It's been great seeing the excitement for "The Spiral and The Threads" building over the past few weeks. In particular, the increased interest in the previous "Nod/Wells Timelines" books has been wonderful. Thanks, everybody!
I am in passport control. I can see my face on a screen. The technology recognises me and lets me through. I scan codes showing my vaccination status and recent Covid test results. The machines assess the data regarding my health and microbiology. Through into the waiting room, people are staring into little screens. A strangely large number have the camera flipped, and are capturing their faces at different angles, as if they've forgotten what they look like. I open my laptop and join in. I give my details to a company to enter the digital realm. Adverts tailored to my personality pop up. They know me better than I know myself.
Only two more days until we open for submissions! If any of you out there have some great short fiction from or about alien perspectives: send it in on the 7th 😄
Bookwyrm gave me my "wrapped" for last year, the first year I used it. It says I read 16 books, but I read lots more than that, just didn't get around to posting about them. Anyway, if you're looking for something to read, especially in the #SFF realm, check it out!
Wow! Almost 300 people have entered the Goodreads giveaway for the Kindle edition of "The Spiral and The Threads." Clearly, folks are already excited but for those who missed it, here's the link:
With the release of "The Spiral and The Threads" in hardcover and paperback, "The Nod/Wells Timelines" as I originally conceived them have been completed. In many ways, this is my most challenging, and potentially rewarding, book to date, and one that is very much "for the fans."
Find "The Spiral and The Threads," and all my related works, via Amazon:
Good news, writers—due to shifting our publication schedule for the upcoming year, we’re extending the submission window for our Winter issue to January 15th!
-Poetry submissions will be open to all writers
-Fiction submissions will be open to Canadian writers only.
We want your best SFF fiction and poetry that focuses on long term, lasting relationships, both romantic and non.
Looking to start new series for the coming year (second poll). Can you help me out #Bookstodon? Because you can only have for poll topics on Mastodon, this is the second poll asking for recommendations. I'll take the top two from both polls and do a final four poll. Go to the comments for a link to the first poll.
Looking start a new series in the coming year. Can you help me out #Bookstodon? Because you can only have four poll topics on Mastodon, I'll be posting a second polls with a few more options below. I'll take the top two from both rounds and make final four poll! Go to the comments for a link to the second poll.
Walking past thousands of openings in the ether, long reddish cracks in a seemingly invisible wall, as they would appear to the trained eye, we were truly happy. Lyanna held my hand—something she usually didn't do for some unknown, inexplicable reason. I, on the other hand, was a romantic fool; hence, I loved holding her hand, showing her, and the whole fucking world, that I belonged to her. That I was her grangent, and nobody else's…
We always found ourselves in Magdalena, a quaint, abandoned town nestled far in the western reaches, Lya and I, as we ventured into the Spree. I didn’t know why. And I had never really thought about it. Until now. Something had changed. An unfamiliarity settled in, akin to a glitch in the synaptic code—subtle yet present, behind the scenes—rendering the details of our surroundings more vivid; the once-dimmed sun now brighter, the pale blue sky intensifying, and the weight of the prairie dust seeming to lift…
Breakfast. I always got my breakfast at Pushkin's. It didn't matter how early, how late, how tired, or how stoned I was—the coffee shop next to our apartment building had become my steady waterhole. The gent that owned it, Greg Pushkin—a middle-aged Russian immigrant from the Cuban colonies in the Atlantic—was a good friend, or rather, he'd become one, because I would always pay him straight up, with either creds or dope…