Showing posts with label Aftermath Horizon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aftermath Horizon. Show all posts

Friday, November 11, 2011

Oh, crap. Planned obsolescence!

This blog falls under the “Oh, crap!” category, with an underlying issue that I don’t understand. It all started when my wife and I built our retirement home. She had worked with an architect years earlier to design the home, and finally our dream would come true. Or would it?

Trusting the contractor was our first mistake. We laid out the specifications, but didn’t realize how many shortcuts the contractor would take. We asked for bull-nose corners, assuming we would get them everywhere. That didn’t happen. We got them in half the house, but not in the bedrooms or bathroom—or anywhere upstairs. We pointed out that our house in Denver had leaky windows, and that he would need to be careful with those. He put in top-of-the-line windows, but installed them wrong. That eventually meant the limestone on the exterior of the house had to be removed as many as five times in some places due to leaks, mold mitigation and window re-installation. While the rock was removed, we found the framers had installed the OSB wrong. They set the OSB on the foundation, instead of 1” above, which meant it acted like a wick. That spread mold far beyond the leaky windows. We also found, when the limestone was initially installed, the masons weren’t careful with the lowest layer. They put little mortar dams in the air space between the Tyvek and the rock that created areas to keep internal water from seeping out weep holes. That didn’t help the OSB wick problem, and the lower four feet of rock had to be removed around the entire perimeter of the house. Of course, that led to a few avalanches where the upper floor rock plummeted to the ground. The masons also installed our retaining wall wrong, a mistake that caused the thing to fall over three times—all two hundred feet fell once during a downpour. Overall, more than $60,000 in repairs were required just to live in the house, and we are still finding problems eight years later.

And that brings me to the topic of this blog, the “Oh, crap!” part. We specified the appliances we wanted in the house, but not the manufacturer. That was a mistake. The contractor priced expensive equipment, so we assumed we would get quality stuff. We didn’t. He put in an entire suite of GE Profile appliances: ice maker, refrigerator, dishwasher, Advantium microwave, cooktop, and oven. We had trouble with GE in the past, and protested when we found out we would get that brand in our new home. The contractor was more than happy to change the appliances…as long as we understood there would be a substantial “upgrade charge.” I felt like a hostage and kept his selected appliances.

The first appliance problem happened 18 months after we moved in. The ice maker failed, but the thing was still within its original two year warranty. We grumbled, but GE fixed it. Well, sort of. It broke again just after the warranty expired. We fixed it on our nickel that time. It worked for about nine months. I threw up my hands and replaced it with a commercial model.

The other appliances hung in there for almost eight years. The first to go was the garbage disposal…the night before we were having a big party. The next morning I raced to Home Depot and bought a replacement. We had the party and then went on vacation for six weeks. Ooops. On return, we found the refrigerator had failed. It was a very hot summer. We arrived home to the scent of death permeating every pore in the house: clothes, paint, tile – everything smelled like death. A five foot circle of red coagulated goo encircled the refrigerator where all the meat, fish, shrimp, egg rolls, ice cream and whatever else that was frozen had turned to liquid and ran out of the side-by-side freezer. We could hardly breathe.

It took weeks to get the odor out, and I had to pay a disposal company to haul the stinking refrigerator away. Shouldn’t a refrigerator last more than eight years? It didn’t end there. Two weeks later, the microwave blew a 250V/20A fuse. I took it apart and found other problems inside. “Probably the magnetron,” I signed. My wife shook her head and added, “Shouldn’t a microwave last longer than eight years?” All the time, in the back of my mind, I could hear my contractor chuckling, as if trying to remind me, “You should have taken the upgrade. Everyone knows GE is crap.”

Okay, so I had the chance and didn’t take it, even though it would have saved me thousands. Beat me to death with a noodle. Replacing the microwave was no easy task. I know, I know, you think they cost $60 at WalMart, but wait, this was a GE Advantium, the only microwave on the market that requires a huge hole in your cabinet and your wallet, AND needs 220 V power. Only one other microwave fit the gaping hole in our cabinet: Electrolux, but it uses 115 V power. I had to re-wire the main breaker panel, and even then the cabinet had been chopped out with a Skill Saw with such carelessness the new microwave couldn’t hide all the damage. By shimming the machine up, I hid most of the rough cut. I wanted to kill the contractor every second of that job.

