Showing posts with label Nature Walker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nature Walker. Show all posts

31 March 2025

Music Monday: Back Where Gin Belongs

So when I can't sleep, I often have my Alexa read my own novels to me. I know how that sounds, and I'm not saying that my books are so boring that they put me to sleep. I'm saying that they are familiar and that is soothing to me...like the fact that I watch The Big Bang Theory over and over. Lately I listen to them in order...and wish that I was at the point where I can offer professional HUMAN-read audio books. 

Anyway, this song is, for reasons I can't fully explain, The Nature Walker Trilogy. This is a video with lyrics on the screen, so no need to put them below. Enjoy.

24 August 2020

Music Mondays: D'Ayna Turlach

 [SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE TALES OF THE FOREST WARS.]

When I first started working on the Tales of the Forest War, I had plans for one book. Just one. Simple characters. Focus on the conflict and the aftermath. Easy, right? 

Yeah, not so much. Once I got in there and started really thinking about what would cause this kind of conflict and how anyone other than the supremely powerful dragons (and the gods, of course) could come out the other side of it at all intact, it became clear that the personalities had to be as powerful as the overall story. This story was about more than just a war. 

There are always names. There are always places. War spawns heroes and villains, winners, and losers. This war could be no different. This war would forge a bond between two very different family lines that lasts for many generations to come. And so, knowing that meant that I knew that one of my characters would be the Nature Walker. But what of the other?

D'Ayna (named thusly because the first time I said it out loud it sounded like Diana and I was smitten) Turlach is an Ikedrian. She is a lieutenant. She is military-minded. She possesses magic that her family will not accept. She is every one of us that has tried to suppress who we are to fit in, and finally comes to the turning point where that isn't working anymore. She follows her heart. She loves her family. And all she has, in the end, is her battle cry: a mighty roar combining anger and fear.

Don't tell Gin or Tairn, but Ayna might be one of my favorite characters I've ever written. Maybe. So this song spoke to me in that gruff yet soft way that Ayna did while I was writing these novels. She was afraid - OF COURSE SHE WAS - but she knew what had to be done. This song is like an imagined conversation between Ayna and Draoch after the war. And that's as spoilery as I'm going to be. 

Also, when the Orana Chronicles become movies I am FOR SURE involving Imagine Dragons - you are going to see a lot of them on Music Mondays. Enjoy.

 


Battle Cry

Imagine Dragons

Just one more time before I go

I'll let you know

That all this time I've been afraid

Wouldn't let it show

Nobody can save me now, no

Nobody can save me now

Stars are only visible in darkness

Fear is ever-changing and evolving

And I, I feel poison inside

And I, I feel so alive

Nobody can save you now

King is crown, it's do or die

Nobody can save you now

The only sound

It's the battle cry

It's the battle cry

It's the battle cry

Nobody can save you now

It's do or die

Nobody can save you now

King is crown, it's do or die

Nobody can save you now

The only sound

It's the battle cry

It's the battle cry

It's the battle cry

Nobody can save you now

It's do or die

Just one more time before I go

I'll let you know

That all this time I've been afraid

Wouldn't let it show

Nobody can save me now, no

Nobody can save me now

17 August 2020

Music Monday: Lairceach

 She's a minor character in the Nature Walker Trilogy, really, but she is so very important. Gin's younger sister who grew up without parents and learned at an early age to take care of herself so that no one else had to do. But this song is very Lairky to me when I think about her relationship with Kam. He's an Ikedrian - serious, dark, broody, methodical. Lairky is none of those things. She grew up swinging from the bridges connecting Aynamaede, playing in the dappled sun, and driving her older sister and brother mad. 

I just heard this song recently, but it jumped out at me as so very Lairky. One little wild girl that grew up to take action that would change the fate not only of her sister but all of Orana. Not so minor after all, huh?




