My Theories About Series and Self-Publishing

The doorbell rang as soon as Simone’s hands were covered with dirt from repotting primroses. That was how it always was lately. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, regretting the dark smears as soon as she saw them. The dish towel landed in the sink; she hurried to the door.

As abrupt and perfumed as a magazine advertisement thrust in her face, a broad-toothed woman in red polka-dots that shouldn’t be chic, but were, atop a teeter of matching red heels.

Presenting her hand in a direct overhand shake, “I’m Cherry Abramson, Unit #8.”

Simone wished she’d washed her hand instead of just wiping it, but she shook anyhow. Cherry’s face remained set in the same smile, but somehow Simone was sure the other woman had noted the half-moons of dirt underneath her fingernails, the scatter of dirty dishes visible in the sink, the cloth across them like a soggy wick.

She squared herself in the doorway. No way was she asking this woman in for coffee. She didn’t want that appraising blue eye noting the stack of boxes, the unfolded laundry heaped on the sofa, already marked with a cat-shaped divot.

“I’m still in the middle of unpacking,” she said.

Her tone was edged with unfriendliness. It surprised Simone and she hovered in the doorway at a loss for words. Then Cherry’s smile re-shuttered her face. “I’m sure you will, but I’m on the Board and need to mention things like that.”

“Sure,” Simone said.

“I wanted to invite you to our next board meeting. We always need new voices in the community. You’re an owner, right? Not a renter?”

“That’s right,” Simone said. “Got a good price and it seemed like time to settle down.”

Cherry nodded in tight satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.” She looked at the hallway mirror past Simone’s shoulder. “Well, I see you’ve got plenty of work to do.” She turned and trotted down the stairs.

Simone felt the bounce of her steps. The two-story building was several decades old; you could always tell when someone was coming or going via the cement planks leading down to the courtyard between buildings.

“Bitch,” she said, half to herself as she closed the door. Turning, she stooped to pet the cat winding itself around her knees pretending not to be investigating the door’s opening.

An Instructive Listing of the Notable Markets of Tabat, being Pamphlet #4 of the first series of “A Visitor’s Guide to Tabat,” Spinner Press, author unknown.

The Rain Market: To the north and east of Tabat lie the great marshes, half salt water, half fresh water. While the struggle to drain them and transform them into cropland presses on each year. The vast marshlands, a mix of salt and fresh water, seem unthreatened. The grasses that grow here are colored, like most of the marsh’s vegetation, by the purplish and green clays and minerals that underlie the marsh. Their pliant grasses colored lavender to dark purple and shades of olive, grow in abundance and are harvested for the purpose of making the tight-woven rain-gear that fills the Tabatian square known as the Rain Market.

Open come rain or sunshine, the Market sells, beyond its hats and shell-shaped overcoats of woven grass, baskets and other containers in whatever size or shape you might need. Bring the object there and they will weave a basket to hold it, from spiky pine-fruit to a glove shaped case from a wooden prosthetic hand of the sort the 12th Duke wore. Clatter chimes, lengths of hollow reed string on cording and meant to be hung from windowsills or bank tills to scare away sea-ghosts are sold here exclusively in this market in the shadow of the Slumpers.

Also near the Slumpers are the shops that sell its wares: tiles and china and porcelain goods. At the very edge of Rose Way is the complex of shops devoted to brownie wares: miniature dishes many use to coax brownies into their houses as well as other wares designed for smaller Beasts and animals.

Spice and Fish Square, only a block away from the main dock, supplies goods just unloaded from fishing and merchant ships,. The freshest sea fare can be found here and many vendors are prepared to cook your dinner on the spot. The air smells of brine and rot and smoke, and the nearby alleys are scattered with fragments of scales like silver spangles underfoot.

The Stable Markets are housed in what were once the city stables, since relocated to the northern edge of Tabat. Sitting on the fourth terrace, the building is filled with swarms of tiny shops selling this, that, and the other thing. Some stalls have existed here for generations while others are new traders, come with merchandise they want to dispose of quickly, if sometimes not cheaply.

The Midnight Market, located on the lowest terrace within sound of the sea, operates only from dusk to dawn, in the spaces that will be occupied by traders, merchants, and sailors during the day’s daylight hours. Anything and everything can be purchased here, and many of the vendors, as in the Stable Markets, are Beasts acting as representatives for Human masters.

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Love the world of Tabat and want to spend longer in it? Check out Hearts of Tabat, the latest Tabat novel! Or get sneak peeks, behind the scenes looks, snippets of work in progres, and more via Cat’s Patreon.

• Hearts of Tabat on Amazon
• Hearts of Tabat on Baen Books
• Hearts of Tabat on B&N
• Hearts of Tabat on Kobo
• Hearts of Tabat on Powell’s
• Hearts of Tabat on Smashwords

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