9 Swords - Nightmares

Firstly: a comment on Linnea Sinclair's post of yesterday, Oct 8, 2007, which is essentially about the world of publicity, promotion, advertising.

Here is a post about what the changes in the world due to Web 2.0 look like from behind the Ad/Promo desk.

http://www.bulldogreporter.com/dailydog/issues/1_1/dailydog_barks_bites/index.html

And here's an item that flew by me earlier this week on using Web 2.0 to reach young people with 1 minute videos that teach things.

http://www.oneminuteu.com/

And as I said in comment to Linnea's post on SFR and promotion, I think Blake Snyder's SAVE THE CAT GOES TO THE MOVIES has the solution to this problem embedded in it. It's up to us to extract that solution.

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As noted previously, this is a chapter in a book about the Tarot aimed at Intermediate students, not beginners or advanced students. It is particularly aimed at writers.

Updated and expanded compilation of all these Tarot Just For Writers entries is now available on Kindle:

The Wands and Cups Volumes and  the Swords and Pentacles Volumes, are now all available separately on Kindle.  The 5 Volumes combined are also available on Kindle as one book, cheaper than buying them individually.

The Not So Minor Arcana: Never Cross A Palm With Silver Aug 30, 2015 99 cents
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0108MC26O

The Not So Minor Arcana: Wands Sept. 1, 2015  99 cents
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0106RVPKU

The Not So Minor Arcana: Cups Sept. 11, 2015 99 cents
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0106SATX8

The Not So Minor Arcana: Swords  Sept. 17, 2015 99 cents
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0100RSPM2

The Not So Minor Arcana: Pentacles  Sept. 21, 2015 99 cents
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0106RVKF0

The Not So Minor Arcana: Books 1-5 combined Sept. 24, 2015 $3.25
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B010E4WAOU

This series is designed not for the beginner or the advanced student, but for the intermediate student and specifically for writers doing worldbuilding..
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And Remember: The meaning of a Tarot Minor Arcana resides in the placement on the Tree of Life (i.e. the number on the card) integrated with the "World" or Suit of the card. For the Tree of Life and the Jacob's Ladder diagrams see:
http://web.onetel.net.uk/~maggyw/treeladder.html

I don't really go with the way this page explains the Tree, but it is worth thinking about. There are many other ways. For now, ponder the diagrams on this page or google up some others.

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We're now talking about the 4th circle UP from the bottom of the Middle Pillar of Jacob's Ladder. It is the 9 of Swords, but overlays the Da'at sepherah of Pentacles, the suit or world right below Swords, our material reality.

OK here things get really mystical.

The Tree of Life consists of 10 areas, or zones, or processes or functions called Sepheroth, plus the connecting links between them.

Jacob's Ladder is 4 repetions of the pattern of 10. One half-overlays the next repetition down the Ladder so Sepheroth appear to overlap. A better way to imagine it is to think of each of the 4 repetions as in different planes, like pieces of transparent paper stacked one on the other.

However, out of the plane where the 10 Sepheroth exist, there is another, 11th Sepherah, Daath or Da'at which is generally translated as Knowledge. You won't find any really definitive explanations of Da'at because it is so mystical and has no place in an Intermediate discussion like this.

For our (intermediate Tarot) purposes though, we should note that the 9 of Swords overlays the 11th Sepherah of Pentacles but doesn't touch it because they're in different dimensions.

Look at the top of the Jacob's Ladder diagram and you will see the shadowy 11th Sepherah of Wands pictured behind (or in some diagrams before) the spokes connecting the 10 into the Tree pattern. The 9 of Wands is over Da'at of Cups. The 9 of Cups is over Da'at of Swords. The 9 of Swords is over Da'at of Pentacles.

As we saw with 8 Swords the solution to the problem of 8 Swords came from the underlying 3. So also the solution to the problem of 9 Swords will come from Da'at or 11-ness whatever that might be!

When the Jacob's Ladder diagram shows two circles overlaying each other, energy flowing through one sets up resonances in the other. (Think guitar strings.)

A human being drawing down creative energy from the top of the Ladder through all 4 Trees can bring the energy from one Tree to the next at those circles which overlap.

A process doesn't have to proceed from 1 to 10 in the order we've been tracing here. The path we're following is called the Lightening Flash (because it zig-zags). But you can bring energy down via any of the routes marked, and in fact use several paths at once.

That's why life is so complicated and confusing -- because it is complicated and confusing.

But there is an underlying pattern -- really, truly there is! Cling to that idea of structure because we're going to venture into a realm here that makes it very hard to find.

Each Tarot Minor Arcanum takes its primary meaning from the number on the card and from its Suit. Each suit represents one of the 4 Worlds of Kaballah depicted by the 4 repetions of the Tree of Life to form Jacob's Ladder.

I call the top one Wands, or Fire, and the second one Cups or Water, and the third which we are studying here Swords or Air. The bottom repetition of the Tree is Pentacles or Earth. Lots of other systems work just as well, but this widely used one is simple, and helps keep the focus on the overall structure which reveals the usable meanings of the cards. So what does 9 mean?

What is the essence of 9-ness?

On the Tree of Life, 9 is called Yesod -- Foundation.

Foundation of what?

The World.

The bottom Sepherah on the Middle Pillar dangling out the bottom of the Ladder is Malkuth for the Pentacles suit (10 Pentacles card).

The World (the 4-dimensional space-time continuum we live inside of -- i.e. The Universe) is (this is my own opinion) entirely contained within that 10 Pentacles card.

The rest of the Tree exists above the point where Space and Time are defined. Yet within 10 Pentacles, within our material reality, the entire pattern of the Ladder repeats and repeats -- "As Above; So Below."

Thus we can identify the processes of writing a novel from the Ace of Swords down to 10 Swords as actions we do in material reality -- even though these processes actually exist outside space-time.

"Creation" -- that which exists because G-d said "Let there be" etc -- includes everything on the Ladder above 10 Pentacles -- and more above the Ace of Wands. Our material reality is the result of all that -- and bears traces of it all. Thus the level of 9 is the Foundation of all that's under it.

Wait a minute! The "Foundation" lies ABOVE what it supports?

Well, I did warn you! This is mysticism.

It does make perfect sense if you think of FOUNDATION as that which has to go in first, before the structure is erected.

The Foundation is where things are caused and determined -- the ultimate shape of the structure, how strong and tall it can be, how long it will last, its limits, and thus what it can be used for are all determined by the FOUNDATION.

Oh, wait another minute!

If 9-ness is only the foundation, the beginning of the project, what's the One, the Ace?

Aha, well, the 1's to 8's describe the processes that must happen before a foundation is built.

There's originating, starting, commiting, developing the blueprints, modeling, re-evaluating, re-designing, submitting the plans to an architect (who like the Editor, says, "No, it'll fall down." or "It needs fire exits!") and now in 9 there's GROUND BREAKING!

9 is where the substance of reality is finally moved and reshaped, strengthened and rearranged to accomodate the project.

We know that Swords are actions, thoughts, words, opinions, even plans.

So the 9 of Swords is the act of putting your money where your mouth is.

Or in the analogy of publishing a book, the 9 of Swords is the interval between the signing of the contract and subsequent the tussle with the editor over changes in 8 of Swords, and the point where you actually hold the first printed book in your hands.

The book is at the printers where paper is cut and ink applied, thus reshaping reality to convey your Ideas.

The 9 of Swords is the point beyond which you can't yell, "STOP THE PRESSES!" You've examined the galleys and OK'd them, or put in changes missed by everyone before. The copy has been sent to the printer. The presses are rolling (action). Publicity plans are unfolding.
9 Swords is the first stage of implementing the visions, decisions and actions made in the previous 8 stages of the project.

So why does the Waite Rider deck depict it as a person sitting up at midnight with 9 swords floating above as if about to fall?

Because this is the stage of the project where the project is still amorphous. At this point, all the work done before, all that energy drawn down the stages of Jacob's Ladder shimmers in shapeless potential.

Will anyone read this book? Will the critics like it? Will the publisher send out review copies? Will anyone buy it? Will anyone like it? Will I have to do the talk show circuit (what in the world can I wear!). Will it become a movie? Will ANYONE like it???? Will it get a good cover? Will my mother accidentally read it (ohmygawd!). Above all - is it good enough?!!!

Have I risked too much? Have I exposed too much personal stuff? Not enough? Have I said something stupid I'll never live down? Will my boss read it and fire me? Will it cost me a career? I should never have written this thing! What is going to HAPPEN????

In 8 of Swords, there's worry about consequences IF you take action. Here, in 9 Swords, the action has been taken, but consequences haven't materialized yet, so the worry is still there, now accompanied by nebulous horror that you actually did a dangerous thing. Nightmares.

The 9's are Yesod, the Foundation. In many traditions, this is called the Astral Plane.

The 9's represent where you go when you fall asleep, or have an "out of body" experience.

9 Swords is what you do (actions) while there.

Remember, the 9's exist above the point in creation where Space and Time are defined. There is no up, down, east, west, north and south on the Astral. There is no before or after. All places and all times are the same place and time.

That's what is so disorienting and "nightmarish." Or "dream-like." When you are in R.E.M. sleep, whether an experience is nightmare or dream depends on how you feel about it when you wake up.

We want our dreams to come true - but not our nightmares. On Jacob's Ladder, there's no way to distinguish dreams from nightmares.

9 of Swords is where we decide what among all our visions we will make come true. The 9 of Swords is the foundation, the beginning, the definition of the edges of our reality.

In the mystical reality, wishing can and does make things come true.

Our ventures onto the astral plane at night shape and guide our real, waking lives. And so how we approach and experience 9 Swords will have a measurable and visible effect on how our project eventually turns out in concrete reality.

As I have said here before, none of the Tarot cards are "bad" -- none of them cry doom! How you experience any of these processes depends a lot on whether you live in a Zero-Sum-Game universe, or an Abundant Universe where everyone can be a winner.

In the Zero-Sum-Game model, 9 Swords is the trip onto the astral plane into nightmare.

