Random Writings

Passion For Poetry

2012-01-27T08:00:00.002-05:00

In honour of Robbie Burns Day this week, what better poetry form to feature than the Burns Stanza?

But first a little about the great man himself. Robert Burns was born at Alloway, near Ayr, on January 25, 1759. He was working as a farm labourer when he met his first love, Nelly Kirkpatrick. She inspired him to try his hand at poetry, a song entitled "O, once I lov'd a bonnie lass", set to the tune of a traditional reel. He worked at a succession of labouring jobs, and began writing poetry regularly.

He was a bit of a philanderer, and over the course of ten years he had eight illegitimate children born to him through five different women. The first published work of poetry by Burns was "Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect" in1786. This collection contained many of Burn's best works, including "To a Mouse", and "The Holy Fair".

Despite his success, he was unable to find a patron to support his writing, but publisher James Johnson gave him work editing a collection of Scottish folk songs. This work, titled "The Scots Musical Museum", was published in 5 volumes over sixteen years. Burns himself contributed over 150 songs, including "Auld Lang Syne", a reworking of an earlier folk song of unknown origin.

Burns and his wife Jean moved to Mauchline, where in 1790 he produced "Tam o' Shanter", which was first published merely as an accompaniment to an illustration of Alloway Kirk, in a volume of "Antiquities of Scotland". The growing Burns family moved again, this time to Dumfries.

Burns contributed 114 songs to "A Select Collection Of Scottish Airs" by George Thomson, but he received very little payment for his efforts. In 1795, Burns was inspired by the events of the French Revolution to write "For a' that and a' that", his cry for human equality.

One year later, on July 21, 1796, Burns was dead of rheumatic fever. He was buried in the churchyard of St. Michael's in Dumfries, as his wife Jean was giving birth to their ninth child.

The Burns Stanza

This stanza already existed before Burns made it his own, under the name of Standard Habbie, after Habbie Simpson (1550-1620), the Piper of Kilbarchan. It is also sometimes known as the Scottish stanza or six-line stave.

In this form Burns makes the first three lines rhyme with the fifth. The fourth and sixth lines become the second rhyming pair. It is written in iambic metre - the a lines have four metrical feet each, and the b lines have two.

The pattern is as follows:

x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x a
x x x b
x x x x x x x a
x x x b

The Tryst

The scent of lilac in the air
The summer sun upon her hair
Her beauty oh, so rare
Passersby will stop and stare
Such a vision, meant to share
She is so very fair.

Preoccupied, she sees them not
She waits for he whose eye she caught
It was love at first sight
She was certain this was the spot
There was no chance that he forgot
She prayed he was all right

At last she hears a certain pace
And then beholds a much-loved face
Her fears are soon forgot
And though he feels he’s in disgrace
She warms his heart with her embrace
And once again he’s caught.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Thirty-six

2012-01-25T15:10:00.000-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~
Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20~Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~
Ch. 27~Ch. 28~Ch. 29~Ch. 30~Ch. 31~Ch. 32~Ch. 33~Ch. 34~Ch. 35~

Jessica stood just inside the great hall of the castle and shivered, and it wasn’t because it was so dark and gloomy. This had seemed like such a good idea when she was outside in the sunshine, surrounded by people, but now that she was actually inside the castle, all by herself, it was starting to feel like a really bad idea. There was something about being in this abandoned place that was really starting to creep her out.

Pulling out her trusty map, she studied it carefully.

“Okay, let’s see now. I’m in the great hall, so that means that the Chapel is that way,” she pointed to her right, “and the kitchens would be that way. Beyond the kitchens is the midden, whatever that is, and beyond that are the stables, which I don’t need to worry about ‘cause they’re empty. So that means the wizard’s tower would be—”

“There’s no need seeking out the wizard’s tower, my lady. It’s sealed up tighter than a nun.”

Jessica shrieked and whirled around, dropping the map.

He was a little on the short side, balding, and skinny, but she had no doubt he was the wizard she was looking for. He was wearing a long black robe with a matching pointed hat, and the crystal topping the staff in his hand was beginning to glow faintly.

“You scared the crap out of me!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I don’t get many visitors. In fact, you’re the first visitor I’ve had here.”

Jessica held a hand to her chest, willing her heart to stop racing, and just stared at him for a moment. “I have to say, you’re nothing like I imagined you to be.”

“Let me guess, you imagined someone taller, more imposing?”

“Well . . . yes.”

He sighed and the light from the crystal winked out. “I get that a lot, unfortunately.”

“So, you’re the one who drove everyone out of this castle and you’re keeping them out with that army of monsters out there?” She was finding it harder and harder to believe. He seemed so . . . harmless.

“Well, no,” he admitted. He sighed again and gestured towards the kitchens. “Maybe we could have a cup of tea while we talk?”

This was getting more and more bizarre. Jessica had been ready to face an angry, vengeful wizard, perhaps impress him with her awesome fire-shooting skills, but this . . . it was like being prepared to find an angry attack dog and finding a fluffy puppy instead.

“I think I could use a cup of tea,” she said. Truthfully, she could use something a lot stronger than tea.

He almost sagged with relief, and led the way to the kitchen. There was a fire lit in the smaller of the two hearths, giving the room a cheerier feel. A large trestle table took up the center of the room, but it was obviously a work table, there were no chairs around it. There was, however, a barrel near the end closest to the fire, and the wizard wrestled another one into place on the other side of the table.

Jessica sat down and watched with interest as he busied himself making their tea. First he swung a kettle on a hook so that it was over the fire, then found a pair of wooden mugs and tea leaves in a cupboard. In less time than she would have thought, she had a steaming mug of fragrant tea in front of her and the wizard seated on the opposite side of the table.

“So,” she said, blowing gently on her tea to cool it. “Why don’t you tell me your story?”

“I don’t know where to start,” he said, clearly unhappy.

“Why don’t we start with your name?”

“My name is Wendel, of the Great Marsh Wendels.”

“Okay, Wendel. You said you’re not the one who’s laid siege to the castle?” Now there was something she didn’t get to say every day, laid siege to.

“Oh, no, no, no! That was Braxton.”

“Braxton?”

“Yes!” He nodded so emphatically that his hat slipped down over his left eye.

“Why don’t we start with why Braxton would want to chase everybody out of the castle?”

“He was angry with the king,” Wendel said, pushing his hat up again. “They had an argument over money. Braxton thought he was owed more than he was given and the king argued that Braxton wasn’t as talented as he pretended. Braxton was chased off, but he vowed he’d take his revenge.”

“So why isn’t he here now?”

“I don’t know,” Wendel said miserably. “I’m just a hedge wizard, nobody important. But Braxton said he had a job for me. I snuck in here and then cleared the way for him to hide in the wine cellar. He cast his spell to create the ghosts and banshees to chase everyone out of the castle. Once everyone but him and me were gone, he summoned the demon army to surround the castle and keep everyone out. It keeps everyone in as well.”

“Where’s this Braxton now?” Jessica asked with a frown.

“I don’t know. I just woke up one morning and he was gone.”

“So why are you still here?”

“I told you, his demon army doesn’t just keep people out, it prevents me from leaving as well.”

She looked at him, perplexed. Could it be that he really didn’t know they were just illusions? “Obviously I was able to make it through the . . . demon army. How do you explain that?”

“You must be a very powerful sorcerer indeed,” he told her, a hint of hero-worship in his voice. “I watched you from the battlements. The beasts fell back before you.”

“So you have no idea how to banish the demon army?”

“No, my lady. Only Braxton can break the spell. Only him, or someone more powerful than him.”

“Crap,” she said.

“My lady?”

“Wendel, I’m going to need to think about this for a while.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And I’ll think much better with a glass or two of wine. Do you think you could scare up a bottle?”

“Oh, yes, my lady!”

Spreading the Love

2012-01-24T08:00:00.000-05:00

Noteworthy posts:

If you’re still unsure about the whole Amazon KDP Select issue, The Open Vein has a well done post on the subject. You can read Part I HERE and Part II HERE.

Don’t forget to vote for me on You Gotta Read Covers. Actually, credit for the cover goes to Heidi Sutherlin, artist extraordinaire, but please vote all the same!

Sarah Bella, from She Likes It Verbal has some great tips for creating character bios.

Lone Swing posted a piece I found interesting on accepting criticism. I have a pet peeve with people who ask for my opinion and then argue with me about it.

An interesting post on the importance of characters from Antagonists Needed.

Fantasy Faction is running a short story contest. If you’re a writer of fantasy, you really should check it out.

Blogs and Websites:

Mithril Wisdom
For the hard-core fantasy lover, you don’t want to miss the reviews on this blog.

Astronomy Picture of the Day
The great thing about this is, if you miss a day they have an archive so it’s easy to catch up. I’ve saved a ton of these pictures and currently have them set as a desktop slide show on my other computer.

Think Geek
Where do I begin? Yeah, I come to this site every year to make out my Christmas wish list. :-) They’re currently sold out of the vanishing Tardis mugs, but they still have the Tardis tea mugs with the lids . . . Just sayin’. ;-)

Mount St. Helen’s Web Cam
What? You mean no one else has a thing for volcanoes?

Snow Days
This one’s just for fun. If I can’t get snow the regular way, I’ll do it one flake at a time. :-)

Mugwump Monday

2012-01-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

mugwump ~ one who is neutral politically

Gong hoy fat choy!

Today is the Chinese New Year, heralding the Year of the Dragon. As many of you know, I have a soft spot for dragons – I’ve been collecting them for years. Little ones, big ones, medium sized ones . . . made from glass, ceramic, wood, plastic, pewter . . . yeah, it’s a pretty extensive collection. :-)

I always wished I’d been born in the Year of the Dragon, but alas, I was not. I was born in the Year of the Dog (which doesn’t come around again until 2018). For the longest time I thought I’d been born in the Year of the Boar, but that’s because I was following the westernized version of the Chinese Zodiac, which is very different from the real thing. So if your birthday falls in January or February, you may want to check out THIS LINK to find out what Chinese Year you were actually born in.

And a note to my sceptical friend Jamie, according to the Chinese horoscope, you were born in the Year of the Tiger and not only are Tigers very compatible with Dogs, one of the best career choices for them is “writer”. :-p

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Last week went pretty good until Friday, when I missed my poetry post. Sorry folks, but it just wasn’t happening. I did start one. I was going to recycle a post about everyone’s favourite, the Haiku. Only a funny thing happened when I started working on it . . . it started to turn into a rant. I’m very much a traditionalist when it comes to poetry forms. Some forms have rhymes schemes, some have syllable counts, some have both, and some include a specific tone or subject you need to keep in mind when writing your poem. Such is the case with the Haiku, a fact that very few people seem to be aware of; hence, my post that turned into a rant. I didn’t want to offend any lovers of Haiku so I’ve abandoned my post until such a time as I can un-rantify it.

I hope you caught the first chapter of Water last week. Despite the fact that I sort of set the tone with the prologue, I still didn’t know where I should start the actual story. Should I continue on with them as infants? Should I skip their childhood and get right to the good stuff? I actually started out just before their mother dies, and about halfway through I realized that’s not where I wanted to start. Nor did I want to skip their childhood completely, because growing up in the compound is integral to the story. So I compromised and made them 10 years old.

I got lots of reading done last week, but nothing that can be added to my reading challenge list. I got a sneak peak at the stories for the next issue of Rattles Flash Fiction. Who knew an Old Sofa could be so inspiring? I also got a story delivered to my inbox that needs editing. You know, this is one of the perks of being an editor – finding out how something ends before anyone else. :-)

You may (or may not) have noticed my absence from Twitter and Facebook last week. My sad old lap top really doesn’t like Twitter and only barely tolerates Facebook. *sigh* And yes, I suppose I could use the desk top computer, but I don’t have my bookmarks on it and I can’t sit in the recliner with it and watch T.V. while I do so. And the screen doesn’t face the right way for socializing. Yes, that’s right. I don’t like facing the wall when I’m socializing and because the monitor on the desk top is one of those thin jobs, it’s set up against the wall in my office so the cats don’t knock it off my desk. So, to make a long story short, it sucks to be me. LOL

What’s Up This Week:

The schedule is up on the side bar, so I’m just giving the highlights here.

TuesdayI’ve expanded my Sharing the Love segment. Sometimes I come across a noteworthy website, not just a single post, so I thought it only fair to include a few of them as well.

Wednesday (on Random Writings) is the next instalment for Shades, in which we accompany Jessica on a tour of Castle Ghren. And don’t forget the Hump Day Hunk (on Random Thoughts).

Thursday will be Chapter Two of Water (on Random Thoughts) where we find out a little more of what life is like in the compound for the twins before bad stuff starts happening to them (probably next week).

Friday I am killing two birds with one stone. The “poemwork” for this month from my poetry group was to write a Burns Sonnet in honour of Robbie Burns day. So I’ll be talking a little bit about Robbie Burns and his interpretation of the sonnet on Random Writings. On Random Thoughts I thought I’d try something a little different for my flash fiction prompt. I have a book of quotations and I’m going to pick one at random and then base my story on it. I’d pick the quote right now, but the book is in my office some where and I have a cat curled up on the end of my recliner. :-)

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Thirty-five

2012-01-18T08:00:00.000-05:00

Jessica, Gareth, and Alexandre stood hidden in the trees near the edge of the battlefield. To Jessica’s great relief Gareth had finally fallen silent – he’d been protesting her plan the entire way to their current vantage point.

For this occasion, Jessica was dressed to please herself: close-fitting leather breeches tucked into her boots – which were starting to look a little worse for wear, Jennifer was never going to forgive her, once she made it back home – a loose white shirt much like the one she’d been wearing when she arrived on the beach, and a leather jerkin over top of the shirt. The museum sword was in a plain looking sheath, belted around her waist.

“Are you sure about this?” Alexandre asked quietly.

She looked out across the expanse between them and the castle. The land was flat and barren of trees and shrubs – probably kept that way so that an enemy couldn’t sneak up on the castle – although the grass was churned up from the morning’s skirmish. The castle itself sat on a rise and looked like it came from a story book. She was a little disappointed there was no moat, but there was a high wall with seven towers behind it.

“I'm pretty sure,” she said dredging up a smile for him. She was having second thoughts, but there was no way she could admit it now, not when she'd been so adamant in the first place. “I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to get past that wall.”

There was an enormous main gate and a couple of smaller ones, but they were all shut tight.

Gareth cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“What?” Jessica asked.

“There is a way,” he said hesitantly. “There be the tradesmen egress on the west side. Each trade hath its own access and the weaver’s gate is known to be . . . somewhat vulnerable as the weavers be lax in their vigilance.”

She looked to Alexandre for an interpretation.

“You can get in through the weaver’s gate, the lock is broken.”

“Oh, okay then.” She studied the map she’d had Gareth draw before they set out. He’d been appalled when he realized what she wanted it for. “Which of these towers did you say was the old wizard’s tower?”

There were seven towers, with a resigned sigh, Gareth pointed out the correct one. “’Tis unlikely the varlet will be within. The King ordered the tower sealed when the wizard Thackery was banished. I was but a lad at the time,” he added.

She smothered a smile at his sincere tone of voice. Giving her sword belt one last tug she said, “All righty then. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The squire and the minstrel looked on silently as she approached the edge of the battlefield. With only the slightest hesitation, she began picking her way across the churned up earth. She was no more than three feet across it when the monsters began to appear.

Gareth drew his sword, ready to hurry to her aid as a pair of ogres raced towards her. Alexandre laid a restraining hand on his arm. As the ogres approached, Jessica kept up her slow, steady pace towards the castle. Gareths’ jaw dropped open as he watched her make her way carefully towards the castle. The beasts raged around her, but she ignored them and after a few minutes they were started to ignore her as well.

He made the sign of the cross as she reached the castle wall and the creatures vanished again.

“I wonder if the beasts will reappear when she returns,” Alexandre said.

Gareth looked at him in shock. “After witnessing such a miracle, that is what thee wonders?”

“You speak as though you had doubts as to our lady’s abilities.” Alexandre tempered his teasing with a smile. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t had his own doubts, especially when he was watching Jessica’s small form pass amongst all those terrible monsters.

“My fear is not only for her safety in entering the castle,” Gareth said slowly. “Such a feat serves only to indicate what great power she holds. My fear is for what will happen once we have retaken the castle.”

“What do you mean?” Alexandre asked in surprise.

“Knowing how the king feels regarding wizards, I wonder at her welcome once she hast vanquished our foes.”

“I see your point.”

They watched as Jessica disappeared around the corner of the castle. All they could do now is wait for her return.

“Surely Ewan . . .” Alexandre began.

Gareth looked at him. “I have served my lord for three years now. Though I owe him my fealty I am not blind to his faults.”

A moment of understand passed between the two.

“Well then,” Alexandre said. “We’ll just have to be extra careful in guarding our lady.”

“Aye,” Gareth agreed.

Spreading the Love

2012-01-17T08:00:00.000-05:00

Noteworthy posts:

From the Write Stuff, an interesting post on Networking Know-how

For those who are self-publishing, here are 7 Steps to Make Your Self-published Book Look More Professional

Sarah Makela had a guest poster who shares some tips for Revising by Post-its.

Mooderino has an informative post on The Joys of Rewriting

The Great Publishing Review blog has 20 Economical Book Marketing Techniques

Irrational Propensity has a great post on Procrastination

Luke Romyn talks about the Path of the Writer

Don’t forget to go to You Gotta Read Covers to check out my book cover. You may have to scroll down a bit – I’m number 15.

Recommended blogs:

Marian Allen
I like Marian for the variety of post topics as well as the fact she gives a writing prompt at the end of each post.

From Sarah, With Joy
I’ve only been following this blog for a little while, but I find Sarah very entertaining.

Tea On Tap
Who knew there was such an amazing variety of teas out there?

Jo and the Novelist
I like Jo’s pithy posts. :-)

Journal Addict
Do you keep a journal? Ever thought about keeping a journal? Then you really need to check out this blog.

Mirabiliary Monday

2012-01-16T08:00:00.001-05:00

mirabiliary ~ miracle worker

The edits are done! The edits are done! Woo hoo!

At least they are for now. We’ll see what my dream team has to say when they’ve read my book and sent it back to me.

And, um, I’m talking about Book II of the Ardraci Elementals, An Elemental Fire, just in case you were wondering. :-)

For all I felt like I was a slacker last week, I got a lot done.

Blog posts:
Serial #1, Shades of Errol Flynn is moving right along.
Serial #2, Water, had its debut instalment.
A new poetry form, the Sevenling, was introduced.
A new flash piece using a photo as a prompt was up on Friday.

As well, I finished my submission for Rattles Flash Fiction and got it sent off just under the wire. It took me a little longer than I planned on because the story took a different turn than I’d planned on and I had to re-read Dragonwyck, by Anya Seton, to find out what the name of the plant was the villain used to kill his wife.

And did I mention I finally got the edits finished on Fire? It was the journal entries that were holding me up. When I serialized Fire on my blog, I started each instalment with a journal entry, making 56 journal entries. When editing, I was using two instalments per chapter, making 28 chapters. I thought it would be a simple matter of doubling up on the journal entries at the beginning of each chapter, but that’s not the way it happened. Over half of them had to be re-written, and the first and last ones were totally new.

What’s Up This Week:

The schedule is up on the side bar, so I’m just giving the highlights here.

More interesting posts from last week so check out tomorrow’s list.

Wednesday (on Random Writings) will see Jessica paying a visit to Castle Ghren. And this week’s hump day hunk (on Random Thoughts) is inspired by our (finally) seasonable weather

Thursday will be the second instalment of Water (on Random Thoughts) and I have no idea what’s going to happen because I haven’t written it yet. ;-)

Friday will have something poetic on Random Writings, and again, at this point I have no idea what, and a new flash written from another picture prompt on Random Thoughts. I like pictures. I have a big collection of them, both on the computer and ones I’ve cut out from National Geographic and put into files. I figure it’s about time I started using them for something, hence the flash fiction using picture prompts.

Passion For Poetry

2012-01-13T08:00:00.000-05:00

Today I'd like to share a new form with you that I stumbled across a few months ago.

The Sevenling

According to most sources, the Sevenling was inspired by this short verse by Anna Akhmatova:

He loved three things alone:
White peacocks, evensong,
Old maps of America.

He hated children crying,
And raspberry jam with his tea,
And womanish hysteria.

… And he married me.

Roddy Lumsden, in the American Poetry Journal, has this to say about the form of the Sevenling:

The first three lines should contain an element of three – three connected or contrasting statements, or a list of three details, names or possibilities. This can take up all of the three lines or be contained anywhere within them. Then, lines four to six should similarly contain an element of three, connected directly or indirectly or not at all. The seventh line should act as a narrative punchline or as an unusual juxtaposition. There are no set metrical rules, but being such a short form, some rhythm, metre or rhyme is desirable. To give the form a recognisable shape, it should be set out in two stanzas of three lines, with a solitary seventh, last line. Titles are not required. A sevenling should be titled Sevenling followed by the first few words in parentheses. The tone of the sevenling should be mysterious, offbeat or disturbing giving a feeling that only part of the story is being told. The poem should have a certain ambience which invites guesswork from the reader.

Although the Sevenling does not require a strict rhyme scheme or syllable count, I found it did require a bit of thought. This would be a great form for beginners.

Sevenling (A moonlit garden)

A moonlit garden at midnight
Where fairies dance, and pixies caper
And crickets sing.

A mistaken step and
Fairies fled, and pixies gone
And silence now

I wish they would return.

Sevenling (A view from outside)

A view from outside my window:
The sun has fled, the leaves have turned,
The winter comes.

Looking inward I see
New growth has stilled, the air is close,
The cold descends

without the changing of the season.

Go ahead and give the Sevenling a try. Once you get the hang of it you may not want to stop.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Thirty-four

2012-01-11T08:00:00.001-05:00

“I have an idea,” Paran said, leaning over the scrying bowl.

Thackery glared at him from his corner where he was sitting bound and gagged to prevent him from using his magic to go to Jessica’s side. The surge of power from the Well was felt along the entire Well network. They’d been watching Jessica in the scrying bowl at the time, otherwise they would have never been able to pinpoint the source of the disturbance.

They’d watched in anticipation as she approached the Well, wondering how close she would get. Only the most powerful magic users were able to pass the rings. The more powerful the sorcerer, the closer to the source they were able to get. It was a source of both pride and trepidation to them that she passed so easily within the first and second rings to approach the Well itself.

“What is she doing?” Thackery asked, horrified as she stepped closer to the centre. “She has no shields, she cannot pass within the inner ring.”

In shock they watched as she stepped over the final barrier, her eyes widening as she felt the raw power of the Well before she was thrown clear. It was at that point Paran realized two things. One, just how powerful his granddaughter really was, and two, Thackery would need to be restrained from going after her.

The second Jessica was thrown clear of the Well, Paran cast his own spell, but this one at Thackery, knocking him unconscious to keep him from going to her. She was Thackery’s daughter, but she was also Paran’s granddaughter and he had to fight his own impulse to rush to her side. It was too risky though. The amount of magic required to do so would surely attract Anankaron’s attention and draw him to her as well.

“I propose we make contact with her wizardling friend,” he continued, still focused on the images in the scrying bowl.

There was a muffled noise in response.

“What was that?” Paran asked absently. He turned around and looked at Thackery in surprise. “Oh, I forgot.” He waved his hand in Thackery’s direction and the gag disappeared.

“Release me at once! What do you think you’re doing? Did you really think you could keep me here while my daughter—”

“If you do not have anything useful to contribute, I can always replace the gag.” Paran said mildly. “Jessica is fine.”

“I am sure you will understand if I would like to see this for myself.”

Another wave of the hand and Thackery was free. He got to his feet with a groan and joined his father-in-law at the scrying bowl.

“What is she doing?”

“It appears that she’s getting ready to pay a visit to Castle Ghren.”

“Please tell me she knows the creatures guarding the castle are illusions.”

Paran nodded. “It would appear so. I believe she seeks to find the source of these illusions.”

Thackery cursed under his breath. “And you still do not see the need for me to go to her?”

“It is too dangerous.” Paran was adamant.

They had this same argument almost every day, Thackery wanting to go to his daughter, Paran telling him it was too dangerous. They would probably keep having this argument until Jessica was safely with them.

“What was it you were saying about an idea?” he asked, running a hand over his face.

“Ah, yes. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. She and the wizardling have some kind of connection, they’re able to communicate—”

“How?”

“Through Farenalyssia’s amulet. The amulet was separated into two and each retain a piece. He has been attempting to aid her in using her magic.”

There was a snort from the other man. “That boy hasn’t enough power to be of any use.”

