I did an interview with author Jason Cordova yesterday. 

http://warpcordova.wordpress.com/2010/06/02/larry-correia-interview/

Continued From: http://MonsterHunterNation.com/2010/05/17/the-adventures-of-tom-stranger-interdimensional-insurance-agent/

In orbit around Earth #169-J-00561

The docking procedures seemed to be going smoothly, which made Tom Stranger happy, since even the slightest error could destroy their shuttle and eject them into the hard vacuum of space. Tom, having been biologically and cybernetically augmented by the finest tech available from a thousand worlds, would easily survive, but atmospheric reentry was hell on the wardrobe, and he’d worn his favorite bowtie.  The charcoal three-button suit from Men’s Warehouse was easily replaceable (since it was a well-known fact that 92% of the cataloged alternative Earths in the multi-verse did in fact have Men’s Warehouse), but the tie was irreplaceable. He’d found it in a thrift store on Home Office World. It was green, with small black polka-dots, which his secretary said brought out the color of his eyes (the green of which was actually the color of the holographic targeting system implants), but regardless, it was Tom’s favorite bowtie, and blazing through the atmosphere in a five-thousand mile-an-hour fireball  would surely destroy it.  His intern would probably not fare too well either.

Curious, Tom Stranger turned to the new intern. “What’s your rating on the Grylls Survivability Scale?” The GSS was the industry standard measurement of survivability in unforeseen circumstances, i.e. a score of how difficult it was to kill you.  A 1.0 was the amount of trauma necessary to kill a single Bear Grylls. (which was a remarkably consistent measurement across many worlds).  Being ejected into space was a solid 4 on the GSS, or enough to kill four Bear Gryllses, or a single Bear Grylls four times. Tom Stranger’s GSS was a 142.9.

But Stranger & Stranger’s newest intern was busy staring out the porthole, holding onto the overhead strap with white knuckled terror.  “Is that duct tape? Is that space station actually held together with duct tape?”

“What did you expect from a planet full of space barbarians?” Tom shook his head sadly and checked his infolink.  The intern, apparently named Jimmy Duquesne, rated a measly .07 on the GSS.  Which was a rating just above that of a standard Earth chicken. “You know, when I first got into Interdimensional Insurance, we had to be at least as tough as a space marine. Are you sure you want to take this internship?”

“Dude! Man! No way—“ Jimmy turned away from the porthole and vomited, which was an especially bad move in zero G. Tom activated his personal energy shields to protect his suit from the incoming second hand nachos.  It took Jimmy a minute to compose himself.  “I just needed the credits to graduate. I signed up for insurance agent because it sounded easy. I didn’t know about extra dimensions or outer space or nothing.”

“And you didn’t notice when we went through the Thorne-Gate to get to this dimension?”

“I thought all the flashing lights were because I was still tripping, man!  My roommate made ‘shroom brownies last night.”

“And when we boarded this archaic shuttle on Earth 169-J-00561?”

“It looked a lot like my older brother’s Nissan Pulsar, man! How was I supposed to know?”

“There are solid rocket boosters mounted on it,” Tom pointed out.

“I don’t know, man, I thought they were like… pontoons or something.”

Jimmy was even dumber than most college interns. “Hmm…” Tom checked his infolink again. It was like Wikipedia, only correct, and downloaded directly into his brain. Jimmy was from a relatively backwards Earth where the populace had limited exposure to the Multiverse. Plus, Jimmy had attended that reality’s Chico State, which explained the sorry condition of both Jimmy’s brain cells and liver function.  “It seems there’s been a mix up in HR. It says here you were supposed to be sent to a call center in Nebraska where you would provide auto insurance quotes for Allstate… Oh well. I’m sorry Jimmy, but Stranger & Stranger only accepts the best.”

“I’m totally cool with that!” Jimmy screamed as their shuttle collided with the space station.

“ Very well. If you live through this I’ll take you right back to your dimension.”

“What?” Jimmy squeaked. “Dude, I don’t wanna die!”

