Adam Copeland's Blog, page 3
January 23, 2014
“Ripples” gets a final Candidate for Cover Art
Here is a final rough draft from artist David Greene (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Hyliantights-Art/580407152008490 ). The final steps will include a colored version of the rough here, then onto the actual work for the cover:
January 13, 2014
Narrowing Down Concepts for the Cover of Ripples in the Chalice
Almost there. Identifying the necessary elements, just need to figure out which combination makes the most sense and conveys the most meaning…
December 7, 2013
December 5, 2013
Teaser Images from Artist David Greene
Here are teaser images for “Ripples in the Chalice” from artist David Green. Hint: he does cover art.
November 21, 2013
Echoes of Avalon now on the Shelves of “Another Read Through”
Echoes of Avalon can now be found on the shelves of a wonderful store in Northwest Portland near the corner of Killingsworth and Interstate Avenue. Even if you don’t need my book, you should still check out the ones you do at this neat store, complete with indoor tree for kids to climb on.
Another Read Through
1435 N Killingsworth St
Portland, OR 97217
503 208 2729
http://www.anotherreadthrough.com/
September 19, 2013
Goodreads Giveaway for Echoes of Avalon
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Goodreads Book Giveaway
Echoes of Avalon
by Adam Copeland
Giveaway ends October 30, 2013.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
September 17, 2013
Everything You Need to Indie Publish in One Place
Do you have a great story you wish to share with the world, but don’t have time to wait for “permission” from a traditional publisher? With today’s technology and resources you can bring your creation to life and make it available to a wide audience. Learn every aspect of making that happen at Northwest Independent Writers Association’s First Annual Symposium on Indie Publishing this next February 2014: http://www.niwawriters.com/register1.html
September 9, 2013
Salem’s Authorama! Discover New books, Meet Authors
I will be participating in Salem Public Library’s second annual local author fair. If you love books, come and enjoy a day out by getting as close to the stories as possible. Information below:
Salem Public Library Presents Authorama
Salem Public Library presents Authorama, the Library’s second annual local author fair, on Saturday, September 28, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. The event will take place at the Central Library, 585 Liberty St. SE.
Forty authors from throughout the Willamette Valley have accepted the Library’s invitation to participate. In addition to displaying and selling their works, some authors will do short presentations. These presentations will include something for everyone, running the gamut from poetry readings to presentations on travel and time management. A complete list of participating authors and a detailed schedule of events is available on the Library’s website at www.salemlibrary.org.
Many genres will be represented, with offerings including local history, romance, children’s and young adult fiction, travel, how-to, memoirs, and more. The fair will give those in attendance a chance to discover new writers and to network with authors who have successfully published. And if that’s not enough, there will be prizes!
This program is free and open to the public. For more information, visit Salem Public Library’s website at www.salemlibrary.org or call 503-588-6052.
September 2, 2013
Teasers from each Finished Chapter of Ripples in the Chalice
Listed below are teasers from each completed chapter of Ripples in the Chalice, sequel to Echoes of Avalon.
Chapter One and the Prologue can be found in their entirety at adamcopelandsite dot com under the tab labelled Ripples in the Chalice.
Chapter Two:
As he introduced Aimeé to her by name, Aimeé got a better look at her. She was shorter even than herself, and petite, but strong in a sinewy way. Aside from the silver streak, her hair was the same raven-black as Patrick’s. Most striking of all were her eyes. Set in a beautiful porcelain face with sharp features, were eyes that were an extreme version of Patrick’s. Whereas his were hazel with gold flecks, hers were starkly green with gold halos about the pupils, almost unsettling in their alien beauty.
“Aim-ai…” the woman sounded the name out slowly, trying out the syllables. She smiled and looked Aimeé up and down in a fashion only one person in a man’s life possibly could.
“Aimeé, my mother, Talisia,” Patrick said, almost nervously.
Chapter 3:
“I’m afraid his Eminence is going to be very disappointed,” Patrick said stoically, taking up his mug of ale and sipping.
“I made a promise to return the cup. It was a mistake of mine to let Father Hugh talk me into letting him keep the cup to be adored in the church while I was away. I should have returned it right away to the cave from where it came. It needs to go back. I made a promise to its guardians. No one, not even a cardinal and his army, is going to stop me from fulfilling my oath.”
Patrick expected Marcus, a senior Avangardesman, to chastise him for his insubordination. Instead, a shock of a different sort crossed the man’s face.