“And yet without him we would not have been able to draw her to this world,” Paran reminded him. “One of the reasons that world was selected was its lack of magic. If he were of this world I think he would surprise you.”

“All right, what has this to do with your idea?”

“It is too dangerous for us to contact Jessica, but what if we contacted her friend instead?”

“To what end?”

Paran let out an exasperated breath. “He has some knowledge of magic use and seeks to learn more of this world to help her. We could give him the information he requires.”

Thackery thought about it. “It is something to consider,” he said slowly.

Spreading the Love

2012-01-10T08:00:00.000-05:00

My top picks for this week come from a variety of sources. Some are blogs I visit on a regular basis, some are links from Facebook, and a few are links from Twitter.

First we haveWriting With Shelly and Chad, and I’m sorry to say I can’t remember whether I got this link from Facebook or Twitter. But for all you Mac users out there, the best Self Control aid ever! I only hope that they come up with a version for PC users soon!

Then we have a quick look at Moody Writing where you can always find some interesting advice

Next up is the most cheerful person I know Tara Tyler. She’s got an amazingly positive attitude and she always brings a smile to my face. But watch out, she’ll be tempting you with various blogfests and challenges. :-)

Don’t forget to check out Jamie DeBree’s new flash prompt on the Variety Pages. And if you want to see what she came up with last week, all you have to do is scroll down a bit. A very thought provoking story!

Chuck Wendig had an interesting piece up last week called 25 Things You Should Stop Doing to Yourself that you should take a look at. Heck, just go ahead and bookmark his main site, and visit often.

The Huffington Post had an interesting article trying to figure out Are eBooks Too Cheap?

Looking for some great, on-line reading? Go visit Neither Here Nor There and check out the tabs at the top. (My personal favourite is Serverus the Rogue)

If you crave something a little darker in your reading, I highly recommend Raven Corinn Carluk.

And if you’re looking for some awesome on-line serials, look not further than
Alex Westhaven’s thriller Animal (updated each Wednesday)
Jamie DeBree’s romantic suspense Falling In Public (updated each Friday)
Or her latest Fantasy Ranch story, The Minister’s Maid (updated on Tuesdays)
And for something a little spicier, try Trinity Marlow’s latest Working Stiffs story the Paramedic (updated on Thursdays)

Myristicivorous Monday

2012-01-09T08:00:00.003-05:00

myristicivorous ~ feeding upon nutmegs

Well how about that. Not only did I get all my posts done last week, I got them up in time as well. :-)

I made a start on my long-term goals, specifically figuring out where all my time goes during the day. And actually, because I was keeping track, I found I didn’t waste as much time as I normally would have. I’m slowly settling into a routine which includes spending a lot less time on the internet, which I’ve found to be the biggest time sink. I’ll still be checking my e-mails in the morning, and a quick check of Facebook, but I want to try and cut back on my gaming/socializing/surfing during the day.

As promised, I got the page up on Random Thoughts to keep track of what I’ve been reading, and I finally updated my What I’m Working On page on Random Thoughts. Now I just have to keep them updated.

Reading wise I re-read a couple of my favourite Charles de Lint books last week, and a bunch of stories I downloaded for free onto my kindle. The stories are not going to get put on my reading list unless they’re in an anthology. The list is for full length books only.

I was an editing machine last week and all I have left to edit on Fire is the journal entries, which I should have done in the next day or so and I can send it off to my readers. Be warned guys – it’s coming. ;-)

What’s Up For the Rest of the Week:

The schedule is up on the side bar, so I’m just giving the highlights here.

I’ve found some really interesting posts last week so check out tomorrow’s list.

Wednesday (on Random Writings) I think it’s time to see what Paran and Thackery are up to again. They’ve been kind of random in the serial, but I have big plans for them when I get to the edits. :-)

Thursday will be the first instalment of my newest serial, Water (on Random Thoughts).

Friday will have the poetry form of the Sevenling (Random Writings) and a new flash written from a picture prompt (Random Thoughts).

Passion For Poetry

2012-01-06T08:00:00.000-05:00

This is a new day and a new blog for my ventures into the world of poetry, and this is also going to be a somewhat different format. Previously I was all about forms. For a little over two years I did weekly posts, each time offering a different form. Somewhere along the way the forms became less fun and more of a chore, so I took a break to figure out how to bring the joy back to writing poetry.

Forms are fine, but too much of something is never a good thing, so I’m only going to post a form here once a month. The rest of the time I’ll be posting some of my other poetry, poetry challenges, maybe even some interviews with other poets. If you’re a poet and would like to be featured here, drop me a line at carolrward(at)gmail(dot)com – I’d love to hear from you!

Today I’m starting off with a couple of poems I pulled from my files. This first one came about as I was doing a coffee run at Tim Horton’s, and noticed an unusually large number of seniors. And they were all complaining about the same thing.

Bingo Blues

The room’s filled with fog
From the chain smoking grannies
Don’t mess with their luck
Or you’ll find yourself
Out on your ear

The concentration is fierce
Daubers flying furiously
Hearing aides at the max
Canes within reach
To snag a new card

It’s Saturday night
At the Bingo Hall
Truck on over
And don’t forget
Your pension cheque

But wait, what’s this?
Smoking’s banned?
Damn health nuts
Causing an uprising
Of the blue hair set

Now it’s Saturday night
And they meet at Timmie’s
Walkers parked outside
While they reminisce
Over a cup of joe.

This next one came about during an intermission at a poetry reading. A fellow poet and I were having a rather heated discussion on inspiration. He stated that inspiration was hard to come by, while I claimed that inspiration was all around us. I then started pointing out things around us that could inspire a poem, and ended by asserting I’d come up with a poem about the ficus plant sitting in the corner. The CPW is the poetry group I belong to – Cobourg Poetry Workshop.

Ficus

I’ve heard them talking
the women sipping their lattes
and tea, taking dainty bites
of decadent pastry while discussing
world hunger
the men indulging
in a glass or two of wine
all worldly and wise.

They admire the décor
judge the softness of the chairs
the paintings on the walls
even the china they drink out of
ignoring me in my corner
my alcove
my world.

The door inhales
the dust filled parking lot air
with yet another visitor
exhales coffee laden breath
and the haze from too many
closely packed bodies.

I’m touched with disregard
to my dignity
shoved aside and overlooked
I’m bruised and torn
unable to protest -
not that anyone cares
for the feelings of a plant
especially when
the crowd is so large
because it’s that time of month again -
CPW poetry night.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Thirty-three

2012-01-04T08:00:00.000-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~
Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20 Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~
Ch. 27~Ch. 28~Ch. 29~Ch. 30~Ch. 31~Ch. 32~

Jessica was beginning to have very mixed feelings about this whole being stuck in another dimension business.

“So just how big a deal is it, what happened at the Well?” she asked Alexandre. “I mean, should I brace myself for a mob bursting in at any second to drag me off to be burned at the stake?”

“Why ever would they do that?”

She took comfort in the fact that he looked genuinely puzzled by her question. “Isn’t that usually what superstitious peasants do to witches?”

He shook his head at her. “Nay. While they may fear those of power, they would never cause unwarranted injury. You have harmed no one, and you are under the prince’s protection.”

“Well that’s a relief.” She settled back down in the bed, ready to doze off again, when a sudden thought struck her. “How much do you know about magic?”

“Very little,” he admitted. “Though I was tutored alongside the princes, magic was forbidden to us.”

“Damn. Oh, well. I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own.”

“Figure what out?”

“How to get past those monsters surrounding the castle to talk to the wizard inside.” The more she thought about it, the more it became plain to her that to get rid of the army of illusions, she needed to go right to the source. And then once she helped Ewan get his castle back, she could concentrate on getting home.

“Are you mad? If you place one foot on that battlefield you will be torn apart. Countless others have tried and failed.”

“Ah, but were the others as powerful as I am? Jessica O’Connell, wizard extraordinaire.” For some reason she found this extremely funny, and started to giggle.

Alexandre frowned at her. “His Highness will never allow you to put yourself at risk like that.”

“Then we just won’t tell him what we’re doing,” she said with a yawn. “I think tomorrow you, me, and Gareth should pay another visit to the battlefield.”

Alexandre didn’t try to talk her out of her scheme; he could see her mind was made up. But he sent up a silent prayer to gods he no longer believed in that Ewan would never find out about it.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

In the morning, while she still had a few minutes to herself, Jessica pulled out the milk-white pendant. “Howard? Are you there?”

“I’m here, Jessica. How are you feeling?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” she assured him. “Alexandre makes one hell of a hangover cure.”

“I felt that power surge all the way down our link,” he told her. “I’ve never felt anything like it. I’d give my right arm to be where you are now.”

“Trust me, I wish you were here too, Howard. This magic stuff is starting to scare the crap out of me.”

“You’re going to have to be very careful, Jess. Do you have any idea how much power you have stored up inside you right now?”

“What?” She sat up a little straighter where she was sitting on the bed.

“That’s what those wells are used for, replenishing a mage’s power. Right now you’ve got enough power inside you to light up a small city.”

“Holy Saint Christopher! How do I get it out again?”

“The only way is through spell casting.”

“Oh, jeez. That doesn’t sound good at all. You saw what I did when I tried to create a fire, and that was before the power surge.”

“Don’t worry, Jess. We’ll figure something out. Now that the link between us is stronger I’m able to draw more information from your world.”

“Don’t call it that!” she said crossly. “This isn’t my world, this is just the world I’m stuck in, temporarily.”

“Sorry, Jess.”

“Listen Howard, you said before that the reason Ewan’s army takes a beating any time they go near the battlefield is because they think the monsters are real, right?”

“That right.”

“So it would follow that if a person thought otherwise, that the monsters were just illusions, they’d be able to just walk right through them, right?”

“In theory, yes . . .”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Jessica . . . what are you up to now?”

“Nothing dangerous. I’m just going to walk through that battlefield and right up to the castle.”

“And then what? You can’t hypnotize all those people into believing the monsters are illusions.”

“Of course not, but I can talk to the wizard who’s creating them and find out what it’ll take for him to pack it up.”

“Sounds a little risky to me.”

“Nonsense. It’s a brilliant plan.”

Spreading the Love

2012-01-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

Okay, here’s the deal. The idea was to take Tuesdays off from blogging and use the time to visit other blogs, then recommend some of these blogs to you. In reality, I do my posts the night before, so I’m really visiting blogs late Monday night. At least I did this week.

In any case, I’ll still be spending the time on Tuesdays visiting other blogs, but I’ll be reporting on them the following week. And on any other interesting posts I stumble across in the course of the week. In the meantime, here’s a sampling of the blogs I visited last night:

My first stop was at Poetry and Persistance. I’m not even sure how I stumbled across this site, but I keep coming back for the poetry.

Next I just had to pop over to Neither Here Nor There to see what Ralfast came up with for the No Kiss Blogfest. :-) I’ve participated in this blogfest in the past, but none of my characters wanted to participate this year.

Then I checked A Low Profile to see what trouble MikiSquirrel has been up to lately. There was nothing about the squirrel, but my favourite roofing author did a review of the new Sherlock Holmes and Mission Impossible movies.

Next up was The Variety Pages to see what the Monday flash prompt was. Jamie DeBree has come up with 52 prompts for the year, which will result in 52 stories. I can’t wait to start reading them!

I also checked out an interesting post by Holly Lisle entitled, Do You Support Slavery.

And of course no blogging day is complete without a visit to Dean Wesley Smith. You could spend days on this site reading everything he has to offer.

Then I stopped by Writer Revealed to check out the latest instalment of Dolly Garland’s series, Bookshelf Snooping. Dolly always comes up with great ideas for interview series!

This being the start of a new month, I stopped by You Gotta Read Covers. Each month, from the 1st through the 20th they feature a new book cover each day. After the 20th you get a chance to vote for the cover you like best. I’ll be revisiting this site a few times and I’ll let you know when it’s time to vote. My book’s cover is up on the 15th. :-)

Welcome 2012

2012-01-02T08:00:00.000-05:00

First of all, if you’d like to read the draft copy of my latest Ardraci Elemental book, Fire, you have until the end of the week. This weekend it will be removed from my blog. And to make it easy for you, I’ll even provide the chapter links:

Draft Serial Novel - Fire
Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch.5~Ch. 6~Ch.7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~
Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20~Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~
Ch. 27~Ch. 28~Ch. 29~Ch. 30~Ch. 31~Ch. 32~Ch. 32~Ch. 33~Ch. 34~Ch. 35~Ch. 36~Ch. 37~
Ch. 38~Ch. 39~Ch. 40~Ch. 41~Ch. 42~Ch. 43~ Ch. 44~Ch. 45~Ch. 46~Ch. 47~Ch. 48~Ch. 49~
Ch. 50~Ch. 51~Ch. 52~Ch. 53~Ch. 54~Conclusion

Now, let’s get down to the nitty gritty. A new year means new changes, and I’ve got a new blogging schedule to share.

Monday – Weekly recap and goals. This post will be posted simultaneously on both Random Thoughts and Random Writings.
Tuesday – Spreading the Love on both blogs. I’m taking Tuesdays off blogging to visit a few of my blogging buddies, and I’m going to posts a short list of blogs I think you should visit. If you’re lucky, I might even tell you why.
Wednesday – Hump Day Hunk on Random Thoughts; Serial post on Random Writings
Thursday – Serial post on Random Thoughts
Friday – Flash Me Friday on Random Thoughts; Poetry on Random Writings. I used to write flash fiction on Fridays and I’ve been thinking for a while now I’d like to get back into it. As for the poetry, it may be a form, it may be a random poem, it may even be a guest poet.

Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to remember all that. In the next day or two I’ll put it up on the side bar. :-)

The new year also means a new set of goals, which are as follows:

Writing
1. Organize my days
2. Publish three books
3. Get more involved with the business of publishing
4. Do more self-promotion
5. Find a writing schedule I can live with and stick to it
6. Websites
Personal
7. Eat healthier
8. Exercise more
9. Crafts
10. Read a better variety of books

1. Organize my days
A couple of weeks ago I thought about keeping track of what I did during the day and how much time I spent doing it. Well, this week I’m going to actually do that. By this time next week I’ll have a good idea of where my time goes and I can set up a schedule of sorts to get myself organized. I might even post the results of my tracking.

2. Publish three books
The first will be Fire, the second is science fiction adventure romance called the Faery Heart, and the third I’m hoping will be Shades of Errol Flynn, which is about half done at this point.

3. Get more involved with the business of publishing
Yes, I have a novel published. But I’m very confused as to the whole process of how it was done. Writing it was the easy part. Editing it was a little more difficult. The rest of the process is a complete mystery and it’s time I learned what’s what.

4. Do more self-promotion
This means being more pro-active on Twitter and Facebook, especially when it comes to my writing, and seek out other venues for promotion. I’d also like to start doing author interviews a couple of times a month, so if you have a book you’d like to promote, let me know at carolrward(at)gmail(dot)com and we can arrange a date.

5. Find a writing schedule I can live with and stick to it
Once I’ve got the whole schedule thing worked out, I need to set a daily word goal for myself. Something less than NaNo but more than most days currently. I'm also going to select a specific project (or two) and work on it until it is finished. Progress for said project will be recorded on the Random Writings blog on the Works in Progress page.

6. Websites
I have a business called Creative Expressions. It used to have a website that was not that great, so I wasn’t sorry when the hosting ran out. I really need a new website. And an author’s website wouldn’t hurt either. Websites are easy, so I’m told, and if I don’t find them easy, there are lots of people I can call on for help.

7. Eat healthier
Due to health reasons (ie. being diagnosed with diabetes) I need to pay better attention to what I’m eating. I’ve made quite a few changes actually, but there’s always room for improvement.

8. Exercise more
I started walking at the end of the summer and although my stamina has improved a bit (I walk the same distance but take less time) walking doesn’t really get me into shape. I need to supplement my walking with other forms of exercise. I’ll be trying out a few different things to see what kind of exercise best suits me.

9. Crafts
I made about a dozen snowflake bookmarks to give as Christmas presents this year, and as I was crocheting them I realized it had been a long time since I’d sat down and worked at any of my crafts. I have a lot of crafts. More to the point, I have a lot of craft supplies. I need to either start doing something with all these supplies, or start getting rid of them. My craft closet is a hoarder’s dream come true.

10. Read a better variety of books
It’s pretty much a given that I’ll be reading a lot. I signed up for Dolly Garland’s Reading Challenge, but this year I dropped my goal down to 75 books for the year. The reason for this is that I want to read a greater variety of books. To this end, I would like to read one classic book a month and one non-fiction book every two months. AND to keep track of this, I’ll be adding a page to Random Thoughts with an ongoing of what I’ve read. As well, I’ll be keeping track on Goodreads as well.

So there you have it. My plan for the year ahead. Of course anything can happen, so you’ll want to check back often. :-)

2011 Wrap-up

2012-01-01T08:00:00.000-05:00

So . . . here we are at the beginning of a New Year.

Okay, yes, I said last week that I wasn’t going to post until January 2, but I was planning on doing my wrap up post separately from my 2012 Goals post, and if I waited until Monday for this post, then my goals post would be Tuesday, and even though I’m not sure what, if anything, I’m posting on Tuesday, that would throw my whole schedule off.

Still with me? Good.

Last year was a real roller coaster for me with all the ups and downs. Yeah, I had some really bad stuff happen, mostly health-wise, but I had some really good stuff happen as well, so I refuse to look back and call it a bad year.

As this is the wrap-up post, let’s start with last year’s goal. I was pretty easy on myself as far as goals went at the beginning of the year:

1. Do better on my goals than last year.
2. Use the database I created.
3. Stay on top of my poetry.
4. Be amore productive writer.
5. Lose weight.
6. Make good use of the social networks.
7. Read judiciously.

Let’s see how I did.

1. Do better on my goals than last year.
Hmm. Maybe we should leave this one for the end.

2. Use the database I created.
This was definitely an epic fail. The database in question was one I created in 2010 to catalogue my books. Not only did I not make use of it, I forgot all about it. I might even have lost it. Oops!

3. Stay on top of my poetry.
While I did not stay on top of keeping my poetry organized I did put together a chapbook to have ready for sale for my September reading. For a while I had a separate blog for just my poetry, but since I was just duplicating posts that were on my other blog, I didn’t see the point.

4. Be a more productive writer.
This is definitely a win. I published my first novel; I published a chapbook of poetry; I completed the NaNoWriMo challenge once again; and I have not one, but two serials on the go. If that’s not progress I don’t know what is.

5. Lose weight.
This was a kind of up and down thing. I’d lose a little, just to gain it back again. In August my health took a downward turn which forced me to start taking care of myself. I managed to lose 10 pounds in the fall, but I was a real slacker in the month of December and gained 5 of it back. *sigh*

6. Make good use of the social networks.
I’m still a little intimidated (okay, a lot intimidated) by Twitter, but I’m working on it. When it comes to tweeting the spirit is willing but the lap top is weak. For some reason my lap top slows down to a crawl when I’m trying to tweet. It’s so frustrating! So I’ll keep trying, but I probably won’t be an avid twit until I can afford a new lap top. Facebook is much easier for me to handle. I even have an author’s page there now: Carol R. Ward, Author

7. Read judiciously.
Last year I took Dolly Garland’s reading challenge and had a goal of reading 80 books in 2011. I ended up reading 110 and kept track on Goodreads (look me up as Carol R. Ward and be my friend!). So, I’d call this one a definite win.

Which brings us back to Number One. I had to check back to see how I did on my goals in 2010 to see if I did better. Over all, I’d say I definitely did better at reaching my goals than last year.

To see what this year’s goals are, come back tomorrow.

Morosis Monday

2011-12-26T08:00:00.000-05:00

morosis ~ pathological feeble-mindedness

So . . . how was everyone’s Christmas? Was Santa good to you? Yeah, me too. Of course the best gift is the fact that it’s all over. :-)

Can anyone tell me why is it that we can spend so much time cleaning the house for the holidays, only to have to clean house after the holidays as well?

Anyway, I’ve decided that as a holiday treat to myself, I’m taking this week off from blogging. I’ll see you again on January 2nd.

Happy Holidays!

Merry Christmas Music

2011-12-23T08:00:00.001-05:00

What would Christmas be without the Trans-Siberian Orchestra?

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Thirty-two

2011-12-21T08:00:00.001-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~Ch. 27~Ch. 28~Ch. 29~Ch. 30~
Ch. 31

It was the pain in her head that woke Jessica this time. She groaned and stirred, not quite ready to open her eyes yet.

“Here,” a soothing masculine voice told her. “Drink this, it will help with the pain.”

“Alexandre?”

“Tis quite safe to open your eyes,” he said, amusement lacing his voice. “We are the only ones here.”

Jessica thought about it for a minute, then cautiously cracked open her eyes. To her relief, she was back in her tent and the only light came from a fat white candle on the small table beside her bed.

Alexander helped her raise her head enough to drink from the wooden mug he held for her.

“What happened?” She felt like she’d been run over by a herd of buffalo followed by a troop of dancers wearing soccer cleats tap dancing on her head.

“You’re suffering from a magical backlash,” Alexandre told her gravely.

“A magical what?” Jessica blinked rapidly to try and clear her vision, but the minstrel kept wavering in and out of focus.

“Backlash. You drew in too much power too fast at the Well.”

“The Well,” she mused. “I remember Ewan showing me the Well. It didn’t look like any well I’ve ever seen, more like a Zen garden with all those rocks and sand.” Her voice faded away as she remembered the way it made her feel, the irresistible pull of the magic.

“What is it?” Alexandre asked.

“It was such an incredible feeling,” she said. “The power was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I just wanted to drink it down.”

“It appears to me that’s exactly what you did, only I’d say you over-indulged.”

“I guess that’s where the old saying “getting drunk on power” came from,” she said with a giggle that turned into a wince. “This has got to be the world’s worst hangover ever.”

“Try some more of this,” Alexandre suggested. He helped her raise her head again and she obediently took another drink.

“This doesn’t taste half bad – which one of the healers came up with it?”

“None of them, I fear,” he admitted. “Tis my own remedy.”

“Really? I’m surprised they’d let you get away with it. You’d think with me being unconscious they’d jump at the chance to start messing with me again.”

Alexandre looked away and feigned an interest in the carvings on the mug he was holding.

“What is it?” she asked. When a reply was not immediately forthcoming, she tried again. “Alexandre, why aren’t there any healers in my tent?”

He sighed heavily. “It’s because they’re afraid.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what?” she asked in surprise.

“It’s your power they fear,” he admitted reluctantly.

“My power? But I don’t even . . .” her voice trailed off.

“Don’t even know how to use your power?” he asked shrewdly.

“Well, now that you mention it, yes.”

“One more sip and I’ll let you rest again,” he said.

She obediently raised her head again and took another large drink.

“Ghren has never been a land to tolerate magic well,” Alexandre told her. “In fact, until the wizard currently occupying the castle, there has only been one other wizard in the king’s employ, and that was almost ten years ago.”

“What happened to him?” Jessica asked.

Alexandre shrugged. “No one knows. He disappeared about the same time as the king’s oldest son.”

“Oldest son? You mean Ewan has a brother?” In all their time talking together, Ewan had never once mentioned having a brother.

“He did have. It is rumoured the prince ran off with the wizard to become his apprentice. Of course it is also rumoured he was used by the wizard as a sacrifice in a dark magic spell.”

“But surely the king tried to find him?”

“A token search was made, of course, but although he was first born, he was not the favourite son. In time his name was stricken from the family tree and soon it became forbidden to even mention his name.”

“That’s terrible!”

“That is the way of the monarchy. Their word is law, never forget this. They own the land and everything and everyone on it. They can do whatever they please and none dare gainsay them.”

There was a bitter tone to his voice that made Jessica wonder just what had been done to Alexandre in the past. One look at his face made her decide not to ask.

“I grew up in the court of Ghren,” he continued. “I left a year before the prince disappeared – it was my time of journeying towards becoming a bard.”

“Not that I’m not glad you’re here now,” Jessica said, “But if Ghren is so terrible, why did you come back?”

“Because growing up I had one friend to whom I owe not only my loyalty, but my life. I cannot rest easy until I have determined what happened to him.”

“The king’s oldest son,” Jessica guessed.

“Aye.”

Stuck on Structure The Eight Parts of Speech – Part Eight

2011-12-19T08:00:00.000-05:00

To recap, so far we’ve looked at Nouns, Verbs, Adjectives, Adverbs, Pronouns, Conjunctions, and the Preposition. Now I’ve saved the simplest for last – the Interjection.