“I’m afraid that I can’t promise that. You see, the most important duty of an Interdimensional Insurance Agent is to take care of our customer’s needs, no matter the risk, no matter what the cost. I’ve made a sacred vow that good customer service is more important than my life. And this mission is the deadliest type of all… We’ll be lucky to get out of here alive.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “What is it?” Then he flinched as a nacho struck him.

Tom lowered his voice to a dangerous hiss. ”Expect the unexpected. Stay behind me. Stay low. Do not make any noise. Do not make eye contact. And for heaven’s sakes, pull up your pants and turn your hat around the correct way.  This is Arbitration.“

#

“Well, howdy, Stranger!” Jeff Conundrum shouted in greeting as Tom Stranger and Jimmy the Intern entered the space station’s conference room.

“Conundrum…” Tom muttered. Instinctively his hand moved to the CorreiaTech Combat Wombat under his suit, but Tom hesitated. Blasting Jeff Conundrum into a red mist would be satisfying, but wouldn’t necessarily be providing his client with the finest customer service possible.

“Howdy, Stranger. Ha, ha ha! Get it?”  Conundrum was rotund, and as always, bore an expression of red-faced, forced joviality. Conundrum’s neon blue hair and glowing suspenders offended Tom’s conservative senses.  Conundrum was always loud, always on, and always, always annoying.  “That never gets old!”

“Yes. It does,” Tom stated, glaring at his nemesis. “What are you doing here, Jeff?”

“For the arbitration.” Conundrum jerked one fat thumb at the space mutant sitting at the head of the conference table. “Conundrum and Company has been hired to insure Goreblog the Death-Slayer.”

The space mutants seated around the table were all massive piles of steroid-enhanced muscle, but Goreblog was by far the biggest. The king of the space mutants was sitting, but still towered several feet over Tom’s average height.  He wore a necklace of baby skulls and every inch of his muscled torso had been tattooed with pictures of Garfield, and various cartoons of Garfield engaging in acts of violence and depravity.  Goreblog the Death-Slayer stopped absently scratching his back with a giant board with nails in it, long enough to nod his spiked football helmet toward Tom. “Hey.”

“Mr. Goreblog,” Tom said politely. “Your fleet of mutants has invaded Earth 169-J-00561 and committed a series of atrocities, including cannibalism, genocide, and the indiscriminate playing of Insane Clown Posse music in public at extremely high volumes. This dimension is covered by Stranger and Stranger. This is a violation of–”

“Hey, whoa there, Stranger in a Strange Land,” Conundrum said, holding up one bloated hand.  “Save it for the Arbiter.”

Tom resisted the urge to blast Conundrum through the bulkhead.  “Very well.”

Conundrum laughed. “What did I tell you, Goreblog?  Doctor Strangeglove here is all business, all the time.”  He reached up and slapped the barbarian cannibal on the back. Goreblog growled and Conundrum stepped back.  Jimmy the intern huddled behind Tom’s legs.

“Mr. Stranger?” Jimmy’s voice was meek. “I don’t feel so good.”

“That’s probably because of the sub-optimal gravity created by the station’s rotation… and the fact that my scans are showing you possess a blood alcohol level sufficient to incapacitate an adult water buffalo.”

The arbiter arrived a few minutes later.  Interdimensional Insurance Agents never knew which Galactic Arbiter would be assigned to the case, only that they would always be fair, their judgment wise, and their justice swift.  Tom had worked with this particular one before. “All rise,” grunted the cannibal space mutant serving as the bailiff. Everyone did so, including Goreblog, who had to duck to keep from impaling his helmet spikes into the ceiling. “The honorable Chuck Norris of Earth 872-Round-House-Kick presiding.”

“Holy crap, it’s Walker Texas Ranger!” Jimmy cried. Tom kicked Jimmy where he’d been hiding under the table.  You didn’t want to upset a man so incredibly awesome that they’d renamed his home planet after one of his karate moves.

The arbiter scowled, took off his cowboy hat, and took a seat at the head of the table.  “Gentlemen, this is cutting into my Total Gym time, so let’s make this quick. What seems to be the issue?”

