The status is I have two completed drafts. Completed does not mean ready for publishing, but I finished the storyline. Story titles and cast names are subject to change.

I wrote Saving Delisanna first.

The story takes place in an earthlike world in a time of wizards and swords. Delisanna is a goddess of the second pantheon of Jihalla.

Delisanna is trapped on Siden by a device that can eventually kill her. The protagonists are a human female mage and a male monk who must find and release her before Delisanna dies. The antagonist is a god from Jihalla.

The draft is almost two hundred thousand words. So, I may make it into two manuscripts.

The second story is Kiliane’s Rage. It is the story of the first pantheon to rule Jihalla.

Siden is the domain of the pantheon, given to them populated with plants and animals. Kiliane and her mate became the creators of humans.

The survival of the mortal and divine realms may not be what Kiliane’s fighting for so much as what she may die for.

I am posting Kiliane’s Rage to Wattpad. Follow here as I upload new chapters. https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/340684638-kiliane%27s-rage.

I encourage suggestions for improving the story. General comments also are appreciated.

After much thought, I decided not to compete this year. It was not a hard decision since I am editing one I wrote in an earlier competition.

The year I wrote this work was the first time I did the challenge. It was an eye-opening experience for this novice writer. It required writing 1667 words a day—every day of the month, including holidays!

Did you note I said |”novice writer?” I had dabbled in writing a novel, but not one with a deadline hanging over me. So, how did it go?

The first few days were very challenging. I started with the names for the principal characters and some key story points (I didn’t outline.) Not only must I envision the story, but I had to type it into Microsoft Word.

I am not a hunt and peck typist, but I don’t burn up the keys either. My typing speed while creating the story might have averaged ten words a minute. Time dedicated to typing was between 2.5 to three hours each day.

What came of it? I called it a disaster when I reread what I wrote. It loosely hung on a plotline but met the word goal to win the challenge.

The following is the first few paragraphs of that story after significant rework.

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Saving Siden (Working title)

The Goddess Kiliane found Goddess Mira relaxing in her palace’s main room. A tapestry hung behind her, which showed a pack of wolves serenading the moon. “Come with me tomorrow to get my gown,” Kiliane said, dropping into the chair across from her.

“I think I will stay here. I don’t enjoy being around humans,” she said, pushing errant strands of her honey-blond hair behind her ear.

Kiliane leaned forward. “You need to let the people you protect to see you, and I desire your company. Come with me; you might enjoy it.” She pressed until Mira agreed to go.

The next morning, Kiliane led her best friend through the Jihalla-Siden interdimensional gate onto Siden. They stood at the edge of an open-air market extending to their left. A road separated them and the market from a row of storefronts in two-story wood buildings.

Mira’s hands rubbed her bare arms.  “I should have stayed on Jihalla. It is cold here.”

She laughed while her friend, who wore a sleeveless silver gown, shivered in the early morning coolness. “You should have worn something warmer, but the temperature will rise soon.” Mira glared at Kiliane dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and pants.

Zudon had announced a banquet several weeks ago. He was hosting a celebration of the millennial anniversary of their awakening tomorrow night, and Kiliane needed her gown. Seamstress Amelia said it would be ready today.

The sound of ironshod wheels rumbling on the cobblestone road took their attention. Wagons passed in front of them filled with melons, corn, tomatoes, and more. At the east end of the market, farmers jockeyed their wagons into open-air market spaces.

Kiliane’s nose wrinkled at the odor of manure. She almost laughed at Mira, who was pinching hers shut.  She took a deep breath and smiled when the breeze shifted, and the smell of baking bread came to them.

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The graphic is something simple I created with Canva. I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. Let me know what you think of the image and if you would like to read more by using the comment form.

I encourage and appreciate likes and shares.

Be safe during this trying time.

Rebecca-Fallen Handmaiden

Rebecca Hayden, the protagonist in one of my novels, served as a handmaiden to a goddess. She was favored with great healing powers and healed many close to death.

In previous chapters, she lost favor for lying to the High Priestess, and by default of the Goddess.

Gayle Taylor was an acolyte who had been at the temple far longer than Rebecca. She, a senior acolyte, had responsibility for assigning daily duties to junior acolytes. She was hard on Rebecca, correctly jealous that Rebecca progressed faster than her in reaching the level of a handmaiden.

Begin exerpt.

