Category Archives: novel

Cissy Moonskipper Meets the Nebulons… Part 7

Visitors Both Pink and Blue

A sudden shift in the lighting of the house occurred as everyone was about to settle in for a night’s sleep.  Without warning a ball of bright light began to manifest in the center of the room.

“This is not normal, is it?  Shactuhrac sah?” asked Suki.

“Abeck nah!” said Taro.  Cissy didn’t have to ask if that meant no.

The light resolved itself vaguely into the form of a Humaniti male holding a small crocodile.  Something was making him entirely funky looking.

“Crocodile Guy?” asked Cissy, shocked.  “How did you get here?”

“Ah, Captain Cissy!  I finally made it.  I have been communicating with space whales.  Their nervous systems are almost electronic in nature.  There are data streams so full of visual and auditory data that it took me forever to sort my way here.  Space whales have amazing brains and communication methods.  And they were entirely pleased to let me knock about through their works till I found ya.”

Crocodile Guy was unable to delineate himself in anything but black and white.  And yet, he was fully there in the digital flesh.

“Iz youz here ta reskooz us?” asked Friday.

“I am here to start planning and thinking about it.  The space whales told me that you are doomed to be whale food, and the idea upsets them greatly, but they don’t have any suggestions.   And the starship is definitely stuck in the middle of Nebulon security forces.”

“But we do at least have options now that we didn’t have before,” said Cissy resolutely.  “We can start thinking about how to escape.  We have two Earther days left to figure it out.”

“We have to remember that Taro’s family will be killed if we escape.  We would be sacrificing innocent lives to help ourselves,” reminded Suki.

“We need a plan that also saves them.”  Cissy folded her arms as the others had often seen her do when her mind was made up.

“Someone’s coming!” warned Wylo.

It was then that Princess Verumi Vorranac entered the home of Taro, Sonno, and their children.

“Tahracurrac, Suki.  Nah suurrhac sharanna hourcka.  Kampuhrac nah sah!”

“What did she say?” Cissy asked timidly.  Whoever this was, she sounded angry.

“She says it is unbelievable, Cousin Suki, that you have gotten yourself into this mess.  Princess Verumi and I grew up together.  She’s the daughter of the current Vorranac Warlord.”

“She also says it will not be so,” added Wylo.

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Cissy Moonskipper Meets the Nebulons, Part 5

Going to the Happy Place

As they were being led down further into the massive space whale, the lead warrior turned back to Prince Porodor and bowed.

“You need to consider that sacrificing Suki Vorranac along with these Humaniti scum will not sit well with the counsel or the Warlord Vorranac himself.  She has the prime bloodline (said in Galactic English for Cissy’s benefit.)”

“That is my worry, my argument,” said the prince flatly.

The lead warrior nodded and turned away, signaling the group of the condemned to follow him.  The naked boy who looked human hugged his twin and then joined them.

“I can almost understand why they are going to kill us, but why are you going to be executed?” Cissy said to the boy.

“I am not enough like them to remain among them.  I would die here eventually anyway.  This just makes it happen sooner.”

“Won’t they at least give you a Danjer suit?” Cissy asked.

“I will be given one when we get to the happy place.”

“The happy place?”

“Prisoners to be executed as whale food are given time to make their peace with the universe.  It is something I understand the Imperium does not do.”

“Yes, I’m afraid that’s true.  Of course, the Galtorr Fusions are half lizard people, which probably explains that.”

“My name is Wylo Voron, though I have to stop using the Voron part now that I am being cast out.”

“My name is Cissy Moonskipper.  I ain’t giving up any of that.”

Wylo shook Cissy’s hand and smiled.  He was a cute kid.  Probably at least three years younger than Cissy.  Or three Spltzblixes, or whatever the heck Nebulons called a year.

The interior of the space whale was like a vast hollow tube with gravity-downside carpeted in villages, lakes, rivers, forests, and meadows.  Hand-built structures covered the sides, and the ceiling was a combination of pulsating whale organs and Sun Sources.  Clouds and mists obscured some of the ceiling.

“This is a really beautiful place,” said Cissy, nearly breathless with awe.

“I have never been in this space whale before,” said Suki.  “But my home whale was almost as beautiful as this.”

The lead warrior delivered the small group to a pretty white cottage on the edge of the nearest lake.  They were met there by five people.  A Nebulon man who was the same size as Suki, his wife who was slightly smaller, and three blue children.

“You will be cared for by Taro Vorranac and his family.  They will do anything you ask but help you escape.  They don’t speak Galactic English, but Suki can translate.”  The lead warrior saluted Taro and then led his troop back toward the whale head.

