Monthly Archives: July 2013

Wrong — a WIPpet/Row80 post


Another Wednesday, more to write, more to share…  It’s time for another WIPpet post and ROW80 check-in.


Going back again in time from last week’s post Coming Change, we now learn why Atyr’s mother chose to involve herself directly in Atyr’s religious training.  This WIP, like all those this month, comes from Singer of the Swan Song.

I give you 8 paragraphs today for the 31st of July. If you’d me to explain that WIPpet math, consider July is the 7th month of 2013. 7+2+0+1+3=13 Add that to 31 for 44.  4+4=8

She heard Singer Lassau working the rituals, knew the woman was deeply connected with the Unity and Watch that tied all Her Faithful, and that the Faithful were supporting Lassau so that she might gain counsel from High Mother Masorii.  Indeed, she heard, the change in Lassau’s voice as Masorii’s voice came through her flesh, as well as she knew the change in the Singer’s eyes and flesh as it was filled for a moment with the power of Her Watch and Voice.  She knew when Masorii’s gaze lay upon her flesh and when Lassau looked out of those eyes instead.

“I see nothing wrong with the Vessel, Lassau.”  The echo of Lassau’s own voice within the Great Mother’s made those words sound reed-like and distant, but the strength of purpose behind them was unmistakable.

The Great Mother’s presence eased back to allow Her Singer to respond, and because, as Atyriia knew, to maintain such a connection was draining to all but the most prepared.  Even a Vessel could not hold the Voice for any amount of time without harm.  It took the careful ritual of Fulfillment to complete the Vessel for holding the Voice from then on.

Sweat had broken out on Lassau’s brow, a sure sign of how taxing this counsel was for her.  To risk continuing this contact longer, proved how deeply concerned the woman was at the state of things.  She truly felt the need was great enough that she was willing to risk her life.

“It wept, Great Mother.  It spoke, it moved–it acts with its own will.  The Vessel is tainted.”


Sadness (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Atyriia noted this, but for some reason, now it did not matter to her.  Little did.  She knew what she had done now; she knew the folly of her actions.  She had spurned a gift of true fulfillment in Her Peace for the chance to be the one Vessel that would bring the Voice to Her People.  She had chosen the position of pride, of vanity in the belief that what she had to offer meant so much more than what any other could offer.  She had chosen unwisely.  She had proven herself unworthy even of the place she had sought, for surely the Voice could not find refuge within the walls of flesh that a trainer as foolish as she made.

Finally she had been subjected to one of those many tests of her desire to truly serve the Goddess in all ways, even those beyond the flesh that all bore upon the earth, and she had failed.  She had chosen to serve the flesh that was the Great Mother, not the Voice that filled the woman.

She felt the tears start again, and she let them, letting her head fall freely from where she’d been ordered to hold it for her inspection.  She no longer cared anymore.  Everything she had chosen was tainted with pride and folly.  Best she not bother to pretend anymore.  The sooner the Great Mother saw how wrong her choice of Vessel was, the better.

“See you now, Great Mother,” Lassau cried.  The triumph of having been proven right burst free from the woman’s lips thunderously.

Maintained and promoted by K.L. Schwengel at My Random Muse, #WIPpet writers post pieces of a draft (Work In Progress) that somehow relate with the date for commentary and consideration.  Feel free to comment and visit other #WIPpeteers.   We love the company.


ROW80LogocopyThis past week has been a down week for me.  I’ve been more in a reading mode than a writing one, and while I’m managing my five sentences five days a week, I have not accomplished much more than that.

The complete mental drain of almost three NaNoWriMo challenges in a row has basically left me feeling this overwhelming need to replenish my creative reserves.  I’m taking my time and working on things slower, reading and watching some more shows I’ve meant to catch up on (Fringe, Grey’s Anatomy, Hannibal and House), and re-reading Lisanne Norman’s Sholan Alliance series and re-watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I’ve taken some notes as I do the re-reading/watching.  Both these series keep drawing me back to them.  I’m trying to see why.  I could be the fact that I’m a huge fan of huge story arcs with several subplots and large casts of supporting characters…  No, that doesn’t quite fit Buffy.   It has the huge story arcs, but the subplots are simple and the supporting cast is limited.

See?  I’ve got my hands full here.  😉  Well, for the moment, it’s far more important to consider these things than worry about the fact that I’m not making my (much reduced) CampNaNoWriMo goal this month.  (Actually, I have to do my validation today of my typed pieces…  I may be there already.)

Other projects?  Well, I met another local author, Irene Pough, at the Green County Youth Fair.  Her book is a mystery, suspense novel that looks interesting.

And I’m getting a bit more exercise in because of fellow ROW80 Fitness member, Stephanie Nickel.  She is encouraging all of us to set an August Thirty Day challenge of things we want to change in our lives that we will act on for August.  I haven’t thought of a list yet.  But if I get my head together by tonight, I’ll be posting it in the  Facebook thread.  Either way, I’m definitely going to add more exercise to my day.

What would you change for one month to help improve your health and fitness?


Friday Photo — Finally! London

This gallery contains 23 photos.

Here were are, almost a month after our initial plan to reach London in this photoblog.  We’ve made it despite computer crashes, camping trips and lost software. If you haven’t followed the series, here is the last link (it contains … Continue reading

Coming Change — a WIPpet/ROW80 post


Back again after missing a week with another WIPpet (and after that more ROW80 goodness–now with more linkies!)….

I hate missing weeks in group labors such as these.  Not only do I feel out of the loop and have to go back and reread all the posts all the WIPpeteers have posted, but I know anything I am offering has lost some continuity and perspective.  Worse yet, I am posting these pieces less in the order of the story than in the order of my writing them.

