The Game Sucked for Panthers Fans

Short blog today. We went to see Faye, my mother-in-law yesterday for her birthday, (her 84th!). Our intention was also to watch the Super Bowl game. Now, under normal circumstances neither my wife nor I am in the least bit interested in the Super Bowl. But this year the local team (Carolina Panthers) represents the NFC, so we figured we'd watch. However, the Panthers were playing so poorly that we left to head back home shortly before half-time. And Carole's mom was really tired after the birthday celebration anyway.

Don't forget...the serialization of my novel THE CLAN is available at Channillo. You can grab subscribe at this website.

Carole decked out in her Panther stuff. Dig that crazy hat!

I got a hat.

Happy 84th, Faye!

THE CLAN portion

I've been tinkering with the still-unpublished manuscript for THE CLAN, the sequel to THE FLOCK.

          When the Little People had come to the Land, one of the first things they’d learned was to talk to the dogs who’d come with them. Mostly, the dogs listened to what they had to say, which were pretty simple concepts. But occasionally there was the odd stubborn or just hateful dog that had to be dealt with. Of course in those early times, when humans had initially entered the territories of the Clans, there hadn’t been that many dogs; and there hadn’t been very many people. But even in those first days it had been found that talking and negotiating with the dogs was imperative.

There were, of course, rules that had to be followed. Everyone knew this, and the continued survival of the Clans made it absolutely clear that these traditions were good and right. This is what had seen them all through countless seasons. Their voices still carried on the mountain winds and could be heard mixing with the cascades that tumbled down from the glaciers. This was proof that the old ways were the good ways and should continue to be honored.

Now the human beings were numbered so that it was impossible to conceive of their mass. And the dogs, too, were on the land like fleas. Dogs were not like their cousins the wolves and coyotes and foxes. They were almost as easy to deal with, but there was something chaotic and frustrating with the way they saw the world. This was, it was known, because they had become adhered to the ones who had become their masters. Some dogs freed themselves of that. They were sometimes heard barking from ridges or banding together in poorly organized packs that tried to howl and make themselves heard in something that approximated sanity. But these dogs were rare. Most of them were swallowed up by the coyote and wolf packs; as meals or as members, but swallowed they generally were.

Now the land of plenty was shrinking. The humans had squeezed it down and down until there was not much of it left that was free of their stinking crowds and free of their noise and their mischief. Some clan members had advocated a changing of the old ways, in some attempt to deal with the flood of human flesh that moved across the mountains and into the valleys like foul water. So far, though, those voices had been silenced and forced into thoughts that were not given vent. This was good.

In time, it was hoped and thought by most of the Clans, that the humans would fade. The land could not possibly support so many of them. Stories had come to them all of the earth made dead by the constant squatting of so many of them on the face of the world. And most of the members of the clans had traveled safely to see how the humans who lived nearby could foul and poison everything that they touched. Rivers were killed. Fish stocks were depleted. The air around their encampments, where they resided in permanent lodges, stank so that it was painful to endure it for very long. These things were evident. The humans, it was believed, could not last forever. Eventually, they would have to either change their ways or go away.

 It was proven that things could go away.

The lions with great fangs—fearful creatures that lived now only in the collective memories of the Clans—had been cleared from the land by the humans. There had once been creatures so large that they were like hills of hair and ivory. These, too, had been hunted and consumed until there were none remaining. The humans seemed not even to remember them. They knew this because there had been attempts to communicate with the humans. But the small, puny, hateful things could not speak. They couldn’t even truly speak to the dogs with whom they incessantly traveled. Strangely, dogs and humans could not talk to one another. Not in the way that was right and natural. This was another puzzle to the Clans, and something to be pondered as time progressed.

Big Hand of the Elk Clan thought of these things as he struggled with the communications he’d attempted with the dogs who had recently appeared. These dogs had proven exceedingly stubborn. They would not speak directly to him, and he could only detect their intentions obliquely, by listening to the negative commentary that passed from one to the other. They were in a small pack, led by a human who, as usual, lay back and waited for results that Big Hand could only guess. This was the way many humans hunted. He’d seen them doing this for years, and the clans all knew that this was how they stalked many of the same animals that sustained the clans themselves.

            
          Generally, these dogs could be reasoned with. Or they could be dissuaded from getting too close to clan families. Sometimes they could be frightened away, or warned off through violence. But there was always another path to take whenever the unfortunate occurred and the dogs would not leave the clans in peace.