Suki introduced everyone to everyone in another endless stream of Nebulonin ak-ak-ak-oohwak in which Cissy recognized names and nothing else.  Taro’s wife was Sonno and the children were two boys named Taroon and Jaffouhc.  The girl was Diznee.  All three of them were naked and happy that way, but Sonno recognized the need to give Wylo a purple Danjer suit.

Their Nebulon hosts were all generous and kind people that Cissy easily warmed up to.

Later as they sat around the family table drinking a delicious blue juice that Sonno called Perhoucahac, Cissy asked Suki, “So, what do we do now?  Can we try to eIscape?”

“If we do, Taro and Sonno’s family will be sacrificed in our place.  And I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“Budd… I doan wanna die…” whined Friday.  Diznee petted her because, although she didn’t understand a word of what was said, she could feel Friday’s fear and pain.

“I’m not giving up yet, Friday,” Cissy said, patting the dog girl’s paw.  “There has to be a way out of this.”

“The Nebulon way is to eat and drink and be happy until the end is here.”  Suki let a tear escape her right eye.  It ran down across the red dot on her cheek.

“Your Prince Porodor is not a very nice landlord.”

Taro’s family looked at each other in confusion.

“My family doesn’t like him either,” Suki admitted.

Inside a space whale with a Nebulon child.

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When Readers Respond

I recently got my very first unsolicited review on a book I had written when Mr. Ted Bun, one of the leaders of the nudist writer group on Twitter gave me a five star review on Recipes for Gingerbread Children.

I was grateful and reviewed one of his books on Twitter in return.

But it was totally unsolicited. I didn’t even know any of my book promotions had penetrated such an odd corner of the internet. The story does have nudists in it, but that is not what the book is really about. Mr. Bun acknowledged that much in his review, and still liked it and called it well-written.

My first Amazon book promotion, offering the Kindle version of Snow Babies for free, produced the same kind of fruit. I started by sending a paperback copy to the girl I grew up with that I named the main character after. Valerie read the book to her grandchildren and then sent me this message;

Valerie– Hi Michael! I wanted to let you know that I finished reading your book a couple of days ago, and that I thought it was really good! You used so many colorful descriptions of the characters, that I felt like I could really picture the whole scene! I also enjoyed how you used several people’s names and surrounding towns from our past that brought back good memories. It kept my interest and made me excited to keep reading to see how things turned out! I appreciated how you ended it, too! Thanks again, so much for sharing it with me. I plan to share it with a friend of mine to read and then return to me! Do the Rowan and Belmond libraries have copies of your books? I would be happy to talk to the Belmond library about it, if you haven’t already! I will spread the word, and keep writing! Val

Me– I donated a couple of books to Rowan and one to Belmond.  But I have written a lot more since

They don’t have Snow Babies.   I am so glad you liked the book.  It is one of the best things I have ever written.

Valerie– You can be proud of your hard work! Next time I’m in the library, I will take Snow Babies with me and show them. I know they like to support local authors! 🙂

Me– Thank you for the help. I really appreciate it.

Then I find this tweet on Twitter from a fellow author who responded to my book promotion week.

She read Snow Babies and loved it and shared this review with me before she posted it on Amazon.

Headline: This book has a potential to become a classic

The story takes you to Norwall, a secluded midwestern town where people are expecting a snow blizzard to arrive in couple of hours. Among strangers coming to the town during the blizzard are four very special boys, a hobo, a bus driver, a drunken old lady, a stupid salesman, a couple of newly-weds and a lady following the four boys. Each of them, as well as the local people, has their own interesting story and their stories start to intertwine while the town gets buried in snow.

Some from the locals and the newcomers start to see white naked kids in the snow. In the course of events, they learn that those white kids are so called “snow babies”. According to what people say, those who see snow babies, are supposed to die during the blizzard.

The author has a talent for depicting situations in an impressive manner, so they can be humorous and touching at the same time.  His mature narrative style enables you to learn deeply but in a light way about individual characters and understand their motives. Interesting are the hobo´s droppings of philosophical reflections and life wisdoms from Walt Whitman’s book. Simultaneously, in connection with snow babies, the author keeps you in suspense until the end. The story is not predictable, and the ending left me smiling and absorbed in thought. 

I honestly fell in love with this book from the first page. It is like a fresh breeze compared to a number of today’s books written in similar patterns.

*****

I am amazed that people are beginning to read my books and like them… even love them. I wasn’t expecting that to happen until after I was dead. It is a good feeling that took me by surprise.