After tumbling on through 8 Swords, you arrive at this 9 process where everything, absolutely everything, depends on you and you alone, and you feel you have no control at all over anything.
That helplessness is the essence of nightmare (just like being a newborn in a crib; you can't even get your thumb to your mouth!).

The only thoughts (Swords) you have are fears of failure, and the assessment of the stakes if you fail. In the Zero-Sum universe, failing means losing. Someone else wins, not you.

In the Abundant model, you tromp through 8 Swords with confidence, negotiating so that you pay only what you can afford and get what you need, and some of what you want.

Then you fall into bed, exhausted, and into the 9 of Swords process, where you dream bright and glowing images of success in every detail and are possessed of happiness and blessed relief that the job is DONE, and now all you have to do is lay the foundation for your future.

Your joy shapes the fluid stuff of the astral plane and eventually what you've imagined becomes real.

Brian Boytano, who won the Olympic Gold Medal for men's figure skating, told the media he had spent years visualizing that moment with himself on the highest of the 3 platforms. He could really see it. And it happened for him. But he didn't just visualize it. He worked. His whole life was skating and competing. The astral plane is the foundation -- but it isn't the building.

If the project was writing a book, the writer who lives in the abundant universe spends this 9 Swords interval dreaming of the sequel, filling in details, living the character's lives and furiously outlining the next book.

In the zero-Sum model, which we all revert to because it's culturally sanctioned here, the artist or writer has nightmares of failure, and nightmares of the even worse contingency, success! How do I write the sequel to a world-wide best seller? Can I do it?

Ok, so how do you do it -- again -- on purpose?

You lay the foundation on the astral plane.

The stuff of the astral plane is amorphous, without time or shape. The force of your thoughts shapes it, whittles, hones, polishes, paints, and illuminates it. Everything in our concrete world was first shadowed on the astral, outlined like the strings surveyors put out to mark where to dig the foundation.

That shadow holds our concrete world together and gives it shape, just like a foundation holds a building and defines its shape. (Yep. Mysticism.)

Now you say, "But I've wanted and yearned for things, and imagined and dreamed, and they didn't happen!"

I told you, living is complicated because it's so exquisitely simple.

It isn't your conscious thoughts that shape the Astral to create your concrete world.

It is your subconscious mind that shapes the foundation of your life via the astral plane, via Yesod, the foundation of all reality.

How can you possibly control your subconscious mind?

You can't.

However, you can make friends with it, persuade, coax, negotiate. The subconscious is really stupid. It can't learn. But it can be trained, like a dog, with gentleness, consistency, kindness, and above all persistence.

But how do you communicate with your subconscious? How do you pet it and discipline it?

The best way I know of -- GO TO THE MOVIES! Rent some DVDs. Watch TV shows. Read books. Wallow in fiction to your eyebrows.

What is the essence of story? Conflict. Internal conflicts shown clearly in the character's external life, conflicts that are resolved by the action of the story.

What is your problem with your subconscious mind? For most of us, most of the time, the conscious mind is in CONFLICT with the subconscious, just like characters in a story.

In the 7 Swords Reversed, we began the process of resolving those internal conflicts. Here, in 9, we are rewarded with an opportunity to re-shape the foundation of our lives according to the changes made in 7 Swords (as a result of Love in 6 Swords which happened because of criticism in 5 Swords, which couldn't have happened if we hadn't finished the l first draft in 4 Swords, which couldn't have happened if we hadn't etc.). If we can pull it off here in 9 Swords, then we will get the concrete world to behave better.

The easiest way to start communicating with your subconscious is by watching for your emotional reactions to stories.

That emotional reaction (Suit of Cups) is your subconscious talking to you -- and it is especially illuminating when you burst into tears over a scene and you don't know WHY!

By thoughtfully analyzing what you react to in fiction, you can learn to see your own reflection in the fictional characters. And you can learn what nightmares you have in common with others.

Fiction has its origin on the astral plane. It can transport you back there. And when you return from walking a mile in fictional moccasins, you will not be in the same "place" you were in before, spiritually. Your subconscious will start negotiating peace with your conscious mind.

Novels are complex -- not as complex as life, but they can be very abstract and complex. The short story can be more to the point, but too simplistic.

So the medium I prefer for this purpose is film and TV. Because of the way the stories have to be structured for film, an emotional reaction can be traced very easily to its cause in a film.

Books are richer, but film is tremendously accessible for the purpose of igniting spiritual progress.

So I have two books that I hope you'll be able to find, read and study carefully. Not only are they good for teaching you to write stories, but also for learning to analyze films to find the cause of a surprising emotional response. Film uses the languages of the subconscious, and with modern techniques, can replicate the otherworldliness of the Astral.

The books: Save the Cat! and Save The Cat Goes To The Movies. See reviews:

http://www.simegen.com/reviews/rereadablebooks/2007/ in both January and April columns.

and http://www.simegen.com/reviews/rereadablebooks/2008/ for the sequel reviewed in January 2008.

And on Amazon, in my reviews, I talk more about the usefulness of these books for writers.

Save The Cat! and Save The Cat Goes To The Movies are both by Blake Snyder. Here's a direct amazon.com link.

http://www.amazon.com/Save-Cat-Goes-Movies-Screenwriters/dp/1932907351/rereadablebooksr/

In my review of Save The Cat Goes To The Movies, Jan. 2008 review column, I discussed in depth just the first page of the book, with more references to come in following columns.

On that first page, Snyder explains a genre he calls MONSTER IN THE HOUSE. You have to read his explanation of this genre and the movies it applies to, but meanwhile think about it this way.

The essence of Blake's Monster In The House genre is that the cast of the film is confined inside an enclosed space with something that wants to eat them -- and it has gotten loose because of some "sin" done by the protagonist. (inviting the Vampire in)

You are locked inside your skull with your subconscious, and you are its Monster while it is your Monster. Snyder provides a perfect description of the astral plane nightmare.

The point of the Monster In The House genre is to evoke the sensation of intimate violation by a supernatural (i.e. from outside your view of the universe) evil.

The subconscious mind houses not only your main contact with the Creator of the Universe and all the Good, but your awareness of the negative forces beyond human ken. And you are trapped in there among these vast, incomprehensible forces. That is your dream world.

Those "yes-buts" you created in 8 of Swords become Monsters you create on the Astral to avoid dealing directly with your subconscious -- big, powerful, ugly, voracious monsters that want to eat you alive. They're the monsters under the bed, in the dark basement, and in the closet when you're little -- possibly shredded memories from prior lives and maybe deaths, bits and snippets of the astral plane shaped by you in prior lives, the stuff of hauntings.

The "yes-buts" are all the reasons why you can't talk to your subconscious sensibly. Instead you roar. If that's the condition within you, then likely you will also roar at your spouse.

The yes-buts are all your fears, especially the ones you don't want to admit - but they are also your SELF. They are what you can't control, conquer, beat, or dispatch. Go up against those monsters and you lose.

Such Monsters exist only in the Zero-Sum universe where you must win the war with your subconscious -- or nightmare wins. You are locked inside your skull and inside your life with this powerful and furious beast and you must win because losing is unthinkable and you can't escape.

And that's what the image on the Waite-Rider 9 of Swords depicts.

Nightmares.

So how do you shake off a nightmare?

The old fashioned, tried and true method when waking from a nightmare is to go raid the refridgerator (food grounds you to the material world). Writing down the nightmare often does the trick. But then what? You have to go back to sleep some time.

The way out of the trap is through Da'at of the material world. Da'at is Knowledge, knowledge of the practical world and the spiritual world and how they are joined together, the Knowledge of the mechanism of the universe.

What makes the supernatural monster so scary is that we don't understand it. It is "the unknown."

The essence of Science Fiction is "encounter with the Unknown" -- the essence of Horror is "encounter with the Unknowable." Unknowable can morph into Unknown with a twitch of attitude.

By exercise of the conscious mind doing practical, everyday, things we shake off nightmare and prepare to reshape the astral plane matter into something brighter, better, more amenable, more suitable to our goals.

Often the most powerful actions for preparing your next expedition onto the astral are ritual: praying, cleansing, setting wards, confessing; or simple practical acts: giving charity, making right something you did wrong, helping the helpless, establishing and assisting a group with shared devotions -- do something special to honor your parents or teachers.

Once you have set your material world in order, brought your mind to bear on your problem and taken real, concrete action, (such as, if your publisher isn't advertising your book; you can do some advertising yourself!) you can venture onto the astral again with confidence, falling asleep imagining and then dreaming of a good outcome for your project.

If you are losing the vision of success of your project, do something that will let you dream of that success really happening.

What you shape on the astral with your imagination will materialize one way or another. But in order to do that shaping, you may have to study your nightmares until you have complete knowledge of them to turn them into dreams.

Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://www.simegen.com/jl/

Are We Boldly Going...?

I'm absolutely pleased ::Linnea points to previous BSP post on the upcoming workshop:: that the genre(s) of SFRomance and Futuristics are getting some coverage as of late. There was also a lengthy article on paranormals--including SFR--at All About Romance last month. Now, one could chalk this up to the fact that this is the Halloween season, so things that go bump or boo or boom in the night get attention.

I'm hoping it's something more than that. I'm hoping that Science Fiction Romance (and Futuristics and RSF, for those of you who break things down thusly) is finally being recognized as a valid (sub)genre. Worthy of coverage. Worthy of attention. Worthy of question.

This is something the lovely and delightful Susan Grant and I bemoan...oops! I mean discuss from time to time. Okay, we've been bitching a lot about it lately. Sue's one of the Grande Dames of the romance end of the genre (and that does not mean she's older--she's quite the young thing) and as she knows, I respect her journey tremendously and, as well, the avenues she's opened for the rest of us. On the SF end, we have Catherine Asaro and our own wonderful Jacqueline Lichtenberg who developed the romance, the "intimate adventure" side of the story over in the SF aisles.

