Title: Wee Free Men
Author: Terry Pratchett
Publisher: Harper Collins Date: Apr. 2003
This was a fun, no effort read that I was given by my mother in law as I was recovering from surgery a few weeks ago. If you want an easy read that's good for plenty of chuckles, I highly recommend it. This is obviously a juvinile book, but the story is well written and has enough charm to appeal to older readers as well. The character of Tiffany Aching is an exceptionally vibrant one and, as per Pratchett's usuall flare, an independant and bright character.
Put this together with the quirky Feegles and the general weirdness of the world that Pratchett created, you're garanteed a light and funny read.
Originally published: 2/22/2007
Please forgive my bad spelling in this post. The content is lifted directly from my other blog as it was initially posted. My feelings on Wee Free Men and Terry Pratchett's work has only deepened. I've come to realize that the late Terry Pratchett wasn't writing just for children, though this was a book that I know that my children will enjoy if they decide to read it when they're in middle school.
I've reread it and I've come to see that the characters are all exceptional. I'm currently working my way through A Slip of the Keyboard and as I get to know Terry Pratchett better through his own words, the more I see that he was writing for everyone with this book.
Thursday, January 3, 2019
Dacia's War: Part 28 – False Serenity
Lady Al-Uzza's discomfort was soothed away by Decebal's almost flattering presentation of honor. She sat at his right hand and was offered the choicest selections of the meal. At his left, his wife, Lady Sindal sat and chattered on about the various mundane details of the business of the priesthood in Midloth. Decebal interjected comments about the business of running the city but generally focused his attention on Althos for news of the war raging to the south.
The heavy set woman found her desire to comfort herself met by the exotic banquet of fruit, fowl, and other fare. The spice laden meal was not as rich as what she thought it would be but it was greater than the sparse meals she had grown accustomed to as a lowly secretary. She could eat and when she finished her first course a second appeared shortly there after. Al-Uzza decided that perhaps if she just focused on her food and waited, Decebal and Sindal would continue their prating until the meal was finished and she could go rest.
Instead, there were awkward pauses in conversation where Al-Uzza was in the middle of eating something and was expected to have something to say. There was times where Al-Uzza commented on the food when the conversation had gone quiet instead of adding something worthwhile. In whole, she proved herself to be a poor guest and a boor. Decebal marveled at this awkward, large woman's presence and questioned what reason she was sent north under priestess black. He tried desperately to figure out what Al-Uzza could possibly have to offer and quietly despaired while watching her eagerly eat everything put before her.
After the final course had been set for the meal, Decebal clapped his hands three times. This nonverbal command told his household to clear away the meal and secure the room for important business was to be conducted. As the servants took away the platters and bowls, Al-Uzza managed to restrain a small belch of satisfaction with finally being able to eat as much as made her content with out having to go through the work of bullying junior secretaries for portions of their meal. "You set an excellent table," Al-Uzza sighed. Decebal frowned. Sindal looked at Al-Uzza with something like disgust for a moment.
"What is your purpose for coming north, Lady Al-Uzza?" Sindal asked bluntly. Al-Uzza blinked with surprise. She had not anticipated a younger priestess to speak to her in such a tone. She had gotten used to the idea that as an elder secretary, she was treated with deference. Now, she discovered that this woman who was at least twenty years her junior spoke with boldness and bluntess she was unfamiliar with. "At last I knew, Al-Uzza was the Empress's head secretary. Now you are here in priestess black instead of librarian grey. I doubt that the Empress has need of a secretary conducting a census or learning what manner of delicacies are served in the North. What are you truly here about?"
Al-Uzza colored at Sindal's words but the look from the silent sister in white told her that her every word was being measured and quite possibly reported back to the Empress herself. "Govenor Bastzia has sent word south of the troubles facing him. News has come to her Serene Highness that there are those who would move against the order of the Lady and all who have pledged themselves to Her," Al-Uzza answered. Sindal's look of mistrust eased somewhat.
"Yes," the ranking priestess of Midloth said, "There is a movement of malcontents. They have been quelled in Midloth but they are still present. As you travel north, you will find yourself at the risk of encountering them. I would advise you to travel as I do, within a litter. They will think you only a wealthy traveler. Given the armed company that travels with you, I think they will be sufficient to keep you safe. There are those who believe that Julara is a false goddess and then there are those who believe that her Daughter has broken faith rather than fulfilled prophecy."