Did I mention all the original GE appliances were shiny-black? They looked cool when installed. Unfortunately, no one else makes shiny-black appliances, at least not the whole suite. So, one at a time, the appliances are now becoming stainless steel. The mix looks a little odd, but I know the remainder of GE appliances will fail in the next couple of months – planned obsolescence is a fact with GE.

My purpose in writing this is NOT to gain sympathy, but to warn you. Here are some lessons learned that might benefit you. First, if you are building a new home, visit the site every day. Make sure you know how windows and doors are supposed to be installed, and make sure it is done right. We lived in Dallas while our home was being built in Temple. That was a bad decision. Second, hire an independent inspector. That will cost more money, but it will be worth it. Even if you know a lot about homes, an inspector will likely know more. Third, make sure you specify QUALITY appliances. Don’t buy GE. Those things are designed to fail, although, for the life of me, I don’t understand why. Seems to me they would be better off trying for repeat business instead of driving customers away.

Okay, that’s the down side. Now for the UP! My new novel, Kill Zone, was released on 7 Nov 11 by Eternal Press. I discussed writing that book on the day of release at http://mizging.blogspot.com/. I won’t repeat that story here, but I have included a tag line and blurb below. I would also like to repeat a free offer I’ve made in the past. Stay with me, this gets a little complicated. Kill Zone was the first novel I wrote, but the last to be published. The sequel to Kill Zone is Aftermath Horizon, published in 2010 by xoxopublishing.com. Before Aftermath Horizon was published, I abridged its first five chapters to create a short story for a contest. The short story is called “The Final Experiment”, and was published by xoxopublishing.com in 2009. Here’s the offer: anyone who asks can have “The Final Experiment” for free. Just send me an email at jhatch6@hot.rr.com with “The Final Experiment” in the title. I will send you the MS Word version of the book, hoping you will like it so much you will be motivated to buy Kill Zone or Aftermath Horizon … or both.

Kill Zone Tag Line: This Michael Crichton-like novel postulates the origin of oil, possible reasons for terrorism and a solution to the energy crisis. It also suggests one potential outcome of rampant hatred.

Kill Zone Blurb: Dr. Marcy Whites overcomes enormous genetic engineering obstacles to resurrect a prehistoric bacterium, V5, capable of creating renewable oil, and reclaims the love of her life in the process. After V5 is designated a national resource, Marcy’s team is sequestered in Cheyenne Mountain, but bio-terrorism quickly overshadows her successes. People die by the millions when a genetically-engineered pathogen, beta-hemolytic streptococcus (BHS), is inadvertently released in Mecca. Carried by fanatical Ambulatory Infectious Agents seeking martyrdom, the flesh-eating disease spreads like wildfire with a 100% kill rate.

Predictive Antiviral Project (PAP) scientists in Cheyenne Mountain race to develop a vaccine to counter BHS while, out of desperation, world leaders agree to sanitize the outer perimeter of the Kill Zone using nuclear weapons. Dr. Whites joins the PAP team to adapt V5 as a BHS antidote, but their deadline passes. Operation Sanitize releases mankind’s most powerful weapons against its smallest enemy.

Nuclear detonations halt expansion of the Kill Zone, but Dr. Whites continues antidote refinement, believing BHS-laden dust will eventually settle. Dozens of Kill Zones soon crop up, causing the world’s population to be inoculated with V5. Energy independence is achieved, but one year later worldwide birth rates experience a steep decline. Marcy and other scientists are forced to remain inside Cheyenne Mountain until the anomaly can be explained.

Kill Zone Excerpt: Her lilac sweatsuit accentuated the gentle curves of her body as she jogged through Choi Park, but her easy appearance belied the conflict raging in her heart. Western attire offended Allah and chafed her mind. She would atone later; only her mission mattered now. She steeled herself, taking deep breaths to overcome lingering pangs of remorse for those she would murder. Most of the dead would be infidels; the faithful, martyrs. Friends, family and other Muslims would forgive her in paradise.

The fragrance of red coral honeysuckle filled the air as she broke the crest of the hill, giving her a fleeting moment of peace before she spotted her contact on the park bench in the hollow ahead. She had never met him, but the white carnation in his lapel marked him as Muhammad 313, the leader of Trenton’s Integrity and Honor sleeper cell.

