Jim C. Wilson's Blog

Last Days of Pre-Order!

Out on Valentine's Day in the US, the 3rd installment in the Seth Donovan novels is ready to fill your #scifi cravings!

A teaser of the up and coming third entry in the Seth Donovan Novels - Frontier's End

Enjoy!

Been a while, but have not been idle!
A ton of things have swamped my life for the past few months, and will for some time longer. Chiefly among these is the big conclusion to the giant merger of Medtronic and Covidien (the company I work for) due to happen this month. I expect there to be a few boss battles, much xp and loot to be had. Possibly a raid event. On top of this, we’ve had to move our workshop into an integrated facility and this has been a huge endeavour, as well as a giant order of products due to a competitor dropping out of the market. A promotion, added responsibilities etcetera, etcetera…
Basically, all the things that life usually brings that gets in the way of extra-curricular activities. Due to this, I’ve had to prioritise my free time, somewhat. I’m still writing, so fret not, avid readers. Book 3 is finished, ready to move onto the editing phase. Book 4 has started. Still playing Xbox like a madman and still gaming various RPGs with my buddies.
Maintaining this blog, however, has taken a lower priority.
That being said – here’s what I got for ya:


Book titles to look out for:Book 3 of the Seth Donovan Novels: Frontier’s End – Q1 2017Book 4 of the Seth Donovan Novels: The Prophet Engineer - TBA

Book 2: Assault on Ambrose Station is out! To celebrate, book 1 is available as a free download until the 19th so hurry up and get yours! Both books are normally priced at just $2.99 from Amazon.com.

Book 1: Dreaming of Atmosphere

Book 2: Assault on Ambrose Station

The long awaited (well, not that long) much anticipated (well I know a few people who wanted it) sequel to Dreaming of Atmosphere is due out on the 15th June 2016, American time.


Go check it out!Assault on Ambrose Station



“You have a right to be scared. You’d be a fool if you weren’t. Last time I was here, I lost most of the people I respected most. I saw thousands of my comrades die under the guns of the Ghantri. If you look out there hard enough, you can probably still see their frozen bodies drifting through space. There’s a very high possibility that we’ll be joining them...”


Following on from the adventures of the Dreaming of Atmosphere and her crew, Seth Donovan finally makes it back to the Gossamer System. As events in the Inner System worlds start to spiral out of control, galaxy-spanning dangers begin to reveal themselves. Seth has one last chance to make right the mistakes that were made years ago, during the Push, but is the crew up to the challenge? Can a handful of travellers achieve what thousands of star marines could not, even with an entire fleet of warships at their back?


What started out as a risky venture, right from the beginning, ends up a deadly mission with far-reaching consequences when Seth learns the truth behind what is at stake in the Gossamer System, and faces his fears head on.

