Deadly Skies

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We were surrounded again yesterday. The last two days have kept us on our toes, no mistake. The air has been so soupy and unstable that in between white clouds, the sky was just a different shade of white. My sister came down with her two kids so she and I could paint the ceiling, and she told me we had better keep an eye on the weather because conditions were even more ripe for storms than they were the day before. The residents of Joplin, Missouri, can attest to how deadly Monday's storms were. Well into our task we decided to check the weather, and storms were already firing up in the western part of the state, near where my parents live. We painted a bit more, then decided to interrupt the kids' movie and check the weather station. We were glued for the next five or so hours as tornadoes ripped through the landscapes we knew so well. The first tornado grew to a beast a full half-mile wide. (first picture). At one point, it looked like the entire storm cloud was sitting on the ground, spinning. We could tell when the tornado passed directly north of our house because the wind suddenly gusted past, sucking up into the storm. Yes, I had gathered pillows, flashlights, etc and chunked them into the closet, in case we had to duck, but the storms missed us by many miles ... this time.

Three separate storms grew into a solid line, and shortly after, tornadoes spawned in the town where I attended college and swept by to our southeast. While that one was still on the ground and beelining it for OKC, yet another popped down south of OKC. (middle picture) The news chopper was able to film amazing video of the Goldsby tornado that left us drop-jawed. Zooming in, they were able to show houses being pulled apart, trees stripped from the ground, and a deep ditch being dug through red fields. At one point the base of the tornado was earth-red with flashes of white as roof tin spun around and around.

Massive tornado, northwest of my house, early in the day.

That evening, tornado southeast of my house, near Goldsby, OK. The tornado was weakening at this point but still ripping through farms and houses.

The results. Trees stripped bare. Hmmm ... and, yes, that car has been impaled Vlad-style on the tree. The car was being stored in a garage "to protect it from hail," said the news anchor. Irony. Guess where the garage is now. Dramatic as this picture is, it avoids the human story. The death toll is rising today; one little girl still hasn't been found.

Here I am renovating my house and so many are suddenly homeless today.

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"A Mournful Rustling" Accepted!

Oh, my gosh, I can't believe it! I was sure this story was bound for a rejection, simply b/c nothing I've ever written for a specific venue has in the end been accepted by that venue. A first time for everything, I guess.

So, the details:
My short story "A Mournful Rustling" will appear in Dead Robots' Society's anthology Explorers: Beyond the Horizon. I have no idea when, but it will be released sometime this year. I hope.

The cool thing about this is that the original deadline for submissions was December 31, so I made sure I had that story revised and submitted by then. Then the editors decided they didn't have enough submissions that they liked, so they extended the deadline to June 1. Ack! Rush around, then have to wait six more months just to receive a rejection? Gee, thanks. But, lo, and behold. I'm having a crappy day, check my email, and there's an acceptance lurking in there. *smack* I can't believe it.

A huge thanks to the members of LegendFire who critiqued this one for me. You're necessary.

I'm gonna go pinch myself now.

Two Pens Better Than One? - Collaborative Writing

It's an interesting and risky concept, two creative (and egotistical?) people tossed together and expected to cooperate and come up with a story that halfway makes sense. At LegendFire we have an interesting contest going on, the first of its kind that we've ever hosted. People registered as either poets or fiction writers, then we were anonymously paired up by the contest hostess. Now my writing partner and I are supposed to invent the opening 200 words of a story and poetry has to be involved. I'm the poet, he's the fiction writer. He's in Australia, I'm in the US. The entry is due on Monday (Tuesday for him), and we have yet to work out a plot. Much less the poem to go with it.

I'm not freaking out yet, but this is going to be interesting.

So, I'm curious, what were the oddest or least comfortable circumstances that you had to write under?

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I'm the Proud Owner of a Kindle!

Well, I officially crossed over today. It's happened at last. I now own an e-reader. It only happened because my husband's five-year anniversary for working at his present company rolled around and he got to choose his ... prize (which makes it about the most hard-won, expensive Kindle ever). None of the other options made much sense (a watch when he doesn't wear one, a briefcase when he carries a backpack, and so on), so he chose the Kindle. Though it's really his, he knows who will use it more. He's so sweet.

So now I am excited to be able to buy all the ebooks LegendFire members have written, as well as those by authors I've met at blogger and Goodreads and Smashwords. Reading them via PDF on my computer is no fun when I want to curl up in my chair and read. Now, the Kindle is not warm and fuzzy pages, but at least it's book-sized and portable. So we're good to go.

Seriously, the most expensive Kindle, ever. I had better appreciate it and get years of good use out of it. Now, where do I begin? ...

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Also, in compliance with my new posting schedule, instead of updating the novel progress daily, I'm now updating weekly:

THIS WEEK'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Revised: 12
Pages Cut: 6.5
New Scenes: 1 (4.5 pgs)
Bad Things that Happened: Ogres stink like roadkill that's been on a hot road in summer for many days.
Good Things that Happened: Alliances are forged. Well, that might be really bad for our heroes.

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Five For the Fair

Friday was a big day. Some months ago we learned that a new set of friends enjoyed going to Renaissance Fairs, whereupon my husband and I admitted that we, too, attended when we could. So we made plans to load up together and drive to the local Ren Fair this month. Unfortunately, the house and yard projects started stacking up -- like they do most years when we plan on going to the fair. So we approached our friends and asked if they would rather help us save the pennies. They agreed, and so my husband and I hosted our own Ren Faire at our house. We didn't get to watch the falconry shows or the jousts, but we also missed the muddy, smelly bathrooms and the ill-fitting costumes that some women insist on wearing.

