Re: Warriors of Love
 

Final chapter of "Tuerqui" now given a silent read through, and readied for polishing.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I've written "sudden shock", and now feel that I should delete the word "sudden". Can a shock be other than sudden? I doubt it. :confused:

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I have, tonight, polished "Tuerqui" Chapter 20, completing the novel.

I did, incidentally, delete the word "sudden" from "sudden shock".

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I've made a small start on Margaret Again. I'd be interested to hear it, if anyone has an opinion on the following.

In previous volumes I've quoted, on the title page, from letters exchanged by the characters. This time, I'm making the title page quotation something from a dictionary:

polly n an ornamental caged bird; a slave formerly of exulted station.

pollygogger n a criminal who steals slaves formerly of exulted station in order to sell them to their families, friends or enemies. pollygoggery n the activity of a pollygogger. pollygog vi to act as a pollygogger, usu as the pr p pollygogging.

The Imperial University Dictionary First Edition, Year 6 of the Imperial Era.

Here's the draft for the start of the novel. It seems to need a lot of synopsis material. Is it too much, I wonder? Of course this is a draft, and will certainly see some changes...

Chapter 1

In which pollygoggers take me away from everything, and everybody, I love.

My head ached and, subjected to a jolting motion, I felt sick. The taste and smell of vomit filled my mouth and nose. Beneath my back was a hard and deeply rutted surface – wood. The smooth waxed University floors had been damaged by slaves dragging crates of weapons, but scarcely reduced to this state.

Goading my sluggish brain into action, I remembered the head of a bronze statue descending towards mine. A rock had shattered the window, fracturing at the neck the Leather Mistress’ image. Watching the heavy metal chunk falling, I’d realised that I was in its direct path. Had I been quick enough to avoid its trajectory?

The previous day I’d felt a presentiment of impending evil. On the surface, all seemed to be well. Lady Isobel, my beloved owner, was expected to return within the week. There had been news of a military victory.

In celebration, the persons of the house and University had descended into drunkenness. Their keepers’ guard having dropped, dangerous untrimmed he-slaves escaped from pens on the far side of the campus. A muscular barbarian, I’d been told, had raped my friend Honeyminge. Fear gripped me – concern for the safety of Tuerquelle, my six year old daughter.

With some relief, I recalled being told that Tuerquelle was safe, but wondered what had happened to my friend and lover, Passibelle. Why hadn’t she moved me? Had she been injured? Had she been raped?

Had I been raped? Experimentally, I moved my thighs. The once familiar feeling of recent penetration was absent. Investigating with my fingers, there was no stickiness – no semen, no blood.

Shifting with insufficient caution brought vomit to my lips. Coughing, I tried to spit. My mouth was dry. My tongue felt swollen.

Raising cautious fingers to my cranium, I found a lump the size of a hen’s egg. The Leather Mistress’ head had certainly connected with mine. That accounted for the throbbing pain. Touching my injury served only to aggravate it.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

An excerpt from "Tuerqui" Chapter 15, my narrator is a cart slave at this point in the story:

There was a short unladen run before taking on our next load. Sam halted the empty cart in a spacious square set about with civic buildings. Unbuttoning his trousers, he entered the public convenience. The smell should have warned him that it was ready to be emptied.

Sam was scarcely inside when the stink cart rumbled into the square. The lavatory man connected his hoses to the inlet and outlet valves, before fixing the other end of the inlet hose to the cistern on the convenience roof. We smiled knowingly and watched the entrance – the carter was about to be drenched and, forbidden to speak, we could utter no warning. Sam soon emerged, dripping and furious, his breeches still about his upper thighs.

In the excitement, I almost missed seeing the carriage. The well oiled axle made hardly a sound, there was no obvious reason for me to move my head. Indeed, I was almost certainly the only slave to turn from Sam and the lavatory man. Perhaps I was prompted by the goddess.

The carriage was worth more than a cursory glance. Occasionally I had seen such vehicles, but not often. It was lightly and gracefully built – royal blue and gleaming silver– rolling silently on its two well-oiled wheels. The vehicle’s beauty brought a lump to my throat.

Lovely as the coach was, it couldn’t compare with the twelve perfectly matched slaves at the traces. They were tall and slim, platinum blonde hair falling almost to the waist. Stepping high, their knees rose to navel level on each precisely synchronised pace. Their faces were masks of arrogance – proud of their slavery, they would surely have sneered at a princess.