Leave Her Wild
Tyler Rich

If you find a girl, hands up, hangin' halfway out on the highway
You find a girl who likes whiskey mixed in her hangover coffee
Find a girl that scares you half to death
You'd kill to be the train she wrecks
And don't tell her I never met someone like you
Then try and turn her into every girl you ever knew
If you're gonna love her, if you're gonna love her
If you're gonna love her, leave her wild
If you're gonna make her, if you're gonna make her
Make her smile, smile
If you're gonna let her, if you're gonna let her
Let her dance, let her sing, let her be whatever she wanna be
Leave her wild
Don't tame her, try to chain her
The second you do you'll break her
Don't dull that shine that caught your eye
'Cause you're afraid somebody will take her
She ain't a dial you just turn on and off
She ain't all found, but she ain't all that lost
If you're gonna love her, if you're gonna love her
If you're gonna love her, leave her wild
If you're gonna make her, if you're gonna make her
Make her smile, smile
If you're gonna let her, if you're gonna let her
Let her dance, let her sing, let her be whatever she wanna be
Leave her wild
Oh, leave her wild, yeah
Leave her wild, leave her wild
Leave her wild
If you're gonna kiss her, if you're gonna kiss her
Kiss her slow
If you wanna change her, if you wanna change her
Let her go
If you're gonna let her, if you're gonna let her
Let her dance, let her sing, let her be whatever she wanna be
If you're gonna love her, if you're gonna love her
Leave her wild
If you're gonna make her, if you're gonna make her
Make her smile, smile
If you're gonna let her, if you're gonna let her
Let her dance, let her sing, let her be whatever she wanna be
Leave her wild
Leave her wild, wild
Yeah, leave her wild, leave her wild
Let her dance, let her sing, let her be whatever she wanna be
If you're gonna love her, if you're gonna love her
Leave her wild
Leave her wild

10 August 2020

Music Mondays: Taeben

So as promised, today's Music Monday consists of music that inspired everyone's favorite villain from the Nature Walker Trilogy, Taeben. I know that there is a hashtag out there among my readers referring to Ben: #benisadick, but he is really a product of his environment more than anything. His story will come one day, but I'm not quite ready to tell it. 

Until then, though, when I sat down to think about a song that always makes me think of Ben, this one kept coming to mind. It's an older song, from when I was younger than I am now, and it is what I think of when I think of Ben's motives, specifically his feelings for and actions toward Gin. Lyrics to follow after the embedded video.



Fortress Around Your Heart
Sting

Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers in beams of yellow light.
No flags of truce, no cries of pity;
The siege guns had been pounding through the night.

It took a day to build the city.
We walked through its streets in the afternoon.
As I returned across the fields I'd known,
I recognized the walls that I once made.
Had to stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the mines I'd laid.

And if I've built this fortress around your heart,
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire,
Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm,
And let me set the battlements on fire.

Then I went off the fight some battle that I'd invented inside my head.
Away so long for years and years,
You probably thought or even wished that I was dead.
While the armies are all sleeping beneath the tattered flag we'd made.
I had to stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the mines I'd laid.

And if I've built this fortress around your heart,
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire,
Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm,
And let me set the battlements on fire.

This prison has now become your home,
A sentence you seem prepared to pay.
It took a day to build the city.
We walked through its streets in the afternoon.
As I returned across the fields I'd known,
I recognized the walls that I once made.
Had to stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the mines I'd laid.

And if I've built this fortress around your heart,
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire,
Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm,
And let me set the battlements on fire.

03 August 2020

Notes from Exile, Week Eleventy-Seven, with extra Lenny Kravitz

Nancy in Home Depot, wearing a mask
Y'all, what day is it?

Please, while I try to figure it out, enjoy this shot I sent my friend Brina of the mask her daughter made for me back at the beginning of all this.

Seriously, I know what day it is. But I was surprised yesterday by how shocked I was that this is August. I have always had trouble with estimating the passage of time and am a chronic watch looker as a result (even when I didn't have a watch, how sad is that?). So this pandemic has made that little character flaw even more vivid.

How is it August? It was just mid-March a few days ago, wasn't it? Is Christmas tomorrow?

Side note: It had better not be tomorrow because that means we skipped my birthday but in the grand scheme of things that's probably okay as it is the last one before I turn 50 so...what was I talking about?

Right. Notes from Exile. Writerly stuff. Author life. Got it. Rift continues to do fairly well and I had plans to work on the next book in that series over the summer/possibly as the November Nano, but I haven't heard from Em and Alex in a while, so they may just get put back on their shelf in my hard drive for a bit longer. What I have fallen back in love with is Gin and Sath's story - but let's be honest, I never stopped loving them. 

I'm in the middle of the second draft of Guardians of Darkness, which is the next chapter for Gin and Sath, and while the story has plot holes you could drive a BUS through I'm enchanted all over again. So, I thought that I would start a new thing here at the Lettuce called Music Monday, while I'm shoveling mad amounts of literary tarmac into those chasms. 

The first one is a new one for me in terms of immediately making me think of the Rajah and the Nature Walker: Ride, by Lenny Kravitz. Enjoy. (Lyrics follow the embedded video.) Next Monday, a song that reminds me of everyone's favorite villain from the Nature Walker Trilogy. Let me know in the comments here or on social media if you have a favorite character from any of my work and I will look at my playlists for that character's inspiration.







