Samulian’s Signet –

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Anatomy of an Artifact

Ring image courtesy of Midjourney AI

In The Demon of Histlewick Downs, Flinch is often called upon to predict the function of a magical device based on the item’s schematics. In The Heiromancer, Michlos and Marguerite debate the risks of tinkering with Vane’s Amulet without knowing how it was constructed. While a detailed account of such schematics would have sidetracked these stories, I suspect at least a few readers would be intrigued by an example of what such schematics might look like. In that vein, I offer plans for Samulian’s Signet, the ring the old priest purloins from Albert’s “profanities” museum. First, however, I’ll need to cover some basics on how magic functions in these works.

Basic magic principles:

Since the The Dreamweaver Chronicles’ magic system is based on a role-playing-game system I devised years ago with the intention of giving the players more agency with respect to using magic, it needed to be governed by basic principles that applied across the board. That way, players willing to put in the time could achieve actual system mastery. Like Flinch in Histlewick, they would be able to predict the function of a device based on its schematics, and, potentially, to tweak such devices to achieve specific goals. Player mages could then strategically use spells to generate impressive results in the same way a skilled carpenter can outperform some random guy equipped with the same woodworking tools. And nothing was lost for those players who lacked interest in such nuances. To them, the artifacts simply “did magic” as usual.

Nature of a spell: At the most fundamental level, spells in this system are patterns that are stabilized by certain types of complexity. As such, they tend to work mainly on solid objects (not liquids or gasses). The necessary energy for driving the resulting effects is latent in the ambient magical field (much as the energy for lightning is present in the atmosphere waiting for a lightning rod to unleash it). Casting a spell organizes the surrounding magic to manage the energy and shape the result. The resulting spells can be instantaneous (say, a momentary shroud of darkness), or they can be more lasting if they impose a sufficiently complex and cohesive pattern on an object (say, a Color spell cast on an item). Because such spell patterns break down over time, a spell cast on an object will last a maximum of about a day. The complexity of living creatures also has an impact on such fields—it serves as the basis for creating the creature’s spirit/soul. The soul also has interesting magical implications, but we’ll limit the discussion here to say that souls reduce the maximum duration of spells cast on them to an hour instead of a day.

Range: Since spells are achieved by influencing nearby magic, distance from the caster is limiting. For purposes of this system the maximum range for vesting spells on objects is about 150 feet. Spells that produce fields in a radius are limited to a maximum of 30 feet. Proper targeting still requires uniquely identifying (e.g., seeing) at least a portion of that object for purposes of properly aligning the patterns.

Attunement and Vesting—What Constitutes an Item? Before we can predict the result of casting a spell on an item, we first need to know what qualifies as an item. For example, is a sword a single object? Will a purple Color spell cast on the blade spread to the pommel or only color the blade? What determines where the spell stops? If the sword is sitting on a table, would the Color spell also spread to the table? The floor below? Would the caster end up turning the entire world purple? Clearly, at least two limits are required for spells to be practical. The first is a mass or extent limit—if a spell spreads too far, it loses its integrity. That limitation avoids casting spells on entire planets. For purposes of this discussion, assume that limit is larger than a typical person. The second requirement is some way to determine the item’s spell-spreading boundaries. This limit is determined using the concept of attunement. Presume that items in contact with each other for long periods of time have magical identities that adapt to each other. When they touch for long enough, their magical fields align, and they become “attuned.” The result is that they behave as a single object for purposes of vesting spells. But how long is long enough? A week? A month? This system has arbitrarily chosen a year for full natural attunement. But what about partial attunement? What if the sword and pommel have been together for 11 months? Because we’ve introduced an element of time, we need also to introduce an attunement cutoff threshold. For purposes of this system, that threshold is 95 percent. If two objects are at least 95-percent attuned, they behave as though they are 100-percent attuned for purposes of vesting spells. So, if the sword and pommel have been in contact continuously for 347 days, the Color spell spreads to both. If not, the spell only colors the element the caster originally identified (the blade, in this case). That’s a rough estimate, though, since with natural attunement, both pieces are attuning simultaneously. Once the Color spell is done spreading, it is said to have “vested” on the object. If the object exceeds the mass limit, the spell will be spread too thinly to sustain itself and will dissipate before it has a chance to vest.

Attunement Spells: Certain types of spells can influence the speed at which items attune. Of course, they only influence the attunement speed of the object on which they are vested. Attunement spells typically make the process nearly instantaneous. Conversely, anti-attunement spells can slow the process to a standstill. The affected item takes on attunement characteristics from every solid thing it touches. Thus, if a single-item pommel is affixed to a blade and an Attunement spell is cast on the pommel, the pommel attunes 100 percent to the blade, provided it’s touching nothing else. If, however, the pommel is also touching something else (say, a large gem was recently affixed to the pommel) then the pommel will attune partially to both the blade and the gem. To predict the practical outcome, though, it’s necessary to know how much the pommel has attuned to each. In this case, the mass of the touching items determines the outcome, and the 95-Percent rule applies. Thus, if the blade is 97 percent of the mass of the blade and gem combined, the pommel becomes attuned to the blade despite also being in contact with the gem. The pommel also becomes 3-percent attuned to the gem, but that doesn’t meet the 95 percent threshold for having an effect. Therefore, a Color spell cast on the blade would also spread to the pommel, but not to the gem. Eventually, when the gem attunes beyond the 95% threshold, spells will spread to the gem as well, but only spells that vest after the threshold is met. Once vested, spells no longer spread, even to things that subsequently become attuned to the object they’re vested on.

Attunements and Souls: Souls have an outsized impact on attunement. Treat direct contact with a creature that has a soul as though the soul has infinitely more mass than any other non-soul-bearing object the attuning object may be touching. As a rule of thumb, treat an attuning object in contact with two or more souls as attuning only a fraction (roughly 50 percent) to each, since it would be rare for one soul to outstrip another soul’s influence by 95 percent. Souls also have immutable attunement characteristics—while they don’t themselves attune, other things can attune to them.

Spell Integrity: What happens if the object a spell is vested on is damaged? Since spells rely on ordered complexity to sustain themselves, losing parts of a vested spell should lead to instability. This system sets an 80-percent mass threshold for maintaining spell integrity. According to this “80-Percent Rule,” up to 20 percent of the object a spell is vested on can be lost while maintaining the spell on the larger piece. Once that threshold is passed, the spell loses integrity and dissipates. Thus, if the pommel makes up 30 percent of the mass of the sword and is removed, the entire Color Spell dissipates. If the pommel only makes up 15 percent of the mass of the entire sword and is removed, the Color spell dissipates from the pommel (it retains only 15 percent of the original spell), but the sword remains colored (since it retains 85 percent of the combination’s original mass).

