Warning! Incoming Fire: Announcing an Audio Edition

Hello friends and followers. Got some neon-hot cyberpunk goodness hurtling your way!

You ready for a new wave of synth and neon? Maxine Ali’s adventures are far from over. Here’s what I’ve got loaded in the chambers of this double-barreled shotgun of awesome.

First Blast: Audio Edition of Book 1

I’ve recorded my own reading of book 1, exclusively for your listening pleasure. Expect audio releases weekly, right here on Patreon, leading up to the release of book 2 next summer.

Far beyond a little shiny new chrome, this updated edition grabbed the full body mod:

• Inmani is now called In/Human, a literal translation of inmani, and a more descriptive word for the non-latinophone

• A new opening chapter! Ever wanted to ride in style in a church drop ship? Meet Nova Mundo like a boss

• A rewrite of the infamous chapter 11: Deep In a Pool of Flaming Shit, 2:51 AM. Simpler. More demure. More mindful

• The colossus is described. Jaq is in more scenes, stealing them

• Some dialect tweaks, mostly for Jaq and Mother Joan

• Finally, bug-stomping metal heads have been hard at work moshing on the manuscript and it should include a large number of bug fixes/typo evictions. I’d love to say the typos have all met the wrath of Benedict but those little shits are gold elite at stealth. As heroes you will receive your regularly scheduled free e-book copy in mid-december and if you spot any bugs, I beg you to call in the coordinates so I can airstrike them. The print book will also receive these updates in a new edition.

Second Barrel: Book 2 Is Heating Up

The second book in the In/Human series, tentatively titled Driftwood, is deep in the gory phase of editing, with rewrites flying fast, an editor deployed, and a cover design already loaded. Can’t wait for you to see where Max and Jaq head next… you’ll never guess. Here’s an excerpt:

“Shefwayla,” I said the one-word prayer that meant ‘I accept this,’ but the hair on the back of my arms stood up. Something in the way the wind moaned, the way the ocean rustled endlessly against the shore like against binding chains, the way the mesas seemed alive and watching in the flicker of soundless lightning, made me speak again despite their warning: “Is it dangerous out here?”

That broken-rock voice next to the door answered with dry and desiccated sarcasm. “Nothing worse than what’s in there.” And they jabbed with the stem of their pipe at the door again.

All five of the elders on the porch nodded, their heads bobbing in the dark.