Ride
Lenny Kravitz


When I look into your spirit
And the spirit never lies
There's a feeling that I can't explain
Deep inside, deep inside
Feels like I've known you forever
Since the origin of time
I've been with you in eternity
In my mind, in my mind

I have loved you since the dawn, my love
Through the storm, my love, we will ride
I have loved you since the dawn, my love
Through the storm, my love, we will ride

You and I on Earth together
Can't you see it's no surprise
I know it from the first second, babe
As I looked in your eyes
I could only dream of heaven
When I gaze into the sky
But I know I found my angel here
In this life, in this life

I have loved you since the dawn, my love
Through the storm, my love, we will ride
I have loved you since the dawn, my love
Through the storm, my love, we will ride
I have loved you since the dawn, my love
Through the storm, my love, we will ride
I have loved you since the dawn, my love
Through the storm, my love, we will ride

We will ride
ride, ride, ride, ride, ride

I have loved you since the dawn, my love
Through the storm, my love, we will ride
I have loved you since the dawn, my love
Through the storm, my love, we will ride

21 October 2019

On stalls, false starts, and the writing process...

This is my writing process, lately...
So, Nanowrimo is coming up next month. A writing conference down in Georgia is coming up next month. Two appearances at the Carolina Renaissance Festival are coming up next month, one with the Hounds of East Fairhaven and one as a SciFi/Fantasy author signing copies of Ignite and Wanderer.

That's a lot right there, enough to give anyone pause and to force normal people to take a break. But y'all know I am not normal people, not even close. I'm trying not to freak out about the book signing - literally, that is a daily struggle between OMG SO MANY PEOPLE TO SEE MY BOOKS  and OMG SO MANY PEOPLE THAT MAY WANT TO TALK TO ME. That stressed me out just typing it!

In order to keep from packing my bags and running away, I thought I'd focus on Nanowrimo. Every November I have again been swept away in word counts and nefarious noveling. I am an absolute pantser and have no plans to change...though I do sort of know what my project will be this fall. Or at least I thought I did. I thought that I would continue to ride the wave of the anonymous first-page critique from Broadleaf and start over with my Baskervilles. I thought I would get at least a rough first draft knocked out in November. I thought wrong.

I was moving at a nice clip doing research until I got stalled out by a pretty vicious head cold. I started again, but this time the fire is gone. Cold. Non-existant. I am thinking that I might just put my poor, neglected Baskervilles away for another Nano season and haul them out next year for Camp Nano. Again. Poor Lucy and Annie.

This has been my writing process this year, and I am normally good at reminding myself that 2018 and 2019 have nearly ruined me as a person, both emotionally and physically, and I'm still coming out from under that - me, not me-the-author or me-in-my-day-job. ME. But those of us that are servants of the storytelling are some of the worst for forcing ourselves forward when all we really needed was a few steps backward to see the right path.

Ugh. I'm hoping to get myself together by the end of this week, but no promises.  What do you do when you are stalled out and can't make yourself move forward?

11 October 2018

Slow Gin

My concept drawing of my character, Ginolwenye, from the Nature Walker Trilogy.
[Disclaimer - wannabe authorly post ahead. Read at your own risk.]

It seems that I am constantly in edits. The first part of the Nature Walker Trilogy, Wanderer, took me fourteen years to write. Now, mind you that was not fourteen years of writing every day or anything crazy like that. It was fourteen years of write for a while, put the manuscript away for a while, take it back out and fall back in love with Sath and Gin for a while, rinse, repeat. This face, rendered via Adobe Fuse CC, was always in my mind just like that, with that expectant look on her usually freckled face. She is still in my mind, almost constantly, repeating her mantra:

You aren't done yet.
Finish my story. 
Get the manuscript back out.
Sath and I miss you.

I always do as she asks, being the ever obedient author and alter ego. Even when I was working on other things (Proud Racer, Clobberpaws, and The Baskervilles-coming soon - just to name a few) or not even close to a Nano month of any sort, she was always there - I don't want to say nagging, because that's negative, but yeah, she was nagging. She's still there, wondering what is taking me so long.

A funny thing happened in the more recent years, though - thanks to a beta reader of mine who carried on his own nagging campaign. He said that he wasn't buying how I was writing Gin. He said that after everything she had been through, to come out the other side still bowing and scraping and apologizing seemed inconsistent. I raged against that feedback for a long time. Fought it. Ignored it. But he kept on me about it, and as much as I hate to ever admit it, he was right.

