Chaining the Lady (47 page)

I typed it, then proofread it. Oh, the typos! The most dangerous were the ones the speller didn't catch. I had “talking” for “walking,” “not” for “now” or “nor,” “seen” for “soon,” “fine” for “five,” “even” for “ever,” “sot” for “soft,” “lunch,” for “lunge.” Sometimes I had a word or even a line missing. The speller challenged my special words, like “frictive.” Even in this Author's Note, when my right hand got mis-oriented by one key, the word “novel” became “tower.” I use the Dvorak keyboard, not the QWERTY; it's more efficient, but the hands do have to be properly placed for touch typing.

I had an illustration, the letter W superimposed on a circle, dividing it neatly into five sections. This had not been difficult when drawn by hand, but trying to duplicate it on the computer was an exercise in frustration. I'm sure a person versed in computer drawing could do it without difficulty, but I'm not of that persuasion. I finally made a circle, then magnified a capital W to 80 points, and managed to move it over to overlap the circle. The middle hump did not reach up to intersect the top of the circle, but I decided that was close enough. Sometimes computers make simple things complicated.

I was impressed by the detail on the operations of the spaceships, solar collection, levels of gravity, types of space combat, military protocols, and Tarot symbolism. I love the magnets. I liked the way that aliens were not shown as slavering Bug Eyed Monsters—BEMs—as is the habit in that bastardized sub-genre “Sci-Fi,” but as sapient creatures with their own strengths, weaknesses, and conventions. I liked the slow stages of death of the spaceship, and the Service of Termination. In true Science Fiction a real effort is made to make the situation realistic within the confines of its assumptions. That is, characters, space ships and alien creatures you can believe in. And of course I liked the mystery of the Ancients: why did they depart? I believe that will be told in the third novel.

During my work on
Lady
, I received remarkable news about the next novel. A reader in Switzerland, Renata Iellamo, offered to scan the next one for me. We had tried to scan this series, but the symbols bollixed the scanner; that's why I was typing them. But she evidently had a superior scanner. So I said okay, just in case it was possible. And there, suddenly, was #3 in the series,
Kirlian Quest
, ready for proofreading. She saved me a month of typing! And to think that some folk say I'm naïve for being responsive to my fans. Yes, about a third of my working time goes to my fan correspondence and related matters, such as my ongoing Survey of Electronic Publishers at my http://www.hipiers.com Web site, but there is some payback, and this is an example. I like to think that my fans are a smart, ethical, imaginative, motivated type, and so far there's not much evidence to the contrary.

But that same day we had a far less happy experience. We live on our small tree farm in backwoods Florida, and think of it as an informal nature preserve. We leave the underbrush, for example, because it helps feed the deer and other wildlife. That makes for trouble with the state authorities, who think we're not taking care of our farm. They tried to remove our tree farm tax exemption, as if it's not real unless its environment is sterile. And we do have deer. We forbid hunting, with the exception of the feral pigs, who forage so effectively that little is left for the native wild creatures.

A small deer took up residence near the house. Its mother disappeared, we fear the victim of illicit hunting, but the young one seemed to be all right. But on that day we were driving out on a routine grocery shopping trip, and our car spooked the deer. It bounded away along the drive, ahead of us, then dodged to the right and disappeared. We thought it had leaped over the wire fence.

Then we saw it lying there, moving only its head. We hoped it was merely lying low, to hide from us, and went on. But on our return an hour later, it remained there. We called the game warden, who must have come and taken it. I think in its distraction it misjudged the fence and instead of clearing it, cracked headfirst into it, breaking its neck. Damn! So that cast a pall, countering my joy of the time saved on the next novel. I know there was no tangible connection between the two, but they are I fear forever linked in my mind and feeling. I wish we could have known the deer was there, and been more careful. Maybe we could have warned it we were coming by honking.

Thus the minor adventure of the reworking of this novel, with typing, fan, and a deer somehow overlapping, marking my life and emotion in their merged fashion. Life is a complex of diverse aspects that can interrelate wondrously.