Many authors have followed. But many have moved on to other genres (Carole Nelson-Douglas and CJ Barry come immediately to mind) and in speaking with them they've admitted that SFR/Futuristics genre just doesn't have the numbers. That is, the readership, the following, the sales. Both CJ (now writing as Samantha Graves) and Carole jumped over to mystery/romantic suspense.

Part of the problem--and this is something Sue's keyed on rightly in her emails with me--is that SFR has an identity crisis. Neither fish nor fowl, not quite comfortable in the romance aisles and not quite sure if it belongs in the SF aisles, SFR sometimes plays the part of the rabble-rouser (it is known for its kick-butt heroines) and sometimes the unwanted guest (read the reviews where the romance reviewer says there's too much tech stuff and the SF reviewer says there's too much mush). We're lumped in with paranormals (vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, dark angels and sorceressess) but I'm not sure we belong there. That's like lumping space-opera science fiction books in with police procedurals because, well, they both involve weapons and people die.

We also tend to throw the cover art departments of publishing houses into apoplexy. Too many spaceships on the cover and the romance contingent won't read us. But a muscles chest or a couple kissing scares off the SFers. I recently went through severe cover art issues with my books at Bantam when a series of covers was presented that were totally gorgeous and totally, absolutely, undeniably wrong for my books. They'd have been perfect for Laurell K Hamilton or some edgy, erotic, urban fantasy novel. They were frighteningly wrong for mine--frightening in that they delivered a message; no. They promised a kind of read I don't deliver. I feared a huge "reader disconnect" if they had been used.

Sue Grant ran into a similar problem but from a different end. Her covers have tended to the lighter romancey end, totally ignoring the deeper and yes, SF elements in her stories. While not fully chick-lit in design they did substantially play down the SF parts. Granted, Sue writes terrific humor, especially in her most recent SFR series, "Otherworldly Men". But there's a lot of humorous SF out there with

covers that don't ignore the SF factor.

So it's not just readers and reviewers who are confused. Publishers and their marketing departments are, too.

Which brings me to my title for this blog: are we boldly going where SFR needs to go? Or are we riding the coattails of paranormals and finding ourselves tossed about in the wake, so to speak (yeah, no one mixes metaphors like I do)? Does SFR need to push harder for its own unique identity? If so, what would that be?

With each passing year I watch our society become more and more technologically oriented. From iPods to iPhones to Tivos to Roombas to a car that freakin' parks itself... the lives we live have much more in common with the characters in an SFR novel than ones in a 14th century historical. Yet there is still a palpable resistance to SFR. Booksellers don't know where to shelve us. Art departments are confused over cover art. And fans of vampire, dark angel and high-tech hard SF novels wonder what in hell we're doing in their TBR piles.

I don't know if there've been any case studies done on the emergence of vampire romance novels, like those of Christine Feehan and Sherrilyn Kenyon. But there must have been a point, early on, where publishers and readers tried to stick the books with the "horror" label, and wrongly so. Feehan and others like her essentially created the paranormal romance genre.

I think it's time SFR created an equally bold and powerful name for itself in its own right.

I just haven't a clue how to do that.

~Linnea

http://www.linneasinclair.com/

Out Of This World Workshop

A bit of BSP first...




Writing Out of this World Romance with Some of The Hottest Authors in the Science Fiction and Futuristic Genres

October 12th, 13th, and 14th at Romance Divas

Featuring:

Susan Grant

Patti O’Shea

Linnea Sinclair

Robin D. Owens

Gena Showalter


Want to know how to write out of this world romance? Romance Divas is hosting a 3-day workshop with some of the hottest names in the Science Fiction and Futuristic genres. It will take place at the Romance Diva Forum. All are welcome. To get access to the forum you will need to register.

Alien romances and video

Alien romance, stands out in my mind as a prime example of a subgenre of Romance that ought to benefit from showing book videos (book peeks, book trailers, book flicks).

My Crazy Tuesday internet voices radio show was about Book Flicks in general. Tammie King, owner of Night Owl Romance, chose which videos were shown.

Madeline Hunter, Judi McCoy, Renee Field, Sandra Hill, Susan Kearney, Deborah MacGillivray, Jacquie Rogers were on the guest list, and we talked about cost, distribution, return on investment, actors... especially actors, length, sound-track, subtitles, stock footage and much more.

It was a fascinating discussion, especially since we were all able to watch the individual videos on the internet while the authors discussed their choices, mistakes, triumphs, and disasters.

Upon mature reflection since then, I tend to think that a genre like SFR (science fiction romance) might be a tad better served by a video that, say, a contemporary murder mystery.

The "Procedural" novel buyer generally knows what to expect, whether it is a coroner's procedure, or a detective's.

If there is a couple in costume on the front of a Medieval Romance novel, a video is lovely to supplement that impression-- please do not think I am snarking Historicals, because I am not-- but seeing a couple in costume moving around isn't as eye-opening as seeing, for instance, a hunk turning into a weredragon. Or seeing that the shadowy figure on the cover is supposed to be reassuringly normal and devastatingly gorgeous when he turns around.

Maybe, someone browsing the SF aisle or the Romance aisle does not know what to expect when they pick up a futuristic or an alien-vampire romance. Cover art for us can sometimes be misleading... not for all of us. I know of some authors who've successfully requested different cover art from the first offering. Most authors don't get cover approval.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, a dozen frames in a fifty second video may be worth so much more. The NASA site is a great source of free images of star systems, planets, and other stellar what-not.


Whose videos convey SFR for you?
Has any video persuaded you to try a SFR that you might otherwise have not looked at?

Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry

Forced Mate
Mating Net
Insufficient Mating Material

(trying to finish KNIGHT'S FORK by mid month)!