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AeroQuest 4… Canto 135

Canto 135 – Applying Weed Killer

With Gyro driving, a rather unnerving prospect for those riding with him, the first pink Cadillacko swooped down on the planet Cornucopea out of the clouds.  They were supposed to be establishing a base camp on the planet.

Besides Gyro, the Nebulon boy who gave the first Cadillacko its air bubble field and its silly Nebulonin nickname, the grav speeder held Billy Iowa, wearing his cowboy sombrero and leather moccasins, Luigi the Onion Guy, for whom they had no workable space suit, and Mai Ling, scantily dressed in form-fitting battle armor and wearing the ring-sleeve device that could amplify her telekinetic throwing arm.

The second Cadillacko carried Hassan Parker, who had to wear a full space suit instead of being nude like usual, Taffy King and Shu Kwai, all suited and combat ready.

The third grav speeder carried Ged Aero-sensei, Junior Aero, his adopted Nebulon nephew, and Sara Smith, the strongest telepath and healer of the group.

The drop zone looked like a field of flowers undulating in a high wind.  But as they zoomed closer, you could see the large daisy-heads and thistle-heads were all ripping into and damaging the other plants.

“What do we do, Sensei?” Billy radioed through the comm dot on his neck.

“Clear the landing zone.  Weed-killer weapons and mowers!  We have to cut the weeds down to size.”

Gyro, being Gyro, nose-dived the pink-and-white Space Cadillac into the soft dirt of the field of fighting flowers.  It plowed a deep furrow in a semi-circle in the middle of the large open space.   Shu-Kwai landed his gray-and-white Space Cadillac much more gently beside it.

The telekinetics, Shu and Taffy King, leaped out of their vehicle with weapons that were more like chainsaws than the lawnmowers they were supposed to be.  Each had two, one controlled by each hand.  So, four flying blades whirled through the air, slicing and dicing, turning Throckpods into salad.

Mai-ling leaped out with a razor pistol in her hand.  She fired round throwing-star-like objects in groups of five, then whipped the blades through the air sawing thorns neatly off of every violent flower-person she saw.

Hassan manned the spray-gun with the toxic weed-killer in it, spraying withering death upon Throckpods to a range of fifty feet.

Soon an army of violent flowers was reduced to smoking piles of flower-chips and salad-squares.

By the time Ged-sensei and Sara and Junior disembarked from their pink-and-white Cadillac, the battle was already over.

Luigi the Onion Guy came bouncing furiously across the field to confront Ged.

“nO!  Oh, nO!  You muSt nOt spILl, ChloroPhyll!” he shouted in his weird little Onion-guy accent.

“But you wanted help in driving away to evil Throckpods and their master, did you not?”

Luigi just stank out a lot of foul smells that the translator couldn’t begin to translate.  It is well known that bad words are more a matter of disgustingly figurative language that does not translate well to beings who have no reference for flower emotions, flower body parts, flower behavior, or flower-based bad thoughts.

“Luigi is swearing at you, Sensei,” Gyro tried to explain while adjusting the translator’s many translation-equivalents adjustment bars.

“We need to understand him better.  Can anyone read his mind?”

Sara looked at Ged with a sorrowful expression on her face.  “I am beginning to sense some of the stronger emotions coming from plant-minds.  He is upset because to them, all flower-life is sacred, including the Throckpods.  That’s what he wants us to cure about the Throckpods.  Their leader makes them render and kill other plant-life sacrilegiously.”

“Very well, then.  We will set up base-camp in this cleared field and try hard to understand these flower-people better.”

“Yes, we need to study them and do some research,” said Hassan Parker.  “I can get out of this space suit and start research immediately as the rest of you set up the camp.”

“I think I have seen enough of your naked body.  And you really should join us in the physical labor before doing the mental work.”  Shu Kwai was not making suggestions.  He was issuing commands.  “And while we are here, everybody wears protective body coverings.  There are many unknown plant-based dangers here, and we want no one to be at risk.”

So, eight student ninjas, their ninja sensei, and one irate Onion began building a base camp.

Here’s the link to buy the book;

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Writing Myself To Life

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I have been working on my novel The Baby Werewolf, and I am now in the final phase, working on the climax and crisis point.  And I surprised myself.  The killer monologues to the main characters who have now become his intended next victims.  I have played this out over and over in the twenty-two years I have been writing this book.  Last night, for the first time ever, the hero character laughs in this scene instead of the cringing fear that had always been there before.

How is such a thing possible?  What changed?  I have been writing and rewriting this story since 1996.  But it goes much deeper and darker than that.  This story went on my have-to-write list in 1966 when an older, stronger boy who lived near my home trapped me in a place out-of-sight of others and stripped me, gaining some horrible kind of pleasure by inflicting pain on my private parts.  Recovery from that has taken half a century.  The recovery itself probably explains why I struggled so long to pull this story together in a finished form.

