Flights of Fantasy this weekend (for real this time)

September 30, 2011 at 8:50 am (Appearances)

Just a reminder: I’ll be at Flights of Fantasy Games this weekend with Léna Roy for our much-belated signing.  If you’re in the Albany area Sunday afternoon, come on by!

As is usually the case, I’m waffling about what to read.  Time to ask the Internet’s vast knowledge*!

* “Knowledge” in terms of the Internet is defined as cat pictures and arguments.

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Flights of Fantasy signing — new and improved!

September 14, 2011 at 8:45 am (Appearances)

And, with any luck, a little less rain this time.

Léna Roy and I will be signing at Flights of Fantasy Books and Games on Sunday, October 2, starting at 2 PM. If you’re in the Albany area (or maybe even the Berkshires…), come by and say hi! I still haven’t decided what I’ll be reading — possibly “Salvage,” possibly the very goofy lobster story, maybe even something from the Big Damn Revision…

And speaking of revisions, it’s time for me to pick up that finished first draft and decide what I think of it.  Break out the red pens!

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“Salvage” up at BCS!

September 8, 2011 at 8:31 am (Stories online)

Salvage” is up at Beneath Ceaseless Skies!

As I said in my last post, this is a sequel of sorts to “A Serpent in the Gears.”  Charles, Colonel Dieterich, and the indomitable Professora Lundqvist have returned, this time in search of one of the Professora’s old students, gone missing on a salvage mission to a wrecked dirigible.

I really enjoy writing in this world, and I hope I have the chance to share more of it in the future.  In the meantime:

Colonel Dieterich closed the maintenance panel below the airship’s secondary propeller, sending a puff of gray dust cascading over the mesa. “Well, it looks fine, despite the rough landing,” he said. “I should be able to fly us out of here.”

I brushed dust from my trousers. “Not that I’m accusing you of hubris, sir, but I’m sure others have said the same thing, and, well—” I gestured to the shambles just beyond our little airship: the shattered undercarriage of a wrecked dirigible much larger than our own. The high, sagging dome scaled with thousands of bronze plates verdigrised by half a century’s disuse gave the derelict Chiaro the look of some great fish dragged from its home. Beside it, our little propeller-driven airship was no more than a sneeze.

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