Had to go to Rochester, MN for the week this past week. Now this isn’t a bad thing as I hear it is really pretty in the spring and summer. The flight up wasn’t too bad, got some writing done on Prophecy, even though the guy sitting next to me nodded off and fell over on me; several times. Then he would snore and wake himself up, elbowing me in the process. He realized what he was doing and apologized, so I guess it was all good.

Thursday and Friday was like ninety below zero windchill (OK, maybe it was only seventeen degrees with a steady wind, but it sure as heck felt like I stepped out into the arctic circle). Breezed through security at the airport and got on the plane. We pulled away from the gate and stopped. The captain announced that there was “frost” on the wings and we needed to be de-iced. Hmm…frost=de-icing? Well, alright, better safe than sorry I say. So this truck that was bigger than da plane circles us spraying a pink liquid all over the plane and drove off. We were still sitting there. Maybe our tires were now frozen to the tarmac (I did say it was like ninety below, remember?) The captain came over the PA and said that the co-pilot’s communication system wasn’t working and we have to go back to the gate and de-plane and to remember to take all of our belongings with us.

Now, I realized that I only had a forty-five minute layover in Minneapolis (which, by the way is a big ass airport) and that I had to go from concourse B to concourse F, which is clear on the other side of world. So, the savvy ex-business traveler that I am, I headed directly to the podium and explained my predicament to the agent. He agreed that even if they fixed the plane in the next five minutes, I ain’t connecting in Minneapolis. So, he started punching the keys on the computer and first tried to send me to LAX (Los Angeles, CA) instead of JAX (Jacksonville, FL) which was home. Mind you, either destination was appealing at this point since both were at least a hundred degrees warmer than where I was currently. Not that I have anything against going to LA, just not today. Anyway, the guy finally figured it out and printed out my two new boarding passes as I now had to go to Atlanta and then to Jacksonville. Kinda bummed that it was no longer a direct flight and would get in four hours later then my original flight. Until I looked at the boarding pass for Altanta. I’m in seat 1A. Now for those of you who don’t travel much, seat 1A on the big planes (which this one, thankfully, happened to be – did I mention I’m claustrophobic?) is in First Class. I WIN!

OK, the engineer guy pulled up in his Dodge mini-van with he blinky yellow light on top that wasn’t blinking, jumped out tool case in hand and fixed the plane. We got ready to go back on and the co-pilot came out and wanted the engineer back because his armrest was broken (not a fan of this co-pilot now). Non-working communications panel delaying the flight, I get. Broken armrest? Seriously? So Engineer Dave went back in and fixed said armrest, we got back on, and took off for our uneventful tewenty-two minute flight to Minneapolis.

Upon arriving in Minneapolis, I realized I only had thirty minutes to go from concourse B to concourse F, clear on the other side of the city (did I mention Minneapolis is a big ass airport?) So backpack strapped to my back and carrying another small personal item (airline jargon) I pulled an OJ blasting through the airport. One of my more astute Facebook friends asked who I murdered and if I would get away with it. I, not wanting to be astutedly outdone, responded: “anyone that got in my way.” So I made it to the proper gate for the Atlanta bound flight, with every muscle (and a few I didn’t even know I had) in my old and out of shape body bitching non-stop to my cerebral cortex. After a momentary pause to catch my breath, I sauntered up and butted in front of everyone else in line and boarded the plane (remember, I’m in seat 1A, so I had the authority and god-given right to butt in line).

I took my seat in 1A, a pillow, blanket, and bottle of water waiting for me. This was nice. I need to travel in seat 1A more often, I mused. The bubbly flight attendant (they’re NOT stewardesses) asked if I would like a pre-flight drink. Since I just ran a full marathon to get to the gate, I opted for the bottle of water. The rest of the peasants finally boarded and we pulled away from the gate only to stop smack dab in the middle of the taxi way. “Oh great,” I said to my self. The captain came on the PA and announced that our weight was not showing up in the computer, but he phoned home to get the updated weights, or some such nonsense. Apparently, and my pilot friends feel free to correct me, but if the proper weight of the plane, her occupants, and all the crap said occupants have schlepped with them is not entered into the computer correctly, we could run out of runway before the behemoth got off the ground, which, I suppose, would ruin my already crappy day. Whatever happened to the days of old where pilots actually flew the damned plane instead of babysitting a computer? Incidentally, there are three computers on the plane doing the exact same thing and they duke it out in a matter of nano-seconds and whatever two of the three decide to do is what the plane does. Hopefully the rogue computer isn’t the one that is actually correct. Or maybe I’m thinking of the space shuttle. I can’t remember.

