Where There’s A Will There’s A Way

It’s the second last day of NaNo. I’m sitting around the 48,000 word mark as I type this, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to write 2,000 words in two days.

Last week was a definite challenge, I tell you what. Because of my wrenched shoulder, early in the week I couldn’t type on the lap top at my desk. I had to have it sitting on my lap because my arm wouldn’t stretch to reach it. Finally I thought to squish a pillow in the chair beside me and prop my arm up on that, but I could only type for a short while before my hand and arm were aching too much to keep going.

Thank goodness for my Neo! But even typing on the it I had to type for a bit, rest a bit, pop an Advil and repeat as necessary. I finally broke down and went to the walk-in clinic and they pretty much told me what I already knew – I pulled the muscles really bad in my upper arm/shoulder and I needed to rest them as much as possible. They even gave me a sling to keep my arm immobile . . . but did not show me how to tie it and even watching YouTube videos I couldn’t figure it out. But they also gave me some kick-ass anti-inflammatories. :-)

I’ve kind of written myself into a corner and I’m not sure how to get out of it again. Originally I was going to have Brand, my main character, acquire a special sword to rescue this female magic worker that he teams up with. However, he hasn’t met her yet and I have him paired up with a fellow mercenary – they’re like blood brothers. They’ve ticked off the religious fanatics and the sidekick is ripe for tangling with the bad guys, which will require Brand to get the sword to save him. But I still want him to face off the bad guys to save the girl, so I don’t know how I’m going to work that all in.

I do not want to turn this into a series, but I did originally have a couple of short stories using this character and I kind of wanted to incorporate some of the action from them into this book, but other than one of the fight scenes it doesn’t really work – my character has changed too much. *sigh*

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Wordage Report

I had a couple of 1,000 word days, and a couple of 700 word days, but thanks to the extra words I had accumulated earlier I never really fell behind. And yeah, my arm got achy from time to time but I just kept going anyway. I was not going to let a little thing like a wrenched shoulder keep me from my NaNo goal, especially since this year I was keeping up a steady pace.

The story is a real mess. I have so totally departed from my original idea that I don’t know if there’s any getting back to it. Believe it or not, I’m only now getting to the part where he meets his magical partner, so there’s plenty of story left to tell. But there are going to be a lot of kinks to work out first. Really not looking forward to editing this puppy.

Goals From Last Week

1. Edits on book flood stories – didn’t even look at the stories, but I did order myself a coil binder to make my book flood books.
2. Blog posts – despite my injury, I got them all up. And on time too!
3. More words on Firestorm – only 2,000 to go and I’m done!

Goals For This Week

1. Finish NaNo – but continue with the story.
2. Start getting the book flood stories organized.
3. Blog posts should be a given, but I’m putting them as a goal anyway.
4. Finish editing the story I plan to submit this week.

NaNo Week Four

I really should have knocked on wood last week when I made the comment about life having a habit of interfering when you least expect it.

I wrenched my left shoulder badly last Friday, and typing has become something of an issue. I think I’m getting better (*knock on wood*) but for a while there I wasn’t sure if I was going to make my NaNo goal.

But more about that on Sunday’s post. This is Fiction Friday and time for another excerpt from Firestorm. To set this one up . . . Last week Brand and his squire/friend Kel reached the home of Nairn and Therza, only to find them packing up to move. I figured I might as well continue on with that one because a lot of what I’ve been writing lately is all over the place.

The trip took more than a month and by the end they were all weary of it. But the weather had been fair and the trip uneventful, so from that perspective they could have done much worse.

Their destination was the town of Burnsen, a market centre for the surrounding farms. After making inquires, Nairn was directed to a newly vacated farm, to be had for what he deemed a very reasonable price. The holding agent suggested they camp there for the night to see if it would suit and Nairn agreed.

The farmhouse was larger than he expected, with a sound barn close by and pens that could be used for a variety of livestock. When asked what happened to the previous owners the agent shook his head sadly.

“What happens to most in these parts. A man and his wife raise their family here, and the sons grow up wanting something other than dirt under their nails. This is good, rich land, mind you, but it takes a will to make it work.”

Nairn nodded in agreement.

While Brand and Kel chased the boys around the farmyard to help them blow off some of their steam from being cooped up in the wagon so long, Nairn and Therza checked out the house.

It was two stories, built of wood and stone and looked to have had an addition added on at some point. The door opened into a large room with a stone fireplace. A door off one side led to a good sized bedroom with its own fireplace that Therza deemed would be perfect for the two of them.

On the other side of the main room was space for a table for dining, with a kitchen off of it. Therza surveyed the kitchen with her hands on her hips. There were plenty of shelves and counter space, a work table in the centre, and a large iron cook stove that would heat things up nicely in the winter months. To her delight, one of the doors off to the side led to a pantry. The other door led outside where there was a kitchen garden. It was somewhat overgrown but she could see several of her favourite herbs amongst the weeds. Just beyond that was a plot of land that had obviously once been used as a vegetable garden.

“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed to Nairn.

“You haven’t even seen the upstairs,” he said in amusement.

“As long as there’s enough room for the boys, it’s still perfect,” she assured him. “Just look at all these windows. When the storms come they can be shut, and when the heat is upon us they can be opened to let in a breeze.”

There was a proper set of stairs leading to the upstairs, which boasted four rooms of equal size.

