I spent the day cleaning, and just realized I hadn’t posted. So sorry.
I try to spend the first and last day of the year doing what I hope the year will bring, but this year I needed to clean the depression of 2020 which had a lot of things piled everywhere because no spoons.
Depression is self perpetuating. So, give yourself a good shake, and enter 2021 as well as you can because we’re going to survive this. We’re going to turn this b*tch around.
My house is clean, I’m going to make dinner for my husband and resident son, including a bunch of gnoshing stuff. And then I’m going to work on the almost-done novel while we watch a few movies (I multi-task.)
You guys take care, give the black dog a kick. We will figure this out, we will save or revive our country. And we will not take any guff from anybody.
It’s going to be tough, but we can handle tough. Chin up. Shoulders square. Singing “We shall overcome” is optional, but we shall anyway.
As the man said “Come on sons of rock and starvation, how long will you let the warden–“
Move it. Go in with your best game face. Mort the Wart won’t know what hit him.
Go into 2021 with your best foot, and may G-d have mercy on our souls.
(And you know oxen are kind of our spirit animal. Give them the horns, my friends, give them the horns.)
This morning, between sleep and wakening, I had a nightmare. Not a real nightmare, but one of those where all things add up.
I’ve been worried about the 6th though I don’t think anything will happen. No, not even the congress challenging elector choices.
Look, Trump is startling naive in some odd ways, perhaps because he’s really not a politician. I have no clue why he’s calling people to DC on the sixth, but it could be anything from his thinking a large enough show of force will jolt the lawmakers into acting like human beings instead of China bought bots.
Or it could be he wants to have, as someone here said “One last rally” and a farewell to his supporters, before riding off into the sunset.
I do think the most dangerous place to be on the 6th is DC. Notwithstanding which, if I could figure out HOW I’d be there.
But here’s the thing, particularly if we have a strong showing on the 6th… The left is already jumpy, and they will lose what remains of their tiny minds.
The thing in Nashville, yeah, maybe it was a Covid suicide, but…. But it stinks to high heavens, including positioning the mobile home exactly where it should be to take out phone and internet.
Perhaps it was a test run, as well as anything else. We know we can’t trust our secret services.
So, what if they take out all phone and internet on the 6th, and then claim this was Trump supporters, and that Trump is trying to effect a revolution, and they send out people to arrest all known/prominent Trump supporters (Note this probably won’t get to my level. It MIGHT, but probably won’t.)
And then in three days internet is restored, and the phone, and the story is set of the failed Trump coup. Which, of course, allows them to move on with their political cleansing program “completely justified”?
No, I don’t think any of that will work. I think if they try it, the mess resulting will probably blow against them.
But I also can see them thinking this is a viable plan. Look, they live in stories, mostly Hollywood movies. They couldn’t find reality with two hands and a seeing eye dog. And yes, they’re stupid enough to try this.
Coincidentally, and I don’t think on purpose by anyone human, the 6th is the feast of the epiphany, which makes me feel there’s more at work.
So, guys…. It’s probably just a nightmare, and I’m probably crazy, but make sure you’re okay for the necessities, and keep your clothes and weapons where we can find them in the dark.
The week after the election, I was very disappointed in an acquaintance that I both like and respect intellectually. As I was saying that if we let this election stand, the republic is gone, he said if our institutions were already corrupt enough to let this stand, the republic has been gone a long time, perhaps our whole life.
I was angry, because well…. Because I prefer people spit out the black pill. Sure, maybe the game is rigged, but as RAH put it, if you don’t bet you can’t win.
As it turns out, we were both right, but mostly wrong.
You see, I’d forgotten — as I’m sure he has too — who the sacred ruler of these United States is.
Before I go into that, let me take a detour. As most of you know, I was a bookish child raised in Europe. Well, in the romantic, daft portion of Europe, which is better and worse. Particularly in the North of Portugal, a land of mists and crazy people, legends are very important. And being a bookish child, of a fantastic disposition, and the child of a man obsessed with legends and the past, I have heard about a million variations of the “The King Comes Back” story.
Heck, one of my favorite stories growing up, consumed in every form I could find it was Robin Hood (The liberals have him all wrong. He was, quite obviously, the first tax rebel.) Though that story, as history, is a bit confused as Richard the Lion Heart had…. as they say zee issues and his brother John Lackland was actually a pretty good steward. But history written by winners, etc.
Anyway, most of “The king comes back” or “the sleeper wakens” are based on older, much older stories. It wasn’t unusual for a king to have to go away, particularly when like the king of Itaca, their kingdom was kind of small, and they plowed their own lands. I mean there was business and stuff that called the householder/king away from home and you know travel had to be hazardous in those days.
While the king was away, his servants and underlings had a merry time, and when the king came home, he had to set things back in order.
This is related of course to “the sleeper wakens” which tended to be what the stories turned into when the king didn’t come home, and the righteous subjects needed to dream of a rescue.
Most kings, of course, at least after the Neolythic were no good, and wastrels, and all that, which is why we kicked them out. Oh, there was the occasional good one, in a string of f*ckers. And unlike Heinlein I’m not convinced proper breeding would fix that. It’s not the genes, it’s the behavior and the checks on that that makes the just king. Or ruler. Or whatever the heck. Which is why I will write later on why letting the franchise slip away is a very bad thing, perhaps the worst thing. (For example, we need do no more than look at Europe which has transferred all its power to unelected bureaucrats on purpose (shakes head.))