Rebecca entered the Temple and sat on a back bench. The image of the Goddess Delisanna glowed in the mosaic window, coloring sunlight lighting the altar. The desire to prostrate herself before the altar and beg for mercy contested with her pride preventing such. Her pride lost.

She fell to her knees and sent a prayer to Delisanna. “Goddess, forgive me. I was wrong to take the offering and wrong to lie to the High Priestess,” she prayed, tears streaking her cheeks. She repeated her request but felt nothing.

“She will not forgive you.”

Rebecca stood, face flushing. Gayle Taylor, the person who most disliked her, found her on her knees.

“The High Priestess exiled you from the temple, yet you came back begging. The Goddess has no time for liars, like you.”

Rebecca’s hands clenched into fists. She wanted to knock the smug look off Gayle’s face, but her goddess abhorred violence. She relaxed her hands. “The Goddess can forgive me if she desired. You don’t have a say.”

Gayle’s face blanched. “You fell from the Goddess’ graces and will always remain fallen. The pride in your heart will keep you out. Beg, it will do no good.”

Gayle stepped back when Rebecca took a step toward her. Concern showed in her eyes.

“Relax, Gayle, I intend no harm. I will not do violence in the house of my Goddess.”

Head high, Rebecca met Gayle’s stare. “I may have lost the Goddess’ favor, but I once had it. Her grace filled me as I healed a dying man. It filled me when I healed many sick and lame. It filled it when I awoke, while awake, and dreamed with her grace in me. Yes, I am lost to her now and feel the loss well. My consolation is I have felt it while you are still seeking it.”

Rebecca left Gayle standing with her mouth hanging open.

End exerpt.

I hope you enjoyed the selection.

Now, please be my editor. Tell me

-Does it paint the image of a girl in pain, sorrowful, or proud? (I hope all three as the selection progressed.)

-Are there grammatical or punctuation errors.

-Any other improvements you want to share.

This selection came from the first novel written. The second novel, a precursor to this one, is under revision. I will share a selection from it soon.

In the meantime, are there areas related to writing that you would like me to address? Tell me what they are using the comment form. I look forward to hearing from you.

Happy New Year!

The refrain rang around the world as the clocks struck midnight locally. Millions attended parties to celebrate the start of a new year. Some celebrated the start of a new decade, while others celebrated the start of the last year of the decade. Whatever your feelings, everyone cheered at the stroke of midnight.

My wife and I celebrated the ball drop on 2019. We look forward to a great 2020.

Today is a day of remembrance for those who knew my wife’s father, James Alexander Cameron, Jr. He passed thirteen years ago, 1 January 2007.

Kiliane, the protagonist in my novel, provided a wish for the coming year in an interview by yours truely. “I wish for everyone to be safe in 2020. I know It is a vain wish for it is not the nature of the world. Some will suffer from a disease, others accidents, and some will be victims of crime. Still, it is my wish you and your loved ones remain safe this year.“

Does anyone else remember an old man representing the passing year, and a baby in diapers the new year?  I missed them this year.

Use the comment form if you remember them or want to enter the debate on whether 2020 is the end of a decade or start of another. I look forward to hearing from you.

First novel

I was sixty-six when I began the draft of Saving Delisanna. Hours and hours of research went into learning details about mythology. Online tools created a world map to fit my vision of the story. Character and location names selected. After mulling the storyline for some time, months, I began. Two years later, I typed “The End” to the story. I couldn’t have been more proud of the effort, though the result pained me to read.

I revised the story’s beginning and submitted it to a critique group. Three critiques came back. I read them one time and put away until my ego recovered. My ego is better, and the draft novel lives on behind closed doors.

Another novel after NANO

The November before retirement, I took the NANOWRIMO challenge. Meeting the challenge gave me Kiliane’s Rage or Kiliane’s Revenge, depending on which day of the week it is. (Titles subject to change as the work progresses.)

Editing is not a fun time when compared to building a world or writing about the inhabitants. The story migrates, characters are born or die, the world suffers, and so does the author suffer (me!)

Many articles, books, and blogs address how to edit. Do this, don’t do that, etc. I read a blog on Janice Hardy’s Fiction University website about tell versus show words. A reference to Sol Stein was in the text. Amazon provided me a copy of Stein On Writing: A Master Editor of Some of the Most Successful Writers of Our Century Shares His Craft Techniques and Strategies.

Particularity

There wasn’t much new to me in the first several chapters. I gained a new perspective when I reached the section on editing. Here I found suggestions that seemed to contradict other articles. After a careful rereading, I surmised it did not contradict but reinforced.

