Professor Beej

Three years ago, I had no idea what I was doing when it came to blogging (though it might be argued that I still don’t). I muddled my way around, read some posts here and there, left a few comments, but generally, learned the ropes by putting myself out there and writing my heart out.

Thankfully, those days are long past for me, but thousands of new blogs spring up every day–and with them, new bloggers.

That’s where the Newbie Blogger Initiative comes in. It’s a collaborative effort between some of the internet’s best, most interesting, intelligent, pretty, veteran bloggers who just want to help newbies learn the ropes and hopefully avoid some of the pitfalls each one of us might have stumbled through.

MMO blogging, which is the NBI’s focus, can be a hard game. Online communities are notoriously negative, infamously critical, and potentially seen by outsiders as more trouble than they’re worth. However, that’s not always the case.

If it weren’t for the community of bloggers I found three years ago, there’s a very good chance I would have wiped my hands clean of the whole mess and left not only blogging, but the MMO-sphere, too. People like Syp, Tesh, Spinks, Pete, Stillwater, and Ferrel make the whole deal worth it. There are loads of connections to be made and fun to be had.

Don’t let the fear of flames or of writing or of anything else stop you. I tell my students every year that I’ve become a better writer because of blogging more than anything else, and it’s the truth. Read some of my early blogs, then read some of my newer ones–tenfold improvement. I’ve made connections and friends, even found ways to advance professionally. All because I wanted to write about WoW and other such geekery.

So check out the Newbie Blogger Initiative, and if you need anything at all, give me a yell, either here, email, or on Twitter. I’ll do anything I can to help you. It’s what I do.

Hi, guys. Austin here. Today is the official release date of Nimbus: A Steampunk Novel (Part One)! For those of you who have already purchased it during the pre-release weekend, we hope you’re enjoying it. We can’t wait to hear your comments on this site, Facebook, or to see the reviews on Amazon.com (hint hint!).

As for everyone who hasn’t purchased a copy yet, cruise on over to Amazon and get your copy today! Or, you can always wait the next ten weeks and read the weekly (free!) installments here at Professor Beej.

Either way, we hope you enjoy the ride and love the world of Nimbus as much as we do.

WHY SERIALIZATION?

One thing we began talking about early in the writing process–well, really before any writing actually began–was the idea of doing Nimbus as a serialized novel. Huddled together in B.J.’s office, with our notebooks spread across our laps, we came up with an outline: four novella-length parts that make a cohesive and complete narrative.

Stephen King’s The Green Mile was a kind of inspiration for us as far as the serialization goes, but the idea was also something more than that. We wanted to experiment with ebook technology, and in essence experiment with the old and new conventions of what it means to be a writer. So, why exactly did we decide to serialize our novel?

ON THE VICTORIAN ERA…

Before we answer that question, let’s bring up something else:  Traditionally, steampunk stories occur in the Victorian era–something that neither B.J. nor myself like very much about the genre. What’s so great about the Victorian age, anyway? The people back then were struggling financially, child labor was at an unbelievable high, sexually oppression was at extraordinary levels (I mean, they would cover table legs with sheets because even that was too sexually suggestive!), and I’m sad to say that the 19^th century spawned novels by the Bronte sisters (in my opinion, the worst thing to happen that century—and yes, I realize the American Civil War took place, too).

So, we decided to take steampunk in another direction and create our world—a world where we get to create our own rules.

Yes, we’re control freaks.

The Victorian era was also famous for its serialized novels—an irony that isn’t lost on these two authors—but that’s not really why we decided to go the serialization route. As B.J. said, “It’s meta.” And while that often sounds pretentious, I think it’s one of those facetious half-truths, and I think it also applies to what we’re trying to do with Nimbus.

ON TELEVISION…

B.J. and I like to think in terms of television. For those of you who know us personally, we have a habit of relating everything back to TV. We like to think of the four parts of Nimbus as being seasons, with each chapter being an episode from that season. So, we’re bringing weekly “episodes” to you guys here on this blog, but if you want to go ahead and buy the complete season, there’s Amazon for that.

THAT’S GREAT AND ALL, BUT WHY SERIALIZE?

In case you haven’t noticed, there’s no good answer for that. Serializing the novel is a great way to experiment with the emerging ebook technology. It gives people an alternative when they want to delve deeper than a short story, but don’t want to become completely immersed in a novel. Of course, no publisher—or at least very few publishers—would spring for a serialized novel in print. It just wouldn’t work. Ebooks provide a fantastic alternative to that, and like television, it allows us to tamper with the typical conventions of storytelling.

