In My Write Mind

Character Blogfest - Part 3

2012-02-10T08:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Part 2 of the Character Blogfest, hosted by Cassie Mae. Click the link to return to the participants and list of postings required to play along.

Before I begin, I'm going to plug my blogfest again, happening on February 13th. I'd for you all to stop by and join! Visit here: Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest.

In this part, we were to write a 250 word flash fiction piece that shows emotion. And I have just the scene. Again, here's Valence and his love interest, Melana.

* * *

Melana fell silent for a moment, just the sound of her steady breaths like a haunted wind brushing my ears. She looked at her feet again, but I curled my index finger under her chin. When her emerald eyes met mine, I took her lips to my own. I hadn't kissed her this way since the night we slept together. A kiss here and there, holding hands and sharing stories. Never this way, and certainly not in the close presence of Alanur. This was my way of saying I didn't give a damn if he approved any more. I pressed myself on her, holding her against the wall. She fought for breaths during our lip lock, and I the same, but it felt too good to separate for even a second. When I found myself truly needing air, I peeled my lips away and touched my forehead to hers. She stared at me--through me--and put her hand on my chest. Her fingers twitched to my irregular, heavy heartbeat.

She tasted the flavor of my lips after our kiss and said, "Only if something like that could win your war."

I started to laugh, but held it back when the idea bloomed. It flourished so swiftly, like watching a flower bloom in fast forward. All the water and sunlight and air that it needed to survive for a season in seconds. She must have caught on when I stared above her, blankly at the wall, instead of at her.

Character Blogfest - Part 2

2012-02-08T08:30:00.000-05:00

My two are Valence, and a strange character/creature called only by Alpha, who is responsible for the death of Valence's father. Let's begin.

* * *

V: "Give me a reason to trust you. Besides the obvious. I need to keep you alive so another tether isn't destroyed, but what is your motive?"

A: "I was controlled. I can feel it. My masters, the ones who can be inside my head, they made me do this. I know I hurt you and thousands others. I wish to repent."

V: Laughs. "Repent. A bold word for such irreparable damage."

A: "If I promise to take you to them, the ones in my head, will you consider it?"

V: "You are not of this multiverse. I have no way to analyze your intentions based on what I've learned in my magus studies. But, I want revenge. You can give it to me?"

A: "Yes, sir."

V: "Sir? Now that's something I didn't expect."

A: "I am in your service from this moment. In my culture, as I assume true in others, it is a matter of respect for the servant to revere the one he serves."

V: "Sure, we'll go with that. But, what exactly can you do for me? How are you going to lead me to those in your head?"

A: "I am called a biological polymorphic organism. Within me exists something that will not be discovered in your multiverse: the ability to shape myself to those I have bested in combat or otherwise."

V: "Otherwise? You mean murder. So, you can change your shape to those you've killed."

A: "Yes, sir."

V: And this talent. You're going to kill so I can get answers."

A: "Yes, sir."

V: "Just perfect."

Character Blogfest - Part 1

2012-02-06T08:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Part 1 of the Character Blogfest, hosted by Cassie Mae. Click the link to return to the participants and list of postings required to play along.

Before I begin, I'm going to plug my blogfest again, happening on February 13th. I'd for you all to stop by and join! Visit here: Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest.

In Part 1, we're asked to sit a character on the couch and ask the following questions:

1) What is your biggest vulnerability? Do others know this or is it asecret?

2) What do people believe about you that is false?

3)What would your best friend say is your fatal flaw and why?

4) What would the same friend say is your one redeeming quality and why?

5) What do you want most? What will you do to get it?

Now, I introduce to you my protagonist, Valence, from Bond of Darkness. Enjoy!

* * *

1) As a mage of the Affinity, my greatest vulnerability has always been my loyalty. Blind for a while, this all changed when my father was murdered. He was the greatest Bonder who has ever served the Affinity and even to his fellow Bonders, my father’s murder stumps them.

2) People believe that I am like my brother, and he like me. The fact is that I never knew him, nor did he care to become close to me. We are seven years apart, and in the Affinity, that is enough to strain a relationship even among family.

3) My best friend is in fact a Hume, Patricio. I don't think Pat thinks in terms of flaws, as he always compliments me. After all, to him, having a friend in the Affinity is a gift.

4) Of course, Pat would say that I'm unlike the other mages. High-strung, buried in their studies. I have an eye on others.

5) Revenge. My father's murder changed my whole life, primarily the way I perceive things. I look at people differently, I listen more acutely. I suspect everyone.

* * *

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Snowfest Blogfest

2012-02-02T08:22:00.000-05:00

Today is Roh Morgan's Snowfest Blogfest.

Return HERE for the list of participants.

The object of the blogfest was to create a scene in the snow. My entry comes in at 745 words and is taken from my fantasy manuscript, Bond of Darkness.

Before I post, I again will shamelessly plug my blogfest, occurring on February 13th, right here at In My Write Mind. Click HERE to visit the sign up sheet.

Now, for my entry:

“To Aldholt!” Alpha roared, his voice the likeness of Lemmick Soluth. “Across the stars and space, to the eternal winter’s birth place.”

We stepped back and the tether wrapped around us. I watched our bodies disintegrate into the cosmic energy of the tether and then there was blackness. My senses tumbled all over the place. Those Mavians were dead now, for the magic expelled by traveling through a tether was lethal to those around it. I felt time spin around me, the threads of space we sped along like an endless spiral.

There were no stars, no planes or suns I could see. When we landed, Aldholt’s wintery gusts was a strong slap in the face that I felt all the way in my bones. The five of us were knee deep in white powder, hills of snow spraying clouds around and over us. I looked around, feeling suddenly alone. I knew what kind of people lived here and for once, I felt truly frightened and hopeless. I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders, but it did little to protect me. I waded up the first hill, my feet dragging as if I was fighting a current in a powerful river. When I made it to the top, my hand crested on my brow, I looked upon the gleaming silver and gold city of the Mavians. Even from here, from the farthest I could see on both my left and right appeared treacherous. Ugly, twisted spires vanished into the blustery snow drifts, each aglow with hazy oranges and yellows. That’s all I saw. The ramparts, gargantuan beveled walls with curved blades sticking up from them, were iced over and gleaming in the light.

I glanced up and witnessed the alien nature of this plane. It had never been determined just how far the other planes were from Elyserian, but one thing was certain: on Elyserian, we did not have two suns. Here, one was tucked in the distance far behind the city, and the other was at our backs.

Melana came next to me with the others. She grabbed my arm, saying, “That place looks awful.”

“And we have to go into its heart,” I said.

No sooner had I spoken, sharp sounds like trumpet horns cut through the air. They came from the city. Except they were not trumpets. They were sirens. I looked back at my friends, wondering if they ever suspected this would happen.

“He knows we’re here,” I said. “We have to move.”

We ran as fast as we could through the snow, trying to get away from the city. Despite our best efforts, it was too dense and cold for us to flee. I glanced back at Alpha as we trudged through the powder.

“Lose the shape,” I ordered. Alpha assumed his own form again and I instantly felt the magic leave him. I dampened my own channel with a weave I had learned in my studies, hoping it would throw Irien off our track.

I took us an easy left over a steep hill, not knowing where it led nor knowing how steep actually was. I made it three steps down before losing my feet and tumbling head over heels to the bottom. The others had no better progress, but managed to fall down more gracefully than me. With a face dusted white and my eyes filled with snow, I tried pulling my cloak more tightly. Snow filled my hood and around my neck where it clasped, making it no more comfortable. The longer the sirens blared, the quicker my hope diminished of us hiding our tracks. Just then, they cut off. The ringing still hung in the air for a moment, but was soon taken over by the howling gusts. I didn’t know what happened. Did we truly escape? With all the technology the Mavians had at their hands, I was sure they would have been able to find us, even being this far out from the city.

“Val—” Melana said, my name stuttering off. I turned to her. She had fallen in the snow, curled up. Alanur was behind her, doubling her warmth by wrapping his fur cloak over her shoulders. I’d have done the same, but Alanur wore no sleeves. I helped her stand and brought her close, looking at Alanur over her shoulder. His eyes were hard on mine, slightly narrowed as if asking me what we were to do next.

Call for Blogfest-ers

2012-01-17T10:23:00.003-05:00

Attention all Blogfest-ers! It's time to come out of hibernation!

I'm looking for more participants for my blogfest, being held on February 13th. Right here!

Please follow THIS LINK to return to the sign up page for the fest. Tell everyone you know (or don't know). I'm looking for at least 15 players.

So, does your hook have what it takes? Sign up and find out on February 13th.

Prize includes a $15 Amazon gift card. Yes, that's a bribe.

Review: Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

2012-01-10T10:13:00.000-05:00

Find the link to the Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest here. We still need participants.

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Book Two in The Hunger Games trilogy
Published September 1, 2009
ISBN-10: 0439023491
ISBN-13: 978-0439023498

Review: 5/5

Cross reviewed on Goodreads.

SPOILER ALERT: All spoilers have been blocked out.

The Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games, named the Quarter Quell, have begun. The "Girl On Fire" returns. The new arena and its traps are far more deadly. Will Katniss make it out alive?

That has been my question since I finished The Hunger Games. What is in store for her? She played the Capitol for fools and now, she is reaping all of the consequences slowly. Painfully. But none more so when she learns the secret of the Quarter Quell: the victors will return to the arena. Because she defied the Capitol in such a manner, Katniss and Peeta both return to the arena with victors from past Games. Their ages vary, their states of mind and well-being questionable at best, but it makes them no less deadly.

When it all begins, I had it set in my mind that Catching Fire would close with some major event in the arena. After all, they don't enter the arena until 150 pages before the end of the book. It was logical. Right? Nope. I was SO WRONG.

Right now, if you're itching to highlight the spoiler and you haven't read the series, I urge you to NOT. Give yourself the pleasure of reading it on your own. For those of you have read the series, please, enjoy my reaction:

HOLY SHIT! OH MY GOD. SUZANNE COLLINS, I REVERE YOU!

The remaining victors, whose alliances still hold, are sprung from the arena in a final attempt to overthrow the Capitol. It has been the plan all along. When Katniss wakes, she learns the horrible truth. Panem is in various states of revolution and the worse of it all: District 12 is no more. It has been bombed; wiped out of existence. Just like the mysterious District 13. What will happen next?

I can't even begin to guess. As you can tell, I'm eager to start Mockingjay.

That is all.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest: Sign Up Link

2012-01-05T08:54:00.001-05:00

Here contains the sign up link for my 2nd "Annual" Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest.

The date of the blogfest HAS CHANGED. I completely forgot that I was assisting the Authoress, who hosts the Baker's Dozen Agent series.

The prize of the blogfest will be a $15 Amazon gift card. I'd like to think everyone has switched over to a Kindle (because it's what all the cool kids are doing...), but the gift card should sate any reader's addiction.

You can receive up to 3 points for the blogfest. Here's how:

1 point -- Sign up and participate. Please make sure the link to your blog is accurate. We don't like broken links that send us in to the Blogger Beyond.

1 point -- Share the blogfest badge and/or post about the blogfest. Please place all links to posts and tweets in a comment at the bottom of this page.

1 point -- Follow my blog. I trust you, so this is a given point. Aren't I sweet?

All points will be randomized into a number generator at the close of the blogfest.

To refresh from the previous post, here is the criteria to submit:

Date: February 13, 2012

Where: In My Write Mind blog, and your own

Objective: Post your 500-1000 word hook and critique other hooks posted by participants

Suggestive topics to consider when critiquing:

Does the character have a personality I can fall into easily? This includes any dialogue exchanged.
Is the world around them set up to compliment the character as they're introduced?
Are there secondary characters to assist with the hook?
Lastly, would I read more?

Finally, your sign up link. I hope to see many of you here on February 13, 2012!

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Announcing: 2nd "Annual" Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest

2012-01-03T08:52:00.000-05:00

This isn't really an annual blogfest, thus the quotations around it. I completely forgot to host it in 2011. I'm getting back on board for 2012, and this will be the first big event for the blog.

The goal of the first Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest was to post your first 500-1000 words of your manuscript in progress. It could be draft one, having just come off the press, or be well under peer or personal revisions. Whatever the status, we want to see it.

The suggested guidelines we used to judge entries last time was the following:

Does the character have a personality I can fall into easily? This includes any dialogue exchanged.
Is the world around them set up to compliment the character as they're introduced?
Are there secondary characters to assist with the hook?
Lastly, would I read more?

So, all that said, here are the details of the blogfest:

Date: February 10, 2012
Where: In My Write Mind blog, and your own
Objective: Post your 500-1000 word hook and critique other hooks posted by participants

A point system will be developed, like most blogfests use for advertising the event, and a prize will be announced closer to the date. So, I know I haven't been around lately, but if you still follow In My Write Mind in your reader and still love blogfests, join us for the 2nd "Annual" Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Now Reading: Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

2012-01-02T09:04:00.000-05:00

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Book Two in The Hunger Games trilogy
Published September 1, 2009
ISBN-10: 0439023491
ISBN-13: 978-0439023498

SPOILER ALERT: For those who haven't read The Hunger Games, I've blocked out bits here that would give big things away.

So, I haven't just started reading Catching Fire, but rather just got to posting it on the blog. I'm just getting into part 2, titled The Quell, which means we're getting into the Games again. What I'm absolutely loving about Catching Fire thus far is it is all about the repercussions Katniss is facing since she won the seventy-fifth Hunger Games.

I knew it would never just be that. Not in Panem. Here I find out that because of her little trick in the finale of the Games, which led her and Peeta to both win for District 12, all the districts are in an uproar. It's never been done. Never been thought possible. Now, there's rebellion and hope. President Snow won't let that happen, however.

Because of Katniss's display in the arena, I'm guessing she'll be the tribute pulled for the Quarter Quell Games, which is a series of the Hunger Games that only occurs every twenty-five years. Because it only occurs during these times, the stakes are raised and the dangers are increased. Will the "Girl on Fire" survive a more deadly version of the Hunger Games? I'm eager to find out.

Review of Catching Fire to follow.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare

2011-12-29T08:50:00.001-05:00

Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare
Book Two of The Infernal Devices
Published December 6, 2011
ISBN-10: 1416975888
ISBN-13: 978-1416975885

Review: 5/5

Cross reviewed on Goodreads

SPOILER FREE: Spoilers have been blocked out.

Clockwork Prince is the second volume in The Infernal Devices series by Cassandra Clare, a prelude series to her sensational Mortal Instruments series. What I need to say right now is that beyond any other talent that Clare has as a writer -- her story is amazing, the worlds she creates are dark and gritty (especially this version of Victorian London) -- her true talent is in her characters. One hundred percent, hands down: Cassandra Clare knows how to create characters unlike any one else.

Unlike Clockwork Angel (CA), where we were first being introduced into the Victorian London era of Shadowhunters, Downworlders and demons, Clockwork Prince (CP) is more dedicated to building character relationships as they fall into place around the plot. CA was just like City of Bones. We needed to learn about everything first; namely, what exactly was possible and impossible in this world. While the plot in CP is more moving along at a sluggish pace at times, it's only because Clare is making us see what happens to the characters and how they react when, well, they are running dry on leads on how to find Mortmain, or The Magister.

Then the truth is revealed. We learn that Jessamine, a prim and well-educated Shadowhunter who doesn't do much hunting at all, is a spy not only for Mortmain, but her lover, Nate Gray, Tessa's brother who we meet in CA. That then breaks open the damn that there are things happening around them that they haven't thought possible. Combine all this with love interests between Jem and Tessa and Tessa and Will, and then the Institute under attack by the Clave, the plot thickens and you're sucked back in when it just seemed to be dragging.

The monstrous event that gave me my, "OH MY GOD," moment was in the second to the last chapter. I won't even list it here because it is that sweet and that tender of a plot element, it's best left to read it yourself. It alone changes the course of the characters relationships and who may or may not be friends any more. You never know what will happen in Clare's world.

All in all, Clockwork Prince started slow (for me), but picked up quickly. We see more of this automaton army from Clockwork Angel and a few other strange mechanical creations that are unlike the others. It's just wonderful. I eagerly await Clockwork Princess, but more soon, in the newly expanded Mortal Instruments series, City of Lost Souls.

Peace and Writing Love

JWP

Now Reading: Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare

2011-12-08T17:48:00.001-05:00

Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare
Book Two of The Infernal Devices
Published December 6, 2011
ISBN-10: 1416975888
ISBN-13: 978-1416975885

In the magical underworld of Victorian London, Tessa Gray has at last found safety with the Shadowhunters. But that safety proves fleeting when rogue forces in the Clave plot to see her protector, Charlotte, replaced as head of the Institute. If Charlotte loses her position, Tessa will be out on the street and easy prey for the mysterious Magister, who wants to use Tessa's powers for his own dark ends.

With the help of the handsome, self-destructive Will and the fiercely devoted Jem, Tessa discovers that the Magister's war on the Shadowhunters is deeply personal. He blames them for a long-ago tragedy that shattered his life. To unravel the secrets of the past, the trio journeys from mist-shrouded Yorkshire to a manor house that holds untold horrors, from the slums of London to an enchanted ballroom where Tessa discovers that the truth of her parentage is more sinister than she had imagined. When they encounter a clockwork demon bearing a warning for Will, they realize that the Magister himself knows their every move and that one of their own has betrayed them.

Tessa finds her heart drawn more and more to Jem, though her longing for Will, despite his dark moods, continues to unsettle her. But something is changing in Will; the wall he has built around himself is crumbling. Could finding the Magister free Will from his secrets and give Tessa the answers about who she is and what she was born to do?

As their dangerous search for the Magister and the truth leads the friends into peril, Tessa learns that when love and lies are mixed, they can corrupt even the purest heart.

We continue the saga of The Infernal Devices (TID), a series that takes place hundreds of years before The Mortal Instruments (TMI). We meet various characters that are the ancestors of our favorite Shadowhunters in TMI, and we learn that in Victorian London, the Shadowhunters themselves were just starting to learn that they are not the most feared entity to Downworlders. Ever since the Magister raised his army of clockwork monsters, we've understood that the Shadowhunters' rule will be challenged. The back flap blurb makes me very excited to leap into Clockwork Prince so I can discover who the Magister is as related to the Shadowhunters and what exactly they did to force his hand against them.

I am excited to get back into the dark allies of Victorian London and experience how the Shadowhunters will react to this threat. Clare's writing never lets down. While the series is clearly Young Adult, it is so flawlessly written that you might think at times, it borders Adult. Her dark descriptions, her attention to detail. Oh yes, I'm ready.

Review of Clockwork Prince to follow.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

2011-12-07T23:06:00.001-05:00

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Book One of the Hunger Games Trilogy
Published December 14, 2009
ISBN-10: 0439023483
ISBN-13: 978-0439023481

Review: 5/5

Cross reviewed on Goodreads

SPOILER ALERT: Spoilers have not been blocked out.

I ran right to my Mac to write this review after finishing The Hunger Games. Holy WOW factor! I am stunned at how amazing a writer Collins is. While I knew what The Hunger Games was about, and what the actual Games were, I wasn't in any way prepared for some of the gruesome deaths she cooked up for the tributes. Death by tracker jackers? Rock to the skull? Mauled by mutts and then an arrow to the head? Each death, more visual than the last, kept me reading on and praying for Katniss's safety. And Peeta's, too. He was kind of just there and pops back in part three for good. He wasn't an outstanding character, but worked just enough to make me feel more for Katniss wanting to keep him around.

What really astounded me most about The Hunger Games was the Games itself. I'm curious as to the year this is all taking place, because I'm not certain if it's ever mentioned. I do know it's a far off dystopian and the country of Panem is a mock of the United States. Or perhaps it was the United States. I can't be sure. These people called the Gamemakers devise traps inside the arena for the tributes, eventually drawing them back together at points where they will either kill each other or claim a piece of survival gear. What I found truly remarkable is that the whole arena, while set in a forest, plains, rocky terrain with a whole lake there, is just that: an arena. I forgot until the very end that that the tributes rose out of the ground to start. I had become so invested in the landscape and how Katniss used everything to her advantage, I thought it was real. Another part that I found very interesting was the whole program of tributes gaining sponsors throughout the course of the Games. This damn blood feud, of people watching kids murder each other, is like our Olympic Games. The athletes have numerous sponsors that make things manageable for them, such as the best gear for their sport. Likewise, at the start of the games, if I remember correctly, each tribute was implanted with something that tracked their movements and recorded their actions, their reactions and their triumphs. This is what their sponsors would base donations on to see that their favorite tribute ends up the victor.

All in all, the whole structure of the Games was incredibly developed on Collins's part.

If there was anything at all I can complain about, it's the tiny things on Katniss's characterization. She asks too many questions. Debates too much over things. I wasn't much a fan of that. At one point, she asks five questions back to back, all relating to Peeta and the Career tributes, and whether he's alive or not. It could have been handled better and I'm hoping to see more growth in Katniss's first person narrative once I jump into Catching Fire.

