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Posts Tagged ‘Science Fiction’

There was a lunar eclipse the other night, or rather, very early in the morning, about 3 a.m. I didn’t wake up for this one, because I had heard, incorrectly, that it was to be merely a partial eclipse. Only after I missed it did I learn it had been a total. Oh, well. I’d stayed up for another total lunar eclipse just a few months ago.

That was Sunday night, May 15th. It had been raining off and on and the weather forecast called for cloudy skies and a chance for more rain. I prayed for the weather to clear. We needed rain, but couldn’t it let up for just a few hours? I wanted very much to watch this eclipse. It was to be a dress rehearsal for one that is to occur June 8, 2123. Yes, I said 2123, 101 years from now. Why, you might ask, would I be interested in an eclipse more than a century from now? Surely, I don’t intend to live that long, do I?

No, I’m not likely to live another hundred years, but I hope my novels will.

Season of the Dove takes place in 2123. For a story to be interesting, the lives of the characters must be thrown into chaos. This happens when a Category 6 hurricane devastates North Florida, where I live. To date, the worst hurricane I’ve weathered was a Cat 2, and that was enough for me. The largest storm is rated Category 5, but in the next 100 years they’ll probably have to add additional categories. In this fictional future, the worst is Cat 7.

In the book, after things settle down a bit (Or do they?), I wanted a second crisis, a turning point for the novel. After I witnessed the Solar Eclipse of 2017, I thought a solar eclipse would be just the thing. I searched the internet, but unfortunately none were predicted in the US in the time frame of my story, even if I adjusted it by a year or two.

How about a lunar eclipse? Good news! A total eclipse of the moon is predicted to occur on the night of June 8th and 9th, 2123. Perfect timing. My heroes will be in the mountains of North Georgia at this time. Will it be visible in their part of the world? Yes! The eclipse will be visible over the entire eastern US, including Georgia. It’s predicted that the moon will turn orange or red during the eclipse, a phenomenon known as “blood moon.”

Blood Moon in 2021

In the story, the eclipse starts late at night and is at maximum around midnight. I wrote clear weather into the story so my characters could experience the entire spectacle. In this dystopian future, my heroes are reasonably intelligent people, but US civilization has degraded to the point that the masses are poorly educated and superstitious. When the moon turns red, spectators become anxious, fearing it to be some kind of omen. To complicate matters, I threw in a minor earthquake at the moment of maximum eclipse, just a little one, enough to be felt, enough to knock a drunken man off his feet and cause panic among the gullible.

If my novel survives into the 22nd Century when this eclipse occurs, what will my readers think? That I’m some kind of prophet? Or will they realize I had access to the internet and the calculations of astronomers? It would be fun to stick around and find out.

The Appalachians are not widely known as an earthquake zone, but they do have small quakes, more often than you’d think. I haven’t personally experienced one, but two of my family members have, and I used their accounts of the experience in the story. Earthquakes not being as predictable as hurricanes, I’m not aware of any foretold for the year 2123. If that were to happen, especially at the same time as a lunar eclipse, well, that would be just a little too weird.

Back to the present. The May, 2022 eclipse was predicted to occur at the same time of night as the one in June of 2123, with the same coloration of the moon. I wanted to see it for myself. I didn’t spend the entire night outdoors—the mosquitoes would have eaten me alive. I know, you can view these online, but I prefer to watch them in person. I peeked out every few minutes to see how the eclipse was developing.

At 10:30, the brightness of the full moon began to diminish. By 11:00, the shadow of the Earth fell over half the moon, making it look like a fat, silver crescent. At 11:30—Oh No!—clouds covered the sky and I couldn’t even find the moon. Fifteen minutes later, the sky cleared enough that I could see a small orange disk in the southern sky, about 30 degrees above the horizon. Over the next hour, I watched light play along the lower side of the orange ball, from the right side to the left as the eclipse progressed.

At 1:00 in the morning, a beautiful silver crescent appeared on the lower left side and grew larger as the Earth’s shadow passed. The moon again brightened the night, and I retired for some well-earned sleep, satisfied that my description of the 2123 eclipse was accurate enough.

I’m not going to give away more of the story right now, but Season of the Dove has been on Kindle Vella for over a year. Presently, I’m doing some editing and preparing to publish it in book form. I’ll let you know. I could have left it on Vella longer, but I want to make it available to more readers in time for the Sunshine State Book Festival in January. I’ll see you there!

 

Check out my other books on Amazon, the award-winning Trials by Fire and it’s sequel Quest for Namai. 

