N.B. As promised today begins the posting of a new novel, Bradley Schuster and the Holy Grail. Chapters Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. This is actually my first novel, and has been around for a while. She (novels like this are female, of course) and I are very excited that she finally gets to see the light of day. Walk out on the red-carpeted runway for your viewing and comments.
My screensaver consists of a calendar page with today’s date, the day of the week—wouldn’t want to forget and go to work on a weekend—and a very large ‘37’ in bold Comic Sans MS font. Tomorrow when I log on, it will say ‘36.’ How nifty. Without even using my fingers to count, I always know exactly how many days remain until my agreement with the United States Government expires and I am free to ‘take up my cup and go forth.’
I will be free to leave the state of Nebraska, and although I hold Cornhuskers in general no ill will, shortly afterwards I will be gone. Since the real estate market is pretty soft here—much more-so than in places that somebody might actually want to live—it’s a good thing the government owns the house we’ve been living in. I’ve been here long enough; I’d hate to have to hang around until the economy picks up. Nor am I seriously considering going back to Houston. The real estate market there is pretty much always hot—not such a good thing for a buyer—and summers are even hotter.
I will also be free to shop this novel around to agents and editors to see if anyone might have interest in publishing it. Note that I use the term novel (censors! pay attention!). The parts of my agreement with the United States Government that do not expire in 37 more days include the prohibition against going public with a history of the events that occurred 35 years ago—or the ones that happened 2,000 years ago. But nobody seems to care if I write a fictional account.
So I’ve been working on this novel for around three years now. Distilling pages of notes that I took during hours of interviews into a tale interesting enough to compete with the trendiest paranormal romance or frantic search for the latest serial killer. I am a historian, by trade and by temperament, so two-timing sweet Clio, the muse of history, and hammering away on the not-all-that-great American Novel has not come easy.
But I’m almost finished.
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(I’m posting Chapter 1 shortly. I wouldn’t give you this big build-up and then post a 1-page prologue)