Heather Hayden's Blog, page 17

Saturday Shorts: The Dragon’s Christmas

Long ago I played a game of raising pixel dragons. At one point, I was rather active on the forums, and even joined in some of the festivities at times. Once, I participated in a Secret Santa for which people wrote stories or poems as gifts. The following is the tale I wrote for this exchange–you can still find the original online, though only in the forum archives, for the site sadly shut down after five years. I lost contact with all of my friends from that site, but perhaps some day we will meet again.

I made some minor edits for spelling, but otherwise this story is identical to the one I posted all those years ago. I hope you find it enjoyable–I certainly found it nostalgic, as it brings back many forgotten memories.

The Dragon’s Christmas

Dawn came bright and clear that wintry morning, bringing a cold wind from the northern mountains that swept past the entrance to Hyruu’s cavern home. A small slip of the breeze trickled in around the door and made its way to the bedchamber, where Hyruu lay curled, tail tucked under chin, nose tucked under wing. When the chill air touched his silvery scales, Hyruu raised his head and yawned, a few wisps of smoke trickling from his mouth and nose.

“Cold today,” he observed, getting to his feet and stretching out his long, slender body, gold-tipped claws almost reaching from one side of the chamber to the next. Golden horns curving up and back from his head brushed the top of the doorway as Hyruu left his bedchamber and headed deeper into the honeycomb of caves that served as his home.

His gold eyes gleamed in the half-light of the kitchen, where a round pool of slightly fluorescent water held Hyruu’s favorite breakfast—cave fish. Standing poised at the edge of the pool, he waited for a fish to swim into view. Like a hawk from above he struck, catching his breakfast with a neat snap of his jaws.

Once his meal was roasted to perfection and consumed, Hyruu shook out his wings and inspected their soft violet undersides. Scratches had marred them a few days ago when he flew too close to the treetops of the nearby forest, but those wounds had healed and Hyruu felt ready to greet the new day in the dragon way, with a nice long flight through the crisp morning air. Even the bite of the chill wind could not dampen his enthusiasm as he launched himself from the cliff-face entrance and swooped down over the valley.

He did not expect screams from the valley inhabitants, the humans knew of his presence and rarely flinched at the sight anymore, but their behavior seemed erratic even for them. Running about with pots and bowls full of steaming food, smoke gushing from chimneys as though vast fires roared below, and everywhere a tinkling sound he had trouble placing until he realized they all wore strands and bracelets and circlets of bells. Circling the village for a second time, Hyruu caught the sweet scent of burning apple wood and the savory smell of roasting meat, mixed with the spice of evergreen, a tree that did not grow in the village.

Banking for a third time, Hyruu caught sight through windowpanes of evergreens standing decked out in strands of gold and silver. He shivered with pleasure, imagining what kind of addition that would make to his hoard, but stayed where he was, knowing that the villagers tolerated his presence because he did not disturb their peace further than flying by now and then. An unprovoked attack would lead to a horde of knights and princes looking to make a name for themselves all bearing down on his home and Hyruu liked his caves too much to give them up in exchange for a paltry amount of treasure.

Singing reached his ears as he drifted even lower, and after a brief listen Hyruu chuckled, coughing a small fireball that faded to smoke long before it reached the houses below. “Christmas! Of course!” Humans were so amusing with their need to celebrate all the time. It came from their short lives; they wanted to enjoy every moment of life they had. Hyruu smiled down at the scurrying villagers, all smiling and happy, then took off toward the forest.

Several hours later, the body of a great elk thudded into the snow in the village square, narrowly missing a group of carolers. They gulped in unison, watching a dragon’s sinuous grey body follow the elk’s into the snow.

One man standing nearby had the guts to stand up and say, “What are you doing?”

Hyruu attempted a smile, but the sight of so many ivory teeth caused the humans to stumble over each other in their rush to get away, so he abandoned the idea and pushed the elk forward. It had been killed with a blow just behind the head, and no blood marred the white snow. If it hadn’t been for the blank, open eyes, the animal might have seemed asleep.

“I brought a gift,” Hyruu said with a gentle snort. “For your Christmas Day.”

Blank stares turned cautious as surprise filtered through. The man from before managed a weak smile. “Thank you…?”

That was better. Hyruu tried to smile again, but the man began to break out in sweat, pinned in place by the gold eyes watching him, and the dragon turned his gaze toward the elk again. “It is fresh and should feed your village well.” Hyruu stepped back, spreading his wings. Even in the large square he had trouble finding room to take off, and as he collected himself for the initial leap, he was startled by a sudden touch on his leg. Looking down, he found a small human child resting a hand on his silvery scales.

“You’re tho pretty,” she lisped with a smile, revealing a gap in her teeth. Hyruu almost recoiled in horror before remembering humans, like dragons, could regrow their teeth to some extent, especially when they were young. He tried his smile a third time and must have succeeded because the girl’s own grin grew bigger.

“Thank you,” she said, throwing arms around his leg just before a woman rushed up, panting, to snatch the child up.

“Emily, you must be careful! Dragons are dangerous.” The woman glared at Hyruu like she had expected him to snap the child up the second she was in range.