“That’s right,” Marcus said distantly as if thinking out loud. “You don’t know yet.”
Patrick frowned. “Know what?”
“The cup, it won’t move.”
“What do you mean, ‘won’t move.’”
“Just that,” Marcus took a drink. “It won’t allow itself to be touched. Anyone who tries, their hand passes right through it.”
Chapter Four:
“Seriously, had I known all the paperwork involved with being Steward, I’d run off too,” Corbin continued, pouring himself a goblet, “and why they gave the position to me is a mystery. They need to give it someone like you…someone who can read and write. Most of this job is all this confounding paperwork and record keeping and report writing. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”
He gestured at the pile of paper on the desk with the goblet and spilled red liquid in the process, staining some of the paper.
“Is that what the monk is for, to help with the reading and writing?” Patrick asked, addressing the quiet young man with shaved pate and dressed in simple brown robe.
Patrick took a sip of his wine.
“Aye,” Corbin replied, taking a gulp from his cup. “Useless wanker.”
“Perhaps the wanker would not be so useless if you’d show up for our appointments more frequently, as well as offered me a cup of wine every now and again,” the monk suggested with a hint of a smile.
“Bugger off,” Corbin objected. “You’re lazy whether you have wine or not. I was supposed to be down at the harbor this morning with rest, but no thanks to you tonight’s dinner arrangements are still not done.”
Despite his pretenses, Corbin poured the man a cup.
“Excuse Sir Corbin’s manners, I’m Brother Anton,” the monk said, extending a hand to Patrick when he stood to accept his drink.
“I’m perfectly aware of Sir Corbin’s manners,” Patrick said, taking Anton’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Sir Patrick Gawain.”
“So I gathered: Knight of Cups, Savior of Avalon,” Anton raised his drink.
Corbin rolled his eyes and blew out his lips, “Oh, please! Don’t encourage him. The man was lucky, wandering outside the keep while the rest of us were having spells cast upon us. I’d be Savior of Avalon too if I’d decided to go on a drunken, naked bender in the woods that day.”
“Well, you certainly go on plenty of drunken benders, maybe your turn will come soon enough,” Patrick laughed.
“Nacht! Watch your language. I’m a respectable man now. Don’t go spreading rumors,” Corbin protested, taking a drink.
Patrick looked at Anton and said in an exaggerated whisper, “We’ll talk.”
Corbin gave Patrick an obscene gesture with one hand while expertly continuing to drink with the other.
“Speaking of cups,” Patrick said, tone turning serious. “I’m sure you realize why the cardinal is here.”
Corbin leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on the desk.
“Aye,” Corbin exhaled, eyes widening briefly as he focused on a spot on the wall. “I foresee a storm coming.”
“What do you plan on doing about it?” Patrick asked.
“Do?” Corbin replied with a raised eyebrow. “I’m going to be thankful that Wolfgang, Father Hugh, and Mother Superior are here to deal with the matter.”
“Corbin, as Keep Steward and Captain of the Guard surely you have some say in the matter. We have a duty to return the cup,” Patrick protested.
“We wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if you hadn’t brought the blasted thing here in the first place,” Corbin scowled, but then his demeanor turned soft as he added, “though I understand why you did it. And the girl? Did you give her a happily-ever-after? Did you have a lovely homecoming and wedding?”
Patrick slumped in his chair as he said, “No, she will not marry me.”
“What?” Corbin almost shouted. “The lass is offered the opportunity of a lifetime, and she doesn’t take you up on it? Why?”
“There is a…complication,” Patrick responded, and waived Corbin off when his expression asked for more details. “I’ll explain in good time, but let’s just say for now that it boils down to the fact the girl has a measure of pride and finds my level of commitment…lacking.”
Corbin scoffed in his goblet as he finished off the last of his wine.
“Nonsense, just hit the girl upside the head with the flat of your sword and drag her to the nearest altar. That’s what I would do,” he suggested.
“That would probably work for you and the quality of women I’ve seen you with,” Patrick laughed, and took a drink. “But Aimeé has been forced to do many things in her time. I will not be another villain in her life.”
“Sir Patrick Gawain,” Corbin said whimsically, looking the Irishman up and down. “You’ve never done anything simply, have you? Uncooperative magic cups, conspiring cardinals, and sassy lasses.”
Patrick drained his goblet, then asked, “I hate to harp on the issue, but what is the official Greensprings and Avangarde stance on the cup?”
