Waking pre-dawn to log the long drive each morning, and then returning late night exhausted, but oddly exhilarated, it was an honor to be an Exhibitor at this year’s Book Expo / Book Con! If you are launching a new book, you can’t miss this Show of Shows. Thus, the next installment of my fantasy and sci-fi series, The Soulstealer War: The Splintering Realm, carried me to New York City this past week. The Javits Center spectacle can be daunting, and it didn’t help that I was exercising rusty “Show” muscles. But what the heck, I always prefer the deep end of the pool!
I love writing about the Realm of Weir – the characters, the creatures, the cultures, the folklore, the languages, the songs – but as an author, I also love meeting the readers. Give me a conversation, and I’m hooked. I come to the Booth with an open mind. This means I don’t care who you are (and usually I can’t tell until 10 minutes into a conversation anyway). Sure, I’m there as the point man for the Realms (Weir and my daughter’s Pyranis), but I also want to hear your story, your business, and your interests. Just as I sometimes delve into the nature of true magic (see my website), the only way a nexus will manifest is by letting the flow occur. I look for awareness in the folks who cross my path, and brief eye contact sends me into a flurry of possibilities. This flight of fancy then lands on firmer ground once the conversation begins.
Book Expo was heavy on people seeking swag, signings, and freebies, and there is a balance to be struck. The Show doesn’t really want you to be selling, but you can take orders and fulfill them amazingly fast! And there is always karma; I give away a fair share of books for goodwill and to see what the Universe will manifest. My Booth was by chance a stone’s throw from the big players – Simon & Shuster, Baker & Taylor, Ingram, IPG, etc. – and I was a wee minnow in that sea, but there was an abundance of synergy. I met foreign licensing contacts, reviewers, librarians, printers, buyers, publishers, literary agents, marketers, translators, artists, designers, social media experts, radio folks, podcasters, authors (aspiring and established) and a few other wild cards. All good. This is a marathon, and not a sprint. I will abide; everything unfolds in due time.
Book Con was the exact opposite of the industry insiders – finally, the public! Here be readers of the genres that are my passion, and possibly dragons too! Teenage girls and women dominated the crowd. I’m talking 80% as a rough guess. That was a surprise, but live and learn. There are too many wonderful encounters to detail, but here’s a few favorites:
To the young women who live near the Appalachian Trail with the software coder who will find my website’s hidden access portals (without hacking it to shreds as promised) … your group rocks!
To the pregnant mom who is an aspiring author – my hopes that you put one foot in front of the other and take the road less traveled – get your writing out there! This advice was a common theme as I met many unpublished authors, and I was happy to impart what wisdom (and foolishness) I could. I’ve been there. I get it.
To Meg-a-Watt – thank you for a great conversation on fantasy, sci-fi and life. At first, I thought you said you were Megatron … then you added the “Queen Bee” to clarify, and I still apologized because that didn’t mean anything to me. Finally, you said you were LitBuzz, and helped further my information gap with discussion on how you began and grew that endeavor.
To purple-haired Kristin and her dad – your spark is bright enough to set the world on fire – and that you read my book (and Hannah’s) that night after buying them, and loved them, and came back to tell me the next day at the Booth … there is no more amazing way to start a day as an author!
To the man who was pushing his niece in a stroller, who was dragged to Book Con with his girlfriend and who never picks up books, let alone reads them … it was my privilege to hand you Book One and Two. The real reward was your girlfriend’s joy watching your willingness to venture into her world, and the long embrace you two shared a booth away.
To Tim, the bow-tied literary guy, who now knows that my alter-ego wears a vest with a pocket watch, often topped in a worn Stetson hat, thank you for the chat and your advice on my Boris Vallejo/Julie Bell front cover banner.
To Janine, author of The Puzzle Quests: Shimmer’s Eggs (and other books), whose son succumbed to cancer – your story is inspirational and our conversation will stay with me.
