End of 2024 Review

The year 2024 has been a year of regrets, I regret to say. Regrets for things I didn't do; for things I did do but perhaps shouldn't have; for things I said and failed to say; for looking back far too much; for not getting that time machine built.

This has been one of the most difficult years I've had since my toddler years when much was not actually my fault. A lot happened. Some good, some not so good. I'll try to keep it light for the holiday season.

I began the year in the dark weeks of winter by deciding to move to a new residence out of spite for the changes the management made during the previous year (after I signed the lease). My new place was more in-town, a mere 3 miles south of the old place, was of a more traditional style. So far, it has been comfortable - but my neighbors changed and now I have loud talkers below me. I don't complain much because at least they are not loud music buffs.

I settled in and returned to working on whatever the latest book was, putting off unpacking for when the muses insisted on napping. Spring came over the land and I noticed. Didn't do anything, but I noticed. Had thoughts of this summer's road trip. Studied maps. 

Next I helped my daughter move. That is: sell a big house and buy a small house. Then the truck and the lifting and the carrying. You know the drill. That stressed me enough that I had to be checked out by my newest doctors. I say newest because I had moved here two years earlier upon retirement and had to switch from doctors in the old location in another state. Plus the hassle of setting up various government programs designed to keep paying taxes for as long as possible. So far, so good as I arrived at the summer. I was put back together and sent on my way. No road trip.

I decided to take it easy the rest of the year, relax and let the world come to me. I've actually accomplished that goal. In fact, I still have not finished unpacking since I moved in to this new home. I think about it. Instead, I get up, do some writing, check the socials, run errands as needed, take a nap, get up and watch TV, get dinner, watch YouTube videos or a movie or write more, then read and go to bed. An easy schedule. A simple life.

Next I shall elaborate on my writing during the year. If you've read about this topic in previous blog posts, that's fine. Thanks. I still urge you to read on; the grammar is better this time.

Professionally (if I may use the term for a non-paid vocation), I managed to complete Book 4 in my Flu Season series. I'd thought a trilogy was enough to hang my hat on - my third trilogy, achieving the trifecta! Yet another book idea kept pushing into my head until I had to write it in order to stop the noise. Book 4: THE BOOK OF DAD continues the misadventures of one of the family members as he suffers through the 'Ideal Society' of the capital after the pandemic years and civil war have passed. The theme is about truth, what it is and how it can be so easily corrupted - as he learns from Big Sister. Appropriately, THE BOOK OF DAD launched on Father's Day.

By that publication date, I had already started yet another book in the series, calling Book 4 a sequel to the trilogy. However, starting Book 5 forced me to see the continuing project as a new trilogy. This new book is narrated by the daughter of the main character of Book 4. It is a lighter story with an emphasis on music as a vital aspect of human experience, lost during the previous reconstruction era. In Book 5: THE GRANDDAUGHTER, a simple country girl living out west in this post-everything world decides to start a kids band in her little town. But she is noticed through some music events and rises to a full musical career. I often call this story a remake of the musical The Music Man but with a post-apocalyptic Western setting. THE GRANDDAUGHTER launched in September.

What does a pair of books need to become a trilogy? 

Yes, by then, I had started what I expect to be the final volume in the Flu Season Saga: THE GRANDSONS. As of this blog posting, this novel is, by my estimation, roughly half finished. It is a complex book using a frame story. We begin in the "present" of the story which is 15 years after the end of Book 5. Then we slip back in time to reveal what has been happening to the characters during that 15 year span. Finally, we arrive again at the book's present time and, having now learned all that happened, the concluding chapters are poignant and a fitting conclusion to the entire six-book series. When all is said and done, we are well into the future and on the way to connecting with my vampire series and my epic fantasy novel. Book 6: THE GRANDSONS should launch in fall 2025 if all goes well.

The end of the year is always a quiet time. I'm not much for lavish parties although I attend them sometimes. Not a fan of loud celebrations. Not much for the religious devotions yet still appreciate the music. That's just not me. Been that way most of my life. I prefer periods of quiet reflection. That often leads to a list of regrets. Thinking over what I've done, what I've witnessed through the year, and what could've been done better - not that I can go back and fix anything. I might be able to rewrite some things as fiction, a better version of the truth.