“It appears that it is up to the cup,” Corbin replied. “It can’t be grasped. No one has been able to touch it since shortly after you left. It just sits there on the altar where you left it.”
“And if someone could suddenly grasp it?” Patrick continued.
Corbin shrugged.
“Or, if it were suddenly to disappear?” Patrick added.
“Then I’d say it was God’s will,” Corbin smiled.
The Captain of the Avangarde joined the Irishman in standing.
“Live strong,” Patrick said, beating his chest.
“Fight stronger,” Corbin returned, and they clasped forearms.
Chapter Five:
“Don’t think me villainous,” she said forming her lovely lips into a pout. “I merely want what’s best for everyone. I want everyone to be happy.”
She leaned forward, pressing her body against his as she reached between his legs and firmly grasped the neck of the wine skin that he held there. She lingered in the movement just long enough to make him uncomfortable, and to arouse feelings that have stirred men’s nature since the dawn of time.
“I like people,” she said, sliding the container from his thighs. “I like men, just as men like their swords. Men take care of their swords. They sharpen them and they oil them. Is that so bad?”
She took a sip from the skin.
Patrick could feel heat rising in his cheeks and he plucked at his collar to relieve the feeling of constriction. He swallowed hard.
“Perhaps we should be returning to the hall,” he suggested, standing.
Lilliana laughed, taking the hand he offered, and said, “As you wish, my gallant knight.”
As she placed her hand in his to rise, Patrick truly noticed for the first time her hands that were largely hidden by the lacy gloves she wore. The fingerless articles of clothing revealed her digits that ended in extremely sharpened nails. The gloves ended at the wrists and he could see that her forearms were muscular and lined with veins, as if from a lifetime of washing clothes.
He tried not to stare, and wondered why he hadn’t noticed earlier.
Right, that’s why, he thought, his gaze suddenly drawn to her heaving bosom, the garnets glittering even with only the pail moon and starlight.
He could feel heat rising in his face again as he looked away.
She laughed lightly and slipped her arm into his as they walked down the path back to the hall, following the sound of festivity.
“You have to admit,” she said. “That the cup is better served in the cardinal’s hands. It belongs out in the world, not hidden on a secret island.”
“My heart says otherwise,” Patrick said simply.
“Ah yes, your heart, your duty, and your honor,” she shook her head. “Men and their ‘honor.’ Consider this: the cardinal is an ordained successor of the apostles, and it was to the apostles that Jesus declared, ‘What you loose on earth, you loose in heaven.’ If the cardinal demands that the cup leave with him from this place, are you not honor bound to let him? What think you, Sir Knight?”
Patrick rubbed his temple with his free hand, saying, “I think I’ve had too much wine to drink this evening and would rather discuss this another time.”
“You may very well have that opportunity tomorrow morning,” Lilliana said. “As I understand it the Board of Benefactors wants to meet in the church just after morning mass to see if you can grasp the cup.”
Patrick only slightly stuttered in his stride at the news.
As they entered the little courtyard in front of the main hall they could see that the soiree was largely over. People were already dispersing for the evening. Patrick froze at the sight of Sir Jon and the Lady Katherina leaving arm-in-arm.
“Is that who you were looking for earlier in the garden?” Lilliana asked, her gaze following Katherina.
“No,” Patrick growled.
“She’s quite lovely,” Lilliana said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Perhaps you were trying to marry the wrong one.”
“Perhaps a discussion for another time,” Patrick said formally, but coldly.
Lilliana changed the subject and said, “Can the cardinal count on your support tomorrow?”
“I have my doubts,” Patrick responded, trying to be as vague as possible.
She reached to Patrick’s face and stroked his high cheek, probing his hazel eyes with her amber one’s.
“We’re not going to be friends, are we Sir Patrick?” she said.
Sir Patrick gently took her hand and kissed it, replying, “It’s not looking good.”
Chapter Six:
The sound of boots coming across the floor was inevitable.
Lucan managed to avoid the Cardinal Guard for most of the day, but it was only a matter of time before they found him in the last place soldiers would look.
The library.
He sat as far away from the entrance as possible, bent over an ancient tome. A single candle illuminated his corner of the library that could only be reached after traversing the maze of shelves.