Other than that, I end the review here. I am very excited now that I've read The Hunger Games, I can be doubly excited for the film release. I'm eagerly awaiting a second trailer.

And now I am faced with a terrible decision. Do I become sucked into Catching Fire RIGHT NOW, or do I give it an intermission so I might read Clockwork Prince. I'm hoping the latter wins over.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Now Reading: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

2011-11-29T20:53:00.001-05:00

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Book One of the Hunger Games Trilogy
Published December 14, 2009
ISBN-10: 0439023483
ISBN-13: 978-0439023481

I really can't believe it's taken me so long to read The Hunger Games trilogy. I remember being a Junior in college and hearing about the first novel's release and how well it was received. And that might actually be an understatement. I don't have much to say other than I'm stoked. One, to actually have it downloaded on my Kindle and ready to go, and two, to have seen the fantastic new full first trailer of the film. I can't comment yet like real fans of The Hunger Games, but I'm ready to be impressed by that film.

I would normally spiel a little bit about the book for those who haven't read it, but this time, it's the other way around. Everyone knows what it is about and I'm the one in the dark. After this comes Divergent, by Veronica Roth. I do have to say the cover is stunning. It's simple and gorgeous. I've gotten to the part early in the book where Katniss is describing the Mockingjay pin, and how it's a cross breed of two birds. I'm ready to indulge.

I did preview the book a while back, but never got to read it. Here's that day! I need a tiny break from my urban fantasy kick, anyway. I'm sure the review will be within the next month, perhaps sooner.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: Hammered by Kevin Hearne

2011-11-29T08:26:00.001-05:00

Hammered by Kevin Hearne
Book Three of the Iron Druid Chronicles
Published July 5, 2011
ISBN-10: 0345522486
ISBN-13: 978-0345522481

Review: 4/5

Cross reviewed on Goodreads.

So, what was thought to be the end of the Iron Druid Chronicles is being extended into another three books. I mentioned in my last review of Hexed, way back in July. Ahem...and I also started Hammered back in July when it first came out. Don't ask me why, but it's never taken me THIS LONG to read a book.

I digress. I was very apprehensive about even rating it a 4 because Hammer progresses more slowly for me than I saw in Hounded and Hexed. If there wasn't a mighty kick-ass battle in Asgard at the end of Hammered, it probably would have received a 3, perhaps a 3.5 because Atticus partakes in that battle naked...the whole time. Yeah, naked. The progression begins with him in Asgard, looking for something for a friend, a Golden Apple, just to get this friend to come along for the final throw down. Then there's this huge boring thing of recruiting allies who are strong enough to withstand the might of the Aesir, or the Asgardians. I wasn't too much a fan of it. However, hearing events of Thor's tyranny through these allies was interesting. The snag was before Atticus could plane shift all these allies back to Asgard, he had to know all about them. Not just who they were, their names, and what they could do. He needed to know their history with Thor, why they needed to get vengeance. It was both interesting and slow at the same time.

That's really it. Unfortunately, I expected a lot more out of Hammered. Some Asgardians do die, as do the allies, but there was something missing. I wanted Atticus to have a real beef with Thor. Not just him always seeing the thunder god as an arrogant prick, which seemed to be the case.

However, I am not losing faith in Kevin Hearne. He is a fantastic writer and I am all aboard for the next novel of the Iron Druid Chronicles, due out tentatively April 2012.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

NaNo 2011: Day 28: FOR THE WIN!

2011-11-28T11:01:00.001-05:00

FOR THE WIN!

After I minor heart attack this morning for not remembering where to find the "Verify Win" page was, I did claim my win for NaNoWriMo 2011. Hurrah! Can you hear the trumpets? Oh, maybe that's only on my side of the screen. The win is all the more sweet because this year's NaNo challenge was the rebirth of my first manuscript, whose plot I continued to just be "okay" with because it was always "the plot." After a brief strike of lightning to my creative noggin, a new plot was formulated and I took it full steam ahead for NaNoWriMo.

Here is the last of the excerpts.

* * *

Words written today: 1,230
Finishing word count: 50,406

Favorite lines:

It was eerie trying to find my way back to the chamber on my own. When we had Kyona to guide us, I hadn’t noticed that the tunnel under her house split off in directions other than the one she took. Things shuffling around me forced my legs to walk faster. Tiny pebbles being kicked around as if I were being followed made me put my hands of both walls. I eventually was running and found the chamber. After I put myself in the center, I spun around quickly, half expecting something to leap out at me from the tunnel. Nothing was there. I found the circle I stood on earlier and joined it again. The solitude was something entirely different. Kyona’s presence was invasive to my channel. I did not feel it earlier, but I was alone now, ready to make this work.

I spread my arms and reached out with my fingers, as if grabbing imaginary door handles. I wiggled each one, feeling the air. I didn’t give myself as much time as I would have liked to prepare, but jumping into it seemed right. I shut my eyes and opened my channel. In the absence of Elf spirits and a Chimra essence, my channel could wander the chamber. The gates spread wide and my magic flowed evenly from my body. I opened my eyes long enough to see a milky aura shifting silver around my body. Kyona compared a channel, spirit and essence in such a rudimentary way, I scowled, as if the structure of what stored our magic was just a part of our genetic makeup and nothing more.

I only recently learned what genetics means. The Mavians study broad spectrums of sciences that, until they arrived on Elyserian, the people were unaware existed. Every person and animal has a genetic signature, a trait normally found in the blood that is passed down from their ancestors. I suppose that’s what Kyona was getting at, but why didn’t she just say it?

With my channel filling the chamber, I tried to bring my mind away from everything it was touching. It was harder than I thought, because everything it came across, my brain wanted to process. Despite that challenge, I eventually found myself in a state of supreme thought. Miraculously, all else was gone from my mind. I knew what the Mavians looked like. Never saw one up close, but the documents back at our schools went in depth to their appearance. I pictured the height first. I stood at five feet, six inches. I gave myself another four heads, thinking that’d qualify for a Mavian. The difficult part would be arranging my body so my arms became longer, my body wider and my head in that strange bulbous form, like Alpha’s.

My channel wanted more attention, but I fought to keep it at bay. Once I had finally created the picture of a Mavian in my head, I gave myself a few seconds before drawing the magic back into me at full force. It’d have to be swift so it didn’t have time to settle. It needed to experience all of what I had just created so I could become it. A few seconds became more like thirty, but after that, I closed my channel like a swift kick at a door and the magic bombarded me. It rushed back and my legs trembled. I had never released so much just to try to wrangle it all back. Whenever we sent it somewhere, there was always a purpose; a destination. Not this time. My body quaked and my heart jumped started with feverish pumps. Despite my best efforts to remain standing, I fell to my knees and then to my arms. My back arched and my eyes couldn’t leave the ground.

My throat contracted and I toppled over onto my side, unable to breathe. I clawed at my neck, hoping it would do something, but I had no gain over being out of breath. I beat my chest and kicked my legs. Nothing helped. Here I was, alone in a cellar under the earth, being suffocated by my own magic. No one would know I was dead until morning.

NaNo 2011: Day 24 Wrap-up

2011-11-24T10:54:00.001-05:00

So after looking at my schedule for the next, I realized I will have almost no time to write if I fall behind again. Which I won't. I plan to be posting my "For The Win," post on Saturday. I'm posting early today because I work all day and there will be little writing when I get home tonight. So this word count reflects what has been done this morning. I may update the count late this evening.

SIX DAYS LEFT!

* * *

Words written today: 1,274
Finishing word count: 43,566

Favorite lines:

We started on our way, not yet knowing where to find the Chimra maiden, when we were called back.

“Be on your guard, mage,” Notch-eye said to me. “Been weird things happening here lately. Dark things.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You’d do well to take it to heart, sir.”

We turned into a stable and let our horses rest. In a shadowed corner of the barn, we pulled Alpha’s hood off so he might inform us where to go without him seeing.

“You know where she’s at?” I asked. “These guys are spooked by something in this town, I think.”

“Last I met her, she lived by a well.”

“There are a lot of wells in a town,” Alanur said.

“You’ll know it when you see it. Can’t be more help if this thing’s going to go back on.”

“Unfortunately not,” I said.

We gathered our saddlebags and left the food and pans behind if we should stop for the evening here. We took a back door out of the stables, finding ourselves ankle deep in piles of hay and horse manure.

“Perfect,” Melana said sourly. She was the first to leap through all the hay and spring over a wall outside the stable. “Well, come on. It reeks here.”

After pulling our boots off and wiping them clean, we kept to the alleys that seemed to lead us to the business district. Each passerby eyed us scrupulously, some even slinking behind us as if to get a better look. Alanur did well to throw the followers off our backs. He need only turn around and glare at them. A big man with a temper has a tendency to do that to smaller, sickly Humes who have nothing better to do. I kept the reins in my hand, guiding Alpha, while Alanur played the role as as our guard, with his sword drawn and at ready should our prisoner try to run.

“I’m seeing wells in the market,” I said to no one in particular. Melana joined me at my side. “Too many.”

“Opals,” Alpha said muffled. “It has opals.”

We pressed on through the market, keeping to the less populated areas. Those tended to be soothsayers seeking patients and herbalists who looked like they couldn’t tell the difference between grinrich leaves and weeds. Melana tugged me back and Alpha bumped into her.

“Sorry,” he said.

“There,” she said, and pointed down an alley. At the far end, it opened into some kind of small field, like a tiny farm nestled in the middle of the market. “That well looks different from the others.”

I extended my sight. The arch over the well was high and pointed, the stones cut perfectly. Little bits of the semitransparent rock were thrown into the crevices on the arch. The well had a large lip, like a seat for the one drawing water.

“That’s the one,” I said, pulling my senses back. “A well with opals.”

We moved in that direction, but were stopped suddenly by one of the herbalists. He must have been watching us. He ran ahead of me and grabbed me up by the shirt. I was pinned against the wall after that. His face was emaciated, his sharp cheekbones like little discs trying to push their way out of his skin. His eyes were gaping brown holes, lost entirely to the reality around him. I was so frightened for how quickly he moved, I completely ignored the stench of shit, leaves and dirt coating his hands.

“Saved you, saved you I have,” he said quickly. “Life is yours if you want it. Saved you I have.”

Alanur was there the next second and yanked the blundering herbalist off me. He kicked him to the ground and the herbalist crawled away.

“Shove off,” Alanur said, stepping towards the herbalist with a threatening gesture. He growled and the man slid back.

“Fine,” the herbalist said. He sat up straight and dusted his hands. “Die today. Saved you I tried. Live you won’t. Witch she is.” He pointed to the alley. I turned. Someone was there watching us under a heavy cloak. “Witch she is, day and night. Where evil stems, day and night. Die today. Saved you I tried. Live you won’t.”

NaNo 2011: Day 21 Wrap-up

2011-11-21T10:42:00.001-05:00

Nine days left. YIKES!

* * *

Words written today: 3,011
Finishing word count: 37,341

Favorite lines:

Melana retired early that evening, as did the brothers. Alanur and I remained at the table, swapping stories of our distanced pasts, his understandably more vivid than my own. He had war stories, tales of conquering enemies that were seas away. He had lived longer than most veterans, he told me. He found the secret to a long life after war. Alanur leaned in close to me, his breath singing of mead, and said it was to not put your ass where it might get bitten.

I had a good laugh at that. I didn’t have friends like this back home. Patricio was a handful as a Hume, his lack of personal skills and clinginess the reason I never tried finding a girl to date. He’d ruin it one way or another, and I wouldn’t have it be him trying to give me a pep talk of where to stick my member. Alanur was great. Fatherly, hard to read at times, but he had Melana’s interest at heart one hundred percent of the time. I learned he had pushed her study a broad variety of magic while he had no training himself. He preferred barbaric combat, not of that where you could strike an enemy from afar like a coward, as he put it. I took no offense.

I stayed away from the mead that night as I tried to collect my thoughts about Melana and what I had wanted to ask Alanur. He reclined back in his chair.

“Can I ask you something personal?” I said.

He sat erect again and set his hands flat on the table. “Anything.” There was no slur of speech there, as if all the mead had suddenly drained from his body. I didn’t want to know where.

I thought putting it bluntly might be the proper way in Alanur’s company. “Are you and Melana a couple?”

He rubbed his finger under his nose as if stroked an imaginary mustache and grinned. “Do we send that signal?”

“I don’t know,” I said, instantly trying to change the subject. He seemed too well appropriated to the question.

“The answer is no,” he said. “I’ve been around her for a long time. Her body is eighteen. She is older.” He paused and rubbed his finger on the table. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Part of me wanted to run from the cottage. All the sudden, the racks of weapons seemed they could have been aimed at me.

“Before you run away scared, thinking I might not approve, let me give you some advice. You’ve been with a woman, right?”

Do I say yes just to get the conversation rolling? It didn’t matter now. For however long I took to answer that, and it couldn’t have been any longer than five seconds, Alanur suspected the answer.

“Ah,” he said.

“Ah, what?” I asked.

“It’s fine, really. You’re young. Doesn’t matter.”

“You make it sound like it does.”

“Think nothing of it. Anyway, Melana doesn’t put her feelings out in the open like a normal woman you may or may not have bed.”

He put it so fine. I should have told him how she kissed me when we were alone in her chambers.

“It’s not my business to know if she’s been with anyone, either,” he added. “The last thing I want this to become is a father-son talk, for obvious reasons. Just know that she’s like an egg. You have to crack that layer to get to know her. As thin as it might be, she protects her emotions well. As you saw, she was ready to do something desperate when she confronted the polymorph. I have never seen her react so quickly.”

“I don’t want to have to force it out of her,” I said. “Are my feelings for her that far in the open?”

“It’s only the way you look at her. Believe me, when the time comes, I won’t intrude. She deserves a chance to be with someone who can respect her. I think you’ve got a shot.”

I wanted to jump out of the chair and hoot and holler. That would have been all sorts of inappropriate. Instead, I laughed inwardly and looked at the table just to play it safe. Alanur was still her guardian. Silence came between us, my thoughts stirring in all different directions. For a brief second, I imagined her naked and grinned.

Alanur cleared his throat and I instantly looked up.

“You know I’ll have to kill you if you hurt her, though,” he added.

“You are just her guardian, right?”

“Guardian. Mentor. Second father. Whatever you want to call it. I’ll always be around to protect her, but it’ll be nice to have someone else to help me out.”

NaNo 2011: Day 15 Wrap-up

2011-11-15T22:30:00.001-05:00

Well, it seems that while the NaNoWriMo website underwent some fixes today, my graph would not update which means it will not show my finishing word count written today. And that just sucks. Anyway, I haven't made a NaNo post in a while. Here it goes.

* * *

Words written today (but not recorded by the website @.@): 1,943

Finishing word count: 28,744

Favorite lines:

That was it. This thing, whatever it was, hinted it was one who killed my father. Lemmick lunged at us, the hand he had behind his back revealed holding the hilt of a sword, minus the blade. Before my mind could process it, an opaque yellow stone replacing the hand guard shimmered so fiercely, it made me turn away. I was pulled away, then looking over my shoulder to see it was Alanur’s doing. Lemmick had slashed downward, the blade that hadn’t been there a second earlier present and very real.

Hadrion and Hallund reacted and took Lemmick by both his arms and tossed him across the chamber with their combined strength. His back arched over a table and he fell head over heels. He did not stay down for long. Lemmick rose and in one go was in a sprint around the tether. The brothers were there again, in front of Melana and I, as was Alanur. The stone shimmered. I feared what it would mean this time around. The brothers each took a swing, but Lemmick dipped under both arms. My brain leapt ahead, seeing the sword cut them both down. Lemmick brought the sword at their head level, but the brothers were already out of its decapitating path.

I pushed Melana back instinctively when Alanur shoved me away. The guardian pushed off the ground, arms spread and he tackled Lemmick to the floor. Alanur rose to his feet, Lemmick thrashing but not deterring him, and threw the impostor through a gaping hole in the chamber wall. It was a perfect toss with precise strength to calculate the distance across the chamber. I didn’t know where it went, nor did I have the time to think about it. Lemmick crawled back through the hole, absent his sword, but his fierce smile was screaming, “I don’t need it,” in my head. He tossed off his cloak and spread his arms with a squared stance beneath him.

My channel went ablaze, reacting to everything his channel was putting out. It was too much and my eyes started watering. I backed up again, unable to focus on Lemmick. Everything in the chamber started spinning. Melana held me up straight long enough to see Lemmick cast an enormous missile that spiraled out of his hands with tails like comets. She pulled me out of its path. Alanur and the brothers were not as fortunate. They were taken off their feet, each of them as light as rag dolls in the force of the missile, and landed in motionless piles on the ground. I worked myself up to my elbows, staring at the three. I pushed out with my channel, begging they were alive.

NaNo 2011: Day 7 Wrap-up

2011-11-07T22:35:00.000-05:00

I wouldn't usually make a NaNo post two days in a row, but I knocked my words out of the ballpark today. So, I just had to gloat. With another day off tomorrow and a Starbucks gift card at my disposal, I may go into another writing comatose.

* * *

Words written today: 4,009
Finishing word count: 15,110

Favorite lines:

Lucel made a sound hinting that he understood how my conversation went based on my silence. He didn’t make an attempt to talk to me about Irien, but took me by the shoulder. We waited under the breezeway that would take us into the coliseum and before the Affinity Council. For a half hour, we just waited, each in silence. Lucel didn’t leave my side. He must have sensed everything I was feeling, but he kept it all contained, trying not to instruct me what to say, but rather letting speak from the heart.

“You knew my father well, right, Lucel?”

“He was one of my best friends in school. He helped me with a great deal of my work when I began falling behind.”

I chuckled. “I would have never seen you as the type of student who fell behind.”

“When my mother passed away, all the motivation I had to do better went with her. My father wanted nothing to do with mages, the arts or the Affinity. He would not support his own son. Despite all rumors, mages can be born to non-mage parents. I’m one such mage.”

“You helped make me who I am,” I said.

“And your father helped make me who I am. You are much like him in your young age. Your brother,” Lucel said with a sigh, seeming to suddenly travel back in time, “less so.”

NaNo 2011: Day 6 Wrap-up

2011-11-06T08:25:00.002-05:00

The words posted here were written yesterday, but I finished at such a late hour, I had no energy to post it to the blog. Seeing as today I won't be able to write until I get home at 6pm, these words will suffice. Also, I had to choose two sections of lines, as I was really unable to judge myself which I liked more.

* * *

Finishing word count: 10,057

Chapter 3 favorite lines:

I began crying, the facade of the strong, young man I always wore overtaken by an afraid, lonely child.

“I’m so sorry, Mother,” I said as she kneeled next to me. I buried my face in her shoulder, unable to contain anything.

Even though we thought it all to be over, with Kolin the Ironback’s family and friends around him in mourning, the ground shook more. Looking out into a fiery sky, we watched the Erishore tower sink into the chasm that had opened around it. Layer upon layer dropped, the middle of the structure then falling off the foundation. There was nothing to hold our sight after that, but still we looked and waited, each of us the shade of blood under a red dawn.

Chapter 4 favorite lines:

I stood in the field again, still unplowed. My hands were stuffed in my pockets. I was tempted to sit down in the chair, but I didn’t want to appear too nonchalant, even to mother. I left her alone, but I dared not leave home unless she asked me. My mind kept returning to the sight of my father’s body. His once strong arms had been sliced up the soft side, practically deveining him. His chest had been caved in, as if beaten with a mallet, and then slashed up for good measure. Both eyes had been blackened, his lips swollen and the bridge of his nose shattered. Whatever did that to him took its time, and took care in the process. I would reap all that and worse to the thing responsible, be it a person or creature. Part of me hoped it was a person. I never thought of myself as the violent type, but I’d gut the bastard and throw his innards to the crows.

I shook my head, trying to make myself less heated. My mother taught me better. My professors showed me how to be fierce, but upstanding. I didn’t know if I’d be able to balance that anymore.

NaNo 2011: Day 3 Wrap-up

2011-11-03T19:55:00.002-04:00

Before I proceed with NaNo news, there is an announcement which must be forwarded.

My awesome critique partner, friend and writing mentor, Stephanie Loree, has finally been put in print. Her debut short story, THE SKIN SCRIPT, is now appearing in An Honest Lie Vol. 3: Justifiable Hypocrisy, by Open Heart Publishing.

I've only read the first draft before it became the published version, but I was sold. Her characters are rich and the depths you experience from them demands that the story not end. I do plan on reading it again for myself, and I urge all my blogging friends to support Steph on her debut piece. You can visit the link to Open Heart for an excerpt of The Skin Script.

Now, onto NaNo news!

Because I worked a 10.5 hour day yesterday, I did no writing, despite all my attempts and urgings that I WAS going to write at least a measly 500 words when I got home. That didn't happen. So, today on my only day off, I had to write double the words lest I be mocked by the Estimate Day of Finish displaying December 15th.

