The Chronicles of the Eirish: Book 1: The Lich’s Horde.

Posted by dougdandridge on August 28, 2018
Posted in: Barbarians, eBooks, Fantasy, History, Kindle, Magic, Military, Past, self publishing, Titles, Undead, Vampires, Writing. Tagged: , , , , , , . Leave a comment

 

 

 

LichHorde

Avalaible on Amazon.US and Amazon.UK. as well as all the other iterations of Amazon out there.

This fantasy novel was just released last night on Amazon, and is now available world wide. It definitely has a military slant to it, and I typify it as Military Fantasy, a term I had heard didn’t exist at a DragonCon panel three years ago. Readers who like the Refuge series will love this book. I believe that even the die hard military scifi fans of Exodus will love it. It definitely isn’t fairies and unicorns. The battles are dirty and intense and much like my space opera ground battles, only different.

Now I know that the rabid Exodus fans will be complaining that I’m putting something out that is not Exodus, lol. Sorry, but many more Exodus books will be coming out, probably another at the end of September. And this book, in its original iteration at least, was written many years ago. So, I’ll tell you the story behind this novel.

Back in 2004, or was it 2005, I wrote a fantasy called The Chronical of Connor McMenamin. I showed it to several friends who were big time writers, and was told I wouldn’t have any problem selling it. Well, I sent it out to the three publishers who at the time were accepting unsolicited manuscripts and received form rejections. Unfortunately my friends weren’t aquisition editiors. Book 1 was the first part of a trilogy. When I started self-publishing I decided to not put it out, since I didn’t have time for another series. Fast forward seven years or so, and I decided to revisit the idea, only twenty years earlier in the series and with another cast of characters. And so this book was born, starring Connor’s father, King Rory. I did thorough research on the people of the ancient world, and came up with a jumble of groups and their ancient gods. I noted that most peoples of the ancient world were eventually conquered and absorbed into some other group. I didn’t want this in my world, so I came up with the idea that the Gods protected their own. Wars were possible, fringe lands could change hands, but the core lands were jealously guarded by their deities, who had more power on their home territories than any invaders. The other idea was that gods gained their power from their worshippers. Not a new idea at all, dating back to the days of the pulps, in fact. The third idea was that of the Walking Gods, former deities who had fallen from heaven when they lost most of their worshippers. Super beings, greater than human, with some of the divine in them still. But mortal, capable of dying. The novel came to about ninety-five thousand words. I started self-publishing with other works and never had time to send it out, and again, didn’t want yet another series until I was finished with some that were already out.

I brought a couple of chapters of The Lich’s Horde to a workshop, where it was critiqued and commented on by a big time editor with a major company, as well as a major award winning writer. The editor liked it, but had some problems with the mixed mythology and some of the formatting. Now, I learned to write by reading other writers, and didn’t have all the Chicago Manual of Style rules down. So I bought the manual and started learning. The funny thing is that even following those rules exactly has led to some arguments with other professionals. Go figure. It’s a no-win situation. I went in and changed a lot of the background, cleaning it up. I also talked with a big time agent at the workshop, and thought that I had nailed down someone who had represented a bunch of best selling authors. As soon as I had the novel cleaned up, and brought it to under ninety thousand words, cutting unmercifully at the agent’s recommendation. I finally got it off to her and waited. And waited. Four months after I sent it off I pinged her, and was told that she didn’t have the copy I had sent her. The copy she had acknowledged receipt of when I sent it. I sent her another copy and waited, and waited, and pinged again, three months later. She replied that she had read it several times and just couldn’t get into it. Which meant she would not represent the book. Funny thing about agents. If they don’t love it, they won’t try to sell it. Try doing that in retail and see how long you last.

I had also seen the editor several times over the last eighteen months, and he hadn’t asked about the novel. Even when I mentioned it he didn’t express any interest. At the workshop he had said that he wanted to see it first before any other house. Now, no interest, zilch. So I decided I didn’t want to have to wait the year to year and a half to get this published if I sent it to their slush pile. And possibly receive a rejection letter after waiting a year. I already have a traditionally published book coming out that the publisher and his editor love. I mean love. The editors comments are that she loves this scene, that scene, the other scene. They love it so much so that we are going to do a third book, beyond the two book contract. I have given up on the other publisher, the one I had always dreamed of doing a book for. As another successful independent author friend has said, they know where I am if they want to talk. I no longer have the time or energy to pursue them.

The story? A Death God kills the worshippers of his brother, the Sky God, and gains power. The Sky God falls to earth and becomes a Walking God. The nomads under the control of the Death God go on a campaign to conquer other lands, other peoples, and throw other Gods to Earth. With the power of their evil deity behind them they are able to conquer the cores of other lands and depose their gods. The Walking God travels to the lands of a king who hates his gods for allowing his wife to die in childbirth. The same king, Rory McMenamin, that the last wizards in the Western world are traveling to see to seek refuge. Because divine magic users, read that as priests, hate the idea that someone else, read that wizards, could actually control as muc power as they do.

The setting is not the traditional high fantasy world, where the armor that great great granddad wore in the same as the current characters are using. Things have progressed, and most are at a Renaissance era of technology. The book is full of action, huge battles, pikes and muskets, cannon and knights, verses nomad horsemen and an undead army they have raised from the fallen of the lands they have conquered. I went over it, added in twelve thousand more words (thanks, big time agent, for asking me to shorten it to a point where it didn’t meet my requirements for a published novel.). In reading it, while doing the rewrite, it was like I was reading a new work, and frankly it excited me. So, if you like hard and gritty fantasy, no unicorns or faeries, but definitely some demons and a lot of gross ass zombies, this might be the book to you.

I’m heading to DragonCon tomorrow. This could well be my last one, since the crowds are wearing on me, it’s expensive, and quite frankly the expense is not advancing my career as I had hoped. I can only get a couple of panels a year. I understand. They spend big bucks on big name guests and they have to get them in front of the fans. But two panels is just not enough. I could possibly do two smaller cons next year that would offer more exposure. But I am going this time, and will have after action reports to blog about in the coming month.

Currently the book is listed on Amazon.UK as Low Fantasy. I don’t even know what in the hell that is.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Sixteen: The Flight Home and What I Learned.