Without breaking pace, she took another deep breath to quell her nervousness. She knew Muhammad 313’s reputation, a dangerous man committed to extermination of the West. She shared his goals. He would make her God’s weapon today, so she brushed aside fear and rigidly focused on Allah alone.

The man stood to leave as she sat adjacent to him, but awkwardly dropped his morning paper. Both reached to recover it in a carefully rehearsed maneuver and, during that brief contact, he softly uttered, “It will only stick a little.” Although trembling, she accepted the serum injected into her wrist, believing with all her soul it would destroy much of the immoral society of her youth.

The man removed the needle, placed several bus tickets in her quivering hand and blessed her. “Allah is with you, my child, do not let adversity equal surrender. The blessings of Muhammad are upon you, and will bring success to your mission. Go now. Go do the will of Allah.”

She retrieved the classified section from the ground, forced a smile as she passed it to the man, and continued down the path. She felt nothing, emotionally or physically. She had prepared for this moment in prayer, for becoming the living dead—the most dangerous woman on earth. Resolute but fearful, her stride lengthened as the sun’s warmth soothed her, but Muhammad 313 suspected she would soon endure great suffering.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Clues For The Clueless – What Turns A Woman On

I don’t claim to be an expert on women, but I have had a few years of observation under my belt. My credentials? First marriage: 26 years. Second marriage: 20 years. Okay, it would look better from an advice perspective if that had been one marriage with a 46-year stint, but I think I learned a lot by making a shift in mid-life. Here’s what I think I know.

Sex doesn’t register on most women’s hierarchy of needs, especially after about age thirty-eight or so. I know, I know. There are exceptions, but I’m talking about the general case here. When they are young, their children can totally wipe them out. At bedtime, it’s no wonder our women just want to sleep. This is probably an obvious statement to women with kids, but it wasn’t to me during my first marriage. Why? Because I was at work most of the time, or on travel, and didn’t see what was going on at home. When I came home after my usual 12-hour day, I was too beat to notice much of anything. I just wanted to eat and rest up while my wife dealt with the kids. You know, the traditional family thing. My ex-wife didn’t work outside the home, so I saw the children as her “job of choice.” I never once considered she had been fighting with those kids all day because, of course, they were on their best behavior when I was home. Come to think of it, she’s still dealing with them, even though they are adults, but that’s another story.

My first family was “traditional”, but the exhaustion problem is much worse for a single parent. I got to see a tiny bit of that when I met my second wife. She had children, was a part-time student, worked full-time and juggled baseball, football and other activities for her two boys. Not to mention all the outrageous “acting up” the boys dumped on her because she had divorced their father six years earlier. The poor girl was on the edge most of the time. If the children had been younger, when day care pickup and delivery is required and the children demand constant attention, it would have been worse. It that case, it never stops. Watching her was the dawning of awareness for me, and it was clear what I’d need to do to capture her heart: I needed to help out when she’d let me.

I’m a grandparent now. When the grandchildren are with us, which is quite often, I can see what a handful they are. My wife is much younger than me, but I consider her “the grandchild whisperer”—she’s very good with children. Nevertheless, at the end of the day, she’s completely spent. I guess my ex was probably spent too. I just didn’t know. As I look back from my current viewpoint, I can see why she wanted to sleep. She REALLY DID have a headache. I would have had one too if I had been required to deal with those demons.

As it was during our eleven year dating period, my current wife and I still share whatever work needs to be done. She cooks; I clean. She manages grandchildren; I facilitate. I am not all that good with children—she is—but I can make sure things are ready for whatever they will be doing next. That might mean filling the blow-up pool on the back porch, or barbequing the meat for dinner, or setting out art supplies, or cleaning up the first kid that finishes eating. We work the children as a team. She takes the lead, but I am in a solid support role. When we go to the spray park, I drive while she tends to the needs of the kids. Both of us take them to the store. Two can manage multiple children FAR better than one. And we talk at night about what can be improved the next day: how to handle discipline better; how to motivate the one who isn’t all that enthusiastic about whatever it is we’re doing. How to get them involved with outside activities. It’s always something.

