A short #nanowrimo update, and back to writing

I have 3 more days to write my remaining 20K words for nanowrimo.
I'm crazy to even think I want to try, but I think I will, just to see if I can.
See, I figure, with write or die I make about 500 words in 15 minutes. Which is 2,000 words an hour. But this is virtually impossible, because after 15 minutes of straight writing, my mind wanders. And then I need a 10 minute break to surf the internet (talk about self-control & self-discipline issues!)
So this means I can write about 1,000 words an hour (on a good stretch), give or take maybe 100 or so on either side depending on if I'm on a roll or if I'm just pushing through a scene. Which means I need 20 hours to meet the 20K. (The math is right? I may be an auditor but my mental math sucks. Would you believe I still count my change on my fingers?)
The upside of this is that I had originally take leave from work for project dance (and to be lazy) from this week onwards... the downside of which is I have to cancel one day's leave tomorrow to meet a deadline, but that's still TWO WHOLE DAYS OFF WORK.
And see, I usually spend 12 hours a day staring at a computer screen at work ANYWAY, so spending 20 hours over two days staring at computer screen to FINISH THIS NOVEL isn't going to be much different from what I always do.
And yes, that was me pep-talking myself.
It's 10AM and I have 19K to go.
See you Wednesday.
(I really should start a writing label/tag that says "I am crazy")

[edit 12.07AM, 11/29/11: Reached about 40K by midnight and am crazily impressed with myself. Would have gotten more done if I didn't get distracted following new twitter accounts and blogs after dinner.]

And where is your faith?

[edit: you should read this with the playlist.]

Sometimes I wonder where my faith lies in all this. This pursuit of a better sentence; of words that tug at your heart and try to build; this story that is bursting forth in mouldy rags.

Because somewhere along the way, the tangible presence became an intangible longing, and the intangible prize reached out its arms and masqueraded as the real thing. Ah, it is easier to destroy with a word than to build with a tome. And yet sometimes behind the stories are the kernels of truths, half-forgotten.

I need You, because without You all this is empty. And the longing shows in the depth of it all, because I am shallow. I skim the surface, looking for the emotions that shore me up, lift me up, forgetting the roots that dig deep into the refreshing fountains that never end. Forgetting the foundation that brought me here in the first place.

All of my life, in every season
You are still God, I have a reason
To sing, I have a reason to worship
Desert Song - Hillsong

Still You stay behind the scenes, working unseen the untold stories, playing out the hidden dramas, drawing forth the silent songs. And there is that core that says, return. It calls, drawing me, pushing me, saying there is more. Have you forgotten? These eyes have forgotten heaven in its splendour. majesty in the flesh.

Our God is greater
Our God is stronger
God you are higher than any other
Our God - Chris Tomlin

And strength cloaked in weakness bids me come again, to cry out because I cannot. Because my heart is weak; my knees, they knock; my hands, they shake. And again this dream is too big for me to hold, this mystery too vast for me to comprehend, this longing too overwhelming for me to bear. And I need You. And You are there.

So we cry out Your Name, El Shaddai, God of grace
We rely on Your grace, Adonai, crowned in praise
We Cry Out - Gateway Worship (excerpted)

And oh, the depth of this love, so easily forgotten, so easily discarded. Yet it beats; it pounds; it grasps. It never lets go. You never. let. go. And You spur us on, deeper in, higher up, further onwards, to Narnia and the north, to where the unseen realm meets reality, blended in magic and fire and glory and majesty, driven by the Great Myth.

We are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking
So Heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about, the way
And oh, how He loves us so
Oh how He loves us
How He loves us all
How He loves - David Crowder Band

Still. all. you. are. Breathe. deep. Remember.

Jesus, Your Name is Power
Breath, and Living Water
Such a marvellous mystery
Revelation Song - Kari Jobe & Gateway Worship

And all He is is all we are and all we are is all of His. And round it goes, the serpent that swallows it's tail in an endless ellipse. And where is your faith in the midst of it all?
Hidden.
In the depths.
Of who you are.
Of who you have forgotten.
Of who you long to be again.

The God I know
Your heart beats within me
As You are, so are we
The God I know - City Harvest Church

Wonderfully generous writers

Over the year as I've participated in various blogfests, notably the Rachael Harrie's Third Writers' Platform Building Campaign, Rule of Three (#REN3 or Renaissance) and the A to Z blog challenge in April, through twitter and through my Triberr group (Writer Warriors!), I've come to know quite a few very awesome writer people on the interwebs. One thing that really astonishes me is how remarkably generous they are. Here's some of them:

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The first plug I'm going to make is somewhat personal. After all, my stories are on it. Katharina Gerlach has compiled a total of 176 stories from 81 different writers from the Third Writers' Platform Building Campaign (with our permissions, of course) and is offering it as a compilation titled Campaigner Challenges 2011.

To quote Cat in her own words,:

I "stumbled over" an eleven year old boy who taught me how much can be achieved by doing small steps every day persistently. His name was Harry Moseley, and he passed away peacefully in his mother’s arms on Saturday 8 October 2011 at 11.10pm. The most amazing thing about Harry (in case you haven’t heard yet) is that he single handedly raised over £85,000 (that’s roughly 137,000 USD) for brain cancer research by fund-raising and selling hand-made bracelets. Awed by this boy who looked death in the eye but who was determined to enjoy every day, I decided to raise funds for people in need too.

All proceeds from the sales of the book will go to Help Harry Help Others to fund more research on Brain Cancer. The ebook is currently available on Smashwords and Amazon at USD2.99 each.


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I haven't personally read Raine's books yet, but I met her through Triberr and have I've been following her blog. This month she's introduced the Raine Gives Back programme where 5% of all her monthly book earnings will be given to a charity of the month. If you're interested in fantasy/romance stories consider getting her books, the Saraquel Trilogy.

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Lisa Vooght from Flash Fiction posted about the With Love anthologies here.

The With Love Project was crafted by a small group of talented artists and authors, that donates to Doctors Without Borders. This project helps and supports Doctors Without Borders, donating enough money from the project to aide in providing vaccinations, support resources and AIDS medicine to those who couldn’t otherwise provide for themselves. The money is allocated for the various needs by Doctors Without Borders.

There are currently three books on offer - With Love, Dawn of Indie Romance and After Dark. Li has offered some snippets on her blog to promote the latest book, After Dark, and they are good. Of course, with Li in the mix, it has to be good. :)  It's currently on my to-buy list. Maybe it should be on yours too.

After Dark is available on Smashwords and Amazon.

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The next one isn't quite a book plug. I met Carol through the #amwritingparty hashtag on twitter. I don't think the hashtag is still going - the last time I check it seemed to be pretty dormant. Anyway, she is going on a medical mission to Haiti with Mission Haiti Medical and is raising funds from for the trip.