I do not write in order.

wippetwednesday_zps53e803c0In fact, this scene comes a few weeks before my last WIPpet: Want.  It still involves Atyr, but hopefully with this week and next week there will be a little less confusion about the relationships involved.

In this scene, Atyr has just been awoken by three women arguing outside her room.  She’d been resting from a grueling ritual Contemplation, and this time the punishment she received was too much.  For the 24th day of July, I give you 24 sentences, no fancy WIPpet math involved.

Atyriia had never seen her mother’s face without the barrier of the veil before, and she did stare, noting how much older the woman seemed than she’d thought. Araniia’s hair was a deep brown, smoother than th thick curls of the two women behind her, but deep runnels of white ran through her tresses. Her skin was not the smoothness of youth, but lined with ages and slowly beginning to drape along her cheeks. The maturity detracted none from the image she’d had based on words she’d heard others speak in the fortress before this. The queen was a stunning woman, taller than most any other woman she’d seen, fit as any dancer, with a wisdom of gaze and a gentleness of expression that vied with the beauty of any Singer she’d ever met.

Even Masorrii she realized.

The Queen smiled even more, as if to acknowledge and welcome her scrutiny and thoughts. “It’s good to see you are awake, Atyriia.” The woman raised a hand and gestured to the greenclothed woman behind her. “Hurry and rise yourself from bed, child, so that Bohni can look you over. When she is done, get yourself dressed–there are clothes for you in the chest at the end of the bed.” Again the queen waved her hand, motioning o a large wooden box that she had not yet seen having been so distracted by the great tapestry. “Then come into the common room. The Singer and I have much to discuss with you.”

Araniia stepped aside and allowed the green-garbed woman to move past her, then both the queen and the Singer retreated, allowing the curtain to once more hide them from view.

Leaving her with the green-garbed woman the queen had called Bohni. Atyriia didn’t know if she dared look directly at this woman the way she had the queen. Being Araniia’s daughter did allow her some latitude, she knew. Though she had always faced her mother before under veil, the queen had been insistent that she always look directly at the woman as was befitting a princess of the realms and the daughter of a Clan mother.

This Bohni was not her mother. Though Araniia had directed the woman with the same due one would give a servant, it did not mean that she could do the same to the woman. Nor had Singer Lassau spoken in favor of this woman’s presence.

So she looked away, back to the tapestry on the wall and waited. She’d been told to rise, yes, and that this woman was to look her over, but given the way Singer Lassau had spoken…

Maintained and promoted by K.L. Schwengel at My Random Muse, #WIPpet writers post pieces of a draft (Work In Progress) that somehow relate with the date for commentary and consideration.  Feel free to comment and visit other #WIPpeteers.   We love the company.


ROW80LogocopyCan I say, without any fear of disagreements…  “It’s hard to write when you are uncomfortable”?

Last week I struggled to get any writing done.  By the end of a week, I looked at the handwritten page of story I’d written, complete with blood-smeared corpses of the many mosquitoes that had visited and tried to make off with their ill-gotten gains (no amount of DEET or Citronella or any of the other gingwads of bug spray seemed to deter the voracious buggers this year).  I usually love camping.

I usually get a bunch of writing and reading done.  Not this year.

The whys range from the heat to the rain, the bugs, the sick Boodle.  The whys don’t really matter.  I didn’t get much writing done.

I donated some blood...

I donated some blood… (Photo credit:

I did write.  I managed my five sentences a day, mostly, not enough for my CampNaNo goal of 50K.  I lowered my expectations and now have made that 15K.  I can always add more.  Actually, I may already be there, as soon as I type in everything I’ve written since the beginning of the month.

If I can’t get things typed in, I’ll be doing an estimated wordcount via a lorem ipsum generator, but since the typing needs to be done eventually, I intend to work on that before the end of the week.

Besides…  There is a momentum that builds when I type something in.  I add to the story, I also follow those little notes a bit further.  Subplots evolve.  Just typing in stories adds a bunch to my wordcounts.

Does this happen to you too?

Other ROW80 related news:

  • My sponsor post went live on the ROW80 blog this Monday.  I wish I’d read this wonderful post on editing by Dawn Montgomery before submitting it to Kait Nolan.  Those (Five) Sentences is living proof of how many little things can escape one’s notice during editing and proofreading…and why an editor (or at least a second set of eyes) is vital for readability.
  • The wonderful Margaret McNellis (I did a lot of writing sprints with her during JuNoWrIMo, so I call her wonderful from experience) has been doing a series of interviews of fellow JuNo-writers.  She also posted mine this Monday.
  • Except for not being able to do sponsor visits on Sunday the 14th ( a task that was taken up, to my immense gratitude, by the also wonderful Alberta Ross), I am caught up as far as I know on all my check-in visits.
  • For my ROW80 Fitness, I’m a bit behind (and my behind is showing it, sad to say), though I did get a bunch of real rowing done last week in the boat.  Whenever I had fight a wind on the lake, I instantly started thinking about story ideas and how it would have been for people to have camped even a hundred years ago without the possibility of that little outboard motor at the end of the boat (which I don’t know how to use and have made no effort to learn).  The places people have gone, not just men, but women, dressed in long skirts that could snag on roots and twigs…  how landing is not as simple as stopping a boat by the shore, standing up and stepping out of the boat…

It’s been a bit busy, but I’m still out of balance with things.  I have a paperwork pile growing on my desk, meetings to schedule and make…  I just want to write, but when I sit down, the words don’t come easily.

But I still do.

Don’t you?