Spotlight & Giveaway - Far Beyond Woman Suffrage by David McCracken

Far Beyond Woman Suffrage 
The Prices of the Vote

Book One

David McCracken

Genre: Alternative History

Date of Publication:  8/25/21

ISBN: 979-8464929616

ASIN: B09DPSTN35

Number of pages: 104

Word Count: 32,514

Cover Artist: PixelStudio

“It isn’t just about women in long skirts finally voting!”

Book Description: 

It isn’t just about women in long skirts finally voting. The racists and the rich know that, and the politicians worry.

Mercy Martin has an inside view as the battle for woman suffrage nears a climax, but she encounters many puzzles.

So many women and Southern states oppose votes for women.  

So many people are afraid it would bring on free love, abandonment of family, economic catastrophe, or communism.

So many suffragists are willing to abandon black women voters.

From an innocent teen to a young adult, Mercy has a central role in the campaign. She advances from confinement in a suffragist jail cell to the national campaign for the suffrage amendment. She campaigns around Tennessee, ending at the capitol for the explosive climax in the last state that might ratify the amendment and grant the vote to women. 

Why should something so clearly right be so hard, and why were some bitter compromises made? Mercy is right in the middle, relied on by key players. Along the way, she acquires a husband, a baby, and better parents than she was born with.

This is an intimate view via alternative historical fiction, as accurate as it can be and as thoughtful and moving as it must be. In this first novella of a series, Mercy jumps into the campaign for woman suffrage and prepares for a vital role in the coming decades. She’ll continue on into the wider civil rights struggle growing out of woman suffrage. 

Amazon

Excerpt: 

Anita and I have taken a circuit northwest from Knoxville and back around to the northeast. We’re canvassing as many legislators and their key supporters as we can track down. Finding them is the tricky part. Sometimes we go as far as the road goes and finish the journey to an isolated farmstead on foot, with our dresses trailing in the dust. We’ve been drenched by rainstorms, chased by watchdogs, and even had to change a flat tire, which isn’t that easy in a long dress, but we find our men.

Some seem to be avoiding us, like Representative Cletus Jacobs. He keeps barely visible off in his woodlot. We mark him as a “no.” Senator Phil Gridley graciously, really graciously, says we are communists betraying our gender, our state, and the country. Fortunately, the next two are warm and positive. However, Sen. Billy Broadus says he is nervous the women’s vote will support that anti-American League of Nations. He seems mollified when we point out it would first have to go through a vote in the U.S. Senate, where it is sure to fail.

“Anita,” I ask, back in the car, “why is there such a fear of communism here?”

“Well, with the recent Russian Revolution and the widespread unrest in European countries after the war, people are nervous, especially people with property. You may not realize that Communism seemed on the verge of sweeping across Europe after the war, with uprisings all over. I guess women are considered softies who might vote communists in or go easy on them. Maybe they’re especially sensitive in the South on the loss of property since their human property, slaves, were ‘taken’ at the end of the Civil War.”

“I guess big business is hyping the fear for their own purposes, against labor unions.”

“You’ve got it, Honey!  That started before the Russian Revolution, as a way to smear and foil labor unions.”

“I don’t guess we could ever reach people so concerned about communism, however they got concerned!"

“ ’Not bloody likely,’ to use a term  Alice Paul picked up from a friend over from England. (The shocking phrase was uttered by Eliza Dolittle in George Bernard Shaw’s new hit play, Pygmalion. Alice loves throwing  it out.)”

Driving east from Livingston, on a dim overcast day, we have a scare. Three white-robed riders and horses are moving into position as if to stand astride the road and block our path. Behind us, we see three more horsemen trotting out of a grove we had just passed and following us.  We look at each other and gulp. It doesn’t look good, even if their robes look rather shabby. A lonely road doesn’t seem ideal for a twilight chat with six mounted Klansmen. Luckily, they hadn’t reckoned how fast our Blue Knight moves or how well Anita can handle it. Just as the ones in front are getting into position, Anita swerves far over onto the left edge of the road and races onward. The nearest horse nervously dances back, then rears and throws his rider as we roar around them.

