Golden Voyage vs Eye of the Tiger

 

If you're familiar with the films of the 70s, you know I'm talking about Sinbad. I watched these two films during my workout sessions over the last couple weeks.

 

 

 The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973), directed by Gordon Hessler, written by Brian Clemens and Ray Harryhausen, stars John Phillip Law as Sinbad, Caroline Munro as Margiana, and Tom Baker as Koura. This story has Sinbad take a scarred vizier who wears a metal mask on a journey to acquire three gold tablets to the Oracle of Knowledge and finally to a fountain where placing the tablets into the pool will give the placer certain benefits, including youth. Naturally, there's a fly in the ointment in the form of an evil sorcerer, Koura, who wants the benefits for himself.

 

 

Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977), directed by Sam Wanamaker, written by Beverly Cross and Ray Harryhausen, stars Patrick Wayne as Sinbad, Jane Seymour as Farah, and Taryn Power as Dione. In this tale, Sinbad is tasked with taking the baboon who would be king to a remote island to pass him through a rainbow so that he can regain his human form. It's an evil sorceress, Zenobia (played by Margaret Whiting), in this one who attempts to thwart the hero so her own son can be king.

 

The two films are almost as much alike as are Rio Bravo, Eldorado, and Rio Lobo. It doesn't bother me that the films take a nearly identical formula and dress it up in slightly different ways. All that matters is whether the film is good. Both of these films are great. I watched them both on as a kid - probably on a Saturday afternoon when I had the good fortune to be left alone with time to watch whatever was on one of the three or four channels we got on TV.

Which movie do I prefer? Let's compare:

Leading Protagonists:  GV features John Phillip Law and Caroline Munro. He's a fine actor who exudes heroic determination in the role. She's a knockout with eyes that could melt a reactor core. Additionally, she has an eye tattooed on her hand. This Sinbad has a nice catch phrase, "Trust in Allah, but tie up your camel."

EOTT features Patrick Wayne and Jane Seymour. Wayne is great, but lacks something in comparison to Law's Sinbad. Seymour seems very young, but must've been about 25 or 26 at this time. Wayne has the swashbuckling down, coming across more as a fun-loving corsair than a serious adventurer. Although Seymour is beautiful, her eyes won't melt reactor cores. However, the film also benefits from the presence of Taryn Power as Dione, daughter of a wise man or magician who knows the way to San Jose or the island they need to go to. 

Powers (lower right) is also a beauty. She and Seymour help persuade the troglodyte (upper left) to help them find the magical place.

It's a close call, but I think the older film wins this factor by a thin margin. One point for GV.

What about the antagonists:

Tom Baker brings a malevolent presence to Koura. He uses imps to eaves drop

and gives life to sculptures and statues..  

He pays a price for his magic use in the form of aging. By the end, he is well aged and feeble.

Zenobia, of EOTT,

transforms herself with a potion to do her own dirty work, which at one point leads to her temporary capture.

She also has some difficulties when her potion runs short at changing back time. She also controls a metal minotaur man that propels her ship, spears men in the water, and removes heavy stone blocks - or block, actually.

Koura is the more formidable  of the sorcerers. He loses points for not doing the dirty work himself, but gains for being better at the wizard game and for bringing life and swords to the Kali figure, which was one of the most impressive feats of cinema I had ever seen as a kid.

Both antagonists use their heads at the end in a final effort to turn the scales in their favor, but, naturally, good must prevail. Again, the point goes to GV.

As far as supporting characters, specifically, the characters in need: GV has the vizier, or old metal head:

EOTT has Kasim, the prince turned into a baboon.

 Kasim is the more interesting of the two. He's a Harryhausen creation. He plays chess and progresses as the tale goes on, losing his humanity for savage characteristics. The point goes to EOTT.

The finale of each show features Harryhausen monsters battling each other as well as the heroes. The GV monsters represent good and evil while the EOTT creatures are the troglodyte featured above in the Taryn Powers picture, and Zenobia inhabiting a huge sabertooth tiger. Both were great fights, but I was irked that the GV Sinbad did nothing to help the griffin creature representing good in the battle against evil while allowing Koura to hamstring the griffin. The point narrowly goes to EOTT for the final battle.

 

Which film wins? Both are winners. It's a difficult decision, but I think Caroline Munro's eyes and, "Trust in Allah, but tie up your camel," push GV a nose ahead of EOTT. Naturally, your mileage may vary. Both films are fun fare for kids and adults.

 

 

 

 

The Master of Ballantrae

  

 

The Master of Ballantrae (1953) is based on Robert Louis Stevenson's book of the same name. It's directed by William Keighley and stars Errol Flynn, Roger Livesey, and Anthony Steel. 

