Thoughts and Ramblings.

Dear Reader,

I could have put together a spectacular story for you today. My problem is I have been eyeballs deep in filing old papers. So much other stuff in life gets in the way of the Great Work that sometimes I question if I am focused on the wrong things. It's hard to write when you are getting pulled in a dozen directions at the same time. Hell, it's hard to meditate when you're getting pulled in a dozen directions at the same time. And meditation, technically, is sitting there and doing nothing but paying attention to your breathing (the form I'm specifically thinking of, that is).

Some days, I wonder if all of this is vanity and that I am just spitting into the wind. I have the old backhanded comments of yore come to mind where I was the laughing stock of my peers because I was always scribbling something in my notebooks in school. The polite insults of some of the adults in my life when I was young who thought that their wit would go over my head. (It didn't, and I still haven't forgiven them for it. I may have a petty streak or something because of that.) As I grew older and I was struggling to make even a living as a cashier at a tractor supply store in the middle of nowhere, the comments still happened. They cut deeper because now they included digs at the fact that I was working a part-time minimum wage job with a degree from a fairly well known women's university.

In my twenties, I was convinced that somehow, by some feat of supernatural will, I was going to have a writing career at forty and be teaching English at a local school. Here I am at 39, struggling to write and feeling like a failure today. But that's ok, because everyone has days like this. I'm not the only person out there who is trying and not succeeding yet at making 'real' money off of their writing. I'm not the only person out there whose life took some pretty sharp u-turns and their life plans had to change because of them. And there's the all important bit of wisdom someone dear told me when I was in the middle of dealing with one of those u-turns: Feelings are not Facts.

I may feel like I'm a failure. But I am still writing. I may feel like a failure, but I have a happy and stable marriage. I may feel like a failure but I am raising two wonderful and relatively well behaved boys with my husband. I may feel like a failure, but I have that college degree I use everyday when my kids start asking awkward questions. (We haven't gotten to the talk about reproduction yet, but it is looming in the near future.) I may feel like a failure, but I have written twelve books. 

I just need to remember, even though I feel like a failure because I don't have a big publishing contract and I am not making money yet off of my writing, I am not a failure. Because failure means giving up. Failure means not even making the attempt because someone else told you that you couldn't do it. Failure is letting others define your limits for you.

Like Thomas Edison, I may not have made that light bulb work on the first try, but I have discovered hundreds of other light bulb designs in the process and learned a lot.

Wait! What happened to my plot?!

Dear Reader,

My characters have changed my plot line. I feel like I'm writing complete garbage and what I'm doing it little better than word vomit. I had a very detailed and organized plot line. It was set up to cover this book and the next. Now I'm working off of things that were planned to happen two books later and my plot map is useless. I have no idea what I'm doing. My current mood right now is:

Where as my characters are going:

Halp.

Book Review: The Book of Shadows

Title: The Book of Shadows
Author: James Reese
Publisher: Harper Collins Date: Dec. 2002

I read this a few years ago and the lush imagery of this author's settings and character descriptions still haunts me. James Reese is a *master* of describing such things. It may sound a little odd of me, a Tolkeine-phile, to place such a title upon an author other then my favorite, but Mr. Reese well deserves it.

The Book of Shadows is the first of apparently a series about a young hermaphrodite witch called Herculine. The story of Herculine is described with elegant detail and fine craftsmanship. A highly readable work that drops the reader into a 17/18th century world of sensual horror and burgeoning madness. Some folks have compared Mr. Reese's work to Anne Rice's or Laurell K. Hamilton's. I think it would be better to compare it to Jacqueline Carey's luminous and yet dark novels of sensuality, betrayal, and violence.

I highly recommend this book. If you're looking for actual information about witchcraft, forget it. If you're looking for an amazingly good read, however, that can just suck you in for hours, pick this book up. It's well worth it.

Originally Published: 2/22/2007

Book Review: Flags of Our Fathers

Title: Flags of Our Fathers
Author: James Bradley
Publisher: Bantam Books Date: May 2, 2002

This was probably one of the hardest books I've read in a long time.