Anyway, sitting in seat 1A was a delightful experience. Shortly after take-off, I was handed a hot moist towel (not a towelette, mind you, but an actual cloth towel) to freshen up. Then I enjoyed a nice Texas Caesar Salad, a splendid cup of warm mushroom soup, and a caramel pecan brownie for lunch all served on actual china. I even had my own little salt and pepper shaker. As I was cutting the chicken that adorned the top of my salad utilizing my METAL fork and serrated knife, it dawned on me that had I brought my Swiss Army knife through TSA security, I would have been pounced on, stripped searched, anally probed, denied flight, and labelled a terrorist for all eternity. Yet looking around at the first class cabin, there were twelve of us, all heavily armed with metal forks and serrated knives. I know that if all of us tried, using what the TSA classified as weapons but conveniently provided by the airline, we could have cut through the bullet proof, bomb proof, and zombie proof door to the cockpit and taken total control of the aircraft, all before the quite capable captain made an emergency landing to a waiting platoon of even heavier armed marines, who probably didn’t share my same sense of humor. But I digress. Finished up the flight with more beverages and snacks before landing in Atlanta.

Fortunately, the Jacksonville flight was only three gates down on the same concourse and I arrived as they were finishing boarding. I presented my boarding pass to the agent at the podium because it said “Mystery Seat” on it. I was dully informed that I already had a seat assigned. I inquired as to what seat it was because it wasn’t printed on said boarding pass. To which he responded that the machine would print it out when I scanned said pass. So, the good little sheeple that I was, I got in line, scanned it, and the Madame Toussile doll cackled at me as she spit out a tiny little paper that simply said “22A”. LOSER! The guy in Rochester failed me. I was in the cargo section and was now, once again, a peasant. Scrunched against the bulkhead, two other people scrunched into the row with me, the only thing to be thankful for was that it was only a forty-five minute flight. I can handle this.

Arriving in Jacksonville, I was greeted by seventy-five degrees and overcast skies. But it was seventy five warm degrees. And there were plenty of beautiful bare legs and short shorts wandering around the concourse. Let me clarify, those were ladies wearing the short shorts and baring their legs. Short shorts on guys were only fashionable for a short time back in the seventies, and looking through photo albums (yes, dearie, there weren’t digital images back then; pictures were developed on paper) I can’t believe that I…well…never mind.

Had an awesome turnout at the book launch party for Stingray: You Can’t Hide Forever. Thanks to everyone who came out to support my debut Science Fiction novel. There was plenty of bubbly and treats. The Princess even graced us with her presence (can you spot the Princess in the linked pictures below?)

Here are some PICTURES from the event

Oh, and incidentally, work has officially begun on the 2^nd novel:  Stingray: Prophecy.

Here are some exciting announcements:

• Stingray: You Can’t Hide Forever has been released for Kindle and Nook. iBook version should release in about a week with the print version available at the end of the month.
• Book Launch Party on 11/29 from 6PM to 9PM at The Bayard Cafe, 12525 Philips Hwy (corner US1 & Old St. Augustine Rd.). There will be SciFi cupcakes and champagne!
• Pre-Order signed copies is still available through TholianWeb Publishing
• By popular demand, we are launching the COM Center, a community forum. Come hangout and play (nicely) with others.

Well, that’s all for now. Stay tuned for more updates!

Epsilon out.

PRE-ORDERING for Stingray: You Can’t Hide Forever is now open. Plus, you can READ THE FIRST CHAPTER. Click HERE.

UPDATED: BOOK LAUNCH PARTY on November 29 from 6-9 PM at the Bayard Cafe, 12525 Philips Hwy (corner of US1 & Old St. Augustine Rd.) in Jacksonville, FL.

COMING SOON: The launch of Stingray’s COM Center, a community forum.

I’m being asked everyday, “So when is Stingray: You Can’t Hide Forever being released?” So, I decided to make a blog post with my best guess. Right now, the manuscript is in the hands of my editor. As of last week, I’m next in her queue, so hopefully she is editing it right now. With that assumption (and you know what happens when one assumes), here is the timeline as best I can tell right now:

• Mid September, right before we go on vacation: should have the edited manuscript back from my editor
• Mid-to-late September: making changes to the manuscript (yes, while I’m on vacation – see how dedicated I am to you, my fans [and my one groupie])
• Late September: Available for pre-order at TholianWebPublishing.com (all pre-orders will be signed copies!).
• Beginning of October: submit for printing.
• Early-to-mid October: available for purchase for Kindle; also should get the proof copy back from printers for approval.
• Mid-to-late October: available for purchase for Nook and iBook.
• Late October/early November: book launch party somewhere in Jacksonville (suggestions/offers??); Advance copies in my grubby little paws and sent out to the lucky few who get advance copies and the plethora of those who pre-ordered.
• Mid-to-late November: Official release! YIPPEE!
• November/December: More book signings (come on book store owners, invite me!)
• Early January (for my birthday): Sold a million copies, have a movie deal, quit my day job and exclusively write the next adventures of Capt. Epsilon, Jessie Smythe, and the rest of Stingray’s crew for YOUR pleasure and enjoyment! Come on people, MAKE IT HAPPEN!

