Tag Archives: vegan lifestyle

The View from the Fishbowl

Me working in a starbucks, through the fishbowl, copyright Dan Riffero 2013 <– The Starbucks in my son’s office building has a fish tank, and this is what the fish see when I am working there!

One of the more awesome things I get to do frequently is drive to and through Seattle.  It used to freak me out to even contemplate making that journey, but now I’m so used to it I barely notice it unless something is on fire alongside the road.

We’re stopping…we’re going…stopping…going…meh….

Downtown Seattle isn’t all that user friendly if you are in a car.  I am becoming the queen of negotiating  one-way blind-alleys and parking garages designed by Daedalus.

Driving in heavy traffic has a great deal in common with writing a novel. It is important to develop a sense of Zen-ness, ninja-like calm; keeping the flow going in the face of roadblocks and characters with limited vocabularies.

You start out going really well, at the speed-limit or even above. You’re sailing along! Suddenly you notice brake lights ahead and you slow down, or even come to a complete stop, hoping the guy rapidly approaching your rear bumper has insurance.

Then you go, real slow. You may be doing 10 mph, but you are doing in a forward motion. You are rolling! You pick up a little more speed and you think “This isn’t so bad, I think were past the worst of it.”

You’re wrong, but hey, you actually gained 500 feet of forward motion toward your goal before you had to stop again!  After 10 miles of that you find yourself once again sailing along and life is good!

Negotiating rush-hour traffic on I-5 is exactly like writing a book, or indeed, completing ANY artistic endeavor.

What’s important is not how fast you made the journey.

The important thing is arriving at your destination alive and with your temper and your dignity intact

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The Knight Returns

220px-Sir_Galahad_(Watts)

As always, I have five or six projects going at  once.  I’m in  the editing process on Mountains of the Moon, a Tower of Bones prequel. I’m getting a sci-fi short-story ready for submission to Analog. If they reject it, I will publish it as a novella.

And now I am doing revisions on Huw The Bard, and writing Billy Ninefingers, I find myself writing a new opening vignette for The Last Good Knight. The revised edition will have several new chapters, one of which was completed only a few days ago. It will not have the prologue, nor will it have the chapter that is a long info-dump.  They tell a lot, but they are mistakes made by a new author, and they do the book no good.

I know I’ve said it before, but I’m in love with my characters. And of all my characters, Julian Lackland holds a special place.  He was my first real hero, my first slightly-flawed-but-nonetheless-still-perfect hero.

This is the issue:  we as authors want readers to see our literary vision with the same clarity as we see it.  The problem with that is our readers will NEVER see our vision as we do. They will see it through their own eyes.  This means our task is to enable them to visualize the story and the characters in the way that is most pleasing to the reader.

Folks don’t want info–they want action.

So I’m going to give it to them. Heh-heh.  Good Luck, Lackland!

Fortunately, I am an indie and I have the ability to unpublish a book that isn’t working as it currently stands, and do it as it should have been done in the first place had I not been so new at this business.

Today I hit the road north again, this time to Seattle. I will be working in a Starbucks in the South Lake Union part of town, in a building that houses Amazon. Afterward I will meet my son there and we’ll go to a vegan restaurant, where he’ll pretend to enjoy the food (because he loves his mother) and we’ll have a good time. All the while, all three tales, Huw the Bard, Billy Ninefingers, and Julian Lackland will be rolling around in my head, and I will attempt to carry a conversation on as if I weren’t a raving lunatic, obsessed with my imaginary friends.

He’s used to it.

Tomorrow, while my son is having oral surgery, I will be in the waiting room, devising new tortures for old friends. If it goes long enough, I might finish another vignette!

Sorry son, Mama’s a writer. Reality isn’t her best thing.

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Filed under Adventure, Epilepsy, Fantasy, Humor, Literature, Romance, Swashbuckling, Vegan, writing

It’s all Greek to me

Blender3D_Dragonfight_03 Sascha Kozacenko, with kind permission for GFDL.Dragons.

Two tons (or more) of muscle, scales and, frequently, fire.