At this stage of my life, I make few plans. Other than finish the book mentioned above - and I have no plans to start another following it, although I have a couple manuscripts in unfinished condition I might take another look at - I will hopefully awaken each day and only then make a decision what to do. Then another decision as the day blossoms. Then another. Hard to say. It's something to do.

I wish you all the happiest of holidays now passed, and a better new year in 2025 than any past year!

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(C) Copyright 2010-2024 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

Year of the Tiger (2022)

Welcome to the Year of the Tiger in the Lunar / Chinese calendar! 

It promises to be a whole lot better than that awful Rat year we went through. I, for one, am looking forward to a much better experience than what I paid for in 2021 or 2020. (Yes, I feel a bit cheated.) I also want to remind you of my action adventure novel which is titled, not ironically, YEAR OF THE TIGER.

Although published in 2020, when I wondered if I would make it to the actual year in 2022, it remains a classic in my eyes and in the eyes of that tiger who serves as co-protagonist with the human he torments. 

In brief, our hero seems to share the same mind with a tiger (don't ask me how; it's explained in the book) and to rid himself of that awkward feature he plans to go to India and kill that tiger - that one particular tiger.

But first, he must escape from the mental institution he's been put in - because of his tiger hallucinations, obviously. He gets a young nurse to help him, then they run away to solve his problem. 

But other people have problems to solve, too. The doctor who helped put him in the mental institution fears he will tell all. The big game hunter will come out of retirement one more time to kill a man-eater. And the tiger, on a trek to kill the two humans who brutally killed his mate. Who will live through the final climactic scene?

Way back when, I first wrote a short story, which I expanded into a screenplay, which I then worked from to craft a full-length novel, then revised for years until I believed it was ready. Now, with the YEAR OF THE TIGER here at last, it is the perfect time to join the hunt!

You can read more about the journey from my initial idea to this finished novel here, and also here.

Wishing you the best that tigerdom has to offer this year!

Read more about the Year of the Tiger (the calendar) here.

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(C) Copyright 2010-2022 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

The Year's End of Kind of a Review

There comes a time in every blogger's life when the blogging is easy, and that time is known as the Year End Review or some variation on that topic. You simply recount everything you have done, and/or blogged about, during the year. It's a chance to rewrite history or boast on yourself, or perhaps humbly beg for more readers.

For me, this has been a difficult year - and yet I have persisted, keeping my claws locked in the edge of the cliffs time and time again. Fortunately, my actual life and my writing life have coincided strangely. When I don't feel well, my protagonist has difficulties, too. When something goes right for me, my hero has a good day, too. It's eerie how that alter ego keeps me going. But I suspect many writers role play a happier life (or, at least, a more invigorating life) through the fictional personas they create. Am I right? Am I?

So 2018 began for me with the finishing of the second volume of my vampire trilogy. Any Book 2 of a trilogy exists because something was not addressed in Book 1. And Book 3 follows automatically once the decision has been made to take the plunge into a 2nd volume after a so-called stand-alone novel fails to wrap up one or two crucial issues. So I did that, and launching Book 2 of the Stefan Szekely Trilogy was a pleasant diversion from the run of the mill runs around that old mill.

But seriously, then Book 3 stared me straight in the face, demanding what I would do for an encore. I said, "Here, hold my Merlot goblet." And promptly ratcheted up the rhetoric and the horror. For what could be more horrible that to be forced to commit evil every day lest you be punished? Everyone hates you for that daily act of evil yet you must do it or those around you whom you care for will suffer. It's an unpleasant conundrum. How to escape from this situation? Ah hah! And so Book 3 was born and shall be available soon enough (yet not so soon that you wouldn't have time to read Books 1 and 2 first). As with previous years, I went to China to teach a class in the summer and spent a lot of my free time alone in my hotel room typing away on the latest book. 

Besides the day job, that is what has occupied my time and attention for the bulk of the year. Except for the NaNo - the National Novel Writing Month - which I elected to indulge in by finally writing my autobiography. You know: finally a chance to write down all those little anecdotes you remember being told about when you were a baby or a toddler, and the adventures you remember from your elementary school days, and the first inkling of puppy love in junior high school.... Oh dear! I sense I'm getting into "spoiler" territory so I must cease. Well, it remains unfinished, as most good autobiographies are until the author ends it with a good whack or a doctor's note.