As part of this mission, all serving are required to get immunizations and raise enough to cover our plane tickets and stay in the meager accommodations as well as money for RX meds and supplies for the mission. Additionally, we're expected to bring as much over-the-counter medicine as we can carry...if you can spare even a dollar, less than the cost of a cup of coffee, that's a box of children's vitamins from the dollar store--at minimum. Because we also have pharmaceutical connections and can purchase RX drugs and supplies at cost, so that $20 can support the medical needs of something like 60 Haitians for over a month. 

Do give if you can. I just did.

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#nanowrimo update and a #fridayflash

And this is how you stagnate:



A 5-day vacation followed immediately be 3 deadlines (one submitted, two to come) is the root cause. I don't know how it's going to work out, especially since I've been hitting some snags plot wise. But at any rate, since I'm at it, I'll give you the initial short story I wrote that started off the whole idea in the first place. Maybe it should have remained a short story (but probably more developed) than this mess of a novel it is trying to become. I'm still wondering if I should work on a short story for the Commonwealth competition.

Urgh. I need more than 24 hours in a day. Or probably at least learn how to survive (and function) on less than 6 hours of sleep.

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Shell was left alone. He had the urge to laugh hysterically, the ridiculous image of the one time he had argued with his teacher in school and had been punished to stand in the corner of the room wearing the dunce cap arising in his mind’s eye. He gulped it down, reminding himself of the vast difference in circumstances.

His hands were tightly bound before him, a length of chain that looped through his collar holding them waist level. Twisting his head to the left and up, he saw that the end of the leash had been tied to a metal ring in the wall. Not as if he could move it anyway, there was some kind of magic in the bonds that prevented his fingers from untying them. He shifted his weight on to his left foot, the brand on his right sole was aching again.

He stiffened as the door opened. The tall, blond princess entered, coming to a stop before him. Kest snapped her fingers and a goblet rose from the side table, floating gently into her hand. She sipped slowly, her eyes still focused on Shell.

“What magic is it that you have?” she asked, her voice low and throaty.

“M… Magic, Yo… Your Highness?” Shell’s wide eyes were still staring at the goblet. “I… I’m just a m… musician.”

Her long fingers pinched at her lower lip, her eyes narrowing. “Musician! Pah! You think you can sooth my father with mere music? There is magic in the tunes that you play.”

“Maybe it… it’s in the instruments, Your Highness. I… I don’t know any m… magic.”

“In that old harp they chain you to? It’s been there for the last fifty years, soaking up the blood of each musician that has displeased my father. Most of them last for only a day or two. You’ve been here for nearly a month. And yet I wonder why I never noticed you earlier. You, who dare perform magic in my courts.”

He was shaking now, shrinking back into the corner, sure that his end had come.

“I… I didn’t mean to, Your H… Highness. It was… was a mistake. I…”

She laughed as he fell on his face.

“P… Please don’t kill me! I… I won’t do it anymore.”

“Don’t do it anymore.”

Shell couldn’t tell if it was a question, or a statement. “No… no, I…”

“Do you have a death wish then?”

Her voice had moved. Shell sneaked a peek up to see that the princess was now reclining on her couch.

“Come here, boy.”

He glanced up at the wall to see the leash untying itself. He swallowed hard as he crawled toward her, hampered by his bonds.

There was amusement in her voice as she said, “You may rise.”

With a nod, he got to his feet, walking as best as he could in the short length of chain that connected his ankles.

“The shoes, please. Put them by the door.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

He worked at the many laces that held the high boots together, but it seemed that as he got each one untied, somewhere else his work was undone. The knot in the pit of his stomach grew bigger with each passing moment, beads of sweat rising on his forehead. And yet the princess didn’t speak. He didn’t dare turn to look at her, wondering in the back of his mind if this was some strange game she was playing, a prelude to his torture and execution.

He grit his teeth as he worked on, determined not to give in.

“What is your name?”

He startled at her words, his fingers fumbling. “Shell, Your Highness.”

“Relax, Shell. Close your eyes and imagine the knots in your mind. Can you see the centre? Play it like your harp.”

Shell closed his eyes and tried to think, the image of his own grisly death intruding into his thoughts. And yet even as his eyes shut off the light, his fingers seemed to find their own way in the darkness of his mind. A gentle touch here, a tug on that end, a pull, a push. He blinked as the boots slid easily off her feet into his hands. He wobbled to his feet.

“Never mind about that,” the princess flicked her fingers and the boots flew away of their own accord. “Come here.”

He sat where she had gestured, pulling his knees to his chest.

Her eyes, level to his from where she reclined, scrutinised his face.

“So strong, and yet so unaware. Do you know that even my apprentice has yet to reach the magical strength required to remove my boots? And you do it on your first attempt.”

“Please, Your Highness, I won’t…”

“You won’t what? Do magic anymore? You can’t help it, boy. It’s in you. And if you stop, if your music ceases to please my father, you’re as good as dead. No. I could use you.”

She stopped pulling at her lower lip, seeming to come to a decision. “Come along then,” she said as she got up. She strode to the door. Shell gaped as the boots laced themselves around her feet. The leash tugged at him and he hobbled along behind her. 

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Competitions: #REN3 and Commonwealth

If you haven't already visited the Renaissance blog... go now!
The shortlist of 6 has been up since Sunday, and you have two more days to vote for your favourite story. The poll will close at 11.59PM GMT on Friday 11th November, and the winner of the blogfest will be announced on Monday 14th November!
I'm kind of sad that I didn't make the list, but all the stories were so awesome that it doesn't really matter. :)

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So maybe I'm slow-ish, but I just found out that Commonwealth Writers is holding two competitions:

Commonwealth book prize
Awarded for best first book, this prize is open to writers who have had their first novel (full length work of fiction) published between 1 January and 31 December 2011. Publishers must enter the book on behalf of the author except in the case of self published authors from eligible regions who can make their own submission. Regional winners receive £2,500 and the overall winner receives £10,000.
Entry forms must be submitted no later than Friday 9 December 2011 (5pm GMT). Books must be received by the Prize Administrator no later than Friday 16 December 2011 (5pm GMT).

Commonwealth short story prize
Awarded for the best piece of unpublished short fiction (2000 – 5000 words). Submissions must be made by the author of the short story. Regional winners receive £1,000 and the overall winner receives £5,000.
Entry forms must be submitted no later than 30 November 2011 (5pm GMT). 

So head on over if you're eligible! 

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Nanowrimo progress since the last update: 0.
:(

Nano Spotlight at Kelworth Files

Today I'm over at Chris's blog, the Kelworth Files for his Nano Spotlight, where he asks me 4 Nanowrimo-related questions and a sneaky ninja question.
Do pop on over!