If you're not familiar with the summer of '45, when the young pretender did arrive and the defeat of the Jacobins in April of 1746 at Culloden Field, you might still enjoy this movie. Errol Flynn plays one of two Scottish brothers at the heart of this story. He elects to support Bonnie Prince Charlie, leaving his younger brother to side with the British so that whichever side prevailed, one of them would be on the winning side. The plot is complicated by the fact that Jamie (Flynn) is in love with or perhaps even engaged to Lady Allison (played by Beatrice Campbell) and yet also favors a comely serving wench, Jessie Brown (played by Yvonne Furneaux). When Jamie is on the run from the British, Jessie, angered by Jamie's willingness to cast her aside to marry Lady Allison, slips word to the British, allowing an ambush. 

Jamie escapes the ambush, but believes his brother Henry (Anthony Steel) let the cat out of the bag to the redcoats so that he could inherit the Ballantrae title and lands without any difficulties from his brother. Jamie returns to accuse him of the dirty deed and manages to get a misplaced piece of cutlery in his ribs. When Henry, believing he has accidentally slain Jamie, goes for help, Jamie goes or is taken away. Jamie ends up on a ship bound, not for France as he was told and for which passage he was paying, but for the Caribbean (or maybe it was the South Seas, I forget). 

Jamie and his Irish mercenary friend are impressed into service on the ship, but assist the pirates who capture the ship. They join the pirates who are led by Captain Arnaud (played by Jacques Berthier).

After taking the ship, they work together to take another pirate ship loaded with treasure. As you might expect, they have a falling out and Arnaud comes in second in the duel that follows. Naturally, Jamie heads back to Scotland with his friend of the smiling Irish Eyes--MacKellar (played by Mervyn Johns - I think).

He arrives back at the old homestead to discover his father and brother hosting a party attended by a plethora of redcoats. Jamie and MacKellar attend under false names so the British won't recognize them as wanted fugitives. However, when Jamie learns the party is also an engagement party for Lady Allison and Henry, he blows his own cover to fight his brother. They sword-up, but the wandering monster table rolls up a flurry of redcoats (what with them being present with the fight started and all) and it turns into a storm of swordplay betwixt the House of Ballantrae and the Brits. Jamie and MacKellar nearly escape, but are captured.

With the gibbet all in readiness to receive Jamie and MacKellar, Jessie confesses that she was the one who betrayed her lover to the enemy in a fit of jealousy, and Lady Allison reminds him of his family motto, which isn't "Keep looking up" but does involve something of that nature. Jessie aids in the escape and is killed. Jamie and MacKellar escape with Lady Allison, who always loved Jamie and was only marrying his brother as the next best copy when the original was lost.

There's a fair amount of swordplay and even a broadside or two from battling ships. The fights are good but the whole miscommunication and withholding of information between the brothers about the who betrayed Jamie to the redcoats jarred the scales of credibility. The acting and writing weren't terrible, but the story seemed rushed, as though key portions were being skipped to condense the tale to be told in under two hours. I enjoyed the costumes, swordplay, setting, and situation. I give it 3.5 berets out of 5.

___________________

I'm happy to report that I signed a contract for the publication of the sequel to Accidental Pirates - look for it in September (the best of all possible months).

I've also sent in another story featuring my three French cavalry officers and the mysteries of Egypt for consideration in an upcoming anthology, and I've completed a super short story for a more specialized contest. I've got higher hopes after reading it than I did before I wrote it--thanks in no small part to the reaction I received of one of my proofreaders. 

A third book in the Accidental Pirates series and another short story are the current works in progress.
 

  

 

Ford v. Ferrari

 Showing without telling:

When I was in grade school, we sometimes had show and tell. Somebody would have something cool to show, a new toy or a fossil or a new puppy, and they would show us the cool new thing and talk about it. Some of us never had anything cool to show, but we did have an experience to share. I'm reminded of the time I told the story about getting cow manure in my mouth but blew the ending when in my excitement I said "on my foot" instead of "in my mouth" and thus didn't get the response I was expecting. Anyway, it's a short and not-all-that-entertaining-tale, but I still remember the taste. My point, if I had one, was that now we're told over and over "Show. Don't tell."

I'm firmly committed to doing whichever one I want. No one is the boss of me. Seriously, I think it's better to show than tell, most of the time. However, if that show takes three chapters, three pages, or three paragraphs of boring details or otherwise uninteresting minutiae, just tell me; spare me the boredom. I say, "Show me the good stuff. Tell me the condensed version of the boring stuff, and then only if the story requires it." That was a longer explanation than I anticipated--and it was all telling with no show.

