Manuscript Review

Manuscript Review

9764451-old-parchment-scroll-with-wax-seal-and-quill-pen

And the process continues…

My apologies for my absence of late. I really should make more time for blogging and keeping up with the bloggers I follow, but finding the time has proved exceedingly difficult. It’s a wonder if I can even find time to read through my manuscript, which needs to be done before sending it out to editors, publishers, etc.

alchemist_workbench_mitzuk

So, Samhain is coming up, and we are planning a little celebration which is sure to be fun. This is really the perfect time of year for me to be active in creative pursuits, so I  really should channel some of that energy into my work. I’m currently nearly halfway through my review on chapter 5 of my manuscript. The work is going much faster on this chapter, as there aren’t as many errors and corruptions as in previous chapters, for some reason.

My original goal was to tackle two chapters a day, with the hope of being finished in under two weeks time, but I have long since passed my self-inflicted deadline.

TediousWriting

Why, oh why, must writing be such a tedious endeavor? I love dreaming up stories, and the satisfaction I get from actually writing down those stories is so very rewarding, but actually sitting down and getting started and sticking to the task…. Is there an award for procrastination, because I am surely the queen! Time management really isn’t my thing.

So, before I bore you all with further ramblings, I leave you with some would-be helpful advice, if only we writers would heed it…

Writing-Strategy-15-Minute-Rule

 

 

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Keepers of the Stones, Part 4

Keepers of the Stones, Part 4

Continuing the tale of Olwen, after the tragic murder of both her parents and her narrow escape, she is taken in by the gnomes who discovered her after her narrow escape into the forest. The tribe’s most renowned Seer and bard will be responsible for her upbringing. To avoid having this story get too long, I’ve decided to skip ahead a little. Read on to find out what happens next.

Terrwyn's_House

Olwen was just a girl when her parents were brutally murdered by dwarves while traveling through the mountains. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of strangers, she would have been lost. As the years passed by, the gnomes who had welcomed her into their midst became like family to her. She still lived with the Seer, Terrwyn, and had taken to calling him Grandfather. He taught her well, and as a result, she was becoming an adept healer, just like her mother. But what she most enjoyed was the magical connection she had to nature. When Olwen wished it, clouds would roll in, bringing rain. She could touch a plant and watch it grow, cause flowers to bloom with the warmth of her breath. Animals were drawn to her, and it was not uncommon for a deer or a wolf to approach her when she strolled through the woods and allow her to pet them.

Terrwyn was proud of her, as he so frequently reminder her. But he was growing old now, and was not as able as he had once been. It saddened Olwen to see how stooped and feeble had had become, and she did what she could for him, but even her healing powers could not stave off the effects of old age indefinitely.

      Hearth3

      A day came, when Terrwyn called her to his side where he sat bundled in a thick shawl before the fire of his small house. Most of the gnomes lived in dwellings too small for Olwen to enter, save for Chief Cledwyn’s hall in the ancient willow and Terrwyn’s home, which, having foreseen her coming, had been modified in preparation for her. Still, she had to duck her head to pass through the low doorways.

It was nearly midwinter, with the longest night just days away. The sun set early this time of the year, and despite being only late afternoon, it was already dark. Olwen carried a wooden bowl of hot rabbit stew over to Terrwyn, and seated herself beside him on a cushion.

“You wish to speak with me, Grandfather?” she asked, handing him the bowl. He sniffed the steaming stew and smiled.

“Your rabbit stew is the best I’ve ever eaten, my dear,” he said, bringing a spoon full to his mouth.

Olwen waited patiently until he had swallowed his food.

Terrwyn cleared his throat, and turned his sharp, beady eyes on her. “I am old, Olwen,” he said seriously. “I will not live to see the spring.”

“Don’t say that!” Olwen cut in. “You have many years, yet.”

The old Seer shook his head. “You know as well as I that that isn’t true,” he replied. “I have lived a long and good life, and am ready leave this tired body. But your story is only just beginning, and there is much you must know.”

“Tell me, Grandfather,” Olwen urged, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the armrest of Terrwyn’s seat.

The old gnome sighed and tugged his shawl more snugly about his body. “Long ago, before you came to us,” he began, speaking slowly and choosing his words with care, “Chief Cledwyn had a vision. The old willow is the heart and soul of our people, and she speaks to us, offering her wisdom to those who seek, and she told him that an elven girl, bearing the gem of the heavens about her neck, would come to us, and that her life would be in danger. I had the same vision; as did the other elders. There could be no doubt that we were meant to help this girl, and so, when you entered the forest, our Chief sensed your presence.”