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Nanowrimo update:
I've crossed the 10K line and am pretty much on target up until yesterday. Today, I may have to work late (nothing unusual) in order to be able to leave work early-ish tomorrow (which to an auditor means after the official working hours of 5.30pm, but before 8pm) because a friend of mine is helping a friend of his do a video commercial shoot and asked if I wanted to help out. So maybe no additional words today.
Or for the rest of this week, depending on how much sleep I actually need.
My dad is graduating with his Masters this weekend so there is a graduation dinner on Thursday followed by the graduation ceremony on Friday and on Saturday, my family and I fly off to the exotic Land Below the Wind (I think?) of Kota Kinabalu. (That's located on the Malaysian Borneo, if you're checking).

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But I had a blog post I wanted to do up on Sunday, which I haven't but which I might. We'll see.

The #nanowrimo update

It's four days into #nanowrimo (well, five, if you count the fact that it's already past midnight) and I've achieved a grand total of 5,529 words. Which is not bad, since I didn't write anything on Thursday at all. (Day 4's goal was 6,666 words)

I was hoping to be something of a plotter this year, seeing that I had a story arch and all, but right now... I'm not following the plan.
I had organised the story into two parts - the first part explores Shell's prophecy, his feelings of disparateness with his own country/race and how he was captured by the Danyans. The second part jumps forward about 15 years. Shell has found his niche in the Danyan society and is one of the cream magicians (main thought: echoes of Daniel in the Bible). Then he is ordered to lead a strike against his own country. His family, what's left of it, is still there. The main thought I'm playing with at the moment is the idea of loyalty to your country. How far and how deep does it run if you've left it for so long? If you've never felt like you belonged there? Will Shell have any qualms about the attack or would he just do it?

I got stuck on Day 1 and 2 because I just couldn't get a beginning out as I had envisioned. I mean, I had this whole Chapter One is going to introduce the MC, Chapter Two is going to play up on the MC's interaction with his family/society, etc.... but I just couldn't write it.
So about 3K words into the beginning, I gave up.Today I jumped right into what I figured would be the "Part 2" of the story and wrote 2.2K words in about 2 and a half hours.
Maybe I will still write Part 1... but we'll see. If I can't find enough energy to be intersted in writing it, it probably won't be very interesting to read it either. Maybe I need to keep on writing this "meaty" Part 2 stuff first to know more about Shell before I go back into that bit.

So I guess I'm still partially a panster.

Toodles off to do a bit of championing. :)

George Town Literary Festival 26&27 November 2011

GAH! I am on duty in church on this weekend!

It's the Open Minds virtual launch party!

Open Minds is finally launching today!
So as part of the party, I'm posting my review of the book. *throws confetti*
Special thanks to Susan for the e-ARC of the book.

In a world where the ability to read minds comes with puberty, Kira Moore is still a zero at sixteen. She can’t read minds and no one can read hers, making her the outcast with no viable future whom nobody trusts or likes. As a zero, not only does Kira have to deal with the normal pains of growing up, raging hormones and all, she also has to deal with being an outcast just because she is different.

Then the incredible happens - she accidentally controls her best friend (and secret crush) Raf’s mind, almost killing him. Desperately trying to get a hold on her new mindjacking power, the only one who seems to be able to help her is bad boy Simon Zagan. Even as she is pulled into his orbit and dragged deep into the hidden world of mindjackers, it gets both harder and easier to fit in - because now she can pretend to be like the others, but at what cost?





Quinn has written a brilliant post about her theme, quoted here:

The idea of tolerance (or the lack of it) is a compelling one for me. The human brain is wired to distrust the "other" - to be wary or outright hate those who are different. This is the wolf of hate, that Rick Hanson spoke of so eloquently. It takes conscious acts of courage and open mindedness to overcome this natural tendency to fear people who are different, to feed our wolf of love instead of the wolf of hate. While racial intolerance has a tremendous impact on the world, I think of tolerance as a broader issue that affects interactions between all kinds of people. Even small acts of open mindedness can have a huge impact on the people both giving and receiving.

• Open minds treat you with respect, instead of snubbing you for being too strange or too new or too foreign or too shy.
• Open minds are compassionate, giving you a hand up when you are down, instead of pretending they don't see your pain or piling on when the pack attacks.
• Open minds accept you, treating you like the flawed, unique, wonderful person that you are, instead of judging you by your looks, skin color, or accent.

I love Kira’s voice in the book, which draws you into her internal dilemma even as she tries to figure out how to survive in a world that thinks her a freak. I love the way she tries to hold on to her principles and to stand up for what is right, even when it makes life even more difficult for her. I believe that the world needs more positive examples who will stand up and fight for justice and truth - and Kira Moore is one of them.

All in all, a great read.

Other miscellaneous tidbits:

• Open Minds was started as a NaNoWriMo novel (yay for NaNoWriMo!) two years ago
• Closed Hearts, the coming sequel to Open Minds, will be written during NaNoWriMo this year
• Kira, in Malay, means count. In a bizarre way, I think the name is very apt. Kira is trying very hard to make her life, and the lives of other young mindjackers and zeros count. 

 

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PRIZES!

Susan Kaye Quinn is giving away an Open Books/Open Minds t-shirt, mug, and some fun wristbands to celebrate the Virtual Launch Party of Open Minds (Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy)! (Check out the prizes here.)


Three ways to enter (you can have multiple entries):

1) Leave a comment here or at the Virtual Launch Party post

2) Tweet (with tag #keepingOPENMINDS)

Example: When everyone reads minds, a secret is a dangerous thing to keep. #keepingOPENMINDS @susankayequinn #SF #YA avail NOW http://bit.ly/SKQOpenMinds

Example: Celebrate the launch of OPEN MINDS by @susankayequinn #keepingOPENMINDS #SciFi #paranormal #YA avail NOW http://bit.ly/SKQOpenMinds
3) Facebook (tag @AuthorSusanKayeQuinn)

Example: Celebrate the launch of paranormal/SF novel OPEN MINDS by @AuthorSusanKayeQuinn for a chance to win Open Books/Open Minds prizes! http://bit.ly/SKQOpenMinds







*********************************************************************

When everyone reads minds, a secret is a dangerous thing to keep.

Sixteen-year-old Kira Moore is a zero, someone who can’t read thoughts or be read by others. Zeros are outcasts who can’t be trusted, leaving her no chance with Raf, a regular mindreader and the best friend she secretly loves. When she accidentally controls Raf’s mind and nearly kills him, Kira tries to hide her frightening new ability from her family and an increasingly suspicious Raf. But lies tangle around her, and she’s dragged deep into a hidden world of mindjackers, where having to mind control everyone she loves is just the beginning of the deadly choices before her.

Open Minds (Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy) by Susan Kaye Quinn is available in e-book (Amazon US (also UK, France and Germany), Barnes & Noble, Smashwords) and print (Amazon, Createspace, also autographed copies available from the author).

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Nanowrimo... coming soon!