“While they are young they might wish to share a room still,” Nairn said. “But when they grow a little older they’ll want a space of their own.”

Therza nodded in agreement. She turned to Nairn and wrapped her arms around him. “It is perfect here. But are you sure this is what you really want?”

“Yes,” Nairn said, kissing her soundly. “There comes a time in a man’s life when he needs to lay down his sword, and my time has come.”

Therza set to work at once, cleaning and setting the house to rights, drafting the men into helping her. They swept and scrubbed and polished. Therza washed the floors and walls and the glass in the windows. Even the little ones were given tasks, and threatened with dire results should they stray from the farm.

It took better than a week before she was satisfied and allowed the men to unpack the wagon. While the men saw to the actual heavy work of lifting, Therza saw to the placement of every stick of furniture, every pot and plate herself.

“I think I would rather face a hoard of tribesmen than face Therza when she is setting up house keeping,” Brand said with a heartfelt sigh of relief when she finally released them to see about dealing with the rest of the farm.

Kel grinned at him. “It was a definite change from cleaning armour.”

Superstitions V – Black Cats

The life giving rays of the sun rest in the cat’s eyes at night for safe keeping.
~ Egyptian superstition

Originally, the black cat represented good luck. This began in Egypt with Bast, the official deity of Egypt in the 22nd Dynasty. It was believed that by bringing a black cat into the household Bast would become part of the cat in spirit and bless the home with riches and prosperity.

A strange black cat on a porch is considered to bring prosperity.
~ Scottish superstition

In the 1600’s, Charles I of England owned a black cat. He was so attached to the it that he kept it under constant guard. When the cat fell ill and died, Charles proclaimed, “Alas, my luck is gone.” The next day he was arrested and charged with high treason. Ultimately he was put to death.

Whenever the cat of the house is black, the lasses of lovers will have no lack.
~ English Proverb

In the Yorkshires, a black cat was believed to bring fishermen home safely from the seas. During the height of the fishing industry in this village, black kittens were often catnapped and sold to the highest bidder. In other parts of Europe, if a black cat crosses your path, you are considered to have good fortune. If a black cat walks into your house or home, you are truly blessed.

While dreaming of white cats is considered lucky, seeing one in the night is bad luck.
~ American superstition

Many people believe that a black cat brings good fortune and also, that anyone who finds the one perfect, pure white hair in an all-black cat and plucks it out without being scratched, will find great wealth and good luck in love.

A black cat in the audience on opening night portends a successful play.

In the English Midlands, a black cat as a wedding present is thought to bring good luck to the bride.

Any one who hears a cat sneezing is considered to be blessed with good luck.
~ Italian superstition

Fear of cats, particularly black cats, first arose in Europe during the Middle Ages, mainly in England. The cat characterizes independence, willfulness, and stealth. Alley cats were often fed by poor, lonely old ladies, and when witch hysteria struck Europe, many of these harmless women were accused of practicing black magic. Their cat companions (especially black ones) were deemed guilty of witchery by association.

In the Netherlands, cats were considered to be evil and weren't allowed in a room where private conversations were taking place. It was believed that they could spread the gossip around.

The Pilgrims brought with them not only a devout faith in the Bible, but also a deep fear of anything considered to come from the devil. They were a very suspicious people. Black cats were viewed as a witch’s familiar. A black cat was considered to be part demon and part sorcery. Anyone caught with a black cat would be severely punished or even killed.

As the Christians gained a foothold in America, they perpetuated the belief that black cats were an integral part of witchcraft. Black cats were often sought after and killed. If a farmer believed his land had a spell cast on it, the only way to break that spell was to shoot a black cat with a silver bullet.

All Hallows Eve is believed to be the time when an opening is created to the Otherworld and the black cat is considered the catalyst for that driving force.

A black cat crossing one's path by moonlight means death in an epidemic. However, killing a cat brings 17 years of bad luck.
~Irish superstition

The belief that a black cat crossing your path is unlucky depends largely upon what country you’re in. In Japan it is believed to be good luck. So the next time a black cat crosses your path, just say “Konichiwa” and turn your luck around.

Too Good to be True

As I type this, I’m two days ahead on NaNo, which is a very good thing because there’s only a week left and for the first time I’m thinking I might not finish.

I believe I mentioned in the first NaNo post I did that one of my handicaps this year is the kitchen renovation we were planning on. The renovation has gone as far as it can without the counters, but at least I’m able to start putting stuff back into the cupboards. And surprisingly it hasn’t really interfered with my NaNo word count . . . until now.

After a shaky Wednesday (words wise) I had a stellar Thursday (4,000 words!) so Friday I figured I figured I could phone my sister to wish her a happy birthday and maybe work on getting rid of some of the bins in the dining room so the hubby could start installing the new floor.

One of the sets of dishes we have for every day use is stoneware. Guess what? Turns out stoneware is as heavy as … well, stone. I tried to pick up the bin of dishes to move it into the kitchen to put them away and wrenched something in my shoulder. Pulled a muscle? Pinched a nerve? I have no idea. But it hurts to type. Even doing this post hurts.

So the home stretch of NaNo is going to be an interesting. I knew my steady progress was too good to be true.

