Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

Anvar thought for a moment in order to find the words, which most easily, explained the concept. At last he spoke, “In nature, there is tremendous energy; whether it is the sun, the moon, the stars, the wind, all that surrounds us. Only a rare few, are born with the gift of harnessing that natural power and channeling it through their bodies. I am one of those elite few. I draw my power from nature and control the use of the energy with my thoughts. I can do most things that I can envision in my mind. After channeling the power, I release it through my hands. There is a price I pay for doing this however. Using my magic is quite draining on me physically. The more power I channel, the more tired I become. It is much like lifting heavy objects. The more it weighs, the more tired one becomes from lifting its weight. Different acts I perform require different amounts of magic. In turn, my level of fatigue differs with the amount of magic I channel and my physical condition. You see, it is much less tiring for me to send a man flying across the room with a concussion blast, then to outright kill him by burning a hole through his body.”

His nephews’ eyes widened. “You can just kill someone?” Bander asked in astonishment.

“If I can picture it in my mind and I can physically handle the drain, that the magic will extract from my body, then I can do what I want. My only other drawback is that I must have free use of my hands. If they are bound, then I cannot release my magic.”

“Have you always had this power?” Linvin asked.

“As I said,” Anvar answered, “I was born with the ability. But like any talent, it took years for me to master.  I had to find the best ways to use my power and determine how taxing different actions would be on my body.”

“When I was a young elf, my stamina was much greater than it is today. Back then, I could channel far more power with greater results.”

“Why did you keep this a secret for so long?” Linvin inquired.

“I hid my powers for the very reasons Rander just mentioned. Magicians are distrusted and thought to be of poor moral fiber. Years back, magicians were bound and burned. It was believed by those in ignorance that they were evil. Every catastrophe that happened from the trivial, to the bizarre, was blamed on the nearest magician. Soon, those blessed with the power were forced to hide it from the world, for fear of a gruesome death. Before long, generations grew without ever having seen magic or a magician.”

“Both of your mothers knew of my gift and swore to keep it a secret. Dirk Grithinshield knew of it as well and found my presence around Jelena comforting when he would travel. None of you were told because we simply did not know how you would react. Judging from the expressions on your faces, I would say we chose wisely.”

Rander kept shaking his head. “But isn’t magic evil?”

“No,” Anvar answered sternly. “It is a tool like any other. The one who uses the tool decides its course. It is up to the individual to decide if those powers will be used for constructive or destructive purposes.”

“So you possess the kind of power that Linvin is seeking?” Rander asked.

“Both are magic,” Anvar answered, “but the difference in the level of power is beyond compare. It is similar to comparing a lake to an ocean. The Red Sapphire will bring Linvin far greater power than I could ever hope to channel. Aside from the power the gem harnesses, it also is Red Magic.”

Seeing their reaction, Anvar decided to continue so that he might answer some of their questions before they formed.

“Magic is very color specific. For example, I am an orange magician. This means that when I use my power I emanate it in an orange color. Among magicians, there is a hierarchy based on color. Each color has an opposite, which is equal in power and cancels out its counterpart. Different pairs of colors have different strengths as well. The most powerful magic is either red or blue. A red magician and a blue magician would not be able to destroy each other because their powers are opposites and cancel each other out. However, they can still do harm to one another provided the opponent does not block the incoming magic. They simply can’t completely destroy each other with magic.

“As I said, there is a hierarchy. Red and blue are the most powerful and rare. No magic can stand against them when the magician is prepared. The next tier down of opposites consists of orange and yellow magic. Again, they cancel each other out and are not as powerful as red and blue. This level is more common, but still not widely found.”

“The final level is made up of violet and green. It is likely those magicians, you refer to Rander, being at fairs and the like. Their power is relatively weak. Such places of amusement however, are the only places where they may display their gifts without being persecuted. Violet and green magicians are the meekest of the six but are also the most prevalent. While magicians as a whole are rare, there are far more of the lower orders than the higher ones.”

Anvar still observed the blank stares and decided to wrap up his seminar on magic. “Like I was saying, it is quite draining for me to use my powers. The better physical condition one is in, the more power that person can channel and the less tiring it is on them. Even at my age, I can still be of help on this journey. I am not so feeble that I must be relegated to parlor tricks just yet. However, I am not able to carry the burden of protecting the party myself.”