So... I've decided to make another attempt at nanowrimo, only because I actually have a story.
And by that, I mean that I have characters (five of them so far) and I have a story arch, and I have a beginning, and I have an ending (I think. It might change as it goes), and I have something of a muddly idea of a middle. So that, I hope, is going to make it just that little bit more easier to keep going after last year's fiasco.

To be fair, I had a great idea last year. I actually was on target up to about somewhere in the second week. And then it happened. I realised that I just didn't know enough of about what I was trying to write about. I just couldn't continue writing after that. Sigh. Don't worry though, that story is still in the pipeline... I will get back to it when I feel that I know enough! (Also, when I have time to go and research).

This year's story... will not face that problem because I am writing what I love to read the most. Fantasy. I don't think it's going to be quite under the epic category (I'm not sure what fits there) but it's gonna be an exciting adventurous story and if I get stuck... I'll just re-read a favourite for inspiration! The thing that is going to be a challenge though is this whole world-building thing. I suck at it. I suck at making decisions as to why this should happen and why it should not. What kind of magical structure it should be? Mysterious or rule-based? Inherent or learnt? (I'm leaning towards inherent)
Argh, and this whole plotting thing? Sigh. I'm so seriously a panster. Then again, who knows? I might find that it's easier to write with all this background and structure in place. We'll see.



At any rate, Sommer Leigh is inviting YOU to be a NaNoWriMo champion. 

What does that mean? 
It means even if you aren't going to join in the fun, you'll be standing by the sidelines and cheering us on.
How do I do that?
Simple. See that linky list down there? Take a few minutes of your time to visit each of those blogs and leave and encouraging comment - ESPECIALLY on posts that sound something like this: "MY NOVEL SUCKS SO MUCH I'M GOING TO GIVE UP!"
What if I'm taking part?
If you're taking part, add your name and link to the list! And don't forget to pop by at your fellow wrimos blogs and leave sparkly writer dust! Add them to your buddy list so that their wordcounts can cheer you on! (I'm natanna at the site) Most of all, have fun. Write fast. Write with abandon. You have the rest of the year to edit. Just get those words out.
(Also, check back here on Nov 1 for a special post...)

#REN3: Coach Thief (part 4)

Read:
Part one
Part two
Part three


Prompt: There is a new arrival in town
Wordcount: 590

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“Look, Cousin Randall. We can easily explain ourselves,” Jean started.

“Why do we need to explain anything to him?” Jane interrupted, pulling away from him. “You’ve already told him enough as it is.”

“I barely said anything!”

“Oh,” she lowered her voice, “telling him we’re engaged isn’t enough, is it? Next you’ll be telling him my family name.”

Randall cleared his throat.

Jean glanced at him. “Come on, Jane. Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable! About what?”

“About the gun in his hand?”

“He won’t shoot. Will you, Randall?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“Well. Now. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” Randall said, lowering his gun.

“We just got engaged a week ago,” Jean said, ignoring Jane’s glares. “And Bill’s a new hire.”

Randall tugged at his collar. “Well, congratulations again then, but how could Bill not know? Population about Roundeli is probably much less than our three hundred and thirty three in Renaissance and I’m sure an engagement in the Johnson family would be a pretty big do…”

“Ah, that’s because, we didn’t exactly…”

“Look, Cousin Randall, let’s be reasonable,” Jane glared at Jean. “I made a mistake. Jean here has cleared it up. Can’t we leave it at that?”

“We could, I suppose,” he said slowly. “But there seems to be a lot of confusion about here.”

“Oh, no one’s confused,” she said brightly. “The coach belongs to Jean, and I didn’t recognise his new coachman. Jean here, and the coachman, of course, will follow you back to your place, where I’m sure they will have a wonderful stay in all the comforts of Renaissance. I will have to be heading back to Assart. Have to return the horse, you know. Is that all settled?”

Jean shrugged.

“As settled as can be,” Randall finally said, throwing Jean a look that clearly meant ‘you had better tell me all about it when she is gone’.

“Wonderful. I’ll be on my way then.” Jane made her way to her horse, Jean trailing after her.

“Stay out of trouble,” Jean said wryly, as he gave her a peck on the cheek.

“You better keep your mouth shut,” Jane warned him as she mounted the horse.

“Will you be in Assart when I head back to Roundeli?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet. We will have to see the situation then. I will try to write to you as soon as I can settle things.”

The four of them turned as the pounding of hooves carried over the wind.

Randall squinted in the hot sun. He could make out two riders coming in with speed.

“Plenty of visitors to Renaissance today,” he commented.

Jane leaned forward, her mouth tight. “Time to run for it,” she hissed even as she spurred her horse and galloped away.

Jean watched as one of the riders peeled away, turning to follow Jane’s tracks.

The other rider rode up to the post office.

“What was Jane Heriot doing here?” he asked roughly.

“That wasn’t Jane Heriot. I think you were mistaken,” Jean said. He gripped the railing tightly to keep his hands from shaking.

“Don’t lie to me, boy. I can recognise that redhead from more than a hundred paces. Is her pa here?”

“Nope, no one called Heriot in this town, right Randall?”

Randall nodded. “Those kind stay over in Heriot’s Pass where they belong.”

The man rumbled with laughter. “Outlaws never stay where they belong, mister.”

Randall stared at Jean speculatively. The young man had a lot of explaining to do.

---

And we are done!

#bookreview: Character Development from the Inside Out

Character Development from the Inside Out by Scott Morgan

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


If what you’re looking for is a book that pulls out from your own subconscious the basic building blocks of how to create compelling characters, then Scott Morgan’s Character Development from the Inside Out is a great resource.

Character Development is a well-structured resource book that leads you a step at a time through subjects like the necessity of creating believable and relevant characters, how characters and their reactions really drive the story (even if it’s a plot-driven novel), getting to know your characters, types of characters and, of course, how to actually build your character. He relates the process with how an artist draws a figure model - from the bare bones outwards.

Morgan also drills down into three main genres - defined as heroic, commercial and literary fiction - to discuss typical heroes and villains that are often found and gives keys to understanding how they were created and how it can be applied in developing your own characters.

Following his points is not difficult - Morgan relates his key points to everyday life observations and our own natural reactions to the people around us. To further drive it home, he then links these to characters in different novels which makes you sit up and go “hey - I kind of knew that. Why didn’t I realise it before?”

This is one resource I will probably be reading again for refreshers.


View all my reviews

Note: I received this a review copy of this book from Scott Morgan.

#Fridayflash: Waiting

She sighed, watching as pink and orange fingers stretched across the sky above her. The smell of synbatec* wafted over the salty breeze; like old newspapers, she had once told him. He sank onto the mat next to her. Propping up her head with her left hand, she seemed to align herself to him, her eyes devouring that forbidden mystery cloaked in softening half-shadows. Engines roared to life in the distance - work would be starting in an hour or so, but she was wastopaneer** now. Free.