To the librarians and teachers – there were so many – I wish I could have given you more free copies of Hannah’s middle school chapter book The Pathway to Dragons: The Portal to Pyranis – you have one of the hardest, thankless and yet, most important careers on the planet! That cannot be said enough.
To the group of three teen girls who had their Mikey (a classic commercial, where one brother serves as the guinea pig for tasting a new cereal – and the girls had no clue on this dated reference) be the designated reader for any new book series – that you returned a short while after buying Book One to tell me that during the Show you read the first 50 pages and loved it, that the writing was awesome – thank you for that thoughtful gift.
To my immediate Booth neighbors on either side of the Show floor – Cameron and Rebecca the jewelry gurus of Stern Design Works, and to Anne Wheaton (Piggy and Pug children’s book author) with her outgoing publicist Susan Peters – your cheerful company was an unexpected pleasure!
Though not a meeting, I need to give a shout-out to Dog Ear Publishing and founder Ray Robinson – your support during the Show was invaluable. And indeed, another Dog Ear author stopped by my Booth for conversation.
Also, to Amy and Julie from Reed Exhibition, and Scott from Freeman – your assistance helped make my Show experience a success, and the Booth “check-ins” were greatly appreciated.
Finally, as a reminder, a portion of our book proceeds are donated to The NJ Center for Tourette Syndrome, Special Strides, and The Bridge of Books Foundation. Any additional support you can provide to these worthwhile charities will make a difference!
With utmost gratitude to all of you,
W.L. Hoffman – breathe slowly, observe humbly, dream deeply and evolve!
Author of The Soulstealer War (and other tales) – www.WLHoffman.com
Proud Father of the Author of The Pathway to Dragons – www.HannahBrookeHoffman.com
All for RenFaire, and RenFaire for All!
June 5, 2012
Have no doubt, my friends, these are serious times. And for this reason, I have never been more appreciative of the revelry that converges at the NJ Renaissance Faire at Liberty Lake. http://www.njrenfaire.com
This weekend my family strolled in costume among the RenFaire community, savoring the spontaneous interaction with the inhabitants of Crossford. The village welcomed me with a hearty “M’Lord,” and my daughters each garnered a gentle “M’Lady.” Indeed, Hallie and Hannah giggled uncontrollably upon discovering that the players bowed in their presence until released. “Rise, good sir,” had a pleasant lilt from the lips of my pre-teen princesses.
Hannah roamed the merchant stands with discerning and fickle taste, while her older sister marked treasures with practiced confidence. My girls opened their hearts and imaginations, and prepared for barter and baubles, as the townsfolk were ever-so-gracious in their dealings. To mention only some, is a disservice to the rest – we cherished them all.
Similarly, there are not enough words to adequately describe the amazing performers! Impromptu stage and troubadour skits, music and jest, song and rhyme, flames and daring acrobatics, archery and swordplay, a living chess match and fine spirits to imbibe… it was too much to absorb in a single outing.
My compliments to Phil Leipf as the villainous Comte de Rochefort, to Melissa L.E. Baker as his temptress co-conspirator Milady de Winter, and to Katie Horahan as the charming Duchess of Northumberland, and still, there are more notes of special attention…
At mid-afternoon, we sheltered from a passing thunderstorm within the Willows Stage structure. Therein, my little girls were drafted by the Bard of Avon – William Shakespeare – as he organized an abbreviated and raucous audience participation version of “Twelfth Night and The Three Little Bears.” The good natured folks in the crowd were hilarious in their guided acting, and Will’s wit was sharper than all the nearby swords.
Thereafter, and harkening to the days of old, we experienced true artisanship. We stood spellbound at the forge of “Historical Glassworks,” as master glass blower Jason Klein crafted a Renaissance-style fluted wine decanter before our eyes. With absolutely no pressure from the onlookers, and between ample puffing breaths of creation, Jason explained his techniques, issued commands to apprentices, and orchestrated a delicate dance of molten glass.