Let me tell you how Ford v. Ferrari showed rather than told. I watched the movie in short chunks over three different days. It's. Totally. Awesome. I've seen it a few times before and get angrier at the Ford VP of Obnoxious Nincompoopery who kept Ken Miles out of the first race and fraudulently stole the title from him in the final race. That's not my point. I do love the movie. At it's heart, it's a great tale of the relationship between Carrol Shelby and Ken Miles as they strive to win a Grand Prix title for Ford, in spite of everything Ford and his malevolent toady do to hinder them. 

There's a scene after Miles has been denied the chance to race in the Grand Prix after doing all the testing and providing the technical advance to perfect the car when Shelby comes to ask him to come back to the team and do it again. Miles takes the request poorly and they fight, with Miles dropping his bag of groceries. As viewers, we don't know how serious these two are in their attempt to hurt each other. However, it all becomes clear when Shelby is on the ground with Miles on his back; Shelby grabs a stray can of food with which to strike Miles in the head, but drops it when he realizes the kind of damage it could do and instead begins walloping Miles with a bag of bread. It was brilliant. That one small act demonstrated the relationship and the terms of the fight. It was showing, not telling. It didn't take a long explanation (like the description I just gave) or require the viewer to interpret motivations based on the intersectionality and relative victimhood of the characters. It was straight forward and subtle. The detail could easily have been missed. Masterful.

If you haven't seen the 2019 movie directed by James Mangold, I insist that you do so at your earliest convenience. It's on Prime.

If you're interested in more bloviating about writing, check out: 

Part II of my substack post on Forging Unforgettable Stories 

 

The Trauma The Drama and The Dream

 I'm trying something different today.

Today's post can be found on my substack. Check it out.

 

Justice Resurgent

  

I don't know why this book came to mind today. Maybe I've still got the Five Card Stud movie on my mind. I know the theme song comes into my head a couple times per day. Whatever the reason, I opened Justice Resurgent, the sequel to Justice in Season, and reviewed the first chapter. The excerpts below don't do the chapter justice (no pun intended) but I think they do provide a peek at the initial trauma set up for my Trama, Drama, and Dream theory/system for creating memorable stories. Sheriff Upton has gathered a posse to make a surprise visit to our hero, McBride, and the other members of the vigilance committee. Harmony Rivers has discovered the corrupt sheriff's plan and needs to warn McBride.

 Excerpts from Justice Resurgent, Chapter One:

Harmony Rivers, from behind the open door of her balcony overlooking the street, watched them ride out. Although she would not be performing until the evening, she had pulled her red tresses back and had placed a cap with a white feather on her head. Her matching dress of blue and white failed to conceal the figure that sparked fires of desire in the hearts of men. She hurried from her room to the top of the stairs. She looked over the saloon, searching for the right man to carry out the mission she had in mind. Most of The tables were vacant. The men at the bar didn’t seem to have the qualities that she sought—those qualities being pliant yet dependable. Quickly, she decided to place her bet at a table where three officers from the Boise Barracks...

Howard, a local freighter, leaned forward, a shock of brown hair dropping to the edge of his left eye. “I can understand why the Sheriff has his ire up. McBride has ruined several of his enterprises by what I hear. I know for a fact that the sheriff lost some kind of bet with McBride in that horserace that killed Fool’s Gold.” 

“Lost the sheriff a tavern and a carriage is the way I heard it,” put in Jones, the other civilian. Jones, who ran the sutler’s store at the end of Main Street, held a mug of beer in a hand that lacked a ring finger from the first knuckle up. 

Harmony clasped her hands together. “Yes, yes. That’s all true. What are you men going to do about it?” 

...

"Where could we find such a courageous man?” The emphasis of those last two words reached out like an inviting hand. Howard brushed back the shock of hair from beside his eye and he lost himself for a moment in the look of silent supplication Harmony cast his way. “I’ll take that horse, Mr. Quartermaster. Take me to your stable.” 

...

“I guess you could say that.” Howard took the cup of coffee and warmed both hands against the sides of the tin cup. “The sheriff has a bundle of warrants for all of the vigilante committee. He aims to take you all in your beds tonight and figures at least one of you will be killed while resisting.” 

With this last statement he cast a glance at McBride through the lock of hair over his eye. 

“Meaning me, I suppose.” 

“I suppose,” Howard nodded. 