The minutes ticked by and she watched him breathing, wondering when he would say something. If he would say something. She shifted her body again and again. Finally pulling up the edge of the rattan mat, she brushed at the sand until she found an offending stone. She walked to the edge of the water. A flick of her wrist and the stone skipped out into the horizon, finally sinking in a slow wave. Dusting the grit off her hands, she sat back down on the mat wondering what would happen next.

He was moving now, sniffing at the air. She sniffed tentatively with him, wrinkling her nose when she caught it too. The look on his face now was similar to the one he had when he had told the waiter off for spilling the coffee yesterday.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise…” she blurted, her hands reaching towards him in supplication, waiting for the cutting words, bitter sneers.

Instead, he caught her hands, pulling her tight against him, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Tacise***,” he whispered. It doesn’t matter.

She caught her breath as he leaned in; her eyes widening.

His first kiss was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted.

---

Wordcount: 289  

* a synthetic perfume
** someone who has just been retrenched
*** Don't worry.


---
From Rachael Harrie's Third Campaigner Challenge:

Write a blog post in 300 words or less, excluding the title. The post can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should show:

• that it’s morning, 

• that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach

• that the MC (main character) is bored

• that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting

• that something surprising happens.

Just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: "synbatec," "wastopaneer," and "tacise."   (NB. these words are completely made up and are not intended to have any meaning other than the one you give them).

I know the title is rather unimaginative. I suck at titles.

Edit: I knew I forgot something. I'm #78 on Rachael's linky if you feel the urge to vote for me. :)

A to Z, Intense Debate, Character Development and a Launch Party!

A to Z
The A to Z Challenge now has its own blog here: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. Click join to become a Friend of the Alphabet!

IntenseDebate
I don't know if you've noticed, but I've recently installed IntenseDebate as my new commenting system. I saw it from over at J.L. Campbell's blog and thought oh hey, that looks snazzy! And it solves the reply-to-comment problem I was having. So I hope it works =]
I noticed that it seemed to revert to the old commenting system sometime during the day. It could be because the new Blogger interface is not supported (the how-to guides were based on the old one) so I've switched back. Tweet/e-mail me if you have problems commenting so I can figure out whether to stay with it or not.
Edit: I figured out at least one thing wrong... IntenseDebate does not show up if you use IE. BOO, IE!! It apparently shows up fine on Safari and Firefox so far. 

Character Development from the Inside Out
I don't know what took me so long to get onto goodreads but I'm seriously loving it! I've just received a pdf promo copy of Scott Morgan's book, Character Development from the Inside Out for review purposes as part of the WriteHook-A-Palooza event. It's good stuff - the review should be up probably by Saturday. (I'd say Friday, but I've got the Third Campaigner's Challenge scheduled then).

Open Minds Virtual Launch Party
I'm taking part in Susan Kaye Quinn's upcoming virtual book launch on November 1st. I "met" Susan recently via our triberr group, Writer Warriors, and am looking forward to reading her novel!
The party involves:

• posts on #keepingOPENMINDS
• reviews of Open Minds
• guest posts by Susan! 

You can sign up here if you want to join in the fun (the guest post option is now closed, though). I'll be posting my review on 1st Nov itself so remember to check back here AND at her site on 1/11/11 to party with us. :)
She's hosting an ARC giveaway right now so hop on over to enter. Two paper ARCs are up for grabs!

Here's the blurb to keep you entertained:

When everyone reads minds, 
    a secret is a dangerous thing to keep.

Sixteen-year-old Kira Moore is a zero, someone who can’t read thoughts or be read by others. Zeros are outcasts who can’t be trusted, leaving her no chance with Raf, a regular mindreader and the best friend she secretly loves. When she accidentally controls Raf’s mind and nearly kills him, Kira tries to hide her frightening new ability from her family and an increasingly suspicious Raf. But lies tangle around her, and she’s dragged deep into a hidden world of mindjackers, where having to mind control everyone she loves is just the beginning of the deadly choices before her.

#REN3: Coach Thief (part 3)

Read part one and part two.

Prompt: Relationships unravel or strengthen, a long-kept secret is revealed
Wordcount: 574

---

“Did I? I don’t seem to recall.”
“So you be a liar and a thief.”
“How dare you accuse me…”
“You don’t have problems accusing everyone else.”
“Let go of me, you… you…”
The verbal volley made Jean’s head spin. He was just glad no guns were making their appearance just yet, though he could see the man’s trigger finger twitching involuntarily.
“Hold on a minute here,” he interjected, stepping in between them. “What are you doing here, Jane? Were you following me?”
“Oh Jean, I saw someone drive off with the coach and I couldn’t find you, so I came after him.”
“Then why did you say it was yours?” the man growled. “Who are you? And I don’t like being lied to, woman.”
“I…”
“She’s my fiancee,” Jean said quickly, shooting a look at her.
“And who might you be?”
“I’m Jean Johnson. I’m here to visit with my cousin Randall.”
“That the truth now,” he replied, rubbing at his stubble. Jean wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, so he just nodded.
“Well, then. This is a pickle.”
“What is?”
“I always thought Cousin Jean was a girl.”
Jean laughed. “My mother was French.”
“And that makes it alright?”
“No, that makes it normal - in some faraway places, like the Roundeli Mountains.” Jean had a sneaky suspicion that this would turn out to be his cousin. The man looked less tense now, starting to smile genially at Jane. “And you are…”
“Cousin Randall.”
“Ah. Glad to have finally met you, Cousin.”
“Likewise.”
The two men shook hands.
“Done with your letter writing, Bill? You’ll have to take the coach round to Cousin Randall’s place,” Jean addressed his coachman.
“All done, sir.” Bill purchased a couple of stamps and left the letter with the postmaster.

Noticing Jane’s pinched face, Jean hung back as Randall and Bill headed toward the door.
“Cousin Randall, you two go on ahead. I just need to have a talk with Jane for a little while.”
Not waiting for a reply, Jean turned on his fiancee. “What’s wrong now?” he hissed.
“I thought you didn’t want to announce our engagement just yet!” she said frantically. “Did you forget?”
“Forget? No - he looked like the family-man type and I didn’t know who he was. And it’s the truth anyway. You are going to be my wife, aren’t you?”
She smiled coyly angling her face up for a kiss. He kissed her on the nose.
“What if your mother finds out?” she whispered.
He put his arms around her waist. “We’ll steal the letter before it reaches her. Don’t worry, Jane. We’ll sort it out somehow. Practically though, what do we do now?”
“I’ve got to get back to Assart before Bob throws a fit.”
Jean looked out the window. “You had better leave soon if you want to make it before sundown.”
“Yes. But I’ll miss you.”
“You can ride up any day you want, missy.”
She giggled. Hand in hand, they headed out the door.