It's My Birthday

Today is one of those red letter days on the calendar.  What happened today that was so important?  In 1986 the space shuttle Challenger exploded during takeoff.  It took place before a live audience.  American recording artists joined to create, “We Are the World” in 1985.  In 1973 the cease fire with North Vietnam went into effect and later earned Richard Nixon the Nobel Pease Prize.  The Coast Guard was created in 1915 and was added to the armed forces.  Famous people celebrating birthdays today are actor Alan Alda who turns 79, actor Elijah Wood who turns 34, ‘N Sinc singer Joey Fatone Jr. who hits 38 and singer Sarah McLachlan who is 47.  One more person not yet famous but nevertheless born today is yours truly, Rival Gates.  I was born in Port Huron, MI during one of the many cold snaps during winter.  My mother insisted I refused to be born until it broke freezing and to her credit, it was 33 degrees the day I came into the world.  I was blessed to have siblings to love me and keep me in my place.  I dreamt of being a writer from the time I first saw my father’s writing awards.  Some were for editorial content.  Some were for advertising.  Others were for creative works.  He had done it all except write a book.  That was what I wanted to do from an early age.  Imagine your nine year old coming and telling you they want to write a book one day.  My parents paid me lip service but didn’t take me seriously until I was thirteen and started my first hand written manuscript for “Quest for the Red Sapphire” (To everyone wondering out there, I knew even then that a red sapphire was just a ruby.  Later in the series you find out why it is a red sapphire instead.)  My mother had me placed in advanced English and skipped me ahead a grade so I could take college level classes as a senior in high school which would transfer into college credit.  She was a very intelligent, far thinking lady.  It is on this day that she would always call me.  If I was at home or work or traveling to Vancouver for business, she would find out where I was and call to sing me “Happy Birthday” in that perfect pitch high soprano voice of hers.  When I was out of town she would even contact strangers to have them buy me a cake and leave it in my room.  And before she would hang up the phone, she would sing “Close to You” by the Carpenters to sing me off to sleep.  She would always ask how my writing was going and wanted to hear anything new.  Now I have a wonderful family and wife who care for me.  So perhaps I am not a household name yet, but I’ll get there and in the meantime, I am the star in my family’s sky.    

Back To Writing

At long last, the edits for the second edition of “Quest for the Red Sapphire” are done!  There is still a question about the cover but everything looks full steam ahead for the launch.  As I am very excited to have the process done, I cannot help but be more excited by the prospect that now I get to concentrate once again on writing my fourth book, “Repercussions Abound.”  It feels like that one child of yours that never seems to complain and always behaves, therefore it tends to be forgotten about or taken for granted.  Well that child has earned some devotion.  At last this great story will be given my full attention…at least until the edits for book 3 come up.  This is my real joy in life.  The entire story has been locked in my head for decades along with the rest of the books.  This is finally my opportunity to put my thoughts to paper.  Many people ask me about the work involved in writing.  I actually don’t see writing the books as work.  Writing promotional materials and performing edits are work to me.  But the actual act of writing the book is a reward.  If that were not the case then I would say writing is the wrong field of choice.  I have said this before and still repeat it.  Once it becomes work to write and you are not enjoying it, then it is time to get out and do something else.  To me I still feel like I’m sitting around a campfire or on the porch swing at my parent’s old house telling stories.  The only sad thing is that I always have some sort of other tasks to do around the house when it comes time to write.  I spent nearly two hours today trying to do an update on my computer.  An email said it was necessary but it wouldn’t work.  When I finally reached the manufacturer I was told I only needed to do the update if I was having problems with my computer.  Now they tell me!  That’s two hours I can’t get back.  But everything is finally ready.  I have a brief window before the girls get home from school where it will just be me.  And so I leave you now for my true love that is always waiting patiently for my return.  She’s never jealous and always lets me take over where we left off.  She is good to me.  It’s good to be a writer!

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

“Just ahead there is in fact a small base and storage depot,” Linvin began. “There are five buildings in the compound. On the left are a barracks and stable. On the right are three storage facilities. I have seen to it that the Sergeant on duty there does not wake before the others. He is sound asleep in the barrack. Do not enter that building.

“Rander, find a branch in the woods that has already fallen. I do not want evidence of a freshly broken tree limb to raise suspicion. As we advance, use the branch to grate the soil on the road and hide our tracks. When those guards awake and return to the depot I want them to believe no one has been down this road.

“It will be tempting to take our time at the base. We cannot afford to do that. It is part of their messenger network with a crossroad in the middle of the compound. We must go in, get what we need and leave quickly without leaving evidence of our presence. Only then will my plan work.

“When we first enter the camp, we will bring the horses over to the corral by the stable. There is a trough filled with hay and grain just under the rail. Next to it is another filled with water. Tie your horses to the rail and let them eat and drink.”

“What about us?” Bander asked. “My stomach is not happy with me.”

Linvin nodded and patted his cousin on the shoulder. “Worry not, Good Bander. You shall have your feast. We can eat as we ride. The horses cannot.”

He turned his attention to his other cousin. “After we have entered the camp there will be no need to spread the dirt around on the ground” he told Rander. “Hoof prints abound and ours will go unnoticed. Once the horses are tied, you and Bander go into the stable and find any extra saddlebags. We will need all the bags and sacks our horses can hold. Remember, do not leave the area looking violated. If there are several from which to choose then take them from different areas so as not to make their absence easily noticed. Anvar and I will head for the first storage building on the right. You will bring Miri when you are done and meet us there.”

Miri stepped forward and entered the conversation. “My side may hurt but I am not so infirm I cannot be of help. I am part of this party too now. What would you have me do?”

Linvin shrugged his shoulders and saw no flaw in her logic. “Very well then,” he told her. “You go with Rander and find the items in the stable. Bander will go with me and Anvar will stand guard in the center of the crossroad. There is the chance of a rider coming through and I wanted someone to watch for that anyway.”

Linvin held out three fingers. “The first building on the right stores uniforms and medical supplies. When we have liberated what we require, we will move on to the second warehouse. It is an armory the size of which I have not seen since my days in Valia. When we are properly outfitted there, we will move to the third and largest building. It contains all the preserved foodstuffs Bander could ever want. We will take everything our horses will hold and leave. Once we are under way, we can eat as we ride.

