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.

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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?

Blood Ties

Did you really think I was going to get any prompt story writing done this week? Well don’t you feel foolish? :-)

Today’s excerpt is from the beginning of the final book in the Moonstone Chronicles, Blood Ties. This is also the final excerpt I’ll be posting from it, at least for a while. NaNo begins on Sunday, so hopefully next week I’ll be posting a excerpt from my NaNo novel. This year I have two challenges ahead of me – writing a novel in 30 days, and editing one in the same amount of time (or less, even).

Howard Ruskin stared at the object that rested dead center on his work table. It looked like an adder stone, or hag stone. He’d awoken to the sound of a thunderclap and the vision of that very object. It had hovered over his bed and then floated slowly out of the room. He’d followed it, and only when it settled gently on his work table did he realize he wasn’t dreaming.

“Howard . . .” a disembodied voice said. “Activate your scrying bowl.”

A few months ago, Howard would have been horrified at objects floating around his apartment and disembodied voices talking to him. He would have thought seriously about getting some psychiatric help.

But that was before he’d learned that real magic was possible and learned how to use it himself. Before he’d accidentally sent his best friend into a magical realm in another dimension. Before he’d talked with wizards from this other realm by way of the scrying bowl.

With a yawn he went over to the book case and pulled down the bowl he used for scrying. Using his sleeve, he wiped the dust off of it - it had been a while since the bowl had seen any use. His friend Jessica preferred using a mirror to communicate, while Paranithel, the wizard teaching him magic, was in the midst of the Trials - the final examinations for the senior students at his wizard school.

He fingered the moonstone pendant hanging around his neck as he waited for the oil in the bowl to settle. At one time the pendant had been a link to his friend Jessica.... There were actually two parts to it and they each had half, but hers had been lost somewhere in the magical realm.

Jessica, it turned out, was not a native of earth, but of the magical realm. She’d been sent to earth as a baby for her own safety and had grown up not knowing she was adopted nor her magical heritage. Unbeknownst to Howard, when he used Jessica in a teleportation experiment to prove magic was real, her father and grandfather cast a spell at the same time to bring her back to her own universe.

Unfortunately, the spell worked better than anyone had expected and she overshot her mark. Instead of landing in the southern lands close to Thackery and Paran’s magic school, she’d ended up in the Kingdom of Ghren where she met up with the dastardly Prince Ewan.

She escaped his clutches with the help of the bard Sebastian, and was making her way southward when she accidentally turned a thief into a dog and was forced to wait a month before she could change him back. It turned out that Dominic, the thief, was an old friend of Sebastian’s, but before they could continue their journey, Jessica was kidnapped and ended up back in Ghren.

Dominic also turned out to be Ewan’s older brother, who had, thanks to Ewan, disappeared many years before. With the help of some ghosts from the past, Jessica was able to stop Ewan once and for all, and since Dominic didn’t want the job a new king of Ghren was installed.

The last Howard had seen of them, Jessica and Dominic had been getting quite cosy. As for Jessica’s father and grandfather . . . now that he was no longer needed to act as a go-between with Jessica he rarely saw her father, Thackery. But Paranithel, her grandfather, kept the promise he’d made to teach Howard the rudiments of magic that would make the most of what little power he had access to.

The oil in the bowl churned and then cleared to show the face of a beautiful woman with brilliant blue eyes, silver hair, and slender, pointed ears.

“Aracelia!” Howard said in surprise, then added, “Ma’am.”

The Lady Aracelia was Jessica’s fairy grandmother, or to be more precise, her elven grandmother.

“Howard, you are looking well, my friend.”

“Ah, thank you. You’re looking well too. How may I help you?” he asked politely.

“Paran has told me what a promising student of magic you are, but he finds your world’s lack of magic most frustrating.”

“As do I,” Howard admitted. Truthfully, he found it far more than just frustrating.

“I have sent you a talisman imbued with elven magic that should aid you in your lessons. It should last for several months, at which point you have only to contact me and I will re-energize it for you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Howard said, astonished. “Your generosity humbles me.”

She smiled gently. “You have been a good friend to my granddaughter and I feel somewhat responsible for the loss of your connection to her.”

Unbeknownst to Howard, it had, in fact, been totally her fault. She arranged for Jessica’s half of the amulet to be stolen in order to test her magical abilities. Unfortunately, the amulet, along with the young elf who’d been drafted to steal it, had been lost and Aracelia had been shouldering a double burden of guilt.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

If you want to find out what Howard really does with all that power, you’ll have to wait until the book comes out. :-D