One of the common pieces of advice for doing NaNo is “Don’t stop to edit.” This year I’ve had no problem following this piece of advice. In fact, a couple of times the story wandered off into parts unknown and I just stopped and started the scene over again. And I’m making notes as I go along, which should make editing easier.

I’m putting a lot of effort into my character’s training as a mercenary, which I thought was just going to get cut during the edits, but now I think it could stay if I scale it down. Right now it’s like a Hogwarts for mercenaries, but that makes it way too big. For now I’ll just get on with the story.

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Wordage Report

My best day last week was 4,068 words, the worst day was 720 words. But I had enough extra words built up that even on the 720 day I did not fall behind of where I should have been. Thanks to the 4,068 day, even if I can manage 1,000 a day until my shoulder’s better I shouldn’t fall behind. Guess we’ll just have to see how motivated I am.

Goals From Last Week

1. Book flood stories – I picked out 14 flash stories for this year’s book flood.
2. Blog posts – got them all done, but not on time (unless you count this one).
3. Firestorm – this book is probably going to be my longest book yet, when it’s done.

Goals For This Week

1. Start edits (if necessary) to the book flood stories.
2. Keep up the good work with the blog posts.
3. Push through the pain for more words on Firestorm.

NaNo Week Three

A lot’s happened to Brand since he escaped from his uncle’s lecherous clutches. He’s turning out to be a much nicer character than I thought he’d be when I first envisioned him, but that might work out in his favour later on.

The story is changing too, and I think it’s for the better. I was going to skip over his training to become a mercenary, but he’s making some important friends and it’s going to help the story later on.

I’m well over halfway done, and there’s a ton more story to tell. My plan is to keep working on it after NaNo is over, but the road to hell is paved by good intentions and life has a habit of interfering when you least expect it.

The scene I have for you today is more about Nairn and Therza, who raised Brand after his mother died, and took him to Witch Hills to be with his mother’s family after his father died.

Nairn and Therza had settled in the town of Boven on the Witch Hill border. Therza plied her trade as herb wife, something she was not able to do when they were living in Alandria, while Nairn became weapons master to the local lord, teaching his young sons the way of the sword.

Their life together was happy enough, though they both worried about Brand. Therza worried about the possibility of him picking up the more undesirable customs of the Witchers, while Nairn worried that he hadn’t been more straight forward in his warnings in regards to Orin.

The letters that passed between Brand and Therza were reassuring, however. Nairn had had half suspected that Brand would be moved to quarters outside of the palace – though his royal status entitled him to Sharina’s quarters, his half-blood status was frowned upon. But thankfully they left him where he was. King Theron himself had taken an interest in Brand’s education, and as long as he kept his interest Brand would be safe from any interest Orin might have in him.

A year after they settled in Bovan they had a son, and two years later a second one. Though comfortable enough, they wanted something better for their sons. They talked often of migrating northward to the farmlands, to try their hand at a more pastoral life.

It was well they started to save as well as talk, for the choice was forced upon them. Nairn had a falling out with the lord – his sons complained of their lessons. They found them too difficult but the truth as Nairn saw it was the boys were lazy and unmotivated. The novelty of having a true Witcher instructing his sons had long since worn off, so the lord dismissed Nairn, evicting him from the house he and his family had been living in all this time. They had two weeks to gather their belongings and be gone.

Brand and Kel arrived three days before the family was to depart. One of the boys had become ill and Therza needed to watch over him so she was unable to help Nairn pack up their things. As a result, they had three days left and half a household to dismantle.

Brand was a little nervous as he stood outside the door he was told belonged to “the Witcher and his wife,” a little unsure of his welcome. It had been six years since he’d seen the man and woman who’d raised him, who were more kin to him than his own blood. The journey here had taken the better part of six months, and it had been two months before that since he’d last written to Therza. He had not thought, nor had he had time, to send a message to them, telling them he was leaving Witch Hills.

“Are we just going to stand here until the sun sets, or are we going in? Or have you changed your mind?” Kel asked.

Shooting him a dark look, Brand squared his shoulders and then rapped sharply on the door. He relaxed somewhat when there was no answer. Perhaps they were not home.

“Try again,” Kel urged.

With a sigh, he rapped again.

This time there was the sound of footsteps and the door opened. A weary looking Therza greeted them.

“Yes?” she asked. Nairn was looking after the boys while she started to dismantle the kitchen.

She had put out the word that her services as an herb wife were no longer available, but there was still the odd customer or two who sought her skills. But usually they ones familiar with her work, the two at her door were strangers.

Brand took in the sight of her. Therza did not look much older than she had when she left, although she was looking tired. He hoped he was not disturbing her.

“You wish something?” she asked, a little impatiently.

Brand reached up and slowly removed his face covering.

“Oh!” she said. “Oh!” Laughing and crying, she enfolded Brand in her arms.

He hugged her back, lifting her off her feet.

“You’ve grown so tall!” she exclaimed. “Oh, it is so good to see you,” she said when he set her down again. “Come in, come in. No sense giving the neighbours something to gossip about.”

“What is all this commotion? I just got the boys to sleep,” Nairn said, entering the main room of their small house. “Brand!” he exclaimed. In two strides they met in the middle of the room where Brand was once again pulled into a bone jarring hug.