"And what do you believe?" Al-Uzza asked. Sindal looked at Decebal and to the acolyte in white. She gave a small sigh and turned her gaze back to Al-Uzza.
"Julara is our Mother. She provides the rivers and green fields that nourish us. Her Daughter is her presence in the world. All that she has done is holy and in her Mother's name. It is not my place to question our Serene Highness and her judgment. I am but her servant in all things." Al-Uzza nodded with a smile on her face that would possibly have been reassuring to someone less experienced. Sindal, who had become accustomed to the courtiers of Midloth attempting to connive her saw something of that in Al-Uzza's nearly pleasant expression. "I assume that you also hold this to be true," Sindal said mildly. Decebal shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Althos coughed to cover up a noise of surprise.
"As do all of the priesthood who have been blessed to serve our Mother and the lower orders," Al-Uzza said in an equally bland tone with her expression fixed in the falsely pleasant smile, "I am honored but remain a humble servant of our dear Lady. Glory is for the vain when the true joy is in our work." Sindal made a noise that Al-Uzza suspected was of disbelief but she was unsure. Instead of continuing to cross verbal swords with the younger yet more experienced priestess, Al-Uzza chose to focus on the matter of the malcontented. "You tell me that Midloth had quelled these upstarts. In what number did they make their presence known? Did they have aid from the outsiders?"
Decebal let out a breath he had been holding. He had expected his lady wife to get into an argument with the emissary of the Empress given her short temper for dissembling and decietful people. Relieved that the argument was not going to happen, Decebal turned to Al-Uzza. "They were not many. Only a small riot broke out in the market. The city gaurd put it down quickly and the instigators were all caught. When brought before us for judgment, they claimed that her Serene Highness had inverted the true order of things. It was heresy, plain and simple. The usual punishment was meted out."
Al-Uzza nodded. The punishment of heretics was the splitting of the tongue. It was harsh but served as a very visual reminder that they were serpents emboided. It was a mark of shame and the punished often found themselves ostricized. Al-Uzza had witnessed such punishment as a young village witch when a man who thought himself better than his wife was judged as wanting. His tongue was slit and his wife divorced him. He was cast out of the village and never seen again. Al-Uzza was sure that the man's arrogance was what lead him to think he could punish her for attending the market with out his supervision. He had come from a family of similar attitudes but they had never so openly touted them.
Caught in the memory, Al-Uzza almost missed when Decebal spoke about the outsiders. "They come from the high peaks. Usually it is to trade but the parties have come now seeking refuge. I have given them the land beyond the wall on the northern side. They stay in their village and pay honor to the Empire. But more of them are coming. The first arrivals had brought children with them and were in good health. They who come now are unwell. Some gravely injured and no children come with them. They speak of a great beast. It is unclear if this is a creature or a man that troubles them. And of an army that travels with this beast."
Decebal gestured towards Althos. "I have asked the brothers militant to request aid. I can only assume that your coming will help answer this question. News has been hard to get from the Govenor. Word has come that his Lady has died. Some say it was murder. I would believe it if the stories that I have heard are true. The city of Acidavia struggles because she is close to the border. Villages north have been razed to the ground. Bastizia has called for aid multiple times over the last few years. Since war broke out to the south, I have been unable to help him."
"Acidavia is cursed, they say," Decebal muttered, looking down at the table before him, "I know not if it is true. I do know, however, Acidavia has begun to have people leave her. They are not refugees for the city still stands. But any who is wise know that rats will flee a burning building at the first sign of smoke. The poor of Acidavia have come to Midloth. We have given them work, to the north is the beginnings of another wall. But I do not know if it will be ready when Acidavia meets Sarben's fate."
The heavy set woman found her desire to comfort herself met by the exotic banquet of fruit, fowl, and other fare. The spice laden meal was not as rich as what she thought it would be but it was greater than the sparse meals she had grown accustomed to as a lowly secretary. She could eat and when she finished her first course a second appeared shortly there after. Al-Uzza decided that perhaps if she just focused on her food and waited, Decebal and Sindal would continue their prating until the meal was finished and she could go rest.
Instead, there were awkward pauses in conversation where Al-Uzza was in the middle of eating something and was expected to have something to say. There was times where Al-Uzza commented on the food when the conversation had gone quiet instead of adding something worthwhile. In whole, she proved herself to be a poor guest and a boor. Decebal marveled at this awkward, large woman's presence and questioned what reason she was sent north under priestess black. He tried desperately to figure out what Al-Uzza could possibly have to offer and quietly despaired while watching her eagerly eat everything put before her.