There were worse places to hide, Lucan thought, as he was actually enjoying his stay in the room. The library was a rare treasure, perhaps one of the most extensive he had seen, and in an unknown castle on a legendary isle, of all places. It was a shame that the guards came when they did. He wanted to finish the tome, a copy of a work of Homer, he had randomly pulled off a shelf.
When the soldiers found him, his back was to them. Even so, judging from the footsteps and their breathing he could tell there were three of them.
“Signore,” one of them said, the hint of a triumphant sneer in his voice at having found the fugitive relic expert. “It pleases the cardinal that you come with us.”
“It does not please me,” Lucan said tiredly. “I will be along shortly. I want to finish this book first.”
Lucan smiled, feeling the men look at one another in disbelief.
“Signore Lucan,” the lead guard sneered. The sound of swords slithering from leather scabbards filled the air. “You will come with us now.”
Lucan sighed heavily, closed the book, and leaned toward the candle.
“This isn’t going to happen the way you pictured it,” he said, and blew out the candle.
Chapter Seven:
“Sir Patrick,” Teodorico gently added, his demeanor softened suddenly and took on a paternal tone. “Your concerns have been duly noted. You have performed a great service, and we thank you for it, but you role in this story is finished. The fact that the cup does not allow itself to be touched, let alone returned to the cave, is testament that these ‘guardians’ were merely putting you to a test. I strongly suspect once this esteemed council reaches a resolution, the cup will allow itself to be transported once again. Go in peace, my child.”
He made the sign of the holy cross.
Patrick had to admit the cardinal made an imposing figure standing there with the crosier in one hand, his pectoral cross glinting, and speaking with authority.
Patrick bowed, saying, “As you wish, your Eminence.”
He turned to leave, but paused when William Malmesbury once again spoke up.
“Sir Patrick,” he said. “Why then did you bring the cup to Greensprings?”
Patrick made eye contact with Aimeé who still stood at the center of the room.
“To save the girl,” Patrick almost whispered.
“And why was that so important, that you would disregard the warning of these guardians?” William continued.
Patrick did not answer right away, watching Aimeé’s eyes flare, moisture starting to glisten in her green eyes.
“Because I…” he swallowed hard. “…because I felt it a shame that she should perish after having played her part at saving Greensprings. I wanted to correct that.”
The brief shining light in Aimeé’s face extinguished and she squeezed her eyes shut as if she had been stabbed in the heart with a dagger. Evidently that wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.
Patrick all but ran from the chamber then, not waiting for any more questions to be posed of him. His boots echoed loudly in the now quiet room as if mocking him with the fact that all eyes were on him.
Chapter Eight:
When morning crept into her servant’s chamber in Greensprings Keep, something other than sun beams caressed Aimeé’s face. An airy hand brushed across her cheek, accompanied by a sound that reminded her of children playing in the distance. When it had happened for the third time, and sleepy attempts at brushing it away with her flailing arm failed to make it stop, she decided to wake in earnest.
Her eyes fluttered open to the sound of fading giggles.
She raised her head and looked about the small chamber she shared with Clare and Anna and saw nothing but an empty room. She groaned, realizing the others had already rose for work, allowing her a few moment more sleep knowing the pregnancy was growing difficult for her. It was kind of them, but if she was late too many more times for her duties it could become a problem. So far, she had only confided in her two closest companions about her condition, waiting for the right time to break the news to Rosa Maria, the head of the kitchen staff.
She moved her head from side to side to catch the morning culprits that had been playing with her face. The little room, used for overnight stays by servants from the village when they had early morning duties, had no little playful visitors.
She stared at the ceiling trying to muster the courage to get out of bed despite how rotten she felt. She had stayed a thousand times in this room and had stared just as many times at the ceiling, noting the swirl patterns in wood, picking out shapes. Here an old man’s wizened face, there a puppy, and there a tree. But this morning her brow furrowed in curiosity when she noticed something new on the surface.
There were tiny hand and footprints, and the longer she stared at them, the more they faded as if they hadn’t been there.
March 9, 2013
Listen to Me and Other Local Authors With a Little Wine
Are you a lover of reading and good drink and live in the Portland-Hillsboro area and want a fun night out? Come to “Bards & Brews” sponsored by Jacobsen’s Bookstore and Northwest Independent Writers Association. Drink your favorite wine or beer while I read the prologue from the sequel to “Echoes of Avalon,” and Mark Niemann-Ross, Jenna Bayley-Burke, Connie Carmichael Hill, and George Byron Wright read from their wonderful works.