Sneak peak at chapter 2 (first chapter is just exposition on the story so far). Editing not done yet on this part so excuse any errors, grammatical or otherwise. Enjoy!
I knew before the first shots were fired that I was in serious trouble. My fighter could only turn at so many gees before it broke apart, and even less before my consciousness was temporarily obliterated. In a dogfight, passing out was tantamount to death. My adversaries were all around me, I had misjudged their ability to coordinate their attacks and instead of breaking apart in a chaotic mess, they had simply parted neatly and allowed me to pass between them. I couldn’t get a lock on any more than one of them, while all four of them would get a clear shot at me as I passed. Even worse, if I survived the next few seconds they would be able to pivot on impossibly tight turns and attack my unprotected arse.“Shit!” I swore, as my fighter registered several hits at once. I immediately aborted my run and focused wholly on evasion, switching power reserves to shield and propulsion. That was a new feature of the fighter interface, a modification by Cuts. We figured that if we could add a few dozen kilograms of weight to the rear in the form of extra power storage, I would be able to shunt it around as needed and give my systems a much-needed boost. Luckily for me these drones used energy weapons and not ballistic or missile ammunition, my shields would be able to deflect or absorb a few hits before being overloaded.Sure enough, a bright flash through the canopy and a row of red indicators on my dashboard told me the shield had buckled. I gulped down air through my mask as I spun the fighter in a corkscrew manoeuvre trying to shake my pursuers. I couldn’t let them get behind me or I’d be toast in no time. A propulsion hit would mean the end of me for sure. I figured the drones had to be on automatic, there couldn’t be a pilot or they would never be able to pull off such tight formations. That meant I could outsmart them. I hoped. Keeping my turns as random as possible, I managed to keep them focused on my upper starboard flank. I cut power to my engines, coasted for a millisecond while I pivoted on my axis, and swung around to meet them. When I was facing them, I poured on my retro-thrusters on the forward fuselage and managed to get a weapon lock on two of them. In an instant, I had my thumb pressing on the fire control trigger like crazy and couldn’t contain a whoop of victory as they both blew apart under my stream of fire. It was short lived, however. All four drones had kept coming instead of splitting into defensive patterns and the surviving pair lined up a barrage of fire that rocked my cockpit and pitted my canopy. More red indicators flashed angrily at me and suddenly my controls were not responding. “No!” I cried as the remaining pair split to my flanks and came at me from two angles. A staccato of hits tore my fighter apart and I died in the sudden vacuum that engulfed me as the cockpit disintegrated around me.Simulation ended. Reported my overlay. “Fuck. I hate drones.” I swore again.Crege berated me, “Human was bezak! Still thinking of drones as separate calak, not a single swarm of galab.”“God damn it.” That was me, cussing. Again.“Drones don’t care if one gets destroyed. Drones do not care if almost all are destroyed. If one left, they will kill human. Stop thinking calak thinks like human, start thinking calak thinks like machine!”“Yeah, yeah. I get it.”“Human does not get it. Human gets killed like fedang every time.”“This fighter is a hunk of tinfoil with an engine attached! I can’t sustain even a fraction of the hits the Dreaming can take!”“So don’t get hit!”“Oh, really? I hadn’t thought of that!”“Because human is stupid!”“Hey! Flying is your thing! I prefer a straight up gun fight to all this fancy flying.”“You think the calak will care what kind of death you prefer? ‘Oh, sorry human. Just let me climb out of drone and kick human’s gortug! Death will come for you, no matter your circumstances, your training or your preference for combat. A warrior knows that everywhere is battlefield. Life is a battlefield.”I had learned a long time ago that it was best to let Crege finish his rants rather than interrupt him. He was liable to turn violent.I climbed out of the cockpit of the Eclipse Fighter we had stored in the aft cargo hold, pulling the flight mask off my face as I did. There were several electrodes pasted to my scalp as well, feeding sensory data wirelessly to my interface overlay bio-aug. I pulled them all free as I came out of the cockpit, and handed my mask to Crege.“I think Tac might have cheated a little on that run, anyway.” I regretted saying it almost immediately.“Explain.” commanded Crege.“Well…I used a tactic that he saw me use when I was escaping the Xerxes.”“So?”“I’m just saying, he knew how to counter it.”“Why is that cheating?”I sighed, “Look, forget it. I screwed up. I’m tired.” I held up my hand as Crege was about to launch himself into another tirade, “and before you go on about warriors not giving a shit about whether the enemy is tired or not, I’ll remind you I’m supposed to be on holidays. Max gave me the green light. I’m off duty until we get to Gossamer.”“Human asked warrior to test him. Warrior did not pull human out of nest to train. Human is here because he wants to survive.”“A decision I’m starting to regret.”“Warrior is also here, because he wants human to survive.”I sighed again, “You’re right. I’m sorry. We’ve been at it for hours and my leg is itching like a bitch. Frustration is eating at me; remember when we first started sparring?”“Human whined like a baby garz’ak.”“I’m grateful for your help, I really am. I just need a break.”“Okay. Warrior’s leg aches like… a bitch also.”“Look at us, a pair of banged up actives limping about like old men. Come on, you old fart, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate in the mess deck.”We limped out of the aft cargo and headed to the forward cargo hold and Deck 2. Crege was right. I needed to be sharp. I was no ace pilot, and I knew that eventually my mediocre skills as a pilot would be tested. Our plan counted on it. Crege was an excellent sparring partner, but not the best teacher. I constantly pitted myself against him in sword fights in the forward hold, or at least I did before he had been wounded while repelling mercenary boarders. He was the far better swordsman and although I was slowly closing that gap, forcing myself to face a more skilled opponent honed my own skills accordingly. It had saved my life many times, especially over the last few months on this job.The problem was, I wasn’t facing off against Crege now, he was tutoring me in the arts of dog fighting. I’m not a slow learner, but Crege’s impatience tends to get the better of him and lessons end up in arguments and yelling matches more often than not. The fact that his wounded leg stops him from climbing up into the cockpit is the only reason he hasn’t whacked me around the head yet. Small mercies, I suppose.We retired to the mess deck on Deck 2, and found Fel’negr sitting quietly by himself enjoying a bowl of Vendrul broth. Crege slid up beside him at the table as I ordered two cups of hot chocolate from the auto-chef.