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There are things about my writing life that are undeniable.  First of all, I have to write.  There is really no other choice for me.  My mind will never know rest or peace without being able to spin out the paragraphs and essays and stories that make it possible to know those things.  Nothing is real if I can’t write it out.  Secondly, I am a humorist.  If I can never be funny at all, can never write a joke, then I will descend into madness.  My sense of humor not only shields me and serves as my suit of armor, it heals me when I suffer psychic wounds.  This book is a horror story, but like many of the best horror stories, it relies on humor to drive every scene and knit the plot together.  And it was a breakthrough for me to have the hero character laugh instead of cringe in the critical scene.  It allows me to live again.  And love again.  And the real monster that caused this book to be, is now forgiven.  The world continues to turn.  The picture is now complete.  And soon, the novel will be too.

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Illustrating in Novel Ways

I have just finished a novel project that I worked on for a year, from Spring of 2016 to Spring of 2017.  And part of my personal project procedure involves using drawings to help me visualize the characters in the story and begin to view them as real people, even when they most certainly aren’t real.  I even have this derfy Mickian idea that Paffoonies (those picture ideas that are inseparably fused to words) are essential to Mickian fiction.  (Mickian fiction= another frighteningly goofy idea that needs to go unexplained.)

Gingerbread Children

The book, Recipes for Gingerbread Children is about an old woman, a German immigrant and Holocaust survivor, who comes to a small Iowa town with a gift for story-telling and a gift for baking things, especially gingerbread cookies.

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Grandma Gretel Stein, seen in the Paffooney on the left, is the main character of the story.  She tells stories, mostly fairy tales, that have lessons about being true and faithful even in the face of great evil.  The fairy in her hand is General Tuffaney Swift, an immortal Storybook fairy who leads the army of the local fairy kingdom called Tellosia.    Gretel believes he is real  Honestly, she gets so into story-telling that her fairy friends seem absolutely real to her.  And who is to say that there aren’t little magical people living in a hidden kingdom among the cornfields in Iowa?  Gretel convinced me that they were real.  She even has a hand in making new fairies by the baking of gingerbread.  She gets a magical recipe from the fairy Erlking, a wise and magical being, and uses it to create living gingerbread boys and gingerbread girls.

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The gingerbread girl on the right is Anneliese, named after Gretel’s own daughter and decorated with frosting, food coloring, and gumdrops by the favorite story listener who constantly listens to Gretel’s stories and helps bake Gretel’s gingerbread, Sherry Cobble.

Sherry is a beautiful young eighth grade girl who reminds Gretel of her long-lost daughter.  Sherry has a twin sister named Shelly and they are identical twins, but Sherry not only looks like Anneliese once did, she acts like her with the same confidence and enthusiasm for life that Anneliese once had before the war.

Sherry and Shelly are both part of the Cobble family, who have a reputation locally as wacky-pants loonies because they believe firmly in being nudists and engaging in nature completely naked while not actually wearing any wacky pants.  I haven’t done any actual pictures of Sherry  in the nude, but if you look carefully at the first picture of her above and see clothing, then you are seeing things that are not there.  Yep, the girl bakes and decorates gingerbread men in the buff, wearing her pale pink birthday suit, even when the weather outside in Iowa makes that nonsensical.

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So by now you can probably draw several conclusions about me as both a novelist and an illustrator.  #1, There is definitely something a little bit off about me.  #2, I haven’t said anything yet about this book having dead Nazis and a werewolf in it, even though I rarely talk about this book without throwing those things in somewhere.  #3, Number 2 is actually taken care of in a backhanded way if you are reading this whole list carefully.  #4,  This story is probably about things that really aren’t just gingerbread recipes.  #5, You should congratulate yourself if you read this far in this post.  You have unusual amounts of patience and curiosity, and an extremely high tolerance for levels of goofy that put actual Goofy to shame.

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AeroQuest Illustrations in Pen & Ink

I have been drawing these mock-Star-Wars science-fiction-heroes for thirty years. Some of these are that old. Some of them are new this year. All of them illustrate the adventures that started as a science-fiction-role-playing game and became the series of novels called AeroQuest.

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More Illustrating AeroQuest

I am nearing the completion of the rewrite of part two of AeroQuest. Part of that is getting all the illustrations I want to include done. So, here are a few more that I have been working on.

For those who might be wondering, AeroQuest 1 and AeroQuest 2 are comic science fiction, and I have chosen to rewrite them with lots of illustrations since it is a work of fiction that I might’ve done as a graphic novel if only I didn’t have arthritis in my hands.

