Two days out from ApolloCon 2010, I am still none the wiser. There were moments I enjoyed immensely, old connections I was pleased to renew and new connections I was happy to make. That said, I remain uncertain about how effective a strategy for promotion of my work participating in this or any science fiction/fantasy convention may be. That I am slowly building an audience is undeniable, but is it the fastest way? That these exposures are helping to clarify exactly what is unique and what is generic in my work is equally true, but does the clarification indicate that I am reaching out to the right or wrong subculture? The jury is still out. Perhaps I’m worrying the issue too much. I spent three days in the company of some incredibly cool people. I sold some copies of my books, especially the new edition of Prelude to a Change of Mind. I had opportunity to listen to really smart, knowledgeable people talk about topics that interest me. Justifying the weekend in Houston is certainly not difficult. If fame and fortune were again shy about tagging me, fun was not.

Getting the new edition of Prelude to a Change of Mind actually out to the world has been a process fraught with complications. The production facility, which shall remain unnamed because of the necessity of an ongoing relationship, presented serial hurdles involving software incompatabilities, incongruities, misconception and missed connections. Once those were all cleared (to mix sports metaphors), the facility dropped the ball repeatedly on what seemed a simple task of producing and shipping a press proof. Had the difficulty been with some other book the situation might have been funny. Finally, all those issues were resolved, the books were printed and—this very day—delivered. Title in hand, I set out to register the copyright with the government’s online copyright registration site. Discretion suggests that the particular government should also remain nameless because of similar necessity of continuing relationship; however, there is only one government registering copyrights in a certain country in which I am rumored to reside. I leave you to draw your own conclusion.

Was there a problem with the copyright registration process? Why, yes. Setting up an account and entering all required information went swimmingly. The payment process was seamless. The final step, that of printing a required mailing label from the site, did not work at all. No funciona. I contacted the site’s technical support, and received instruction to log out, log back in, select my case number, select my case number again, and wait to be taken to the page from which to print the label. I followed instruction. When I logged back in the account no longer showed a record of the payment I had made, which meant I could only go to the page for making payments, not to the page for printing labels. I contacted technical support again, discovering that—during the sixty seconds it had taken me to follow their instructions—technical support had left for the day. Fortunately, I had requested the optional e-mail verification of my payment, so I can document that payment was made. The case is paid for. Technical support will find my message waiting when they return to work in the morning. We’ll go then to registration round two.

I console myself that this release process is pre-catastrophed. From now forward I hope for smooth waters. Of course, hope does spring in the face of all evidence.

This weekend will see the return of Stikmanz to ApolloCon, Houston’s premiere science fiction, fantasy and horror conference. This year I share my dealer room table with fellow Blue Moose Press authors Ethan Rose and O. M. Grey. For the first time ever, I’ll also participate in ApolloCon programming, as I sit on two panels around midday on Saturday. Check the program schedule for details.

My big news for this event is that I shall be introducing the new Blue Moose Press edition of Prelude to a Change of Mind, the first book of The Hidden Lands of Nod. Not only does this represent the roll-out of a new edition with a new publisher, but I have extensively revised the story. If I may say so, it is a better book than ever. Besides copies of the debut, I’ll also have copies of the first editions of Entranscing and Sleeper Awakes, not to mention the Dvarsh oracle, Nod’s Way. Come play and say, “Hey!”

It was my privilege to spend a chunk of yesterday afternoon as one of a tiny number of participating auditors of Cavernous, created by sound artist Thomas Fang under the aegis of the New Media Art and Sound Summit sponsored by Church of the Friendly Ghost. Placed inside a small cave on the southwest fringe of Austin, the installation featured thirty minutes of three loosely synchronized channels of ambient noise played in darkness. The evolving soundscape was more beautiful than that description suggests. I cannot say what the actual sources may have been, but at different times the sounds suggested, among other things, the crackle of static over a radio, a needle on an old vinyl record, electric strings, surf, and purely electronic oscillating tones. The composition would have been lovely and evocative in any environment. The emplacement and circumstance of this work elevated its realization.

As one might imagine, caves are not often located where artists may conveniently put them to use, and are not necessarily shaped to accommodate a large audience. The particular cave pressed into service for this event is located about a mile and a half from the trailhead where auditors gathered. The hike to the site happened in full June afternoon, passing through lush woodland, and required wading Barton Creek in the bargain. The chamber in which the sounds were played capped a roughly ten foot climb inside the cave, transitioning from the glare of day to warm, close darkness. Visualizing a metaphorical womb is entirely appropriate. The chamber’s small size limited the audience for each instantiation of the work to five people, so the experience was played out three times. This was art that required commitment from its consumers. It took effort, it took stamina, we got sweaty and dirty, and each “seating” spent the duration of the work sitting in the dark with the kinds of critters one finds in a limestone cave in June in central Texas. In a phrase, it was wonderful. I was impressed with concept and execution, and proud to have been part of it. These are feelings that survived the hike back to the trailhead. The whole of the experience was inspiring.

The new location is stuffed to the gunwales with boxes, bins and piles of critical matter. Little by little it self-organizes as I sweep through looking for whatever singularly important item a given moment requires.  Meanwhile, your humble actant continues to progress on the several fronts demanding immediate attention. Press proof of the newly revised edition of Prelude to a Change of Mind is overdue, but now expected any moment. The ebook version is about one hard afternoon’s labor from being ready to upload. A new promotional postcard moves steadily toward readiness. Preliminary talks with an editor for the future works of The Hidden Lands of Nod cycle have opened, more on which I promise to reveal soon. I am continuing discussion with Spirepix Studio about refurbishing my web presence. All in all, movement is forward, and opportunities to shout, “Huzzah!” approach. The wait will be worth it. Truly.

The second iteration of Stikmanz Intergalactic HQ is in process of assembly. Thankfully, the steps required have given me a series of largely physical tasks to absorb time while I try to iron out the complications that have arisen to frustrate the way to relaunch of Prelude to a Change of Mind. This latter effort has met with repeated problems involving file compatibility at the production facility. The damned book should be available already, but software excuses keep pointing fingers every which way. I’ll try again tonight to get an acceptable file off my computer and to the necessary destination. I’ll also further the cause of furnishing and detailing the new HQ installation. My silences may stretch overly long for the internet, but progress of a sort continues.