“Tac killed human nine times, today.” declared Crege as I sat down with them.“Eight. I ejected once.”“Ha! You still dead.”Fel slurped from his bowl, and I caught a whiff of the foul stuff. It reeked of seaweed and rotting vegetation. I knew that the taste of the Orlii delicacy wasn’t far off it. “We learn through failure, we grow through defeat.” he said. Fel was full of these truisms, a by-product of a classical education and a devoted following of The Way, an Orlii school of philosophy and thought.“I prefer what my old platoon sergeant used to say: Train hard, fight easy.”“Wise man, your platoon sergeant.” agreed Fel. Crege nodded his head as well.“A brave man, too. He died in the Push, leading a charge against a Ghantri emplacement. Just one more death I hope to avenge when we get to Gossamer.”The Push was the name given to the grand Protectorate invasion of Gossamer, to take back the system once and for all. In reality, it was a bloody disaster. Over a thousand warships were destroyed and tens of thousands of soldiers and sailors killed during the Push. I had lost my entire squad and was left behind when the withdrawal was called. I spent the better part of four months trying to get out of the system and nearly lost my life because of it. Due to injuries sustained in my escape, I had extensive cybernetic and bio-augmentation to repair the damage. Almost the entire left side of my upper body was cybernetic now. I had major spinal augs as well. It was due to these augmentations that I was able to take advantage of an emerging technology - Nano-Proliferation. Through an implant that I gained a few months ago, I had learnt how to manipulate and create nano-scopic robots called nanites. Through these tiny devices, I can create several fantastic effects, manipulating energy and matter with the power of thought. These powers have a cost, however. The implant uses up my body’s energy reserves and affects the electrical activity in my brain. If I’m not careful in how I use my nanites, I can have seizures and blackouts. I’m still working on my charge levels, and knowing my safe limits.“The Captain requests your presence tonight at the planning meeting in her cabin. Twenty six hundred hours.” said Fel. A ship day was thirty hours long.“I’ll be there. What’s the agenda?” I asked.“The usual. Going over our plan to get past the Protectorate blockade, repairs and provisioning schedules for when we dock at Eridani Station.”“Again? What’s new?”“Don’t know. You know Max, she likes to worry about plans and contingencies. It’s an admirable trait to have in a Captain.”“No doubt, maybe she’s thought of something else and wants to bounce it off us. See how it washes?”“Possibly. Tac, has the Captain been asking you for more probability ratios lately?”The Captain has been asking me for probability ratios many times a day, since we escaped the Blade of Xerxes. This was the AI’s texted response to all our overlays. Tac was different than normal AIs. He appeared to be a sphere of electronics, roughly the size of a small bowling ball. His actual form reached into a parallel dimension and, if he was to be believed, is growing all the time. Part computer, part organic…something. Tac was a valuable member of the crew, and we thought of him not as an artificial intelligence, but as an actual crewmember. We had him ensconced in the ship’s sensor nexus, and all the external and internal sensors were his to use. In a past life, he was a deep space research vessel’s computer, but we had rescued him from a drifting hulk hours after the ship’s destruction.“Are any of her more recent suggestions viable?”A few have merit.“Any we’re not aware of?”Negative. You are conversant with the most favourable plans to date.“So why does she want me at this one? I’m still off-duty.”“Perhaps she misses you?” offered Fel.“We can chat any time; I don’t need a command meeting for that. She knows that. Right?”“Why doesn’t human just ask her?” said Crege.“I might.”“Then we don’t need to talk about it.” That’s Crege. Pointless banter was not his strong suit.“How are the legs?” asked Fel, indicating us both.“I can put my weight on it now, but the nanite patch itches like hell.” I said. During my escape from a Corporate organo-ship, I’d been attacked in the Eclipse Fighter that I stole by a swarm of drones. I nearly died when several hits penetrated my cockpit. Luckily, all I had suffered was a burnt leg when an energy beam lanced it. Burn injuries were easy to heal with nanites, but cutting wounds, like Crege’s, had to be healed the old-fashioned way.“Still feels like broken glass in my hip.” reported Crege, “Zoe says no more bleeds, though. Bone start to heal properly now.” I had to hand it to him. Crege was a tough son of a bitch. His wound was far more serious than mine was; a sword tip had pierced his thigh and cut the top of his femur off. Zoe had performed emergency surgery on him in our med lab, and through many months of healing and therapy, he should make a full recovery. For the time being, though, he was out of action. Only recently, had Zoe allowed him to return to light duties and he had hit the bridge with gusto taking shifts on duty as often as he could. “Seeing the both of you wounded…it shames me” started Fel, “Here I am, whole and unwounded. I’ve done little, comparatively to the pair of you, I’ve not shared the danger you two have faced on this voyage.”“Talk like that doesn’t get us anywhere.” I explained, “You’re not an active. You’re pretty much a civilian in my books.”“And mine” agreed Crege.“So don’t go getting any ideas about putting yourself in danger just so you can get wounded and compare scars with the rest of us.”“I won’t, I just wanted to tell you that if I could, I’d fight alongside you. I’m no soldier.”“And it’s for that reason that we’d rather you stuck to doing what you do best. An untrained gunman on our side in a fight is more a liability than an asset.”“Fel is thinker, warrior is doer.” offered Crege.
“Yeah, what he said. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to stalk my woman and pester her a bit before I get some shuteye before this command meeting tonight.”