Tom Stranger cleared his throat as he activated his hologram display. “These space mutants have invaded this dimension without provocation. My client planet needs them to leave and seeks damages for th—“

“Easy there, Strangers in the Night, exchanging glances,” Jeff Conundrum interrupted. “This dimension clearly provoked my client.  They were just begging for Goreblog’s unholy wrath.”

“Is that true?” Chuck Norris asked. “And I warn you, Mr. Goreblog, I eat space mutants for breakfast… Literally. In fact, I had one on my waffles this morning, so do not test my patience.”

Goreblog reached one armored gauntlet into his leather vest and removed a single Polaroid photo.  Chuck Norris took the picture, studied it for a moment, then passed it to Tom Stranger without comment.  The picture showed a white fence with the words Space Mutants r teh suck and lame spray-painted on it.

“As you can clearly see, teenagers from this dimension defaced Mr. Goreblog’s fence. He had no choice but to destroy their entire planet in reprisal.” Jeff Conundrum stuck his thumbs through his suspenders. “Ergo, all the damages from this invasion are not Mr. Goreblog’s fault. In addition, his mental anguish and suffering from this vandalism requires compensation.”

Chuck Norris stroked his manly beard thoughtfully. “I’m afraid he’s got a point, Mr. Stranger. Sounds like your client started it, and as galactic law clearly states, don’t start shit if you can’t finish it.”  Much of the galactic code of laws had been based upon the Planet of Texas.

But Tom Stranger hadn’t been given the award for best customer service for three years in a row for nothing.  He flipped the photo over to hide it from view. “So… Mr. Goreblog… This fence of yours that was defaced, what kind was it?”

The space mutant leader looked to Jeff Conundrum in confusion. Conundrum seemed surprised at this development.  Goreblog looked back at Tom Stranger. “Uhhh… pokey with stabby spikes?” Tom shook his head. “Uhm, does it have skulls on it?” Tom shook his head again. “Metal with razors and landmines?”

“Three strikes,” Tom Stranger made a tsk-tsk noise as he passed the photo back to Chuck Norris.  “And no touch down.”

The arbiter took one look at the photo and frowned. “That is clearly a vinyl fence, Mr. Goreblog…  Did you just try to fabricate evidence during my arbitration?”

“I didn’t know anything about this, your Awesomeness!” Jeff Conundrum begged.

Chuck Norris slammed his fist into the table, because only a wuss needed a gavel. “I find in favor of Stranger and Stranger.  The space mutants need to pay for the damages and return to their own dimension. Arbitration is adjourned.”

“ENOUGH!” Goreblog rose, grabbed the conference table and flipped it across the room, revealing Jimmy the Intern, who screamed and crawled under Chuck Norris’ chair. “Foolish humans, Goreblog has no fence!  I swear on the soulless void of Arbuckle that you will feel the wrath of Goreblog!  ATTACK!”

Tom’s targeting eye scanned the forty enraged giant space mutants and then the structure of the space station itself. “I’d suggest keeping small arms fire and energy weapons usage to a minimum,” he said to Chuck Norris. “Or this whole place will come apart.”

“Fine.” Chuck Norris stood and cracked his knuckles. “I haven’t face-punched anything to death yet today anyway… and it’s almost noon.”  Chuck and Tom stood back to back as the slavering mutants surrounded them.  “What about your friend?”

Tom looked to where Jimmy the Intern had assumed the fetal position on the floor and had begun sucking his thumb and rocking back and forth.  “Please, try not to trip over him, Mr. Norris. He’s new.”

The mutants attacked in a screaming wave of clubs, meat cleavers, and roid rage.  Tom pulled one of his cufflinks off and threw it to the deck, where it exploded into a cloud of nanobots. The microscopic robots immediately began to devour the first rank of enemies. Tom leapt through the black cloud and mass of dissolving tissue and melting bones, and landed in the mutant’s midst, where he really got down to business.  Tom Stranger moved faster than the mutant’s eyes could follow, striking with surgical accuracy and superhuman strength, each blow of his hardened fists sending mutants flying.

Meanwhile, Chuck Norris had responded with sheer badassitude.  Tom looked up from decapitating a mutant with a length of monomolecular wire to see Chuck Norris round house kick Goreblog’s head entirely through the mutant’s own torso and out his rectum, literally turning the space mutant king inside out.  Tom’s considerable knowledge of biology had not considered that possible.  He automatically updated the Chuck Norris Wiki on his infolink.