Charges, Passive Charges, Reservoirs, Numeni, and Tolerance: Some spell types are more energy-intensive than others. These spell types, termed Numeni (singular, “Numenus”), require infusions of additional energy for their effects to manifest. Common Numeni include Light Spells, Incinerate Spells, Patterning Spells, Physical Alterations, Evocations, and Encryptions, and Extension spells. The basic unit of energy for powering spells is the Charge spell. It’s standardized for use with Numeni. Thus, one would typically cast a Light Spell on a target object and then follow up by casting a Charge spell on the same object. The Charge would be used by the Light spell and the object would glow for as long as both the spell and the charge last. The classic Light spell lasts for 24 hours and uses charges at a rate of one per hour, but variations are possible by tweaking usage efficiency and light output. Incinerates work similarly, but they instantaneously convert all the Charge’s energy to light and heat. Charges can get tricky if more than one Numenus exists on the target object. These spells’ “Tolerances” determine which Numenus gets the charge. When cast, the Numenus is assigned a Tolerance (typically between 1 and 9). Charges are similarly assigned a Tolerance, and their charges, like water, seek the lowest level and do not flow uphill. Thus, if an object holds both a Light spell (Tolerance 2) and an Incinerate (Tolerance 4), Charging it will have different results depending on the Charge’s Tolerance. A Tolerance-1 Charge Spell would charge neither spell (the Charge dissipates without effect). A Tolerance-3 Charge Spell charges the Light spell (lighting up the object). A Tolerance-5 Charge will still be used by the Light Spell since it has the lowest tolerance. However, once charged and active, a Numenus is considered full, and full Numeni are no longer able to accept a charge until just before the charge runs out. Thus, a second Tolerance-5 Charge spell would activate the Incinerate if cast while the Light remains charged.

Reservoirs and Passive Charges: Reservoir spells can accept and store charges but can also pass them to a lower-Tolerance spell (following normal Tolerance rules) if one becomes available, provided the needy Numenus overlaps some fraction of the Reservoir. A single Reservoir holds only a single charge, but multiple Reservoirs can be vested on the same object. A Passive Charge Spell collects ambient energy over time and, when full, dumps it as a charge to associated Numeni or Reservoirs (again, according to normal Tolerance rules). Standard Passive Charges start empty and generate one Charge per hour. Together, Reservoirs and Passive charges can function to keep the charges necessary for artifacts available as needed.

Patterning: While vested spells dissipate over time, Patterning Spells can be used to force the item on which the spell is vested to imprint the spell’s pattern. While the original spell still decays as normal, the imprinted “Patterned” replica does not dissipate over time, becoming essentially permanent so long as the item lasts. Patterned Numeni use charges normally, and Patterned spells are still subject to the 80-Percent rule. Thus, breaking a stick with a Patterned Color spell in half can cause the Color spell to dissipate. However, since the spell pattern has become an inherent part of the stick’s pattern, putting the pieces back together can restore the Color effect, provided the pieces remain attuned (the 95 Percent Rule for attunement applies). If they’re not attuned, the Patterned elements treat the pieces as though they are distinct objects, so no Color manifests.

Extension: Under normal circumstances, the only way to vest a spell is to cast one, and the only way to do that is for a caster to actively cast the spell. Extension spells, however, can use an existing vested spell as a template for recasting that spell on the same target object. While recasting the same spell on the same object might initially seem pointless, Extension is a critical element of artifacts that vest spells on new targets. That’s true because revesting through Extension enables the extended spell to spread across any attuned material that’s present at the time of the Extension—additional items that are attuned and touching can therefore be included in the newly vested spell. Wands with auto-attuning tips serve as the archetypal example. Such wands can be designed to activate when they touch and attune to something that’s significantly more massive (95-percent rule) than the wand’s handle. Charge-mediated activation of the Extension recasts the resident spells (e.g., Color) to whatever the tip is touching and revests the Color spell on both the tip and the target. Provided the target is significantly larger than the tip (80-Percent Rule), when contact with the tip is broken, the portion on the tip Dissipates, leaving the entirety of the remaining revested spell on the target object. As described in more detail below, Samulian’s Signet functions similarly.

Spell Conflicts: In general, multiple spells on a single object do not interact. An object can simultaneously host both a color spell and a light spell, and they don’t interfere with each other. However, in special cases, conflicts between spells are inevitable. For example, a spell that changes the shape of an object to a cube can’t peaceably coexist with one that changes the shape to a sphere. Frequently, the conflict is the point—particularly if you’re trying to use a spell to Dispel or Suppress an existing effect. Outcomes of such conflicts are determined using the “Thrust” characteristic. As with Tolerance, Thrust is determined at the time the spell is cast, and, as with Tolerance, standard Thrust values vary between 1 and 9. If two spells conflict, the spell with the higher Thrust takes precedence. Normally, only the spell’s effect, not the pattern itself, is suppressed, but Dispels are notable exceptions.

Spell Category: Spells in this system are categorized according to function. Divinations detect patterns, Encryptions record patterns, Summonings affect energy, Alterations (including mental and magical alterations) alter form, substance, or function, Evocations create solid material from air, Enchantment affects magical properties (such as with Patterning, Attunements, and Extensions), and Kinesis deals with attractions and repulsions. Category also constrains what single spells can accomplish. Typically, a single spell can create an effect from within only a single category. Likewise, spells that affect other spells can only affect spells within a single category. Thus, while one can create a spell to Dispel all Alterations on an object, one can’t, use a single spell to directly Dispel two spells from different categories. Artifacts that require effects from different categories are generally built using multiple spells according to rules that govern their interactions. Such interactions include the principles already enumerated, as well as Contingencies and Concentration Durations, which are beyond the scope of this post.

A Note on Design Complexity: The above descriptions cover many of the principles required to craft the artifacts that appear in The Dreamweaver Chronicles. Samulian’s Signet is offered as an exemplar. While complexity for such artifacts has no theoretical limit, as a practical matter, the more complex the artifact, the more likely there are to be mistakes in design or execution. Despite obvious parallels to computer programming, magic compilers to automate artifact features and debug the “code” are not currently available. As a result, most artifacts in gaming campaigns are likely to remain relatively simple. Rarer, more-complex artifacts are possible if the storyline demands, but these become exponentially more difficult to design and execute as complexity increases. While the bulk of the basic system rules are described above, applying them to different situations can give rise to a surprisingly diverse array of artifacts.

Samulian’s Signet—Specifications:

Lay Description: Samulian’s signet appears as a gold signet ring bearing a jasper stone set with a distinctive “S” rune usable to imprint sealing wax on correspondence.

Function: The ring can (mostly, see below) be safely worn and handled. If someone other than the wearer touches the jasper, that person falls into a sorcerous slumber that lasts an hour.

Essential Physical Components:

  1. Stone
  2. Gold Band

Essential Spell Components:

  • Sleep spell (if vested on a person, causes the person to sleep).
  • Extension (spell to copy the Sleep spell from the ring to the person touching the stone).
  • Reservoirs (to store charges and transfer power to activate the Extension spell (a Numenus)).
  • A Passive Charge (to resupply charges over time).
  • Patterning spells for the appropriate categories (to make the various spells permanent).
  • Attunement spells (to cause various parts of the ring to instantly attune to what’s touching them).
  • Suppression for Enchantment (or better still, specifically for Extension, to keep the Extension inactive until needed).

