The great renaming

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For those who read the original posting of Darkness Comes to Kingswell (not to be confused with the reissue of the story), you might remember that I hadn’t a clue as to what to call the novel and its subsequent series.

Then in November 2006 I decided to call the first book Dreamdarkers.

Now that has changed.

Yes, I realize I’ve called it “Dreamdarkers” for quite some time.  Only now I’m changing that.

The title, I mean.

Beginning with … well … with today, my first novel is now entitled The Wedge in the Doorway, followed by End of the Warm Season, followed by Children of the Sorrowful Midnight (also a change from Centralia).  Titles beyond that—at least for the six books constituting the series as I know it—remain the same—in flux, or unknown, or in play, or whatever.

So why should you care?

Because I’m about to share a memorable part of the first novel.  In fact, I’m about to share the first three chapters.  Not all today, mind you, but at least the first part.

First parts, I should say, since sharing the primary chapter means sharing the initial bits and pieces of the manuscript.

And that includes far more than just the first chapter.

But I digress.

The next post you see will be …

Well … um … it will be something I’ll talk about in a moment.

Ten years of xenogere

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On February 5, 2003, I posted my first Hello, world! blog entry, though at the time I wondered if I was creating a blog or creating some other kind of web site.

Now, a decade plus one day later, it doesn’t really matter, because in the scheme of things it became a blog even if it didn’t start with that intention in mind.

Though, now that I think about it, I could claim that my blog is celebrating its 15th anniversary since I wrote my first personal web page on October 28, 1998.  That was in honor of Henry, a cat who tried to outlive my whole family and who endeared himself to everyone he ever knew.

Following that, I maintained a personal web presence until that fateful day in 2003 when I launched an official site, then hosted at jasonhogle.com, but eventually moved to xenogere.com.

So here we are, ten years later in Official Blog Time, and I’m left to wonder what it all means and where to go from here.

To celebrate, do I dazzle you with a boring menagerie of “remember when” entries showing where I started and where I am?

Or do I bore you with a photographic deluge to demonstrate how far I’ve come?  (Which, mind you, is the same thing.)

Instead, do I proffer a litany of new tidbits, cheap and paltry, just to satiate the wanting?

Rather, should I demonstrate my evolved blogging prowess with mundane yet new entries guaranteed to bore the frequent as well as the few?

Oh, the quandary!

But wait …

There’s no issue here.  None at all.  In fact, this occasion is not so much a question as it is an answer.

To celebrate ten years of my blog-o-riphic online presence, faithful readers, I’ve decided to give you a series of posts leading up to a real treat—an introductory treat, as it were, since it’ll lead to several other treats.

What can you expect?

Only time will tell.

But it’s all happening today, so you don’t have to wait long before you find out what I have up my digital sleeve.

Yet all of that aside, what I owe you—the only thing I owe you—is a big ol’ thank you!  A ¡gracias! as it were, or a merci! or a спасибо! or even a شكرا if you’re so inclined.

Because you’re here, you’re reading, you’re following.  And that’s pretty damn awesome.

So thank you!

Friendly fire

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It’s not like they meant to kill her.  But sometimes good guys are killed by good guys through nothing more complicated than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  That’s how friendly fire works.

Driving home one Saturday night last November, my parents wended their way along the narrow county road that links the two-lane state highway to the private road leading to our farm.  This small thoroughfare cuts through East Texas woods for miles, close-in woods making it a tunnel more than anything else.

With so much nature to either side, seeing wildlife on the road isn’t too surprising.  Bobcats, deer, opossums, skunks, birds galore …  Even the occasional cougar if you’re lucky.  Yes, this little bumpy ribbon of civilization affords drivers the opportunity to play obstacle course with whatever critters don’t move fast enough—though most get out of the way quickly because these are the wilds where wildlife don’t wait around very long to see if you’re friend or foe.

So as Mom and Dad drove through the woods heading for home, something swooped out of the darkness and hit the front of the truck.  Nothing big, not like a wild boar or a deer, but instead something on wings, something swooping through the headlights’ illumination, something quick and fleeting and … and impacted.

Mom feared what it might be, suspected, worried.  But until they arrived home, there was nothing she could do, no way to check.

So they drove on, kept moving, made it home safely.  What didn’t make it home safely, though, was found caught in the truck’s grill.

The next morning Mom asked me to identify it for her.

A dead female eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis) lying on a board (20121103_04856)

A female eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis).  Given the time of year, the tragedy is amplified by my suspicion that she was pregnant.

Mom was quite upset given her fondness for and fascination by bats, not to mention her proclivity towards environmentalism and protection of wildlife.  Less specifically, she knows bats provide a needful service—consumption of insects in large volumes—so even a single unnecessary death makes a difference.

