I had promised the free epub version of the Hollywood murder mystery High Risk would be available in October. Well, we are rapidly running out of October and I've been, what? Lazy? Dilatory? Busy trying to ensure my eyes continue to work? Okay, all of the above.
As a result I am not completely certain the file I've posted to my Novels page is as clean and pristine as it ought to be. Still, a promise is a promise, so the novel is now up and ready for download as a compressed file.
Those of you wanting instant gratification don't have to go to the Novels page: you can get the book here.
31 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 7.9
Previous First
[Continuing chapter seven]
“Any of you seen my pa? He went ridin’ out with the bishop there.”
The boy’s eyes were bright, possibly with tears. His voice was steady enough, though, Polk thought. “What’s your name,” he asked.
“Thistledown. John Thistledown. My pa’s Bob—Robert Thistledown.”
“We ain’t seen him,” Henry McCulloch said. “I’m sure he’s fine, though.” He looked nervously to his brother.
Ben McCulloch nodded curt agreement to Henry, then turned to stare at the boy for a second. “How well do you ride, son?” he asked.
[Continuing chapter seven]
“Any of you seen my pa? He went ridin’ out with the bishop there.”
The boy’s eyes were bright, possibly with tears. His voice was steady enough, though, Polk thought. “What’s your name,” he asked.
“Thistledown. John Thistledown. My pa’s Bob—Robert Thistledown.”
“We ain’t seen him,” Henry McCulloch said. “I’m sure he’s fine, though.” He looked nervously to his brother.
Ben McCulloch nodded curt agreement to Henry, then turned to stare at the boy for a second. “How well do you ride, son?” he asked.
30 October, 2019
An Apology to Commenters
At the moment I am reading an essay on aeon entitled "Mistake" and a subtitle that begins "I think, therefore I make mistakes..." This turns out to be a cringe-inducingly accurate thing to be reading right now.
I have, from time to time, complained to friends and family that nobody has ever commented on a single one of my posts on this blog. There are about three hundred of them now... and I have only just realized that in fact there have been plenty of comments posted. I just never noticed the menu item reading Awaiting moderation. So all of those comments, some dating back many months, have just been sitting there.
Folks, I'm really sorry about this. I wasn't being rude, or at least not deliberately. I was being incredibly thick-headed. Won't happen again, I promise*.
And a hat-tip to Do-Ming Lum, whose mention of having posted a comment made me look more carefully in the first place.
*This promise not actually valid.
I have, from time to time, complained to friends and family that nobody has ever commented on a single one of my posts on this blog. There are about three hundred of them now... and I have only just realized that in fact there have been plenty of comments posted. I just never noticed the menu item reading Awaiting moderation. So all of those comments, some dating back many months, have just been sitting there.
Folks, I'm really sorry about this. I wasn't being rude, or at least not deliberately. I was being incredibly thick-headed. Won't happen again, I promise*.
And a hat-tip to Do-Ming Lum, whose mention of having posted a comment made me look more carefully in the first place.
*This promise not actually valid.
Bonny Blue Flag 7.8
Previous First
[Continuing chapter seven]
“Dear God,” Polk cried. “Why don’t they turn back?” He waved his large hat again, though he knew it would do no good because no one who mattered was watching him. He saw the gout of smoke that signified a second volley from the invaders. For a few seconds the whole valley seemed to be shrouded in thick white smoke. Then, as a breeze picked at the smoke like a brush going through freshly picked cotton, he began to see the destruction his hubris had wrought.
[Continuing chapter seven]
“Dear God,” Polk cried. “Why don’t they turn back?” He waved his large hat again, though he knew it would do no good because no one who mattered was watching him. He saw the gout of smoke that signified a second volley from the invaders. For a few seconds the whole valley seemed to be shrouded in thick white smoke. Then, as a breeze picked at the smoke like a brush going through freshly picked cotton, he began to see the destruction his hubris had wrought.
29 October, 2019
Cultural and Practical: Criticising Criticism
One of my appearances at Can*Con was on a panel entitled Criticizing Criticism. The description of same in the (online only) programming book asked: In a world of Amazon and Goodreads reviews, is there a still a need and a place for the professional critic?
