What I Write

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Hooked on Hatchling's Mate, Rescued? Or the River Wins. #mfrwauthor

To set the scene, against all orders, Talann swam across a flooded river to save women and children stranded on a hill. After successfully taking across a rope that served as the foundation to tow a barge back and forth. The women, children, and horses across, Talann is returning to the safe side of the river with his stallion, a mare and her very skittish colt. The makeshift barge capsizes and its precious contents are tossed into the raging waters.


Fear chilling her soul, Glyn continued the breakneck race to catch up to Kynan whose stallion closed in on the floating man. “Talann is still too far from the shore,” Kynan shouted.

The reality of the situation burned in Glyn’s mind. Only Lexii could save Talann, and Beylnea the dragon soul twinned to Lexii, was newly fledged and not that strong.

A shadow passed overhead and the yellow dragon that was Lexii dove. With a scream, her claws wrapped around Talann’s waist. She strained to catch air beneath her wings. However Talann weighed her down and no matter how hard Lexii tried, his feet still dragged in the wild surf.

“You can do it,” Glyn encouraged.

Talann slipped from Lexii’s grasp. Yet again, she dove to grab him. This time, she only gained enough height to lift his head and shoulders above the wave’s surface. His body limp in her clutch told a tale Glyn refused to believe.
Side by side with Kynan, Glyn raced into the water. Neither spoke a word but acted in the perfect unison of a trained team to drag Talann to the shore. It appeared every bone in Talann’s body was broken.

A moan escaped Glyn the sight of the unconscious man’s blue skin. “He’s not breathing.”

 ~ ~ ~

Hatchling's Mate - From their birth it was expected that Talann’s and Lexii’s destiny would be entwined. However fate had other intentions. Lexii and Talann could not stand to be together.

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Journaling - A Thought or Two #mfrwauthor

Yes, I know the 52 week challenge is at week 20, and this is the first time I'm popping in. After completing both the 2017 and 2018 challenges, having a new release, and completing the AtoZ in April Challenge, focus was on things other than writing for pleasure. However, I've decided to do a few of the 2019 challenges. This week, the official topic is "Does journal keeping help with the writing process?."

How to write something different than the 2018 topic, Diary or Journal. That focused more on the differences between the two types of writing. No instead this post will be more of the writing life.

One of the pieces of advice I often give authors in my lectures, especially those just starting out, is to keep a journal. No it is not the diary once popular among young girls. It is not a small pink book with a lock whose key was worn on a chain around your neck or hidden in a secret spot in your bedroom. The purpose of the writing journal can be to record feelings, however it is much more. A journal as a motivational tool records each days accomplishments in words written or edited. (Or if in promotion mode, number of social media posts.) Of course, if the numbers aren't what you wanted, that might be motivation to quit rather than continue on. 

Pixabay Image. Used under CCO Creative Commons.
Some might call a novel notebook or a series bible the journal for that particular project. Character lists, storyboards or outlines, and pictures to inspire settings or characters fill the pages.

But for the purposes of this post, I'll talk about the small spiral notebook that I jokingly call my journal. And since, it's a digital world I also include the files and folders on the laptop into which some of the data has been duplicated.

What goes into the physical or the virtual journal. On their blank pages storyline ideas develop and expand.  Notes on scenes to write, unique words to add to my vocabulary, also get jotted down, although sometimes in cryptic notes.

One of the main uses of my writer's journal is to accumulate names. The credits of a television program often contain a name that says "I am xxx." I have to admit that my memory for small details (or even some larger ones) isn't as good as it used to be. Age has introduced the shiny object syndrome. Or what I like to call "walk into a room and forget the reason why," because going through the doorway took away all memory of my task. So writing information down immediately upon discovery helps save it for potential use.

But there are problems with having a journal. Handwriting gets illegible. Even worse, they are hard to organize. The information is not grouped by subject but chronological. Sticky notes or paperclips used to mark a particular piece of data fall off.  And you have to remember what information you wrote to be able to search for it.

Still, the act of writing something down helps its capture in the memory, so I will keep my spiral notebook with the black script on the cover that says "Journal."
~till next time, Helen


Windmaster, At Day's End, #mfrwauthor

Since summer is approaching, I thought I'd share a scene from Windmaster of my favorite way to cool-off after a hard days work. And the reason the cover for Windmaster Legacy is shown when the excerpt is from Windmaster? The hunk on the cover is the one in the mill pond.



An old wagon with a plume of dust in its wake, rattled up the road to the mill. Olier moved to the doorway while Dal stood in the shadow alongside the door. His grip tightened on Ellspeth’s shoulder.

“It’s old man Steryl,” Olier hissed. “He snarls a lot but has no love for the Oracle. Dal, can you mill his grain? If I leave now, we’ll lose the entire batch of syrup. Just to be safe, Ellspeth stay out of sight. I can explain Dal’s presence, but not yours.”

Dal gave Ellspeth’s shoulder a quick squeeze and stepped out to Olier’s side. The men raised a hand in greeting to the wagon driver. Before the newcomer could say a word, Olier pointed to the mill wheel. “You know where to take it, Steryl. The marka’s at a critical stage. Darmen here will grind it for you.”

The wagon driver grumbled in response.

Dal gave a pointed stare at the doorway behind Olier. But, there was no sign of Ellspeth. Good, Ellspeth is doing what she’s told. Although he mused, I wonder how long that will continue. An inadvertent sigh of relief escaped him. The wagon creaked as he swung up beside the driver.

Steryl glared at the man beside him. The whip crack was accompanied by more mumbled comments.

Dal hid a smile. He knew how to handle this one. And with a little luck, he’d get the latest news.

One big heave and the bag of meal thumped onto the wagon bed. Dal’s hearty, “All done,” was answered by Steryl’s grumble. Glad to see the grouchy old man leave, Dal snatched a cloth from atop the grain chute. He wiped his face to see the rough material turn brown with dust and sweat. The millstream looked so inviting he dropped the makeshift towel and stripped off his shirt and breeches. Three steps took him into the cool water. Several quick splashes cooled his sweat-drenched skin and ran in rivulets down the muscles of his chest.

~ * ~

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