Spell/Ring-Component Matrix:

  • 1. Stone: Sleep spell.
  • 1. Stone: Attunement spell.
  • 1. Stone: Reservoir (Tol 6)
  • 1. Stone: Extend-Alteration (or more specifically, Extend-Sleep) spell (Thr. 5, Tol. 5).
  • 2. Gold Band: Attunement spell.
  • 2. Gold Band: Reservoir spell (x5) (Tol. 8).
  • 2. Gold Band: Passive Charge (Tol. 9).
  • 1. Stone, 2 Gold Band (together): Suppression for Enchantment (or, more specifically, Suppression for Extension) (Thr. 8).
  • 1. Stone, 2. Gold Band (together): Reservoir (Tol. 7).

Creation Steps:

  1. Start with the ring’s individual components: the Stone and the Gold Band
  2. Cast Sleep on Stone.
  3. Cast Extend Sleep on Stone (Tol. 5, Thr. 5).
  4. Cast Reservoir on Stone (Tol. 6).
  5. Cast Attunement on Stone.
  6. Cast five Reservoirs on Gold Band (Tol. 8).
  7. Cast Passive Charge on Gold Band (Tol. 9).
  8. Cast Attunement on Gold Band.
  9. Assemble Stone and Gold Band. Note that at this stage, the ring attunes to whatever it touches, so casting more spells on it gets complicated, since the spells will spread. One could temporarily Suppress the attunements for the subsequent steps or mount the ring on a very tiny object until finished.
  10. Cast Suppress Extension on Stone/Band assembly (Thr. 8).
  11. Cast Reservoir (Tol. 7) on Stone/Band assembly.
  12. Pattern Enchantment on Stone/Band assembly (Patterns Attunements and Extension).
  13. Pattern Summoning on Stone/Band assembly (Patterns Passive Charge and Reservoirs).
  14. Pattern Alteration on Stone/Band assembly (Patterns Sleep and Suppression).

Signet Operation:

Wearing the ring: When worn, the ring is essentially inert. The Stone, the Setting, and the Band are all attuned to the wearer. As a result, the Suppression for Extension is active across the entire ring, which keeps the Extension for Alteration inactive. The Passive Charge is active, sequentially charging Reservoirs until all are filled, whereupon subsequent charges produced by the Passive Charge are lost. The bridging Reservoir spans the Ring/Stone assembly and ensures that the Reservoir on the stone is filled and ready to go. The Sleep spell is active on the stone, but since Sleep doesn’t affect the stone, there’s no noticeable effect.

Using the ring: When the stone touches the target individual, the Instantaneous Attunement on the stone causes the stone to attune to the target. The Band remains attuned to the wearer because it’s touching the wearer, who also has a soul. As a result, the Suppression for Extension is broken (80-percent rule, since the stone is greater than 20% of the ring’s total mass, the stone and band are no longer attuned to each other). No longer suppressed, the Extension takes a charge from the Stone’s Reservoir (Tol 6). Once charged, the Extension fires and recasts the Sleep spell (consuming the charge). Since the stone is attuned to the person touching it at greater than 95 percent, the Sleep spreads onto and vests on that person. The ring’s activity then stops for lack of a charge—the bridging Reservoir won’t be active on the Stone since it was similarly severed by the Stone’s attunement change. Severing the bridging Reservoir prevents charge delivery from the Band’s Reservoirs to the Stone’s Reservoir. With no more charges available, the ring will then remain inactive until it is no longer touching the target. Once the ring stone is removed from the target, the entire Ring reattunes to the wearer. That reestablishes the Patterned bridging Suppression, which inactivates the Stone’s Extension. It also reestablishes the bridging Reservoir, which transfers a Charge to the Stone’s Reservoir and then accepts another from the five reservoirs on the Band. At that point, the ring is ready to repeat the procedure until all the reservoirs have been depleted. Over the next several hours, the Passive Charge will recharge all the Reservoirs to reestablish the initial fully charged ground state.

Safety Concerns: While this design is relatively safe for the wearer, if the wearer removes the ring and sets it down, it will attune to what it rests on. If the wearer then, while retrieving the ring, touches the Stone rather than the Band, the Extension could be inadvertently activated. A safer way to handle the ring when it’s not worn it is to keep it in a box that’s also attuned to the wearer. Such boxes could be attuned and then fixed with a Patterned anti-Attunement spell to keep them that way.

Schematics:

Symbols for Spell Effects: With these basics, creating a set of schematics is straightforward. Symbols can be assigned to specific spell effects, and additional symbols can be used to represent other aspects of the item. Necessary spell effects include:

Symbols for Additional Spell Characteristics: How the spell effects are cast is also key information. Compound-cast spells are confined to the object (e.g., Attunement). Displacement-cast spells vest on an object but exert an effect up to 30 feet away (e.g., Darkness). In this case, all the spells are Compound, so we’ll need a symbol to indicate that as well as whether the spell has been Patterned. We’ll also need a delimiter to indicate where one spell ends and another begins, and symbols to indicate thrust and tolerance, at least where it varies from a conventional default.

Relationships among the Artifact’s Physical Components: We also need a way to indicate the parts on which the spells are vested. In this case, we’ll color code, but one could as easily start a new line for each item component or otherwise indicate the artifact’s key components on a technical drawing.

Syntax: Spell characteristics should be described in a consistent order to make the code easier to read. In this case, we start with whether the spell is patterned, follow with whether it is Compound or Displacement Cast, and then follow with the effect. Some effects, such as Extensions and Suppressions require extra information to describe the spells (or Categories of spells) they affect. In those cases, follow the spell effect’s symbol with the symbol of the affected spell or category. (e.g., Suppression for Extension, Thrust 8 reads as ). The relationship between the Suppression and Extension can be inferred from the order (Suppression comes before Extension, thus, the spell is a Suppression that affects Extensions rather than an Extension that affects Suppressions). You can also tell that the Extension symbol in that grouping does not represent its own spell since it isn’t preceded by a Cast type or Patterning status indicator. When Tolerance or Thrust is other than the default, the appropriate symbol follows the spell-effect symbols, together with a subscripted number to indicate the relevant value. Finally, if more than one identical spell is present on a component, the total number is provided at the beginning of that spell (e.g., , which reads as five Tolerance-8 Reservoirs). Where possible, I have selected symbols that bear some similarity to each other if the effects share some characteristic. Summonings, for example, tend to be some variation on a starburst pattern, Mental Alterations are variants of triangles, Thrust and Tolerance are pen nibs, and spells’ Cast characteristic use star patterns that graphically show where the effect occurs relative to the star.