The fittings were worthy of the slaves. Their tall royal blue plumes were set in headpieces of what was certainly real silver. The harnesses were fitted with the same metal. The leatherwork matched the plumes – no detail less than splendid.

A beautiful girl, dressed in royal blued trimmed with silver, drove the carriage without glancing to the left or right. My eyes met those of a passenger for a moment, although I could not clearly see either of the shadowy figures within. For a few heartbeats I gazed in wonder, before the swift carriage turned a bend in the road. My breath came in a deep sigh – it had been a vision from another, wonderful, world.

Flicking the reins angrily, the bedraggled Sam urged us the short distance to a disagreeably low pub called the Peace Pot. If the carriage represented a world more wonderful than reality, the Peace Pot belonged to one more sordid. Although it was still morning, a wretch vomited from an upper window. Some of the slaves on the right-hand shaft had difficulty in avoiding the drunk’s filth.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

This little castle came into my possession in this month. It was in my parents' china cabinet when I was a child. It always fascinated me -- partly, I think, because it's quite a complex building. My mother forbade me to touch it, and I think that I may have touched it for the first time in within the last week.

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1879

I find that, on the bottom, it's marked "The Castle New Castle on Tyne". That seemed odd to me, since I've visited Newcastle-upon-Tyne several times, and can't recall seeing a castle there. If there was a castle like that, it's very strange that I either didn't notice it, or have forgotten it.

The little castle is also marked "Made in Bavaria" (in English). It may be that Bavarians, in general, know little of Newcastle. To judge from the other inscription, at least some Bavarians think that Newcastle is New Castle.

This object fascinated me as a child, perhaps at least partly because of the evident complexity of the building depicted.

Its relevance to this thread is that several volumes of "The Warriors of Love" are at least partially set in the enormously complex Palace Victoria. I think that this small ceramic castle may have been the earliest inspiration for the Palace Victoria. Rather than "The Castle New Castle on Tyne", the existence of which being a matter on I'm not convinced, perhaps it represents one of the towers of the Palace Victoria.

Here's a second picture of the little castle:

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1880

And a third:

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1881

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Fascinating. The uncertain connectivity of creativity and one's past.

I also suddently asked myself - why, in chess, can one only 'castle' with one's king and not one's queen piece?

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Except in Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There. At the beginning of the book, the chess moves are listed. In move 9 "Alice becomes Queen". Then, move 10 is (white) "Alice castles (feast)" and (red) "Queens castle". This is clearly an unconventional form of chess. When it lists "Queens castle" for the red move, it clearly means that the red and white queens castle (as well as Alice). So the white queen, as well as the red, moves during the red move.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Ah. Again, fascinating.

These are the rules of Castling:
http://www.chessvariants.com/d.chess/castlefaq.html

I wonder if one can lay this skein of rules as a transparency over any fiction and draw new meanings from it.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

In Alice, "castling" seems to mean "to enter a castle to partake of a feast". Whether chess kings are supposed to feast when castling is a matter beyond my knowledge. Perhaps in alternative chess rules, they could move more sluggishly after castling to represent shifting with a distended belly.

Apart from the "castling" it's not too difficult to follow the Through the Looking Glass moves on a chess board. I believe that, at one point, one player checks the other's king without either player (seemingly) noticing that this happens.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Today, I polished Chapter 1 of Volume 8 "Margaret Again". This quote isn't new (I think that it's carried forward unchanged from "Odalisque") but it struck me afresh as I reworked the material. Dashing Daniel is offering some ale to Juicelle:

“Here you are, your ladyship,” he almost snarled, “as clear as your conscience and foaming like rabies.”

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Also from "Margaret Again" Chapter 1 is Juicelle's first remark to Tuerqui:

“If you’re alive,” Juicelle said after a long pause – her voice affectedly languid, “it would be polite to speak. If, on the other hand, you’re a blesh carcass, I’d advise you to stop breathing before you’re eaten.”

Having been writing, recently on this thread, about Through the Looking Glass, it occurs to me that Juicelle's speech echoes Tweedledum and Tweedledee's first remarks to Alice:

"If you think we're wax-works," he said, "you ought to pay, you know. Wax-works weren't made to be looked at for nothing. Nohow!"