Edging Toward Publication

My agent tells me that it's possible THE CLAN (my sequel to THE FLOCK) is inching closer to publication. We'll see. I've been waiting since 2011 when it was first slated to appear.

THE NEW ECOLOGY OF DEATH should also be very close to publication. I'll post an announcement when it's about to hit.

In the meantime, you can read some scary pulp with my novel (written under one of my pen names), WITHERING (by Robert Mathis Kurtz). My faithful agent is shopping the film option around. It would make a nifty monster movie!

Brief Excerpt from THE CLAN

My next novel from a major publisher is supposed to be THE CLAN from Tor-Forge Books. I have no concrete date for its release, but they've had it in hand for quite some time.

Here is a very brief excerpt from that novel:

One of the first things they’d learned was to talk to the dogs. 

       Mostly, the dogs listened to what they had to say, which was confined to pretty simple stuff. But occasionally there was the odd stubborn or just hateful dog that had to be dealt with. Of course in those early days, when humans had initially entered the territories of the Clans, there hadn’t been that many dogs; and there hadn’t been very many people. But even in those initial times it had been found that talking and negotiating with the dogs was imperative.

There were, of course, rules that had to be followed. Everyone knew this, and the continued survival of the Clans made it absolutely clear that these traditions were good and right. This is what had seen them all through countless seasons. Their voices still carried on the mountain winds and could be heard mixing with the cascades that tumbled down from the glaciers. This was proof that the old ways were the good ways and should continue to be honored.

Now the human beings were numbered so that it was impossible to conceive of their mass. And the dogs, too, were on the land like fleas. Dogs were not like their cousins the wolves and coyotes and foxes. They were almost as easy to deal with, but there was something chaotic and frustrating with the way they saw the world. This was, it was known, because they had become adhered to the ones who had become their masters. Some dogs freed themselves of that. They were sometimes heard barking from ridges or banding together in poorly organized packs that tried to howl and make themselves heard in something that approximated sanity. But these dogs were rare. Most of them were swallowed up by the coyote and wolf packs; as meals or as members, but swallowed they generally were.

Now the land of plenty was shrinking. The humans had squeezed it down and down until there was not much of it left that was free of their stinking crowds and free of their noise and their mischief. Some clan members had advocated a changing of the old ways, in some attempt to deal with the flood of human flesh that moved across the mountains and into the valleys like foul water. So far, though, those voices had been silenced and forced into thoughts that were not given vent. This was good.

In time, it was hoped and thought by most of the Clans, that the humans would fade. The land could not possibly support so many of them. Stories had come to the Clans of the Earth made dead by the constant squatting of so many of the humans on the face of the world. And most of the members of the Clans had traveled safely to see how the humans who lived nearby could foul and poison everything that they touched. Rivers were killed. Fish stocks were depleted. The air around their encampments, where they resided in permanent lodges, stank so that it was painful to endure it for very long. These things were evident. The humans, it was believed, could not last forever. Eventually, they would have to either change their ways or go away.

It was proven that things could go away.

The great lions and the fanged cats—fearful creatures that lived now only in their collective memories—had been cleared from the land by the humans. There had once been creatures so large that they were like hills of hair and ivory. These, too, had been hunted and consumed until there were none remaining. The humans seemed not even to remember them. The Clans knew this because there had been attempts to communicate with the humans. But the small, puny, hateful things could not speak. They couldn’t even truly speak to the dogs with whom they incessantly traveled. Strangely, dogs and humans could not talk to one another. Not in the way that was right and natural. This was another puzzle to the Clans, and something to be pondered as time progressed.

Covers to My Current Novels

 My current novels:

THE FLOCK from Tor-Forge.

THE LIVING END from Severed Press.

HISSMELINA

THE COALITION PART I

THE COALITION PART II

WITHERING

Upcoming titles:

THE COALITION Part III, THE NEW ECOLOGY OF DEATH (Severed Press), THE CLAN (Sequel to THE FLOCK, from Tor-Forge), A CONFEDERACY OF HORORS (Hippocampus Press)

Eye

The actual eye of one of the world's largest birds. Much as I imagine the eyes of Titanis walleri to have looked in my novel, THE FLOCK.

My agent tells me that I'll probably get edit notes on the sequel THE CLAN very soon. It'll be good to see the book make its way toward publication.

