I’ve talked before about doing a newsletter. Oddly enough, regular readers of my blog didn’t see a lot of use for it, most likely because they already know what I’m up to most of the time. I’m starting a newsletter anyway, to connect with people who read my stories elsewhere (or maybe who even buy my books) and want to know when I have something new coming out, as well as others who don’t find that blog reading is a good way to stay in touch.
The newsletter will launch in July and will come out twice a month. The first issue each month will include an episode of a steampunk serial, while the second will focus more on my mysteries, with character blurbs or perhaps recipes. All issues will talk about what I’m up to, what I’ve read recently that I’d like to recommend, and perhaps even posts I’ve had on the blog that might be worth checking out, for those who don’t already read it. Look for information on signing up soon.
Meanwhile, here’s the introduction to the steampunk serial, to whet your appetite:
We pelted across the grass, away from the village. Everything had been going so well, and then Felix had to go and mess it up, as usual. I was so busy running that it took me a moment to realize we were running toward the setting sun.
I tried to grab Felix’s sleeve to get his attention, but he nimbly dodged me, presumably thinking me one of the villagers. “We’re going the wrong way!”
He ignored me. What else was new? And I followed him, not having anything better to do. I didn’t like my chances with the villagers, so I had to trust him. Again, nothing new. I just hoped this escapade worked out better than his underwater-protection instant pontoons, which had failed while we were in the middle of a school of sharks. Not that sharks school, as he informed me at the time and on numerous occasions since.
The dry grass under our feet made running easy for both us and the villagers behind us, and they were used to the terrain. A spear whistled past me, close enough to make me redouble my speed.
“Relax, Owen,” Felix said. “They’re just getting the distance. They don’t want to hurt the pup. Anyway, we’ll be away before they get it right.”
The less I said to him about the pup, the better. “Away where?”
“Over the cliff, of course,” he shouted with a wild grin, as though the sharp rocks below held no fears for him. Perhaps they didn’t; Felix is more than a little unbalanced, I’m afraid.
That’s not what you want to hear, though. Like so many, you’ve probably bought into the myth and hype of Felix Wright, adventurer extraordinaire. Fair enough. There’s truth behind the legend, and he is undoubtedly the smartest person I know, except possibly for his twin — but we’ll get to that.
I’ll make it easy on you, go back and start over, tell you how we wound up on that cliff, running away from the villagers all because Felix had a hankering for a new pet. Soon you’ll know all you ever wanted to about the wild inventor of the west.