Evan

Yes, that's right, just Evan. Shaerah aren't given last names, and I've never understood why Alex thinks that's such a big deal. Of course, he thinks a lot of things are big deals, when really they aren't.

Like the first day we met. His father had faked his own death, tricking Alex into inheriting me. Until that day, he didn't know Shaerah existed, and thought genetically created slaves with unique abilities were a myth. I remember what an ass he was that first day, but I blame some of his reaction to his father's lawyer, Van Holt. That albino weasel could have handled things differently, but now I realize just what kind of man he really is.

We originally thought some crazed Keeper was behind the plagues, after we found evidence of a ship taking something alien from a world we'd just discovered. That ship left a trail that went from planet to planet, never landing, but seeding the atmosphere of each one with some kind of biological agent. President Eljandro jumped at the chance to blame the plague on a made-up Keeper / Shaerah conspiracy, and put warrants out for our arrest. After some digging, and more than a few close calls, we finally found the truth, and the evidence we needed to prove it.

It was Van Holt, carrying out the last will and testament that Maker had set in motion. Really more of a doomsday scenario, to avenge his death. And on top of it all, he had President Eljandro backing him up, giving him money and protection. She used the plague to murder the other Presidents and bring the United Worlds under her rule.

Of course, our proof only ended up starting a civil war, but that's not my concern.

Alex can be stubborn, pig-headed, obstinate, impulsive and a real jerk sometimes, but he's also intelligent, brave, honorable, and has a massive capacity for taking responsibility for things, even when he shouldn't. And he's my Keeper. I know he prefers the term "friend". I still can't make him understand how a Shaerah is fundamentally better than those he's called "friend" in the past, but that's not the only thing Alex can't seem to come to grips with, so I've learned to let it slide.

In fact, I've learned a lot of things over the years we've been together. Like how to bend light around a ship in space, giving it an almost invisible shield to both sensors and the naked eye. It's a trick that's coming in handy now that we're about to steal the Ascalon back, right under the noses of the shipyard employees and maintenance workers performing upgrades on her as we speak.

It's gonna be tricky, but not nearly as hard as keeping Alex from doing something stupid.

Again.

Now I'm Hungry!

Reading Cath's blog entry blog@cathsmith.com
about where she used to live -- how she could stop along the road just about anywhere and have her pick of fresh fruits, veggies and just about anything else you could want -- instantly reminded me of the road we would take up to the mountains to our vacation property.

I was a kid in those days, and you remember odd things from your young-years, but this one memory is so vivid, I can still taste it.

Between our house and the lake (a decent 200 miles away) our route would take us through half a dozen Indian reservations, but there was one spot we came to think of it as a half-way mark that stands out in my mind. It was a fresh fruit stand in the middle of nowhere, along the Hood Canal, just a mile past the reservation's graveyard.

It was where we'd stop for a stretch, and my mom and sisters and I could use a restroom, then we'd stock up on fresh fruit like grapes, apples, melons, peaches, plums, nectarines. Mom would always have space saved in our coolers, knowing we'd be stopping here to buy the fruit we'd want for our stay (typically two weeks' worth). I loved the plums the most. The peaches were good, and grapes are a favorite of mine, but the plums ! It's really hard to get a good plum these days, and I don't now why.

But what really stays with me -- the memory that I can still, to this day, taste in my mouth -- was the smoked salmon ! Dad would head over to that section and the lady would have a package of smoked salmon opened up, to offer samples to everyone. We'd get a sample, then Dad would buy a few packages while we stood there, letting that amazing odor fill our noses and tickle the back of our throats, while the salmon -- perfectly smoked and seasoned -- would just melt in our mouths and somehow vanish down into our stomachs.

God, I can smell it now !

After a couple of years, my Dad decided to buy a smoker -- since the weekends not spent at the lake were spent out on the bay fishing for salmon. This little thing fit right into the fireplace in our living room at home, and I'm not sure what magic my Dad worked, but for days the entire house would smell of smoking fish !

It's hard to find good smoked salmon these days. Too many people season it wrong, or smoke it too long, or don't de-bone the salmon well enough. I have some co-workers who do a decent job, but nothing quite comes close to the way I remember it.

Dang you, Cath! Now I'm craving smoked salmon! And that stand doesn't exist anymore.

Well, while I deal with a craving I can't do anything about, let's see what the next blogger can do with that - here's the chain of command, just follow the blogs, check them out, and leave a comment (or two) to be polite. Next in this chain is Periodically.org Now, does anyone out there have some smoked salmon? Maybe some tofu cream cheese? Some crackers?

Anyone??

blog@cathsmith.com

My Midnight Muse

periodically.org

(The Blog Formerly Known as) Taosbound

Virtual Wordsmith

The Death Wizard Chronicles

Food History

Kappa No He

A piece in the puzzle

Sound Off Blog

Virginia Lee: I Ain't Dead Yet!

awchain

Well smack me with a wet noodle

I posted my Marathon Muse whine (I mean, informative post) then checked email.

Another agent wants to read a partial.

Color me salmon.

Marathon Muse!

Well, that's what I feel like, anyway. I've just completed a marathon of edits, revamping the entire Keeper series. There was a lot of little niddling work to be done in order to fix a few major plot issues that really did suck (let's be honest) and tighten up the storyline. Not just to introduce the new characters and series, but to do the Keeper novels justice.

Well that, and I have two agents reading partials and they had to be completely re-worked.

Now, to be honest in all its brutal, cold reality - I don't expect anything to come from this.