So what else did I do in 2018? You can look back through the blog posts of this year, down by count from previous years. As mentioned in a blog post or two, on too many occasions, when I planned to post a light-hearted entry about nothing important at all, something horrible would happen in the real world and my blog post seemed even more frivolous, so I did not post. I don't think the problem was my posts but, rather, the things people do to each other. What work of fiction can stand up to the reality we often face every day? It almost makes the writing of fiction a delicate luxury: a place to hide, or an escape into a mental landscape - which is good for a time, yes, but should not be a permanent condition.

Alas, as with every end of the year, the optimist I keep in my shirt pocket pops out his little head and grins precociously as if certain the new year will be nothing but merriment and mirth. I wish always to agree. And yet, as we so well know, it may not be. In each of our corners of the world, or in our own little neighborhood, try to take care of each other, share stories, be less suspicious and ready to wield weapons. Talk - for that was the reason the great Rhetoric was invented. Words are not sticks and stones; they're made of phonemes, which are soft and squishy and slide right off us unless we pin them to ourselves.

"Good night and have a pleasant tomorrow." 

-Weekend Update sign-off, Saturday Night Live

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(C) Copyright 2010-2018 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

A New Year Full of Blogging?

Well, it seems it's finally that time of year again! Time for the new semester to begin, mere hours away, for I am, as close followers of this blog may recall, one of those of the teacherly persuasion. And, thus, the new semester dawns once more.

Sure, I had the usual holiday/slash/winter break but it is never enough to recover from a fall semester which, as usual,is filled with mountains of papers to grade and lessons to prepare and conduct. All part of the plan, of course. I have accepted that plan. After all, teaching writing is the second best thing I know how to do. Writing itself would be the first best thing, by my humble estimation. However, even those marks may seem pale compared to many other writers' marks which I have encountered in my life. Nevertheless....

I like to begin a blog year with a reintroduction. To those who know everything already, I beg your indulgence. 

This blog has no real rhyme or reason to it; it is more often than not the musings which come into my head and go out through my fingertips willy-nilly. On occasion, I endeavor to offer some writing advice, some technique examples, discussions of grammar issues, or similar authorical esoterica. At other times, I will update blog followers on my latest writing efforts or publishing achievements. I may wax poetic on the woes of me whenever the mood strikes me. Sometimes I may have a guest blogger or share someone else's news or book. I may, if you are the lucky few, also bore you will my various travel adventures.

First, you will note the name of this blog. What could it possibly mean? The DeConstruction of the Sekuatean Empire? When I first hammered this blog from hell's own fire and brimstone, I had in mind a place to post the "back material" for THE DREAM LAND Trilogy. Because the trilogy is set partly on another world, the chief political entity of that world, known as the Sekuatean Empire, becomes a focal point. Hence, the title of this blog would make sense: taking apart the history, geography, culture and customs of the place where much of the action of the story occurs. However, as time has progressed, other books have come to the forefront which have nothing to do with Sekuate or its hard-working rebels.

You will also note the list of book titles with convenient hyperlinks in the upper right corner of this blog page. They are not simple decoration but actually serve as keys that open doors to my dementia. Experience them and be enlightened forever more! Or, at the least, be entertained. My writing strives to enfold profound truths of the human condition within pages of action and adventure, liberally marbled with sex and romance and sprinkled with haughty pontifications and jokes best left on the cutting room floor. That sounds a lot like a warning, doesn't it? But it's all in jest. I can assure you that 99.9% of the words are spelled correctly and good grammar is always in use - except for the dialog of those characters who have not been well-educated and then only for the sake of authenticity.

Behold my current cache of verbiage: everything from serious literary introspective relationship drama to exciting sci-fi/ steampunk/ interdimensional adventure or contemporary action/adventure with romantic themes, to the semi-biography of an Inuit orphan girl. I've also delved into the horror genre with a vampire novel (soon to be a trilogy). For further information, click on a book link to the upper right of this blog page. Thanks.