What’s not to love?

They are rumored to be as devious and crafty as your mother-in-law.

Don’t bandy words with a dragon or you may lose more than the argument.

Again, not unlike your mother-in-law.

St._George_and_the_Dragon_-_Briton_Riviere Briton Rivière [Public domain], via Wikimedia CommonsMy dragons are not really the kind who bandy words about, however some do breathe fire. That heats things up a bit!

Heh heh.  Oops.

Darn it. Now we need a new hero.

I hate that when that happens.

In English, the word dragon is directly derived from Old French – dragon, which in turn comes from Latin draconem (or draco) meaning “huge serpent, dragon,” AND also from the Greek word drakon meaning “serpent, or giant sea fish”.  Both the Greek and Latin term referred to any great serpent, not necessarily mythological, and this usage was also current in English up to the 18th century. So in that sense, dragons REALLY did exist.

Which came first Latin or Greek? Greek – it’s a living language and has been spoken for over 3000 years.  Many Greek words found their way into Latin, and other proto European languages. Thus English has some roots in Ancient Greek.

Tiepolo,_Giambattista_-_Die_Unbefleckte_Empfängnis_-_1767_-_1768_-_Drachen Giovanni Battista Tiepolo [Public domain], via Wikimedia CommonsNow as far as dragons go, in my two worlds they are quite different from each other.  In Waldeyn, (Billy’s Revenge) there are two kinds. The smaller wingless variety often has a second breath that allows them to breathe fire–quite an effective weapon, as Huw the Bard will discover. The bigger ones fly and prefer to eat people, so they are considered a nuisance.

No, my dragons are NOT vegans. But that would be an interesting twist….

In Neveyah, (Tower of Bones) they tend to be immense creatures of both magic and the element water. This puts the mage at a disadvantage, as the element that heals the beast is the element of water and you must never use it against them. Water is also their best magic weapon, and they are relentless. They have high reserves of chi and strong magic at their disposal, along with excellent shielding ability, so using any magic at all against them is a no-no.

Good luck, boys.

There are ways to fight them, and all my heroes will find ways to do so with varying degrees of success.  Writing those scenes is a real adventure, as I get to put myself in the battle, and choreograph it so that it flows, is believable, exciting, and hopefully no one crucial to the story dies.

St._George_and_the_Dragon John Ruskin [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

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Filed under Adventure, Battles, Books, Dragons, Humor, mythology, Vegan, writer, writing

Inspiration

© connie j jasperson 2013

© connie j jasperson 2013

The town I grew up in, Olympia Washington, has a reputation for being just a bit, how shall I put this? Weird. Wild. Wacky.

The city is the state capitol, so there is that political side of things, that energy that drives the local economy.

Then there are two colleges, one of which is The Evergreen State College, a school that attracts some amazing people. There is a fine community college, and across town in the city of  Lacey, there is Saint Martin’s University.

Many students who come here from out-of-town choose to stay in the area, and so we’ve become a place known for our high-energy arts and music scene, and our…interesting…downtown life.

Olympia is one of the most Vegan-Friendly cities you could ever want to go to, as nearly every small restaurant and cafe has at least one vegan offering and many have an entire SECTION of their menu that is devoted to vegan options.

We are also the home of Riot Grrrl punk rock, with bands like Sleater Kinney and Bikini Kill to our credit.

© connie j jasperson 2013

© connie j jasperson 2013

Downtown is fun, crazy and most definitely a walk on the wild side, even on a Monday afternoon. When I am not on the road, I frequently drive up to Olympia and go to a local coffee-house called Batdorf and Bronson on Capitol way just to spend the day there, writing. I do this especially when I have come to a dead-end, because something about being in downtown Olympia inspires me when nothing else will.

The best parade of the year is called the Procession of The Species, and it is not just a parade, it is an event. In a time-honored tradition, people put their lawn chairs and camp stools out on the curb two days ahead of time, staking out their viewing places. The chairs will sit there, lining the curb like so many abandoned soldiers for two days prior to the parade and no one will steal them.

The parade itself is awesome.