"Contrariwise," added the one marked "DEE", "if you think we're alive, you ought to speak."

Blesh being slave flesh slaughtered for meat, Juicelle's version seems to me more sinister.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

And, returning to the ceramic castle, could this flat roof be the one to which characters go (in both "Jane" and "Margaret Again") in order to conduct secret conversations?

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1883

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I'm in the process of polishing "Margaret Again" Chapter 3. Polishing, for me, involves reading every word out loud (then changing as necessary, re-reading, and so on). Chapter 3 includes a number of remarks from an army sergeant. While polishing these, I tried reading them aloud in an approximation to a sergeant's voice. Doing that, I soon developed a slight sore throat. How do real sergeants manage to sound as (I believe) they do?

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I just wrote this as a Visitor Message... But thought I'd copy it here for more general circulation (in case others are unaware of this):

I am currently working on a projected series of 12 novels called "The Warriors of Love". Of the 12, 4 are to be an extended re-write of "Odalisque". Currently, one non-"Odalisque" "W of L" novel exists, and 2 that are expansions of the first half of "Odalisque". I'm about a quarter of the way through writing the third of the novels that was formerly part of "Odalisque".

Currently, these novels exist only as collections of computer files (I've sent them on CD to a number of people). But I'm thinking of using Lulu.com to publish one or two of them as paper and ink books.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Oh, and I've discovered that the ceramic castle is probably very old. It was formerly the properly of Granny Harvey (my Great Aunt Ada, who -- I'm pretty sure -- died before my birth in 1946). She lived at 50 Torquay Drive, Leigh-on-Sea, Essex -- and my eldest sister recalls visiting Granny Harvey (before the Second World War, I'm pretty certain):

"I remember as a small girl (& Wendy even smaller) visiting 'Grandad' Harvey balding and fairly static in an armchair in the corner. He was round, balding, smiling and smoked a pipe. 'Granny' Harvey did the talking she was like Dad but sharp faced and always called us little chaps which we didn't like."

Amongst the furnishings of Granny Harvey's sitting room was a china cabinet which housed (amongst other things) the ceramic castle.

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1885

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Congratulations on your hard work on this staggering concept of a twelve novel canon. Judging by reading the first one on-disk, these are also readable separately.
And good luck with the print versions.
des

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Here is a more or less random example of how "Odalisque" is changing as it becomes part of "The Warriors of Love".

First, the start of "Odalisque" Chapter 25:

Chapter 25

War

Under my feet, the once smooth hallway floor felt rough – scratched by the passage of heavy objects. Bright sunlight spilt through the high windows, all but turning the polished wooden panels into mirrors, but casting deep shadows amid the recently piled boxes. A large open packing case smelt of wood shavings. The doorbell clanged loudly and, before I had time to answer it, sounded again – even louder.

At the threshold, a messenger shifted impatiently – like a tightly coiled spring. She wore the livery of Berenice Blackheart and carried a sealed envelope. A broad belt over her right shoulder supported a sheathed sword – not an ornate weapon – but clearly one of deadly purpose. Her expression was grim and resolute.

“I am to see Lady Isobel, in person,” she said, “and at once.”

“Indeed,” I replied, my attempt at hauteur wilting under her gaze. “I’ll see whether she’s prepared to receive you. If you’d just unbuckle your sword belt…”

Pushing past me, she growled – “Out of my way, slave. I’ll keep my sword.”

Fearful for my mistress’ safety, I tried to bar the messenger’s progress. Roughly, and showing considerable strength, she thrust me to one side. It was as though I were in the grip of a nightmare – untrained as I was in martial skills, my efforts succeeded only in earning me a few bruises and some small cuts. The armed woman strode purposefully, while I scurried behind trying to raise the alarm.

Now, "The Warriors of Love" Volume 5 "Tuerqui" begins thus:

Chapter 20

In which my mistress departs, absorbed into political danger, students march into the dangers of war, and life is by no means safe for us slaves.

The hallway floor rasped the soles of my feet – its once smooth surface scratched by the passage of heavy objects. Bright sunlight spilt through high windows, all but turning the polished wooden panels into mirrors, but casting deep shadows amid the recently piled boxes. A large open packing case smelt of wood shavings. The doorbell clanged loudly and, before anyone had time to answer it, sounded again – even louder.