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Living in a Fictional World

My title for today has at least a double meaning, if not a triple or fourple one.

“Fourple?” you say.

Yes, four plus the color purple. Purple, after all is the dominant color used in the video game “The Legend of Hoodwink“.

And, of course, the video game is not real. It is the virtual reality video game used in the story as the secret land that the orphans and their mother’s friend flee the authorities to live in after the deaths of the Brown family’s parents.

So, I have been living in the world of Glammis, the imaginary game world inside a mainframe supercomputer. I started this story back in the 1980’s, inspired just a little bit by the Disney movie Tron. Of course there are all kinds of more current technological details to employ to make the story more up to date. The story has been reset to 1999. (I don’t write stories set in the 21st Century. I just don’t. Mark Twain never set one in the 20th.) And one of the ways to create the game-world of the story is to draw pictures of it that I can use as illustrations in the book.

Hoodwink and Babbles (the horse-headed Kelpie) are both game characters that play key roles in the story. They transform from game characters following the script to real people fighting for their lives and honor in the course of the story.

A key setting is the candle-castle called Candlemere, for obvious reasons. The wizard, Milt Morgan, lives there, though he is a real person from Iowa living in Texas as a game designer.

These are the three orphans that Milt Morgan has rescued after the car crash. Mortie Brown, Daisy Brown, and Johnny Brown now live in Glammis after the deaths of their parents, Brom and Stacy Brown.

The three orphans are being pursued in the real world by an FBI agent, a relentless tracker and pursuer named Agent Brent Clarke. What the kids don’t know is that Agent Clarke is trying to find them for their grandparents that they don’t realize are still alive. And Clarke is also their uncle, their mother’s older brother.

In the video game, they are pursued by the evil Daniel Quilp, who is in the video game playing the wicked King Murdstone of the Chelsrod’s Spire. He is not a relative. He is secretly the enemy of their parents and the wizard Milt Morgan.

The servant of Murdstone in the game is Errol of the Devylkind. He is more than he appears to be as well. He is another player character who is also very much acquainted with Daisy in the real world, and has a huge crush on her.

But, at present, I haven’t yet reached that part of the story, the latter half of Act One. Instead, I am today establishing setting further by narrating the visit to BrooglieTown, the home of the chocolate dwarves (literally made of chocolate and not a racist faux pas by any means.)

So, in the middle of writing a novel, I am describing the world-building I have been doing… and drawing… while pretty much living in this made-up game world due to the ongoing pandemic and intense heat of Texas in July. It is a better place to be living for now, though it is soon to heat up too as the plot gets churning and the Devylkind, rather hot-blooded fantasy characters, get further involved.

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The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto (a book review)

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The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto: A Novel
by Mitch Albom (Goodreads Author)

Michael Beyer‘s review

Jul 23, 2017

It was amazing!

This book is a miracle. It makes words into music and fills your imagination with some of the most beautiful guitar music ever played. It introduces you not only to a very convincing portrait of a fictional musician and Rock and Roll icon, but a vast array of very real musicians and show people who agreed to be used as a part of the story, approved the sections about them, and even helped Mitch Albom to compose it. These include notable music makers like Lyle Lovett, Darlene Love, Tony Bennett, Paul Stanley, and Burt Bacharach. The story itself transcends its fictional form, giving us a look at a musical history whose scope goes from the Spanish Civil War of the 1930’s to Woodstock, and on to the present day. It even gives us glimpses into the distant musical past, framing the story with the song Lágrima by the classical guitarist Francisco Tárrega. And all this music the book fills your mind with is actually performed only in your imagination and memory. Albom proves again with this book how his mastery of language makes him an absolute master story-teller.

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And now, here is me trying to make sense out of a reading experience that made my figurative heart grow wings and soar into the clouds in ways brought forth only by the strains of a sweet, classical Spanish guitar.

Stories like this one make a unique music in the mind, and though it is all fiction, occurring silently in the theater of your mind, you hear the music in your heart.  This story elicited the music of Rodrigo’s Adagio throughout, a piece I know intimately.  I myself have never written a musical book the way this fiction book was written.  But I know now that I have to try.  Poetry becomes song lyrics, right?  There is a connection between a good archetypal story about life and love and laughter, and the bittersweet strains of music on a Spanish guitar.

I truly and utterly fell in love with this beautiful book.  Mitch Albom is a genius… for a Detroit Tigers baseball fan.  And I would not risk telling you anything that might spoil such a beautiful story.  All I can say is, don’t read it… listen to it as you would a piece of beautiful music.  Listen to it and love it.

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