Coming in May ...


Ed Gentry, the Don King of Shared World fiction, succeeded in selling a Realms of the Dragons II article to Dragon Magazine. Five or six of us contributed to the piece, which will be appearing in the May issue, #332. (The image I used is actually the cover of issue #331.)

If you’ve been a gaming geek since you were 8 years old, you understand how cool this is. Even though the article is short, even though I contributed only 250 words or so, even though most of those words were "wacky," "sidekick," and "titillation," getting a byline in Dragon Magazine is just plain exciting.

Selling articles to Dragon is something real writers do.

Somehow they haven’t spotted the pretender in their midst. I’m just going stay low, avoid turbo lasers, and see how long I can hold out.

Show us some love ...
H and I were back East for 2 weeks, with her family. Now I'm headed back up to Wyoming for more construction work. That leaves a load of unanswered emails. If you're one of those folks, please be patient just a bit longer.

"You can't, you won't, and you don't stop."
It's somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m., and sleep just made its dodge check. I can't complain because Ashlock is awake and New York is 2 hours ahead of Colorado.

Up at 2 in the morning, listening to the trucks pass on the highway. We have a finite number of days on this earth, and each time you let go of one, *poof* that's it. Of course, it's a mental trick --- all the disciplined writers I know get their work done between 6 a.m. and noon. It's just us hacks that sit awake, clinging to the night.

"Legacy of the Savage Kings" goes to the printers tomorrow. The proof editor passed along her compliments and a request for a sequel, which is always nice to hear. If you've read any of my work you know that it comes with more than its share of errors. Like Ed said: "If Harley sends you a story he claims he wrote, and there aren't any errors ... he's lying."

Finite lives. And people choose to spend them reading stories that you and I write. That’s enormous. As authors we incur a responsibility for those finite hours, to share and to teach, or at the very least, to entertain.

But enough of me wasting your finite life. Go out and write something wonderful, that only you could imagine. I can’t wait to read it.