Star Shadows

Chapter Two

His body was cramped but he kept his place. When he was a boy he fit easily into the space. Now that he was supposed to be a man…
“When are you going to start acting like a man Zander?” His father yelled at him in his anger after they landed from their silent trip back from the coral.
“When are you going to start treating me like one?” Zander yelled back, his own frustration pouring forth in an uncontrollable eruption. It was the first time in his life that he raised his voice to his father. He then stalked off into the tunnels, shaking with shock and rage, leaving Boone and Elle to face the lecture that was sure to follow.
If only he knew why they weren’t allowed to leave the villa. If only he knew what it was his parents were so afraid of.
If only he knew why he was so…lacking…in their eyes.
In all the years of listening, he never found out any of the answers to his questions. And every morning he woke, feeling as if every day of his life was one big question.
What were they protecting them from? What dangers lay waiting for them? What were they preparing them for? What was it he was supposed to be able to do?
He kept his ear pressed against the thin sheet of metal that was part of the ventilation system. He had discovered quite by accident that he could hear everything said in his father’s study by just lying in the small niche off one of the main tunnels and keeping his ear pressed to the vent. It was one of his favorite hiding places when he, Elle and Boone played seeker in the tunnels. There was a slight curve to it so it was easy for him to disappear. Now he was as long as the alcove and had to pull his legs up so they wouldn’t hang out for everyone to see.
He felt somewhat guilty for leaving Elle and Boone to face the punishment that was sure to come.
And he also wondered if Boone would even stick around for it. He knew his friend had great respect for their father but he was a second year at Academy. Shouldn’t that mean that he was now part of the adult world?
Boone’s father certainly treated him as one. Ruben was with his father when they found them and had flown them back to the villa without a word to his own son. Zander knew them well enough to know that there probably wouldn’t be a lecture. Ruben treated his son with respect. He treated him as if he knew something. And Boone had earned his father’s respect. He excelled at Academy although in private he said he hated the constrictions. He had piloted ships all over the galaxy with either his father or his uncle Stefan at his side. He had seen things Zander could only imagine. He had been places Zander could only dream about. Boone was allowed to experience life.
That was another thing he heard when he hid in the tunnels. His father and Ruben talking late into the night about the past, about the present, about the future. They talked about their adventures. They talked about their families. They even talked about the unknown threat, wondering about it, if it were still there, what they would do if and when it happened.
It was from these talks that he learned that apparently he was supposed to take over the reins of government someday. He knew everything there was to know about Oasis. His grandfather, Michael was one of his teachers. He knew there had been a war and his parents had saved their planet from being taken over by another planet. He knew his father had instituted a thing called Democracy that let the people elect their own leaders. And those elected had a say in the governing of the planet, and if there was ever a tie, the deciding vote was cast by his father, known to Oasis as the Sovereign Nicholas.
Yet he, Prince Alexander of Oasis, had never been past the coral.
His weapons training and fighting skills were the best. He could even beat his father, sometimes, when they sparred and he and Boone had long ago quit taking their practice battles seriously because they always ended up in a tie.
But he was tired of shooting at targets and training in the large room that took up the entire top floor of the villa.
He had spent untold time in simulators learning how to fly every craft there was.
Yet he had never done anything more than pilot small ships around the Crater Lake.
Perhaps the bigger question about his life shouldn’t be what or why but when? When would he be considered a man and thus privy to all this unknown and unspeakable information that controlled every aspect of his life?
What was taking them so long to get to the study? So far he had heard nothing, although he knew his father was below. He could hear him pacing as his boots went back and forth on the smooth stone of the floor to the softer tread of the large rug woven by Boone’s mother Tess.
“How did it go?” he finally heard his father, Shaun speak.
“The usual,” his mother, Lilly replied. “Why can’t we go there? Why are we being punished?”
“They aren’t being punished,” his father said. “They’re being protected.”
“Do you ever think that perhaps we’ve protected them too much?” he heard his mother ask.
Yes. Yes. Yes…Zander wanted to scream the words, but he also wanted to hear more of what his parents had to say.
“I remember how it was for you,” Shaun said. His voice sound muffled and Zander could easily imagine his father holding his mother in his arms. She brought that out in a man. The willingness to protect and to sacrifice.“When we met, it was if you bore the weight of the universe on your shoulders.”
“Because I had my duties and responsibilities laid out before me as soon as I was able to walk and talk.”
“Your childhood wasn’t happy.”
“No. It wasn’t.” His mother sighed and Zander wondered what made her childhood so sad? Was it because her mother died giving birth to her? His grandfather adored her as he did his grandchildren. She spoke again. “But ignorance isn’t bliss either. Don’t you remember how frustrated you were when you were trying to figure out what was going on inside your mind?”
What are they talking about? Zander’s ears ached with the thought that he might finally find something out. He’d never heard his parents speak so specifically about the past before.
“Two extremes,” his father said. “Perhaps we should have found the middle ground.”
“Perhaps,” Lilly said. Zander smiled in his privacy. His mother possessed a great talent for diplomacy that was sorely lacking in his father. “It’s a bit late for regrets in that matter. And we have something else to worry about now.”
“What?”
“Boone and Elle.”
“What about them?”
“Haven’t you noticed that he’s in love with her?”
“Er…um…What?”
Zander buried his face in his arm and allowed himself a silent laugh at his father’s complete discomposure.
“How do you know?” Shaun was finally able to ask.
“I looked at them,” Lilly said. “He’s always loved her but now, since he’s been gone, he wants her.”
“You looked inside?”
“I didn’t have to Shaun. It’s obvious.”
“And when you say wants her…”
“I’m saying that he’s just like his father. And just like you.”
The vent echoed with the sound of something shattering against it, along with a string of words that Zander knew well, but would never dare say in the presence of his parents.
“Do you think they’ve…”
“No. But I think it won’t be long until something happens.”
“But they’re so young…”
“He’s the same age I was when I met you.”
“I’ll kill him,” Shaun said.
Lilly laughed. “No you won’t. You’ll give Elle time to figure out how she feels about him.”
“Damn,” Shaun said.
“You act like this is a bad thing,” Lilly said. “Who better for Elle than Boone?”
“I just never thought…Damn.”
“You just can’t stand to think about her with any man.”
Zander was pretty sure he didn’t want to think about it either. Elle and Boone…doing things.
Another part of his education that was thorough but also frustrating. He knew all about sex. He knew all about procreation. He even knew what it felt like to wake up in the mornings in an embarrassing predicament.
Especially when he had the dreams…
“Zander,” Elle whispered. “What are you doing?”
Zander jerked as Elle stuck her head into the space next to his legs. His head crashed against the top of the tunnel and he saw stars and felt something wet and sticky flow from his temple.
“Do you mind?” he whispered angrily as he touched his fingers to his temple and then looked at the blood that stained his hand.
“Sorry,” Elle said. “Are you hurt?”
“Bleeding to death,” he said sullenly and turned back to the vent.
“Move over,” Elle said and wiggled her way in beside him.
“Go away,” Zander hissed.
“What is your problem?” Elle whispered back as she slid in beside him. The quarters were close and she continually jabbed him with her elbow so he’d make room. She looked at the wound on his head. “Ouch,” she said. “You’re bleeding.”
“Thanks for noticing and asking,” Zander whispered forcefully. “I’m surprised you just didn’t look in my head and find out what my problem was. Besides the blood that is. Which is all your fault.”
“Zander,” Elle started then stopped as he quickly moved his hand over her mouth.
“They are going to hear us,” he mouthed and pointed down.
Elle froze into place and tilted her head towards the vent. Sure enough, voices could be heard.
“Where are we?” She asked inside Zander’s mind.
“Over father’s office.”
“So we are agreed?” Lilly asked.
“Great, you made me miss something.”
“Are they talking about us?”
“More like you and Boone.”
“I just want them to be happy,” Lilly continued. “But I also would like to keep them young a bit longer. And safe.”
“All that worry…over nothing really,” Shaun said.
“Zander?” His mother’s question. Always the question.
Here it came again. The disappointment. If only he knew what it was they expected of him. What exactly was it that he was supposed to be able to do? Be like Elle? Read people’s minds? See in the dark? Slam doors and make things fly across rooms?
“They wouldn’t believe us even if we told them,” Lilly said. “They’d still take him if they had a chance.”
“Who are they talking about?” Elle asked in his mind.
Zander shrugged. All the years of listening and he still didn’t know the answer. He didn’t feel guilty about it either. He wasn’t doing anything that Elle couldn’t or wouldn’t do. He was just doing it in a different way.
“Physically,” Shaun said. “He’s amazing. I have no doubt that he could protect himself. And he’s only going to get stronger, quicker, as he matures.”
“Not against the Circe,” Lilly said. “Even with the mind training…”
Elle grabbed Zander’s arm.
“What are the Circe?”
“I don’t know.” It was the first time he had ever heard his parents mention the word.
“Even after all this time, I find it hard to believe that he can’t do it,” Shaun said. “Could he be that stubborn? Could he be hiding it, even from you?”
“He could be that stubborn,” Lilly said. “After all he is your son…”
Shaun laughed.
“And he has shown signs,” Lilly continued.
“But he was so small.”
“And he was right,” Lilly said. “At least the one time. I guess we’ll never know about the other.”
“What are they talking about?”
Zander ignored her. He didn’t want to miss anything that his parents said.
“It was so obscure, how could we even know?” Shaun said.
“I wondered about that myself,” Lilly said. “Until he did the same thing with Ruben. For some reason he knew he was in danger.”
“When has Ruben not been in danger,” Shaun laughed.
“Since he married Tess,” Lilly answered. “But you still have to admit that it had to be more than a coincidence.”
“If only there’d been more…signs…”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. But I don’t.”
It was strange to hear his mother admit it. The silence from below made his realize how strange. He didn’t have to be in the room to know that his parents were worrying over something. If only he knew what it was? If only he knew what it was they were protecting them from.
They heard a knock on the door and then Ruben’s voice. “Well I’ve beaten my son into a bloody mass. Do you need any help with yours?”
“I haven’t seen Zander since he stormed off,” Shaun said.
“Boone thinks you should tell them,” Ruben said. “He thinks it’s not fair that he knows and they don’t.”
“That’s your fault,” Shaun said. “I’m just amazed that he’s kept it from them.
“Boone gave his word Shaun,” Ruben said quietly.
“I meant Elle,” Shaun said quickly. “She could have found out, even by mistake. His mind is strong.”
“Yes it is.”
“I knew he knew something. I saw that he was blocking.”
“He let you in?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
Elle didn’t answer. Instead she squirmed her way out of the tunnel.
“Coward.” Zander threw after her. He turned to listen again but heard the sound of the door closing below. They had left the study. Zander pushed his way out and ran after Elle.
“Wait,” he said. He wiped at the blood on his face and was surprised that the gash didn’t hurt. It had throbbed when he first did it but he had forgotten the pain when he was listening to his parents talk.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now Zander,” Elle said when he caught up to her. “I’m still trying to figure things out.”
“Where is Boone?”
“Ruben sent him to get Tess and Zoey at the vineyard and bring them back. Apparently they didn’t know he was home from Academy.”
“You mean he came here first?”
“Yes.”
“He really does love you.”
“I know. But he’s had something to compare it with. He’s met a lot of girls.”
“Jealous?”
Elle made a face. “How do I know if I love Boone or if it’s just because he’s the only boy I’ve ever known? Don’t I need something to compare it with?”
“At least you know someone else besides me. You’re the only girl I’ve ever seen, besides the servants and they’re all old.”
“Thanks,” Elle said. “I think.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know,” she agreed. “And I don’t know. Aren’t you tired of not knowing?”
Their feet followed a familiar path along a dark tunnel that led to an opening that overlooked the lake and the hidden landing bay. From there they would be able to see Boone return.
And it was the one place they were allowed to go that they felt a bit of freedom.
“Maybe there is one thing we could know,” Zander said as they walked out into the afternoon sun. The light dazzled the water until it was a pure silver and they both blinked against the brightness after being in the tunnels.
“What do you mean?”
“Mother said I knew Ruben was in danger when I was little.”
“As in you showed some of the psychic abilities.” Elle said. “I don’t remember it happening. I just remember Ruben coming back with Tess, Boone, and Ky and saying that you were really the one who saved his life.”
“Ky.” Zander said, recalling the huge newf that had been Boone’s shadow for years. Ky had died of old age the summer before Boone went to Academy. It was surely a good thing he died then. He would have died of loneliness had Boone left him behind.
“Boone’s misses him.”
“I know. I miss him too,” Zander said. “But mother also said there was another time.”
“And you want me to help you remember it.”
“You can, can’t you?”
“I’ve never done it.”
“But you know how.”
“Yes. I know how.”
“Then do it.”
Elle chewed on her lip for a moment as she looked out over the lake. Zander saw a vision of their mother doing the same thing. She did look just like their mother, who was still young and beautiful.
Too bad he wasn’t more like their father. He looked like him but he wasn’t like him. Maybe he would have been trusted with some knowledge, the way Boone had been.
And just maybe it was time he figured some stuff out on his own.
“Sit down,” Elle said. “And make sure you open your mind.”
They sat down facing each other with their ankles propped on their knees in the meditation position that their mother had taught them. As one they closed their eyes and took a deep breath, clearing their minds of any errant thoughts that would interrupt Elle’s concentration.
“Are you ready?” She didn’t have to ask permission. She could have just looked.
“Yes.”
Elle placed her fingertips on Zander’s temple and then just as suddenly jerked them away.
“Zander,” she said. “Where did the blood come from?’
“From my head. I hit it when you snuck up on me.”
“Where’s the cut?”
Zander touched his fingertips to his temple. The blood was dry on his cheek but he felt no cut. He wet his fingers with his tongue and scrubbed against the blood.
“There’s nothing there,” Elle said. She searched the dark locks of his hair. “Nothing. It’s gone.”
“You mean it healed?”
“Or disappeared. What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his temple again, wondering if he possibly could have imagined it.
The blood was still there, cracking on his cheek.
“Has this ever happened before?”
“Maybe. I don’t remember.”
“Well either it has or it hasn’t.”
“Or maybe it’s just not important enough to think about.” He was irritated. It seemed to be a permanent condition for him. “How quick to you heal?”
“I’ve never been hurt like that. I don’t know.”
Elle had missed most of the scrapes and falls that he had when they were young. She was born with a natural grace. Zander tried to recall the last time he’d been injured.
“I remember falling down sometimes, scraping my knees. Maybe I do heal fast.”
“It’s strange,” Elle said. She seemed worried.
“Don’t worry about it,” Zander said. “You can catalog all my injuries while your inside.”
“We should tell them,” Elle said. “Maybe it’s a sign of something.”
“Like what? Your son is more of a disappointment than you thought?”
“Zander. They are not disappointed in you. They just don’t understand why I can do things and you can’t.”
“Says the daughter who can do anything.”
“It you’re going to be a gank then I’m not going to help you.” Elle jumped to her feet and stalked to the entrance to the tunnels.
“Elle wait.” Zander went after her. “I’m sorry. Please help. You’re the only one I can trust.”
He felt as if he were looking in a mirror when he stared earnestly into her eyes. They were identical in shape, in color, even down to the dark shade of their lashes. It was confusing sometimes, to look into her eyes. He felt as if he were almost looking inside himself.
And then he realized that she could look inside of him and the frustration would come forth again.
There had been a time, when they were small when it didn’t matter what she could do and he couldn’t. They shared everything through her powers. But then their bodies had changed and with that their attitudes and they started keeping secrets from each other.
He needed to make sure that Elle didn’t see the dreams.
“We need to hurry,” Elle said as she stared back at him. “They might think we ran off again.”
Zander nodded and they moved back to their positions.
“If there’s someplace you don’t want me to go, just tell me,” she said.
Resentment flared that she even knew that he kept secrets but he quickly tamped it down, using the litany that their mother had taught them.
I’m ready…
Elle’s fingers touched his temples and he felt her slide into his mind with a gentleness that he never truly noticed before.
It was almost comforting.
“Our memories are shared Zander.”
“Not all of them. Not my…”
“I have dreams too. Relax.”
Zander willed his worries and frustrations into submission. He felt the warmth of the sunshine on the side of his face. He felt the heat radiating from the stone cliff they sat on. He felt the kiss of the breeze as it whipped across the lake. He heard the sigh of the trees that grew miraculously from fissures and cracks in the mountainside.
His life opened before him as if he were watching a dige, except that it moved backwards, as if he were winding up a ball of the thread that Tess used in her weavings.
Backwards they went until they were children, small, and innocent, comforted just by being with their parents. They were adored.
Suddenly he wasn’t with his parents or his sister. He was with Ruben. He was piloting his ship and was under attack. He saw the blasts that rocked the ship. He felt the panic. Sheer terror overcame him as the ship careened towards the ground and crashed.
“Elle?”
“Wait…”
Was it a memory of his? Or was it something he imagined from listening to the stories that were told about Ruben’s adventures. Boone had seen the crash. Was it one of his memories mixed up with his own?
“You saw it Zander. Boone saw it coming, but you saw it as if you were there, inside the ship.”
“How?”
“There’s more.”
He saw himself once again as a small boy, playing with a brightly color starship on a plush rug. Elle was beside him with one of her beloved dolls. His father and grandfather were inside, discussing the politics of the planet. His mother and Ruben were on the balcony and his mother was searching Ruben’s memories, exactly the way Elle was searching his.
Suddenly his mind saw a dark and dreary place. Not like the tunnels that they walked with their father as he encouraged them to try to see in the dark.
This place was dim, dingy, and dirty. There were bars and there were chains. The only light came from a torch that tried gallantly to fight back the darkness.
Three women were gathered around a narrow plank attached to a wall. Two of the women were dressed in dark robes and wore strange poufy hats that were decorated with beads and crystals. The third woman was dressed in simple clothes and held a lay on the plank in a ragged and bloody gown and she was pleading with the other three.
“Give me my baby,” she cried. “Please.”
The other women ignored her. They looked at a baby that cried loudly in protest against the arms that held her as the mother cried out.
“What color are her eyes,” one woman asked. She seemed older than the others. Much older.
The woman holding the baby moved the child around so that the torch light reflected in her eyes.
“Dark,” she said. “Violet.”
“tisk,” the older woman said. “I thought perhaps we might be on to something with the breeding. Her father did have the blood line, even if he is a rebel.” The woman gathered her robes and turned away from the crying baby.
“What about the mother?” the woman holding the baby asked. “She needs a healer.”
The younger woman paused at the entrance to the cell. “Let her die,” she said. “She has been tainted by the rebels and is of no further use to us.”
The women left. The one holding the child looked with sympathy down on the woman who was bleeding to death before her eyes. “At least your daughter will live,” she said. “We will find a place for her to serve.”
“No,” the woman cried weakly. “Please,” and then she sighed. “Sagan.”
The child screamed as her mother’s life faded away and as she screamed Zander felt her pain and he screamed also.
“ZANDER!”
His eyes flew open. He was lying on his side and his hands were clenched against his face as if he were battling something inside. Something trying to get out. Elle held onto him and he realized that he was extremely close to the edge of the cliff.
“What was it?” she asked. “What did you see?”
He pushed himself backwards until he rested against the solid foundation of the mountain.
Elle’s eyes were on him, intently serious as if she were searching for a wound.
“Didn’t you see it?” His heart pounded in his chest. He felt as if he had just run a race. And his life had been the prize.
“No. It was if a door closed. But I felt something…sadness…terror…then you started screaming. What was it?”
“A baby. I saw a baby. There were women. The baby’s mother died.”
“That’s it?”
“The baby was a girl,” he added. “What do you think it means?”
Violet eyes.
“I don’t know.” Elle chewed on her lip again. “Maybe Mother can see it.”
“No.”
“Zander.”
“I don’t want her inside my head. I don’t want either of them inside my head.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
He climbed to his feet. Why did he feel so weak? “Boone’s back,” he said, pointing towards the sky.
Elle reached up and he took her hand, pulling her to her feet. They stood on the cliff, side by side, as they watched the sleek craft circle the crater and then come in, skimming over the water until it reached the landing bay below.
“Let’s go see how much trouble we’re in,” he said and they turned into the tunnels as one.

