Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

I posted this story a few years ago on a different blog, but I thought it would be fun to post it again to help celebrate St. Paddy's Day. Hope you enjoy!

What the Leprechaun Said

Fiona sat in her favourite spot under the whitethorn tree, her back resting against its gnarled trunk. The tree grew from the center of what her Gran considered the wild garden, the part of the garden reserved for the wee folk.

It was going to break her heart to have to say goodbye to the place. The letter from the bank had been a total shock; this property had been in the family for generations. She was just glad Gran wasn't around to see it come to this.

"Fee? You out here?"

"Over here," she called back, hastily wiping away her tears.

She was joined by her friends Tammy and Gillian, who sat down, one on either side of her. They'd been friends forever. Even after they grew up and went their separate ways in college - Gillian into finance, Tammy into teaching, and Fiona into art - they'd stayed close.

"I don't know why you love this old tree so much," Tammy said. "It's so scraggly looking."

"Gran's Gran planted this tree the day she arrived from the old country. Gran told me she used to meet the wee man under this tree."

"Your Gran met him, or your Gran's Gran?"

"Both of them," Fiona said with a ghost of a smile. "The 'sight' skips every other generation. Apparently you need the 'sight' to see them."

Tammy and Gillian looked at each other over her head.

Nobody spoke for a few moments until Fiona couldn't stand it any longer. "Well?"

"I'm sorry, hon," Gillian said, voice laced with regret. "It looks like your Uncle Sean started siphoning off funds from the trust account about ten years before he died. Between the falling interest rates and the rising taxes, the trust fund just couldn't keep up."

"So that's it," Fiona said duly. "I'm broke."

"Maybe Gillian and I--"

"No. Absolutely not." Fiona was adamant. "I'm not taking money from my friends to pay the back taxes. There's got to be another way."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

That night, Fiona dreamed of her Gran in the garden. "Remember the wee man," she said, and then walked right into the whitethorn tree. Fiona woke with a start.

From her bedroom window she could see the whitethorn tree bathed in moonlight. Tammy was right, it did look a little scraggly. She was really going to miss that tree, and the garden. She remembered that Gran used to keep Guinness around to water the tree with once a month. And didn't she leave oat cakes or soda bread or something like that as well? For the wee man who lived there, she'd said.

Before Fiona could stop to think about it, she'd pulled on her jeans and a sweat shirt and was checking the cupboard under the stairs where Gran used to keep her liquor. There was no Guinness, but she found a bottle of Jameson's that was three-quarters full. Shrugging, she carried it into the kitchen and snagged a box of oatmeal cookies on her way out the back door.

Midnight found her sitting under the whitethorn tree, the moonlight streaming down on her.

"Here's to you, Gran," she said, waving the bottle in the air before taking a sip. She choked and coughed as the liquor burned its way down. "And here's to your wee man - I hope whoever ends up living here next will treat him right."

"Now ye would'na be thinking of pouring that good whiskey on the ground now, would ye?"

Fiona yelped, and almost dropped the bottle as a tiny man dressed in green appeared beside her. "You--where--what--"

"'Tis a good thing yer an artist instead of a writer. Now just pour a wee drop in here." He held out a tiny cup.

"You . . . you're a leprechaun!"

"Aye, it's observant she is." He tipped back the cup and then held it out again. "Did your Gran ne'er tell ye the story of how I came over on the boat with her Gran? 'Twas more than eighty years ago an' I been guarding her treasure ever since."

"What? Wait. What treasure?"

"Why the treasure the first Fiona O'Shea brought with her from the Green Isle," he said, polishing off another cupful of whiskey. "She saved me life, you know, from that flea bitten ship's cat. And in return I promised to guard her gold until she had need of it."

"Tell me more about my great-great-Grandmother and her gold." Fiona settled back against the tree. "And would you like a cookie to go with your whiskey?"

"Thank ye kindly," the leprechaun said. "But would ye happen to have any pipe tobacco on ye?"

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"I can't believe your great-Grandmother buried a fortune in gold in the garden," Gillian said as they sat on the patio enjoying a glass of wine. "And your Gran knew about it and never said a word?"

"It was my great-great-Grandmother, and Gran never said anything because as far as she knew there was no need, she had plenty of money already."

"Until your Uncle Sean got his hands on it," Tammy said darkly. "But how did you know exactly where to dig?"

Fiona smiled as she looked over to the base of the whitethorn tree where she'd left a pint of Guinness an ounce of the finest pipe tobacco she could find. "I just followed what the leprechaun said."

Happy Pi Day!

Bless me readers for I have sinned. It's been many weeks since my last update . . .

If it's any consolation, I haven't been updating my regular journal either. After NaNo was finished I caught a series case of the winter blahs, and while I was able to get some writing done, I didn't have the energy left for anything else.

But here's the weird thing. Last weekend was the time change and I don't know if it's because I've gone back to drinking coffee in the afternoon or what, but it's like somebody turned a switch or something, I've suddenly starting to get things done.