Posted by dougdandridge on August 27, 2018
Posted in: eBooks, Fantasy, Military, Near Future, Southwest, Travel, Writing. Tagged: , , , , . Leave a comment

I woke up after much too little sleep, crawling into the lobby for breakfast, then getting my stuff together for the flight out. I was sure that I was carrying more stuff than on the way in, including some books. I put a few of the books in with my CPAP, hoping that my bags were under the fifty-pound limit. I had heard some horror stories on the way out about people having to pay over a hundred dollars more for an overweight bag. Then I hauled my stuff up to the lobby and asked them to call a cab. After a few minutes of sitting I decided to wait outside.

The sound of jets was very noticeable outside. I was about a mile from Nellis AFB, and there had been a lot of jets in the air the night before. I looked up and over at the sound and saw four jets cruising through the air in a diamond formation. A little later a couple of them were flying at each other. I was wondering if these were the Thunderbirds, the US Air Force precision flying team. I found out later that they were. And also, much later, that one of the pilots had died in a crash. They put on a good show, but precision flying is a dangerous business, they and the Blue Angels are always losing pilots. The taxi finally pulled up, and I rode in the front with the driver and talked on the way.

The driver told me his daughter was interested in becoming a writer, and I gave him a card so she could follow my blog. We had an interesting conversation about a number of subjects. We got to the terminal and he was very helpful in getting my bags out, and soon I was checked in at the American Airlines outside check in, my large bag weighed (I came in five pounds under the limit!) and I was heading into the terminal and the dreaded TSA checkpoint.

What I don’t like about TSA, even when they are nice, which isn’t often, is the lines you have to get into and the hurry up attitude of everyone. I don’t hurry well. I have learned to have my computer bag already out of my carryon so I can save time. I got everything into their containers and through the scanners, and went through the person scanner without a hitch. Then it was to the trams to the actual gates. They actually didn’t try to rush me this time. That’s good, because I never hurry up when rush, and in fact slow down.

What always cracked me up about McCarran International were the slot machines and other gambling games all over the place. There was a whole bank of them by the gates, with an attendant to make change for people wanting to play the slots. Las Vegas doesn’t want you escaping with any money they might be able to get. In three trips I have spent a total of seventy cents on the slots, and that was at the Piute Indian Truck Stop outside of Valley of Fire State Park. I know the house has it rigged to win enough to make a living, and I’m not really interested in helping them.

I tried several times to get in touch with Budget and tell them that they car was not coming back. At least not today. All I could get were messages, and I left a couple of my own letting them know what was going on. I finally gave up. I had a flight to catch, and my message let them know what happened. I would deal with the mess when I got home.

I had bought seat upgrades to get more leg room, and that actually made the flight more comfortable. The seats still were butt numbing, but you could actually get up without making your fellow passengers move for you. A really nice young man helped me to stow my bags overhead, I strapped in, and started a conversation with the guy in the Virginia Tech shirt. He was a true fan, and knew a lot about my school as well, so we had a good conversation about sports and what had happened in the day. I made a comment about how I really hated the Uconn Women’s Basketball Team, and the nice young man beside me said, “and we were getting along so well.” That was when I noticed the Husky on his sweatshirt. Oops. We still got along for the rest of the trip.

We landed at Charlotte International on time, and then it was another long walk to another gate. First, I checked to make sure they hadn’t changed the gate. That had happened in the past, and I had made the long trudge to a gate only to find that the flight had been changed to another terminal. Somehow one of the food courts was on the way, and I stopped at a BBQ place to get a full meal. Not too bad for airport food, and I wish I could remember the name so I could shout them out.

The flight to Tally boarded on time, then sat out away from the gate for about fifteen minutes before moving. I never did find out what was going on, but since I was a prisoner on the plane it really didn’t matter. Again I got the extra leg room, which meant I didn’t have a seat in front of me since that was the arrangement of the first class section. The young lady next to me was an FSU student and I talked with her a bit, then went to reading. We landed close to on time in Tally, then had an inordinately long wait for baggage. I had to crack up when they announced arrival at Tallahassee International, and advised that we check the gate of our connecting flight if this wasn’t our final stop. Yeah, check the gate at Tallahassee, the International Airport with four gates.

Last time through I had to wait for the second shift of taxis. With the baggage delay, and another bunch of passengers from another flight getting theirs, I was afraid it was going to happen again. And it was getting on to midnight. Fortunately, almost everyone else here had someone waiting for them, and there was a cab right outside the exit. Another cab ride, another conversation, and then I was home. The cats were all waiting for me (except the black cat, who as usual was hiding when I’ve been away for more than a day). All healthy and asking for petting. Even Bobbie, my eighteen year old bobtail who has been diagnosed with kidney failure for the last year and a half. He’s thin as a rail and is always drinking water, but as soon as I sat down in my office he was in my lap, purring away. Tough kitty, and I was glad to see him.

I slept the sleep of the dead that night. I had held up for two weeks of constant travel, a couple of sleepless nights, and the wonder of seeing some of the most beautiful places on Earth. It took a week to get back to normal, whatever the hell that is.

It had been a good trip. I had seen a lot, learned a lot, experienced a lot. Not everything had been good, but that was life. Fortunately the hit and run had not injured me, the snow had not forced me to stay up in Canyonlands, I hadn’t been mugged walking to the strip. I saw a lot of beautiful country, met some interesting people, learned some valuable lessons. I can’t wait to do it again. Later I would go through the hassle of dealing with Budget and the Insurance companies. The adjuster for Geico, my company, out of Arizona, was great, and smoothed everything over, so there was that. My premiums went up, but not by a huge amount, so I’m sticking with them.

I had nailed down all the locations for my post apocalyptic novel, had my spirits lifted, and made it back in one piece. What could be better. Next time I will avoid going into crowded areas like Las Vegas on a holiday weekend, and driving strange interstates under construction at night. I also learned that unless I get in much better shape, a problem at my age, not to sign up for adventures like four wheeling through the desert. I spent way more money than I should have, but met and talked with some interesting people. Starting off with Wonderhussy, the woman who does travel vids of the Great American Southwest and was my guide on my first full day out there, to the Lion Keeper at Lion Habitat Ranch, to all the Park Rangers, and finally to the people on the plane. I have learned through the years that the best thing you can accumulate are memories, and this trip crammed a lot of them into my brain.

