforce discipline. The war could be over for them. “Yes. Yes. We have to. Yes. Let’s do it.”

They stood together, giddy with the chance to get away. A hand clapped both of them on the back. They turned to see a water god looking at them.

“Hello boys. I’ve got a sneaky plan for tomorrow, and I think the three of us could pull it off.”

The two men’s eyes met beneath the arms of the god. They were going to die.

Changing tack

I am just about finished with my book of the year, the adventure story. I won’t say much more about it now, I want to finish. After that, however, I will be gearing up to write the second. This one I aim to be short, and given my current writing speed, will be about three to four months of writing. I haven’t done any outlining yet, but I know the broad strokes.

I also think that it will be YA. From what I understand, there is a bit of a gulf in the market there, so I will try and make something enjoyable for younger readers. I think it will be about 90,000 words, which is what agents look for from newer authors. I’ve never written YA before, so who knows if I will be able to keep the tone and simplify my language to a point that it fits the genre.

I was talking to a former teacher of mine about it and mentioned that it was going to be Robinson Crusoe with magic, and he said, “Oh, so it’s The Tempest.” Damn. Got beat to the scoop by four hundred years. You win again, Shakespeare.

Anyway, thanks for reading,

Michael

Flash Friday #25

Earworm

A little tune bobbed through the hedges. The singer, a woman in a red hat, sang the words. “One day, one day you will be mine, baby.”

Behind the hedge there was a man in thick denim. He trimmed the hedge and heard the woman singing. The tune wormed its way into his mind. For the rest of the day he was singing, “One day, one day you will be mine, baby.”

When he went home, he was singing the song.  He closed the door behind him and went to the bedroom, all along singing the tune. There he kissed his ill wife on the forehead and asked what she would like for dinner. Order placed, he walked away.

She remained, and went back to reading. It was hard lying in bed all day. It was harder being sick. As she read, she started humming a tune. “One day, one day you will be mine, baby.”

The door opened and her doctor came in. Just dropping in for a checkup. She asked her all sorts of questions. The visit was short, just checking in, and as the doctor drove away, she was humming a tune to herself, a tune that made her feel sad. “One day, one day you will be mine, baby.”

The next day she was in early. The lab results would be back any second. If there was good news, she wanted to share it right away. If there wasn’t…she would share that too. As she walked the halls of the hospital, she sang that sad little tune.

She walked past a janitor, who cocked his head as she walked by. That tune. He remembered it from a long time ago. That day, as he worked hard to clean the halls and bathrooms of the hospital, he sang that little song to himself. “One day, one day you will be mine, baby.”

Leaving the hospital, an older man hurried up. He could not wait to be gone. He hated hospitals. They poked and prodded him, asked im if he had been keeping to his diet, which he had never been able to keep. They knew it. He knew it. Bastards. As he got into his car, he turned on the radio. The tune he sung was not the song on the air. It was a different one. “One day, one day you will be mine, baby.”

He stopped by a restaurant and ordered himself a burger. Real food. That’s what he needed. As his waiter asked for his order, he was humming the tune.

The waiter walked back to the kitchens with a spring in his step. The last customer gave him a gift. An old tune that he hadn’t thought about in years. Not since his grandmother passed. She loved the song. “One day, one day you will be mine, baby.”

Back out, he came to his next customer. A woman in a red hat. He tune died on his lips. “One day, one day you will be mine, baby.”

She smiled wide. “I’ve been thinking about that song all week. I can’t get it out of my head. What’s your name?”

She was a beautiful woman. The server smiled and thanked the memory his grandmother.

The Quest #28

Two rejections and no new applications. But there is a good reason for this. At least, I think it’s a good reason.

It has been a year of blind querying agents and I have gotten no requests for more. I know that breaking in is tough. I’m not discouraged, but I am looking to get this done with. So I’ve been spending the last few weeks reading query letters and query letter advice. I think my second query letter is better than my first, but it has been as successful as the first. I’ve been looking at other options for making a third letter. I remember reading a crowd edited query letter site by the makers of manuscript wish list but I don’t seem to be able to find it.