From Wikipedia, the Fount of all Knowledge:

© connie j jasperson 2013

© connie j jasperson 2013

“Taking place during Olympia’s annual Spring Arts Walk, the Procession regularly draws 30,000 spectators and 2,000-3,000 participants.[2]The celebration, now in its 17th year, is completely noncommercial, made possible by community contributions of money, materials, time, and skills.[3] The Procession is produced by Earthbound Productions, a 501 C-3 organization, and currently does not benefit from any public funding from the city of Olympia. Seven weeks before the Procession, a community art studio is established. This studio is open to the public and a minimal donation is requested, but no one is ever turned away for lack of funds. As there is no permanent studio space available for the Procession, each year Earthbound Productions locates and rents a space to serve as the community art studio; ultimately, the group hopes to find a permanent location.[4] The studio, staffed solely by volunteers, becomes a central location for art & music workshops and costume design. Participants use a wide range of artistic approaches, such as BatikPapier Mache, and Luminaria. They use mostly donated or scavenged materials to express appreciation for the natural world and create their costumes, banners, floats, puppets, drumming, community bands, and more. During the event itself, bedecked in their costumes featuring the elements and various species of plants and animals, people of all ages join in the procession. The event itself has three ground rules: no live pets, no motorized vehicles, and no written words.[5]

I have to say though, while the giraffe and the whales were awesome, the giant clam costume (the geoduck) at this year’s procession drew many…surprised…comments.

© connie j jasperson 2013

© connie j jasperson 2013

One of the fun activities happens 30 minutes ahead of the procession. Two wagons loaded with side-walk chalk  pulled by volunteers make the journey along the entire parade route handing out chalk and the spectators then decorate the streets. Some amazing art happens. The wagons return to collect the chalk, leading the procession.

I don’t get direct inspiration from downtown as in “Oohh, write about this…” I just find it stirs my own already quite out-there mind and when the old brain can’t seem to pull up anything worth writing, the change of scenery does me good.

Alas, today I must hit the road once again, but inspiration travels with me this time. I think it will be a productive trip.

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Transporting Dead Dinosaurs

The Joy of Childhood  © Leah Reindl 2012

The Joy of Childhood
© Leah Reindl 2012

So I went on an outing with one of my grandsons and his Kindergarten class. You may remember this child–The Boy whose antics keep Grandma hopping.

I honestly thought he was going to be the difficult child on the trip, but it turns out that he has an image to maintain (already) and his little mates believe he is the soul of reason. His teachers adore him.

(See Grandma’s look of shocked disbelief.)

However, I did have the pleasure of riding on the school bus in the seat directly in front of the ‘interesting child’ in the class, a little firecracker we’ll call Mercy. Her voice was beyond piercing–my ears are still ringing.

MH900001542First though, you have to picture the school bus packed with 6-year olds, each one in varying stages of that mania only a 6 year old child can bring to such an event. The adult volunteers were given groups of 3 children each to monitor. We lined up outside the school at the curb, and got on the bus, keeping our groups in order. My daughter and I shared our group, which worked out well.

MH900422812The first thing I noticed was the amazing lack of leg-room in Grandma’s seat. That and the fact that nowadays Grandma seems to take up more than half of the bench.

Oops.

Still, two of ‘my’ children were able to sit on the bench with me, and despite the fact that my knees were firmly pressed into the back of the seat in front of me, we rode fairly comfortably.

Directly behind me was the girl who we’ll call Mercy. She was imaginative, boisterous, and full of ‘it’.  She wore her emotions for everyone to clearly see, and every thought that entered her mind was immediately expressed, loudly, twice for emphasis. She was needy, loud, inappropriate and hysterically funny.

Mercy was the poster-child for ADHD.

As the large yellow sardine can I was trapped in hurtled down I-5, Mercy’s commentary dominated the din. “Look at that dude! He’s smoking a cigar. I’ll bet he’s a gangsta. He’s gonna do a deal. I saw it on TV.”