Exodus 14 is out, and other news.

Posted by dougdandridge on August 21, 2018
Posted in: Alien Invasion, Antimatter, eBooks, Far Future, Future Warfare, Kindle, Military, Nanotechnology, science Fiction, self publishing, Wormholes, Writing. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Exodus14

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. In the UK an be bought here.

Over nine months after the last book, Exodus: Empires at War: Book 13: Retaliation, was released, I am proud to announce that Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion is out. A lot of obstacles got in the way of this book being released earlier. I had other projects that needed to be completed, some new opportunities, and some finishing up on series that had still not reached a stopping point. More on that last later on. First off, I needed to come up with an idea for the book, and when I finally got around to putting it first in the queue, the idea still eluded me. Finally, in mid-July, my imagination came alive and voila, there was the idea, and the book was ready to be written. I put in many five thousand word days, fourteen in a row at one point, but here it is.

Now, the good news for Exodus Fans. Some of the opportunities I took advantage of, which will definitely be paying off in the future, played havoc with my normal production schedule. I usually put out between five and six books a year, four or more in one of the two Exodus series, Empires at War and Machine War. This year I was not able to keep to that schedule, and I took a financial beating that wasn’t helped by taking a long trip to Nevada to tour that area. That will also help in the future when I start on a new series, probably next year. Frankly, I need to get some books out in my most popular series in order to repair the financial damage. So, I will be working hard to attempt to bring four more books in the series out before the end of the year. I might not make it, but it won’t be for lack of effort. So, two more Empires at War and two more Machine War. I may be closing out the Machine War series by book 6, but don’t worry, fans of that series. The main characters will be joining the war on the Ca’cadasan front. I had planned to end Empires at War after another couple of books, but now it’s looking like at least four more in the series, possibly six. I also plan to do two more Tales of the Empire short collections, and will start, by the end of next year, on a line called In The Beginning (tentative title), a series of six to eight books detailing the history of the wacky nation known as the New Terran Empire. So, there is still a lot of Exodus to come.

I have been accused by some people of only being in it for the money. Not quite true. Even if I wasn’t making a living at this I would still be writing. But to make a living I have to write works that people want to buy. That I’m not only in it for the money, I point to the Theocracy and Refuge series. Neither sell great, but I enjoy writing them, and there are enough fans of both series that I don’t want to just drop them in the middle of the story arc. I will try to get in the third Theocracy book next year, and book 6 of Refuge probably soon after. I had been planning to finish off Refuge at that time, but I think that by stretching it out in time I might be able to see myself doing two more. For people who are fans of the series, talk it up with friends, people at conventions, online. The more it sells, the more I will be willing to write in that series.

Now, to the opportunities. I have finished book 1 of a new series for a traditional house, Arc Manor, the publisher of Galaxy’s Edge magazine. It took a lot of time, and I had a harsh task master as an editor, but I learned a lot about writing. I doubt I would have gotten such an opportunity from anyone else. I have a second book due, and the publisher is amenable to putting a third on the contract after seeing the first. I will also be working on book two of Kinship War, as the series is called, during the fall. We are hoping that it will be a hit, and will open up a shared universe for other authors to write in. The second opportunity came from Chris Kennedy, whose publishing company is behind the very successful Four Horsemen Universe that he, Mark Wandrey, and now so many others write in. If any of my fans haven’t read any of their books, you need to go and get some and start reading. My novel, When Eagles Dare, will be coming out shortly. I also have a short story in another anthology set in the Universe. The other anthologies did really well, and I recommend them as well. Also, my short story, Alone, will be coming out soon in Chuck Gannon’s Lost Signals of the Terran Republic anthology.

I will also be releasing two other books in the next couple of weeks. One is a military fantasy, set in a gunpowder technology era. I wrote it years ago, well before Exodus was even a glimmer of an idea. An editor at a major house was interested in it, but frankly, I’ve got my traditional novel coming out, and I don’t want to wait a year or two for it to be accepted (or rejected) and finally make its way to production. The other is a science fiction/horror novel called Soulless, not for the timid or the young. Also written years before I even conceived of Exodus, it was praised by several of the instructors at a workshop where I presented the first two chapters. After that my harddrive will be cleared of unpublished finished works, with one exception that will have to wait.

So, for those who are mostly fans of Exodus, there will be more coming along, and soon. For those who are fans of Refuge, there will be more, but I can only afford to release one a year. And I have ideas for other series, which will be making their way to print over the next couple of years. I’m hoping to have a very productive couple of years ahead. If I can keep the body together I will be writing for years to come. I have no plans to retire from this job. I am still looking into getting more of the Exodus books produced as audiobooks, something I am constantly asked. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to get the producer of the first five interested in doing any others. I had one narrator lined up, but he dropped out from the project soon after agreeing to do it. I can’t afford to produce them other than as a royalty share, and to do that I have to get a narrator to sign on. I have thought of doing it myself, but I really don’t have the time. It would cut into my writing time, and besides, I have lots of allergies, and getting through fifteen minutes without throat clearing is a challenge. I will be posting the job for Exodus 6 once again, but there are no guarantees. For those who have been following this blog for the travelogue of my last trip out West, I will be putting out the last chapter this Friday. And now for the excerpt:

“I think we’ll take this one first,” said the admiral, pointing to one of the projector ships. “Sinbad can go after this one, while Stuart takes this one.”

“Very good ma’am,” said the tactical officer, imputing the information into his board, setting up the attack profile for the squadron. He looked over at the com officer, who nodded back before sending the orders out through whisker laser.

“We should start configuring for attack in twenty-five minutes,” said the tac officer, frowning. “It means we won’t be sucking out heat for the fifteen minutes before the attack, but I don’t think it a good idea to delay any longer.”

“Very well. Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“And how do you want to attack the rest of them?”

“Let’s see how we do with the initial attack before we start planning the others.”

The tac nodded in agreement. Not only would they not know how much of a force they had to attack the remaining enemy until after the first strike, but they wouldn’t know what the enemy was going to do before then. She hoped she still had three battle capable capital ships after that strike, but there was no guarantee. There was never a guarantee in combat.