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Quest for Namai is now available in Indie Florida, a collection of books from local indie authors available exclusively on the BiblioBoard Library mobile and web platform. This collection is available to patrons of participating libraries all across Florida. You can access it here if your library participates in the program. Unfortunately, my local public library doesn’t currently participate, but I have requested that it become a member.

You can always find this book and Trials by Fire on my Amazon page and Season of the Dove on Vella.

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Have you heard of Kindle Vella? It’s a new thing, where stories are published by episode, much like in the old days when books were serialized in newspapers and magazines. For some reason, you can’t read these stories on your Kindle but on your phone or computer.

I was putting the finishing touches on my novel Season of the Dove when I heard about Vella. After exploring a few books on the platform, I decided my novel lends itself well to being serialized.

For you, the reader, here’s how it works. You go to Vella and choose what you want to read. Here’s a shortcut: https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B09GLLRR87. You can read the first three episodes for free. That should be enough to let you decide if you’re interested. If you are a first time Vella user, you are then given 200 free tokens. Each episode costs a certain number of tokens depending on the word count. After you’ve spent your 200, you can buy more. For $1.99 you can buy 200 , but if you’re a serious reader, you can buy in larger quantities at a discount, up to 1700 tokens for $14.99, which could pay for several novels. The total cost of a book is about equal to what you would pay for an eBook or a print book, depending on how it’s priced.

If you like an episode, give it a thumbs up. That helps the writer. Once a week, you can give your favorite book a Fave, which lets other readers know it’s worth reading.

Season of the Dove takes place in the year 2123. Serious damage has been done to the environment, resulting in social and political unrest. Florida is hit by a Category 6 hurricane, which makes matters worse. The main characters, Rob Hardman and Rosa Ortiz, are caught up in the turmoil. Yes, this is a dystopian future, but it is not a tale of gloom and doom. I won’t tell you how it turns out. You’ll have to read it. You’ve probably guessed a love story is involved. In addition, there is a murder (or two or three) to solve, a good bit of adventure, and human interest.

Unfortunately, while a book is on Vella, it can’t be published in another form, so Season of the Dove won’t be available in eBook or hard copy until such time as I take it down and republish it.

I invite you to check out Season of the Dove. (Yes, that’s the link above.) If you wish, you can give me feedback in the comment section below. Happy reading!

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No one can argue that this past year has been stressful. We all needed escape mechanisms to help us cope. I’ve tried several. After the shut-down last March, when COVID was still fairly new, I came across a list of streaming movies about pandemics to watch while quarantined. With ghoulish curiosity, I watched a few. Because those fictional accounts bore little resemblance to the existing situation, they provided a sort of comfort.

Netflix has a series, ominously released in January, 2020 before coronavirus became popular, called Pandemic: How to Prevent an Outbreak. This documentary introduces the viewer to “heroes on the front lines of the battle against influenza” and showcases “their efforts to stop the next global outbreak.” Well, they didn’t stop this one, maybe because they focused on influenza and we were hit with a coronavirus. I watched a few episodes, but they were too close to reality, and I needed escape.

I seldom binge watch, but in the evening I’ll sit down to a movie or a couple episodes of a good TV show. Half the world found diversion from reality in Tiger King, but it was short lived. Science fiction is usually a good escapist genre. Even issues pertinent to our real world are disguised well enough to take us out of ourselves. I watched several seasons of Star Trek before I found Stargate SG-1.

If you are unfamiliar with the show, the Stargate is an ancient alien artifact that connects to other stargates throughout the galaxy by way of wormholes. SG-1 is a team of four adventurers. Each episode takes the heroes to a different planet where they encounter and surmount new perils. Each season, they save the Earth from impending doom. Good entertainment. Nothing, other than the occasional politics, to remind me of current problems.

The Stargate

Until I came to Season 9. A two part episode was titled “The Fourth Horseman.” Only after I watched the first part did it dawn on me that they were referring to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. In the Old Testament, the Fourth Horseman is Plague.

In the last century, when we were sending people to the Moon, NASA would quarantine returning astronauts just in case they picked up some microorganism that could wreak havoc on Earth. The SG1 team bopped from planet to planet without a care. Only occasionally did they bring something undesirable home, and then it was usually an alien life form other than a disease.

Main characters are not allowed to die, of course, unless they can be restored to life, but lesser actors are fair game. In Episode 10 of Season 9, a team of lesser characters brought back a virus. I should have stopped watching, but I was addicted to the show.

One man developed a fever and respiratory distress and died. Others began to fall ill and were quarantined. Unfortunately, a lieutenant with no symptoms had already left the base, and he was a carrier. By the time they reined him in, the public had been exposed. The CDC was called in.

