It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.

–Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

An unconventional issue.

I usually aim for brevity. At least I've kept it under 1000 words for the last several months, but since I'm late with this issue anyway, I'm going to just let it fly.

Profanity

I wrote a blog post about cursing, and it's gotten more buzz than most of what I write, so I here steer you to it, especially the 100's of you who are not aware of the website. In that post I don't intend to insult anyone, just express the idea that profanity may have its place, but it's creeping in everywhere. It was spawned by reaction to one single 'bad' word in Bewildered. Share your thoughts, please, on the blog comments, or write me.

Book Inside You

"You can do it." Beyond all my thoughts otherwise, the most important story I can tell audiences is that you can accomplish Things, however big they are. In my case, and in my story, the protagonist was repressed and beaten down by his own self-doubt (and some early influences who really trampled his ego, but that's another story).

I believe everyone has a story to tell, and from conversations and interviews, I would argue that each individual's biography is a story worth sharing. I think there should be as many biographies as there are people. You, newsletter reader, have fascinating facets of your life to share.

In my case, I was repressed for 40 years. I have a big backlog of ideas to write up. People are interested in the stories I'm writing. The same is true of yours. Even if you consider yourself the least interesting person at the cocktail party (which, btw, I recommend as a stance at any event, for you learn more from others)...you have lots to offer.

Special thanks to these members of the Kansas Authors Club, District 5 for their support at my first author event! Pictured from left to right: Jillian Forsberg, Julie Ann Baker Brin, [Jarvis] Sandee Taylor, and Grant Overstake.

Mark at Watermark

Recently, I was honored to share my newest book, Future Fugitives, with a very supportive group at Watermark Books and Cafe in Wichita, Kansas. It was my first "author event," and it went well.

Special thanks abound

Here's what it means when you attend an author event...at least to me...No matter how busy your life is, you took time to check in. Easily half the crowd had to come late or leave early, but I didn't mind a bit. Just to have them there was outstanding.

I don't think I ever understood the idea of a "show of support just by showing up" before, but after that night...I get it. I wish there wasn't any assumption or expectation to buy my book, for just having everyone there to be in the moment for my book's debut was ample. That so many chose to buy Future Fugitives was an added bonus and blessing.

Reviews are a bit like an author event. They are the social proof that a book's been picked up by a real-life reader. Reviews take time, and I don't know about anyone else, but I get self-conscious about them being "good enough." I now see a review as another show of support, and like coming/going at a live event...even a brief review or a shallow review is just fine. Tells the author you engaged with the book. Tells the world the book might be worth reading.

Here's a very nice review of Future Fugitives. Thanks Sandee.

So, I'd suggest that for any author you like, follow them. Write reviews for them. And if you have the chance, attend an event for them. It's very special to us. Today, being a fan, an avid reader, is more of a participatory activity than ever.

Film

The Fifth Element was brought back to the big screen by Fathom Big Screen Classics. Check back, for I'm working up a blog post worthy of the film, but I would urge readers to watch for it in your town on November 20.

I've seen it dozens of times, but I'd forgotten the joy of seeing it in a theatre. Experiencing it in full-on audio again was a treat. In the opening scene when the Mandoshawan ship moves across the screen, the sound moves with it from right to left. Eric Serra's end credits song Little Light of Love blasting in full was so moving! Every sound in between just blew me away (and there were lots of explosions to enjoy, too.) That's just the sound...just the start of what I'd say about the sound.

Get thee to the theatre and revel in The Fifth Element while you still can.

Bonus!

If you're a regular reader, you know I mostly mention Independent films, and here's a list of five underrated but exceptional Indie movies. I've seen one of them, Vesper, and like the YouTuber, I cannot recommend it enough. Vesper (2022) - Set in a dystopian future, Vesper presents a hauntingly beautiful world devastated by ecological collapse. Despite a small budget, the film delivers breathtaking visuals and explores themes of survival, class division, and hope in a barren world.

Vesper is a visual treat, like the 460 million dollar Avatar, but pulled off with only 5 million. It does more with botanical elements in a dystopian setting than I've ever seen. I love it so much I'm handing you the trailer, here:

Character

I write often (in this newsletter and on my blog) about how important good characters are to me, the source work for my characters, and the interplay I have with them. I've shared inspirations for them, resource books for them, and even, back in July of '23, interviews with them.

Back by popular demand, a character interview. This time it's with the affable Kenny Hinman (aka Henny) who is featured in both Future Fugitives and Lost and Found. We'll join him in that second novel, where he's (more of) an adult.

Interview with Henny

Mark: Henny, thanks for taking the time to sit down with me. I know you’re a busy man, running Sharts and Grins and all.

Henny: No problem. Always got time for a good chat, especially when the drinks are flowing.

Mark: Speaking of drinks, you’ve been known to share a few with Lark Fortune over the years. What’s your relationship with him like?

Henny: Lark? Ah, Lefty’s one of a kind. Known him since we was kids. He’s my best customer, that’s for sure, but more than that, he’s like family. Always been there for him, through thick and thin, even when he was spouting crazy theories about Rainmakers or getting himself into trouble with Krystal.

Mark: It sounds like you’ve got a lot of patience.

Henny: (Shrugs) Gotta have patience in this business. And with friends like Lark, you learn to roll with the punches.

Mark: You mentioned Krystal. She and Lark have a complicated history, haven’t they?

Henny: You could say that. Lefty’s always had a thing for her, even when it was clear she was bad news. Can’t blame him though, Krystal’s a force of nature. And she's hot...to this day!