Olwen smiled. “But I know all this, Grandfather,” she said affectionately.

Terrwyn shook his head. “You don’t know everything,” he stated. “That is no ordinary jewel you wear,” he added, prodding the bright, blue sapphire that hung from a silver chain about Olwen’s neck. She gave him a quizzical look. “You are aware of it’s magical powers, but you don’t know why or where it came from. The Sky Jewel gets its name because it fell from the heavens. Some believe it was a star which was plucked from the sky by the Gods and given to the elves. Long ago, there were several such stones, of different colours, and each had unique magical properties, but most were destroyed by those who were jealous of the elves, who alone could wield their powers.”

Olwen was mesmerized. “Tell me more!” she pleaded.

Terrwyn chuckled. “There are now only two stones left,” he said. “Yours and one other.”

“Who has the stone?” she asked.

“A dark elven chief,” answered the Seer in a foreboding tone. “His is called the Blood Stone, for it is red as blood and makes its bearer invincible in battle. Arawn is his name, and he rules the underworld.”

Olwen gasped. “I have heard his name before!” she exclaimed.

“I am not surprised,” replied Terrwyn. “Arawn has a terrible reputation for being a cruel and bloodthirsty warlord, but there is more that you must know. For reasons unknown to me, your parents betrothed you to Arawn when you were a little girl, and it has come to the Chief’s attention that Arawn has learned of your parent’s fate and has been seeking you all these long years.”

Olwen frowned. “Surely, there must be some mistake,” she said. “I cannot believe my parents would not have done such a thing! How did you come by this information?”

“The same way we knew of your coming,” he answered. “It was revealed to me in a vision.”

There was a flicker of fear on Olwen’s face. “You will not tell him that I am here? Please, I am safe here. You must let me stay!” she cried.

“A promise is a promise,” he replied, shaking his head. “Chief Cledwyn intends to send word to Arawn after my passing.”

“No! He mustn’t!” exclaimed Olwen.

Terrwyn held up a weathered hand to silence her. “But he will not force you to marry against your will,” he assured her. “If Arawn wishes to take you as his wife, he must earn your favour. That is Chief Cledwyn’s decree.”

Relief mingled with dread in Olwen’s eyes. She was afraid. What if Arawn would disregard Chief Cledwyn’s decision and force her into marriage anyway? Throughout the course of the next days, she wondered if it might be better to run away.

At last, she decided to visit her old friend, Deri.

Olwen2

I hope you enjoyed this latest installment of Keepers of the Stones. Stay tuned for the next part, coming soon! Please, leave a comment, and feel free to share a link on your own blogs if you enjoy reading my writing.

Keepers of the Stones, Part 3

Keepers of the Stones, Part 3

Greetings, fellow bloggers! My apologies for keeping you all waiting, though I doubt anyone had to resort to rabid nail-biting or other nervous tics after being left off on a cliff-hanger. ;-D

Anyhow, I present you with Keepers of the Stones, part 3, and do hope you enjoy it. If you like what I do here, please spread the word, and don’t forget to leave a comment. Reader feedback, positive or negative, is always appreciated!

For those of you just joining us, I recommend reading parts one and two of Keepers of the Stones, first.

Recap: In part one, the heroine, a young elf by the name of Olwen accompanies her parents on a journey to heal a dying girl. Whilst crossing the mountains, they are attacked by dwarves, who then kill both of Olwen’s parents. Only her magical sapphire protects her from harm, and she flees into a forest. There she encounters a young gnome, who brings her back to his village. Upon their arrival, they are greeted by a guard who informs them that the Chief demands an audience with Olwen and her guide, and they are led to his hall within the trunk of an ancient willow tree. Despite having introduced herself to her guide using a false name, mysteriously, the Chief knows who she is. Continue reading to find out what will happen next!

      gnome_house

      Olwen stood before the Chief of the gnomes with her mouth agape, momentarily dumbfounded. With effort, she gathered her composure. “How do you know my name?” she demanded.

The Chief smiled knowingly. His weathered face did not appear unkind, Olwen observed. “You are one of the last keepers of the sacred stones,” he began, then stroked his beard with a gnarled hand, pondering his next words. “Your coming has been foretold.”

Olwen frowned. “Foretold by whom?”