Meandering away from that skillful glass menagerie, we happened upon a fearsome couple arrayed for the Zombie Apocalypse! They offered my daughters a copy of the Adventurer’s Handbook – a publication by TJ Miller and John A. Williams a/k/a The Lords of Adventure: Roger Awesome and Jack Bold. My girls boldly whispered to these armor-bound warriors that we owned two copies already, and then demurely asked if they would consent to pose for a picture.
After snapping the above cameo, we thought it wise to retreat to the jousting arena for our fill of knights, horses and chivalry. But along the way, we spied the Royal Falconer and his avian charges. Perched at rest, the birds were beautiful and majestic. During the falconry demonstration it was simply nature’s magic, as they soared aloft the entire encampment, banked a few feet over our heads, and launched talons-a-ready upon the Falconer’s twirling lure.
On our way back to the main amphitheatre, I was waylaid at “LaForge Weapons.” Sparks flew both in the blazing furnace and on the sturdy anvil. There were regal decorative weapons a’plenty, but I required a combat blade capable
of enduring full throttle impact – steel on steel. I selected a likely candidate off the rack and then asked the master smith if its edge would stay keen in hard battle. No words echoed in reply, though I think a slight growl ensued… he then gripped the sword from my hand, moved his anvil into position, bade me step back, and firmly struck the blade’s edge upon the anvil with not one, but three ringing blows. With a satisfed grin on his face, the weapon was returned for my inspection. I anticipated a chip given the enthusiasm of his test… I found not even the hint of a scratch.
At day’s end, the girls and I lounged at the Lakeside Amphitheatre enjoying a cornucopia of musicians and performers. I sipped a glass of cabernet-merlot courtesy of the Valenzano Winery. Within the hour, the primary acting Troupe escorted a horde of Faire-goers to our venue for the final reconciliation between D’Artagnon and Constance, and the Comte de Rochefort and Countess de Winter. Yes, as you may have guessed, regards to Alexandre Dumas, for this year’s RenFaire theme is the Three Musketeers. After due ceremonies, the players serenaded the crowd with a last ballad and a simple wish – that we may all be present to do this again. Amen. As I listened with Hallie and Hannah, I thought of my wife: she was absent from our festivities in order to comfort a dying friend of the family. My eyes blurred, and I thanked the powers-that-be for my blessings and the opportunity to share our day among such joyful and talented folk.
You can yet partake, for I’m told that the 2012 NJ Renaissance Faire will continue for at least one more weekend – June 9th and 10th. Failing that, perhaps it will be another worthy RenFaire in your home state. For let it be written and let it be said: we can all do with more laughter and love!
Regards to the Father of Aviation
January 3, 2012
The summer of 1878 in Iowa was more oppressive than usual, and Milton Wright longed for an evening breeze to waft through his upstairs window. He had been working all night. His wife tiptoed into his study. The flickering oil lamp revealed her presence before her free hand lightly tapped his shoulder. “Milton, can the labor of God not wait until morning? It’s late, even the crickets are hushed.”
Milton turned from his feverish sketching, and explained, “Susan, I met the most amazing Frenchman today at Church. Alphonse Penaud. An inventor, a man that would see humanity become as birds in flight. He gave me this toy.” Milton pointed to his desktop. The toy, about a foot in length, was crafted of cork, bamboo and paper, with a rotor that spun using rubber bands. “I am going to give it to the boys in the morning. Can you imagine, people using a machine to simply soar into the sky?”
Susan leaned closer and peered at his pencil marks. Her husband had a keen mind. That was how he had risen to Bishop in the Church of the United Brethren in Christ. She asked, “What’s that you’ve drawn?”
Milton adjusted his spectacles and proudly announced, “Well, there are details to refine, but it’s a flying machine.”
Susan giggled quietly, not wanting to wake the children, and then said, “Oh really? How does it work?”
Milton was tired, but rode the wave of excitement that had inspired him after meeting the Frenchman. He blurted, “Alphonse had spoken about propellers and engines, and I got to thinking about how birds move. I’ll need the right wing shape and span to generate lift, and I must control the direction, rudders and, I mean… the ideas just kept flowing.”
