Hello to all my supporters.
In my area, the leaves are about to turn and fall. School is back in session and to me, the year is terrifyingly close to the end. Most of you were introduced to this work mid-year when the rollercoaster of funding started, but back in January this work began with a simple goal, publish a book in 2015 by any means necessary.
I could not know where this would all lead me when I started, but it's been an adventure, at times stressful, at times incredible and illuminating, and I'm glad you've all come along on this experience.
With happiness and relief, I say to you all that the book is nearly ready to be handed off to the capable hands at Inkshares. In the next month, I am reading the book, smoothing out the lines, and making sure the content is in the best shape I can put it in before the editors get it. To see the novel in the condition it is now is very inspiring, and I am excited for you all to get your hands on it.
I'll share more chapters with you, but not until I'm certain I don't want to tweak them much more. For now, here is a passage about thirty percent into the book. In this version, I've altered out any spoilers, so you can read it without fear.
Snow fell in heavy sheets and blanketed Hammond Bay all in white. Rooftops took on an icing glaze and the coverage blurred the divide between the walking paths and roads all but for the fire hydrants, little red markers with white caps in a row. By way of the heavy grey clouds in the sky and how light cast itself against the fluffy covering, the days looked much like the nights except for the way the shadows moved. And when the darkness did come, it came so gently that eyes did not perceive it until the there was a calm moment to look around and take in your surroundings.
Along the road a taxi carefully crawled, leaving fresh treads, two long lines to mark its path. It moved along the roads in the district where the buildings once stood. The roughshod buildings replaced by with solid foundation, infrastructure, electric strung along the lines above, a network of webbing that brought modern convenience to a place where there was once none. The taxi stopped in front of a social club, The Turned Coin, and idled in its place. The engine hummed with soft revolutions.
After a moment, Duke stepped out from the taxi, snow already collecting, little flakes that clung to his shoulders and hat in speckled spots. In this time, the place he knew as a child had become unfamiliar. The dramatic collapse and reimagining made this a foreign place and as if anything, he was a stranger now.
I hope you like what you've read, and if you haven't pre-ordered, please consider doing so. I promise you will want to get comfortable with the characters and a place of Lost Generation.
P.S. I'd like you also to consider pre-ordering Andrew J. Ainsworth's These Old Bones. Click here to check out his book. Andrew has survived two Inkshares contests and is currently in fifth place. Your pre-order helps him cement his position and ensure publication. There are many talented and deserving writers in the Inkshares system, but Andrew has run the gauntlet and put himself out there so many times that he deserves a spot on the published list. Give his work a chance.
Thank You! More Soon!
(Rick, I see your photoshopped mustache from 400, your abundance of dinosaurs at 500, and raise you a writing space and an abundance of mustaches.)
