What was my surprise to open up James Scott Bell’s latest Mike Romeo novel, Romeo’s Truth, and find that one of my own reviews on this blog was quoted as the very first blurb at the front of the book?
James Scott Bell has produced gold in the Mike Romeo series, about a one-time cage fighter and certified genius on a quest for virtue. I want to be Mike Romeo when I get younger. Highly recommended.
My thanks to author Bell. I’m enjoying Romeo’s Truth.
For a while there I didn’t think I’d survive it, but I did.
The above statement is pure hyperbole, of course. I was never worried about survival, only about exertion and inconvenience, in the way of old men. In actual fact, the weekend went just fine.
A friend drove me to a rental place on Friday, to pick up a car. I got a Buick Enclave, which served me impeccably. This was the first time I’d ever driven a car with those new touch screen controls, and I was a little uneasy about it. But I worked it out all right. (Still prefer buttons and knobs, though.)
What surprised me about the car was that the shifter was located on the steering column. I haven’t driven a car with “three on the tree” (D, N, and R in this case) for many years. I find this configuration an odd choice for an SUV. Don’t we buy those things in order to at least pretend we’re powering across the tundra, up mountains, and through swamps in something like a classic Jeep? The steering column shifter lets that fantasy dribble away completely.
Anyway, I got up at 5:30 a.m. the next morning, so I could be at the set-up point by 8:00 a.m. My awning was already in place there, ever since last weekend, but the stall needed setting up, and books needed to be set on tables. The weather was chilly, more appropriate for the time of year than the unseasonable heat of the weekend previous.
Both days went fine. Saturday was sunny, and the shade under my awning crept steadily back until I was sitting in a corner. Good sales, mostly of Viking Legacy. I sold that out completely on Saturday. Sunday was cloudy, but not as rainy as we feared.
My book sales were a surprise to me. The ambience of Viking Fest Minnesota was (and businesswise this was brilliant, I think) historic Viking side by side with Renaissance Faire cosplay. The central camp was kept historically pristine, so that I, with my paperback books, had to operate outside in the vendors’ area, next to a woman who sold cute sculptures of mushrooms. But I was just at the entrance to the Authentic Camp, thus occupying a kind of intermediate state, like Plato in Dante’s Limbo.
One would think that this would be the perfect place to sell historical fantasy novels. And yet, sales of those were only so-so. What people wanted was the hard history of Viking Legacy.
I must ponder this mystery.
In any case, my old bones made it through two days of the festival, and I got home safe and sound, and with a little money in my pocket. Special thanks to the young men of the Viking Age Club & Society, Sons of Norway, for toting that barge, lifting that bale, and taking the load off me in general.
Next job – figure out what to do about my car.
My apologies to anyone who may – possibly – have come to Viking Fest Minnesota in Farmington on Sunday, and found me not among those present. It was due to what television announcers, when I was young, used to call “circumstances beyond our control.”
I drove down to the Dakota County fairgrounds on Saturday morning, without incident. I babied Sigrid the Haughty, my Subaru Forester, as planned, and she did not overheat. My confidence in her grew – I felt I could probably continue driving her lightly until I get a different car – as long as it’s soon.
The day went fine. The festival is set up in two sections – there’s the central area for the hard-core reenactors, so that visitors can get some idea of an authentic, period Viking camp. Few or no modern objects on view.
Around that is the periphery, where I was posted. Mostly vendors. A lot of people from the Renaissance Fest. Crafts, mystical crystals, knickknacks. I was there, with my tables of books. I had a friend manning the booth with me, selling a few of our club’s white elephants. We chatted pleasantly. Many people came by, and a fair number of them bought books. I saw a couple visiting friends. The weather was unseasonably warm – almost 90 degrees Fahrenheit. And the wind was annoying – not as bad as Minot had been, but several times we had to set things aright after they’d been knocked over.
When it was over, at 6:00 p.m., we moved my books and gear into a friend’s tent for the night. My plan was to go home to sleep, and return the following morning.
As I headed for the parking lot, I was stopped by someone (I won’t identify them, or even their sex) whom I didn’t know personally, but who knew who I was. Facebook friend. They greeted me and told me they were on my side. They were aware of some trouble I’ve had with a different Viking event – something I haven’t written about here, and still won’t for the time being. They said they didn’t entirely agree with my opinions, but they supported my right to express them. I told them this was very gratifying, which it was. I left with a warm glow.