The tl;dr is Yes, of course there is*.
The tl;dr is Yes, of course there is*.
Bonny Blue Flag 7.7
Previous First
[Continuing chapter seven]
Cleburne turned to Patton and nodded, as if to say This is your problem. Well, Patton thought sourly, Cleburne seems to have been right about Pickett. “All right,” he said. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to finish riding up this slope”—he pointed behind him—“and then we’re going to dismount.” The others murmured uncertain protests, but Patton waved them down. “If we stand firm at the top of this rise, they’ll never come close to us. And they certainly won’t be expecting us to fight on foot.” He pointed to the rifle a man was holding. “You’ll be able to shoot better on foot anyway. Now come on, let’s get moving. We don’t have much time.” He turned his horse around and spurred it up the slope.
[Continuing chapter seven]
Cleburne turned to Patton and nodded, as if to say This is your problem. Well, Patton thought sourly, Cleburne seems to have been right about Pickett. “All right,” he said. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to finish riding up this slope”—he pointed behind him—“and then we’re going to dismount.” The others murmured uncertain protests, but Patton waved them down. “If we stand firm at the top of this rise, they’ll never come close to us. And they certainly won’t be expecting us to fight on foot.” He pointed to the rifle a man was holding. “You’ll be able to shoot better on foot anyway. Now come on, let’s get moving. We don’t have much time.” He turned his horse around and spurred it up the slope.
28 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 7.6
Previous First
[Continuing chapter seven, which is a long one and will continue all this week]
“What’s the matter, Cleburne?” Patton asked. He’d contrived to place his horse beside the Irishman’s as they followed the column up a small hill. They were about two dozen all told, and, save for himself and Cleburne, a less soldierly bunch Patton had never seen. In fact, the men with whom he rode looked a lot like the mob that was pursuing them. There was one crucial difference, though: this two dozen men rode in a semblance of formation, and had the stolid, contemplative silence about them that Patton remembered Stewart telling him about sensing at Harpers Ferry. They’d had some training, that was clear. He trusted that what they’d had would be enough to give them the advantage over their pursuers.
Cleburne worried him, though. The man’s demeanor hadn’t improved on meeting their new company commander, and the expression on his face suggested that at the least he was chastising himself for having taken this journey.
[Continuing chapter seven, which is a long one and will continue all this week]
“What’s the matter, Cleburne?” Patton asked. He’d contrived to place his horse beside the Irishman’s as they followed the column up a small hill. They were about two dozen all told, and, save for himself and Cleburne, a less soldierly bunch Patton had never seen. In fact, the men with whom he rode looked a lot like the mob that was pursuing them. There was one crucial difference, though: this two dozen men rode in a semblance of formation, and had the stolid, contemplative silence about them that Patton remembered Stewart telling him about sensing at Harpers Ferry. They’d had some training, that was clear. He trusted that what they’d had would be enough to give them the advantage over their pursuers.
Cleburne worried him, though. The man’s demeanor hadn’t improved on meeting their new company commander, and the expression on his face suggested that at the least he was chastising himself for having taken this journey.
25 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 7.5
Previous First
[Continuing chapter seven, which is a long one and will continue to appear next week]
Walker had pickets out, after a fashion: two men on horseback lagged well behind the rear of the column as it moved along the road. One of the men turned his head abruptly as Patton approached, then pulled his horse around while shouting something inaudible to the other man. If I’d been in less of a hurry, Patton thought, I could have killed those two without breaking stride. He wondered if Colonel Walker knew how poorly was his rear being guarded.
“Halt!” the first man shouted, raising his rifle—one of the Curries Stewart was so proud of, Patton noted. “Identify yourselves!”
“Captain Patton to see Colonel Walker,” Patton said, trying to suppress a grin and the excitement he felt. “It’s urgent.”
“We’ll see about that,” the man said. “You just set yourselves there, boys. Go and tell Cap’n Wheat about this,” he said to his companion as he leveled his rifle at Patton’s mid-section.