Mark: Do you think Lark will ever get over her?

Henny: Ain't no way. He hasn't in two lifeti--He hasn't in all these years. She's, you know, special. And Fortune, he's a romantic, in spite a how he comes off.

Mark: Carrying quite the flame then. You seem like a pretty grounded guy, Henny. What’s important to you in life?

Henny: My girls. My wife, Darla. Family’s everything. And of course, a good beer and a good laugh. Life’s too short to take it too seriously.

Mark: I get that. But there was a time you stepped away from all that, from Guthrie and your friends. What happened back then?

Henny: (Looks down at his hands) It was a long time ago, man. Some things are best left in the past.

Mark: You’ve seen a lot of changes in Guthrie over the years. Any thoughts on what the future holds?

Henny: (Shrugs again) Future’s a mystery, ain’t it? Just gotta take it one day at a time.

Mark: But you’ve seen some pretty strange things, especially recently. The Spooks, the porting…it’s not your average small-town stuff.

Henny: True enough. Sometimes I wonder if I’m living in some crazy dream.

Mark: Do you ever want something more? Something beyond Sharts and Grins?

Henny: (Looks thoughtful) Maybe. I’d like to think got something to offer. Like I can make a difference somehow. Epic stuff, you know? Maybe that’s why I keep getting caught up in these crazy adventures.

Mark: Like the one with Sackerson?

Henny: (Silence)

Mark: I get it. Some things are better left unsaid. Thanks again for your time, Henny.

Henny: No problem. You take care now. And if you ever need a tall tale or a listening ear, you know where to find me.

Bonus: an amazing AI podcast discussing the character and world of the adult Kenny Hinman. Google NotebookLM took some liberties, but it's fairly accurate and very interesting! You may be asked to login to google, but trust me, it's worthwhile! The last two minutes of it are fantastic.

Here's your link.

Writing Right Now...

Other than this newsletter, I'm still plugging away at the seventh novel set in this world-build. The working title is Water for Tears.

My friends, Mike P and John B, both have inspired me to focus on the disparity in cultures from the Swipe to the Dust. This is that story.

This book, at least the first 10,000 words of it, is far out in the Dust, that wasteland that is not even charted by corporations any more. It features a family that's been deposited out there (in the town of Yander) for witness protection. Readers will be drawn into the community and the mysteries it offers (the protagonist finds that Yander has violent public executions, but why?) Why has the protagonist's family been buried there? How will they (former citizens of the Swipe) cope in the gritty wilds of this harsh world?

The protagonist, herself, is a strong-willed 18 year old who had to give up all of her relationships, all prospects of a future, even a love interest. She's not inclined to play along in this new circumstance and does her best to circumvent every rule. Her Mother, however, a former medical examiner, insists on compliance, even though she is curious and rebellious in her own way.

How's that sound?

Here's a sample from Water for Tears:

Imajean thought herself to be about as world wise as they came. Her personal HeadGear was tuned to NatGeo and all the travel streams. She interviewed anyone with a faint whiff of the exotic for a book she planned to write someday. While other girls had digital wall scrolls of boy bands and supermodels, Imajean’s bedroom had been papered with maps.

The maps were beautiful and varied in their depiction of the swirling paths of the Rainmakers. Vast cities stretched all along the storms’ routes. Like a topographical map, the known and charted fringe communities, the Skirts, were tiered out farther and farther from the river-like Swipes of the Rainmakers. Beyond that, mapmakers sometimes speculated and conferred on what was left of civilization in the dry wastelands labeled simply as “Dust.”

Imajean scrawled, “Here there be dragons,” in the wide empty space.

Imojean’s deeper interests were pinned behind all those maps, sometimes layers deep, to the mad scribblings she and her father had covered her walls once with. “Harold and the Purple Crayon!” he had chuckled to her one evening after coloring for hours, “He’s got nothing on us.” Their drawings had arced over wood work and across the backs of doors and right through the curtains. He had told her the true course of a Rainmaker had no concern for boundaries.

Their swirling designs depicted the original routes of the Rainmakers, those initially planned and executed by LF Winston himself. Her father knew them all by heart, and what he did not know, he imagined. They had colored thick lines in a particularly vibrant blue, one the crayon company called “Cerulean-Zen.” They purchased dozens of packs of crayons and tossed them all in a sock drawer just to get enough of that just right blue to do the job.

To bide their time as they colored, her father told her his sales stories, embellished tall tales of dramatic boardroom coups. Even when she was sitting on his knee, she knew he was making most of it up for her entertainment. Now she suspected there were layers, allusions to truths she’d have to tease out the tales herself.

Imajean was on her own. There was no benevolent narrator out here, and any maps this far afield were the stuff of fancy. She had a sinking sensation that all the research and cartography and tall tales had not prepared her for the outskirts town known as Yander.

She would be seen here as nothing but another ignorant ecotourist from the Swipes.

“Head down, eyes in front,” Mother commanded under her breath. Imajean felt Mother’s hand on her shoulder, pushing her from her thoughts to move ahead.

Her first footfall, her first contact with the place, shot up her leg. Nothing but her imagination, she told herself. A pinched nerve from twelve hours sitting. Imajean tried to rationalize it, but the hot, unyielding hardpack underfoot was trying to tell her something. This was a desperate place, a parched place, one that had sucked the life out of too many souls to mention.

Feedback always coveted...just email me. The draft will be completed in January...but this book's in the queue two novels back, so it won't likely be available until late spring.