And this brings me to the topic I promised—what turns a woman on. The answer is simple: support. Not just financial support, but support in every possible emotional and physical way. If she’s dealing with grandkids, I need to help. I jump in where I can, even though I am not the emotional supporter they need. If she needs to tuck one or two into our bed because they are having a tough night, then fine. I move over and make room. If she wants to work on a hobby, I give her the space and time to do it. That’s pretty easy for an author because we love our time alone as well, but it could be an issue in some families. I encourage her to do whatever it is she wants to do. If she wants to learn to dance, I take lessons. If she wants to travel, we travel. My wife is smart as a whip, and she has a talent for organization second to none. We were business partners before we retired, and she still likes to exercise her gift. She helps friends out with their businesses, and I fully support her doing that. If that’s what she wants to do, it’s okay with me.

In other words, I have come to believe, after all these years, that what turns a woman on more than anything else is SUPPORTING her. Be there for her no matter what. Help her achieve whatever she wants to accomplish at the moment. That doesn’t mean she’s going to “be there” whenever you want her, but it does mean she will be there when she has the strength. It seems to me that everyone’s life has become frantic with doing things. We are always moving. But even so, sometimes the pace settles and there is tranquility. If you want her ready for you during those times, be sure you’ve done your homework in advance.

I have a very high respect for women in general, and I write my books in that way. All my novels except The Judge (xoxopublishing.com) have one or two strong women heroines. Sometimes the heroine is evil (yet hilarious), as in The Substitute (Solstice Publishing) and Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! (due from Solstice Publishing soon), and sometimes she is tender and supportive, as in Aftermath Horizon (xoxopublishing.com) and Kill Zone (due from Eternal Press in November). In all cases, my heroines are smart, sassy and likeable. If you want to check them out, I recommend starting with The Substitute or Aftermath Horizon, both available from Amazon.com.

Thank you for reading,

James L. Hatch

jhatch6@hot.rr.com

http://www.myspace.com/author_hatch

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Sunday, June 12, 2011

Lost Opportunities

One thing you get as you grow older is perspective, but not necessarily understanding. I see the world in a different light than I once did, which is the reason I frequently sign my email as “James the Irrelevant.” In my isolated way of viewing the world, I see a changing landscape where I don't understand much of anything. That’s the reason I consider myself irrelevant much of the time.

I don’t understand why from 47% to 54% (depending on source) of households pay no taxes, yet many get “refunds”, or the reason the percentage of non-payers continues to climb while the country drowns in debt. I also don’t understand why “tax cuts” for wealthy people need to be permanent. I don’t understand huge expenditures on foreign aid to people who don’t like us. I don’t understand subsidies to anyone for any reason. I don’t understand monetizing our debt, the printing of money in order to “buy” US bonds with paper that make the dollar worth less every day. I don’t understand why we are in three wars. I could go on and on, but you get the picture. I don’t understand much of anything, and at the top of my list of not understanding things, is why so many people waste opportunity.

I admit I have limited experience, but my own observation is this: none of my children, or my wife’s children, chose to go to college, even though all their expenses would have been covered. All they had to do was sign up and go. They did not. Instead, they chose a path to lower economic and intellectual achievement. Why? I didn’t get it then, and now that they all struggle to survive, I understand it even less.

We subsidize some of them now, just so they can make ends meet, but I don’t understand the “lesson” in that, or what good can come of it. Are we teaching them that underachievement is acceptable? Are we enabling bad behavior by ensuring they don’t suffer the consequences of their bad choices? There seems to be an entitlement mentality out there, and our own offspring are part of it.

The problem, of course, is that grandchildren are involved. The little ones haven’t made any bad choices; they are the victims of bad choices. We don’t want to see them suffer, so are forced to help the adults. It’s a lot like the situation our country is in, but closer to home. So, what should be done? We can’t abandon the grandchildren, and I certainly don’t want adult children living under my roof. Tough choices. Here’s what we opted to do, so you can all take a shot at it.

We gave them one year to learn to survive. In that time, we require full on-line transparency to every financial transaction they make. In one case, we froze their credit cards in a block of ice, and verify the block is still intact when we visit. Why? Because somewhere along the line the kids didn’t learn how to live within their means. There was always plenty, so they never considered conservation a serious need. We raised our kids to go to college; it was a shock when they refused. We know hope is a lousy strategy, but we “hope” we can instill in them over the next year how to live with what they make, not to make rash/dumb decisions about jobs they have, and how to value their families.