“I thought the Klan was dead,” I say.

 “Apparently, that Birth of a Nation propaganda film of a few years back is reviving them. Next, they’ll burn a cross.”

 “Well, they’re eating your dust. Great driving!”

“I hope we’ve seen the last of them. How’d they know where we were?”

I think and respond, “Was Senator Broadus actually less friendly than he seemed?”

“I wondered why he spent so long in idle chatter before he let us go,” offers Anita.

About the Author:

David McCracken became a political activist when the Supreme Court ruled against school segregation. Fellow students joined him in urging the school board in Winchester, KY, to integrate immediately. He campaigned for a Democratic governor and joined the ACLU before he graduated from the University of Kentucky. After debating at U.K., he got a degree in economics and a job with the U.S.  Department of Commerce.

When his daughters approached school age, he became increasingly concerned with how he wanted them schooled. Researching that, he decided teaching was what he really wanted to do. He got a master's degree in elementary education at Murray State University. He taught for several years, until the fact that his girls qualified for reduced-price lunches based on his salary got to him. Ronald Reagan's anti-government policies prevented him from returning to government work, so he took programming courses and shifted careers again. Programming was like being paid to solve puzzles all day, but teaching eventually drew him back until retirement.

For many years of this time, he was working intermittently at a novel that became Fly Twice Backward: Fresh Starts in Times of Troubles. This concerned his waking on his twelfth birthday, trying to figure out what had happened, following his new opportunities, and ultimately outliving an evil president resembling Donald Trump. After thirty-six years, David finally published it as an interactive alt-history Kindle novel. He soon started Far Beyond Woman Suffrage: The Prices of the Vote, an alt-history novelette dealing with the campaign for woman suffrage. He finished this piece in just ten months. At 81, he is bold(?) enough to plan this as the first of a six-volume set dealing with the far-reaching results and implications of woman suffrage. His completed novels and another in the works are presented for discussion on a new website, DoFancifulFlights.com

David now lives with his third wife, stepdaughter, and step-grandson near Winchester, VA. He has a son from his second marriage, six grandchildren, and two stepchildren. And a funny black dog with four white feet.

https://dofancifulflights.com

1 orange Do Fanciful Flights mug

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Book Blast & Giveaway - Pixies in the Mist by Rasta Musick

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rasta Musick will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

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Pixies in the Mist

by Rasta Musick

Jake had drifted to Japan without any serious intent, and it was going… okay. He had made friends in the local Salsa community, his Japanese was improving, but for Jake the familiar feeling that had dogged him most of his life—that something special should be happening—had struck again.

Kenneth had been assigned to Japan by the pixie queen years ago, which is just enough time for a pixie to get bored and complacent while keeping tabs on the local talent. Most humans had no magic, and most magical humans didn’t know it was their power that made their food taste better, their paintings more vibrant, or people like them more.

When the two met, the spark in Jake gave Kenneth’s role a new urgency. Jake didn’t just have magic, he had a wild and unpredictable kind seen only once in a generation. How could Kenneth keep Jake’s magic from falling into enemy hands? Kill him? Recruit him? Somehow keep him ignorant?

Jake’s magic had quietly led him to Japan, subtly influencing every choice in his life. That something special Jake had been waiting for was about to happen, ensuring his and Kenneth’s lives would never be boring again.

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Read an Excerpt:

The cigarette smoke from other patrons was so thick it was visible, adding a haziness to the already dim lighting. Like a fog or mist. Jake squinted as he focused on the woman. She was drinking alone. Her hair cascaded in beautiful locks, and the ruby-red of her lips was tantalizing as she pursed them to drink from her glass. Despite her beauty, something else urged Jake to approach the woman. The sight of her sent a shock through his body. A voice in the back of his head told him that he’d always regret it if he didn’t take the chance to approach her.