[Continuing chapter seven, which is a long one and will continue to appear next week]
Walker had pickets out, after a fashion: two men on horseback lagged well behind the rear of the column as it moved along the road. One of the men turned his head abruptly as Patton approached, then pulled his horse around while shouting something inaudible to the other man. If I’d been in less of a hurry, Patton thought, I could have killed those two without breaking stride. He wondered if Colonel Walker knew how poorly was his rear being guarded.
“Halt!” the first man shouted, raising his rifle—one of the Curries Stewart was so proud of, Patton noted. “Identify yourselves!”
“Captain Patton to see Colonel Walker,” Patton said, trying to suppress a grin and the excitement he felt. “It’s urgent.”
“We’ll see about that,” the man said. “You just set yourselves there, boys. Go and tell Cap’n Wheat about this,” he said to his companion as he leveled his rifle at Patton’s mid-section.
24 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 7.4
Previous First
[Continuing chapter seven]
“But they’ll get to Walker first!”
“Maybe. My guess,” Cleburne said, “is that they’ll hare off like madmen, in a hurry to defend their manhood or their corrupt government of whatever it is they think they’re fighting for.” Patton turned to see Cleburne eyeing him; the Irishman’s mouth was twisted in a small, tight grin. “And they’ll blow their horses,” he concluded. He prodded the horse into a faster walk; the beast protested, but complied. “Whereas we will maintain a steady pace through these woods. If I’m right, they’ll have slowed to a walk within the next few minutes. We may even pass them before the hour’s up.”
He’s too damned sure of himself, Patton thought. But the horrible part of it was, the man probably had cause to be sure. He was a veteran of who knew how much campaigning. And he’d proved himself a good friend in New Orleans. That doesn’t make him right about everything.
[Continuing chapter seven]
“But they’ll get to Walker first!”
“Maybe. My guess,” Cleburne said, “is that they’ll hare off like madmen, in a hurry to defend their manhood or their corrupt government of whatever it is they think they’re fighting for.” Patton turned to see Cleburne eyeing him; the Irishman’s mouth was twisted in a small, tight grin. “And they’ll blow their horses,” he concluded. He prodded the horse into a faster walk; the beast protested, but complied. “Whereas we will maintain a steady pace through these woods. If I’m right, they’ll have slowed to a walk within the next few minutes. We may even pass them before the hour’s up.”
He’s too damned sure of himself, Patton thought. But the horrible part of it was, the man probably had cause to be sure. He was a veteran of who knew how much campaigning. And he’d proved himself a good friend in New Orleans. That doesn’t make him right about everything.
23 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 7.3
Previous First
[Continuing chapter seven]
The sounds increased in volume—and in anger, Patton thought—as they moved among the tall, sharp-scented pines. That’s a mob building, he said to himself.
The members of that mob were gathered in a spot where the trees had been felled on either side of the road—logged for firewood, perhaps; the stumps remained, a few of them visible amid the new forest of legs, human and equine, occupying the clearing. The men were all well-armed, Patton noted; all carried rifles and some wore pistols as well—a few even had revolvers. A belligerent handful even had two rifles in addition to their pistols. Their dress ranged from some kind of buckskin to a more formal dress he wore.
Two men who looked to be related stood at the point where the clearing narrowed and the road continued westward. One of the men had mounted a tall, broad stump the better to be seen. As Patton listened, he realized that the increasingly angry shouting was in response to this man’s attempts to control things.
[Continuing chapter seven]
The sounds increased in volume—and in anger, Patton thought—as they moved among the tall, sharp-scented pines. That’s a mob building, he said to himself.
The members of that mob were gathered in a spot where the trees had been felled on either side of the road—logged for firewood, perhaps; the stumps remained, a few of them visible amid the new forest of legs, human and equine, occupying the clearing. The men were all well-armed, Patton noted; all carried rifles and some wore pistols as well—a few even had revolvers. A belligerent handful even had two rifles in addition to their pistols. Their dress ranged from some kind of buckskin to a more formal dress he wore.
Two men who looked to be related stood at the point where the clearing narrowed and the road continued westward. One of the men had mounted a tall, broad stump the better to be seen. As Patton listened, he realized that the increasingly angry shouting was in response to this man’s attempts to control things.