They had been outnumbered twenty to one (13.333 to one if you counted Jimmy, which Tom did not, since Jimmy had spent the entirety of the battle being kicked back and forth like a fleshy soccer ball) but it was over in seconds.  Tom dispatched the final mutant by chopping its head off with the reinforced edge of his hand.

The space station shuddered as a drop ship fell from the dock. Tom watched out the window at the flash as Jeff Conundrum escaped.  Tom scowled after the departing ship. “We’ll meet again, Conundrum,” he promised.

Chuck Norris dusted off his jeans. “I got mutant on my boots. I think they’re ruined.” he stated flatly, then spotted Goreblog’s corpse and cheered up.  “I think I’ll skin that big one there, make me a new pair… Thanks for the assist.”

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Norris,” Tom said happily, moving aside as a mutant torso fell from the ceiling and splattered on the floor. “Will that be all then?”

“Don’t forget him,” Chuck Norris said, pointing at Jimmy. “I do believe he’s wet himself. Sheesh. These kids today.”

Tom Stranger grabbed Jimmy by one foot and dragged the incoherent intern down the passageway.  Jimmy’s crazed babblings struck a cord and Tom had a sudden thought. If he’d been given this guy on accident, that meant that Stranger & Stranger’s proper intern had been accidently sent to Nebraska.  The thought of somebody with so much potential being chained to the soul-crushing abyss of an Allstate call center filled Tom with dread.  He dragged Jimmy faster.

“Ow, hey! Dude!” Jimmy shouted as Tom tossed him into the airlock.  “What’s the dealio?”

Tom Stranger did not know what a “dealio” was. “Quickly, Jimmy, we must get to Nebraska!”

TO BE CONTINUED at: https://monsterhunternation.com/2010/06/01/tom-stranger-interdimensional-insurance-agent-in-arbitration-at-mordor-station/

Author’s notes:  I worked for Allstate providing insurance quotes one summer… Remember that line from Metallica, “Hold my breath while I wish for death?”  Yeah, it was something like that. 

See below, the MHV EARC is available now.  Please purchase it so that I can keep my Stranger & Stranger Extended Space Marauder Plan current.

http://www.webscription.net/p-1286-monster-hunter-vendetta-arc.aspx

The Early Electronic Advanced Reader Copy of MONSTER HUNTER VENDETTA is available NOW!!!!

This is the e-book, put out several months early for those of you who just can’t wait for more Owen Z. Pitt monster-shooting action.  It is downloadable to your Kindle, Nook, Ipad, or other reading device (like your computer!)  It costs more than the regular e-book, but you’re paying for the premium of getting it early, and also pointing out the various places where I screwed up before it hits the paper version.

So go for it!  (and let me know what you think)  What are you waiting for?  All those monsters aren’t going to kill themselves!

 I was asked this question after my last writing update.  During that post I outlined the next few projects I want to tackle and the order I want to do them in. I started to respond, but then realized it was actually kind of complicated, and maybe I could help out some aspiring writers with my inane ramblings.

I just wanted to know how you keep track of all of these ideas. Or in other words, how do you organize it all. I love to write as well, but I suck at getting it all organized. In my head, everything works, but getting it onto my computer screen nice and tidy is tough. Its fun, but its tough. Do you have a set process for coming up with and incorporating new ideas? – Mikey Smith

 

This is actually a couple of different things, so first off, let me talk about ideas.  Ideas are the cheapest commodity in writing. Successful writers are not just successful because they’ve got good ideas, it is because they can take those ideas and then put in the work to make them into a good book.  What I’m trying to say that good ideas are the easy part. The actual writing part is hard.