Randall was leaning against the coach inspecting his gun, the brim of his hat pulled low over his eyes.
“I do have a question, Cousin Jean.”
“What’s that, Cousin Randall?”
“If this here woman’s your fiancee,” he tilted the barrel carelessly at Jane. “How come this here coachman of yours doesn’t know that you’re engaged? And why would she not know your own coachman?”
Jean held her close, protectively.

---

Tune in next Wednesday/Thursday for the grand finale! :)

Edit: Read part four here.

Three exciting things

After the release of Letters to my ten year old self, I received an e-mail saying that I won a book in a Goodreads giveaway:

Isn't that exciting! I've never read any of Sandra Brown's stuff, but I'm looking forward to it. It should be arriving in about 4 - 6 weeks, according to the site.
Here's an excerpt of the blurb, taken off the goodreads page:
 

Hammond Cross wants to be the district attorney, and for years he has proven himself to be a man of high principles and irreproachable character. When his investigations turn up evidence of the corruption of local tycoon Lute Pettijohn, Hammond has no doubt about what is the right thing to do--even when his own father is under suspicion. However, this simple debate becomes complicated when Pettijohn is murdered and Hammond's alibi is a night of forbidden passion with the suspected murderess, Dr. Alex Ladd.

Also, this is a little late in the posting, but Weng Onn, a friend of mine, is (was?) the composer for the latest Malaysian musical: The Secret Life of Nora.

The write up was in the Star here and I'd initially missed reading it (I don't read the news much) but my mom went "hey, your friend was interviewed."
Back in 2004 we were in the same cell group at SIB KL and we worked together in the first season of Drunk Before Dawn. (Chehwah, sounds so pro... he was one of the composers, I was a lowly chorus member. Haha)
I don't really know why I'm excited for him, since I haven't actually spoken to him since I left KL in 2006-ish and he went off to New York for his Masters, but hey I'm happy for his success!

I've also got my novel synopsis up at on my NaNoWriMo profile! I'm excited that I actually have a plot and something akin to a story line even before November and I think I could really do a lot with this one. It's also something I've been wanting to write for a while now - something which fits the profile of most of the books I read: it has magic and fighting. I'm a little sucky on the world-building thing (which is why I'm glad I have the idea now so I can fiddle with it before the writing spree comes) but there's no better place to start and try than now, is there?
I admit I was also very excited about last year's story, but I hit a glitch called "I have no clue what I'm writing about" which derailed me midway. I'm still researching into that one on a bit of an on-and-off basis because I really do like the story, but it really needs more research, which I don't really have the time to do on a consistent basis. Sigh. If anyone wants to be my political/sociological advisor with a spin on a uniquely Malaysian setup, please feel free to volunteer. I'm also trying to steer off the deep undercurrent of blatant racist blaming that happens so often, so that's a challenge.

Okay. So that's the three exciting things for today.
I'll just add one more for good measure. Alex and Donna Carrick at Carrick Publishing are having a Daily E-book Give-away, so mosey over here to pick up the free coupon codes for smashwords. I've already read Donna's Sept-iles and Other Places, which was a really good read (my review here) so I'm looking forward to reading the rest of them.

Some shameless self promotion

I'm excited to announce that my previous friday flash "Dear ten year old self" has been published in a collection of stories here: Letters to My Ten Year Old Self!
It started off as a writing prompt by Nina Pelletier, full-time writer who lives in Ontario, Canada, and has been compiled by Nina and Drew Nicholson on smashwords via their the soon-to-be-online publishing house Scriptorum Tantillum.
If you liked my entry, I'm sure you'll thoroughly enjoy the book!
Get it here!
[Edit: I realise I didn't say something I should have - the book is currently free on Smashwords. So go download your copy now!]

#REN3: Coach Thief (part 2)

Read part one.




Prompt: A character lies to another on an important matter, One of the characters is revealed to be not who she is
Wordcount: 549
---

Jane glared at the man, pulling her hand away from his grip. She turned on her heel and stalked up and down the porch, shooting furious thoughts at him. As his words filtered through her brain, she stopped mid-step.

“I’m sorry, but uh, actually,” she stammered.

“What is it?” His eyes flickered irritably in her direction.

“Are… are you Cousin Randall?”

She could feel the blush starting from the base of her neck, the warmth blossoming up to her high cheekbones, as he nodded.

“You be Cousin Jean?” he asked wryly.

“I… yes. Sorry.”

“So this here unknown man,” he nodded at the door, “stole this here fancy coach from you from somewhere in Assart?”

She nodded back at him, wondering if she would have enough time to pull this off, even if her face hadn’t already given her away. He was rubbing at his chin now, deep in thought. She watched as his hand started caressing the butt of his gun.

“Where did you get it?”

“Sorry? Get what?”

“The coach. Not something you would regularly be driving round about here, would it? I’d imagine that’s why this here man was trying to get his fingers on it.”

“It’s just painted - not even gilded,” she said in a rush, trying to calm her wobbly voice. She was sure he suspected something the way he was staring hard-eyed. “The old pa did it up with a crest and everything - reminder of the past generations. Said he wanted to ride in style. I told him it wasn’t worth the expense and the effort.”

“Well then, let’s go find this thief to dispense some justice.”

Jane watched as he strode toward the door, arms slightly akimbo, his right hand brushing the holster on his hip. She took a step backward, waiting for him to enter the post office, when he turned again.

“Coming along?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” She shrugged and followed him into the sunlit room.

The man behind the counter looked up at them then gave Jane a nod.

“Morning, ma’am. Howdy, Randall. That your cousin?”

Randall nodded. “Yep. And by her account your customer here seems to have stolen her coach.”

The sound of scratching stopped as the coachman looked up from the letter he was writing.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” the postmaster asked.

“The coach belongs to my boss,” he said calmly, resuming his writing.

Randall rubbed at his stubble again before speaking slowly. “You say the lady lies?”

“Didn’t say that. She could be mistaken.”

With Randall’s concentration fixed on the coachman, Jane slowly backed towards the door. As the tips of her fingers brushed against the door, it suddenly swung open sending her sprawling on the ground.

“Bill, I see you got the coach here in one piece. Oh dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you over,” a familiar voice said. “Why, Jane! What are you doing in Renaissance?” The young man reached down, hand outstretched to help her up.

“Oh, hello, Jean. Just passing through. I think I have to go now,” she blurted in a spurt, scrambling to her feet.

“Hold on a moment!” Randall strode across the room, grabbing her arm. “Didn’t you say you were Cousin Jean?”

She broke out in cold sweat.

---
Read part three.

#REN3: Coach Thief

Prompt: There is an argument.
Wordcount: 434
Setting: Western (late 1900s)

Randall squinted in the hot sun. He could make out dust clouds in the distance and hoped that it was the herald of Cousin Jean’s arrival. He rubbed at his prickly chin, wondering if he should have taken the time to shave that morning, seeing that the coach was late anyway. Well, it was too late for that now. She would have to take him as he was.

The black and gold coach stopped outside the post office.

