Still writing!

My apologies – I have not posted on here since my dismal failure at Not-No-Wri-Mo.
BUT
I was stuck at the car dealership on Wednesday, waiting for the diagnosis of a ‘funny squeak’ in my 6 month old car, so I used the five hours to stamp out 1200 words in the Fireballs’n’45’s storyline.

And came up with an idea for a t-shirt… line drawing of a fedora pulled low over a canine muzzle, with the caption “Pitt, Detective. When it’s time to see a dog about a man.”

Pseudo NaNoWriMo – looks like I’m Mister Ten Percent

Ten percent is great when you’re on commission.

Not so good when you’re shooting for 50,000 words and manage 5000 or so in 30 days.

Damn.

On the plus side, I doubled the number of words in my current Minim Opus (see what I did there?)

November 12 and it looks like keeping to the NaNoWriMo suggested word count has me beaten

As at ‘close of play’ last night (11/11) I had about 4500 words done, of an expected 22,000.

Whining aside, it is a fun game to play, and is encouraging me to just write, without bouncing backwards and forwards worrying about stuff, and without sweating the research (at least, not too much – curse you interwebs!).

I’m still trundling along, so lets see how far I get at the end of the month…

Happy writing!

Three projects on the go!

Finalising the (final?) edit of my contemporary crime fiction, No Working Title …

Two chapters of the grimnoires and gumshoes mashup done, with the story line pretty thoroughly mapped …

Three chapters of a science fiction tale done (no magical fireballs, but there is a leggy dame!).

And there I was thinking that I had not been doing any writing in the leadup to Christmas!

For those of you who are religious – a Merry Christmas to you. For those of you who are not, a safe and enjoyable weekend to you.

Just went to a book signing….

Not mine, but of a good friend – Kev Webb and his illustrator, Ant Puttee – together, they have put out Dream Raider. Follow the link on the left ( <— THAT side ) to get to their site and order a copy of the book – it is terrific.

It took place at That Book Place at Jimboomba, and from my couple of hours there I was very impressed with the proprietors and the ambience. Consider this a two-thumbs-up, guys!

Now, back to writing so I can do a book signing there someday as well!

Private Eyes, Leggy Dames, Fireballs and Jazz

In between scribbling notes on my current ‘main project’ I have been doing some world building based in the Fantasy Noir genre – think “The Maltese Falcon meets Gandalf”. Or the magnificent works of Jim Butcher.

And the tagline “Private eyes, leggy dames, fireballs and Jazz” seems to sum it up. Oh, and con men, crooked politicians and tommy guns.

 

The Talking Sword – hiatus

I have smashed against a brick wall in my development of the talking sword stories. That wall is an inability to avoid preaching morality when I come to the culminating scene of the current storyline; as a result I have put it to one side to pull out and ponder. The story is still there in the back of my head, but (as they say on Writing Excuses) the voices are just not yammering to have their story told.

The Talking Sword – Sword of Justice, post 14

As winter drew to a close a plan began to take shape in Lucca’s head. Firstly, she reasoned, she had to get close to
Auric to seek her revenge. But to do so, she would have to adopt a disguise – no Celt would be granted an audience. But if she disguised herself as a Roman woman she would not be able to carry the sword. It was too bulky to disguise, and worse, if she was captured with it her life would be forfeit, it being an
ancient rule in Roman lands that women were not to bear a soldiers arms.

This left the option of disguising herself as a Roman man, or more precisely youth. Lucca was tall for a Roman born woman, making her about average height for a Roman teenage male. She was about the right age for a foot messenger, one of those in the employ of wealthy merchants whose task was to run from place to place with packets of documents.

While technically they too were not supposed to carry weapons as large as swords, everyone knew the borders were dangerous places and the sight of a
messenger openly bearing a sword was not unusual. Of course, there was also the possibility that the sword could be disguised, but that could come later in the
planning.

The other advantage was the loose tunic that messengers wore. Lucca was quite distinctly a young woman, and to make her disguise work she would have to bind her breasts with cloth strips. Even so, she would need the extra concealment of her figure that the tunic would provide.

The Talking Sword – Sword of Justice, post 13

“Ah now I understand, that was the famous Soldiers Stamp. Probably more effective if you were wearing thick soled army boots, I might suggest.”

“You might just have a point there.” Lucca gingerly put her foot back down.

“Was that supposed to be some kind of silly joke?” asked the sword sharply.

“A joke? What are you talking about?”

“I’m a sword. Of course I have a point. It largely defines what I am. Without a point I would merely be a fire poker.”

Lucca retrieved the piece of cloth from the ground and wrapped the sword again, taking care to leave the hilt bare. Then without speaking she limped back to her bed in the unmarried women’s long house, where she slept a troubled sleep filled with dreams of revenge and blood.

“Sword?” Dawn’s voice was quiet.

“Yes?”

“For some reason, I think I’ve heard the name Lucca before.”

“Oh? It is hardly common; in fact it was not common even in Roman times.”

“It is strange. It is like I know the name from a dream or something, or I heard it a long time ago.”

The Talking Sword – Sword of Justice, post 12

“Battle practise, commence!” The sword spoke
sharply, it was an order not a suggestion.

With that, Lucca felt herself dragged through slashes
and stabs and recovers, her left hand moving an imaginary shield about.

“Alright, I believe you, I believe you!” gasped
Lucca after a minute of furious swordplay with an imaginary opponent. “I
recognise those moves; they are Roman soldier sword practise!”

“Oh? Where have you seen them before?”

“When I was little, before Auric murdered my father,
the guards at the house used to teach me. They thought it was funny, watching a
little girl waving a kitchen knife around because she couldn’t lift a sword.”

“There is nothing funny about swordplay.”

“I don’t laugh about it anymore, not now that I have
been in battle. You did miss something that they showed me.”

“And what would that be?”

Lucca shoved the sword forward at belly height,
twisted it, then took a pace forward and stamped her feet savagely. She let out
a small cry and lurched sideways, hopping on one foot.

“I must say I cannot imagine how hopping on one leg
would be a fearsome fighting skill.” The sword said. If it had been a person,
their top lip would have been curled in a sneer.

“Ow! I stamped on a rock in the dark; I think I
broke my foot!”