The Latest Developments in the Mechanism

So what's the latest in the world of Jeffrey Aaron Miller? Oh, numerous things. Let's see. I've got an editor and a publication date for Children of the Mechanism. February 13, 2014 is the date on which you will be able to read about Bik, Hen, Kuo and Ekir and their various harrowing adventures with Watchers, the Grong, the Master and mysterious purple stones. Doesn't that sound fascinating and vague? I've included a few unedited opening paragraphs below for your perusal.

October is set to be a busy month for me. I've got a few school gigs going on around the state. Writing workshops and book readings, mostly. I will also be participating in the Northwest Arkansas Author Book Fair at the Springdale Library on Saturday, October 5 from 2-4pm, so head on over if you can. Also, I might be heading to Chicago for some training related to another job about which I daren't yet speak.

In other news, I am filling in the financial gaps with SEO content writing. Since I have the ability to churn out thousands of words a day, I figured I might as well put it to use while the momentum continues to build for my novels.

Anywho, for those of you who are curious about Children of the Mechanism, here are the opening paragraphs to wet your whistle:

The blare of the morning alarm always started in his dreams, sometimes as a monster screaming, sometimes as a boy talking to him, sometimes as a strange noise rising up out of the Refuse Hole like a siren song. Then it followed him through the stages of waking and finally, as he opened his eyes in the dim, red light, he heard it echoing off the metal walls, a singular note, high and harsh. 

On that particular morning, the morning when everything first went wrong, Bik’s limbs felt sore, so he dared to linger for a few seconds, gazing up at the ceiling. He had rolled off his bed mat in the night, and the cold floor was beneath him. He heard boys moving all around, stifling yawns, stretching, moaning and sniffing and coughing. The rumble of the Watcher’s wheels finally roused him, and he sat up. Bik saw it out of the corner of his eye, that lumbering shape. The Watcher entered the Sleeping Room through the archway, returning from whatever strange errand it had been about, and stopped in a corner near the Refuse Hole. A boy relieving himself quickly finished and dashed away. 

The Watcher had a shiny, cylindrical body, fat wheels for feet, a flat, circular head with dead eyes, but it was the arms that mattered most, long segmented arms made of polished metal rods with cloth bulbs for hands. Those were the killing hands, and they were ever poised, ready to strike. 

“One minute until work,” the Watcher said. “One minute.” 

There you go. That's your only tender sampling for now. More to follow in the coming months.

Children of the Mechanism

I just got a contract offer on my novel, Children of the Mechanism, from a relatively new publishing house called Malachite Quills. Having perused their website, I like what I read. They seem to be very supportive of their authors. I'm looking forward to working with them.

As for Children of the Mechanism, it is the story of slaves living and working in the bowels of a mysterious factory, watched over by cruel robots. One day, a glitch in the system causes doors to open, and some of the slaves escape to wander the corridors. Gradually, the true nature of the factory is revealed.

It is based on a short story I wrote way back in 1994, and I think it turned out pretty good. It's sort of a dark and relentless novel, but it resonates with me in a deep and profound way. I hope people like it. Anywho, I'll keep you all posted about the progress.

Opening Paragraphs

Once upon a time, I talked about the importance of opening sentences. Well, what about opening paragraphs? The opening paragraph greatly impacts a reader's initial feelings toward a book. It either pulls them in, irritates them, feels like a slog or just kind of sits there like a lump of damp words to be picked through.

To that end, may I ask, which of my opening paragraphs is most compelling?

Mary of the Aether

The lunatic in the long, gray cloak dashed out of the forest and ran right up onto the front yard, waving his arms in front of him like a child playing tag. He skirted the porch, paused, turned a complete circle and fell onto his hands and knees. A hood obscured most of his face, but Mary could see the tip of a pointy chin covered in whiskers. She sat at the living room window, leaning against the sill and resting her forehead against the cold glass, transfixed by the sight. The crazy man crawled through the high, unmowed grass, his face close to the ground, shifting back and forth like a bloodhound chasing a scent. He stopped at the driveway, lifted his head and appeared to sniff at the air. Then he scooped up a handful of gravel and sifted it through his fingers.

Children of the Mechanism

The blare of the morning alarm always started in his dreams, sometimes as a monster screaming, sometimes as a boy talking to him, sometimes as a strange noise rising up out of the Refuse Hole like a siren song. Then it followed him through the stages of waking and finally, as he opened his eyes in the dim, red light, he heard it echoing off the metal walls, a singular note, high and harsh. 

Garden of Dust and Thorns

The shapes of men materialized out of the dust clouds, bodies wreathed in loose cloth of black and gray. Hoods and veils hid their faces, but they moved with purpose, marching in ranks. Though the distance was great, Adhi saw the glint of polished blades, of long silver spears and curved scimitars, catching the heavy rays of the lowering sun as it sank below the ridge in the west. She counted over three dozen men, but there were more of them behind the wall of dust. She saw a hint of movement, as of dozens more, gathering in the open land between the dunes.

  

Shadows of Tockland
 
David saw him first, the old man with the scabs on his head lurching out of his seat on the front row, clapping his big, gnarled hands and shuffling toward the stage. Bubbles the Clown was the current performer, a petite woman in a loose, silvery costume. She had a bamboo pole balanced on her open palm, a large ceramic plate spinning on top of it. Every eye was drawn upward, watching the plate wobble, so the old man managed to get all the way to the stage without anyone hindering him. He gave one last clap, did a little hop on his bare feet and lunged at Bubbles, snagging one of her billowing pant legs.

Bloodstone, Deep Water: Book One

A man in a tattered leather jerkin and pale blue doublet writhed in the shadowy space between the rocks, clawing at his clothes. Jeren spotted him from the cliff’s edge as he braced himself against a skeletal tree. The highway ran a twisting course through a steep ravine, winding its way toward the snow-capped peaks in the west. Tumbled rocks lined the road here and there, piled up in some places to create makeshift walls, safe places to camp when the harsh winds howled down from the mountains. It was in one of these places that the man lay, kicking at the rocks and thrashing.

I daren't give the opening paragraphs of Mary of Shadows, Mary of Starlight, Mary of Cosmos or A Whisper in the Void, as they contain spoilers. But there you go. Opening paragraphs from many of my novels. Which one is the most compelling? And what makes it most compelling? Do you have favorite opening paragraphs from other novels?