We did not miss out on the food. The point of the fair is the food, after all. We managed to find those enormous turkey legs, wrapped them in foil and baked them until the juices dripped. Aaaah... Chili cheese fries, bratwurst with sauerkraut steamed for hours in bacon grease completed the main feast. Then we changed out of our hot and very uncomfortable costumes (amazing how they shrink as one eats), and hiked down to our creek, where we had a beach set up. Our friends have an adorable little girl named Piper. She worked up her courage and splashed in that creek for hours, ice cold though that water is. In the meantime, her parents and we broke out the bottle of chilled, spiced mead. Aaaah (again) ...

Then dessert started calling us. So we eventually returned to the house and made chocolate fried pies and funnel cakes piled with powdered sugar. Ah, gluttony!

Henna tattoos (yes, I love to give henna tattoos) and an evening by a fire pit finished off the day. Nothing went wrong. It was a perfect day. One of those rare memories that will warm the heart for a long time to come.

Other high points:
* Catching a tadpole and feeling its skin
* Piper's Kool-aid moustache
* Petting bunnies with long black ears
* My husband in a kilt
* Photographs to commemorate. Piper's mother happens to be a professional photographer who has an eye for capturing the moment:

My First Interview!

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I'm pleased to announce that Jeff Chapman of The Midnight Diner approached me this week and asked for an interview about "Mists of Blackfen Bog." I was astonished and thrilled. So, of course, I accepted. He sent me several thought-provoking questions that really struck at the heart of the story, and I loved getting to answer them. The interview is now posted on his blog, along with a review of the novella. Please hop on over and check it out, HERE.

Thank you, Jeff, for this amazing opportunity.

On the other hand, it's Cinco De Mayo and this is the first time I've posted this month! Part of my absence is purposeful. Last week, I came to the difficult conclusion that I've got to back away from the social media to get some writing done. Both my social life and my online life have picked up in tempo, which means the writing has suffered. And a dragon with a panic attack is not a good sight. So I've determined that Thursdays and possibly Mondays are my days to post in my blogs, and only on those weekdays do I get to drop by LegendFire as often as I want and cruise all the other blogs and websites that are of interest. All other weekdays are reserved for writing exclusively. Three out of seven days still sounds like too little time to devote to the novel project, but that's all I can promise myself. There's still a big stack of paper waiting to be touched. But the panic attack is over, and discipline is back on the table.


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Scribd Disappoints...

Well, I have officially lost my patience with Scribd. So here' s a review:

The site is unbelievably slow and tedious when loading every single page and function. Even those that ought to be fresh in the memory b/c I was just there. Clicking the back arrow, at the least, should load the last page almost instantly, but this is not the case. I'm not sure if this is a common, everyday occurrence, or if Scribd is experiencing prolonged trouble, but since joining earlier this week, I have experienced the issue every time I've tried to navigate the site. As a result, I actually uploaded the same document twice. Oops! But even though I have decided to delete them both, they still show up in my uploads thingy in the sidebar. What's that about? I've deleted these docs. They are no longer available. Why show them there? I don't get it, nor do I like it.

The rest of the layout is pleasing to the eye, the functions easy to find. But only bother with this place if you've got time to waste, or a book in hand to read while you wait for the pages to load. As a result, I seriously doubt I'll have much to do with the site in the future. Which is sad to say, b/c I fully expected it to be a good venue to promote and sell copies of "Mists" and my upcoming novels. Not so sure it's worth the hassle after all.

You see, I was supposed to write today, but it's almost 3 pm and I just gave up the struggle at Scribd and not a new word has been written. Did I waste my time? I feel like the day is wasted, but I guess it depends on your perspective. Wait while pages load to be able to sell copies there in the long run, or find a site that functions as it should and sell them there instead. Hmmm...

Edit: A new day, a new dose of patience, and I figured out how to make a properly sized PDF and uploaded it to Scribd. While the site is still slow, everything went remarkably well. "Mists" is now available HERE for $1.25. So it's still a better deal to go through Smashwords and use the coupon code below.

Progress Report, 4-25-11, and Promo Art

TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 6
Pages Cut: 3 1/2
New Scenes: 0
Bad things that happened: Kelyn takes the blame
Good things that happened: When you fall off a horse ...

Best of all, we finished Part 4 today and tomorrow begin Part 5. In "Part 5: Interlude" we get to all the characters who were neglected during the tight flow of action in "Part 4: Slaenhyll" which will be a nice change of pace for the next few weeks. And because I cut more than half of today's content and rearranged the rest, I finished revising abnormally early. So now we get to work on book covers.

Some time ago, I confessed that I was painting a cover for my novel. I'm not sure I like the results, so now I'm experimenting with other options. The maps for the interior are finished as of Monday, which is a plus. Now just the cover remains.

Speaking of cool art stuff, I have got to post the promo art that Brian Fatah Steele worked up for "Mists of Blackfen Bog."


He really does amazing work, and I'm honored that he took the time to put this together for me.

Now, the coupon for downloading this ghost story is still valid for a couple of weeks. I'll post it again, b/c the conveyor belt is moving it too far down the line: TR89N

Remember, type that code into checkout at Smashwords for 50% off the regular price. You'll pay only $.99 for the novella.

Note how awesome that looks in the sidebar! Woohoo!
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Progress Report, 4-25-11, and Rain

TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 4
Pages Cut: 1 1/2
New Scenes: 1
Bad things that happened: Kieryn goes missing
Good things that happened: ale about a roaring fire, mmm

It feels so good to be back to writing. This last week wore me out, but all that creativity being bottled up isn't a bad thing. I'm hoping for a good run of rewrites this week as a result.

Most importantly, we finally have had a good rain. The last time we had rain like this was last August. We had trace amounts in October, then nothing. Two snows don't count if the snow is as dry as mountain snow and leaves dry powdery ground behind. We've suffered devastating and deadly wildfires. Our farmers have lost their wheat, most won't bother with cotton this year, and the cattle are going to have a tough time with dry ponds, and the hundred degree heat hasn't hit yet. But we've had rain this weekend. A blessing on Easter. Please, God, send more. My creek isn't even rising yet, so parched is the ground.

