Mother's Day

Today I’d like to take a moment to pay homage to all the mothers out there.  Think of all the mothers who had children who were aspiring writers alone.  That’s a lot of time isolated from the family while they write.  All that time the mother was patient and allowed them their time to express themselves through the written word.  Mothers look after us and care for us.  Sometimes your Mom is the only person you can count on.  They love you unconditionally.  Not many people in this life fit that description.  And what do they get for this?...One day per year when they are remembered.  If you still have your mother, count yourself lucky and show her your appreciation today.  If you have lost your mother then remember her and the good times you shared.  She’s a special lady and you should make this a special day.

Saturday Excerpt, "Crucible"

At nearly the same time Mandrean was meeting with Division Commanders just north of the site of the former dock. His camp was being set for the night and he paced in his tent while two soldiers reported.

“There is no sign of him to the east,” one man said while shaking with fear.

“He has not been seen headed west either, My Lord,” the second officer decreed.

Mandrean was furious. “How could he just vanish?” Mandrean yelled. “There is nowhere left for them to run.”

The first officer spoke again. “It is possible they have found some storage facility or root cellar where they intend to hide until we have given up the search?”

“That would require us to search every building in the Province,” the second officer noted. “To do a proper search will take time.”

“Then do it,” Mandrean ordered. “If they are indeed hiding then time is on our side and not theirs. Also, send units back in both directions. This time, however, have them travel along a more northern route. He may have tried to slip past you and flee to the border that way.”

Necromancer sat in the corner with his arms folded and listened to the commentary with great amusement. He entered the conversation with his usual brand of cynicism. “You say he is not where you expected him to be?” Necromancer asked rhetorically. “That is a surprise, to be sure. You set such a masterful trap and Linvin evaded it. To think he has the unmitigated gall to not wait for us to come and collect his party. What bad form he has displayed.”

“He will not evade us for long,” Mandrean boasted.

“It seems that I heard those words only a short time ago,” Necromancer reminded. “Yet here we sit with no trophy to display. Now your plan is to sit here and hope he appears. I marvel at the way you make doing nothing sound like hard work. By the time you realize he is gone, he will be at home in his tree drinking to your foolishness.”

The first officer was deeply offended, as he was not accustomed to Necromancer’s brand of commentary. He grasped his sword and stomped toward the magician. “You think this is funny, do you?” The man snarled as he began to draw his blade.

Mandrean put his hand on the man’s chest and prevented his progress. “Keep your weapon sheathed,” he ordered. “That is a hornet’s nest in the corner you do not wish to disturb.”

“That was the most intelligent thing you have done in some time, My Master,” Necromancer said with disappointment. “Your action just saved that man’s life. Then again, your inaction is also saving Linvin’s. How ironic.”

Mandrean put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Speak plainly and end your games. You clearly have an opinion and you feel it is of greater merit than ours. So tell us where you think Grithinshield has gone.”

Wednesday Excerpt, "Quest"

At last Linvin reached the office of the Secretary to the King.  The Royal Guard greeted him with cheers and hugs.  Linvin thanked them but insisted on seeing King Hardurian at once.  A guard entered the ceiling-high double-doors in order to announce him.  Moments later, he returned and told Linvin to enter.

The great half-elf patted down his hair and entered.  Before him was a hall of golden floors, polished to reflect frescos painted on the dome-shaped ceiling and walls.  A red crushed-velvet carpet led from the doors across the hall to the steps, leading to a mighty throne of gold accented with silver and encrusted pearls.  Numerous advisers crowded the steps and were laughing in a celebratory tone.  At the sight of Linvin, they became overjoyed and raised goblets of wine in toasts to the victorious general.   “Our brave knight returns,” cried an adviser.  “The greatest general in our great nation’s history!” called another.  Linvin smiled harshly and with some frustration as he attempted to work through the drunken crowd.  “You are too kind,” he repeatedly said.

“Make way!” called a voice from the back of their gathering.  The men became silent and parted to fully reveal the grandeur of the throne and its occupant.  They knelt on one knee and bowed.  Rising to his feet from the seat of power was an aged king wearing fine silks and a proud smile.

His silver hair was fine and still covered his head.  The wrinkles in his face each seemed to have a story to explain its origin.  That face and its owner had deliberated many a trouble, but ittook on a glow at the sight of Linvin.  A sense of great pride welled forth and transformed his appearance from a worried king to an admirer.

Linvin approached with his head held high and knelt most eagerly before the King.

“I have returned, Your Highness,” Linvin said as he lowered his head.

King Hardurian put his quaking hand gently under Linvin’s chin and raised it so that the two could look one another in the eye.  “This is one day that I should be bowing to you, my young friend. 

Arise, Linvin, defender of Valia, and be recognized.”

Deep in his soul, Linvin relished in the praise, but his heart was heavy and he could not enjoy the fruits of his labors.

“We had not expected you so soon,” King Hardurian said.  “Word only just reached us of your victory.”

“There will be a celebration in your honor this evening,” an adviser said, while slapping Linvin on the shoulder.

“We are commissioning a statue of you to be chiseled of marble and set in the town square,” another said with a laugh.

“An etching in the Triumphal Arch will be carved.”

“Of course, there will be a victory parade once your men arrive, to celebrate your amazing wins.”

Such adoration would make many men feel pride and happiness, but for Linvin, each statement made him feel worse and worse.  He had resigned to hold his tongue until he was alone with the king.  However, at the utterance of the last sentence, rage welled within him and he could be quiet no longer.