The one who is least capable of taking care of himself might need additional help during the year. In that case, we might insist he attend a technical training school of some type, or lose support. That might mean we end up with some of the grandchildren. I don’t know if anything will work. What can be done to instill ambition, work ethic, and desire to contribute to society? Just throwing it out there. Short of public whipping of adult children, I can use any reasonable advice.

Okay, on a less personal note, another thing I don’t understand is hatred, so the events of 9/11 were almost beyond my comprehension. Those events are the reason I started writing, just to get the venom out of my system. My first novel was Kill Zone, a novel written in haste over several years, but never published. After it was “complete”, I continued to re-write it, removing caustic digs and smoothing out the storyline. In the process of re-writing, the word count dropped from 165,000 to 101,000, and the last chapter became first a short story, and then a novel on its own—Aftermath Horizon.

Aftermath Horizon was published last year by xoxopublishing.com; Kill Zone will be published this November by Eternal Press. Time heals. Kill Zone is now so mellow I will likely make it fit for young adults during the first edit pass. The story is science-based. It could actually happen. It also contains my own view of the origins or oil, and how we can achieve energy independence. Is it fiction? You’ll have to judge for yourself. Here’s a short excerpt:

The imperious secretary greeted Greg as he entered the outer recesses of Mr. Monroe’s office, “Good afternoon, Dr. Cole, Mr. Monroe will see you now.” She ushered him into the inter sanctum of the COO’s office.

Impressive antique décor surrounded the huge cherry wood desk immediately ahead. Nervous perspiration dampened Greg’s collar; he wanted to loosen his tie. He had no idea why Mr. Monroe asked to see him. In his nine years at Am-Mex, he hadn’t been called to the COO’s office. Why now? He couldn’t recall doing anything to warrant a pink slip.

The Colonel Sanders-looking man hunched over blueprints scattered across the desk glanced up long enough to acknowledge Greg’s presence, and then looked back at the drawings as if casually talking to them. “If it were up to you, Dr. Cole, where would you drill today?”

Confronted with Mr. Monroe’s “abrupt management style”, Greg guessed the COO didn’t want to hear any extra words. So thinking, he answered with a single word, “Yucatan.”

Mr. Monroe nodded, but continued to study the blueprints. “Why?”

Clearly, he knows the reasons, so why ask? Greg thought, giving no indication he considered the question inane. “Huge reserves exist beneath the Arabian and Eurasian plates. The Caribbean plate’s tropical geological history is similar, so massive amounts of organics probably subsided there as well. The area has significant potential for new oil. That’s the technical reason, but there’s also a practical one—Am-Mex already has drilling teams there.

Mr. Monroe looked up, leaned back in his chair with crossed arms and stared at Greg intently. “Do you have the wherewithal to lead one of those teams, Dr. Cole?

Greg froze. It’s a loaded question, like asking if I have the skill to do my job. Mr. Monroe’s piercing hazel eyes riveted on Greg’s face, taking in every facial twitch and body language nuance. Certain he shouldn’t flinch, Greg answered resolutely, trying hard to disguise his many reservations, “Yes.

The COO smiled thinly as he handed a folder across his desk, and a feeling of foreboding descended over Greg. “Then you’ve got twenty-four hours to back out, Dr. Cole. Notify my secretary if you do. Thank you for coming.

And Thank YOU for reading.

James L. Hatch
jhatch6@hot.rr.com
http://www.solsticepublishing.com/
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Sunday, April 10, 2011

Life Without Basics

We take so many things for granted in our modern world that many forget that less than one hundred years ago things were very different. People grew and slaughtered their own animals and grew their own vegetables and fruit. In fact, production of the modern refrigerator did not begin until after World War II, so they had to preserve foods by canning and salting.

The first commercial electric plant in the US was switched on in 1882, with sewer and water systems lagging far behind. In fact, it wasn’t until the mid 1800’s that people even began to link increased disease with lack of sewage systems, and even when they did, sewage was still dumped into rivers and bays as late as the early 1900’s. Lack of sewer systems gave Newark the distinction of the highest mortality rate in the country in 1890—more death from disease than before the Civil War. It wasn’t until 1924 that raw sewage was treated at a pumping station before being dumped into Newark Bay, and years later before real treatment plants came on line.