Superstitions IV – Breaking Mirrors

The first reflections man had of himself were found gazing into pools, ponds, or lakes. If the image became distorted in any way, it was a mark of impending disaster or a corruption of his soul. When he became more civilized he used polished stone, such as obsidian, to reflect his images. Then came mirrors of polished metal, but they were small and heavy and used mostly for decoration.

The Romans, Greeks, Chinese, Africans, and Indian cultures, believed that a mirror had the power to confiscate part of the user's soul. If the user should break a mirror it would mean his or her soul would be trapped inside the world the mirror represented. Essentially, a broken mirror created a broken soul, which in turn lead to the broken health of the unfortunate user.

The origin of the ‘seven years of bad luck for breaking a mirror’ superstition can be traced back to the Romans, who were the first to create glass mirrors. They believed that a person's physical body renewed itself every seven years, which meant it would take seven years before the user's soul would be fully restored. Until the seven years passed, life for a mirror breaker would be one long string of unfortunate events, since he or she no longer had a healthy soul to ward off spiritual evil-doers.

There are several different ways of warding off the ill luck caused by breaking a mirror:

* Throw salt over your shoulder.
* Directly after breaking the mirror, turn around three times counterclockwise.
* Since the pieces can still reflect the corrupted soul, grind the shards into a fine powder.
* Gather the broken mirror pieces and submerge them in the waters of a south-running stream.
This will wash away the bad luck after only seven hours rather than seven days.
* Burn the mirror, or at least blacken its shards in the flames of a fire. Save the fragments for a year and then bury them, and the curse will be counteracted.
* On the first night after breaking the mirror, light seven white candles and blow them out at midnight in one breath.
* Touch a tombstone with a piece of the mirror and the hex will be lifted.
* Bury the pieces under a tree during a full moon.

Other Mirror Superstitions:

John Dee, alchemist and court magician of Queen Elizabeth I, used a mirror for scrying. He has been credited with prophesying the plot to kill King James in 1605.

It is said that having a large number of mirrors in the home is lucky because of the mirror's ability to deflect evil and attract good.

The mirror is symbolic of, among other things, money. Hang one beside the table in the dining room or kitchen to attract wealth and food to the home.

Ideally, no mirror should be hung so low that it "cuts off" the tallest household member's head (doing so may cause headaches). However, mirrors shouldn't be hung too high either.

If you feel sad or troubled while home alone with no one to talk to and no apparent way to control your blue mood, stand before a mirror and gaze into your eyes. Your anxiety should disappear.

Any mirrors in a room where someone has recently died, must be covered so that the dead person's soul does not get trapped behind the glass. Superstition has it that the Devil invented mirrors for this very purpose.

To see an image of her future husband, a woman is told to eat an apple while sitting in front of a mirror and then brush her hair. An image of the man will appear behind her shoulder.

To see your reflection in a mirror is to see your own soul, which is why a vampire, who is without a soul, has no reflection.

If a couple first catch sight of each other in a mirror, they will have a happy marriage.

If a mirror falls and breaks by itself, someone in the house will soon die.

It is bad luck to see your face in a mirror when sitting by candlelight.

Someone seeing their reflection in a room where someone has recently died will soon die themselves.

Actors believe that it is bad luck to see their reflection while looking over the shoulder of another person.

Babies should not look into a mirror for the first year of their lives.

Wait, It’s Sunday Already?

It’s a grey and miserable day out there, which makes me kind of grey and miserable, but there was nothing really to watch on TV this morning so when I found myself nodding off I figured it was time to relocate to my office. And if I hadn’t, it might have been quite some time before I realized I’d forgotten all about today’s post.

Sorry about that.

You can blame both tiredness and the kitchen renovation on that. Tiredness from eating too many unhealthy meals (and too much of them), brought about by not having access to a proper kitchen. I have a stove, and a TV tray with the toaster and coffee maker sitting on it. But I have no sink, no counters, no cupboards, and trying to find anything in the plastic bins in and around the dining room table is like searching for buried treasure.

I think the most annoying thing about the renovation is that I was just settling into a workable routine – editing in the morning, writing in the afternoon and evening – and it’s just not possible now. Everything’s a crowded mess. Even my office has an extra chair in it with a box of stuff on top. Not very inspiring.

Anyway, I know I had this great idea for a post today (instead of just whining about how chaotic my life has become) but if I wrote the idea down somewhere I can’t remember where.

That being said, the stars must be in the right alignment or something for this year’s NaNo, because my progress has been steady. I was actually ahead of the game a bit, but then last week I had to use up some of those precious words to make my daily quota. I was still on track though, and Friday I managed to pull ahead again which is good because yesterday I didn’t quite make my quota again.

So a little bit of the seesawing, but not the extremes of other years.

My main character has a name now, it’s Brand. His horse is named Raven. :-) And remember how I was starting this as a back story to lead into the real story? Well, I’ve done that in spades. Brand has had a lot of adventures in his short life, most of which will end up cut because despite all the detail it’s the results that are important, not how it happened. Even for a fantasy it takes too long to get to where the story actually starts, which is something that will happen in the next day or two.

That’s right, I’m at the halfway point in NaNo and my story is only now just starting. I’ve heard of others who just start writing and hope a story appears to them along the way, and it looks like that’s what I unintentionally did.

It’s not like I didn’t know what my story was going to be, I guess it was just how to get there that eluded me. There’s a lot of bad writing, and a lot of unnecessary writing. But this is NaNo, people. That’s the name of the game.