For example, I was on a panel about this topic at Life, The Universe, & Everything at BYU this year. LTUE is a writer’s symposium at BYU, and its guests include some of the very best and brightest minds in the sci-fi and fantasy genres. (and somehow I manage to trick them into inviting me back every year!) Brandon Sanderson (who I suspect is actually a wizard) did a little game where people in the audience shouted out things, and then he had a few minutes to come up with a plausible plot.  I think the items he was forced to work with were sentient sponges and Rapunzel’s hair, and he managed to come up with a quick plot that sounded just absurd enough that if I read it on the back cover of a book at B&N, I would have had to purchase it.   My understanding is that Jim Butcher’s Codex Alera series began the same way at a Con, only his challenge was combining the Roman legion and Pokemon.

I did this 2 hour seminar with super-author John Brown at LTUE also. It has a lot of info about stringing together plot ideas and twisting them to make them interesting.  http://johndbrown.com/2010/02/how-to-write-a-story-that-rocks/  I am the Vannah to John’s Pat, and I think it turned out pretty good.

A common thing with published writers is that we’ll occasionally be approached by aspiring writers with some sort of offer that consists of “Hey, I’ve got this super awesome idea. I’ll totally give it to you, in exchange for co-authoring it with me”.  Many authors I know have had something like this happen.  The problem is one of misconception.  Writers don’t lack for ideas, we lack for time.  (a second huge misconception there is that co-authoring is somehow easier, when I’d say that it is about twice as hard as just doing one by yourself).   I think many of the aspirants look at this as their way to get published. Let the famous guy do the heavy lifting with all that grammar, plot, and editing crap, and your super awesome idea will surely see the light of day.

Ideas aren’t really that important in the grand scheme of things, though.  Sometimes you can have a book that is totally about the idea, and it works, but it usually works because of the good plot or interesting characters in addition to the idea. I’ve read many sci-fi books that were “big idea” books, but honestly, I can’t really remember anything about them other than the big idea.  For example, there was this one where Neanderthals didn’t die out, they were living amongst us secretly, just waiting for Homo-Sap to screw up so they could take over. I don’t even remember the name of the book, because other than the idea, it was pretty dull.  Heck, that idea is full of potential, but the execution was forgettable.

Or your idea could be Teenage Wizard School or Sparkly Emo Vampire, both of which sound like ideas that rate meh at best, but turned out to be the best selling books of all time. (the first one because they were actually very entertaining, and the second… hell, I still can’t figure that one out).  

Okay, but that doesn’t answer Mikey’s question.  How do you get, manage, and use ideas?

Getting ideas.  Ideas are everywhere.  Seriously.  In conversations with friends, in stories, watching TV, taking a walk in the park, looking at pictures, kind of everywhere.  Now, I’m not saying to watch TV and then steal the plot, but you can have something vaguely related set off a spark in your own brain.  For example, look at this picture I found on Cracked this morning.  (from the article 5 lovable animals you didn’t know were secretly terrifying by the Word Puncher, Robert Brockway, who is a psychotically funny dude) http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-lovable-animals-you-didnt-know-are-secretly-terrifying/

 

Seriously.  Look at that thing… As a guy who is known for writing books about monster hunting… jeez.  I could do something with that fetcher.  Tell me that by looking at that picture it doesn’t spark some ideas in your monster loving head.  Imagine walking out to your car in a darkened parking lot and that thing is standing on the roof…. See, you’re already forming ideas.

Or here is an example from my own writing.  Most of you who read this blog have read the 7 sample chapters for The Grimnoir Chronicles: Hard Magic. (coming Spring 2011 from Baen Books, Yay!)   TGC came about because at LTUE a few years ago, somebody in the audience didn’t want my opinion, because I was just a “contemporary” fantasy author, not an “epic” fantasy author.  So I decided I wanted to write something “different” that still followed the tropes of epic fantasy.  (lots of characters, complex world building, magic system with rules, world changing events, etc.)

So I had a goal. Then I had a conversation about this. This is the picture that set off the entire TGC universe:  http://www.lorestrome.com/trash/marko/Spiderman_Noir-revision03.jpeg 

 

My son picked up a free promotional copy of Marvel’s young guns best new artists.  This picture was in it.  One day I was talking to Mike Kupari, co-author of Dead Six, and he was flipping through my son’s comic book.  We both agreed how awesome Spiderman looked set in the 1930s.  I’m not really a Spidey fan, and I’ve never read any of the Marvel Noir titles, but that was such a badass image there, and it really stuck in my head.  Mike then started talking about his character, Valentine, set in a noir/pulp world, and I made a crack about ninjas fighting on a dirigible. That set me off. We then had a four hour brain storming session, while I drew pictures of blimps and men in hats with futurized Thompson subguns.   20,000 pages of history books and four months later I had another novel. 

