I did this in ballpoint pen for my mum for mother's day. I scanned it so I could send the real one off to her. Hurray for stolen ballpoint pens!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
New Art!
I did this in ballpoint pen for my mum for mother's day. I scanned it so I could send the real one off to her. Hurray for stolen ballpoint pens!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Novel Time!
So here's a bit of the novel, at the request of some nice folks on Twitter. Here's to hoping this looks all right when I copy and paste it. *crosses fingers*
CHAPTER ONE
Of all those who came to Ival Nue from Earth, only one fell from the sky. While the others had traveled with a charm or spell about them, which opened a realm-gate and allowed them passage, the woman had merely a stone. Amethystine and small and uncut by jeweler’s hands, it was set into a silver pendant and strung on a fine silver chain. It was one of Ival Nue’s great treasures, though after three hundred years away from that land’s mana-rich air, it had lost much of the power besides realm-passage it possessed.
The woman appeared above the sunken islands of Valendar, where the old realm-gates now laid dormant, on the eve of the weeklong Celebration of Harvest. She was unconscious even before she began to fall. The stone around her neck whipped in the wind, cracking against her chin and jaw, making little lines of blood as she fell headfirst towards Falhast River. She flew, her arms outstretched, her legs beneath the folds of her skirts smacking against each other in the wind’s currents. From five hundred feet she fell, and if not for the mana entering into her system, absorbing into her blood, the impact of soft flesh on lotic river would have killed her. The surge of magical energies, alien to her system, made her like stone, impervious while it gathered in her body.
The water of Falhast River was ice cold at this time of year, just before the land hardened and the killing frost came, but she knew nothing of cold or pain. Nor did she feel the calloused hands that grasped at her long sleeves and pulled her aboard a small river lighter, where she was laid flat atop a large wooden crate, or those that carried her gently onto the galleon from which the lighter had been launched. As they boarded, one of the deck hands rang the vesper bell, signaling the shift change from day to evening crew.
“She fell from the sky, she did, not twenty feet afore our boat, sir,” said the man who was the largest of the three that came aboard. He was heavy-laden with bags and crates of goods from the lighter.
“Aye, she did sir," said the shortest, skinniest, of them. He also carried goods from their evening raid. “A right sylph from up cloudways.”
“Set her in my cabin, please, Captain,” said the speaker to the third man, who was medium-sized and carrying the girl. “Graystock, send for Harrigan to bring our prisoner up from the hold.” The speaker had empery over the ship, even over its captain, Kalfast Vannelth, and though his hauteur often annoyed the crew, if the captain did as he asked, so did they.
“What think you Milord?” asked Mr. Vannelth, setting the woman on the bed in the corner of the dark cabin. The boy closed the door behind them.
“Sylphs are not but legend, Mr. Vannelth. She is something, certainly, but a maid of legendry is most unlikely.” The boy had moved to the desk, which shared a wall with the bed’s headboard, where he lit the three candles atop it, bringing a dim yellow light into that corner of the cabin.
“Her skin is on fire,” said Mr. Vannelth, laying her limp arm across her stomach and covering her with one of the blankets folded at the end of the bed. “She was pulled from the frozen river, she should not be feverish.”
“We must wait for the acolyte’s judgment. His master is the Healer Prophet; he will be able to help her.”
And that's what you get. It's called "At the Ringing of the Vesper Bell" by the way. Hope you like it. Obviously, it's copyright to me. You steal it, I will personally kill you. Cheers!
CHAPTER ONE
Of all those who came to Ival Nue from Earth, only one fell from the sky. While the others had traveled with a charm or spell about them, which opened a realm-gate and allowed them passage, the woman had merely a stone. Amethystine and small and uncut by jeweler’s hands, it was set into a silver pendant and strung on a fine silver chain. It was one of Ival Nue’s great treasures, though after three hundred years away from that land’s mana-rich air, it had lost much of the power besides realm-passage it possessed.
The woman appeared above the sunken islands of Valendar, where the old realm-gates now laid dormant, on the eve of the weeklong Celebration of Harvest. She was unconscious even before she began to fall. The stone around her neck whipped in the wind, cracking against her chin and jaw, making little lines of blood as she fell headfirst towards Falhast River. She flew, her arms outstretched, her legs beneath the folds of her skirts smacking against each other in the wind’s currents. From five hundred feet she fell, and if not for the mana entering into her system, absorbing into her blood, the impact of soft flesh on lotic river would have killed her. The surge of magical energies, alien to her system, made her like stone, impervious while it gathered in her body.