Wicked Words

Some time ago, there was a discussion of cursing on this blog. I'm inspired to take up the topic again by having recently read Steven Pinker's new book, THE STUFF OF THOUGHT. The author of highly readable, provocative, and densely informative earlier books such as THE LANGUAGE INSTINCT and HOW THE MIND WORKS, in this new volume he explores "Language as a Window into Human Nature." Some of the contents make heavy going and require the navigating of technical linguistic terms, but two fascinating chapters are worth the price of the book (or at any rate worth borrowing a copy from the library): Chapter Eight, "Games People Play," about the language of politeness, plausible deniability, and social pretense in general (why do we ask for the salt in, strictly speaking, nonsensical utterances such as, "Could you pass the salt?" instead of just saying, "Give me the salt"?); and Chapter Seven, "The Seven Words You Can't Say on Television." By the way, I was delighted finally to learn what those fabled seven words were (pre-cable TV) and surprised to find "tits" on the list. Personally, I can think of quite a few terms more objectionable than that almost-cute synonym for mammaries.

Pinker lists the categories from which taboo words are typically drawn in Earth's languages as sex, excretion, religion, death and disease, and groups of people considered inferior. For an example of the latter, in our otherwise libertine linguistic climate one insult commonplace fifty or sixty years ago has become so taboo that most people won't pronounce it even to discuss it, instead using the euphemism "the n-word." Another interesting factor about rude words is that their substitution with euphemisms produces a constantly receding horizon; the connotation sooner or later taints the euphemism. For instance, "bathroom," which began as a euphemism, has become the most blunt term most people will use in polite company for what's more often called the restroom, powder room, little girls' room (or, in our office, labeled by the locative phrase "down the hall"). Many readers might be surprised to learn that "retarded," now displaced by "mentally challenged," originated as a euphemism; it was meant to imply that the child wasn't feebleminded, just a bit slower than his peers. Other sometime-obscenities fall in and out of grace. Prior to the nineteenth century, a few of those taboo seven words were perfectly acceptable in sober writing, whereas the formerly obscene "bloody" has lost its bite, for Americans anyway (I don't know about contemporary Britons), so that Eliza Doolittle's indulgence in that word sounds funny to us instead of shocking. "Bitch," which in my youth was acceptable in polite company only among dog breeders, now seems to be considered unexceptionable by lots of otherwise courteous speakers.

Pinker maintains that religious-themed swearing has lost its offensiveness for Americans, to which I respond, "Speak for yourself, Dr. Pinker." I still wince at a casual "damn," and hearing people invoke the name of the Deity loosely or, worse yet, abusively sounds almost as painful to me as the F-word. However, I'm amused and bemused to read that in some European countries taboo curse words include such innocuous ecclesiastical terms as "chalice" and "host" (Eucharistic wafer), without which it would be hard to describe the conduct of an ordinary Sunday service in a Catholic or Anglican church. On page 337 of THE STUFF OF THOUGHT, Pinker lists numerous "bowdlerized alternatives" for taboo words, such as "gosh," "gee," and "darn" for "God," "Jesus," and "damn." The guidelines of at least one inspirational romance publisher forbid the characters to speak any of those euphemisms, because of their status as thinly disguised substitutes for profanity. Given these restrictions, characters in this publisher's novels wouldn't be able to emit any kind of realistic utterance in moments of shock, pain, fear, or anger—except maybe an inarticulate "ouch" or "aargh." Or maybe they'd resort, as I do, to comic-book expletives such as "curses" or "heavens to Murgatroyd" (no, probably no profane references to Heaven allowed).