“Mercy, that’s inappropriate. We don’t talk like that, remember?” The lady who was Mercy’s wrangler was awesome. She was an older lady who volunteered at the school and who was also the school crossing guard. I suspect she was a retired teacher, as she had opted to wrangle the three toughest discipline cases in the class.

The other two were boys and they were…interesting…, but Mercy was the real loose-cannon in the bunch. She was the ringleader, the one the other two looked up to.

Just around the time I noticed I had lost the feeling in my legs, the school bus pulled alongside of a long semi, an open-top box trailer that was covered with a canvas tarp.  A corner of the tarp had come loose, and flapped in the wind as the truck rolled down the highway, giving a tantalizing peek at the contents of the load. (It was sawdust.)

Mercy said, “Look that truck is broken. I wonder what’s in it? It’s probably going to crash, cuz its broken.”

Her seatmate, a boy we’ll call Dewayne, said, “It won’t crash. That’s just the tarp. I wonder what’s under it?”

Dinosaur_comic_left by Luuva wikimedia commonsMercy said, “It’s broken, so it’s gonna fly off and kill someone and there’ll be blood everywhere. We’ll probably be on the news when it happens. And it’s a dinosaur, under the tarp.  A dead one.”

Dewayne said, “How do you know its a dead dinosaur? It could be any sort of dead body.”

“Human bodies aren’t that big. It has to be a dinosaur.” Mercy’s tone implied that she held the trump card. “I wonder where they’re going to bury it.”

All I could think of was that the seat behind me was occupied by two future authors of fantasy crime fiction, and the girl could possibly be a future Quentin Tarantino. This little girl was hysterically funny, obsessed with the macabre, totally off the wall and sharper than a tack.

I was SO grateful she was not in our group, as she was fast as lightning, didn’t hear any instructions, and made her own rules as she went.

It was a fun trip.

Grandma needed a nap when we got home.

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Gurus, St. George and Uncle Orson

200px-Saint_George_-_Carlo_CrivelliI write stories.  I tell people what may have happened had St George not slain the last dragon and taken the fun out of life.  Obviously I am telling the tale from the position of a storyteller.

This works well in the first draft, where I can “he did” “they went” to my heart’s content, but during the second draft I must take these “telling” places and expand on them, making them more active.

Many people ask me what I think about ‘critique’ groups.

I don’t.

I don’t think about critique groups at all, as critiquing is only a small sliver of what an author needs to hear in order to get his or her work ready for submission. Any wannabe can trash another person’s work.

I have found that for every serious author, there are five posers who think they are Jane Austen and that gives them the right to “just tell the truth.”

My ears are bloody with the sounds of unpublished and unpublishable authors piously ranting about the rules and quoting self-help writing gurus as they shred a fellow author’s work in the guise of critiquing it. This is why I don’t go to the groups whose main focus is destroying the dreams of others.

I have found a group of writers who share an understanding of all the phases that a manuscript goes through before it reaches the final draft.  Comments, when solicited, are encouraging. Flaws are noted, yes, but more importantly the places where the story shines are also noted. The writer is a fragile creature–it takes very little abuse to make them bleed.

enders game orson scott cardThe award-winning author of science fiction and fantasy, Orson Scott Card is one of the guru’s whose books on writing have shaped my approach to not only my own work, but how I look at the works of others.  Uncle Orson, as he refers to himself, has a fabulous website with many links to writing seminars, Hatrack River. Orson puts himself out there with his political and religious views, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that he KNOWS about writing and how to write a good, readable book.

Orson’s wife is his first-reader. He has a list of questions that he asks his wife to answer in regard to his work, and the way those questions are phrased is interesting. I now use those same questions and so do my two writing groups when we are PRIVILEGED to be first readers of an author’s cherished manuscript.  This is the list as I have it in my own files, tailored to my own work:

Five Questions for The Wise Reader who is evaluating my tale:

1. Were you ever bored? Please tell me where it became slow and hard to stay with it.

2. What did you think of the main character _______________________? Of ____________________? Of _________________________?

3. Was there anything you didn’t understand? Is there any section you had to read twice? Is there any section you became confused?