After the final course had been set for the meal, Decebal clapped his hands three times. This nonverbal command told his household to clear away the meal and secure the room for important business was to be conducted. As the servants took away the platters and bowls, Al-Uzza managed to restrain a small belch of satisfaction with finally being able to eat as much as made her content with out having to go through the work of bullying junior secretaries for portions of their meal. "You set an excellent table," Al-Uzza sighed. Decebal frowned. Sindal looked at Al-Uzza with something like disgust for a moment.
"What is your purpose for coming north, Lady Al-Uzza?" Sindal asked bluntly. Al-Uzza blinked with surprise. She had not anticipated a younger priestess to speak to her in such a tone. She had gotten used to the idea that as an elder secretary, she was treated with deference. Now, she discovered that this woman who was at least twenty years her junior spoke with boldness and bluntess she was unfamiliar with. "At last I knew, Al-Uzza was the Empress's head secretary. Now you are here in priestess black instead of librarian grey. I doubt that the Empress has need of a secretary conducting a census or learning what manner of delicacies are served in the North. What are you truly here about?"
Al-Uzza colored at Sindal's words but the look from the silent sister in white told her that her every word was being measured and quite possibly reported back to the Empress herself. "Govenor Bastzia has sent word south of the troubles facing him. News has come to her Serene Highness that there are those who would move against the order of the Lady and all who have pledged themselves to Her," Al-Uzza answered. Sindal's look of mistrust eased somewhat.
"Yes," the ranking priestess of Midloth said, "There is a movement of malcontents. They have been quelled in Midloth but they are still present. As you travel north, you will find yourself at the risk of encountering them. I would advise you to travel as I do, within a litter. They will think you only a wealthy traveler. Given the armed company that travels with you, I think they will be sufficient to keep you safe. There are those who believe that Julara is a false goddess and then there are those who believe that her Daughter has broken faith rather than fulfilled prophecy."
"And what do you believe?" Al-Uzza asked. Sindal looked at Decebal and to the acolyte in white. She gave a small sigh and turned her gaze back to Al-Uzza.
"Julara is our Mother. She provides the rivers and green fields that nourish us. Her Daughter is her presence in the world. All that she has done is holy and in her Mother's name. It is not my place to question our Serene Highness and her judgment. I am but her servant in all things." Al-Uzza nodded with a smile on her face that would possibly have been reassuring to someone less experienced. Sindal, who had become accustomed to the courtiers of Midloth attempting to connive her saw something of that in Al-Uzza's nearly pleasant expression. "I assume that you also hold this to be true," Sindal said mildly. Decebal shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Althos coughed to cover up a noise of surprise.
"As do all of the priesthood who have been blessed to serve our Mother and the lower orders," Al-Uzza said in an equally bland tone with her expression fixed in the falsely pleasant smile, "I am honored but remain a humble servant of our dear Lady. Glory is for the vain when the true joy is in our work." Sindal made a noise that Al-Uzza suspected was of disbelief but she was unsure. Instead of continuing to cross verbal swords with the younger yet more experienced priestess, Al-Uzza chose to focus on the matter of the malcontented. "You tell me that Midloth had quelled these upstarts. In what number did they make their presence known? Did they have aid from the outsiders?"
Decebal let out a breath he had been holding. He had expected his lady wife to get into an argument with the emissary of the Empress given her short temper for dissembling and decietful people. Relieved that the argument was not going to happen, Decebal turned to Al-Uzza. "They were not many. Only a small riot broke out in the market. The city gaurd put it down quickly and the instigators were all caught. When brought before us for judgment, they claimed that her Serene Highness had inverted the true order of things. It was heresy, plain and simple. The usual punishment was meted out."
Al-Uzza nodded. The punishment of heretics was the splitting of the tongue. It was harsh but served as a very visual reminder that they were serpents emboided. It was a mark of shame and the punished often found themselves ostricized. Al-Uzza had witnessed such punishment as a young village witch when a man who thought himself better than his wife was judged as wanting. His tongue was slit and his wife divorced him. He was cast out of the village and never seen again. Al-Uzza was sure that the man's arrogance was what lead him to think he could punish her for attending the market with out his supervision. He had come from a family of similar attitudes but they had never so openly touted them.