“Are there any questions before we go?” He looked from side to side and saw anxious and excited faces. No one, however, made a sound. “Good,” he said. “I know I have said this repeatedly, but the guards must never suspect anyone has been there when they return to the base. Now, follow me.”

Linvin mounted his horse and took Rander’s by the reins. His cousin wasted no time finding a branch while the others mounted their steeds. Linvin dug in his heels and spurred the horse forward, leading the party at a brisk pace. Rander began his work of covering their tracks.

Saturday Excerpt "Quest"

There was one person however, who retained a serious expression. Bander was deep in thought and had been for some time. Never one to put facts together well, he often thought out what he would say to avoid the risk of sounding ignorant and bearing the brunt of his brother’s insults. For over a day, he had tried to put a coherent thought together, but the words had eluded his mind. As they sat by the fire that night, Bander thought the time might be right to verbalize his query. He contemplated it for a few moments to be sure he wouldn’t sound foolish. Finally he was ready to speak.

“Uncle Anvar, what was that orange light that shot out of your hands during the fight at the tavern?”

Linvin and Rander were at a loss having not been conscious to see the pyrotechnics during the melee. They first looked at Bander to see if he looked confused. The big elf looked quite serious. Thus, attention focused on Anvar. The kindly uncle stirred the fire and did not speak. “What is he talking about?” Linvin asked. Anvar threw his stick in the fire and then brushed his hands clean on his pants.

“Good Bander,” Anvar began, “you were trading serious blows with that man with whom you were matched. In the fray, you must have seen a flash from one of the table lamps being knocked to the ground. The sudden light must assuredly have drawn your gaze for a brief moment.”

Bander shrunk his stature and looked away. “Yes, I did see that. It caught my eye all right.” He paused as though he was finished. Anvar was about to change the topic when Bander’s inner voice became audible. “Yep, that flash made me look over there. Right after that though, your hands looked like they were on fire or something. Some orange ray of light, sort of came flying from them and hit the man you were fighting like a club.” Bander looked at his brother and Linvin. “The fella flew backward like he was fallin’, only sideways. He crashed into the bar real hard. Don’t ya’ remember, Uncle Anvar? The fire didn’t hardly seem to even be bothering you, but that other guy…Whew. He gotta’ be feelin’ worse than Linvin today.”

Linvin and Rander knew Bander to have many traits and flaws. One he was not known for, however, was a tendency to lie. So it was, that Bander’s brother and cousin turned their attention again to their uncle, who poked the fire once again.

“Hands on fire?” Rander asked. “What is he talking about?”

“In the heat of battle,” Anvar began, “things are not always as they appear. Linvin, I am sure you have seen strange things in battles many times. Come, tell us of one.”

Linvin’s forehead wrinkled as he looked sternly at Anvar. “Do not change the subject Anvar,” Linvin said firmly. “You are implying that Bander is a liar or a fool. Is that your intent?”

Bander looked most sheepish and regretted beginning the conversation. He looked longingly at his uncle, hoping to avoid either title suggested.

Anvar sighed and hung his head in shame. Without raising his eyes, he answered Linvin. “Your cousin is neither a liar nor a fool. What he has recounted to you is genuine. He was talking about my magic.”

“Magic?” Linvin asked in disbelief. “Do you actually mean to say that you are a magician?”

Rander interjected before Anvar could answer. “That’s absurd! Magicians are tricksters. They are confidence men who prey upon the weak minded. There is no real magic. It’s all just a bunch of slight of hand.”

Anvar turned his head curiously to his brazen nephew. “And the Red Sapphire we seek, is not real magic?”

Second Edits Done

I hate it when I’m right.  That always seemed like the strangest staying.  After all, how could being right be bad?  Well, as it turns out, it’s a bad thing to be right when you predict locking horns with your editor.  I went through my second set of edits yesterday for the second edition of “Quest for the Red Sapphire.”  Out of perhaps 20 instances where the editor and I didn’t agree the first time, I gave in on all but about 8 of them.  In this set of edits, four of the previous ones where I refused to budge were sent back to me once again to change.  The comments sent with them are not suitable for publication.  They were also not suitable for an editor, but they were written there anyway.  I must confess for such a limited number of edits I had to do a lot of walking away from the computer angrily and blowing off steam.  The items up to be changed are a difference of opinion in how the main character (Linvin) would react in certain situations.  I was ridiculed for these flaws in the character.  The flaws were the whole point of the scene!  He is a character.  He has faults.  They keep popping up.  He is working to correct them but isn’t there yet.  Why is this so hard to understand?  I would stomp through the house; maybe even go for a drive and then return to look at the screen and read the demeaning comments left for me about the scene.  What do you do?  If you refuse again there might be a problem all the way back to the publisher since the editor is God (See yesterday’s blog).  If you just give in you lose what made your character different.  On 3 out of the 4 I compromised.  I rewrote it closer to what he wanted but did not give away the heart of the matter I held dear.  In the fourth edit I totally ignored him and left it as it was since his suggestion was, to use his verbiage, “Ridiculous.”  Part of me feels like I betrayed my story but I made the best of an ugly situation.   If those changes are not good enough, then that is going to be too bad because I have bent and bent and bent like a blade of grass in the wind.  If I bend any more the very fiber holding me up will snap and I will not rise again.  I will not let that happen.  I have been open-minded and humbled but my breaking point has been reached.  I will spend the rest of the day reading the previous edits to make sure they flow well and then send it back.  Perhaps it is unprofessional to vent in my blog but this is MY blog and I will write what I will.  I’ve tried to explain it to others around me but the reactions are usually just confusion.  I’m told, “Why not just do what the editor wants and be done with it?”  Simply put, if I give in on all those points there’s no point in even putting my name on it because that’s no longer my book.    