4. Was there anything you did not believe? Any time you said ‘Oh come on!”

5. What do you think will happen to the characters now I am done telling their tale. What are you still wondering about? 

My goal is to eliminate any areas of boredom, implausibility and cliché and I need your help to do so!

I think that writers grow when another eye is on their work. Of course it is an uncomfortable thing to have a whole section pointed out as being repetitive and possibly irrelevant, but it’s better to hear it from trusted friends before you publish than to never know why you keep getting rejections. Agents and editors rarely have time to tell hopeful authors why their work isn’t acceptable. This is why they use the dreaded form-letter-of-rejection.

outhouse at lake bernardHaving received enough of these to wallpaper an outhouse, I can tell you honestly that we aspiring authors are left to struggle on our own and learn the craft of writing as well as we can. This means we take courses if we can afford them or we avail ourselves of the very good education we can receive via the internet.

It also means we must ask others to look at our work. Local writing groups are the best places to meet people you can trust. Perhaps you’re not a member of a writing group and you want to become involved in one, but you are afraid of having your work torn to shreds. This is a real possibility, but there are MANY groups in every community, and quite a few will have the same rules as my group does. Attend several meetings as an observer before you commit to bringing any of your work. Once you see how they treat each other’s work you will know what you can expect from them.

Treat others the way you want to be treated, regardless. Don’t let the occasional bully stop you from growing and achieving your dream.

And this brings me back to where I started–trying to take an idea as it was laid down in the first draft, tell the story and yet show the action without going off the rails in either direction–showing OR telling.  As a reader I cut my teeth on Louisa May Alcott and J.R.R.Tolkien. They were authors who knew how to TELL a story and I lived it as they told it. Nowadays it takes a special sort of reader to enjoy classics as they were originally written, because they were rife with telling and not showing.

The second draft is much easier when it comes to laying out the action.  In the first draft I know what is supposed to happen at a given point, but I don’t always know how to show it, so I have a conversation that tells what happened. In the second draft I take those conversations out and replace them with the event.

Now I must have my characters go forth with their swords and kill me a dragon. We’re done talking about it boys! Show mama what ya got!

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Filed under Adventure, Battles, Dragons, Humor, Uncategorized, Vegan, writer, writing

Did I say that…?

killedI love words.  I hate auto-correct. I love writing words that make sense and say what I want them to say. Auto-correct is not conducive to that.

I hate spell checker. Now, if I was smart like Shaun Allan, I could take all those crazy nonsensical sentences that auto-correct accidentally gives me and make a dark, joyous joke out of them.

Shaunie can write circles around me. Actually, he can write circles around ANYone.  My prose when I try to write the way he does comes out forced, as if I was acting like a writer. When Shaun writes it, it’s entertaining. When I write it that way, it reads like ‘Ulysses’ would have read if James Joyce had written it via text-messaging on his smart-phone.

Although, now I think of it, that might have been an interesting lit-class….

But I have to say, that if anyone could make auto-correct work FOR them, it would be Shaun Allan.

41AIUjinHwL._SL500_AA300_I find that just reading Facebook posts as posted from my Android smarter-than-me-phone would be entertaining if they weren’t so embarrassing. My comment on a friend’s post regarding vacations last year: “We went to DC but didn’t get to Vagina, as we didn’t rent a car and were on the Metro.”  I’m not sure why my phone felt the need to auto-correct Virginia in such an interesting manner, but hey–what ever works, right?

My comment received five likes from people I didn’t know before I took a look at it and saw what was actually posted.

The really strange thing is my brain didn’t process the fact that we were IN Virginia! We were staying in Arlington, but for some reason I thought we were in Maryland! Washington DC is built in such a way that when you go across town you can literally travel from Virginia to Maryland in ten minutes, something my rural west-coast brain couldn’t seem to get straight. My phone really WAS smarter than me!

I’m not sure how to fit that comment into a medieval alternate reality tale, but I’m working on it.

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Rain, rain, rain

51jPbExehrL._SL500_AA300_Once again, spring has decided to funnel water on the Northwest.  Two weekends ago it was lovely- mid seventies weather, with the feeling in the air that winter had indeed ended and better days loomed on the horizon. I had all the cushions out on the back porch and was, briefly, in heaven.