________________

I really like this opening chapter. The trauma, the conflict, and the tension are put in motion. We see (even if we haven't read the first book) that Upton and McBride are going to be at odds in the story. We see that Harmony is an ally persuasive enough to get a man with no dog in the fight to do her bidding to help McBride. The two forces are set in motion like trains heading toward each other on the same track. Will the sheriff take McBride or the other vigilantes, or will McBride be able to stymie the sheriff's nefarious scheme?

Naturally, the drama plays out with lots of adhesive tension and the stakes continue to rise up until the thrilling conclusion punctuated in blood and bullets. There's a reason that this book has more reviews than any other novel I've written. There are plenty of skirmishes leading up the the final showdown, so it's NOT a slow burn story. Detective work, romance, and gun play all combine to escalate and intensify the conflict. 

The characters are memorable; we know on which side of the good versus evil equation they fall. The hats aren't black and white, but the moral character is. I'll have to use them to illustrate my theories on crafting characters in another post.

 

Damn the Defiant!

 I had a keen thought earlier to day. In fact it was so sharp that it cut its way completely out of my memory. In the struggle to recapture the fugitive notion, I believe it had something to do with music and how it-- That's where the void takes over. I remember being fairly entranced with the idea and resolved to think and write more about it. Maybe some day I will, but it is not this day - something I have in common with the men of Gondor and Rohan. 

 

Because I could not remember the intriguing thought, I did remember that over the last week I watched Damn the Defiant! Or Obi-wan at sea before the force was with him. I also watched him as King Charles in Cromwell. As you might expect, I preferred him in the role of Captain Crawford. Alec Guinness will forever be Obi-wan to me. Although I had seen him in movies prior to Star Wars, it was that role that made the greatest impression on me. Therefore, he will always be Obi-wan, regardless of the role.

Guinness plays Captain Crawford and Dirk Bogarde plays Lieutenant Scott-Padget in this 1962 movie directed by Lewis Gilbert. Obi-wan has a terrible problem. He has a lieutenant on his new ship with his own version of the force in the form of friends in high places and who is used to bullying his captains into doing whatever he wants. To complicate the issue, a young padwan sails as a midshipman on the vessel. The padwan is the captain's son. When the threat of reporting the captain to his friends at court proves ineffective at manipulating Obi-wan, the Lt. uses punishment against the boy as his lever.

Another complication in our Sea Wars drama arises in the form of a fleet-wide mutiny that has been planned. The conditions for sailors in the British Navy never got a five star rating. In fact, most of those trying the accommodations gave no stars and didn't recommend to friends. Although, they would go about in the press gangs to welcome new guests in a manner in which the guests could not refuse.

Obi-wan's gentle hand and calm voice of restraint against Scott-Padget's excesses in discipline does the potential mutineers no favors. However, two things finally happen. Both concern the real reason I watch shows about the age of sail:

The unfriendly exchange of broadsides as an RSVP to a boarding party melee. In the first instance, Obi-wan and his antagonistic Lt. defeat a French frigate. One of the French muckety-mucks on the ship reveals that he knows the details for Bonaparte's planned invasion of England. The wily Captain Obi-wan takes the prize and includes his son as part of the prize crew to get him away from Scott-Padget's machinations. Obi-wan appears to have beaten his onboard enemy, but in an encounter with a second French ship, he is wounded and delirious. The Lt. assumes command and drives the mutineers to implement their plan. 

Obi-wan recovers from his delirium and persuades the mutineers to go to the fleet to turn over the Frenchmen with the invasion information by agreeing to speak for them to the admiralty. When they arrive at the rendezvous, the admiralty has already caved to the demands of the combined mutineers, so everything seems peachy. But wait, there's a last plot complication. One of the malcontents who had been abused and scourged by Scott-Padget completely loses his gruntle and throws his knife into the Lt.'s chest. Scott-Padget is struck through the heart, and he's to blame, he gave mutiny a bad name. Naturally, the other revolters know he's put them at risk by his rash slaying of an officer. The lead mutineer puts an old fashioned force choke on the malcontent by actually using his hands on his throat and then throwing him over the side. Obi-wan helps the Lt.'s corpse over the side as well. 

Don't go away yet. The hefty soprano has yet to bellow. There's an enemy attack on the fleet. They've sent a fire ship right at the flagship, which for some reason I didn't catch can't get underway and avoid the flaming request to tango. The quick thinking Obi-wan persuades the head mutineer to let him command the ship to save the day. He takes the Defiant in and hurls some grapples to the fiery interloper and drags it away from the flagship in the nick of time (parsley, sage, and rosemary did not get mentioned). Of course, the admiral sends his thanks for saving him from the barbecue. It looks like all will be well. However, there was a broadside received by the Defiant and the mutineer leader took a substantial splinter to the chest and expires after getting word that the admiral thanks him for his service.