That is to say, I'm pretty damn sure I'll never get published - and I don't think I care so much any more. I started doing this because I love to write. I love it. Creating new worlds and characters, then watching them grow and change - - especially when they're so enthusiastically embraced by my readers the way Alex and Evan have been. There's no better feeling than that.

To know my stories are being read by people I don't know (as opposed to handing them off to a few friends and family) is amazing.

There's a lot of . . . weirdness, in the publish-me world. Some of it makes perfect sense, some of it bugs the crap out of me. Quite a lot of it is just a headache waiting to happen. And that can all-too-often suck the life right out of a writer.

What was I talking about? Oh, right, this was a post about me being done with my edits. Then it sorta took a whiny-ass turn. Sorry about that.

So basically I took pairs of the previous novels and combined them to make full-length, 100k+ stories instead of the odd 70k or 50k sequels that they'd been in the past. There's a huge plot issue that no longer exists, and another one that was completely rewritten to make more sense (thus eliminating at least one Dues Ex Machina, if not three or four)

And guess what!

That means I'm finally writing a new one.

Yep. Finally moving in a forward, progressive motion. This new installment will introduce the new characters and get things going again. I'm back to what makes me happy - writing what I want, the way I want to, and lovin' every minute of it.

Until the next mood swing, anyway :D

When Free costs $10.00

So my sister and I were at Staples this weekend, she was buying a new office chair and I had to pick up a memory card for my camera. We're checking out, her at one teller and me at another, and I hear her teller ask: Do you want your two free movie tickets?

To which my sister replies: No, thank you.

Well this threw the woman - she was completely befuddled.

Her: But, they're free.
My sister: No, thank you.
Her: You don't want two free movie passes?
My sister: No, but thank you. (you see, we don't go to the theater, we always wait for the DVD or just use Netflix).

So then, finally convinced she's not going to be passing out two free movie tickets today, she does something else with the register, gives my sister her total, and we meet at the other side. I wasn't asked about free movie tickets, I assume because I hadn't spent as much.

As we're walking to the car, my sister checks her receipt and there's a $10.00 charge for movie tickets. Then a $10.00 credit, obviously applied when my sister convinced this woman she didn't want the tickets.

So, these "free movie tickets" cost $10.00. They charged it up automatically, then offered her the tickets. When she refused them, they had to credit her the $10.00 charge for the "free movie tickets."

I'm staring at the receipt as we speak - and right there, it says "Free movie pass $10.00"

Another WTF moment if ever I saw one.

Alex Marcase

Yeah, that's me, Alex Marcase, Captain of the Class-A Warship Defiant. But you can add Captain of the exploration vessel Ascalon, if my plan works. Admiral Rickover double-crossed me when he gave me the Defiant and took my ship for refitting and transport. He swore I could have her back when this mess was through, only we all know this mess ain't ever gonna be through.

Okay, maybe you don't know how Evan and I finally managed, with some outside help, to rectify that whole plague-caused-by-aliens issue. President Eljandro was behind it all, and -- while I say this reluctantly -- we were able to prove it thanks to Paulson Carpenter.

That's a matter for another day's topic, though. Today I'm planning a recovery Op -- some might call it theft -- to get my ship back. Sure, the Defiant is really something. Having a war ship again gives me a little peace of mind in these trouble times. She's small and easy to manage with my reduced crew.

But like I said, times have changed.

I need the Ascalon back for her size and capacity. See, there's a group out here -- a few thousand strong already and potentially growing by the day -- who need transportation to a new colony. That is, once I find us a suitable planet. The war's about to start, everyone's either taking sides or beatin' feet out of the way, and that's where I come in. I volunteered, idiot that I can be sometimes, to find these people a planet far from the reaches of President Eljandro and Admiral Grant. A place they can colonize and make their own, without fear of civil war or the trappings of society, such as it's become.

But to transport that many people, plus the supplies they'll need to start a new world and survive there requires a bigger ship.

So I'm stealing the Ascalon back.

Sure, she's not much to look at. Huge, bulky, and that yellow outer hull color wasn't my choice. But in space, size and shape don't matter one little bit. Capacity and design are king, and she's a beauty in those departments. I can fit enough equipment in her first three holds to outfit a small army, then stuff enough food, fresh water and crop-starters in the other four to keep them alive for more than a year in even the most inhospitable conditions.

Plus, she's mine. I held the lease on her for so many years, and she kept me alive in the black for a long while. Then just when I had her paid for, along came Admiral Rickover and his deal.

Or should I say Rickover and his double-cross? I'm pretty sure he and the president had their plan set in motion even before he found me out there in the nebula and brought me up to speed. Using Evan and I to track down the real culprit was probably their plan all along, but that part, I can't prove. And I don't care anymore. We got done what we had to get done. Maybe that put this civil war in motion a little sooner, but it was going to happen anyway.

Truth be told, this all started with Maker. That little shit had a doomsday scenario all planned out after all, and his weasel Van Holt carried it out.

But that's a long story, and right now, I gotta run. We just got a lead on the Ascalon, and I'll be damned if I'm letting her go a second time!

Well lookie there!

Thanks to an annonymous tip, I just found out the offending post, the one in which the agent's assistant has referred to new writers as Donkeys, has been removed from the blog.

Will wonders never cease.

Of course, this is only after the agency in question posted a huffy response about backing this assistant's post, and suggesting any writer who was offended was clearly one of the Donkeys in question.

As one writing friend said: It takes an Ass to recognize a Donkey.