Zombies Coming!

Well, I turned in the final line-edits for THE LIVING END. I'm hoping that I didn't miss anything and that the editors catch them if I did miss a few. The book is now ready for publication and will be available for sale within the next week or so.

At any rate, I'm VERY excited about the release of my new novel. For years I wanted to write a zombie book and after a long delay in completing it I finally got a finished manuscript into my agent's office and out into the world. The folk at Severed Press seem to appreciate this kind of fiction, so the book's in good hands with that publisher.

One thing that I haven't mentioned before was rather interesting. About one week after we started final negotiations on the contracts with Severed Press, no less than three other publishers stepped forward to ask about publication rights for the manuscript. Talk about weird timing! But it let me know that I'd accomplished something special with that story.

Well, the book which first began to take shape in 2007 is now almost ready for publication. I can barely wait to get my hands on my copies and to start hitting the convention/bookstore circuit where I'll now have two novels to sell and autograph. And, later, when THE CLAN hits the shelves, it'll be three James Robert Smith novels.

I keep hoping to see the day I can write full time and walk away from the daily eight-hour grind of physical labor. We'll see.

Yellowstone Lake

One day we spent wandering around Yellowstone Lake. This place is gigantic, like everything else in the Park. You can see across it, barely. It is surrounded by wilderness. Because of the presence of the lake, this is one of the largest wilderness areas in the lower 48 states. At points you can see for more than thirty miles without being able to detect the hand of Man. No cities, no roads, no lights, no houses.

My kind of place.

I messed up the framing and got the top of Carole's head in this one. That's Andy wandering around along the shore. The woods were full of critters. Even bison were moving in and out of the woods a little farther down.

I am laboring like mad on the novel. I am very frustrated that it's not done, and doubly so because I am so close to putting "The End" on it. Just a few more days, I sincerely hope.

It was like standing on the ocean during a windstorm. But it wasn't an ocean: it was Yellowstone Lake

Dragon's Mouth

To me, this was one of the most impressive thermal features we saw in Yellowstone. It's called Dragon's Mouth, and for good reason. It roars and super-heated water and steam slosh out of it constantly. It was both impressive and somewhat frightening to walk around Yellowstone and to witness these hot spots, knowing that you were standing atop a dome of magma that threatens to break free of the crust once more.

On the writing front, I'm seeing the end of the new novel. The signpost up ahead indicates the finish line. Just a few more days, tops.

On Writing a Sequel

I'm trying to have the new book completed before Carole and I leave for Yellowstone in mid-August. So I've been working hard to get the manuscript done. Worst case it'll be finished around September 1st, which was my initial (self-imposed) deadline.

It feels both strange and exciting to revisit old characters. Normally when I finish a novel or short story, I don't want to revisit the folk I dreamed up for the initial tale. But when I got the chance to write a sequel to THE FLOCK I was happy to rejoin the people from that first novel and see what kind of mischief they were up to.

I have a third book proposal for my publishers, but that will depend of course on sales. It would be nice to generate a series, though. That's something that I'd hoped to be able to achieve as a professional writer. And recently I wrote a note to my agent that I had the idea for a fourth novel for continuing the adventures. I never would have supposed the possibility!

Where I need to return for rest and relaxation and meditation. (After descending and climbing several thousand feet!)

Rooms Booked!

Well, we're finishing up the planning of our trip to Yellowstone/Grand Tetons. All of our nights in Yellowstone are now booked. The place I wanted to stay in the Grand Tetons is full, so we're still looking at options there, plus thinking of extending our stay an extra day.

Ever since I was a little kid I've wanted to see Yellowstone. I would beg my parents to take me, to no avail. As an adult I was either always too poor or too busy to go. And now, finally, I'll get a chance to see this crown jewel of our nation's National Park Service. I'm going to be stressed waiting for the day when we head out (in August).

On the writing front, my latest book THE CLAN (second of the two-book deal at Tor) is progressing much better. I pretty much lost an entire week when we went to Los Angeles for the signing event of THE BLEEDING EDGE. But with some hard work I'll catch up to where I need to be.

I'm still awaiting word on the zombie novel that's now making the rounds to editors. With the current popularity of that genre sub-set I'm hoping that it sells in short order. I'd really like to see someone pick it up as a limited edition book, too. We'll see.