Close-up of the wing of a female eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis) (20121103_04875)

So delicate a thing, this flying mammal, with her wings as thin as paper and seemingly fragile.

A dead female eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis) held in my hand (20121103_04867)

And so light a creature, so small, barely felt when held.

Though we see bats regularly, even throughout winter if the weather is mild, holding this dead female made them more real somehow, as though the shadowy secrets of the night had been revealed at last, albeit only via the hand of death.

Yes, friendly fire sucks, and some secrets the night should be allowed to keep.

— — — — — — — — — —

Though the frosting on her fur might make some think of white nose syndrome, that is in fact her normal hair color.  Males of the species lack the white tips.

And speaking of white nose syndrome, I see there are suspected cases as far west as Oklahoma and confirmed cases as far south as Alabama.  This disease has decimated bat populations from southeastern Canada through the northeastern US, and its anguishing spread south and west continues unabated.  It hasn’t reached Texas yet—the operative word being yet—but no one should be shocked when and if it finally makes its way to the Lone Star State.

For those who enjoy spelunking or cave exploration or any other activity that might bring you into contact with roosting bats, you should read up on this terrible epidemic and do everything you can to ensure you don’t help it spread.  The National Speleological Society maintains a dedicated page to guide you through what’s necessary to make sure you don’t help the disease more to new territory.  Trust me: Bats are worth the attention and effort.

Handle with care

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Last year on a warm June morning, my cousin dashed inside to tell me she’d discovered a “large bug” and wondered if I’d seen it.  She’d already become supportive of my nature photography, although she remained aloof when it focused on insects.  (Admittedly, she progressed a good deal while hanging around me, even going so far as to handle a few moths, something she wouldn’t have considered before she came to visit.  There’s more work to do, yes, but progress is progress.)

When asked what the insect looked like, all she could provide was that—again—it was big.  All things are relative, so to a young lass such as herself an imposing critter might appear large whilst being miniscule.  Still, I hadn’t seen anything overly impressive during my morning rounds, hence I figured she’d found something new for the day.  I grabbed my camera and followed her outside.

A wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) (20120625_00415)

She led me to a real treat.  Still covered with the powder-like residue of sloughed exoskeleton, this 1.5 inch/38mm newly-emerged adult wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) had left behind childish appearances and taken on the unmistakable shape of North America’s largest assassin bug.

Close-up of a wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) showing the distinctive cog-like armor on its back (20120625_00441)

As I snapped photos of the sluggish, not-quite-dry insect, I thanked my cousin for bringing it to my attention.  I also told her a little about this true bug, which included a warning that she not try to handle them (something that, she reminded me, she wouldn’t dare try—moths were progress enough for the time being).

Dorsal view of an adult wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) as it dries (20120625_00457)

Though not prone to bite unless handled roughly or startled into defending itself, wheel bugs nevertheless can inflict a memorably painful bite if provoked.  And in the worst case, the wound can take months to heal and can even leave behind a permanent scar.

My cousin took careful note of my warnings even as she sheepishly reiterated that she had already come a long way, thank you very much, and had no intention of delving further into the insect handling arena.  At least not yet.

I finished her introduction to this species by telling her they are beneficial insects because they hunt other arthropods, including caterpillars, beetles, flies, and anything else they can catch and kill.

A wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) climbing the outside of a storage shed (20121012_04627)

In mid October I found another wheel bug climbing the outside of a storage shed.  About the same size as the one from earlier in the year, this one had the advantage of being warm and hardened, so it made for a more challenging photographic subject.

An adult wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) (20121012_04667)

The telltale cog-like armor is unique to adult wheel bugs, thus it makes identifying the species quite simple.  Other assassin bugs, also capable of biting, don’t possess this feature.  Neither does any other species of insect, I should add.

Close-up of a wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) showing its head and proboscis (20121012_04647)

Speaking of biting, this close-up shows the proboscis, the long, tube-like mouthpart below the insect’s head.  They swing this mouthpart out and plunge it into their prey—or the unlucky person who provokes them.  Paralytic and digestive enzymes are then injected, after which the wheel bug simply drinks its food—the insides of whatever is caught.

A wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) trying to climb onto the camera lens (20121012_04663)

An always funny thing about putting the camera lens so close to some wildlife is that the wildlife take it as an invitation to climb aboard the camera.  Here its front legs are searching for a grip on the front lens element.  Not the first or last creature to try this, it always gives me a chuckle even as I pull back to keep them from hitching a free ride.

Close-up of a wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) (20121012_04664)

Even as the wheel bug tried to climb on, it held still long enough for one final portrait.