So, in short, why did we decide to serialize the novel?

Because we wanted to.

Be sure to check out our Nimbus Release Giveaway for your chance to win one of 5 copies of Nimbus: A Steampunk Novel or a $25 Amazon gift card. 

Nimbus is a serialized steampunk fantasy novel written collaboratively by Austin King and B.J. Keeton. Each Monday, a new chapter of Nimbus will go live, so you can read along each week for free. Or, if you want all the awesomeness all at once, Part One (of Four!) is available in its entirety as an Amazon Kindle ebook (for only $2.99!). 

Chapter One

Jude felt someone shaking him. Though his vision was blurred, he saw the bulky form of Calvin Reedy hovering over him. The First Mate of the Gangly Dirigible was a man so stone-faced the crew joked he was a walking boulder, and he was shaking Jude. The second time was a bit more forceful. It nearly knocked Jude out of his bunk.

“What do you need?” Jude asked. He sounded slightly more irritated than he intended. He hoped Reedy hadn’t noticed. If there was one thing Reedy hated, it was insubordination.

“We’ve got one,” Reedy said. His red beard was flecked with grey and there was currently a piece of food dangling from his chin hairs, like he’d just left breakfast in a great rush. “Some of the Hosers are out there already, but we need you—pronto.”

Jude glanced around and saw that both Robert Thorne and Robert Gwynn, fellow Hosers who were known around the ship as the Roberts, were already out of their bunks and getting dressed with the enthusiasm of grown men preparing for castration. There was no sunlight coming in through the rounded windows, but the stars had already faded away; Reedy was at it particularly early this morning.

Jude groaned and started getting dressed. “I’ll be up there soon.”

“No lollygagging,” Reedy said. Jude had no illusions that Reedy wouldn’t strangle any one of the crew if they failed to meet his demands. “If you and the Roberts aren’t up there in five minutes, I’ll have you swabbing the decks for the next month at half wages. You understand me?”

Jude grunted a “Yes, sir” while the Roberts just sighed heavily. Reedy seemed satisfied enough to leave them. As he opened the door, Jude could hear the loud whirring and puffing of the steam engines below. The boiler room was just underneath the corridor outside. Some of the dense, white smoke drifted up from the boiler room and through the floorboards, finding its way inside the room before Thorne slammed the door shut.

“First mate on this bloody ship and he can’t even remember to close the damn door.” Thorne fumbled with the buttons on his wool overcoat. “It’s likely cold up there. The sun won’t be shining for another hour or so. I’m freezing just thinking about it. He wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if he was out there manning the hoses, I’ll tell you that much.”

Thorne left the room mumbling to himself, slipping gloves onto his hands. Jude had learned to ignore Robert Thorne. After nearly a year of rooming with the outspoken curmudgeon, he’d perfected the art of blocking out Thorne’s rants.

“I’ll bet my left foot that water’ll be frozen,” said Gwynn. He stroked his moustache—-it was a nervous tick Jude had grown accustomed to seeing. “And I’ll bet my right foot that Cap’n Schlocky won’t give a hoot.”

“If Reedy doesn’t, neither will Schlocky,” Jude said. The captain was even less forgiving than his first mate. Jude pulled his wool cap down over his ears and headed outside. “I’ll see you outside, Robert. Don’t take too long. I think Reedy meant what he said about half wages.”

The outside corridor was filled with the heat and smoke from the engines below them, but Jude had grown used to it. Heat and smoke were as common to him as the drinking competitions held by the engineers in the galley every Thursday night, or the way Gwynn stroked his moustache or Thorne went off on long rants. In the year he’d been on the Gangly Dirigible, the engineers had been vowing to fix the leaks; however, empty promises were a second language to the mechanics.

On his way up, he bumped into one of the engineers. Barely reaching three feet in height, Jonah Roebuck was easy to overlook, but what the man lacked in physical presence, he more than made up for with his big personality. Roebuck was covered in black grease, and his skin was pink from the heat of the engines. He wiped the fog from his goggles and smiled when he saw that it was Jude.

“You wouldn’t be pickin a fight with a man half your size, would ya, kid?” he said. “Cause I’ve gotta warn ya: I keep a switchblade in my back pocket.”

“You got a little something on your face, Roebuck,” said Jude, ignoring the comment.

“I got a little something everywhere.” Roebuck laughed and wiped some of the grease from his cheeks. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and nodded toward the steam rising up through the floorboards. “If you think this is bad, you should see the boiler room. I just came up here for a cigarette break.”