While the preposition can be thought of as the low-key part of speech, the interjection is the emotional part of the group. Also called the exclamation, it is a word that expresses emotion or surprise. It often stands alone and has its own punctuation, the exclamation mark.

Help!

Oh no!

Wow! Sending Christmas parcels overseas is really expensive.

It should be noted that a sentence may have a concluding exclamation mark while not including an interjection:

Wow! Sending Christmas parcels overseas is really expensive!

It should also be noted that not every interjection is followed by an exclamation mark:

Alas, my credit card is maxed out.

Ah, a foot massage was just what I needed.

Well, what happened here?

And now, the final Grammar Rock video:

Ho Ho Ho Bah! Humbug!

2011-12-16T08:00:00.000-05:00

Well, I've got the bulk of my Christmas shopping done . . . the tree's up and the out of town Christmas presents have been sent. The temperature outside is 8 Celsius, which is about 46 Fahrenheit. Yesterday morning when I went for my walk I was wearing my spring coat. This is not inspiring the Christmas spirit in me at all.

So, I've found a couple more Christmas videos that embody the Christmas Spirit (or lack thereof) in me this year. If you want to see some more traditional Christmas songs, try HERE.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Thirty-one

2011-12-14T14:01:00.000-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~Ch. 27~Ch. 28~Ch. 29~Ch. 30~

Jessica squinted at the standing stones on top of the hill in the distance. “A Well of Power?” She turned and caught the look on Ewan’s face. It was gone before she could put a name to it – anger? disappointment? annoyance? Maybe it was a combination of all three.

“Surely thou hast them in thy land? ‘Tis whence the power of magick resides.”

It took a moment for Jessica to interpret what he was telling her. If she understood correctly, the power of the well was magical in nature, which explained the look Ewan had been giving her. If she was a magic worker, like he assumed, she’d know this. While the subject had never really come up between them, she had the feeling that her position in his camp was dependent on his assumption that she had magical powers. So she did what any sane person in her place would, she lied through her teeth.

“Oh, I see. Yes, of course we have them where I come from, we just call them by a different name.”

“Indeed.”

He didn’t quite look like he believed her. Jessica smiled her most sincere smile and crossed her fingers behind her back. His eyes narrowed a fraction.

“Mayhaps thee dost wish to venture closer?”

“Yes, of course,” Jessica replied, hoping that was the right answer. Evidently it was. His face cleared and he offered her his arm. She was starting to enjoy the gallantry of this lifestyle, it was very romantic.

Four of the knights accompanied them, presumably to guard the prince in case of an attack, so the stroll to the hill was not as romantic as it could have been. Jessica was not quite ready to give up the hope that Ewan was interested in her as a woman, which made her a little disgruntled at having four chaperones.

There was no path up the hill, but Ewan guided her around to the side where the slope was gentler. Fortunately, her riding habit did not come with a train, so it was much easier to walk in than a gown would have been. Still, Jessica wished she was wearing something a little more normal, like jeans and a tee-shirt.

She slanted a look at Ewan. He may be hot, and a prince, but he really needed to loosen up a bit when it came to women’s fashion. Whenever he saw her in her pants and jerkin, he got this pinched look on his face, as though he just got a whiff of something really smelly. So, since she was dependent on his good nature, she tried to wear pants as little as possible. She stifled a giggle, as a vision flashed in her head of the green dress she wore when she and Ellen went out. Ewen would probably have a coronary if he ever saw that dress.

At last they reached the top of the hill. It was higher than it looked; she was a little out of breath. The only resemblance between Stonehenge and what she’d taken to be ruins was the fact they were both made of stone, and they were both set in a circle. The ancient stone circle in front of her was much smaller than Stonehenge, and the stones weren’t nearly as high. Nor were they connected by capstones.

There were actually three circles of stone on top of the hill. The outer circle was made of tall, dark grey monoliths, standing like silent sentinels. Two of them were leaning slightly, one was only kept upright by leaning on its neighbour. They were weathered with age, moss growing on them although the vines that grew in abundance in the surrounding trees left the stones alone. In fact, once past this ring there was nothing growing at all.

Jessica had started to feel a faint hum as they drew closer to the ring on the hill. It grew in volume as they climbed and by the time they reached the top of the hill she realized that it was not a sound she was hearing, but a vibration she was feeling. Now, standing within the first ring of stones, she could feel the hum crawling over her skin.

The next ring was low to the ground, only rising about a foot in height. The stones were placed tightly together – not even moss grew in the cracks between them. They were an earthy brown in colour, almost like wide, flat bricks. There was writing carved into them, a beautiful, cursive text that Jessica wished she could read. She almost asked Ewan what they said, but then thought better of it. If she was supposed to know about the well, then she was probably supposed to know what the writing was.

The knights had stopped at the outer ring, spreading themselves out to keep vigil in all four directions. She was aware of Ewan still beside her, though her focus was on the ring in the centre. The hum had risen in pitch, making her whole soul vibrate.

Jessica reached out a hand and could feel an almost physical barrier rising from the earthen ring. Leaving Ewan behind, she stepped over the low ring, pushing through the barrier with ease. In front of her was the third, and final, ring.

The final ring was made of what looked like crystal – she’d hate to think it was made of diamonds, but that’s what it looked like at first glance. It, too, rose about a foot in height, but the stones were sharp and jagged, more like shards than stones. Within this circle was a layer of pristine, white sand that glowed like diamond dust.

Closing her eyes, Jessica straightened up her back and inhaled. It was like inhaling a cold fire. She could feel the power burn its way down and fuel the spark of magic inside her. It was a heady feeling. The pull of the magic was almost irresistible and without conscious thought she took a step forward, stepping over the shard-like ring.

Too late she realized her mistake.

Her eyes snapped open. “Oh, crap!”

Everything dissolved into white fire.

Delay

2011-12-14T08:00:00.000-05:00

Sorry, but due to a migraine last night, today's instalment of Shades of Errol Flynn will be delayed until . . . I, uh, get it finished. :-)

I apologize for the inconvenience, but check back later.

Stuck on Structure The Eight Parts of Speech – Part Seven

2011-12-12T08:00:00.000-05:00

So far we’ve looked at Nouns, Verbs, Adjectives, Adverbs, Pronouns, and Conjunctions. Now it’s time for the lowly Preposition.

The prepositions we use most frequently are: at, by, for, from, in, of, on, to, with.

For a more comprehensive list, go HERE.

Prepositions can indicate location, usually by showing location in the physical world:

The cat is on the table.
The duck is in the pond.
The hat is beside the coat.

They can also show location in time:

At noon, the gunslingers had their showdown.
In the summer, I always plan on going to the park, but end up staying at home.

Prepositions work with a noun, pronoun or noun phrase. They join the noun to some other part of the sentence, such as:

The truck arrived with the shipment.

Prepositions link with nouns and pronouns to create prepositional phrases, such as with the shipment in the above sentence.

Prepositional phrases always have objects. One thing to bear in mind is the case of the object of the prepositional phrase. A pronoun must be in the objective case when it is the object of a preposition. Therefore, it is incorrect to say:

Between you and I, the new strategy will not work.

The personal pronoun I changes to me in the objective case; the sentence should begin with:

Between you and me

Besides being aware of proper selection of case, writers should also beware of excessive or unnecessary use of prepositions. For example:

In reference to your term paper, I think that it is wordy and unfocused.

Using the prepositional phrase (in reference to) creates an unnecessary introduction. The sentence could be much more direct:

Your term paper is wordy and unfocused.

At some point, someone came up with the rule that you should never end a sentence with a preposition. While this is true at times, at other times it’s necessary. Scrambling a sentence to avoid ending with a preposition can be just downright awkward:

This is a sentence up with which a good writer will not put.

Remember, you’re looking for clarity, right? Isn’t that what good writing is all about?

Christmas Music 1

2011-12-09T08:00:00.000-05:00

So . . . it’s the holiday season, but I don’t have my tree up, we don’t have our lights up, and there’s no snow on the ground. We’ve had lots of rain though. And yesterday it tried to snow. But now it’s warmed up again and we’re supposed to get rain. So I’m going to start off my traditional holiday music series with a few of my favourite Christmas songs that seem appropriate for the current state of my Christmas Spirit. :-)

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter 30

2011-12-07T08:00:00.000-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~Ch. 27~Ch. 28~Ch. 29~

“One of these days I expect to climb this staircase and find your skeleton draped over that scrying bowl.”

Paran set the tray he was carrying down on a nearby table. Pointing his staff at the bowl he chanted under his breath. The images in the bowl cleared away.

Thackery jerked upwards. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What I should have done much sooner. You’ve hardly eaten or slept in days. This has got to stop.”

“Restore the image!”

“Not until you eat something!”

Energy crackled through the room. The two men glared at each other. The tension ratcheted up a notch and objects on the shelves began to rattle.

“Enough!” Paran rapped his staff sharply on the floor. The energy dissipated. “You will do your daughter no good if you bring the castle down upon us both. Now eat!”

Grudgingly, Thackery moved over to the table and sat down. As he started to eat, Paran joined him, pouring them each a goblet of wine.

“How fares the child?” Paran asked.

Thackery shook his head. “She is no child, but a woman grown. And every bit as headstrong as her mother was.”

“Has she shown any signs of her power?”

“Aye,” Thackery said with a sigh. “It appears that what you predicted is true, her power appeared in a quite explosive manner.” He went on, between bites of his meal, to explain about the explosion she caused when trying to light a fire.

“This is not good, my friend. This is not good at all.”

“Fortunately she listens to the advice of the young man who helped send her here. And he has advised her not to attempt any more magic for now.”

“So just how impressive was her fire?” Paran asked, trying to appear casual.

“Larger than my first attempt, and more controlled. The blast hit the wood and went straight up instead of in all directions. She did very little damage.”

They shared a smile of pride, then Thackery’s slowly faded. “But that dog Ewan is still sniffing around, whining and dining her. I do not know what he wants from her, but he wants something.”

“Has he made advances on her?”

“No, but that is not surprising. He’s of the old school, who believe a witch’s power is only as strong as her virginity.”

Paran snorted. “Just as well. At least this way he’ll leave her alone.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

For the first half hour of the ride, Jessica thought she might actually enjoy riding side saddle. But then she developed a cramp in her leg. She tried shifting her bottom, but not only did it not help the cramp, it made the horse shy as well. Surreptitiously, she glanced at the other women in the riding party and was relieved to see a couple of them looked just as uncomfortable. The other three were sitting in their saddles with ease, chatting to the knights riding beside them.

The group consisted of six ladies, including Jessica, Prince Ewan, three lords, whose names she promptly forgot as soon as she was introduced to them, ten knights, six squires, and a bevy of pages. Fortunately, with so large a group they kept to a sedate walk. Jessica’s horse was docile enough that pretty much all she had to worry about was keeping her seat.

Ewan seemed to be in a particularly good mood. He kept up a steady banter with the knights nearest to them and pointed out things of interest to Jessica as they rode. When she admired a low-hanging tree covered in blooms, he used a knife to cut her one. She held it to her nose to breathe in its fragrance.

“This is beautiful,” she said, inhaling again.

“Aye, ‘tis most beauteous indeed,” Ewan agreed. But he was not looking at the flower.

Jessica blushed and ducked her head, missing his small smile of satisfaction. She worked the flower into the braid on her head so she wouldn’t lose it. Disney could have definitely modeled Prince Charming after Ewan.

“Where are we going?” she asked, to distract herself.

“Ah, ‘tis a surprise,” Ewan said.

No matter how much she cajoled, he remained firm in wanting to keep their destination a surprise. They continued riding and eventually Jessica’s cramp eased. The scenery was beautiful and the day was warm without being too hot. Just over the next rise was their destination.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Jessica exclaimed.

The woods gave way to a flower-filled meadow with a rippling brook meandering its way nearby. She hadn’t even noticed the pages and squires had gone on ahead and set up a picnic lunch amidst the blossoms. When the pages saw the riders, they abandoned their posts around the food and hurried forward to take the horses reins.

Jessica’s horse stopped when everyone else’s did, for which she was eternally grateful, and Ewan helped her from the saddle. If Ewan’s hands lingered on her waist a trifle longer than was considered polite, then she was not about to complain. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Thank you, your highness.”

“Tis my pleasure, my lady,” he replied, tucking her hand under his arm and leading her towards the pristine white cloths laid out on the ground. There were cushions for the ladies and the lords to sit on. The knights, being in full armor, preferred to stand, while the squires and pages were busy serving.

The meal was every bit as elaborate as she’d come to expect when dining with Ewan. There were multiple courses and way too many choices. Jessica felt stuffed long before they were finished. Fortunately, after everyone was finished it was decided they’d rest before returning to the camp.

“What’s that up there?” Jessica asked, pointing to a rise in the distance. There looked to be some kind of ruins there, or maybe some standing stones, like a miniature Stonehenge.

Ewan gave her an inscrutable look. “That, my lady, is a Well of Power.”

Stuck on Structure The Eight Parts of Speech – Part Six

2011-12-04T08:00:00.001-05:00

“Conjunction Junction, what’s your function . . .” Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself here. :-)

Basically, a conjunction joins two words, phrases or sentences together. There are some people out there who think that conjunctions are used in a sentence to make it more complicated, even to the point of turning it into a run-on sentence, but this is not true. A conjunction can be very helpful in maintaining the rhythm and coherence of a sentence, while at the same time creating transitions of thought.

There are three types of conjunctions:

A coordinating conjunction balances clauses and phrases of equal weight. It links two independent clauses (which could stand alone as two separate sentences) into one sentence because the writer decides to include them in a single, coordinated thought.

For example:

The committee approved the changes, but it postponed implementation until a later date.

A coordinating conjunction can also link simple words and phrases to combine them to show a relationship:

She enjoys reading and writing.
The Christmas season fills us with holiday spirit and good cheer.

The most common coordination conjunctions are: and, but, for, nor, or, yet, while.

Subordinating conjunctions are used to join clauses of unequal weight. That is, one clause clearly takes precedence and can stand by itself as a complete sentence. They are often used to introduce something or to provide context or counterpoint to the main part of the sentence.

For example:

Unless the neighbours can come to an agreement, the community yard sale will not take place.
I will have to cancel the concert unless more seating can be arranged.

The most common subordinating conjunctions are: after, although, as, as if, before, how, if, since, so, through, unless, while.

Make sure you pay particular attention when using as if and be wary of substitutes. A common error is using the preposition like in its place.

It looks like it will snow today. is incorrect.

Prepositions cannot like a clause, only a phrase or a single word. To correct this sentence, you have two choices:

It looks as if it will snow today.
OR
It looks like snow today.

Correlative conjunctions operate in pairs, and pair words, phrases and clauses to provide balance.

Our vacation was both refreshing and exhausting.
Neither the players nor the coach are happy with the final score.

The most common correlative conjunctions are: both/and, either/or, neither/nor, not only/but also, whether/or.

And now for the part you’ve all been waiting for:

NaNo Excerpt - Final One

2011-12-02T08:00:00.000-05:00

This is the last excerpt from my NaNo novel. If you missed the other ones, you can catch week one’s HERE, week two’s HERE, week three’s HERE, and week four’s HERE .

So, here’s the thing. Lexi and Benedict are consenting adults and they’re stuck on a ship for two weeks with nothing to do so they ended up having sex. A lot. I didn’t want to make my last excerpt not safe for work, so instead I chose a scene that takes place after sex. Sex in which Lexi had Benedict tied to the bed and painted him with chocolate. The rest is pretty self-explanatory. ;-)

She scooted down off the bed and started to until his feet first. At least she tried to. Frowning, her fingers picked at the knot.

“Is there a problem?” Benedict asked curiously. From his position he couldn’t really see what she was doing.

“Um, I don’t think so,” Lexi said cautiously. “Let me try undoing your wrists first.”

If anything, these knots were even tighter than the others.

“I don’t know if I’m up for more games, Lexi.”

She shot him a guilty look. “I’m trying to get you loose. Just be patient.” She worried at the knots for a few more minutes then sat back on her heels with a frustrated sigh.

“What’s the matter?”

“When you were straining against the ropes . . . you must have pulled a little harder than I expected.”

“What are you trying to telling me?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t get you undone.”

“What?” he struggled against his bonds, muscles bunching up as he strained against the ropes.

“Stop! You’re just making matters worse.”

He stared at her. “Lexi, this isn’t funny. Now untie me.”

“This isn’t a joke,” she said, wishing it was. “I don’t suppose you have a knife, so I could cut you loose?”

“What would I need a knife for?”

“For getting loose from situations like this one?” she suggested meekly.

He glared at her. “That is not funny.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Look, why don’t I go see if I can find something to cut you loose with.”

She glanced around and then picked up her shift, pulling it over her head. As an afterthought, she picked up the blanket and covered him up, scooting out the door before he could yell at her.

First she checked the cargo bay, checking for a crowbar or some other tool that might have been left behind. There was nothing, as she knew would be the case.

Next she tried the engine room. Surely there’d be a tool kit or something used for making repairs. Unfortunately the engine room was filled with rows of equipment that she didn’t want to mess with. There was nothing resembling a tool kit, or even a tool. Nothing in the room had a sharp edge either.

“Okay, Lexi, think,” she said to herself. “If you were something sharp on a self-sustaining temporal ship, where would you hide?”

On a whim she entered the lounge and went to the large food replicator. “I’d like a big, sharp, butcher knife,” she said to the machine.

“Unfamiliar foodstuff. Please restate your request.”

Lexi sighed. At least it had been worth a shot. Suddenly she thought of something.

“I’d like a nice juicy steak, medium rare,” she told the replicator.

There was a quiet hum and then the panel slid open. The steak smelled mouth watering, but all she had eyes for was the knife for cutting it. With a triumphant, “Yes!” she snatched it up and hurried back to Benedict.

He didn’t look very happy. In fact, he was starting to look a little uncomfortable.

“Where have you been?” he asked peevishly.

“Trying to find something to cut you free with,” she reminded him.

“And?”

“Ta da!” She brandished the steak knife.

He eyed the tiny knife dubiously. “You realize it’s going to take forever with that thing.”

“Well, it was either this or I order up a bottle of whiskey and then break it so I can use the glass.”

“You made the wise choice,” he assured her.

“Where should I start, wrists or ankles?” she asked.

“Wrists,” he said promptly

She started for the rope around his left wrist, then pulled back. “You’re not going to try and get back at me for this, are you?”

“Temping, but no. We’ll just chalk this up to a learning experience.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s very big of you.”

Though the steak knife wasn’t the sharpest of tools, the serrated edge made short work of the rope. Once his hands were free, Benedict took the knife from her and freed his ankles. Lexi took one look at the raw looking red marks around his wrists and ankles and tears filled her eyes.

“Oh, Benedict. I’m so sorry. I should never have picked the rope to tie you with.”

She was so genuinely upset that any thoughts he harboured for revenge were washed away. “It’s all right, really. It could have happened to anyone.” He pulled her down into his lap and kissed her thoroughly. “Let’s just stick to me tying you up from now on.”

Lexi nodded her head in agreement. “I agree. From now on if I want to restrain you I’ll use handcuffs.”

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty-nine

2011-12-01T02:30:00.000-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~Ch. 27~Ch. 28~

Jessica drew herself up to her full height of five feet, six inches and stood with her legs braced apart, her hands fisted on her hips. She was prepared to do battle.

“You can’t be serious!”

“To wear aught else would be scandalous, my lady,” Eleanor said emphatically.

“It’s a freaking dress!”

“Tis a riding habit, my lady. ‘Tis what the other ladies wilt be wearing, though I daresay none wilst be so fine.”

“Other ladies?” Jessica said weakly.

“Aye, my lady. Tis a royal procession.”

Crap! That sounded really . . . official. Ewan wasn’t just some random hot guy, he was a prince, and people looked up to him. Could she really afford to embarrass him by showing up in pants and a jerkin? Gareth and Alexandre already thought she was pushing her luck by the clothes she preferred to wear, maybe she needed to give in just this once.

“How can wearing a dress be less scandalous than wearing pants for riding?”

“What else wouldst thee wear when riding side saddle?”

“Side saddle?” Jessica blanched.

“How else wouldst a lady ride?”

In a daze, Jessica allowed herself to be dressed in what amounted to an elaborate costume in heavy dark green cloth with silver trim. Compromising on her hair, she allowed Eleanor to braid it and then coil the braid over her head, pinning it in place.

“Thank you, Eleanor,” she said. “Now, would you be so kind as to tell his majesty I’ll just be another few minutes? I have something I must attend to . . . alone.”

Sniffing her disapproval at foreigners and their high handed manner of keeping royalty waiting, Eleanor did as she was told. The second she was out of sight, Jessica pulled out her pendent.

“Howard?” She shook the pendent as though that would wake him up. “Howard, are you there?”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he said, sounding irritable. “You just interrupted me in the middle of—”

“I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass what I interrupted you in the middle of, I’m in serious trouble here!”

“Oh for the love of . . . what did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything! I just need you to tell me everything you know about riding side saddle.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Did you say side saddle?”

“Yes I said side saddle! I don’t have much time, so could you please hurry up?”

There was a snorting noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter before Howard got himself under control. “Well, if you’re lucky, they’ll use one of the earlier versions which were pretty much just a padded seat with a foot-rest and your horse will be led by another rider.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. What if I’m not lucky?”

“Then you’ll end up in one of the more normal looking saddles where you hook your right leg around the pommel. There’ll be a horn as well for stability. And instead of a foot-rest, there’ll be a covered stirrup to put your left foot in. Oh, and you’ll be the one in charge of steering the horse.”

“This is starting to sound way too complicated,” Jessica moaned. “Maybe I should just pretend I’m sick.”

“You’ll do fine. Just remember to keep your back straight and to hold the reins evenly.”

“Okay, here goes nothing. Thanks Howard.”

“You’re welcome, Jess. Good luck.”

Jessica took a deep breath and exited the tent. Ewan and Gareth were waiting patiently just a few paces away, pages holding the bridles of three horses.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she said, eyeing the horses with trepidation.

“Nay, ‘tis we who are early,” Ewan said, dismissing her apology with a wave of his hand. “Thee art most becoming in thy riding habit.”

She almost asked becoming what before stopping herself. Instead she smiled and said simply, “Thank you.”

Ewan led her over to the horses. Her heart sank as she saw one of them was saddled in the second version Howard had described.

“I pray thee forgive our barbaric ways, my lady. There is no mounting block. If I may be so bold as to offer my services?”

Jessica had no idea what he was talking about, but nodded anyway. She let out a small gasp as he picked her up easily and placed her in the saddle. Hooking her right knee over the pommel, she searched out the stirrup with her left foot.

“Allow me, my lady,” said Gareth, coming to her rescue. He held out the covered stirrup and she slipped her foot inside, smiling her thanks at him.

Settling in the saddle with the minimum of squirming, she took the reins from the page, who was holding them out to her. Ewan and Gareth mounted their horses with a grace she’d be incapable of even if she had been wearing pants.

“Shall we join the others?” Ewan asked.

She nodded, mouth suddenly gone dry. This was it, she was going to ride this horse if it killed her. And she had a sinking feeling it probably would.

No I Didn't Forget . . .

2011-11-30T08:00:00.000-05:00

. . . I just got busy with NaNo. I will get my chapter up either later today or early tomorrow. Sorry for the delay!

In the meantime, here's a couple of LOL cats to put a smile on your face.

Stuck on Structure The Eight Parts of Speech – Part Five

2011-11-28T08:00:00.003-05:00

For those keeping track, so far we’ve covered Nouns, Verbs, Adjectives, and Adverbs. This week we’re looking at the Pronoun.

A pronoun stands in for a noun. Sometimes it’s called a noun substitute. Pronouns can add flexibility and variety to a sentence by keeping us from restating the same noun in that sentence. Unfortunately, pronouns can be more confusing in usage than nouns.

There are four main types of pronouns:

Personal pronouns are the most common type of pronoun and take form in three cases: subjective – I, you, he, she, it, we, you, they; objective – me, you, him, her, it, us, you, them; possessive – my/mine, your/yours, his, her/hers, its, our/ours, your/yours, their/theirs.

Personal pronouns are pretty straight forward until they become possessive, which is where many people run into problems. When selecting the correct possessive pronoun, a writer is sometimes lured by the unnecessary but seductive apostrophe. The most common problem involves the its/it’s decision. For example:

Phantom of the Opera is in its eighth straight week of performances.
its is a possessive pronoun

It’s a wonderful experience to see live theatre.
it’s is a contraction of it is

One reason for confusion about the use of apostrophes with pronouns as possessives is that the noun uses an apostrophe to form its possessive while the pronoun does not.