* * *

Finishing word count: 5746

Favorite lines:

He finally put his back to me, dropped his crutch and threw off his cloak. I noticed his body slumping in the direction of his good leg, but it didn’t prevent him from proceeding. My eyes went to his cotton shirt. His marks and brands were glowing through it. I didn’t know the marks had that kind of power. His shirt came off next and my mouth dropped. At least ten more brands were spaced over his back, surrounded by marks and the occasional patch of flesh tone. From black to green, they glowed. The show wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

I’m pretty sure my heart skipped a beat when I watched the marks begin to move over his skin, still black and green. Kolin pursued the chanting and his marks reacted. The brands uncoiled like tiny garter snakes and slithered over his shoulders, around his ribs, and to his front. It was as if he was Hume for a moment. What I thought was a natural ink born on our skin at birth was nowhere close to what was happening: the marks rose off his body, each seeming to join with others to become the width of ribbons. When the marks attached to the shell exterior, my heart skipped a beat again and I curled my toes more tightly.

The gears inside thumped again and the ribbons became taught. Kolin pushed his arms out to his sides, his slump ever more present at this point. As the ribbons withdrew back to his skin, eventually drawing onto his back again, the shell peeked open. The power that struck the heat shield around me was instant. The chamber was a celebration of emerald light after it had been released. The surge of power continued, not yet finished, but the shield held as my father said. When the shell’s sides finally lay horizontal to the floor, the tip of each piece sparked to life. That tiny crystallized bead of energy shattered. Thread-thin beams of light converged at a point above the shell and all at once, the force that smacked the shield was that of a battering ram.

NaNo 2011: Day 1 Wrap-up

2011-11-01T21:21:00.000-04:00

Hailing in NaNoWriMo 2011, I was very happy to see the site didn't crash at all today. Perhaps I chose the right time to log on. Anyway, there's no particular format to my NaNo posts. I generally just share my favorite passages written today and my current word count. I came out of the gate strong today. I hope all of you do the same.

* * *

Finishing word count: 2643

Favorite lines:

I lurched forward when something suddenly butted my shoulder. A well-fed Hume, another head taller and wider than me, took me around the shoulder. The downside of being shorter than him is when he decided to be overly friendly, usually a sign of his intoxication, he would put his arm around me and grace my nose with a wonderful man-scent.

“Let’s go to Grumnach’s!” he said to me.

“Can’t now, Patricio,” I said. I took his arm off me and ducked away for a moment to catch my breath. He didn’t notice. “Although I’d say you’ve had you’re share of ale today, right? What’s the occasion?”

“Celebrating life!” He joked a couple punches at my shoulder and ran ahead, turning and proceeded to jog backwards.

“Weren’t we celebrating life a week ago when you polished that ale barrel from my father’s cellar?”

“That was last week, Valence!” Patricio bumped into a Hume another head taller than him, who shoved him away for choosing idiocy over courtesy. He sported the grumpy Hume a mocking gesture I had never seen.

Pre-NaNo 2011 Series: The Structure Sheet, or "How To Convert A Pantser."

2011-10-25T12:22:00.000-04:00

In early March, after the euphoria of my first NaNo win had worn off, I was struggling to go back and make Bond of Darkness better. This was when the plot wasn't working (and I failed to see it). I had pantsed my way through NaNo 2010, and my project at the time, The Shattered Darkness, a sequel to a currently unfinished first manuscript. Yeah, I did the bad thing.

This is when my awesometacular critique partner, Steph, shared with our critique group her structure sheet for plotting. I haven't used another plotting sheet since then. That's how well it works.

So, for the next post in the Pre-NaNo series, I figured I would share it with you. I'm sure variations of the plotting structure sheet exist, but this is what I use. Thanks, Steph. You're a writer's life saver.

The structure sheet consists of three acts, each respective to a certain point in the manuscript as the plot progresses. Let's begin.

Act 1 is your Expository. We learn about the world and the people inhabiting it. We learn what is about to happen that forces our protagonist's hand to do something.

Act 1 consists of the following:

The Inciting Incident. This is the first time your stakes are likely introduced. It takes some time, for you first should build your world and show me what is leading to this event that is going to change everything. Then, something goes wrong. It should matter enough to the protagonist so the consequence's do not affect them in the end.

First Act Turn. This consists of a following in this order: Choice, First Disaster, and Consequence. Let's rewind for a moment, however. Your first disaster is technically your second disaster, as you've already written the Inciting Incident. Remember that. The stakes have already been created. Choice stems from your Inciting Incident. Your protagonist must fix this. However, what are they to do? Typically, they don't know the grand scheme of things yet, and this leads to your Disaster. They mess up, or overlook something, and now have something else to consider or fix, lest they suffer the Consequence of their Choice.

Act 2 is your Rising Action. Your protagonist learns more and grows more. The event they are trying to prevent reveals itself more.

Act 2 consists of the following:

The Midpoint. The unexpected happens here. This is moment when things go sideways, things get worse, and the stakes are raised again. This often comes with a revelation that while the problem is connected in a way to the protagonist, it is also bigger than him/her. Glimpses of the larger picture are revealed yet again. If the big picture has been introduced early on, then change it up and make things more personal for the protagonist.

The Lowpoint. You're getting to the 75% mark in your manuscript. Here, the protagonist learns that trying to fix everything, beginning with the incident and the other disasters caused by choices, are hopeless. The protagonist begins to think they will never win because they learn the full scope of the problem. The stakes escalate again, often paired with a sacrifice. Do not mistake this as you, the writer, having to kill a character, although it is usually what happens. The more problematic things become, however, the protagonist learns perhaps they we're meant to fix this problem. He/She learns their role. The learning of the role can go two ways: it can either frighten the protagonist, or deepen their resolve to make a difference.

Second Act Turn. This is essentially the same as above, but with all things in place, remember that you're closing in on the end.

Act 3 is your Falling Action. They have come to confront the antagonist and/or the problem. The final battle ensues.

Act 3 consists of the following:

Climax. The stake raise one final time here. Your antagonist is one crazy son of a bitch and they want to defeat your protagonist. Here, the protagonist learns why exactly everything happened the way they did and all of the past events culminate to being the most personal at this point in time. It's do or die. Failure is not an option.

Resolution. The final battle is over. Your protagonist has either defeated the antagonist or learns there is more to be done, despite winning. Things are still wrong, and will continue to go wrong. For stand alone manuscripts, it is the end. For series manuscripts, the cliff hanger is introduced.

So, here, at the end of all things (yes, channeling Frodo), you have you're structure sheet. I encourage you to try it out. It works.

Until NaNo, Peace and Writing Love.

JWP

Pre-NaNo 2011 Series: Cover Art

2011-10-24T14:21:00.001-04:00

Here is the cover art for my NaNo 2011 novel, as promised.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

NaNoWriMo 2011

2011-10-22T21:45:00.000-04:00

So, before this kicks off, I'm butting my head against a wall because I haven't posted in about two months. I'm a sucky blogger lately. That is all. Let's stay on topic.

November 1st will arrive in a short ten days. It was at this point this morning that I went, "Fail..."

However, I'm not entirely behind. In the recent weeks, after working on various other projects, the spark for my first and baby manuscript ignited once again. The best part being that I have a new plot, and that freshness and raw simplicity of where I'm taking the story just boggles me sometimes.

For the longest time, I couldn't find any way to make that manuscript, Bond of Darkness, any better. Friends of the old story, I do hope you come back and support me for the new plot. It takes a really interesting look into some science-fantasy concepts I've been dreaming up, all wrapped nicely (with a bow) in an immense world, stuffed inside a jam-packed multiverse of awesome.

No pantsing this year, either. While I did win NaNo 2010 by pantsing, this time I have an outline to go by. I'm feverishly working to finish all of Act 2 (of 3), hoping I can get 50,000 words out of them.

Stayed tuned for the fun, and by fun, I mean insanity. Tuesday, I'll be creating and posting my NaNo project cover art (I hope). Also, instead of posting whole excerpts like I did last year, I'll only be taking the last few paragraphs of the word count on the day of posting. I'll try for two posts a week, like last year.

Peace, Writing, and for the love of coffee houses and repeating playlists.

JWP

Changing Direction

2011-08-29T13:54:00.000-04:00

I feel I've been posting more of these self help/venting articles than before, but if it works for me, then maybe it will work for you, also.

Shifting gears on projects are often the best way to stay fresh, be it with the varying diction you use (modern, poetic, broken, etc.), the world you're writing from, or the most simple and common rut: the plot.

I've noticed when I get attached to stories, most notably for me, my first manuscript, Bond of Darkness, I tend to not want to think of anything else. As writers, it's unhealthy. For years, I had been obsessed (literally at points) to only wanting to make Bond of Darkness better, (faster), stronger on all levels. Then came the rut. I kept editing on top of old material, keeping the best material, and in the end, I lost my plot.

My critique partners are my best friends and they've helped me see that I needed to work on other things. After I trunked BoD, I wrote a few outlines for different projects in different genres. I tried paranormal. Didn't quite work. Then I added thriller elements to the paranormal. Wasn't quite right.

Then I moved onto a new project, different in all areas: YA fantasy in first person. A few outlines later, I trunked that project, knowing it'd come back, but moved on again.

At the heart of everything, however, I needed to remove myself from the equation of wanting to produce manuscripts.

The best method I'm now making myself learn is to move through the stages of length. Challenging myself through flash, short stories and novellas will push me back on track for novel length manuscripts.

I also now keep a notebook on my end table, not only hoping to make myself an insomniac, but to jot the ideas down even as I dream them. Sounds cheesy, but it helps the process.

Have you found you need to change directions? How often?

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

New WIP Preparations

2011-08-02T19:46:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I finished the second draft outline of my soon-to-be new WIP, titled "Of Sin and Virtue."

It's been sent off to my trusted critique partners for a review before I begin the writing process. Now comes my wait. However, I never really have a longing to hear comments, especially when my creativity is at a bursting point.

Being an artist at heart (and officially with my very expensive piece of paper), I tend to illustrate when I cannot write, and vice versa.

So, here's the product of my waiting: a first shot at sketching my protagonist, Anna.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

P.S. - For those of you who couldn't put it together, my expensive piece of paper is my diploma.

Review: Hexed by Kevin Hearne

2011-07-29T17:11:00.003-04:00

Hexed by Kevin Hearne
Book Two of the Iron Druid Chronicles
Published June 7, 2011
ISBN-10: 0345522494
ISBN-13: 978-0345522498

Review: 5/5

Cross reviewed on Goodreads.

Atticus O'Sullivan, steered ungracefully but with flare by author Kevin Hearne, has impressed me yet again. The badass nine-hundred year old Druid is back in the second volume of The Iron Druid Chronicles.

Here, following the events of Hounded, Atticus finds himself pitted against some very nasty German witches. We discover that the one creature cult that Atticus fears most are witches. He actually befriends vampires and werewolves. When it is discovered that Atticus is the target of an ancient hexen that can make him drop dead on the spot, more hell breaks loose.

He also befriends the Polish witches that were introduced in Hounded and rounds them to battle the Germans along side him. Greater detail into the Druid's long history is opened and we learn that Atticus has confronted the German witches in the past. Stir in more mythology, sex-capades with the Morrigan, Goddess of Death, and jealousy of said sex-capades with another Goddess, Brighid, and you've got an unsteady can of kick-ass ready to be pried open.

At the very end, when all the battles and badassery is complete (with more to follow), we're slowly introduced to the new and greater enemy that Atticus must face in the third volume, Hammered. In fact, the title kind of says it all. Atticus's showdown against "shadowy figures," comes teamed with strange sorcerers called the Hammers of God and an elite panel of Norse Gods who he must avoid at all costs, save for one -- Thor, his target.

I'd also like to share some of my favorite lines from Hexed, as the dialogue was taken up a notch.

"Ah, it's your job that makes you act like such an asskitten."

I laughed, looking back at the remaining German witches, and said to them in their language, "I can't believe you started shit with her [Malina, leader of the Polish witches], when you had only one fancy trick in your bag. She can pull exploding hell-fire whips out of the fucking air."

"There, Rabbi, you see? I said. "Heinous witches don't let asspuppets like you live."

So there you have Hexed (in a nutshell). I can't wait to get through Hammered, which I'll be posting my Now Reading feature tomorrow. Also, good news for all of you who have read the series or at least started. I discovered today that The Iron Druid Chronicles have been extended to a six-book series! The next books are tentatively titled:

Tricked
Trapped
Hunted

My excitement for this is kind of beyond words, so I end the review here.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

The Hunger Games?

2011-07-21T18:09:00.000-04:00

So this is probably an easy one for all those of you who have read the series, but I'll gamble with the question anyway.

Read or watch? These have me sold for both really, although I've been putting off reading them forever.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Forgive and Forget

2011-07-01T14:31:00.000-04:00

This post is very personal to me as a writer. I had the idea for my first manuscript when I was a junior in high school. My good friend, Tara, told me she was writing a manuscript and I figured it'd be fun to try.

Fast forward to today, roughly seven years later, (I think) five drafts of the manuscript later and a bunch of frustration, reviews and criticism swallowed, I've been able to write an outline for a new WIP.

It took this long because, as a critique partner...cough...Steph, asked, "Is Bond of Darkness really the only manuscript you ever want to write?"

After she hit me with that question, I realized that it wasn't the only thing I WANTED to write, but the only thing I was ALLOWING myself to write. I had already invested so much time with my protagonist, the world, the magic system, and the story that I just wanted it to be done. The fact is that I was doing the project wrong all this time. I never actually sat and wrote an outline. I never planned any of it.

Bond of Darkness started as me just writing and making shit up as I went. First draft done. Me, naive. I start querying. I get a bunch of rejections. No surprise there. After I start doing some research behind manuscripts and whole business of publication, agents, editors, etc., do I really start getting into writing. I can see it becoming a hobby.

Then comes the time where I sunk into that seven year period of only working on Bond of Darkness. Because I never wrote an outline and only continued to edit on top of what I had already written -- keeping what I liked and revising what I didn't -- I was making it worse.

Again, fast forwarding to about a week ago, a new idea for a WIP hits me. Out of left field (left field being me sitting in church with my parents one morning). All of the sudden, I need to get it written before I lose it. I pump out an outline in a week's time and the euphoria began. I hadn't had that feeling of having a new project to be proud of because I was always working on the same thing. Different versions, but the same thing.

After I completed the outline, I discovered that I was attempting something I never had. I was breaking out of my writing shell. I had always written adult themed. The WIP is young adult. I favored male protagonists with an edge. My WIP protagonist is a timid female. I wrote strictly in third person. The WIP will be first person.

While I will return to Bond of Darkness with a plan, I'm thrilled to say I'm working on something new. FINALLY!

Do you have any stories of WIP triumph? What setbacks have you experienced that you were able to overcome?

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Now Reading: Hexed by Kevin Hearne

2011-06-29T09:30:00.000-04:00

Hexed by Kevin Hearne
Book Two of the Iron Druid Chronicles
Published June 7, 2011
ISBN-10: 0345522494
ISBN-13: 978-0345522498

Atticus O’Sullivan, last of the Druids, doesn’t care much for witches. Still, he’s about to make nice with the local coven by signing a mutually beneficial nonaggression treaty—when suddenly the witch population in modern-day Tempe, Arizona, quadruples overnight. And the new girls are not just bad, they’re badasses with a dark history on the German side of World War II.

With a fallen angel feasting on local high school students, a horde of Bacchants blowing in from Vegas with their special brand of deadly decadence, and a dangerously sexy Celtic goddess of fire vying for his attention, Atticus is having trouble scheduling the witch hunt. But aided by his magical sword, his neighbor’s rocket-propelled grenade launcher, and his vampire attorney, Atticus is ready to sweep the town and show the witchy women they picked the wrong Druid to hex.

There's really not much to be said for this post other than I'm stoked to start reading it. I literally just finished Hounded the other day and immediately downloaded Hexed to my Kindle. The cover art is a nice change up from the Hounded, also. You can clearly see the celtic knots on Atticus's arms (from which he can recharge his magic).

So based on the back cover run-down, I'm putting my guess on Atticus will be in deep shit this time around. In the climax of Hounded, he pissed off some people, but saved more. He has gods and deities watching his every move because he's finally shown how much a powerhouse a two-thousand-something year Druid can be. The flap makes me guess he's going to be taking on more witches and Atticus despises witches over any other creature. Should make for some good, clean family fun.

Review of Hexed to come.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: Hounded by Kevin Hearne

2011-06-28T19:49:00.000-04:00

Hounded by Kevin Hearne
Book One of the Iron Druid Chronicles
Published May 3, 2011
ISBN-10: 0345522478
ISBN-13: 978-0345522474

Review: 5/5

So I don't think I've reviewed a book yet and given it a five. However, Hounded is just that awesome. I finished in about a week, which could have been done faster given more time. In my "Now Reading" post of Hounded, I compared the protagonist Atticus O'Sullivan to Harry Dresden. I went on to say how Atticus could be Harry's apprentice.

After completing Hounded, it's clear Atticus is on a whole different level than Harry. Granted, Harry is still amazing, but the method behind Atticus's coolness can't be described in a simple review. While Harry has an array of magic at his disposal, Atticus blooms as the first warrior Druid protagonist. He uses earth magic primarily, having to be connected physically in some way to the ground. He draws all his power, and then some, from the earth. His celtic tattoos act as anchors which give him all that power.

At one point, after duking it out with a god-gone-bad, Atticus is weak beyond weak. His method to recharge is to camouflage himself, strip bare ass naked, and sleep in the grass for the night. I wasn't only laughing (respectfully), but I was also amazed at the simplicity Hearne used to super power his Druid.

Also like Harry, Atticus has an array of strange allies that come through for him at the climax. Of these, you're looking at werewolves, vampires, an Idian witch trapped in a gorgeous bartender's body, a mentally speaking Irish wolfhound and then there are some gods.

I'm very exicted to begin Hexed, Book Two of the Iron Druid Chronicles. I can't wait to see what Atticus has up his sleeve after he trumps the big bad in Hounded. Believe me, that's no where near a spoiler.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Vote For Me!

2011-06-21T17:42:00.003-04:00

Hoorah! I'm a semi-finalist in Brenda Drake's "Redesign a Book Cover" Blogfest Contest.

Please visit her blog to vote. There are some great contestants. It all ends Friday, June 24th when the top three are announced.

Please, VOTE FOR ME!

Freelance

2011-06-17T13:13:00.000-04:00

IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR MY ENTRY FOR BRENDA DRAKE'S BLOGFEST, CLICK HERE!

While I never really advertise my own work, I've been slowly producing more and more these days as my writing (unfortunately) is slowing back to a hobby.

My rates are reasonable. I will also draft contracts on a project to project basis for whoever wishes work done.

Below are projects I've completed on a personal level, but whatever you're looking for -- blogfest banners, blog headers, margins, badges, cover art, exterior or interior illustrations (color or black/white) -- I'll consider any project.

Hook, Line & Sinker Blogfest badge.

Awkward Writing Blogfest badge.

NaNoWriMo 2010 badge.

Writing Share Wednesday banner.

The Fantastical Society of Writers and Liars banner.

Redesign a Book Cover Blogfest Contest

2011-06-17T07:16:00.000-04:00

Today marks Brenda Drake's "Redesign a Book Cover" Blogfest Contest. I thought this was just a fantastic idea because I'm an artist and it was right down my alley.

Please visit Brenda Drake's blog for the list of participants.

I began with designing a cover for a book (or story) that didn't have a cover, and that proved more difficult. I then switched to redesigning a cover for Ender's Game, suggested by a friend. I haven't read Ender's Game since high school, but that doesn't mean I don't forget how epic it is. While the original cover(s) show space battles and Ender Wiggen, I went with a more digital-in-appearance route.

Links (made tiny for convenience):

http://tinyurl.com/66rnfls

http://tinyurl.com/3edl8cn

Best of luck to all participants.

JWP

Now Reading: Hounded by Kevin Hearne

2011-06-15T17:04:00.001-04:00

Hounded by Kevin Hearne
Book One of the Iron Druid Chronicles
Published May 3, 2011
ISBN-10: 0345522478
ISBN-13: 978-0345522474

Atticus O’Sullivan, last of the Druids, lives peacefully in Arizona, running an occult bookshop and shape-shifting in his spare time to hunt with his Irish wolfhound. His neighbors and customers think that this handsome, tattooed Irish dude is about twenty-one years old—when in actuality, he’s twenty-one centuries old. Not to mention: He draws his power from the earth, possesses a sharp wit, and wields an even sharper magical sword known as Fragarach, the Answerer.

Unfortunately, a very angry Celtic god wants that sword, and he’s hounded Atticus for centuries. Now the determined deity has tracked him down, and Atticus will need all his power—plus the help of a seductive goddess of death, his vampire and werewolf team of attorneys, a sexy bartender possessed by a Hindu witch, and some good old-fashioned luck of the Irish—to kick some Celtic arse and deliver himself from evil.