I give it 3.5 broadsides out of 5. 

 

 

Five Card Stud

  

I don't think I've talked about this movie before, other than to mention it in passing, It's a western-mystery classic that I never get tired of. I watched it this week while my wife was out of state.

First things first: The Blasters and Blades podcast with JR Handley hosted me and Jana Brown. We talked general nerdery and Accidental Pirates in particular - a great time, aside from the fact that I appear to have the charisma of a dry dish rag. The blank wall behind me in no way highlighted any good thing about me. I did get to mention that the sequel to Accidental Pirates is a go for publication as well.

 We now return to our irregularly scheduled programming:

Five Card Stud, directed by Henry Hathaway, written by Marguerite Roberts and Ray Gaulden, stars Dean Martin, Robert Mitchum, Inger Stevens, and Roddy McDowall. My love for this western is probably irrational, but I never miss an opportunity to watch it if I find it on television. This week I watched in on Prime Video. The film is nearly sixty years old, so I'm not hiding any spoilers. 

Several men begin a game of 5 card stud. After Van Morgan (a gambler played by Dean Martin) goes for a break, the game comes to a halt when Nick Evers (played by Roddy--without ape makeup) catches the lone stranger at the table cheating (his cheat roll came up snake eyes). They drag him out to an impromptu neck-tie party as the guest of honor with Nick as the fervent MC of the occasion. When Van tries to put a stop to the festivities, Nick invokes parliamentary procedure in the form of a pistol barrel across Van's skull. The stranger's body is discovered the next morning. Van heads out for Denver, saying goodbye to his girlfriend Nora (played by Katherine Justice) and her brother Nick at the Evers Ranch where Denver Pyle plays the father.

After Van's departure a new preacher arrives in town.

He aims to bring God's word to the boom town of Rincon. Shortly after his arrival, one of the poker-playing hangmen is found smothered in a barrel of flour. (It was obviously all-purpose flour even though I don't believe that is one of the commonly intended purposes). Another of the card players is found with an entire barbed wire fence for a bow tie.
 

George (played by Yaphet Kotto) was tending bar the night of the poker game and goes to Denver to warn Van not to come back lest he end up all breathless too. Naturally, Van notes that everybody loves somebody sometime and heads back to Rincon with George. He finds that the boom town is booming and has acquired a new business.

Lily Langford (played by Inger Stevens) runs the establishment that offers shaves, baths, and miscellaneous, Naturally, Van is intrigued.

The survivors meet to discuss the suspicious activity and come to the conclusion that one of them must be the killer. Another man dies, hanging from the ropes of the church bells. The miners go wild, wanting the sheriff to do something about the killings. A deputy's attempt to disarm the miners results in his death and a shoot out in town.

Van and Reverend Rudd help bring an end to the shoot out. Rudd is quite a pistolero We get a fire and another death. Somewhere in here there's a funeral and we find out that Nick has been feeding Rudd the names of the participants in that ill-fated game of 5 card stud, pretending all the time that he tried to stop the hanging.

At one point, Nick and Van have a tussle in the graveyard. Their struggle ends on the grave of the hanged stranger. They walk away wary but without any excess perforations.

We get to see Rudd kill George, who had no part in the hanging but Nick wants him dead. The killing goes bad and Rudd is forced to shoot and run, leaving enough time for George to provide a clue about who punched his ticket.

When Nick meets Rudd in the graveyard again to give him the final name, he admits that he led the hanging and must put Rudd down lest the preacher kill him now that he has the name of the last man who helped in the killing of his brother, the cheating stranger in the game. Nick magnanimously allows Rudd a last request to read a scripture on this solemn occasion. He selects something from the book of Samuel Colt in .32 caliber. It's a killer.

Nick reacts badly to the chosen verse. It's really all in the delivery.

Nick's funeral will be at the Evers Ranch and Rudd volunteers to take the body and coffin out in his buckboard. First he stops by the saloon to see Van and invite him to ride out with him. Van declines, indicating that he'll be out a little later.

Van meets Rudd on the road. He put it together with George's clue when Rudd tipped up the last chair at the card table. In the confrontation, Rudd again resorts to scripture but has his Bible upside down, and Van figures out somethings rotten in Denmark. They go for their guns. Van is wounded in the arm but sends Rudd across the threshold of mortality into the arms of his cheating brother.

Nora cleans and wraps his arm and Van tells her goodbye. 