Kenneth mentally cursed his slow reaction time and rushed to grab Jake’s shoulder before he got too far. “Yo, Jake. She’s bad news. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Jake waved off his warning. “Come on. It’s just a woman in a club. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

Jake turned to keep walking, and Kenneth had to resist the urge to wrestle him to the ground. Kenneth took a step forward. “You don’t get it. This isn’t a good idea. We need to leave.”

Kenneth grit his teeth as Jake shook his head. “I’m going to talk to her, that’s all. There’s something about her. I feel like I’ll regret this if I don’t do it.”

“Seriously, Jake. Let’s go somewhere else.” Kenneth grabbed Jake’s arm again, pulling him toward the door.

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About the Author:

Rasta Musick spent the first 12 years of his life in California before moving to Japan with his family. After graduating from college with a Bachelor’s in economics at the age of 16, he spent the years after learning Japanese and working. Having spent more than half his life in Japan, he’s confident that it’s his home.

With many different hobbies, chief of them being Latin dance, he keeps himself physically active as well as mentally active as much as he can. The Latin dance community in Japan is alive and, surprisingly, quite large.

Rasta has lupus and hereditary coproporphyria. Given their complicated nature, he’s had to learn a lot to adapt and manage them. The process also taught him a lot about managing other aspects of his life, and all of this influences his writing.

Author page: https://cinnabarmoth.com/rasta-musick/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RastaMusick

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Buy Links:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3lI9D6p
BN: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pixies-in-the-mist-rasta-musick/1139878846
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1095165

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Rasta Musick will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Excerpt & Giveaway - Stargazer by David Scott

 

Stargazer

by David Scott 

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GENRE: Autobiography 

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BLURB: 

For thousands of years, stars have held our attention and imagination. They influence our life—we wish upon them, sing songs about them, navigate by them, write about them, follow them, and even give their name to the actors we love. My memories have revealed a lifetime of navigating by the stars, and moving beyond the fear and anxiety that self-doubt so insidiously cloaks us in. Yes, as Jiminy Cricket sang for us in Walt Disney's Pinocchio, "when you wish upon a star . . . fate steps in and sees you through."

 

Memories and influences have a profound effect on our lives. I look back on my childhood years—the 1940s to mid-'50s—and I can recall the people who were inspirational to me. Mostly it was my family, but there was also Jiminy Cricket. You no doubt recollect the song "When You Wish Upon a Star," with its lyrics that lift the spirit and let you believe anything is possible. I didn't doubt Jiminy for a minute.

 

The early years of my life were a time of innocence, security, adventure, and family love. How quickly my situation changed—one decision by my parents, made with my best interests foremost in their thoughts, shattered the world I had known. Through the fear, torment, isolation, and loss of my own identity, my memories and influences would come to have an overwhelming power on the choices I was to make.

 

My transition from teenager to adult seemed to happen overnight, but my unflappable outward appearance belied the struggles of a boy coming to terms with his guilt, and an irresistible need for his parents to be proud of him. My future was being shaped from the past, but it took me a long time to realise it. I chose the road less travelled, steeped in the wonder of the cinema and accompanied by my beloved animal companions, and it has been intriguing, daunting, rewarding, and, at times, solitary, but I always felt it was the path I was meant to take.

 

Like so many people, I let the emotions attached to memories hold me captive, and I missed opportunities to choose with more clarity. A near-death experience helped me to live a simpler life. Participating in a creative writing course inspired me to engage in script writing, stage work, and novel writing. This is my third book, an autobiography that has revealed more of me than I ever intended to share, and fate has led you to it.

 

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EXCERPT: 

 

The torment grew worse each day, and with no one daring to be seen with me I went into my shell, an aloofness that made matters worse, as seeing the effect they were having on me encouraged more ragging. The worst of it was that there was nothing they could say that I hadn’t called myself. In an instant I had moved from not having an enemy in the world to the world hating me, and I truly believed it had good cause.

 

From the wake-up bell in the morning calling the first round of boys to the showers to the bedroom dormitory at night, I was beset with a constant barrage of name-calling, derision and ostracism. Boys beside me at the dining table sat as far away as possible, dropping my plate of food in front of me so that some of the contents splattered the tablecloth. That always gained a good chuckle from those at my table.