But the important thing here is that “when the good king/responsible householder goes away/falls asleep, his servants become corrupt and abuse the people” is, as far as history is concerned day ending in y, or year ending in a number. (Or in real old times, in some kind of name.) It’s the normal course of events.
And of course, the fault is ours doubly: one, because we forgot we were the king of this land. And two, because we fell asleep.
The fault of the first is, ultimately, the education system which has been taken over for a long time by a cabal of our enemies. (And people who think themselves superior, which most teachers do, though perhaps never as unwarrantedly as in the late twentieth/early twenty first centuries, are unlikely to teach the sovereignty of the common man.) And the second, well… World War Two after the shock of the depression (More on both later) made people inexplicably believe the government was competent to look after everyone. (A good thing to consider here, is that at the time “scientific” governance was all the rage. I don’t think this myth lasts very long.) And we were prosperous. Very prosperous. We’re not the first sovereign to be lured by his pleasures and his wealth into not minding the kingdom. Fortunately it’s not irreversible.
Also, fortunately, We The People were not a dissolute king, not at bottom. Except for those “disloyal servants, who have been eating out our worth” we retained enough ability not to be tempted by the really crazy sh*t. Or at least we retained a core of horse-sense. No, we are not the hardest-working people in the world, but study after study has proven we are the most efficiently-working people in the world. We are also, despite the (willfull?) corruption of our education, quite competent, thank you. And as I pointed out in 2016, people offered a choice between a party who was screaming they’d given them things, and one candidate saying “we’ll create jobs” chose the jobs. This sovereign is not an air-dreamer, or completely out of touch with reality or his roots.
Then there is the fact that after five generations of communist indoctrination, after four intensive years of denigrating the guy who brought jobs back, after endless beat downs, starting in infancy, on how we and our country are the worst, people hunched their shoulders and voted for Trump in such numbers that the commies had to emergency-fraud (this beyond their well oiled fraud machine, or as the potted plant put it, “the most inclusive and largest fraud network”? was it?) in front of G-d and everyone to get the commies in.
This is not an addled and defeated king. This is a king who fell asleep for a while; has just woken up; is a bit confused, but is ultimately, quite capable for his duties and his throne. He’s a little disoriented now, having just woken up, over the last three years, so be patient. (These things always take longer than we expect them to!)
But in the end, the story is clear: when the good king comes home and he is GOOD — and we are, despite everything — he sets his own house in order and he prevails. (See Ulysses, Itaca, probably a codifying of much, much older stories, and a sort of prototype.)
Which means the Republic isn’t lost. Not while We The People remain. It might be temporarily mislaid, but only because we’ve been absent/asleep.
Not saying that it won’t be a little while before we take up the throne and set things to rights. (Look, the thing is that the left is daft and their minds almost virgin of history. They don’t understand that they’re a lot closer to the Nazis than to the commie regimes, and the nazis only lasted 11 years by constant invasions of other lands. Even if we wanted to take that way, we can’t. There aren’t — particularly after the covidiocy — any lands even as close to our wealth. Socialism, national or international, is a parasite, it only works by stealing from other lands. And yeah, the commies, USSR and China lasted longer but admittedly that was because our elites fed them/gave them special deals/helped them survive. And even so, they still had t parasite/steal from other lands. The other thing is that they think we are Russian barefoot peasants, or completely downtrodden Chinese. Instead they’re dealing with — by the grace of G-d — spoiled Americans, where even our lower middle class are used to, by global standards, living like kings. They/we will not take the deprivations of communism. Particularly not communism that we didn’t choose, and which can’t be fed by cannibalizing other lands.)
In other words, yeah, things might get pretty bad for a couple/three years. But in the end? The king of this land is awake and has come home. And we all know how the rest of this story goes. WE ALL KNOW.
Square your shoulders. Be not afraid. In the end, we win, they lose.
Remember you’re Americans. We The People are the sovereign of this land. We’ve been asleep, but now we’re wide awake.
*Sorry this is RIDICULOUSLY late. The day after travel is always slow, but today is exceptionally so, probably because we did a fast “cannon ball run” back home, leaving very early and arriving very late and forgetting to eat in between, and then arrived to Havelock-cat hygiene issues that HAD to be fixed before going to bed. We’re all well. Well, the constitutional republic is looking like it might die, of course, but the close family is okay. And the republic…. if it dies, doesn’t mean we stop fighting. On the contrary. So, bear with me today and tomorrow, and then we should be back on track-ish – Sarah*
BOOK PROMO
*Note these are books sent to us by readers/frequenters of this blog. Our bringing them to your attention does not imply that we’ve read them and/or endorse them, unless we specifically say so. As with all such purchases, we recommend you download a sample and make sure it’s to your taste. If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. I ALSO WISH TO REMIND OUR READERS THAT IF THEY WANT TO TIP THE BLOGGER WITHOUT SPENDING EXTRA MONEY, CLICKING TO AMAZON THROUGH ONE OF THE BOOK LINKS ON THE RIGHT, WILL GIVE US SOME AMOUNT OF MONEY FOR PURCHASES MADE IN THE NEXT 24HOURS, OR UNTIL YOU CLICK ANOTHER ASSOCIATE’S LINK. PLEASE CONSIDER CLICKING THROUGH ONE OF THOSE LINKS BEFORE SEARCHING FOR THAT SHED, BIG SCREEN TV, GAMING COMPUTER OR CONSERVATORY YOU WISH TO BUY. That helps defray my time cost of about 2 hours a day on the blog, time probably better spent on fiction. ;)*
His one chance to escape slavery could trap his brother in a terrible fate!