“It’s about time one of you guys fixed those leaks, isn’t it?” Jude asked. He knew the answer before Roebuck gave it.

“One of us should, but it ain’t gonna be me. I got enough to do around here.”

“Excuses, excuses,” said Jude. The two of them laughed until Gwynn walked by, reminding Jude that Reedy warned them about being late.

“Caught a cloud, huh?” Roebuck raised his eyebrows. “We’ve already met the quota. I guess this means we’ll be getting paid soon, boys.”

Jude walked with Gwynn through the metallic corridor leading upstairs to the deck. Long pipes and steel conduits ran parallel to the corridor, providing the crewmembers with semi-filtered drinking water and electric lamps that were often so dim their existence was often pointless.

Jude pulled on his wind-goggles and made sure his coat was securely fastened. As he and Gwynn came on deck, the wind knocked them back. Jude had to grab onto the railing just to keep from being blown down by the gust. The other Hosers were already there, each one manning a different hydro-hose, and they seemed to be struggling with the strong winds, as well.

“There you are,” Reedy shouted to them. “Get a move on! This one’s ready to be Hosed.”

Jude went to his hydro-hose at the main kiosk and pulled it to the port side of the ship.

“Drop the hoses!” Reedy called over the wind whistling through the smokestack pipes.

Jude dropped his hose over the edge. The wind gusted again, sending him forward, and Jude saw himself going overboard and falling the thirty-five thousand feet to his death. That was, assuming the deathly fog beneath the Skyline didn’t kill him first, eating away at his flesh like a starved orphan. He grabbed onto the railing before any of this could happen, breathing a sigh of relief and taking a step backward.

“Begin the raking!” Reedy said.

Jude ensured his hydro-hose was at the right level, its nozzle raking just above the large cloud. The other Hosers did the same, until nearly fifty hydro-hoses were raking over the cloud, ready to begin the next stage.

“Ready on three!” Reedy barked. He marched over to the kiosk on the starboard side of the ship and pulled the first of three levers. A loud hum filled the air. “One…”

Jude could feel the electricity pulsing through the hose, could hear the whirring of the mechanisms by the kiosk. His grasp tightened and he prayed the wind would subside for a few moments longer. The darkness made it dangerous enough—the wind would make it practically deadly.

“Two…”

Jude couldn’t see through the dark, but he knew Reedy had pulled the second lever to start up the filters at the collecting tank. All of the hydro-hoses connected to the collecting tank, which sent the water three floors below deck to the Refinement Chamber. There, the water would be further filtered and purified until the once-poisonous liquid was ready for drinking. It would then be placed into glass bottles, most of which would be then sold at port.

“Three!” said Reedy. He pulled the last lever. Jude and the other Hosers all lurched forward as the hydro-hoses began suctioning water particles from the cloud. Reedy barked his final command. “Begin the extraction!”

Jude used all of his strength to hold the hydro-hose steady as it suctioned the water particles. It was a loud, arduous task, but it was a better life than living subterraneously in the Burrows. Jude had spent the first nineteen years of his life in Burrow 12, and there was no way he was going back. He didn’t care how difficult—or dangerous—this job was.

Another strong gust of wind swept over the airship and Jude was very thankful his wind-goggles were securely fastened over his eyes. Without them, he guessed his eyeballs would have been blown out of their sockets.

Over an hour passed before Jude and the rest of the Hosers had successfully extracted all of the water. The cloud was gone. The skies were clear.

It was over.

Read more…

After months of hard work, Nimbus: A Steampunk Novel (Part One) is now available from Amazon.com for just $2.99. It came a little sooner than we had expected, but we wanted to make sure you guys knew about it so that you can drop by, check it out, and even write a review if you’re so inclined.

As part of our serialization experiment, starting May 1, Nimbus is going to be available in free weekly, chapter-by-chapter installments here on Professor Beej. So if you’re willing to wait the 10 weeks to get the whole story, you’re able. If you’re like me and want the whole shebang of awesomeness all at once, all 10 chapters are already available on Amazon (with Barnes & Noble and Apple iBookstore editions coming soon, too).

In addition, the Nimbus Release Giveaway is in full swing. Don’t forget to head over there and enter to win one of 5 free copies of Nimbus: A Steampunk Novel (Part One) or a $25 Amazon gift card.