 

Morning assembly for the entire school was the worst hell imaginable, day students avoiding me as well after learning of my disgusting act through the shouted insults thrown my way. Plagued with shame, I yearned for the summer holiday, little realising its gloss would be tarnished by worrying about having to return to the bullying at Scotch College.

 

I was alone with my problem, prepared to endure what was dished out without complaint as long as my parents didn’t find out what I had done. Their knowing that I had shamed them would have been mortifying. My self-worth plummeted to the depths, and instead of milling with others on the lawn while waiting for the dining hall to open, I hid behind a boulder until the bell rang and then tagged on at the rear as everyone surged inside.

 

After lessons on schooldays, I sought out an empty classroom and sat huddled under a desk at a back corner, waiting until almost dinnertime before creeping up to the boarding house and sneaking upstairs to my dormitory to change clothes. Usually there was no one around, so I lingered there looking at my watch until it was almost time to eat.

 

Weekends were similar, spending much of the day huddled in a classroom or in a secluded nook behind Littlejohn Chapel. That was when I learned to be a dreamer, my mind transporting me to past happy days of innocence. I became so totally free that if someone came along, or rustling sounded in nearby bushes, I literally jumped as I crashed back to reality with a pounding heart. 

 

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AUTHOR Bio and Links: 

David Scott is a playwright, director and novelist – among other things. His career included forty years as a film exhibitor; establishing a horse stud; managing a motel; working in the hospitality industry, and a few other experiences along the way. David’s latest book, Stargazer, is an autobiography highlighting the value of family, ingenuity, bravado, old-fashioned common sense, colourful characters and unfailing good humour. From rural towns in Victoria and New South Wales, to the mountain life in Queensland, the constant has been faithful canine companions, perseverance and a joy for living.

 

CONNECT WITH DAVID SCOTT

 WEBSITE

GOODREADS 

INSTAGRAM @davidscottstargazer 

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PURCHASE LINKS for STARGAZER    

AMAZON.COM  

AMAZONAU  

AMAZON.CA  

BOOKSHOP  

BARNES & NOBLE  

BOOKDEPOSITORY  

APPLEBOOKS  

 

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GIVEAWAY: 

David Scott will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Excerpt & Giveaway - Final Strike by Vanessa M. Knight

 

Final Strike

by Vanessa M. Knight 

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GENRE: Romantic Suspense 

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BLURB: 

Julie Connolly thought she had perfected the art of emotional eating, but ever since she learned of her father's passing, she's taken it to new heights. The bastard has figured out how to destroy her life from the grave.

 

Her father's proposal—abandon her son Cody, so someone else can raise him, or lose her inheritance. The outrageous condition doesn’t deserve a response but the lawyer her father hired demands an answer. Before she can tell the ambulance-chaser exactly where he can shove his demands, her worst fears come alive: Cody is kidnapped. Her only hope comes from Ben Mooring, a man she hates nearly as much as her father.

 

Though Ben Mooring lost his chance with Julie years ago, she and Cody still mean the world to him. He practically raised the kid for years when he was with Julie. When Cody goes missing, Ben drops everything to search for him. He might never win a spot in Julie's life again, but he can't rest while Cody is in danger and Julie needs him.

 

Julie and Ben join forces to find Cody, but they have to work quickly. If she doesn't find him soon, she might lose her son forever.

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EXCERPT: 

 

Julie Connolly was hiding. She hadn’t crouched behind the casket or anything—mostly because there wasn’t a casket. But she was standing behind a giant wreath of flowers, watching another random guest walk toward her across the muted green funeral home carpet. Hide was a strong word. She wasn’t hiding. She was standing off to the side, giving others access to the urn holding her father’s ashes.

 

The guest stood in front of the burnt remnants of a cold man and cried, dabbing her eyes.

 

See? Julie wasn’t even needed.

 

She was tired of the platitudes. Tired of the lies. People holding her hand, telling her how wonderful her father had been. What a great man he’d been.