In Huxley's BRAVE NEW WORLD, where all human infants are conceived and grown in vitro, "mother" and "father" are the two unspeakable obscenities. I once read an SF novel whose title I can't remember about a future society in which the sexual F-word is commonplace, but "fight" is obscene (a speech practice that does have a certain seductive logic, except that the sexual F-word derives from roots meaning to beat or strike and is so often used abusively that I can't make myself perceive its connotations as erotic). In Jacqueline Lichtenberg's Sime-Gen series, the most shocking obscenities relate to interruptions in the selyn flow process. Her invented terms "shen" and "shid" have the linguistic virtue of incorporating the short, blunt sounds we associate with real-world taboo words. The common denominator of taboo words, according to Pinker, relates to phenomena that are vitally important to human beings and yet sometimes disgusting or potentially fraught with danger. So, as we discussed on this blog previously, alien characters would curse in terms that relate to whatever topics are most emotionally sensitive for them. The natives of Venus in Heinlein's SPACE CADET have taboos surrounding food; healthy people old enough to understand proper etiquette never eat in the presence of others. Therefore, blunt speech about eating is obscene for Venusians. For Jacqueline's Simes, the monthly need for selyn is more important than food or sex, so taboo words relate to selyn transfer. WATERSHIP DOWN includes numerous examples of rabbit language, woven so smoothly into the narrative that when in the climactic battle one of the heroes casts an obscene insult (roughly meaning, "Eat s--t!") at the villain, we understand it without translation and get the full emotional force. Would a vampire society use "bloody" as a curse?

8 Swords - "Yes, but - "

As noted previously, this is a chapter in a book about the Tarot aimed at Intermediate students, not beginners or advanced students. It is particularly aimed at writers.

Updated and expanded compilation of all these Tarot Just For Writers entries is now available on Kindle:
The Wands and Cups Volumes and  the Swords and Pentacles Volumes, are now all available separately on Kindle.  The 5 Volumes combined are also available on Kindle as one book, cheaper than buying them individually.
The Not So Minor Arcana: Never Cross A Palm With Silver Aug 30, 2015 99 cents
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The Not So Minor Arcana: Wands Sept. 1, 2015  99 cents
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The Not So Minor Arcana: Cups Sept. 11, 2015 99 cents
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The Not So Minor Arcana: Swords  Sept. 17, 2015 99 cents
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The Not So Minor Arcana: Pentacles  Sept. 21, 2015 99 cents
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The Not So Minor Arcana: Books 1-5 combined Sept. 24, 2015 $3.25
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This series is designed not for the beginner or the advanced student, but for the intermediate student and specifically for writers doing worldbuilding..

A vital point I made in THE BIBLICAL TAROT: NEVER CROSS A PALM WITH SILVER (which you can get on Amazon) is that nobody can tell you what a Tarot card means. It's not knowledge that can be taught or conveyed. Each person has to figure it out unassisted.

Once you've figured it out, you have to write little essays about it like these I' m doing here, just as beginning students draw and color their own deck. So here I'm demonstrating how to apply the principles behind the Tarot to derive useful insights into life's processes -- insights of real significance to fiction writers.

When you study Tarot, gradually, your Visualizaton of the Macrocosmic All, your Model of the Universe, changes. And that changes you. You don't want to be modeled by someone else -- you want to model yourself. So figure out and articulate these processes for yourself using the principles I'm demonstrating, not my personal conclusions.

----------
ANSWERS to Kimberly's questions inserted here above a long essay on 8 Swords:

1) who inspired me -- http://www.simegen.com/sgfandom/welcommittee/influenc.html

2) In the early days, the Greats of the SF field debated (in print via editorials) the defn of SF and decided the oldest is the best -- "It's what I like". I refined that to Intimate Adventure.

http://www.simegen.com/jl/intimateadventure.html

See my review column for January 2008 (once it gets posted) on

http://www.simegen.com/reviews/rereadablebooks/

which will lead to a totally NEW definition. SFR can't be SF unless it's part of the Literature of Ideas -- each novel needs a totally new IDEA that hasn't been pondered by the world before. You can't steal from mythology. You have to think something NEW -- not just original since we all originate thoughts that are in the Akashic Record, but NEW. Each novel is a Ph.D. thesis adding to human knowledge, forging a new scratch in the Akashic Record. Other fiction fields can get away with rehashing old ideas -- to be SF it has to have a NEW IDEA in it.

Here below, we're talking about 8 Swords - where ideas become really sharp swords indeed. All through these essays on Swords, you've seen how Ideas are promulgated. It's in Wands that NEW ideas are brought into manifestation. In Cups, Ideas ignite emotions. In Swords Ideas are communicated. In Pentacles, they are scribed into the Akashic Record.

3) Print publishing is still suffering a meltdown which will reform the industry -- and my bet is it will reform to follow conventions established in the film industry. These aren't "rules" to be broken -- they are "conventions" (like driving on the right side of the street; using a period at the end of a declarative sentence; the Dress For Success book). To discover these conventions for fiction and get ahead of the curve read SAVE THE CAT! and SAVE THE CAT GOES TO THE MOVIES both by Blake Snyder. I will be discussing this second book in great detail through this next year. "Conventions" change constantly (congestion caused the one-way-street to be invented).
Here's the Amazon link:
http://www.amazon.com/Save-Cat-Goes-Movies-Screenwriters/dp/1932907351/rereadablebooksr/

You want to be an agent of change, you must first master the conventions -- not "follow" them, MASTER them, in the mystical sense of "Mistress of Magick". Then you must become a Leader. A Leader can't ever be someone from "outside" -- a King, Queen or Leader arises from within the masses and articulates the values the masses are incapable of articulating for themselves. To do that, one must BE OF that mass, and then be "elevated" by that mass to leadership, not elevated by yourself (Princess Di comes to mind). Being an agent of change is something that happens to you, not something you do. Ponder that while reading 8 Swords. It's a long road with no rewards at the end, but that's how to become an agent of change. (Betty Friedan comes to mind. Now think Islamists.)

4) Most of the conventions that work and live to create classics all have in common the principles I'm discussing in this series on the Swords of the Tarot (and eventually the Pentacles of the Tarot). That's why I'm writing this Tarot book -- understand these principles of how things are connected into patterns, and you will be able to discern that pattern in operation throughout the entirety of the cosmos, including publishing and Hollywood.

5) All my fiction, from the beginning, was striving to be SFR but had to conform to the SF conventions of the time. THOSE OF MY BLOOD was the first book where I took the gloves off and blatantly exposed the romance -- and it took 22 submissions to sell it, then it was touted as my "Break Out" book by St. Martin's Press in their sales-force newsletter then dropped into obscurity by printing only a couple hundred copies of the HC. That's what happens when you "break" a convention in the commercial marketplace. Later, I won a Romantic Times Award with DUSHAU because the conventions had CHANGED. You won't find that Award for "Best Science Fiction Novel" on the Romantic Times website because it's too old -- it was the very first awarded for an SF novel. Every editor who rejected THOSE OF MY BLOOD loved it, but couldn't figure out "how" to publish it.

---------------

The meaning of a Tarot Minor Arcana resides in the placement on the Tree of Life (i.e. the number on the card) integrated with the "World" or Suit of the card. For the Tree of Life and the Jacob's Ladder diagrams see:

http://web.onetel.net.uk/~maggyw/treeladder.html

We're now looking at the 3rd circle up from the bottom on the left hand column on the Jacob's Ladder diagram.

Note that the 8 of Swords lies right over the 3 of Pentacles. Elements of the meaning of 3-ness are setting our Swords singing. (ever heard a well tempered Sword sing? It's a thrill! People think a Sword is a weapon - it's really a musical instrument, as is the Voice!)

Remember the essence of 3 is commitment. That means to have something is to have-not something else. To be anything is to not-be everything else. Dedication, specialization, underlie the meaning of 8 Swords. And this principle is true of all the other cards we've discussed.

There are 3 Pillars to the Tree of Life pattern, and 4 repetitions of the Tree make up Jacob's Ladder - the ascending extension ladder that the Soul climbs lifetime after lifetime to return to the Source. Jacob's Ladder is the path Jacob saw when he laid his head on a stone and dreamed of Angels ascending and descending. 8 is two 4's. A musical octave is 8 steps. 8 is a fundamental tone in the vast vibration that is the cosmos.

The essence of 8 is the intellect. The astrological association is Mercury, which like Venus as we discussed under 7 Swords, rules two signs.

Mercury rules Gemini and the 3rd House of the Natal Chart, the personal mentality and thought processes and everything to do with communication and travel. Mercury also rules Virgo the natural 6th House of work and the health of the body. The ability to communicate and move are fundamental to physical health, as is satisfying work.

Remember, the Waite Rider Tarot deck images seem based in the zero-sum model of the universe where winning creates losers. (winner + loser = 0) And losing is a stigma to be avoided, a path toward not having what you need. Losing, even in sportsmanlike sports carries the whiff of death.

Also remember that Swords are actions, and a thought is an action.

Now you can see that the energy we've been teasing down the steps of Jacob's Ladder finds a natural harmonic reinforcement in 8 Swords. 8 is thought - Swords is thoughts. 8 Swords then becomes Thoughts Thought. Or Thought about thoughts. Meta-thoughts.

So what happens to a person living in the zero-sum model of the universe whose thoughts become strongly intensified?

Worry. "Since there has to be a loser, I might be that loser!"

Swords are actions, so a person caught in the 8-Swords process, worrying, will reject any action suggested to them to solve their problem. They've thought of everything already, worried every solution to death, and found a reason to reject it. They can't see the results of any action for sure, so they get caught in a repeating loop of worry.

Even a good suggestion will be greeted by, "Yes, but I can't because -" And there's no end of creative becauses!

The problem is that the process of 8 Swords has you thinking about thinking. That is, you become critical.

Criticism is generally associated with Virgo, manifesting the negative side of Virgo, perfectionism. (every sign has a positive and negative manifestation; everyone has every sign; the trick of life is to manifest each in the positive way. That's what souls are here to learn.)

Ponder the "Yes, but - " syndrome a bit and you will see that the facile objections to any action actually come from having thought about the problem, and considered or even tried, each of the possible or conceivable solutions to that problem.

WRITERS: does that sound like a familiar process to you?

It is the condition you come to after having rewritten the novel you filled up with words in 4 Swords, got comments on in 5 Swords, revised in 6 Swords to something you love even better, then avoided conflict in 7 Swords by rewriting it yet again and maybe even again.

You considered, analyzed, tried different things, and by now you are heartily sick of the whole novel.

Some writers come to a point where they are so disgusted by the mishmash they've written that they won't even submit it to a paying market.

