And another of my shorts was just released. You can find it here
First of all, despite the Kickstarter failure, we are still pushing ahead with Wenebojo. It is just taking longer.
We have a proof of concept very short work available free HERE.
A lot of my time has been taken up in efforts to push that project through to success.
Also, I have just released two works, both short stories.
One is Operation Blowback, a sequel to The Pandora Battalion, is available in ‘Cyberwar 3: Black Ice‘
The other is a Mongrelverse short, expanding the universe. Oathbreaker’s Blood. Available in ‘The Hand You Were Dealt.‘
More updates (and releases, at least of short stories in anthologies) coming soon! I will do my best to keep you more up to date.
I promised this information some time ago, and then got caught up in actually working towards the project, and dealing with my personal loss.
The time is now for announcing that the project that the Phoenix Prime Collective has have been working on for over a year is about to become a reality. We are very excited that soon Wenebojo will be bringing something new to the entertainment world by combining an audiobook with streaming imagery and closed captioning. Plans are already in progress to add sign language to the stream. This will make the stories available through a broader spectrum of sight and sound.
In partnership with IBM, and running on their newest generation mainframes in the secure, worldwide Z Cloud, we plan to launch before Christmas. Before that launch, there is a Kickstarter campaign, followed by an early access period (which can be joined through the Kickstarter.)
It is a privilege to be a part of this project, along with my fellow Phoenix Prime authors and members. It is also an honor to be part of the group of fewer than forty people that have pushed this project forward. Our collective skills, hard work, and determination will bring this project and the streaming service it produces to a successful launch. In the process, many works of our authors’ works will also become available for purchase as audiobooks.
We hope that the project makes our stories and worlds more accessible to a wider audience. Many of the people that we hope can now experience our stories have found it challenging or impossible up until now.
To help support us, please share!
Please take the time to visit the Kickstarter page at https://kck.st/2IZiexK
We will also keep updates on the Wenebojo website, found here: www.wenebojo.com. There is a sample of the project ( a flash fiction work) available now!
Grief is a strange creature. Everyone feels it differently. Nor is there a way of showing grief that is out of the ordinary. It is one of the few examples of human emotion for which there is no baseline.
There are many traditional ways of dealing with it. From the keening in Scotland to the second lines in New Orleans, every culture has an expectation for mourning. The somber Catholic funeral to the celebration of their life in an Irish wake. Some groups of aboriginals ban the use of the deceased’s name for a period of time. No group, no cross-section of any society grieves in the same way.
My personal favorites are the second lines of New Orleans and the Irish Wake.
No one should look down on another for how they grieve. But there are unfortunate expectations in much of my society. For women to weep and for men to be stoic rocks. There are some who sneer at those who act outside expectations.
Ignore these people. They don’t have the empathy appropriate to help you. Strangely, it also might be a manifestation of their grief. Just let their actions go.
Still, I found myself mourning in a different way when my father died. I found solace in remembering all the good he did in it. Even when we did not get along, I could respect what my father did with his life. I could recognize the morality of his deeds.
Dad worked in the Pharmaceutical industry. He had a Masters in Pharmacology and an MBA. Dad was in marketing, but also knew the medications he was selling inside out. He pushed some products for very personal reasons.
He made it a personal crusade to get a vaccine for meningitis on the market. That may seem like an odd thing to make a private cause, but I had almost died of that disease at eight-months-old. Dad never wanted another parent to have to go through the stress and worry, the continued uncertainty of long-term consequences, that my illness caused.
When Dad retired from working for more prominent corporations, he set up a consultancy. He would pick and chose who he took on as a client based on how much good the project could produce.
In a way, my grief comes from how proud I am of the moral man my Father was. He could be rigid and stubborn, even harsh. Still, he acted from a core of right and wrong that I cannot deny, though I saw it as strictly black and white.
In a way, most of my grief comes from losing that rudder of black and white, right or wrong, morality in my life. I am a person who lives in the greys. Not a criminal, but someone who recognizes that crimes can be committed from good intentions.
Did I cry over the loss of my father? Yes. Many around me, however, may have seen me as stoic. I was not. I never kept the grief I felt locked in. It was always there, from when I heard he had advanced lung cancer.
And it will be with me for years to come. What I did do is accept the grief as a part of who I am rather than vocal or public expressions, or rock-faced stoicism.
There is only one wrong way to grieve. That is to deny the grief or lock it away and refuse to face it. When you lose someone, that loss will forever be a part of you.
Hello. I am back, in a way. I apologize for the hiatus and will be doing my best to post more regularly. You, my fans, deserve an explanation as to what has been happening and what has been coming. In this post I will cover the ‘bad’ that has been weighing me down, my next post will be a discussion on that, and the final post will be the ‘good’ I have been working on.
My father was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer just before Christmas. I was told in mid-January. My relationship with Dad was always tumultuous and difficult. I always loved and respected my Dad, but there were times when I could not be in the same room as him.
I still love him, even now he is gone.
I had a trip planned to the US, so I could go and work with some of my collaborators. Meet with my mentor. Work on a project we had going in the background. Get back on track. I saw him the night before I left, and he was not as well as I hoped. He made me swear I would stay for the trip and push through and work on everything no matter what happened.
I saw him the morning I flew out. I said my goodbye. I could tell from his insistence that he was happy with what I was doing. It was the first time in my life I felt he approved of me.
I left on the 12th of June. Dad passed on the 20th of June from Pneumonia. He died with his sister, daughters, and wife at his side.
I kept my word to him and did my best to be useful for the rest of my trip. I finished my share of two collaborations and a short story while on the trip. (These are currently at the tender mercy of my editors)
But I still feel a gaping hole with him gone. I miss the feeling of a safety net for advice in specific areas. I even miss the arguments we had due to our different politics. He was one of the four most influential people in making me, well, me.
May the gods have recognized him and accepted him into their halls.
Next time, I will post on grief. After that, I will post something on the ‘good’ that has been chewing into my time like an evil caterpillar. I hope you all see the butterfly potential I do.
The beagles are good at indicating when the missus is about to have an epileptic seizure, so they get to sit in the bathroom with her while she has a shower. Afterwards, they always seem so peaceful. Today it even extended to Breena sharing her beanbag.
I’m not supposed to get it down off that really high hook you put it on. The fact that I did really means something. You know what I want.
Or: Kerry brought me her harness. I think she wants a walk.
Breena really can get sulky while waiting for the missus to feed her. My partner turned around and caught this look while cooking the beagles’ breakfast.
You may have noticed that most of the posts about our beagles involve food in some way. This is because they are beagles, and there are only four things that matter to beagles: food, affection, sleep, and food.
The other day, Breena was pestering me to give her breakfast as soon as I’d made their porridge. I asked her if she wanted a burned tongue again, and her response was to shut up and back off by two whole meters.
Dogs need vegetable matter, not just meat, so these two get a bit of porridge for breakfast. One day, I had a migraine and needed to sit down, so I gave it to them before it had a chance to cool down, thinking that my wonderful beagles were smart enough to leave it alone for a bit. Breena was apparently too hungry and burned her tongue, so when I got up because I heard her whimpering, I was treated to the sight of a beagle who was afraid of food. This sight happened every day for a month, and she is still cautious about her porridge.