This is Judy’s book. - proper noun
This book is hers. – possessive pronoun

Here’s another example for further clarification (hopefully):
It’s (contraction of it is) evident that the stock market’s (possessive noun) gain has a great deal to do with the public’s (possessive noun) perception of its (possessive pronoun, no apostrophe) connection to interest rates.

Indefinite pronouns such as anyone, enough, many, most, none, andseveral reveal little if anything about their gender or number. When handled incorrectly, they can cause problems with subject, verb, and antecedent (a word to which the pronoun refers) agreements.

A handful of indefinite pronouns can take either a singular or plural verb, depending on the sense of the sentence. These are: all, most, none, some.

Most (pronoun) of the coastal village was (singular verb) severely damaged by the storm.
Most (pronoun) of the passengers were (plural verb) rescued from the burning ship.

Some indefinite pronouns – both, few, many, several – are obviously plural.

Many are called, but few are chosen.

Indefinite pronouns such as anybody or somebody can be confusing when it comes to gender identification and can cause awkward writing.

Anybody can cast his ballot for mayor. This is incorrect because it excludes women. You should write:

Anybody can cast their ballot for mayor. OR Anybody can cast his or her ballot for mayor.

Relative pronouns such as that, which, and who are easy to recognize, but they can be difficult to use properly.

Note the difference in the correct choices of the following sentences:

(Who/Whom) did the grand jury elect?
She is the type of leader (that/who) commands unwavering loyalty.
The aircraft carrier Enterprise, (that/which) is steaming now toward the Persian Gulf, is an intimidating spectacle.
This is one of those pens (that/which) (write/writes) upside down.

Who or whom must be chosen instead of that when the antecedent is human or when it takes on human qualities.

The police officers that stopped my car were polite but firm. (incorrect)
The police officers who stopped my car were polite but firm. (correct)
The candidate that the voters selected has been indicted. (incorrect)
The candidate whom the voters selected has been indicted. (correct)

Be aware that who has a separate possessive form. The possessive form of who is whose. Who’s is a contraction of who is.

Demonstrative pronouns are “pointers”. They have a measure of specificity that leaves little room for doubt. They include this, that, these, and those. They can stand alone as in:

This is exactly the kind of situation that will land you in court. (this refers to a specific instance)

Or they can modify other nouns (and become an adjective in the process):

These kids are driving me crazy! (these modifies kids)

And now that you’re brain is most likely hurting from an overload of information, I’ll leave you with some Grammar Rocks to sooth it. :-)

NaNo Excerpt – Week Four

2011-11-25T08:00:00.001-05:00

This pretty much continues where last week left off. Lexi’s still trying to come to terms with what’s happened to her and after tucking a drunken Benedict into bed, decides to finish off the whiskey he’d been drinking. The rest is pretty much self-explanatory.

“He really does care about you, you know,” a quiet voice said from behind her.

Lexi squeaked and nearly dropped the bottle of whiskey. After putting Benedict to bed she’d returned to the lounge and the single malt whiskey still sitting on the table where she’d left it. Never one to let good whiskey go to waste, she’d just picked it up. Now she whirled around, the liquid sloshing in the bottle.

“Who—what—” The words stuck in her throat. There was a man standing by the view port, a man whose form seemed to waver in and out of focus

“Maybe you’d better set the bottle down before you drop it. I’d hate to see a good Felosian whiskey go to waste.”

The apparition smiled reassuringly at her. He was shorter than Benedict, but stockier, with shaggy black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He was dressed in some kind of dark blue, one piece outfit, and she could see right through him.

Keeping her eyes trained on him, Lexi set the bottle carefully back on the table and sank slowly down into one of the chairs.

“On second thought, maybe you should have a drink. You look like you could use one.”

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“My name’s Rashaad, but you can call me Rash. I’m a friend of Benedict’s. I’d offer to shake your hand but . . .” He waved his hand through a chair to illustrate his point.

“But you—you’re—”

“Dead? Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

Lexi took a large drink. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you about Benedict.”

“Me?” Lexi took another drink. “What about Benedict?”

“He needs you Lexi, more than he realizes. And I think you need him too.”

“He doesn’t need me, he needs a woman his own age,” she scoffed.

“You two are determined to let your insecurities keep you apart, aren’t you – him with his guilt and you with your hang-ups about age.” Rash shook his head. “Age doesn’t matter, not when two people are right for each other. And besides, it’s not going to be a problem for long.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to get him to open up,” he advised her, ignoring her question. “Get him to talk to you. And the best way to do that is to talk to him first. Tell him about your past.”

“What do you know about my past?” she asked, looking faintly alarmed.

“I know everything about you Lexi.”

“Then you must also know he’s taking me to another man.”

“Yeah, I know that too.” He looked faintly troubled. “There’s nothing either of us can do about that, but I can tell you you’ll be safe as long as Victor’s infatuation holds. He prides himself on never taking an unwilling woman and the more you resist, the more infatuated he’ll become.”

“Benedict said Victor killed you and your sister. Is this true?”

“Let’s just say he was the direct cause of our deaths. It wasn’t pretty. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Okay.” Lexi sipped from the whiskey bottle again. “He also said you were working as an undercover agent . . . you’re both with some kind of law enforcement agency?”

This time he nodded. “Yeah, that much is true. I was under cover, one of the worst assignments I’ve ever had to take. Victor’s smart, and he’s paranoid. But I think Benedict will succeed where I failed, especially if he has your help.”

“My help? How can I help him? I can’t even help myself.”

“You’re going to be in a unique position to help him. You’ll figure out a way.”

“What if he refuses my help?”

“You’ll just have to convince him. You need to tell him about your past, so he’ll know where your strength comes from.”

“I never talk about my past,” she whispered.

“It’s the only way. I’m counting on you Lexi,” he said, and faded away.

Lexi sat there sipping from the bottle until the rest of the whiskey was gone. As if things weren’t already in turmoil, now she was seeing ghosts on top of everything else.

“I should have been a fantasy writer,” she muttered. “Shit like this never happens to them!”

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty-eight

2011-11-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~Ch. 27~

Jessica was enjoying her time with Alexandre so much that it was with surprise she saw one of the servers threading their way through the crowd, lighting thick candles on the tables and torches set on stakes around the perimeter of the tavern.

“I didn’t realize it was getting so late,” she said. “I guess we should be getting back, Ewan’s probably wondering where I’ve wandered off to.”

If Alexandre suddenly plummeted at the mention of Ewan, she didn’t seem to notice. They were both a little tipsy from the amount of mead they consumed, but made it back to Jessica’s tent without tripping over anything – or any one.

As she expected, Ewan was pacing back and forth in front of her tent. He stopped when he spotted them and stood waiting with his arms folded across his chest.

“Uh, oh. Looks like we’re in trouble,” Jessica said with a tiny giggle.

“Mayhap thee art not what thee pretends. Shouldst there be aught to have me believe otherwise, I will with all haste finish what the king began ten years ago,” he said in a clipped tone to Alexandre.

“Forgive me, my lord, I—”

Jessica stepped in between the two men. “It was my fault. I’ve heard of mead before, but I’ve never had the chance to try it. I gotta say, it really packs a punch, know what I mean?”

Ewan looked over her head at Alexandre. “You are dismissed, minstrel.”

Without looking at Jessica, Alexandre bowed and made a hasty retreat.

“Hey!” Jessica smacked Ewan on the chest. “That was downright rude!” She didn’t like the way he was glaring at Alexandre either.

Ewan gave himself a little shake, and the look he gave her was one of complete contrition. He took her hands in his and sank to one knee. “Please forgive me, my lady. I was but overcome with fear for thy safety. Tis perilous times we abide in.”

“I guess I could have let someone know where I was,” she said, just a little grudgingly. “Or at least paid better attention to the passing time. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Then let us speak no more of it,” he said, rising to his feet again. “We shalt dine and make merry, and our cares wilt be no more.”

Jessica would rather of spoken more about the way he treated Alexandre, but Ewan was already leading her into the tent and summoning his pages. Maybe it was just the mead, but he didn’t seem quite as princely as he had before.

Sensing something of her mood, Ewan put himself out to be more charming than ever that evening. He plied her with wine and flattery and fine food until Jessica forgot she was annoyed with him and he was once again her shining hero.

At the end of the evening he paused by the flap of her tent and for a heart-stopping moment Jessica thought he was about to kiss her. However he only kissed her hand, as usual. She tried not to appear disappointed.

“My lady, ‘twould give me great joy if thee wouldst consent to accompany me on a ride on the morrow.”

“That would be wonderful,” she said dreamily.

“I shalt sleep and dream of thee,” he said.

He kissed her hand again and closed the tent flap behind him. Jessica sighed, a sappy smile on her face as she turned away to get ready for bed. While she put up with Eleanor helping her get dressed in the morning, she refused to have help getting her nightgown on.

“Did I just hear you agree to go for a ride tomorrow?” Howard’s voice broke into her haze of happiness.

“Yes you did. A ride with a prince.”

“You do know that a ride means horses, don’t you?”

Jessica frowned as she started unlacing her jerkin. “So?”

“Have you ever been on a horse?”

“Sure I have!” she said defensively.

“The pony ride in Harrison Park when you were ten doesn’t count,” Howard said dryly.

“I’ve watched plenty of Westerns, how hard could it be?” Her voice was slightly muffled as she pulled a voluminous nightgown over her head.

“I don’t even know where to start with that one,” he said with a sigh.

“Listen, Howard, there’s something else. I got Gareth and Alexandre to show me the battlefield—”

“You what?” His voice rose an octave.

“Chill! We were perfectly safe. Anyway, it was really weird . . .”

“How so?”

“Well, this monster army everyone’s so worked up about? I watched Ewan lead a charge against them – they just appeared out of no where and cut his army up bad before he finally retreated again. But the really weird part? I could see right through them.”

“What do you mean, see through them?”

“Exactly what I said. It’s like they were projections, or ghosts, or—”

“Or illusions,” Howard said thoughtfully.

“Yeah. But the thing is, no one else seemed to realize it.” Jessica pulled down the covers on the bed and removed the warming pan. Damn, she could get used to this.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m sure. But how come I can see through these things and no one else can?”

“Probably because of your magical abilities.”

“Really? So you think I’d be, like, immune to these things? I mean, I can see right through them so they can’t hurt me, right?”

“I don’t know Jess, I’ll look into it and see what I can find out. Promise me you’ll stay away from them until I do.”

“Sure thing, Howard.” She yawned and climbed into bed. “Maybe we can use this as a way to help Ewan get his castle back.”

“I don’t know about that, Jess. But I’ll look into it.”

Stuck on Structure - The Eight Parts of Speech – Part Four

2011-11-21T08:00:00.000-05:00

So far we’ve covered Nouns, Verbs, and Adjectives. This brings us to the lowly Adverb.

The adverb tells you how something is done and may also tell you when or where something happened. Like adjectives, adverbs perform descriptive and limiting functions. They have a myriad of uses in a sentence.

Adverbs can modify a verb:

The drunk was driving erratically on the crowded freeway.
The adverb erratically describes or modifies the verb was driving. In this type of construction, a adverb often answers the question how.

Adverbs can modify an adjective:

She is quite beautiful, don’t you agree?
Quite modifies the adjective beautiful. It states a degree of beauty.

Adverbs can modify another adverb:

The chef took his one-star review very badly.
Very modifies the adverb badly, which modifies the verb took. Again, these adverbs answer the question how.

Adverbs can introduce a sentence:

Why do fools fall in love?
Why is an interrogative adverb. It modifies the verb fall.

Adverbs can connect two clauses:

The jury agreed that the plaintiff was defamed; however, it awarded only a dollar in damages.
Because it link two clauses that could stand alone, however is called a conjunctive adverb.

In addition to selecting the most appropriate and descriptive of adverbs for a sentence, writers should also be concerned about the proper positioning of an adverb. Although an adverb can be moved around to provide a change in emphasis, it’s a good rule of thumb to position the adverb as closely as possible to the word it is supposed to modify. Be sure that your meaning is clear.

NaNo Excerpt – Week Three

2011-11-18T08:00:00.002-05:00

This week’s excerpt comes from some where in the middle of the story. Let’s see . . . Benedict has kidnapped Lexi and is taking her to meet the drug lord who’s obsessed with her. He’s feeling really guilty about this, not only because he’s a nice guy, but because he has strong feelings for Lexi. So, he’s decided to drown his sorrows.

He was startled when the door to the lounge slid open for Lexi. She stood framed on the threshold, looking around a little uncertainly before stepping through. Her beautiful hazel eyes were wide and haunted. He’d put that look there and he hated himself for it.

He held the bottle out in silent invitation. She hesitated only a moment before approaching. Sitting in the chair opposite him, she took the bottle and took a swig.

“How long before we get to where we’re going?” she asked, passing the bottle back.

“Another fifteen days.” It was his turn to hesitate. “I know you probably hate the very sight of me right now, and I don’t blame you, so if you’d rather pass the rest of the journey in stasis, I understand.”

“In stasis, what do you mean?”

He took another swig from the bottle and passed it back to her. “I mean, you don’t have to put up with my company for the rest of the trip. You can spend it in a stasis pod instead. Just close your eyes and poof, we’re there.” When he said the word poof, he gestured with his hand and just about fell out of his chair.

Lexi checked the level of the bottle before taking another drink. “Just how much of this stuff have you had?”

“It was a brand new bottle,” he confessed.

The bottle was about two thirds empty now.

“Benedict, are you drunk?”

“Not nearly drunk enough.”

“I’m in no hurry to get there,” she told him. The thought of a stasis pod did not appeal to her in the least. “Why didn’t you just put me in one when I was unconscious?”

“Nope.” He shook his head carefully. “Couldn’t do that to you. What we shared was beautiful. Couldn’t go from that to having you wake up in Victor’s hands.”

“Why have any contact with me at all? Why didn’t you just kidnap me in the first place?”

He winced as the cerebral chip sent a signal to pain centre. “Orders. Can’t disobey orders from Victor. Good old Victor, plague of the universe.” He grabbed the bottle away from Lexi and took a healthy swig before she was able to get it back again.

“If you hate Victor so much, why are you working for him?”

“Got no choice,” he said mournfully, shaking his head. “Bastard killed Rash and Anna. Must have found out Rash was under cover.”

“Under cover,” Lexi repeated. “Like some kind of law enforcement? Are you under cover as well?”

“Shhh.” Benedict held his finger to his lips. “It’s a secret,” he said in a very loud whisper. “You can’t tell anybody or I’ll be dead, just like good ole Rash.”

Lexi sat back in her chair. If what he was saying was true, this changed everything.

“Course can’t blame you if you turn me in, serves me right. We shared something beautiful and now I’m taking you to a bad, bad man. Can’t help you, can’t even help myself. Can’t even tell you why I can’t help you.” He sighed heavily and took another swig from the bottle.

“C’mon, sad sack,” Lexi said. “I think you’ve had enough of this.” She took the bottle away from him and plunked it down on the table. “I think you need to sleep it off.”

She got up and pulled him to his feet. He swayed in place, and as she pulled him towards the door he set each foot down with exaggerated care, still managing to stumble going through the door. The air left her lungs in a whoosh as he fell forward, plastering her to the wall. He looked down at her with a foolish grin on his face.

“You feel good. You’re all soft and warm.”

“And you’re drunk as a skunk.”

He straightened up, as much as he was able to. “I do not get drunk,” he told her, enunciating each word, “because . . . because . . . I do not drink,” he finished triumphantly.

“So what was that you were doing in there?” she asked, nodding towards the lounge.

“I was saluting my old friend Rash with a sip of his favourite whiskey.”

“Uh huh,” she said. She put one arm around his waist to steady him. “Well I think it’s time you saluted from a more prone position. Which way to your room?”

“I’m right across the hall from your room. Makes it so much easier if you want to visit me.” He peered at her hopefully. “Would you like to visit me? No,” he shook his head sadly. “I forgot. You don’t want to visit me. You hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you,” Lexi said with an exasperated sigh. They reached his quarters and she had trouble getting him over the threshold. “C’mon, Benedict, just a little further.”

“I like the way you say my name. I really liked the way you screamed it when you had an orgasm.”

She pushed him down onto the bed. “Here you go, time to say good night.”

“Whoa, everything’s spinning. I think the inertial dampening field is off line. Computer, check inertial dampeners.”

“Inertial dampeners are functioning normally.”

“I think it’s only your inertial dampeners that are malfunctioning,” Lexi told him. “Too much whiskey will do that to a person. Now lie down like a good boy and close your eyes.”

“But I’m not a good boy,” he told her, a wicked glint in his eye. He pulled her down on top of him. “I wish . . . I wish . . .”

“What do you wish Benedict?” she asked softly.

There was no answer. She looked down at him and his eyes were closed. With a sigh she extricated herself from under his arm and wriggled off the bed. She unlaced his boots and pulled them off him, then covered him with a blanket.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty-seven

2011-11-16T08:00:00.009-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~Ch. 26~

It was late afternoon when they returned to the encampment. Gareth excused himself to attend to the prince, while Alexandre suggested he and Jessica visit the marketplace that had sprung up on the north side of the camp. She agreed absently, mind still on what she’d witnessed on the battlefield. She couldn’t wait to see what Howard had to say about it.

Though she tried to focus on the wares the vendors had on display, Alexandre could tell she was distracted. Finally, he suggested they stop for a drink at one of the open-air taverns.

“I’m sorry,” Jessica said, once they were seated. “I haven’t been very good company.”

“I understand your distraction,” Alexandre said, as the bar maid set two wooden mugs of mead in front of them. “The demon army is an awe inspiring sight.”

“Ewan said this whole thing started because of an argument the king had with a wizard. Do you know any of the details?”

Alexandre took a sip of his drink. “Gareth’s story of how everyone was driven from the castle is essentially what most people agree on. What caused the argument between King Randolph and the wizard, however, is a little trickier. I’ve only had rumours to go on, but I think I’ve been able to piece together the most likely scenario.”

Jessica took a sip of her mead. “Hey!” she said in surprise. “This is pretty good!” Alexandre grinned at her and she blushed. “Sorry, go on with your story.”

“As is the case with so many conflicts, this one had to do with money. The wizard performed a service for the king and then either tried to extort more money for it, or the king decided the service wasn’t worth as much as he promised.”

“Okay, I’m with you so far. Either way, we’ve got a pissed off wizard. Why didn’t he just use his magic to steal the money he was owed, or thought he was owed?”

“It might have been some wizard’s code, but I believe the truth is that Randolph keeps the treasury in a magic proof vault. He’s never been comfortable around magic workers.”

“It seems odd that the wizard hasn’t simply held the castle for ransom until he gets what he wants. I wonder if there’s something else going on here.”

“If there is, I know nothing about it.” Alexandre paused for a sip of his mead before continuing. “I hope you realize that you are under no obligation to help the king . . . or the king’s son.”

Jessica blushed. “I know, it’s just . . . I like to feel useful.”

“An admirable quality, when used wisely, but a foolish one when one becomes embroiled in a difficult, and dangerous, situation.”

“Jeez, you sound just like Howard,” Jessica muttered.

“Howard?”

“Oh, he’s my best friend. Back where I came from, that is.”

“He sounds like a very wise man. I would very much like to meet him some day.”

“I’m sure he’d like that too,” she said, grinning suddenly at the mental image of Howard meeting the handsome bard. Suddenly, several things clicked into place. Ewan’s snide comments, the way Alexandre didn’t have a crowd of women fawning over him . . . “Ewan only trusts you around me because you're gay, doesn't he?”

A frown furrowed his brow. “I do not believe I am any happier than the next man, nor does it matter to Prince Ewan.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean gay, as in homosexual, a lover of men, not women.”

Alexandre’s face cleared of all expression. “Forgive me, my lady. I did not realize you did not know of my preferences. I will not trouble you further.” He rose as if to leave.

“Wait a minute!” Jessica sputtered, confused at his sudden coldness. “What just happened here? Where are you going?”

It was his turn to look confused. “I—I assumed you would no longer wish to associate with me, that knowing the truth you find me offensive now.”

“Sit down,” she told him. “I take it this has happened to you before? That friends have turned on you because of your sexual preference?”

“I have no friends in Ghren,” Alexandre said softly, in a voice that broke her heart. He sat back down. “I had one true friend, but he has disappeared. That’s why I came back – to find out what happened to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Jessica said, reaching across the table to lay her hand on his. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“I thank you, my Lady Jessica. And I apologize for thinking ill of you.”

“It’s all right. I understand, really I do. My friend Howard is a lover of men too. It hasn't always been easy for him, either.”

“Truly?” he asked in surprise.

“Truly,” she assured him.

“He is a very lucky man, to have you as a friend,” he said with a smile.

She grinned back at him. “Damn right he is.”

Stuck on Structure - The Eight Parts of Speech – Part Three

2011-11-14T08:00:00.002-05:00

We’ve discussed the importance of Nouns and Verbs, now it’s time to talk about the Adjective.

Adjectives describe, limit and otherwise qualify nouns and pronouns. They are “picture words”. They enhance the detail of a sentence. If a strong, direct verb lays a proper foundation for a sentence, then a creative and well-targeted adjective gives that sentence a special finish or polish that will set it apart.

There are two main types of adjectives, descriptive and limiting.

Descriptive Adjectives add detail when creating a picture, expanding the meaning of a sentence and helping to set a mood. Consider the differences in the following sentences (the adjectives are in italics):

Investors are questioning the latest proposal from the new Internet provider.

Skeptical and angry investors are questioning the latest proposal from the fledgling Internet provider.

Which sentence tells you more and paints a fuller picture?

A careful writer uses their adjectives carefully. Their concern is more with content than flashiness. For example, when writing the first sentence in the example, a writer might want to use a stronger description of the Internet provider. Going to their thesaurus, they’ll discover a whole plethora of words to replace ‘new’: novel, new-fangled, original, fresh, or innovative. The word fledgling, however, shows that the Internet provider is inexperienced, untried, and untested. This creates a clearer image of the subject.

Limiting Adjectives set boundaries and qualifies meaning. Let’s look at some examples:

The lost kayakers had to paddle 10 kilometres to find help.
The number ‘10’ gives us a specific idea of how far they had to paddle.

“This setback cost us the account,” the CEO said.
Here the adjective limits, or focuses, the meaning of the sentence. The CEO is referring to one specific setback.

Does she know any way to get to the hotel?
Although the boundaries set here in specifying ways are very broad, ‘any’ is seen as a limiting adjective because it provides no description or other helpful context.

While adjectives are important, they can also be overused and misapplied. Given their many nuances, adjectives challenge the writer to be on target with meanings.

NaNo Excerpt - Week Two

2011-11-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

This week's excerpt is from near the end of the book. This is after the hero, Benedict, and the heroine, Lexi, have escaped from the bad guy and admitted their love for each other. Benedict decided Lexi would be better off back on her own world, in her own time, and made it so. The rest is pretty much self-explanatory

It had only been a month since Benedict’s team had used the temporal ship to return Lexi to her home, but already they were ready to dump him out the nearest air lock.

“I swear, if that man cracked a smile his whole face might break,” Jester complained to the Commander. “He can’t keep going on like this, he’s going to snap.”

“There’s nothing I can do about it,” the commander told him. “It’s not like I can order him to get over it. In fact, I doubt very much if he’ll ever get over it. There’s only one cure and he’s too damned stubborn to take it.”

“Maybe if you—”

“I’ve already offered him a leave of absence, or even an early retirement, if it came to that. But he’s adamant that he’s doing the right thing.”

“I’ve never seen a case where the right thing felt so wrong in my life,” Jester muttered.

“I hear you on that,” the commander agreed. “You four are his most trusted friends. If you can’t convince him to do the right thing and go to her, then no one can.”

Jester sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to give it one more try,” he said.

“Good luck, I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

The rest of the team was more than willing to drag a reluctant Benedict to a bar, if only to get off the ship for a few hours.

Benedict knew he was being a dog in the manger, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. There was a Lexi shaped hole in his heart and it was slowly killing him. Every time he felt himself starting to weaken, remembering the way she’d come to his rescue at the trial and the look in her eyes when she told him she loved him, he’d remember the way he’d betrayed her. He’d promised to keep her safe and she’d been anything but that.

“Cheer up,” Nessa said cheerfully, slapping him on the back. “You probably did her a favour, cutting her loose.”

Damian looked at her askance. They were supposed to be trying to convince Benedict go after Lexi, not reassure him he’d done the right thing.

“How was he doing her a favour?” Jaden asked.