Emotionally, it felt like I was hit with a hammer right in the gut. A sledge hammer, to be precise. As a person with a sibling in the military, reading the account of the battle of Iwo Jima was a sobering and harrowing thing. I found myself on the verge of tears as I read about how the brave men who fought that month long battle suffered.

It drive home quite clearly, in my less then humble opinion, that the current military engagements are nothing like what happened in World War II. Unless it is compared to the battle of Iwo Jima alone. This battle, in all of it's tactical nightmare-ish glory (I use the term 'glory' loosely.), can be a spectacular metaphore for the horror that is the meat-grinder of the current war.

Bad intelligence, poor initial execution, an overly early declaration of victory, and a misrepresentation of the combat by the press at large marked the events surrounding the battle known for a single image. It is tragic that it is so visibly evident as being present in the current military conflict.

All of this said, Flags of Our Fathers is an amazingly well written book. The language is very accessible and easy to follow. The story presented is well layed out. It is obvious that this was a labor of love for the author and a tribute to the life of his father. I highly recommend this book, even as it is emotionally challenging to read it.

Originally published: 2/16/2007

Book Review: City of God (book 7)

Chpt. 1 - 5
Augustine apologizes for possibly writing for a target audience lower then his readers in chapter one. Chapter two, three and four were discussing how the "common" gods co-mingled with the "superior" gods. Augustine notes how the "common" gosd have less stories of license and ill repute. In chapter five, Augustine revisits Varro's opinon of God as teh soul of the world.

Chpt. 6 - 10
Chapter six is a continuation of chapter five. Chapter seven discusses Janus and Terminus. Augustine argues that death is both a beginning and ending. As such, Augustine says that Janus and Terminus must be the same. Chapter eight discusses Janus in more detail. Janus argues that he is the fate of the world, Augustine repudiates this. Chapter eight is a comparison between Janus and Jove. It seems that Janus and Jove are popular foci for worship by Augustine's comtemporaries. Augustine seems to believe taht Janus is the preferrible option of the two. Chapter nine discusses this as well. Chapter ten questions if Janus or Jove should be distinguised as separate or not.

Chpt. 11 - 14
Chapter eleven states that all surnames of Jove refered to him as one diety. Augustine argues this is a mutually exclusive thing, where Jove can not be in charge of X at the same time as god Z is incharge of it. [...]

Chapter twelve is full of yet more of Augustine's scathing sarcasm. He discusses Jove's title of coin with the apparently popular argument of how he can do all things. Augustine confronts this with the argument of how the wealthy worry about losing or acquiring more wealth, where as the poor are not troubled with it. He concludes with welath lies in wisdom as coming from God. Chapters thirteen and fourteen continue the previous arguments. Essentually, he is using the physical principle of the conservation of matter with respect to dieties and their realm of influence.

Ch. 15 - 20

Chapter fifteen decries the description of stars as gods to be foolishness. Confusing the created with the creator perhaps? Chapter sisteen continues the argument but with the assignment of deities to things like water, mountains, etc. Chapter seventeen does this as well. Chapter eighteen argues that Varro states that the gods are ambiguious. It leads me to question if Varro would agree with Augustine's argument of people confusing the object with creator. In chapter nineteen, Augustine' statement that paganisim is a result of ignorance and the deception of the masses for socio-political gain. Augustine then applies this argument to the worship of Saturn and Ceres in chapter twenty. [It is facinating that Augustine's statements are echoed many generations by Karl Marx with respect to all forms of religion.]

Chpt. 21 - 25
Chapter twenty one takes the arguments of the last chapter and adds a dimension. Augusine examines Bacchus's worship and states that it is forced debauchery compounding the deceptions of the earlier argument. Augustine argues in chapter twenty two the same of the worship of Neptune. Chapter twenty three and twenty four discuss the pagan view of the earth. Augustine seems to be arguing again a violation of the conservation and for an identity crisis for the gods. Augustine touches briefly on the matter of eunchs in the service of the earth cult. He notes rather bitterly in the conclusion of chapter twenty four and in all of chapter twenty five how an eunch is a worthless example of fertility because of their sterility.