Result—Samulian’s Signet Schematic:

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Fin

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Everett Henry Bornemann, age 84, passed Saturday, February 19th, 2022. He was born to Margerett (née Boaman) and Wilmer Bornemann on February 22nd, 1937, on land that was then known as the Maxey farm near Stockbridge, Wisconsin, in the same house that also served as the birthplace of Dorothy (née Ruffing) Bornemann, his future wife and partner for almost 60 years. His father was killed in an accident when he was young, and Everett was raised with the help of his stepfather Milan Skrypczak and his grandparents John Boaman and Grace (née Stange). His grandfather passed along his love of craft, and Everett became an accomplished woodworker, carpenter, and automobile mechanic, skills that served him well in completely remodeling his first home, an old Stockbridge farmhouse. He worked for a time at Les Stumpf Ford in Sherwood before accepting a position at the Appleton Post Crescent, where he served for many years as pressroom foreman, overseeing installation of the last press in the paper’s original downtown-Appleton location. Family was ever his priority, and Everett and Dorothy created an environment where their family could thrive, a shining example that will resonate for generations. Everett would be flattered to be remembered fondly during your next game of sheephead (provided, of course, that you’re not one to mauer). He is survived by his brother Roger (Betty) Skrypczak, sister Candace (Greg) Rabska, sons Scott (Nancy) Bornemann, Douglas (Genelle Belmas) Bornemann, and Bradley Bornemann, as well as grandchildren Derek Bornemann and Brittany (Geoffrey) Cook, and great-grandchildren Indie Cook and Ivy Cook. A celebration of Everett’s life will be held from 4-6 pm on Monday, February 28th at Brettschneider-Trettin-Nickel Funeral Home, 606 N Oneida Street, Appleton, WI. In lieu of flowers, please come prepared with a cherished memory of Everett to share. The family would also direct any donations to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

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Stranded Ahead of Its Time

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Planting the Seeds: I’m a gamer from way back. In the seventies, my family moved from the country to a more-populated area. Across the street from our new home was a family with ten kids. One of them spied me reading The Two Towers on the school bus and suggested that meant I would probably like “gaming.” I did like gaming, of course. I loved board games like Scrabble, chess and Yahtzee and a wide variety of card games, but his expression implied he was referring to something outside the usual gaming experience. Intrigued, I badgered him to provide an example. All he had were six-sided dice, but he made them work. The idea that not all of the players participated in the same way – that one person in the group was tasked with role that was both administrative and creative – fascinated me. I wasn’t alone. My friend’s sample game soon expanded to included several of his brothers as well as one of mine. We were addicted. We played that game for years until college intervened. By that time, though, I was running my own game. Some of the original players continued along. Indeed, after a long hiatus, five of the original players were recently resurrected to game in an online Roll20 5th-Edition game that has persisted throughout the pandemic.

A Unique Perspective: We didn’t all play for the same reasons. Some of us were action junkies. Some enjoyed the camaraderie. Some loved the interactive storylines. The biggest draw for me, however, was using the magic system to solve puzzles in clever and unexpected ways.

Identifying the Problem: Given that focus, my biggest gripe with early “blue-book” D&D was that there was no underlying theory for how magic worked. Lack of theory was tolerable if the gamemaster was thoughtful and rigorous. In that case, my approach was to create predictability through precedent – that is, as a player, if I wanted to use the magic in a way I suspect might be viewed as problematic, I first created a situation where the GM was comfortable with a specific outcome to set the hook. Then I used the magic in the same way to solve the problem I was actually interested in to reel in the desired result.

A Unifying Theory: As a GM myself, though, I longed for something more. I wanted to know the nuts and bolts of how the magic worked. I wanted consistent principles applicable across situations. I wanted those details fleshed out enough so that I could plan ahead and know, without the bother of setting a precedent each time, how something – even something I hadn’t used before – would play out in practice. Such a system would enable players who take the time to understand the principles to be far more effective than those who just wanted to cast the occasional spell. They could design tests to determine aspects of how items worked and use those principles to actually design an item. One could still play a mage without learning the system, but a mage who took the extra time to understand the system would really stand out. I spent years designing the Spellbounds system, and I had a semi-regular group who play-tested it through the 80s and 90s. At last, mages were not utterly dependent on the vagaries of GM whim with respect to magical results. Players could now use magic strategically instead of reactively.

Changing Focus: Sadly, our move to California in 2002 put and end to that game. Online gaming tools weren’t well developed and they weren’t set up for my gaming system. By 2006, I had instead turned my creative impulses to writing fiction. World building was simplified by having a detailed magic system already in hand. Still, there was much to learn. From 2006 to 2011, I concentrated on writing the Heiromancer Trilogy, which consists of Practical Phrendonics, A House of Cards, and Hanged Man’s Gambit. (The trilogy is a single story divided into three parts, since that’s how long stories can be most easily managed in terms of editing and binding). I attended writers workshops to learn the basics of the craft. I found a professional editor who helped me learn the nuances of fiction writing. And through it all, I kept writing. All of those components were invaluable. While I was waiting for an editing slot for Practical Phrendonics, I wrote The Demon of Histlewick Downs, which serves as a standalone prelude to the trilogy. My editor reviewed the first few pages and suggested that I publish that book first, which made sense, since it comes first chronologically.

The Struggle to Fit In: The magic is integral throughout the series – the characters learn more about how it works as the stories progress. Categorizing the books as fantasy doesn’t really capture their essence, though. The term is too broad, and the available subgenres (epic fantasy, sword and sorcery, low fantasy, urban fantasy, paranormal fantasy) didn’t give the reader an adequate sense of what to expect.

Epiphany: Then, last month I happened across Sufficiently Advanced Magic, by Andrew Rowe and I learned a new term – LitRPG. You may already have heard of Ready Player One, by Ernest Cline, a classic LitRPG tale. LitRPG is a relatively new subgenre – the term was only coined in 2013, several years after my trilogy was already written. It refers to literary works where the advancement and system details play a major role in the story development. Often these stories take place in game settings. As in an actual RPG, the characters advance as the story progresses, and those details are considered features, not distractions. I devoured Andrew’s first series, and I relished the attention given to his magic system, particularly after having struggled with some of the same problems in my own system. In LitRPG, advancement and increasing system knowledge can be an explicit goal.

Coming Home: I think my books have finally found a kindred subgenre. While my series doesn’t embrace the “leveling” aspects as explicitly as some other LitRPG offerings, advancement and increasing use and knowledge of a detailed magic system is definitely a feature. Die-hard LitRPG fans may insist that the leveling is a quintessential LitRPG element – and those folks might consider my books to better fit the related GameLit fantasy subgenre. The difficulty is that purists might require those stories to explicitly include a game setting (like Jumanji, for example). In either case, I’m delighted that I can now point to books that share a similar genesis and approach.

Endgame: I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

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Exceeding Expectations

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It began innocently enough. A short story. A respite from editing its older brethren and learning a new profession. I sprinkled words across blank pages, hoping they’d arrange themselves into something fresh and palatable. Short and sweet. A literary bonbon. I’d need a flawed protagonist. A loner—someone with a secret, perhaps. A dangerous past he’d prefer stayed hidden. I’d need a setting as well. Something simultaneously familiar and exotic. An island, maybe. A location whose isolation enabled magic to flourish. As for antagonists, why settle for one? Why not one from his past and another in his future? And then there’s that pesky inciting incident. Make it colorful and engaging, right? How about a carnival, complete with all the usual tacky carnival games? Add in a an oddly alluring test of skill, one certain to be irresistible to our protagonist. One that causes him to reveal something unique about himself to people he’d rather remained in the dark.