To update you now, I am working on the revision of the sequel to my vampire novel, A Dry Patch of Skin (2014). Approaching the end of the story, I realized the possibilities for further adventure, thus creating a trilogy. This vampire trilogy focuses on medically accurate vampirism and, with Book 1 set in 2013-14, Book 2 and 3 will necessarily be set in the future - 2027-28 and 2099-2100, respectively. I expect Book 2, titled Sunrise, will be out this year (aka 2018). Book 3 will be titled Sunset, which seemed appropriate.

Furthermore, I strive to post a new entry once a week, all the better to take advantage of Twitter hashtags (@StephenSwartz1) such as #SundayBlogShare, #MondayBlogs, #TuesdayShares, #Wednesdayblogs, and #Blogorama. I do not hold to this schedule religiously, however - as this month's fare will attest. But I try. You know how life tends to interfere with your best intentions? It's doubly so for writers and teachers. Worse yet if one is both a writer and a teacher. But I'm not complaining. Not really.

In keeping with a "best practices" model of book promotion, I shall attempt to keep blatant marketing efforts to a minimum - except when something new is launched. As always, I expect followers of this blog to read everything I produce and go forth to gather all their family members and friends, coworkers, and just about everyone they encounter in their daily lives, and make them also followers of this blog, readers of these books, and all-around nice people who live to love and love to live, helping all of us enjoy this wonderful world we occupy and yet still be prepared to battle the interstellar aliens who will invade us circa 2345. Or not. The choice is yours, as always. But I have high hopes for you.

Thanks for your attention to these matters. Now carry on making the world a better place for me. And I shall return the favor!

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(C) Copyright 2010-2018 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

The Year That Wasn't

This is the first year in which I realize I am getting old. There have been other years in which I felt old. Or I could imagine getting old in an esoteric, quasi-philosophical sense. But this year - finally- I know it's happening. And I'm not much impressed with this development.

You see, I'm used to living my life in five-year plans much like the Communist parties of Russia and China used to do. You have a goal and five years to achieve it. Mine went a bit differently, however. I had a goal and muddled around for five years until I needed to come up with a new goal. So each period of five years has seemed to be a life in and of itself, with no ties to the future or to my own mortality. I have always assumed - based on this pattern - that I would simply start again, start a new plan. And that seemed to work - until this year.

I am in year eight of the current plan. There is no end in sight. I have passed the post, left the farm, and have no more fodder for renewing myself. The best I can do is write a story in which I can play for a time as a fictional character. It helps ward off the morbid thoughts that come at night, when the house is silent and the shadows deep. Then I worry about vampires, which have not been a concern until recently.

No, this year started all right, as most years do, full of joy and positivity, resolutions and such. Then things started to happen. Some good, most bad. This was not a model year, which is one reason I feel the turn has occurred for me. No more five-year plans.

It was easy enough to launch an epic fantasy novel involving dragons. That was in March, when dragons hatch. It was also delightful to teach a course on Romantic Literature. Both helped remind me of my youth, my origins in fantasy, both reading and writing. I remembered that I was a Romantic at heart. Yes, I knew it intellectually, but in my spirit I needed reminding. Returning to the works of poetry and prose which matched and fired up my spirit gave me new life. I soared! I wrote silly poetry again. I wanted to fall in love once more, one last time.

Then summer came and all manner of obstacles to moving forward were thrown up at me. But I got to China, taught the class on business writing, still filled with that Romantic spirit. Life was good. Especially including a former student of mine turned dear friend (code name: Maria). I returned home still filled with that delight, still soaring. I had high hopes. I could make a new five-year plan - despite my true age. Then it all came crashing down.

Throughout the year, I've posted blogs about all sorts of things. Many times when I've been about to post a blog full of silly trivial topics, something awful has happened in the world. The usual suspects: man-made violence or natural disasters. With so much reality in our consciousness it seemed pointless, even counterproductive, to post a blog about, say, writing tips, when people had lost loved ones, lost property, didn't know where their next five-year plan would go. 

Often I posted a blog, feeling cheery, only to have the news report of something awful later the same day. I began to be leery of posting any blog until I checked the news reports. This year, it has seemed that far too many weekends have contained awful events - to the point where I felt like giving up. If every time I try to post a blog about something stupid, going for humor, something truly terrible happens, then maybe I'm the jinx.