Caught in the memory, Al-Uzza almost missed when Decebal spoke about the outsiders. "They come from the high peaks. Usually it is to trade but the parties have come now seeking refuge. I have given them the land beyond the wall on the northern side. They stay in their village and pay honor to the Empire. But more of them are coming. The first arrivals had brought children with them and were in good health. They who come now are unwell. Some gravely injured and no children come with them. They speak of a great beast. It is unclear if this is a creature or a man that troubles them. And of an army that travels with this beast."
Decebal gestured towards Althos. "I have asked the brothers militant to request aid. I can only assume that your coming will help answer this question. News has been hard to get from the Govenor. Word has come that his Lady has died. Some say it was murder. I would believe it if the stories that I have heard are true. The city of Acidavia struggles because she is close to the border. Villages north have been razed to the ground. Bastizia has called for aid multiple times over the last few years. Since war broke out to the south, I have been unable to help him."
"Acidavia is cursed, they say," Decebal muttered, looking down at the table before him, "I know not if it is true. I do know, however, Acidavia has begun to have people leave her. They are not refugees for the city still stands. But any who is wise know that rats will flee a burning building at the first sign of smoke. The poor of Acidavia have come to Midloth. We have given them work, to the north is the beginnings of another wall. But I do not know if it will be ready when Acidavia meets Sarben's fate."
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Do read your old work.
Dear Reader,
I know a lot of people give writing advice. A number of them have told me over the years that I should not go back and re-read my old work. I am a rebel and ignored that advice. Honestly, while some of it was pretty bad... Ok, some of it was really awful compared to what I can do now, a lot of it was pretty good for where I was at at the time in my writing life.
I'm pretty sure that if I had a blog in 1996, it would look a lot worse than what I am writing now. I had less experience. But, for someone at that point in my life, I think it would have looked pretty good because I was writing all the time and focusing on trying to improve my skills all the time. I have kept all of my writing journals and all of my personal journals since I began journal writing. I'm only missing three out of approximately twenty five years of work. One was stolen. One was lost while moving and the third was destroyed right in front of me by someone who was angry with what I had written in it.
Why have I kept all of this stuff? There's a few reasons. One is I am honestly and legitimately terrified of dementia and losing my memories. That is part of why I started keeping a journal when I was a kid. I watched Alzheimer's disease destroy family members that I loved and it was terrifying. So, I started keeping a diary. That was the one that got destroyed because I was writing things that made someone angry. (Never leave your diary or personal journal out where someone who has a grudge can get into it. If you have no choice, put it somewhere that people can't tell which book it is. Alternate option, find creative hiding places.)
Another reason why I keep a journal is because it helps me process things happening in my life. My life has been complicated, tragic, and challenging at various times. My journal is a major tool for how I make sense of it all. I've used it as a therapeutic exercise to handle crisis and the fall out from crisis. As a person with complex post-traumatic stress disorder, my journal has been a really useful tool in tracking things like what trigger's flashbacks and getting to the heart of how to resolve the issues raised by the trauma.
Finally, I keep a journal because it is a place where I can experiment and grow with my writing style. This is what my writing journal is for. I confess, I have fallen out of practice from writing poetry and doing prompt writing. One of my goals for the new year is to get back into it. My old writing journals are a treasure trove of ideas. Some of them are just in need of a bit of polishing to be worthy of being shared with you. Others need some major overhaul and reconsideration. But, keeping a writing journal has been perhaps one of the most worthwhile parts of my writing life. It is where I have grown and experimented to grow some more.
If I never wrote another blog entry on writing, I would be satisfied with this one. Because the old refrain about 'never read your old work' is just plain wrong. Your old work is like a scrapbook of memories of where you have been in your journey as an author. It is a snapshot of what was going on in your life at the time you wrote it and it is special because you wrote it. Your work is special. It doesn't matter what medium it is in. It is special and valuable because you created it.
I know a lot of people give writing advice. A number of them have told me over the years that I should not go back and re-read my old work. I am a rebel and ignored that advice. Honestly, while some of it was pretty bad... Ok, some of it was really awful compared to what I can do now, a lot of it was pretty good for where I was at at the time in my writing life.