Since we last spoke I have finished the draft of Lucky Dog, finished the draft for An Elemental Earth (which is still being serialized on my main blog), and finally finished Guardian of the Sea (my NaNo novel). As well, I've done some editing on a couple of books for other people, and written a 25 page (roughly 10,000 words) Valentine's Day story that was not finished in time for Valentine's day.

Now I have to buckle down and get to work on those second drafts. *sigh*

I think I have seconddraftitis. How else would you explain my avoidance of Lucky Dog, which was finished before NaNno started? I'm sure it has nothing to do with its length (over 100k), or the plot holes from it being a NaNo book originally so when I'd get stuck I'd just skip ahead, or the fact I got really, really wordy towards the end so there's a lot to be cut out. :-D

So the next couple of weeks will be all about the re-writing and editing, I think. These books aren't doing anyone any good just sitting on my hard drive, especially me.

Here's where the real work starts.

NaNoWriMo - The Grand Finale

Wow. I did it.

There were many times this month when I thought I wouldn't finish, and a few where I didn't even care if I finished, but I did it. My official word count was 50,475 (although my Word document says it's 50,533). And now I have yet another unfinished book to add to my collection.

Yes, that's right folks, I won the NaNo challenge, but I did not complete my story. It's almost there though. One last fight scene and then wrap it up. Shouldn't take more than a couple of thousand words. Maybe five. Ten at the most. :-)

I am seriously questioning my sanity, doing this year after year. This was my eighth NaNo win. The novelty has well and truly worn off by now. Have I ever lost the challenge? Yes. The very first year I entered. I talked a friend into doing it with me - she won the challenge and my story was done at 33K. I ran out of story before I ran out of words.

So why do I do it? It's a sickness, I think. An addiction. Once you start it's hard to stop, whether you win or not.

You want to hear something a little appalling? I realized this weekend that if I include Lucky Dog and An Elemental Earth, which is also close to being done, then I could theoretically finish a novel every month for the next year without having to write a new one.

And no, I am not going to try doing that. :-)

NaNo - Day 25

Bless me readers for I have sinned. It's been many days since my last update . . .

Well after a week of struggling I had an awesome weekend and now I'm back to struggling. I'm still on track, but I'm struggling. I sort of know where the story's going, but at the same time I don't. The bad guys are not going to get what they want, but even if I eliminate them, what's to prevent more from coming after my heroes for the same thing? That's the problem with super secret societies. So I may have to rethink my bad guys, or at the very least their goals. But not right now. Right now I have to push forward to get the story done. :-)

So, in the meantime, I thought I'd post an excerpt. About time, eh? In previous years I always posted excerpts, at least once a week. I have no idea why I didn't think of this sooner.

This doesn't really need much set-up. My FMC, Octavia, and her friend Vanessa have driven into town in search of dinner:

They found a diner right on the main street in the form of Miss Patty’s Place. A chalkboard sign on the sidewalk proclaimed that breakfast was served all day and today’s special was all you can eat clam chowder.

“This place is awesome,” Vanessa exclaimed.

It was like stepping back into the fifties. There were high backed booths covered in red vinyl and the round stools along the counter with the same vinyl on their seats. On the walls were photographs: girls in poodle skirts, boys in leather jackets, several hot rods and an autographed picture of James Dean. There was a juke box in one corner and an old fashioned soda machine behind the counter.

They could only stare at the waitress who came out of the back in answer to the summons of the bell that tinkled when they opened the door. She was dressed in an old-fashioned, pink waitress uniform and her blonde hair was upswept in a beehive hairdo. The name tag pinned to her chest proclaimed her to be Patty.

“What’ll it be ladies?” she asked as they slid onto stools at the counter.

“You’re way too young to be the Miss Patty,” Octavia said.

Patty smiled good naturedly, “Actually, I’m the third Miss Patty. The original was my grandmother. She only comes in about once a week, more to visit with her friends than to check up on me.”

“This is such a great idea for a diner!”

“Actually,” Patty leaned on the counter to talk, “All this stuff is original. My grandma started it back in the fifties and we just never got around to changing anything. People around here seem to like it, even the kids.”

“So,” she asked, pulling a pencil from behind her ear and an order book from her pocket. “Would you like to start with some coffee?”

“I would love a cup of coffee,” Vanessa told her. “And some French toast with bacon to go with it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Octavia seconded. “I’ll have the same.”

“Great! I’ll be right back with your coffee.”

As she bustled away into the back Vanessa twirled around on her stool. “This is great, I feel like a kid again.”

“The fifties were just a little before your time,” Octavia reminded her. “But there is something oddly familiar about this place.”

The bell tinkled over the door and an older, plumper version of Patty entered the diner.

“Well hello there, I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Are you first timers at Miss Patty’s?” Mystified, they nodded their heads.

She reached into the pocket of her uniform and pulled out a pair of cards. “Here you go, a free fountain treat on your next visit, compliments of Miss Patty. Well, one of them anyway.”

At that precise moment, the first Patty returned, in true waitress fashion carrying their entire order. She slid the plates in front of them and nodded at the older woman.

“I see you’ve met my mother, Miss Patty the second.”