Hidden behind that could be the fear that it will be rejected and then they'll have to face the conflict squarely. You can spend your life caught in 7 Swords, copy-cat pretending to be a writer, and never actually publishing anything because that requires facing a conflict squarely.

Or you may be barely dabbling a toe into the 8 Swords process, endlessly researching where to submit your gem.

The image on the Waite Rider deck 8 Swords is the woman in a mud puddle field surrounded by swords. She's blindfolded so she can't move for fear of stepping in a mud puddle with her nice clean slippers. She's trussed up tightly by bonds of thoughts.

Each of the Swords around her is an action she took in the past, a thought, word or deed that now cuts off her options. If she moves, she could cut herself on her own prior actions, (thoughts, words (lies?), opinions, vows, self-image.)

To act in violation of your publicly stated opinion is to undercut your reputation for integrity. So you can't move through 8 Swords if you've been opening your big mouth too much.

The blindfold shows how her thoughts are turned inward, and highlights the fear of doing anything.

In the zero-sum game view of the universe, 8 Swords will very probably manifest as this kind of fear of doing anything. In the zero-sum universe, there is always the danger of failing to win. In the Abundant Universe, there's nothing to fear for you always have what you need, and even most of what you want, and plenty left to share.

So if, as you write this novel you've been telling your friends about it, bragging, showing off, building it up, publicizing effusively, now in the 8 of Swords you are seized with fear at sending it to a publisher. What if the publisher rejects it?

Or worse yet, what if the publisher accepts it, and the editor tells you to change this and that and the other thing. (typically, cut 20,000 words, change the gender of the protagonist, and add three scenes to explain motivations)

One reason new writers have such a hard time breaking in to publishing is simply that editors don't want to have the "Yes, but - " fight with new writers who cling to all these reasons why certain commercially necessary changes can't be made.

So the process of 8 Swords includes the sequence of submission, rewrite to editorial order, and resubmission.

That process involves a meeting of minds. 8 is thought; Swords is thinking. Meeting of minds: an exchange of thoughts, or possibly arguments, interacting with someone who is thinking about your thoughts which are exposed, naked, on the page for your editor to misunderstand.

8 Swords is all about problem solving without the direct confrontation of 5 Swords, the painful starting over of 6 Swords, or the agonizing re-re-rewriting of 7 Swords when the heart of the conflict is avoided.

As in Science, in the 8 Swords process two or more people think together, communicate, about a problem which is their mutual problem. 8 Swords is not about power, subjugation, winning or losing. 8 Swords is a co-operative effort.

Someone objective, outside the situation, has to take on the problem that has resulted from the 7 Swords process and parse that problem, open the writer's eyes to the real situation.

That's what editors are for. That's why a writer's career rests on choosing the correct publishing house and editor for their book. And that's what Agents are for.

7 is Imagination; 8 is the Mind.

8 is all about Science, the organization of knowledge into axioms, postulates and the laws of nature. 8 is about deductive reasoning and inductive reasoning. 8 is all about computers!

In the process of submitting to an editor, working with an editor, the Creative Imagination of 6 Swords encounters the scientifically derived Commercial Formula for the novel. An editor works for a publishing house that has a very specific and defined market developed from their computer sales modeling. For the most part, they think they know what sells and why, though they all admit they're only guessing.

Harry Potter; who knew?

Swords is all about actions, and thoughts are actions. But 8 Swords is thinking about your actions, and worrying about consequences. Remember, 6 is contained in 7 -- 6's ability to imagine consequences leads to 7's thinking about thinking about the consequences.
8 Swords is the admonition, "Don't leap before you look. Work methodically."

In the zero-sum Universe, you learn these adages for fear of what will happen if you don't.

In the Abundant Universe, you learn these adages for love of what will happen if you do.

But you spend your life learning and re-learning them.

We all feel that the power of the mind can solve any problem. We're taught that in school with tests and grades. Just get the right answer, know it, remember it, calculate it -- it's got to be the right one or you'll be punished with a bad grade.

So we get really up tight about thinking our way through problems. Sometimes we can stall out a project by being determined to do all the research for it in advance. You can't start writing your thesis until you know everything that will be in it. So you never start.

Also we learn early that the world is complicated and complex. There are a thousand considerations to be pondered before doing anything. For every reason to do something, there's a reason not to, maybe several.

When the reasons not to do something pile up and up and up, until you feel smothered, you are caught in an 8 Swords process, stymied and stagnated by reasons.

Very often, these 8 Swords situations are social or political and involve other people's imagined responses to your actions. You have business with this person, an affair with that person; what if one talks to the other?

Being "caught up in the affairs of wizards" is another story and plot that is symbolized by 8 Swords. Every simple thing that happens opens up huge long tangles of reasons why this and that, reasons not to do such and so, more complications piled on complications.

There is no such thing as thinking too much. But when you rely solely on thinking during the process of 8 Swords, the thoughts you produce are sharper, heavier, stronger than your own personal Will, and maybe even stronger than your character. It's not that they're wrong thoughts -- it's that they're too loud, too scary, too emphatic.

Any process ruled by Mercury will be exaggerated in 8. Remember communication, travel and writing are ruled by Mercury. Thus the editorial process described above is multiply emphasized. 8 Swords is where it all comes together for a writer.

Swords is all about habitual actions. Your fiction will expose inner mental habits you never knew were there, and a good editor will finger all of them, and it will hurt, and you will scream, squirm and avoid doing what's demanded.

So Swords is about unthinking actions, habits, and 8 is about thinking. During an 8 of Swords process, you can find yourself stalled out because you're thinking about your habits. You want to go back to 6 Swords and do it over, not go on to 9 Swords, because after all it's not perfect yet. (Mercury; perfectionism).

How do you flip over the 8 of Swords to break out into freedom of movement?

Well, remember Jacob's Ladder? How the 8 Swords overlays the 3 Pentacles?

Remember the essence of 3 is commitment. The psychological trick of getting out of the 8 Swords trap is to understand that you will take a loss.

The way out of the 8 Swords trap is to accept wounds. This is going to hurt.

Actions are depicted as Swords because the battlefield actually strips down all actions to their barest essence and lets us access action decisions with a part of our brain isn't usually in control - the hind brain, the animal within that just wants to stay alive.

Even in the Abundant Universe, there are battles, casualties, sacrifices, pain and growth.

On the battlefield, commanders assess the value of what is to be gained against how many lives it will cost, and how many casualties, how much equipment damaged or expended.

The familiar dilemma of needing to take various incompatible medications belongs in the 8 of Swords. It is solved with a "trade off" -- letting one condition worsen in order to treat another.
Which do you want to save, your sight or your heart?

Once understanding of the cost of action is reached and agreed on, free flowing energy flips the 8 of Swords over to the reverse, fear is sloughed off, and the Project Leader steps boldly onto the slippery, muddy field of an objective assessment of the state of the project.

Pain is accepted for the sake of gain.

It is a calculation, a science, a very cold calculation.

That is the cold calculation you must master in 8 Swords, a dispassionate, intellectualized assessment of what this gain is worth to you. What will you give up? How much pain can you endure? How much more blood can you afford to lose and still survive?

That is the exact calculation a writer makes when under editorial direction; what is it worth to you to get this book into print?

It sounds as if the 8 Swords is purely a zero-sum scenario.

But actually it's an exercise in free will.

Here you must apply the changes wrought by Love in 6 Swords and brought to Harmony in 7 Swords to make a fully informed free will choice using your whole mind.

The world is abundant. You have more than you need. You can afford to pay for what you want. You have to choose. You have to discern what you need as separate from what you want, and calculate what you will pay.

The image of the woman standing amid mud puddles surrounded by danger, blindfolded and bound, does capture that choice of what price you will pay. In order to get the blindfold off, she has to sidle up to a sword and run her bonds up and down the sharp edge. She'll ruin her shoes, likely cut her dress too, maybe bleed a little, but then she can take off the blindfold and do what she wants.

She's afraid because she thinks she's going to lose. When she understands that she'll only lose what she doesn't need or can replace, that the universe cradles her in abundance, then she will move through the 8 Swords and on.

Remember the old joke. A man notices a fly in his soup and shrieks to the waiter who says, "Don't worry. Flies don't drink much." The waiter is saying you can afford to feed the fly, but the customer is fearing diseases he might get from the fly. This is an 8 of Swords moment, a lack of meeting of minds, a moment driven by fear of loss, not confidence in abundance.

Your editor demands you cut out one whole character from your novel; you do it; and, many nightmares later, in the 6 of Pentacles, your book wins an award. That is how the Abundant Universe functions for those who have learned the lessons of the 7 of Swords Reversed.

Why not just save yourself all those tears and move with confidence through the 8 Swords process, knowing some of the dangers aren't imaginary, you will get hurt, but it's all right because you can afford it.

The Universe is Abundant.

Know that.

Act by that.

Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://www.simegen.com/jl/

The Rest Of The Answers: Kel-Paten on the Hot Seat Part 2

Ready Room, Huntership REGALIA

Branden Kel-Paten didn’t mind being in the ready room. He certainly didn’t mind the fact that Sass was leaning over his shoulder and he loved the fact that her fingers lazily toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. He hated that the fingers on her other hand pointed to a question on the screen before him.

“There,” she said and he could tell by the way a small vibration rumbled in her voice that she was trying hard not to giggle. “Answer these.”

They were back to the last set of questions he’d promised he’d answer. But these two…!

Q: Boxers or briefs?
Q: The only question I can think of is: Branden, do you have ANY idea of how gorgeous you are?

Kel-Paten groaned inwardly.

Sass nudged him. “C’mon, give it a go.”

“Fine. Boxers or briefs.” He thought for a moment or rather, tried to think like Sass for a moment. No, better. Serafino. “My answer would be, why would you want to know about a breed of dog as opposed to a collection of legal papers?”

He craned his neck around and tried to peer innocently at Sass. She cuffed him lightly on the back of the head.

“Smart aleck.” But she was laughing.

“And to the second, “ he continued, “no. If anything, I’m aware people find me unusual. Beyond that, it’s, well, embarrassing.”