Jetay has been on the run with his brother for a long time, hiding his psychic powers from the evil Red Knights. Living as a slave on a star freighter, Jetay dreams of freeing himself and his brother, and of wielding his powers openly.
On a frontier planet, Lady Lanati of the Partisan Alliance seeks his help for a secret mission. It will take him across the stars to the edge of a black hole, with a Red Knight chasing him every step of the way. He might finally get a chance to use his powers for good.
But the price of that chance may be too high, putting his brother in grave danger. Can Jetay save himself and his brother without sacrificing Lanati and her friends? If he can’t find a way to save them all, the battle against evil may be over before it begins….
What lies behind a reflection? Powers have filled the world with both heroes and villains. Helen, despite her own powers, had acquired the name Sanddollar but stayed out of the fights. When the enigmatic chess masters create a mirrored world reflecting her own home and the world about it, it’s not so easy to escape. All the more in that the people of that world are a dark reflection of all those she knows.
AND DON’T FORGET, MY BOOKS ARE ON SALE TILL TUESDAY FOR 99C. (WELL, ALL THOSE I HAVE CONTROL OF. MORE OF THEM NEXT YEAR. I WAS TOLD ONE OF THE LINKS DOESN’T WORK, BUT SINCE I WAS TRAVELING, I COULDN’T FIX IT. IF YOU SEARCH THE BOOK’S NAME, IT SHOULD COME UP ANYWAY: SO HERE’S THE LINK TO THE POST WITH ALL THE BOOKS.
Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.
So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.
We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.
There is no New Normal. There’s normal, and then our present durance vile and captivity.
In this very abnormal Christmas, I wish you the joy of American Christmases to come.
Because we all know what came after Valley Forge.
Meanwhile have as Merry a Christmas as you can, and remember you are not alone, you are not crazy, and gaslight never illuminated anything except the desire of those who want to keep you in the dark.
Stay safe, stay sane, and know we are all with you in spirit.
I won’t be home for Christmas. And neither will you. And in fact, very few people throughout what was once quaintly called Christendom will be home for Christmas.
When I was thinking about this post, I was going to say that we’d never spent Christmas on the road, but that’s not precisely true. Our technically first Christmas together was spent in Portugal. See, our wedding was on the 28th of December, so we went over a little earlier (about a week.) For one, I needed to have fittings on the gown. No, don’t ask. Yes it was insane.
But that was arguably better than our second Christmas, when we were alone. Being childless and away from all family, even though I’d cooked a turkey breast for lunch, we found ourselves all out of sorts, so we went out in the evening to a steakhouse, and that was worse, actually. Because the place was filled with lonely souls, hunched over their plates, looking lost.
The next year we’d learned and ran an “orphans dinner” for Christmas (and thanksgiving.)
I’ll be honest, except for the period of about 8 years when we had a writers’ group, and people came over because ours was the gathering space, most of our married life, Christmas has just been the four of us. A far cry from the Christmas of my childhood, where the entire extended family got together at grandma’s. Well, the extended family in Portugal, which made it all of 14 people or so. But then we’re very different sort of people, and I wouldn’t do well with the sort of tribal politics, infighting for who brings the roast, and– No. Just no.
But this year….
This year with no church. This year with no lights, no walk through the botanic gardens light trail (because they make you wear masks. Outside. Without being near anyone!) this year that hasn’t had any other holidays, any other gatherings, all to defeat a virus that is no worse, and frankly might be better than a bad flu year….
I don’t know what this is. I look around at a strange land in which the governor tells us we’re a society of laws, and his word is law, and I wonder where I’ve gotten to, and how.
And this election showed us we can’t get rid of our tormentors. They’ve “Fixed” things so we can’t get rid of them and their ridiculous, over the top rules.
But worse, much worse, is seeing our institutions go along with this ridiculous nonsense, including our mainline churches, which jump in to demand you reserve seats online, and oh, yeah, you trace contacts (which even restaurants refused to do) because those martyrs through the ages who suffered for their faith were apparently chumps who risked themselves and others for faith.
We’re traveling. Because if we can’t do anything else, at least we’ll see family. And hey, stupid mask mandates are everywhere, but at least in other states you can still eat out.
But nothing is right. This morning, at a diner, most of the tables — even allotted tables — were empty. And people sit at their tables looking lost and dispirited. It’s worse than that steakhouse on Christmas. It’s worse than it was in Fall.
It’s like EVERYONE is looking around, with completely confused eyes going “where are we? And how did we get here?”
When I was little, in a land faraway, amid a boisterous, sociable tribe, I’d often think “I want to go home.”