The hundred years that gave us sewers, clean water and electricity also gave us modern medicine. Penicillin wasn’t invented until 1928, and morphine as a pain killer wasn’t available until 1917! In fact, almost everything we know came from the past one hundred years. Now, if you will, imagine what would happen if all that went away. That’s the situation in Aftermath Horizon, my contemporary fiction novel released by xoxopublishing.com on December 23, 2010. How would society rebuild without the basics? How would individuals survive away from society?

There have been many (horrible) apocalyptic movies made about such a time, where people prey on each other, and the lowest elements of human society rise to the top. I avoided that situation because I don’t believe that would happen. Instead, I developed a close-knit community that needed each other to survive, and tried to consider how the world would re-develop with very few people if there was a need to do so.

Aftermath Horizon is told from the POV of a young woman (Beth) who is required to become a “Cultural Anthropologist” by the central computers that control everything. She must become part of the cadre responsible for resurrecting the technology of the past. She is devastated, believing she must now dedicate her life to digging up garbage and repairing salvageable items, probably as a welder, sheet metal worker or painter. Her subcategory of linguist makes things worse when she realizes she might be sent to dig up trash in an Old World foreign country. Even worse, her advanced linguistic training will take place in a remote colony on the East Coast called “Hope”, forcing her to leave her family and civilization as she knows it in Colorado.

In the developing world of Aftermath Horizon, communities are not established in haphazard fashion as they were during the original development of the US. Instead, advanced teams establish hospitals, sewer, water, power and communications before people are allowed in. Each new community is supported by older communities until it is fully self-sufficient, and then all contribute to the establishment of the next new community. Population expansion is slow, but carefully considered, with conservation of life and the “human gene pool” being the most valuable consideration in all cases.

As Beth’s adventures unfold, she learns the basics of survival on a personal level. Things we all take for granted, such as how to make soap and rum, and how to prevent scurvy. She also learns about love when she finds it where she is forbidden to look, and grows into a strong and resilient young woman as trial after trial is forced on her.

Aftermath Horizon was a joy to write, like stepping back in time. Beth is smart, quick-witted and has a strong moral compass, the kind of girl I’d fall in love with myself in similar circumstances. It is loaded with action, and despite many desperate situations, ends on a phenomenal high. I encourage everyone to enjoy this one.

Here is the blurb: In a world struggling to recover from biological warfare, Cultural Anthropologists, Beth Gooding and Professor James, work to resurrect the technology of the past without the brutality of the past. They lead austere lives typical of the early 1800’s frontier, until they become explorers in Old World Syria – where they investigate further back in time than anyone ever dreamed, and discover they can move their society further forward than anyone ever imagined. David and Beth endure many brushes with death, but with each experience their love grows stronger, and they come to realize life without the other wouldn’t be living at all.

A short excerpt follows. The novel was given a four-star review on January 28, 2011 at http://www.tonivsweeney.com/.

We follow the narrow rock shelf south until it intersects the mountainside and then begin a gentle, spiraling descent toward the southwest. David wants to cover about twenty kilometers a day, but the topography will determine what we can actually accomplish. Exhausted by the time we set up camp on our first night, we eat only a little jerky with water before sleep takes us both.

We spend a peaceful night in our small tent but wake in the morning to a new danger – snow. These mountains receive considerable precipitation in winter. If we aren’t careful, we could get stranded in the high country and starve to death. We break camp with new urgency, munching jerky as we travel. It’s not just the cold. Peter’s notes were made in the spring and summer, and we fear we could miss landmarks buried under a blanket of whiteout.

About midday, David urgently signals me to crouch down. A deer has been brought down by a wolf pack ahead, and he doesn’t want to surprise them. There are only three alternatives: stay on guard and wait them out, confront them, or try to hike around them. Before the decision is made, the lead dog senses our presence and issues the alert. They stop eating in unison and stare without fear in our direction.

David slowly removes his rifle from his leather backpack scabbard and stands ready for the unexpected. For a moment there’s a standoff, but in the next instant the largest wolf lunges toward us at blinding speed. David’s reflexes are far faster than the wolf, and the bullet rips through its flesh in midair. The animal plummets to the ground, burying its nose deep in the snow before momentum swings its hindquarters forward and up over its head. The other wolves continue to stare, growling menacingly as they wait for their leader to stir. This time David doesn’t wait for their decision, and another shot drops the second largest animal straight into the snow. Six remain, who begin to back away as we stand erect and begin walking directly toward them.