All the other card players and George are dead. Van and Lily part ways temporarily to meet in Denver or somewhere, unless the kiss Van gave her didn't keep him on her mind. Van rides off, and the closing credits roll to the music.

That's the gist of Five Card Stud. It's not much of a movie, but I like it beyond its worth. There are lots of familiar faces. There's at least one Star Trek connection. The romance never overshadows the real story line, although there is a question about whether Van will choose Nora or Lily. When I first watched it as a kid, I couldn't believe Roddy McDowall was a bad guy. Watching it now, I wonder how I didn't realize that he was involved. It's obvious in everything Nick does. He's about as likable as a sharp stick thrust repetitively into one's eye. Anyway, it has the perfect mix of gun play, romance, and mystery to make it a pleasure every time I see it.

 

 

Shuffling off this mortal coil

  

I suppose that's what writers tell their characters. I don't make a habit of offing my creations--at least not the ones who have become interesting and integral to the story. However, we occasionally fall upon times that try the writer's soul, when a beloved or captivating character must become referenced only in the past tense. 

Should the character's demise be played out on stage, or merely reported by messenger number three or via a sad dispatch from the front? I'm in favor of the matter getting stage time, provided that it's meaningful. If I've gone to the trouble of creating a name and backstory and linked the character's tale to the hero or plot, that character deserves a demise worthy of the role. More importantly, beyond what any character deserves, the reader has earned the scene. If the reader has had any chance to get attached to the individual, the reader needs understand that the dissolution fulfilled some purpose, that the sacrifice ennobled the character, revealed a flaw, or that the progression of the story required it. Such matters merit the stage--and should make for great reading.

A major character's expiration demands at least one good scene, if not a series of scenes with a foreshadow, a build up, and terrible climax. A little dialog or soliloquy adds a meaningful touch and can provide closure or resolution to some lingering question--or not. Final words cut short or imbued with ambiguity may provide more questions to be resolved later--and the generation of intriguing questions often drives interest and deeper meaning in the story. Remember the Trauma, the Drama, and the Dream, my three keys to great stories.

Naturally, I now think of a character whose demise did not get a full treatment and think I could've handled it better. On the other hand, I recall some characters who crossed the threshold of immortality and feel a sense of satisfaction with their final scenes even though they will be missed.

 

 

Box of Disappointment

 

The refit of Xanadu continues without help from Rush, Olivia, ELO, or Coleridge. A box of disappointment arrived today. I ordered it last week. I should've known better than to order through P. Andora Co. How did I come to request this delivery of dismay?

It's not a long story, but it goes back to before we closed on the new digs. When male offspring came to have a look at the place, we happened to look at the furnace filter. It looked like a bad and fatal case of black lung. Fortunately, there was a new filter sitting by the unit and we swapped in the clean one. After closing and move in, I thought it would be prudent to acquire an additional filter for change in the future. I noted the size on the old filter and went to the local hardware store to procure the ready replacement. 

I thought it would also be prudent to make sure the standby filter fit properly. <Morgan Freeman voice begin> It did not fit. <Morgan Freeman voice end> I compared the sizes as printed on the filters. They were the same. However, small print indicated the new filter was several millimeters bigger in the troublesome dimension. The local store gladly took the return of the filter, and I went online to find filters that matched down to the millimeter. Not-the-Nile store made the order easy and the delivery arrived within an entirely acceptable time frame. It's a box of six, because the filters are much cheaper by the half-dozen.

Once again, I decided to check the fit. It did not fit.

What?! The measurements all corresponded precisely--I had ordered the same exact size--but the fit was off by more than an inch, not mere millimeters. I had a big box of regret, failure in a six-pack.

There was a mystery here. A little investigation and a tape measure provided the clues I needed. Both the original black lung filter and the handy spare had been cut down from the size printed on them to remove a couple inches, and then reassembled, still bearing the now-false printed size. I suppose that if the previous owner could resize the filters, so can I. However, I would have preferred to have ordered the correct size and avoided the manual resizing.

By the way, I know where you can get a good deal on some furnace filters. 

I've saved the best for last.

There is good news. Out of the blue--even though I had been hoping for a response for many weeks--came a thunderbolt of fortuity. Raconteur Press has informed me that my sequel to Accidental Pirates has been accepted for publication. Of course, there will be rounds of editing and cover creation and all the tedious stuff in between the conditional acceptance and the final product, but I've already heard words of joy from happy readers who have fallen in love with Chris and Kenny and their adventures. Get Accidental Pirates here.