The Great Baby Bunny Rescue!

Not much writing this week either, due to upcoming family gatherings to prepare for and garden projects to wrap up. So the story I have today indirectly involves the latter. My husband and I have worked stupidly hard to try to tame just a corner of our property for flower beds and other signs of civilization. Perhaps followers who have been around a while will recall the pics I've posted showing off my gorgeous back yard. To keep folks up to date, I live on a natural creek on the edge of a very small town, so we have our raccoons and opossums, coyotes and armadillos that come traipsing in from time to time. We also have our domesticated visitors that liven things up when they meet face to face with my beloved large cats. I have three very large, fat cats who do actually earn their keep. When we first moved into this place, the yard was riddled with gopher mounds and tunnels. Within a few months, the local population of these pests was next to nil. We also rarely have issues with rats or mice. The occasional bird also meets a bloody doom at the pointy end of a cat's paw.

Then there are the rabbits. Those little cottontail cuties that, for the most part, have learned to stay outside the territory of my hungry tigers. Readers will find in my archives from last March pictures of the two domestic bunnies we adopted. Since that time I've grown a soft spot for the critters. My bunnies are now far too big and caged up for the cats to do them damage, but since we brought those big-eared critters home, the cats have vowed revenge on us for not letting them eat the domestic bunnies. Or perhaps vowed revenge on all rabbit-kind.

So yesterday morning, James and I were preparing to head to the green house in the city for a few more plants I needed for the pots on the back patio when we heard the high-pitched squeal of an animal in distress. Gabriel, the stately, suave hunter who looks like he's wearing a tuxedo (sometimes I think of him as a gelded version of a 007 in the cat realm), had snatched a baby bunny from under a woodpile. Now, we had no reason to think that any rabbit-mother would be stupid enough to set up house anywhere near these prowling monsters, but she must've been the daring kind.

At the sound of the squeal, Raphael and Sonora came running, tails high. So did James and myself. I'm sure Gabriel would've made fast work of that tender morsel had not a snake intervened. Yes, a two-foot-long bull snake (that's small, by the way) happened to be in the killing zone and convinced Gabriel to drop the bunny and swat a few times at the red flicking tongue. No doubt the snake had been eying the same bunny and took issue with a cat sneaking in and stealing its breakfast. So the cat and the snake conducted a stand off. In the meanwhile, James threw me a bucket so I could put the bunny in it and run. But that part of the property is wooded and overgrown, and the bunny took good advantage of it and hid from all of us. I hadn't had time to throw any shoes on, so there I was picking through the leaves and brush barefoot, with bunnies, snakes, and poison ivy under toe. What a way to start the day.

The snake eventually grew tired of this game and retreated, under the very leaves I'm standing on. So I too retreated, taking the cats with me. They get shoved into the garage for the few hours we were gone, in the slim hopes that they would forget about their morning adventure. That afternoon, when we returned with our lovely flowers for the pots, I felt sorry for the buggers stuck in the house and let them outside. Yes, a half hour later we heard the squeal again. This time, both Gabriel and Raphael came running up from the woodpile, both with baby bunnies locked in their jaws. "No!" I scream and James runs after them. I'm not far behind. "Whoa!" James cried. "Look at that." That daring mother rabbit charged from the woodpile after Raphael. A good attempt, I'm sure, but Raphael was more daunted by me running after him. I chased him to ground, pinched his jaw and forced him to release the bunny. Now, I'm talking a tiny thing, no more than four inches long and still likely in need of mama's milk. With the darling in hand, I returned to find James holding Gabriel by the scruff until he released the second bunny. *whew* Now we have two baby bunnies in a yellow bucket. What to do with them?

James threw the cats back into the garage so they couldn't see where we took them. The mother had run off at last; James wanted to deliver them to her; I just wanted to return them to their nest where mother will find them. But so might the cats. It's not a hopeful situation, so I snatched the bucket and dumped the bunnies back under the woodpile. They skittered off, grateful.

So much for the great bunny rescue. I'm not sure how long-lived it will be, for between 007, Raphael, and Lucifer the Serpent in the underbrush, I'm betting those bunnies are bound to find their way into some predator's gut. Just as long as I don't have to see it or hear it (or find an ooey-gooey present by my front door), so much the better. And for now, I'm happy I got to help them survive another day. Maybe they'll make it. *fingers crossed*

Ah, the joys of living in the country.

Progress Report and Goodreads

TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 6
Pages Cut: 4
New Scenes: 0
Bad things that happened: replaced romance with brutality. Fun times.
Good things that happened: We're over the climax, baby!

Back to the novel project, thank God. This feels normal, comfortable, after all the new territory I've crossed in the past couple of weeks. So, after "Mists" was uploaded and published on Smashwords and that hurdle jumped, I dived into Goodreads. I love books, the smell of them, the feel of them, so entering into a place that is all about books hasn't felt too alien. Adding my own book to the roster there does, however. When I compare my little novella to the other books on my bookshelf, I have to admit that I'm in some intimidating company. Hemingway, Steinbeck, Le Guin, Anne Rice, Amy Tan, Tolkien and J.K. Rowling ... yowser! Quite the company to keep. All for the sake of self-promotion. No pressure, though. I'm enjoying this exploration of new stuff. Though I have to remind myself to stop clicking on links, tweets, blog entries, etc. by 11:30 and get to work. The stack of novel pages is still quite fat, and it's almost May.

If you are a Goodreads reader or author, you may want to visit my author page. You'll find it here: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4788408.Court_Ellyn - And be sure to leave me links to your pages, too.

"Mists" Now Available!

Okay, here it is! "Mists of Blackfen Bog" is now available for download at Smashwords in every format they offer. Find it for purchase >HERE< I've set the price at the stupidly low $1.99, but those who visit my blog between now and May 11 are invited to use this coupon code for the 50% off promotional price: TR89N

Ideally you should be able to enter that code somewhere prior to checkout and only pay $0.99 for the novella.