The water of Falhast River was ice cold at this time of year, just before the land hardened and the killing frost came, but she knew nothing of cold or pain. Nor did she feel the calloused hands that grasped at her long sleeves and pulled her aboard a small river lighter, where she was laid flat atop a large wooden crate, or those that carried her gently onto the galleon from which the lighter had been launched. As they boarded, one of the deck hands rang the vesper bell, signaling the shift change from day to evening crew.
“She fell from the sky, she did, not twenty feet afore our boat, sir,” said the man who was the largest of the three that came aboard. He was heavy-laden with bags and crates of goods from the lighter.
“Aye, she did sir," said the shortest, skinniest, of them. He also carried goods from their evening raid. “A right sylph from up cloudways.”
“Set her in my cabin, please, Captain,” said the speaker to the third man, who was medium-sized and carrying the girl. “Graystock, send for Harrigan to bring our prisoner up from the hold.” The speaker had empery over the ship, even over its captain, Kalfast Vannelth, and though his hauteur often annoyed the crew, if the captain did as he asked, so did they.
“What think you Milord?” asked Mr. Vannelth, setting the woman on the bed in the corner of the dark cabin. The boy closed the door behind them.
“Sylphs are not but legend, Mr. Vannelth. She is something, certainly, but a maid of legendry is most unlikely.” The boy had moved to the desk, which shared a wall with the bed’s headboard, where he lit the three candles atop it, bringing a dim yellow light into that corner of the cabin.
“Her skin is on fire,” said Mr. Vannelth, laying her limp arm across her stomach and covering her with one of the blankets folded at the end of the bed. “She was pulled from the frozen river, she should not be feverish.”
“We must wait for the acolyte’s judgment. His master is the Healer Prophet; he will be able to help her.”
And that's what you get. It's called "At the Ringing of the Vesper Bell" by the way. Hope you like it. Obviously, it's copyright to me. You steal it, I will personally kill you. Cheers!
Short Story Time!
So here's a quick post of the first paragraph of my new short story I am working on. I am hoping this will one day get published in either Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine, or if it decides to take a more sci-fi turn, maybe in Asimov's. Either would be a dream come true.
Nereush, at first, walked alone. He was a tall man, olive-toned, baked in the sun, his skin weather-beaten from his time in the mountains of his homeland. His features were square and solid, and though he was thin, his body, too, was square-built. His muscles were not developed enough for him to be assumed a laborer, and he was not slight enough to be an ascetic Christianos, a Follower of the Son, whose lives were spent in devotion and fasting. Nereush was average, with a friendly, open face, and compassionate demeanor, which made him the best in his tribe to undertake his current mission.
And yes, this may sound slightly religious, and it is sort of a religious story, but I am an Agnostic and so this is told from the standpoint of someone who doesn't care either way what people believe. It will be faithful to the Christian faith because the story requires it. It doesn't condemn it or uplift it, it just talks about it. We'll see.
Nereush, at first, walked alone. He was a tall man, olive-toned, baked in the sun, his skin weather-beaten from his time in the mountains of his homeland. His features were square and solid, and though he was thin, his body, too, was square-built. His muscles were not developed enough for him to be assumed a laborer, and he was not slight enough to be an ascetic Christianos, a Follower of the Son, whose lives were spent in devotion and fasting. Nereush was average, with a friendly, open face, and compassionate demeanor, which made him the best in his tribe to undertake his current mission.
And yes, this may sound slightly religious, and it is sort of a religious story, but I am an Agnostic and so this is told from the standpoint of someone who doesn't care either way what people believe. It will be faithful to the Christian faith because the story requires it. It doesn't condemn it or uplift it, it just talks about it. We'll see.
Monday, April 27, 2009
an aside...
By the way, I found these in my folder of random stuff I drew when I started art school five years ago. They were done in Adobe Illustrator as either sticker or t-shirt designs. I should use these sometime.
Must...Concentrate.....
I am finding it hard to keep concentrated on my work. I am typing up chapter seven of my novel from my hand-written stuff and everything keeps distracting me. It could just be that it's 1 am, or it could be that my mind has finally decided to run from my head and I have no hope.
ugh...back to work...
ugh...back to work...
