• Mark Meier

One of the things I’ve noticed over the years is that when I finish a major writing project I feel like I’m set adrift. I’ve been so busy with The Brotherhood for so long that it’s like the power has been cut off and I’m wandering around with seemingly nothing to do.

It’s not true, of course. There are plans to make for the launch party, signings to arrange, things like that. There’s also the fact that I have so many projects in my head that I could write full-time for the rest of my life and not come close to getting half of them down.

The status of The Brotherhood is this: I’ve received a “proof” copy and read through it. Good thing I love the story, or it would have been tedious. Suggested changes have been detailed, and now my wife is reading for her edits. Hopefully we can get it to the publisher by the weekend.

Once the changes have been made, the physical printing has to be done, and once I have copies in my hands I’ll set a date for the book launch party. As of this moment it appears it will be at Lost Island Wine on Theater Road in Onalaska. Because of the nature of the venue, nobody under age 21 will be able to attend.

We’re hoping for door prizes, snacks, and more. Perhaps other members of our writing groups would be willing to have a table for their books, too. So many of them have published books, too, that it would be a shame if we couldn’t help them out, too.

In the meantime, I’ll wander through the house, looking into corners, waiting to get sufficiently bored to force me back into another project.

My publisher may have suggestions soon on Eclectia: A Collection by Mark Meier. I just picked up a rejection on Ravid this morning. Ebony Sea 1: First Mission is getting close to being submission-ready. And The Archives is still awaiting my attention. Sequels and prequels to The Brotherhood.

So much to write, so little time.



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  • Mark Meier

I hate shoes - even shopping for them is something I’d rather not do.

The issue I have is I’ve never found a pair that fits and that I like. As an example, about six years ago I bought a pair of shoes that seemed to fit right, looked durable, and was pretty much everything I wanted in a shoe.

They were horrible. Though they “fit,” there was a little lift in the heel that gave me shin splints from even walking for more than ten minutes. Running on a treadmill? Forget about it. They were probably the worst shoes I’ve ever bought.

Being a person who hates waste, I couldn’t simply toss them out. They became my “work and yard” shoes. And they were indestructible. I hit them with the weed whacker a half-dozen times and it barely showed. I used them year-round and they never wore out. To the “day job” five days every week, year after year, after year.

When I lost that job and worked something a bit more involved (that’s when I hit ’em with the weed whip), they kept going strong. The sole hung in there, too. They never wore out. It’s like the shoes were mocking me. “You can’t get rid of me. I’ll be with you FOR. EV. ER.”

Eventually I retired them to yard work only. That means only when shoveling snow or mowing, things like that. The replacement shoes lasted six months. The laminated layers in the shoe came apart. You could feel the parts peeling apart when walking. The next pair, similar issue. They fell apart in six months.

The hated shoes, still going strong. “For. Ev. Er!”

About eight months ago I bought a pair of shoes that seems to be a good balance. I can feel the laminates separating a bit, but eight months for a pair of shoes that I kinda like is pretty impressive.

The hated, indestructible shoes finally went into the trash bin Saturday morning. Not because they didn’t have mileage in them yet. A couple of the bits of trim were coming off the bottom, and I didn’t feel like cutting those bits off just to get another three years of wear out of ‘em. I hated those shoes, and didn’t want them around.

Into the bin they go. And Wednesday, when the refuse-hauler comes around, I will not lament them.

Now, if only they could have made ‘em fit.

But no, I’m not going out to rescue them.

RIP, you piece of garbage.

May you rot in the landfill For. Ev. Er.

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  • Mark Meier

Life is not what it seems. A powerful organization labors to undermine everything people hold dear.

A wizard wannabe is betrayed at the cusp of achieving his dreams. A rising-star politician is cut down in his prime. The death of a poverty-stricken astrologer is also the result of the activities of this hidden group. But what about the whispers of a larger plan?

Don’t ask The Brotherhood.

They’re not talking.




Coming soon.



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