Back at the base, even individuals who had no contact with the infected team began to test positive or fall ill. The virus was described as “airborne and persistent.” Efforts to contain it to Colorado (where the story takes place) failed and cases began to pop up in other states. Public transportation was halted. Citizens panicked as the contagion continued to spread.  Hospitals were struggling and waiting rooms crowded. Cases emerged in major cities. The US borders were closed. Contact tracing was put into place.

It was like watching a recap of the past year’s news. How was this supposed to take my mind off my worries?

The script writers seemed to have done their homework. They must have consulted with the CDC on how a pandemic would play out. That, or they had a crystal ball. If that was the case, why didn’t they warn us?

There was one difference—no one wore masks. The general ignored the advice of the physician and went to visit his suffering airmen. I yelled at the screen, “Put on a mask!” He didn’t listen. Next scene, the general was in sick bay. I should have skipped the second episode, but I wanted to see how our heroes managed to save the world this time. They were furiously working on a vaccine.

Remember the cigarette-smoking man in The X Files? The actor William B. Davis? He is the arch villain in this story. In an attempt to conquer the Earth, he had purposely infected the doomed SG team. However, I don’t think he was responsible for our recent situation.

The Archvillain

By part two, there were cases in Mexico and Canada. Other countries grounded air travel and closed ports. The Stock Market crashed. Work on the vaccine continued, day and night, as the contagion continued to spread. Finally, the vaccine was ready and being distributed. (No mention of testing for safety and efficacy.) This team of fictional crack scientists developed a vaccine in two episodes in 1995, but it took us months in 2020.

At the end of the episode, a news reporter said, “The final death toll of the pandemic has been estimated at a little over 3000 worldwide.” Only 3000? The reporter seemed to think that was a lot. Do you remember when ours was only 3000? As I write this, our death toll has surpassed 3 million.

How did I remember so many details? A writer must sacrifice for her art. After I thought about writing this post, I watched the episodes again and took notes. Besides, plunging into it gave me a morbid sense of comfort.

The rest of the series thankfully offered more escape from reality. Now I’ve resumed Star Trek. Captain Picard’s world, while beset with conflict and danger, gives an optimistic view of the future where self-interest and greed have largely been replaced by ideals of cooperation and benevolence. What better way to get your mind off your troubles?   

If you haven’t already, check out my video at the Sunshine State Book Festival and my novel Trials by Fire on Amazon.

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Now that the holidays are behind us and life may settle down, it’s high time for me to toot my horn. Here’s the press release:

MARIE Q ROGERS WINS PRESTIGIOUS AWARD, ANNOUNCED AT
2020 FLORIDA WRITERS ASSOCIATION CONFERENCE

The Florida Writers Association, Inc., (FWA) has announced that Marie Q Rogers won a prestigious Royal Palm Literary Award (RPLA). Her winning entry, Trials by Fire, won the Bronze award for Published Young Adult Novel.

The award was announced at FWA’s recent remote four-day annual conference. This annual competition was RPLA’s nineteenth. “This is the most competitive RPLA we’ve ever had,” said Chris Coward, RPLA chairperson. “The RPLA administrative team, judges, and entrants did an amazing job.” In all, the competition covered 28 adult genres and 5 Youth genres, with published and unpublished entries considered separately. “A win at any level can help a writer market their manuscript or published book, and the detailed feedback from the judges is invaluable for all entrants,” Ms. Coward said.

The Florida Writers Association, 1,800 members strong and growing, is a nonprofit 501(c)(6) organization that supports the state’s established and emerging writers. Membership is open to the public. The Royal Palm Literary Awards competition is a service of the Florida Writers Association, established to recognize excellence in its members’ published and unpublished works while providing objective and constructive written assessments for all entrants. For additional information, visit the FWA website: floridawriters.net, where you’ll also find more about RPLA and the complete list of 2020 winners.

And now, my friends, if you haven’t read Trials by Fire yet, this is a good time to order the hard copy or download the ebook and curl up with a cup of hot cocoa. My readers have ranged in age from 10 to 89, and so far everyone says they like it. You can purchase the book here or ask your public library to order it. After you read Trials by Fire, please take time to write a short review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

Most important of all, enjoy.

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At first, they called it a novel coronavirus, but it mutated into a real-time dystopian novel.

At the turn of the year, Covid lurked in the sidelines, waiting to take center stage. Initially only a vague specter, it materialized from the shadows to become a source of ghoulish entertainment, dominating the airwaves. Can this be a replay of 1918? Surely not in this age of medical miracles! But the pundits could not hide their dread. Their knitted brows were enough to freeze my spine. Older ladies of my acquaintance, thinking they were prime victims, quarantined themselves. It was rumored this would become everyone’s fate, but surely that couldn’t happen, could it?

