How I’m Doing on Born in a Treacherous Time II

I’m watching the countdown in my sidebar wondering if I will have an on-time launch of my latest WIP, historic fiction Born in a Treacherous Time:

A band of early humans struggle to survive a world where violence, hunger, death, and chaos are the norm.  Think Man vs Wild rather than 1 Million BC.

If you read To Hunt a Sub and loved Lucy (the ancient female who mentored the female protagonist), this is her story. You find out how she gave up everything for her unborn child, survived a violent world using only her wits, and found an unusual band of likewise abandoned creatures who would shape her future.

With a planned publication date of May-June, here’s how I’m doing.

• I’m still working on substantive editing, mostly wordsmithing at this point. Because these edits might mess up other parts of the book, I’ll be re-checking timelines, plot points…

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Musique : LCD Soundsystem “American Dream” – Raphael “Anticyclone” – Indochine “13”

La Culture Dans Tous Ses Etats

*LCD Soundsystem “American Dream“

James Murphy et son LCD Soundsystemsont de retour avec “American Dream“. Le titre éponyme est sans doute son plus beau sur ce disque. Après dissous LCD Soundsystem en 2012, ce retour est un bonheur pour les mélomanes. On y retrouve de nombreuses influences de David Bowie, son idole de toujours (Bowie qui était fan de LCD) jusqu’à U2. “How Do you Sleep” est un véritable morceau de bravoure aux sonorités hypnotiques et envoûtantes. “Tonite” est jouissive à souhait tandis que “Black Screen” achève magnifiquement un LP qui emporte tout sur son passage. C’est beau, varié, inventif.

Ma note:♥♥♥♥♥/5.

*Raphaël “Anticyclone“

Beaucoup auraient succombé à la tentation de reproduire, inlassablement, le même disque. Raphaël a connu les sommets avec “Caravane” avant de tomber peu à peu dans un succès d’estime…

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Le 12 octobre 1940, il y a 77 ans, les nazis décident de regrouper les juifs et les enfermer dans les ghettos (laroseetlecolibri.blogspot.fr)

Walls

Northwest Journals

It started with the jar of loose change, the way the coins glittered in the sun. No matter where I stood in my bedroom, silver and bronze flashes swarmed around me like gnats or doubt. Without thinking, I pushed the jar off my dresser and watched as coins pummeled the floor and the jar shattered. The sound punched a hole into the silence of my childhood home.

I froze, waiting for the bellow of my name through the wall or my father’s heavy steps in the hallway. But my thin house remained still.

Growing up, my parents hoarded quiet like other parents hoarded plastic butter tubs. Mom was an insomniac and Dad worked third-shift, so at least one of them was napping at any point during the day. I wasn’t sure if their lack of reaction meant I was in much worse trouble or if I got away with it…

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