The next Superstars Writing Seminar will be held on February 5-7, 2015, in Colorado Springs, Colorado. We’ve decided to make the Hilton Antlers Hotel in Colorado Springs our regular venue and keep the first or second weekend in February as our regular date. That seemed to work well for the seminar we just held there, which was our most successful one yet. That was true even despite the weather, which (or so I’m told by residents of the area) was much worse than usual.
Paradigms Lost — Chapter 21
Chapter 21: Admissions and Evidence
The door opened. “Jason!” Sylvie said, looking surprised.
“Hi, Syl. Can I come in?”
“Sure. Watch out for the books on the floor, I’m rearranging the library.”
1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 07
Chapter 3: Plans and Proposals
Fortney Home, Grantville
“Howdy, Prince Karl.” Sonny Fortney held out his hand like the prince was just anyone. It was easy because, to Sonny, the prince was just anyone. He knew that a lot of down-timers and more than a few up-timers didn’t feel that way, but he did. He felt that way before the Ring of Fire, when titles like doctor and professor were bandied about, and he felt it even more now. “I hope you’ll excuse the mess. We’ve sold the house and there’s a lot of packing being done right now.”
Mammoth Screen is renewing their option on the 1632 series for another year. They’ve hired a well-known screenwriter and have the script for the first episode. They’ve also made a deal with ITV Studios for worldwide distribution. This is important because ITV is a big deal in the UK. We’re still a long ways from an up-and-running TV series, but things are looking good.
1636 The Viennese Waltz – Snippet 06
“Only if they’re balanced by down-timers with technical know how,” Judy the Elder said. “One thing we have consistently underestimated is what down-time craftsmen can do.”
“And don’t think we aren’t aware of that.” Karl smiled. “Aside from farming and mining, what would you suggest as the best options?”
Paradigms Lost — Chapter 20
Chapter 20: An Unusual Consultant
Red liquid swirled warmly in the crystal glass, throwing off crimson highlights. Verne Domingo sipped. I swallowed some of my ginger ale, noticing how little I was affected these days by the knowledge that Verne was drinking blood.
“Why doesn’t it clot?” I asked idly.