The bridge crew waited. They had nothing to do but relay information to the squadron commander, and transmit her orders to the command bridges of the three ships. The real fighting would be handled by the command teams of the warships, maneuvering and firing at the orders of their captains and the skill of helm and tactical officers.

Mei reached up and wiped the sweat from her brow. She checked the temperature, and found that the environment of the bridge was still as cool as ever. Nerves was her thought. She had thought that by now she would be used to the tension before entering combat, but it never became any easier.

“Ships are configuring their wormholes for combat,” called out the com officer, his voice cracking slightly from the tension.

And now we find out how alert they are, thought Mei. They wouldn’t start producing heat immediately, but it would come, and they would no longer be as stealthy as before.

“Wormholes are set,” said the tac officer.

“Donut is reporting that the accelerators are spun up,” said the com officer. “Reactors at full power.”

Maybe I should have gone with missiles, thought the admiral. Wormhole launched missiles would have been instant kills when they hit, but she had a never heard of anyone firing them this close to a star. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her, but her instincts told her that the particle beams would be a better option in this situation.

She took one last look at the plot, trying to time it perfectly. The sensor officer turned toward her and said the words that took that option away from her.

“We’re being painted with lidar, ma’am.”

“Now,” shouted the admiral, her excitement at finally going into action taking control of her voice.

The well drilled ships all accomplished their actions within a second of each other. Electromagnetic fields came up at full strength, cold plasma injected as soon as they were formed. Laser rings took a couple of seconds to come up to full power, but counter missiles and offensive weapons were ready in an instant. And grabbers boosted up to full power, pulling their ships onto different vectors at five hundred and thirty gravities, then a couple of more, sinking the crew back into their acceleration couches as six gravities came over them in an instant.

Eight million ton warships now moved into the attack like they were fighters. Helms took control of the particle beams, slaved to their joysticks as the holos over their stations showed the aim point. Tactical officers continued to control the lasers and missiles, concentrating on defending their vessels.

The Jean de Arc vectored around the star, using its gravitational field to swing into the same orbital path as their target. They closed at thousands of kilometers a second, twisting, turning and rolling to avoid the lasers that the enemy was now firing their way. The ship shook from a hit, the damage to the hull causing the outgassing that provided unintentional thrust. Some missiles erupted from the enemy. Mei sucked in a breath

“They’re counters, ma’am,” called out the tac officer. “Not offensive weapons.”

“Firing,” called out the helmsman from the control bridge. The ship shook again as the counter thrust of the particle beam worked against the pull of the grabbers.

The forward viewer on the flag bridge showed the enemy superbattleship, highlighted against the brilliant globe of the star, sitting a couple of million kilometers below. The particle beam struck out, hitting dead center on the enemy vessel, going off for a moment, then connecting again as the helmsman adjusted the ship and his aim.

Particle beams were red in air due to the friction cause by protons flying at relativistic speeds through the gas particles. In space they were normally invisible. But this close to the star, in space that had greater particle density than further out, the destruction of antiprotons on the outer edge of the beam, contacting star plasma, had much the same effect. The angry red of the beam made aiming easy for the helmsmen.

Where the beam hit intense fire lived. Antiprotons exploded into particles as they touched matter, while making the atoms of matter blast into similar particles. The force of the strike, antiprotons moving at just under the speed of light, sent the fire deep into the hull after blasting through the armor.

Still, the ship was tough, and the beam would not kill them quickly. What they did was erode away all the electronics and installations for a hundred meters on each side of the strike, degrading defenses.

“Firing missiles,” came another voice over the intercom, the ship’s tactical officer releasing six missiles from the forward tubes. The missiles arced out, then in, avoiding the particle beam, then striking the hull of the enemy ship. One was knocked off course on the way in, one was detonated by a second laser. Four hit, each releasing a gigaton of force into the hull of the ship.

 

 

The Third Trip Out West, Part Fifteen: Day Thirteen: Disaster on I-15.

Posted by dougdandridge on August 17, 2018
Posted in: Kindle, Travel, Tropes, Writing. Tagged: , , . 2 Comments

No pictures for this one. The camera was back at the hotel, which turned out to be a good thing.

The strip was crowded, I didn’t think I had enough battery power for another complete go through (remember, I had been taping all day). I thought I would just get on the northbound interstate (what they call a Freeway out there) and cruise up to the Craig St exit, right into my hotel, quick and easy. I didn’t take into account the traffic from St. Patty’s Day Weekend, or the road construction. Two lanes were shut down on the normally five land road, and the traffic was bumper to bumper and crawling along, stop and go, with the goes never getting above ten miles per hour. I worked my way toward the rightmost lane so I would be able to get off easily. In the insane world of interstates, not only was it bumper to bumper, but people were constantly squirting into any opening to change lanes.

One thing I hate about highways I’m not familiar with. They have quirks that the visitor is not aware of. And I was about to hit one of those quirks on the 42b offramp. The lane I was in was suddenly the rightmost lane of a two lane exit down to Hwy 95, also known as the Las Vegas Expressway. There was a sign saying one of the lanes was ending ahead (which I don’t think happened). The exit was a long gently curving straightaway. Suddenly there were lights in my rearview mirror, coming much too close. Then the sudden slam of a hard impact. My car was pushed into the concrete guardrail. The lights backed up for a moment, then the white vehicle sped around me and off, down the ramp. I had just been the victim of a hit and run driver. A lady stopped to see if I was okay while I was taking stock of all my possessions that had been flung about the interior. I was fine. In shock a bit. I had been in a collision in the past, running into a truck that had run a stoplight. That one was much worse. I had sustained a broken arm, a concussion, and a massive bruise where the seat belt ran across my chest. This one was nothing compared to that. In retrospect there might have been a very slight concussion, because I was feeling confused for a bit.