I had no idea where home was, or with whom I should be, but there was a strong feeling of not belonging, and also that there was a place SOMEWHERE where I belonged.
Well, I found that. And I had it. We all had it.
We should have guarded it better. But I don’t know how. It wasn’t up to any of us. And our institutions were long corrupted, before most of us were born.
All I know is that this Christmas, like wanderers in Egypt, we are far from home. And we must go home again, however long it takes however hard it is. We must, all of us get back to America. Constitutional America. The USA that counts. The true USA where religion is not constrained, where we’re allowed to show our faces, where we can’t be arrested without due process, where governors words aren’t law, and where our votes count for something.
Let’s work towards it, and way from this painful land of our exile.
Next Christmas in America. Next Christmas in the USA. Let’s work on it.
So, you know how they want us all to stay at home? I obviously am not going to do it, particularly with Polis telling us too. But more importantly, with the completely ridiculous, insane, and possibly otherworldly reasoning for this lockdown.
I mean, if lockdowns worked, then the first one did, and we’re fine, right? if they don’t work…. WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?
Oh, yeah, I forgot. Because the “elites” who have found their way to fraud themselves into power for decades now hate us and want us to die. In abject poverty. It’s amazing how I forget these things.
Anyway, we’ve been on the road, so I lost track of time, and connections are a little iffy.
And a Rather Belated Chanukah, and happy whatever else holidays you gonzo Odds are celebrating right now.
This year I was going to send out Christmas cards, I was. But between laptopcaplypse (now resolved) and a whole lot of 2020, I never got to print them, which is just as well, as I understand our post office is functioning just about as well as our other institutions this year.
So below is the Christmas card (suitable-for-printing) I was going to send out and below that is my Christmas gift to y’all which should be live right now (I think. I scheduled two days ago, as we’re kind of busy today) or shortly after. Note the sale is US only (Yes, yes, I heard that aw) mostly because, well, you know… with the 2020 being very itself, I haven’t the time to set it up for the UK and Germany, where I’ll get maybe 3 sales apiece. BUT I do promise to do it as a New Year Sale (because it’s not like we’re going anywhere) if you remind me.
Also these are not DRMed on my end, so if you guys choose to guy and convert to another format, I have no issues with that.
The cat on the front is Dan’s keeper, Valeria. The cat on the footstool is Greebo’s understudy and my current minder (since Greebo left us. Sniffle) Havelock. And the dragon hatchling is just a brat.
Now in celebration of these very very weird holidays I’ve put a bunch of stuff on sale, as well as promising to have something new our by the end of the year and then getting the backlog of recently reverted Darkship Thieves and Shifters up ASAP in the new year, before continuing those series. So, for now:
In the original Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen there was only enough good between Darcy and Wickham to make a “good sort of man.” But what if this were not true? What if what we — and Darcy — think we know about Wickham was all wrong? What if sweet Jane Bennet were right all along, and there was some great misunderstanding? In this short story of intrigue and crime, one might end up feeling sorry for George Wickham himself.
From Sarah A. Hoyt in more or less reverse order of publication (I’m not sure on some of them)
THESE ARE ALL ON SALE FOR 99c TILL NOON OF THE 29TH:
Like all Private Detectives, Seamus Lebanon [Leb] Magis has often been told to go to Hell. He just never thought he’d actually have to go. But when an old client asks him to investigate why Death Metal bands are dressing in pink – with butterfly mustache clips – and singing about puppies and kittens in a bad imitation of K-pop bands, Leb knows there’s something foul in the realm of music. When the something grows to include the woman he fell in love with in kindergarten and a missing six-year-old girl, Leb climbs into his battered Suburban and like a knight of old goes forth to do battles with the legions of Hell. This is when things become insane…. Or perhaps in the interest of truth we should say more insane.
The France of the Musketeers has changed. Decades ago, someone opened a tomb in Eastern Europe, and from that tomb crawled an ancient horror, who in turn woke others of its kind. Now Paris is beset by vampires, the countryside barren and abandoned. The Cardinal has become a vampire, the church is banned, the king too cowed to fight. Until now, the three Musketeers, Athos, Porthos and Aramis have stood as a bulwark against the encroaching evil, their swords defending the innocent and helpless. But last night, in a blood mass, Athos was turned into a Vampire. And a young vampire orphan has just arrived from Gascony: Monsieur D’Artagnan. Things are about to get… complicated. This book was originally published under the pen name Sarah Marques.
In Avalon, where the world runs on magic, the king of Britannia appoints a witchfinder to rescue unfortunates with magical power from lands where magic is a capital crime. Or he did. But after the royal princess was kidnapped from her cradle twenty years ago, all travel to other universes has been forbidden, and the position of witchfinder abolished. Seraphim Ainsling, Duke of Darkwater, son of the last witchfinder, breaks the edict. He can’t simply let people die for lack of rescue. His stubborn compassion will bring him trouble and disgrace, turmoil and danger — and maybe, just maybe, the greatest reward of all.