 

They were trying to be nice. Or they didn’t know him. He was the furthest thing from great. He’d told her how imperfect she was every day of her life—too fat, too stupid, too lazy. Too much like her mother. It was only fair she saw him for the ass he was.

 

Even after he’d ended up in prison, many people didn’t see the real him. She was lucky—or unlucky. She’d seen it all.

 

But the sea of people in the funeral home didn’t know. They didn’t know their tears were wasted on a man who wouldn’t have shed a tear for them.

 

“You shouldn’t be hiding.” The nasally voice grated on Julie’s last nerve. And that the nasally voice noticed Julie was hiding made it so much worse.

 

“I’m not hiding.” She obviously wasn’t doing a good job of it. “I’m taking a moment to breathe. I’m mourning. My father died.”

 

“Yes.” Bettina Wilcox—the woman Julie’s father had been dating for the last few years—clamped her hand around Julie’s arm. Her nails dug into Julie’s skin. Perfect black suit dress. Dyed blonde hair pulled taut into a bun, not one hair out of place. Not one flaw.

 

Except for the fact that she was horribly mean.  

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 AUTHOR Bio and Links: 

Who is Vanessa M. Knight?  Well, I’m an author.  Wow.  After years and years of wanting to use those words, that is fun to say.  It’s almost as fun as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.  Did I spell that right? 

I write contemporary romantic suspense. 

I live in Chicagoland with my family and menagerie of four-legged friends.  In my mind, these lovely animals do everything as they should.  I’m the alpha, keeping peace and harmony amongst my humble servants.  In real life, they own me.  I’m the maid, here for their feeding pleasure.  Well, that and to clean up their messes.

 When not catering to the needs of adorably-furry faces, I slug through the nine to five grind and head home so I can write.  Of course, that’s after I make dinner and clean the house and all the other tasks that go into family life.  So really, I work, cater to animals and my family… and then, if I don’t fall face first into bed, I write.  I love putting my characters into crazy situations and watching how they react. I hope you love reading about them.  

I love to hear from fans.  I can be found on Facebook at VanessaMKnight and at www.vanessamknight.com.

 

Links:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/VanessaMKnight

FB LINK:  https://www.facebook.com/vanessamknightauthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/vanessamknight/

Amazon Author page LINK:  http://www.amazon.com/Vanessa-M.-Knight/e/B00JZBJ3EO/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1

Website: https://www.VanessaMKnight.com

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Buy Links:

Amazon

Apple

Nook

Kobo

Smashwords 

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GIVEAWAY 

Vanessa M. Knight will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Blurb Blitz & Giveaway - Beautiful Eyes by Gabbi Black

  

Beautiful Eyes

by Gabbi Black

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GENRE:   Dark Erotic BDSM Romance

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 BLURB: 

Entrepreneur Smith MacLean is obsessed with Alessandra Soriano, a woman he met briefly who disappeared six months ago. After a shocking reunion at Club Kink, he insists she stay with him. He means to find out where she's been.

Alessandra walked away from her life after making a mistake that cost everything. Her self-imposed penance is living in poverty and doing questionable things with questionable people. Now she's in Smith's luxurious condo, under his hand, and obeying his rules.

He has thirty days to convince her to come back from limbo. She has thirty days to convince him she needs to be forgotten. Unless the flames of lust consume them first.

  

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 Excerpt: 

Alessandra was sliding bonelessly to the ground, so Smith stepped forward and scooped her up. Hefting her into his arms and looking down, he recoiled as a jolt ricocheted through him. He’d been right about her eyes. They were a deep, dark-brown chocolate, like fudge on the sundae he treated himself to once in a while. Pure indulgence. They were eyes a man could get lost in. 

Damn, her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Mood-altering substances were banned from the club, although that didn’t mean people didn’t sneak things in or imbibe before arriving. But if she’d been acting drunk at the door, she’d never have gained admittance. 

“The man with the beautiful eyes.” She mumbled the words just before her eyes rolled upward. 