The Chief’s smile broadened and he spread his arms wide, gesturing to the space around them. “This ancient willow, within which I have built my hall, is my people’s Ancestor Tree. We call her Great Grandmother, for she is the memory of the land and of our folk, and we look to her for her wisdom,” the old gnome explained. “I received a vision of your coming in a dream, which the Seer confirmed. You, Lady Olwen, have long been expected. On behalf of my people, I welcome you and offer my sincerest condolences for the loss of your family.” He propped his chin on his clasped hands, as he studied the young elf.

“Thank you,” Olwen muttered.

“But we have not been properly introduced,” said the Chief. “I am Chief Cledwyn, and it is indeed a pleasure to meet you.” He offered Olwen a warm smile, which she struggled to return. “I understand young Deri, here, has extended an offer of hospitality, which was most courteous of him, but that will not do.” Deri’s face fell upon hearing that the elf was not to be his guest, after all. ” I have already made other, more suitable arrangements. You will stay with the Seer, Terrwyn. He will be charged with your care and to oversee your education,” Chief Cledwyn concluded. He motioned to one of the guards at the door, who immediately exited the hall.

Olwen exchanged a curious look with Deri, then Cledwyn invited them to be seated at a table to one side of the hall. A servant entered, carrying silver platters and proceeded to place an assortment of dishes on the table. When she offered to serve the Chief, Cledwyn waved her away.

Olwen peered into the tiny, silver pots which had been placed before her, their contents unfamiliar. Deri grinned. “Try this one,” he said, eagerly, and slid a pot towards her. She opened the lid and spooned a small portion onto her plate. It appeared to be a thick, creamy stew of a dark green colour. The scent of pungent spices wafted into the air, and Olwen’s stomach growled. Using the wooden, three-pronged fork she had been given, Olwen scooped up a small amount and tasted the stew.

“What do you think?” asked Deri, still grinning.

The stew was hearty and rich, and tasted of dandelion leaves, rabbit, and cumin, and other unfamiliar spices and herbs. Olwen smiled. “It’s delicious!” she answered.

Olwen and Deri had just started shoveling various dishes onto their plates, when the doors opened and in walked a stooped, elderly gnome using a twisted wooden staff for support. His mossy-brown eyes swept the hall and came to rest on the elf. Olwen met his gaze, but the gnome turned his attention to Chief Cledwyn and bowed low.

“Thank you for coming, Terrwyn,” said the Chief. “As you can see, the vision proved true, for the elven witch has come.” Chief Cledwyn and Terrwyn both turned to Olwen.

Bewildered, Olwen set down her fork and looked from one gnome to the other. “Why do you call me a witch?” she asked.

“Aren’t you?” asked Cledwyn, smiling.

“No!” exclaimed Olwen. “I mean, it’s not that I have anything against witches, but I’m just a girl. My studies have only just begun,” she added.

“So it is,” chimed in Terrwyn. The unexpected sound of his deep, gruff voice almost startled Olwen. Even Deri looked up from his meal to give his full attention to the old gnome. “But a witch with much to learn is no less a witch,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Before Olwen could open her mouth to protest, Chief Cledwyn cleared his throat. “Lady Olwen, allow me to introduce Terrwyn, our most revered Seer and bard,” he said. “He will be your guardian until you come of age.”

Olwen studied the gnome carefully. His long beard was pure white, to match the thinning hair on his head; He wore faded brown robes, belted around his waist, but despite his advanced age, Terrwyn had sharp, keen eyes, that gave an impression of intelligence.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Olwen said with a note of uncertainty in her tone.

Terrwyn smiled. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Olwen.”

“When you have finished your supper, Terrwyn will escort you to his home, where a room has been specially prepared for you,” said Chief Cledwyn.

At a loss for words, Olwen only nodded. After they finished eating, she and Deri were bid a good evening by the Chief and shown from the hall.

“Good evening, Deri,” said Terrwyn, pointedly, once they were outside in the the cool, evening air.

Deri nodded, and glanced up at Olwen, his expression sheepish. “Well, Lady, this is where I leave you,” he said sadly. “I hope we shall see more of one another.”

“So do I, Deri,” replied Olwen. “Thank you for your help today.”

Deri watched as Olwen turned away to follow Terrwyn along the narrow, cobbled lane. Then with a sigh, he headed home.

Fairy_Forest2

…to be continued.