Chpt. 26 - 30
Chapter twenty six is an invecting against the worship of the earth cults. Chapter twenty seven is an argument that "natural" philosophy is a "false hope" of the true way. Augustine uses this to support his argument in chapter twenty eight that Varro doesn't have a leg to stand on. Chapter twenty nine shows the flaws taht Augustien sees. Mainly this is that people are confusing the object with the creator. Chapter thirty cautions us to remember that God is separate from creation and acts thru his intermediatries and will.

Ch. 31 - 35
Augustine's invective against philosophy is impressive. As he proceeds through the remainder of book seven and thru books eight and nine, Augustine tears down the popular classes of philosophy from his era.

Book seven predominantly concerns itself with the confusing of the object with the creator. It discusses the errors that proceed from this stance:
- The qualities ascribed to the parts of the world as holy/divine (nature deities) are actuality qualities of God.
- The multiplicity of nature gods results in confusion as to the reign/power of these gods.
- The overlapping associations of power suggest a unifying deitie that reigns/has power ofer the whole.
- The variety between the standard for "good" between worship, priests, and philosophers is a result of multiple gods.
Augustine's argument against "natural philosophy" as described by Varro is summarized by the following:

The powers associated with the nature gods are the property and qualities of one god. This god is good. The confusion of good and the profanity attending the nature gods is due to the deception of men by devils.

Originally Published: 11/4/2006 (All content is original to the initial post, including the horrible spelling.)

Books update.

Dear Reader,

Aside from spamming you with NaNoWriMo/NaBloPoMo content, I figured I'd take a moment to let you know how things are going on the book writing front. I have officially been cheating at NaNoWriMo this year. I have been spending my time trying to get things caught up and finished. I finished two nonfiction works earlier this month. Now I'm working on book seven of the Umbrel Chronicles. I've hit some vexing situations here with this manuscript.

I had written out a nicely detailed plot map. Now everything has gone off the rails. New gods have introduced themselves into the story long before they were supposed to show up on scene. Old characters that were just supposed to be random filler to advance the plot are turning into important support characters. And I am getting frustrated because none of my characters are doing what they're supposed to be doing according to the plot I had planned out.

My characters did what characters will do and took on a life of their own. Again. Here's hoping that the story doesn't turn out to be garbage after the editing process. Right now, I feel like I'm writing with out a net. It is mildly nerve wracking.

Aside from this, I am increasingly vexed with the self publishing process. I am clearly not doing something right in my efforts to convert files to a format friendly to ebook format. I'd hire someone to help me if I had the funds, instead I will hammer away at this until I figure out what in the nine levels of Dante's hell I am doing. Given the weather, I think I am heading down towards the ninth level.

What is your writing play list?

Here's what's on mine right now:

As It Fades from VNV Nation
Prelude from Rob Dougan
Dreamer from Epic Soul Factory
Gortoz A Ran (Theme from Black Hawk Down)
Forgotten Mountain from Mayrain
Silent Flight, Sleeping Dawn from MONO

What is inspiring your work? Any suggestions for me to add to my play list?

Prompt Thursday.

It's still NaBloPoMo. I'm still behind. But here's some prompts if you're playing along too. (It is also perfectly fair to post memes and call it done.)

1. The worst pet name in the world is ...
2. Musical pet peeves
3. If you were a color, what color would you be?

For my fellow NaNoWriMo challengers, here's a prompt for you to work into your story:

Your main character is snowed in with the primary antagonist. They can't kill each other because they have to find away to work together to survive the conditions. What do they do?

Excelsior ad infinitum.

Dear Reader,

If you are a nerd like me, the recent death of Stan Lee may have you feeling dismayed. Mr. Lee's work inspired countless artists and authors around the world. His work was passionate and filled with life. From all accounts, Mr. Lee was a gentleman and a great friend to his fans. I aspire to be half as influential and inspirational as Stan Lee. As much as we may argue if the movies were better than the comic books and quibble over which character is better, I think we can all agree that the real hero was Stan Lee and his infinite genius.