The ingredients seemed destined for something bite sized and tasty. But, as it incubated, the dough expanded. Layered. Burgeoned beyond all expectations. Burst beyond the confines of short story, swelled past the novella stage. Now it strains the bounds of a full-blown novel. It’s been some years, but this story wouldn’t tolerate a half-baked effort. As it finally nears completion, I’m happy to report this work-in-progress promises to be simply delectable.

I should also mention that The Demon of Histlewick Downs is free to download through Friday. Many thanks to Free Kindle books and Tips, Freebooksy, BookSends, and The Fussy Librarian for promotional assistance.

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Skilled Writing: The Agony and the Ecstasy

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Oh, and, by the way, the ebook version of Practical Phrendonics is currently on sale for 99 cents.

Practical Phrendonics is Book One of the Heiromancer Trilogy
(to which The Demon of Histlewick Downs is a standalone prelude).

Acquiring expertise first requires recognizing the need…

Last year’s publication of Hanged Man’s Gambit, the final book of the Heiromancer Trilogy, was the culmination of over fourteen years of work. When I started, I hadn’t the slightest idea what I was in for. From years of running games, I knew a little something about developing characters and the elements that make a plot meaty and satisfying, but publishing is a different beast. After law school and a Ph.D., I was also under the impression I knew how to write. I didn’t – at least not at the level necessary to publish a professional-level novel. Of all the things I needed to learn, that was far and away the toughest. Writing well requires more than vision. It requires more than talent. It requires more than a basic grasp of grammar. It requires more than being widely read. While all these things are helpful, professional-level novel writing requires expertise.

How does one acquire expertise?

The first and hardest step is recognizing you don’t have it. If you haven’t had some training, you can safely assume that not only do you not have it, you aren’t in a position to evaluate whether you have it. That’s simply the nature of the game and a natural consequence of the Dunning-Kruger effect. All beginning writers go through this. Those who don’t get past it before they publish are responsible for the continuing truth of Sturgeon’s Law. Assuming that since you’ve read novels that you are now qualified to write them is like accepting a job as a master chef because you’ve eaten at a few fancy restaurants. Chefs train for years to master techniques and learn the subtleties of their craft. While you might be a good home cook, if you haven’t trained, you’re not a chef. Mastery of a craft like writing requires an understanding of the prevailing culture, an appreciation for what’s already been done, and a vision for the boundaries you intend to push. You need to know, for example, why certain approaches (like the main character describing herself in the mirror) are verboten; why info-dumps are problematic; why tense scenes require a more staccato delivery; what constitutes overuse (or awkward use) of dialogue tags; what makes for a workable inciting incident; the differences between good grammar and clear, strong prose; how to recognize and eliminate unnecessary repetition; how to identify and eliminate plot-irrelevant details; how dialogue is properly punctuated; and a thousand other things. Only once you understand these rules can you both employ them effectively and know when to productively break them.

The second step is to recognize that to achieve some measure of craft, you’ll need trained guidance. Books on the subject can help, but nothing gets the message across more effectively than feedback on your own work by someone who’s already acquired the requisite expertise. Your mother, even if she’s rigorously honest, might only be able to tell you something’s wrong. Without the appropriate expertise, she likely won’t be able to tell you why elements of your story rub her the wrong way or strike her as amateurish. Your best bet is to find a skilled editor who is willing to both edit your prose and explain the reasons underlying those edits. That, of course, is a huge challenge in its own right. Because you’re now aware of the Dunning-Kruger effect, you’ll realize that since you’re not in a position to evaluate the quality of your own prose, you’re probably even less well positioned to evaluate those edits.

So, how will you be able to evaluate whether the editor you’ve selected has any more expertise than you do? It is a bit of a chicken-and-egg problem. First, recognize that since there’s no regulatory body governing minimal competence for editors, anyone can hang out a shingle and charge you for the service. To complicate things further, some folks claiming to be editors are little more than scammers. Next, recognize that even non-predatory editors may be afflicted by Dunning-Kruger – they may simply not recognize their editorial skills aren’t up to par. My best suggestion is to attend writers’ conferences (such as The Southern California Writers’ Conference). Assemble a cohort of friends who are also trying to acquire writing expertise and get their honest feedback as a way to start acquiring some expertise that you can then use to help you evaluate editorial work. Professional editors also often attend writers’ conferences, and you can get an idea of whether some of these folks’ personalities would be a good fit. Check editorial credentials such as past clients and also check the Preditors and Editors website (once it’s back up and running). And most importantly, when you’re ready – when you feel you can’t possibly make those pages any better – get sample edits (preferably for the same pages) from multiple vetted editors. Many reputable editors will do such sample edits for free. Multiple samples will enable you to compare the editors’ methods and to see how their suggestions affect your prose. Even if you’re choosing from a group of highly capable editors, there’s as much art as science to editing – your artistic styles won’t always mesh.

Also be aware that Dunning-Kruger applies equally those who will review your work. When you publish, you’ll be submitting your book to a broad range of readers. The majority won’t be in a position to meaningfully comment on your level of craft because they simply haven’t acquired the level of expertise that would enable them to evaluate it. You acquire that expertise because it provides readers with a smoother, less-jarring, more-immersive reading experience, not because you expect readers to recognize what a skilled craftsperson you’ve become. That you’ve improved the reader experience will increase the chances for positive reviews, but will not guarantee them. For some, burnt tater tots and TV dinners are the epitome of haute cuisine, and if that’s what they like, reviewing them accordingly isn’t necessarily wrong. That also means if you don’t serve tater tots, those folks simply won’t review you well, regardless of your facility with the foie gras. On the other hand, that smaller fraction of readers who have acquired a measure of writing acumen are likely to expect high-level craft as a matter of course. It therefore won’t occur to them to praise a work for its craftsmanship, but they will be among the first to crucify you should you fail to live up to their exacting craftsmanship standards. Thus, it’s predictably rare for a review to accurately recognize and appreciate hard-earned writerly skills, but when it happens, it’s an occasion to be cherished.

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Chaos & Whimsy

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I’m reporting from my first visit to NOLA, where Genelle and I are celebrating our 24th wedding anniversary. For me, the French Quarter’s main draw has been architectural, and we have now spent many hours wandering its narrow streets imbibing its historic essence. The filigreed balconies and private courtyards suggest a stately calm completely at odds with the touristy bustle of a holiday long weekend. Genelle pointed out this building, and we felt its banner nailed the local ambience. On deeper reflection, it also captures something essential about our first twenty-four years together. With luck, that special something will continue to infuse the next twenty-four. Laissez les bons temps rouler, mon amour!