Well, it's been a few weekends with nothing worse happening than my football team extending their losing streak. So I'm blogging again. About blogging. The obvious topic. In fact, many bloggers recommend blogging about blogging when you can't think of anything to blog about.

Did I mention hurricanes? This year featured three big ones and finally - finally! - it involved me. My parents' home is/was near the beach in Texas when Harvey the Hurricane came to visit. Dealing with that clean-up (on-going) and taking care of my elderly parents (they have long accepted their ages) has ruined what should have been a continuation of my summer delight. My five-year plan is ruined. It lays in tatters now. And finally, seeing these two old people relying on me shows me - in a show-don't-tell mantra we writers like to repeat - that I am heading there, too.

I am a couple weeks away from instigating my first ever ten-year plan. If I should live that long. However, I don't know what will happen beyond the first month. I have no resolutions - never have, actually, but I like to say the word. I hope to launch the sequel to my 2014 vampire novel in the spring, so I suppose I will then start writing the third book so I can call it a trilogy. And I'm scheduled to teach a course in World Literature, which again should lift my intellectual spirits. I think I will return to China, as well, for perhaps the last time. I will drink more coffee and consume less ice cream. It is a plan.


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(C) Copyright 2010-2017 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

The Year End Review

Dear Blog Readers,

As another year comes to a close, I like to sit back and let loose several well-deserved sighs and reflect on what the past twelve months have wrought. It is often an uncomfortable process, a cruel exercise in profundity, yet I vow to press on knight-errant-like and achieve my goal of faithful absolution.

One year ago I could sit back and feel blessed, having survived a year fraught with obstacles, hassles, and expected stressors. There were worries about family issues, career moves, health concerns, and as always the stories to write. Yet nothing bad happened. With a full line-up of events seemingly designed to disrupt my peace, I got through them with relative ease. I counted myself lucky. After all, I had a new book out, A Girl Called Wolf, and felt proud of how well I had managed to translate a real person's life into a fictionalized account. And through that, I made a new friend.

This year, with far fewer dramatic turns expected, I expected an easier time, as well. That turned out to be true, thankfully. You see, what troubles there were were mere mole hills against the mountain of life. Though I immersed myself in writing, alighting upon the keyboard for hours at a time, consuming only drinks of lemon and lime, I have not managed to get the big book published within this calendar year. Oh, dear! I put down 198,000 words on my hero's quest, let him meet many an interesting guest, then crafted a novella of 37,000 words about a little princess. Then I merged them together for the win--yes! Whether or not that works well, I'll leave for the reader to tell. That does not mean the year was a total loss, only that as my own boss I have been exceedingly busy yet not particularly dizzy despite all I've had to do. That's still good, true?

In my life, the years ending with 1 or 6 have tended to be jinx years, so I've held my breath as best I could for most of the weeks in 2016. I stayed focused and kept my nose clean. I expected the worst yet I was cursed with bad rhymes at times. In other ways the days were full of dragon slays, which was the focus of my novel, indeed, a challenge to sense and sensibility, wherein I placed my hero in harm's way. That is to say, I accepted said challenge and struck forth with verve. Indeed! What nerve! I kept straight to the plot and did not swerve--not much, anyway, or so I say. And now it sits on the 'forthcoming' shelf leaving me a waiter, and sooner rather than later, it shall be available to dragonslayer admirers everywhere.

This coming year is certain to be the best yet, as each step brings us closer and closer to death. It may not be a wholesome thought, but as they say here and there, until you do arrive you have arrived not. So make haste with your dire plans! And speak well of those that flitter through your life. Bickering, whickering--shall we end such strife? For they that tarry and hound you may spend eternity seated next to you, and you just might be given the middle seat on Afterlife Airlines. Funny how there are no security lines! I can end this year full of merriment and mirth because I am now further on from my birth than I ever was before--and that's nothing to ignore! The older you become, the more you feel glum.

So smile if you can, if that is your plan, each and every day. And by the way, read books despite their looks, for what is a cover worth? If that's not your turf, then peruse inside, let the words abide, then read on until the hero has died. For I can tell you with near certainty, that all protagonists die in the end, whether the end comes by the last page or somewhere beyond. Or, if you're not fond of an end past the last page, some advice that's sage, is to never reach the final line. Not until it's your time. Save the end for another day and crack open a new book and have a new look. That's the sure way! 