“Can you get that, Tuerqui?” Squirmanne asked. “I need to open this second crate before…”

“Right you are,” I responded, “no problem.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

At the threshold, a messenger shifted impatiently – like a tightly coiled spring. She wore the livery of Berenice Blackheart and carried a sealed envelope. A broad belt over her right shoulder supported a sheathed sword – not an ornate weapon – but clearly one of deadly purpose. Her expression was grim and resolute.

“I am to see Lady Isobel, in person,” she said, “and at once.”

“Indeed,” I replied, my attempt at hauteur wilting under her gaze. “I’ll see whether she’s prepared to receive you. If you’d just unbuckle your sword belt…”

Pushing past me, she growled: “Out of my way, slave. I’ll keep my sword.”

Fearful for my mistress’ safety, I tried to bar the messenger’s progress. Roughly, and showing considerable strength, she thrust me to one side. It was as though I were in the grip of a nightmare – untrained as I was in martial skills, my efforts succeeded only in earning me a few bruises and some small cuts. The armed woman strode purposefully, while I scurried behind trying to raise the alarm.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I seem to have published a book today:
Jane by Peter Jeffery in Science Fiction Fantasy

I haven't seen a copy, though, and can't guarantee how it's turned out.

It says:

Jane
by Peter Jeffery
This item has not been rated yet
Paperback, 442 pages

£16.99
Ships in 3–5 business days
Jane is an ordinary person: a junior fiscal inspector, a sixteen year old civil servant under the majesty of Berenice I, by the bounty of the goddesses Empress of Surrey. The extraordinary women who wield power in the imperial hierarchy have assigned Jane to audit the accounts of an independent company of light cavalry, in the war zone that is Essex. The company is commanded by Modesty Clay with whom Jane falls in love. Her unwise emotional attachment leads Jane into a world in which she needs to grow up very quickly, a world in which the Empress herself takes a personal interest.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Incidentally, if you click on the link to the book, and then click on "Preview" you can read the front cover, title page, first nine pages of text, and back cover.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Here's a major change to the start of a chapter. "Odalisque" Chapter 31 begis thus:

Chapter 31

Lessons

My living room was untidy – footwear and clothes scattered over the furniture and floor. Having kicked off my shoes, the deep pile rug was springy under my bare feet. Lisa-Louise was deep in conversation with Barguin, they spoke too quietly for me to hear more than a murmuring sound punctuated by giggles. My mistress and body slave were taking turns to sip from a large glass of red wine.

It was shortly after lunch, Lisa-Louise had yet to re-harness me. She had told Barguin – in a voice loud enough for me to hear – not to tidy the room, adding that Tuerqui would clear it up later. It was in line with her insistence that it was my inner being that enslaved me, rather than the presence or absence of a harness. Before sinking deeper into conversation with my body slave, she had tossed me the wine bottle, telling me to uncork it.

The label marked it as some kind of berry – but a dirty thumb print obscured the first half of the word. From the colour and smell, I thought that it was elderberry, but couldn’t be certain. The vintage was year two of the reign of King Gavin. Used as I had become to Surrey dating, I lacked any idea as to how old that made it – indeed, the king’s name was known to me only as an enemy that Berenice’s troops had defeated, and left me unable to place his realm.

There came a timid knock – Barguin, rising slowly and walking a little unsteadily, admitted a slave to my room. The newcomer carried a pile of folded garments in which grey and white predominated. In spite of recognising the clothes as schoolroom uniform, my eyes were not for her burden – but for she who carried them. There was something about her that stirred me before I knew what it was.

“Mistress, Mrs Clay has sent me on behalf of Miss Miles,” she said with a curtsey. “If it pleases your highness, Miss Miles says you’re to wear these things for your lessons.”

Now that even Mrs Clay’s stitch slaves called me Tuerqui, being addressed as your highness seemed both strange and wrong. But there was something about this particular slave speaking thus that added to the incongruity. The slave’s face was almost as familiar as my own – or at least an older version of the same features. Glancing at her thigh, I read the name Tipsi.

As "Margaret Again" Chapter 6 this has transformed into this:

Chapter 6

In which I encounter Tipsi and a cursed ruby, begin to attend Miss Miles’ schoolroom lessons, and receive my first sword.