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Bittersweet Milestone

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Today, fourteen years to the month after I first put pen to paper, I finally hit the publish button on Hanged Man’s Gambit, the third book of the Heiromancer Trilogy. I finished the trilogy’s first draft in 2011 and shortly thereafter began attending the Southern California Writers’ conference, where I embarked on a new journey – learning all I didn’t know about writing, editing, and publishing.

Long-time editor Jean Jenkins was a fixture at that event and one of its founding members. The conference, and Jean in particular, instilled in me an appreciation for the importance of editing and understanding publishing conventions. After soliciting sample edits for the first pages of Practical Phrendonics from a number of editors, I was convinced Jean was the right person for the job. During that edit, I wrote a prelude tale to the trilogy, The Demon of Histlewick Downs, and, on Jean’s advice, published that book first, which, in hindsight, was absolutely the right decision.

Jean didn’t just focus on the pages, though. Each editorial pass was calculated to help her clients grow as authors. Her deep editorial wisdom, conveyed through her comments on my pages, gave me both the wherewithal and confidence to switch careers – one in which I assist professors with honing their grant-writing efforts. Everything she taught about readability, pacing, unintentional repetition, active voice, common pitfalls, and clarity is every bit as important in technical writing as it was in fiction, and I’m honored to pass those lessons along.

Jean finished her edits for Hanged Man’s Gambit just a few short months ago. I was hoping to present her with a signed copy at the next in-person conference. Tragically, though, Jean passed away last Sunday, less than one week before publication. I’m proud of the work she helped me refine and of the writer she helped me become. I like to think she was, too.

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About Amazon’s Star-Rating Algorithm for Books…

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I recently paid for advertising to promote an Amazon free giveaway for The Demon of Histlewick Downs in anticipation of the upcoming release of Hanged Man’s Gambit. I’d hoped the promotion would not only raise awareness of the book, but also increase visibility on Amazon, perhaps even increasing the book’s rank there. So far the book has scored another 5-star review, and 2 more 4-star reviews, and Amazon’s ranking went from 3.9 to 4.0. All good right? Well, not exactly. Though the book has 14 five-star reviews and only 10 four-star reviews, the new ratings had the effect of reversing the lengths of those bars on Amazon’s Customer Reviews chart. It now appears as though Demon has received more four-star ratings than five-star, as shown below:

Amazon, you see, doesn’t rank the books according to the actual data they receive. Instead, they filter that data through their “algorithm.” Their use of the algorithm is reported, but buried on the site. It only shows up when one scrolls down several page’s worth of material if you click on the link that offers to tell you how ratings are calculated (see image above). Of course, most readers will assume, based on the accompanying chart, that they know how rankings are calculated, so they have very little incentive to click that link. If they did, this is what they’d see:

To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzes reviews to verify trustworthiness.

Most people would reasonably assume the cumulative ranking would be based on the number of stars customers gave divided by the total possible number of stars (x5). They also would assume that if a book gets more five-star rankings than four-star, the bar for the five-star ranking would be longer. Turns out, that’s not always the case.

Here’s a graph showing how the calculation would turn out for The Demon of Histlewick Downs using the raw data (uncorrupted by the algorithm).

So, based on a total of 28 ratings, Amazon’s algorithm has decided that the book should rate a full quarter star lower than it rates based on the actual data. It discounts the number of five-star reviews by 11 percent, and it nearly doubled the impact accorded the single one-star review and the single two-star review the book has received. Thus, the algorithm makes those two naysayers twice as influential as any of the rest of the folks rating the book. And it does all that without telling readers how it arrives at that conclusion and without providing a comparison to the raw data. If, at some point, Amazon decides to eliminate the raw data, then regardless of how folks rank them, books will only be as good as Amazon says they are, and there would be no way to contest that determination. They’ve already recently started including “global ratings” that no longer identify who contributed the feedback, so there’s no ability to check how such folks rated other books. Do you really want an algorithm and nameless reviewers determining which books you read? Or would you rather base your decisions on the comments of real people who’ve actually read the book?

To determine whether Amazon applies the algorithm with an even hand, I checked out a book by Jeff Bezos’s ex-wife, MacKensie. Her book, The Testing of Luther Albright currently has a similar number of star ratings (32) to The Demon of Histlewick downs (28). How does this book fare with Amazon’s algorithm? Here’s what the Amazon Rankings for Luther Albright look like compared to its raw data:

Lo and behold, Luther Albright’s cumulative rating isn’t cut by .25 stars. Rather, Amazon’s algorithm increases this book’s cumulative rating from 3.69 in the raw data to 3.9. To accomplish that feat, Amazon’s algorithm inflates the five-star ratings for MacKensie’s book from 41 percent to 46 percent, while the one-star reviews are decreased from 13 percent to 9 percent. From the raw data, Luther Albright had 6 rankings out of 32 (18.8%) that were under three stars, while The Demon of Histlewick Downs only had 2 such rankings out of 28 (7.1%). Yet, Amazon’s chart shows Luther Albright as totaling 13% for rankings below three, while Demon shows a whopping 14% (which is double the actual data). That means Albright’s 6 critical reviews are actually weighted less than Demon’s 2. What was it about those two reviews that made them so influential to Amazon’s algorithm? There’s no way to know. So, while the raw data suggests The Demon of Histlewick Downs cumulatively ranks a 4.25 compared to Luther Albright’s 3.26, Amazon’s algorithm has decided they’re pretty much the same at 4.0 and 3.9. Indeed, the star graphics for both are indistinguishable.

I might not object to Amazon providing a rating’s filter if they were to put the raw data in the same format side by side and were transparent about how they arrived at the ranking. Then informed readers would be able to compare and decide which ranking system they prefer. Unfortunately, that’s not what they do.

Buyer beware.

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The Rescue (Reprise)

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It’s been more than five years since a certain ginger tabby prowled permanently into our lives, and he’s still going strong. Sometimes it’s as important to celebrate the status quo as it is to invent something new. Thanks, Reshi, for all you continue to do for us.

“Of course I solemnly swear not to hunt any more backyard bunnies if you open the door for me.”

The Rescue:

The very day after I e-published The Demon of Histlewick Downs (a tale of a young man’s quest to rescue his parents) in July of 2014, our much-loved 25-pound lynx point Nero passed. Within the month, my wife Genelle moved from California for a year to test drive a faculty position at the University of Kansas, while I stayed behind to ready the house for potential sale. Loss of my two constant companions was rough, but I kept busy–we’d been in the house for 13 years, with all the attendant deferred maintenance that implies.

When Genelle came to visit at Christmas, I happened across a small orange tabby sunning himself on a tin shed roof within arm’s length of our backyard wall. Thinking Genelle could use a cat fix, I invited him over. He was a slip of a thing, no more than ten pounds–but he seemed starved more for affection than for food. Still hurting from our loss, we were happy to oblige.