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AUTHOR Bio and Links: 

Even though Gabbi Black is a firm believer in happy endings, she makes her characters work for it in every romance she writes, no matter what the genre. From contemporary to BDSM, they are penned early in the morning in her home in beautiful British Columbia while her trusty ChinPoo dog and her cantankerous Himalayan cat keep her company. She also writes gay romances as Gabbi Grey.

Links:

Amazon US:  https://amzn.to/3CeXVqD

Barnes and Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beautiful-eyes-gabbi-black/1139975555

Apple Books:  https://books.apple.com/us/book/beautiful-eyes/id1580299905

 

It will be listed on Google Play and KOBO as well

 

Personal links:

Website:   http://gabbiblack.com/

Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/2763198834

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/authorgabbiblack/

Facebook (page): https://www.facebook.com/Author-Gabbi-Black-106666354460589/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/GabbiAuthor

 

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 GIVEAWAY:

 Gabbi Black will be awarding a  $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Guest Blog & Giveaway - A Few Good Elves by Diane Morrison

A Few Good Elves

Toy Soldier Saga, Book One

by Diane Morrison

Genre: Science fantasy, military science fiction, space opera, epic fantasy, dark fantasy, blackpowder fantasy
Publisher: Aradia Publishing
Date of Publication: September 7, 2021
ISBN Ebook 978-1-9995757-5-5

ISBN Hardcover 978-1-9995757-4-8

ISBN Paperback 978-1-9995757-3-1
ASIN: B09D79BJW1
Number of pages: 490
Word Count: 155k
Cover Artist: Cayotica

A dark blackpowder fantasy military space opera

Book Description:

Toy Soldier: A derogatory slang term for an elven marine.

Battles great and terrible, small and bitter, raged across Known Space as the wars of Elves and Orcs played out their legacy of hatred across the stars themselves. Epics would be written, songs would be sung; but wars are fought by real people with loves and families and homes.

All Shaundar Sunfall ever wanted to be was a Star-Pilot. Raised on his father's ship, he has found an affinity for the stars -- although as a mixed-race elf and a bit of troublemaker, he often runs afoul of his commanding officers.

Now the orcs have returned to once again wage war on their ancient enemies. The fate of his people is at stake. Although he is too young, Shaundar lies about his age to join up. But he is about to learn that no matter what the sagas say, war is no great adventure.

A bit like what would happen if Horatio Hornblower met the Honorverse, met Lord of the Rings, met Game of Thrones, A Few Good Elves is part naval adventure, part high fantasy, part space opera, and part war novel.

CW: graphic violence, sexual violence, torture, war, genocide

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/7LG4_Jp9yfw

Amazon      Books2Read

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Excerpt: 

All about on the decks of the Queen’s Dirk, the crew were running and screaming. There were too many dead and wounded to count, and the Chiurgeons had elves spread out over the tables in the mess, the garden, even the Captain’s bed.

Shaundar sensed Lieutenant Sylria on the remains of the fo’c’sle, now mostly a debris field, commanding the mages to ready spells and the weapons crews to continue their attack. He could also see the gravity well of the Vengeance, just now coming about on their starboard side, though he was certain that it had been much longer than they needed.

“I have the helm!” Shaundar cried.

“Get us out of here, Shaundar!”

He turned his head and studied the rapidly oncoming Balorian ship through both the hole in the starboard wall, and Queenie’s senses. Even with Sylria’s magical boost, he knew this to be hopeless.

“I can’t do it, Sylria,” he said in a hollow voice. “They’re just too fast.”
Sylria looked down at her feet for a long moment. She squared her shoulders. “Then we shall die with honour.”

Shaundar nodded. Amazingly, there was no fear, just sadness, that he would not see his family or Narissa again. “Sails, evasive manoeuvres!” Shaundar commanded. “Hard down!”

As the insectoid ship neared, it closed those claw-like limbs to grapple them. But under Shaundar’s power and direction, they dodged the attempt. Shaundar saw a whole army of armoured Balorian warriors pour out onto the deck and stand to the rails.

