© James Pyles

My Teen/YA Boys’ adventure novel A Wobblegong And His Boy has been available in both paperback and Kindle formats for nearly four months now. I’ve been on a number of podcasts promoting the book (I record the next one tomorrow) and blanketing social media with promotional material. However, as many of you know, one of the most difficult tasks when you are an indie author and have been published in mainly smaller presses is marketing, that is, getting the word out to the point where a significant number of people buy, read, and especially review your book.

In other words, I need to build a bigger audience.

Raconteur Press has been doing its best in this area and for the novels in their Boy’s Adventure Books line, but as I said, they’re a smaller press with limited resources.

So here I am sending “positive waves” (I just rewatched the 1970 film Kelly’s Heroes if you don’t get the reference) into the universe in the hopes of grabbing someone’s curiosity about why my book would be an absolute GREAT read, especially for boys between the ages of ten and eighteen.

In interviews, one of the questions I’m asked most often is “what is a Wobblegong?”

It’s a very good question and kind of difficult to answer because Wobble’s nature is rather mercurial. It’s in a state of almost constant flux not only in shape but in behavior and half the time, even Remmie, the book’s teenage protagonist, has no idea what Wobble is up to.

I’m posting part of Wobble’s “origin story” (everybody loves a secret origin story) to give current and future readers a handle on where Wobble came from.

Oh, keep reading after the end of the excerpt for links to the three interviews that are already online.

Remmie ran across the reconstruction chamber as fast as he could. In spite of its size, the place was crowded and he kept bumping into creche clusters. He’d already stubbed his toes twice, bruised both thighs, and his right elbow was aching. About half of the robs were in or around Bay One, but those still attending the creches kept warning him to slow down. Why weren’t any of them warning him about what was being made in the livestock bay?

“Hey, wait up.”

Remmie heard Jeff’s pitter-pattering feet behind him but he didn’t want to slow down.

The red alert lights on the ceiling had gone out leaving the room cast in stark bright and dark streaks. Their running footsteps seemed too loud and they echoed. Remmie heard the buzz of airborne drones overhead and then noticed a few crab-like robs making manual adjustments to some of the creche cluster hubs. Their claws and legs clattered against each other like sticks.

Remmie’s chest felt tight and his lungs burned. He’d been really afraid when he first woke up, but with all the kids around him and having something to do turned that down to just nervous. Now he felt terrified again.

The tools on his belt made a jingling sound, kind of like Christmas. It was funny to hear something friendly while he was in a panic.

“Hurry up,” Remmie panted. He was getting used to dodging the creches and those few robs along his path were keeping out of his way.

The warehouse-wide doors to the livestock bay were open. Remmie stopped at the threshold trying to get his bearings which is where Jeff caught up to him.

Jeff’s hair was mussed as if he’d ruffled it with his fingers. He wore a white, button-down shirt and dark slacks, which his Mom probably picked out for him. The one concession she made to her only son was the black, high-top sneakers on his feet. He had his hands on his thighs and was leaning forward, breathing heavily.

“Where is it?” Remmie wheezed as he scanned the room. Instead of creches for individual animals, there were what looked like big, round vats, each the size of a walk-in closet and made of iron-gray metal. The lids on top were slightly domed and there was a clear hatch on the side of each one. Beside each vat was a control podium. When they were in standby mode, their panel status lights shone yellow. There were a few robs wandering around the chamber, but they didn’t seem to be alerted to anything.

Remmie pointed to the nearest one. “Rob, come here and report. Which vat is in reconstruction mode?”

A bot labeled BR-29 quickly walked over and faced Remmie.

“Vat-11 is currently in reconstruction operation. Time to delivery, ninety-four seconds.”

“Take us to it,” commanded Remmie.

“Acknowledged. This way please.” Twenty-nine turned and charted a diagonal course to the right.

“Hurry,” yelled Remmie.