God vs. The Creator

Today’s blog was supposed to be about how I finally have time to get back to my true love, writing.  Then I made a harmless check of my email and found that the second set of edits for “Quest for the Red Sapphire” are back.  That means that my fun will have to wait as I dive once again into the world of editing.  I have not looked at the editorial comments yet but they must be considerably fewer than the first set.  The editor made a lot of good points which I made note of and changed the first time through.  There were some instances where I dug in my heels and refused to budge.  I am wondering if those are items he found fault with the second time around.  It is a difficult situation because he commands great respect as an editor.  My father was one and he had a framed drawing from the art department at one of his magazines in his office.  It was a large picture of a disheveled writer with loose papers in his hand, bent over as if in pain with giant pencils the size of fence posts stabbed completely through the writer from the front to the back in two places.  Underneath the caption read, “Man, he is one tough editor.”  My father was the one who framed the gag and hung it in his office proudly.  Needless to say, he had little sympathy for me when I came to him with my concerns about some of the edits.  In his book, the editor is God and you do not argue with God.  If writers could get it right in the first place there would be no need for editors.  It kind of reminds me of our disagreements in my childhood.  My argument is that the writer is the Creator and without him there would be nothing to edit.  Therefore, shouldn’t he have some say as to how he wants things done?  There has to be a happy median.  After all, both sides have valid points.  I don’t want to be at odds with my editor.  And I certainly want it edited well.  I just don’t want to lose the story I took so long creating because it is not to this person’s tastes.  To his credit, this editor is making me a better writer as there are mistakes I should hope I will not make again.  To his discredit, the way in which he has phrased some of his criticism is at the very least, not constructive.  So I will review the changes and make as many corrections as I can and not lose the essence of what I have created.  In the end, as much as I will bend…it is still MY book.  I am the Creator.        

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

In the poorly lit cells of the prison, Anvar and the twins rested as Linvin sat against the wall opposite Miri and picked at the straw on the floor. For her part, Miri leaned against the far side of the same wall. She held her knees tightly to her chest and rested her head upon them.

“Do you know what I really miss seeing since I’ve been here?” she asked Linvin.

“There is only one thing?” Linvin answered with a laugh.

She chuckled before answering, “Alright Captain Sarcasm, you know what I mean. I miss seeing the sky. At home the sky just seemed to go forever. When there were clouds, they were always so high and distant. When the sun would set, brilliant hues of peach, yellow, red, silver and a host of other colors painted the sky like an ever-changing canvas. Every sunset was a spectacle to see. As much as I enjoyed watching them, I don’t think I really appreciated their majesty until I no longer had the opportunity to view them.”

“I too have seen my share of gorgeous sunsets,” Linvin agreed. “One would think the sunrises would be as marvelous. Perhaps they were. For me, though, sunrise usually involved trepidation on my part. It often signaled the start of a march, or battle. More recently it meant the beginning of another day of a journey into the unknown.”

“That’s not a very positive way to see something so wonderful,” Miri noted.

“I suppose,” Linvin answered. “Many times it seems one’s perspective is colored by the end of the sword they see before them.”

Miri added to his thought, “Or perhaps it is colored by the fact that you see every day involving a sword?”

Linvin’s voice strengthened and he spoke with pride. “I did not choose the road I have traveled. Nor have I shirked the responsibilities given to me. Someone must hold the sword and fight so others can view sunsets. For a time I was ashamed of my past. Now I see it was simply part of my training for a greater purpose. I only hope I have the opportunity to finish my mandate.”

Miri felt guilty for her ignorant statement. She struggled to find the words to make the situation right once again. “I know we agreed not to divulge too much information in here,” she said. “Whatever your goal may be, I hope you attain it.”

Their discussion ended as the riotous noise of soldiers on the stairs interrupted. Three goblin guards came down the hallway and stopped at Miri’s cell. “On your feet, Your Highness. It is time for you to move.”

“Which level will I be going up to this time?” she asked as she pulled herself off the floor.

Saturday Excerpt, "Quest"

“Think of this journey and your life, for that matter, as training to be worthy of the Red Sapphire. Simply being strong or intelligent is not sufficient for the power you have been chosen to wield. You need patience and diplomacy working alongside brawn and brain. Only then can the gem and you reach your full potential. Protecting the weak and the helpless is a far cry from revenge. Strive to be the great man you were meant to be and you will find him within yourself.”

“You are our leader and like any leader, you will make mistakes. But the great leaders learn from those mistakes and avoid their commission in the future. Take what you have learned here and apply it down the road. Only then will greatness be within your grasp. But remember, for good or ill, you are our leader. Lead us well.” He returned to the fire pit.