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Wordage Report

Today is the halfway point in NaNo and I am right on track – just over 25,000 words. How awesome is that? Normally this would be the point where I’d tell myself, “Oh, look. You’re halfway there, time to take a break.” But not this year. This year I want to keep going and, be still my heart, finish early.

Goals From Last Week
1. Blood Tie edits – didn’t really happen. And even if they had, I was kidding myself if I thought I was going to have the book ready for a Christmas release. I don’t even have a blurb or a cover yet.
2. Blog posts – again, this one is late, but I got them all done.
3. NaNo – ready to tip over the halfway point. It’s all uphill from here! LOL

Goals For This Week
1. Instead of edits on Blood Ties, maybe I should be gathering up stories for my flash anthology for my book flood.
2. Get all my blog posts done on time.
3. Keep up the good work on Firestorm.

Last week I talked about playlists for writing. Have you ever found a song that just seemed to fit your character perfectly? Well I did. Brand’s theme song is Rune, by Two Steps From Hell.

NaNo Week Two

Can you believe it? We’re at the end of week two and I’m still on track. At least I will be if I get a few more words in tonight after I schedule this post.

I was actually about a day ahead, but I’ve been having to use up those words to make up for my lack of words over the last few days. We’re deep into a kitchen renovation, and reno is not conducive to writing. It’s noisy and it’s messy and it’s really, really annoying.

Anyway, more about that on Sunday. This is Friday which means it’s time for another excerpt from my NaNo novel Firestorm.

So . . . Rankin and Sharina got married and lived happily in his castle in Varellia until Sharina died giving birth to their son Brand. When he was 11, Brand lost his father too, and Rankin’s man at arms, Nairn, and his mother’s former maid/lady in waiting, Therza, decided to take him back to his relatives in Witch Hills because his half brothers didn’t like him. They hung around until he was settled, then left to get married and live their own life.

Everything went fine until Brand’s lecherous Uncle Orin started showing an unhealthy interest in him and Brand’s squire, a slave named Kel, overheard his plans to drug Brand during a private dinner. At this point Brand decided discretion was the better point of valour and came up with a plan to escape Witch Hills (and his uncle).

One last thing. Please bear in mind these excerpts are unedited, so bad grammar, typos, and just plain bad writing are to be expected. :-D

It was a plan he did not even share with Kel, for fear something would go wrong at the last minute and the boy would be the one to pay the price. While Brand had no friends, Orin had many. And many of those still grumbled about the Witcher half blood living like a lord. They would like nothing better than to see Brand brought down.

Deciding the sooner his plan was begun the better he left the palace and went to the market square where he sought out the horse trader. Even the ordinary livestock of the Witchers was better than most and he walked the picket lines slowly, stopping occasionally for a better look.

“Why nephew, whatever are you doing here?”

Brand was not surprised to hear Orin behind him. He’d long suspected he was being watched and this only confirmed it.

“Hello, Uncle. Fancy running into you here.”

“Looking to replace your mount are you?”

“Never! Raven is the finest mount in the land, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for him.” The horse had been a gift for his eighteenth birthday. “No, I am looking for a mount for my squire.”

“Your squire!” Orin said in astonishment. “Whatever for?”

“I have it in my mind to try out that new bow from the north,” Brand said easily. “I plan on hunting the wild cat that’s been after the sheep.”

“By yourself?” Orin’s brows drew together in a frown.

“I’m told it is the best way to catch the cat.”

“But why take your squire then?”

“Surely you do not expect me to dress the kill myself?” he asked, with just the right amount of Witcher arrogance. “And he can hardly ride pillion behind me.”

“No, I suppose not,” Orin said, satisfied in his nephew’s reasoning.

“I wish to leave at first light tomorrow, hence the need for a mount for the boy today.”

“Why not just borrow one from the stable?”

“A squire upon a Witcher horse? I would not have thought it of you Uncle.”

“Well then, I wish you luck, little wolf. It will give us something to celebrate at dinner.”

“I am looking forward most eagerly to it,” Brand told him.

“As am I, nephew. As am I.”

Orin wandered off again and Brand looked after him thoughtfully. Nairn had tried to persuade him to leave with him and Therza but to Brand there had been no reason to at the time. He was among family, and he was honing the fighting skills Nairn had started teaching him. Now he knew why Nairn had tried to be so persuasive but he did not know why he couldn’t have just come out and told him of his suspicions. Perhaps he had been afraid Brand wouldn’t believe him. Or worse, would have gone to Orin with the tale, although Brand never would have betrayed him like that.

He continued his perusal of the horses being offered up for sale. Deciding he was putting far too much thought into it, He chose a three-year-old bay mare. She was sound and even tempered. and he persuaded the seller to throw in a saddle.

Pleased with his purchase, he led her back to the palace stable himself. There he had her ensconced in the stall next to Raven’s, with instructions that both horses were to be saddled and waiting for him at daybreak.

Hunting was actually a common pastime amongst the guardsmen and soldiers of Alandria. And while the more noble warriors often hunted in groups, the less titled were known to make forays on their own. No one would think it unusual for Brand, being a prince but a half-breed one, to hunt solo. The presence of his squire was no more remarkable than if he was taking a favourite hound with him.

