Latest Novel, “Light’s End.”

Morning, all, from the pleasant late-spring weather of the Upper Ohio Valley.

2024 is shaping into an interesting year in regard to my writing adventures. First, I busted out the bridge novel in my STORYTELLER trilogy, The Storyteller’s World. Now, I’ve put the wraps on Book One of the End series—“Light’s End.” This is my take on the alien invasion trope. Because it is my take, there are no glamorous fighter pilots or a chiseled-chin President who save us.

No, none of that. My book focuses on regular people caught up in an unimaginable calamity, described in my style. It’s a mess. See below for the back-cover copy.

“An alien horde, subjects of the Queen, arrive in the Solar System without warning and launch a devastating attack on Earth, killing billions. Amid the apocalypse, a diverse group of survivors from around the globe struggles to navigate this new, hostile world. John, a father desperate to reunite with his daughter, teams up with unlikely allies. Others fight for power, seek revenge, or simply strive to survive.

In this chaotic landscape, trust is scarce and danger lurks at every turn. Meanwhile, the aliens, led by their Chief Decider, pursue a mysterious, holy mission on Earth, indifferent to human suffering. As humanity faces annihilation, the survivors must find a way to endure and perhaps, defeat and kill their extraterrestrial invaders.

Will they find safety, seek revenge, or succumb to the Queen’s deadly decree?”

The book is my longest novel to date, with about 113k words at the end-state. I think it took six months to write, and I am curious, as always, as to the reader reception.

It is available worldwide right now in two formats, ebook and audio. The paperback is done and approved, but it’s not available now. However, it should be soon for those among you who must hold dead trees (EDIT: Paperback available like ten minutes after I wrote this post).

This is just the beginning of this year. Another book, a co-authored deal that should be released next month, is waiting in the wings. This is the culmination of a seven-year effort, a book based on John Birmingham’s Cruel Stars series. I did some tinkering on this while in Australia, a very productive working trip where I capped off “Light’s End” and filled in the blanks on said co-authored novel. In addition, I came up with a premise for another alt-history series. I mean to begin in earnest on that immediately.

I have to start on that right away because I need to feed content to my crew over on my Patreon paywall page. By the way, this page is loaded with content. For three bucks a month, there’s a lot to be had. But I digress.

For now, suffice it to say that my latest has been quietly launched, and if you dig my writing, you can pick it up worldwide on the Beast.

In many ways 2024 looks to be ruinous writ large, but in terms of writing, it looks good. A paradox, I know. But at least I’ll keep you entertained while Rome burns.

Cheers,

J

The Fugue

The scene above is from Gran Torino with Clint Eastwood. Appropriate.

Hey, Everybody. You’ve noticed I’ve been a bit quiet here as of late. There are many reasons for this, chief among which is that I’m on a writing frenzy in my new alien-invasion book, “Light’s End.” It is my longest novel ever, and I must have the manuscript done by the 15th of April. Therefore, writing, and a lot of it.

I’ve decided to give a sample of what I’m up to today. A passage from this work.

An elderly man, whose wife was taken from him for no reason.

Observe.

Scrubland in Wyoming, USA.

Ralph placed a hand on his grandson’s shoulder. He spoke in a murmur.

“Stop firing, Cody. We want these shits to get in close.”

Cody looked over at him. The youth recoiled at the sight of his grandpa’s blood-streaked face.

“What the fuck…”

Ralph grinned like a gargoyle. 

“We’re not running. These men are ours.”

“There’s too many!”

Ralph chuckled. “No, there’s just enough. Stick with me, son.” He paused. “Move quiet and watch my back.”

Ralph ghosted behind a pine. He sensed Cody’s presence. Would the boy do? It didn’t matter. He shrugged and called upon the ancestors in this fight. He felt alive in a way he hadn’t felt in many years. Since Hue City, in his misspent youth, when he was with the Puking Chickens. He remembered how Sharon pulled him out of his alcoholic madness. How the elders, old warriors and people of the North, brought him back with their counsel. 

Ralph remembered it all. Today, the ancestors were close. He felt them in the walnut of his Garand, in the distant caws of crows. These men were his. They approached, and he could hear their footsteps. Why they shot at a family gathering berries, why they robbed him of his great love, he did not know.

He did not care.

He waited behind the pine tree, and he opened up his senses. Just like the old days, when he carried a gun for Uncle Sam. Or when he stalked the forests of his youth, .22 rifle in hand. It was all the same. He felt his heartbeat and the padding of his pursuers. They drew near. He waited some more, and then he acted. 

Pivoting on his right foot, he stood square along the trail. The lead dirtbag jumped and yelled. He fired into the dirt. The cowboy fired at the same moment Ralph did, except Ralph didn’t miss. His shot hit the man’s breadbasket, and the powerful .30 ball round overpenetrated and hit the next two men behind him. They dropped and writhed, howled, and gurgled. Ralph’s second shot struck the next man, and the others dived for cover, as he expected.

Ralph let out a high, keening wail and ran to the right, sliding through the brush at full speed as only a woodsman could do. The cowboys recovered and fired blindly into the mixed scrub and forest; their bullets fell behind him. Speed, he knew, would keep him alive. He made a wide loop and headed back left. As he expected, he appeared on the asshole’s flank. 

A man crouched, his eyes fixed on where he had been seconds before.

He saw Ralph too late. His face froze in horror as Ralph barreled into him, buttstock swinging out in a vicious jab. The solid, steel-shod antique walnut connected with his jaw, and his face exploded in ruin. Ralph ignored the fallen man, and he pivoted to the right along the trail. A cowboy fired at him and missed. 

Ralph didn’t. He heard a string of gunshots behind him, and he hoped that Cody had read his mind and was catching the other attackers from behind. If not, Ralph was dead. He didn’t care. At the very least, he had bought time for his women and kids. At best…

A cowboy shot at him, turned, and ran; a few of his friends made for the waiting horses. 

Ralph smiled and dropped into a textbook, kneeling supported rest. He trusted that Cody had dealt with the lead element of the cowboys. He knew they were broken. He carefully sighted on the farthest cowboy, who was almost to the horses. Ralph breathed out, concentrated on the tip of his front sight, and squeezed. 

The man toppled and plowed the dirt with his body. 

The other two tried to look, to scatter. However, they had the bad luck to be on open ground. Ralph picked them off one after the other. The powerful Garand blew chunks from his final target. He heard a few gunshots behind him, and he turned. 

Cody, his chest heaving, jogged toward him. 

“I think one got away, maybe more!”

Ralph nodded. He heard the wounded’s moans. 

“They moving fast?”

“Yeah!”

“Then we’ll track them.” He paused. “Should be easy. They’re making speed, not stealth.” He racked his bolt back and caught his second-to-last round as it ejected from the chamber. He hit the clip ejector, and the tin clip popped up with the last round inside. Ralph put the loose ammo into his pocket and then grabbed a fresh clip of eight. He loaded his rifle. The bolt slammed home with a snap. It was ready. He spoke.

“Nice work, by the way, Code.”

His grandson was pale and sweaty. He panted. Ralph talked some more.

“Job’s not done, though. We’ll make sure these wounded fucks stay put. Make sure they don’t have any guns or knives handy for when we get back.”

“Why not just kill them?”

Ralph smiled, and he felt the dried blood on his face crack and flake.

“Nah. I want them to stew while we take care of their friends.”

Cody just looked at him, his mouth open.

Ralph laughed.

***

Don’t mess with the wiry old guy, I’d say. But when you read the book, you’ll see he had good reason. This is the type of stuff I’m working on. It should turn out OK.

-JL