I called 911 and was told a state trooper would be on the way. I waited. And waited. No fault to the Nevada Highway Patrol. I assume this was one of their busier nights. But the cars coming around the curve, still flying, made me cringe. I was sure I was going to get hit again. So I moved the car down the ramp to where there was a shoulder just barely wide enough for my car. The dispatcher called me and asked me where I was. I looked over to my right and saw a series of numbered buildings with a sign in front indicating they were The Pavilions. There was also a metro cop with his lights going on one of the streets. I informed the dispatcher of my landmarks. A few days later Google asked me on my phone how my trip to the Pavilions had been. Not so good.

The trooper finally showed up, and she asked me to move my car further up so she wouldn’t get hit. I gave her my license and filled out the statement she handed me. It wasn’t much of a statement, comprising only four sentences. She had called a tow truck, and he cleared a path while she moved her car up to close a lane. I was instructed to get in the truck, and that he would be taking me off the ramp. The driver gave me his information, and told me he couldn’t take me anywhere by law, because that would be seen as being in competition with the taxis. Instead he would drop me off and I would have to call a cab. So he dropped me off at a Chevron/7-11 in the bad part of town, about seven blocks off the strip. I got the last of the items I could find (I never did find the base plate for my GPS, but I did get the unit itself). A woman came along and asked me if I wanted the stuff left in my car, which included paper towels, Windex, and a half case of bottled water. She scarfed them all up, and later offered me a ride. No thanks. I had had enough trouble that night without getting into a car with a stranger.

I went into the 7-11 and asked them if they had a number for a cab. One of the guys behind the counter told me that cabs didn’t come out there. That I had to walk to Fremont St to get one. I really had to go to the bathroom bad, my mouth was dry as the desert (weird, huh), but I started down the street. In retrospect I should have asked to use their bathroom and bought something to drink. It was a long, lonely walk to Fremont, with the exception of the vagrants and drunks along the way. It was cold out, and all I had was my leather jacket. I hadn’t expected to be out in the night. I held tight to the walking stick that had been my companion on the trip. It would make a formidable weapon if need be. Fortunately, it didn’t need be. I made it to the strip and walked to the Fremont, which was filled with younger partiers. I saw Heart Attack Burger, which lets you eat free if you weigh over three hundred and fifty pounds. Rats, I was seventy-five pounds short. I finally found a cab, but he refused to take me to North Vegas. I think he was making too much money running up and down the strip. I found another, and was asked if I could pay him. I guess by that point I was looking like a vagrant.

I rode in the front of the cab, and talked with the driver the whole way. He was from Ethiopia, and we talked about the lions I had seen in Henderson, among other things. I was dropped off at my hotel, and the driver got a very good tip. It had been an exciting night in the worst meaning of the word, but I had come through, so now it would be stored away in my memories as an adventure. Funny thing. I still felt a great urge to take a piss, but I had gone with that urge for almost two hours. I had six hours I could get some sleep in, but first I had to check the vid I had taken on the strip. The next day I would fly out of Vegas, but the plans leading up to that flight had changed.

Next up: The Last Day in Vegas and the flight home.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Fourteen: Day Thirteen: From Moab back to Vegas along I-70 and I-15.

Posted by dougdandridge on July 26, 2018
Posted in: Alien Life, Conferences, eBooks, Fantasy, Kindle, Plotting, Southwest, Travel, Writing. Tagged: , , . 4 Comments

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Rocks near the San Rafael Swell.

Time was running out on the trip. It had been great so far, except for the few snags I hit along the way. The really cool stuff more than made up for those. Today I was going on a long drive, the longest of the trip, and hoping to see some really cool sights along the way. I would be traveling I-70 westbound, along the longest strip of road in America without services. And through the San Rafael Swell. From there I was going to play it by ear. I was thinking of going back in Nevada by way of regular highways, then down to Vegas. By the time I got to I-15  and the clock was showing how long this drive really was, my plans had changed.

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Papa Joe’s Stop & Go.

After eating breakfast I was on the road with a full tank of gas. I thought there had to be something where I could get some diet sodas at the junction of US 191 and I-70. Fortunately there was, and it wasn’t the general convenience store I had thought. Papa Joe’s Stop and Go is pure nostalgia, a one man operation (well, two if you count the cat that sat on a cushion behind him while he manned the register). I had an interesting conversation with the owner, bought my two sodas, and was on the road. The first sign I saw on I-70 was the warning that there were no services ahead for over a hundred miles. There were exits, and their were viewing points with bathrooms, the toilet over a hole in the ground kind found in most of the parks. But there were no restaurants and no gas stations. I was ready for that, since I had just eaten an hour before and had a full tank. There was some snow along the side of the road, and into the interior when I didn’t have mountains and rocks in the way. Many of those mountains and rocks also had snow, and I was hoping I didn’t run into the icy roads I feared.

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More formations.

There were plenty of exits. To state parks, to small towns, to roads that led to the major national parks to the south. But not a service station to be seen. And then there was the horror of the Frankentrucks. Now I know that term has another meaning for people who served in Iraq, but I thought the term fit here as well. Most of the ones I saw were Federal Express, though there were some others companies represented as well. Trucks with three trailers attached, the last one invariably swaying back and forth and going over the line. We have double trucks in the East, but so far I have seen nothing like these abominations. After having run into a truck that had run a stop light years ago, I don’t like sharing the road with any of them. But this was beyond the pale. The only thing to do was speed past them. So it was past the green river, flowing through the shallow canyons before hitting the granddaddy to the south. Along the cliff faces and mountains that populated this part of the desert. To the San Rafael Swell, another of the reefs that stopped the early settlers from going through, forcing them around. But not the road department, which simply blasted through and put a four lane superhighway in place.

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There actually is a river gorge there for the San Rafael River, so they had something to start with. And there were viewpoints for both sides of the road through the swell. It was beautiful, and the terrain around it was fantastic as well, and standing there (after hitting the bathroom of course) I was glad that I came this way to see this wonder. I also stopped at the Black Dragon Canyon view area ahead, to see more fantastic formations. And then it was west, ever west, and the mountains that had appeared, coming closer every mile.

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Snows off the roads.