I will also look for beta readers that I don’t know to get their impressions on the book, or at least the early chapters. So this is a reset button. I’ve learned a lot over the course of this, and I know the next letter will be better than the first.

Thank you for reading,

Michael

Flash Friday #24

Chains

            The large thunderhead loomed menacingly over a prison in an older part of the world, a prison which had once been full of thousands of prisoners, but now only held one. The prison might have emptied, but its guard remained the same. A thousand men guarded its walls and its only occupied cell. Though only a hundred were on duty at any given time.

The thunderhead burst and rain swept down, the guards hurried to find shelter from the storm. They were in the mountains, though not so high that the rain came down as snow. Cold rain lashed the squat prison. Thunder roared in the sky. Though it was midday, the storm was so black that the sun was blotted from the sky. The only light came from the torches and fires which the guard kept.

Such was the noise and power of the storm that none saw a party approach up the road. They were few in number, but they walked through the stinging rain as though it was a clear day. The men moved cautiously over the worsening road, not trusting the secrecy the darkness afforded them.

Lightning struck the mountain.

They reached the gate, but no alarm was raised. A single ladder was raised against the wall, placed carefully against the stone. Still, silence. They skittered up it as quietly as they could. The nearest guard house was closed against the rain.

No eyes on them, they drew their weapons and made their way into the courtyard. The storm above them obscured the far side of the courtyard. They hurried across, having studied the prison from the mountain top. They knew where they were going.

But as they crossed the courtyard one of them fell, his sword clattering against the stone. The others did not wait for him. Fearing their secrecy was lost, they sprinted across the courtyard. Still no alarm was raised.

They reached the door of the prison proper. Careful to keep the blasting powder from the rain, they took off their coats and made a makeshift tent over it. The powder set in the lock, they lit a match and cowered as the fire took hold.

With a boom the doors burst open, just as lightning arced across the sky. It was fortune, his famous fortune, but it would help them no further. Inside the door there was a company of guard who sprung to their feet, swords, musket, and bayonet ready.

The fighting was short and many died, but after it was over the intruders were the ones still standing. They broke apart, some searching for keys and others disfiguring the faces of their dead fellows. Best not let them be discovered and identified. The man who fell reached them, and carried a warning. The others knew and the alarm was raised. Time was running out.

The keys were found and the men hurried into the dark interior of the prison. Where they found a guard they killed him, for there was no more pretext of stealth. Down, down, always down. They searched every cell, but they didn’t find who they were looking for. So down they went.

Keys and doors, doors and keys. Further and further. Their numbers grew thinner also, as they didn’t always get the drop on the guard. Ten remained, but they would not be deterred, not now. They were close. 

Deeper and deeper until they reached the absolute end of the prison. A turn of the key.

The door swung open. The cell empty. The men walked into the cell cautiously, calling the name of the prisoner, there was no response. Their search became frantic.

“Look,” came the cry after a short while.

There was a tunnel gnawed into the stone and the soft earth beyond. The man had escaped. They had come for nothing. Above them came the sound of thundering footsteps.

How to Model Greed

Welcome back to the popular and frequent series where I write about games I like. This is the second one, the first one was last year some time. The game I will be talking about this week is John Company, Second Edition.

This game gives players control of investors in the East India Company and tells them to find a way to win. The map, tellingly, is one of India. Regional kings rule. The players can only make money one way, by spending company funds to prise open the subcontinent.

Now, it is possible to cooperate with those kings. Players can make some money working with them. But they are fickle and can close up trade routes at random, delivering a blow to the Company’s coffers. So in order to secure the trade routes, armies can be raised and regions conquered. This opens the map up for trade…and for drugs.