Keepers of the Stones, Part 2

Keepers of the Stones, Part 2

Happy Friday, everyone! I hope you have all survived the daily grind and are looking forward to a nice weekend. As promised, here follows part two of Keepers of the Stones, my very poor attempt at rewriting a short story I wrote when I was only seventeen. If you haven’t already read part one, I suggest that you go back and read that first.

mystical_forest

Olwen was alone and frightened. The sapphire she wore about her neck still glowed, but now it was a clear blue. She had wept just once for the loss of her parents, but now she had no use for tears. Olwen was lost, and knew she could not find her way home from the mysterious forest into which she had escaped. She did not know if the dwarves still pursued her, but she didn’t want to wait around and find out. Instead she kept moving, her eyes taking in the scene around her.

The trees in this strange place appeared older than those of her homelands, and her horse’s hoof falls were muffled upon the soft, moss-covered ground. The air was rich with the scent of cypress and damp soil. A mist hung in the air, giving the forest a magical feel. Olwen clutched the reins tightly in her hands. Her lower lip trembled. She was cold and tired and hungry, but had lost her provisions, which were carried by the single pack horse when she and her family were attacked. Though she could not see the sun through the canopy of trees overhead, she sensed it was mid afternoon when she stopped to drink from a clear stream.

Olwen was kneeling by the water’s edge, scooping water into her cupped hands, when she heard a twig snap loudly in the forest. She jolted upright and looked around. Instinctively, her hand went to her sapphire, but it was cool to the touch. There was a sound like the rustling of leaves, and she looked about, expecting something to burst from some hiding place, but she could see nothing.

Slowly, Olwen approached her horse. She was just reaching for the reins when a small figure scrambled out of a patch of brambles, it’s hair disheveled and clad in the furs of small animals. The creature, which she suddenly recognized to be a gnome, had a ruddy complexion and dark, beady eyes.

“Do not be afraid,” the small gnome squeaked. It couldn’t have been taller than two feet.

Olwen was backing away, uncertain of this new creature. Though she had often heard that gnomes were known for their mischievousness, she was, nonetheless, skeptical. “Who are you and what do you want?” Olwen demanded.

The tiny gnome nervously fidgeted and stared down at its booted feet. “Pardon me, Miss, but I was just passing through when I heard a sound and I was curious,” the gnome explained sheepishly, avoiding Olwen’s gaze. “I am called Deri, Miss.”

“Deri,” Olwen repeated, absentmindedly.

“It means oak,” said the gnome.

“I see,” she replied. “My name is–” Olwen faltered, then thinking quickly, gave a false name. “Enfys. My name is Enfys.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Enfys,” said Deri.

“Deri, I wonder if you could help me–” Olwen said, coming to a decision.

The little gnome nodded eagerly.

“I’m in a bit of trouble,” she explained. “I need someplace safe to go until I figure out how to get home.”

“You could stay with my family in our village,” suggested Deri, a broad smile lighting up his youthful face.

Olwen thanked the gnome and he led the way to his village in the heard of the woodland. After a while, Deri stopped before a thicket. Olwen looked around, but could see no way through.

The gnome chuckled. “The entrance is here, Enfys,” he supplied, gesturing to a patch of ivy.

Olwen scrutinized the tangled vines doubtfully. Then Deri stepped forward and pushed the ivy aside. Hidden behind was a wooden door, knot designs skillfully carved upon the surface. Deri rapped on the door and almost immediately, it swung open. He grinned at Olwen, who shook her head and followed him through the open door, but no sooner had they entered, when they were confronted by a gnome wearing a fox skull on his head for a helmet and carrying a spear topped with an obsidian spear head, and for armour, he wore armadillo hide. The gnome was only a few inches taller than Olwen’s guide, and clearly much older.

“Deri, you and the elf are wanted in the Willow Hall. Chief Terrwyn awaits your presence,” the gnome stated, his tone commanding. Deri shuffled nervously and cast a sidelong glance at Olwen, who immediately turned on him.

“You tricked me!” Olwen accused, anger flashing in her blue-green eyes.

Deri’s face blanched. “No, Miss!” he insisted. “It was just as I said– I merely chanced upon you in the woods. I have no idea what the Chief could want from us or how he knows of you.”

Before Olwen could retort, the spear-wielding gnome nudged her in the small of the back. “Let’S go, elf,” he barked. “Don’t want to keep the Chief waiting.”