Finally finished the first draft of my manuscript, now for the hard part – editing! I’ve also been working diligently on sharpening up Book 1: Dreaming of Atmosphere, taking onboard some excellent advice from author J. Bryden Lloyd. I've toyed around in various industries and one of the things that has impressed me most about the writing community is the level of support and mentoring that established authors are willing to provide. My Lloyd is a prime example of what I'm talking about (he's also a great author - go check him out!). I’m 50% of the way through that project so if you were holding out for a more refined edition watch this space (or Amazon.com).
Test reader response has been great, finishing the story on a cliff-hanger seems to have been a hit. At this stage, I expect the release of Book 2: Assault on Ambrose Station to be approximately June/July.

Started the first chapter of Book 3: Frontier’s End, which I may share soon, once I’ve polished it somewhat as a decent launching pad. Exciting!

Working on the system mechanics for Galaxy's End, and decided last weekend was the right time to play test a few of the rules. I'd have to say, this test run when exceptionally well. I've analysed the dice rolling mechanics with a brilliant website called anydice.com to ensure the best spread of variables that are robust, with the right amount of 'realism' in the expected results. That is, the difficulty of the same task performed by different characters of different skill levels.

The test was primarily combat related, which is the most important part of a new system to get right, but I also wanted to see what the core mechanic looks like.

I've broken the ability scores into five categories - Strength, Hardiness, Action, Reason and Personality. They are graded as Terrible, Low, Average, High and Exceptional. Depending on what grade your ability is, you roll different dice. All die rolls are performed on d6's.

