Update and Teaser
I know I haven’t been a consistent blogger in the past few months. In my own defense, I have an excuse: after a long time hunting, I have a part-time job, so my writing schedule is getting moved around, and I’ve had to do what I can to adjust everything.
Yes, I know I should be devoting all my time and energy to writing, because “Writing is my life!” (said with suitably dramatic voice tone). But occasionally those real-world concerns, such as having a 16-year-old, a new job, and all those silly side interests like buying groceries and doing laundry. But the fact is, my energy is limited, and some of it needs to go toward all those mundane tasks.
“What?” you may say. “Authors don’t write 24/7? Heresy!”
But here’s the fact. I’m not a prolific writer. I rely on being able to do small amounts on a daily basis, rather than large amounts in the throes of inspiration. Not that I don’t get inspired; I just hang on to the inspiration whenever it happens and fit it in next time I write. But the salient point is that I’m not the kind of writer who can out spill ten-thousand words per day.
And after bringing up all my excuses: I have been writing and doing other projects. I’ve got two short stories, “Blood Drums”, and “Market of Tears” making the magazine rounds, and another one in the works. I intend to self-publish a book of my short stories this summer, and I am working on a novel in the same world as Etched in Fire, with different characters.
I also just finished the first draft to the sequel of Etched in Fire called A Gift of Flame. I hope to have a more finished copy done soon.
Living through the Occupation of Kaelennar has left Maelen with real and serious scars. When her quest to find a teacher coincides with an outbreak of banditry in an isolated part of the Northern Forest, she begins to learn about her magic and her own motivation for pursuing it. That search will take her to very dark places as she confronts her own hidden weaknesses.
A teaser for anyone who has read this far:
Maelen could easily imagine the walls standing on a high cliff beside the sea. She drew on her memories to think of a winter storm on the ocean, stirring waves that broke so high and fierce that they could cover a lighthouse with salty ice, could rock a fortress with the sheer force of water abetted by wind. But her house was rooted deep in the stone that jutted out over the waves, its base melding into granite that defied the storm. She began to think of it transforming into a single piece, hollowed by time and shaped by Coran’s hand. Glints of mica caught lightning in dazzling and short-lived sparks. Glass became clear crystal, its structure part of the coastal rock.
“I have it,” she told Garmyn. She could feel its reality now, and it was far stronger than it had been such a short time ago. “What do you need me to do?”
“Extrude a bit of fire.” Garmyn’s voice remained steady; if he was unsure of himself, she could not tell. “Just a bit. A rope of fire. Or rather, a lash. Strike the stone, and see how what happens.”
Maelen opened the conduit to the fire that burned just under her skin. It roared to life almost immediately, and rushed out of her in a whirlwind of flame. It licked the walls of stone, assailed the windows, stormed against the now-solid granite roof. It did not consume Maelen – it was her own birthfire – but she could feel it as an orgasmic rush of power that was stronger even than making love. She surrendered to its pure sensation, which required trust of no one besides herself.
“Very good!” Garmyn actually sounded excited. “I can see what you’re doing, but it’s contained. Now, draw that fire back into yourself. I want to try another sort of magic, but you need to be doing this about three times a day.”
Maelen, standing in the midst of an inferno, did not want to pull the power back. It felt so good to let it out: the birthfire that was fueled with pain and anger, and a determination to revenge herself on behalf of those who had lost their lives and voices in the Occupation. She could feel the power tug at her, asking her to give even more, to pour her entire body into feeding it.
Instinctively, she drew on the fuel of the food she had eaten, the energy that moved her limbs. The burning was glorious.
Her thoughts suddenly fractured into splinters of confused flame-laced tendrils that dissipated into breaths of wind. Her eyes sagged open to see Garmyn’s face looking into her own, their noses almost touching. He held her head between his hands, and his expression was grave.
She could not think. She could not understand why he held her so close, nor what had just happened. Frustrated, she shook off the mage’s hands and made an inarticulate sound of confusion.
Her thoughts flooded back to her as abruptly as they had left. Maelen blinked several times before realizing that Garmyn had done something to her mind. Why was another question.
“And that,” said the mage, “is what I use spells of command for. “Do you realize that you started burning your body’s resources? Selyn’s flames, Maelen, how many ways do you have of getting into trouble?”
I hope to have some publication work to show before long. In the meantime, I’m still here!