8.1.18 INFINITY LINE

8.1.18 INFINITY LINE

Today is 8.1.18

(Please note the palindrome, the eleven symbolizing parallel lines, the two vertical infinity symbols disguised as eights.)

Today my second novel, INFINITY LINE, is available!

Warning: This story is nothing like OR NOT TO BE. I’m not kidding. Put all expectations aside and read like you’ve never read my debut or my hundreds of blog posts.

INFINITY LINE hurts. It hurt to write. It hurts to read.

Characters, superheroes almost, creatures from deep within my imagination, tell the story. They revealed the story to me. I did not outline. I did not plan. I let the pain and anger pour onto the page.

Seven years ago the first rough draft was brutal and messy. Five years of help in editing and rewriting (through dozens of versions and months of doubt and courage) have passed while life moved along. And now, at this time when our country and world are so incredibly terrifying, suddenly I feel brave.

So here she is. My second-born. Be gentle. She’s yours now.

front cover Infinity Line

Available in paperback and Kindle.

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Cover reveal: INFINITY LINE

front cover Infinity Line

In 2072,

in a once vibrant metropolis on the eastern coast of what used to be America,

biochemist Dr. Lorelei Fletcher hunts men.

In a world gone insane with hatred, somebody has to do it.

Lorelei stalks them until they catch her.

She doses them with a molecular cocktail

(silently, painlessly, with a needle, to the neck)

to tame them.

Part of an improbable plan for peace,

Lorelei works to drive humanity toward a future that’s female.

Exclusively female.

 

INFINITY LINE, my second novel, will be available in August 2018. As an independent author, editor, and publisher, with my very own company called LMNO Press, I write fiction from deep within my aching heart. The pain and struggles, frustrations and horrors, and relationships between characters in this story were born of my fear for humanity, and my certain doubt that we can survive on our spiraling path.

Unlike the humorous and tragic love story of OR NOT TO BE, this second novel defies any attempt to brand me as an author of a specific genre. Indeed, my next books may be children’s stories. Imagination cannot be caged.

Advance Reader Copies (printed and electronic) are available for preview and review. Please email lauralanni2014@gmail.com for your first edition copy.

 

The magic coffee shop

Yesterday I met a female engineer who worked on the launch of Saturn V back in the 60s. I told her I’d love to be an astronaut.

I met a man who survived brain cancer. He gave me a copy of his book.

I met a medical examiner who is also a chef. She lived for decades in the Caribbean. She gave me a copy of her book, and offered me a job at the college where she works.

And I met a preschool teacher who gave me a set of miniature notecards with adorable pictures of kittens, for my mother-in-law.

My friend who sails with her husband in Malaysia stopped by. Her husband told us about their first sailing trip across the Pacific in 1997: the breeze, the peace, the storm, the 25-foot crests. He reported his wife declared she would NEVER do that again. Yet, she still sails.

Another friend told me all about her youngest daughter, a powerhouse  who recently survived Marine boot camp. I showed her pictures of my daughter’s wedding. This same friend plans to audition for a prime role in a local theater production–in a play that SHE WROTE.

All of these things occurred in a local coffee shop in the span of two hours. The coffee was incredible, too. The place is called The Coffee Shelf. Try it sometime.

 

Offensive in a politically correct world

My next book, A GIRL IN THE BOYS’ SCHOOL (also known as Infinity Line by early readers), has an intentionally offensive beginning.

This introverted author (middle child, peacekeeper–call me what you like), who holds her opinions close because she holds them so strongly and can’t be bothered to defend them, (and who speaks of herself in the third person when perched on the awkward fence), has stepped across the line cloaked in the cracked invisibility shield we call fiction.

Certainly, all fiction needs not to be politically correct. I think of novels that changed my mind, not merely by changing my opinions, but altering my perspective and perception of the world, and I am thankful to have read them. But if I offend my readers in the first 60 pages, and they toss the book at the wall, has my intent been met?

It’s a big risk, and likely one reason potential literary agents haven’t gotten past the first few chapters. But, once again, I wrote a story I wanted to read.

This story and its feisty characters (mostly women, and one very old, very intelligent man) could help people to think about difficult and scary reality, to begin by being angry about it, but to acknowledge it with heads up from the sand. We cannot stay numb.

After we blame and point fingers and whine, we must help and learn and cooperate.

Writing A GIRL IN THE BOYS’ SCHOOL showed me that, behind all my cynicism and worry, I am hopeful. We will survive, but why can’t we think about the future and try to find a more logical and humane way to get there?

Someday, I hope you will read it and think.

 

 

Inside where the stories brew

Welcome to a tour of the inside of a storyteller’s mind. Keep your hands off the shiny things and stay with the group, please.

Over in this corner, we have the official WIP (work-in-progress). This is the story she’s supposed to be writing. It’s the one she talks about all the time. It’s the reason she can’t remember what you just said, or remember to eat, or sleep through the whole night.

Over on this shelf are the random ideas, possible short stories, lists of actors and directors she’ll call up when her book is made into a movie, and a pile of good intentions–blog post topics and other ideas, sorted haphazardly into “Must Get This Out” and others tagged “Write It But Keep It In a Drawer/Nobody Needs To See This“.

Don’t open that dark and dusty box. That’s where she keeps a pile of TO-DO things called marketing. These are the items she doesn’t really want to do, and probably never will. They’re the things that will sell more copies of her books. But when she looks at them, it hurts her eyes. When other authors do those things, it always smells a little rotten, like standing on a soap box and shouting about your own sweet-smelling feet. But all readers know a good book may not be crowned so by the writer. Once published, readers own the story and propel it to its fate. Only the reader may honestly “sell” a book to other readers. The writer may only watch and hope, and keep the dusty box over there, where she can’t see it too much.

She doesn’t get bored. Even when nothing is happening, on a long walk, on a 10-hour car ride, in a boring meeting where colleagues feverishly debate before voting about whether to vote on something, she is entertained by her mind. Her characters talk, to each other or to her or to themselves. Sometimes they yell for attention. Scenes slide by, uninvited. Halfway through drafting a novel, a new story knocks with more interesting characters than those old ones. She has a special skill where she appears to watch a whole football game but only her eyes are pointed the right way. She says, “Mhh hmmm,” frequently in response to voices that utter strings of words that turn up at the end like questions.

Yep, it’s like a circus in here. The writer’s task is to tame the lion and corral the monkeys. She must swing from the trapeze and juggle her ideas, often while working her “real” job to earn money so she can support her coffee addiction and need for carbohydrates.

So that’s it, just a quick look around. Don’t look too close. Tour’s over.