Telling is bad. Showing permits the reader to immerse him/herself into the story. Yet, one cannot avoid telling else the story becomes unwieldy. One need not watch a character rise from bed, detail abulations, dress, cook and eat breakfast, walk to the car, start and drive to the office, etc. Perhaps, some of these things become important, e.g., he fights with the wife over breakfast. Telling allows the author to get the character to the office in a few words, keeping the reader’s attention without distracting by mundane details.

Saving adverbs and adjectives

Mr. Stein introduced the term “particularity.” It is used to bring the scene to life. It can include adjectives and adverbs to make the scene. He gave an example of a person seeking a new apartment. He said the author could have said: “it was a huge apartment.” Instead, the author showed through adjectives and adverbs the fourteen-foot high ceilings, the stone steps, the echo of their voices. The point being to be judicious in paring descriptive words from your work.

Halfway through my rewrite and I am encouraged not to pair every adverb or adjective. Thanks, Sol!

It is the author who must decide how to make the words tell his story. That includes what words to cut and what to let remain. My bane until this WIP is ready for publishing.

I would love hearing your thoughts on “particularity.”

They returned to Kiliane’s palace. She feared to be alone and asked him to stay the night. Though he held her, she dreamed of being sucked into an orb. The nightmare scared her awake. She found herself alone in the bed. Noises came from her throne room. She found Kourrus dressed and walking to the door.

“You are leaving?” she asked.

“Well, I am not staying.”

“Why?”

“I have things to do.”

“Things more important than comforting me?”

“Things to do,” he said before closing the door after him.

Kiliane cried as she flopped onto the couch. Others lost mates to the orbs. She lost hers to things.

I welcome comments on this selection or anything of interest to you.

Going back in time

Walking back to 1975. I was a second class petty officer in the US Navy. The Navy sent me to attend Del Mar College to take an electronic engineering curriculum. Most of the classes were technical subjects, but I took creative writing as an elective.

Montage and creative writing

The course used a text book comprising a montage of pictures and snippets of text. I found the assignments, unlike any in my technical course or other electives. This course instructor said there was no correct answer to his assignments. Whatever one wrote, it would not be wrong. However, how it was presented was graded.

I wrote the required number of words about whatever I found on the assigned page. One assignment always cam to mind. I wrote about what a large red circular spot meant to me. It occupied the assigned page alone.  Forgive me, but I don’t remember if I described it as a drop of blood, a fall setting sun, or something else. The red spot I remembered.

Writing Non-Fiction

The final assignment was a paper on my favorite literary author. I selected Ray Bradbury. He wrote Fahrenheit 51,  Something Wicked This Way Comes, and others which I found enjoyable. I debated with my instructor he was a recognized literary author. He gave in with the caveat I had to convince him he was in my paper.

I didn’t have the internet to assist me. It wouldn’t be in its infancy for another twenty years.

Researching in a library

The library’s card catalog was a quick way to find a book by an author or on a subject. The catalog was a collection of index cards for books on its shelves, and provided the author, subject, title, and Dewey Decimal Classification number.  The Dewey Decimal number enabled quickly locating the work within the library shelves.

Another resource was compendiums for magazines and other periodicals. These cross-referenced articles by author and subject. The materials I used were available on microfiche. A microfiche reader was used to read the articles.

I spent uncounted hours in the library going from the card catalog to the shelves or microfiche. I read what was written and decided if it was material for my paper. References were scarce then, though Wikipedia has extensive material now.

Awaiting judgement

I collected my reference material and wrote, what I considered, a powerful position paper. Paper submitted,  Then the wait for the instructor’s comments. Success, I convinced him Ray Bradbury might not be mainstream, but was an acceptable subject for the assignment. His response was worth more to me than the grade of “A” I received.

Grade for my fiction

Now I revise the work from last year’s NANO and strive to make it something readers will give me an “A” for after reading it. Note: there is no prospective date for publication.

Did you write this NANO? Have a work you are revising? I would enjoy hearing about it. Use the comment form to share.

NANOWRIMO 2019 starts 1 November. I wrestle with competing this year. Interestingly, competing implies competition. Yes, It is a competition against oneself.

The competition is to write a novel of fifty thousand words in November, an average of 1667 words a day. Some days I might write more or less, such as during the holidays.

I participated twice, and both times met the goal.