I'm pretty sure that if I had a blog in 1996, it would look a lot worse than what I am writing now. I had less experience. But, for someone at that point in my life, I think it would have looked pretty good because I was writing all the time and focusing on trying to improve my skills all the time. I have kept all of my writing journals and all of my personal journals since I began journal writing. I'm only missing three out of approximately twenty five years of work. One was stolen. One was lost while moving and the third was destroyed right in front of me by someone who was angry with what I had written in it.
Why have I kept all of this stuff? There's a few reasons. One is I am honestly and legitimately terrified of dementia and losing my memories. That is part of why I started keeping a journal when I was a kid. I watched Alzheimer's disease destroy family members that I loved and it was terrifying. So, I started keeping a diary. That was the one that got destroyed because I was writing things that made someone angry. (Never leave your diary or personal journal out where someone who has a grudge can get into it. If you have no choice, put it somewhere that people can't tell which book it is. Alternate option, find creative hiding places.)
Another reason why I keep a journal is because it helps me process things happening in my life. My life has been complicated, tragic, and challenging at various times. My journal is a major tool for how I make sense of it all. I've used it as a therapeutic exercise to handle crisis and the fall out from crisis. As a person with complex post-traumatic stress disorder, my journal has been a really useful tool in tracking things like what trigger's flashbacks and getting to the heart of how to resolve the issues raised by the trauma.
Finally, I keep a journal because it is a place where I can experiment and grow with my writing style. This is what my writing journal is for. I confess, I have fallen out of practice from writing poetry and doing prompt writing. One of my goals for the new year is to get back into it. My old writing journals are a treasure trove of ideas. Some of them are just in need of a bit of polishing to be worthy of being shared with you. Others need some major overhaul and reconsideration. But, keeping a writing journal has been perhaps one of the most worthwhile parts of my writing life. It is where I have grown and experimented to grow some more.
If I never wrote another blog entry on writing, I would be satisfied with this one. Because the old refrain about 'never read your old work' is just plain wrong. Your old work is like a scrapbook of memories of where you have been in your journey as an author. It is a snapshot of what was going on in your life at the time you wrote it and it is special because you wrote it. Your work is special. It doesn't matter what medium it is in. It is special and valuable because you created it.
Wednesday, December 26, 2018
Fountain pens, notebooks, and other fascinating things.
Dear Reader,
Please don't think I have forgotten about you. The holidays and influenza happened. At the same time. Right now, I'm the only one in the house who is upright and hale. I think they all caught it from me. But the last little while has been hectic and hairy. I have discovered that all of my calligraphy pen nibs are in a mint tin that I almost threw away in the midst of cleaning up the desk area in the living room. This was exciting and happy for me. Until I realized that I had thrown away the calligraphy pen barrels thinking that the pen nibs were gone. Then I found my dip pen nibs. Again, excitement to be dashed by my pen barrels being missing. (I have resolved to go to the art supply store and purchase a new dip pen to use in my sketching for the herbal/beastiary project. Ball point pens just are not working for me here.)
In the midst of holiday cleaning, I have uncovered yet more backstory and other notebooks. Thankfully, this was not all written in pencil therefore it is still legible. I even found some of my artwork that I had made to go with the very first version of the first book. The version that was actually a twenty page word document typed up while I was in seventh grade. Yeah, the artwork was pretty awful. To say the least, that got put into a safe place. I'm KEEPING this stuff because it'll be worth something someday.
Then there was the best holiday present that I have gotten this year. Beloved, seeing how distraught I was over the loss of my favorite fountain pen, bought me a beautiful steel fountain pen. He had it engraved 'My Inspiration'. The note he attached was very romantic. Going through my notebooks with this wonderful pen, I discovered that it does not get on well with cheap paper. Thus, my habit of using pencil in cheap notebooks is going to continue. This is getting used on editing manuscripts and my journal writing. Nothing but the best for this splendid pen.
It is my hope that the holidays have found you with the perfect gift in hand and tons of happiness. Or at least with good health and good cheer.
Please don't think I have forgotten about you. The holidays and influenza happened. At the same time. Right now, I'm the only one in the house who is upright and hale. I think they all caught it from me. But the last little while has been hectic and hairy. I have discovered that all of my calligraphy pen nibs are in a mint tin that I almost threw away in the midst of cleaning up the desk area in the living room. This was exciting and happy for me. Until I realized that I had thrown away the calligraphy pen barrels thinking that the pen nibs were gone. Then I found my dip pen nibs. Again, excitement to be dashed by my pen barrels being missing. (I have resolved to go to the art supply store and purchase a new dip pen to use in my sketching for the herbal/beastiary project. Ball point pens just are not working for me here.)