Terrible - roll 4 dice and drop the highest roll.
Low - roll 4 dice and drop the lowest roll.
Average - roll 4 dice.
High - roll 5 dice, keep 4
Exceptional - roll 6 dice, keep 4.

Here is how the probabilities look:

Image provided by anydice.comThe combat was fast, with a good level of deadliness that I love in a combat system. There was very few of the rules that I'd established already that needed much adjustment. I got a lot of data from the play test and I'm ready to move onto more systems that are needed to support the game - character generation, advancement, equipment, powers etc.

Just got to find the bloody time!

R.I.P Mr Bowie

As we open the week, and begin the new year, we say goodbye to a great man. I won't pretend to know as much about David Bowie as some, but I did enjoy his music (some of it is even on my writing playlist). News of his passing caught me quite by surprise, as I'm sure it did many.

On the subject of endings, I'm approaching the end of my second book. Assault on Ambrose Station is coming along nicely, with great feedback from my test readers (Cheers, Ian!). To sum up the way I write, Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best:

"The writer is an explorer. Every step is an advance into a new land"

I start with an idea, and just start writing. I know where I want to get, but how I get there is up to the story itself. The more I think about where the story goes, the more I see different endings opening up for me. Which ending will I choose? These are things I need to work out now. If I don't decide, the story will push me in a direction which will create the ending for me.

I already know I want there to be a third book in the Seth Donovan series, with possibly more off-shoot novels to explore the universe I've created to write in, but how do I get there? If I just go with the flow, letting the story drive itself, I run the risk of putting my story in a difficult place to continue writing. There must be an ending, however, or there will be no new beginning for the next book.

On other new beginnings - I've started to go over my notes for the new RPG Galaxy's End. As previously mentioned, it will be in the same universe designed for Exile's End, only during the epoch of human civilisation. This same era that the Seth Donovan novels are in. While I always wanted to use Ample as the system to use, I've been toying with the idea of creating a unique system just for Galaxy's End. There should be many of the concepts penned in Ample, but I'm thinking of reworking enough that it wouldn't be a stretch to call it it's own thing.

Only issue now is finding the time for all my ideas to get penned. Maybe once I finish Assault on Ambrose Station?

Stay Sharp!

As I've been hard at work writing the next installement of the Seth Donovan Novels, I thought I would offer a snippet and a teaser for avid readers. Above, is the first draft of the cover, and below is a portion of Chapter 3. If you want any more...well, you're just going to have to wait ;)