“Well, X gave her her youth back, and Ben clearly loosened her inhibitions, so now she’s got her whole life back to try out some of those interesting ideas she was always writing about but was too timid to try.”

“Which interesting ideas?” Damian asked curiously. They’d all read at least one of her books – they were filled with interesting ideas.

“Well role playing for one. You know, the whole dressing up thing? And who hasn’t wondered what it would be like to be tied up and helpless while your partner pleasures you?”

The men at the table looked at her in shock. Benedict had a sudden vision of Lexi, naked, tied spread eagled to that enormous bed of hers while he teased and tormented her with pleasure.

“What? I’m just sayin’. And then there’s the whole master/slave thing. Lexi told me she always did wonder whether someone could be made to come on command.”

“You’re killing me here,” Jester choked out.

“But none of these things will be with Benedict,” Damian pointed out, still not seeing where Nessa was headed with this.

Benedict jerked in his seat, face going pale at the thought of someone else doing those things to Lexi. His Lexi.

“Well, no. But that’s his choice, isn’t it? You don’t really think Lexi’s going to mourn forever, do you?”

“That’s right,” Jaden agreed, catching on. “Sooner or later she’ll be ready to move on. And when she does . . . let’s just say whatever man she gets a hold of next will be one lucky bastard.”

By this time Benedict was looking even paler than he had been. Maybe even a little ill. Abruptly he stood up, shoving back his chair. “I have something I have to do.” And with little more than that he was gone.

Nessa sat back and sipped her drink, a smile of satisfaction on her face.

“You’re good,” Damian said in admiration, having finally figured out what was going on.

“I’m just glad you’re on our side,” Jester said, saluting her with his glass.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter 26

2011-11-09T08:00:00.002-05:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~~Ch. 25~

“So guys,” Jessica said while she was having the noon-day meal with Gareth and Alexandre. What was it they called it, luncheon? Nuncheon? Ewan was off doing whatever it was that princes did during the day; she usually only saw him in the evenings. “Tell me about this monster army that chased everybody out of the castle.”

Gareth choked on the drink he was taking. Alexandre merely raised an eyebrow. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, for starters, how come everyone’s camped out in this valley instead of in the castle? I mean, when you saw the monster army coming, why didn’t you just batten down the hatches and hold them off from inside the castle? Isn’t that how a siege works?

“An interesting question,” Alexandre said. “I, myself, was not present when the attack occurred. I arrived after the fact. Gareth?”

Gareth swallowed hard. “’Twas ghosts that drove us forth. Fearsome ghosts. At first ‘twas only the nobles being haunted – specters and nightmares being visited upon them in the dark of night. Little sleep was being had and tempers grew ever short. Then the phantoms began to appear after the sun had arisen. We knew not from whence they came. So fearsome were they we fled, with barely what we could carry, ‘til we arrived hither.”

“So the wizard conjured up an army of ghosts to drive everyone out of the castle, and now he keeps you out with his army of monsters,” Jessica said thoughtfully. “What does he want?”

“Your pardon?”

“Has he made any demands? Sent a representative to negotiate for anything?”

“I . . . nay, he hast done none of these things.”

“So he’s just sitting there, all by himself in the castle while his monsters keep everyone else out,” Jessica said thoughtfully. There was something fishy about this whole set-up. She couldn’t understand why no one seemed to see it except her.

They finished their meal in silence, and when they were done Jessica pulled on her boots and strapped on her sword.

“Okay guys, let’s go.”

Gareth and Alexandre exchanged confused glances. “Go where?” Alexandre asked cautiously.

“To the battlefield of course. I want to see this monster army for myself.”

“Nay!” Gareth exclaimed. “’Tis madness!”

“If I’m to help you,” Jessica explained patiently, “I’ll need to see what I’m up against.”

“There are places from which to see battleground without putting yourself at too much risk,” Alexandre admitted. “It should be safe enough.”

“The prince wilt be most displeased.”

“Then we just won’t tell him,” Jessica said sweetly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

“I don’t see anything unusual,” Jessica said, glancing around.

They were concealed in a copse on a hill overlooking the so-called battlefield. The field was rutted and churned up in places, but other than that it looked pretty harmless. It certainly didn’t look as though terrible battles had been taking place on it.

In the distance the castle stood on a rise, squat and formidable looking. Jessica was delighted to see the moat surrounding it – what was a castle without a moat? There was a flag waving from the tallest tower, but it was too far away to make out the crest on the flag.

“The monsters be there,” Gareth said in a whisper. “They just be hidden.”

A horn sounded to the left of them.

“What’s that?” Jessica asked.

“It’s the call to battle,” Alexandre told her. “It looks like we’re in for a skirmish.”

They watched as a small detachment from the army formed a double line along the edge of the field. Ewan, Jessica could tell it was him from the way he carried himself and from the green and silver he wore, rode a magnificent white horse up and down the line offering last minute instructions and encouragement. There was no movement from the field until the horn sounded once more and Ewan led the charge.

From out of nowhere, the monsters appeared. Jessica stared open-mouthed at the sheer size and variety of them. Some had fur, most had scales, and a very few had both. Their teeth went from large and dripping with venom to huge and terrifying. A few had wings and had risen in the air to make strafing runs on the incoming soldiers.

Ewan’s army was not doing so well. They were clawed and bitten and overwhelmed by sheer numbers, while they managed to do very little damage to the monsters. In fact, it appeared as though they weren’t even leaving a mark on the monsters.

The horn sounded again and this time it was a call to retreat. Ewan’s soldiers left the battlefield and made their way slowly back to camp, taking their wounded with them. As the last soldier left the battlefield, the monsters went back to wherever it was they came from.

“I beseech you,” Gareth begged. “Canst we not return to the camp?”

Jessica nodded. “I think I’ve seen everything I need to see here,” she said.

She’d seen enough, and more. In fact, she’d seen right through the monsters. Ewan’s men were fighting an army of illusions.

Stuck on Structure - The Eight Parts of Speech – Part Two

2011-11-07T08:00:00.000-05:00

All writing begins with the verb. Our ideas can’t get moving without them. They provide force to our expression. Without the power of a verb, a sentence is a hollow, impotent shell that cannot deliver a complete thought. Putting it another way, without a verb you cannot have a sentence.

Verbs are so powerful that even a single verb, standing alone, can express a complete thought.

Stop!
- is a complete sentence. The subject (you) is understood.

A stop sign.
- is not a complete sentence. There’s no verb, making this merely a label.

Verbs explain what happened:

Three people died last night when a four-alarm fire roared through a downtown factory recently cited for improper storage of flammable materials.

Try reading this sentence without the italicised verbs. Nothing happens. It makes no sense.

There are three main kinds of verbs: transitive, intransitive, and linking.

Transitive verbs are the “action” verbs and are the most powerful. They move the action directly from the sentence subject to the object (which is why the noun that receives the action is called a direct object.)

The tidal wave crushed the coastal village.

The action (transitive verb) is crushed, being performed by the tidal wave (the noun and sentence subject), onto the recipient, the coastal village (also a noun and a direct object). This alignment of subject/verb/direct object is a key to identifying transitive verb construction.

Intransitive verbs never take a direct object, but provide action and give a sense of location or being. The verb may be followed by a phrase that tells us where or how, but never what.

The suspect crouched in the alley as police arrived.

The intransitive verb is crouched. There is no direct object following crouched. In the alley provides helpful information as to location but does not complete an action.

Understanding the difference between transitive and intransitive verb forms can eliminate errors in selecting the correct verb from such troublesome pairs as lay/lie, set/sit, and raise/rise. The first verb in these combinations is transitive; it requires an object that answer the question what.

Lay the book on the table.
Please set your clocks back tonight.
The company will raise its insurance rates.

The italicised words are the direct objects.

Verbs such as lie, sit and rise are intransitive:

Lie down and get some rest
Sit in this chair.
I will rise early tomorrow.

See the difference? These sentences do not have a direct object.

Linking verbs imply a state of being rather than expressing any direct action. The main function of this verb form is to connect the sentence subject with a modifier of sorts to help describe that state of being.

The victim (subject) was (linking verb) comatose (adjective) when police found him.
Before collapsing, the judge said that he (subject) felt (linking verb) ill (adjective).

Clearly, these verbs transmit conditions, not actions.

I’ve only outlined the basics of verbs here. If you’d like a fuller understanding of this most important part of the sentence, try one of the following links:

Using Verbs
The Verb
Parts of Speech – the Verb

And for the easy way of learning about verbs, we have Grammar Rocks:

It's NaNoing Time!

2011-11-04T08:00:00.002-04:00

It's only Day 4 of NaNoWriMo and already I'm woefully behind. However, I at least have enough words to manage an excerpt. :-)

Although the bulk of this novel will be set in space (or a space station or on space ships) this excerpt is set on Earth. The Hero, Benedict, is on a mission to fetch, by whatever means needed, an author by the name of Alexis St.James, whom his boss, an as yet unnamed drug lord and criminal kingpin who's also into the sex trades, desires to meet face to face.

He's landed his ship and has made his way to the lakeside village where the author is supposed to reside. He decides the best place to start his search would be the general store.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

A bell tinkled merrily as he opened the door. He wandered slowly around the perimeter until the two customers who were browsing left, and then made his way over to the long, wooden counter.

“You’re lookin’ a mite lost, hon. Can I help you with something?” the elderly woman behind the counted asked.

He directed the full wattage of his smile at her. “I sure hope so. I’m looking for a woman . . .”

The woman grinned back at him. “Any woman do? Or did you have a particular woman in mind?”

“The woman I’m looking for is a writer, Alexis St. James.”

“Is that a fact?” Her smile dimmed slightly. “And what would a young buck like you be wantin’ with Miz St. James?”

“I . . . uh . . . you see . . .” Benedict was unprepared for her question. What would be an acceptable reason to the old woman, who was obviously protective of the young writer.

“Are you one of them there reporters?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“No! I mean, no ma’am,” he told her. Deciding honesty, or as much honesty as he felt she could handle, was probably his best course of action, he continued, “I’ve been sent by my employer who wishes—”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “You one of those movie people? I done told her it was only a matter of time before Hollywood picked one of her books to make a movie out of! Which one was it?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, deciding it would be best to play along. “That’s between my employer and Miss St. James. I’m just here as a go-between.”

“Well don’t that beat all!” The old woman was back to beaming at him. “I don’t know whereabouts Miz St. James is right now, but I sure know where she’ll be tonight.”

“And where might that be,” Benedict asked, leaning on the counter.

“Why, she’ll be at the Fish’s Mouth, celebratin’, like most the rest of the town.”

“The Fish’s Mouth?”

“It’s the bar, just down the street there. You can’t miss it.”

“What’s everyone celebrating?”

She leaned forward and motioned him closer. “It’s Lexi’s 60th birthday. But you didn’t hear it from me!”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

And this is the sad excuse of a cover I came up with, which only goes to show that such things should be left to the professionals. :-)

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty-five

2011-11-02T08:00:00.000-04:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~Ch. 24~

“I was curious about something,” Jessica began as she and Ewan dined that evening.

Now that she was up and around, Ewan saw no reason why they couldn’t dine together in a civilized fashion. A small corner of her tent was cleared, and a table for two was set up. A steady stream of pages served them their dinner, never less than seven courses, and two more pages stood ready to refill wine goblets or offer a fine linen napkin.

“Thee hast only to ask and I will make haste to alleviate thy curiosity.”

“I understand this is your land, and this appears to be an armed camp, but I have to wonder who, exactly, you’re fighting with.”

“Ah,” Ewan speared a piece of what Jessica really hoped was chicken. A line creased his brow as he frowned and she itched to reach over and smooth it away. “Be assured, as a stranger and guest amongst us thy safety is in no peril.”

“I wasn’t worried about my safety,” she was becoming increasingly curious.

“I would not needlessly trouble thee.”

“My people have a saying, a trouble shared is a trouble halved.”

“A most interesting adage.” Ewan toyed with the stem of his goblet and sighed. “It is a not unusual tale, but one most unflattering to our royal judgment.” He straightened in his seat and squared his shoulders.

“My father took into his employ a wizard of middling power, as is custom for a king of his stature. The wizard was not as he seemed and an argument ensued with my father casting the varlet out.” He took a sip of his wine. His turquoise blue eyes darkened with anger. “Through trickery and treachery the wizard came into possession of our castle and now sits yonder in comfort while we are kept at bay by his army of demons and monsters.”

Jessica was listening wide-eyed, not even pretending to eat. “A whole army?”

“Aye. He was more cunning than he appeared and turned to the black arts for his petty revenge. We took him in on good faith and thus he repays our generosity.” Ewan threw down his fork with a clatter.

Jessica started.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said, instantly contrite. “ ‘Twas not mine intent for thee to be exposed to mine ill humour.”

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you for being angry over this whole situation.”

“My Lord?” the voice came from outside of the tent.

A look of intense anger flashed across Ewan’s face at the interruption, gone so quickly that Jessica wondered if she really saw it.

“Apologies, my lady, it seems I must cut our time together short.”

“I understand,” Jessica said.

She stared thoughtfully at the tent flap after it closed behind him. Finishing her meal, she dismissed the pages and went over to sit on her bed. When she was sure she was alone she pulled out the pendant.

“Howard? Are you there?”

This was the first time she’d tried to initiate contact and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he answered.

“I’m here, Jessica.”

“Did you hear what Ewan and I were talking about?”

“I heard you questioning him about this fight they seem to be having.”

“Well, what do you think?” Jessica reclined against the pillows and closed her eyes.

“I don’t know, Jess,” Howard hesitated. “It almost sounded to me like. . .”

“Like what?”

“Never mind. It’s a shame you were interrupted.”

“Howard, when I first woke up I overheard Gareth talking to someone and he said they thought I might be able to help them. Could I?”

She could almost hear the frown in his voice. “Jessica, you tried to call up a fire and just about blew yourself up. I don’t think getting involved at this stage of the game is a very good idea.”

“But if there’s something I could do, shouldn’t I do it? I mean, I do sort of owe them for taking care of me.”

“What happened to good old, ‘I don’t get involved in other people’s problems Jessie?’”

Jessica blushed, even though there was no one to see her. “Nothing, I just think I should try and help if I can.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with tall, blond and studly, would it?”

“No! I - well, maybe, just a little.”

There was a moment of silence through which Jessica could picture Howard smirking at her.

“You don’t think I have that Swedish thing going on, do you?” Jessica asked, sitting up suddenly.

“Do you mean Stockholm Syndrome?” Howard asked.

“Same diff.”

Howard sighed loudly. “Jessica, you do not have Stockholm Syndrome. You’re suffering from it being too long since you’ve had a boyfriend. So am I, but I’m not feeling the urge to go do something that could get me killed.”

“But—”

“Listen, we’re going to have to talk about this later, I’m losing our connection. Just promise me you won’t try any magic on your own.”

“But—”

“Promise me!”

“I promise,” Jessica said, pouting slightly. “Jeez Howard, you sure know how to suck the fun out of things.”

“Just be careful, Jess,” Howard replied, voice fading.

Stuck on Structure - The Eight Parts of Speech – Part One

2011-10-31T08:00:00.002-04:00

When last we talked I mentioned that I was going to go back to the basics and what’s more basic than the eight parts of speech? These “eight parts of speech” are the basic types of words that English has and are: nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, pronouns, conjunctions, prepositions and interjections.

Right about now you’re probably saying to yourself, “Is she crazy? I learned all this stuff in grade school.” I’m sure you can identify bookcase as a noun, and as a conjunction and run as a verb, but if you know how these words function you’ll have a better understanding of when it’s appropriate to use it them a sentence.

We’ll start with the noun. As I’m sure you already know, a noun is basically a person, place or thing. But nouns can have different functions in a sentence. Some nouns function as subjects while others function as objects or complements. For example, a noun like "Helen" might function in the following ways:

Subject - Helen loves long walks on the beach.
Object of a Preposition - He gave the plane tickets to Helen.
Subject complement - The person to ask is Helen.

Types of Nouns:

Proper nouns are the names of specific things, people, or places, and usually begin with a capital letter. Examples: Niagara Falls, Johnny Depp, the Superbowl

Common nouns are general names such as person, house, or book.

Concrete nouns refer to things which you can sense such as clock and telephone.

Abstract nouns refer to ideas or qualities such as truth and justice.

Count nouns come in singular (dollar, piece, orange) or plural (dollars, pieces, oranges) and refer to anything which can be counted.

Mass nouns refer to items that cannot be counted such as time, money, and justice.

Collective nouns refer to groups of people or things such as staff, gang, and bunch.

Possessive nouns express ownership of something, usually of the following noun. When a singular noun is made possessive, it’s usually done by adding an apostrophe and an s. For example: It was the cat’s toy.
If the noun is plural, however, it usually becomes so by adding the apostrophe after the s ending: It was the cats’ territory.

And just to leave you completely confused, if the noun is plural but does not end in s, it becomes possessive by adding the apostrophe s: He belonged to the men’s club.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty-four

2011-10-26T08:00:00.000-04:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~Ch. 23~

“We’ll start with something simple,” decided Howard. “How would you like to learn to make fire?”

“I don’t know, Howard,” Jessica said dubiously. “It sounds kinda dangerous.” Having magic was one thing. Using it was another thing altogether.

“Not really,” he assured her. “With your first few attempts you’ll be lucky if you can make a spark, let alone a flame.”

“Do I have to wave my hands around, chanting like you did?” As cool as it would be to work a magic spell, there were limits to how much she’d embarrass herself.

“Probably not. From what I can tell, you have what’s known as intuitive magic. It’s more a matter of focusing and then directing the magic to take the form you want it to.”

“Focus and direct. I can do that. So . . . now what?”

“Maybe you should move to someplace with a little more concealment. The last thing you need is for someone from the camp to see you.”

“You mean they could see me bathing from the camp?” Her voice rose as glanced around her, appalled. “No wonder it felt like there were eyes on me. Why didn’t you warn me? Oh, jeez, this is so embarrassing!”

“Jessica!” Howard’s voice rose as well so he could be heard over her tirade. “I didn’t mean to imply someone could have been watching you from the camp. It’s just that having someone catch you attempting magic might turn out to be more than just a bit embarrassing. And magic can be more noticeable than a naked woman.”

“Well, maybe magic’s more noticeable to you than a naked woman . . .”

Jessica felt, rather than heard, his mental sigh of exasperation. She could picture him running a hand through his hair making it messier than ever. She grinned at the image in her mind.

“Jessica, could you try working with me here?”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

She moved a little deeper into the woods lining the river and found a large, flat rock in a bit of a cleared area. It was surrounded on three sides by trees; the fourth was open towards the river.

“I suppose you want me to collect some firewood now.”

“Just a few twigs and some dried grass. Let’s not make it too hard.”

Jessica gathered up a respectable pile of tinder and as a precaution, surrounded it with a small ring of stones. Better to be safe than sorry, she figured.

“Okay, Howard, now what?”

“Stand back a bit to give yourself some room. Feel the magic within you, then think of flame, or fire. You can point to where you want the fire to go, if you like. Sometimes it helps to give the magic a direction.”

Jessica stood back a few paces from her tiny fireplace. She reached for the magic within, and for a few seconds just reveled in the sensation. It would be so easy to become lost in the feeling it evoked.

She felt the magic pulse as it responded to her. Raising her right hand, she pointed at the tinder and thought of fire.

The resulting explosion of flame threw her backwards. She saw stars as her head hit the ground. By the time she recovered her wits and sat up again, the flames had burned themselves out.

“Jess! Are you all right?”

“Howard? What happened?”

Howard’s voice was as shaky as she felt. “I don’t know, Jess. I – I’m going to have to study this. Just don’t try using your magic on your own until I figure out what happened. You must have a lot more power stored inside you than I counted on.”

She opened her mouth to reply, then heard the noise of someone approaching. Several someones, by the sound of it. Howard’s presence vanished.

“My Lady Jessica,” exclaimed Ewan as he rushed into the small clearing. “What hast occurred? Hast thee been set upon?” He was carrying his bared sword and leading several guardsmen, also with swords in hand.

“I’m sorry,” Jessica said, face flaming in embarrassment. “It was just a little accident.”

The guardsmen behind Ewan muttered nervously. Jessica couldn’t blame them, she couldn’t quite believe it herself. The grass of the clearing was scorched, as were the nearest overhanging trees. Even Ewan looked a little nonplused, but he at least sheathed his sword.

“Mayest we escort thee back to the camp?”

Jessica meekly took his proffered arm, mentally giving him points for nonchalance. The guardsmen followed, still muttering amongst themselves, swords still in hand.

Fun With Grammar

2011-10-22T10:57:00.000-04:00

Yes, that's right, I believe that grammar can be fun. THEREFORE, I thought I'd try something new with my grammar posts for a while.

When I first decided to do a weekly post on grammar, I had envisioned making them a little humorous by including videos from Grammar Rocks. Remember them? Sneaky little animated vidoes, inserted between the Saturday morning cartoons, that were so cute you didn't realize you were learning. Anyone? Conjunction Junction? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Anyway, when it came down to it I realized the vidoes were all about the parts of the sentence, which at the time I hadn't thought I'd need to go into. Since then, I've read a few self-published books on my kindle that tell me that not everyone out there is familiar with the different ways to craft a sentence. And it might help in learning to craft a better sentence if you knew what you're working with.

So, starting next week, I'm going back to the basics - the sentence. We're going to start by picking the sentence apart and learning all the parts, then we'll start putting them together to see all the different ways it can be done. I guess this makes the new series more about structure than grammar, so watch for an appropriate new name.

In the meantime, I found this hilarious video on the sounds that punctuation makes.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty-Three

2011-10-19T08:00:00.000-04:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21~Ch. 22~

“Eleanore, I can’t stand feeling so grubby any more. Is there some way I could get a bath?”

“A bath, my Lady?” Eleanore seemed a little repulsed by the idea. Jessica vaguely remembered that in medieval times a lot of people had an aversion to bathing.

“A bath,” Jessica repeated firmly.

“Well, my Lady,” Eleanore hesitated. “I might be able to borrow a horse’s trough. It could be scrubbed out and water heated . . .”

“Sounds like a lot of work.” Jessica had visions of coming out of that bath smelling like a horse. “Any other ideas?”

“Personally, I’d use the river,” Alexander put in from the corner where he was softly strumming his mandolin. “In fact, I do, on a regular basis.”

“It certainly sounds cleaner than a horse’s trough. How private is it?”

“What few ladies might be tempted to go there are resting at this time of day, and the men are at arms practice.”

“Sounds perfect. Eleanor, soap and towels if you please.”

Eleanor curtsied and left, an active look of distaste on her face.

“You do realize that a lady would expect her maid to join her, if for no other reason than to scrub her back.”

“Good thing I’m not a lady then,” Jessica quipped. “And I’m more than capable of washing my own back, thank you very much. Unless of course you’d care to join me?”

Jessica was growing fond of the minstrel, he reminded her a lot of Howard.

“Thank you, no,” Alexander grinned at her. “You are a personal guest of the Prince, and I quite enjoy my head being attached to my body.”

Her eyes widened, “He wouldn’t really, would he?”

“Do not underestimate the Prince,” he said gravely. “Things are not always what they seem.”

Jessica had the feeling he was about to say more but Eleanore chose that moment to return. A few minutes later, laden with everything she needed for her bath, including fresh clothes, she was following the path to the river. She grinned, thinking about the look of relief on Eleanore’s face when she realized she wasn’t expected to come too.

The river, though small as rivers go, was everything Alexander promised. She hesitated at first, not really trusting his assurance of privacy. However, the deep, clear pool beckoned and she shed her inhibitions along with her clothes.

The water was surprisingly warm from the sun, and deep enough for swimming. Jessica resisted the temptation to just laze about in the water. Someone else might come along with the same idea as she had.

The soap lathered up easily, without any of the greasiness she expected. She’d read somewhere that soap was made from fat in the middle ages. Just another of the many differences she’d discovered so far. She soaped up her hair, then ducked her head under water to rinse it. It felt so good to be clean again!

She hated to leave the water, but the longer she stayed the more fearful she was of discovery. She had this nagging feeling she was being watched. Quickly, she toweled herself dry with the rough towel, then put on the clean shirt she’d brought with her.

Once covered by the shirt she didn’t feel so exposed, and stretched out in the sun to let her hair dry. She was just teetering on the edge of sleep when she was interrupted.

“Jessica . . .”

“Go away, Howard, I’m sleeping.”

“You’re not sleeping and we need to talk.”

“I don’t’ think I’m talking to you yet. Besides, I haven’t felt this good since I got here.”

“Tough. I’m tired of you wallowing in self-pity. You’ve got things you have to start dealing with, as soon as possible.”