I've been hearing only wonderful things about this new series, so I of course had to give it a try. Like all other reviews have stated, the first few pages have excitement. Atticus has magnificent voice that is reminiscent of Harry Dresden, which in all respect to Kevin Hearne, could very well be the druid's mentor. He has flare and style in the way he moves and talks, and that all shows in the writing.

Atticus wears an amulet imbued with iron, the natural weakness to faeries and all things magical. What I found instantly fascinating is the way that it all is described: Hearne has a finesse about giving you a lot about Atticus's history and what he did to get to this point in his life. I'm only three chapters in, but I can see this series being one to gobble up.

There's a great handful of mythology behind the story, too. Two characters that I've met in a previous series (The Secrets of Immortal Nicholas Flamel), the Morrigan and Hecate (or Hekate), make an appearance. Celtic lore is the backbone of this series and I'm extremely excited to learn more about it.

Review to come.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: The Warlock by Michael Scott

2011-06-10T07:51:00.001-04:00

The Warlock
Book Five in the Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel
Published May 24, 2011
ISBN-10: 0385735332
ISBN-13: 978-0385735339

Review: 4/5

In the fifth installment of The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel, Nicholas, the Alchemyst, is minutes from death. In a desperate attempt to have him for one more day, his wife, Perry, gives one day of her life to revive Nicholas to health. At this point in the novel, I was more connected to the Flamels as a couple than ever. Perry would truly do anything for Nicholas and this was a fantastic example.

Dr. John Dee is moving ahead with his plan to unleash monsters on the city of San Francisco, all in an attempt to have the people run in fear. He then plans to save the humans from the monsters by summoning the Elders to the city. They will all be worshipped as gods. The plan is foiled to an extent however as the separated twins, Josh and Sophie, miraculously reunite under strange circumstances. However, it is not a happy meeting. They blame each other for choosing the wrong side -- Sophie with the Flamels and Josh with Dr. Dee.

The end of the novel does not, however, leave a hint to the title character as it did in the previous five books. The last chapter of book four had something to the effect of: "The world is in need of a warlock again."

Nothing at the end of this novel. Makes me excited to learn who The Enchantress (title of the sixth book) will be.

# # #

In other news, my good friend and (occasional) blogger Tara is hosting a blogfest for her one year blogiversery. You can sign up at her blog, Aleatoire. It takes place Saturday, June 18. It's a rather simple contest challenging you to write a scene while taking inspiration from a song. More details are on her page.

Finally, I'd like to give a huge flyby congratulations to my critique partner, Steph (at Scribbler to Scribe) for receiving her first short story publication!

That's all for now.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Staying Motivated

2011-06-06T15:06:00.000-04:00

While I slowly progress in the outline of my current WIP, I use my talents in illustration and painting to carry me along. Basically, it gives me something else to do. Most of you don't know I freelance, so I'll add a shameless plug of my website.

www.jwparente.com

If you're ever looking for freelance for any reason, whatever the project, I'd be glad to take a look and help you out.

Here's the latest progress of my current project.

SUBJECT: Nicholas Flamel, protagonist of The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series.
MEDIUM: Pencil > Illustrator Render > Corel Painter Render

Now Reading: The Warlock by Michael Scott

2011-05-27T15:59:00.001-04:00

The Warlock
Book Five of The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel
Published May 24, 2011
ISBN-10: 0385735332
ISBN-13: 978-0385735339

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series will easily go down as one of my favorite YA series to date. This is the fifth book of the series and in the next installment, The Enchantress, the war of Nicholas, the Twins of Destiny, and other famous Immortal warriors will end. They've been battling Dr. John Dee since the first book as the he grew an army of Immortals, Elders and baddies from all corners of mythology.

In this installment, we discover Nicholas Flamel is dying and fast. He will not live out the night. The Twins of Destiny, Josh and Sophie Newman, have been separated -- Sophie who has remained loyal to Nicholas and his wife, Perry, -- and Josh, who was taken and seduced by Dee and his minions to believe Flamel is evil.

What I know so far is that this novel will not take place in only one era. I'll say no more. Just know that time traveling is on the list of things to do.

These books are an easy and addicting read. If I haven't mentioned it in the original review of the first novel, my favorite part of the series is that it all takes place in the course of a week (so far). DANG! That's talent.

To send you off, here's a sketch I did of good ole' Nicholas Flamel. Yeah, I do remedial sketching when writing gets me down. It's nice to have a fall back.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: Beyond The Shadows by Brent Weeks

2011-05-27T15:43:00.001-04:00

BEYOND THE SHADOWS
Book Three of the Night Angel Trilogy
Published: December 1, 2008
ISBN-10: 0316033669
ISBN-13: 978-0316033664

Review: 4/5

So I took a massive hiatus in reading, writing, and even art. Work was just bogging me down for a long time. Anyway, it took me forever to finally finish Beyond the Shadows. Truthfully, I forgot a lot of the stuff that I read in the very beginning, but when I was finally able to sit down and pound away some pages, I got back into the swing of Weeks' world.

The only reason I gave this final volume of the trilogy four of five stars is because is very long. Long books are great. Long books with great characters are even better. However, there are WAY TOO MANY characters in this entire series. Some have all the face time while others are below third-supporting characters. They're basically mentionables.

However, into the grit of the story. Weeks finished off the Night Angel Trilogy with a massive blow. While I followed the boy Azoth as he became Kylar, an enigma and soon to be one of the most legendary Wetboys (assassins) in Cenaria, his character is every part of every other character's role in the series. He is connected to almost everyone. By meeting, speaking, humiliating, or killing.

The battle for Cenaria closes with Kylar finally earning his right as THE Night Angel. He is judgment and retribution, death and life, but he is lover and compassionate man at the end. Kylar's growth spans the whole series. If you ever find your to-be-read list running thin (which most readers don't), I would certainly recommend adding The Night Angel Trilogy to your TBR. The world is vast and rich, the magic and lore so woven into dialogue and mannerisms, it sold me from beginning to end.

Weeks has recently put out the first novel of his second series, The Black Prism. I hope to get to that one, but I also recently found out Weeks is set to publish (soon) a Night Angel novella, Perfect Shadow, which will tell more about the rise of Kylar's witty mentor, Durzo Blint.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

KISS

2011-05-25T12:43:00.002-04:00

Among other things, KISS is called the mantra for writers. It is supposed to make you think. Slow things down. Put invigorating, yet comprehensible storytelling in your manuscript.

For a long time, I never kept things simple. My writing has always been about the large and in charge: the next big thing that is going to change a genre. It was stupid of me to think like this.

All writers really want to do is have a kick-ass manuscript that agents can gobble up. However, it's not about complexity. It's not about how many words you can cram into the story.

It's about your protagonist. You've chosen your protagonist to be the guy or girl for you because you see something in them. They're interesting. They're fulfilling to you as a writer. They're witty or emotional. They carry a burden or are in the midst of creating one that will affect others. All of this surrounds the story, but if the plot cannot be made simple, it will become lost in the words.

My generous critique partners, who I trust indefinitely, have since pounded this mantra into my head. When I started a new project to get my head out of another giving me trouble, I went through two outlines, neither of which were simple.

It can be about the protagonist or it can be about the journey. It can be about growth or loss. But whatever you choose, make it the focus. Don't allow your strong protagonist to become lost in the journey. Don't let him or her both grow and lose equally. There must be a happy center point. Choose and make peace. If, at the end of your outline or planning process, that way doesn't work, you start again.

How do you KISS?

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

It's Like Creative Deodorant

2011-04-22T12:48:00.000-04:00

This is a follow up from my post on March 15th, A Painful Truth. Following the aftermath of trunking my baby, Bond of Darkness, my manuscript that received so much TLC, I started with a new project.

It took me a while to break out of the fantasy shell. I really didn't know anything else. Fantasy is what I have always read and always been interested in. But to get my mind of Bond of Darkness, I needed to start a project in a new genre.

This genre became paranormal, with historical fiction involved. I was happy to be able to start something that bloomed quickly. It was fun to be able to do research for a novel. When writing fantasy, research is hardly required. You're the god, tilling the world and creating the people. In a world that exists (Earth), you need to research the real aspects: towns, cities, types of people, transportation.

But I didn't want to entirely abandon fantasy. So, I added my historical fiction twist.

My partners are proud that I'm working on something new. We've all started breaking out of our writing shells, and while it took me a while to get going, I think my project will be healthy for me creatively. A creative mind needs to be stimulated in various ways. Reading is the obvious matter to do this. But you also need to experiment. Write outside your genre. Partake in conversation that might stimulate voice for character. Learn from other writers. Browse blogs. Force yourself to do prompts.

Only if it were this easy.

All will push you to better yourself, slowly but surely. Even if you're like me, where writing is more of a hobby and not something that will be your career choice, remaining creatively healthy is a must.

What have you done to spark a change in your writing? Do you force new projects on yourself to stay diverse, or do you pick up a new project when deemed necessary?

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: City of Fallen Angels by Cassandra Clare

2011-04-14T09:52:00.000-04:00

City of Fallen Angels
Book Four of The Mortal Instruments
Published: April 5, 2011
ISBN-10: 1442403543
ISBN-13: 978-1442403543

Review: 5/5

Cross posted at Goodreads.

SPOILER FREE:

Just when you think The Mortal Instruments has concluded, Cassie Clare blows your mind on a new story brewing around the culmination of events in City of Glass. The Three Mortal Instruments are back in their rightful places, Jace is resurrected by the Angel Raziel, Valentine is gone and Sebastian is dead. Right?

Well, I can't tell you that. But City of Fallen Angels is certainly worth reading and definitely has the same strength that we loved The Mortal Instruments and The Infernal Devices for. There's even mentions of characters from The Infernal Devices in City of Fallen Angels, just as there was vice-versa. City of Fallen Angels picks up two months after the death of Valentine. Things are being repaired in the Shadowhunter world. Jocelyn and Luke are getting married. Clary and Jace are deeply in love. And Simon is...well, still a vampire.

I assure you, you'll love this book. Clare really had this all planned, even if she says books 4-6 weren't planned. Secretly, they were. Shh, it's just between us. Finally, the conclusion of City of Fallen Angels is what really blew my mind. With all the shit that goes down, happy ending under way, BALL IS DROPPED (again).

I'll say no more. If you haven't read The Mortal Instruments, do it. Although this review is littered with spoilers on the behalf of the first three books. I'm eagerly awaiting City of Lost Souls (the cover release and book, too), which is due out next year.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Now Reading: City of Fallen Angels by Cassandra Clare

2011-04-05T09:45:00.000-04:00

City of Fallen Angels
Book Four of The Mortal Instruments
Published: April 5, 2011
ISBN-10: 1442403543
ISBN-13: 978-1442403543

Who will be tempted by darkness? Who will fall in love, and who will find their relationship torn apart? And who will betray everything they ever believed in?

Love. Blood. Betrayal. Revenge.

I still remember the day I downloaded the sample of City of Bones. One week later, I blew through the first three books of The Mortal Instruments. It's the kind of YA fantasy that has characters you become attached to from the first meeting.

Now here, in the fourth installment of the series (something no fan of Clare saw coming), we're going to deeper into the world of Shadowhunters and Downworlders. The conclusion of City of Glass left a lot of us wondering what could have happened after "happily ever after" resolution. Of course, it was far from a "happily ever after." There were the hints that there was more story to be told. Is Valentine dead (again)? What's to become of Simon? Can all those hurt repair their pain after Valentine's war? Will Clary and Jace be together despite the truth? And something we all want to see happen, will Magnus and Alex be together?

I'm excited to jump back into this world. Review of City of Fallen Angels to come.

Introducing: Elena Solodow, 2011 ABNA Quarter-Finalist

2011-03-26T21:35:00.000-04:00

It's true, it's true! My fantastic, super critical, but dearly loved and tremendously helpful critique partner, Elena Solodow, has advanced as a quarter finalist in the 2011 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award competition.

The odds for her advancing this far are undeniably overwhelming, but the chosen excerpt being showcased really prevails in her favor. I don't want to brag, but it's amazing. Please visit this link: Whip-Slip free Kindle download to read what brought her this far. This is a shameless plug to highlight Elena's achievement and I, along with her other fabulous critique partners, wish her the best of luck.

Go. Link. Download. Read.

'Nuff said.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

The Nature of Magic Blogfest

2011-03-26T09:00:00.001-04:00

Return to Tessa's page for the links to the other participants.

Although this scene will probably scraped, at best maybe reused, here's an example of magic in my world. The scene is from my manuscript, Bond of Darkness.

* * *

“One chance,” the voice said, copying Valence’s words. “You got it.”

The poison surged and Valence faltered as he attempted a step. Black-Skin hadn’t turned to regard him.

“Focus everything you have left. Tap your reserves. Don’t reach too far. I’ll hold off the poison.”

Valence spat a dribble of blood and glared at One-Horn’s muscle-parting back side. He eyed two shifting patches of skin, drawing a target. He circled One-Horn in his mind, forming the path for the magic to travel. Valence took the Pearls up, balling them tightly in his palms, and pushed on his will. The channel for the incantation grew wide, breaking the boundaries of the center aisle. Not much was left of it after One-Horn’s tirade, but enough to use as an anchor. The pinched the channel off with a grunt, closing any small escape.

Black-Skin raising his saber to King Pallanza broke the door open on the channel.

“Zinthos Ragnora!” Valence shouted. The channel roared, a whirlwind of force pushing the bloody, unoccupied Imperial armor aside. A white luminescent glow thrummed around his body as the magic rushed out of the Pearls. It pulsed and drove forward, catching the full width of the channel.

Black-Skin swiveled, disappearing behind One-Horn as it turned its face into the ethereal blast.

One-Horn’s skull went left while its body tore right off the bones. Muscles displaced, quivering in the heavy gust, and splattered to the floor like chunks of fresh steak. Its legs were taken from under it, disintegrating to nothing.

When the channel closed off, the static charge of the Pearl magic left frost clinging to the pew remains. The shadow of Black-Skin came for him, but Valence dropped. His weight crashed through the marble it felt, tumbling endlessly.

He’d awake in the clouds, wondering if he would remember Black-Skin killing him.

A Painful Truth

2011-03-15T16:11:00.000-04:00

So this comes from experience, as most unpublished writers might have experienced. A few days ago, the manuscript I cherished and loved, put tender care into (literally sometimes thinking over just the right words), got a fierce slap in the face. One of my critique partners tore it shreds, beat it to a pulp, and stomped on it.

However, those shreds weren't burned, the pulp not used for a shake, or that boot that did the stomping was more like a slipper. The slap in the face was like fuzzy gloves.

While her comments reached the very core of my story, showing me there was no true plot. Nothing connected with linear progression any more. The truth was that my manuscript, over the six years that I constantly edited it and attempted to make stronger, lost a plot. I did so much world building and added so much mythology to my land that I lost sight of my MC's purpose. He was simply walking, doing what he was told and forced to believe it. Nothing was personal to him anymore.

She told me...and here is where I swallowed hard...that I needed to trunk the project, scrap the version it became after six years, and start fresh.

I wanted to pull out my hair!

However, I knew that with all the overwhelming comments she supplied, she must have seen something in it if praise and encouragement equaled those comments. She continued to tell me the parts she liked and should be expanded. But moreover, I needed to start a fresh relationship with my MC. I needed to get more into his head.

Thus, trunking the project and starting something new. I'll return to my baby, my first manuscript, because I AM CERTAIN my story has potential.

If not for my critique partner(s) being truthful to me, I would have continued to edit and possibly query a manuscript that had no plot. I'm thankful to have such fantastic partners who care as much for me as if they knew me in real life. Although we only contact each other through chat forums and email, they never fail to impress me.

Are your critique partners up to par? Mine are!

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Six Sentence Sunday (3)

2011-03-06T12:30:00.000-05:00

Thanks for such the warm invites to my first SSS post last week. I hope to hop around to more blogs this period and make some comments. Return to SSS for the entrants.

Here is this week's six:

--

A stiletto came down at Falistar and Valence’s knife left his hand. It cut the dust cleanly, but soared through the black apparition.

Valence leapt. The stiletto sunk into Falistar’s neck, the skin bursting like a stretched bed sheet. Blood sprayed through the apparition’s body and it detached. It assumed a gassy form as Valence tried to tackle it, and was gone.

--

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Six Sentence Sunday (2)

2011-02-27T09:00:00.001-05:00

It's my first official SSS week. Enjoy!

--

“Come.” He did not stop as he passed Valence, his face straight, decision made. Gerad met the king at the doors. “Falistar knows where the line between good and evil divides.” He put a hand on the door and glanced back. “He will weigh your heart.”

--

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Blogfest Alert: The Nature of Magic Blogfest

2011-02-24T20:02:00.000-05:00

I'm definitely excited about Tessa's next blogfest, but she's not alone in this one. Laura B. Diamond is your second host for the fest. Grab the banner here, or from Tessa's Blurb.

The objective is:

Write or share something you've already written that, to you, shows the nature of magic. It can be an excerpt from your WIP, something you've written especially, poetry, whatever strikes your fancy. It just needs to show the nature of magic as it exists for you or for those you write about.

Being a fantasy fiction writer, I'll likely pull it from my manuscript, Bond of Darkness. Stop on by her blog on March 26 to post, then swing by again between March 30-April 2 to vote for finalists.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-02-20T14:27:00.000-05:00

I know my six sentences aren't official (because I didn't sign up and I just learned about it), but I'm just posting because I can. I plan to sign up the correct way when the next SSS post goes live on Wednesday, or as often as I'm able. Love the banner!

This week's six sentences come from my epic fantasy, BOND OF DARKNESS.

--

Valence thought on Melana’s words. Beauty and deceit all in one package. She helped him because he was dying, but she wouldn’t withhold information to the king whom she had sworn her fealty.

Gerad was handsome, quick-witted and utterly self-assured of himself. It was clear Gerad didn’t expect King Pallanza to stay his comment as if he were a cadet.

Casting that incantation should have left him as empty as a dry husk, but yet he lived.

--

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Announcements!

2011-02-18T10:29:00.000-05:00

So yesterday was an exciting day for two reasons:

First, my new portfolio website went live. I worked a hard two weeks to make it run smoothly and get the transitions perfect. Click below to visit my portfolio. Spread the word: I love freelancing!

VISIT MY PORTFOLIO!

The other magnificent thing that happened is my good friend, Claire Legrand, was signed by a literary agent. Yes, the confetti was pouring down when I heard her news. She has a blog by wordpress, Builder of Worlds. She impressed Agent Diana Fox enough to sign her for her MG manuscript.

Now if all the celebratory stuff wasn't enough, Claire also might have impressed Ms. Fox with her adult fantasy series as well. Although Claire made it clear that Fox wanted her MG to come first.

How often does that happen? Impressing an agent with two different manuscripts of different genres? I was fortunate enough to beta the first manuscript in Claire's fantasy series, and by golly, I cannot wait until I also see that in print.

Visit Claire and wish her congratulations. She still in a severe state of elation, so be gentle.

That's all for now.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Now Reading: Beyond the Shadows by Brent Weeks

2011-02-11T09:50:00.001-05:00

BEYOND THE SHADOWS
Book Three of the Night Angel Trilogy
Published: December 1, 2008
ISBN-10: 0316033669
ISBN-13: 978-0316033664

Logan Gyre is king of Cenaria, a country under siege, with a threadbare army and little hope. He has once chance - a desperate gamble, but one that could destroy his kingdom.

In the north, the new Godking has a plan. If it comes to fruition, no one will have the power to stop him. Kylar Stern has no choice. To save his friends--and perhaps his enemies--he must accomplish the impossible: assassinate a goddess.

I am very excited to finally finish the Night Angel Trilogy. Here in the conclusion, after so much happening in the second book, Shadow's Edge, you couldn't possibly think some greater scheme is at large. WRONG! Brent Weeks made the choice to throw the large battle of Pavvil's Grove in Shadow's Edge, ready to impress you in Beyond the Shadows. It was like the Battle of Pelennor Fields all over again.

So here, after only reading the back flap, I know I'm expecting a fireworks finale. Kill a goddess? A new Godking rises? This means Kylar is taking on a hit greater than the last -- he's going right to the source, the goddess Khali, who empowers the Godking, his Vurdmeisters and wytches with the corrupting "vir." It'll be one heck of a showdown, for Kylar is a user of Talent, the one force of magic that opposes the vir all together. It's like the two sides of The Force. Oh yeah, going to be fireworks for sure.

Review of Beyond the Shadows to come.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: Shadow's Edge by Brent Weeks

2011-02-10T09:45:00.001-05:00

SHADOW'S EDGE
Book Two of the Night Angel Trilogy
Published: November 1, 2008
ISBN-10: 0316033650
ISBN-13: 978-0316033657
Review: 4/5
Cover: 4/5

Highlight the blocked out spoilers to read them.

Brent Weeks has done it again in Shadow's Edge. While this second novel in the series was slower in the middle, telling of Kylar and how he is trying to get out of the way of the shadows, it soon picks up at the pace I love Brent Weeks for.