Also, as I don't own an e-reader of any kind, I need to know if the format is okay on those devices. So if you download a version for your phone or Kindle or other e-reader, it would be nice to know if there are any glaring problems with the way the novella looks or something. Please report any issues you find here at the blog, and I'll do my best to fix them for future issues.

Now, about celebrating. You don't publish a book just every day, so I was pondering how I was going to celebrate this big event. I have cocktails regularly, so popping open a bottle is nothing special. Going out to eat is too expensive these days, and too far away and gas is ridiculously high. So I was at a loss. James got home and said, Forget the diet, let's get ice cream and we'll go watch the sunset and just be happy. So that's what we did. I got a pint of Cookies 'n Cream, he got a box of Lil' Debbie brownies, and we drove out west to the highest hill in the area and we watched the sun go down and the stars come out and also got to see a pack of coyotes raising a raucous in a wheat field. They were yipping and chasing each other, and we got stuffed on junk food, then drove home. On the way, we stopped beside the place that has the miniature horses and watched them romp for a bit. Three little colts that are smaller than my dog came up to check us out. So it was a good time to just relax and be grateful.

I'm guessing that may sound a bit dull or weird to some folks, but it suits me just fine. Best thing of all, when the sun went down, I didn't see a single ghost walking out of the twilight. Maybe that only happens in bogs. What do you think?

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"Mists" To Smashwords

Well, it's been a while since I posted a progress report on the novel project, b/c writing on it has been hit and miss, and I need a new vision for the scene coming up. It's nasty. Really nasty. So I'm pondering.

In the meantime, I've decided to test the self-pubbing waters earlier than I expected. Sometime ago, CL Stegall and Brian Fatah Steele, two self-published writers at LegendFire, mentioned something about a place called Smashwords. I'm sheltered enough that I was clueless, so I checked it out and that knowledge has been stewing for months.

Recently, I got to freaking out about the size of this novel project and decided that I should test the whole process with something smaller first. "Mists of Blackfen Bog" was published in Silver Blade, an online fantasy journal, in 2009. The serialized thing was cool while it lasted, but now I would like to see the whole novella published in one streamlined unified volume. I tried to find another journal to do it the traditional way, but the prospects have shrunk to one or two unsuitable options. So, I said, screw it. I'll do it myself.

The last two days I've been studying the formatting guide offered at Smashwords and reformatting the novella to be compliant. (I am NOT looking forward to reformatting three epic-sized novels in this manner!) I've also been researching reviewers who might say something nice about the story. The reviews, of course, would go on the cover of the print version that I'm readying for CreateSpace.

Blah! This entry is all over the place. My brain is firing randomly b/c it's packed with so much new stuff. Sorry about that.

Anyway, the Smashwords edition first, then the print version at CreateSpace. Here's a sample of the cover I'm working on. Will likely alter a few more things, so advice would be handy at this point.



As soon as the first edition is available on Smashwords, I'll be tweeting and blogging like crazy.
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Margaret at the Symposium

I discovered Margaret Atwood during a poetry seminar about twelve years ago. Our assignment was to choose any poet from our assigned reading material and for the rest of the semester research their background and explore the way they expressed themselves through the craft of poetry. I must have read a poem or two of hers for a different writing course, because I was just familiar enough with her work to be greatly intimidated by it. As I wrote in the end-of-term paper, she is “beyond my league.” I craved the challenge, I suppose, so I paired up with Atwood. What a rewarding treat that exploration turned out to be. By the end of the semester I was able to report, “I am no longer afraid of her” and “I feel intimate with much of her poetry.” To this day, she remains one of my favorite writers.

Though she is known best for her novels, I’ve had trouble thinking of her as a novelist as well as a poet. I hope to break that mental block soon as I begin reading The Blind Assassin.

That I would have the opportunity to hear her speak on the same college campus more than a decade later is fitting and satisfying. When my husband and I arrived at the auditorium, a big screen was scrolling through a slideshow of photographs taken over the course of Atwood’s life, from illustrations of stories she and her brother wrote when they were children, to Atwood’s meeting with Queen Elizabeth II.

Shortly after 7:30, Atwood took the stage and thanked us for having her so she could “play hooky” from writing. Then in her dry alto voice, she captivated her audience with tales of her early life in isolated rural Canada and her early writing career. I was pleased that her speech reflected the style of her poetry, passages of descriptive storytelling undercut by sarcasm, satire, or witty humor. The tale about teaching grammar to engineers by having them read Kafka was especially pleasing to her literate audience.

Early in the evening she stated that she was pleased to be speaking to us because “starting a novel is so hard.” Then why do it? she asked. “Why write? Why expose oneself to “the cannibalistic ordeal of publication?” Her descriptions of the revision process elaborated on the difficult task writers face. “After bouts of despair and soul-searching” and wondering if it were too late to take up another profession, she tossed out a particular novel, not once, but twice, and at last changed the narrative from third person to first and “was able to proceed.” No small task as anyone who has attempted the same knows. “If you get it wrong,” she added, “someone is bound to send you a snippy letter.”

So why write? Her answer was this: “to joyously create a world whose door someone will wish to enter.”

That works for me.

After her speech, a microphone was set up to receive questions from the audience. Atwood’s replies were practical and encouraging. One woman asked what advice Atwood might have for those of us who may have novels lurking unfinished in drawers somewhere. Atwood replied, “Take it out of the drawer…. Go at it day by day, page by page, hour by hour. Unless the words go down on the page, there is no book.”

In response to whether Atwood values literary poetry over performance poetry, she said, “It’s not a question of what you do, but whether you do it well.” There are good examples of both and lousy examples of both.

Concerning her speculative novels like The Handmaid’s Tale and The Year of the Flood, she emphasized the distinction that “a cautionary tale is not a prediction. … It’s like a blueprint. Do you want to live in this house? If not, design another house.”