Day Five of “Seven Days of Steampunk” brings us to “A Bum’s Tale,” the first in an ongoing series of short shorts set in the Nimbus universe. While not necessary to understand or enjoy Nimbus: A Steampunk Novel, these “Tales from Nimbus” are meant to offer insights that help explore aspects of the world the main narrative doesn’t get a chance to touch on.  And don’t forget to enter the “Nimbus Release Giveaway” for a chance to win one of 5 copies of Nimbus: Part One or a $25 Amazon gift card!

“A Bum’s Tale”

Gully crept across the faux-cobblestone driveway of one of the nicer estates on the skyport. While small when compared to the Spire, Cloud Nine still boasted some of the wealthiest homeowners on the planet, most of whom were high-ranking members of the Assembled Court—including the High Prelate himself. In addition, the skyport was also home to some of the foulest degenerates this side of the Skyline.

Gully fit into this latter category.

As he continued sneaking through the corridor that led to the apartment suite of some high-ranking official, Gully noticed that he could spot the homeowner’s pretty daughter undressing through one of the windows. Now, however, was not the time to enjoy himself. Gully understood that he was here on some pretty important business.

The Assembled Court’s peons had to pay. Tonight would be the first of many acts of rebellion, and when it was all through, the weak and the homeless of Cloud Nine would sing his praises, or even better, buy him a drink.

Gully stopped just outside the front door to the suite and glanced around, making sure that he was alone. When he was satisfied that no one was watching, he pulled down his tattered pants and squatted directly in front of the door. Hopefully the rich bastard who lived inside would open the door in the morning to find the present Gully had left for him.

It would be a nice big one, too. He had eaten a hefty meal that morning and everything.

When he was finished, he looked around for something to clean himself up with. It didn’t take him long to spot the flagstaff erected nearby. A flag bearing the crest of the Assembled Court waved in the light breeze, and Gully’s spirits lifted at just the prospect of defiling it.

Giggling to himself, Gully walked over to the flagstaff and immediately attempted to shimmy up it. He was no more than three feet above the ground when he heard someone coughing behind him. He turned around and grimaced at the sight beneath him.

Dressed in the armor of one of the pawns of the Assembled Court, a templar stood with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed, just glaring at Gully. “What are you doing, filthbag?” asked the templar with a snarl. “And why are you not wearing pants?”

Gully looked down at his legs. He must have forgotten to pull his pants up when he was finished delivering his present. “Ain’t none of your business, god-tard,” Gully said.

“What did you call me?” The templar pulled a thin, blunt instrument from his belt and waved it threateningly in the air. “Hop down from there. You’re coming with me, scumball. Maybe you can learn some manners while rotting in prison.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Gully said, smiling so that his rotting teeth could shine in the moonlight. He playfully swiped at the templar, holding onto the flagpole like a monkey from a branch. “Why don’t you climb up here after me?”

With one quick swipe, the templar whipped his weapon toward Gully and slapped him across the face with it. Gully had time to cough out a giggle before he fell with a thud to the ground. Rather than just lie there, he clawed at the templar’s feet and giggled more as he watched the templar hop to avoid it.

“Dance, buddy-boy!” Gully said. “Dance like the whore your mother was!”

“That’s quite enough of that,” the templar said. He brought the nightstick down against Gully’s skull again. Now, it was the templar’s turn to laugh. “Not so feisty now, are you?”

“Whaddyawant?” Gully choked out.

The templar grabbed Gully by the collar and started to drag him out onto the street. The skyport was busy tonight, but no one paid much attention to the templar and his prisoner. Slowly, the templar marched Gully through Tier Two of Cloud Nine.

“Where you taking me?” Gully asked.

“To see the High Prelate,” the templar said. “We’ll let him deal with you.”

Snickering, Gully said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t mention how I made you dance.” Gully flashed a devilish grin. “With that cripple son of his, it might be a sore subject.”

“You will not insult the High Prelate in front of me, filthbag,” said the templar. “Or his son.”

The templar’s grip on Gully’s collar slackened for just a moment as the armored man balled up his fist, and Gully knew it was now or never. With all the strength he could muster, he slammed his elbow into the templar’s gut, then before the templar had time to react, rammed his fist into the man’s throat.

The templar gagged and dropped to his knees.

Free from the templar’s grasp, Gully ran a few steps from the templar before turning around and saying, “Looks like Gully’ll get to live another day after all, you worthless god-tard!”

He wanted to say more, but the templar reached out to grab Gully again, but he was just out of reach. Not wanting to press his luck any further, Gully turned and ran down the nearest alleyway, still yelling taunts at the templar as he sped away and disappeared into the night.