I've come back to thinking about all of that in light of the recent political climate and the #metoo movement. At first, I was afraid that I should put a trigger warning for domestic abuse on the books because there are bits in there that are tough for ME to read, and I wrote them. No, said my Wise Beta Reader, people need to see that she was in those places and experienced those things and came out of it with her dignity and her mercy still intact. She came out with a better sense of who she was - what is more inspirational than that? She is an example of a woman that was bent to the point of breaking - but who never broke.

That isn't who she was initially. It was a long time before she stopped quaking in fear at every stern expression or jumping out of her skin at loud noises (like Qatu knuckles cracking). She would burst into tears at the drop of a hat as much as she would the drop of a weapon. Be glad that he convinced me that she needed to show the strength that she had - I'm not sure she would be worth reading otherwise.

More importantly, though, it was through those conversations that I realized it wasn't only Gin who needed to be stronger, and tougher, and more authentic. That isn't who I was - or who I am, depending on the day, if I'm honest. But again, without knowing it, Wise Beta Reader was right - Gin is who I want to be, and who I'm sure many others in my situation want to be as well, and I hope she resonates with them as much as she does with me. Everyone's situation is different, obviously, but if Gin can give someone the strength to just take one step at a time in the direction of safety, then she is doing the work - I am doing the work.

I also hope that this doesn't make Wise Beta Reader turn into Full Of Himself Beta Reader, but you never know. I suppose he has earned it. 

07 August 2018

Post Camp (Nano) Blues

You don't know how many times I have tied that same canoe up to that same dock.

When I was a kid and went to Camp Glisson, I would always be out of sorts for the first week or so afterward. I loved camp SO MUCH that I couldn't bear to be back home, and it would take that much time to get me back to my normal routine. So that's where I am now - still in the outofsorts with no real ETA for the backtonormal.

Bear with me. I have this piece I just finished a week ago today swirling about in my mind, the Baskervilles first novel to finish (nothing like giving a manuscript to betas that doesn't have an ending!), and more of my prequel to the Nature Walker Trilogy to reverse engineer and do primary edits.  Oh, and in exactly two weeks I will be back at my Day Job, but my schedule this semester is going to give me an hour and a half every Tuesday and Thursday evening to sit in my office and wait for the bus, so that's noveling time, right? Lemons and lemonade, y'all. 

20 June 2018

Just...wow.

I waxed poetic in my last post about how long it has taken me to get to this point - years of living with this story and these characters - and how surreal it still feels. Wanna know what will kick that feeling of being just on the verge of an anxiety attack right over into full-blown WHAT HAVE I DONE?

One little post on social media, from a real-life friend who happens to be KIND OF A BIG DEAL in the Rennie world saying she can't wait to start the new trilogy in the picture she posted: The Nature Walker Trilogy. She is about to find out about Gin and Sath and Orana and all the rest. The horrible little voice in my head says that I am about to be exposed as the imposter I am. Exposed - by someone that is my friend.

Now, all of us living in the rational world know that none of the drama described in the above paragraph is realistic. She may hate the trilogy. But she may also love it. In fact, there is a good chance that she will love it. And if she doesn't, my world will not end. Right?

There is a good chance that a lot of people would love it, and if only I would GET OUT OF MY OWN WAY and let them experience it then they will love it and share it with their friends. But that's the rub - getting out of my own way. I suppose this is something that all writers (and artists and dancers and anyone of a creative ilk) have to face. The tiny voice in my head is firmly standing in the way of me returning to dance class. But on the positive side, the tiny voice in my head kept me from following a traditional publishing route, and so far I'm quite pleased with the results of indie publishing (or self-publishing). I have a great team that provides me feedback and editing and creative support - a team that the tiny voice can't touch. One dissenting voice in the face of a supportive chorus is drowned out most of the time.

I hope that my friend's post on social media will lead to more people giving Gin's story a try and falling in love with her and Orana. But most of all I hope she enjoys the story because that's why I wrote it and published it - for people to experience and enjoy. All the wow moments pale in comparison to that.

11 June 2018

It's here! Guardian: Rise of the Nature Walker

Well, I have to say that almost two decades ago, when I first started playing an MMORPG, I never would have guessed that experience would lead to the gorgeous book cover over there. Even a decade ago, when the late nights, guild raids, and TeamSpeak chats were just a happy memory, I was sitting on a manuscript that I couldn't share - wouldn't share - but it wouldn't let me go. It took another ten years for me to finish it, polish it, rip it to bits and start again. It was a Superginormous chunk of memory in my cloud drive. It turned into a private blog, and that's where the first beta reader not only gave me feedback but encouraged me to keep writing and keep working on the story.