After he killed his master, Durzo, Kylar began rejecting everything about the assassin's life. He wanted a life with his childhood friend, Elene. They adopt a young girl, Uly, from Momma K, the leader of a very popular brothel. It turns out Uly is the daughter of Momma K and Durzo, and Kylar has more of a reason to escape the life of killing.

However, when his old friend, Jarl, comes knocking to recruit Kylar back for one last hit, the memories of that life slowly start to come back to him. That, and he learns Logan Gyre, his best friend and King of Cenaria, is alive. Kylar's final hit is the Godking, the murderous and very powerful ruler of the Kahlidorian army. Through betrayal and heartbreak as he watches friends die at his side to take on this hit, Kylar feels more like he needs this. He was meant for this one kill.

Now, here is where Brent Weeks really sucked me in. In the last ten or twelve chapters or so, things are moving so quickly with all of these characters coming out of the woodwork to participate in the final battle. While Logan leads the battle charge against the Godking's army, Kylar and his sworn enemy, Vi, make a pact to take down the Godking together.

After all is said and done, Logan succeeds in breaking the Kahlidorian threat and Godking is dead. He wants to return to Elene, but knows she will reject him. All he has now is the mysterious black ka'kari, the artifact that made him the Night Angel. A voice comes from the ka'kari, telling him to visit Durzo. He uncovers a letter at Durzo's grave, written by his master and dated a month after Kylar killed him. Durzo is alive!

Blew my mind! Sprockets and bolts were clicking everywhere. Didn't see it coming. I had assurance that something more was coming because everything seemed to be culminating in only the second book, and sure enough, I downloaded Beyond the Shadows last night. Can't wait to finish this trilogy.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

The Challenge of Titles - Redux

2011-02-08T10:54:00.003-05:00

If you're looking for my blogfest entry to Brenda's Dark and Stormy contest, VISIT IT HERE.

Yet again, I am looking at the titles of my manuscript trilogy, Children of the Universe, and considering a small change. When I first blogged about titles, it was after I had a chat session with an agent, Diedre Knight of The Knight Agency. Find my original Challenge of Titles post here.

After that chat session, my previous, very lame and very generic title, The Awakening, became "Bond of Darkness." It resonated more with me and how I wanted to portray the true plot of the manuscript. The second manuscript became "The Shattered Darkness." The third title in my series was a placeholder. We all know about placeholders. They suck, but that's what they're for.

I didn't want the title of my final manuscript in the series to just be a plain-jane title like the first two. I wanted to make readers think. I didn't want it to be part of an event that is solely drawn by the title. I wanted something more abstract. I didn't want something that I wasn't totally happy with.

Going back and forth, I finally consulted a long-time writing friend, Claire Legrand, on the final title choice. I didn't need approval, but needed support that I was choosing something worth all my thinking. She knows a thing or two about great titles, as did Mrs. Knight.

So, the third title, previously "The Crossworld's Darkness," became: ...drumroll...

His True Darkness.

Do you have title woes? Vent and share.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

It Was A Dark and Stormy Blogfest Contest

2011-02-07T06:54:00.000-05:00

Today marks the contest at Brenda Drake's blog. It's worth visiting and participating because the prizes are just fantastic. VISIT HERE to read all the other submissions.

The next two days invite the submissions and on the 9th, we're to post our revised first lines on Brenda's post. That said, onto my first line.

* * *

Name: J.W. Parente
Title: Bond of Darkness
Genre: Epic Fantasy

Valence kept his hands concealed, but the fabric of power tingling through him screamed for attention—that, and the poison slowly killing him.

* * *

Enjoy and best of luck to all!

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Let's Get Dark and Stormy!

2011-02-05T11:02:00.001-05:00

So, the fabulous Brenda Drake is hosting another blogfest, which is also a contest. And boy, the prizes are FANTABULOUS! Click HERE to redirect to her page.

In a nutshell, on February 7 and 8, post the first line of your FINISHED manuscript to your blog so all the other participants can comment. Then, on February 9, you post your polished first line (if you've made changes from the comments) to the CONTEST POST that Brenda will be putting up on that day.

From there, it gets judged.

Prizes from Weronika (pronounced 'Veronica') Janczuk, agent with D4EO Literary:

1st place -- a critique of the first 50 pages + query

2nd place -- a critique of the first 25 pages + query

3rd place -- a critique of the query

So get it on it already and polish that first line.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: The Alchemyst by Michael Scott

2011-01-28T11:08:00.001-05:00

THE ALCHEMYST

Book One of the Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel

Published: May 22, 2007

ISBN-10: 0385736002

ISBN-13: 978-0385736008

Review: 4.5/5

Cover: 4/5

The truth: Nicholas Flamel was born in Paris on September 28, 1330. Nearly 700 years later, he is acknowledged as the greatest Alchemyst of his day. It is said that he discovered the secret of eternal life. The records show that he died in 1418. But his tomb is empty.

The legend: Nicholas Flamel lives. But only because he has been making the elixir of life for centuries. The secret of eternal life if hidden within the book he protects -- the Book of Abraham the Mage. It's the most powerful book that has ever existed. In the wrong hands, it will destroy the world. That's exactly what Dr. John Dee plans to do when he steals it. Humankind won't know what's happening until it's too late.

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel is a superbly imaginative tale brought to us by Irish author, Michael Scott. The back flap calls him the authority on myth and folklore in his country.

After reading the first four books in the series, with the final two still forthcoming, I do not doubt such a claim. Scott has a fantastic reach in his words that brings myth right to your front door. Literally, as in the opening pages of The Alchemyst shows. Keeping any and all spoilers absolutely contained here, because if you do pick up reading this series, I want you to be as surprised as I was.

Now, the series is young adult and I've never read young adult before this. I am telling you, it is an absolute page turner. I remember nights reading this where I needed to be in the next chapter. The chapters are relatively short at times, but it's all part of the fun that makes you want to know more. Scott sometimes uses only a few paragraphs to a chapter, but it's a huge deal in the progression of the story arc.

What I really love best about this, aside from the bombardment of myth (from all cultures, I'll add), is the pacing. Never before have I seen pacing so perfect. In the course of the four books that have been released so far, the characters have only progressed a little over a week's time. Four books -- hundreds of pages combined -- all telling a story contained within days. That's talent.

I'm only ranting, but it's worth picking up. The main characters, Josh and Sophie Newman, are called the twins of legend. They have silver and gold auras, which not many others have. It's the sign of prophecy coming to a head. While you run through legends with them, from Aztec to Arthurian and Greek to Roman, it's all blended nicely.

Immortals do roam the modern world (in Scott's series), some of which are sided to bring about the return of the Dark Elders, a race of immortals who want to punish humankind, and some of which are sided to the witty and loving Nicholas Flamel, who wishes to prevent the return. You'll meet famous literary characters, all of which are immortal, and the fun only begins there.

I urge any who are interested in young adult, and also any who are looking for a new read, to pick up in this series. It's well worth the buy and read.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Now Reading: Shadow's Edge by Brent Weeks

2011-01-24T21:50:00.001-05:00

SHADOW'S EDGE
Book Two of the Night Angel Trilogy
Published: November 1, 2008
ISBN-10: 0316033650
ISBN-13: 978-0316033657

Kylar Stern has rejected the assassin's life. The Godking's successful coup has left Kylar's master, Durzo, and his best friend, Logan, dead. He is starting over: new city, new friends, and new profession. But when he learns that Logan might actually be alive and in hiding, Kylar is faced with an agonizing choice: will he give up the way of the shadows forever and live in peace with his new family, or will he risk everything by taking on the ultimate hit?

I went out on a whim when I first picked up The Way of Shadows from my local Borders. It was the first novel of a new series from an author I had never heard of or even dreamed of exploring.

Am I ever glad I did!

Brent Weeks has a voice and rich world that rivals my other current great love, Jim Butcher. Where Butcher relies on his clever dialogue, Weeks's world is mighty, grand, and full of surprises. It is your classic fantasy setting, with a twist here and there. The city is falling apart in places and flourishing in others, and amidst all of it is the boy, Kylar Stern, who became one of the greatest wetboys (assassin) in Cenaria.

I am very excited to finally pick up Shadow's Edge after a long love affair with Butcher. I'm ready to return to the world of wetboys, prostitutes who are equally as dangerous (if not more), and magic that just astounds me. I'm a sucker for a fantastic magic system, and Weeks's use of "vir," tattoo-like magic, always draws me in. Then there is the mysterious "ka'kari," a series of artifacts each imbued with the protection of a single element. But there also exists the powerful silver ka'kari, which belonged to Durzo. Kylar has yet to fully explore the ka'kari's true potential, but I expect Shadow's Edge will deliver more explanation, more world, more character, and more gritty death and violence that made me glad I picked up The Way of Shadows.

Review of Shadow's Edge to come in recent weeks.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

100 Words for $100 Blogfest

2011-01-24T17:36:00.000-05:00

Elena Solodow, one of my critique partners, at You're Right. Except When You're Rong hosted a month long blogfest challenging participants to write one 100 word sentence. We were granted a 5 word leeway in either direction, so 95 and 105 word subs are accepted.

So, I didn't prepare or put thought into this sentence. Just did it. Hoping for the best, I suppose. It is 82 words of out-of-my-head randomness.

Enjoy!

* * *

It was made clear that my life had no meaning, be it divine intervention, being socially cut off from society, or simply by the pinch of the bullet wound calling home to just above my heart—courtesy of the duster-wearing fellow standing over me, his cobalt knife-like eyes putting a fuzzy blanket over my shit-brown eyes and the swift realization that he wasn’t done with me, also courtesy of him popping open the barrel and checking his remaining munitions.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Review: Blood Rites by Jim Butcher

2011-01-24T15:29:00.007-05:00

Starting a bit late in the series here, but I'll get to reviewing all of the previous novels as well.

BLOOD RITES
Book Six of the Dresden Files
Published: August 3, 2004
ISBN-10: 0451459873
ISBN-13: 978-045149879

Review: 4/5
Cover: 3/5

Harry Dresden, Chicago's only professional wizard, takes on a case as a friend to Thomas - a vampire of dubious integrity - only to become the prime suspect in a series of ghastly murders.

Jim Butcher ceases to amaze me with his complex story lines that send you reading one plot in one, certain direction, only to show you that in the last few chapters that the true plot is something else, more deeply connected to Harry (as always). Although he uses the same style to tell Harry's continuing saga, it never gets old. In Blood Rites, Harry is wrangled in by Thomas to help break the hold of his father, Lord Raith, over the White Court of Vampires.

As the book opens, Harry becomes the suspect of murders plaguing Auturo Genosa's adult film studio, because of his timely employment with them. Thomas knows Harry is not involved and together they discover Lord Raith is behind it all, not only to silence Thomas from eventually succeeding him, but also to remove Harry from the equation.

I asked myself: Why would Lord Raith want to remove Harry is he is not connected in any way?

As I remembered Butcher's style, I knew there was something more happening, and sure enough, we learn (SPOILER: HIGHLIGHT TO READ) Harry and Thomas are brothers by their mother, Margaret LeFay, who Lord Raith murdered. With Harry now part of the personal game, Butcher reveals the larger plot that has Harry involved. He not only brought great voice and storytelling to the secondary, underlying plot that consumed three quarters of the book, but he takes you deeper into Harry's life; to an area that was previously unexplored in the first five books. His mother had hardly ever been discussed before this, but now, she's the missing piece that lets Harry know that he's no longer alone in the world.

Blood Rites is colorful in word and scope, like all of Butcher's writing, and his unending witty dialogue that makes me love Harry Dresden continues forth. Just when you thought you knew Harry, a whole second plane of his life unfolds, only undoubtedly to be explored in the succeeding novels of the Dresden Files.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Struggling to Rehab the Blog

2011-01-24T14:26:00.000-05:00

Note the typo in the text. That's how I roll!

I've been giving myself a huge HEAD DESK each time I sign into my blog, thinking something has changed. More followers. Nope. Comments. Nope. Sparkles and glitter from special prizes. Not even close.

I was really strong in 2010, being participant in other blogs and contests, commenting and blogfest hopping, making contacts and just putting myself out there. 2011 has been a stark contrast so far, and I'm going to try to rehab myself for the sake of getting noticed more. I'll be adding some new features (book reviews and other opinionated goodies) and really get back on the saddle.

The one thing that has really shown productivity in 2011 is my dedication to my online critique group. We are brutally honest with each other, but undeniably sold to each others' manuscripts in progress. We all know we're competent, strong writers and we keep each other on track.

I really hope we stick together. A big thanks to Jodi Henry, Stephanie M. Loree & Elena Solodow.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Show vs. Tell Blogfest

2011-01-15T09:00:00.000-05:00

The day's arrived for Misty's blogfest. Return to her page to view all the entries from our participants.

I also didn't have time to write a second scene for the TELL half of this blogfest. So, my story for the SHOW portion will have to do. It's a bit over 1,000 words. Enjoy!

THE LAST VIEW

I remember Howard’s bark even after I had closed the door on him. Poor, stupid mutt didn’t know any better. I just let him be. For me, I needed to take a walk.

The fashionable gray sidewalk outside my building had no walkers today. Even the weeds pouring from the stairs to my door seemed more lively than the streets. The landlord hadn’t made taking care of the building his duty in over a year now. Can’t blame the guy. The Veratin picked him up a month ago, I think, saying something about his loyalties.

Shit, my loyalties weren’t to them. They don’t know that, though. I made it my duty after to his to make sure the buildings occupants had some care, perhaps even some hope. When the “V” came for them too, one by one, that’s when I kept my door locked. All the locks: three bolts and two chains across the frame. And one rusted jalopy of a sliding bolt that sunk into the floorboards. I put a chair there for good measure. I can see the nasties faces barging into my place. Past the bells and whistles, all my locks, and they look at the chair sitting before them. I’d like to think I could laugh in their faces as they dragged me away.

Bet you’re asking yourself why I’m walking to the lake, right? Waving your hands, gray faced screaming, “The V are gonna’ swipe you up, you old coon.” Yell all you want. I bet the V been watching me for some time. They know they didn’t get all those people outta’ the city. After the hammer went down, that nice hole opened up in the middle of the block. Wide as three tractor trailers, going as deep and black as my eyes.

I walked to the end of the road, staring yards ahead of me where the evidence of the hammer was. Took my time getting there, stick in hand and bag looped on my arm. A lady doesn’t forget her bag, even if they send all the nasties to your door to get you. Might be going to the grave, but I’ll have my mirror, some mints and a Reader’s Digest.

I stared at the hole, shaking my head. They came down in the hammer and walked the streets just like that. Immune to all things we tried, they told us the conditions were right for their arrival. The hammer destroyed that nice block where my flower shop was: my mother’s shop I should say. Damn V. The block was painted with our flowers. Geraniums, tall white tulips with the longest stems, roses and daisies. Arrangements were her thing, her fingers supple from handling nature. That’s the memory.

But, I’d be damned if I let that shop go to waste after the hammer. Still got the keys to it. Used it as a safe house some days. When they thought they had us all, thought they cleaned
the houses, I took us there. Barred us in, I did. Then they really did take them all. The V made sure of it. Came down the streets, took fire to the houses. Blew out the windows.

I passed those houses, thinking of them. Wonder if they made friends with the V, or took the shackles to their necks? I stepped around the hammer ground. The pavement heaved up and out, smoldering still on some days when it rained. The power they had to crack the earth: guess it always stays around. My stick clattered on the uneven ground and I took rod up in my hand, waving the handle like a baton. A piece of the road hung dangerously over me. I tapped on it.

Would have been helluva’ way to go after surviving.

I thought nothing more of the hammer ground and came to the shop windows. They, too, were remnants only. Fine glass mounds, like pixie dust, piled inside on the shelves and floor. No matter what I had gone through, coming to Ma’s shop always brought something terrible back to me. I held in fiery tears and a congested nose. I looked down the shelves where her art had been displayed, but only the shining dust remained.

And something else. A soft, cotton-candy flower, its tiny peddle breathing some of the light from outside. I smiled and dug into the glass mound. When I pulled it out, I dusted the surface with a gentle finger, like Ma had taught me. The fire in my eyes came back heavier now, but I was good at holding it in. Instead, I prayed to her, soaking in the baby flower’s precious life source, and tucked it away into my coat pocket. I kept on for the lake.

The light skimming over the perfect, gray surface defined serenity. That is till I saw the sky. The buildings hid the truth the deeper in Center Danbrook you lived, but it had been there for a while. Violent maroon swirls, mocking the good sun, took refuge where clouds once lived.

My bench was just ahead, not a stone’s throw from the shore line. Something crawled through the husky red and where others might mistake it as a glider, I knew a warship when I saw one. Another hammer, this one ready to park its metal carcass just over the mountain rise. I sat, watching the show as it prepped for the finale. It had been coming for weeks now, pushing past the baby hammers. The clouds broiled unsavorily like water on an untended stove and “mamma hammer” greeted me. Lonesome, little me, sitting on the bench.

Couldn’t see me, ‘course. But if they could, I’d smile. Might even wave at the V. Give em’ a whistle, show em’ what a survivor looks like.

Caring about me was the farthest thing from their minds now. The glimmer of gold in the maroon said as much. The last clouds dissolved as the hammer charged itself and the gold was like a long awaited Christmas present. It is that day, after all. Jesus carry me up, I thought. A clap of thunder rocked the lake into swift ripples. The force of wind pushed my back to the bench, but I kept my grin.

I patted my chest pocket, thinking of the flower, and spoke to Ma. Hammer or not, I said to her, I’m ready.

Show It To Me!

2011-01-06T10:05:00.000-05:00

I'm very excited for Misty's Show Vs. Tell Blogfest. You should be, too. It's an awesome idea joining preselected images for you to write around.

Psst...there's a special prize from the totally awesome C.A. Marshall. Yeah, you know who she is. If not, you should. The prize includes a critique of your synopsis or the first 10 pages of your manuscript. The alternative is a $35 monetary prize which can go toward a full critique.

We definitely need more participants for this fest, so shoot on by Misty's blog and sign up.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Trilogy Contest

2011-01-04T20:46:00.000-05:00

As we're all spreading the word of this fantastic contest getting under way by the trinity of bloggers: Rachael Harrie @ Rach Writes, Marieke @ Marieke’s Musings and Tessy Quin @ The Quest for a Literary Agent.

Prizes include critiques of queries, synopses or manuscripts. Less magnificent, although equally coveted (by some) are books and Amazon gift cards. To be in the running, you have to be a follower of all three. Pop over to their blogs, follow each, and fill the form that comes attached. Find the form on one of three ladies' blogs, also.

Contest ends January 31st!

"Show Me Yours" Blogfest

2011-01-03T10:22:00.001-05:00

Today kicks off the "Show Me Yours" Blogfest, hosted by Summer Frey. Visit the LINK PAGE to see all the participants. The goal of the blogfest is sweet and simple. Post a 500 word excerpt from your NaNoWriMo 2010 project. Since 2010 was my first NaNo ever, I was stoked to have won. Now to share. FYI: My excerpt is a little over 500 words.

Enjoy.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

From The Shattered Darkness, Chapter 7

At mid sun the next day, Eris arrived at the Crystal Pool, whose surrounding grounds seemed strangely attended. Phinella was true as to the Pool’s beauty and all of Eris' rapture of being given yet another way to locate Valence forced her to run to it. She leaned over the well. Roots along its lip raised like a dome over it. The stones forming the well were a soft gray, more pristine in appearance than the welcoming grounds. All around the inside of the dome, brass bowls had been fastened to it, each bearing a small flame cuddled in the Elf brand embers.

She held her hand over the water and a ripple went across it a moment later. The ring began at the center and pushed out, an image forming over the soft wakes as they moved. Valence appeared on the surface, sending looks left and right as if watching for something. The scene surrounding him focused next, familiar buildings and hatched roofs at his back. He stood under a bare tree with nearly no color. Eris waited for him steadfast, before he looked directly at her. She turned around, sure he might have been looking around her, but when she turned back, he nodded and smiled.

“Valence?”

He mouthed words, but there was no voice to them. She waited before he seemed to repeat himself. “Where are you,” he was saying.

“I’m with the Elves,” she said aloud. “I’ve been looking for you. I need you.”

He mouthed, “Come home.”

“I can’t, I—” She paused and looked around. “I’m a week away.”

“Please,” he said. The water rippled again, now more violent. It sloshed against the well walls and splashed onto the edge.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“It’s mom and dad.”

Eris reeled back, Valence’s face contorted as something pulled him away from the water. A shadow dashed in front of the Pool and a bullet of water shot up from it. It drenched the roots and stone, but Eris sat a foot away, reclining on her arms and watching it. It was not long before she scrambled up, all of Phinella’s warnings forgotten in her greed. She crawled for the Pool and put her head through the water, allowing her body to fall in after. She twirled, legs over body, before the wash and push of the water spit he out onto hard ground of dirt and pebbles. A woman screamed in the distance and she pulled her chin up to glance level at the ground. She breathed at the dirt and watched feet scamper by her eyes.

