In light of recent unperceived events we’ve decided to postpone the release of The Princess and the Paladin until February 1st, 2013. This will ensure that we have all the time we need to iron out all the wrinkles and release the best product possible. However, the book will be into proof-reading stage before the new year, and we’re looking for beta readers – both for print and device (kindle, iPad, etc.).
Summarizing a book in few enough words to fit on the back cover can be more difficult than actually writing the book. Here’s my latest and (I feel) most successful attempt: The Empire is failing. The old king knew it, and did his best to aid the changing of the time, but his son has other ideas. The new king of NaRasch begins to strengthen his armies and oppress his subjects. He undoes everything that his late father has done, including imprisoning Gail, his half-sister and queen of Gaeline, though she is queen only in title and has never so much as set foot in Gaeline, let alone issued an order as queen. Imprisoned against her will on false charges, Gail is just beginning to think things can’t get any worse when they do. She is ‘rescued’, or perhaps ‘stolen’ would be a better word, by the horror called Paladin, and sold to Bandets to be offered as ransom to a brother who has no wish to buy her back. Somewhere between three enemies which all want her dead, she must escape their grasp and make her friends wherever she can find them, from Pirates, to Prophets, to Kings. She
Well, I’ve said it on facebook, so I might as well say it here. I’m hoping to release The Fall of NaRasch part one this Christmas. Yes, I realize that’s only a month away. I think I said “hoping”… It was about a month ago now that I was pondering my inability to get anything done in the way of writing, when I decided to drop what I was doing in and about chapter twenty-three, and go back to Vestrodge in hopes that another editorial pass might spark my interest in the story again and give me the momentum to push on through NaRasch. I was somewhere in the middle of Arme when it suddenly struck me like a hundred pound (I know, we’re metric. I’m trying, really I am. It would be a little easier if I didn’t have to use an imperial tape measure at work. Carpet and linoleum still comes in 12′ rolls, you know) meteor. I don’t have to release the book all at once. Tolkien did it, hell ‘A Christmas Carol’ was released in five parts originally. So, taking a moment to solemnly swear to myself that under all circumstances I would NOT allow this
I don’t know if I’ve spelt this right. I won’t humiliate myself by attempting to retype the word. Henceforth I will stick to the more simplistic and modern ‘tattoo’. Thought, it should be noted that that’s not what this post is about. Perhaps it’s only the grapes talking, or perhaps it’s twenty minutes into the new day, and I’m still awake. My last post was the breaking of a long stand of what must commonly be referred to as writer’s block. Sadly, this is as well. “Project Phoenix” was supposed to be quick and simple. It has been neither of those things. I think that perhaps my greatest downfall was in going back and re-reading my work. In the past I would have highly recommended this to myself, but when I did it this last time, it seemed to me that every conversation that Mal had with (Wow, I totally can’t remember her name right now. First prize to the person who can tell me) was somewhat unbelievable. This led me to the realization that I would eventually need to go back and rewrite those conversations, and I think it got me so discouraged, that I haven’t been able to
Writer’s Block This is a highly complex word that lazy people use to describe a certain form of laziness that causes them to loose all ability and desire. I have spoken. Inspiration A momentary lapse of writer’s block. Transversely, a lack of this is what lazy people use to explain away the realization of their laziness. I have spoken. Creativity A constant – a thing which exists always and must be brought forth by sheer force of will – not a puppy that sometimes comes out to play and other times does not. Dicipline A wild animal of the distant northern wilderness, of close relation to the grizzly bear and the elusive yellow dragon. I have spoken. (As a side note, blue is the only of the six main colors – including black and white which are not colors but, for the purposes of crayon manufacturing and this argument, are – blue is the only color of dragon that doesn’t sound completely badass.) Thus have I taken this opportunity to write on the subject of not writing. I hope I have not glorified the matter as writers so often tend to do. My purpose here really has not been to discuss the matter,
Part Two: Sight and Circumstance The mess hall was chaos. It was the very nature of a school to take the students with the least organizational skills and make them organizers. The school board and the planning committee called it democracy. Maleoke called it school spirit. An impressive effort had begun to transform the plain hall of function into a festive ballroom in preparation for tomorrow evening’s party. The tables had been strewn about the floor in a haphazard fashion and nearly all of them were overflowing with gaudy decorative materials. Several of the high ranking members of the student body were busy running about, shouting orders to everyone and no one in particular. Maleoke grimaced as he entered the chaos, consoling himself that it was a relatively straight shot to the opposite door and his dorm beyond. It would take hours, he knew, but eventually this madness would morph into a somewhat respectable looking party, and he was content to wait for it, so long as it would allow him his shortcut to peace and quiet. He gained the other door at last, and emerged into the open air like a boat shot from some perilous rapids to drift victoriously
I realize that nobody really reads this stuff, but as always input is appreciated. Unfortunately a free site membership is required in order to comment (for spamming reasons) but if you got here from facebook you can drop a comment on Arlen Bresh Publishing. PART I THE BUREAUCRAT The lobby was a thing of elegance. It was almost as if it were built specifically to intimidate the students of the Coreson School of Prophecy, with its high vaulted ceiling dominated by a crystal chandelier and the indoor stream snaking its way through a plant garden that covered three walls of the room. The final wall was set like the front of a cathedral with the bookkeeper at his desk in the middle dwarfing the door to the left which led down a long hall and eventually to the study and private library of the School Master. The grand waiting area must have cost a small fortune to build, and it all seemed to be for the purpose of reminding the students that waited there of their position in life. To be commanded to wait here was either an event of great excitement or foreboding. For Maleoke Parphonet it was the former emotion.
It’s been about a month since I’ve sat down with a word document and produced anything. I’m back, and my resolve to finish this book… again… is redoubled. I’ve still got my best draft of my cover sitting on my writing desk, cut to size and folded around my warn copy of “The Two Towers” and every time I see it, it sets me itching to have something other than Tolkien in that book block. I’m sitting on three hundred dollars of hardware and so far all it’s done is print recipies for my wife (not at all a waste, by the way). Our adventures in the world of surrogate parenthood at the beginnig bled into the holidays for me, and that combined with my brother-in-law staying in my office pretty much chocks up to my excuse for having done nothing on here in a month. But since my absence I’m sporting an extremely tiny USB to Bluetooth adapter in the back of my tower – which now means I’m typing on my shiny apple keyboard – which makes me happy. On a side note: I write on a PC. In reguards to the Mac/PC wars I am quite willing
Here is my re-rendering of the death of Hayley (was Hasnove). I’m not entirely sure if I’ve done any good here, but considering matters, I’m not sure I could have made it any worse. At any rate, the rip-off line from Chronicles of Riddick is probably the one sentance I have written that I have regretted the most, so at any cost I am pleased to be rid of it. After all, it wasn’t as if it even made sense or did anything for the plot… As a forward to the snippet I should note that I’ve reordered events so that Hayley and Alken leave the company directly before the rest arrive at Kanedon, so that as they fight in Craharn Gail has become engrossed in the Geldrin school of warfare as a means to pass time. Hayley on his return would therefore logically be heading to Kanedon. When the sun set Gail was exhausted. She was more sore and bruised than she remembered ever being before, even on her first days with Anne. She stayed at the school that night. She could have gone back to her room at the keep, but it Lecia Geldrin offered her a bed, and it seemed better to her