22 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 7.2
Previous First
[Continuing chapter seven]
“Did you see them?” Bishop Polk asked. “You have to have seen them, man. You must have ridden right past them.”
“I did not.” Ben McCulloch was tired and saddle-sore. “I came up from the south, Reverend, from Crockett. If they’re following Austin’s old trail, they’re going to be due west from here until just before Buffalo, when the trail turns south.”
He turned to look at the bishop, who fairly bristled with eager bellicosity. “Besides, what does it matter? We’re not going after them until I know more about what’s going on.”
[Continuing chapter seven]
“Did you see them?” Bishop Polk asked. “You have to have seen them, man. You must have ridden right past them.”
“I did not.” Ben McCulloch was tired and saddle-sore. “I came up from the south, Reverend, from Crockett. If they’re following Austin’s old trail, they’re going to be due west from here until just before Buffalo, when the trail turns south.”
He turned to look at the bishop, who fairly bristled with eager bellicosity. “Besides, what does it matter? We’re not going after them until I know more about what’s going on.”
21 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 7.1
Previous First
“I think the sun’s come out.” Cleburne tilted his head back and held it there for a long moment, staring up at the canopy of leaves and needles.
“How can you tell?” Patton asked. “I’m still getting rained on. And I can’t see anything overhead but green.”
“Yes, but it’s a brighter green than it was.” Cleburne turned to look at Patton. “I think I’ve had enough of forest now, Patton. Can you make it go away?”
“It hasn’t been that bad, Cleburne. At least we see farms from time to time.” Patton tried to remember how many hours had passed since they’d last seen human habitation.
18 MAY 1851
BOWIE COUNTY, REPUBLIC OF TEXAS
“How can you tell?” Patton asked. “I’m still getting rained on. And I can’t see anything overhead but green.”
“Yes, but it’s a brighter green than it was.” Cleburne turned to look at Patton. “I think I’ve had enough of forest now, Patton. Can you make it go away?”
“It hasn’t been that bad, Cleburne. At least we see farms from time to time.” Patton tried to remember how many hours had passed since they’d last seen human habitation.
18 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 6.3
Previous First
[Concluding chapter six]
“I told you that this would work,” Walker told Fontaine and Wheat. The animals had been fed, and the supplies in the wagons topped up to allow another day’s travel. Now the column was ready to move out, and there were still a couple of hours of daylight, plus a long dusk, left before travel would become difficult. According to Pickett, the next sixty to seventy miles of road were dotted with farms suitable to serve as a source of supplies. If God was with them and sped their way, they might not have to replenish their supplies more than once until they reached Bowie county, better than half-way to Washington.
[Concluding chapter six]
“I told you that this would work,” Walker told Fontaine and Wheat. The animals had been fed, and the supplies in the wagons topped up to allow another day’s travel. Now the column was ready to move out, and there were still a couple of hours of daylight, plus a long dusk, left before travel would become difficult. According to Pickett, the next sixty to seventy miles of road were dotted with farms suitable to serve as a source of supplies. If God was with them and sped their way, they might not have to replenish their supplies more than once until they reached Bowie county, better than half-way to Washington.
17 October, 2019
The Gift of Naming
I've just abandoned my attempt to read a recently published fantasy, a pseudo-Victorian piece*. I'm not complaining about the characters or the plot; to be honest I didn't get far enough into the novel to be able to offer much in the way of an opinion on those scores.
What did for me was the names of the places (and some of the characters). With remarkable consistency these names kicked me out of the story and made me stop and wonder Why that choice? Why not something that fit better?
Lorna talks about something she calls The Gift of Naming. It's that magical talent for the mot juste—okay, the nom juste—that some writers just seem to be born with, and others develop through (I suspect) hard work. I think Sarah Monette has it; Lorna says Ursula Le Guin is the wellspring and Glen Cook an excellent possessor of the talent (she thinks it's more important in fantasy than SF, but I recall being very impressed with what I used to refer to as William Gibson's "brand-name future" as I read his Sprawl novels). And of course names are one of the things most frequently noted about Charles Dickens, though I can say without much fear of contradiction that this is a talent he was still developing when he wrote Pickwick Papers.