(And yes, I do know that’s a lot of first in series. The series are not abandoned. I promise. More coming soon.- SAH)
A collection of science fiction short stories by Sarah A. Hoyt. Are there truly aliens among us? What do they really want? And what if our creations could come back in lethal form? Could we resist them? If there were a time police, would we know it? And really, why do people expect enlightenment from the stars? What if aliens needed us for their moral compass? You think our illegal immigration is bad? Wait till its coming from the stars? And what happens when the coin falls on edge? Can you reproduce it? Those not particularly moral aliens might set fiendish traps. And you can never go back again. Also, why would you want to? The future will invent completely new ways of making people miserable. Also how well would a generation ship get us to the stars without humans getting in their own way? If you read the world of Darkship Thieves, there’s a story ten years after the revolution in Olympus. It bridges the gap to the second wave of novels of the Earth Revolution which will be written, eventually. And what if the Carthaginians had sowed salt on the ruins of Rome? How long is memory?
From a parallel world where we have all the dreams of pulp writers, to a future where bioengineering kindles new hates and new heroes, to a different Tudor England, to the intricacies of time wars, this science fiction collection provides a glimpse of things undreamed… some from which we’ll gladly waken, and some we’d very much like to be true. Contains the short stories: Wait Until The War Is Over, Only The Lonely, Lost, Neptune’s Orphans, After the Sabines, The Serpent’s Tail, Spinning Away, The Private Wound, Super Lamb Banana, To Learn To Forget, Things Remembered, The Bombs Bursting in Air, On A Far Distant Shore, So Little And So Light.
From the trenches of WWI where the Red Baron just can’t help turning into a dragon, to the desert sands of a future world where humans have become something else, from a coffee shop between worlds where magicians gather, to a place where your worst nightmare can love you, let Dragon Blood take you on a series of fantastic adventures.
With an introduction by Pam Uphoff
This collection contains the stories: Rising Above, From Out The Fire, Yellow Tide Foam, Hot, The Blood Like Wine,The Least Of These Little Ones, Scraps Of Fog,Something Worse Hereafter,The Littlest Nightmare,Dragon Blood
A collection of short stories by Award Winning Author Sarah A. Hoyt. From dark worlds ruled by vampires, to magical high schools, to future worlds where super-men have as many problems as mere mortals, this collection shows humans embattled, imperiled, in trouble, but never giving up. Angel in Flight is set in Sarah Hoyt’s popular Darkship series. The collection contains the stories: It Came Upon A Midnight Clear First Blood, Created He Them, A Grain Of Salt, Shepherds and Wolves, Blood Ransom,The Price Of Gold,Around the Bend,An Answer From The North, Heart’s Fire,Whom The Gods Love,Angel In Flight,Dragons as well as an introduction by fantasy writer Cedar Sanderson.
From Elizabethan England to the Far Future, discover who really was Shakespeare and why Marlowe was called The Muses Darling. Discover the horrifying secret that Leonardo DaVinci found beneath a cave in his home village. In the far future, find a new way to keep Traveling, Traveling. Use cold sleep to find your love again, and join the (high tech) Magical Legion. Seventeen short stories from Prometheus Award Winning Author, Sarah A. Hoyt. This edition features an Introduction by Dave Freer and a Bonus Short Story “With Unconfined Wings.”
A collection of short stories by Prometheus Award Winner Sarah A. Hoyt. The first edition of this collection was published by Dark Regions Press in paper, only. This updated edition contains two bonus short stories: High Stakes and Sweet Alice. It also contains the stories: Elvis Died for Your Sins; Like Dreams Of Waking; Ariadne’s Skein;Thirst;Dear John;Trafalgar Square;The Green Bay Tree; Another George; Songs;Thy Vain Worlds;Crawling Between Heaven and Earth.
Kathryn Howard belongs to a wealthy and powerful family, the same family that Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII’s great love originated from. From a young age, her ambitious relatives maneuver to make her queen. Brought up in a careless manner, ignorant of the ways of the court, Kathryn falls victim to her kind heart, all the while wishing she could be the wife of Thomas Culpepper.
(Yes, I do know the following covers aren’t the best. I’ve been struggling with them and the musketeers. Honestly the books need editing and re-typesetting. And I need an assistant. I plan to indenture tall son. Stand by. – SAH)
Young Will Shakespeare is a humble school master who arrives home to find his wife and infant daughter, Susannah are missing, kidnapped by the fairies of Arden Woods, the children of Titania and Oberon. His attempts at rescue are interrupted and complicated by a feud over throne of fairyland, between Sylvanus, king regnant, and his younger brother Quicksilver who is both more and less than he seems. Amid treachery, murder, duel and seduction, Shakespeare discovers the enchantment of fairyland, which will always remain with him, for good and ill. (This book was originally published by Ace/Berkley 10/2001)
“Filled with quotations and references to the Works of Shakespeare, this debut novel will interest the playwright’s fans of any age” VOYA
“Sarah Hoyt has taken tremendous chances:She has told a tale of how Shakespeare became Shakespeare, weaving the language of the plays deftly through the narrative. Reading the book feels like discovering the origins of the quotes we know so well, rather than something derivative.” San Jose Mercury News.