“I so love a modest man,” Sass intoned lightly.

Now that made him grin. And it was worth the embarrassment.

Sass’s comm link pinged. She swung sideways then perched on the edge of the table as she flicked on the mike. “Sebastian.”

“We’re ready for you in navigation,” Perrin Rembert’s voice said through the small speaker.

“On my way. Gotta run,” she added after disconnecting the link. She brushed his mouth with a quick kiss but he reached up and trapped her before she could step back, and made the kiss last several minutes longer.

“Incentive,” he told her when they broke for air. “To finish this damned interview.”

“It’s good to know you’re so easily bribable.” She winked.

He waited until the door slid closed behind her before turning back to the screen and not without a tinge of trepidation. And the next question brought up a flood of equally unsettling memories:

Can you tell us something about the time you were separated? Did you expect to make it back to Sass?

Which time we were separated? he almost replied. But there was no way Alecia, the questioner, would know of all the times over the past almost-dozen years that he’d lost track of Tasha Sebastian and his nights had been the more sleepless because of it. When his own existence had been threatened, as it was almost daily if he was honest about it, yes and no. Like the time he was almost trapped by the Illithians on Antalkin Station. He’d filed yet one more good-bye message to her even while knowing the very filing of that kind of message gave him the perseverance to survive.

If nothing else, she’d receive all those messages upon his death and the fact that she might be horrified by their contents—or worse—find them and him ridiculous mortified him. He’d have died of shame if he hadn’t already been dead. So in a convoluted way, that kept him alive.

But when she’d left him so abruptly on the Dalkerris…his initial thought was she’d somehow been kidnapped, transported away by some enemy faction. Only when a hull-breach warning blared through the ship seconds later and the Traveler’s ID blared right along with it, did he understand what happened.

It took several weeks after that for him to understand he’d understood nothing at all.

But back to Alecia’s question. Did he think he’d escape from the Void a second time, with Rall and what was left of their crew? Frankly yes, or he’d die trying and if he died, he fully intended to pursue the possibility of becoming a ghost and haunting her. By the time he’d realized what was going on in the Triad, and by the time he understood the impossible possibility of the Void, he discounted nothing. He may not know if there was any kind of benefic deity in the universe but he did know there were things that science and logic couldn’t explain. And if he couldn’t make it back to Sass alive, then he’d toyed with the idea of encapsulating his cybernetic essence into a bio-mechanical plasma, sending that through and somehow melding with the Regalia. He’d be with her always, then, protecting her.

Of course, if Tasha Sebastian no longer captained the Regalia, that would prove problematic.

Fortunately, he’d not had to do that.

How did you make sure your letters wouldn't be found all those years. Since you had to be careful what you allowed yourself to think in regard to her, how did you keep the letters confidential?

“Evidently, not very well,” Kel-Paten replied, leaning back in his chair. So much for his impenetrable security programs.”My problem, and I’m sure you’ve heard Sass says this, is I think in a very linear, logical fashion. So I assumed any attack against my secreted files would be in a very linear, logical way. Sass’s methodologies often defy logic. I tried to get her to explain her thought processes to me one time and she shrugged and said, ‘I just make shit up as I go along.’ It’s damned hard to counter for that.”

If a genie granted you one wish...what would it be?

“That’s easy. To go back in time and take her off the Sarna Bogue. It would have spared her the grief the UC’s put her through in her role of Lady Sass. It would have spared her the grief of Lethant. I’m sure initially, she’d have been less than happy. But the Triad—-for all its recent problems—-would have provided her with a means of expanding her incredible creative potential. And we could have worked together, gotten to know each other sooner. Twelve years sooner. I would dearly have loved to have had those extra twelve years with her.”

An explosion of black and white fur appeared suddenly on the ready room table. Branden-friend! Tank sat and regarded Kel-Paten through wide green eyes.

Kel-Paten tickled the furzel under the chin as he shunted his answer to the ‘send’ file, then he clicked off the screen. It slid soundlessly into the desktop. Tank thwapped at it as it disappeared.

“Good riddance, eh, Tank?”

Work. No like work. Play!

“I have to meet up with Sass in navigation. Chart updates are due in because of the new security beacons.” The fact that Kel-Paten was explaining all this to a furzel only surfaced momentarily in his mind. He stood. “Play later.”

No play now?

“Later. Work first.”

Work, work, work, Tank grumbled. He padded to the edge of the table, flopped down into a chair then thumped to the floor. Work, work, work.

The ready room doors opened. Grinning, Kel-Paten followed the fluffy creature out in to the corridor…


OTHER NEWS:
Now, back in real time at Linnea’s desk in Florida, I’m thrilled to announce that today’s edition of PUBLISHERS WEEKLY carries a review for THE DOWN HOME ZOMBIE BLUES! This is an honor and a thrill! PW is the bible of the book industry and getting a mass market paperback reviewed (when one isn’t a huge name, and I’m not) is quite a coup:

The story's premise: artificially engineered creatures with razor-sharp claws and bodies covered in wriggling “energy worms” have gone rogue, dispersing across solar systems to breed and kill. It's up to alien soldiers like Lt. Jorie Mikkalah, essentially high-tech humans from another planet, to disable them. Jorie's search leads her to present-day Earth, where she must outsmart a glut of zombies holed up in Florida and rely on whip-smart detective Theo Petrakos for a base of operations, a convenient cover and a steady stock of “glorious” peanut butter. The narrative bounces easily from zombie attack to a visit with Theo's matchmaking neighbor, from military strategizing to tender moments between Theo and Jorie. This strange mesh of elements, held together by Sinclair's strong characterizations and methodical plotting, makes the book an unexpected treat. Though it may prove too light for sci-fi enthusiasts, fans of romance and fantasy hunting for edgier fare can stop singing the blues.(Dec.) – PUBLISHER’S WEEKLY 10/1/2007

~Linnea


PS: Happy 27th Anniversary to my real life hero, Robert Bernadino

Cherry Picking

My real reason for blogging is to test the "Ping", however, since writing "Test" is too boring, I do have something useful to say.

Susan Kearney, one of the alien romance authors on this blog, will be one of my "Crazy Tuesday" guests on October 2nd, 10 am to noon, on my chaotic, unscripted "authors blogging aloud" show, talking about her book video for Kiss Me Deadly with Tammie King of Night Owl Romances.

Other authors with book videos will also chat about theirs, and I will hope for an opportunity to mention my own alien romances videos in passing.

http://www.nightowlromance.com/nightowlromance/BookFlicks/bfclip.asp?FlickId=12

Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry

His Preposterously huge Highness (answers to Kimberley's questions)

What authors inspired the contributors the most?

I am by nature a contrarian. If you tell me I can't do something, I want to prove you wrong. If you tell me I am sure to like
someone (or her book), I'll bend over backwards not to do so..... (and vice-versa)

Contrarian is probably a banker's euphemism for a grumpy old woman!

I started writing in 1991. Without intending any offense to anyone, and with the obvious exceptions of Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Orson Scott Card, Tom Clancy, Arthur Hailey, Georgette Heyer, Terry Pratchett, Harry Harrison, Agatha Christie, Jo Beverley, George Orwell (aka Eric Blair), JRR Tolkein, William Shakespeare, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Robert Browning, and Jane Austen.... I don't think I'll name those thoroughly moderns who inspired me because they did so in the sense of "(expletive deleted) I could do better than that" to borrow a David Bowie line.

Of course, looking back on my unpublished self-confidence, I am appalled at myself, but I'd probably never have started if I didn't imagine that I could meet the standard.

By the way, I rather liked David Bowie's music and Ziggy Stardust persona. I also liked a great deal of what is now called Classic Rock, but which I might call Sci-Fi Romance rock... Fleetwood Mac, especially Stevie Nicks's music, Deep Purple, Pink Floyd, Cream, The Doors, the Rolling Stones, Jethro Tull, and many more.

My natural inclination might have been to write Historicals, but I went off that idea when my British respect for my betters rebelled at a few novels I encountered in which real historical figures were created villains, and in one notable case given yard-and-a-half long masculine genitalia and a penchant for misplacing it. Besides which, all the best titles of nobility which cunningly suggested that the hero had a perpetual hard-on had already been used... by several authors.

So, I created my own divided and dysfunctional ans sexually insatiable royal family and set them in outer space, and built a world for them starting with a sun, and an uninhabitable planet (a gas giant... because my sense of humor is low) and its moon.




definition of Science Fiction Romance and related sub-genres.

I prefer the term speculative romance, and I think of it as anything that comes under the Paranormal umbrella but which does not involve ghosts, vampires (unless they are aliens), zombies (ditto), Time Travel (unless to do with the Twin paradox), magic.... There must be an explanation for the happenings, even if it is highly creative, as in The Physics of Star Trek or The Science of Star Wars (or whatever the real titles were).

What are the absolute must-do conventions? Introduce the Hero before the Villain? Happily Ever After?


If you tell me there is a rule, I want to break it. In MATING NET, I introduced the villain first. He's an arrogant, sexy hunk. Maybe he isn't really the villain. He's the hero's identical twin, and he is the one who causes all the problems. Of course, that meant that New York was not ready for Djohn Kronos. I won't necessarily have sex on page 90, either, or whatever page it was once supposd to be. However, I will not mess with a happy ending, a happily ever after. Once my hero and heroine make a commitment to one another, they stay together... so far.


What do most have in common?

I think we all do more research than most readers might appreciate, we all respect our readers' intelligence, we all write thought-provoking material. We're all pretty enlightened and well read.


When did SFR become a recognized sub-genre?

I'm not a Historian of the genre. I'm not sure it is recognized. There still seems to be some confusion whether some of us are placed in the Romance or Sci Fi aisles. There's no confusion in my case. If my book is not certifiably Romance, I get to rewrite it until it is.


When did this happen and who led the way?

I think the way is still being led.


Who were the pioneers?

I like to think some of those on this blog are, also a number of the members of the SFWA chapter.


Thank you for some great questions, Kimberley!