*No names. I'm now of the opinion that life's too short to spend time calling out, by name, authors or books I can't recommend. If I mention a book or author by name, it's because I want to recommend it.
What did for me was the names of the places (and some of the characters). With remarkable consistency these names kicked me out of the story and made me stop and wonder Why that choice? Why not something that fit better?
Lorna talks about something she calls The Gift of Naming. It's that magical talent for the mot juste—okay, the nom juste—that some writers just seem to be born with, and others develop through (I suspect) hard work. I think Sarah Monette has it; Lorna says Ursula Le Guin is the wellspring and Glen Cook an excellent possessor of the talent (she thinks it's more important in fantasy than SF, but I recall being very impressed with what I used to refer to as William Gibson's "brand-name future" as I read his Sprawl novels). And of course names are one of the things most frequently noted about Charles Dickens, though I can say without much fear of contradiction that this is a talent he was still developing when he wrote Pickwick Papers.
*No names. I'm now of the opinion that life's too short to spend time calling out, by name, authors or books I can't recommend. If I mention a book or author by name, it's because I want to recommend it.
16 October, 2019
My Can*Con Schedule
Any readers of this blog who might happen to be attending Can*Con in Ottawa this coming weekend are invited to check out the programming in which I'm participating. I've never attended this convention before but it has an excellent reputation amongst writers I know who have attended in the past. I'm looking forward to the weekend.
I'll be participating in the following:
Criticizing Criticism
Saturday 7pm, Salon D
Is there still a need and a place for the professional critic? I might have a few things to say about this: I worked as a professional critic for three decades.
Tesseracts 22 Reading, Q&A
Sunday 11am, Salon B
I'll be reading a few pages of "If There's a Goal" and then answering a few questions about how I went about researching a story set within living memory.
Hope to see (some of) you there.
Bonny Blue Flag 6.2
Previous First
[Continuing chapter six]
Walker sent the two men over the brow of the hill; he wanted them to be immediately visible to the men in the yard, and to anyone watching from the house. The two talked as they negotiated the downward slope, no doubt discussing tactics. As soon as it was clear that Pickett and James Walker had been seen—Blair and his son dropped what they were doing and rushed to the house, emerging seconds later with shotguns—Walker had the rest of the scouting party walk up to the top of the hill, rifles to the fore. “We’ll just stand here,” he told the men, “and let Mister Blair know that our envoys aren’t alone.”
[Continuing chapter six]
Walker sent the two men over the brow of the hill; he wanted them to be immediately visible to the men in the yard, and to anyone watching from the house. The two talked as they negotiated the downward slope, no doubt discussing tactics. As soon as it was clear that Pickett and James Walker had been seen—Blair and his son dropped what they were doing and rushed to the house, emerging seconds later with shotguns—Walker had the rest of the scouting party walk up to the top of the hill, rifles to the fore. “We’ll just stand here,” he told the men, “and let Mister Blair know that our envoys aren’t alone.”
15 October, 2019
Could I Do a Dickens?
.jpg) |
| Robert Seymour's first illustration of the Pickwick Club, from the first issue of the novel. Image via Wikimedia Commons. |
(Not that I would ever dare to compare myself with Charles Dickens. For one thing, by the time he was my age, Dickens had been dead for six years.)
I am not sure what I'm learning from this.
Pickwick Papers is sort of notorious for the way it rather dramatically shifted in focus after nine chapters had been written and published. Chapter Ten is when Dickens introduced the character of Sam Weller, who gradually took over the story and eclipsed a lot of the original characters, to say nothing of the original idea behind the story (which was supposed to be a series of anecdotes about comically inept sportsmen). I believe a lot of Dickens's early novels shifted about in this way, not least because the serialization format allowed Dickens to respond to the reactions of his readers.
Compare this with the way most writers work now: draft, draft, and draft again, revising and polishing and not showing the work to more than a handful of people until we think it shiny enough.
Could one serialize a novel in the way Dickens (and, possibly, other nineteenth-century writers) did? Honestly, I don't know if I would have the courage to even try it.
14 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 6.1
Previous First
“Still just two men I can see,” the scout reported. “One’s older—I can see he’s got gray hair. The other’s younger, big and fit.”