In the midst of holiday cleaning, I have uncovered yet more backstory and other notebooks. Thankfully, this was not all written in pencil therefore it is still legible. I even found some of my artwork that I had made to go with the very first version of the first book. The version that was actually a twenty page word document typed up while I was in seventh grade. Yeah, the artwork was pretty awful. To say the least, that got put into a safe place. I'm KEEPING this stuff because it'll be worth something someday.
Then there was the best holiday present that I have gotten this year. Beloved, seeing how distraught I was over the loss of my favorite fountain pen, bought me a beautiful steel fountain pen. He had it engraved 'My Inspiration'. The note he attached was very romantic. Going through my notebooks with this wonderful pen, I discovered that it does not get on well with cheap paper. Thus, my habit of using pencil in cheap notebooks is going to continue. This is getting used on editing manuscripts and my journal writing. Nothing but the best for this splendid pen.
It is my hope that the holidays have found you with the perfect gift in hand and tons of happiness. Or at least with good health and good cheer.
Thursday, December 13, 2018
Cartographer wanted.
Dear Reader,
They say 'heavy is the head that wears the crown.' What they really should have said was 'full is the head that dreams up stories.' I am becoming increasingly exasperated with how afar afield I have gotten in my side writing from the main story lines of the Umbrel Chronicles. Not much of it is really ready to share just yet. But it is things like Dacia's War and the Iron Lily, side stories that take place in the world but are not directly related to the main story of the books.
I have been going through old notebooks and finding stories that I have written. I have so much material set in this world. It ranges from scenes of a few hundred words to almost a novella's worth of aborted attempts to work around plot problems. I feel like I am lost and wandering through the wilds of some other world. Unfortunately, there is no map. And I have the misfortune of being the native guide. It makes you, my fellow travelers through this little world, have a rather bumpy journey. For that I'd like to apologize.
As I am working on getting my life organized and everything ready for 2019, I have come to a few conclusions. One of them is that I am going to share some of the material from my old notebooks. Secondly, I am going to finish the Iron Lily and Dacia's War this up coming year and offer them complete as ebooks. You have been far too patient and I really need to get past my loathing of certain characters (like that uppity priestess of Julara who thinks she's better than the high priestess) to write the story. I will be returning to my schedule of posting updates to the serial stories on Tuesdays and Thursdays as of the first full week of January.
I will also be releasing ebooks over the next few months of the first trilogy in the series. I anticipate book four (which is a novella) being ready come spring. It will be released as both an ebook and a paperback. Book five is almost finished its round of edits. I hope to have it ready for release in autumn. By then, I think I will finally have finished the damn work on book seven so that I can get busy with editing that.
My plans for NaNoWriMo '19? Glad you asked, write book eight. Who knows, maybe I'll get luck and finish book seven over the next two months and get book eight done during Camp NaNoWriMo. Either way, next year two books are coming out in the Umbrel Chronicles, come hell or high water. Since I live on a hill, I expect that if Satan's knocking on my door, he's looking for a signed copy of both books. I'll have to remind him that he owes me a few months rent. That's prime real estate down there. It'd be a shame to have to kick the poor guy out over a few bucks.
They say 'heavy is the head that wears the crown.' What they really should have said was 'full is the head that dreams up stories.' I am becoming increasingly exasperated with how afar afield I have gotten in my side writing from the main story lines of the Umbrel Chronicles. Not much of it is really ready to share just yet. But it is things like Dacia's War and the Iron Lily, side stories that take place in the world but are not directly related to the main story of the books.
I have been going through old notebooks and finding stories that I have written. I have so much material set in this world. It ranges from scenes of a few hundred words to almost a novella's worth of aborted attempts to work around plot problems. I feel like I am lost and wandering through the wilds of some other world. Unfortunately, there is no map. And I have the misfortune of being the native guide. It makes you, my fellow travelers through this little world, have a rather bumpy journey. For that I'd like to apologize.
As I am working on getting my life organized and everything ready for 2019, I have come to a few conclusions. One of them is that I am going to share some of the material from my old notebooks. Secondly, I am going to finish the Iron Lily and Dacia's War this up coming year and offer them complete as ebooks. You have been far too patient and I really need to get past my loathing of certain characters (like that uppity priestess of Julara who thinks she's better than the high priestess) to write the story. I will be returning to my schedule of posting updates to the serial stories on Tuesdays and Thursdays as of the first full week of January.