An acrid taste lingered on my tongue after a recent, and none too appetising, lunch. Lisa-Louise having neglected to re-harness me, the soft fabric of a long skirt tickled at my toes. Footwear and clothing, scattered over furniture and floor, cluttered my living room. Shoes kicked off, a deep pile rug sprang under my bare feet.

Although, strictly speaking, my body slave, Barguin addressed her observation and question to Lisa-Louise: “It’s a bit of a mess in here. Would you like me to tidy up?”

“No, don’t bother, Barguin. Join me in some wine. Tuerqui can see to the mess later.”

“Tuerqui? She looks more like Princess Margaret in that floor length skirt.”

“It’s her inner being that enslaves her – not the presence or absence of harness… or clothing. Isn’t that right, Tuerqui?”

“Yes, mistress, it is.”

“There! You hear the slavery in her voice, Barguin?”

“Yes, I do, Lisa-Louise. All the same, I think you should harness her. It isn’t right for a slave to dress as a princess.”

“All in good time, my friend. There may be more hurry with the wine.” She held the bottle for Barguin’s inspection.

“A vintage fermentation,” Barguin replied, “it must have waited years for us to drink it – not all that urgent, I would have thought.” Then, looking more carefully at the label: “Although, for all I know, year two of King Gavin’s reign might have been a week ago last Sorday.”

“I don’t suppose, Barguin, that you even know who King Gavin was.”

“No, I don’t. Never heard of the blighter.”

“He was the king of Dawzet, which must mean something to Tuerqui.”

“Yes, it does, mistress. I was betrothed to Crown Prince Fredric of Dawzet, mistress, before I was enslaved. Maybe Gavin was his father.”

“His uncle, Tuerqui. He died, as they say, without issue… a bit of a poof, maybe… so Gavin’s brother inherited the throne.”

“You know a lot of history, Lisa-Louise.” Barguin sounded impressed.

“A whole lot of history, Barguin. There’s no use in listening to political conversations unless you know what they’re talking about.”

“Anyway, the wine… On second thoughts, maybe it is more urgent than harnessing Tuerqui. I’m a bit parched.”

Stretching languidly, Lisa-Louise tossed the wine in my direction. My reactions a little slow, the heavy object bounced with a muffled thud on the rug at my feet. Fortunately, it came to rest unbroken. Dipping my knees, I retrieved the bottle.

“Uncork it, Tuerqui,” a command from Lisa-Louise, not a request.

“Yes, mistress,” I replied, pleased to be commanded.

Retreating to my kitchen, I returned with a corkscrew and two glasses. Lisa-Louise had invited Barguin to drink with her, but had not extended such an invitation to me. Mindful of my place as a slave, it struck me as more fitting that I didn’t sip wine with my mistress. Treasuring my place as a slave, I delighted in restricting myself to serving.

“Tuerqui,” Lisa-Louise said, “you may return those glasses to the kitchen. Bring us just one large glass. It’ll be cosier to share.”

“Yes, mistress,” I replied, hastening to obey.

The label marked the wine as some kind of berry – but a dirty thumbprint obscured the first half of the word. From the colour and smell, I thought that it was elderberry, but couldn’t be certain. Sinking deeper into conversation, my mistress and my body slave took turns to sip from the large glass I’d fetched them. They spoke too quietly for me to hear more than a murmuring sound punctuated by giggles.

At a timid knock, Barguin rose slowly, and walked a little unsteadily to admit a slave to my room. The newcomer carried a pile of folded garments in which grey and white predominated. In spite of recognising the clothes as schoolroom uniform, my eyes were not for her burden – but for she who carried them. There was something about her that stirred me before I knew what it was.

Turning to me, the newcomer curtsied. “Mistress, Mrs Clay has sent me on behalf of Miss Miles. If it pleases your highness, Miss Miles says you’re to wear these things for your lessons.”

Now that even Mrs Clay’s stitch slaves called me Tuerqui, being addressed as your highness seemed both strange and wrong. But there was something about this particular slave speaking thus that added to the incongruity. Her face was almost as familiar as my own – or at least an older version of the same features often lingered in my mind’s eye. Glancing at her thigh, I read the name Tipsi.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

My proof copy of "Jane" arrived today. It looks lovely!

Re: Warriors of Love
 

This is just the beginning of 'The Warriors of Love' legendary novel sequence. Get there at its outset, I say!

PS: I mentioned WoL to a few people at WHC (Brighton).