Jessica sat up quickly. “I am not wallowing!”

“And you’re not sleeping any more, either.” There was a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Creep,” Jessica muttered as she pulled on the rest of her clothes. “Alright, Howard.”

“First of all, I wasn’t kidding about the magic . . .”

She raised a hand that he couldn’t see, “I believe you, really I do, but I haven’t seen any signs of it myself.”

“I’m serious Jess, you have magical abilities. Just how much I’m not sure, but definitely some.” He quickly continued while she was trying to find a suitable reply. “You need to learn your potential and how to control it before it gets you into trouble.”

“Trouble? How much more trouble could I be in?”

“Well, I--”

“Never mind, I don’t think I want to know. So now what? I mean, I have this magic in me now, how do I get it out?”

“The first step is helping you touch the magic. Close your eyes.” He paused, giving her time. “Now, center yourself, like you do in your Tai Chi exercises. Bring your awareness to the surface.”

Jessica did what he told her. The sensation of inner peace was slow in coming, her thoughts kept spinning. She began slow breathing exercises. The sound of the river and the sun on her face combined to relax her.

“Good,” said Howard, just like he was with her. “Now, reach deeper inside of yourself, and tell me what you feel. Really push.”

She reached, and could almost feel something but it stayed just out of her reach. Again and again she tried, each time falling just short of her goal. It was tiring work, and very frustrating. The harder she tried the longer it took with the next try.
“This isn’t working, Howard.”

“Relax, Jessie. You’re making it more difficult than it needs to be. Stop trying so hard and try again.”

With a sigh, Jessica did what she was told, and failed yet again. Keeping her eyes closed, she rested for a bit. She listened to the birds in the trees and the water passing in the river. She felt the sun’s warmth permeating her.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes with a gasp. “Oh! What was that?”

Jessica looked around with wonder filled eyes, expecting everything to have changed somehow. She was a little surprised it hadn’t. “It’s like . . . I don’t have the words to describe it. It’s like a brilliant iridescent pulsing flame, hot and at the same time cold to both extremes. Is that, is it. . .?”

“That’s it!” Howard exclaimed. “You’ve touched the magic within. And now that you’ve found it, it will always be there for you.”
“I can’t believe it,” Jessica said, wonder in her voice. “And you think I’ve always had that in me?”

“I think so, it just took the transfer to bring it to where you could sense it.”

“But what do I do with it?”

“With the right training, anything you want.”

Shake It Up Baby

2011-10-15T18:02:00.000-04:00

Yup, it’s that time of year again. Time to shake things up on the ole blog. This is my annual pre-NaNo-procrastination. Why make the decision about NaNo or even settle on which idea I’m going to work on when I can procrastinate!

So, please bear with me over the next week or so while I play around with changes, formats, and links on this blog.

I’m probably going to stick with the basic black, but someone mentioned tabs, which would be really cool for organizing my posts. We shall see . . .

Hmm. Guess I should back everything up first. Just in case. :-)

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty-two

2011-10-12T08:00:00.000-04:00

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

Prologue~Ch. 1~Ch. 2~Ch. 3~Ch. 4~Ch. 5~Ch. 6~Ch. 7~Ch. 8~Ch. 9~Ch. 10~
Ch. 11~Ch. 12~Ch. 13~Ch. 14~Ch. 15~Ch. 16~Ch. 17~Ch. 18~Ch. 19~Ch. 20
Ch. 21

Thackery heard the sound of Paran’s laboured breathing long before the peak of the foolish wizard’s hat he insisted on wearing crested the stairs. He paused by the doorway to catch his breath before moving closer.

“When you are not up here trying to stare a hole through my best scrying bowl you are pacing back and forth wearing a rut in my good carpet. You need to find a new hobby.”

“I can’t help myself,” Thackery said, shrugging helplessly. “She has not left my thoughts in all the years we were apart and now, to have her so close . . .”

“She looks so much like her mother,” Paran said, peering into the bowl. “Who is that with her?”

“That is Prince Ewan.” The words came out short and sharp. “He was a nasty sort as a lad and he doesn’t seem much improved with age. I do not like the attention he is paying to her.”

They watched in silence for a few moments.

“This is so hard, Paran. She has no idea she belongs on this world, no clue as to who she really is.”

“Has she shown any magical abilities?”

“None that I’ve seen. They may be latent, or perhaps she has none.”

The old man snorted. “With you as her father? I would say it is more a matter of her lacking the knowledge to tap into them.” He stroked his long, white beard thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is just as well.”

Thackery looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Think of it. Anakaron is drawn to power. Were she to display the power that you, or even her mother, had at that age he would be drawn as a moth to a flame.”

“Perhaps you are right. But I would be happier if I knew she had a way to protect herself.”

“Have you thought of a way to draw her to us?”

“No.” Thackery waved a hand over the bowl and the image of Jessica disappeared. “I need to go after her.”

“No, it is far too dangerous! You are fortunate the power surge you created bringing her to this world did not attract undue attention as it is. The ruse of making it appear as though that fledgling wizard sent her here by mistake was a good one.”

“That was your doing, not mine. My only thought was to bring my daughter back to her home.”

“And so you have. But you must let her come to you. You cannot take the chance of being caught on the northern continent.”

“So much time has passed, perhaps Anakaron has forgotten—”

“Do you really think that even after all these years Anakaron will have forgotten you? And what about Jesseminathus? What do you think he’d do if he got a hold of Farena’s daughter?”

* * * * * * *

“What do you think?” Jessica asked, calling Alexander and Gareth back into her tent.

After her tour of the encampment yesterday, her dress had to be cleaned. Eleanor offered her a selection of other dresses to choose from in its place, but Jessica wanted something a little more comfortable to wander around the camp in. She cajoled Gareth, playing on his infatuation, which made her feel only slightly bad, into scaring up some male attire in her size.

He returned with an assortment of hose, trousers, tabards, tunics, shirts, and a beautiful velvet surcoat, much like the one she’d been wearing for the play. She shooed Alexander and him out of the tent so she could change into dark, close-fitting, homespun trousers, a white shirt, and a short sleeved leather jerkin over top.

“Thee art most beauteous!” Gareth said, then immediately blushed and ducked his head.

Alexander looked her up and down with a serious look on his face. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Maybe not, but it’s more what I’m used to and besides,” she said, giving a final tug on the belt. “It’s so much more comfortable and practical.”

“Ghren is a somewhat . . . conservative kingdom. I would caution you that few women ever go about attired thusly. The prince may not like it.”

“Well the prince doesn’t have to like, only I do. I’ll just make sure I’m wearing a dress whenever I’m with him. And besides, it’s not as though he’s never seen me dressed like this.”

“Then may I agree with Gareth. You are beautiful indeed, my lady Jessica.”

To NaNo or Not to NaNo . . .

2011-10-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

As November first approaches, I find myself locked in the same internal debate I’ve been going through for the last five? six? years in a row. Should I or should I not participate in the National Novel Writing Month this year.

I remember when I first heard about NaNo. It seemed like a fun idea, even more so when I talked a friend into doing it with me. My story finished up at just over 30,000 words, which is a little more than halfway finished. My friend was able to complete the challenge and yes, I was happy for her ‘cause we writers are like that. :-)

The next year I was all ready to go. I had an interesting idea, a title, and then . . . nothing. The story just wouldn’t make the transition from my head to my keyboard. To me this means it wasn’t ready to write yet. Maybe some day, but year two was not that day.

As they say, the third time’s the charm. I was a little slow out of the gate on year three, but I had a solid idea, a title, and even created my own cover. I wrote steadily and by the end of the month I had surpassed the 50,000 word goal. As a reward, I treated myself to an official NaNoWriMo author’s travel cup.

I had been planning all along to do year four, but when the month of October rolled round all my creativity seemed to dry right up. I didn’t write anything for two weeks. Then, on Saturday, November 1, I was suddenly struck by a name. And following the name was a full blown story revolving around this name. I was off and running and again, I surpassed the 50,000 word goal. This year’s reward was a NaNoWriMo t-shirt.

Then came year five, which was last year. I had come across a box with hand written drafts of the very first novel I’d ever written. It was pretty much straight science fiction. The writing was somewhat laughable, and a lot of the story was ludicrous, but the underlying story was good. I decided to start from scratch, keeping only the basic outline. However, the week before NaNo I got a SNI (shiny new idea) pestering me. While it was technically a romance, it was much darker than I usually go and there was a bit of murder and mayhem in it as well. It just wouldn’t leave me alone so that’s the one I started with. I say started, because by the end of week 1 I realized this was not a novel that could be rushed through NaNo. I needed to take a little more time with it. So I went back to my original plan and I still managed to reach 50,000 words by the end of November. My reward this time was a NaNo hoodie. :-)

So now here I am, with NaNo fast approaching and I’m having that same old debate, should I go for it or not? On the one hand, I have a lot of stuff on the go and I really don’t know if I have time for NaNo. On the other hand, the whole spirit of NaNo is infections and there’s nothing like the sense of accomplishment when you cross that finish line. On the other hand . . . wait! That’s too many hands. But what if I don’t complete the challenge. Then people would point and laugh and call me loser. But I’ve done it before, which shouldn’t I do it again?

And if I do, which idea should I use? I have some ideas for the next in my Elemental series and it would be nice to get it done before I start serializing it on my blog. However, there’s also another idea that, while not new, has started bugging the crap out of me. It’s a science fiction, somewhat erotic romance and I have a lot of it worked out in my head already. Of course that’s not to say I won’t get slammed in the back of the head by a SNI with the force of a two-by-four. One thing’s for sure, I’m never lacking in ideas.

And so it goes. And so it shall go until November 1, whereupon I shall debate myself into a standstill and make the decision once and for all.

Oh, and in case you’re new, or have been living under a rock, here’s a link so you can find out all about NaNo and sign up yourself. ;-) National Novel Writing Month.

Poltergeist

2011-10-06T08:00:00.001-04:00

I was chatting with Heidi Sutherlin on Twitter last night about movies that scared the crap out of us as, um, as kids . . . yeah . . . kids. ‘Cause we’re all grown up and movies don’t scare us now. :-D

Anyway, I mentioned I had a story about the movie Poltergeist and because it’s rather long I said I’d blog about it. So here I am.

For those who aren’t familiar with the movie, it starts out as a very subtle horror movie. A nice, normal family buys a house that just happens to be built on an Indian burial ground and all hell breaks loose.

One of the scenes in this movie was of the son getting chewed on by the tree outside his bedroom window. Now compared to his sister getting sucked into another dimension or the parade of ghosts that come down the stairs this might not seem like the scariest part of the movie, but this is where my story begins.

It was a summer night, warm enough that I could have the window of my office open. My office at that time was at the back of the house and the window overlooked the back yard. My husband was away and the dog was tied out back. I had just seen Poltergeist a couple of days before.

There was no wind that night, I’d like to stress this. That is why the rustling noises from the large tree on the far side of the patio, just beyond the range of the back light, caught my attention. The dog wasn’t barking so I figured it wasn’t anything to worry about and went on with what I was doing.

More rustling. Louder this time. I couldn’t see anything from my office window, so I went to the back door and turned on the light. The dog was standing on the patio and just at the edge of the light I could see a mass of leaves. The tree was a maple and the branches did not reach to the ground. All I could see was a wall of leaves, nothing beyond.

I then did the bravest thing I have ever done. The dog’s rope was tied to the tree so he had access to the largest part of the yard possible. I, in complete and utter disregard of my own safety, went out onto the patio to unhook the dog from his leash to bring him inside. We spent the rest of the night in the living room, which was the room furthest from the back door. There may, or may not, have been much shaking and shivering involved.

The next day we discovered that the tree in question was rotten in its core and a huge chunk had literally fallen off without a sound (other than the rustling of the leaves). The really scary part was that the neighbour’s kids loved to climb that tree and yet it stood up under their weight. There was black rot all through the main trunk so we ended up cutting it down.

I was not sorry to see it go.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty-One

2011-10-05T08:00:00.002-04:00

Alexander drafted Gareth into helping him teach Jessica some of the customs of the nobility of Ghren, reasoning the customs of the South were much different and Jessica didn’t wish to embarrass her host with her behavior. Gareth, already starting to develop a crush on Jessica, was more than happy to comply. The day passed quickly, and before Jessica knew it there was a page at the entrance to her tent announcing the eminent arrival of Prince Ewan. Gareth excused himself and made a hasty exit.

Jessica felt a faint stirring of panic. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I mean, having Ewan visit me while I’m confined to my bed recuperating is one thing, but this . . .”

“You’ll be fine,” Alexander assured her. “Let him do most of the talking, it shouldn’t be too hard,” he added with a grin.

“Thank you, Alexander,” she said, placing a hand on his arm.

The bell outside her tent tinkled merrily as the flap opened and Ewan entered. His eyes narrowed briefly as he took in how close Jessica and Alexander were standing.

“Were it anyone but you, Alexander . . .” he said, voice cold. “You are dismissed, catamite.”

While Jessica looked on in surprise, Alexander executed a perfect bow. “My lord, my lady.” He was gone before she could say a word.

“Ah, my lady Jessica. Thee art most resplendent. My colours suit thee well, as I knew they wouldst.”

“Your colours?” Jessica asked, still a little disturbed by his treatment of Alexander.

“Aye, silver for the purity of the royal line of Ghren, green for the fertile lands. But come, let me show to thee the encampment that thee might know the might of Ghren.”

Pushing her misgivings aside, Jessica allowed Ewan to lead her from her tent. It was late in the afternoon and overcast, which made it easier for her eyes to adjust to the natural light. The encampment was much larger than she’d expected. Her tent was situated on a rise in the land, allowing her to look down over the sea of plain white tents, cook fires, people, and animals that extended throughout the entire valley.

“Magnificent, is it not?”

Jessica nodded in agreement. Bemused, she turned in a circle, much like she’d done when she reached the top of the cliff at Death’s Head. Her tent was one of several on this particular rise, all sporting a flag that was green with a silver snake and lion on it. There were several guards in green and silver livery, just outside the largest tent that stood at attention and saluted as Ewan passed by. Ignoring them, he tucked Jessica’s hand in the crook of his arm and led her down into the encampment.

The tents closest to the hillside appeared to be living quarters for the officers and their families. Children dressed in homespun clothing darting in and out of the shadows, laughing and chasing each other. Several times they passed groups of woman seated under the broad branches of a large tree, doing needlework and gossiped. These groups inevitably fell silent when they caught sight of the prince.

Beyond this area was a make-shift market where vendors were hawking an astonishing variety of wares. They didn’t enter the market but paused so Jessica could have a look at it. She’d been to a Ren-Faire once but it had been nothing like this.

They passed by the smithies, where the hugest men Jessica had ever seen were pounding glowing metal into horseshoes, knifes, and swords. The heat in this area was incredible and she was glad that they didn’t linger.

There seemed to be a section for each craft – weavers and spinners, leatherworkers, basket weavers, potters, and, well away from the rest of the encampment, the tanners. Jessica’s favourite was the scribes, where for a price, young men in monks robes would read or write messages.

The light was growing dim by the time they returned, and Jessica was exhausted. Maybe she wasn’t as fully recovered as she thought, but there was no way she was going to admit it to Ewan. He’d probably sick his army of healers on her again.

“Now that thee hast been seen in mine company, ‘tis safe for thee to pass through the encampment at will.”

“It is?” Jessica asked.

“Aye, my lady. All now knowest thee as my guest, and one who is not to be trifled with, else ‘tis my wrath they will face.”

Jessica didn’t know what to say to this so she stayed quiet.

“And now, alas, ‘tis time I needs must return to my duties.” Ewan bent over her hand and kissed it. “I shall see thee at dinner.”

“I look forward to it,” Jessica said.

Giving her one more elegent, courtly bow, Ewan left.

“Dorothy, you’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” she muttered under her breath, once she was safely inside her tent again. “For one thing, Kansas never smelled so bad.”

The stench had hung over the encampment like a mantle, growing worse in the areas where families had set up their shelters and worst of all in areas the soldiers seemed to hang out in the most. She didn’t know how they could stand it.

She hadn’t seen any laundry facilities or bathing areas, but one thing she had definitely noticed was that very few of the women were dressed in dresses as elaborate as hers. Some of them were even wearing trousers. Jessica took this to be a good omen.

Saturday, In the Park . . .

2011-10-01T13:50:00.000-04:00

Okay, it is Saturday, but it's too freakin' cold to go to the park. Last time I checked, the weather network said the temperature was 7 C, which is 45 F in Yanky-speak. :-D

So, what does Saturday in the park have to do with anything? Nothing really. Just when I was trying to come up with a name for this post I thought about just calling it the day of the week (like I do when I'm stuck for a subject line for emails) and as soon as I thought of Saturday, the Chicago song popped into my head. So there you go.

Anyway, as you can see, there's no grammar to grapple with this week. Why? (you ask)I'll tell you why. I can't think of anything else to post about, grammar-wise. So. If one of you lovely people reading this can think of anything, let me know. I will gladly take any (polite) suggestions of what to do with my grammar series. :-)

You know, it's amazing what a change in the weather can do for a person. (Did I not mention this post was going to be really random? Sorry. You are now warned.)

Now, where was I. Oh, yeah. The weather. We just had a week of increasingly grey and miserable weather, culminating in torrential rain yesterday/night. I happen to be one of those sorry-assed individuals who are affected by the weather (I may have mentioned this before). Too much grey, overcastedness depletes my energy at best and brings on the migraines at worst. Yesterday was one of the worst.

Is anyone else out there affected by the weather and what do you do to cope with it? And don't talk to me about those special lights you can get. My body isn't fooled by artificial light any more than it is by artificial sweeteners. I don't always get migraines with the grey weather, and I almost think these days are the worst 'cause I don't feel I have an excuse for feeling so miserable. So, what do you do to stave off an attack of the Grey Dismals?

Now, let's talk e-mail. I have five or six e-mail accounts, but most of my mail is sent to one specific account. I try to stay organized, but I'm a bit of a pack rat - I hate to throw anything out, even if it's just electronic mail.

So, I have folders, many folders. The problem arises when I have mail that could go into more than one folder. Of course it really only rears its ugly head when I'm searching for a specific email for some important tidbit of information and I can't remember where I put it, but still. . .

Lately, my email has been getting away from me and it's been causing me a wee bit of angst. So I've decided to implement a new system. I've re-organized my email folders and I'm going to move messages from the inbox to the folder they belong in as soon as I answer them. This should (hopefully) simplify things. Now I just have to clear up the back log.

And no, I did not decide to write this post as a form of procrastinating from doing just that. Honest! ;-)

And now, just to bring this post full circle, I found Chicago on YouTube for you. You can thank me later. :-)

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Twenty

2011-09-28T08:00:00.002-04:00

Jessica sighed. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

“You seem to have been very attached to your clothing, my lady,” Alexander ventured.

“Jessica.”

“I beg pardon?”

“My name is Jessica. And the clothes weren’t mine,” she said without thinking. “They were borrowed for a play. I just happened to be wearing them when I arrived on the beach. Jennifer’s going to have a cow when I tell her they’re gone. But at least the museum’s sword is safe.”

“Indeed.”

Jessica sat bolt upright in her chair as she suddenly realized what she’d said. “I mean – that is – I –”

“I think there is a most interesting story to your journey here,” Alexander said slowly, watching her carefully.

She paled slightly, panic churning in her stomach. Damn it, she’d known she wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense. Now Alexander was going to tell Ewan what a fraud she was and they’d put her in the stocks or something much worse. They didn’t use the guillotine in the Middle Ages . . . did they?

“Tell me, Jessica, who sent you here? What plot is being hatched?”

“What? No one, no plot! You have to believe me, my being here was a total accident!” Jessica jumped to her feet and paced back and forth, muttering. “God damn it, Howard, if I ever see you again I am so going to rip you a new one. And then I’ll beat you to death with your Merlin walking stick!” She whirled to face Alexander again. “I swear to you, my being here is a total accident. It was all a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Alexander repeated doubtfully.

Jessica took a step closer. “Yes, a big, fat, stupid mistake, made by my ex best friend Howard.”

“I see.”

“Are you going to tell Ewan?” she asked in a small voice.

“No.”

“Because if you are, I’ll deny everything and—what did you say?”

“I said no, I will not tell the prince.”

Jessica’s legs gave out and she sat down abruptly on the bed. “You won’t?”

Alexander shook his head. “Nay. In fact, I am at your disposal should you require assistance to perpetuate your deception.”

“You will?” she asked hopefully. “Why? I mean, not that I’m not grateful – I can use all the help I can get – but why would you help me?”

“Let’s just say I have my reasons,” he said evasively. “Besides,” he continued with a grin. “I think you’re in dire need of a friend, and the Lords know I could use one too.”

“You?” Jessica said, relaxing. “You probably have tons of friends. You’re a musician – women are always all over the musicians.”

The animation left his face and Jessica wondered what she’d said wrong.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Alexander said quietly. “Especially in the Kingdom of Ghren.”

Gareth chose that moment to return, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Jessica could have kissed him.

“Your sword, my lady,” he said, bowing low and offering it with a flourish.

“Thank you!” Jessica said, taking from him. “I would have been so screwed if I’d lost this! Oh!” she looked at his confused face, then darted a look towards Alexander. “I mean, I would have been most distressed to have lost it. It’s, um, it’s a family heirloom.”

Gareth nodded cautiously.

“ ‘Tis a beautiful weapon,” Alexander said. “May I?”

“Of course.” Jessica passed the sword over to him.

“Most unusual workmanship; it’s from the South, I believe, is it not?” He stared pointedly at her.

“Um, yes, yes it is,” she agreed quickly.

“Tis most unusual for a lady to carry such a weapon,” Gareth said.

“Yes, well. Um, I—”

“How good are you with it?” Alexander asked suddenly, distracting Gareth again. Jessica shot him a grateful look.

“I used to think I was pretty good, until I saw Prince Ewan and Gareth fight off that bird.”

Gareth blushed and ducked his head.

“Maybe Gareth here could give you some pointers,” Alexander suggested. “He is the squire to the prince.”

Jessica’s face lit up. “That would be wonderful!”

“I—but—I . . . I wouldst need permission from mine sire.”

“I think the Prince has enough to worry about without having to see to his honoured guest’s training. We wouldn’t want to unduly worry the Prince further when this is something we could take care of ourselves, would we?”

“I . . . nay, we wouldst not.”

“On the other hand, we would want Lady Jessica to be able to defend herself should she be attacked by ruffians, wouldn’t we?”

“I . . . aye. You speak the truth.”

“Then I think just giving her a few pointers, without bothering the Prince about it, would be an admirable thing, wouldn’t it?”

“I—I—believe so, yes.”

“Then it’s settled!” Alexander said, beaming. “Starting as soon as the Prince has shown the Lady Jessica around the encampment, we’ll find time each day for a little swordplay.”

“You’re very good at this,” Jessica muttered to him.

“I know,” Alexander whispered back. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

Parking

2011-09-26T08:00:00.000-04:00

This rant is brought to you by the jerk who parked beside me at No Frills when I was grocery shopping on Saturday.

I was wearing a skirt – a nice, simple, A-line skirt – and I drive a Ford Escape which, for those who don’t know, has bucket seats in the front and a fairly wide console separating them. I am not young and limber, I am old and horizontally challenged. So I did not appreciate having someone park so close beside me that I could not open the driver’s side door to get in. Obviously they didn’t have a passenger, ‘cause they wouldn’t have been able to get out, either. So I, in my skirt, had to climb from the passenger side over into the driver’s side before I could leave the parking lot. If I had had the time I would have gone back into the store and had their license number paged, but I didn’t so I had to content myself with leaving a note on their windshield. I think what pisses me off the most is their “I’m king of the world so I can do whatever I want without consideration for others” attitude.

And you know something else that really ticks me off? Perfectly healthy people who park in handicap parking spaces. I don’t care how much of a hurry they’re in, there’s no excuse for this. I think that security officers in the mall should be allowed to ticket these jerks. Or, even better, let’s write down their license plate numbers and have them paged with the message: “Will the owner of the red Acura, license plate number w*h*a*t*e*v*e*r please move your car. You are parked illegally in a handicapped parking spot.” Maybe a little embarrassment will smarten them up.

And while we’re on the subject . . . what’s up with those stupid pink baby carriages adorning parking places for expectant mothers? Seriously? Just how pregnant do you have to be to take advantage of them? And how do they police this?

So there you have it. My pet parking peeves. I’d really love to hear what yours are!