Touched by the magic of fairyland, unable to forget Lady Silver, Shakespeare goes to London to seek his fortune. But there, the elf will follow, on the trail of a creature so deadly that, unless Shakespeare and the king of Elves stop it, it might very well consume London and all of England. (This book was originally published by Ace/Berkley 10/2002) Praise for All Night Awake: “Ingenious… fans of the first book won’t be disappointed.” – Publishers Weekly “Hoyt sustains her intriguing premise with a soaring, lyrical style. A most enchanting novel” – Booklist “The author of Ill Met By Moonlight continues her portrayal of the secret life of William Shakespeare with a tale of deception and betrayal that brings to life the raucous world of Elizabethan England. Will have particular appeal to fans of literary fantasy.” – Library Journal.
William Shakespeare, successful playwright, receives word that his only son has died. Reality is far more complex. The young Hamnet is a hostage in fairyland, where a war rages, and where a young princess waits a Prince Charming who might never come. Can an all too human playwright stop the magical war that threatens both worlds? (This book was originally published by Ace/Berkley 10/2003)
A Dyce Dare Mystery When she was six, Dyce Dare wanted to be a ballerina, but she couldn’t stop tripping over her own feet. Then she wanted to be a lion tamer, but Fluffy, the cat, would not obey her. Which is why at the age of twenty nine she’s dumpster diving, kind of. She’s looking for furniture to keep her refinishing business going, because she would someday like to feed herself and her young son something better than pancakes. Unfortunately, as has come to be her expectation, things go disastrously wrong. She finds a half melted corpse in a dumpster. This will force her to do what she never wanted to do: solve a crime. Life is just about to get crazy… er… crazier. But at least at the end of the tunnel there might be a relationship with a very nice Police Officer.
When Dyce Dare decides to refinish a piano as a gift for her boyfriend, Cas Wolfe, the last thing she expects is to stumble on an old letter that provides a clue to an older murder. She thinks her greatest problems in life are that her friend gave her son a toy motorcycle, and that her son has become unaccountably attached to a neurotic black cat named Pythagoras. She is not prepared for forgotten murder to reach out and threaten her and everything she loves, including her parents’ mystery bookstore. A Dyce Dare Mystery. Originally published by Prime Crime.
When Dyce Dare buys a table to refinish, the last thing she expects is to find a human blood stain under the amateurish finish. Whose blood is it? What happened to the person who bled on the table? Helped and hindered by her fiance, Cas Wolfe, her friend Ben, her son E and an imaginary llama named Ccelly, Dyce must find the killer and the victim, before the killer finds her. A Dyce Dare Mystery. Originally Published by Prime Crime
(Yes, yes, actually the next one is ALMOST finished. Again, I’m going to plead 2020 and promise to get on it ASAP- SAH)
When D’Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis discover the corpse of a beautiful woman who looks like the Queen of France, they vow to see that justice is done. They do not know that their investigation will widen from murder to intrigue to conspiracy, bring them the renewed enmity of Cardinal Richelieu and shake their fate in humanity. Through duels and doubts, they pursue the truth, even when their search brings them to the sphere of King Louis XIII himself and makes them confront secrets best forgotten.
Aramis emerges from the water closet to find his lover, a duchess, murdered on her bed. The room is locked, and Aramis is the only one who could have entered it. He’s sure he didn’t do it, but no one else believes him. Even Monsieur de Treville, Captain of Musketeers, doubts Aramis’s word. Aramis must leave Paris and go on the run, entrusting the solving of the murder, and the defense of his honor, his freedom and his very life to Athos, Porthos and D’Artagnan. Can “one for all” carry the day when every powerful person in France believes Aramis a murderer and when powerful interests would gladly frame Aramis for it?
It’s August in Paris 1625 and Porthos, once a dancing and fencing master, has taken as apprentice a young nobleman, whom he’s teaching to fence and ride. When the young man dies, poisoned, the stories of his ancestry and domicile unravel into layer after layer of deception and blackmail, involving Porthos’s relatives and his own past. Can Porthos, Athos, Aramis and D’Artagnan dodge the Cardinal’s guards while finding the real murderer? Who was Guillaume Jaucourt, and who could have killed him? And why? It’s one for all and all for one with the swashbuckling sleuths, in a race against time and their own misgivings.
THIS BOOK WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY BERKLEY PRIME CRIME UNDER THE TITLE “A DEATH IN GASCONY.” A letter from Gascony calls D’Artagnan home. His father died suddenly and D’Artagnan must come and take charge of the estate. His friends, of course, accompany him. But what Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D’Artagnan don’t know is that the older D’Artagnan was murdered and that they must find the killer, if they want to keep the younger D’Artagnan alive. By award winning author Sarah A. Hoyt writing as Sarah D’Almeida
When Porthos’ Servant, Mousqueton, is found near a dead armorer or swordsmith and taken up for murder, the four friends, Athos, Porthos, D’Artagnan and Aramis set out to investigate. Their work on this private crime leads them to unfold a bigger plot, against the Cardinal or perhaps the king himself. Will the musketeers have to work on the side of Richelieu to keep Louis XIII safe? THIS NOVEL WAS PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED BY BERKLEY PRIME CRIME AS Dying by the Sword.