1918 Flu Epidemic

On Friday the 13th, the world changed. Schools closed. People stopped going to work. Panicked hordes stripped grocery shelves clean. Of toilet paper, no less. Meetings, travel plans, even weddings and funerals were cancelled. Life, once plotted out in calendar entries, became a fogged-up windshield in a vehicle out of control, hurtling at unknown speed to a nebulous future. That’s when I realized I was living inside a dystopian novel.

Stories and movies came to mind, of catastrophic events that spelled the end of the world: wars, alien invasions, plagues decimating the world’s population. In some stories, heroes emerged to save remnants of mankind, while in others the heroes were lucky to save themselves. Dystopian stories are great entertainment, but they’re no fun for their besieged characters. And now I was a character in one!

As a writer, it’s not such a bad place to be as long as my retirement checks keep coming, the electric grid holds up, and I can get groceries every week or so. If the electricity fails and I can’t get to the store, I’d still survive, as long as my cache of last year’s hurricane supplies held out. But, darn, I’d have to write on paper instead of my computer if the power went off.

Then I found out how much I depend on technology. One day, my phone stopped working. Good, no spam calls for a few days until a technician can fix it. I still had internet. A week later, the internet went out! I nearly panicked. I was a character in a movie, surrounded by unknown perils, cut off from the outside world. How could I survive without email, Google, and Wikipedia? Fortunately, the phone company had it fixed within hours.

The first week of quarantine was unsettling. The second, I settled into the unreality of it and watched the movie play out around me. But the surreal turned bizarre when the world began to morph into my dystopian novel.

My yet-to-be-published dystopian novel takes place in the future when solar power has replaced fossil fuels, but it didn’t happen soon enough. South Florida has gone the way of Atlantis and autocrats build houses that can withstand Category 7 hurricanes. Books aren’t banned, but they’re obsolete. My heroine collects books on history and studies them to uncover lost truths. When information is stored digitally, it’s easy to rewrite history.

The federal government is weak and ineffectual and the US has been partitioned into autonomous regions, each with its own set of laws. When a killer hurricane strikes, Georgia closes its border to keep Florida refugees out. Hospitals are out of supplies and the sick and injured crowd the hallways and cover the floors. The poor are hit hardest and rich see opportunities to enrich themselves. Until the pitchforks come out…

 

My novel is a fantasy, a series of events that (I sincerely hope) won’t come true. Or will they?

Coastal communities are already dealing with sea level rise. Hurricanes are becoming more powerful. (My fellow Floridians really dread the advent of this year’s hurricane season.)

As Covid went viral in New York and New Jersey, and hordes of Yankees headed south to escape, there were rumors that Florida was setting up roadblocks to keep them, and their contagion, out. Hospitals are over capacity and undersupplied. An economic bailout has the rich corporations making out like bandits while the rest of us are being thrown crumbs.

I wrote my book long before all this became reality, and I never expected to see it happen. Each development has made me pause and reflect. Just coincidence. I’m certainly no prophet.

Then a government official gave out erroneous information and the website he alluded to was later altered to agree with what he said! Rewriting history is not a new idea. Remember 1984?

Now several states, frustrated by the failed leadership of the federal government, are forming regional coalitions to make pacts on how to keep their citizens safe while restoring normalcy.

But not all is gloom and doom. In my book, the heroes encounter good people, many of them have-nots, who share what little they can. Even some of the well-to-do show their charitable sides.

In the current pandemic, people are stepping up to contribute what they can to those in need. Mom and Pop restaurants are feeding the hungry. Ladies with sewing machines are stitching up face masks. It’s refreshing to see that compassion and service survive in in our present dystopia, as well as the fictional ones.

I’ll tell you, though, if any more elements of my book come to pass, (if the pitchforks come out!) I may just have to rewrite it. Maybe as a cozy romance? What could be the harm in that?

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You may have noticed I haven’t posted in a while. It’s not that I’ve been idle. This year I’ve done a lot of traveling, besides to Djibouti in January. During the summer, I traveled as far as upstate New York for a family reunion and spent time with my children and grandchildren in the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. Then in October, I realized one of my life-long dreams and went to Greece—Athens, the Parthenon, and beautiful islands in the Aegean Sea.