Sylria shrieked, “Mages, fire!” and she let off a lightning bolt herself. There were only a couple of elves left alive topside to obey Sylria’s command, but they responded. Flames and electricity washed over the orcs, enough that it stopped them in their tracks and aborted their boarding attempt.

“Bring ‘er about,” Shaundar ordered. “Hard astarboard!”
Queenie answered sluggishly with all the shorn rigging and shorthanded crew, but she came back around. As they swooped back towards each other, Sylria’s command rang out. Defiantly, the Queen’s Dirk fired another volley.

The Balorians greeted it with a broadside of their own as they both swung starboard at the last moment. The larboard ballistae both missed, but two of the three others dented the hull. The third pierced it once more on their larboard side with a ringing tear of sheet metal.
Their catapult did not fire at all. Whether it was because it was damaged, or because there were too few crew left to man it, Shaundar would never know.

The decapitated Vengeance had only one gun it could bring to bear on the pass, but it fired that larboards bombard at point blank range. The fo’c’sle simply collapsed like a sandcastle. Sylria was swallowed into the sinkhole. Shaundar roared in horror and pain but could not hear his own voice in the overwhelming noise.

There was no sail crew left to command, but hoping against hope, Shaundar bellowed anyway,

“Hard aport!” The mizzenmast was shorn away, and he knew it, but knowing there was nothing else to be done, he yelled out, “Prepare to ram! All hands brace for impact!” just as Garan had attempted.

He didn’t flinch as the Queen’s Dirk collided head-on with her foe.

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How to Read and Enjoy Classic Science Fiction

By Diane Morrison

I realized a couple of years back now that I was lacking in some of the major early influences of science fiction.  I discovered an imprint called the SF Masterworks, and while there are valid criticisms of this list itself (the most significant being how few women and PoC it features) I decided I would read the entire list from start to finish.

I established a Goodreads book club and a reading challenge at Worlds Without End.  I decided in consultation with others who were interested in joining me that I would read one a month, every month, until it was done.  I think at that time I calculated it would take me about five years to finish, but I was okay with that.

I think I’m the only one in the book club still doggedly doing this.  But I’ve learned quite a lot already, and I still have several years to go, and I’m enjoying myself.  However, there’s a catch.  Often, classic science fiction has numerous elements that feel so dated it’s hard to imagine how they might still be relevant, and if they are, they might be hard to tolerate for their backwards attitudes.

I think I’ve found the solution.  It’s simple: I treat them as though they’re taking place in an alternate universe.  This solves many of the innate problems that modern people who try to read classic sci-fi encounter.  Here’s how:

Dated Social Attitudes (Dated psychology, bigotry) 

Dated Technology (Lack of computers, hardwired computers, no cell phones) 

Dated Science (Dated astrophysics, biology) 

Catching Up with the Timeline 

Dated Politics 

Dated Literary Techniques (Adjectives & adverbs, dialogue tags, accents, creating their own slang & fashion)

 

About the Author:

Diane Morrison lives with her partners in the Okanagan Valley, BC, where she was born and raised. She has been published in SFF markets such as Terra! Tara! Terror!, Air & Nothingness Press, and Cossmass Infinities. Under her pen name “Sable Aradia” she is a successful Pagan author, a musician, and a Twitch streamer and podcaster.  She likes pickles and bluegrass, and hates talking about herself.

https://dianemorrisonfiction.com/

 

http://sablearadia.tumblr.com/

https://www.twitch.tv/sablearadia

 

https://www.ko-fi.com/sablearadia

https://www.patreon.com/SableAradia

 

https://aradiapublishing.wordpress.com/

https://www.goodreads.com/sablearadia

https://www.youtube.com/user/sablearadia

https://www.worldanvil.com/w/toysoldiersaga

https://www.amazon.com/author/dianemorrison

https://www.worldanvil.com/author/SableAradia

 

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/diane-morrison

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Tour Giveaway

A Few Good Elves ebook

Once Upon a Time in the Wyrd West ebook

Gunsmoke & Dragonfire ebook

Starseeds: Stories from the Toy Soldier Saga pdf

  a Rafflecopter giveaway