Sunday, April 26, 2009
10,000
My novel just hit 10,000 words on Microsoft Word. I am excited, and while this is by no means the highest amount of words I've written for one project, it is reassuring. If I make it past 10,000 words I tend to finish the project. Maybe this one will turn out finished and good, whereas my last one just turned out finished (it's still in a very rough form and needs some work. I'll edit it eventually).
Friday, April 24, 2009
Distractions...
So I'm working on the re-write/typing of chapter two of my novel, taking into account some great criticism from people I actually trust to give me criticism, and I am so distracted. It's not that I don't want to work on the book, I actually really enjoy working on it. It's just this internet thing. I have it, and I use it, especially when I am supposed to be working. Twitter is new to me, and I'm on it a LOT. Maybe when the novelty and the newness of it wear off I'll actually get some work done. Oh well.
I've started doing yoga. Hurrah. I am more flexible than I thought, which is good, but I also don't have a yoga mat yet, and so my joints tend to hurt a bit. Concrete floors blow, let me tell you. If anyone has any great yoga sites, whether poses or stuff to buy, let me know. I have to lose weight for Hawaii this summer (I'm climbing a volcano with my folks and want to be able to actually get my ass up the damn hill).
Sayonara!
I've started doing yoga. Hurrah. I am more flexible than I thought, which is good, but I also don't have a yoga mat yet, and so my joints tend to hurt a bit. Concrete floors blow, let me tell you. If anyone has any great yoga sites, whether poses or stuff to buy, let me know. I have to lose weight for Hawaii this summer (I'm climbing a volcano with my folks and want to be able to actually get my ass up the damn hill).
Sayonara!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
How Joss Whedon Consumed My Soul, and Other Musings
Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog may have sucked my soul into an inescapable black hole of amazing-ness. I CANNOT get those songs out of my head. And this is what happens when there's a writer's strike on. I HAVE to meet Joss Whedon. It's no longer a want; it's definitely moved up into the world of need.
Okay, so I may have mentioned it on my twitter that I am working on a novel (or two depending on my mood). It's a fantasy novel. After people like Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and Orson Scott Card have had so much success with science fiction and fantasy, I don't get how people (and by people, I mean writers of reality-based fiction) can still look down on it. One of my professors actually called what I was writing a 'fairy story', which may in itself not be condescending, but the way it was said, with a twinge of disdain and a hint of annoyance, made it seem so.
Oh well. These are the things you have to face, I suppose. I am in no way discouraged. I even have an agent picked out. Well, let me rephrase. I have an agent I would LOVE to work with, but I haven't yet finished enough to send out some samples. I'm not going to send out five chapters if five chapters is all I've finished. Ugh. Back to work then.
Ta!
Okay, so I may have mentioned it on my twitter that I am working on a novel (or two depending on my mood). It's a fantasy novel. After people like Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and Orson Scott Card have had so much success with science fiction and fantasy, I don't get how people (and by people, I mean writers of reality-based fiction) can still look down on it. One of my professors actually called what I was writing a 'fairy story', which may in itself not be condescending, but the way it was said, with a twinge of disdain and a hint of annoyance, made it seem so.
Oh well. These are the things you have to face, I suppose. I am in no way discouraged. I even have an agent picked out. Well, let me rephrase. I have an agent I would LOVE to work with, but I haven't yet finished enough to send out some samples. I'm not going to send out five chapters if five chapters is all I've finished. Ugh. Back to work then.
Ta!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Post the First
So this is it folks, the beginning, the primordial blog. Someday when I'm famous this may mean something. For now, it's simply my secondary writing outlet, my first being the novels on which I am working. So, as I like to start out my books with lists and outlines, let us begin with a list, in no particular order, the ten things that make me happy this month. Here we go:
1. The Decemberists: The Hazards of Love
How lovely this album is, and how well the songs flow into each other. It feels cohesive and as always, the lyrics are brilliant and smart. Hats off to you!
2. The Sandman: Absolute, Volume III
I finally got around to getting this, and while I already own the ten individual volumes, the Absolute volumes are so attractive and loaded with extras it's more than worth the cost. Mr. Gaiman, you are inspiration number one in my life and the reason I choose to write. Now, let's see if I can actually get published, eh?
3. Japanese Pop Music
I cannot resist the bouncy beats of Asian Kung Fu Generation and Orange Range and the piercing voice of the lead singer of UVERworld (plus their great cover art). And let me just say, Shiina Ringo and Tokyo Jihen are wonderful. Look for their song Sounan, it's beautiful.