Reluctantly, she allowed the guard to usher her and Deri along the narrow, cobbled lane, passing tiny houses that clustered together. There were even tree houses, some with their front doors built right into the trunk. It occurred to Olwen that she would not fit inside most of the houses she passed.

The guard held up a hand to stop them when they reached the village center, where an enormous willow tree stood sentinel. As they approached, arched double doors swung open to admit Olwen and Deri. She raised an eyebrow at him as they stepped over the threshold to enter the tree.

The interior was much larger than Olwen had expected– a vast open space that served as the Chief’s hall. Small steps protruded out of the walls to ascend in a clockwise spiral up the inside of the tree. The hall glittered with tiny, twinkling lights, strategically placed throughout the tree. On the far side of the circular hall, the Chief sat patiently on his throne, but when he Olwen met his gaze, he gestured for her to approach.

She hesitated, and Deri whispered encouragement. He took her hand and led her forwards. Following his lead, she inclined her head before the Chief.

“Lady Olwen, I have been waiting for you,” said the wizened, old Chief.

Willow_Hall

…to be continued.

Keepers of the Stones, Part 1

Keepers of the Stones, Part 1

Good morning, fellow bloggers! It is Tyr’s day, and today I thought I would do something different. I rarely post any of my writing on here, other than the occasional excerpt, and thought maybe I should do something about that. The other day, as I was organizing the last of my stuff since moving, I came across a folder that had the original short story I wrote in high school, so many years ago. This was the story that inspired the trilogy I am currently writing. (For those who don’t know, the first book is complete and in the process of being formatted into a manuscript in preparation to send to the editor. With any luck, it may soon be published!) I skimmed through the short story, just out of curiosity. It’s been many years since I read it. My first thought was to either post it on WordPress or stash it away where it will never again see the light of day. While my classmates and my English teacher back then may have found it entertaining, my adult self, who has since gone through such a drastic evolution of literary taste, is appalled! I’m glad I waited so long to finally begin writing the book I was determined to write since that high school writing assignment.

Anyway, I came to an alternative. Rather than post the original story, I will instead rewrite the short story as a sort of writing exercise for the entertainment of everyone here. (Sorry, but I’m too embarrassed to share the original for comparison! :-D) After looking it over, I have decided to change some of the original names/place names, because it just isn’t up to my current standard, and I think in this way, I can have a bit of fun with it. After consideration, I have decided to use names of Celtic Gods and characters, but keep in mind, these characters are not the same as those of lore and myth, but rather something of a tribute to them. Anyway, this is just a lighthearted bit of writing fun, and I don’t want to spend months developing the story. I will post this in two parts, or maybe more, depending on how long it takes to write.

So, without further ado, I give you Keepers of the Stones. (I know, I know! Lousy title, but remember, this is a rewritten version of a story I wrote when I was only seventeen.)

      magic_sapphire

      Once, long ago, in a far off land, called Lan Fayes, there lived an elven Druid of great renown. The Druid, Mathonwy, dwelled with his wife and young daughter in a magnificent hall hewn of pure sapphire, and from the very hall itself, they drew their powers, for the sapphire it was made of was enchanted with vast magical powers.

But Mathonwy’s wife was no less renowned than himself. Called the May Queen by the people of Lan Fayes, Cordelia wielded power over living things that could cause flowers to bloom, trees to bud new leaves, and to bring forth new life to the land. She had a heart full of love, and Cordelia loved no one so much as her daughter, the care-free child of Spring, Olwen. On the day of her birth, Cordelia gifted to Olwen a very magical sapphire which changed colours and was enchanted with the power to protect its bearer.

“May it keep you safe from all harm, my darling girl,” Cordelia whispered as she fastened a silver chain bearing the sapphire around Olwen’s neck. And from that day, Olwen wore the precious gem always.

As Olwen grew, so, too, did her own magical powers. Like her mother, she had a special affinity for growing things. Mathonwy and Cordelia were greatly pleased to note that their daughter had also inherited Cordelia’s healing powers, and so they taught her well.

When Olwen was nearing womanhood, there came an urgent message from a chief of a distant clan, desperate to save his dying daughter, who had been afflicted with a curse by a jealous woman. In his message, the chief pleaded for Mathonwy and Cordelia to come, and make great haste, for his daughter’s time was running out. And so, Mathonwy and his family set off on a journey that would lead them over the mountains to the chiefdom that lay beyond.