I hadn’t realized there were such mountain ranges in Western Utah. A long ridge running from north to south as far as could be seen. And every on with snow on them. Wishing I had researched this better, I kept hoping for the road to turn south and avoid going over the mountains. The road didn’t read my thoughts, or just decided to not listen, because it was looking more and more like I was going into those snowcapped mountains, and I started to worry about snow and ice on the roads. My GPS was set to altitude, and I kept climbing. Worse, I had to pass the Frankentrucks that had again passed me while I was looking at the San Rafael Swell and Black Dragon Canyon. This was forest country, no longer desert, and I could see how people would love to live here. But not drive. I made it through a couple of passes in which the temperature dropped, crossing my fingers, and made it into a long valley between ridges where services abounded and there were real towns. Even a Walmart.

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Me too.

By the time I hit the I-15 interchange, and saw that there were more mountains to the west, I decided to just shoot down the north-south interstate to Vegas. I might have missed out on some beautiful vistas, but there were still plenty this way. I hit the town of Beaver and got off to get some food for myself and the car. The convenience store had a large sign on front that said ‘I Love Beaver’. I went in to get some sodas for the road, and bought a small bumper sticker. I got into a conversation with the clerk, who knew very well what other people thought of their slogan (he laughed himself) and said they used to have a store called Beaver Liquor, which all it possibilities for humor. But a store with the same name in Colorado had sued them and they had to change the name.

From Beaver it was into St. George, with more beautiful formations along the way. I felt the urge for a bathroom break before hitting the gorge, but couldn’t find an exit with a convenience store that close. After one futile trip on an offramp that led to a residential neighborhood, I was back on I-15 with no relief. The gorge was beautiful this way through as well, a different view. I broke out the other end, thinking I could make it to the Piute Reservation Truck Stop to the south, not really recalling how far it was. I passed three truck parking areas (what was it about Nevada, where they don’t have regular rest stops for cars). Finally, I couldn’t hold it any longer, and got off on an offramp that led to more or less nothing but dirt trails out into the desert on both sides. I relieved myself, then looked over the narrow arch that ran a one lane road between the sides of the interstate. I guess there wasn’t enough traffic to warrant a real road.

I still stopped at the Piute Reservation Truck Stop and got a snack and a soda, then headed on. My GPS was telling me get off on Craig Rd and go West to hit the address of Comfort Inn. I got off, headed west for five miles, and there was no hotel there. I programmed the GPS again, this time to the name of the hotel, and had to drive the five miles back to the interstate and beyond. I was scoping out car washes on the way, since I would have to wash my rental before I turned it in. After checking in, I located a nearby car wash on the Google Maps, then went out to get something to eat and drive down to film the strip at night.

The plan was to film the strip going both ways, and I really wish I had stuck to that plan. I ran down N 5th Street, which turns into Las Vegas Blvd. There were a lot of people out. It was St. Patty’s Day weekend, and the party was on. I went through the old city, with its now out of the way casinos, and then onto the main strip with all its mega-hotels and casinos. As said, people were everywhere, but no one tried to run across the street into traffic. I got some great vid, though I had to change batteries halfway through. Luckily I was stopped at a light for enough time to make the change. It took forty-five minutes to get through the strip. I was feeling really tired by that time, and decided to go to I-15 and shoot my way back to my hotel. It’s a decision I would soon regret.

I will be finishing up this serial blog next week with the last two installments. Now, a word about my writing, since someone is sure to ask when the next Exodus book is going to come out. I’ve had a lot of trouble coming up with a theme and a technological advancement for the next book, which was making it difficult to work on. A couple of weeks ago both the theme and the advancement became clear, and I’m hard at work on it. I’m predicting it will be out the week before DragonCon (Labor Day Weekend). Maybe a little earlier. That said, there are only going to be two more volumes in the series, three at most. I really want to move on to other things. I have ideas for fantasy, post apocalyptic and alternate history series. I may revisit the series with some more short story collections and some novels set in the early Empire. I have one fantasy finished. A Baen editor expressed interest in it, and so did an agent. The agent passed on it, and now I’m thinking I might not want to go through the submission process, waiting for up to a year, then another for it to get published, when I can get it out in the fall. I also have a book coming out in a new series, Kinship War, with Arc Manor, and a novel that will soon be released in the Four Horsemen Universe of Chris Kennedy and Mark Wandrey. I hope that answers all the questions.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Thirteen: Day Twelve: Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.

Posted by dougdandridge on July 17, 2018
Posted in: eBooks, Fantasy, History, Military, Past, science Fiction, self publishing, Travel, Writing. Tagged: , , , . 3 Comments

Sorry I haven’t been blogging lately. Just too much to do and not enough energy to do it all. But I need to finish off this series and get back to some writing blogs, along with a report on this year’s Liberty Con. So, here goes.

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Balancing rock off of Hwy 313.

The trip was nearing its end. It was Thursday of the second week. Friday I would be driving back to Vegas, then flying home of Saturday. But I still had a lot to see over those last two travel days. Today it was two national parks. I had visited both Arches and Canyonlands in July of 2017. Arches had been partially closed down by road work, and Canyonlands was worth another look, and, more importantly, a filming. It was overcast. So much for coming out to where it doesn’t rain. But I got what the day had to offer, and there was no use complaining about it. So, after breakfast at Denny’s I was off on the first part of the adventure, Looking for some sodas to drink on the drive. I stopped at the Chevron station just north of the Hwy 313, the road going out to Canyonlands.

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River flowing through Canyonlands.

There was almost no parking at the Chevron station, which also served as the point of entry to a private land four wheeler area. I finally got one, and bought a brace of diet cokes. I told the clerk a little about my adventures in the Mojave, and she said that the enclosed rides they used were much easier to handle. So maybe someday. Armed with caffeine, I headed back to 313. There is a dinosaur exhibit at the corner of the roads, Moab Giants. It looked interesting, but I only had so much daylight, and I put it down for another time.P1040323

View into the canyon at Canyonlands.

313 is a beautiful drive, with lots of cliffs, mesas, balancing rocks, switchbacks, everything you look for out west. Some of the switchbacks were twenty mile an hour roads with steep drop offs. At one point I had someone crowding behind me who wanted to go faster in the steep curve. I wasn’t having any of it, and drove at what I thought was a safe speed. After the switchbacks the terrain flattens out some, though there are still some cool mesas off to the north. I passed the entrance to Dead Horse Point State Park. Cool place, I’ve been there before, and you can read about it on one of my earlier blogs. Today I didn’t have time.