Of course, the above is all subject to change, so be sure to follow me on Facebook or Twitter for the latest updates; but right now I Feel Good! Da da da da! Tell your friends, your family; heck, shout it from the highest steeples (I’d say mountains, but we don’t have any here in NE Florida)!

Okay, had too much coffee this morning. Oh, and if you haven’t seen the latest trailer, click HERE!

I had my first radio guest spot and it was with FixatedOn out of England and has aired tonight. We talked about a wide range of random things from SciFi to Star Trek to surnames. Of course we talked about the new book and I even learned something about British TV. I was told I was brilliant but think I may have babbled on and on!

Give it a listen here: http://fixatedon.podbean.com/2011/08/22/fixated-ongary-zeiger/

What do you think? Leave a comment.

Latest update on Stingray: You Can’t Hide Forever.

So we spent the weekend camping and tubing down the Ichetuknee River. Really needed to clear my head. I think I now know where to embellish the story. Will tackle that in the coming weeks.

On another bright note, the manuscript is with my editor for her first pass and insight.

Looks like we are on target still for a Thanksgiving release, though I’m not sure if the cover image for Stingray 2 (working title) will be ready. It’s been trickier then I thought it would be to line up models (I think I have the last one for this coming weekend shoot) and then my artist’s schedule is swamped. But the priority is to get You Can’t Hide Forever out, so it might be sans next book cover. Oh well. You can always follow me (click on any of the icons at the top right) and be the first in the know!

Right then, until next time…

My Last Meal for 40 hours

So, last evening for dinner I made this tasty meal of turkey bacon wrapped turkey filets, green beans, chicken rice, salad, and for dessert watermelon. This was of course in observance of the ritualistic holiday Latcer Noitaloiv (pronounced latkeer nooatalooav). Now, most ritualistic holidays are observed when one reaches the age of thirteen. The nice thing about this holiday is that one doesn’t need to observe it until they reach the age of fifty. And unlike most holidays, it is only observed once every ten years. How cool is that? But, you say, you are not fifty yet. And yes, this is quite true; while I’m old, I’m not THAT old! However, in my particular case, the moon and stars along with the moons of Jupiter and Saturn were all in alignment, and the high officiant deemed it necessary for me to observe said holiday much too early.

But I digress. Continuing on, forty is another biblical number so that was fitting here. This holiday was deemed, by the powers that be, to be observed in hours since forty days of this nonsense would drive anyone to off themselves within the first several days. Now while I did say it would be of biblical proportions, it may not be on the order of THE last supper, but the rush will be biblical!

Okay, so how does one observe the holiday? Well, for the forty hours up to the holiday, one must observe a strict diet of clear liquids only. And positively no red colored liquids. This is a bloodless holiday people! When the big day arrives, you gather yourself in the most undignified, embarrassing, and demeaning sort of pose, you consume large quantities of hallucinogenic drugs (all legal of course: this is an official holiday!). You do some chanting, praying, and huffing and puffing and when it is all over, supposedly you don’t feel or remember a thing (yeah, that’s what I’m banking on ’cause lord knows what I’ll be rambling on and on about).

Okay, so there you have it. Questions? No? Good.

So I’m entering the blogosphere kicking and screaming and spent this afternoon converting my website over to a blog format. After some reflection, I think it will be easier when I have to replicate it for other authors that we host.

So, what do you think about? Like it better? Like it worse? Comment below!

UPDATE July 4:
OK, so I should have Googled “Tarzan Jame costume” before I posted. Yikes, that is not what I was looking for What I should have said was “Indian Squaw” or “Indian Princess” costume. Sorry.

UPDATED: July 1

I’m looking for 2 models for the cover of my next book, Stingray 2 (working title). This is a pretty cool opportunity to involve my fans in my books and you get paid for it. Here is what I’m looking for, while trying not to reveal too much about the next book:

Female, age 13-17, hair: black, brunette, or blonde.  The setting for this character is in the jungle and will be dressed in “Tarzan Jane” attire or a white flowing dress, barefoot.  Photo submission for this character should be  a head shot with a concerned look.  If you would also like to submit a full length shot in costume (again with a concerned look), that would be great, otherwise we will put your head shot on a body double.

Female, age late twenties, early thirties, hair: black, brown, or blonde.  The setting for this character is in the desert, she is military. Photo submission for this character should be a head shot, slightly looking down, with a loving look. Will also need a waist up shot in green camo, again slightly looking down and cradling something in your arms (don’t actually cradle anything, but pretend you having something in your arms).

All photos need to be 4 megapixels or greater and shot against a white or blue background. Please submit them to my publisher at photos@TholianWebPublishing.com, reference “Stingray 2″ in the subject.  We will review and select the two that best fit the characters I have in my mind. If selected, you will need to sign a model release (parent or guardian will have to sign for the minor).

I think this is really cool and I look forward to seeing these pics!