“And there’ll never be a Miss Patty the fourth if you and that husband of your don’t get cracking,” she replied.

Patty rolled her eyes as if this was an old argument.

“We were admiring your diner,” Vanessa said.

“Why thank you,” Patty the elder said. She peered closer at Octavia. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don’t think so,” Octavia said. “Although I was just wondering if it’s possible that I’ve been here before myself, maybe as a child. I’ve had an accident with my memory and there are . . . gaps.”

The elder Patty took a seat beside her and looked her over carefully. “You do look familiar . . . You have the look of a Griffin about you.”

“That was my grandfather’s name. Samuel Griffin.”

“Of course, your grandfather used to bring you here when you were a little girl. Are you just visiting or are you back to stay?”

Octavia hesitated. “I’m not sure what my plans are yet. I’ll be staying for awhile, anyway.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” the elder Patty said, getting to her feet. “Now don’t you forget to come back for your free fountain treat.”

NaNo - Day 20

If I was right on track, then today I would be at 33,340 words. I, however, am at 32,751 words, which is 589 words short of the daily goal. That means if I want to get back on track tomorrow, I need to write 2,256 words. Wow! That seems like a lot for a Friday . . .

I spent way too much time researching motorcyles - my MMC and his brother both ride them and of course they can't ride the same kind. So I started researching motorcycles 'cause although I've always liked them, I know next to nothing about them. And then it suddenly occurred to me that this is NaNo, not one of my serials, and I didn't need to waste so much time trying to be so specific.

That's the thing about NaNo, the idea is to write as quickly as possible. It's the quantity of the words, not the quality. Just start writing and don't stop for anything, certainly not petty little things like details.

But herein lies one of the pitfalls when you're a pantser, like me. You know about the two kinds of writers, right? There are plotters, those who follow an outline, and pantsers, those who write by the seat of their pants. Had I been a plotter I would have known ahead of time about the motorcycle and I could have done the research during my pre-NaNo planning.

But I'm a pantser. So I didn't know about the motorcycle until my hero decided to save some time by hopping on one to go meet his brother. And I didn't know about the brother's bike until my hero got to the meeting place and parked beside it.

Boys and their toys.

Can't wait to see what my characters decide to throw at me next. ;-)

NaNo - Day 17

Here we are on day 17. The goal for the end of the day is 28,339 words and as I type this I'm at 27,593. Which means I'm beginning to catch up. I'm less than a thousand words behind, at least until midnight when I get to tack on the additional 1667 words I need to write each day to break even. :-)

I'm really going to hate myself before I'm done. Why? Because I keep skipping over the parts with the super secret society because I don't want to get bogged down figuring them out while I'm still behind on my regular words. And eventually I'll have to go back and fill in the gaps.

At this point I think there's actually two different sets of bad guys - one set are just bad guys and one set are super bad guys. The super bad guys are willing to work with the regular bad guys as long as they have the same goal, but they're also working behind the scenes with their own agenda.

Anyway, the action's starting to pick up. There's been a couple attempts on my main character's life, but she's got her memory back now so she's ready to dive head first into a relationship with the male main character. After she gets rid of her fiancé of course. ;-)

I've had one friend who was forced to drop out of NaNo, due to circumstances beyond her control, and just heard from another who's decided to give it a shot after all. She figures she only needs to write 5,000 words a day for the next ten days.

No problem at all, right? :-D

NaNo - Day 15

For those of you keeping track, I've been steadily slowing down all week. Yeah. Big surprise there. :-)

Day 15 of Nano, and I should be at 25,005 words. I am at 19,472 - a difference of 5,533 words. According to the NaNo site, I need to write 1,908 words per day from here on out to finish on time, otherwise I'm on track to finish by December 9.

Am I worried? Not really. My very first NaNo I had fallen far enough behind that it looked like I didn't have a prayer of finishing on time, but on the last day I sat down and started writing and not only caught up the 5,000 words I was behind and win it, but continued with another 5,000 to finish the story.

Yes, that's right. Ten thousand words in a single day. I'm pretty sure it'll never happen again, but the fact that it happened once means I'm capable of far more than I give myself credit for. And it also means I work pretty well under pressure.

And I think therein lies part of my problem this past week. I'm not feeling the pressure. I've got other things I could be/should be doing as well as NaNo, but I'm not feeling any particular pressure to get them done. One of the pitfalls of working from home - there's always tomorrow.

5500 words behind? Pfft! It's only the middle of the month. Plenty of time to make up for lost time.

Meanwhile, I found a vague outline for my NaNo story, tucked away in a file, and I started following it, only to have it stop abruptly. As much as I'd like to believe there's a page two to it . . . there isn't. So really, I'm no further ahead than I was, because I'm still not clear on what happens next. I know the stained glass windows in the stone tower attached to the house on the cliff are important; I know the secret passage into the grotto below the house is important; and I know the Super Secret Society it having problems of its own - its attention is split between two separate issues.

So there's plenty of stuff to figure out this week. I just have to apply the BIC (butt in chair) principle and do it. :-)