Wednesday, September 15, 2021

The Great Basedcon Sale!


The most based science fiction and fantasy convention is on! To celebrate, author-scientist extraordinaire Hans G. Schwartz is organizing a massive blowout sale! Over a hundred titles are available for free or just $0.99!

Participating authors represent a huge mix of established names and emerging talents. These include Leigh Brackett, C.J. Carella, Larry Correia,  Jon del Arroz, David Drake, Eric Flint, Declan Finn, Harry Harrison, Daniel Humphreys, Tom Kratman, Mike Massa, Andre Norton, Richard Paolinelli, John Ringo, Mark Wandrey, David Weber, H.G. Wells, David J. West, Michael Z. Williamson, John C. Wright, and of course, myself.

Tuesday, September 14, 2021

Pulp legend J. Manfred Weichsel announces his next book & last chance to get Expedition to Eden

Earlier this year when pulp legend J. Manfred Weichsel pulled his books from Kindle Unlimited, there was one book he didn't publish wide, Expedition to Eden. The reason for this was simple: he didn't think it was good enough.

Weichsel recently started to look Expedition to Eden over again to see if there was some way he could fix it, and his imagination began to run wild with possibilities that hadn't occurred to him when he first wrote the book. Weichsel is a much better writer now than he was in January of 2020 when he published Expedition to Eden, and is capable of writing bigger, crazier, more complex, and more meaningful stories than he was in those nascent days of his career as an author. 

The part of Expedition to Eden that jumped out at Weichsel was a small scene towards the end of the book involving the fallen angel Samyaza, who was the leader of the Watchers, an order of angels that rebelled against God in order to have sex with human women. Weichsel was inspired to read about Samyaza and the Watchers in the dead sea scrolls and other apocryphal texts, and the result will be a story about fallen angels that is just as well researched as the scientific elements are in his novels Ebu Gogo and Jungle Jitters

All that having been said, along with all the new stuff Weichsel is writing, most of the material in Expedition to Eden will also be included in this new novel, albeit in a highly altered form. As a result, Expedition to Eden is going out of print on October 1, and if you want to be able to track Weichsel's development as a writer and see what he does with the original material, this is your last chance to grab it. It is recommended that you buy the  PAPERBACK immediately, as a hard copy of an out-of-print J. Manfred Weichsel story is sure to become a collector's item, such as this out-of-print anthology Weichsel has a story in going on ebay for $100.00.

Weichsel hopes to release his new novel in November or December of 2021. 

Tuesday, September 7, 2021

The Last Thousand Words

 Typewriter, Book, Notes, Paper, Writing, Write, Antique

Dozens of days of research. Hundreds of hours of writing. Constant sweating and fact-checking, checking in proofreaders and editors, editing and re-editing the manuscript, polishing it to perfection. Every fact must be checked, every slang word period-accurate, every last detail lifted from reality. And what is the fruit of your labours?

One thousand words.

Saturday, August 28, 2021

The Wind Blows From the West


you can move.”

Lee helped Cheung out of the wagon and on his feet. Cheung walked a little, wobbling, but quickly gained strength.

“Thank—thank you,” Cheung said.

Lanterns appeared behind them, followed by shouts.

“We’re not done yet,” he said. “Come on.”

“Where’s Ayan?”

“Dead. We have to go.”

They ran for the steam car of the Imperial Guard. Lee got the driver’s seat. Cheung rode shotgun.

“Where are we going?” Cheung muttered.

“Someplace that’s not here.”


Lee drove and drove until he found himself in a seedy-looking neighbourhood. He parked in a secluded alley and changed his clothes. He left his bloodsoaked clothes in the backseat and ignited them. He didn’t want to give a ritualist blood to track with. Not if he could help it.

The adrenaline wore off and a cacophony of aches and pains emerged. Lee kept going, urging Cheung along. They halted, near a secluded alley, only when it became clear that the old man was losing his sense of direction. They waited until dawn, not quite sleeping, not quite resting. Lee meditated, restoring his chi as best as he could and channelling the excess to the old man.