And now I take leave to sleep and perchance to dream of the coming year and all I fear. I shall hope for more of the open door, stepping through to pleasures unbound. You see, I've found that the more one expects good, and one certainly should, the more we might enjoy a new, sacred toy, and every day see whatever can be, what we might call 'possibility'! May you and yours have many delights, minimal fights, and safe flights, and I shall strive for the same. I know it's lame, but it seems I can dabble in babble at the drop of a hat. How about that? I'd better end this now, take a bow, and say goodnight. After all, it will too soon be midnight.

Happy Holidays! 

And books make great gifts!

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(C) Copyright 2010-2016 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

A New Year Yawns

Well, it seems it's finally that time of year again. Time for the new semester to begin, for I am, as close followers of this blog may recall, one of those of the teacher persuasion. And, thus, the new semester dawns once more. Or should I say a new year yawns?

Sure, I had the holiday/slash/winter break but it is never enough to recover from a fall semester, as usual, filled with mountains of papers to grade and lessons to prepare and conduct. All part of the plan, of course. And I have accepted that plan. After all, teaching writing is the second best thing I know how to do. Writing itself would be the first best thing. However, even those marks may seem pale compared to many others' marks I have encountered in my life. Nevertheless....

I like to begin a blog year with a reintroduction. To those who know everything already, I beg your indulgence. 

This blog has no real rhyme or reason to it; it is more often than not the musings which come into my head and go out my fingertips willy-nilly. On occasion, I endeavor to offer some writing advice, some technique examples, discussions of grammar issues, or similar authorical esoterica. At other times, I will update blog followers on my latest writing efforts or publishing achievements. I may wax poetic on the woes of me whenever the mood strikes me down. Sometimes I will have a guest blogger or share someone else's news or book.

First, you will note the name of this blog. What could it possibly mean? The DeConstruction of the Sekuatean Empire? When I first hammered this blog from hell's own fire and brimstone, I had in mind a place to post the "back material" for THE DREAM LAND Trilogy. Because the trilogy is set in part on another world, the political entity known as the Sekuatean Empire becomes a focal point. Hence, the title of this blog would make sense: taking apart the history, geography, culture and customs of the place where much of the action of the story occurs. However, as time has progressed, other works came to the forefront which had nothing to do with Sekuate or its hard-working rebels.

North and South Sekuate, c. 1481 GP

You will also note the list of book titles with convenient hyperlinks in the upper right corner of this blog page. They are not mere decoration but serve as keys that open doors to my dementia. Experience them and be enlightened forever more! Or, at the least, be entertained. My writing strives to enfold profound truths of the human condition within pages of action and adventure, liberally marbled with sex and romance and sprinkled with pontifications and jokes best left on the cutting room floor. That sounds a lot like a warning, doesn't it? But it's all in jest. I can assure you that 99.9% of the words are spelled correctly and good grammar is always in use==except for the dialog of those characters who have not been well-educated and then only for the sake of authenticity.

To update you now, I am working (more or less) on the revision of my National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) book, a science-fiction tale of the little alien who could, working titled THE MASTERS' RIDDLE. I have no timetable for its completion but I am beginning to enjoy working on it, rather than cranking out pages to win the NaNoWriMo contest--which I did at 55,555 words. In addition, I still want to get two previously written novels up to snuff and made available this coming year: AIKO, a love story/murder mystery set in 1980s Japan, and YEAR OF THE TIGER, an action adventure tale about hunting a man-eating tiger, set in 1986.  

Furthermore, I strive to post a new entry once a week, all the better to take advantage of such Twitter hashtag threads as #MondayBlogs. I do not hold to this schedule religiously, however--as this month's fares will attest. But I try. You know how life tends to interfere with your best intentions. Doubly so for writers and teachers. Worst yet if one is both a writer and a teacher. But I'm not complaining.

In keeping with a "best practices" model of book promotion, I shall attempt to keep blatant marketing efforts to a minimum--except when something new is being launched. As always, I expect followers of this blog to read everything I produce and go forth to gather all their family members and friends, coworkers and just about everyone they encounter in their daily lives, and make them also followers of this blog, readers of these books, and all-around nice people who live to love and love to live, helping all of us enjoy this wonderful world we occupy and yet still be prepared to battle the interstellar aliens who will invade us circa 2345. Or not. The choice is yours, as always. But I have high hopes for you.