Wearing a pleased expression, he returned to his quarters. Kel appeared to be out running errands, which was just as well. He did not care to have to answer too many questions as he went through his things, deciding what to take with him and what to leave behind.

Superstitions Part III – Knocking on Wood

If you read my post on Sunday, you may have noticed several times that I wrote *knock on wood* including in the title of the post. The expression is used when there is no wood to actually knock on, an action that’s used when you feel like you’re tempting fate and want to ward off evil. When you’re actually knocking on wood you need to do it three times, but if you’re saying it or writing it, once is fine.

The tradition traces back to an ancient pagan belief that spirits resided in trees, particularly oak, ash, holly, or hawthorn. By knocking on or touching the wood you are paying tribute to these spirits by acknowledging them and can call on them for protection against ill-fortune. It’s also a way of thanking them for their continued blessing and good luck.

The Greeks worshipped the oak because it was sacred to Zeus, the Celts believed in tree spirits, and both believed touching sacred trees would bring good fortune. Irish lore holds that "touching wood" is a way to thank the leprechauns for a bit of luck. Pagans also held similar beliefs of protective tree spirits. The Chinese and Koreans thought the spirits of mothers who died in childbirth remained in nearby trees.

A Jewish version traces the origin to the Spanish Inquisition of the 15th century. At the time, persecuted Jews fled to synagogues built of wood, and they devised a coded knock to gain admission. Since this practice spared countless lives, it became common to "knock on wood" for good luck.

Like many of their traditions, the Christians appropriated the idea of knocking on wood from the pagans, making the practice more acceptable by claiming the wood in question referred to the cross Jesus was crucified on.

In the 1800s, many children's games included a saying to knock on wood. The game of “Tiggy Touchwood” was a kind of tag in which players were “safe” whenever they touched some kind of wood like a tree or a door.

In these modern times, many traditionally wooden items only appear wood-like – tables, bookcases, etc. It’s become acceptable to knock on a table with a wood veneer, or even on something that is not wood at all, such as plastic or Formica, as long as you say "knock on wood" or "touch wood". To me, this shows that the original reason for knocking is becoming forgotten, even in folk memories, in favor of the knocking action itself.

To my surprise, while doing research for this piece, I came across many references to a person knocking on their own head if no wood was available. This is something I’m in the habit of doing, even when there is wood around. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one.

Week One and Still on Track *knock on wood*

If you’ve been reading this blog (or even my other one) for any length of time you’ll know my usual strategy for NaNo is this:
Day one: Try to talk myself out of it
Day two: Cave in and scrounge around for an idea
Day three: realize I’m already three days behind and start scrambling to catch up
Remaining days: catch up, fall behind, catch up, fall behind, pull ahead, fall behind, cross the finish line with a handful of words to spare

But this year’s NaNo is pretty much like the rest of 2020 has been – surreal. Give or take a few words, I’ve been right on target. FOR SEVEN DAYS IN A ROW! *knock on wood*

Is it because I’m older and wiser and know how to pace myself? Is the idea I settled on conducive to a steady pace? Is it because I finished Blood Ties in a flurry of words and I’m still in high gear? I don’t know, and frankly I don’t care as long as it keeps up.

Now, a lot of people talk about play lists of music to accompany their writing. I never much thought about it before. The first NaNo I won was basically accompanied by all things Star Trek. I’d sit in front of the TV late at night and watch various Star Trek marathons as I wrote.

Lucky Dog I listened to mostly Celtic music – specifically a lot of Loreena McKennitt, but a lot of miscellaneous recordings as well. Blood Ties, however, especially the last 30,000 words or so, was written mostly to the Sounds of Nature we get on our TV, which is just what it sounds like. It’s birds or rain or crickets (or whatever), sometimes with music in the background, sometimes on their own. Don’t ask me why, but listening to the sounds of nature never failed to put me in the right mindset for working on Blood Ties.

The sounds of nature does not work, however, for Firestorm. I did try in the beginning, thinking because it was also a fantasy story it would be appropriate, but it wasn’t. What I have found works well is Two Steps From Hell. I don’t know how many CDs they’ve put out, but I have a lot of them. They’re mostly instrumental – think epic soundtrack – but it just seems to go with my story.

This is one of the reasons I’ve been spending a lot of time writing in the living room – it has a CD player that holds five CDs at a time, whereas in my office I have to get up every time the CD ends (unless I want to listen to it over again).

Anyway, the story is moving along nicely, even if it’s starting out in a different direction than I anticipated. But that’s just one of the joys of being a pantser (someone who writes by the seat of their pants instead of using an outline). My main character (who needs renaming badly) is a little different than I expected. He’s not as angry for one, although that may change. Or it might change during editing. You know, a few years from now. ;-)

Meanwhile, the story started meandering down a side path I didn’t like, so it being NaNo and all I just stopped and started the next scene back a few pages and sent it where it should have been. It’s still not perfect, but it got the story moving again, and that’s what counts.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Wordage Report

As I mentioned above, I’m pretty much on track to where I should be. As of the typing of this, I’m at 13,322, which is only 11 words shy of where I should be by the end of the day. And I think it’s important to note that during this time we’re having our kitchen renovated, so I spent a good part of last week unloading the cupboards so they can be ripped out. Who knew such a tiny kitchen had such a lot of stuff in it??