AND FINALLY, UNDER ALYX SILVER
(Okay, the explanation for this one is: young I was. Bored I was. Sometime in 1998, husband got a traveling job. For the next 3? years, he was gone most of the week, leaving me with two toddlers. I could only haunt friends on chat so much. Also, I wanted to write, but had kind of despaired of EVER being published. So, since Indie was not yet a thing, I started looking around for fanfic sites. The big problem with that, of course, is that I barely watch TV or movies. So, eventually I alighted on Jane Austen Fan Fic. I still say it was the best place to learn writing, because the comments immediately let you know if you struck a cord or not. This is one of the stories I wrote then. There are another 5 (?) yes, waiting editing before being released, because you know, now indie is a thing, and there’s no reason to give these away for free. Oh, and this one is a little crazy. – SAH)
What if Mr. Darcy, trying to avoid the appearance of being lofty and proud, so far mistook himself as to be charmed by Lydia Bennet? How long could the fair strumpet lady hold his interest? How would Elizabeth Bennet feel about it? As all the Bennet sisters fall into the strangest of relationships, you’ll fear you lost your mind. But you haven’t. Just grab your sweetie and a whip – in case of unruly pillows – and hire a Bennet coach to Gretna Green. They have the best carriages, and guarantee no one will catch you. Then hold on to your hat. You’re in for the ride of your life.
First: the next few days are going to be spotty because of the holidays and family obligations and such. And if you’re saying “How spotty can it be, boss? Because it’s not been all that reliable around here for the last couple of months?”
Very spotty. Which is okay, as I imagine it will be spotty for a bunch of you next couple of weeks, too. I’ll try to post every day, because– well, I’ll explain. But the hours might be very weird.
Anyway, getting to the explanation. Yesterday was one of those days when everything went wrong. Now it was mostly MINOR things, like the shower door not closing properly, and then the handle kept falling off, and I put it back on, and it fell off, and– But there was also major “this is gonna cost us money” things which I’m not even ready to talk about YET, and which came about without our even realizing.
And then in the evening, after an entire day of being away from online, partly because we got the replacement laptop and were setting it up, partly because everything took ten times as long as it should, I logged into the chat with the (smallish) group who have become my extended family over the last five years, and I found that someone not a part of it but definitely a friend had died, and had died in circumstances that most of us have a horror even thinking about.
Prepare yourself if you read indie SF.
This was someone I knew from a seminar, a friend of a friend who went indie after a lifetime of trying to publish trad, and did spectacularly well. The entire time I’ve known him (8? years now) he was semi-shocked/delighted at how well he was doing in writing. He commented here a few times, and I’m actually hitting myself that I don’t remember when the last time was.
Curiously, just about a month ago, I thought, “He lives alone, doesn’t he? I wonder how he is doing.” It was already too late.
Doug Dandrige, Brother To Cats, a gentle soul and an amazing writer has died sometime in the last few months , alone in his house with his cats, and no one knew. It was only yesterday that family members broke into the house. And please say a prayer for his family too, because that can’t be easy. It’s the sort of horror we wish never to face.
And I feel guilty and stupid and angry at myself that I didn’t notice him slipping away from our circles. But he’d been depressed and blocked, as a lot of us are, and there is a tendency to go and hide, particularly for our kind, like wounded cats or something. We emotionally can’t even engage.
Part of it, of course, was the new FB User Interface, who I swear only shows me statuses of people I don’t care about, having forced me almost exclusively into my smaller groups. Beyond the fact that it takes so long to do anything, I’ve been going there less and less and less.
And part is this incredibly unnatural way we’re living. While Doug lived alone, we would have noticed if he hadn’t showed up at LC, and someone would have reached out. Perhaps — I don’t know when he died — in time to save his cats.
I don’t know and I don’t think anyone will till the Post Mortem, how he died. I’m 99% sure it wasn’t suicide, but only because he wouldn’t do that to his cats.
I have a vague memory he had a bad heart, but I have a bad memory for that sort of thing, unless I’m actually talking to people, when the file opens up and it all comes out. At any rate, over the last month I’ve lost six people in my extended and fringe sets (fringe being people I only see/talk to at cons) to heart attacks and strokes. Must be the ridiculous stress we are all under, honest.
And in any case, and probably stupid, I keep feeling he’d still be with us if everything had been normal, and we’d been bumping along in the normal way of normal life. More importantly I’m sure he’d have been found well before MONTHS had passed.
This is heart-wrenching to any cat owner, particularly those of us who are responsible. I would hate for my death to mean death for the fuzzies. And it if it did, I’d rather it came cleanly, with a shot at the vet or humane society, rather than slowly starving to death, feeling the world had betrayed them.
Anyway this hits way too close to home, because in the last months of covidiocy I’ve become aware that I’m losing touch, I’m losing my sense of where everyone is, in my groups, in the commenters here (ya’ll have been too “absent” for long periods for me to know if it’s something serious or just the lack of spoons that’s also affecting me.) Normally I keep an eye out. The only reason I’m not frantic over CACS for instance, is that I know RES would tell me if something is wrong. I did have a strange worrying dream about Emily, so I hope she’s keeping track of her meds and stuff (though she commented here the day after the dream, so….)
So, this is what I want to say: Sure, we’re resisting (wait till I do the om symbol in starts and stripes!) and we’re trying to minimize the money we send to left people and institutions, because it needs to be done. They’ve been doing it for decades, and it’s why they have the advantage they have. It’s time to fight back.
