Left Turn at Albuquerque
Hello! You might be wondering why there wasn’t a newsletter last month. The answer is: I forgot
Anyway! I’ve been up to things. A new episode of Demo Disk, trying and failing to make my first… video essay, I guess? About the real-world jesters of Balatro. I’ve been venting about it in the Discord I won’t go into it here
And then in April I went to Albuquerque! Not just to complete the Loony Tunes Tour that I started a decade ago with Walla Walla Washington, but to attend a writers’ retreat called Sandia Starforgers. I went… kinda on a whim, honestly. I do not know the spec-fic scene, I didn’t know any of the people involved, but I figured: why not? I could do it, and I should take my writing seriously. I should invest.
It was a good weekend. I got good feedback on Vapormage, including a sense that, no, I do have something here. It needs refinement, for sure, but I actually got a positive response. I’m no Brandon Sanderson, I’m no Terry Pratchett, but I’m not a hack. And honestly? That kinda compliment is hard for me to say.
Look at these things
Currently reading: The Devil in the White City, by Erik Larson. By “currently“ I mean “recently” and “reading” I mean “listening”. Man was it long and really indulgent on the architectural arcs. Better than being really indulgent on the murdering?
Currently listening: Tres by Mouse on the Keys. Years and years ago, I went to see TTNG at Mississippi Studios. Mouse on the Keys was opening. I didn’t get to see their math rock/jazz set much, as that was the show where I passed out completely at random five minutes in. Still no clue why.
Currently playing: Another Crab’s Treasure, an indie soulslike (I’ve been on a soulslike kick) where you play as a hermit crab. The currency is microplastics, that’s the tone they’re going for here.
A little story
I’ve been doing mostly editing on Vapormage, thanks to the feedback from Sandia Starforgers. I’m being a bit too focused on worldbuilding and not character emotions, so I’m playing with options like first-person and additional scenes. “Additional scenes” is a problem, though, because… the thing’s already too long. So here’s one I put together before deciding it wasn’t helping the pacing. It lands at the end of Chapter 4, right after Alejandro joins.
Kell left Alejandro alone in the inn room, and to their surprise, left Sheila alone in the tavern. She just let them leave with a tired but trusting nod. There was no way she actually trusted them, of course. She didn’t trust anybody. Her own words.
The night had fallen fully, moonlight and streetlight teaming up to persuade all willing to listen that no the sun hadn’t gone away why do you ask? The heft over Kell’s eyes knew the truth. They needed to sleep.
They couldn’t go back to the inn. Lack of money aside, Alejandro was there, and although he claimed he wasn’t about to swing at Kell again, they couldn’t sleep on that confidence. Not yet. Kell wanted to trust people, even Alejandro, but he had a long, long way to go to get there.
Kell wandered a few blocks, past bare brick walls and storefronts that were either abandoned or just closed for the night. Both would look the same. Vaaland didn’t seem to decorate. It didn’t advertise. It made Kell feel all the more lost, all the more exposed. They could be anywhere, and nowhere. They tapped their helmet and hoped for a map. Lines blinked onto their visor. It was an old map, but it would do.
They ducked into a quiet alley that their map claimed shouldn’t exist. The trash and waste had been cleared recently enough that a smell didn’t leech into Kell’s helmet. They hid beside a waste crate, sat on the rocky ground, and sighed deeply.
“Fuck me,” they muttered, rubbing their arm. They noticed a rat nearby, its beady eyes focused on them. “Why am I the one in charge here? Why is this even happening? Why does everyone want me dead? …Why am I talking to a rat?”
The rat kept its opinions to itself.
Kell fiddled with the tarp covering their wound. Maybe it would be safe enough to give it some air. They started picking at the knot, only to hear boot leather rushing past down the street. There were still people around, few as there were. Everyone was a danger. Best to keep the knot tight.
A hand over the wound and a moment of still focus let them feel how their patch job was holding up. The vapor was fizzling slightly, small bubbles of blood forming inside their arm. A painful recasting of magics would keep things stable enough.
They felt their weight slide against the coarse brick wall behind them. The rat, still watching with apparent interest, scurried backwards to let Kell sprawl out. They appreciated the courtesy, if they were being honest, but they would rather just be alone.
A soft rumble hit their chest. It took a moment to realize it was the mobile Sheila had bought for them. It must be Sheila, then. She was the only one to have the line, besides the embassy they called.
“Hello?” Kell answered, quiet and groggy.
A faint static silence on the other end.
“Hello?” Kell repeated. They slid a finger against their helmet, raising the volume all around them.
More static silence from the mobile.
Kell rolled their head, facing the rat. “Hello?” they tried one last time.
The rat kept its opinions to itself.
A roar. A piercing, ghostly, confrontational roar burst from the mobile, blaring amplified into Kell’s helmet. They convulsed in surprise, dropping the mobile onto their prone body.
“Shit!” They scrambled to grab the mobile. “Who are you? Hello?”
The line was dead.
Kell stared at the mobile and its declaration that midnight had come and gone. That roar. That was the strix’s roar. The summon that attacked them in the mountains, the summon that should be dispelled. The summon that—
Can a summon even use a mobile?
Kell’s head hurt, as if they were hungover. They stared up at the stars that could fight through the streetlight haze.
“I’m hallucinating,” they muttered. “I’m hallucinating. It’s shock, Kell.” Nothing else made sense to them.
But they didn’t trust themself. They tapped the screen a few more times, to pull up the recording of the call that just happened. They listened to it, then listened to it again, and again, and again. Unless they were impressively consistent in their hallucinations, the strix had called.
Kell tried to sit up, but had no strength to do so. The rat was still watching. “I’m not gonna sleep tonight, am I?” they whispered.
The rat kept its opinions to itself.