The Rafferty Toffs Show covers ¡Reconquista!

I got on the Rafferty Toffs Show out of Tennessee to discuss ¡Reconquista!. I had never heard of the show but it is extremely popular on the ‘Chans according to many people. Some of the claims made by the guests are a bit questionable to my mind, but I love seeing critical thinking and a passion for literature!… Read the rest

¡Reconquista! Redux

¡Reconquista! is now available in paperback format with some additional editing (because there is rarely enough) and an alternative cover design. Pick it up now via reconquista.pub or direct from Amazon. I’m preparing for a book signing event in December with the Las Cruces Writers Group and need something a bit more tangible than an electronic book. But the movement towards NFTs and alternative distribution methods continues apace!… Read the rest

Preternatural: Excerpt from ¡Reconquista! on Crisis and Conflict in American Democracy

Real conflict is both more mundane and heart-wrenching than the fictional version, but here is the climax, Chapter 16, of ¡Reconquista!, where everything unravels…

The cross blue lightning should have been an omen to the gathered Baaad Hombres who retired to their RVs and trailers to drowse into their opioid cocoons. By dawn the storm had saturated the desert until the air smelled like ripe succulents and there were still more smoky masses to the north.

Herb surprised all of them while hunched around the pre-action fire barrel by telling them that he had another mission he had to take care of and wouldn’t be initially joining them on their raid. They looked over a map and he thought he could catch up to them on his bike around the Corralitos Ranch. They were planning to hold that point anyway. His initial mission was to manage the skies, he told them cryptically while pointing upward. Several of the men thought he was going to pray for them, which seemed to them acceptable but not very good timing for the critical time of action. They passed around green camouflage face paint. Several men wore ghillie suits in the colors of the desert, making them look like human hedgehogs as they darkened their faces with the paint.

By six thirty they were rolling, their ATVs piled high with extra fuel and ammunition. The storm was quiescent but Herb warned them that the arroyos might be flowing and they may need to plot an alternative course under the fencing. He crawled into his wrecker and turned on the devices. He had only a short window to get the systems working and he had to figure out how to enter the numbers that the pretty woman had given him.… Read the rest

Good Reads in the Season of Existential Dread

Naked self-promotion warning!

I’ve recently updated reconquista.pub to an improved design. Check out Short Fiction for, well, some free distractions. Meanwhile, I’ve joined Goodreads as an author and have been gradually building out my author’s profile.

These changes are part of a new advertising campaign for ¡Reconquista! designed for this upcoming political season. Welcome to the farce in this time of existential dread!… Read the rest

¡Reconquista!

¡Reconquista! lives! Though with fewer exclamation points, much less signo de apertura de exclamación! Ahem. Here’s a preview:

Herb Malconia has a dog problem that goes back generations. The rabid beast chained to his shed is the incarnation of his grandfather. Or so says the local seer in the hamlet that straddles the border with Mexico. Once men raided into Texas and his great-grandmother bore a child from the border ravishment. There is an antidote to the dog curse, but it involves hijacking surveillance drones, avenging raids into Mexico, trapping bats by moonlight, and stealing the possessed cowboy hat of an up-and-coming politician.

In ¡Reconquista!, a farce and satire of today’s America, the country is polarized by identity politics, conspiracy theories, the opioid crisis, and a surly impotence in the face of social change. A host of characters entwine in subplots and vignettes that build toward a dark climax. The reader meets Maria de la Santa Ana Cuellar Ramirez de los Trinidad Martyr Remedios Sanchez, PhD, a Mexican academic elitist (and Herb’s distant relation) who rises to colonel in a drug cartel that has become a vanity project for luchadores and narcocorridos celebrating the cartel’s leader, El Chacal. There is Cleo, aggressively queer and predatory in pursuing love. Juicy is trying to reclaim his Muslim heritage that was forced underground and to the New World in fifteenth century Iberia. A relentless FBI agent hounds and ultimately kills the wrong man, blinded by conspiracy-fueled biases. A war party of constipated white supremacists bogs down in a muddy arroyo while staging a raid into Mexico. A political boss is luridly sexist and racist while thriving on folksy revisionism in a divided America.

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Happy 2019!

And to start off the New Year, I’m experimenting with Instagram. Here are a few Sedona images:

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Meanwhile, here are my current projects for 2019:

Quintessence of Rust (QOR): Post-apocalyptic and post-cyberpunk novel series set in a future world devastated by climate change. Begun in 2018, I expect to complete the first book by summer 2019. Here’s a sample:

The jungle is so overwhelmingly alive some days that the air is a vibrating green shroud. The vines strangle up through the canopy trees towards a wan shimmer. The heat becomes toxic where the gray skies break through and the violet and rust of the fungal mounds heap like domes. A low drone warns of bloodsucking swarms of gigantic flies, startling the naked rodents out along paths and down through root mazes into protective huddles in the cooling mud, while the women stoke smudge fires and call the painted children close. And then the sound passes, and the clucks and snorts begin again, at first with hesitancy against the silence of the moist envelop, then more, and then with greater intensity, until the music of the day is restored. The hunters return by lunch to await the afternoon rains that slide and drop in pachinko-ball rivulets through the thousand feet of piled and layered life.

Fifty feet up, where the tree splits its ancient trunk into three equal parts, atop the accumulated detritus of hundreds of years that became yet another pad of spongy jungle, the high apartments begin. Layer upon layer of wooden hovels, connected by ropes woven from vine fibers, wedged by pins and slotted bamboo, build like a rectilinear wasp nest, splitting off and then recoupling higher still, for two hundred feet more.

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¡Reconquista! at 50K

¡Reconquista! has taken on that magical quality of momentum where it is almost writing itself. Or maybe it’s just that satire, bleak and horrifying, is the perfect mood for the times. These counts do not include early plot development and notes, which read out at another 4K or more, depending on how you factor it.

The analytics put me on an exit trajectory around mid-August.

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