Either they will attack, or they won’t, but at least we’ll see them coming. Within seconds, another round blows a huge chunk of flesh off the third largest wolf’s neck, and it screeches loudly as it flails in the snow before bleeding out. The others back away farther, far more timid now, and then turn to run as we come yet closer.

We’ve been in the mountains for nearly seven months and have used about half our ammunition during that time. Three shots to dispel the wolves might have been excessive, but we now have enough frozen venison and wolf meat for the remainder of the trip home.

After taking all the meat we can carry and covering it lightly with our remaining salt, we try to put as much distance between the wolves and ourselves as possible. In all likelihood they will stay near the remainder of their kill and the other dead wolves, at least until that food source is gone, but we’re also carrying meat, as well as being food ourselves, and they could equally well come after us.

Author Bio: Although his Bachelors, Masters, and Ph.D. are in Chemistry and Meteorology, James worked as a scientist and system/software engineer before retiring a third time, then turned to writing. Extensive travel, from Thule, Greenland to Australia’s Great Barrier reef – and to dozens of countries in between – provide the real-life experiences he incorporat
es into everything he writes. James enjoys boating, kayaking, skiing, traveling, hiking, tending nine grandchildren (no more than two at a time), and ballroom dancing, but his first love is writing.

James has completed seven novels and one short story, and intends to continue writing in the Contemporary Fiction and Paranormal Comedy genres. He has five titles with xoxopublishing.com and one with Solstice Publishing.

Thank you, Sweet and Sexy Divas, for having me here today, and a heartfelt thank you to everyone who took the time to visit today.

Sincerely, James L. Hatch

jhatch6@hot.rr.com

http://www.solsticepublishing.com/

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Sunday, March 13, 2011

Social Messages in Writing

It’s no secret I began writing because of the events of 9/11. Like most who watched the slaughter of nearly 3,000 innocent people, I was outraged by both the calculating brutality of terrorism demonstrated that day, and by the many worldwide Muslim celebrations that followed. In my innocence, I could scarce begin to understand their depth of hatred, and found the only effective outlet for my anger was writing.

I wrote and wrote, spilling 160,000 words of vitriol across hundreds of pages. That took about five years—and produced Kill Zone, my only novel that has not been published. The book had a strong social message, but not at all subtle. It was therapeutic, but not saleable. It was also my primer on writing, my first sad attempt. Now that I’m past the initial outrage and have learned a couple of things, I have tried to re-work that novel several times. It still needs help. I’ll continue to re-work it, but my point is that social messages need to be inserted carefully and with finesse. You can’t hammer a reader over the head with your opinions, no matter how much you might want to.

In the process of venting rage on the pages of Kill Zone, I found I loved writing. It was kind of addictive, a place to go to find peace of mind and harmony of soul. I eventually set Kill Zone aside and tried another venue, Sci-Fi. My Sci-Fi trilogy (The Judge, Infinity Quest and The Empress of Tridon) came together much faster, and xoxopublishing.com accepted the novels for publication after Ronna Gage gave me some sound advice. So where do social messages fit into Sci-Fi?

The most blatant example is, of course, Star Trek, which included a Russian crew member at the height of the cold war, and depicted women and blacks in responsible and highly technical positions. Even the first black-white kiss on TV came out of that series. The show presented a positive image of the human condition at a time when the news was full of racism, war, and social strife. It had a very upbeat social message, but it wasn’t at all subtle about it. Still, it was extremely successful.

When I set out to write my Sci-Fi trilogy, there were several social messages I wanted to embed in the story, but I wanted to do it gently. The number one message was a carry-over from Kill Zone: fanaticism in religious context causes extreme problems. In fact, the overarching theme throughout the trilogy is the human struggle against the forces of religious fanaticism. The message will not slap anyone in the face, but it is definitely there.

Beyond that, I looked into the methodologies used by Hitler, Stalin and Mussolini during their rise to power, and followed those concepts in the rise of the villain, but again, it was subtle. The villain, Marid, needed to be seen as both benevolent and evil, to the point it is difficult to tell which he really is. Everything Marid does is self-serving, but is presented in a way that can be perceived, at least in from some point of view, as being for “the good of all”, even the destruction of his own home planet.