Goals From Last Week

1. Edits on Blood Ties – I actually did get some editing done, not as much as I’d hoped to, but you have to start somewhere.
2. Blog posts – even though this one is kind of late (I spent yesterday afternoon up in Peterborough so the evening was spent on Firestorm instead of this post) I still got all my posts done last week.
3. NaNo – so far I’m feeling really good about this year’s NaNo (*knock on wood*)

Goals For This Week

1. Continue working on edits for Blood Ties
2. Get all my blog posts done
3. Try and pull ahead with words on Firestorm

Two Steps From Hell - Never Give Up On Your Dreams

NaNo Week One

Today I present the opening of my swords and sorcery NaNo novel, Firestorm. That’s just a working title of course, and the excerpt is unedited. And believe it or not, as I type this I am right on track with my NaNo words (knock on wood), which from past experiences with NaNo is practically unheard of!

They say the people of Witch Hills were created when Beauty mated with Magic. But it could also be said they were too ugly to be borne, hidden as they were behind their masks and veils. To be sure they had little use for outsiders, and rarely ventured beyond their own borders.

So it was with surprise the warlord Rankin received a summons to the city of Alandria, the largest of the cities of Witch Hills. He went, accompanied by twelve of his best knights, curious to see what the people of Witch Hills would need from a warrior. From all accounts, the Witchers, as they were called, were fierce themselves and needed no one’s protection.

Even the cities of Witch Hills were beautiful to behold. They were built of white stone – tall, slender towers, graceful arches spanning a deep crevasse, gardens spilling over low walls and waterfalls misting the air. While the men accompanying him looked around in wonder, muttering to themselves, Rankin remained impassive.

They were led to the audience chamber, a room not overly large, made of the same white stone as the rest of the city, only this stone sparkled with flecks of silver. It was brightly lit, but the source for that light was unseen. The men with Rankin muttered nervously about magic, but quieted with a glance from their leader. The walls were hung with finely woven tapestries, the brilliant colors showing mostly landscapes and fantastical beasts.

King Theron sat at one end of the room on a throne made of blue glass. Even seated he gave the impression of being tall. His shoulders were broad and his long dark hair was threaded with silver. He was dressed in black armor that shone in the light.

There was a full complement of guards, twenty in all, ranged behind and to the sides of the thrones. They were dressed in a dull grey armor that seemed almost out of place surrounded by so much opulence.

“Welcome, Rankin of Varellia,” the king said when Rankin was halfway to the throne. “You prompt response to our request is met with gratitude.” The king’s voice was deep and sonorous.

Rankin waited until he was only a few feet from the throne before stopping to answer. He bowed and said, “I am grateful for your summons, and I admit to some curiosity as to its purpose.”

The king wasted no time on formalities. “The nomads of the wastelands to the north have long harried our borders. For years they have been insignificant, a minor irritation like fleas on a dog. However there has been a cult rising in their midst, one dedicated to the Ice Lords.”

“I have heard of this cult,” Rankin said. “I agree that it is becoming a growing concern to many of the surrounding kingdoms.”

“I wish to form an alliance to deal with this matter.”

“An alliance you say?” Rankin’s gaze narrowed. “This is all but unheard of.”

“Indeed. But as with all things, times must change.”

“And what have you to offer in exchange for this alliance?”

“Ah, what indeed?” King Theron got to his feet. “I offer you my hospitality that we may speak of this further.”

“Accepted,” Rankin said readily. He would have been a fool not to accept. As well as rumors of the magic and great beauty of the inhabitants of Witch Hills, they were also rumored to be incredibly wealthy.

He ordered his men to stand down and follow the servants to a less formal dinner, while he followed another to a room where he was to refresh himself. A bath had been drawn and a fresh clothing laid out for him. He fingered the fine cloth with appreciation. Obviously armor was not welcome at the dinner table. The dark blue trousers were a perfect fit, as was the tunic with gold trim to go over them. Finishing the outfit were a pair of low heeled boots of dark blue leather.

There was another servant waiting for him when he was finished, who led him to a small, but elegant, dining room. A fire had been laid in the fireplace at one end, and the long table was set for four. The king and a young man were already seated, rising when he entered the room.

“This seems a far more fitting way of greeting one we hope will be a friend,” King Theron said. “May I present to you my son, Orin.”

The king was still dressed in black, trousers tucked into half boots with a silver trimmed tunic much like the one Rankin was wearing over top. Orin was wearing a similar outfit, save his was in a smoky grey and there was no ornamentation on the tunic.

Neither man was wearing a mask and Rankin would have had to been blind not to be struck by their beauty. Their features were perfectly symmetrical, high cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, lashes any woman would have envied. Rankin gave a start when he realized he’d been staring.

“I am honored to meet you, Orin,” he said. “Word of your prowess with the bow has reached even my poor castle.”

The eyes that had been staring at him so indifferently suddenly brightened. “I have heard that you have developed a cross bow that can be used from horseback. Perhaps we can speak of this at a later time.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“We but wait upon my daughter, Sharina,” Theron said, taking charge of the conversation once more.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the door to the dining was opened and a servant announced, “The lady Sharina.”

She swept into the room in a cloud of a floral scent that went straight to Rankin’s head. At least that was what he told himself, that it was the scent and not the beauty of the woman herself that went to his head. And she was beautiful, the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. It only took that one look and he was utterly lost.

