A Month Later
Yes, It’s been a month since the last time that I’ve posted here. That would be because I was working on other projects. But I’m putting those on hold while I shift back to focussing on writing and editing.
If you scroll back to the last couple of posts, you’ll know that I am currently editing “The Sword of Justice”
I’ll be working on this throughout the months of November and December, if you want more information about this and similar updates, I would recommend signing up for my newsletter.
November is Nanowrimo, which for most people means, time to write novels! I will be taking part, but like everything else, I won’t be doing things the regular way that everyone else is. I’m going to be using Nanowrimo, to help work on scheduling dedicated time in the day for writing and/or editing. That way, I’m hoping that I can just continue after November having that built in that habit. I already do this with comics I now just need to be able to do this reliably with editing and writing.
Now that I’ve done the housecleaning as they say, I feel the need to add something fun to this post, because you guys are here to read…or at least I hope that’s what you are here for….
I’m going to plunk in the passage from “The Sword of Justice” that drew me in and made me decide to work on this novel next:
Tregashin was a large city, as befitted the capital of a nation. It was also a busy place, even dangerous in some areas. The Inn of Hero’s Desire was close enough to the waterfront to be a little unsafe, but far enough away that the truly dangerous people were unlikely to be found there. On an evening in spring, Dharmen the Wizard found himself seated alone at a table in that inn, waiting for his supper, his back to the wall, watching what was happening all around. He was a youngish man for a Wizard, his brown hair greying slightly at the temples, a few white hairs in his beard. His nose was small and slightly upturned, his face broad, and he seemed almost a comical figure until one looked at his eyes. The eyes were hazel-coloured, with something in them which said that they had seen terrible things and felt little fear for mere Men.
There was a man across the room, a large man who looked like a labourer on the docks, who was buying ale for everyone, though he himself consumed little. Dharmen had been watching him and noticing that as the evening went on he appeared to get drunker and drunker. He was probably a spy, Dharmen decided, but it was difficult to say who he would be a spy for. He could find out, Dharmen was sure, but the risk of drawing unwanted attention to himself made it not worthwhile. He dropped his left hand casually to the large pouch at his belt, then brought the hand up again, clutching a thin wrist.
The wrist was connected on one side to a grubby hand clutching a small but very sharp knife, and on the other side to a skinny gangling youth, whose hair would have been blonde had it been clean. His face was thin his nose prominent, and in his eyes arrogance warred with fear.
Dharmen looked at him. “Sit down.”
He released the wrist, and the boy sat down. As he did so, the expression on his face became one of fear, for sitting down was one thing which he had no wish to do.
Dharmen smiled. “Yes, I am a Wizard. And no, you need have no fear of what I might change you into. I doubt if I will even turn you over to the Watch; seeing you safely locked up, with your crime witnessed, and all would require more time than I can spare.
“But can I turn you loose?” he continued, as though musing to himself. “What choice do I make, when even not to choose is a choice in itself?” He sighed, “So. I will take you along with me, hire you as my apprentice and servant. What do you say to that? With me, while you may not always be comfortable, I will promise that when I have food, so will you.”