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Rains in the Canyon.

I told the ranger at the station that I had called ahead and requested no rain. His flat faced response was that we got what nature gave us. I stopped at the visitor center to look for a book. I found one on Utah Geology and added it to my collection. Outside it had started to drop sparse flakes of snow. As said before in an earlier blog, I’m not afraid of snow. In fact, I really like it, in moderation. What I don’t like is driving in it. I recall sliding out of control on a Tuscaloosa street after a winter storm. Fortunately, I didn’t hit anything. But that feeling of no control was something I really couldn’t stand. Heavy clouds were gathering to the northwest, and I decided I better start moving.

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Rock formations in Park Avenue, Arches.

One old guy was testing out his mountain bike, a couple of feet from a cliff. Insane, as it looked like he was barely in control, and that was a long drop off. Unfortunately, he was old enough he had probably already reproduced. I went down the road, stopping at the overlooks, filming and taking pictures. I went down a few of the roads I had missed my first time through, like the one to the Green River Overlook. At one I saw a lady carrying at cat to the viewing point. I yelled out, ‘is that a cat?’ ‘Yes,” she yelled back. ‘He likes the view.’ I guess it takes all kinds, and I hope the poor kitty didn’t jump out of her arms to go over a cliff.

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One of the Windows, Arches NP.

At the Green River Overlook I met up with a group of people with Notre Dame regalia. I asked if they went there and received an affirmative. I said ‘maybe someday you’ll beat us.” When they asked who ‘us’ was, I said ‘FSU’, and received a chorus of groans. Man, I have so much fun on these trips.

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And arch in the making. Arches NP.

The Grand Canyon is spectacular in a different way here than in the Grand Canyon National Park. The rocks aren’t as colorful, but the canyon is much wider, and two rivers come together to make one. Well worth the trip, but if you had to choose I would say go to the park in Arizona. At the final overlook I saw the worrisome sight of heavy clouds moving my way across the canyon, while the wind gusted. Dark rain was falling, looking for all the world like a cloud burst. I filmed it for a little time until I thought it was time to get to the car. I had no desire to be soaked to the bone in forty some degree temperatures. I sat in the car, which was rocking a bit from the wind gusts, waiting. And the rains never came. I got out to look and saw that it was now heading up the canyon.

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A pair of windows. Arches NP.

The day was not the best for video taping or photography, but as the ranger said, we get what nature gives us. Now snowflakes were falling again, and I decided it was time to head out and check out Arches. As I was driving through the park entrance the snow really started coming down. It was sticking and building up on the ground beside the road, but was not sticking on the asphalt yet. The temperature kept dropping, until it was just above freezing, and I was starting to worry that I might have gotten caught in a snowstorm. I made it through the switchbacks, and soon the snow was far behind me. It was time for something to eat, for both myself and the car. I had to drive into Moab, and stopped at the 7-11. I was on my way to Arches.

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The Balancing Rock. Arches NP.

It was about three in the afternoon when I pulled up to the entrance of Arches. I asked the ranger if it was snowing up on the plateau, and she replied that no, but it had been snowing at Canyonlands. I told he I had been up there. She looked at my Florida license, said she could understand why that concerned me, and said ‘welcome to Utah.’ Another switchback up to the plateau that held the park, beautiful rock formations, then the first stop, at Park Avenue. The snowcapped mountains in the distance were beautiful. All of the road work was done. I got a good look at the formations of Park Avenue from both the front and the back, then moved on down the road, stopping at most of the pullovers to get shots of the next formations.

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Clifs, Arches NP.

I had to stop at Balancing Rock, even though I had gone over it fairly well on my last trip. A balancing rock is a formation where erosion has eaten away most of the top layer, leaving a single boulder that is still on top of the column of the lower layer. They are not permanent. I’m not sure how long they last. A thousand years? A hundred thousand? A million? There had been small balancing formation here that was the little buddy of Balancing Rock, but one winter it just fell. Next I headed out the The Windows, the pair of holes through the rock wall that I had photographed from a distance. Turns out there are more than the two. I saw a third nearby, and there was a triple arch in that formation. Not only are there a lot of arches down this way, but also a lot of places where the erosion was eating a hole in the cliff, the homes of future arches. I think I saw the most down in that region. It’s said there are over two thousands arches in the park. If so, they need to take more of them out of storage. I think I saw about twenty at most.

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Small hole. Arches NP.

I went down to the end of the main road, spotting a couple of more arches and windows. While this park was one of the more accessible ones I had visited, a lot of the arches still required hiking to see. I saw what I could, and by that time the sun was starting to get low in the sky. I headed back, and then the bicycles came. I understand that people like to bike, but a pair of the things, on a stretch with a forty mile an hour speed limit, holding up a dozen cars, was a little much. We finally all got our break though, and I was able to get around them. From there it was back to the motel, just as the sun was setting. Tomorrow was the last big day of exploration. I would be driving across Utah and back to Vegas, and there was a lot of stuff to amaze me along the way.

Next UP: Part Fourteen, Day Thirteen: The Drive Back to Vegas.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Twelve: Day Eleven: The Moki Dugway (sorta), Valley of the Gods and the Needles Section of Canyonlands National Park.

Posted by dougdandridge on May 9, 2018
Posted in: eBooks, Fantasy, Kindle, Magic, Plotting, science Fiction, self publishing, Southwest, Travel, Writing. Tagged: , , , , , . Leave a comment

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Cliffs along the way to Mexican Hat.

After speaking with the manager of Goulding’s I headed out, Akaso camera primed. A couple of miles down the road there was a sign for a restaurant at Mexican Hat. I would get there well before the turnoff to the Dugway and Valley of the Gods. Mexican Hat is really just a stop in the road on Hwy 163. There are a couple of hotels, a few restaurants, and one gas station/convenience store, and the inevitable Mormon church. And, of course, the famous hat rock. And last but not least, the San Juan River and the Olde Bridge. The Olde Bridge Café is on the tight turn on the other side of the bridge, coming into Mexican Hat, so I passed it by at first, running through town looking to see what they had. I turned back around and went to the café, parking next to it and away from the cliff with the falling rock warnings. The restaurant was very cool, with a lot of nostalgia and a great view of the river. I was waited on by a young Navajo man wearing a DC comics shirt and we got to talking about comic book movies. The breakfast skillet was very good, and I only had to share the entire restaurant with a couple of English girls who came in later.