About a writer’s audience she stated, “You can never predict who will read your book. … Your job as a writer is to make your book the best example of itself it can be. … Your duty is to the book, and then it goes off and has a life of its own.”

But my favorite quote of the evening was in response to a question I can’t recall. She said, “[Writing is] work. It’s not like having stuff pour out of you like automatic toothpaste.” That is a quote for the ages. On those days when the words simply won’t come, I’ll recall this tidbit of wisdom and remind myself, “It’s okay. You're not incompetent. Keep plugging away.”

Of course, my husband and I were inspired. We came home, made some fancy floral tea, the kind that blooms in a clear teapot, and talked poetry until it was time to get some sleep. An evening well spent.


P.S. Yes, she signed both my new copy of The Blind Assassin and my prized beat-up copy of her poems.

Art and Shakespeare

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It's been a while since I posted for Art of the Week. Everything else I've been clamb'ring to learn caused art to slip my mind. So here goes.

My favorite art movement is the Pre-Raphaelite. It appeals to my love of melancholy, drama, beauty, and history, I suppose. A favorite subject for these 19th painters was Ophelia, the tragic heroine of my second favorite play by Shakespeare (my first being Macbeth). Many a Pre-Raphaelite artist had a unique vision of this fragile, lost little soul, but nearly all these visions revolve around her death, described in lurid and lovely detail by Queen Gertrude in Act 4, scene 7, of Hamlet.

"There is a willow grows aslant a brook
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them.
There on the pendent boughs her crownet weeds
Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke,
When down the weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,
And mermaid-like a while they bore her up;
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and endued
Unto that element. But long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death."

Three paintings to contrast:

OPHELIA, AND HE WILL NOT COME AGAIN
Arthur Hughes, 1863

OPHELIA
Alexandre Cabanel, 1883

OPHELIA
John Edward Millais, 1852

I had not seen the Cabanel painting before today. I love it for catching Ophelia in the actual fall. For still more paintings to compare and admire, there's a wonderful entry >HERE< at blogspot.

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Progress Report, 3-28-11, and Stress

TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 4 1/2
Pages Cut: 1
New Scenes: 0
Bad things that happened: a secret lurks
Good things that happened: nearing the emotional climax now! While this bodes bad things for the characters, it means excitement for readers. Well, it does for me anyway. :)

It's Monday, thank God! That sounds backwards, doesn't it? This weekend was so stressful and nasty that I have to get to Monday for recuperation. Not sure I'll go into detail, but I was . . . not well. Physically, emotionally, or spiritually. It was rough. Really rough. But I am on antibiotics now and have had a good talk with the Lord Almighty.

He is faithful. And this bedraggled little writer is on the mend.
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Progress Report, 3-25-11, and Poetry Readings

TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 6
Pages Cut: 3 (so much disgusting, useless content. Ugh!)
New Scenes: 0
Bad things that happened: a manhunt!
Good things that happened: that harp comes into play again and wins a second chance for Kieryn

Six days until Margaret Atwood speaks at USAO, my alma mater! I heard she was coming, way back last fall, like September or something, and I've been counting the days. When I lived in Indiana, I got to hear Naomi Shihab Nye read, now I get to listen to Ms. Atwood. There's nothing like hearing a poet read their own work and talk about the craft they love.
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Progress Report, 3-24-11, and a Red Rider

YESTERDAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Revised: 2
Pages Cut: 1 (Yep, I cut more than half the content)
New Scenes: 0
Bad things that happened: Elves have killer, cold glares. *shiver*
Good things that happened: nothing yet, and it's about to get worse.

I got a late start writing yesterday, but I was able to squeeze in a couple of pages. Today won't be any better, I'm afraid. Still trying to learn the ins and outs of Twitter (along with taking care of LF and other networking business). Twitter is really very simple; it's just that one name leads to a thousand others, not to mention the # marks and lists to explore. Once the birdie is old hat, I'll be able to fly through and get on with writing.

On a sidenote:

Here's an absurd picture for you. Yesterday, a gorgeous spring afternoon with a sky unhazed by field dust and pollen, and this prissy, country-girl writer, sitting on her back patio with her pages to revise; alongside her, a new Red Rider BB gun. A pink Red Rider. Oh, yes, they make them, just for prissy country-girls like me. I filled the barrel with shiny steel BBs and waited, lurking under the trees, looking, oh, so innocent with my novel pages propped on my knee, in my lime green high heels and frosty pink toenail polish. Then lo! and behold, those pesky, loud, hungry cowbirds flocked overhead, landing in the elm tree, thinking they were so clever that they found a sucker who is still feeding the finches. Those pesky, loud, hungry cowbirds cleaned out my feeders in one blinkin' day! So, as I say, they flocked in and landed for another course. Down goes the pencil and up comes the BB gun. My dad taught me excellent form. Those BBs must sting like hell, 'cause off flew those pesky cowbirds for another treetop. That wasn't far enough -- *pop pop* -- and off they flew to some other sucker's bird feeders.

(No pesky, loud, hungry cowbirds were killed in this battle. Though I hope their bottoms sting)

Ah, back to writing...

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Back Into The Swing

Time to get back to it. The novel. Submitting stories.

Head cold is all but over, "Dreamflier" is revised and in the mail (yes, some mags still take snail mail the old-fashioned way), and I've started resubmitting "The Bone Harp" as well. The latter needs a new home. Realms, bless it's papery heart, saw only two issues before it was absorbed into another mag. Then that mag, too, has been shoved into the closet as Black Matrix focuses its attention on publishing books instead of short stories. Ah, well. I knew it was time to try for a reprint when I attempted to find that old copy of Realms at Amazon and got nothing. At first. Then I had to get fancy with the search to turn up the right mag. In other words, no one will find it unless they know what they're looking for, have a hefty dose of determination, or stumble upon it by accident.

