Book 4 is well underway now. I took a different approach this time and wrote the first 4 chapters, then the final 5 chapters. The ending has weighed on me for so long that I just had to get it done. So now I just need the silly midling bits and it'll go out the door. :D Frankly, the parts I have written are missing things. Bits that it is hard to tie up in action scenes without distracting. It'll be fun and interesting to work that out. I'm still trying to decide whether it would be wise to include bits of the new book in my newsletter. Most likely, anything I include now, from the first pass, will be different or gone by the time the book is complete. Here's a little piece of a chapter, though even as I read it, I see problems with it. But this is how I start. Flying over the Blasted Lands, it struck me how verdant the land had become compared to the image in my head.
I’d grown up in the half-ruined shell of the old city, in half-collapsed chambers strewn with the rubble of once-grand-statues and murals blackened by soot and mold. The stone never forgot the war that broke it, nor did the bones buried beneath. And yet from above—cradled gently in Lairras’s claw—I saw something I hadn’t expected: regrowth.
Patches of trees clung to the slopes, too young for history, too fragile for siege. Here and there, brush crept up toward the cavemouths, and moss had overtaken some of the shattered walls. Life had crept back in.
It shouldn’t have. Troll patrols used to scour the Blasted Lands, burning back every green shoot. That was the ritual of holding a border—if not through control, then by threat.
But no fires had swept through recently. That meant something. My memory returned to what drove me to investigate the troll homeland in the first place—taking my son on his first quest into troll territory, to understand why their attacks had diminished. I remembered the look on Hughelas’s face—the mask children wear when enduring the nonsense of a parent—when I’d uttered my concern, “Peace and prosperity have broken out like a plague.”
Book 1 of Thaumatropic Roots should be out on Audible any day now. Should have been out already... unclear what's gotten jammed up. I imagine that isn't particularly relevant for most of you, as you've likely already read that book. But I had at least one person say their husband only listens to books, and she'd told him to listen to Mother of Trees when it came out. I still struggle with finding new readers. I would really appreciate it if those who have read my books would drop a review on Amazon--it helps others decide whether they want to take the plunge. Just a few short words, like, "Good series," seems to be quite helpful. The link below should take you, admittedly somewhat indirectly, to the books on Amazon in whichever country you reside. All books by Steven J. Morris Indie Author Showcase Previous Newsletters
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I had a couple of things I wanted to mention. One is what looks like a weird new scam that I haven't worked out yet, and the other is just an update on how I'm doing in marketing. Scam Alert! So, the potential scam. I received an email that looked like this: Your book just gained new reviews from my readers community.<screenshot of a GoodReads book review>Did you get it?Looking forward to hearing from you I followed up with a couple of emails, and I basically think the paid-book-review people...
Last week was Homecoming week, and my younger two girls are both now in High School. It's really something watching how much effort the girls (and their mom and other girls' moms) put into the preparation. Meanwhile my oldest had a rugby tournament, where they awarded her MVP. Certainly a better way to spend her time than watching that Arkansas v Notre Dame football game. Brutal. Yes, to relax, she does rugby and boxing. Any wonder I came up with Red? Really miss having my oldest girl around....
We're a few weeks into the school year, and settling in to the new/old routine, more or less. With my oldest off to college, and my youngest now in High School, I'm getting sentimental about all the lasts. Last time I'll help one of them learn geometry. Last time I'll teach one to drive. Last time I'll find a "box of strawberries" in the fridge that is nothing but stems. It's funny how even the things you don't like become things you miss, innit? My oldest sent me one of her papers from...