Managing Ideas.  So you’ve come up with an awesome idea. Write it down.  Some of us keep a notebook, others have a file on their computer, whatever works, just save it.  You may see some super cool visual that you want to use, but it might not fit in any of your current projects. Save it for later. The original idea for MHI occurred several years before I actually wrote it. The characters I used in Dead Six had their genesis in the first, failed novel I attempted to write in 2000-2001. (it was called Minute of Angle, and it really wasn’t that bad all things considered, but it wasn’t up to snuff) I’ve got a file filled with lines of dialog, character sketches, odd little notes and turns of phrase, and anything else you can think of, just stashed and waiting for something they may fit into.

The way Lord Machado looked in MHI was based on going fishing when I was younger, where you’d get those big bags of dirt packed with worms. That led to a note being jotted down at the dawn of MHI that said something like “Earthworms are creepy. Lots of slime. Dirt. Gross.  And make him a conquistador.” Why? Because my brain said so.

It could be anything. Years and years ago I heard somebody insult a cashier at Taco Bell. The customer was speaking to his friend. The cashier rudely interrupted with his political opinion about “so you’re the kind of that do people do X” and the customer snapped back with “and you’re the kind of people that put the cheese on my burrito, so snap to it.”  Ten years later I’ve got Earl Harbinger saying something similar to a nosy waiter in a greasy spoon in Monster Hunter Alpha.

To continue with the earlier example, after my original brainstorming session with Mike, I sat down and wrote about ten pages about the Grimnoir world.  ¾ of that didn’t end up in the book, and lots of it changed as I actually wrote and studied more about the real history of the period I was tweaking.   

So I’ve got this alternative-fantastical world, I need ideas on how to populate it.  The story starts in El Nido, California, which is my home town. I grew up there, and it is an old fashioned kind of place.  It wasn’t hard to imagine my home town in the ‘30s, since that was when most of the place was built. The whole bit with the Portuguese hating the Okies? Not fabricated. I heard that kind of thing from the old guys growing up. Ideas that had been in my head since I was a little kid ended up on the page.

Using Ideas.  Don’t be afraid to be different. If you think it is awesome, and it will make your fans happy, you can do it. When I was originally writing MHI, there was very little comic relief. Believe it or not, it started out much more horror than fantasy.  Then one night my wife was in bed, reading a fantasy novel, and she got frustrated and threw it on the ground.  “What’s wrong?” I asked. 

She responded. “I’m sick of elves. Elves are always the same. Everyone is just rehashing Lord of the Rings, over and over again… Why can’t elves be different for once?  Make them… I don’t know… rednecks or something.”

Suddenly a light bulb went off over my head. Redneck elves. Why not? I thought it was hilarious. But then again, that’s not “tradition”. People might not like it because it was different. But I said screw it, and that turned out to be everyone’s favorite part because it was an original idea.  Besides, many of my really good ideas come from my wife. Also, for the record, Mike came up with the idea of Interdimensional Insurance Agents.

Sometimes you might be surprised. Ideas that you’ve had for a long time might suddenly have a chance to insert themselves into projects in unexpected places.  You guys haven’t read this yet, but I’ve got a villain in something coming up that is based on Carson from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, only supremely evil. I’d always thought that having an uncharacteristically effeminate oddball turn out to be a James Bond level super-villain would be awesome.  And while writing on the fly, there was suddenly just this perfect spot to throw this dude into the mix.  It turned out really well.

Practice.  In addition to the above, one thing I’ve really seen over the last few years is that the more you train your brain to come up with interesting ideas, the easier it becomes to crank those out on demand.  When you get used to doing this kind of thing on the fly, it gets easier and easier.

Okay, haven’t done this for awhile, but people like to know where stuff is at.