Grappling With Grammar - Spelling

2011-09-24T11:15:00.000-04:00

English spelling contains thousands of excuses for rebuking children, for beating them, for imprisoning them after school hours, for breaking their spirits with impossible tasks.
~ George Bernard Shaw

I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll be saying many more times in the future - spell checkers are great tools, but they will only catch words that are spelled incorrectly. They will not catch a word that is wrong if it is spelled right. For example, they tend to miss homonyms—words which sound same way but are spelled differently, such as site/sight, meat/meet/mete, there/their/they're, and its/it's.

I’m sure many of you are familiar with the Spell Checking poem. Here’s a condensed version by Margo Roark:

Eye halve a spelling checker
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques for my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it to say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
It's rare lea ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it
Eye am shore your pleased two no
It's letter perfect awl the weigh
My checker tolled me sew.

For the original (called Candidate For A Pullet Surprise) and more poems like this, go HERE. This site also has an amazing History of Spelling.

Spelling problems are somewhat linked to comprehension and word-recognition difficulties. These problems also involve structural issues, some of which have to do with meaning and some of which are tied to the “look” of a word.

In an electronic age in which we hear far more words than we see, we have fewer opportunities to visualize words and to understand their meaning. When we don’t “see” these words, our retention of them and their context suffers. Seeing the word used in a sentence helps us understand and see its construction. Consider, as an example, the words discreet (meaning modest or prudent) and discrete (meaning distinct or separate). Seeing these words in the context of their use greatly helps the imprinting process:

Theirs was a discreet liaison.
This issue has three discrete parts.

Hearing these words as well can give us some context for their use, but visualization is key to completing our understanding and future proper use.

Many weak spellers are not careful readers. Instead they’re skimmers. They aren’t alert to checking words that appear suspicious. They don’t assume that a certain percentage of words that they use may be spelled incorrectly. And, worst of all, they seldom look up a word to check its meaning and spelling.

Proofreading is a natural part of the editing process, whether you’re writing a term paper, a short story, or a novel. This process requires close attention to one’s writing. Always use a second pair of eyes to check over your work. You’ll be surprised at what they’ll find.

To improve your spelling, try sounding out words by breaking them into phonetic patterns and into their syllables to get a sense of how the letters are organized into words. Use the pronunciation guides in dictionaries. For example, the following words all end with –ough but are pronounced very differently:

Through (throo) . . . cough (kof) . . . bough (bow, sounding like ow)

Correct pronunciation of words can actually help us see the difference in their spellings. For example wreck (pronounced rek with a soft e, meaning to destroy accidentally) and wreak (pronounced reek, meaning to inflict punishment or damage). If you didn’t understand the correct pronunciation, it could lead to a headline such as:

Storm wrecks havoc on fishing village

Knowing the meaning of a word and its proper use in a sentence can also aid in spelling it. You will seldom see word pairs together, but if you could it would lead to better a better understanding of which word is correct for your purposes. Seeing, and understanding, a word, especially in the context of a sentence, is critical to the proper use and spelling of a word. With the following word pairs, just by seeing them together you can probably define the difference between them:

Aisle/isle, bear/bare, grate/great, heard/herd, hour/our, morning/mourning, oar/ore, principal/principle, profit/prophet, rye/wry, sight/site/cite, their/there/they’re, weather/whether

Finally, as I’m sure most of you are aware, there is a difference between Canadian and American spelling. I am a Canadian and proud of it, and normally I choose Canadian spelling. The exception would be when I’m targeting an American publisher. So if you see the letter u in colour, favour, harbour, or neighbour, it is not wrong, merely Canadian.

A lot of publishers don’t care whether you use American or Canadian spelling, as long as you’re consistent throughout. This is the one instance where I advocate the use of your spell check because it can be set for a specific language.

For the most frequently misspelled words that you need to keep an eye on, check out one of these links:
100 Most Often Misspelled Words
Commonly Misspelled Words (has a quiz!)
Commonly Misspelled Words (with hints to help you remember)
Common Misspellings (includes the misspelled words)

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter 19

2011-09-21T08:00:00.000-04:00

“You have got to be kidding!” Jessica looked at the clothing laid out on the bed.

After her pre-dawn chat, Jessica decided maybe Howard was right. Maybe she was enjoying the attention of her invalid status a little too much. So this morning, after having breakfast with Ewan, she requested her clothing so she could get up and maybe even have a look outside her tent.

“Is something wrong, my lady?” Some how the voice of the lady’s maid lacked the sincerity of Ewan’s on the word lady.

The dress laid out on the bed was lovely, as were the silk undergarments, but Jessica was not in the mood to play dress up.

“When I asked for clothing I meant my own.”

“I am sorry, my lady,” the maid said. “But these were the clothes I was told to bring you. I am sorry if they are not up to your standards, but they are the best I could do in such trying times.”

Jessica sighed heavily. Time to soothe some ruffled feathers. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” she said. “I just—what is your name?”

“Eleanor, my lady.”

“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, Eleanor, it’s just that I’d be more comfortable in my own clothes.”

“I do not know what was done with them. Shall I help you dress now?”

“Help me dress?” Jessica ehcoed. What was she, five years old? She took a closer look at the dress lying on the bed, noting the elaborate lacing, the yards of material, and the complicated layers. Maybe she was going to need to suck it up, just this once. It’s not as though she could go searching for her own clothes in the voluminous nightgown she was currently wearing.

“Thank you,” she said. “I believe I will take that help.”

Although the dress wasn’t as uncomfortable as it looked, Jessica was mortified at having to have help getting into it and she just couldn’t muster up the appreciation for it that Eleanor thought it deserved. It was a deep green colour, made out of some heavy material that probably cost a small fortune, with an under dress of silver. It had long, pointed sleeves and laced up both the front and back. It was much heavier than it looked and she felt stifled in it.

“Is it supposed to drag on the ground like this?” she asked, twisting to look at the train flowing behind her.

“ ‘Tis the fashion, my lady,” Eleanor told her.

Jessica eyed the bundle of material the maid was bringing closer. “Is that what I think it is?”

Eleanor stopped in her tracks. “My lady?”

“I am so not wearing that thing on my head!”

“But . . . my lady!”

“No! I draw the line at that ridiculous headgear.” The flowing veil was bad enough, but it looked like it was supposed to be held in place by a weirdly shaped, padded device.

She was saved from a heated argument with the maid by the gentle chime of the bell affixed just outside the tent.

“Come in,” Jessica called, still eyeing the headdress with distaste.

Gareth entered, followed closely by Alexander. Jessica couldn’t help preening a bit as their eyes lit with admiration. Eleanor sniffed in annoyance.

“If there’s nothing else, my lady?”

Jessica fought the urge to roll her eyes. “You may go, Eleanor.”

“His Highness sends his regrets but he will be unable to join you until this evening,” Gareth told her. “Might I add, my lady, you look most beautiful.” He blushed as he said this and dropped his gaze.

“Indeed, you look quite fetching,” Alexander agreed. “It’s too bad it’s wasted on just the two of us.” At her enquiring look he added, “His highness has requested that you allow him the pleasure of escorting you on a tour of the camp this evening.”

Jessica frowned. “In other words, he wants me to stay in my tent.”

“I fear so,” Alexander admitted.

“And what if I don’t want to stay in my tent?”

There was a slight hesitation as the two men shared a look. “It would not be . . . wise to go against the prince’s wishes.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “Am I a prisoner?”

“Nay, my lady!” Gareth was quick to protest. “Ye be an honoured guest! ‘Tis only for thine own safety the prince wishes thee to remain.”

Jessica sighed. She’d been looking forward to finally getting some fresh, but on the other hand she was dependent on the prince’s good will and didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.

“I guess we might as well sit down then,” she said, a little ungraciously. “Gareth,” she said, suddenly. “Do you know what happened to the clothes I was wearing when that bird attacked me?”

“Yes, my lady,” he said nervously.

“Well?”

“I—I believe there was no saving them, my lady.”

Jessica felt the blood drain from her face. “They’re gone?” she whispered. Jennifer was going to kill her. “Even the boots?” She’d really loved those boots.

“Nay, I believe the boots still remain, as does your sword. Wouldst thee like me to fetch them for thee?”

“I would be very grateful if you could,” Jessica said sincerely.

Gareth leaped to his feet, glad to be of use. “I shall return in a nonce.”

Jessica watched him leave with something akin to relief. At least the museum’s sword was safe. Thank God for small favours.

Under Where?

2011-09-19T08:00:00.000-04:00

Remember how your mother used to tell you to make sure you wear clean underwear in case you’re in an accident?

Okay, gentlemen, you’ll probably want to skip this rant. It’s about women’s issues.

First off, let’s talk bras.

Why is it so hard to find a bra that fits properly? And even more so, why isn’t it affordable?

I’m a plus sized woman, which means I have plus sized breasts. Do you really think I want extra padding in my bra? Apparently some manufacturers do. And then we get the other extreme where there’s no support at all.

And what’s with those camisoles with “the bra built in”? Are they really supposed to support you? I admit I have a couple of these that I like to wear in the summer. But only around the house. I wouldn’t dream of going out in public in one.

I once thought I found the perfect bra, it was called a T-shirt bra. It was made out of this stuff that kept its smooth shape, without adding extra padding. And it was affordable. The only problem was, after a few months the underwire started jabbing me under the arm. And if I adjusted it so that it didn’t get me under the arm, it would stab me between the breasts.

And does anyone else out there have a problem with their bra straps falling down? This drives me so crazy I have been known to remodel a bra so that the straps at the back are closer to the clasp. It probably isn’t the most elegant sewing job there is, but it works for me.

Now for the second part of my rant.

Movies, television, and books are filled with women who wear beautiful silk and lace bra and panty sets. These woman have many such sets. Many, many, sets. Am I really the only one out there who does not wear matching bras and panties?

I admit, they’re pretty to look at, but they’re not very practical and a lot of the time they’re down right uncomfortable. And they’re expensive! I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford a different bra and panty set for every day of the week. Satin and lace may look pretty, but satin’s hot and lace is itchy. And don’t get me started on thongs!

What’s wrong with normal underwear?

Grappling With Grammar An Editing Checklist

2011-09-17T08:00:00.000-04:00

Let me start by saying that editing is not the same as proof reading. Proof-reading comes after editing and is basically checking for spelling and typos, giving your work a final polish. Editing, on the other hand, is a little more in depth.

Once you’ve finished writing a piece, whether it’s a non-fiction article, a short story, or a novel, you need to edit it. Preferably before you show it to anyone else. To help you with this, I’ve made a list of things you should look for.

1. Spelling
Just because a word isn’t underlined in red by your spell check program doesn’t mean it’s the right word. The English language is riddled with words that sound the same but are spelled differently and have different meanings. (We’ll go into this in depth next week).

2. Grammar and punctuation.
While there are exceptions to every rule, make sure you don’t take advantage of this. The occasional deliberate misuse of grammar can add clarity, but too much only serves to make your writing look sloppy.

3. Cosmetics
Is each paragraph indented? Do all sentences begin with a capital letter? Are all proper nouns capitalized?

4. Sentences
Do sentences begin with different words? Is each sentence clear and complete? Can any short, choppy sentences be improved by combining them? Can any long, awkward sentences be improved by breaking them down? Can any wordy sentences be made more concise?

5. Word Usage
Are the words you’re using appropriate for the piece? For the subject matter? For the targeted audience?

6. Details
Do you have enough detail in your story to show the reader where and when the story takes place? Have you used too much detail?

7. Research for non-fiction
Have you double-checked your research to make sure your facts are correct? Have you used more than once source? Have you correctly cited your sources?

8. Research for fiction
Are your scientific or historical references correct? Have you taken into account the accents and behaviours of the people in the time period or location of your story?

9. Repetition
Occasional repetition can be use effectively for emphasis, but you want to avoid overuse of favourite words or phrases.

10. Pacing
Does your piece move at a proper pace, keeping the reader interested from start to finish? You may need to tighten up places where the story drags, or slow down where it seems rushed.

11. Show and tell
Have you shown what’s going on in your story using action and detail, or merely told what’s going on without engaging the reader?

Don’t fall into the trap of thinking your piece is perfect. Every author, no matter how famous, has to edit their work. It's what sets the great writers apart from the not so great. Editing a novel is a long involved process. It can take even the most experienced writer a great deal of time, effort, and patience. But the end results are well worth the time.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter 18

2011-09-14T08:00:00.002-04:00

“Jessie . . .”

There was no response to the disembodied voice.

“Jessica . . .”

This time there was a faint stirring in the bed.

“Jessica!” The voice was distinctly impatient.

A muffled groan escaped from the pile of quilts. “Just five more minutes.”

“Jessica, wake up!”

“Howard?” There was another groan, not so muffled now, and a rustling sound. “What time is it? Why can’t I see anything? Oh my God! Am I blind? Is this some kind of delayed reaction to one of those potions those crazy healers gave me? I knew I shouldn’t trust them, I—”

“JESSICA! You aren’t blind!”

“Did you just yell at me?” she asked with a sniffle. “You never yell.”

There was a heartfelt, disembodied sigh. “You are not blind,” Howard told her, enunciating each word with care.

“Then why can’t I see?”

“You can’t see because there’s no light in your damned tent and it’s a good hour until dawn. And before you ask,” he continued as she took a breath to interrupt, “The reason I woke you so early is because I didn’t think it would be wise for anyone to catch you talking to a disembodied voice and this is the first time you haven’t had someone in the tent with you.”

“Oh. I-I-I’m sorry I overreacted. But . . . where have you been?” Her voice turned angry. “I want to go home! This is nothing like the movies. They don’t have doctors here, they have healers. With leeches! And there are no bathrooms! I have to use a chamber pot. A chamber pot! I haven’t had a bath since I got here and—”

“Will you be quiet?” Howard demanded. “I don’t know how long the link allowing us to communicate will last so we need to make the most of it. Now, while you been lying around getting waited on hand and foot, I’ve been working my ass off doing research—”

“I haven’t been getting waited on hand and foot! Okay, well maybe I have, but I’ve been through a lot, I need some convalescence time.”

Howard made a rude noise. “Convalescence my ass. You’re being an attention whore. Now listen, there are a couple of things you need to know.”

“I am not an attention whore,” she muttered.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Go ahead, I’m listening. Have you figured out how to get me home?”

There was no answer to that. Jessica found the silence a little ominous. “Howard? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry Jess. I’m here. And no, I haven’t figured out how to bring you back yet, but I’m working on it.”

“I know you are Howard.”

“I—how are you doing, Jess? Are they treating you all right?”

“I’m an honoured guest,” she said, smiling in the dark. “When Ewan can’t be with me he’s arranged for his squire to be at my beck and call. And he even loaned me his minstrel to keep me entertained.”

“You need to be careful, Jess. Remember I told you magic is real in your universe?”

“Yeah, I remember. But I haven’t seen anything magical so far.”

“Trust me, it’s out there. It just might be hidden.”

“Hidden? Why?”

“There are a lot of different kingdoms in the world you’re on—”

“Cut to the chase, Howard.”

“Not all the kingdoms are welcoming to users of magic. In fact, some of them are down right nasty.”

“How nasty?”

“Think the Salem witch trials and the Spanish Inquisition.”

Jessica shivered. “Okay, that is nasty. But why do I have to be careful?”

“You have magical abilities.”

“I what?”

“It’s probably something you’ve had all along, it just took being sent to this other world to trigger them.”

“I what?” Jessica repeated.

“I’m not sure how powerful you are, that’s probably going to take some experimentation, but—”

“Are you insane? I do not have magic powers and the only thing you’re going to experiment with is getting me home!”

“I know it’s scary, Jess, but you’ll be alright. I’ll help you learn to control your power—”

“Howard—”

“Jessica? The link is weakening again. I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’d help if you could arrange to be alone once in awhile. In the meantime, be careful.”

“No! Don’t go!” Jessica felt her throat constrict. “Howard?”

She lay back down but it was a long time before she went back to sleep.

Words For the Wise

2011-09-12T08:00:00.000-04:00

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are the 2009 winners:

1.Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2.Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

3.Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

4.Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5.Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

6.Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

7.Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high

8.Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

9.Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

10.Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11.Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

12.Decafalon (n.): The gruelling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13.Glibido: All talk and no action.

14.Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15.Arachnoleptic Fit (n..): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

16.Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17.Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

The Washington Post has also published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

And the winners are:

1.Coffee, n. The person upon whom one coughs.

2.Flabbergasted, adj. Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.

3.Abdicate, v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4.Esplanade, v. To attempt an explanation while drunk.

5.Willy-nilly, adj. Impotent.

6.Negligent, adj. Absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a nightgown.

7.Lymph, v. To walk with a lisp.

8.Gargoyle, n. Olive-flavored mouthwash.

9.Flatulence, n. Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller.

10.Balderdash, n. A rapidly receding hairline.

11.Testicle, n. A humorous question on an exam.

12.Rectitude, n. The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.

13.Pokemon, n. A Rastafarian proctologist.

14.Oyster, n. A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.

15.Frisbeetarianism, n. The belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.

16.Circumvent, n. An opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men

Grapling With Grammar - Active Vs. Passive Voice

2011-09-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

If there’s one thing people remember from their high school English classes, it's that you should always strive to use the active, rather than the passive, voice in your writing. But like most of the "rules" of writing (and a few of the rules of grammar) this isn't really a rule. Some times the passive voice is appropriate, and some times it is even needed.

So what are the passive voice and active voice?

A basic sentence has a subject, an object and an action.

In a passive sentence, the object receiving the action is the subject of the sentence and the thing doing the action is included near the end of the sentence. You use the passive form when you thing the thing receiving the action is more important and should be emphasized. You would also use the passive form if you don’t know who is doing the action, or if you don’t want to mention who’s doing the action.

In the most basic active-voice construction is: subject – verb – direct object. The subject “acts” on a direct object. A verb is in the active voice when it expresses an action the subject performs.

Verbs in the passive voice have two parts: some form of the verb “to be” and a past participle form of the action verb: was thrown. (The helping verb has or have can also appear in a passive verb: the ball has been thrown.)

Active voice is usually clear, emphatic, and flowing. It is also direct. Readers prefer the active voice (whether they are aware of it or not), because it decreases the amount of mental work required for understanding the text. People naturally have a more positive reaction to active voice than they do to passive voice.

William Zinsser (who wrote On Writing Well) says that passive voice should be used sparingly–only when there’s no way around it. “The difference between an active-verb style and a passive-verb style–in clarity and vigor–is the difference between life and death for a writer.”

Active voice is the voice of power, action, and drive. It is the voice God speaks in. God didn't say, "Thy neighbour’s wife shall not be coveted by you." He said, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife." If God wrote the Ten Commandments in the passive voice, they would sound more like the Ten Suggestions. When He writes in an active voice, you know He means business.

In most (but not all) cases, the passive construction is longer, clunkier, and more vague.

Writing in the active voice rather than the passive voice gives your writing more life and more clarity. Use the active voice unless doing so makes a sentence awkward. Your writing will stand out, and your readers will perceive you as more energetic than if you had used passive voice. No matter what field you are in, active voice will improve your credibility because you are talking to the reader instead of at the reader.

There are, however, sometimes good reasons to use the passive voice. A writer may choose to use the passive voice in order to emphasize one thing over another or to emphasize the action rather than the actor. It can be used to keep the subject and focus consistent throughout a passage. Use a passive voice if you’re trying to be tactful by not naming the person performing the action or to describe a condition in which the actor is unknown or unimportant.

The use of active voice over passive voice is, in part, a matter of word economy and simplicity. If you can say something with fewer words, you probably should. It’s also a matter of making your words work for you. As Zinsser says, “active verbs push hard and passive verbs tug fitfully.” Using an active verb helps make the sentence more vivid and precise; does your subject walk, or does he saunter? Does she fall, or does she stumble?

Julius Caesar loved Cleopatra. This is an active sentence.
Julius Caesar is the subject, the action is loved, and the object is Cleopatra.

Cleopatra was loved by Julius Caesar. This is a passive sentence.
Cleopatra is the subject, was loved by is the passive action.

Although Cleopatra is the subject of the sentence, she isn’t really doing anything. Instead, she’s the recipient of Caesar’s love. The focus of the sentence has changed from Caesar to Cleopatra.

Cleopatra was loved. This is also a passive sentence.
Cleopatra is still the subject, but she’s been given more importance because we’ve taken Caesar out of the picture.

As you can see by the above examples, sometimes a passive voice can be just as effective as an active voice. It’s up to you, as the writer, to decide which one is called for. While you don’t want to overdo the use of the passive voice, neither do you want to leave it out completely. Strike a balance between the two and your writing will be more powerful.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter 17

2011-09-07T08:00:00.001-04:00

Jessica’s teeth ground together in frustration. At the rate she was going the enamel would be worn away completely by the time Howard found a way to rescue her. It had been three days since she’d awakened from the bird attack and Ewan’s healers, there were three of them, were driving her insane.

One of them, a tall, thin, nervous man with a scraggly beard, thought she should be restricted to bed for at least a fortnight, whatever that was. It sounded like a long time to be stuck in a tent. Fortunately, he was voted down by the other two.

The second healer was a motherly-type woman, who got very little respect from her colleagues. Jessica might have got on well with her if it wasn’t for the fact she kept trying to force noxious potions down her throat. The third healer, a short, round man who was so old Jessica wondered if he’d been pulled out of retirement, said that she’d be fine in a day or so, but in the meantime she should be bled.

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but it didn’t sound good. The worst part was, they seemed to think one of them should be with her at all times, giving her very little opportunity for an unchaperoned visit with Ewan. He visited her as often as he could, but his princely duties seemed to take up a great deal of his time.

“Maybe you should discuss this outside,” she said, raising her voice.

All three of them turned to stare at her.

“It’s just about time for my dinner and I’m sure all this arguing can’t be good for my digestion.” She tried to look as though her stomach pained her.

The female healer brightened immediately. “I know just the potion for that. Gentian root with a touch of ginger. I’ll make a tea of them.”

“No no no!” the skinny one said. “Angelica is the answer, with peppermint and turmeric.” He hurried after her.

“Potions aren’t the answer. A full meal followed by a proper blood letting. I think I know where . . .” the rest of what the oldest healer was saying was lost as he followed his colleagues out of the tent.

Jessica breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. She was just getting comfortable when a page stuck his head through the tent flap. Seeing she was alone, he came the rest of the way in.

“My lady, His Royal Majesty, Prince Ewan, wouldst visit with thee.”

“You may tell his highness that I would be most pleased by his company.” Jessica had to suppress a giggle at her formal answer. It sounded so elegant coming from Ewan and so cheesy coming from her. She smiled at the page and he grinned shyly in return before disappearing.

A few minutes later two pages held the flaps of the tent wide for Ewan himself. He was followed by a tall, lanky man, with blond hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in a homespun white shirt and trousers, with the high, cuffed boots that everyone seemed to wear, and was carrying what looked like a pregnant guitar.

“My lady,” Ewan said, taking her hand to kiss the back of it. Jessica blushed. “How dost thee fare?”

“I’m good, I’m fine.” Jessica wished she knew more about the Medieval era so she could at least pretend to speak the way Ewan did. She wondered what she sounded like to him.

“I fear I have been a poor host. Too often dost duty take me from thy side.”

“It’s alright, I—”

“Nay,” he shook his head. “Thee art too kind. Confined as thee art, time needs must lie heavily.”

“I will admit I’ve never been one to lie around in bed.”

“Herein lies the purpose for the guest that doth accompany me.” Ewan waved towards the man standing just inside the entrance to the tent. The man moved closer to the bed. “I wouldst introduce to thee my minstrel, Alexander Descarte.”

“My lady,” he said, bowing deeply. “It is a great pleasure.”

“The lady Jessica is our most honored guest. We would take it amiss should anything displease her.”

“I’ve never met a minstrel before.” Jessica wasn’t sure what to make of Ewan’s introduction. Alexander didn’t seem bothered by the thinly veiled threat. In fact, there might have been just a hint of humour in those brown eyes.

“It is my hope that he canst ease the burden of thy convalescence,” Ewan continued. “And shouldst thee need aught, mine own squire shall be at thy disposal.”

It took Jessica a moment to decipher his meaning. “Thank you, your highness. You are most kind.”

“’Tis my pleasure,” he assured her. “Alas, I cannot stay. Duty beckons. I must take my leave of thee and pray I mayst return forthwith.”
He was gone before Jessica could formulate a reply.

“Please, have a seat,” Jessica told Alexander, motioning to the chair Ewan normally occupied.

He sat down, resting the base of his instrument on the ground and leaning the neck against the side of the chair.

“Do you have a favorite song you’d like me to play?”