From that day, the Orange Cat was a regular visitor. He’d pound on the front door in the morning and I’d invite him in for a bowl of milk before work. He’d be back for more when I got home. On weekends, he’d often spend the whole day with me–sometimes binge-watching Netflix on my lap, other times directing the house repairs. Come evening I’d tell him he had to return to his family. If it was chilly, I’d get a disappointed hiss–it was the only time he wasn’t upbeat, curious, and well-behaved. He loved our bed’s white feather comforter, and anytime he wasn’t with me, I knew to find him there. I’d go move him, patiently explaining that outdoor “kittehs” (that’s catspeak) who roll in dirt were not permitted there. He’d rowr and move onto some other exploit (at least, until I wasn’t looking). 

The gift.

When it came time to sell the house, his routine was firmly in place, though there were occasional surprises. One morning he pounded on the door, mewling with particular excitement. On the way to the car, I learned why–he’d brought me a nice plump rat, which he’d displayed in the very center of the front courtyard. He beamed with pride as he posed near his prize. Presuming a “thank you” would suffice, I hopped in the car and headed to work. Of course, the rat would be gone by the time I returned at 6, right? Turns out I’d misunderstood. He was still waiting for me beside that rat when I returned 9 hours later–apparently, it wasn’t merely a trophy rat, it was an eating rat. When I demurred again, he shrugged, and ate it himself.

One day I came back from work to find him sitting squarely on the dining room table, posing smugly next to the flowers I set out for house-staging purposes. I still have no idea how he got in–whether I forgot to let him out, or if he darted in when the realtor showed the property.  Whatever he did, it worked–the family shown the house that day bought it. I may never know whether he wooed them with his personal charm, or whether he simply bribed them all with rats.

Showing the house.

By May 2015, we were caught up in the whirlwind that is packing for a cross-country move, and we still didn’t know to whom the Orange Kitteh belonged. By then, Genelle had discovered the reason he scratched so much–he was covered with fleas. It finally dawned on us that perhaps he was actually a stray. We bought a collar and put it on him with a note with our phone number and directions to call. Someone actually called that day and left a message–to the effect it wasn’t his cat. Odd, right? The next morning, our buddy returned with a brand new collar. We were disappointed, but resigned–clearly His Orangeness belonged to someone after all–though we still had no idea who. We braced ourselves for farewell.

Two days before the move, we were out in front packing up when a lady walked by, her two leashed puppies in tow. She spied our little buddy and called out to him.  “Linus, want to go for a walk?”

“So,” I said. “This is your cat!”

“No, she said, “It’s not my cat.”

“Well, then, whose is he?”

Turns out, she had replaced his collar. She hadn’t known who we were, but had wanted us to know someone was looking out for him. Linus had once belonged to this lady’s neighbors, but when they got dogs, they and Linus didn’t get along, and Linus was turned out. Now on his own, he set about wandering the neighborhood, making a broad network of friends who provided food, temporary lodging, and occasional de-worming tablets. His new friends helped out when they could, but were unable to adopt him because they already had multiple pets of their own.

“Would anyone mind if we were to take him with us?”

“He’s been on his own for seven years–we’ll be sad, but he needs a forever home.”

With only one day to spare, Genelle dropped what she was doing and hauled him to the vet. After seven years homeless, the fleas were his only health issue. We adopted him on the spot, and rechristened him “Reshi.”

On moving day, folks from the neighborhood dropped by–some we’d never met–to say their fond farewells. More showed for Reshi than for us.

Yes, he is all that. And if he hadn’t taken that time to win our hearts, we might never have realized just how much we needed rescuing.

Moving Day.
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Story Tools: The Perks of Adversarial Dialogue

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THE LION IN WINTER | Events | The Belcourt Theatre

HENRY: The day those stout hearts band together is the day that pigs get wings.

ELEANOR: There’ll be pork in the treetops come the morning. Don’t you see: you’ve given them common cause: new sons. You leave the country and you’ve lost it.

The Lion in Winter, for which Katherine Hepburn won the 1968 Academy Award for best actress, served up intensely dramatic performances from both Hepburn and Peter O’Toole despite the fact that, during the entire show, absolutely nothing happened. The characters were cooped up in Chinon castle for Christmas Court. No one died, nothing was destroyed, nothing was created, and no one was even injured. Somehow, screenwriter James Goldman crafted a hugely successful dramatic work from a puff of pure intrigue. How could such an artificial literary construct sustain itself without some form of external action?

As I see it, Goldman, recognized the dramatic potential inherent in adversarial dialogue. Often, literary works focus on the opportunity to deliver characters’ internal musings as a mechanism for keeping the reader apprised of needs, wants, and future intentions, and books are a medium uniquely suited to that approach. Once the reader and character bond, those internal descriptions can highlight the character’s priorities and generate empathy instrumental for holding the reader’s interest. Such internal dialogue is therefore a versatile tool in an author’s literary arsenal. However, it can suffer from the same limitations as other info-dump approaches – since internal dialogue is not inherently dramatic, the scene’s drama depends instead on external action.

Adversarial dialogue provides an additional tool for providing dramatic tension on those occasions when external conflicts wouldn’t advance the plot. It also provides ample opportunities to layer in subtlety. As readers, when we’re given a character’s internal thoughts, unless the narrator is unreliable, we tend to accept those musings as fact. Real life, however, tends to be more nuanced – people often significantly oversimplify their perspectives in ways that best suit their needs and biases and cast them in the most sympathetic light. Adversarial dialogue can therefore be a fantastic way to highlight a situation’s complexities in ways that would be difficult using internal dialogue alone. The aspects of a situation that a character denies (even subconsciously) can be every bit as defining as those accepted – and adversarial dialogue is a great way to draw those out.

Our culture has long appreciated the advantages of an adversarial approach for arriving at truth – indeed, that principle undergirds our entire justice system. The O.J. Simpson case exemplifies the adversarial process’s dramatic potential. That case – in essence an argument between the prosecution and a famous sports personality to convince an impartial observer to accept their version of the facts – riveted the entire country for months.

In the context of a novel, adversarial dialog can be used to wring drama out of almost any situation that has consequences based on a character’s decision, whether it is multiple characters arguing to convince an impartial observer or simply two characters arguing to determine a joint course of action. In both the O.J. case and the Lion in Winter excerpt above, the drama arises from the reader’s appreciation of the decision’s consequences – the tighter the connection between reader and character and the more severe the consequences, the greater the dramatic potential.

Of course, works that rely significantly on the use of adversarial dialogue also require more engagement from the reader. As with the O.J. case, readers will have to consider the evidence presented by various sides and use their judgment to determine whose worldview is more accurate. As a result, they will be less able to rely on spoon-fed incontrovertible truth delivered through internal dialogue. Such works tend not to be easy beach reads, and they won’t appeal to everyone. But if you crave complex nuanced situations and increased depth of character, you might find works that make ample use of adversarial dialogue, such as the Heiromancer Trilogy, worth the extra effort.

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The Proof is Out There

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It’s been exactly a year and a day since the Raven-hosted release of A House of Cards, and what a year it’s been. If ever you ask for things to go viral, remember – it’s important to be specific. Despite a pandemic of distractions, I’ve finally cobbled together Hanged Man’s Gambit, the third and final installment of the Heiromancer Trilogy. A proof copy has been ordered and is on its way. Once it achieves final-pass editorial muster, it will be time to send out advance-reader copies for feedback. And then, the launch! I’m not sure yet what that means in the time of COVID-19, but the show must go on. Sorry to keep you hanging, but in the meantime, I thought I’d whet your appetite with a cover reveal (properly socially distanced, of course). Stay safe out there.