Anvar’s poetic and moving speech left Linvin humbled. At first he felt self-loathing for his actions, then he looked at the larger picture and saw what Anvar meant. Though he thought his temper was in check, men of poor quality had released it. In spite of his best efforts, Linvin’s inner demon still needed to be tamed.

Bander could see the distress in his cousin’s face and felt like he needed to say something to encourage him. “I know I’m not real smart like the rest of you’s,” Bander began, “I don’t know no big words or fancy meanings. Fact is, I don’t rightly understand what the two of you were talking about just now, but I did understand one thing. You are our leader and we will follow you wherever you go. We believe in you Linvin and I’m real glad to be on your side in this one.”

“I can’t understand how he thinks you did so bad in the fight. Those were three full-grown men. You stacked them up like cord wood. If that wasn’t your best fighting, then Rander and I have gotten off pretty lucky all of these years.” He laughed and went to check on his brother. Linvin gave a pained smile. Any more was too much for him to handle at that point. When he felt the most worthless, it was simple encouragement from Bander that redeemed his self-esteem.

Rander sat by his leader and took Linvin’s hand in his own, in order to show his good intentions. He propped Linvin up against a tree and gave him liquids at first, until he could handle solid food.

Anvar walked over to the trees in order to find more wood to feed the fire. He looked back at the twins caring for Linvin. Never did he think he would live to see such a day. With a cheerful smile, a tear rolled down his cheek. The tragedy had pulled them together. Perhaps, he thought, the episode had been of value after all.

The College Fund

So my second child and oldest daughter wanted me to edit her college entrance essay.  (Man do I feel old.)  She chose a story from her childhood I had forgotten about but was nevertheless amused by.  I will do my best to paraphrase it.  When my daughter was about 6 years old she announced that she wanted to go to college and study to be an artist.  (I am absent from this story, by the way.  I must have been working.)  My wife told her that college was very hard to go to.  You needed to have excellent grades and save a lot of money.  Being the capitalist she was, my daughter decided to start saving then.  The one thing she valued above everything else was her prize rock collection.  She set up a folding table in front of our house with a sign that said, “Rocks, .25 each”  People walking their dogs just looked at her with puzzlement while children going by openly laughed at her.  Not one stone sold.  She was very discouraged as evening fell and she started to take down her sign.  There was a sweet senior lady with four cats who would pay my son to look in on them from time to time when she went out of town.  She lived just across the street and came walking up to my daughter who was near tears.  “What’s the matter, honey?” our neighbor asked.  “I’m trying to earn money to save for college by selling the most important things I have; my rock collection.  But no one is interested.”  “Well you know,” said the neighbor, “I have a bare patch in the walkway to my house and a rock garden sounds like a great way to fill it.  How about letting me but all your rocks?”  My daughter couldn’t believe it but agreed.  The nice lady reached in her purse and pulled out a handful of money which she gave to my daughter.  Then they took the stones and set up the garden.  My daughter tried to make them as beautiful as possible and then gave the lady a hug.  Then she skipped back to our house and put her table away.  When she came in the house, my wife asked what she was doing outside.  My daughter said she was selling rocks for her college fund.  My wife panicked as she thought the neighbors would now think we couldn’t afford food and had to have our daughter sell rocks to make money.  (It sounds pretty farfetched when you hear it now but at the time it seemed like a real scenario.)  She asked my daughter if she sold any rocks to which came the proud reply, “I sold them all.”  Then she held up the money.  My wife counted it and the cat lady had given my daughter $100 for her stones.  Now, all these years later that money is still in her college fund.  As I finished reading the essay I asked my daughter which school it was for.  She said it was for Stoney Brook University on Long Island.  I just laughed and said, “How could they not accept the girl who sold stones to get into Stoney Brook? 

Edits Are Done

Well I did it.  I made it through my new edit of “Quest for the Red Sapphire.”  It’s amazing how different a book can look to two different editors.  One might want you to say, “He took off his cloak and went in the room.”  The next will strike that as being wrong and call it “Idiotic” saying instead it should be, “He went in the room and took off his cloak.”  As a storyteller you look at the first few instances of this and say, “Ok; so he does it a little differently.”  Then it keeps happening and you begin to say, “What is going on here?”  I have maintained all along that I would need to develop a thick skin with this editor and it is safe to say I feel like I am wearing dragon scales.  Some things he is right about.  Some things I had no idea were the case.  And many other things are simply written the way I want them in the world I have created.  After all, it is my story and my world!  If I want the main character to speak without contractions, guess what?  No contractions.  If I want to use the geographic term “Drumlin” then I will.  I don’t think I’m pushing the boundaries too far here.  It is my story and I am the one telling it.  Imagine you were telling someone a story and a person sitting next to you kept correcting you over and over.  Some corrections would be valid and some would just be the way they like to tell the story.  It would be hard to get through the telling.  I decided to treat the editor as a friend giving advice rather than a critic.  It takes the edge off the relationship.  You can handle harsh criticism from a friend much better than from a critic.  The experience has helped me grow as a writer and as a person.  It’s easy to write when everyone says your work is dandy.  When someone is overly critical, however, you learn new things and fight for what you know is right.  It makes you a stronger person.  That, in turn will lead to easier editing sessions.  In spite of how much I grow or learn, my style will simply not be a match with everyone.  You know that saying about not being able to please all the people all the time?  Well this is one of those instances.  Ten books from now I could still submit a manuscript to him and have it bleeding red ink. (He would say “Does paper actually bleed?  Perhaps you should use different wording?  You’re confusing the reader by talking about a human characteristic in an inanimate object.  Also the red is on a computer screen.  There is no ‘ink’ to speak of.  Why confuse the reader more than you already are doing in this sentence?”  That’s not an exaggeration.  My wife read the comments and wanted to send a strongly worded rebuke.  (That’s the kind way of putting it.)  I had my dragon scales on and only felt a light sting.  Perhaps this will make the book an easier read for the consumer.  I hope so.  All I can say with certainty is that I have finished my edits…at least the first round.     