“That’d be old man Blair and his boy Tom, probably,” Pickett said. “I could tell better if I got a closer look.” He gazed with undisguised acquisitiveness at Walker’s spyglass. Walker ignored him. After a moment, Pickett turned back to look down the slope at the log house. “Don’t see Stevens anywhere. He’s the hired hand—leastways he was a year ago.”
“Perhaps times have been hard,” Walker said. “Let’s hope not, though. We left nearly two thousand pounds of fodder and twelve wagons back at Mr. Perry’s farm. From the look on his face, I rather doubt I’ll see any of that material again.”
13 MAY 1851
NEAR CARTHAGE, PANOLA COUNTY, REPUBLIC OF TEXAS
“Still just two men I can see,” the scout reported. “One’s older—I can see he’s got gray hair. The other’s younger, big and fit.”
“That’d be old man Blair and his boy Tom, probably,” Pickett said. “I could tell better if I got a closer look.” He gazed with undisguised acquisitiveness at Walker’s spyglass. Walker ignored him. After a moment, Pickett turned back to look down the slope at the log house. “Don’t see Stevens anywhere. He’s the hired hand—leastways he was a year ago.”
“Perhaps times have been hard,” Walker said. “Let’s hope not, though. We left nearly two thousand pounds of fodder and twelve wagons back at Mr. Perry’s farm. From the look on his face, I rather doubt I’ll see any of that material again.”
11 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 5.3
Previous First
[Concluding chapter five]
"What you doing, sir?" Pickett asked.
"Something I should have done, or had done, long before," Walker said, looking up from the paper he'd spread out across the saddle-bag in his lap. "I'm mapping our route through these woods. And I'm going to mark the first of the farms you think will be a good source of supply for us." He fixed his gaze on Pickett. "Panola County extends only about twenty miles west from the border, Mister Pickett. We have to travel another hundred and twenty miles from Carthage before we reach the Brazos Valley and Washington. Will you be able to find us suitable sources of supply for that whole distance?"
[Concluding chapter five]
"What you doing, sir?" Pickett asked.
"Something I should have done, or had done, long before," Walker said, looking up from the paper he'd spread out across the saddle-bag in his lap. "I'm mapping our route through these woods. And I'm going to mark the first of the farms you think will be a good source of supply for us." He fixed his gaze on Pickett. "Panola County extends only about twenty miles west from the border, Mister Pickett. We have to travel another hundred and twenty miles from Carthage before we reach the Brazos Valley and Washington. Will you be able to find us suitable sources of supply for that whole distance?"
09 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 5.2
Previous First
[Continuing chapter five]
Then God spoke to him, and at the same instance the sun emerged from cloud. With a wordless cry of praise Walker leaped to his feet. Of course! Everything has a purpose, he thought. Thank you, Lord, for showing me your Way and your Purpose in this. He stepped down from the porch and walked over to the tree where Fontaine sat, whittling a twig and sipping carefully from a jug.
“I believe, Major, that God has shown me a way of hastening our progress,” he said, struggling to keep his enthusiasm in check. “Tell me: do you think you could move faster if the wagons were less heavily loaded and there were fewer of them? Perhaps if we hitched six mules instead of four to each wagon and used eight instead of twelve wagons per company? How much faster do you think we could move?”
[Continuing chapter five]
Then God spoke to him, and at the same instance the sun emerged from cloud. With a wordless cry of praise Walker leaped to his feet. Of course! Everything has a purpose, he thought. Thank you, Lord, for showing me your Way and your Purpose in this. He stepped down from the porch and walked over to the tree where Fontaine sat, whittling a twig and sipping carefully from a jug.
“I believe, Major, that God has shown me a way of hastening our progress,” he said, struggling to keep his enthusiasm in check. “Tell me: do you think you could move faster if the wagons were less heavily loaded and there were fewer of them? Perhaps if we hitched six mules instead of four to each wagon and used eight instead of twelve wagons per company? How much faster do you think we could move?”