“Howdy, stranger,” Randall greeted the coachman. “Welcome to Renaissance. You be carrying Cousin Jean?”

The man looked him up and down. “No,” he replied gruffly, turning away, his eyes stripping the small outpost town.

“Ah, well. Come in through Targe, did you?”

“No.” He threw the reins down to Randall who caught them deftly.

“Kris or Villein then?”

“What’s it to you?”

Randall shrugged. “See any other travellers coming out your way?”

The coachman ignored him and entered the building. Randall tied the reins to a nearby post and went back to surveying the horizon.

The new dust cloud that appeared fifteen minutes later didn’t look big enough to be another coach. Randall shaded his eyes with his hand, trying to get a better look. The woman who came galloping in at full speed was furious - Randall could tell by the set of her mouth, the lines of her eyebrows. He was fairly sure the shade of her face was more to do with the blistering heat and dust than her current state of emotions.

“Why the hell did you steal my coach?” she yelled as she dismounted.

Randall looked around. “I…”

“Don’t deny it! And you dare stand here, waiting for me to catch up with you? What the hell is wrong with you?” She had him pressed against the wall of the post office, pounding his chest with each word.

“But Ma’am, twasn’t me! The man, he…”

“It was you, Mr. Fuzzy Face! Now own up. I had to borrow this lousy horse that I have to take all the way back to Assart!”

“Look here, woman, you can’t simply go around accusing people you don’t know of stealing your coach.” He could feel the heat rising to his ears.

“Don’t woman me. I recognise your shoddy face and dusty clothes. Stupid country men!”

He caught her hand mid-punch, making her wince.

“I’ll woman you if I want to!” he growled. “The man from off the coach just walked into this here building. Now why don’t you go in and yell at him, then? Now leave me alone. I’m waiting for my cousin.”

---
Read part two.
Read part three.

Post camp post: being true to myself, a writer.

We had this session during iBridge camp about discernment, i.e. knowing the will of God. I don't have all the notes (I stopped jotting when they said they would get the slides to us, but I haven't seen them yet) but there was one thing that really struck me that day.

One of the guiding principles of discernment is to stay true and truthful to who and whose you are in Christ. 

There's a lot of stuff floating around about knowing yourself, being true to yourself, standing up for who you really are, and not all of it is Christian. In fact, most of it is rather post-modernistic, individualistic, let-me-do-what-the-heck-I-want-so-get-out-of-my-face-God (or maybe I'm getting the wrong kind of vibes here). But more often in the Christian circles, there's a lot of thing about finding God's will, focusing only on God and ignoring ourselves (we are nothing, we are nothing, we are nothing - kind of Buddhist, no?). True, Christ must increase, and we must decrease, but does that mean we ignore everything that our passions and inclinations drive us towards?

What does it mean to stay true and truthful to who you are? (Let's ignore the other bits for a moment.) Who you are matters, because God made you that way. If you are an engineer, you worship God through your engineering skills and making that no one gets killed by a bridge falling down or a phone blowing up or... something like that (I get a little fuzzy on details because there are so many kinds of engineers). If you are a doctor, you worship God by helping people get well, or at least by easing their pain until it's time to go. If you are a lawyer, you worship God by helping innocent people get their lives back and assist in disseminating justice where it's needed (though it may seem rather arbitrary at times). If you are an accountant or an auditor, you help ensure that the companies don't cheat money off their investors and the employees don't defraud their employers (to what little extent you can). But if you are an artist, or a writer, or a dancer, or anything to do with music and creative arts, it suddenly seems that you can't and aren't doing anything productive or useful unless you are leading worship in church, or decorating the church, or doing an Easter or Christmas production.

WHAT GIVES?

Why is every other profession more important to the body of Christ than the very professions that have the most impact on our daily lives?
And this is where I get into the rant mode, sorry.
I'm tired of people acting like it's SO easy to get a good story down on paper/screen, and to edit it. Like it can be done in a day. Yes, you can get 50,000 words out for NaNoWriMo in a month but that doesn't mean the story is good enough. It doesn't mean the writing is tight enough. It doesn't mean that you're done with it yet. And all this takes time, people. Time I do not have working a 8.30AM to whenever job.
I'm tired of people thinking it's SO easy to put a good play or *gasp* musical together. Like it can be put together in a week. Yes, you can have once a week practices for a month and do a decent play. But if it's anything longer than 5 minutes and you're working with a bunch of amateurs, or people who are just acting for the sake of it or because there is no one else, then it's not good enough. I'm sorry if I'm sounding condescending - I'm not the best of actors or directors OR playwrights - but it takes time to put stuff together that will be worth watching, and frankly half the stuff that comes out on church stages are not. Time I do not have working a 5-day, but in reality 6-day week.
I'm tired of the slipshod way we approach worship in church, like a two-hour anything-goes practice session is good enough to pull together a team that only plays together once in three weeks, and then expect God to DO SOMETHING WONDERFUL. Yes, He can, and DOES. But at the same time, is this what you really want to offer Him week after week? Because it is an offering, isn't it? It's not just "leading people to worship" it's also an act of worship in itself.

Where does this take us again? Well, it takes me back to the core question - who am i? 
What drives me? What makes me tick? What makes me stay up all night? Pulling aside all that I do and try to do, what motivates me?
This. Writing this. (It's 12.32AM now, despite the fact that you'll only see this on Sunday, 9AM because of the power of blog scheduling muahahahah and I have to get up at 6AM tomorrow to catch a plane.) Writing Friday Flashes. Receiving good and not-so-good comments. Trying to figure out which WIP to start editing, because I can't always sit on them until they grow stale and annoying.

And if this who I am is rooted in whose I am, doesn't that really mean that I'm a writer plugged in to the greatest Creator the world has ever seen? If I stay true to who I am and whose I am, doesn't that mean that I've already found my purpose and direction in life? Doesn't it mean that I don't have to keep asking the question, But God, what do you really want me to do?, as if I'm sure He's going to ask me to do something I cannot do or go somewhere I really hate just because I can't believe that He made me love writing so that I can write?

How does this translate into real life? 
I don't know yet. The two-year plan was to wait it out until David graduates and then see what happens. My mum insists it's a maximum one year break, to study some course or other in creative writing and/or creative arts. That may be part of the plan. I don't know. It's the first step I am looking at, just to redefine where I am.
Then again, it may be shorter. I don't know, there's this restlessness. There's this itch. There's this perpetual question (eh, so when are you going to resign? What, you're still at the same firm? Me: YAH, I know I'm loyal!)
But I'm ready, here and now.

#fridayflash: Imago dei

Sheril glared at her reflection: short, dumpy, too-dark skin, flat hair, eyes just a little too far apart.

“Hah! Who looks like god? Not me, certainly,” she grumbled aloud, certain that the comforting words the preacher had said this morning in church was just another miasma of religious pretension. “You can’t fill this lacuna with your empty words. Empty is empty and empty fills nothing.”