Lee shook Cheung awake and they set off again. Cheung recovered enough sense to find the main road, where they flagged down a horse-drawn taxicab. The driver dropped them off at a bus station at the edge of town. From there it was a ten-hour journey to T’aip’ing.

They sat side-by-side, dirty and scuffed and shunned by the other passengers. Which was, for now, fine by Lee. Lee continued meditating, while Cheung stared out the window.

“Why did you kill Ms Tung?” Cheung asked, finally, in Liangtunghua.

“She wasn’t going to listen,” Lee said, “and the Guard were coming.”

“You shot her.”

“When two tigers fight, one dies, the other is crippled.”

Cheung pondered that in silence for a few hours. When the noon sun came and went, he asked, “Why help us escape?”

Ethan Thomas Lee inhaled. Exhaled. “The Boxers killed my father in the early days of the Uprising. After the Uprising, the Imperial Guard executed my mother for being a ‘collaborator’. You know what they had in common? Closed-mindedness.”

“That’s it?”

“Yemaitai is coming. The only question is how to discourage or defeat them. Discarding something because it is Western is the height of foolishness. Did we not defeat the Westerners with their own technology?”

Cheung smiled at that.


They went their separate ways at T’aip’ing. With no cargo to guard, and the Imperial Guard looking for an old man and a young mixed-blood man travelling together, going separately was the only choice. Cheung boarded the evening train, Lee left in the morning.

Occasionally Lee got out at random stops, spending a day or evening in a strange town or city. He kept his ears out for word of an Imperial Guard manhunt and heard nothing. Once in a stopover he sent a coded telegram to the Risk Taker’s Guild in Sum Kong, to Lam. The next day, Lam told him everything was calm in the city.

Lee returned to the city four days later. He stopped in at the International Quarter. Cheung’s office was shuttered, the signboards removed. The bank told him he had been paid in full, plus a three-peso bonus. He returned to his apartment, inventoried his equipment, cleaned what could be cleaned and made a list of what he needed to replace. Then a long bath and a short walk to his bed. That night, he awoke in the dark only five times.

In the morning, he left his bed, changed into something presentable and returned to the Risk taker’s Guild. In the tea hall found a chair next to the radio and ordered a bowl of pork porridge. He ate slowly. Carefully. No need to rush.

At eight o’clock precisely, the music faded away and the radio announcer came back on.

“This is Sum Kong Radio, with breaking news. Two days ago, at one in the morning, saboteurs from Yematai were caught in the Northeast Province near the cross-border railway with Chüsenkuo. They were armed with dynamite, pistols and rifles and dressed like civilians.

“They were discovered by Imperial Guardsmen patrolling the border. Our forces heroically killed all five saboteurs with no loss to themselves. Shortly after this incursion, Yemai forces were observed massing at the border. Our glorious army is moving to protect our sovereignty against the Yemai imperialists. More news to follow.”

Lee finished his breakfast quickly. Paid the bill, walked out. He had equipment to replace, new items to buy, experts and contacts to talk to.

More jobs would be coming. And soon.

While this story has ended, there are many more to come! Sign up for my mailing list here for writing news and updates!

Friday, August 27, 2021

The Wind Blows From the West Part 9


As Lee left the inn, he heard a low metal growl. The steam engine was warmed up and ready to go. There was only one undertype steam wagon in the inn’s parking lot, and Tung was leaning against the cab waiting for him.

She slid off the metal. She stared at him, then beyond him. She clenched her fists. Her chi spiked, red and hot.

Thursday, August 26, 2021

The Wind Blows From the West Part 8


Lee led Tung to his room. It was just large enough to fit a cot, his luggage, and a wardrobe. She leaned against a wall, and he stood opposite her.

“I peeked inside Cheung’s trade goods,” she said. “They were Bibles.”

Wednesday, August 25, 2021

The Wind Blows From the West Part 7


They made good time on the road, arriving in the next town by late afternoon. Instead of checking in at an inn, Cheung insisted on going straight to his local contact. Ayan parked the wagon outside a short, squat building. The sign above the door read ‘New World Printers’.  

As Lee leapt off the back, he heard faint mechanical clanking drift through the air. He wrinkled his nose. There was…something…in the air. A moment later, he detected a faint whiff of hot, freshly-printed paper.