08 October, 2019
An Editorial Note
Chapter five of The Bonny Blue Flag is a short one, so there will only be three posts this week. The second section appears Wednesday, and the conclusion of the chapter posts on Friday morning.
The same schedule applies to chapter six, next week.
The same schedule applies to chapter six, next week.
07 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 5.1
Previous First
“Now I know I’m at home,” Pickett said, shaking loose a clump of brick-red mud from his boot as he dismounted in front of the porch. “This is proof positive we’re in red-dirt country, Colonel.”
Walker nodded absently. Twelve hours we’ve been here, he thought, and still not a word from Wheat. And it took us nearly a half-day longer than it should have to reach here in the first place. We’re still moving too slowly. Show me, Lord. Show me how to move these wagons faster.
“Have you found any sign of Captain Wheat?” he asked. “Any indication that he’s on the proper road?”
11 MAY 1851
SHELBY COUNTY, REPUBLIC OF TEXAS
“Now I know I’m at home,” Pickett said, shaking loose a clump of brick-red mud from his boot as he dismounted in front of the porch. “This is proof positive we’re in red-dirt country, Colonel.”
Walker nodded absently. Twelve hours we’ve been here, he thought, and still not a word from Wheat. And it took us nearly a half-day longer than it should have to reach here in the first place. We’re still moving too slowly. Show me, Lord. Show me how to move these wagons faster.
“Have you found any sign of Captain Wheat?” he asked. “Any indication that he’s on the proper road?”
04 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 4.5
Previous First
[Concluding chapter four]
He didn’t bother calling the roll; whatever the men might be feeling, he was pretty sure there would be no desertions while the column was still in Canada. A glance at the faces looking up at him in the fading light—he’d ordered all to dismount while he remained in the saddle—assured him that the full company was here.
“I would like to apologize,” he began softly. “I have apparently not been clear in my instructions, and for that I am sincerely sorry.” Now he raised his voice a little, but maintained the cool, steady tone.
“Allow me, gentlemen, to redress that failing.
[Concluding chapter four]
He didn’t bother calling the roll; whatever the men might be feeling, he was pretty sure there would be no desertions while the column was still in Canada. A glance at the faces looking up at him in the fading light—he’d ordered all to dismount while he remained in the saddle—assured him that the full company was here.
“I would like to apologize,” he began softly. “I have apparently not been clear in my instructions, and for that I am sincerely sorry.” Now he raised his voice a little, but maintained the cool, steady tone.
“Allow me, gentlemen, to redress that failing.
03 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 4.4
Previous First
[Continuing chapter four]
Walker watched the mounted men pass through the gate of the low-walled fort, waiting until the large, heavy doors closed before he turned back down the road. The patrol had come from the direction of the river, and he was grateful now that it had taken so long to get his column separated into its three companies and moving out along their designated routes. If they’d moved much faster they’d have encountered the Canadian dragoons on the road, with possibly uncomfortable consequences. Not that he doubted for a moment the victory his men would have won over the dispirited-looking squadron of green-clad men—Canadians rather than British regulars. The sounds of fighting, though, would have been heard for miles around and would have brought the rest of the garrison, not to mention announcing the presence of an armed force on the border with Texas. No, it was much better that military entanglements be avoided just now.
[Continuing chapter four]
Walker watched the mounted men pass through the gate of the low-walled fort, waiting until the large, heavy doors closed before he turned back down the road. The patrol had come from the direction of the river, and he was grateful now that it had taken so long to get his column separated into its three companies and moving out along their designated routes. If they’d moved much faster they’d have encountered the Canadian dragoons on the road, with possibly uncomfortable consequences. Not that he doubted for a moment the victory his men would have won over the dispirited-looking squadron of green-clad men—Canadians rather than British regulars. The sounds of fighting, though, would have been heard for miles around and would have brought the rest of the garrison, not to mention announcing the presence of an armed force on the border with Texas. No, it was much better that military entanglements be avoided just now.
02 October, 2019
"One Big Giant Writing Workshop"
My exposure, as a beginning writer, to fan-fiction was not what I'd call a positive experience. And I probably came away from it with an unduly negative perception of both the concept and its execution.