Wanderer came first and is the most similar to the original superginormous manuscript. Everyone hates exposition, and that's what I thought Wanderer was...but it isn't, not really. It's an introduction to Ginolwenye - Gin for short - and to the world I created for her to inhabit. Next came Tempest, arguably the most dark, personal, and difficult thing I have ever written. The majority of those two books were written years ago, and only needed some revising.

Guardian was different. Guardian was the end of the story that I couldn't quite make myself write. At the time that I wrote the first two, Guardian was somewhere I didn't want to go because I didn't want Gin's story to be over. I wasn't ready to leave Gin's world. But, as people started to get to know her and became invested in her story, I knew I had to be brave enough to see this story through. And so, Guardian came into being. And here it is, launch day for this last book in the Nature Walker Trilogy, and I still can't believe all of this is real.

Funny thing about Gin, though. She isn't done just yet. She is just coming into her own - her birthright, her inheritance, herself. Gin has a lot more to do, and I can't wait for her to point me in the direction of her next adventure. For now, though, you can get your copy of Guardian by clicking on this link. Ta very much, y'all. Very much indeed.

14 March 2018

Writing a Writerly Post, Vol 1

They didn't know they were a cliché, clearly.
There's a theory going around that all Disney movies have one thing in common in their storytelling - dead/missing parents. Look at the ones that stand out in your mind, the classics: Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty...at least Sleeping Beauty's parents died because she was asleep for so long, but it is still important. Look at current Disney blockbusters: Frozen's Elsa and Anna lost their parents at sea and Brave's Merida almost lost her mother to...being a bear. I remember when some friends and I sat down to finally watch Frozen, my friend Brian said that he already knew the plot: Introduce hero/heroine as a normal so-and-so, kill off parents, so-and-so becomes super somehow and saves the day. How mad was I when it turned out that he was right?!

Don't get me wrong, I love a good Disney movie. And that's why I started thinking about the post for today - I've seen a lot of them! But what really set me off on this tangent was a post on a writers group on Facebook that talked about the "overused trope in fantasy writing" of the hero/protagonist losing their parents, and how that spurs them on to greatness.

Well, of course it does! Revenge is a mighty motivator, as is just wanting to honor the memory of a parent or make that parent proud, even if it is posthumously. In my books, my protagonist is taken from her comfortable life and thrust into the great unknown to avenge the deaths of her parents. Overused cliché? Maybe, but let me tell you why I think it is so well worn (rather than overused): I think that it is a metaphor for life in general. A person can be the most well-rounded, confident, mature individual and live an independent and fantastic life, but as long as that person's parents are still living, that person is still someone's child. To see that relationship through to its normal and natural conclusion - with the parents living to an advanced age - provides time for the child to grow into the role that he or she will take on in absence of the parents: the "grown-up," if you will. To take away the parents before the child has naturally reached that point forces growth and maturity that may not be complete. It is that shock to the system, to the natural order of things, that makes some into heroes and others into villains.

Why wouldn't we take that and use it in writing? For the unlikely hero in a fantasy novel, what better jumping off point for the rest of the journey? Granted, that point has seen a lot of feet, but I think that what makes the trope well-worn is that every hero has the potential to jump off in a different direction. My protagonist takes up the mantle of revenge as a side arc, really, but it is a sub-plot that informs the rest of her journey. Other writers have protagonists that spend their entire story arc plotting and carrying out revenge for their lost parents. Every protagonist needs a catalyst to set them on their path - I chose the Disney route.

Now, if only I could choose the Disney route to see my books become movies...

27 February 2018

More from my own shameless commerce division...

Tomorrow is the day, y'all. Tempest goes live on Amazon for Kindle, and the paperback will hopefully follow soon. This was an incredibly personal piece for me to write, and I feel like I've just come out from under something very heavy with it going to release.

Pre-order has been open for a month, and I'm learning more about marketing a book as the month crawls on. Tomorrow will be a bit of a release for me because I can change gears from PLEASE BUY MY BOOK IN ADVANCE to releasing teasers and hoping that some of the folks reading Wanderer on Kindle Unlimited will hop over to Tempest when they are done.

You won't hear me compliment myself often, but I really do feel that Gin's story needs to be told. One of my muses told me recently that he was glad to see Gin coming into her own a bit more through the story told in Tempest. I hope that others will see that in her and will find her story empowering in some way.

I remember when I read the Sword of Truth series by Terry Goodkind, one of the things that struck me over and over is how I could actually see myself in the characters - no small feat for an epic fantasy that spanned more than ten novels - and I hope that people find something familiar in the characters I have created in the Orana Chronicles.

Oh, let's be honest, I just hope that people will read the books and love Gin and Sath and the others as much as I do. If you have read Wanderer and have pre-ordered Tempest, you have my thanks.