I will also be releasing ebooks over the next few months of the first trilogy in the series. I anticipate book four (which is a novella) being ready come spring. It will be released as both an ebook and a paperback. Book five is almost finished its round of edits. I hope to have it ready for release in autumn. By then, I think I will finally have finished the damn work on book seven so that I can get busy with editing that.
My plans for NaNoWriMo '19? Glad you asked, write book eight. Who knows, maybe I'll get luck and finish book seven over the next two months and get book eight done during Camp NaNoWriMo. Either way, next year two books are coming out in the Umbrel Chronicles, come hell or high water. Since I live on a hill, I expect that if Satan's knocking on my door, he's looking for a signed copy of both books. I'll have to remind him that he owes me a few months rent. That's prime real estate down there. It'd be a shame to have to kick the poor guy out over a few bucks.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
By the power of Coffee...
Between coffee, Mucinex, and plenty of rest, I am finally starting to feel better. I have been looking over what I have written (what little it was) and decided that I was definitely feverish when I wrote it. Surrealism is great for some things, but not what I am working on right now. I have accepted the fact that I am likely not going to finish these two projects by the end of the month. That said, I am steadily making progress on getting my butt organized for next year.
I almost bought a new notebook to start a new writing bullet journal. I stopped myself when I looked at the massive pile of notebooks that I won last year at the spinning guild's silent auction. (I swear that the note said I was going to win 1 notebook not two tote bags FULL of notebooks. Beloved says I'm stocked for notebooks until Ragnarok. He might be right.) I have changed my relationship with my writing bullet journal over the last two years.
I started out trying to bullet and use it for EVERYTHING. Now, it's turned into a mess. If it were not for the fact that I don't want to throw it away because I'd feel guilty, I'd do just that. So, I'm going to stick a tab on there and draw up stuff for next year. I'm not doing too great on daily logging of my writing. So, I'm going to make some trackers to log when I make my blog posts. I'm also going to start doing one sentence summaries of blog posts. I feel like my blogs are a rambling mess after the last year.
I'd like to fix that for the up coming year. So, book seven of the Umbrel Chronicles may be delayed a month or two, but I'm going to get back to posting quality content again.
I almost bought a new notebook to start a new writing bullet journal. I stopped myself when I looked at the massive pile of notebooks that I won last year at the spinning guild's silent auction. (I swear that the note said I was going to win 1 notebook not two tote bags FULL of notebooks. Beloved says I'm stocked for notebooks until Ragnarok. He might be right.) I have changed my relationship with my writing bullet journal over the last two years.
I started out trying to bullet and use it for EVERYTHING. Now, it's turned into a mess. If it were not for the fact that I don't want to throw it away because I'd feel guilty, I'd do just that. So, I'm going to stick a tab on there and draw up stuff for next year. I'm not doing too great on daily logging of my writing. So, I'm going to make some trackers to log when I make my blog posts. I'm also going to start doing one sentence summaries of blog posts. I feel like my blogs are a rambling mess after the last year.
I'd like to fix that for the up coming year. So, book seven of the Umbrel Chronicles may be delayed a month or two, but I'm going to get back to posting quality content again.
Sunday, December 9, 2018
I have a little birdie...
I have a little birdie,
And her name is Enza.
I opened the window
And in flew Enza.
The above is a old rhyme that my grandparents taught me when I was a kid. It was one that was from when they were young and the Spanish Flu pandemic happened. I don't have the Spanish flu, but I do have the flu. It's sucking the energy right out of me. Words are not cooperating with me very well. I just kinda stare at the screen and try to think things up.
Writing when sick is hard. I want to get over this quickly so that I can move on to finishing these two projects by the end of the month.
And her name is Enza.
I opened the window
And in flew Enza.
The above is a old rhyme that my grandparents taught me when I was a kid. It was one that was from when they were young and the Spanish Flu pandemic happened. I don't have the Spanish flu, but I do have the flu. It's sucking the energy right out of me. Words are not cooperating with me very well. I just kinda stare at the screen and try to think things up.
Writing when sick is hard. I want to get over this quickly so that I can move on to finishing these two projects by the end of the month.
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