As if that wasn’t enough, in November I joined my sister Sue in Connecticut for a genealogy expedition. This was the first time since childhood that I ventured to a northern clime during winter. I survived. When my granddaughter was born in the Blue Ridge Mountains in December, I braved snow and ice for this happy occasion.

So I have many adventures to write about, including the rest of my journey to Djibouti. I promise to deliver.

That doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing, because I have. I’m polishing a novel I wrote during NaNoWriMo a few years ago, while another simmers on the back burner. One of my short stories was published in Bacopa Literary Review this fall. But what I’m excited about today is the novel I just released, Trials by Fire, which is the first volume of a trilogy, The Long Road to Namai.

This story has been down a long road itself. When I was a kid, my sisters and brothers and I would camp out in the backyard on summer nights and tell ghost stories. This was science fiction, not a ghost story, and it was so long ago I don’t remember much about the original version. During college, I developed the story a little more. Through the intervening years, I wrote at least one short story which bears little resemblance to the present incarnation. None of these previous efforts bore fruit.

Then I retired and spent a month writing the first novel length version. I went so far as to self-publish it, but gave away more copies than I sold. A few years later I reread the book and thought, “What a great story, but what lousy writing!” I took it off the market and totally recrafted the whole thing. The story was still good and the writing much better, but it was too long and I couldn’t get the word count down without sacrificing important elements.

I decided to follow the suggestions of friends to divide the story into at least two parts and market it to Young Adult readers. I won’t bore you with all the details involved in getting a book market-ready, but as one person warned me, it takes longer than you think. Finally, here it is.

I’m sure you’ll enjoy this novel even if you’re not into science fiction. It’s also a human interest story and unlike anything else you’ve read. During the coming year, I will finish parts two and three and release them for your reading pleasure. Stay tuned.

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            You know those plastic tubs margarine and cottage cheese come in? They make handy storage containers for leftovers. As good caretakers of the Earth, we don’t throw them in the garbage. We wash them and store them in the cupboards until they are needed. After holiday dinners, the excess from the feast can go home with guests and no one needs to worry about returning bowls. But if virtue is its own reward, that’s about as far as it goes. How many times have you fished one of these tubs out of the cabinet only to be unable to locate its lid? Conversely, how often have you found a lid that fits no container?

            When my children lived at home, I always had someone to blame. I would accuse them of throwing out a bowl or a cover, but not both, instead of washing them. Or they would carry off one part or the other for some unknown reason and never return it. I would be left with useless, mis-matched dishes. One of the joys of parenthood is having someone else to blame.

            After the last of my offspring moved out for the last time, and I had the house to myself, I set about righting wrongs, bringing order out of chaos. I went through my cupboards and paired every storage container with its lid. The lids with no mates, I discarded. The bowls with no covers were sent to the garden shed. They make handy flower pots and saucers. Order had been restored to my kitchen.

            Or so I thought. As the only cook and consumer, I had total control over what was in my cabinets, right? Wrong. The sad day came when the lid for just the right size tub for a certain volume of leftovers was nowhere to be found. Again, I went through the cupboards making matches. I was astounded by the number of pieces that had lost their mates. Unless my kids came in when I was asleep and purposely removed them, they could not be blamed. How, then, could I account for this enigma?

            One day, I was in my church’s kitchen putting away leftovers after a dinner. In the cabinet labeled “storage containers” I found a neat stack of Cool Whip and hummus tubs. Next to it was a basket full of lids. Not one matched! I was not the only victim of this mysterious occurrence.

            Finally, I have figured it out. You have heard about wormholes in space? You see them all the time in science fiction movies, and serious scientists believe they actually exist. They have no proof, but they have theories. Wormholes would be shortcuts in space-time that would allow travel from one part of the universe to another, or from one universe to another. These theories aren’t even new. Almost 100 years ago, a mathematician named Hermann Weyl had such an idea.

            The reason the scientists have as yet no proof of wormholes’ existence is that they are looking in the wrong place. I have no better theory about my disappearing containers and lids than the existence of a wormhole somewhere in my cupboards. It’s a small wormhole, too small for a space ship. Other kitchens have them as well, including the one at my church. Maybe you have one, too. From time to time a bowl or its cover will slip through the wormhole and end up in some other kitchen. Since I have found unfamiliar containers and lids in mine, I know it works both ways. Maybe this is where the idea of flying saucers came from.

            If only we could figure out which kitchens are connected to which others by these wormholes, we might be able to retrieve our prodigal dishes. A thorough study of this phenomenon could result in a major breakthrough in physics. It might even win a Nobel Prize. I invite any serious scientist to come explore my cupboards.

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Bonnie T. Ogle

Award Winning Childrens Author

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