Thanks for your attention to these matters. Now carry on making the world a better place for me. And I shall return the favor!

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(C) Copyright 2010-2015 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

Is this the year for you?

(I seriously doubt it's for me.)

2015. There. I said it.  (Actually, I wrote it.)

And so it begins: another year of the blogging virus. Will any of us survive?

On Saturday, I felt a pang in my side. A pang is non-descript, a physical sensation that has no physical cause. A chimera, a mystery, a riddle wrapped in flimsy flesh. But I felt it.

The pang expanded, filled my torso until I almost could not breathe. For a few precious moments I thought that was the end for me, the beginning of not-me, my doppelganger. I checked my daily nutritional consumption to investigate the nature of what may have prompted the pang. I considered events of recent days, dismissing each of them summarily as unlikely causes.

I thought it best to rest, so I laid down. (Grammarians need not be concerned, at this point, for I actually did open a bag of duck feathers and spread them around on the floor.) I was already near the floor, you see, so I took my leisure there, close to the undercarriage of society, and there did I nap.

A resurgent pang awoke me, however, called me to rise and rise I did, like the morning sun in the land of the morning calm. Suddenly, I knew the source of my pang. Regret. It's always about regret. Usually somewhere in the plural. Regrets. And there would be more: a year's worth of them, surely.

The little bird outside, robinesque in its twittering, clenching firmly the bending, bouncing twig, dared suggest that a new day had finally dawned, and so I yawned. Already it was year 2015 on the standard calendar. Such an artificial construct! And I wondered: how had I managed, despite myself, to have reached this date? 

I recalled sometime in year 1984 wondering how I could have possibly reached that date, given all I knew or had done (or not done). At the time, I felt as though I had been blessed by a fistful of free hamburger coupons. That exuberance had caused me to reflect deeply on 1975 and the severe dismay I had felt for so many of those months. Much worse than 1962 when all I worried about were toys. Then, in 1999, I again faced the dark abyss and considered whether or not I could make that leap of faith and land sure-footed on the good side of Y2K. (I did.)

And then year 2004 and year 2008 came and went with much hurrah and much sighing, like any good matinee down at the multiplex. Luck of the draw. Everything begins and ends, after all, and you hardly ever see the smoke and the mirrors behind the dog and pony show. You see what you want to see and you get what you pay for. What comes free is always of questionable vintage. The peanuts are free, of course. And the can of soda, too--unless you sit in Business class. There the wine is free.

In fact, this entire holiday period seems drawn from a deep dream. For reason which still remain hidden, I gathered myself into a long box and later awoke and climbed out of that box, rather vampire-like in my proclivities and mannerisms if not for my skin condition. That is not quite how I wished to be, you must understand, but there I was: an automaton driven forth through the streets of some large foreign city, perpetually lost, always on guard and mute, unclear as to my destination. It was a nightmare but without the horse.

It seemed as though I was taken to a temple high on a mountainside and for a brief moment I believed I would be given the opportunity to leap off the top and fly, fly, fly away home. But no, not that. It's never that simple. Instead, the sordid experiments began and for several days there was no technology allowed but for the glasses I always wore. No clothes or shoes, either, only a thin robe and straw sandals. And winter had come. The food was rice and cabbage, and boiled tofu if I was behaving myself. And tea. Lots of tea. But no Q & A. LOL was swiftly punished.

Thus I did not speak, only listened; nobody was saying anything anyway. The world was reduced to birdsong, wind, heartbeats, and the disconcerting creaks of tired timbers along the floor I traversed from morning chant to afternoon meditation to evening sleep. After a couple days, I thought I was imagining everything, as though it were all a dream within a dream within a fortune cookie within a snowball set somewhere safe yet sullen. I was a muffin without a paper wrapper. And coffee was far, far away.

Then the curse broke and I was flying--yes, at long last, like a scrawny, half-starved bird, wax wings holding tight, soaring high to the ancient castle on the top of another, better mountain. And there I was hooked by long talons and wrestled inside through a latticed portal, placed on a davenport of Naugahyde and made to chirp my cute English words as though I were an expert. Or someone's prized pet. Occasionally I would be given a tasty treat. Mostly, I listened, for there was much I did not understand.