Wait! There's more! I was on the Blasters & Blades podcast with JR Handley and Jana Brown this week. I don't know how long before it goes live, but I'll post a link when it does.

Refitting Xanadu

The good ship Xanadu, as I'm currently calling it, complete with stately pleasure dome and caves of ice but no sign of Olivia Newton John, possesses no dearth of dings demanding attention. Yesterday repairs to the vessel consumed most of the day. I don't quite remember where it began, but I recall correcting a faucet nozzle early in the process. The main task was a minor matter by most standards: a sheet rock and insulation issue where water had damaged it under previous ownership. 

I had the foresight to pick up a roll of insulation during the week. I didn't have the prescience to pick up a utility knife. I knew that I had such a tool, so never thought about getting one. The removal of the bad gypsum was mostly accomplished by gravity before I touched it. A good jerk and the rest of it came down. I removed the remaining nails, measured the hole, and transferred the measurements to the replacement sheet rock that was already on hand. During the course of these events, I did trash the ruined drywall and swept the area multiple times. Gravity was the culprit. The hole was horizontal rather than vertical and up rather than down relative to the floor. The insulation that had been blown in would sometimes catch a gravity wave and make the less than 2 foot fall to the floor upon which I had to lay to accomplish many parts of the task.

With the replacement marked, I looked for my utility knife in vain. I still don't know where it is. I know where it used to be. I kept it on the bench in the garage - of course, that place is over 300 miles away, and I know it's not there now, what with it getting packed when we moved. One would expect the purchase of a utility knife to be a quick and simple affair. Mostly it was. There were many to choose from, but I selected one that already had my name on it. With a slightly arched handle, it felt good in my hand, like some deadly ninja device, and promised not to cause more pain to me than to the target material. 

It was the assembly that gave me troubles. No blade had been loaded. There were blades inside; I heard them rattle when I shook the tool. They were cleverly hidden within the device that was as easily cracked as a Herring Hall & Marvin. I managed. It would seem like an easy matter to install the new blade into the knife. It wasn't. I tried about 30 times to get the blade to seat properly in the knife so that it could be properly extended and retracted with the thumb-operated control. The two pieces of hardware refused to cooperate. I don't know what I did differently, but on the 30th, or perhaps I exaggerate and it was only the 28th try, the planets aligned and must've I held my mouth just right.

The knife cut very well, and I didn't make a mess of the drywall or the insulation that I cut with it. The planets really had aligned, and I kept holding my mouth just so. In only slightly less time than they took to build the pyramids of Egypt, I had the gypsum sheet cut and screwed in place. I followed that job with replacing the 8 foot long florescent light tubes--having discovered the replacement tubes being concealed beneath the fallen sheet rock--and again demonstrated my ninja-like proficiency with the utility on the remaining gypsum board to cut a cover for the attic crawl space.

The storage room shelves required a supporting actor for their monotonous performance, so I auditioned a 2x2 for that role. The actor required some attention in the form of measuring, marking, and cutting with the circular saw before final casting. Upon completion of those actions, it seemed like a decent match. A few pointers from the screw gun made it fit the role perfectly.

I experimented with refrigerator and freezer options as well as parking options, finding success with the former but not the latter.

Meanwhile, the co-captain of the ship pursued her own agenda. She got a lot of boxes unloaded, and drafted me for a preliminary rearrangement of the furniture, during which we discovered that pianos are not very flexible. If only it were an accordion.

________________ 

 Here's the latest AI copy from the persons or scammers contacting me about Accidental Pirates:

What makes this novel compelling is the immediacy of its premise, two brothers, a simple summer outing, a crack in the rock, and suddenly the Caribbean of the 1770s. Pirates, dragonlings, flintlocks, and a fire-breathing Green Lady create the kind of high-stakes wonder that hooks young readers quickly. But beneath the swashbuckling energy is something equally important: brotherhood, courage under pressure, and the quiet transformation that happens when ordinary boys are forced to become heroes. 

It's not bad.

 

Crib on the Borderlands

 

Chained to a rock at last. Fortunately, I don't see any eagles descending--at least not until the lender demands the monthly pound of flesh. We moved up (i.e., escaped) from the rental apartment, where the neighbors allow their dogs do their duty near the doorway, in the doorway, or on the stairs, to an almost-country manor. The wide open space begins on the other side of my back fence. The yard is small and the neighbors are too close, but they're not directly below my feet nor cheek by jowl with only paper-thin walls in between. We were already seeking a new abode (following the sale of the chateau) but the new roommates added to the joint below and the loud video games thundering on to three in the morning beneath our bedroom goaded us into accelerating the move. 