I'm Back

I’m baaaack!  It’s really true that you don’t really appreciate something until it’s gone.  Being away from my blog for a week has made me really miss putting words to paper.  Likewise it is nice to slip from my alter ego into the warm suit of Rival Gates.  During my time away I realized why so many writers become recluses.  People can drive you nuts sometimes.  They can be demanding.  Books are never demanding.  They just sit there tempting you to read or write them.  When you get in a grove on one there is nothing better.  You just don’t want to stop.  Yet we cannot cut ourselves off from people, as writers.  The public provides the basis of many of our best ideas.   It is the very things that drive us crazy that make the best writing fodder.  As much as we’d like to live like Jimmy Buffet and start writing only after the margaritas are gone and the sun has set on some tropical shore, it’s just not practical.  I may love it but writing is serious work and deserves serious attention.  That means staying connected to society and live with everybody; even the crazy people.  Sometimes you find yourself losing it.  I was thinking of something my wife had been telling me as I was calling a customer.  We talked about this and that and then when it was time to say goodbye I said, “Ok, I love you.  Bye.”  Then I hung up. Moments later I looked at the phone and thought, did I just say that?  Then comes the big question; do I call back or leave it alone?  If I call back I could explain myself but I could make it worse too.  If I don’t call what will he think?  He couldn’t possibly take me seriously; could he?  It was a quandary.  Whether it was cowardice or prudence, I decided to let sleeping dogs lie and not call back.  I never heard anything from him so as long as I don’t get a Valentine’s Day card I should be in the clear.  It just goes to show that no one is perfect.  Maybe the crazy people are nice the rest of the time?  Then again they could just be born to be annoying.

Vacation

Due to an upcoming work schedule conflict I will need to take about a week long vacation from blogging.  Don’t worry, fans, I will be back at it soon.  I’ll talk to you then.  Rival

Stephen King Article

I was reading an article by Stephen King yesterday that was most interesting. He made a couple of points that he said contributed to his success.  One was to write every single day; 365 days per year.  In theory that sounds great.  After all, I love to write more than anything else in the world.  In my life, however, there is a substantial day job and my family to consider.  Then there is promotion for your books.  I’m sure Mr. King has people who promote for him but the rest of us authors have to do it ourselves.  That takes time.  I know these sound like excuses but it is not easy to find time to write every day.  It’s hard to sit down and work on the new book when the last book needs more publicity.  Next he said not to use big words in your writing.  He said readers should not need a dictionary in order to read your book.  I completely agree with him on this point.  There has been some science fiction I have tried to read that had so many technical words that I gave up after 2 chapters.  It was too much of a headache.  That being said, I expect a certain intellectual level from my readers.  I write Epic Fantasy and use a lot of archaic words as well as made up ones.  On occasion readers have told me they didn’t know what a word or two meant but they were isolated incidents.  Finally Mr. King talked about using single sentence paragraphs.  He said it flowed better like a regular conversation.  I think he is both right and wrong on this point.  If it is short dialogue you are writing then I think you can use the one sentence paragraphs. If, however, you are writing description, breaking up the paragraphs just confuses the reader.  It’s kind of like those people who go comma-crazy.  It’s just too hard to read.  Overall I enjoyed the article and learned a trick or two.  Writing is like anything else, it is different for everyone.  What works for Stephen King may not work for you or me; but it’s good to hear his point of view.

Tuesday Excerpt, "Crucible"

Linvin looked in both directions across the sand but saw no sign of anyone or anyplace. They appeared to be completely alone. Even that gave him no comfort. He’d already planned for the scenario. Like a general with his troops, he issued orders.

“Everyone lead your horses to the water and let them drink all they can handle. While they drink, we will fill our water skins. When all is complete we will stake the horses on the grass between the hills where they can graze out of sight. Then we will eat.”

No one spoke. They simply followed Linvin’s orders. The parched animals were most appreciative of the water and drank with great eagerness. Meanwhile, each party member filled his or her water skins. The water was frigid and all but the sweaty horses tried to avoid entering the lapping surf. Before long the skins were filled and replaced on the saddles. The horses meanwhile continued to drink.

At last the exhausted riders fell upon the beach and stretched out to relax near their steeds. Linvin found lying on the shrunken staff and Falconfeather to be uncomfortable and removed both from his back. He laid the staff on the ground along with the scabbard for Falconfeather. Linvin withdrew the blade to clean it against his cloak. No one spoke. They were simply too tired.

Miri was to Linvin’s right and the Greenliths were to his left with Anvar the farthest away. They’d raised their hoods on their cloaks to act as a barrier against the abrasive sand. Other than that, they laid completely flat. They were exhausted and were reluctant to even take nourishment.

After a while, the horses stopped drinking and looked around. They became restless and began to stammer back and forth. “Looks like they have had their fill,” Linvin noted. “I will take them back to the grass while you all rest here.” Stabbing Falconfeather into the sand, he marched to the water where he took the reins of the increasingly spooked animals. The horses bucked wildly as Linvin struggled to control them. One thing they did not fight him about was moving away from the water. Linvin could hardly keep up as the horses led him back inland. So focused was he on the animals he did not notice the water stirring nearby in an unnatural manner.

When they were well off the sand the beasts slowly calmed. Linvin found several bushes near a drumlin and tied the animals but gave them enough of a leash to graze as they wished. Though he expected the horses to begin eating at once, they chose instead to move as far away from the water as they could and stand with their backs to the lake. Well that has to be one of the strangest things I have ever seen, Linvin thought.

Suddenly there was screaming from the beach. Linvin turned to see a ghastly sight. Thousands of small tentacles no wider than a finger had sprung from the water and had entwined the other party members by the legs. They were winding their way up the bodies of their victims.