Not sure what exactly happened--though fairly certain it was not quite a dream (surely not a sleeping one, that is), but I nevertheless hold out for the possibility that I could have been fully conscious yet simply unaware of what was unfolding and refolding around me, so Laundromat-like in its efficiency, as it were--I chose to accept all of it. Indeed, what else could I do? 

And now the waking dream comes to an end--as all realities must at the start of a new page, the first of many: pages filled line by line with regrets, or the occasional cross-out of things that surprisingly went well, day by day. The earth still turns, still bleeds, still crow-caws, and humor is a rare delicacy. But now the pillows have burst, the clocks have been smashed, and the ringing of the school bell awaits. I shun reality like fermented bean paste mixed through with whole dried minnows and a side of kimchi. Because I can. Because I must. Because there is pizza.

If I somehow make it to year 2016, it will be only because of you: my invisible, semi-fictitious, semi-delicious companions on the rocky road to somewhere muffin-warm and marshmallow-soft, sweet and sour like breaded chicken cubes, a rare respite akin to real retirement in the rustic inn along the narrow side of the road, just beneath that crooked, towering mountain covered with ice and snow, and the precariously poised stones tilting there, ready to fall from its heights. Yes, that one. 

We are all in it together. Let's make the most of our fresh set of downs!

BTW, FYI, Year of the Lamb!

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(C) Copyright 2010-2015 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

Behold: a New Year yawns!

Welcome to the first blog post of this new year of 2014 --at least on one particular variety of calendar. The numbers are, as they have always been, rather arbitrary, anyway. I trust you and yours and theirs (and perhaps ours) had a satisfactory year past and are fully recharged and plugged in to the latest of technological socialization media, ready to honor thy corporate sponsors as any good consuming citizen should. Ah, such a turn of hours! We are not amused.

In any case, the first thing to communicate after the obligatory New Year greeting ("Hi, hope your year goes splendidly for you and no bad things happen!"), is the necessity to log into one's blog frequently enough that the blogger does not forget the log-on information. I have succeeded, apparently. Lucky guess. Blessed be the Post-It notes stuck inside the printer unit.

Now, how to begin a new year that is still fresh enough to be full of promise and potential? 

I could outline plans to publish and market the next volume of the Dream Land series. [Ooo, but I did that already! Yes, THE DREAM LAND trilogy is fully mature and available for Kindle and paperback via the great Amazon marketplace.] What more could be needed? I suppose I could start packing on miscellaneous information about the worlds and their cultures and languages, as aids to readers. 

Or I could blog relentlessly about events in the real world. But I am certain you all get far too much of the real world. I have no doubt that from me you expect to get fantasy, or as it is often called, virtual reality. Perhaps I could make the claim that the real world is, in fact, fantasy and vice-versa. It's the vice-verse which ultimately thrills us.

As the new year begins in the spring on Ghoupallesz--as it also did in ancient times on Earth when the zodiac system came to fruition--we can look forward to fertility rituals and fecundity of natural productivity. The start of the baseball season also comes to mind. Three strikes and flying balls. Everyone full of joy of vivre. Certainly there is no winter to be concerned about there.

However, as the planet Ghoupallesz does not tilt to the same degree the Earth does, the seasons are not as varied as they are on Earth in the temperate zones. Hence, the northern latitudes see less change in the summer and temperate zones tend to stay similar across half the year. There is autumn country and there is spring country. Unfortunately for those affected, there is also winter country and in desert areas also some kind of a summerland.

As for the real world (Ye shall know it by thy tax burden!), it remains varied as usual, neither immersed in the depths of a raging winter nor squeaking by with a mild, late autumn sensibility. Spring flourishes ever onward. And I, the humble blogger, shall find worthy topics of breadth and depth and width and height about which to muse rapturously and thusly share them forthwith to all. 

I love the smell of purple prose verbosity in the morning, don't you? 

Until next time, do be sure to make a tally and assure that you have not lost more than a bare minimum of your annual allotment of jelly beans. The seven gods and nine goddesses would not be pleased.


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(C) Copyright 2010-2014 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.