3.I sat at Maxine’s small conference table, admiring the bright pink nightgown she wore while nursing a coffee. She sat at her writing desk and stared out her fake porthole. I say it’s fake because although it looks exactly like a real one, in fact it’s a high definition hologram depicting the outside of the ship. She can program it to show absolutely anything, from deep space to nebulae, I even once saw her gazing out at a scene that showed us underwater. This time she had the real sensors on the ship relaying her the images of Jump Space. The light from the myriad patterns and colours lit her face up and painted it all manner of shades.“Don’t stare for too long, you’ll go blind.” I said.“Bull shit.” That was Max, blunt and cutting through the crap.“Just a rumour, is all.”“It’s beautiful. I could stare at it all day.”“Is that why you’re cross eyed?”She laughed and threw a pencil at me, “Arsehole.”“Thought I’d pop up a bit early before the meeting. See how things are going.”“How’s your pilot training with Crege?”I grunted.“That good, huh?”“’Sokay.”“We shift into Gossamer in forty two hours. You going to be fit for duty then?”“I should be. Leg’s healing well enough. Zoe tells me the nanites are almost done, but they itch like hell.”“You big baby. Itching is good. Don’t let her catch you scratching at that nanite patch.”I pulled my hand away from my thigh, where I had been subconsciously scratching at it. “What’s with all the meetings? Not happy with the plan?”“There’s too many variables, too many what ifs. We’re running low on just about everything; food, manoeuvring fuel, spare parts, polycrete foam, credits. Most of all credits. We need some ideas on how to cash up for the repairs we sorely need. Any more damage and we run the risk of being labelled a Junker. Your grandfather will never let me live it down there.”A Junker was a derogatory term for a ship that is perpetually poorly maintained. The shit boxes of the galaxy. Once a ship gains that kind of notoriety, it’s very hard to get rid of it. Finding good crew to run a Junker was next to impossible, but many low skilled space farers can sign on the Junker ships. You didn’t need a good reputation or a great resume to be hired on one of those. It was a vicious cycle.“Old Hieron would understand. He already approves of you, it’s not like he can take the ship off you anyway.” Hieron Donovan was the longest serving Captain to ever own the Dreaming of Atmosphere. He held the job for over seventy years, and helped build the business and the reputation that the ship had in the Network. She was known as a reliable courier and hardworking ship, a model that all Captains since had worked to maintain. My grandfather was a somewhat eccentric Eridanian who retired many years ago and lives in seclusion on the tropical ocean world of Oceania in the Votus II System.“Ha, don’t think for a moment that he wouldn’t fly out here just to chastise me for letting his ship fall into disrepute. He might even give it to someone else just to teach me a lesson.”“Now that you mention it, he probably would. He’d probably relish the idea of coming out of retirement and being Captain one more time to finish the job.”“If he does, he’s more than welcome to it.”“Not a chance, his current wife would skin him alive.”“Which one is his current wife? Elinda?”“No, she left him about six years ago. Madeline is his seventh and current wife. Last time he wrote me though, he was having troubles again. He calls it his wandering eye.”“He’s a dirty old man, is what he is. He needs to settle down with a woman his own age.”“Ha, I don’t think anyone is his age. Let alone a woman who’d put up with this craziness.”We both enjoyed a laugh, which died down to a comfortable silence, as we were both lost in thoughts of family and friends.Max broke the silence first, “We should pay him a visit, when all this is over. Take a much-needed holiday. He’d want to know about Eric, and he should find out in person.”“Agreed. He might even be able to find us a nice paying job as well. Votus II isn’t a bad system to work if you know people.”“There’s something we need to talk about though.”“Zoe?”“Yeah.”I sighed. I knew the score. “Have you talked to her yet?”“No, I wanted to talk to you about her first. I want what’s best for both of you.”“Okay. What do you want to know?”“You’ve been together a couple of months now. Sorry if it’s being a little personal, but I need to know your intentions towards her.”“Haven’t given it much thought, to be honest. Been taking it day by day. I love her, she loves me, and so far that’s been enough for both of us.”“You know, and she knows, that she has a place here with us permanently if she wants it. We haven’t had a medical officer like her for a long time. Nevertheless, I know she has other commitments. Finishing her studies, for one. Her mother on Kanto Prime is another. She was hired under the pretence that this was an internship, I doubt her university would accept it if we just stole her from them.”“What can they do?”“They can sue, for one.”“Under what grievance?”“Loss of prestige. She is a rising star in cybernetics and biological augmentation. Universities like to pimp out their star pupils and alumni to big research initiatives and Corporations. They can sue for loss of prestige, which for them means less research grants and funding from governments.”I thought hard. What should I do? I did not want to let her go, but I didn’t want to get in the way of her career. If she went back to studying, it would effectively mean the end of our relationship. There was no way I could ask her to wait for me, not when every time I go through a Jump Gate I lose three months of her life, six months if I want to come back. Alternatively, I also didn’t want her to be in danger as much as we had. Not all our jobs were as life threatening as this one, but they certainly weren’t always easy courier jobs. Even standard courier work can be dangerous. Space, to use a cliché, was dangerous by definition.“I don’t know what to say. It can’t be my decision. That much I know.”“You need to talk with her. Soon. Her year is already up; by rights we should already have had this chat with her a month ago.”“Alright, I’ll try and bring it up with her sometime.”“Soon.”
I nodded, “Soon.”