But it’s also important to support the good. Back in May I had a post about keeping the good restaurants going, with no regard to the political color of those running it. I’m not as ecumenical now. As much as it hurts me, personally, I’m cutting out discretionary spending to the people who want to hurt people, take their stuff, and rule them with a boot on their face. Even if they’re just useful idiots, who are supporting it because it’s “cool” and “the smart thing to do.” Don’t care.
But at the same time I’m going out of my way to support the good people who are decent human beings, who are lovers of freedom, who are suffering through this, and particularly who are good at whatever they do.
When I have to buy on Amazon, I’ve started assuming it’s worth it to pay twice as much, if not made in China, for instance. And if I know we have a crafter (we do, my friend Wayne Blackburn, who does wood things, and my friend Jonna who does fabric thingies, and — I probably should have a day for people to advertise their non-book stuff, soon.) who is a liberty lover, I’ll buy from them first, (provided their stuff is good. Don’t reward crap. It doesn’t help anything. To a certain extent the left fell into that trap.) and the same with books and drawing and covers, of course.
I confess it’s part of the reason I started doing the promo post, and it’s self selecting because hard core lefties don’t want me to promo them, when I or people ask.
I’m trying as hard as I can, and knowing there’s at least a couple of harder and harder years ahead (sorry guys, it’s obvious, now look at how much money the “stimulus” package is blowing and to whom it’s going. It’s vezenuelization at speed. If we’re good Americans it will be SHORT.) to create, build and positively help people, instead of just passively. It’s going not very well and SLOW because I’m working against my own endless depression, tiredness, fear and heartsickness over what I see coming, but I’m doing something positive, as well as something negative. Meaning trying to support, not just take revenge.
And if you can’t support physically or monetarily, try to support remotely with your presence. Check on people, particularly those of us who live alone, but even people who live with just one person, and who don’t have a support network nearby.
And if you live alone or are just you and a spouse, make sure you have someone check on your regularly. Preferably more than one person.
No, you’re not safe if there’s two of you. Particularly not if you’re my age or older. A couple of years ago, we had a situation where my MIL collapsed, my FIL tried to lift her and had a heart even, and they were just lucky my SIL went by within an hour, unexpectedly, or they and the doggies would have been gonners. This stuff happens.
It’s okay if your check in is remote, if the person has instructions on someone local to call/activate if you don’t answer for say 24 hours.
And this is why, btw, I have a chat program with my remote extended family. I check in every day, either morning or evening. (Though there are three people living in this house, and one is young.)
MAKE SURE YOU HAVE A NETWORK. And for your own sanity, I encourage you to have a chat with a group, small or large, and stay on it.
I know it’s hard, but just saying “hi, I’m okay” is a good thing for you and the other person. It lessens the stress and the isolation.
When this insanity started, in addition to the extended fam, I had three people on my Skype I texted with daily.
Since the election, I haven’t heard from one at all (and I’m worried. Yes, she’s alive, but I’m worried she’s mad at me, though it makes absolutely no sense.) and the others I hear from very sporadically, because we’re all mad as hell, and it’s hard to talk when you have no spoons. We need to stop that shit.
It’s instinctive to go somewhere, and pull the world in after you. It’s also deadly. Take my cat, Pixie, of blessed memory, who got hit by truck and crawled in our garage to die. He had multiple cranial fractures, stuff wrong with his spine, and internal injuries.
When he didn’t show up to eat, I was worried, and kept going to the front porch to call him. He crawled out of the garage, at my voice. It took him half the day to make it up the steps, and to the front porch, leaving a trail of blood, but when I saw him, we dropped everything and spent the 10k we’d saved to buy me a car (we were a one-car family, which meant I was stuck at home when Dan was at work.) to save his life. He spent 3 weeks in ICU and we’d have given up except he OBVIOUSLY didn’t want to. He went on to live another 13 years, and help us raise the boys. So, you know. But it would never have happened if he hadn’t responded to my voice, as painful and hard and “feels like dying” as that must have been.
BE LIKE PIXIE. If you’re in trouble, send up a smoke signal.
IN the fam we’ve already dealt with one person trying to hide and die without bothering anyone. Don’t do that. We need you. I don’t care how old/infirm/useless you think you are. You’re a part of our community, and just by being here, you give us courage and strength.
Create a network. Create Checkpoints. And if you’re in trouble, send up a smoke signal.
And if you’re a praying person, send up a prayer for Doug, one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and a great writer. I’m so sorry, my friend. When we meet again, I’m going to apologize SO MUCH.
And you, yes, you out there don’t break my heart. Yes, we’re heading into terrible times. Yes, the fight is already engaged and it is evil and rips your guts out in many metaphorical ways. Yes, we’re in big big trouble.
But it would be much worse alone. I value everyone of you and I do not want to lose you. Stay in touch, stay connected, work as you can, create alternate streams of income — remember, belt and suspenders — keep your weapons and clothes where you can find them in the dark. Have a plan Z and a bugout route AND if you get in trouble, if you’re going under, even if it’s just “psychological” or “I don’t feel so good” SEND UP A SIGNAL. Let us help you. It might be nothing. Or it might be everything.
Stay with us. Fighting alone sucks. You’re needed.
According To Hoyt 