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

 “Then I have your leave?’ Gramlick asked.

“Not just yet, My Friend. Stay a while longer.” Gramlick sighed and sat with his arms folded.

Mandrean’s arrogant tone returned as he called out, “Commander Vipis. Is my Imperial Guard ready to depart?”

The Commander of the Guard came forward and knelt on both knees in full armor before this Emperor. “I have every available Guard in the City in their saddles outside the Palace walls awaiting your arrival. They and I will follow your orders to the death.”

“How many are there?” Mandrean Inquired.

“One hundred and eighty riders are suitable for duty and are ready to ride,” Vipis answered.

“That will be sufficient to guard me,” Mandrean told the commander. “Have my horse and one for Necromancer waiting by yours and inform the men we are leaving at once.” The commander nodded and stood. He gave the fist salute and rushed from the room.

Mandrean turned to his Court Magician and said tauntingly, “Be sure to dress warmly. These rides can become frightfully cold.”

“Fear not for me, My Master,” Necromancer said as he prepared to follow the commander. “A fire burns within me that will ward off the harshest of winds.” With a half-hearted bow he left the room.

Mandrean gave a nod to Fendri. Then the House Master stood and proclaimed. “The court is dismissed.” There was a good deal of mumbling as the courtiers exited the hall. Soon only Mandrean, Fendri, Gramlick and a hand full of guards remained. Mandrean snapped his fingers and the guards left.

With only the three individuals left, Mandrean approached Gramlick. “I have a special task for you, my Teacher. Maxion is as crooked as a tree-branch in the wind. You will stay here and see to it no coup is attempted in my absence. Furthermore, there are many displaced citizens who are likely hungry and cold. See the issue is handled.”

“How will I enforce your authority when Maxion has a Legion at his command?” Gramlick asked.

Mandrean held out his open palm and had it immediately filled by an envelope bearing his seal. “These orders give you the right to act in my stead. I have personally sent for a Legion of your men to camp just outside of town. They will be here tomorrow. Your soldiers will beat Maxion’s any day.”

“Then why leave Maxion here at all?” Gramlick asked. “I could have handled this alone.”

“I am testing him,” Mandrean explained. “He will not know of your forces and his allegiance will be proven in the coming days. He also has recent experience with handling rebellious people. You, on the other hand, will see to it the people are here when I return. Now go to your quarters and take some rest.”

Mandrean could see his former tutor playing through scenarios in his head as he limped from the room. Only Fendri and Mandrean remained. The emperor turned to the Master of his House and handed him six envelopes.

“What are these,” Fendri asked as he looked at the seals.

“These are orders I want you to personally deliver to Numbers One through Six,” Mandrean said slyly.

“To the concubines?” Fendri asked.

“No,” answered Mandrean grimly. “You know of whom I speak.” Fendri paused a moment as he realized to whom his master was referring. “If I may be so bold, My Master, what do these orders say?”

Mandrean smiled and answered, “They are insurance. If I wanted you to read them, they would not have been sealed. Take heart in the fact I would not have given them to you if I thought you would open them. The less you know the better you will be, Fendri.”

Satuday Excerpt "Quest"

Meanwhile, in Missandor, the six stealthy individuals had invaded Linvin’s tree with the fall of night. The once pristine amenities were soon strewn around and destroyed. One climbed from floor to floor watching his minions searching in vain. “Leave nothing unchecked,” he ordered. “We must be thorough if we are to find the prize or move on in confidence.”

When the destruction was complete, the group reunited on the main floor. “Now where do we go?” Two asked.

One paced within a circle formed by his brethren. “They are aware of our pursuit, that is clear. Anvar Greenlith and Linvin Grithinshield have either left to search for the ultimate prize or left to hide what they possess. Regardless of the reason, our next best chance to find them will be with their only close family in the area. That, takes us to Varns.”

It was then that Four entered the house holding a young boy by the arm. “This lad has some information of interest,” Four announced.

One knelt before the child and told him, “Fear not boy. You will be rewarded for helping us track down a criminal.” The boy looked around at the destruction around him, afraid and silent. Seeing his face, One produced a small sack of gold and handed it to the boy. “Now,” One began, “tell us what you know.”

Quivering, the boy began to speak. “I delivered a message here, from an old elf in Fraylic, a few days ago. The man or elf, that lived here, paid me so much for getting it here, that I wanted to thank him the next day. I got up early to do that, but saw them leaving town.”

“Them?” asked Four.

“Aye,” the Boy said. “The old elf that sent me was with him.”

“Which way did they go?” Three asked.