“No, I . . . I’m sorry, I’m not really familiar with your kind of music. Look, I know Prince Ewan has kind of forced you into this. If there’s someplace else you’d rather be, it’s okay.”

Alexander studied her for a moment. “To be honest, there hasn’t been a lot for me to do since we made camp here. The soldiers would rather get drunk and sing camp songs, not the sort of thing that requires accompaniment. And I’m not good for much else.”

“You don’t talk like Prince Ewan,” she said suddenly.

He grinned. “Not many do. The so-called high court dialect is fashionable in the Eastern courts. Ewan likes to be fashionable.”

“Hmm. You don’t—”

The tent flap opened and the older healer entered carrying a large bowl. “Oh, good. I beat the other two here. Now, if you’ll just lie back I can start putting these leeches on you.”

Jessica blanched. “Leeches?”

Alexander leaned over. “You know, you don’t have to do what they tell you. Ewan said you were an honored guest. That means it’s their job to make you happy.”

“Leeches would most definitely not make me happy.” Jessica eyed the healer who was looking for a place to set down his bowl. “Listen up. You are not putting those things anywhere near me.”

“But—”

“Furthermore, you and your cohorts can take your potions and your teas and . . . well, dump them. I’m not being your lab rat any more. I’m fine and as long as you three stay away from me I’ll continue to be fine. So get out and stay out, and take those slimy things with you.”

His mouth opened to argue, but she kept going. “If you don’t, I’ll have to speak to the prince.”

His mouth snapped shut again. Without another word he picked up his bowl of leeches and scurried from the tent.

“Well done!” Alexander said with a grin.

“So,” Jessica said, making herself comfortable against the pillows. “Tell me, Alexander. What else is an honored guest entitled to?”

Upgrade This! Grrr!

2011-09-05T08:00:00.000-04:00

What is it with companies having to constantly upgrade their products? Check out the commercials on TV or flip through a magazine. Everything’s all “new and improved”. What was wrong with the original brands? Maybe I was happy with the old brand and I don’t want “new and improved.” I guess it’s tough cookies on me – a lot of the time you can’t even find the originals of a product.

Take soup, for instance. I love Campbell’s condensed mushroom soup, I always have, even when I was a kid and refused to eat it unless Mom strained the mushrooms out of it. But I love the original Cream of Mushroom soup. I don’t want the Ready-to-Serve, Chunky Style (although I will use this one in casseroles), and I don’t want the “half-fat” version, or the “reduced salt” version. Give me the soup with all the fat and all the salt – it’s the one that has all the flavour.

And toothpaste . . . I remember when you went to the store and your choice was Crest or Colgate or Aquafresh. Now you’re not just confronted with your favourite brand, you’re confronted with your favourite brand times ten! There’s whitening, and breath freshening, and long lasting, and plaque fighting, and don’t even get me started on the different flavours!

But the worst culprit for excessive upgrading is computer software. Every time I turn around I have to upgrade or risk being incompatible with the rest of the world. And sometimes these upgrades are not a good thing! I’ll give you a for instance.

I was busy last week putting together a poetry chapbook. I had bought a program a few years ago that was going to be a great help. All I had to do was create my document like I wanted to see it done, and then run it through this program that would format it for printing. So fussed around in Word getting everything just so . . . I finally remembered how to do dot leaders for the index, I figured out (after a fair amount of searching and swearing) how to suppress the number on the first page and then switch from Roman numerals to regular numbers at the beginning of the actual text. My spacing was okay – everything was good.

Everything was good until I tried to install the formatting program on my desktop computer (my lap top was still on the fritz – I had computer issues last week). The desktop is fairly new, so its OS is Windows 7. The software was only compatible with Windows XP. Okay, I can accept that. So I went to the website and downloaded the trial version of the software, which worked all right except that it printed headers and footers on each page proclaiming the company’s name. Seriously? That is so not cool!

So then I installed the program on my lap top because it’s running XP. No problem until I tried to print. The program didn’t recognize my laser printer. So then I had to install my ink jet printer (which I hadn’t bother doing after the last time the lap top was formatted). Meanwhile, the program automatically updated to improve it and it decided that it didn’t like the inkjet either. All that time wasted for nothing. I had to reformat my whole document to get to print from Word.

The bottom line is, new and improved isn’t always a good thing.

Anyone remember “New Coke?”

I rest my case.

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter Sixteen

2011-08-31T08:00:00.000-04:00

A mote of blue witch light danced around the massive wooden bed high in the north tower of the castle, chasing the dust motes that appeared in the beam of late afternoon sun that shone through the narrow window. The man in the bed stirred restlessly. The mote paused and then zipped over to hover above his face. The man muttered something unintelligible and stirred again; there was rapid movement beneath his eyelids, as though he was struggling to awaken. The mote hummed happily and then vanished with a quiet popping sound.

By the time the old wizard finished climbing the twisting staircase to the tower room, the man was awake and sitting up in the bed. “What time is it?”

“Don’t you mean, ‘what day is it?’” the old wizard asked, puffing slightly. He lowered himself into an armchair near the bed.

“What day? It’s been days?” The man swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “What—”

“What did you expect, casting your spell while standing on a Well?” the wizard asked angrily. “What were you thinking?” Then, as though he couldn’t help himself, “Did it work?”

“I—I can’t be sure,” the man answered slowly.

“Kiran—”

“Do not use that name!” the man said furiously. “Kiranthus has been dead for twenty-five years.”

“Fine, Thackery, when you’re feeling up to it, you may join me in the scrying chamber.” The wizard struggled to his feet and then vanished.

Thackery sat on the edge of his bed, head resting in his hands, waiting for the spinning to stop. It was a good thing they were between terms in the school. One of the first things they taught the budding magic-users who flocked to the school was to never, ever, cast a spell near a Well.

The magical Wells of Power were useful for replenishing one’s energy, but even the most advanced wizard used extreme caution around them. He knew better, of course, but he’d been impatient. Farena’s amulet had activated weeks ago. A retrieval spell would have taken far too long to craft; there were so many factors to consider.

Heaving a sigh, he managed to get to his feet and made his way slowly to the window. Even after all these years, the view still took him by surprise. Instead of the lush fields and vast forests of his homeland, he looked out over the harsh beauty of the desert. Although there was a cooling spell built into the walls of the castle, the heat beyond its walls never failed to take him by surprise. It was a good thing he seldom needed to go beyond the walls.

Stiffening his spine he turned from the window and left the room. Paran would be getting impatient, waiting for him in the scrying chamber, and to be honest he was a little impatient himself to know the results of his spell.

Where the scrying chamber in Paran’s keep had been in the dungeon, the one in this castle was in the south tower. Paran had chosen the location himself, claiming that the higher altitude was more conducive to the energy needed for proper scrying. Still weak from the back lash from spell-casting on the Well, Thackery was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the tower.

“You’re out of shape,” Paran told him. He had already set up his favorite scrying bowl on the stand in the centre of the room. It was large and shallow, made of thin, black marble. Thackery had no idea where it came from, it was already here when he’d arrived ten years ago.

Thackery raised an eyebrow. “And you used magic instead of climbing all those stairs. What would your students say?”

Paran snorted. “My students know better than to question my comings and goings. Are you ready?”

Mouth suddenly gone dry, Thackery nodded. Without being asked, he went over to the cabinet that was filled with crystal balls, stacks of bowls, and bottles and jars of various liquids, and returned with a large urn. His hands were shaking and Paran took the urn from him, filling the bowl with a pale yellow oil. They stood side by side, hands resting lightly on the edge of the bowl. Paran began chanting.

The oil shivered and then started to swirl in the bowl. Faster and faster it spun until a small whirlpool formed. The whirlpool began to expand, wider and wider, leaving a clear space in the centre of the oil. The two men leaned forward.

Images flowed across the oil, moving too fast to make any sense of. There was a blinding flash. The men lost their hold on the bowl as they reeled backwards in shock, and the spell was broken.

“This is what comes of using wild magic,” Paran said, shaking his head to clear the spots in front of his eyes.

“It was going too fast for me to tell. Did it work? Was my retrieval successful?”

“I believe so,” Paran said slowly, “But there was something else . . . Fetch me the essence of pedrian.”

Thackery went back to the cabinet and returned with a small, stoppered vial. Paran added three drops of the blue liquid to the oil and then motioned to Thackery to join him. This time he waved his hands over the bowl while chanting. The oil boiled into a froth and then cleared again. A picture formed and they both leaned over it.

“It’s the northern continent,” Paran said, after a few minutes. “I’m not sure what part, however.”
“It looks familiar,” Thackery said. “I think I’ve—no!” His eyes widened. “It’s Ghren. I’d stake my life on it.”

“Ghren,” Paran mused. “Didn’t hold the position of Royal Tutor there at one time? I remember you writing about your student, Dominic. He was quite promising, I recall. Perhaps we could contact him and—”

Thackery was already shaking his head. “Dominic disappeared right before I did. It’s one of the reasons I’m no longer welcome there.”

“This is not good, my boy. You retrieved your daughter, but you didn’t bring her far enough. She’s there, trapped in Ghren.”

People and Barbeques

2011-08-29T08:00:00.000-04:00

This is two separate rants, actually. We’ll start with people. And by people, I mean stupid people, of which there are far too many out there. This could almost be a continuation of last week’s rant, only without the cars.

Yes, that’s right. I’m talking about pedestrians. Those fools who that shuffle across the road so that you miss the traffic light and think that just because it’s against the law to run them down they have a magic shield protecting them. The ones who strut around the parking lot like they’re God’s gift, believing that if they don’t look for oncoming traffic they won’t get hit. Or worse, the ones who stand behind your car, talking on their cell phone, as you’re trying to back out of a parking space.

Or how about the jerks who stand on the corner, even though the white guy indicating they can cross is lit up, and wait until you make a move to turn the corner before they decide to cross. I was going to the grocery store on the weekend and I came to a stop light. I waited for a pair of teenagers on with bikes who stood there snogging while they waited for the light to change. The light changed, they were allowed to cross, only they didn’t. They kept kissing. I finally decided they must be waiting for the light the other way and turned the corner. In my rear-view mirror I saw them finally cross the road – just as the light was about to change again. This is the same corner I stopped at on the way home from the grocery store. When the light changed there was a pick up truck going straight through while I was making a left turn. Clearly, he had the right of way, only he didn’t take it. I have no idea what he was doing, but just as the light was about to change he finally waved me to go ahead.

And do I even need to go into people on bicycles who don’t follow the rules of the road? Or how about roller-bladers, who do that side to side skating motion that takes up half the road? And skate-boarders, you never know which way they’re going to go. And the worst offense of all – people on bikes with dogs. If there isn’t some kind of law against this, there should be. It’s dangerous not only to the dog, but to the person on the bike as well. Not that they don’t deserve what they get for being so stupid in the first place. It’s an accident waiting to happen. I just hope I’m not around to witness it.

Got any stupid people stories? I’d love to hear them.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Can someone tell me why whenever my husband’s family has a barbeque we can’t just have it in a nice, big back yard (we’ve got one, we even have a pool) but instead we have to go all the way out to the cottage? Actually, it’s two cottages on the shore of a lake. One has all the amenities – TV, DVD player, air conditioning, microwave, full bathroom – it’s more like a small summer home. The other one is more of a traditional cottage – no plumbing but it does have electricity for the beer fridge.

It’s not that I have a problem with the cottage per se, it’s just that I don’t drink beer (which is the major pastime), you can’t swim in the lake because of the zebra mussels and bacteria, and we’re usually stuck out there for many, many, hours. And the worst part is, I’m expected to be sociable. You know, talk to people, and express interest in what they have to say. I’m not allowed to read, or write. God forbid I should bring my lap top with me (there’s no internet connection anyway).

What I am allowed to do is play horseshoes or sit in the scant shade and do needlework, usually crocheting although I have been known to do knitting, cross-stitch, or embroidery. Needlework is allowed because I can do that and be sociable at the same time. Never mind that my head is filled with all the things I could be doing if I was at home – like my posts for next week.

Grappling With Grammar - Why So Tense?

2011-08-27T11:45:00.000-04:00

Verb tenses can indicate the past, present, and the future, as well as a more complicated mixture of time. Although there are some who would argue that there can be as many as thirty different verb tenses, these are for the most part auxiliaries. There are only six basic tenses that allow you to re-create the reality of time in your writing.

Use the simple present to express the idea that an action is repeated or usual. It can also indicate the speaker believes that a fact was true before, is true now, and will be true in the future, or to talk about scheduled events in the near future. Sometimes it is used to make generalizations about people or things.

He plays golf. I do not play golf. Does she play golf?
Cats like milk. Birds do not like milk. Do pigs like milk?
The bus leaves every morning at eight. The bus does not leave at nine. When does the bus usually leave?

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Present perfect is used to say that an action happened at an unspecified time before now. The exact time is not important. You do not use the present perfect with specific time expressions such as: yesterday, one year ago, last week, when I was a child, when I lived in France, at that moment, that day, one day, etc. You can, however use the present perfect with unspecific expressions such as: ever, never, once, many times, several times, before, so far, already, yet, etc.

"Last year" and "in the last year" have very different meanings. "Last year" means the year before now, and it is considered a specific time which requires simple past. "In the last year" means from 365 days ago until now. It is not considered a specific time, so it requires present perfect.

Did you go to Mexico last year? (simple past)
Have you been to Mexico in the last year? (present perfect)

You can use this tense to describe an experience or to say that you have never had a certain experience, but not to describe a specific event. The present perfect is often used to talk about change that has happened over a period of time or to list accomplishments.

I have been to Mexico. I have never been to Mexico.
Judy has grown over the last year.
Doctors have cured many deadly diseases.

Present perfect can be used to suggest we are waiting for an action to happen or that the process is not complete and more actions are possible.

The package has still not arrived.
I have had many problems while working on this novel.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

We use the simple past to express the idea that an action started and finished at a specific time in the past. It can be a single action, or a series of actions.

I saw my mother yesterday.
I came home from work, took my shoes off, had a drink, and made supper.

This tense is also used to describe a habit which stopped in the past, or something which starts and stops in the past.

I smoked when I was younger. (similar to - I used to smoke.)
I smoked for five years.

Simple past is also used to describe past facts or generalizations which are no longer true. As in the first of above examples, this use of the simple past is similar to the expression "used to."

He was skinny as a boy, but now he has filled out. (He used to be skinny)

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

The past perfect expresses the idea that something occurred before another action in the past. It can also show that something happened before a specific time in the past.

I could not pay my way because I lost my wallet.
I had never been to a concert before last week.

Past perfect is used to show that something started in the past and continued up until another action in the past.

I had that lap top for five years before it got a virus.

With past perfect it is possible to use specific time words or phrases although it’s not usually necessary.

She had visited her Maritime relatives once in 1999 before she moved in with them in 2001.

If the action did occur at a specific time, the simple past can be used instead of the past perfect when "before" or "after" is used in the sentence. For this reason, both examples below are correct:

She had visited her Maritime relatives once in 1999 before she moved in with them in 2001. (past perfect)
She visited her Maritime relatives once in 1999 before she moved in with them in 2001. (simple past)

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Simple future has two different forms: "will" and "be going to." Although the two forms can sometimes be used interchangeably, they often express two very different meanings.

"Will" suggests that a speaker will do something voluntarily. Often, we use "will" to respond to someone else's complaint or request for help. We also use "will" when we want someone to help us or volunteer to do something for us. We use "will not" or "won't" when we refuse to voluntarily do something.

I will forward the letter when I get it.
I will help clean up, so Mom doesn’t find out.
I will not do the dishes.

"Will" is usually used in promises. "Going to" expresses that something is a plan, that a person intends to do something in the future. It does not matter whether the plan is realistic or not.

I will do what I can.
He is going to spend all is money on an iPad.

Both "will" and "be going to" can express the idea of a general prediction about the future. Predictions are guesses about what might happen. In these types of sentences, the subject usually has little control over the future.

This will be a very interesting book.
This is going to be a very interesting book.

Simple future cannot be used in clauses beginning with time expressions such as: when, while, before, after, by the time, as soon as, if, unless, etc. Instead of simple future, simple present is used.

When you will arrive tonight, we will go out for dinner. (incorrect)
When you arrive tonight, we will go out for dinner. (correct)

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Future perfect has two different forms: "will have" and "be going to." Future perfect forms are usually interchangeable, unlike simple future forms.

You will have perfected your technique by the time you finish your novel.
You are going to have perfected your technique by the time you finish your novel.
Are you going to have perfected your technique by the time you finish your novel?

The future perfect expresses the idea that something will occur before another action in the future. It can also show that something will happen before a specific time in the future.

By the time the guests arrive, I am going to have cleaned the entire house.
By next week, I will have finished my novel.

We use the future perfect to show that something will continue up until another action in the future.

I will have been in the library for six hours by the time I leave.
By Monday, Susan is going to have had my book for a week.

Like all future forms, the future perfect cannot be used in clauses beginning with time expressions such as: when, while, before, after, by the time, as soon as, if, unless, etc. Instead of future perfect, present perfect is used.

I am going to buy a book when I will have saved enough money. (incorrect)
I am going to buy a book when I have saved enough money. (correct)

Shades of Errol Flynn - Chapter 15

2011-08-24T08:00:00.000-04:00

“She is very fair.”

“Gareth, you should not be in here,” a woman’s voice scolded.

“I was sent by His Highness. How fares the lady?”

“He seems over anxious concerning this stranger . . .” it was more question than comment.

“He believes her to be one of Power,” Gareth whispered. “’Tis his hope she can be persuaded to aid our cause.”

“For truth?”

“Aye. She came upon us as we stood upon Death’s Head. Her wounds are from the attack of a gerishawk. There is much that is strange about her, her manner, her dress . . .”

There was a rustle of cloth as someone moved around.

“Come,” the woman said. “I would have His Majesty hear from mine own lips how fares his guest.”

Jessica waited until she was sure they were gone before she opened her eyes.

“Damn,” she said, but not too loudly. She’d been hoping the whole stranded-on-the-beach, cliff-climbing episode had been nothing more than a Very Bad Dream. Unfortunately, she recognized the voice of Gareth as the younger of the two men who’d helped her over the cliff-top.

Gingerly she levered herself up into a sitting position. She appeared to be in one of the tents she’d seen in the distance. Her arm was wrapped in cloth bandages from wrist to elbow.

“That bird,” she said with a shudder, remembering. She had a strong urge to just curl up and close her eyes until everything was back to normal. She was hallucinating; someone had slipped her some bad drugs. All she needed was a good night’s sleep and everything would be okay.

“Jessica . . .”

Jessica stifled a yelp at the sound of the disembodied voice.

“Jessie? Are you there?”

She glanced around wildly. “Howard? Is that you?”

“Jessie, I –”

“Howard? Where are you? Never mind,” she said quickly. “Just get me out of here.”

“I can’t, Jess.”

“What?” Her voice rose to a shriek.

“Calm down and just listen for a minute. Something went wrong with my spell –”

“So I noticed. Jeez, Howard. When you screw up, you screw up big time.”

“– something powerful enough to yank you out of our time continuum interfered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re trapped in a parallel universe.”

“A what? What do you mean, trapped?”

“Will you stop interrupting me!” Howard had never in his life spoken so forcibly.

Jessica shut up.

“That pendant of your mother’s . . . I told you I sensed something powerful about it. I think that it belongs in the universe you’re in and it pulled you in with it. It’s also the reason I’m able to communicate with you. I still have the other half – it acts as some kind of magical link. Whatever you do, don’t lose that pendant.”

“Howard –”

“Look, Jess. I know this is a lot to throw at you all at once but you’re just going to have to hang on until I can bring you back.”

“When’s that going to be?” Jessica asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know, Jess. I’m working on it. Now, there’s a few things you should know about your situation –”

“Only a few? Do you know what I’ve been through so far?” She was getting angry again. “I just about drowned in the ocean you dropped me beside, I climbed a goddamned mountain, I was attacked by a bird with poisonous claws and now I’m being held prisoner by two sword-waving lunatics who think I can help them in some kind of who-knows-what crusade!”

“Jessie, remember all those sword and sorcery movies you used to make me watch with you? Well, brace yourself. Your fantasy of living in that kind of age is about to come true. The dimension you’re in is similar to our middle ages, with one major difference. Magic is very real where you are. And I’m not talking about the kinds of spells I’ve been struggling with, I’m talking about wizards and dragons and unicorns. The whole sheebang.”

“Are you serious? Howard –”

“Jessie? The link is weakening. Don’t worry, I’ll be back later. Just be careful, you’ve got . . .”

“Howard? I’ve got what? Damn!”

Jessica lay back on her pillows feeling utterly drained. This whole thing was just so impossible.

Moments later the tent flap lifted to admit one of the most gorgeous men Jessica had ever seen. He looked like he belonged on the cover of one of the historical romance novels Ellen was so fond of. Bodice rippers, she called them.

He was tall and tanned with golden hair that curled down to his shoulders. His eyes were turquoise and the teeth he flashed as he smiled were perfect.

“The healer believes thee free of the poison,” he told her, dropping down onto a small stool at her bedside. “How fares thy arm?”

Jessica flexed her hand, “Mostly numb.”

“It will pass,” he assured her. “I am Ewan, Commander of the Narrows Outpost, Keeper of the Royal Seal, and heir to the throne of Ghren.”

“I’m Jessica,” she said, too bemused to think of a suitable, if not fictitious, title.

He bowed from the waist, an elegant gesture even done sitting down. “Be thee welcome amongst us, Lady Jessica, for however long thou hast need.”

“I, uh, thank you.” Jessica struggled to sit up again. He reached behind her and deftly arranged the pillows to make her more comfortable. “How long was I out?”

“Out?”

“Uh, unconscious.”

“Ah. It has been three days and two nights since the attack of the gerishawk at Death’s Head.”

“Whoa,” Jessica held up her hand. “What’s a gerishawk and what’s Death’s Head?”

“The fowl that attacked thee was a gerishawk, very rare in our land, but drawn to those of Power. Death’s Head is the point of land my squire and I met with thee upon.”

“Death’s Head,” Jessica repeated. “Good name.”

“Aye, that it is. Hast thou need for aught? A drink perhaps, some victuals?”

“I . . . ah . . . thank you. If it’s not too much trouble I could stand something to eat.”

He arose gracefully. “I will return with a feast,” he promised.

Jessica stared at the tent flap as it closed behind him. A grin spread across her face. Maybe being stuck in this dimension wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Other Drivers

2011-08-22T08:00:00.000-04:00

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a perfect driver, I do tend to drive a couple of kilometres above the speed limit, but I gotta wonder if some of the people out on the roads these days got their driver’s licences out of a cereal box.

I’m talking about the people who don’t know what an advanced green light means, or that if the way is clear you can make a right turn on a red light. And how about the people that make a left hand turn so slowly on a green light that it changes before they’re done and you’re stuck at the corner for another change of lights?

Our town re-paved one the road that has our new community centre on it and instead of installing a traffic light to handle the anticipated extra traffic, they put in two roundabouts. They sent out literature on how to use them, they have signs that show people which way to go, they have signs that tell you when you’re supposed to yield, and they even have an animated roundabout on the community centre website. And people still don’t understand how to use them! Just the same as they don’t know how to use the four-way stop at the north end of the street.

And you in the drive-thru . . . make up your mind before you get to the order window would you? And don't zip across the street to the fast food place and then hit the brakes as you enter the parking lot. There's traffic coming and I'm right behind you.

And why is it whenever I’m in a hurry I get stuck behind someone who drives like they’ve got a trunk full of nitro glycerine? Ride the brakes on your own time buddy, my grandmother in her walker could go faster than you!

Then we go to the other extreme on the 400 series highways. Yes, we get the turtles on there too, but at least there are three lanes. My beef with highway driving are the guys who think they’re on the racing circuit. When I’m already going 40 30 20 a few kilometres over the speed limit, you don’t need to be sitting on my ass in an effort to get me to move over. Trust me, I would if I could but I’m in an SUV and it’s not going to fit under the transport truck beside me.

And you in the truck, just because you've got your signal on doesn't mean the road suddenly sprouts an extra lane for me to move into because you want to move into my lane. It's even worse when the weather's bad and the truck's throwing crap on your windshield.

And then you get the stunt drivers. You know the guys I mean, the ones who zip in and out of the traffic in an effort to get to wherever they’re going just a few seconds quicker. At night you can track their progress by the tail lights coming on as people are forced to slam their brakes to avoid hitting them.

I actually enjoy driving. All I ask is that you get rid of the slow pokes and the dare devils and the inconsiderate truckers and I’m good to go. :-)

/rant