He created characters and stories that excelled at both entertaining us and informing us as to something about the human condition. His work tackled cultural issues with as much vigor as they entertained us. It is my sincerest hope that what ever afterlife Mr. Lee is welcomed to, he is greeted with as much joy and has as much joy as he has given the world with his life's work.

Excelsior ad infinitum.

Slogging along.

Dear Reader,

I don't know how the nonfiction authors do it. This is exhausting work. And yet, there are nonfiction authors who churn out a book in a couple of weeks. Yeah, that's right. Less than a month. This thing I'm working on right now, I started about three years ago. I got stuck and put it down for about a year. Because I kept fact checking and fact checking, even after I had finished my research. Perhaps the problem is I am anxious about getting this right. Perhaps the problem is that I am just anxious about branching out into new to me genres.

I have been struggling but I am almost at my goal. I'm currently at 46.9K words. My goal is 50. If I was writing straight up fiction, I could have hit that in the last two days. I'll be honest, I have spent way more time double and triple checking facts this week on my nonfiction projects than I have spent writing. I will confess, I had written out notes and an outline for both projects. For one, those went missing. Which one was it? Yep, the big project. It's been a nail biter for me because I want to get everything right. I feel like I'm revisiting college and working on a final term paper.

Still, I'm working hard to do my best here. And that's all anybody can ask of you, right. When I picked this thing back up to work on it, by the way, it was at 39K. Averaging around two thousand words a day is on track for NaNoWriMo counting, but I know I could do better if I could just stop being so anxious about this. The worst part here is the fact that I'm writing on a topic that I have blogged about extensively on another blog of mine for the better part of three years. I've probably written two and a half books worth of material through all of those blog posts. But making a novel length book on the topic has me half panicked I'm going to mess it all up.

I'm a bit of a perfectionist and I have an anxiety problem. Can you tell it effects my writing?

The Iron Lily: Part 19 - Guest in the Fair House

Halthor looked at the apples sitting in the bowl. "Are they tart?" he asked. The woman in blue looked at the apples and shook her head. "Why are they so big? What do you do with them?" He knew something of cider making because he and Alaric had to build a new cider press for the king's steward's son. The juice of the small apples that were dumped into the press by bucket full was so tart that it was nearly bitter. Alaric laughed when Halthor was duped into trying a taste of the freshest cider in Starhaven, raw tart apple juice. That was when Olren explained that the cider had to go hard for the flavor to improve.


Halthor was caught in the happy memory long enough that he missed at first what his hostess had to say. He realized that he was going to be confused anyways as she spoke of something called 'grafting'. Still, it was pleasant enough to listen to the beautiful elf-woman talk. There was a soothing, musical quality to her voice that put the voices calling out beyond the door to shame. Halthor leaned his head against his left fist as he propped his arm on the table and just looked at the Blue Lady.



She stopped speaking and looked at Halthor. He looked weary. The red haired man had a long voyage ahead of him still. His blue-green eyes had a far off look in them, as though he was thinking about something. His red hair was tangled but he wasn't filthy. He just looked like a man who had a very long day outdoors. The elf-woman folded her hands before herself. It had been a very long time since she had company. She lived alone at the glade where as her people moved northward into the high mountain forests. The rolling hills reminded her of their old home to the east. Looking at Halthor, she realized that she was lonely and this was why she was prating on about apple orchards.



She turned her gaze back to the food before her. With her eating knife, she began to carve the bird apart. The goose was as tender as it could have been. It was perfectly cooked, as was proper for her magic cook pot could do so with any food she put in it. The pot was a gift from her elder brother's wife who foresaw the journey west. She thought of Alyrin who passed her by upon the elfin green way. Her sister had a dear and deep love for the people of this land. The Blue Lady wore a solemn expression as she carved the goose. Then she set her eating knife down beside her bowl and dipped her fingers into a small bowl of water before drying them on a linen towel embroidered with a band of blue flowers.