That glow faded as the engine temperature in my car spiked, just a couple miles outside of town. I ended up calling AAA for a tow home. I called one of the Vikings to tell him I wouldn’t be able to be there on Sunday. I no longer trust Sigrid the Haughty to get me places.
It’s not practical to replace a head gasket on an old Forester with turbo. So I’ll be getting a different car. Just as soon as I can move some money around.
If I can get it in time, I plan to be at the festival next weekend. If not, so be it.
Oh yes – it rained yesterday and some of my books got wet. Not the fault of the guy whose tent was sheltering them – these are the chances you take when you camp out. Or when your books camp out. Books are essentially indoor pets.
I’m not griping. I have my health (mostly). I am alive, and free, and not living on the street. This too shall pass.
God willing (especially in regard to my transportation), I plan to be at Viking Fest Minnesota this weekend and next, Oct. 4-5 and 11-12, at the Dakota County Fairgrounds in Farmington, Minn.
I will be in the vendors’ area, selling and signing my books.
Thanks to the Viking Age Club and Society of the Sons of Norway for making my presence possible.
Tomorrow I’m off, as is my custom, to Norsk Høstfest in Minot, North Dakota. I’m told we Vikings will once again be right across the street from the main entrance. The weather is supposed to be unseasonably warm. The festival runs Thursday through Saturday.
If you’re in the area, I’ll be there (God willing), and have the complete Erling series to sign and sell, along with Viking Legacy.
Note to burglars — my home will not be empty. My heavily armed renter will be in residence. And he never sleeps.
No book review tonight. Instead, a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Or to put it another way, whatever comes into my head.
I read a good article about the semicolon today in Writer’s Digest. The author courageously defended the old s-c, and I applaud him. I myself love the semicolon. Aside from its delightful precision as a punctuation mark, when wielded skillfully, I have a happy memory of it.
The memory is fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure it’s true. I was writing some kind of an essay or report in school – elementary school, I think. The “new” pale brick building on the south side of town.
I was composing, as I recall, some kind of a complex sentence. I had a complicated thought I was trying to express. I wanted to tie it all together, but it had a lot of working parts going, some of them more important than others. “What I need,” I thought to myself, “is a punctuation mark that indicates a major division in in my train of thought, but also retains a connection to the previous thought.” (Or words to that effect.)
And it occurred to me – “Hey! That’s what semicolons are for!” And I triumphantly put down a semicolon, intentionally for the first time in my life. The semicolon belonged to me now. I was its master. I had summoned it; it had not been forced on me by my teacher.
It was a moment in my evolution as a writer, though I didn’t understand it yet.
Jumping to the present, I haven’t been feeling well lately. My plan was to be doing a lot of stuff to promote the audiobook of Troll Valley right now, but I haven’t been up to the effort.
I’m embarrassed to say it’s just a cold. I see friends on Basefook and Xwitter talking about their mothers dying, or themselves being diagnosed with cancer or breaking a limb or something. And here I am, bellyaching about a common cold. So let me stipulate that I’m not competing for your sympathy. If you have only compassion enough to spare for one person today, it shouldn’t be me.
But I haven’t had a cold in years. I used to get them regularly, when I ran the bookstore at the schools. All that human contact – couldn’t avoid it. And for a while there, it seemed like every time I got that annual cold, it would settle into my chest and in the end require antibiotics.
But I don’t think I’ve had a serious cold since I retired, which is a few years now. And this one has knocked me over. Sunday was the worst day – I spent it mostly in bed, and didn’t even make popcorn for supper, which is my sacred Sunday custom. Since then I’ve been feeling a little better each day, and right now I’m actually eyeing my work load again.
I was delighted to discover I have an old stock of zinc tablets that I’d forgotten about, on a shelf. Hate the aftertaste, but they seem to help. And my ribs don’t hurt as much from coughing today.
To sum up – buy the audiobook of Troll Valley. My Norwegian accent alone is worth the price.
(And you can admire the cover – designed by Phil Wade – in both versions! Collect the whole set!)
Years in the making, with a cast of one, the audio version of Troll Valley is now available on Amazon ACX. It went live today.
If you’ve ever felt a void in your life, because you hadn’t had the opportunity to hear my voice for 9 1/2 hours, this is your lucky day.