She was yanked to stand by a two-handed grip on her cloak and thrown into a choke. The arm beneath her throat was black-skinned, minute prickly hairs lining its arm like razors.

“Pretend to be dead, girl?” the thing at her back asked. It growled hunger and hissed in her ear. A worm-like tongue slid down her lobe and she shied away from it.

Eris thrashed, a well-placed heel to the creature’s leg and the thing released her. She spun around, the creature whirling back to face her just as her saber met its neck. Its head plopped off and bobbled across the ground. After the creature’s body dropped, she looked at the head. Its face was pulled up in a snout, the nose two swine-like slits for breathing. Beady dark eyes sat above high boned cheeks, almost hidden, and they gleamed like obsidian in death.

Eye Candy Blogfest

2011-01-01T11:11:00.001-05:00

Good morning all and breathe in that 2011 air. Last night, we experienced the birth of another year. As a tradition, we threw open the front and back door of our house in recognition that the crisp winter air blowing through the house was also taking away all the ill that came with 2010.

Today is the Eye Candy Blogfest, hosted by Vicki at Rambles and Randomness.

I'm posting a few of my favorite pieces from artist Alexiuss on Deviant Art. His strange world art featuring apocalyptic landscapes and other fantastical dreamy images always captivate me. Enjoy!

Anamnesis of Estivation

Chronoscape - Thundersnow

Consolation

Writing Share Wednesday: 4

2010-12-29T18:18:00.000-05:00

* * *

This week's excerpt is a throwback to my first manuscript, Bond of Darkness, whose opening I recently revamped.

A twist of a gray-black clouds spitting a poisonous rainfall pecked the land. Neither helped Valence. He sprinted, harsh burning breaths swelling his throat shut. Ten of his men pulled up his rear, dodging the strikes of the ulitick ambush that had found their group. He tried not to look back, but as the bloodcurdling screams shortened to seconds apart, he slid to a stop and pushed his men past him. The dark wasteland landscape gave speed to the giant bugs on their heels. More shadow than shape, they knew how to move while the Lunata were mice to their python grace. Creatures forbidden to see daylight, they wallowed amid the wastelands for a traveler to step through their traps. He heard the click-click, shuffle-shuffle of the uliticks advancing on him as he saw his men to safety. He glanced back and they began scrambling up a rocky rise. A vent spewing toxic brown gas topped the hill, and all else was in darkness past that.

Another scream. It was an arrow through his head, how painful it was. The last of his men passed him, flushed and tired, and he saw the ulitick pounce on the poor soul it had captured. Valence slung his sword from the scabbard and ran for the young man. His white hair tangled over his pallor face. He had managed to crawl away slightly, but there was a sickening crunch and the boy rolled onto his side, wriggling. His legs were gone at the knees.

Valence stopped at the sight and drew back a few steps. His stomach turned and the boy was taken away. A meaty claw layered with prickly hairs reached out from the black mass. It dragged him into their death cloud, screaming, a last crunch silenced him. Red mist dyed the black cloud and the bugs finally from the it. Smoke lingered from their four gangly arms, pincers stretching off them like shears.

He took one glance at their daunting, armor-plated faces. Slime poured from the gaps in their jaws like undigested gruel, putrid from even the farthest distance. Two, beady eyes scoped him out, but blind it seemed, the ulitick went back to its meal.

“Valence, c’mon!”

He turned to a solider waiting for him. His long hair was barely its snowy Lunata white, for all the grime and muck of the wasteland slicked their bodies. Valence stared at the boils the poison rain had created on his skin. He gawked back in horror. Two more clouds crept in from either side and it was on soldier before he could speak. An ulitick jumped out of the cloud, a full lunge spreading its wide claws. It bore into the solider, pinned him and the feast began there on the hill. The clouds continued down the rise for the other men.

A hurtling cry came at his left and Valence brought his sword around. He saw the ulitick leaping for him, its grimy pincers saliva-stained and lingering with fresh meat particles. He slipped below the attack, but drew his sword in a fine arc that took the head off the creature. It bobbled away to the rocky abyss and its squirming body cuddled next to his legs. He turned for the rise, but was barreled over. His back slapped the hard, wet ground. When he rolled up to meet the next attacker, fire tore across his chest. A deep burn well beneath his flesh surged and he couldn’t rise. He looked down to bits of his flesh dangling from its rightful place. A gash went from his collarbone to mid-chest, a dark-green goo seeping from it.

The uliticks came at him. He yelled, summoning all his will to lift the sword, but it did not so much as budge. His arm was paralyzed. The gray-black swirl overhead split open and a curling lance of white spiraled down at the creatures. It struck them all, the source unknown as he looked for it, but the power attacked him next. All the black subsided to a swift white curtain.

A Christmas Note from In My Write Mind

2010-12-24T12:05:00.002-05:00

December 24th is here and this will be my first Christmas away from my family. From here to anywhere, just remember that there are always those less fortunate than you and I. While I might be away from my family, I'm so glad that I get to spend it in the one place that shows the magic all year around. I'll make families love each other, blush, feel genuinely embarrassed by pointing out their bad sweaters, or use my famous line: " Don't look do happy. You're in Disney. Smiles are free here." That always turns a frown to a smile.

Yes, being miles apart from my family will hurt tomorrow (on the one day I really look forward to it), but I'm doing my part to others.

Have a Merry Christmas all and a joyous healthy New Year. To 2011 and "Letting The Memories Begin."

Peace and Christmas Love,

JWP

Writing Share Wednesday: 3

2010-12-22T10:00:00.005-05:00

Whoever wishes to take on this weekly challenge is welcome to grab the banner and use it on their blog. It is a testament to stay in the constant writing mode, no matter what setbacks jump in your way. Writing is a healing process for me today and it began as such. Anyone who uses it as a similar tool, I invite you on this journey.

* * *

The warrior looked to the ground briefly, its hands to its head. It looked back to him and Valence gasped. Its hallow eyes seemed more like a deep tunnel. It was acting as a vessel to something more foreign than the infection.

"Can't stay in there forever," said a new voice. It was not of the snake, but a dark creation of the thing holding dominion in its body. It was distinguished, a long echo like a bell and pronouncing each word.

"Mithrus."

"We are two, perpetually spinning in time. Without one, the balance of all connected to us is altered. I’m your shadow, boy.”

Valence held his response, deft. "Children of Light and Shadow, but it seems we're both hiding from each our true purpose.”

“Not true. For my destiny was set many ages ago, I have prepared too long. But, I cannot put my acceptance in those who are blind to my duty.”

“You’re threatening families. Children.”

“There are reasons for my decision. So many reasons.” The warrior paced the shield, scraping a finger along the outside. “It could have been Irien, and it would have ended then, but the Light jumped to your body. I did not foresee the complication.”

“I hope you’re ready for our meeting.” Valence pressed his hand to the protection of the shield and met Mithrus’ dark, blank eyes. There was no emotion or motivation to the warlord’s words. Only certainty. He countered it, his response bitter. “I’m going to cut the infection out of you.”

“Hard words, Valence. You pretend you know how to bring the Light out and stop my infection.” The Trapos stopped suddenly and put his hand on top of Valence’s, matching his fingers perfectly. He stared at him for a second before curling his fingertips to the shield.

A force smacked Valence through his shield and the entire structure of his aura trembled. The dome wavered, the silver streaks barely a soft glimmer of its power. He dug his heels in, twisted his feet and held both hands to the barrier again. Whatever Mithrus was casting on him through the Trapos vessel, it was ages stronger than he knew how to counter. A series of memories crashed at him, anchoring behind his eyes and flashing sequences of visions. He dug in more as the shield closed around him. It stole his breathing space. Panic filled his lungs like water, the memories heavy and drowning.

Children’s laughter, suddenly punished by screams reverberated in his ears. A city rimmed in sunlight was ablaze by fire falling from the sky. It looked similar to Ismer’s vision of Olinerh. It pulled him through the city and he stopped at the long, ascending stairs of a temple.

The warrior pulled his hand back quickly. Valence lurched forward, his face flat against the aura. The snake’s tongue slipped out from its lips and curled into the smile of a war-maddened man. “I, however, have had time to know my role. I am ancient and wise, and the Shadow of the Universe will plunder this world of its freedom. If they cannot accept my assistance, then they will lay under my foot when I am their god.”

The aura shield squeezed tighter, a sensation like a warm cloth on his skin. A whisper ran through his head with the continuing memories. He thought first it was Mefist and the grainy touch of his voice returning. He hugged the shield closer and his waist pressed flat to it. The Pearls juggled to life inside the scallop pouch. The lip of the pouch flipped open and the five stones rose out.

It was not Mefist, but the strange whispers coming from the Pearls. The warrior drew back farther, reeling its arms in as if attached to a heavy force.

“Give me my Pearls,” Mithrus said, the snake slobbering the words.

“They’re yours no longer,” Valence yelled. He clenched his eyes, infusing every bit of his will to combat the force holding him. His arms budged first, followed by his chest. The Pearls leaned closer toward the warrior, nearly out of his control.

The Trapos lunged to snatch the Pearls, and in last few seconds when the stones were on equal ground, Valence tore himself free of the bind and grabbed them up. The Pearl magic instantly took him over and the aura shield shattered outward. The warrior staggered away from the silver energy. Before it could stand upright, the night swathed Valence. All the darkness of the forest and surrounding midnight became like a cloak over his body and he left the ground. The silver energy soared up with him and he crested over the treetops and toward the sunrise. With stars in his eyes, he hugged the magic close and let it carry him away.

Blogfest Canceled

2010-12-20T12:23:00.000-05:00

I AM CANCELING THE AWKWARD WRITING BLOGFEST, which was scheduled for January 8. I realized I might not be around that day and I was also being very restricting the entries. Worry not, cohorts. I'll come back with another blogfest idea in 2011 sometime, probably for a follower milestone or some other event.

So, again, the blogfest is canceled.

For now, please see the below links to sign up for other cool blogfests going down in early 2011.

January 1-31: 100 Words for $100 Blogfest, hosted by Elena Solodow. Join this super awesome blogger for a one sentence blogfest.

January 3: "Show Me Yours" Blogfest, hosted by Summer Frey. Stop by this blogfest to share a 500 word excerpt from your NaNoWriMo 2010 project.

January 15-17: Show vs Tell Blogfest, hosted by Misty Waters. Join this blogfest to write a story around an image of your choice.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Sketchpad:1

2010-12-17T14:44:00.001-05:00

In a further attempt to show off my artwork, I will upload sketches to my blog as I produce them.

This is a sketch of my protagonist, Valence, as he begins to learn his way around a new type of magic.

Enjoy.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Writing Share Wednesday: 2

2010-12-15T10:15:00.000-05:00

* * *

“The age of the Elves in this ancient forest is coming to an end,” said another male. “Our tribes are more united than they. When the war comes, we will crush them.”

Valence swallowed back his next response and gawked on the court of Trapos. “You cannot be planning an assault on their city. What is your reason?”

“We of the Mookla Clan have been given proof that the Elves are no more protected from the infection than any.” It was an older female who spoke now. Her arms were long and thin. She kept them folded and rest her head on her fingers.

Valence took his eyes off her, realizing her breasts hung in the open in a proud display of her matronly power.

“When it corrupts them, they will expand and you can be certain it will not be our land they take.”

“You are putting your people in a very bad position,” he said, but the old woman spat at his words almost immediately. “Instead of readying your men and women for war against your neighbors, you should be seeking diplomacy in their ranks before the infection can reach either of your sides.”

“A demon who speaks on its master’s behalf can be given no reconciliation,” said another lord. “But, we wise-thinking Gunroe offer a proposition.”

His Trapos captor wheeled around at those words and marched to the dais. He went to the ground, his four arms spread to the stairs, before looking at the leaders.

“Lord Do’nak, you cannot be so level headed. Not now.” The warrior pointed back at Valence, all of his certain judgement that he was a demon in the firm set on his finger. “He is not a Moonwalker, but he wears the skin.” Those words seethed on the snake’s lips as he turned back. “Such rationality will bring the demon souls to our own people and it is they who will walk among us corrupted. They will bring their knives behind their backs, we thinking they are friend, and we will trust their masks. Please, reconsider.”

Do’nak reclined back a moment and leaned in his throne to speak with the Trapos matron that had also accused Valence. He saw her nod, her hanging breasts jiggling with her adornments. She, too, leaned to the next chair seating the A'opei Lord, as Do’nak spread his word to the far end of the dais. It continued for a long moment, each passing hiss a bead of sweat tumbling on his forehead. A drop passed down his eye and caught his lip. When the word had traveled through the ten leaders, Do’nak sat up and gave his attention to the leader sitting to his right.

The leader did not speak so Valence could understand, but rather put out a response made from a series of hisses and clicks on his tongue. The next leader also responded, and the next until the Mookla matron and the A’opei Lord stood up.

“He will be tested,” said the lord.

Valence released a breath that he had held for seconds too long. The pressure that tingled along his face spread out and relief washed over him.

The matron took the stairs down, her breasts wiggling as she sinuously moved toward him with careful side steps. A large curved knife appeared in her hand.

“Your hands, demon,” she said. The warrior was at her back, an empty sheath on his belt showing where the blade had come from. The slits in his eyes were the girth of a coin set on its edge. They didn’t care to see him set free, nor alive.

“My name’s Valence,” he said quickly, “if you care enough to stop calling me that.” He looked on her, but the set of her eyes declined that offer. As she reached out with the knife, the tanglelock moved more as one force, reaching higher up his legs and near his waist. She spat quick vicious words, and the weeds crawled back down until his boots were free from their hold. The matron returned the blade and the warrior spun it back into his sheath after a last, careful look on Valence.

“So, what’s this test?” he asked, rubbing his wrists.

“We’ve come to the sanctuary for a reason,” the matron said. “It is very protected. The spirits of our deceased shield the arena and the surrounding grounds.”

“What are they protecting?”

“From our own people,” she said after a moment of thought. “The kind we think you to be. Corrupt, infected, evil: whatever the word is this day. Something has changed them and they are more deadly now than we know how to deal with.”

The A’opei Lord joined the matron at her side, arriving in sheer silence that made Valence quiver. He had not seen him leave the dais.

“They are holding a group of our people at the grounds we once occupied.” He turned Valence to face the thicket of trees a that twisted into a cage of bark and branches. “Those grounds are not a day’s walk from the sanctuary. There was a dozen unaccounted for, but we do not know how many they have killed.”

“Going by myself, am I?”

“That is the test,” the lord said. “If you can break the hold of the demons living in our people, we will consider your freedom.”

“Consider? Nothing more than that?”

“Unfortunately not.”

Are you hearing this, he thought to Mefist, but the Demi was not a quick to respond as normal. Nothing came, not even an itch on his head. He glanced down at his waist to the empty spot where his sword should have been hanging.

“I’ll need my sword,” he said, and then remembered the Pearls, “and anything else you took off me.”

The lord snapped his fingers and a warrior bearing a bundle of his cloak, scabbard and other belongings came to him. His possessions were given back, the sword the last piece for a measure of their own safety. When they had given the blade to him, two other warriors were at his back, spears targeting him. He ignored it this time and finished the straps along the scabbard.

“You leave tonight,” the matron said. “Gather your wits, boy. You’ll need them.”

Valence breathed and walked off, naturally avoiding the mess of weeds at his feet. The spear-bearing warriors followed him.

“Valence,” came the lord’s voice.

He turned back, taking both the scrutiny of the A’opei Lord and Mookla matron in one lethal dose. The other leaders had convened around their equals in the short moment, also silent in their approach.

“Don’t think of running off into the forest. I’ll have an arrow in your back quicker than you can blink.”

Query Letter Blogfest

2010-12-12T09:19:00.000-05:00

Today is the throw down for Jodi's very unique Query Letter Blogfest! Find all of the participants and her re-hash of the rules of play for the fest back at her page.

The idea was to post your query for commentary to your dream agent. You need to critique at least ten queries. It's a guideline.

Here is my query to my dream agent. I have two who I would really love to work with.

* * *

Dear Jennifer Jackson (or) Matthew Bialer,

A magical aberration called the Darkness has manifested across Villis-Idun and only the Light of the Universe can suppress it. Valence is a needle in the prophecized haystack, or so it seems when he learns he is the Light. Charged with fighting an infection that drives its victims to madness, he does not know where to start the journey.

While the infection readies itself to bring the last war of man, Valence learns there is a second enemy, one on his level: the Shadow of the Universe. Balter Mithrus is returning to finish his proclaimed duty to his people. With that including destroying Villis-Idun through the Darkness, Valence cannot allow it to happen.

Valence accepts the mantle as the Light of the Universe and brings along trusted allies on the road. The deeper they go, he learns the infection is older than most people know. Its birth dates back to the age of the Seentirulian, the first race and literal children of the gods. He cannot help but wonder what he has been pulled into, for if the Seentirulian played a hand in the creation of the Darkness, all hope the people have will be lost.

BOND OF DARKNESS is an epic fantasy, complete at 103,000 words.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,

Justin W. Parente

Writing as J.W. Parente

www.jwparente.blogspot.com

Blogfest Rundown

2010-12-11T23:22:00.000-05:00

Here's a quick rundown of fests I'll be joining. Come along for the fun.

Query Letter Blogfest: tomorrow (12), runs until December 18. This fest is a unique style as it's shared in the form of query letters addressed to our dream agents. Hosted by Jodi Henry.

"Show Me Yours" Blogfest: January 3. This fest asks you to share a 500 word excerpt from your NaNoWriMo 2010 project. Host by Summer Fray.

100 Words For $100 Blogfest: January 1, runs until January 31. This fest asks you to share a single, 100 word sentence with a 5 word leeway (meaning 95 or 105 is acceptable). Share it on social sites, too. Sign up and post a comment on the Linky page to have your chance at the prize money. Hosted by Elena Solodow.

Awkward Writing Blogfest: January 8. This is my second blogfest which is revisiting the Awkward Writing series a few months back. Badge to come in a separate post. Hosted here!

Writing Share Wednesday: 1

2010-12-08T21:53:00.000-05:00

* * *

Valence went into the forest with the Trapos, eyes tied by a cloth and hands bound. Every so often, he jounced over the ground, slipping on some rock or root, and felt the closeness of a spear near his face. They were taking all precautions that he did not slip away from their capture. He thought of the demon that came after Mefist and he through the ley, and what it could have been. The manner that it hissed and struck made him panic, and neither of them wanted to stay around long enough to see what else it was capable of. Stepping away from one threat and into the arms of another, he thought. At least this one isn’t trying to cut me in half yet.

Specks of light moved over the bind covering his eyes, and the beams grew strong and soft with the gentle kiss of wind on his nape. They stopped for a moment and he felt forward with his foot. It was a sudden halt and nothing about it sat comfortable with him. He reached his toe forward, but the ground appeared to drop away suddenly just inches ahead. His stomach sank and a
knot tangled in his throat.

His captors waited a moment more, exchanging words in their language, before he was tugged forcibly left by the bonds. His whole body lurched in the chosen direction and hands instantly went to his shoulders to hold him straight.

“Don’t fight,” one of the Trapos demanded.

“Does it look like I’m fighting?” he asked.

“Demons know trickery like they know how to breathe.”

“Demon? You think I’m a demon? Look at my hair, scaly.”

A more firm grip, like two large fingers closing around his shoulder joint in a pinch, was the Trapos’ response.

Valence winced and settled himself in the discomfort as naturally as possible, but the hold on his shoulder along made him want to scream. He felt the cry rising in him. The snake had him by a vulnerable point, which was made twice as worse as his sword arm. Another short walk later, after the ground had gone from a decline to a flattened area, his bonds were cut and a hand bushed down on his back. His head snapped to the earth and the cover on his eyes was ripped off. He looked on the strangest species of weed. It covered his boots to the ankle, although it made no sound as he stepped onto it. Tiny spores, soft like cotton to his eyes, ran along the twisting stems of the weeds. He examined them closer and saw barbs rise off the spores, hidden beneath their fuzzy appearance. He tried to replant his foot as the weeds strung around the flat of his boot, but they held him down. The spores transfered in the process, clinging to his ankles.

“You will not want to struggle to much.” The Trapos that had sliced the ley gate sat on a stump a few yards ahead of him. “Tanglelock is a nasty weed. Carnivorous if you put your fingers too close. Lucky for you we’re justing putting your feet in.”

“I feel better already. Thanks for sparing me.”

“We will see how long that lasts.”

Valence glanced over the area. The Trapos sanctuary was both beautiful and devastating in ruins at the same time. The ground beneath them, outside the growth of tanglelock, was finished stone, but walls were around him in mishmash of fallen blocks and discarded piles of ancient brick. Weeds had claimed the piles, also. There was a hint of the sanctuary having been covered over at one time, for the remains of a ceiling was evident through from earth, stone and root. An unknown source of water trickled down the walls and vanished into the grooves worn into the perfect floor. He stared ahead past the Trapos male, to a court of more fierce looking snakes. They sat in a fine row, each in a chair molded from the room. He thought he saw amusement on their faces, and more on their flicking tongues.