Susan was as practical as she was spiritual, and asked, “To what end? If God had wanted us to fly, would He not have given us wings?”
Milton nodded. “Yes, you have a point, but God also gave us intellect and the will to use it. This might take years and I’ll need funds, but I think it can work. Why, my dear, someday humanity might sail through the clouds on immense machines carrying hundreds of people. They’ll be like a flock of giant birds overhead, day and night, rushing from one place to the next. You could visit your relatives in Germany in a matter of hours, maybe minutes if powerful engines could be built.”
Susan’s eyes sank to the floor, “Engines. Will they be very loud and smoky?” She thought about the steam traction engines that belched and spit as the fields were plowed near the Church.
After nearly twenty years of marriage and bell ringing at the churches, Milton understood Susan’s aversion to booming noise. She preferred the gentle hum of God’s creatures. “The machines might rumble and roar a bit, but if they travel high enough, you might not hear them. Not too much. And there’s bound to be exhaust of some sort, but the vapors should dissipate before causing any mischief on the ground.”
Susan shifted to the open window nearby and gazed at the stars. The heavens were glorious in their beauty and peace. She whispered as if in a dream, “Would you see these machines in the night sky?”
“Yes dear, I think they would need bright lights to keep from hitting objects and one another.”
Susan mused aloud, “Will they be like trains or boats? I mean will everyone be crowded into compartments, with soot pouring in from the engines? Will the wealthy have their own quarters, while those less fortunate suffer?”
Milton rubbed his bearded chin. “There’s always an issue with weight. Birds bones are less dense than ours, and their wings, well… they don’t say light as a feather as an idle boast. So, I guess space would be at a premium. It might be like Sunday Worship when the pews are packed elbow to elbow.”
Susan issued a long sigh and then urged, “Come to the window.” Milton rose and joined his wife.
She asked determinedly, “Do you not see the miracle around and above us?”
Milton looked onward, and thought, it’s a jubilee of stars tonight. Mother Moon’s waning crescent would be a cozy spot from which to cast a fishing line into the sea of stars. And there’s Sirius at the horizon. With his faithful hound at ease, Orion is done hunting this eve. Indeed, everything with sense is resting in this heat. He removed a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and dabbed his forehead. Just then, a fluttering gust combed the tall grass below, and as the breeze caressed his cheeks, he caught the scent of lavender on Susan from the flowers she had gathered before dinner.
Susan brushed her lips to his ear, taking advantage while she had him, “Now close your eyes. Think about what you’ve described. Blaring, malodorous machines at all hours of decency, cutting the evening majesty apart with their lights… jammed tight with people hurtling across the world so fast as to miss the splendor of life. And do you suppose those machines might fail every so often, the way the trains do when they leave the tracks?”
Milton’s eyes snapped open, “But people will be able to cross the globe without taking days or weeks…”
Susan frowned.
Milton paused, deep in reflection. His arm slipped around Susan’s waist as he nuzzled against her. After a time of silence, he spoke softly, “I wouldn’t be the first to open Pandora’s Box, but have it your way, dear.”
She kissed him, and said, “You need your sleep.” Susan held her hand out waiting, as Milton folded the sketches and tucked them into a desk drawer. He couldn’t quite bring himself to burn them. He thought, human technology must go forward… we have the right, don’t we, don’t we?
As he slipped into bed, he wondered what his sons would do when he showed them the toy. Wilbur and Orville were sharp for their age.
Author’s Note: As a Fantasy & Sci-Fi author (www.SoulstealerWar.com), writing is my preferred method of activism. Thus, I offer you this original short story with a science-fiction twist as a means to highlight a local issue. As my family walks around the neighborhood, and tries to settle down at night, we cannot help but observe that the flight paths above Princeton/Montgomery Township evidence a sky overburdened with low-flying, crisscrossing planes, excessive noise and air pollution. Contact your Legislators, FAA Eastern Region Noise Complaints at 9-aea-noise@faa.gov or FAA Noise Program Specialist: (718) 553-3365.