— — — — — — — — — —

This begins an intermittent series of posts focused on arthropods that can be dangerous if mishandled.  I stress “can be” since many critters can be dangerous if pestered enough, while some can be dangerous simply because they have bad attitudes (e.g., water snakes) and others can be dangerous simply as an automatic act of defense (e.g., venomous caterpillars).  As I’ve always said, wildlife shouldn’t be handled unless you know what you’re doing and are aware of the risks, if any.

Surface tension

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A maple leaf floating on water (20080921_12654)

So we have pierced the surface tension of a new year and plunged headlong into 2013.  This must come as quite a surprise to the doomsayers who ignorantly presumed the end of the Mayan calendar was a prophecy about the end of the world.

(It was, in point of fact, nothing of the sort.  It was not a prediction but it was the end of a calendar, just like December 31 is the end of the Gregorian calendar and happens once a year.  These same blind believers never think December 31 is the end of the world simply because the calendar ends; instead, they buy a new calendar.  Yet somehow, looking at the Mayan long-count calendar, they saw doomsday prophecies instead of the need for a new calendar.  And though the Mayans somehow missed predicting the end of their own civilization—they never saw that coming—they were nevertheless endowed with the unquestionable prescience to know when the world would end.  Never mind the fact that real Mayan prophecies include events well past December 21, 2012, another inconvenient truth easily ignored by the great unwashed.  But I parenthetically digress…)

Though I don’t make New Year’s resolutions—they symbolize weakness because anyone who needs a new year in order to better themselves is (a) lacking in willpower and (b) destined to fail for the same reasons they didn’t try to better themselves before the new year began—I do have plans for 2013.

First, I hope to publish two novels.  This of course depends greatly on when the first one finally hits print.  Early enough in the year and the second can easily fit within the next twelve months; later in the year, however, and the second will likely be pushed into 2014.  My sincere intent is to have both published in 2013.  They will be the first and second installments of a series.

Next, I want to keep this blog going.  Since February will mark the tenth anniversary of xenogere (and jasonhogle.com, it’s predecessor and now sister site), I feel the endeavor and subsequent accomplishment are well worth my time.  And as I get my novels published and get my (more) public writing career started, xenogere could grow into more than it is.  Then again, it could also stay the same.  Only time will tell.

Third, I intend to publish my first nature photography book, coffee-table size.  I have talked about this goal for some time, yet I’ve never made it happen.  I want to change that trend.  Coupled with writing—some of it gleaned from this blog and some of it original—the book will provide eye candy as well as mind and heart candy.

Fourth, I will buy a RV.  Just sayin’.

In addition, I will either purchase an additional vehicle—a SUV—or I will trade in my IS 300 on said SUV (preferably the former, but I’ll accept the latter).

Sixth, I might launch an author page on Facebook and I will launch one on Goodreads.  I don’t consider social networking to be that important in my life.  I can take it or leave it, especially Facebook, hence that idea is a might do and Goodreads is a will do.

Seventh, I plan to return to Dallas to visit friends and family, and likewise I will travel to Idaho to visit my sister and her family, and similarly I will travel to New York to visit family, and additionally I will travel to where ever to visit other friends and family.  Assuming I plan and execute some book signings, I’ll travel elsewhere, and perhaps I’ll consolidate a few of these trips.

Also, I want to continue expanding my photography work (camera upgrades included).  Here in Jefferson I’ve had the chance to delve into other areas of that hobby, and I’ve been asked to continue branching out by way of specific projects and requests.  Making it a paying gig will be nice.

Ninth, I will keep writing.

Tenth, I aim to continue being as much help to my parents as possible.

Eleventh, I’d like to get involved with local newspapers and magazines (believe me, they need the help).  In what capacity I don’t know, at least not yet, but it’s something I’d like to do.

And finally, I mean to inject myself into the area in which I now live.  By that I mean meeting more people and making new friends, delving into whatever social and cultural offerings can be found here in the Piney Woods (and surrounding area), and otherwise becoming an active member of this dispersed, bucolic-cum-townish, diverse environment.

This is by no means an exhaustive representation of my to-do list, but it’s a good representation of the plans I have heading into 2013.  After all, we’ve pierced the surface tension of a new year.  Now it’s time to swim in the temporal river of possibility.

A paper wasp (Polistes annularis) standing on shallow water to drink (2009_03_08_012965)

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

  1. Maple leaf floating on water: unless something lands on the leaf or the leaf degrades enough to take on water, it will not break through the lake’s surface tension and sink like many of its brethren.
  2. Paper wasp (Polistes annularis) standing on water to drink: as long as it lands lightly with its legs spread, a wasp is light enough to stand on water’s surface tension, though in this case the wasp has pierced the surface with one of its legs.

a life in progress