“S…south…it was,” the boy said with increasing apprehension.

One drew his face very close to the boy’s face. “Did the half elf have a staff with him?”

The boy looked away. “It was dark. It was hard to see. I…”

One lost patience. “Yes or no! Did he have a staff with him?”

“No,” the boy said at first. “Wait…he might have. There was something long hanging beside his horse. It could have been a staff.”

One nodded and resumed his pacing. “You have seen much young boy.” One walked over and removed the sack from the boy’s hand. “Too much I’m afraid. Four, do be certain he never sees anything again or has the opportunity to tell anyone else what he has seen.”

The boy tried to scream, but Four covered his mouth and dragged him up the stairs to meet his end.

“Crime has become so ruthless,” One commented. “Take that boy. He comes back with his unruly friends to rob the benevolent man who paid him so well only a few days before. He destroys the house, only to be killed by his two timing friends and left for the authorities. I tell you, my friends, the world has become a sad place. Let us leave this den of sin and be on our way.

Four rejoined them as they neared the door. He was wiping blood from his hands with one of Linvin’s kitchen towels. “So do we head south?” he asked One.

“That would seem logical,” One commented, “however, south is not much of a destination, but Varns is. Grithinshield is known as a great strategist and Anvar Greenlith has proven to be more wise than we gave him credit. The heading, the boy thief observed, could have been a ruse to throw us off the trail. In fact, I am quite sure it was. If that were the case, then they would have gone in the opposite direction that the boy said. That would be north and north leads us back to Varns. Now let us go. Our quarry is slipping away.”

Surviving Editing

I put it off until after the holidays.  Now the time has come to do the new edit on “Quest for the Red Sapphire.”  I must confess that I have not looked forward to this as it is never fun to have your work dissected.  Starting the process yesterday was painful.  In all fairness, the first edit was done by my previous publisher and their editing job was subpar.  The result was that I expected a lot of red corrections and comment balloons on the edit copy.  I was not to be disappointed.  Some of the changes were ones I couldn’t believe were missed the first time.  Other ones seem to just be the editor’s preference.  The ones that I am having the most trouble with, however, are the ones where the editor thinks the writing is too “Flowery” or not angry enough or simply not to his taste.  To be fair, he has some legitimate points but there are also many times I wrote the book a certain way for a certain reason.  I am trying to be thick skinned and open minded but I find myself becoming more defensive.  So I took a long break from the edits.  I will return to them as soon as I have finished here with this blog.  Then I tried to put myself in the editor’s shoes.  This guy is just trying to get the book right and done in the correct fashion.  My style clearly is different from his and that is the source of the stress.  I have no problem fixing the grammar mistakes but he wants things the way he would write it.  I must dig down and try not to take them as personal attacks but rather as a different point of view.  Many times I don’t agree with that point of view but I must try to work with him and take a stand only on the big issues.  I did a sharp contrast from a dreary ending to one chapter to a beautifully depicted sunrise in the next chapter to show stark imagery with a touch of personification.  It took 7 rewrites to get it perfect.  I will not repeat the editor’s remarks but let’s just say he found it unnecessary and the paragraphs of poor quality.  I drew the line there.  I wrote after his comments, “I like it this way.”  Perhaps he is right but much of my style is being cut out.  I felt like I needed to make a stand.  The editing goes on and I will try to follow the direction of the editor as best I can.  In the end, though, I am the writer of this book.

The Price of Chocolate Ice Cream

Once upon a time there was a smart, responsible young lady of 16 years with a provisional driver’s license.  She was spending the night at her friend’s house and around 11PM they decided they wanted chocolate soft serve ice cream.  The only place with that product open at that time of night was a McDonald’s out by the highway.  They jumped in the car and drove out to get their ice cream.  After sitting there eating for a while they finally finished and left at about 12:30AM.  A few blocks later they stopped at a red light and a police car pulled up alongside.  The lady realized her license only allowed her to drive until midnight and she had exceeded her time limit.  She became nervous and anxious.  She watched the stop lights intently.  The left turn signal turned green but not the light in front of her.  It was too late.  She saw green and drove ahead.  Immediately the police pulled her over and issued her a ticket for a Provisional Operator’s Permit violation and instead of writing “Failure to Yield” on her other ticket, she was given the dreaded “Failure to Comply.”  That is the equivalent of refusing to take breathalyzer test and carries a date in court.  After hyperventilating for a few minutes, she drove back to her friend’s house and cried all night.  The next day she informed her parents and they had to go out and hire a lawyer.  After the county district attorney wanted to make an example out of her, the family’s lawyer was able to able to get the penalty reduced to a $50.00 fine in their court appearance.  That young lady was my daughter and my wife and I thought everything was dismissed.  That was a year and a half ago.  When our auto rates went up we were told by our agent that everyone’s had and they were just high because of so many claims against insurance companies for hail damage.  It is time to renew our insurance again and I find myself still disgusted by the bill so I asked my multi-line agent to search some other companies.  I even plan to call a few myself.  Then the land mine is uncovered.  The DMV still shows a “Failure to Comply” on my daughter’s driving record.  I call the lawyer and he says it should not have been recorded that way but once the court has filed it, there is nothing he can do.  The DMV won’t change her driving record without a court order and as it turns out, that is what we pled “No Contest” to in order to get the $50.00 fine.  It still goes down as a conviction.  I’m told by my insurance agent that companies don’t even want to touch someone with a “Failure to Comply” on their record and so far we cannot find a cheaper rate.  This is ridiculous.  Of all the stupid things I hear about kids doing and getting in trouble for, this seems awfully tame.  I realize I am not exactly objective but the punishment hardly fits the crime.  So for the next year and a half we will be stuck paying ridiculous auto premiums…all because my daughter and her friend wanted chocolate ice cream one night.          