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The “Ninth House” Scoop

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We found it at the Raven Book Store–a new release with a slick minimalist cover in shades of black and silver – a serpent insinuated among the letters of the title and the author’s name. It’s arrival was auspicious, having a release date on Genelle’s birthday. Those aspects alone would have merited a look, but the jacket copy revealed the protagonist was a Yale college student tasked with policing the occult dabblings of the institutions secret societies.

Finally – a tale situated soundly in the same subgenre as The Heiromancer.

The protagonist is a scrappy college student determined to do what’s she believes is right in the context of secret societies who’ve grown powerful from exploiting secret occult knowledge. Her father disappeared when she was young under mysterious circumstances, which was not without consequences for her childhood. At the University, she teams with an ardent young man who is himself no stranger to the occult, and together they work to solve the mysteries surrounding a number of anomalous occurrences, despite the fact that there are powerful forces who might prefer those stones left unturned.

Sound intriguing? I thought so – which is why I wrote the Heiromancer. If you think so too, give it a shot. Or, you could instead read Ninth House, by Leigh Bardugo – to which this same blurb applies equally well. Or read both and see how they compare.

Are they the same story? No. Heiromancer is a complex trilogy set in a pseudo Victorian setting while Ninth House has a simpler (by by no means simple) plot set at modern-day Yale. But a number of structural similarities are undeniable. If you like one, there’s a good chance you’ll like the other.

I have long wondered whether the specific plot elements I devised in The Heiromancer were market-worthy. The reviews for Ninth House strongly suggests they are. On the brighter side, its popularity provides a well-recognized book in a similar subgenre that I can use for comparison when pitching my own books, but for all that, a part of me can’t help feeling that, despite having published first, I’ve been scooped.

Leigh profusely thanks New Leaf Literary for all their help. I, too, queried New Leaf with Practical Phrendonics back in 2013. Ah, what might have been, if only they’d been interested back then. As Uncle Rayen sagely states in Practical Phrendonics, “far more turns on the ‘chance meeting’ or ‘accident of birth’ than on all the best-laid plans ever devised.”

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Liftoff

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A House of Cards got off to a great start last Thursday at a book launch hosted by The Raven Book Store here in Lawrence, Kansas. The inimitable Mary Vensel White provided an extraordinary introduction that reminded me once again of her incredible facility with words, and Genelle was on hand to serve up her incomparable homemade buttercream-frosted minicupcakes and lemonade. Genelle and I opted to appear in attire appropriate to the Heiromancer Trilogy’s pseudo-Victorian setting to lend a bit of additional ambiance. It was a magical evening of great friends and “oh so refined” celebration.

Genelle, Mary Vensel White, and me

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A House of Cards: Now Live!

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I’m pleased to announce that A House of Cards, the second book in the Heiromancer Trilogy, is now officially live. A launch celebration will take place at The Raven Book Store in Lawrence Kansas this coming Thursday. For those who prefer their reading experience to be more socially mediated, AHOC is also on Goodreads. I’d love to hear what you think, either here, or in a review.

A House of Cards

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Primed for Celebration

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To celebrate the upcoming launch of A House of Cards, the Heiromancer Trilogy’s prelude, the ebook version of The Demon of Histlewick Downs, will be on sale for 99 cents for a limited time starting Monday, July 15th (Prime day!) Get it while it’s hot (and in Kansas, at least, it will certainly be hot).

Three down, one to go!

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A Long-Awaited Party

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I’m delighted to finally announce the launch of A House of Cards. The festivities will take place July 25th and will be hosted by the quaint and curious Raven Bookstore here in Lawrence, Kansas – couldn’t ask for a better-suited or more-supportive venue. If you’re in town, please consider dropping by to share some fascinating story snippets and perhaps a spot of tea.

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Tell me about it

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Ordering proofs can be a sobering experience. Don’t get me wrong, clutching an actual copy of a book you slaved to create is a tremendous thrill. But once that moment fades, you’re faced with the prospect of communicating what makes your work special to a prospective reader—without giving anything important away.

“Tell me about it.” That deceptively simple question not only invites you to dance through a spoiler minefield, you’re also expected to do it while naming that tune in three notes. If you write high-concept novels, the “three-notes” part is a bit less daunting— “the story is about snakes on a plane, or about high-school-student Buffy, who moonlights as vampire slayer.” But if you’re an author who strives for something a bit more nuanced, complex, and less easily pigeonholed, the temptation to spew enough notes to craft a symphony is real.

So, unless there are sharks in your tornadoes, the goal can’t be to identify specific notes—it’s got to be more about distilling the novel’s essence. What, then, is A House of Cards about? After boiling the pieces in the old flask for a while, here’s what finally condensed:

A House of Cards is about an ensemble cast of smart strong-willed people working at cross purposes in the context of a Victorian-style society where the Church has so effectively suppressed magic that most doubt it even exists.

OK, it doesn’t have the brevity of say Ghostbusters, but at least it fits into a single sentence.

If you’re still reading, perhaps your interest is sufficiently piqued that you’re wondering what types of characters that ensemble cast includes. At the risk of waxing symphonic, I offer the following examples of the lives that collide in A House of Cards:

  • A gifted young woman who sets her sights on becoming a professor at a University that has only recently begun admitting female students.
  • A spinster scion of a wealthy family who wreaks subtly crafted vengeance in a man’s world.
  • A disaffected professor drunk on his first taste of forbidden magic who chafes at the restrictions imposed by his more-cautious mentor.
  • An honorable cleric who has devoted his life to atoning for his father’s sins by assuming the position his father held while committing them.
  • A wily old priest who schemes against the Church’s uppermost echelons for nebulous if not downright-nefarious purposes.
  • A dutiful son who risks everything to protect his family’s explosive secret.

Fair warning: A House of Cards is an integral part of the Heiromancer Trilogy rather than a stand-alone novel. With respect to structure, think The Lord of the Rings, where The Demon of Histlewick Downs serves as a stand-alone prelude to The Heiromancer Trilogy in much the same way that The Hobbit kicked off The Lord of the Rings. A major feature of The Heiromancer is the way it interleaves multiple characters’ stories into a coherent whole. Achieving that end required a longer-than-standard format. These non-standard features contribute to a story calculated to provide the reader with a refreshing and unique reading experience. Do these non-formulaic elements also increase the difficulty of communicating to potential readers what they should expect?

Yeah, tell me about it.

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A Deal with the Demon

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In anticipation of the upcoming release of A House of Cards, the second installment in the Heiromancer Trilogy, I’m making the series prequel, The Demon of Histlewick Downs, available at a significant discount. Go ahead – give into temptation. At this price you can afford to curl up with The Demon without having to sell your soul. 

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