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Watch where you park.

After a stop for gas and sodas I was on my way, feeling very tired but having no choice but to forge on. Unlike home, where I can take a day off and go back to bed, on the road I’m more constrained by my itinerary and hotel bookings. The scenery, was, as always, spectacular, with mesas and cliffs everywhere. I easily found the turnoff to Utah Hwy 261 and head for the Moki Dugway. The road was paved all the way there, somewhat surprising. It turned into dirt and gravel just before getting to the Dugway, which is all dirt and gravel. I had been researching this place for months, and was looking forward to driving up it.

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The Mexican Hat.

Seeing it from close up started second thoughts. It went up this massive cliff, and I could see cars coming down, which lent it scale. I was very tired, and the panic attack of the morning was still in mind as I looked. I had been up several steep switchback roads on this trip, so this one shouldn’t have been a problem, but in the back of my mind was this sense of fear. I went over to check out the signs for Valley of the Gods, my other destination for the morning, then back to look at the Dugway. Finally I said the hell with it and headed for Valley of the Gods. Sitting here at home I regret not going up the Dugway, which would have been a hell of a drive. Well, maybe next time.

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The cliffs in the Valley of the Gods, near the Moki Dugway.

Valley of the Gods is billed as a lesser Monument Valley. I have to say there was nothing lesser about it. The monuments are just as fantastic, and there are a lot of them. The land is held by BLM, so there is no fee to enter. The road is for the most part in good shape, though there were some steep ups and downs, and some places with deep sand. I just made sure that I was going fast enough when I hit those places. And it was a narrow road, which necessitated waiting sometimes for approaching traffic to pass. But there wasn’t much traffic, allowing for slowing and stopping to take pictures. Again, spectacular cliffs, great mesas, and a constant reminder of the stone age and further back. It was about an hour’s drive, and well worth it.

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Tough old bull heads over to check me out.

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Formation in Valley of the Gods.

One of the coolest memories was seeing some open range cattle at the beginning of the drive. I have always been of the opinion that cattle would be helpless if not for humans. We have bred them over the centuries to be fully dependent on us. Not these guys. There was a tough looking cow with two calves who immediately sheltered behind her as my car drew near. The female had her head down, narrow eyes staring at me. A one horned bull stood nearby, lowering his head and walking toward the road as he glared at me. These were not the pampered cattle I had seen in the east. This male could handle himself against coyotes and wolves, and probably hold his own against a cougar. Something to think about when I write tales of this area.

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Snowcapped mountains in the distance.

Hwy 163 continued northeast until it turned into Hwy 191 and bore more north towards Blanding. This was truly desolate country, with very little in the way of civilization. There were at least a couple of small towns on the way, Bluff and White Mesa, and the views of the snow-capped mountains in Colorado to the east were beautiful. There was also a local range to the west and another to the north, both with snow on the upper slopes. One thing that had worried me about making this trip in March was the weather. I’m a native of Florida, and though I have been in snow, I have only driven in it once. That experience was enough to make we wish to forgo the experience in the future. So far the only snows I had seen had been on the higher elevations, so everything was cool, so far. I stopped in Blanding at a 7-11 to get gas and some food. I asked the guy there what their hours were. We had 7-11s in Florida when I was growing up. The name came from their hours, 7 AM to 11 PM. An hour earlier than other stores of the era, and two hours later. I was told they were opened twenty-four hours a day, and thought they should change their name to 24-7.

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On the way into the Needles section of Canyonlands.

A couple things of note here. When I first came to this region, back in February, 2017, I was constantly fooled by distances. What looked like a couple of miles turned out to be ten, fifteen, even twenty miles. A newcomer would be easily fooled, and could walk to their death thinking they were only an hour away from their destination. Something I was sure happened to a lot of early settlers and explorers. Now I was starting to get a sense of scale. I could tell that the feature that looked like it was a mile ahead was actually much further. Those mountains to the west that looked so close were actually to the south of Canyonlands National Park, and thirty or more miles from me. The mountains in Colorado reminded me of the massive ranges in the Alps, covered in snow much of the year.

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Another range of mountains in the distance.

The second thing, I was trying to come up with an idea for a novel I was going to write for Chris Kennedy. I am normally a setting man. I draw maps, or look at maps, or in this case drive across landscapes, and come up with my setting. After that I flesh out a story, then add the kind of characters I think will make the story work. And I was getting a lot of ideas on this trip, not just for my post-apocalyptic novel, but for others, like the one for Chris. These were great settings. For all kinds of stories. Even the night of total darkness in Monument Valley gave me ideas.

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Mesa in the Needles section of Canyonlands.

Reaching Hwy 211, I turned left and headed to the Needles Section of Canyonlands National Park. Like all of the approaches to the canyons this was another spectacular drive, with all kinds of beautiful formations, and the snow-capped mountains to the south were a great backdrop. This part of the park was not as well attended as the Island In The Sky section I would attend the next day. There were many hikers gathered at the park visitor’s center, but otherwise not many visitors. I got a look at the park, was feeling exhausted from have no sleep the night before, and decided I needed to hit the road. Chalk up another mistake for not doing my research. On getting home I found that there was actually a reason this was called the Needles section, a fantastic formation, which I missed out on.

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Hole in the Rock along Highway 191.

I stopped to get a look at Hole in the Rock just off the highway south of Moab. This is a windows type of arch formation, just like in Arches Park, but is not on public land. People climb all over this thing, and I hope they are not taking samples and souvenirs from it. A beautiful formation, but its future is not bright if people are messing with it, like they were when I passed this way in July. Didn’t see any of that this time, so maybe it’s safe.

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Rocks just south of Moab.

I finally got into Moab, after waiting out a couple of one lane road construction stops that stretched for miles. I was exhausted, and fell into my bed at the Super 8 for a three hour nap before getting dinner. Then it was check my video (all good) and get to bed. I would be here for two nights, and tomorrow had two national parks on the agenda.