"The Fair House has not had a guest in a hundred years. To my people it is but a passing sigh in life, but it is a long time to be alone," she finally said as Halthor immediately became attentive as her demeanor changed and through her silence, and now watched her earnestly. "My sister moves amongst men freely, skilled in the arts of disguise and secure in her power," the Blue Lady continued, "I have remained here waiting as she asked me. When our people went north, we stayed behind. Alyrin felt that your people needed a guide. I could not help but heed the call of the land. The waters sang to me. It was a song I had not heard before. They continue to sing to me, different songs every day. In return, I care for them. Alyrin the builder fashioned my brother's hall away in our homeland. She built this house for me. Alyrin's kindness I have never forgotten."



Halthor looked at the contents of the cottage with new eyes. He saw that each stone was laid in place upon bare stone, yet there was no gap for the wind to whistle in. The furniture was carved and joined together with skill beyond what he had seen under Alaric, who had been master builder of the guild for at least as long as Halthor had been under his care. Great pieces like the chair he had sat in earlier were carved from but one enormous bit of wood. As he inspected them more closely, he realized that all of the wooden objects in the cottage could have been disassembled and put together to make a single tree. Halthor turned his gaze back to the elf-woman sitting across the table from him. "Alyrin chose you for your craft and Father chose you for your heart," the Blue Lady said quietly, "I know not why you were sent to me."

Another day, more words to vomit.

And that, dear Reader, is the mantra of NaNoWriMo (and NaBloPoMo to some extent). What's the point to all of this word vomit? To get as many ideas down as possible. Cleaning it up into a workable text comes later. A rough draft is precisely that, rough. There is going to be a lot of stuff that when you come back to the manuscript is just bloat and needs to be cut down. There is also going to be a lot of stuff that needs to have more detail filled in. This makes up for however much you need to cut out of your manuscript in the editing process, trust me.

Just pour it all out on the page. No matter how undignified it may feel. Sometimes your best work comes out of what felt like it was complete garbage.

Suddenly a wild meme appears! Roll for initiative.

I just finished the project I started to cheat on NaNoWriMo. It's barely a novella length, but I made it. Now to work on the next project, finishing the Psychic's Handbook that I've been stalled on for FOREVER. It's like I should have seen the ending of that one coming or something, right?

What's YOUR word count?

Hi there,

If you started early and are a cheater, like me, I bet you've got a great word count already. If you just started today, I bet you have a great word count already. If you are starting in the next five minutes, I know you'll have a great word count.

Because a word count of one is fantastic when you're just starting. A word count of two is even more awesome. String together a few sentences and paragraphs and you've got a lovely beginning. All words count, even the ones you want to delete. So don't delete them. Use strike through font but keep the words. This month is about slapping all of the ideas up on the page. Don't worry about what ones stick, just keep throwing ideas.

Kinda like water balloons at a target. If you throw a massive barrage, you'll hit that target at some point by sheer numbers. :)

Oh crap, It's NANOWRIMO & NANOBLOPOMO! AND A TOMATO!

Dear Reader,

I completely forgot about blog and other writing prompts.

Here's your three prompts for today!

1. Spoiled Food
2. "The best way to tell a lie is to tel the truth, the carefully edited truth."

3. Verbal pet peeves

Good luck writing! ♥

Wednesday Rambling (On Thursday)

Dear Reader,

It is surreal to sit here at the beginning of NaNoWriMo and have it be yet another year with out Stargazer around. She was the reason why I got started with NaNoWriMo. She would do a dual NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo every year. I miss her dearly and keep finding myself thinking what would she think about my project this year.

I have the thing I started last month, because I'm a NaNo practicalist, I have two small children who have a vacation from school in the middle of NaNo. You're just plain silly if you think I'm not starting early to work around that and stuff like orthodontist appointments. November is going to be a busy month on the domestic side of the ledger, which is why I started back in mid October. It is going to be a small novella and I'm approximately at the halfway point. I'm feeling confident I can have this thing done by mid month and still get a good whack at book seven, maybe even finish it.

Halthor's journey continues later this evening. I've been sick with a cold and trying to catch up on everything. As Beloved said, " 'tis the season for sneezing". At least I got the flu shot last week. *knocks wood* Here's hoping no one in my household comes down with it. If my luck goes like last year, I'll catch the other strain of the flu that is going around that there isn't a vaccine for. Which means I'll be writing whilst wrapped up in blankets with extra amounts of hot tea on hand.