Across the map there are symbols for opium, which players sell to China. The margines on the opium are higher than anything else. And so, in service of the Company, player sell opium. Large armies are maintained in order to keep the conquests, and before round two is up, the players have seized control of India to protect their money making.

And what does the money go to? Private coffers which pay for swanky homes and luxuries. Those prizes are the points by which you win. The Company can either succeed of fail based on revenue, and the players can win even when the company fails.

All the fighting is spent on upgrades to your family’s social life. In this way players are presented with a choice. The more control taken of India, the better their family will be. I have never played a game where we peacefully coexisted. The first round is always spent on spending the war chest to take as much as possible.

All players choose greed as they seize control of India for their own aims, cooperating when it suits them and seeking their own areas of control. Players push deeper, trying to extract all they can before the loot train is over.

There are plenty of games where the goal is money, but there are few where the actions of greed are so blatantly open. The game wants players to do bad things to win, and through this they learn how this period of history played out. In my experience, there are few games that place you in the position of a historical period and allow you to make immoral choices to win.

I think that is a good way to teach history. Give players a slew of choices and ley them make the bad ones that were historically made, because that is what the systems of the time called for.

Flash Friday #23

Beneath the Walls

Aethshus watched the walls. It was fast becoming a habit. There was little else to do once he had looked over his equipment. Today was a quiet day in the siege, one where neither side tried anything. Most days should have been like that, only this siege was unlike any other. For within and without, gods stalked the lines, seeking a way to win the war.

Gods fighting a war of men. Immortal and immoral. They did not care how many thousands died. They stalked the camp boasting of their victories while being unable to take the walls or drive the besieging army away.

All the world waited to see who would waste away first.

Thudris sat down next to him with a grunt. “Still alive?”

“No,” Aethshus answered. “I’ve died and my shade is tortured by making it relive the same day.”

Thudris grunted. “They say that there is to be a wedding of the gods. A great affair of princes and kings.”

Aethshus remained quiet. There was nothing to say.

“You hear what I said?” Thudris asked.

“Yes. Yes. Damn me I heard it. The gods are getting wed. There will be flowers, and pies, and sheep, and nymphs. They party and celebrate while we stay down here to be killed. We hold the line while our wives are alone in distant lands, at the mercy of cowardly men. When this war is over, we’ll all be dead, but they’ll make peace and go back to their homes laughing.”

Thudris stared at him blankly for a moment.

“What?” Aethshus said angrily. “It’s the truth.”

“No. I’m just glad I’m not the only one cracking. But did you hear what I said? The gods and the princes and the kings will all be at the wedding.”  

“So what!”

“So…nobody is going to be watching us. No on will notice if two spear men go running off.”

Aethshus took that in. They would all be busy. There was no one to enforce discipline. The war could be over for them. “Yes. Yes. We have to. Yes. Let’s do it.”

They stood together, giddy with the chance to get away. A hand clapped both of them on the back. They turned to see a water god looking at them.

“Hello boys. I’ve got a sneaky plan for tomorrow, and I think the three of us could pull it off.”

The Quest #27

None up and none down. Not the numbers I need to be doing. I’m going to pump those numbers up in the coming weeks and settle back into a rhythm.

I think I’m making good progress on my book this year. I have written a page of fiction every day since 2019. Starting this year, I have written a thousand words a weekday, and one page on the weekends.

Earlier this year I juggled a few projects until I found the one I wanted to write, my adventure book. That book, which I think I started January first, is now sitting at 106000 words. I have about five chapters left to write, so it should come out to about 150,000, or about five hundred printed pages. I think I should be done in a month or two.

Honestly, I am surprised that I have kept to my 1,000 words a day this long. I thought it would only last a month. There were days when I felt I could just do the one page, but by the time I got over the hump, I never thought of quitting.

That’s all I’ve got this week. I’ve got to be better about querying, no matter what.

The Quest continues. Thanks for reading,

Michael