Submitting is the part of writing that I dislike most. Trying to decide if this story or that story is a right fit for this mag or that mag, getting my hopes up, only to receive a rejection. The letters that are worst say, "This story just isn't the right fit." Ack! But I spent all that time reading sample stories and weighing YOUR description of YOUR mag against others! Fine, on to the next mag in the line-up. Tedious. One must have an endless supply of hope hidden in the deep recesses to keep at this job. Hope balanced with little expectation is how I've learned to cope with the minuscule chance that a mag will favor my story over the hundreds of others.

On the flip-side, there's nothing like waiting in anticipation for that acceptance.
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The Little Birdie Gets Around

Two posts ago, I reported how I had set up a fanpage on Facebook. Thanks to those who have responded by visiting and clicking Like. You give me hope that this effort is not a waste of my time.

Now, in conjunction with that, I have also set up an account on Twitter. I do not understand the point behind Twitter, but I do hope it will be a valuable marketing tool in the future. So if you Tweet, post your account username here and I will be happy to follow you, and please return the favor. As of this morning, I have exactly one follower, which is a positive beginning, I suppose. Gotta start somewhere, right? :)

You'll find me here: @Court_Ellyn

Last but not least, I must admit I have no idea what I'm doing. I think I'll be able to figure most of it out, but I'm still flabbergasted about things like those "#" tags that follow some tweets but not others. So any tips for comprehension and productive use of this thing will be most welcome.
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Dreamflying and Head Colds

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The title may make it sound like I've been taking too much cold medicine, but I haven't. Promise. In fact, I've hardly slept soundly enough since Saturday to have dream cycles at all. Why do colds wait to strike me in March? I was clean, all through the bad winter months, but now that spring is just about to burst free and the weather is too gorgeous to stay inside, I get laid up on the couch with a head cold. Go figure. Whenever the cold medicine begins to work its benumbing magic, I know it's pretty useless to try to focus on the bigger writing projects. Does anyone else suffer short-term memory loss when taking cold medicine? Well, maybe it's more short-term memory fuzziness.

Point is, I dragged out a short story that's been lurking on the desk for a few months and decided it was time to give her a thorough going-over. A critiquer and an editor agreed that there was too much backstory dumped in the opening pages, so I'm trying to speed things up a bit, weave the important details in later and more gradually. So here's the progress report for yesterday and today:

TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: "Dreamflier"
Pages Revised: 22
Pages Cut: 1 (goodbye, my darlings! *sob*)
Bad things that happened: A team of dreamfliers get lost in the realm of dreams
Good things that happened: Ambryn, our heroine, is allowed to help rescue them

I'm still happy with most of this story, obviously, and was able to speed through much of the text without altering too much. The tale was inspired by a contest prompt at LegendFire last summer. Unfortunately, I was reading Amy Tan at the time, which means I wanted to write a gorgeous, flowing narrative that bloomed as gradually as a lotus, and opened this piece in that style. But it's wrong for the rest of the story, which is quick-paced, frantic, and bizarre. Had I been reading Gaiman or Martin, perhaps, I might've made a different stylistic choice. But I still have high hopes for this piece. I just have to weave the narrative differently.

If I could choose an artist to illustrate this story, it would be Josephine Wall. Her paintings capture the color, movement, and bizarre imagery I see in the dream realm of this story. A picture is worth a thousand words.

QUEEN OF THE NIGHT

by Josephine Wall

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*groan* I Bit The Bullet

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It doesn't hurt as badly as I thought it would.

Anyone who knows me, knows how I shout slander and all manner of vile things against the privacy-sucking, time-wasting institution that is Facebook. But my friends and family and all manner of writer-marketer people out there assure me that Facebook is my friend. These days, writers must be marketers, too, and one of the easiest ways to spread the word of one's aspirations to sell books is through the Facebook network, so last week, some friends convinced me to set up a fan page on Facebook. I don't have any books yet to sell, only a handful of stories available, but it seems that I need to start building the "fan base" now. I have a small following on my blog, but FB is supposed to help change that, or so they say. So interesting parties may find my fan page here: Court Ellyn

Clicking "Like"--even if you're not a fan--will help me out. So will any tips from FB users who know how to market themselves via that avenue. I'll be happy to return the favor if you provide me a link to your fan page or equivalent. Bribing fans? You bet. I'd throw in a batch of cookies, too, but I don't think they would taste very good when posted here.

On another note, one I prefer far more, is our Art of the Week:

HOBSYLLWIN, THE WHITE GUARDIAN
by Ciruelo Cabral

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Pictures from Lady

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Ah, this is what I had been hoping for, actual photos of the little girl we sponsor. We received them this last week. They were taken around Christmas and show little Lady in her traditional Ecuadorian costume, standing beside her lovely young mother. They are very proud to show us what they bought for Lady with the family gift we sent for Christmas and for Lady's birthday. Propped up against the blank wall behind them is the gorgeous headboard of a single-sized bed. Lady had been sharing a bed with her brother, but now she has her own.

How much we take for granted.

Edit: Okay, I couldn't stand it. I had to post one of the photos. It's just too wonderful.

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Know Your Falcons!

Obviously, falcons in some facet play a big part in my novels (see novel title in posts below). While the time-honored sport of hunting with falcons is mentioned in my story, the characters get into too much trouble to actually devote any scene-time to this noble way of catching one's dinner. Still, it pays to do one's research. Better to be armed with too much information than not enough. So, the next time you take your falcon out a-hunting, you'll want to take along the following:

(this gorgeous sketch is from "Knights"
by Julek Heller and Deirdre Headon, copyright 1982)

Not depicted:
1. "Mews," little buildings where your falcons live
2. Perch, or "sedille" where your falcon will rest when it's not flying or sitting on your arm

Interesting Tid-Bits:
-Only female birds were used in hunting, and only females were called "falcons" while males (smaller and rarely hunted with) were called "tiercels."
-Different sized breed of raptors were used to catch different sized quarry.
-If your falcon fails to catch its prey, you may feed it unsalted cheese or scrambled eggs instead of raw meat as a reward for a good attempt. (I'm guessing you'll want to make a good campfire in the meadow and tote along your scullery staff to cook your bird up some eggs in such a case)
- If your falcon escapes, then is found but not returned (good hunting falcons are hard to come by, after all), or if your bird is stolen outright (some people just don't have the patience to train their own), you may exact a severe penalty on the perpetrator: the falcon is allowed to eat six ounces of flesh from the thief's breast. (You can't make up this stuff, folks!)

