Karavansara

East of Constantinople, West of Shanghai


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The savages are coming

And so, just in time for the International Podcast Day, the 10 Minutes Till the Savages Come podcasts have been recorded, edited and uploaded, and in a few minutes will be available for my Patrons,and hopefully they will like what they get.
As a test run, yesterday’s work was quite instructive.

I still feel much more at ease with a keyboard – the process of writing is faster, and I find the medium of the written word much more flexible.
But I wanted to try a feature of the Patreon pages, and my Patrons looked interested, so, why not.

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10 Minutes Till the Savages Come

So today is the day I’m recording my first podcast for my Patrons.
To celebrate, my neighbors are having a bbq party with loud Balkanian music.
But it’s all right: I’ve been wasting time looking for a title and a theme and an idea for the first recording, and suddenly I hit on all three within ten minutes – and I could bore you to death with my ideas and beliefs about inspiration, ideas and how they sort of come to us, but, really, I think I’ll spare you.

The blog will be called 10 Minutes Till the Savages Come, that is the title of a song recorded by Manhattan Transfer in 1991, in the record The Offbeat of Avenues.
My podcasts will be ten minutes long – because, reasons – and the title, now that I’ve decided, feels like a no-brainer.

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Complicated days

Quick note to let you all know that I’m not gone, just stuck in the wilds of the Astigianistan hills.
Lots of work – as usual, to be done for yesterday – lots of hangups, the PC still recovering from the crash, some sad news from a friend, too many projects going, insomnia and lack of sleep, cats fighting in the courtyard, and what not.

Like the guy said, I’ll be back.
Soon.
Tonight, probably.


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Seven the hard way

I had it all planned. A new collection of my short stories, six of them, six different genres – a ghost story, a fantasy story, a science fiction story, a western, a mystery/caper story and a historical swashbuckler – and sharing a common theme.
My first new book for 2020, it should come out in both English and Italian.
Nice and smooth.

I only needed a title, and I needed it because it’s complicated pitching a book without a title.
Titles are complicated. You need something short, easy to remember, original, that hints at the contents but does not give away the twists and turns…

So I made a list of what would be in the book – themes, characters, setting, recurring tropes.
I checked the usual sources – Shakespeare’s Complete Works, the Bible, Oscar Wilde, John Donne, Lao Tsu, Frank Sinatra, the Beatles, Steely Dan…

But of course there was the common, underlying theme, and it was there from the start, part of the pitch itself for the project.
And it pointed straight at an obvious title.

And titles can be obvious – nothing wrong with that.
Obvious, simple and straightforward.
The collection will be called Seven Lives.

Which of course means that it can’t be a six-stories collection.
I’ll have to write another one.
And I’m thinking about what other genre I could add to the list.
Any ideas or suggestions?
Write in the comments.


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The Inn of the Four Winds

I am writing the second novel in the Sabatini sequence – The Ministry of Lightning, that for some obscure reasons (you’ll have to read the book to know) comes after The Ministry of Thunder.
Computer mishaps apart, it’s going nicely, with just one problem: I have two prologues.

Now, my friend Claire, that is a fine writer, and not a hack like myself, repeatedly told me that novels need no prologue and epilogue, because that’s something that happens in theatre, not in books.
But what the heck, I grew up watching James Bond movies, and I like a nice pre-title sequence. To set the scene and mood, to hook the readers, to start with a bang, but also with a few questions.
Only, for Ministry II, I have two.

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Why don’t you kill it?

It started when the plastic cap of the oil bottle disappeared.
“What the heck…?”
We took a look around, and found the cap under a chair, partially eaten.
Oh, shucks!
Autumn is here, the first showers have hit us, and as usual we have an uninvited guest in our house. Field mice have learned that in the lairs of the Sapiens there’s food, warmth and no rain.

So we armed our spring-operated cage, put a piece of cheese crust in it and waited.

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