NaNoWriMo: FOR THE WIN!

2010-11-29T11:58:00.000-05:00

HECK YES! First NaNoWriMo Win! My year long happy dance begins now.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

NaNoWriMo: Day Twenty-Eight

2010-11-28T14:33:00.000-05:00

So close. This is the last excerpt before the win, which I am expecting a day early (ie: tomorrow). Enjoy and I wish all my other NaNo cohorts a good finish in their dash for the 30th.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 15 excerpt

The boat inched forward as if caught on a wake. Something was pushing them. They rocked for a moment and the bow shifted left slightly.

“Keep it straight, Sen.” Issy’s hand tightened around Senic’s. She scooted closer to him and lay her head against his.

The boat drifted on, the front taking its course now. The cavern opened to a wide chamber, the canal feeding into a vast lake. Knolls of grass existed on various islands that sprouted from the lake, the flowers from the other plain growing here as well. Gerad looked to the cavern ceiling as they drifted through the water. He could not keep his mind away from what Melana would have thought of this journey. After a short ride in silence, each of them looking to different areas of the lake, a larger wake rocked their starboard side. It was a minor splash at fist, followed up by a series of larger, more violent shoves. The green water sloshed onto their feet and boat bottom, drying as it had on Kyona’s hand. The wakes came from all directions, thrusting their boat unnavigable as Senic and Issy toppled over on each other.

“What’s happening?” Kyona asked.

“I feel something ahead,” Issy said. “It’s really strong.” She leaned away from the bow as the water continued to spray over the sides. She whined and put her head on her brother’s shoulder. “It hurts.”

“What do you feel?” Aroth asked.

“I can’t think right,” she cried. Senic also cried out, putting his hands out ahead, trying to hold off their pain.

“Something is pushing on me. A bad headache.”

“It is the domain’s defenses,” Aroth said. “Hang on, this is about to get rough.”

The water began to bubble and froth. Their boat spun in the foam and quickly took off across the lake, speeding by the small land dots and missing them barely. Giant upsurges of water stabbed into the air around them as they passed, as if siege engines were bombarding fire around their vessel. The green rain sprinkled down and they entered another cavern, the lake thinning off into a river again. The stinging water spat at them from the bow as they tore across the surface, and the children ducked low to the bench, gripping it.

“Don’t lose track, kids,” Aroth yelled to them. “This voyage is still under your control. Think through it.”

“It hurts!” Issy cried. “Make it stop.”

“Focus, Issy,” Kyona said.

She reached over Gerad, sitting on the boat floor with the kids and held them steady.

Gerad glared up ahead where a split in the river appeared. “Quick, Issy. You can do it. Help your sister, Senic.”

Although they continued to whine, the boat trembled, fighting to take both directions. It rocked wildly in the twins’ mental battle to take them down the right path. The river flooded into the boat now, filling too quickly to evaporate.

“Right,” Issy called, her brother repeating it almost on top of her. They rose up on their knees, taking their hands to the bow. The boat struggled for a second longer before they careened to the chosen path.

“Keep at it!” Aroth demanded again.

The children continued to call out the directions as they just came to the multiple paths the river opened at. The skimmed the side of the cavern, riding the wall as one of their choices came too late. The water continued to fill the boat.

“I see land ahead,” Kyona said. “A bit more, kids.”

Their screams became unbearable now, the pressure finally touching Gerad, also. The front of the boat sunk, mere yards from the shore the opened before them. The water weight inside the vessel took over and the bow dove under. The river gushed at them and they each went beneath the surface.

Gerad tossed and spun, blowing air through his mouth and yelling. His eyes bolted open, a green rush in his face and bubbles being thrown at him. He saw Kyona sweep ahead of him and he attempted to grab her, but she had wrapped herself around Issy. Senic was nowhere to be found. He spun over in the torrent, Aroth seemingly unconscious and being dragged at the rear. He heaved in, water entering his throat, but he burst out of the river with his next choking breath. They thudded onto the land with a flood tossing them ashore. He hacked and slammed his hand against his chest to spit up. Kyona rolled onto her side, Issy held in her arms with one hand covering her face. Splinters of wood exploded behind him as the boat found the shore. He wobbled to his feet, staggering to Kyona first. He pulled Issy off her and then took her up. Aroth came from behind, falling to the grass next to him.

Aroth took in an exhausted breath and looked up. He stared around. “Where’s the boy?” he asked. “Where is Senic?”

Gerad scanned the shore and gasped, stepping forward. “Renikarr, no,” he said in a prolonged breath. Senic lay face down in grass not ten steps ahead of them. He did not move.

NaNoWriMo: Day Twenty-Five

2010-11-25T13:17:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving to all my cohorts. Extended greetings to my family, who I am away from for the first holiday season ever. And I tell you, it is really hard to be at work today, despite it being Disney and all, and not with my family.

But, regardless, I found a good connection in the cafeteria here on property, so I'll be Skyping with them all very soon. That brightens my day a bit.

Here is my latest excerpt.

Peace and Writing Love, plus Turkey.

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 14 excerpt

At the other end of the chamber, cut out of the rug, was a similar patch of floor where Ismer showed that he prayed. He took an interest in the prayer circle once more, kneeling at it with a finger on the line. He had noticed it with Ismer’s circle, but tiny lines formed interior rings. They were spaced not even inches apart, pegs connecting them at various parts.

“That’s not like the other prayer circle,” Mefist said. He kneeled next to Valence and the moment after, a whirlwind force pulled them to the ground. There was a flash of green, terribly bright, and something smacked at his back. He opened his eyes, daring the light’s intensity, but it was gone. They lay on the floor outside the circle.

“This seems too similar,” Valence said to the Demi.

“I think you’re right.” Mefist gathered himself and pulled Valence up. “And, I don’t think that was a prayer circle.” He looked around the new room. It was not the one that gave homage to day and night, but something else entirely. “In fact, I’m sure of it. We were portaled somewhere.”

“I think this is a ley,” Valence said, “but I’ve never seen an active one. I wonder what we did.”

“Who cares.” Mefist took in their new surroundings. “Whichever of the Archons called this tower home had no sense of decor. A chair and work table over there,” he said, pointing to it, “and some candles. Very homy. All the power in the world, messengers of the gods, and they can’t put a carpet down?”

Valence ignored Mefist’s complaints and found the door leading to what was likely the stairs down. He had learned his lesson and did not doubt the glance down would fare him any more solid a stomach than the last. He looked along the walls. The construction of the towers were mostly similar, with differences attributing each keeper’s taste, but what had been left to preservation sent his mind walking. Ismer’s tower and the one before both had the rib-like beams running down the entire length. He had not thought it as anything more than supporting the height of the tower, but he looked more closely at the beams. Tube-like glass was on either side of the beam, running top to bottom. An energy fed off it, obviously unused for some time, but even the oldest trace amounts held to age. It felt Seentirulian in shape and depth, but it was very deep, as if the glass did not end at the floor. It was as if something beneath the ground gave the tower the energy supply.

He came back to Mefist, thinking. The Demi was sitting on the floor just outside the ley gate. “These towers are definitely strange. I think they were used as conductors of some kind. But, I can’t tell for what.”

“Fascinating,” Mefist said. “Does any of this help us, though?” He went to say something more, but was interrupted by the glow of the gate starting up again.

It hummed to them, a force behind the veil of the ley pushing into the empty chamber. It filled the room and a sudden pressure ran along Valence’s back, his instinct’s way of telling him that they were being watched. The green ran through the ley’s patterns and the air shimmered with a flash of prismatic color. He looked at Mefist, whose red eyes and black slits softened with concern. He, too, felt the presence coming at them.

“I don’t like the way this feels,” Mefist said.

“Neither do I,” Valence said. He put out his hand to feel
the wards on the tower. They had been there, but something was
sucking the protection away at a very quick rate. Layers over layers of ancient defenses were being bypassed.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I just remembered the bad thing about ley gates.”

“What’s that?”

“Anyone can use them. We took this gate from the sun and moon tower, but it could lead somewhere else, also.”

No sooner had he spoken, the shimmering air burst apart like shattering glass and a tendril shot out from the gate. It was writing through the air, visible in the space they stood and just not inside the threshold of the ley. It snapped and coiled, grabbing Valence up, but Mefist was already on it. He came down on the tendril with a sai, pinning it to the floor. The slimy arm detached from whatever body fed it, the pierced half wriggling. The cut portion morphed to a thin, deadly needle and slashed back at them.

Valence dodged back, but grabbed at his chest after the swing had passed over. Fine drops of his blood sprinkled across the floor. He took his steps back, Mefist guarding his front, as the tentacle morphed again to a shape bearing claws. Another tendril came from the threshold, also clawed. They reached for them and something larger was coming out of the gate. A thick mass, slick with a moist shell as its body, rolled from the ley, the claws dragging it forward into the chamber. It hissed and spat, minimizing their safe ground, and two eyes pushed down the body to look on them. They flickered to life, the glowing shapes not even blinking. They only stared. The thing hissed again, vicious, and lurched.

The body of the demon went right while the arms came from the other side. Mefist put himself in front of the arms and it fetched a strike that put him to the floor. The Demi fought to rise, but the tendrils slapped down on him and knocked him chest-flat again. Valence leapt over the arms as the body rolled for him, the eyes spinning upward as the body revolved. Its stare never left him.

NaNoWriMo: Day Twenty-Three

2010-11-23T16:58:00.000-05:00

So I don't normally post my NaNo excerpts a day apart, nor do I normally post twice in a day, but I found my latest excerpt quite tasty. I also passed the 40k mark, so I'm feeling the win coming close.

Short and sweet, here's your next look.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 13 excerpt

She glanced back at Phinella, who was tending to her mare. A patch of sun hung over her, but the brushing of the trees put it out. Eris looked up to the branches, but it was not the drifts putting out away the light. The shadow of something in the crowns moved across the air, stopping where the sunlight was shining through. When the things had blotted all the nearest sunbeams, she saw their faces. The Trapos warriors had followed them to the Crystal Pool, waiting and watching with bows dangling in their arms.

Phinella looked at her, a sweet smile on her and none the wiser of the assault awaiting them from above. The mistress’ expression changed when she next looked at her directly and she gave her a nod. She mouthed, “Do what you must.”

Eris dug her heel into the dirt, gave the snakes a second glance over and sprinted for Phinella. One dropped from the branches between them, its arms stretching for her. She doubled back and spun away from the snake, her hands already ahead of her and yellow aura snapping to life around them. She pushed at the Trapos as it brought its face to her. What should have been ochre eyes, splinters of black in them, were instead pure coal. The warrior flew off his feet, but the other snakes dropped around them before the first could hit the ground.

She motioned for Phinella toward her, yelling “Run!” The mistress slapped her own mare and the she took off for Eris. The pair of horses blitzed off into the forest. Phinella buried herself in her student’s arms and they ran for the Pool. Eris touched the well’s edge first when a thick twang slashed into the air. The mistress stumbled, instant dead weight, and Eris also dropped from the Phinella’s arm grabbing her leg. She spun around, drawing her in, but glared upon a two-foot long arrow driving out just below her shoulder.

Phinella did not so much as whine. She was simply silent. Eris crawled over her body, touching the shaft of the arrow lightly. She yanked her hand back when the mistress moaned and was grateful for it to have not been fatal. She rolled her over as the Trapos closed around them, but she gave the mistress her attention.

“Can you sit up?” she asked.

“Do it, dear,” Phinella said, her words in a mumble. She forced her head at the Trapos and let it drop back against Eris’ chest. She had seen their eyes. “Now.”

The Trapos launched themselves at the women, worse weaponry than bows coming at them. Deadly spears with coiling, tiny teeth were raised above their heads. One pike embedded itself inches from their feet and Phinella scurried back from it. Another soared at them, but Eris was already on her knees with her hands to the trees. An aura shield blazed from the dirt, coursing potent and solid. The spear cracked against the shield and bounced off in two pieces. The useless tosses of their spears did not stop the attack, however. The snakes put their fists to the shield, repelled with each strike and dazed, but they came back with heavier hits and more determined.

Eris leaned back with each hit, the aura snapping her will harshly. Each of their fists put a rebounding tone through her head, an echo that would not quit.

“They’re coming through, Eris,” Phinella said, sliding back further. “Can you hold it?”

She fumbled with her answer. The barrage was sapping everything from her. “I don’t know.” She stuttered off the last word and clenched her lips. “I need to...I need—”

“Don’t speak. Just think.”

“Think what?” Her question was lost under the ravaging hisses of the snakes. They glared at her through the shield, but showed no sign of weakness. A larger one, the first to have spotted them when they had crossed into their territory, flicked its tongue, tasting the aura. It slurped its tongue back in and jumped on top of the shield. A knife was then in its hand, driving down. Eris knew the knife’s point came through the shield, for she was knocked to her end on the rebound. She shook her head and looked up. An inch or two of the steel was stuck, but the warrior did not pulled it back. All four arms went to work where the knife had punctured.

Phinella screamed as another knife came at the shield in front of them, also barely puncturing it. The grounded warriors followed the other’s lead.

“I won’t be able to hold it,” Eris said, her breath escaping her. “They’ll be through soon.”

A sharp splinter cracked down the wall of the shield and Eris glared at it in horror. She looked up to the Trapos warrior, who had his face pressed to the barrier. His coal eyes set a curse on her: that they would not escape their murderous assault. He hissed, his open mouth drawing air and calling the others to him. The grounded Trapos crawled to him, tangling in a dark green ball of arms, heads and black eyes. They slapped at the shield, coming ever closer to them.

Phinella had slipped away, the blood loss taking her to an unconscious sleep. Eris backed against the well and clung a hand to the root dome, trying to maintain any shred of bravery left in her. A thought spun in her mind and she turned herself around, leaving Phinella to lay and looked at the dome. The Trapos were situated just above it.

She kept herself apart from the well, hands open at it and scanning the wards. She would require great power to ignite it and that would force her to pull back the shield’s protection slightly. Phinella grabbed her leg, but did not make a sound, and Eris readied herself. She pulled all the will left in her to her core and spread it down her arms. The channels were bleeding to be released from the incantation she was thinking. She blinked, her spell snapping to life the instant she pulled the protection away from the shield. Fire was in her hands and touched the roots. They were taken up immediately, the barrier no longer protection enough from the heat. She whispered another word, twirling her hands and releasing the full fury of the raging fire. It leapt and spun upward, consuming the Trapos.

The snakes screamed and hissed, jumping from the barrier over the well. Dancing tongues fell from the smoldering scales as they tried to pat it out in the dirt, but unsuccessfully. The fire wrapped around their bodies swift and merciless. Eris pulled the shield back and kept the fire steady on the Trapos. She strained to hold the fire and the rebounding heat made her back away. It was growing heavier by the second, but their dying hisses only fueled a greater passion to hold the torture on them.

When the last Trapos stopped moving, no more than a black charred corpse, Eris broke the link of the incantation and flicked her hands to cool the burn. She returned for Phinella, who sitting half-turned against the well, observing its ruin. She seemed to be teary-eyed, her cheeks red and lost in the emotion of seeing the ancient Pool as no more than wasted space.

“Eris,” Phinella said, weakly, “what have you done?”

“I am sorry, Mistress.” Eris took Phinella against her body and cradled her. “It was the only thing I could do.”

“I know, dear. But, Valence. You have taken away your only chance of finding him.” She paused and took in slow breaths. “I know of no other way to help you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Finding him would have meant nothing if I had lost you in the process. You’ve given me so much. You are the teacher who never gave up on me when everyone else did.”

Tuesday Special: How Many of These Books Have Your Read?

2010-11-23T11:52:00.000-05:00

Via Merrilee Faber @ Not Enough Words.

Have you read more than 6 of these books? The BBC believes most people will have read only 6 of the 100 books listed here.

Instructions:
• Copy this list.
• Bold those books you’ve read in their entirety.
• Italicize the ones you started but didn’t finish or read only an excerpt.
• Tag other book nerds.

Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
The King James Bible
Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
Nineteen Eighty Four (1984) – George Orwell
His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
Little Women – Louisa M Alcott
Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
Complete Works of Shakespeare
Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
Birdsong – Sebastian Faulk
Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
The Time Traveler’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
Middlemarch – George Eliot
Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald
War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
Emma -Jane Austen
Persuasion – Jane Austen
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe – CS Lewis
The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Bernieres
Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
Winnie the Pooh – A.A. Milne
Animal Farm – George Orwell
The DaVinci Code – Dan Brown
One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
Lord of the Flies – William Golding
Atonement – Ian McEwan
Life of Pi – Yann Martel
Dune – Frank Herbert
Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
The Secret History – Donna Tartt
The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
On The Road – Jack Kerouac
Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
Moby Dick – Herman Melville
Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
Dracula – Bram Stoker
The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
Ulysses – James Joyce
The Inferno – Dante
Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
Germinal – Emile Zola
Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
Possession – AS Byatt
Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
The Color Purple – Alice Walker
The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
Charlotte’s Web – E.B. White
The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
Watership Down – Richard Adams
A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
Hamlet – William Shakespeare
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
Les Miserables – Victor Hugo
??? (For you observant types, yes the list does appear to be missing book no. 100)

Here's my addition to the list, to fill in missing #100 - Paradise Lost -- John Milton

Too many tags to be made. Take the list if you wish to partake in the challenge.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

NaNoWriMo: Day Twenty-Two

2010-11-22T09:21:00.000-05:00

We are nearing the home stretch, people! Eight days to go! Be warned, NaNo's sight is still about an hour behind of the word logging, so if you try to log anything past 11 pm (any time zone), it will roll it over into the next day. Do not crunch!

In other news, I have recently added an Artwork page to my blog in an attempt to get more traffic. I am a freelance illustrator. I range in concept art, story boarding, and I have even taken on covert art projects (although the turnaround time for those are longer). If you are interested in any work, we can discuss it. I know the page is rather bland, but it's just a start. I'll work at the glamour end of it.

Here is your excerpt:

The Shattered Darkness

Chapter 13 excerpt

Sevestra thought of Orin and what she had done. If he had taken her guidance to heart, his army would be at the forest in a few short days. By that time, Balter would be ready to be released from his incubator, the body ready for him to walk in again. She sat waiting for the word, the Tulzo Ank clutched close to her chest. As great as her part was in his return, she dreaded the day, for when he woke, he would be ready to call on the Darkness. It had been his aim: find the way to return to the world and control the infection. At all ends, the plan sounded as if it would fall apart before it could be enacted, but here she sat, waiting.

She held the manuscript down from her body, staring the jacket. He would take her at his side and bring the Darkness back to him, as if summoning a common solider, to give it orders. She looked at the clan mark on her skin and touched the cover. The lock snapped off and she opened it to the first page. In all the time she had played a false role for King Pallanza, with all the power she had obtained and the respect that she had be given, she was certain she was not ready for this day. So mighty a face in the world above, but her, she was a frightened witch about to witness the rebirth of an ancient enemy.

The doors of her chamber opened and a small demon entered for her. Its stomach curled in, the ribs in its chest more prominent than they should been, and two large knobs bulged from its shoulders, arms hanging long and thin. It bowed to her, tucking its gangling arm at its body, and kept its eyes to the floor.

“Is it ready?” she asked.

The demon rose slowly and put a hand out to her. “Come, Mistress Sevestra. He awaits you.”

Sevestra readied herself as much as she would be able and closed the manuscript. She gave a final peer through her chambers and wondered if anything would be the same from this day forth. She gave the demon her hand and together they walked the long corridor leading to his throne, the same she had kept for him. The crystal around the throne shone a sharp violet, his chamber aglow only by its light. Her mind went wandering and she expected something to be waiting for her when she approached. Other demons rose up from the floor, part of the room itself, and bowed as she passed.

The demon that showed her into Balter’s chamber put itself in front of the throne and stared at her, although she would not give it her eyes. The room suffered a quick drop in temperature and while she felt it, the bowing demons showed it as no inconvenience.

“He comes now, Mistress,” the demon said. It went to the floor on both knees, arms stretched to the floor in exultance. “The world awaits you again, Lord Mithrus.”

The opening of a door came from somewhere distant in the chamber and Sevestra looked for it. She knew of no other door, but when he turned next, Balter was approaching her. He was toned, each bare muscle a glistening testament of his long awaited glory. He came to her and she realized then he wore nothing. The coldness seemed to give no consequence to him and she could not help but stare upon his lower region.

He smiled upon her, taking his head back slightly and narrowing his eyes to piece that which had entranced her.

“Marvelous work the resurrection has given my body.” He checked his arms and ran his forefinger down the damp curve of his arm. “Although some things remain unchanged.” Mithrus put a hand under Sevestra’s chin and brought her to look at him.

She rose, not knowing how for she did not will it, but she stood inches from him.

“Are you well, Sevestra?”

“I am, my Lord.” She was weak kneed and grabbed to his arm when her legs gave away. He caught her up and brought her to his body. “Thank you.”