So, my question is: What research did you feel was required for your story, but never actually came into play?
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A New Pet Peeve

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Something is driving me bonkers lately, though I'm trying really hard to go with the flow and not let the ... issue ... get under my skin. So I'll vent about it here instead of sending notes to the people I would love to yell at.

I was taught that if you make a commitment to do something, you carry through. Come hell or high water, you get the job done. You communicate with the people you have committed to and let them know if there are unavoidable problems that are delaying progress. You don't leave them to freak out, wondering if you've fallen off the planet or high-tailed it for the far country because you just don't want to participate in the task any longer.

Can anyone say "irresponsible"? Don't people understand how little things like this reflect on one's character? How in the future people will be less likely to trust them with other activities and responsibilities? I do not understand this neglect. IF YOU VOLUNTEER FOR A PARTICULAR JOB (I can't stress that enough), doesn't it make sense to uphold your end? In the least, tell me why you can't finish the task on time, or not at all, so I can find someone to take up the slack! It's not difficult. It's just a small mouthful of pride one must swallow to do this. Take it with sugar. It will go down easier. I'll even provide the sugar!

Now, I've vented. On with prettier things, like springtime and stories and fluffy kitties begging to come into the house to be in my company. Well, the kitties just want food, but they lie well and they're cute, so I'll let them get away with it. Back to the novels!
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The Cusp of Spring

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Ah, it's the last day of February! Spring is just around the corner. In fact, it feels like it's already here, at least where I live. We've had thunderstorms, warm south winds, and twice I've had the chance to sunbathe. Yep, in February. Which means March will likely be cloudy and cold. Time seems to get confused on occasion. Or maybe the issue is humanity trying to create order by naming a set of days and then expecting those days to behave a certain way. And then we're scandalized when things happen differently than we say they should. That's Philosophy In Your Corner by Court Ellyn.

In honor of the cusp of spring, here are two timely masterpieces for your enjoyment:

An Orchard In Spring
Claude Monet, 1886


Springtime at Giverny
Claude Monet, 1880

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Progress Report, 2-25-11

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TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 6 1/2
Pages Cut: 3 (oh, so many darlings, gone forever!)
New Scenes: 0
Bad things that happened: the trial of an evil elf
Good things that happened: Aerdria does look lovely in that silver dress

Not much more to add really, accept that with this day's progress, I finished another huge section of revisions and will be spending the next few weeks (hopefully not more than three), typing in all those hand-written revisions. That leaves three or four sections of the same size still to go. Which means I will likely be posting on stuff other than progress reports. *taps chin thoughtfully* What shall I post? I'm sure something will come up ...

Onward!
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Progress Report, 2-24-11

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TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 5
Pages Cut: 4
New Scenes: 0
Bad things that happened: a demon is on the loose
Good things that happened: the best I can come up with is that despite all that galloping around, Kieryn didn't fall off his horse.

No writing yesterday. It was Wal-Mart day. Shudder. Why does grocery shopping drain me so? It takes up an entire morning, gives me anxiety for two days prior, and when it's over, my brain is shot. I hate it so. On the other hand, the afternoon was heavenly. Shopping done, the day so fine, I put on the bathing suit and sat in the glorious sunshine with a cool Great Plains gale whipping about me. I turned on the ipod, and over strains of haunting Celtic music, I listened to birdsong and wind, and read a chapter of A Wizard of Earthsea. A few hours like those are such a rare gift, and life, for the moment, is perfect.
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Title? Who Needs a Title?

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TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 4
Pages Cut: 4 1/2
New Scenes: 0
Bad things that happened: Rhoslyn reveals herself to be the most needy person ever!
Good things that happened: Um . . . the shellfish was nice?

Today was obviously about cutting crap, while making use of (and greatly reorganizing) the few odd lines here and there. *whew* I'm still not happy with the flow of the scene, which was intensely emotional, and I'm not sure I was up to it. But there's always the next read-through, so I can relax about it and move on.

Art of the Week:

Stairwell of the Hotel Tassel, a town house built by Victor Horta in Brussels for the Belgian scientist and professor Emile Tassel in 1893-1894. Considered the first true Art Nouveau building.

Enjoy!

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How Does Your Garden Grow?

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No writing today. I'm taking a few minutes during a break to blog a bit. Today being President's Day, my honey is off work, so we're taking the opportunity to get some early gardening projects started (and finished, I hope). So far we've only gotten some lavender shrubs transplanted closer to the house, though we've still got hoses to run and mulch to lay. The point of this particular project is to cut down on the weed problem. Last year was the perfect year for crab grass, and I gave up on weeding in despair for several months. There's just too much to be done by two part-time gardeners, especially when one (me) just likes it to look nice but hates the bugs and heat that must be endured to get things looking that way. To give a hint of the ongoing project, here are some photos to illustrate:

When we first moved into our house, the backyard was a lumpy grassy area. We tilled that grass to create a blank canvas. The kitty posing so languidly is Raphael.
Then came the stone patio. Yep, we moved those stones ourselves. Stonehenge took on a new meaning:
The fun stuff started soon after:
And finally, after a couple of years, we started to achieve our vision:
Now we must maintain. So gardening fabric is making an entrance into the trouble spots, and so is bunny poo (believe it or not, we really do need to fertilize). This early in the season, I'm always hopeful that the beds will look better than the year before. *fingers crossed*

Thus, writing is pushed to the wayside for today. Still, there is Friday's progress to report:

FRIDAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 2
Pages Cut: 1/2
New Scenes: 1 (2 3/4 pgs)
Good things that happened: A harp is carried back to its people
Bad things that happened: Prisoners of war are exchanged
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Progress Report (2-18-11) and the Zoo

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WEDNESDAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 5
Pages Cut: 3/4
Good things that happened: Kieryn makes a rainbow
Bad things that happened: Rhoslyn's dress was found where?