09 February 2018

Of crowdfunding and its tenuous link to socialism

Willow's Creative Process
I'm off work today because I have an appointment here in Greenville later, and of course, that means CLEAN THE KITCHEN and THINK ABOUT ALL THE THINGS that would make for great blog posts and/or new novels. Most of the time it stops there with the thinking, but not today. Lucky, lucky, Lettuce Readers.

I got to thinking this morning about crowdfunding. A good friend of mine and fellow Rennie/HOEF-er has posted a Go Fund Me for her precious boy, Rowan, who was hit by a car after accidentally getting loose. It could happen to any of us. It has happened to me, minus the car, when my three greyhounds got out the front door of my house - not once, but three times - before I learned that if you closed ANY door in that house the pressure would cause the front door to pop open if it was not locked. I know that terror. I cannot imagine the rest of it and hope that I never will. Please follow the link above and if you feel so inclined, donate - but at least give it a share.

I've actually been thinking about crowdfunding a lot because I'm staring down a summer without my bi-weekly allowance from the university where I work. Nine-month employees are required to sign up for that deferment annually, and somehow this past August it completely slipped my mind. My paychecks are a bit higher this academic year, but with each one, I'm reminded that I will essentially be living on what I can hustle through freelance interpreting gigs over the summer. I am investigating Patreon as a way to supplement what I'm earning via interpreting so that I can continue to work on my novels, but I'm not sure that it would work OR that I would be able to live with myself. (This is the point at which socialism comes in, in case you guys were wondering.)

To me, one of the basic tenets of socialism is taking care of each other. Sharing your wealth, sharing your food, sharing whatever you have with everyone else, regardless of what they can share with you in return. Socialised medicine happens when everyone shares the burden of paying for everyone's health care, for example. We already practice some socialism here in the US - I pay a part of my taxes to support education, even though I don't have children. Other people do, and those children will grow up to lead our cities and states and country, and I don't mind helping them.

The idea behind Patreon is a simple one. In the past, creative types would find wealthy patrons to support them so that they could create their art. Now, instead of one wealthy patron, this outfit seeks to connect people who want to support artists of all genres with those artists. I first learned about it because of an artist that I like, Amanda Palmer (the link there is to her Patreon page). She was in on the ground level and has an excellent explanation of the difference between Patreon and Kickstarter on the page linked above. If you browse around the site, you will find just about any kind of artistic endeavor you could possibly imagine - most of which have at least a few dollars of funding. While this is a way for well-known artists to take the producer/middleman out of the equation, for some this is their sole means of being able to do what they love.

This would be the second point at which I bring up socialism. You like to read fantasy novels? I like to write them! Perfect! Not exactly. I am just starting out as an author/indie publisher, and I can already see improvements in the second and third books in the Nature Walker Trilogy when compared to the first book. I'm learning. I'm listening to my beta readers and editors. On the rare occasion when someone leaves me a review or contacts me to talk to me about how they found the first book (or my back catalog of dog books), I get feedback that I can use to become a better writer. All of this I do in my limited free time when my brain and my hands are not overwhelmed with work from my day job that pays for our house, food, car, etc. etc. etc. I just wonder how much better and more organized I would be as an author without the weight of the day job - and that's what a program like Patreon could help me discover.

But the point of this post was not my financial woes, it was how wonderful I think programs like Patreon, GoFundMe, Kickstarter, and others of their ilk are in our society today. As an American, I was raised to look at socialism as an evil thing that took away my unique ability to DO IT MYSELF. These organizations allow others to offer help so that it isn't all on me or other artists. I saw someone say on Facebook yesterday that you can't pull yourself up by your bootstraps if you don't have any.

Now, can I accept those bootstraps if they are offered? That's another blog post for another day. 

01 February 2018

Hey, y'all...guess what?

What is it they call it on Car Talk? "The Shameless Commerce Division?" Yep, that's pretty much me today. Click below to pre-order.

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02 October 2017

Remember all those times I added author to my NYE resolutions?

Granted, I have already published all of those books in the Proud Racer and Clobberpaws series about my dogs, but this little baby here is the product of a decade worth of writing, editing, revising, crying, hair-pulling, and re-writing. This is the thing that has kept me up at night. This is what I simultaneously feared and longed for most.

The Nature Walker Trilogy is the first part of what I hope will become a series of novels set in the world of Orana. Imagine Tolkien turned on his finely pointed ear. Imagine elves and dwarves and gnomes fighting side by side with giant humanoid cats. Imagine shapeshifters and magic and dragons. That only scratches the surface of what Orana has to offer, and what I am so pleased to be able to bring to my readers.