“Your age does not beget your feelings for me, do they?”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“It’s all right, dear. I need someone at my side you know. The throne will grow cold should someone else not share the rule. Will you be that person to seat it?”

“It would be an honor, but I must earn it. Orin goes on my behalf to the forest. The directive there remains unchanged since we last spoke. Are we ready to bring our war to them?”

NaNoWriMo: Day Seventeen

2010-11-17T22:36:00.000-05:00

Day seventeen! Yes, a milestone that felt as good as day fifteen when I was able to pass 25,000 words. I made my 31,000 mark only two days later. Now my NaNo Stats graph can't laugh at me for at least another day.

Here is the latest chosen excerpt.

Enjoy and continued writing success through November.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 9 excerpt

Athmore coughed and massaged his neck. “We should get back to them. They get a little strange around this hour. I hate to see how they pass the time now.”

Yinadi smiled a large grin, the man he had shown himself to be—the speaker for the steward—now gone beneath the image of a mischievous Weaver. Athmore’s student dashed off into the shadows of skinny trees along the next hill, the grass short as if trimmed recently. Yinadi led them along a half beaten road side that showed a small farm house in the distance. A few other dwellings, residents of Gundo or not, rose up around the farmland just outside the fence line. Athmore breathed heavy and raspy, his age catching up with him for how swiftly Yinadi was taking them across the up and downs of the land.

Yinadi hid behind a tree, his body fitting its shape almost perfect. He picked up a rock, sized it with a short toss and gave Athmore a nod. He ran off toward the farmhouse, hunched and quick, and released the rock with a well readied arm. Yinadi staggered forward from the follow through and doubled back to their location. The clack of the rock hitting the fence bounced softly back. A moment later, the door opened and a figure strolled out. His whistle was also soft, but as noticeable as Athmore’s. The man twirled a walking staff up and tapped it on the fence’s gate post and returned to the house as commonly as he had come.

Athmore moved from behind his tree and went for the farmhouse first. The man at the fence left the door open, the golden glow of the inside spreading on his advance.

“Come,” Yinadi said. “They’re expecting us.”

Gerad and Kyona tailed Yinadi, hanging in his shadow as they entered the house. A pungent fusty scent hit him in the face. While it seemed to come from all directions, any crack or split floorboard, they approached the house’s attendant. He smiled toothless and pointed his walking stick at the far wall.

Athmore did not speak to the man, but slid his finger down the side of his eyepatch. The man’s toothless grin became a laugh and mumbled words over an old tongue sounding like, “Good to have you back.” Athmore patted the wall and something like a foot thumped behind it. Two sharp lines cracked down the wall on either side of him and continued on through the floorboards. Dust puffed up from the floor and it shifted beneath them.

“The door, Yindai,” Athmore said. “Let our guests down.”

Athmore stepped off where the floorboards showed their separation, Gerad and Kyona backing with him, and Yinadi jammed his fingers into two knots in the wood. The knots fell out, false plugs it seemed, and he hoisted a portion of the floor up and let it rest against the wall.

Gerad glanced down the rickety steps sending them to a level in the house that was beneath the ground. Yinadi went first, Kyona and Athmore after him, leaving only Gerad standing at the top, still examining the sturdiness of the steps. The old man at his back whistled and he turned.

He smiled, shooing him with his hand, and mumbled, “It’s worth it.”

At the bottom, he met Kyona and Yinadi. Athmore was already paces ahead of them in a tunnel leading nowhere. Another wall came to them at the end. Voices were on the opposite side, cheering also mixed with shouts that sounded like wagers being placed on something. When Athmore shoved the at wall with his shoulder, it slid like the solid slab it was, but gave way to a larger room that looked every part of being burrowed from the earth. Roots hung from the clotted dirt ceiling and lined the walls. The occupants slowly turned to them, some seated on tree stumps and others toward the center. Two men floated in the air above the crowd, a wavy field of energy under their backs. They appeared the most surprised by Athmore’s arrival.

“Testing levitation?” Athmore asked. Smiles grew across the gathering. “Who’s the high bidder. I’m in!” Roars and laughter jumped from the men, hands slapping Athmore’s back as he disappeared into the crowd.

Yinadi turned to them, the last hint of the speaker Jarrin disappearing in his grin. “Meet the Steeltongues.”

NaNoWriMo: Day Fifteen

2010-11-15T12:17:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the halfway point of NaNoWriMo 2010. While I was not able to write much yesterday, I'll be past the 25k point later in the day. On that note, I'd like to congratulate Dawn Embers for reaching a whopping 50,000 words. She has another fifteen days to reach her goal of 100,000 words. Keep up the fantastic work, Dawn!

Here's your excerpt for the day. Enjoy and I wish continued success to you all through November.
Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 7 excerpt

“So, why is it called the Crystal Pool?”

“Do not reach for the water in the well. It will tease you with beautiful things that seem so near, but it is only a vision.”

Eris mulled all of Phinella’s warnings about the Pool and would wait for the next sun. She turned to the mistress, who was already examining her as she thought. “Can you teach me before sunrise?”

*

Eris rolled in her bed that night, the sheets twisting around her legs and body. She kept her arms up, folded beneath the pillow and aching.

Her eyes were hot and heavy, begging to close after the hours of quick and hard training Phinella had given her. The mistress said she had not taught a student in years and hoped she had done it right. While Eris had all her faith in Phinella, such confidence did not keep her awake. Weariness folded over her eyes and she was taken to sleep.

At mid sun the next day, she arrived at the Crystal Pool, whose surrounding grounds seemed strangely attended. Phinella was true as to the Pool’s beauty and all of Eris’ rapture of being given yet another way to locate Valence forced her to run to it. She leaned over the well. Roots along its lip raised like a dome over it. The stones forming the well were a soft gray, more pristine in appearance than the welcoming grounds. All around the inside of the dome, brass bowls had been fastened to it, each bearing a small flame cuddled in the Elf brand embers.

She held her hand over the water and a ripple went across it a moment later. The ring began at the center and pushed out, an image forming over the soft wakes as they moved. Valence appeared on the surface, sending looks left and right as if watching for something. The scene surrounding him focused next, familiar buildings and hatched roofs at his back. He stood under a bare tree with nearly no color. Eris waited for him steadfast, before he looked directly at her. She turned around, sure he might have been looking around her, but when she turned back, he nodded and smiled.

“Valence?”

He mouthed words, but there was no voice to them. She waited before he seemed to repeat himself. “Where are you,” he was saying.

“I’m with the Elves,” she said aloud. “I’ve been looking for you. I need you.”

He mouthed, “Come home.”

“I can’t, I—” She paused and looked around. “I’m a week away.”

“Please,” he said. The water rippled again, now more violent. It sloshed against the well walls and splashed onto the edge.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“It’s mom and dad.”

Eris reeled back, Valence’s face contorted as something pulled him away from the water. A shadow dashed in front of the Pool and a bullet of water shot up from it. It drenched the roots and stone, but Eris sat a foot away, reclining on her arms and watching it. It was not long before she scrambled up, all of Phinella’s warnings forgotten in her greed. She crawled for the
Pool and put her head through the water, allowing her body to fall in after. She twirled, legs over body, before the wash and push of the water spit he out onto hard ground of dirt and pebbles. A woman screamed in the distance and she pulled her chin up to glance level at the ground. She breathed at the dirt and watched feet scamper by her eyes.

She was yanked to stand by a two-handed grip on her cloak and thrown into a choke. The arm beneath her throat was black-skinned, minute prickly hairs lining its arm like razors.

“Pretend to be dead, girl?” the thing at her back asked. It growled hunger and hissed in her ear. A worm-like tongue slid down her lobe and she shied away from it.

Eris thrashed, a well-placed heel to the creature’s leg and the thing released her. She spun around, the creature whirling back to face her just as her saber met its neck. Its head plopped off and bobbled across the ground. After the creature’s body dropped, she looked at the head. Its face was pulled up in a snout, the nose two swine-like slits for breathing. Beady dark eyes sat above high boned cheeks, almost hidden, and they gleamed like obsidian in death.

NaNoWriMo: Day Twelve

2010-11-12T09:45:00.000-05:00

This post was meant for yesterday, but seeing as a ten hour work day took priority, I got essentially no writing done. Here's to playing catch-up! Hope all of your projects are still chugging along. We'll be breaching week the start of week three very soon.

Here is your excerpt. It's safe to say that I've really been waiting to write this scene. Enjoy and continued writing success through November.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 6 excerpt

He arrived under the Im’dumol an hour later. His parents and the keeper seemed to have been waiting, as had been a tiny gathering of soldiers and concerned citizens. He had taken his time to wrap Melana. Each roll of linen he used, he draped it delicately as if doing otherwise would disturb her. He came with her in his arms and stepped toward the keeper. A knot rose in his throat and he did not want to let her go. While any uncertainties about his journey to the Sands may have fought to the front of his mind, he forgot them for but a second when he knelt in a mound of dirt and laid her body down. He pushed himself out flat, knees in the soft earth and his arms flat against the ground.

“It’s the best way,” he whispered.

He rose when his father put a hand on his back. A team of soldiers hoisted a stone tablet over the casket and positioned it even along the edges.

“Do you have words for her?” the keeper asked. “You have the honor of the sealing prayer, also.”

“I couldn’t prevent the Darkness from taking you from me, but I know had I been stronger—had I been able to control it—you would be here.” He glanced at the twisting rune stones above the plot, and said, “Noxi Un, Deri Re, tol mu verdis Im’dumol.”

The stones exploded with green fire from the runes. They spun outward in a circle over the plot while the fire grew more intense over them. It jumped from one rune to the next, each linked by a burning chain.

“If this is not the end for us, you will never know suffering again. Goodnight and farewell, child of nature: my Melana.”

Shadows spiraled down at the tomb, a lance of pure quivering darkness, then encased by a shell of green light. Similar green marks drew across the tablet, as if a chisel was being taken to it before their eyes. The mounds of dirt trembled around the burial site and the piles slowly fell back over the casket. When the earth had finally taken Melana under, the lance of green thinned to a thread’s width that hung around the shadows and the disappearing sun.

Valence breathed uneasy as he stepped over the site and took his hand to the thread. He placed his forefinger and thumb on it and made himself wait a moment longer. He pulled at the thread until it tore. The green of the Im’dumol left the cemetery grounds, marking her body as one sealed under the gods.

NaNoWriMo: Day Eight

2010-11-08T15:06:00.000-05:00

Howdy!

So we're one week past the beginning of NaNoWriMo 2010. I hope everyone's project is moving along. My current count as of 12:00 noon EST today is 13,000. I hope to be at 15,000 by the end of the day.

Here comes your daily excerpt. Enjoy and continued writing success through November.

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 5 excerpt

“Valence, wait!” Eris cried, though she doubted he heard it. The young teen lashed the reins and forced her horse next to his. “Please, where are you going?” She wanted to reach for his sleeve, but he did not so much as look at her. Her brother kept his eyes and expression firm ahead. If she did chance grabbing onto him, her fourteen-year-old, thin body would be pulled from the saddle. She sucked quick breaths, formed a plan and kicked at the horse. The black mare snorted and thrust a pace or two ahead of Valence.

She finally drew his attention as she looked back and he sneered. His horse dodged left and right to his pulls, but she kept her speed and matched his advance to pass her. She flicked the reins again to bring her mare a few paces ahead, and yanked the bridle harshly to spin. The sable horse reared and Valence spun off course, his mare frightened to collide. His mare tumbled, a painful neigh pushing from her as she landed awkwardly.

Valence scrambled on his knees and held Timat by the neck.

“What are you doing, Eris? Stupid girl!”

She hopped off her horse and doubled over next to Timat, recovering breaths as she placed a hand on its twisted fetlock. Harsh winds growled at them and Timat whinnied like a weak colt.

“Why are you following me?”

“Why are you walking away from your family again?”

“There is no again.” He shoved Eris aside with his body and tended to Timat’s injury. “I obviously was not welcome back to start. I was an idiot for thinking otherwise.”

“Dad is confused, Valence,” she said. “He has been told many things by the Consulate and those other advisors that he can’t think straight.”

“He seemed to be thinking just fine when he confronted me like that.”

“He hasn’t been sleeping is all. Please believe me, he wants you back and he’s said he doesn’t care about the incident. He would rather hear it from you than be told what to think about his own son.” She was crying now and smudging her tears away with her arm. “No one’s perfect and he’s ready to accept that.”

Valence finished wrapping Timat’s fetlock as best he could and pulled the mare up slowly. He moved his bags from where they hung to the saddle. “You are.”

Eris did not say a word and the tears returned.

“You don’t think you’re perfect?” He tightened the last strap and wrapped it through the supporting ties.

“Hm?”

“I’m learning to control it.”

“Not as quickly as the Consulate’s asked, right? So why is your judgment on having powers too great for your age is not on the same standard. If anything we ever learned in school was remotely true, you should be the one walking away. But no.” He shoved her away again and pushed the sable mare aside. “You’re just Eris. They say, ‘If Valence could kill a Lunata brother, maybe they could prevent you from becoming like me.’”

“It’s not like that.” She grabbed onto his arm one last time, hoping he might have a shred of respect left for himself. “You can walk away from them. Fine. They might not believe you, but you would walk away from me? I have told them what you wanted me to tell, but not because I was scared. It’s because I believe something bad really did happen at Thenar. Something made you—” She choked on the last part of her words.

“Kill Irien,” Valence said.

“Right.”

He pulled Timat gently and waited for her to test the strength of the injury. The mare hobbled for the first steps, the hoof barely touching the ground, and then managed to walk on it.

The wind tore at his back, but Eris watched him go.

“I’m sorry.” Valence met her eyes a last time, and said, “but your sympathy alone is not enough for me anymore.”

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

NaNoWriMo: Day Six

2010-11-06T11:41:00.000-04:00

Good day, NaNo writers. I hope all of your projects are moving along smoothly. I'm astounded that some buddies I've been looking up are on 15-25k words only six days in. As sickening as that is for me to look at, good for them.

As I try my best to not write verbal vomit, I'm taking a tip from Jodi Henry @ Turning the Page and posting a few passages per post, considering people may need a break from their own writing for however brief a time. As I planned to post every Monday for my update (and being my day off), I'll be making it twice a week.

For your enjoyment and brief NaNo rest:

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 3 excerpt

* * *

An organ’s tune went around Orin’s hallow chamber like a carousel. A creature with a grimly hunched back leaned over the keys and played. Always played, despite the bony fingers sore with each note. Not a demon, but a Human at one time.

Orin glanced at the organ player, who at the same time turned to him. While some color of his Human side still showed, black veins spread from his chin and up his face. Large veins pumped around his neck and fed over his body. The commander sat with a pen in hand by candle light and regarded the non-Human with little more than a curled lip.

“It hurts to play, does it not?” Orin asked him.

The subject nodded with a sigh, but said, “If my Master wishes my continued service at the keys, I will do so. But yes, my fingers ache.”

“I speak for your Master in this room, and he wishes for a new tune.” He turned back to his chair, to his more-than-rotting mahogany table, and the subject turned back to his tortured playing. He scribbled something along the papers as new music echoed from the pipes with painful coughs. The subject held the note long, drawing Orin’s eyes away from his work once more, and then flew into a piece that was made for his room. Each key struck, heavy and dull, could have been one more soul dropping into the Nether.

NaNoWriMo: Day One

2010-11-01T11:29:00.000-04:00

This morning started off with a bang. While I have been scrounging to finish the first half of my chapter outline for this project, I got maybe five chapters in before calling it quits last evening. That said, I rose at 8:30 and immediately went to work, a half hour break for breakfast and a second break now for blogging.

Current time and count: 11:30 AM EST, 1900 words.

First Write-In tonight at 7:00 PM.

Word goal by 10:00 PM EST: = or > 5000 words.

Slap Me Silly! We're 15 Hours Away!

2010-10-31T09:09:00.000-04:00

Hello All Hallow's Eve hooligans!

Tis I, the invader of your creative mind. Here at In My Write Mind, and around other countless blogs, the countdown for November 1 is ticking away at mere hours. Throughout November, should time and sleep permit, I'll be posting every few days (short posts, and likely every monday), to keep my progress known outside of my author page.

The epic fail of NaNo is so finely drawn against succeeding for me for one reason: I work five days (Wednesday through Sunday) with the strangest hours at times, but luckily, two local write-in sessions here in Orlando fall on my only two days off. Score for me!

Fifteen hours away and I still have to shed off a final outline for my progress.

See you all very soon!

Have a safe and Merry Halloween, and sleep during the day! For come November 1, the zombie apocalypse of aspiring writers and novelists will be upon us once more.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

Flyby Extras and Updates

2010-10-28T18:34:00.000-04:00

So much work still needs to be done to prep before November 1. However, the biggest new decision I've made in the last few days was to switch my project. On October 25, I finished my manuscript, Bond of Darkness, and had planned to switch tracks for the month. I felt as if I needed to write something new. So I've been brewing the thought on a companion novel for a while and saw that as my solution.

Since then, I felt I was going to be sentencing myself to certain failure come the end of the month. I then made the bold decision to make my new project the second manuscript of the series, The Shattered Darkness. This way, I felt I was getting something doubly as productive complete, or attempting to, at least. I have to now pound out a new chapter outline for the project/manuscript (or essentially re-write what I had put on paper), and guide myself into the new story for the month.

Here is the cover art I slapped together with Photoshop.

HORRAH!

HIGH FIVE o/ \o

(Thanks for teaching me this emoticon, Brenda.)

In other news, with the finishing of Bond of Darkness, I also slapped together an epilogue which was never in the original planning. Unlike prologues (which have that nasty cursed tendency to info. dump all over my face), the epilogue is a satisfactory way to bring additional ends of any story to a cliffhanger or close. In my case, I created a secondary protagonist who was featured five times through the manuscript. The epilogue is my way of cliffhanging her story. No one quite knows what any of this means, but I'm posting it just for fun. Reading for leisure. Double Horrah!

* * *

Epilogue — The Pearls of Mithrus

Howls of nocturnal creatures sang over the walls of Exaltus. Clouds over the northern plain stirred unsavorily as they prepared to deluge. The swift, undeviating rain came and thrashed the bridges in the city. Lush weeds and ancient tree roots dug up from the earth and spread across the ground.

Eris sat alone inside the Registrar. Candle light flickered dimly and she pulled roll after roll of parchment aside. Her research of the last two days amounted to untidy piles that loosely hung off the tables, threatening to tumble into an incomprehensible mess.

“May I remove these for you, dear?” The keeper arrived at the table side and hefted her collection into his arms. He leaned over her, staring but she did not offer him a look. “You need more light, darling. You’ll ruin your beautiful eyes.”

“Please, no,” she said at last, “but you can put those out.” She pointed to a thick root tangling across the ceiling. A cobwebbed fixture bearing three lit candles hung above her, while two additional candles sat before the collection of parchment. “I need less light.”

“Why ever would you need to read in less light?”

“I’m not asking for an interrogation,” she said, avoiding the niceties the keeper had expected. “You can re-file those if you’d like, but less light.”

“As you wish, dear.” The keeper pulled a snuffer from under a second, more organized pile, and put out the three wicks. He slipped into an aisle, mumbling.

Smoke wafted to her nose and she leaned closer to the roll spread in front of her. She lifted the candles and placed them carefully on top of the parchment. A slow drip of wax plopped from stick. She cupped her hands around each small tongue to dull the light further and whispered two words before snatching the flames entirely. She slapped her hands onto the roll and a primrose shade spread from her palms.

Eris slid her hands over the roll, the primrose outlining into the words with additional ink-like strokes. The pale lines darkened to true ink form, new words arranging themselves.

It read: And He Who Watches holds above all those uniformity to which there is no greater choice. She skimmed along the passages, having read the words of the Remembrance Scriptures many times over, save for the anything after verse forty-seven. In a damaged portion, those few passages had been lost. At an earlier time, when she had just been memorizing the verses, she thought nothing of it. After Valence had left their city, something about the missing portions arose in her mind.

The hearts of the devil takes disparate designs, for designs of those wretched in essence and soul will be lost without reclamation. Son Un of the First Generation, black eyes of coal, loosed the greater devil of creation into the world, but tarried in his credence of command over it.

Her incantation colored the lost words, slowly pulling age and destruction from the parchment. The missing passages glowed and Eris read on.

Heretofore, the First Generation compelled no protection, for their artistry of the gods was ample safeguard of their practices. Bound of nameless magics, born of death shamans and warlocks cloaked away, oppressed for their fraught trials of the dark, Son Un witnessed a capacity in the greater devil that could bring him saving. Of a King’s Blade, told they to Un, of banished brother god’s blood, told they, and of crystal fury to bind all power, told they.

She slid away from the table, darkness falling over her table as the primrose words vanished to blank parchment. What he was seeking eluded her to this point, and did still, but one fact remained. He had taken her pearls, her dearest keepsake. She wanted them back, whether such power of this Seentirulian Son Un was hers to keep or not.

Until NaNoWriMo!

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

P.S. Buddy me: sirfrodo13