I think it’s pretty good. Tell us what you think.
HOT TIP: Hurry out and buy paper manufacturing stocks now! Because my acclaimed novel, Troll Valley, was released today in paperback, and surely those presses will be running till their gears smoke, turning out copies for a hungry public.
[NOTE: This is the paperback version I’m talking about. The audiobook, about which I’ve written so much, is still in the pipeline. The instructions at Amazon ACX say the approval process may take as long as ten days – but a look around in online forums tells me six weeks isn’t uncommon, and it can take months. So your patience is appreciated.]
I’m planning to accompany the audiobook release, if I’m still alive when it happens, with a five-minute video short, to promote it. I’m intrigued by these short videos I see all over (on Facebook and YouTube; I do not visit Tiktok). Just as I taught myself book recording on Audible, I’m now teaching myself video editing. The result, when I have accomplished it, will be posted here.
In personal news, I got word of a recent death that made me thoughtful. It was that of a man who had been one of my schoolteachers. He never liked me, and at one point he singled me out for a humiliating punishment, in front of my classmates.
I forgave him, formally in my heart, years ago. As a matter of spiritual obligation. But I couldn’t help recalling one of C. S. Lewis’ letters (or it might have been a journal entry, but I think it was a letter, perhaps to his brother). He wrote it as a young man, recalling the sadistic, insane headmaster he had endured at one of the boarding schools he attended as a boy. But now he was a young man, and enjoying life and freedom, while his old tormenter was long dead “and in hell.” (This, I should mention, was before his conversion). I must admit that I had anticipated this teacher’s death with… what shall I call it? Interest. But he lived quite a long life. I may not outlast him by much.
Loni Anderson died too. She was a native of St. Paul, and a lot of people around here (not me, I must admit) remembered some local commercials she did here (as a brunette) before she upped stakes for Hollywood.
Like most people, I remember her best for the brilliant comedy series, “WKRP In Cincinnati.” I remember my astonishment as I found myself increasingly drawn to her as the series went on. I was always a firm Jan Smithers supporter – her character, Bailey Quarters, was the girl of my dreams – drop dead gorgeous, but so insecure I could imagine her going out with a dork like me. But Anderson’s brainy glamor grew on me, in spite of myself.
I’m already on record as being in favor of commercialized glamor. Loni Anderson carried it off well. R.I.P.
In case you’re in the general area this weekend, I will be making a not-so-rare public appearance, Saturday and Sunday, at the Fantasy of the Lakes Renaissance Festival in Lindstrom Minnesota. This will be my first time at this event; they claim to be family friendly. (Though I sometimes pretend to be too good for Renaissance Festivals, I am in fact a lowly fantasy writer, after all.)
This will also be my first opportunity to offer my entire Erling Saga for sale in paperback form. For many years only The Year of the Warrior and West Oversea have been incarnate, and I’ve given away promotional bookmarks for the e-books of the rest of the series. When people asked if they were available in paper too, I’ve mumbled something about “maybe someday.” Well, someday is now. I assume after this I’ll have to answer questions about whether there are e-book versions.
There’ll be questions about audiobooks too, of course, so I’ll still get to practice my “someday” responses. (Troll Valley is coming, though. I’m about a third of the way through it. Didn’t get much done this morning; Friday mornings are rough because the garbage trucks rattle by.)
Pray for me. I’ll be dealing with human beings, and that’s always a trial.
Well, there they are. I finally got my paper copies of The Baldur Game yesterday, so at last I can take a family portrait. My magnum opus, for all the world to see.
I hope there are people out there who’ve been burned by George R. R. Martin and Patrick Rothfuss, who have vowed never to start reading an unfinished fantasy series again, who will now descend like seagulls on a bag of potato chips (but with better manners, I hope).
I got a fair start, in terms of sales. The book climbed as high as number 20 on the Amazon Christian Fantasy list (after Hunter Baker’s Basefook post). It’s sagged now, of course, inevitably. This is where I’m hoping that people are using the time reading, so they can post their rave reviews in multitudes after a few days.
I’m not a man to toot his own horn, as I think you know. But I went through the whole series last year, shaping each book up for paperback release, and I can’t deny I liked them very well. I believe that if somebody else had written them, I’d be promoting them with enthusiasm.
For all who’ve bought them, thank you. If you’d post an Amazon review, or at least a rating, I’d be grateful.
