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Writing Wendl...

I really did want to write a light-hearted tale in case this one turns out to be my last novel (assuming it yet becomes a novel), but it's headed currently toward the shadows. I thought I knew Wendl Von Trier pretty well, having trekked with him through my previous book, The Winged Child .   There, Wendl presents as an elusive solitary, moving above all worldly fray while at the same time nudging events and characters toward a satisfactory conclusion. Sharp and intimidating on the outside and tender and motherly on the inside. A friend to the world, something of a trickster, but in all things working for good outcomes.  That is how I saw Wendl VonTrier. A  púka, mischievous, but essentially harmless, even benevolent, capable of presenting in whatever form or gender the moment required. Wendl seemed the ideal candidate to carry readers off into the literary sunset in good spirits after an exhilarating romp through a fantastical fiction. But all along, it seems, there were depths to

Joshua's Ghost...


This might be the first page of a novel, or at least a short story, or maybe it's only a flash in the pan. Would you want to keep reading?

The entity that had been Joshua McTeer in another stream of being studied his image in the mirror. He still looked like Joshua McTeer, still thought of himself as male, although gender had been left behind along with several other human attributes during subsequent transformations. He could change his likeness, if need arose, but for today, he was satisfied to resemble his past self. He might just as easily appear like Amelia, his still mostly human wife. Love and loyalty ever bound them fast to one another, unimpeded by their cascading differences down the decades. Love, he thought, was a constant beyond human. It was, he suspected, the only force holding the worlds together.

On this particular day, he was answering a summons from his old world of origin. Jimmy had sent a message from the Other Side Diner. Ben Orphan, who, it was rumored, owned half the Carolina Prefecture, had come by hoping for information about Joshua’s daughter. Jimmy, reluctant to engage a prominent target of the Guild, divulged or promised nothing, but said he would make inquiries.

Joshua, who knew no more about his long absent child’s whereabouts than anyone else in the Three Worlds, pathed a response, Tell Orphan I will meet him at your place this time tomorrow.

Now, it was tomorrow. Joshua sorted his patterns, and satisfied he would deceive a Confederation scanner, ignited into a cloud of orbiting sparks and shifted beyond.



Henry's books. 

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