Tag: Novels

A Time and a Place — Now Taking Orders!

It’s now possible to pre-order my upcoming novel A Time and a Place, being released October 1st 2017 from Five Rivers Publishing.

Kinda cool. 🙂

Cover Art for A Time and a Place, by Jeff Minkevics

Barnabus’s nephew is behaving oddly.

Calling upon Doctor Humphrey for assistance has not been particularly helpful, because the good doctor’s diagnosis of demonic possession is clearly preposterous. Even the demon currently ensconced on the front room couch agrees it’s preposterous. But then, how else to explain the portal to another world through which his nephew and Humphrey have just now disappeared? Barnabus knows their only chance of rescue is for Barnabus J. Wildebear himself to step up and go through that portal.

Thus begins an existential romp across space and time, trampling on Barnabus’ assumptions about causality, freewill, identity, good and evil. Can Barnabus save his nephew—and incidentally, all of humanity?

No It Isn’t Done Yet, But Thanks For Asking

The Infamous Manuscript

The Infamous Manuscript

Just now a woman stopped me on the Go Train platform to tell me that her nephew had finished his novel. Oh, and he’d published it too.

“It’s on the shortlist for the Jiller prize,” she told me.

“Giller,” I corrected. “Good for him.”

“How’s yours coming?” she asked me.

I felt a lump forming in my throat. “It’s coming along,” I told her.

She looked at me with what could have been sympathy but might just as well have been pity. “Good,” she said, nodding. “Good.”

She was asking because she’s ridden the same Go Train as me for several years. And as long as she’s known me I’ve been working on this novel.

And I felt bad because as long as she’s known me I’ve been working on this novel.

This morning – the same day, mind you – another Go Train friend told me about a friend who had just published a novel.

“How’s yours coming along?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said. “Almost done.”

“It’s been almost done for four years,” she reminded me.

“Yeah,” I said, and slunk off.

Recently a relative said, “I don’t tell anyone about your book any more. It’s embarrassing. You need to just finish it.”

Later that same evening one of my daughters said, “Just finish it, Daddy. I’m sure it’s fine. You don’t need to fix it anymore. Here, let me read it.”

“Another pass and I’ll let you read it,” I told her, and slunk off.

The fact is my novel isn’t done yet. Last summer – or was it the summer before – I thought it was. I convinced myself it was done. I was tired of writing it. So I gave it to a few friends to read. Four of them professed to like it (one even graciously copy edited it for me.) I’m still waiting to hear from one (I don’t blame him – I consider it a great imposition to ask someone to read my work). One said he couldn’t get past page forty (yes, he’s still my friend, the jerk).

While I was waiting I read it over again myself. I liked it. But I didn’t like the ending.

So I went back to work.

And that’s what I’ve been doing since, correcting the ending. It’s a lot better. But I still have a few pages to go.

James Michener

James Michener

James Michener once wrote that the biggest challenge in writing a novel is finishing it. Many others have expressed similar sentiments. One of Michener’s favourite novelists only ever wrote one book. Except that’s not exactly true – late in life Michener looked him up and found out he’d actually written three others, but never finished them. Late in this fellow’s eighties he was still working on them, trying to make them perfect. As far as I know, he never did.

I have always been afraid of being that guy.

Once I was mad at George RR Martin for not finishing the next book in his Game of Thrones series in a timely manner. I met him in Montreal two or three years ago. I wanted to say, “Finish your damn book, sir.” Except I knew better, and I knew what it was like trying to finish a novel you care about.¹ You can’t just finish it. The book is the boss. It will tell you when it’s done, not the other way around.

George RR Martin

George RR Martin

Another of my favourite writers, Vernor Vinge, took ten years to write one of my favourite books, A Deepness in the Sky.² He had a full time job, like me. I’m eight years in since I started working on this book seriously in the Fall of 2005.³ So by that standard I still have two years to go.

Vernor Vinge

Vernor Vinge


So yes, in case you were wondering I know it’s completely ridiculous that I haven’t finished my novel yet. I’m sorry. Believe me, nobody wants to finish it more than I do. Increasingly when people ask me about it I just want to weep at the pathetic-ness of it all.⁴

Will it be worth it after all this time?

I was going to write that I don’t know, because I have no way of knowing whether it’ll ever get published, except to say that my efforts to get it published will equal my efforts to make it good.

But the true answer is of course it will be worth it. It’s already worth it.

Because I have loved every instant of writing it.⁵

Postscripts:
¹In the end I just shook his hand and told him how much I loved his books. “Thanks,” he said. And that was the extent of our relationship.
²Don’t hold me to that figure, I’m not exactly fact checking here.
³Although I put the first words to paper sometime around nineteen eighty-seven, I think.
⁴Except, as I have written before, I don’t, because I’m a man and as such have never wept and probably never will.*
⁵Except the first draft. I hate first drafts.
*Yes, the bit about weeping and being a man is meant to be ironic.

Night Town

Cathi Bond's Night Town

Cathi Bond’s Night Town

I recently finished reading Cathi Bond’s Night Town.

It knocked my socks off.

Okay it didn’t literally knock my socks off, I’m still wearing socks, though I probably shouldn’t be. It is a barefoot sandals kind of day today.

But you know what I mean. I was impressed.

I’ve known Cathi for a while. She was a frequent contributor to CBC Radio shows such as DNTO, which I used to tech for occasionally. Once she contributed a lovely high production commentary to one of my numerous attempts to get a science fiction radio show off the ground. We also worked together on an experimental non-linear web-based narrative project called Vega that never quite got off the ground, but that did manage to be at least one brick in the wall of our story-telling education.

Whatever other bricks have been a part of Cathi’s story-telling education, they’ve clearly paid off. With a debut novel this good, I can only imagine how good her subsequent novels will be.

What follows is an adaptation of a post I placed on Good Reads upon finishing the book. The post is mostly just praise, I haven’t really gone to the trouble of summarizing the plot of the book. So if you want to know what it’s about, you’ll have to look elsewhere. Or better yet, just read the book. That should give you a pretty good idea what it’s about.

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SPOILER ALERT

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Though the writing in Night Town is professional, gripping and taut, I did not always find it an easy book to read. The protagonist Maddy’s descent into hell was harrowing. I didn’t want to be in that world with her. But I wanted to know about that world. I felt like I needed to know about that world. I kept wondering, how did Cathi know about that world? It all came off as terrifically authentic.

Maddie’s point of view was always consistent and disturbing. I wondered about her reliability as a narrator. Almost everybody in her story shut her out (even her mother, tragically), nobody offered her the support and love she desperately required, at least according to the story as she tells it. I suspected that she was a love filter, filtering out love and support, not absorbing it when it came her way, so although it might have been present in her life, she filtered it out so of course it wasn’t reflected in her story. Or maybe there was none at all and that’s why turned out the way she did. They say that lab rats raised alone without comfort and support invariably become sociopathic.

The characterizations were deft and superb. Aunt Anne was real. Grandpa was real. Dad leapt off the page. The bit players, especially Gabe, lived authentic (if pathetic) lives. And Maddie of course rang truest of all.

I wondered how Cathi would manage a happy ending without it feeling trite or stage managed. She pulled it off. I wanted there to be hope at the end and there was. I couldn’t have borne it had there not been hope for Maddie. I want to know what became of Lily. But that story must be left unsaid, the same way the true nature of Gabe and Lily’s relationship is best left unsaid.

I think this is not only an excellent book, it’s an important book. A book with difficult subject matter that a lot of people might not be able to get past — the exact same people that most need to read it.

Highly recommended.

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