This was a long time ago, though, and pre-internet. And it appears that while I wasn't looking, something interesting happened with fan-fic. (This probably comes as no shock to most of you, but I've led a sheltered life lately and am thus easily surprised.) I won't say much more here, simply urge you to read the interesting piece about it in The Atlantic this week...
...And mention that the quote that headlines this post is from an interview in the article, with multi-Hugo Award winner N. K. Jemison.
This was a long time ago, though, and pre-internet. And it appears that while I wasn't looking, something interesting happened with fan-fic. (This probably comes as no shock to most of you, but I've led a sheltered life lately and am thus easily surprised.) I won't say much more here, simply urge you to read the interesting piece about it in The Atlantic this week...
...And mention that the quote that headlines this post is from an interview in the article, with multi-Hugo Award winner N. K. Jemison.
Bonny Blue Flag 4.3
Previous First
[Continuing chapter four]
Walker stopped the column at a crossroads a few miles east of the Canadian military post at Fort Edward for a final conference with his commanders before crossing the Sabine. They’d made pretty good time, traveling nearly twenty miles despite the column’s being strung out along the tree-lined road. We’ll move faster once we’re out of the trees and onto prairie, Walker reminded himself. Maybe a week from now, if all goes well.
“How far do you want us to go today?” Fontaine asked before Walker had had a chance to invite the men to sit and sip lemonade with him. Walker didn’t mind; that was the man’s way.
[Continuing chapter four]
Walker stopped the column at a crossroads a few miles east of the Canadian military post at Fort Edward for a final conference with his commanders before crossing the Sabine. They’d made pretty good time, traveling nearly twenty miles despite the column’s being strung out along the tree-lined road. We’ll move faster once we’re out of the trees and onto prairie, Walker reminded himself. Maybe a week from now, if all goes well.
“How far do you want us to go today?” Fontaine asked before Walker had had a chance to invite the men to sit and sip lemonade with him. Walker didn’t mind; that was the man’s way.
Read It Now: Chapter One of A Tangled Weave
This is the second novel in the series the Toronto Public Library has dubbed "The French Intrigues," a name I'm rather pleased with. It is not quite a sequel to A Poisoned Prayer, but it's set in the same world, involves some of the same characters, and takes place just a couple of years after the events of that first novel. (Does that make it a sequel? I still don't think so.)
Chapter One begins below the fold.
01 October, 2019
Bonny Blue Flag 4.2
Previous First
[Continuing chapter four]
The failure of Lopez’s filibuster had left Walker, Wheat and Nelson with nothing to do. But it had provided for Walker a third captain—the cold, serpent-deadly Lamar Fontaine, a soldier of fortune recently home from fighting for the Holy Roman Emperor in Savoy. Walker considered his discovery of Fontaine, a natural soldier who was now second-in-command of the Texas expedition, as proof yet again that God gave everything, even a humiliating setback, a purpose that aided His Will. And it was while the four of them had pondered in New Orleans, on the verge of making a decision whether next to mount an incursion into California or the Central American isthmus, that God had intervened once more by introducing Walker to Preston Brooks and James Stewart. Now they were once again seeming to serve another man’s agenda. But by the Grace of God Preston Brooks’s plans for Texas coincided exactly with Walker’s vision for the republic’s great future. Now Walker was anxious to see that future come to fruition.
[Continuing chapter four]
The failure of Lopez’s filibuster had left Walker, Wheat and Nelson with nothing to do. But it had provided for Walker a third captain—the cold, serpent-deadly Lamar Fontaine, a soldier of fortune recently home from fighting for the Holy Roman Emperor in Savoy. Walker considered his discovery of Fontaine, a natural soldier who was now second-in-command of the Texas expedition, as proof yet again that God gave everything, even a humiliating setback, a purpose that aided His Will. And it was while the four of them had pondered in New Orleans, on the verge of making a decision whether next to mount an incursion into California or the Central American isthmus, that God had intervened once more by introducing Walker to Preston Brooks and James Stewart. Now they were once again seeming to serve another man’s agenda. But by the Grace of God Preston Brooks’s plans for Texas coincided exactly with Walker’s vision for the republic’s great future. Now Walker was anxious to see that future come to fruition.
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