Coming up next will be the eARC of Monster Hunter Vendetta. For those who don’t know, that is an Electronic Advanced Reader Copy.  Basically, Baen will put up an extremely early e-book.  You pay extra, (I think they are $15) but you get it several months in advance. I don’t have this date yet though.  As soon as I know anything I’ll post it here. The paper copy will release in October, (meaning it’ll ship in September) which means that the regular priced ($6) e-book will be out sometime right before that.

The Grimnoir Chronicles: Hard Magic will be out in Spring 2011. No idea which month, or if there will be an eARC for it. I’m guessing probably. After that will be Monster Hunter Alpha in the later half of 2011. (looking like there will be a MH novel toward the end of each year).  MHA is the book that I am currently working on, and the rough draft will be done this summer. Which makes it weird to write, since it takes place in winter, in a very cold and snowy place (the UP of Michigan).  MHA is the first MH novel written in the 3rd person, and it is primarily about Earl Harbinger.  Earl runs on sheer badassitude, so this has been a fun one to work on.   MHA is currently nearing 100,000 words, (expected 150,000 total).

I’ve taken a brief break from MHA though to work on getting a draft finished of Dead Six.  My co-author, Mike Kupari, returned from active duty this month, so we jumped on it.  I hurried and stuck it in front of Reader Force Alpha (and quickly had pointed out to me that we left some of our incoherant editing notes in place in the text and had forgotten to delete them before sending).  So, RFA, there is not actually a Deep Crow randomly living in Nevada.  Yes. We will edit that part out.  Mike was trying to make me laugh because he knows I hate editing. It still requires some clean-up, but we should be sending it off shortly.  Baen is interested, because they’ve had a few forays into the mil/thriller genre with Ringo’s Kildar series, and the new one, Countdown, from Kratman.  

After MHA goes out the door, I will start writing The Grimnoir Chronicles 2.  Which doesn’t have an actual title yet, though in my head it has been Spellbound and a .45   Though I don’t know if that is going to work or not.   TGC2 is set in 1933.  Remember in real life when someone tried to assasinate FDR right after the election? Yeah, now make that guy an Active.  (and you guys have only seen the 1st 7 chapters of Hard Magic, so you don’t even know how badly everything blows up in 1932)  If you think the goverment overracted a bit in real life by rounding up all the Japanese in 1942 to shove into places like Topaz, just imagine what they’d do to “undesirable” magicals.  I don’t know if you guys can tell, but I love me some alternative history.

Then comes MHI:4.  The 4th MH book goes back to Owen’s perspective.  Right now my working title is (drum roll please for the first time I’ve thrown this out on the interwebs) Monster Hunter Legion.  I will not elaborate on what the Legion is for… yet.  But it opens with a MHI vs. rival company fist fight at a fancy Las Vegas buffet.  The people who were with me one year at a certain SHOT Show know that this is loosely based on actual events involving two Jack Bauers, a bunch of uptight contractors, a SWAT sniper who got a little too involved with a cream-puff, and a talking moose.  Only MHI is far less diplomatic than the people I hang out with in real life. But I digress. 

MHL takes place between Las Vegas and the Dugway Proving Grounds.  Let’s just say that there are worse things buried in Dugway than the nerve gas.  It has been buried for a long time, and it is not happy.

In that same time frame, there are many other projects I want to work on as well, but those above mentioned items are ones that I’ve gotten sold. (except Dead Six).  So the timing is kind of variable. There is a sequel to Dead Six called Swords of Exodus, but I’m in luck there because I’ve already written most of my half of it.  Then I’ve got one sci-fi/thriller project that I’ve been calling the “Africa” book that is going to kick serious butt. It is about a reality TV show, where teams of contestants compete to overthrow a small country. I’m really proud of it.  Then I’ve got a straight up supernatural horror novel about a prison guard who volunteers to keep something really bad locked up for eternity.   The Africa book and the Prison project are both awesome, but I’ve got to squeeze them in between books for series that I’ve already sold.

There are many more MH books planned, including Monster Hunter Nemesis, about Agent Franks, as well as more TGC novels. The third D6 novel is called Project Blue, but I can’t start working on it until I get D6 sold.

So much to do, so few hours in the day.