Now, the doom and gloom of the standard Northwest spring has returned, and I find myself suffering from the blahs.  I can’t think straight, much less write a coherent sentence.  On the positive side, my 2nd oldest granddaughter, Courtney, will be staying with us for a few days, so I will have someone to share the misery with.

The locals joke that if you see someone with an umbrella, they’re from out of town. This is not true, as I have a large collection of umbrellas, many of them unbroken and still useful!  Even the cutest umbrellas frequently end up in street-corner trash-bins, ending their days as the tattered and broken relics of impulse purchases.

The winds here in my little valley are known to be death to umbrellas, even expensive ones.

I do confess that I can be seen at large events in the summer with an umbrella keeping the SUN off my lily-white skin! 81UuqzVF-1L._SL1500_

Despite the carnage, I feel compelled to keep buying umbrellas, feeling somehow as if the next umbrella will be the one–the true umbrella for all seasons, able to withstand 40 mph winds and sideways rain-bullets.  I just know that my desire to have some cheery vestige of spring in the form  of a floral print over my head will somehow work out and I will manage to remain both dry and stylish.

(snorfle)

The weather here is kryptonite to even a super-umbrella.

Unless….

Wait… is that…

Oh god.

It’s the one personal rain-shelter superhero that can take the hurricane force winds and merrily give Spring a thumbs-up. ( I’m sure that the one-finger gesture was meant to be a thumb…it’s pointing up anyway….)

31YA3A1XV3L._SX385_It’s  a Golf umbrella, that ubiquitous bastion of Pacific Northwest Fashion. Conversations between middle-aged sisters in Northwest restaurants tend to run like this:

“Is that my umbrella by your chair?”

“No,  its mine. Mine is the blue and white one.”

“MINE is the blue and white one. I’m sure I brought it in with me.”

“Well, this one is mine, see?  Here are my initials. I knew this would happen, so I used a sharpie. You didn’t come in here with an umbrella. Did you leave it in the shoe store?”

“No, I’m sure I had it when we went to Costco. That was after the shoe store. Are you sure that umbrella isn’t mine?”

“NO! It’s mine!”

“Next time I’m getting a red and white one, so I can spot it more easily.”  (Eyes restaurant full of red and white golf umbrellas.)

MH900399383

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Prompts, Me, and The Garmin Lady

MH900305798This week I will be on the road again. It is spring break for the schools there and so I will head north to Snohomish to stay with The Boy for a few days while my daughter, Leah, is working.

I love Snohomish. It’s full of little secondhand shops and antique stores. And just like in Olympia,  the vegan can eat really well in that town.

Also, it is paradise for those of us who LOVE small, independently owned bookstores.

Apparently there is a lot of road construction between my house and my destination.  But don’t worry!  I have our trusty GPS device, complete with The Garmin Lady to guide me around the back-ups and traffic jams.

arrowYes, The Garmin Lady is better than your mother-in-law at giving orders and (unlike me) she always points the correct direction when she says “Turn Left .”

(Oops! I meant the OTHER left, dear. Sorry.)

Gosh, I’m helpful.

My dear friends Carlie Cullen and Donna L. Sadd are doing another month of blogging to writing prompts and today’s prompt was the arrow you see to right.  I’m not good at writing to prompts, but that arrow perfectly defines my poor hubby’s sense of direction, although he would deny it if asked! Therefore, in the interest of not publicly mocking my spouse I will not be blogging on it.

But I did get him the Garmin originally so that he would listen to directions from someone, anyone.

Unfortunately, you need to update the maps regularly and while my hubby makes his living as an IT man, he’s not really into it at home, so little things like that tend to languish unless they update automatically.

One of the first things we found out was that if you have the Garmin set on “Pedestrian” mode, it will tell you how far an how fast you have walked. This has been really helpful for my hubby who regularly takes long walks on his lunch break. It’s amazing how far he can walk in an hour.