We had hoped to move two weeks earlier, but the repetitive demands from the lender and waiting on the seller and third parties to assemble their waterfowl into linear formation hindered our haste, shackled our swiftness, and delayed out dispatch. This may be the shortest move I've made since college. Although, the move from the rental in W town to the chateau was only a couple miles more. At least this move wasn't to another state or from one side of a large state to the other. Can we reside here with hopes of permanency? We had hoped that would be the case back at the beloved Chateau du Chat Gris, but after graduating 3 kids from the schools, including putting our youngest through the school system, to college, on a mission, and back to college, circumstances dictated a change of residence.

In many respects, that move across the state has been great--notwithstanding the squalid pad. My wife has made new friends--like she always does--and I've met more wonderful people. I like associating with people who are better than I am. One would think such association would help make me a better person, but apparently I'm content to benefit from their attitudinal largesse and magnanimity without fear of catching the malady myself. What can I say? Natural immunity, I guess.

I must think of a name for the new place. We were relieved of the little chat gris, so that option is gone. We are located on a border of sorts and the back fence is a stone wall. A not-too-distant mountain is visible out the back, and I've positioned my writing desk so that I can enjoy that view while slinging vowels and consonants in reckless abandon without fear of hitting anything in that direction. Mountain View Estate? Crib on the Borderlands? Fortress of Insufficient Solitude? Whatever handle I decide to hang on the place, it's still a move up from the former hood where a lady was murdered just across the street.

The new abode has sufficient rooms that I now have a dedicated writing room--that's a first. My wife insisted that I do this thing I do in isolation. Speculation leads me to believe that she doesn't appreciate my requests for her to do what she does more quietly and not to talk to me while I'm feeding my addiction. Although, it could be that having my writing desk with inspiration buddies openly displayed thereon constitutes a source of embarrassment for her. The more likely reason is that I and the desk are simply in the way, have been for many years, and she needs a break from us.

The writing desk was my office desk in my private practice. It has been scarred in several moves; it received new scratches and gouges in the move out of the hood--I blame those good folks who lent a hand but lacked love for the labor and the desk. The squalid pad had a room I could've used for a writing room, but we couldn't get the desk into it. When we moved into the new digs, we had to remove the door to get the desk into the room--and then it was tight squeeze. With any luck, I'll never have to move it out.

Instead of worrying about moving the desk, I'll direct my attention to the wonderful places we'll go, this desk and I, as we wrangle words and phrases from atoms alphabetical into adventures somewhat historical or construct elaborate tales with scenes unreal and fantastical. 

However, those adventures must wait a bit. I've got about dozen address changes I need to complete.
 

 

French Cavalry and an Interview

Wellington confirmed that the French cavalry was the strongest on the European continent during the Napoleonic era.

The heavy cavalry mounted frontal charges during battle to break enemy infantry or route their cavalry.

The medium cavalry performed charges like the heavy cavalry and also acted as ‘mounted infantry.’ (See the picture below, Detaile's "Charging French Dragoons").

The light cavalry conducted reconnaissance before battle and pursuit of the routed enemy after battle.

--Napoleon's Cavalry, Artillery, and Technical Corps 1799-1815 by Gabriele Esposito

Why these bland tidbits of Napoleonic tactics that are well known to every student of the era? I'm glad you asked. I'm assembling facts and details for a short story featuring my three favorite fictional cavalry officers of La Grande Armee: Beaujeu the dragoon, Pichon the chasseur-a-cheval, and Gavrel the hussar. These three sprang to life in a story I wrote set in Egypt. Although that story remains unpublished, the three cavalrymen delighted readers in "Seventh Hussar and Aide to the Mage," published by Raconteur Press in the Wyrd Warfare anthology edited by Chris DiNote, in which they fought at the battle of Borodino.

The story in progress has them at an engagement shortly after the Egyptian campaign and long before the Russian campaign. It's an interesting battle and has been a fun one to recreate in all the various games I've played based on the battle. Naturally, our brave cavaliers will play a pivotal role that may not be well known to history. Spies, dark magic, and the desperate struggle between exhausted forces combine to threaten Bonaparte's position and demand more dangerous deeds for these heroes behind the official proclamations of victory.

Speaking of dangerous deeds, I dared to meet with The Halfling and the Spaceman to discuss writing and Accidental Pirates. I had a great time with the genial hosts.

A week or so ago, I met for another interview with another vlogger, but technical difficulties prevented anything more than a brief visit. We'll reschedule that one. Additionally, I've been invited for the Blasters and Blades podcast early next month. Of course, I'll post a link when it happens.