I mentioned at the end of august how I was trying to do something in support of a cathouse in Lanzarote – because I like cats and because as a long-time Harry Flashman fan, I love the idea of telling people that I pay to help the ladies working in a cathouse. Yes, I know, it’s juvenile, so sue me.
Cats with no name, by Robert McGinnis
Anyway, in the intervening weeks I realized that with my finances in shambles there is very little I can do for the cats and the ladies. What to do? The only thing I can do, in fact, is write. And so I started writing.
A story bounced back, about one hour before dinner. Polite, cold, standard editor’s mail: good story, not our genre, worth keeping on the lookout for a publisher, good luck. Oh, well, it happens.
As we dined it started raining again – there’s storms passing across the skies of Astigianistan – so no after-dinner walk tonight. I sat down and started tweaking that story – it’s been so long I had forgotten a lot of things. I revised it. Cleaned it up. Cut about 150 words. Nothing major, on an 8000-words number. Tightened the dialogue a little, made some minor adjustments. Checked for American vs English spelling.
This is a good moment for me. I’ve got work to do, lots of it – 12 hours per day until September if I’m lucky, to cover all the contracts I signed. My stories are selling reasonably well. I even got an invitation to participate in an SF anthology with a number of other Italian writers, all of them much more popular than I am. I’m thinking about it. My Patreon is growing, slowly but steadily (thank you guys!) And there’s money in the bank. Not a fortune, but enough to give me some breathing space, say two months without panic attacks and bill anxieties.
And in exactly one week I’ll be 52. Well beyond the halfway point, sailing uncharted waters, but reasonably happy.
For this reason when the Facebook pop-up … well, popped up and suggested I do a fundraiser for my birthday, I thought, why not? I can’t donate much, but I have a lot of contacts and friends and followers. I can’t ask for money to any one of them – they already buy my books, support me on Patreon… I can’t ask.
But there’s nothing wrong with dropping a rock in the pond, and see if the ripples cause some interesting effect.
I chose this one because I am a failed oceanographer, I love sea stories and undersea mysteries, and I wrote a few stories in the past that deal with the sea. And because the pollution of our oceans is a global concern that touches a global audience – and I have friends and contacts everywhere.
So, in the next two weeks I’ll try and raise 200 euros for The Ocean Cleanup. A pretty small sum, you may say, and I agree. A drop in the ocean. But as that guy said, the ocean is made of drops, isn’t it?
I’ll keep you posted about the results. Meanwhile, if you feel like, spread the word.
But the French Riviera is only one side of the Mediterranean.
Across the sea to the south, North Africa was a tourist spot in the 1950s, too… and the Corsair will make a stop here in 2018.
One of the key concepts in The Corsair is to set the stories in the Mediterranean in the 1950s. The French Riviera is frequently featured in the stories. So here’s how it looked in that sort of golden age of mass tourism…
And so it’s out, both in ebook and paperback.
The Mysterious Machinery of Amazon say The Devil Under the Sea is 108 pages, which makes it 35% longer than Chasing the Mermaid.
Is it also 35% better? Or just as good?
Will they like it? Will they actually buy it and then like it?
Will there be reviews? Or will it be consigned to oblivion?
I always get a lot of worries when a new book of mine comes out.
The best way to silence them is to go back to writing – make the monkey mind go silent by overworking it.
Karavansara 