HOWEVER, there is a down side to this. IF you forget to switch it back to driving mode, and you decide to make a random trip down Interstate 5  from Olympia, Washington to, oh, let’s say McMinnville, Oregon, you may have a random encounter with The Garmin Lady that goes like this:

220px-Garmin_255W_GPS_deviceGarmin Lady: “Exit Freeway at next exit.”

Me and Greg: “What? No way, we aren’t even in Chehalis yet!”

Garmin Lady “Recalculating. Take Next Exit, to the right.”

Me and Greg: “There’s something wrong with this thing. We’re passing Longview. We’re nowhere near McMinnville yet. We’re still in Washington, so what she wants us to do, I can’t imagine.”

Garmin Lady “Recalculating. Make U-Turn at next police turnout and then exit freeway, to the right.”

Us: “What?!? That’s just plain crazy, not to mention illegal! Turn that damned thing off!  It’s broken!”

SO, if I am going to rely on this miracle of modern technology to guide me around any traffic jams, this three-hour road trip could really be an adventure. I could end up in Mukilteo, or Woodinville. Heck, I could end up back in Seattle if I really piss The Garmin Lady off!

300px-Seattleskyline1cropped

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No Rest for the Wicked, or Lettuce Give Thanks

Albert_Bierstadt_-_Rocky_Mountain_Landscape_-_Google_Art_Project (1)Saturday was a busy day.  It started out at 6:30 am with preparing two rather nice boys for human sacrifice on the altar of the Bull God. This was followed by a prophetic dream. At about 12:30 I  chatted with a rather witless Minotaur, until 2:30 p.m. when I had to put away my toys, shower, and  get myself properly dressed for dinner out with my old school mates.

I love writing fantasy.

I’ve been working on the ritual sacrifice scene for two days, and gradually it’s evolving into what I want it to be. The prophetic dream scene has also been on the work table for two days, and it too is evolving.  The end is nigh on this manuscript, and I am beginning to chafe at the bit, just wanting it to be finished so I can get going on two other tales that I have sitting on the back burner.

But it won’t be that easy.

No, there’s no rest for the wicked. I suppose attempting to  sacrifice perfectly nice characters on the altar of a dark God qualifies me as being wicked.

At least I hope so.

Irene Roth Luvaul and I have one more trip through Huw the Bard, and then he will be going to the Beta Readers. While he is being read, I will work on my two other projects for a bit, before I plunge back into prepping Huw for publication, and doing a rewrite of Mountains of the Moon.

In the meantime I’ve been writing as fast as I can, and trying to get the first draft of MOTM done, with an actual ending and everything.

Saturday night my old classmates and I dined at a nice local restaurant. It was my first big dinner event since becoming vegan and the meal I was offered was excellent and satisfying.  I had a nice green salad with balsamic vinaigrette, sautéed mixed vegetables, a baked potato with salsa and guacamole, followed by a strawberry sorbet.  It was a delicious meal, and I felt like I’d had a real dinner out.

The interesting thing about dining out, now that I’ve made the change to a vegan diet, is that there is a way that I can eat well without making a big ordeal out of it.  I have to be proactive and take responsibility for my meals by simply calling ahead and speaking to the chef about what items on their menu might be appropriate for a person who eats no dairy or meat.

This is really a life lesson for the indie author too–we must be proactive if we want something positive to happen with our career.  We must set aside time blog, and tweet, and make sure that when our author name is googled we are all over the first page that comes up. We must do this in as professional a manner as we are able, as the drunk-driving rap is probably not going to sell our books. We must establish regular habits of writing our books, writing blog posts, doing the social networking  that we despise, AND we have to learn how to be our own best advertisement. Why, yes, I do just happen to have a copy of my book in my trunk.  Yes, I do accept cash, checks, credit cards and jewelry. Who should I autograph this book to? Yes, I love shopping here at Safeway.

No rest for the wicked.

We can’t sit back and just hope for the best, or we might be stuck with a plate of french fries and a bowl of lettuce.

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Filed under Adventure, Books, Humor, Uncategorized, Vegan, writing