Sunday Excerpt, "Crucible"

Inside was a lavish multileveled suite. Stairs led up and down with lush red velvet carpet perfectly adhering to every curve in the finely polished stone. Murals and tapestries covered the walls entirely save for glass block windows, which allowed for viewing but not access. The furniture was arranged to allow for dozens of guests to be comfortable in what was clearly the main living area.

Fendri silently led the slaves up the stairs. Half way up he heard laughing from a man and multiple women. As was customary, he announced himself before reaching the top of the stairs.

“Lord Mandrean,” he called. “We have brought your breakfast.”

All became silent in the room above. Then the man’s voice called out while trying to restrain his laughter. “You may proceed, Fendri.”

As the servants climbed the remaining stairs they found a grand master bedroom suite. It was three quarters of a circle in shape and the size of the previous level. There was furniture for clothing, dressing and lounging. Enormous wardrobes lined the walls between colossal windows stretching from the floor to the unusually tall ceiling.

The centerpiece of the room was undoubtedly the master bed. The four-posted behemoth was wide enough to hold six adults comfortably. Quilted blankets baring the family crest encased down filling that nearly covered royal blue silk sheets. Their craftsmanship displayed immense skill and expense.

In the very center of the bed lay a middle-aged human man of size slightly larger in height and substantially greater in weight than Linvin. His hair was a combination of black and gray. The latter color carried over to his morning facial stubble. On either side of him lay a voluptuous young woman of impeccable beauty. The girls attempted not to giggle while the man had settled his composure.

“Has morning come early, Lord Fendri?” the man in the bed asked.

Fendri sat his tray on the bed and showed an expression of mild frustration. Then he set about drawing back the curtains around the room to allow the sunlight to enter. In a disappointed voice he proclaimed, “It is mid-morning, my Good Lord Mandrean. You have an eventful day planned. I would have presumed you would have made less active use of your bed. Your endurance will be needed later in the day more than it was last night.”

One of the girls responded. “Trust me, Lord Fendri. He needed all his endurance last night.” She smiled like a temptress and caressed Lord Mandrean’s face.

Fendri wrinkled his lips to one side as he beheld the absent attire of the ladies. Then he sighed and responded, “I am sure he did. Nevertheless, our Lord has greater demands this day.” He ushered the slaves to bring their trays to the concubines in the bed. Then he lifted his master’s tray and set it over his lap with sides extending down to hold it aloft. Once the coverings were removed, a huge breakfast was revealed. The plates for the emperor held steak, eggs, bacon, fresh bread and fruit. A small pot of tea completed the meal. The concubines had smaller portions of the same foods.

As the inhabitants of the bed ate, Fendri and the slaves gathered randomly discarded clothing from the floor and piled it by the stairs. “I shall have the maid come shortly to tidy your rooms Sire.” He picked up several empty wine bottles and placed them by the clothing. “It would seem your private wine cellar is in need of restocking. You appear to be dipping into vintages you seldom touch.”

“Make sure you do that,” Mandrean said with his mouth full of steak. “I was meaning to bring that to your attention. See to it that it is filled by this evening. I intend to have several of my ladies for the night.”

“Will we be among them?” the girl to his right asked.

Mandrean did not even turn his head when he addressed her. “No, you will not. I want variety. Tonight I shall have Sixty-two, Sixty-nine and Seventy-one brought to me. See to it early, Fendri, so they may have time to prepare.”

“My Lord,” asked the second girl. “Were we not to your liking?”

Again, Mandrean did not look at the girl to whom he was speaking. “If you were not to my liking I would have no use for you and you would be dead. You were both adequate. I will be calling on you again. Tonight I have different cravings.”

5 Star Book Review

Instead of my usual excerpt today, I’d like to share a 5 star review on Amazon.com for “Quest for the Red Sapphire.” 

By 

Jessica Walsh - See all my reviews

This review is from: Quest for the Red Sapphire (Volume 1) (Paperback)

“High fantasy, political intrigue, unique characters and a lush world, Quest for the Red Sapphire has everything you could want in a fantasy novel. What sets this novel out is the attention to detail on every page. Whether it's traveling with the characters, rearranging the inner workings of a business, or simply stopping in a tent for the night, the author has filled this story with so much detail you can't help but get sucked in. It's no trouble at all to imagine this world as a real place and the dialog between the characters has a thread of realness to it, easily something you could imagine your neighbor or friend saying with little trouble.

“Quest for the Sapphire is a great fantasy ride for those who love to be sucked into a new world and disappear from their own for a few days. Even better? It's a continuing series and I'm sure that the sequels will be just as good as the first. I highly recommend this book.”

http://www.amazon.com/product-reviews/B00DZ100MO?showViewpoints=0&sortBy=bySubmissionDateDescending&tag=authorgraph-20