Both times, I sprinted the last couple of days to reach the goal.

Taking the plunge

The first time I didn’t consider Thanksgiving. Losing one day might not sound like much, but I am not a great typist. I averaged, maybe, ten words a minute on a good day. So, a day’s writing was nearly three hours to put 1667 words on paper.

Shucks, only three hours. Yes, three hours if the vision for the story flowed from mind to paper in a steady stream. It didn’t always for me, I started and stopped as the story revealed. As a result, I spent longer with the keyboard the days after Thanksgiving.

The second time, it had little to do with the holiday. I was in the last couple of months working before retiring from my job. I started November strong, but as the holiday neared, I suffered a form of malaise, lack of motivation. Fortunately I found it again after Thanksgiving. The sprint to the end found me crossing fifty thousand words on the 30th.

Each time, I wrote with a vague outline. The key elements were just a sentence or two. From these, I had to build the story as I wrote. Challenging, very!

This year

I am starting early this year, laying out a foundation. I hope to have a good grasp of the story and where it will go before the 1st. It should make finding 1667 words a day (average) easier. I will let you know after 30 November.

Do you intend to take the NANOWRIMO challenge this year? A comment form is available for your convenience.

I spent over twenty-five years in the United States Navy. It was with disgust and disappointment that I watched some women dubbed “US Women’s Soccer Team” disrespect the country’s anthem and flag. The worst image during the post-game celebration was a player intentionally dropping the flag to the ground. But it impressed me that a midfielder stepped forward to raise it from the ground and carry it away.

Then, I remember my oath and accepted their right to their opinion. I wish, though, my tax dollars had not gone to paying their travel, training, salaries, or bonuses.

I am putting this behind and will show my freedom, freedom to never watch the team play again. Unfortunately, I cannot withhold my tax dollars, else I would.

Now to happier thoughts.

I have blogged about our recreational vehicle. We intended to have a concrete pad poured beside the house when we bought it. Two years later, the RV sits on a six-inch concrete pad.

And we had the annual maintenance performed today. It stands ready for an excursion to where ever we take it.

Is there a novel?

There is a novel, and I am working it. I recently completed a rewrite run-through of all chapters looking for plot issues. I noted plot holes, and this run-through will address those and flesh out locations with detailed descriptions.

The novel is alive and growing stronger.

A moment, please.

I appreciate every one of you who take a few moments of your time to read my mutterings. I hope you will continue to visit, and when the urge occurs-leave a comment. I provide the attached form for when those urges rise.

“It’s over!” I said at the Monday Seniors League banquet. How many times have I uttered those words in May? I haven’t counted, but I am sure it has been at least fifty.

I said them to my granddaughter as we waited for my wife to call the meeting to order. We were at the prize payout for the Monday Seniors League. The league ended last week. I presume I said those words last Monday.

Today was my second such payout. The previous was last year after I retired. I joined the league to fill a team needing a bowler. The team needed another bowler when a teammate died. Since I no longer was working Mondays, I accepted and have bowled with them for one and part of another season.

Age Requirement to Join

The requirement to bowl on the Monday Seniors is the bowler, man or woman, must be fifty years old. There is no upper age limit as evidenced by several bowlers being in their eighties and one turning ninety before we start again in August. At seventy-one, I am one of the younger league members.

Aside from having my Monday mornings free, why would I be happy the season has ended. I have one related to bowling.

Rotator Cuff

I had to take a few weeks free from bowling early in the season. I had a small tear in my rotator cuff which caused severe pain. My surgeon gave me the option of surgery or trying for a natural cure.

I opted to let nature try. I didn’t compete for four weeks. The other part of the process was to come back using lightweight balls and work up to my typical fifteen-pound equipment.

Near the end of the season, I noticed discomfort and think the healing was only partial. The long break should give my shoulder adequate time to heal completely.

Summer Time

Since bowling is an indoor sport, the long break provides the opportunity to enjoy sunny days outdoors. I hope we have more than last year, but they predict rain for the next several days. (Still hoping!)

It provides time to vacation. This year as with the previous will find us RVing to Texas to visit family and friends. Leaving Maryland for even a week or two is a positive morale builder.

The summer, without bowling or soccer training, will be a time for serious time writing. I will continue editing my work-in-progress until completed, maybe this year.

Now you know some reasons I said, “It’s over!”

I would like to hear if you have ever felt the exhilaration that caused you to voice the phrase. Comment form for your use provided.