Twenty-nine began to trot with Remmie and Jeff keeping up. It took only a few seconds to get to Vat-11. Most of the lights on the vat’s raised panel were flashing red. Messages steamed across its main display too fast for Remmie to read.

“Why weren’t you alerted to this event, Twenty-nine?” Remmie demanded.
Remmie blinked as the rob’s voice synthesizer warbled softly before it went silent.

“Twenty-nine?” Remmie said.

“Forget the rob, Remmie. Look.” Jeff took a few steps back from the vat as an alarm started to buzz. The panel flashed red one more time and then blanked out. Then the circular hatch started to unscrew. Fluid gushed out the sides and splashed onto the floor.

“What’s coming out of the vat, Twenty-nine?” asked Remmie.

“Classification not known,” said the rob. “Condition is living. Risk factors unknown. Allow me to intervene. Safety protocols are now in effect.”

“Great. Now they’re in effect,” said Jeff. “Why not before?”

The rob moved in between the hatch and the two boys.

Reconstruction fluid was pooling on the floor around the vat. A number of other robs had turned their attention to Vat-11 and started walking toward them. The hatch size was adjustable and had expanded to something big enough for Remmie to crawl out of.

“I don’t think it’s a cat,” said Jeff.

The console’s display lit up again and a list scrolled across.

“The vat’s for pets,” said Remmie. “Dogs, cats, an iguana, a salamander, even a bamboo shark.” He laughed. “Maybe it is a cat.”

The hatch slipped off and hit the floor with a bang making them flinch. Twenty-nine stood still. Three other robs were nearby, two on either side of the vat and one behind the boys. A pair of large green eyes looked at them from the darkness inside. They changed to red and then yellow. Then it leapt out of the opening colliding with Twenty-nine. The rob lost its footing on the wet floor and fell with a clang, narrowly missing Remmie.

Something black and on four legs started running around them, then circling the robs before dashing out of sight between the vats to their left.

“What the hell was that?” yelled Jeff.

“I don’t know but it’s definitely not a cat,” said Remmie.

BR-101 helped Twenty-nine up while the other two robs turned, trying to track the animal.

“Classification not known,” said One-oh-one. “Risk factors unknown but possibly hazardous,” it continued. “Safety protocols remain in effect.”

They caught glimpses of the running creature as it wove in and out of the rows of vats. It managed to evade the robs that were trying to catch it.

“What are those sounds?” said Jeff.

“Barking?” said Remmie.

An interior image of Wobblegong and Remmie courtesy of Cedar Sanderson and Raconteur Press.

“The noises keep changing,” said Jeff. “Like a dog one second, then a cat, then, I don’t know, a vulture or something?”

“Entity possibly polymorphic,” said Twenty-nine. “Running analysis of Vat-11 output.”

“Dump the results to the Bay One servers,” said Remmie.

“Acknowledged,” said the rob.

The noise the creature made faded into the distance and then disappeared.

“Where’d it go?” said Jeff.

The sound of nails or claws scratching across the metal decking to their right got closer.

“Unknown entity approaching rapidly,” said One-oh-one. “For your safety, allow me to escort you from the…”

He tried to scream but whatever hit Remmie knocked the wind out of him. They tumbled together, landed on the floor, and then bounced. Remmie got up on his hands and knees as the whatever raced around him in circles, yipping, barking, and screeching all at the same time.

“Remmie!” Jeff ran towards Remmie but the robs were faster and stopped him.

For a few seconds, a big, pink tongue lapped at Remmie’s face, soaking his shirt collar, then it stood facing the three robs and growled.

As promised. Here are the links to my three currently available interviews about A Wobblegong And His Boy.

Worldshapers Interview

Sunday Superversive Livesteam

A Wobblegong & His Boy: Survival Sci-Fi with LegendFiction (YouTube)

If you have questions that weren’t asked on these shows or anything else you want to know, ask away in the comments.

Peace.