Before long there will hopefully come the tipping-point where the word of it spreading will be unstoppable.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I'm planning to publish Vols 2 and 5 on Lulu very shortly.

Thanks for spreading the word, Des.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I have, today, published "Margaret" on Lulu.

Margaret by P F Jeffery in Science Fiction Fantasy

Both "Jane" and "Margaret" should be available from Amazon in 6-8 weeks.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I have, today, published "Tuerqui" on Lulu.

Tuerqui by Peter Jeffery in Science Fiction Fantasy

This completes publication of the three novels that are ready. Fourth novel "Margaret Again" will, the goddess willing, appear some time during the summer. I also intend to publish a non-fiction book, "Golden Goddess and Bloody Times" during the summer.

"Jane", "Margaret" and "Tuerqui" should all be available from Amazon in 6-8 weeks. (Well, Margaret and Jane a few days less that 6-8 weeks, if that makes any sense.)

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Here's something which will (I think) please D F Mr Nemonymous Lewis...

The Lulu cover wizard, as well as a space for the book blurb, includes a smaller space -- evidently intended for a photo and potted biography of the author. With all three published volumes of The Warriors of Love, I have included a blurred picture of a metal figure (a different one for each book) instead of a picture of me. And, instead of something about me, I've included these pieces:

Jane:

This is the first in a series of twelve novels: The Warriors of Love, taking the reader on a journey into a world both familiar and strange… a blurred mirror reflecting things we already know, and yet scarcely begin to guess.

Margaret:

This is the second in a series of twelve novels: The Warriors of Love. Each volume will stand in its own right… independent books, readable in any sequence, taking the reader on a journey into a world both familiar and strange… a blurred mirror reflecting things we already know, and yet scarcely begin to guess.

Tuerqui:

This will be the fifth in a series of twelve novels: The Warriors of Love. Volumes one and two have already been published, volumes three and four are, at the time of writing, still in the planning stage. Each volume will stand in its own right… independent books, readable in any sequence, taking the reader on a journey into a world both familiar and strange… a blurred mirror reflecting things we already know, and yet scarcely begin to guess.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

That's a nice 'nemonymous-like' touch, by the sound of it.
I can't believe these remarkable books are at last coming out to an unsuspecting world. :)

Re: Warriors of Love
 

The page size of the published volumes, incidentally, is about nine and a quarter by six and an eighth inches. Between the three volumes, there are a little more than 1400 pages of text.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I'm much gratified to learn that it does, indeed, seem to please D F Mr Nemonymous Lewis! :)

Re: Warriors of Love
 

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1923

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1924

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1925

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Did you create the cover for Margaret, Mr. Jeffery? It reminds me of your Egyptian tarot art. :cool:

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I created all three covers. And all three utilise my tarot cards. When I came to the create-a-cover part of the wizard, I thought "Great Goddess! Whatever am I going to put on the cover?" It had to be something ready to use, and had either to be out of copyright or something of which I owned any copyright that might exist. Then I thought of my tarot cards. Looking through them, I selected the Nine of Cups. I was really pleased with the cover (and it looks even better, I think, full size on the book cover). So, when I came to a cover for "Margaret", I selected the Ace of Cups. And for "Tuerqui" (yesterday) I chose The Moon. :)

Re: Warriors of Love
 

A new link:

P F Jeffery's Storefront - Lulu.com

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Today, I found a couple of typos in the published "Jane", and that's annoying. Mind, I don't think that they would actually confuse anybody. And perhaps most readers wouldn't notice them at all. My eye must have glanced off them repeatedly. :(

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Today, I've been working on two different books -- "Margaret Again" (part of The Warriors of Love) and "Golden Goddess and Bloody Times" (my short work on spirituality). I hope to publish both on Lulu within the next few months. I'm not sure which will be ready first.

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Today, I received 10 copies each of my first two novels, "Jane" and "Margaret".

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I've now had the opportunity to look through the printed version of "Margaret". If there is anything wrong with it, the errors have yet to appear. :)

Re: Warriors of Love
 

Copies of the first two volumes of The Warriors of Love in my hands!!

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1937

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1936

http://www.ligotti.net/picture.php?a...pictureid=1938

Re: Warriors of Love
 

I've had an email from Lulu telling me that they've despatched my 10 copies of "Tuerqui". :)