Wanderer is currently available here on Kindle, here on Amazon in paperback, and here on B&N Nook. If you have purchased a copy I would love to hear what you think, both in the comments here and in the reviews on whatever platform you prefer. I also have a Facebook page (as an author, y'all, can you believe it?) here, and you can leave me a review there as well.

And just for you, my faithful Lettuce-Heads (told you I was keeping it...now I'm hyphenating it!), here is an excerpt from Wanderer, the first in the trilogy. We have one wood elf that is basically afraid of her own shadow (Gin), another who hasn't the good sense to have ANY fear (Elysiam), a dwarf who is the warrior everyone needs (Teeand), a gnome who is the warrior no one expects (Hackort, who hopefully has you on his list of people NOT to kill), and one of those humanoid felines I mentioned who has more than enough secrets to keep (Sathlir). What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

[Excerpt from Wanderer: Origin of the Nature Walker]

After what seemed like forever in the dripping, dark cave, the light at the exit that led to the Outlands finally came into view.  Bellesea Keep, where they were headed, was the ruin of an ancient dragon stronghold, said to be inhabited by ghosts.  It teetered on the edge, between the Outlands and the mountain home of the dwarves.  Gin had kept up her silence as they walked; only making a sound when she tripped over one of the giant roots that surrounded the walls and floor of the cave.  She blinked into the near blinding light that reflected off the alabaster snowcaps just past the Outlands.  Suddenly Elysiam’s hand appeared in front of her face and Gin nearly fell over onto her sister-druid.  “A bit of magical camouflage might be in order, don’t you think?” Elysiam said with a grin.  Gin nodded.
“That and maybe some levitation and a bit of speed?” Gin asked.  She began the chant in Elvish and soon each of them felt their feet lighten, ready to zip across the desert plain.  Elysiam joined in just as Gin was finishing and soon the five of them faded from view.  “Well done, my sister,” Gin whispered to Elysiam, who smiled.  The group moved out into the boiling sun of the Outlands and made their way toward the imposing stone building just before the gentle slope of the mountains.
“That’s the entrance, there,” Sath pointed just before he realized that no one could see him.  “The two stone structures with the statues in front of them.  They are guarded by wyverns, but most of them cannot see as well as they can smell.  If our invisibility drops, then…”
“If it drops?  BAH!  My spells don’t drop, Cat,” Elysiam snapped back at him.
“All I was going to say was that if it drops, run toward the entrance and don’t stop.  Tee and I will take care of those minor dragonkind if needed,” Sath whispered back, making Gin jump.  If he was imposing when she could see him, Sath was much scarier when she could not.  She took a deep breath.  “They walk upright though, and are bigger than I am.  Don’t worry.  Those things are nothing new to me and Teeand.”  The dwarf chuckled.
“I can take them too!” Hackort wailed from the back of the pack.  “You always forget me because I’m shorter than you two! Oof!”  A giggle from Elysiam told the rest of the group that she had managed to kick the gnome even though she could not see him.  “I’ll get you for that one, Elys, once I can see you.”