I didn't have the chance to write a word yesterday. I was invited to go to the zoo with my sister, mom, niece, and nephew. So I walked around the zoo for six hours yesterday with a 5-yr-old and a 2-yr-old, and a had a great time. Best of all, my honey showed up after lunch and had the rest of the day off to spend with us. But today, for some reason, I feel like I've got a hangover. Could it be only one day without coffee is killing me? Could it be the miles we walked yesterday that I'm not used to? Could it just be getting high on too much goodness? I hope it's the latter but bet it's the other two.

Little Wonders:
Feeding a peacock from my hand. The zoo people let the peacocks roam where they will, and when the kids stopped to ride the carousel, one came right up to my bench and I got to feed it crushed Fritos from my purse (don't tell the zoo people).

Listened to pair of bald eagles fight over their hidden stash of meat.

Looked and looked for a copperhead snake lying in it's usual pile of leaves, then decided "Aw, how sad, they took it out," then after a few minutes of still glancing over the leaves, saw it lying right in front of me! How could my eye not see it? Amazing and very scary camouflage.

The kids faces. Watching them see and discover and get excited when they have something to show you. Best thing of all.

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Know Your Bastions!

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As a writer of fantasy, it's common for castles and forts to make an appearance in my pages. So, to be able to obey the old saying "Write What You Know," it was necessary to acquaint myself with the ways of castles and all the terminology involved. But because I don't frequent actual castles often enough (those tickets to Europe are rather expensive), I do still get confused on all the "buttresses" and "baileys" and "barbicans." The terms that tend to give me the most trouble, oddly enough, are the ones I use most frequently. Either my resources are giving me conflicting information or my brain habitually remembers things backwards (which I tend to think is the case).

To keep things straight, I've provided a diagram. Our model is Penrhyn Castle in Bangor, Wales. So the next time you tour your castle and watch for baddies approaching on the horizon, you will know which part you are ducking behind and which part to shoot your arrow through:


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Progress Report, 2-15-11

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TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 5
Pages Cut: 3 1/4
Bad things that happened: Kelyn drinks too much poppy wine and becomes easy prey. For whom, you ask?
Good things that happened: Still nothing (very evil laugh follows)

Side note: I have spring fever. It's 70 degrees and sunny here, and I wrote with the back door open and thought I had gone to heaven.


Art of the Week:

SHADOWLANDS
Gloria Scholik, 2010

(I love the fairy's distrustful expression!)

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Ah, yes, here we are again...

Let me back up a bit and post an update on things.

It's been perhaps two months since I've blogged here, though I have been journaling at LJ for a couple of weeks now. I think I was feeling the pressure of networking and finding something interesting to say, when I just wanted to write on the novels and keep the details to myself. I mean, only I would understand what I was saying, but no one else would have a clue about the plot/character ramblings I wanted to scribble about. And seriously, little else of note, that I would dare share in a public place, was happening. So I took a hiatus and thoroughly enjoyed it. But it's time to dive back in.

The novel project is crawling forward. I'm finding a chain reaction happening. I expected some of it, but nothing quite this dramatic. When I rewrote the first half a couple of years ago, I had changed a few details that are now adding up and causing far bigger changes in the last half. It's a pleasant surprise. I know the text, the characters, the events so well, that it's like these changes should always have been a part of the story, but just hadn't made it onto the page yet. But those changes are also able to keep my interest engaged. I wish I could describe in detail what I'm talking about, with examples, etc. but those examples just wouldn't make an impact on anyone else. You'll just have to read it when it comes out in print.

I'm also getting a bit impatient. It's February, and that stack of paper is still huge. I just want the project to be done with, so I can hold the printed and bound book in my hands and cry with relief. A decade ... that's a long time to become sure of the path this story needed to take. That's swallowing a lot of pride and saying this story is not what editors are looking for these days, but readers might like it and sod it if they don't, I have to finish the project. I've promised too many people involved that they'll receive a copy, anyway, hopefully by Christmas. I'm glad I was realistic with the deadline. It will take me all year to give the novel the attention it needs, while allowing time for short stories on the side.

Good thing is, the cover painting is finished. Well, at least the pastel part is finished. Now I've scanned it into the computer and it will take time to hide the seam between the two pages it took to paint a full wrap-around-sized pic. Also, some of the corpses' faces are too bright for being in shadow. I'll have to darken them as well, and b/c I'm not fluent in the GIMP program, this part of the project will take me a long time to finish, too.

So you see, I'm down to a nitty-gritty, driven routine. If I don't have many updates, it's because the same ol' grind is happening day in and day out.

I am keeping sane by calling it quits most days by 5 pm, eating dinner with my honey, then dungeon crawling with him in DDO. But then, going to sleep, bashed and bloodied from fighting undead and lizard creatures in the stinky sewers, my mind turns again to what I will write come morning. Meditating on it, seeing it clearly, all over again. Like I had a decade ago. Ah, the life of a mad writer.

I found this really cool update system somewhere on LiveJournal and thought I would try it out and see if it keeps me accountable to posting. I've had to customize the thing so that it works for this particular project:

TODAY'S PROGRESS
Project: Falcons Rising
Pages Rewritten: 5
Pages Cut: 1 1/3
Bad things that happened: a funeral. :(
Good things that happened: not much - it's hopeless! (evil laugh follows)

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