4. Virgil's Root Beer: You'll swear it's made in Heaven
The organic food co-op I work at to pay the bills got a new root beer in with a picture of a man with a bushy beard on the front of it and the slogan 'so good you'll swear it's made in Heaven' on the bottle. It is now affectionately known at my house as the Jesus Root Beer.
5. Medium Point Ball-point Pens
They made me write better because the ink comes out so smoothly. I wish I had a fountain pen, but these will work very well in the mean time.
6. Honey on the Comb
Yum. Enough said.
7. Sony Vaio Laptops
I am typing this blog on my new Vaio, or as I am forced to call it, The Vaio, for I am certainly not cool enough to own this beautiful piece of machinery and yet somehow I do. All hail the great and powerful Vaio!
8. Castle
Ever since Firefly, Joss Whedon's ill-fated piece of pure awesomeness, I have been madly in love with Nathan Fillion and the funny faces he makes and the great ways his mouth moves when he speaks. And now he has a new outlet for his comedic genius. Castle is great, and while at first glance it seems like a reverse version of Bones, it has a depth all its own. It even names characters after characters from novels, which is really cool for us dorky folks who have read more books than eaten meals in their lifetime and can catch all of them.
9. Dollhouse
And Mr. Whedon makes his second appearance of the week. He is my second muse. When I am stuck and in need of inspiration, I pop in any of his shows and my writer's block disappears. His new venture, Dollhouse, is quite brilliant, the characters instantly likeable or detestable (which later always seems to change; take Lawrence, poor, poor Lawrence, as an example), and it always keeps you on your toes. Topher makes me really happy. Really, really happy.
10. Twitter
All my favorite people update on twitter more often than on their blogs and so now I can have up-to-date dork information about my favorite writers and celebrities. Nice.
Well, it's just about bed time; work in the morning is calling to me and telling me I do not want to be tired for it. So adieu.
1. The Decemberists: The Hazards of Love
How lovely this album is, and how well the songs flow into each other. It feels cohesive and as always, the lyrics are brilliant and smart. Hats off to you!
2. The Sandman: Absolute, Volume III
I finally got around to getting this, and while I already own the ten individual volumes, the Absolute volumes are so attractive and loaded with extras it's more than worth the cost. Mr. Gaiman, you are inspiration number one in my life and the reason I choose to write. Now, let's see if I can actually get published, eh?
3. Japanese Pop Music
I cannot resist the bouncy beats of Asian Kung Fu Generation and Orange Range and the piercing voice of the lead singer of UVERworld (plus their great cover art). And let me just say, Shiina Ringo and Tokyo Jihen are wonderful. Look for their song Sounan, it's beautiful.
4. Virgil's Root Beer: You'll swear it's made in Heaven
The organic food co-op I work at to pay the bills got a new root beer in with a picture of a man with a bushy beard on the front of it and the slogan 'so good you'll swear it's made in Heaven' on the bottle. It is now affectionately known at my house as the Jesus Root Beer.
5. Medium Point Ball-point Pens
They made me write better because the ink comes out so smoothly. I wish I had a fountain pen, but these will work very well in the mean time.
6. Honey on the Comb
Yum. Enough said.
7. Sony Vaio Laptops
I am typing this blog on my new Vaio, or as I am forced to call it, The Vaio, for I am certainly not cool enough to own this beautiful piece of machinery and yet somehow I do. All hail the great and powerful Vaio!
8. Castle
Ever since Firefly, Joss Whedon's ill-fated piece of pure awesomeness, I have been madly in love with Nathan Fillion and the funny faces he makes and the great ways his mouth moves when he speaks. And now he has a new outlet for his comedic genius. Castle is great, and while at first glance it seems like a reverse version of Bones, it has a depth all its own. It even names characters after characters from novels, which is really cool for us dorky folks who have read more books than eaten meals in their lifetime and can catch all of them.
9. Dollhouse
And Mr. Whedon makes his second appearance of the week. He is my second muse. When I am stuck and in need of inspiration, I pop in any of his shows and my writer's block disappears. His new venture, Dollhouse, is quite brilliant, the characters instantly likeable or detestable (which later always seems to change; take Lawrence, poor, poor Lawrence, as an example), and it always keeps you on your toes. Topher makes me really happy. Really, really happy.
10. Twitter
All my favorite people update on twitter more often than on their blogs and so now I can have up-to-date dork information about my favorite writers and celebrities. Nice.
Well, it's just about bed time; work in the morning is calling to me and telling me I do not want to be tired for it. So adieu.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