It was a long journey by horseback, and they did not reach the mountains for many days. It would take many days more to make the crossing, but they were making good time, and Mathonwy had high hopes of reaching the afflicted girl in time. But on the fifth night of their travels through the mountains, they were set upon by dwarves, whose thick skins and enchanted armour shielded them from Mathonwy’s magic. Helpless to fight against the dwarves, Mathonwy ordered his wife and daughter to flee to safety.

Just then, the leader of the dwarf band, strutted forward and pointed his ax at the Druid. “After this day, the dwarves will sing praises that Hafgan the Terrible slayed the the famous Druid of the Faye! Mathonwy, today is the day you die!” the dwarf declared.

Battling_dwarves

Cordelia and and Olwen started to turn back, but Mathonwy held up his hand. “Go,” he shouted. “I will hold them off!” He braced himself for the fight, as Hafgan stalked closer. Cordelia’s face was pained as she gazed one last time on her husband, before turning away and urging her daughter on.

The dwaves closed in around Mathonwy, but he never took his eyes off Hafgan. In an instant, the fight began. Hafgan lunged at the Druid, and Mathonwy counted with a powerful spell that blasted against the dwarf’s heavy armour, but only succeeded in causing Hafgan to stumble back. The dwarf charged Mathonwy a second time, this time darting out of range as he sent another spell. The force struck a boulder, which burst in a million shards of splintered rock. Before he could gather his energy for another attack, Hafgan struck down Mathonwy with one powerful swing of his ax that lodged deep in his chest. His face contorted in agony and he gasped for breath as blood welled in his throat. Hafgan grinned cruelly, jerked his ax blade free, and set off in pursuit of Cordelia and her daughter.

Mounted on horseback, Cordelia and Olwen were faster than the dwarf, and he soon fell behind until they lost sight of him completely. But still they rode on, afraid to slow their steeds, lest the dwarves should catch up with them. Tears streamed from Cordelia’s face for her fallen husband, but if Olwen wept, she hid her tears well. But they had not gone far, when more dwarves descended from the secret passages in the mountain, to bar their escape.

Cordelia screamed, and Olwen’s terrified gaze darted from the dwarves to her mother, seeking instruction. Then she saw him. Hafgan, and the sapphire her mother had given her, shone indigo. How he had caught up to them so quickly was, to Olwen, a wonder. Frightened as she was, she felt hatred boiling up inside her.

“Olwen, run!” Cordelia whispered, suddenly at her side. When Olwen started to protest, Cordelia hushed her with a look. “I will distract them. You must escape. Now go!”

Cordelia threw everything she had at the dwarves, just as Olwen heeled her horse and charged past the dwarves who attempted to bar her way. She made saplings erupt into massive trees beneath their feet, rocks came tumbling down from the slopes to crash upon the dwarves below, wind howled, rain sleeted, pelting their faces, but it was none of it enough. The dwarves were too many, and too strong. Hafgar laughed when he plunged his ax into Cordelia’s back.

The last thing Olwen saw as she made her escape, was her mother fall to her knees, but already, she was too far way to see the anguish she knew would have shown on Cordelia’s face. After that, all was a blur. Dwarves pursued her, but could not catch her, could not touch her, and any who tried, did not live to try again, for the magical stone that Olwen wore about her neck protected her from harm. And so she rode, until the dawn broke and she found herself in a forest like none she had ever seen before.

fantasy

To be continued…

Ready, Set, Go!

Ready, Set, Go!

And it’s time to knock out the last chapter! (Technically, not the last chapter of the book, because I already completed editing chapter 11 before proceeding chapters, so I’m now working on chapter 10. The non-writers in my life are always so baffled when they hear how out of order I work! Haha!)

Anyway, to jumpstart my morning writing session, I’ve made a very tasty breakfast of scrambled eggs, swiss chard, mushrooms, spring onion and sundried tomatoes, as well as a homemade latte! No cutting corners on the espresso, either. I buy good beans and grind them fresh, then brew my double shot of espresso, steam the milk, and ta-da! Professional quality latte! (And yes, it really is, because I used to work in a cool little bakery making all the cappucinos, lattes, mochas, etc.)

Well, enough talk of food and lattes. Time to get to work!

Another One Down!

Editing for chapter 9 is finished! Only one more chapter to go. Then I just need to review the small additional scenes before Hyperion can do the formatting. After that, it will be off to the editor, and I’ll be contacting those of you who volunteered to read the finished product!

Ahhh!!!! I’m so excited to have made it this far!!!!