“Sharina, my daughter,” Theron said, although he might as well have saved his breath for all the attention Rankin paid to him.

“Pray let us be seated. I know the royal cook has spent the greater part of the day preparing this feast,” Sharina said.

Rankin sat automatically. Her voice was like bells, no, more like a choir of angels. He could sustain himself just listening to the sound.

The meal was delicious, but Rankin tasted very little of it. Words were spoken, but he had no idea what was said. Most of the meal he spent staring at Sharina while trying to make it look like he was not staring. Had he been able to pay attention to anything else, he might have noticed the look of satisfaction on Theron’s face.

Superstitions Part II – Horseshoes and Pennies

A long time ago, people believed that metal was a gift from the gods, given as a protection against evil. Any form of metal was considered lucky, whether it was a horseshoe hung over a door or a good luck coin.

Early Celtic tribes would put a horseshoe above the door to keep away elves and goblins. Not only was the horseshoe made of iron, which was used to ward off evil spirits, it was shaped like a crescent moon which was another symbol that repelled evil. Traditionally it was held in place by seven iron nails, seven being a lucky number.

As to the question of which way you should hang your horseshoe, hang it open end up to keep the devil away and bring good luck into your home, or hang it open end down to share good luck with anyone passing through the doorway.

The old-wives tale of putting a penny in the shoe of a woman on her wedding day comes courtesy of an old Victorian rhyme. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and a silver sixpence in your shoe." If a sixpence wasn’t available, a penny could be substituted. Over time the saying changed to, "and a lucky penny in the shoe." The penny in the shoe ensured that the newly married couple would always have wealth.

Find a penny, pick it up
All the day you’ll have good luck
See a penny, let it lay
Bad luck will follow you all day

The original phrase was "see a pin and pick it up and all day long you'll have good luck." This was a reference to a pagan ritual in which a pin could be used in a good luck spell. The myth was that a dropped pin might have been used in such a spell and would provide good luck to the person who found it.

As far as pennies are concerned . . . if you lose a penny it’s believed you’re losing your luck – whether you’re losing good luck or bad depends on how the penny lands. If it lands heads up you need to pick it up, otherwise you’re leaving your good luck behind. However, if it lands tails up leave it alone because you’ve just gotten rid of some of your bad luck.

Looking to change your luck? Take ten pennies, find a parking lot, and toss them into the air. Pick up all the pennies that land face up, leaving behind all the pennies that are tails up. Then you have to wait for someone to come along and pick up all the bad luck pennies, taking your bad luck away with them.

Good luck with that.

Happy Hallow NaNo!

It’s Halloween as I type this, with a full, blue moon. But you’ll be reading this on the first day of NaNo while I’ll (hopefully) be typing my little heart out.

Last week I forgot to mention another reason I shouldn’t be doing NaNo this year – we’re renovating our kitchen, and when does the work start? November 11. And let me tell you, it’s not like you see on HGTV, it’s a lot of work.

And I actually lie when I say the work starts on November 11, that’s just the date the contractor is coming in to strip away the old cupboards and counters. The work has already started. I’ve been systematically emptying the cupboards and storing stuff I want to save in plastic bins.

Once that’s finished we’ll be stripping as much of the wall paper as possible and once the cupboards are gone the walls need to be prepped and painted, which is up to us to do. And if the contractor decides the floors need to be done before the new cupboards go in, we have to do that too (which isn’t a bad thing because it’ll force the hubby to re-do the rest of the floors which he’s been promising to do for over a year).

So, it’s going to be a little chaotic around here for the month, and for a good part of it I won’t be able to use the kitchen at all. That’s okay, I have a tea station in my office so as long as I have access to my tea and international coffees I’ll be good to go. :-D

When I haven’t been working on the cupboards I’ve been re-reading the other two books in the Moonstone Chronicles to get me in the mind set of editing, and prepping for NaNo. I discovered a couple of things I’d forgotten about Jessica and her travels in the magickal realm which I’ll need to keep in mind for Blood Ties, so it’s time well spent.

My NaNo novel for 2020 has the working title of Firestorm. It’s a good old fashioned swords and sorcery story with no sex but lots of action. It follows the life of a swordsman and shows why and how he became what he is, how he met his magickal partner, and what he had to go through when he has to rescue said partner from the dreaded Ice Lords.

This story idea may actually predate the Jessica stories, which I came up with when I was still in high school. At that time I was reading the Sword and Sorceress series of anthologies, edited by the late, great Marion Zimmer Bradley. I had dreams of writing something worthy of her, hence the fantasy slant to my early writings.

Anyway, I have a couple of versions of a short story I wrote for this character, one centering on him rescuing his partner (which is a little more involved), and one with his partner rescuing him (a little more straight forward). Neither of these will be included, instead I’m sticking to the back story of where they came from and how they became partners in the first place.

The best part about this book is it’s a stand alone. I don’t have to worry about sequels.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Wordage Report

Seriously? There were no words. Well, that’s not true. I did manage a post for Wednesday which was a nice break from cleaning out cupboards. Friday’s post doesn’t really count because it was just an excerpt from something I’d already written.

Goals For This Week

1. Work on edits for Blood Ties
2. Get all my blog posts (including Monday on my other blog) done
3. NaNo!

So how about you? Do you NaNo?