On a different scale, the hero is somewhat flawed (although the heroine isn’t), and he spends much of his time learning that the “easy path” isn’t always the best path to follow. The message is that individual power should not be abused, and it was fun to put together situations where the hero (The Judge) took the wrong approach just because he could. Of course, his choices eventually land him in exile in Alaska and bring the wrath of the Iblis to earth, but hey, absolute power corrupts absolutely.

At the most fundamental level of what a “Judge” is, I incorporated many social messages. Judges can turn the evil within an individual against itself, and they do. A child abuser kills himself with the handle of a toilet plunger (he deserved it), an armed robber shoots himself in the leg and dies, high school bullies are put in their place, etc. Each encounter where judgment is issued reflects a social issue and a moral solution.

As the trilogy develops, the social messages get more universal. All-out war breaks out between “good” and “evil”, even though it’s not completely clear the “evil” is really all that bad. The heroine tries to understand God from his point of view, but just can't get there. Religion, which is seen as causing devastation throughout history, is eventually forbidden across all universes, and the heroine conceives a higher purpose for her people.

I also attempted to address the “creationism” vs. “evolution” argument through much of the trilogy, settling on purposefully guided development but for Marid’s specific advancement.

After completing my Sci-Fi trilogy, I wrote Aftermath Horizon, a contemporary fiction follow-on to Kill Zone. The entire novel is a social statement—all of it. It depicts the futility and ultimate result of religion gone wild, but offers hope for a bright future. I believe it is my best novel by far. I mentioned above that I am re-working Kill Zone. As it turns out, that novel will likely be broken into two novels, making a contemporary fiction trilogy that ends with Aftermath Horizon. As with my Sci-Fi trilogy, the social messages are ordered so that more minor ones occur in the first novels, and the major ones at the end.

I have also completed the first two novels of a dark paranormal comedy trilogy consisting of The Substitute, Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! and The Training Bra. Even in comedy social issues can be addressed. As with the Sci-Fi trilogy, the social statements start low-key in The Substitute, but become extremely strong by the end of Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! That doesn’t mean I’m up on a soap box beating readers with my opinions. What I tried to do was call attention to many issues critical to women that I believe haven’t been aired enough, and even though there is always a comical twist in Miss Havana’s actions, the problems she encounters are so shocking, yet so real, that they are impossible to miss.

Okay, by the time you reach this paragraph, you’re probably wondering if I write anything just for the fun of it. Good question. I’m not at all sure. The Substitute comes close, as does Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! Readers laugh all the way through those novels, but still get the message. I believe that’s the best I can ask for—to entertain, yet still call attention to issues that we, as a society, should address.

Here are a couple of examples from Aftermath Horizon to demonstrate insertion of social issues into the storyline:

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In the silence of that abandoned building, a structure specifically constructed to propagate knowledge, I’m struck by the irony of it all. Without places like this, without the accumulation of knowledge, we might still have a world. Without the knowledge to engineer a foreign life form, people would still exist. My body stiffens with rage as a surge of righteous indignation and anger flashes through it, and for a moment I’m paralyzed by revulsion and hatred. So senseless! So stupid! What gave the Islamists the right to play God? Did they REALLY believe killing everyone would purify the world for Allah, or get them virgins in Heaven?

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I see it and believe his interpretation is correct. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? The same ability of mind that allowed mankind to eradicate itself twice before us permitted man to evolve into us. Unlike our predecessors, we don’t exist because of a fluke of natural selection, but by the intentional design of man, the first people genetically engineered to survive in a world toxic to all previous humans. How many times, David? How many times do you think that has happened?”

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Aftermath Horizon and my Sci-Fi trilogy are available from http://www.xoxopublishing.com/, and most are on Amazon.com as well. The Substitute is available in PDF from http://www.solsticepublishing.com/ and in Kindle format on Amazon.com.

Thank you, Sweet and Sexy Divas, for having me here today. It’s always fun to talk about the issues that drive me to write, and social issues are very much at the top of the list.

Sincerely,

James L. Hatch

jhatch6@hot.rr.com

http://www.solsticepublishing.com/

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