“How do we know if they can see us?” Gin said as they stopped directly opposite from the entrance to the ruin that had once been a magnificent castle.  Wyverns stalked back and forth in front of the entrance, still adorned with carvings depicting the once powerful human empire that had dominated most of Orana.  Giant statues of the conquerors, names long lost to history, stood like sentinels, ready to spring into battle against their enemies.  Gin shuddered as she gazed up at the stone figures, and remembered seeing Dorlagar for the first time in Aynamaede. 
“We don’t, until they do,” Teeand replied in a whisper.  He sounded like he was right in her ear due to her inability to see him, and she backed up a step involuntarily.
“Oof, careful,” Sath whispered.  Gin could feel his fur up against the back of her neck and she shuddered before moving away from him.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.  She studied the guards at the door for a moment.  “No sense in all of us having to waste energy on those wyverns is there?” she asked suddenly.  “I mean there are two of us druids, so…” She broke into a run, straight up to the front door, only stopping when she nearly ran headlong into one of the wyverns, a large bluish-skinned one.  Back at the group, the other four made various gasps and noises of disbelief and irritation at her apparent dash to the front door.  Gin scampered back to where she thought the group was and skidded to a stop.  “They can’t see us, I ran right up to them and nothing happened,” she said, grinning from ear to pointed ear.
“What in the Mother’s name was THAT, Gin?” Elysiam hissed as Gin hung her head.  “Well, clearly they didn’t see you, so let’s head inside.  This air is starting to make my hair frizz.” The five of them headed toward the entrance and slipped past the guards and through the massive stone doors.  Once inside, they took a collective sigh of relief and as if on cue, their invisibility faded.  “See, I told you, Cat, my invisibility spell doesn’t fade until it’s time,” Elysiam sneered.  Chuckling, Sath took a swipe at her, missing her by a mile.
“Right, so where is this Gaelin?” he asked, looking over Teeand’s shoulder as the dwarf rolled out the map.
“Here, in the cells on the top floor,” Teeand answered.  “Or at least that’s where Ailreden believes him to be, from…past experience.”
“Aye,” Sath said, his countenance grim.  “We know right where those cells are, don’t we?”
“You’ve been a prisoner here before?” Gin asked, wide eyed.
“Aye, Gin,” Sath said.  “It was during a darker time, wasn’t it Tee?  That was before Elys here found us and dragged our sorry hides back to the Fabled Ones.”
“Not that long ago,” Elysiam said. “I came to get Tee out and got this fur ball in the deal.”
“You…brought Sath…?” Gin stared at Elysiam.  It was too much to wrap her mind around.  
“Ginny, you are so wonderfully naïve,” Elysiam said, a look of genuine affection on her face.  “When I was exiled from Aynamaede, I broke all my ties to our home and its people…well, save you of course because you were kind to me.  But then some time in another prison made me…shall we say more understanding of the flaws of others?”  She looked each of them in the eye in turn.  “And if you ever dare repeat what I’ve just said I will not only deny it; I will probably kill you.”
“Probably?” Hackort said with a chuckle, and then dodged the business end of the staff that Elysiam was carrying.  “Right, lead on, Tee!  We’ve got wyverns to kill and wizards to save!”  His axe swung up into his tiny hand as a wide grin split his features.  With a nod, Teeand led the way into the dark ruin of a castle.
At the end of the shadowy entryway, they turned a corner and found the entrance to the castle proper, the actual Bellesea Keep, bounded on all sides by a moat.  Two larger wyverns, both red-scaled with golden eyes, stood on either side of the drawbridge.  “Do we sneak past them too?” Gin whispered.
“No,” Sath replied, grinning as he noticed that she did not jump when he spoke. “We could but there are undead past them that pay no mind to our magic.”
“What about the moat?” Gin said.  “Can we just swim around to a better entrance?”
“Well, even if our feline friend here liked the water, that moat doesn’t go all the way around,” Teeand said.  “It is very slight, but we are actually moving downhill the further we move into the castle.  It’s built into the ground and the moat just leads around to a wall.”  He swung his own giant axe into his hand and gripped the handle, cracking his knuckles as he did so. “Unless anyone here speaks Elder Dragon, I think we have to fight our way in, flower.”
Gin found herself shrinking back to the rear of the group.  All of the bravado she had before when she had charged at the wyverns guarding the door was gone now that she knew they could see her.  She glanced over at Elysiam who had already unsheathed her scimitar and was clearly itching for the fight to come.  Why hadn’t she been born like that?  “I guess I’ll hang back and be the healer, then?”
“You’ll have to, Pet,” Teeand said.  “We don’t have a proper cleric with us, but I trust you and your magic to keep us alive.”  He leaned in close to her, indicating Sath with a nod of his head.  “All of us.”
“Of course,” Gin stammered, flustered.  He was part of the team and he was just as responsible for her safety as she was for his. Just then, Sath glanced around at her, the smile that parted his feline features spreading up and into his teal eyes.  Gin looked away, speaking magical words that summoned Beau, her preternatural pony, and was soon sitting in the saddle, her hands fiddling with the horn as she always did when she was nervous.
“Right!  Elys, if you will, use your magic to slow these things down so that Hack and I can have at them at our own pace?” Teeand said, returning his gaze to the target.  “Then once we’ve engaged, Sath, your pet can join us and you can work your own magic to deter their attack.”  Sath nodded and Elysiam moved to the front of the group.  She looked back over her shoulder at her sister-druid, mouthing the words You got this, Gin, in Elvish, and then charged ahead of them.

“HEY!” Elysiam cried out as she ran toward the drawbridge.  The guards sniffed the air and then looked down at her, snarling.  “Come and get me if you’re not all talk!”  She spoke ancient Elvish words as the two pounded across the drawbridge with heavy feet, turning to run only when her spell was complete.  Though slowed down by magical tangling roots, one of the guards was quicker than she had expected and it managed to get a good swipe in on her before she could get clear.  The hit sent her sprawling into the dirt in front of the advancing wyverns and sent Hackort surging out ahead of Teeand, his axe swinging madly over his head.




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