Mama would think her crazy to be talking to her reflection, but sometimes she thought Mama was crazy to believe in a god who would leave her in this hellhole with a missing Papa who could not even spell Cheryl right, stupid Latino.

“I certainly do not want to look like you either,” a voice said, startling her. “No, do not oscitate. I understand there has been a glitch in the spacetime continuum that has brought me here right at this moment, which has proven to be quite synchronistic, don’t you think?

Sheril stared at the bearded man reflected behind her left shoulder.

“Ah, all sorted out now,” he said, smiling.

“Who are you and what do you do in my room?” Sheril asked, turning to look behind her.

There was no one there.

---

Prompt: the second campaigner challenge.

Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:

• include the word "imago" in the title [check]
• include the following 4 random words: "miasma," "lacuna," "oscitate," "synchronicity," [check]

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post. [check]

For those who want an even greater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY! [check]

The 200 words was hard, this time. It kept getting either too long or too short. Like my post on rachael's blog (see link above) if you like it! It's number 167. :)

#bookreview: The White Road by Lynn Flewelling (goodreads crosspost)

The White Road by Lynn Flewelling
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Saddled with Sebrahn, a magical creature who can heal, kill and raise the dead, Seregil and Alec set off on a journey back to Plenimar, where an alchemist had created Sebrahn out of Alec’s blood, to find a way to prevent it from ever happening again. For exactly the same reason, they are hunted by Alec’s long-lost kin, intent on capturing him and Sebrahn before anymore tayan’gils are created out of Alec’s blood. Also hot on their tail is Seregil’s old nemesis who desires Sebrahn for his healing power.

I only picked up The White Road because it was on 50% discount and it had a Legolas-looking persona on the cover (not that I like Legolas, but I like elves and elvish stuff in general). I had browsed the blurb and found it to be about two heroes searching for “the truth about this living homunculus - a journey that can only lead to danger… or death”. I mean, what could go wrong with a fantasy with elves (she calls them faie, but anyone with a decent background in reading fantasy would know the words are interchangeable) and magic and dangerous adventure? I did take the precaution of reading the list of “also by Lynn Flewelling” to find out if it was part of a series, but didn’t find any indication. No “So and so series” with list of books or “book #XX of the something-or-other chronicles!”

Boy, was I wrong. After the first chapter, I started thinking that there was too much back story to the book for it to be a stand alone. Then again, The White Road was written as a complete novel in itself - whilst I wondered if there were prior books (maybe one of the also-bys) to the series, I didn’t find it difficult to follow the story. A quick google search later informed me that this was book 5 of the Nightrunner series.

It was altogether a tantalising read, one of those books that just don’t let you put it down. I mean, it took altogether about 5 hours, on a working night, up until 2AM to for me to release that final sigh of relief, so go figure.

Note:
I went back to the bookshop a few days later but couldn’t find any of the other books. I suppose Flewelling’s not popular enough to be high on the list of imports. On the other hand, I’ve only ever found the Ender series (Orson Scott Card) during warehouse sales, and you hardly see any Eddings on the shelves anymore, so maybe it’s the poor reception of fantasy books in Malaysia that’s causing the problem. A third deterrent could be the fact that the two main protagonists are in a homosexual relationship. Um, yeah, way to go, censorship board.

View all my reviews

#Fridayflash: An uneasy love

This is a short story I started working on for the Writer's Digest short story competition. As usual, I bit off a little more than I could chew in my choice of topic... so I may or may not finish it, depending on whether I figure out where they're going (or rather, whether they figure out who they really are and define the relationship [the one thing I ever learnt from Boundless was DTR, not that I ever had a chance to use it], if that makes sense). More notes after the story, because you may or may not agree with where I'm coming from. Don't read it if you're a bigot.
---

pre post camp post,

if that even makes sense.
I wanted to do a long post about camp. But I've been terribly busy at work trying to clear the backlog, and then I spent forever writing up (or rather editing) a travel advisory for the GCF delegates coming for the planning meeting for EAGC 2013 and my eyes can't stay open a moment longer. [Evangel asked me, don't you ever sleep? You sent me this at 2 AM and I see you online now (that was about 10AM on Tuesday morning).]
But I'll just leave you with a thought I've been mulling over since the session on discernment: what would you do different if you were to really know who and whose you were?

The other thing I have been mulling over would be to come up with some kind of blogging and/or writing schedule.
This would generally look something like this (with reference my past blogging trends):
Sundays (or sometimes Monday nights) - some deep reflective post and/or rant involving church, worship, cell group and God.
Fridays (or sometimes Saturday mornings) - #fridayflash
I should probably add in a day for updates on writing progress (hah! What progress?) which could possibly on Wednesdays, just to even it up.
We'll see how it goes. (This normally means that nothing will happen because I get too busy and/or lazy)

#Fridayflash: Now was forever

The door swung open; the aisle stretched endlessly before her. She smiled blankly, instinctively. The music swelling in her ears was overshadowed by the pounding of her heart. The first day of the rest of her life, and she stood there, like a fool, with an empty stomach. At least there was nothing to throw up.

How did I get here? The pink roses trembled, the baby buds she had asked for suddenly seeming alien in her freshly manicured hands. A steady arm held her, a familiar voice whispered in her ear, “Ready, my little princess?” Twenty-six years of being the baby of the family would be changed in the next hour; had in reality been changed yesterday at the Registrar’s office by the signatures of five people. What have I done?

It had seemed so simple, so magical, a year ago. He had asked, she had answered. And now, now was forever. Now was…

She was aware of the smiling face bobbing by the altar, so comforting and yet so unreal. She took the first step toward him, almost tripping on her dress and in her wobbly heels.

Her wedding train trailed behind her; the door swung shut.

---

Prompt: The first campaigner challenge!

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open” These four words will be included in the word count.[check]

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: "the door swung shut." (also included in the word count)[check]

For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY![check - according to Scrivener, at least]

This was quite fun. Also, rather inspired by my cousin's wedding and the recent spate of engagements. People, can you stop getting engaged and married already? Or at least find me one so I can join in the fun! Haha.
On writing matters, I find that I'm using commas a lot. Please let me know if it feels too disjointed or truncated. I'm not sure if it really works. 

How He Loves Us.

Awesomest.

And yet, so forgettable, in the midst of the hustle and bustle and the rush and the buzz. But at the core, oh, how he loves us.

Haggai 1:7-9

Thus says the Lord of hosts, "Consider your ways! Go up to the mountains, bring wood and rebuild the temple, that I may be pleased with it and be glorified," says the Lord. "You look for much, but behold, it comes to little; when you bring it home, I blow it away. Why?" declares the Lord of hosts, "Because of My house which lies desolate, while each of you runs to his own house."

When things seem pointless, a timely point to consider.

Working on my weekend worship set now. :)