“I do not eat humans,” Hyruu said calmly, and fluttered his wings in preparation for taking off. He had to forestall the movement again when Emily wriggled from her mother’s grasp and ran back to his side, tugging something from her hair. It was a circlet woven of strands of bells, a miniature version of the one her mother wore. Smiling, Emily held it out.

“For you,” she said.

Hyruu blinked, then reached out a paw and let the girl place the circle of bells on its palm. He curled claws over the tiny present and gave her a grave nod. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” she repeated back, waving as her mother pulled her away again. “Come again thoon, dragon!”

“My name is Hyruu,” he replied, then crouched and leapt forward, taking to the air just in time to miss striking down the strange tower on the building before him. He could not stop his tail from brushing the object that hung inside the enclosure, and startled when a loud boom came from behind. Climbing higher in the air, he glanced down once more at the village, where people were slowly approaching the elk, resting hands on the fur and antlers of the giant beast. Yes, it would serve them well enough, and Hyruu felt pleased.

Another boom shook the air and Hyruu chuckled at himself, realizing it was nothing more than the village bell, which tolled every day. He curled through the air in a loop, taking one last glance down, to find little Emily waving after him with all her might.

Her bright blue eyes caught his golden gaze for a second, and she cupped both hands around her mouth and shouted, “Merry Chrithtmath, Hyruu!”

Hyruu took a deep breath and let out a sharp spout of flame straight up, the fire dissolving into sparks that twinkled briefly before winking out of existence. Flipping backwards, Hyruu did a barrel roll and headed home, his body beginning to protest against the exposure to the cold air.

The little circlet of bells was given a prized position in his hoard, and whenever Hyruu touched it to hear that gentle tinkling sound again, he remembered the sight of the tiny human who seemed so fearless, and a smile would twitch at the corners of his mouth. “Someday,” he murmured, moving to the entrance of his caves and peering down at the little village. Yes, someday they would meet again.

Ensign’s Log, Entry 24: Announcing the Blog World Tour!

Blog World Tour!

What: Exactly what it sounds like! I’ll be touring twelve different blogs, and interviewing twelve other writers.

When: This is a year-long commitment I’m making. Each month, starting in July, I will interview one writer and be interviewed by another writer. I’ll be sharing the interviews I conduct here on my blog, and also links to my tour interviews. This will give you a chance to find out more about me, as well as meet other awesome writers!

Who: Thirteen fantasy writers are participating, including myself. We are all passionate about fantasy and are looking forward to learning more about each other through these interviews.

Why: For fun! And also to meet new people, writers and readers alike. Fantasy lovers, unite!

Magic Monday: Egg and Spoon by Gregory Maguire

Once a month I post a book review for a fantasy novel that I’ve read in the recent past. These reviews are posted on “Magic Monday”, the second Monday of every month.

Image courtesy of Goodreads

 

Today I’m reviewing Egg and Spoon by Gregory Maguire, a fantasy novel that caught my eye when I saw my sister reading it… Resulting in a book war that lasted until she finished it and I could finally get my hands on it again!

In other words, it was quite the good read. My only regret is not having the time to sit down and read it straight through (it ended up taking me about a week to read, because I was busy running around spending time with people.)

Egg and Spoon is a fantasy novel set in Russia, and is full of references to Russian legends–most importantly, I think, Baba Yaga. Here’s the blurb from Amazon:

Elena Rudina lives in the impoverished Russian countryside. Her father has been dead for years. One of her brothers has been conscripted into the Tsar’s army, the other taken as a servant in the house of the local landowner. Her mother is dying, slowly, in their tiny cabin. And there is no food. But then a train arrives in the village, a train carrying untold wealth, a cornucopia of food, and a noble family destined to visit the Tsar in Saint Petersburg — a family that includes Ekaterina, a girl of Elena’s age. When the two girls’ lives collide, an adventure is set in motion, an escapade that includes mistaken identity, a monk locked in a tower, a prince traveling incognito, and — in a starring role only Gregory Maguire could have conjured — Baba Yaga, witch of Russian folklore, in her ambulatory house perched on chicken legs.

I’ll admit, the cover is quite eye-catching and part of the reason I picked it up initially from the kitchen table (eliciting a shout from my sister that it was her library book and she was still reading it.) The blurb snagged my attention–I love stories about Baba Yaga, especially when they involve young heroines out to save the world.

In this case, Elena and Cat (Ekaterina) are two very unlikely heroes–one a poor peasant barely scraping by on crusts of bread, the other a privileged rich girl on the way to meet the Tsar’s godson and (as her aunt hopes, at least) win his heart.

The story is told from the point of view of a monk, trapped in a tower, who can see things through his blind eye by using the vision of birds. Although it sounds like an odd way of telling the story, and does make me wonder at times how he can know what the other characters’ thoughts are, it’s an interesting way of framing the narrative, and doesn’t distract from the overall story.

Elena and Cat find their lives forever changed when an accident causes them to switch places. Both must be brave, and strong, and unyielding in their desires as they fight for what they want–Elena wishes to beg the Tsar to release her brother from his service, and Cat wishes nothing more to find her way home.

As she trudges along, though, Cat stumbles upon a very unexpected house… One with chicken legs, and an ancient occupant who threats to eat her. However, Baba Yaga has greater problems than how to deal with a child–especially one she cannot, in fact, eat, since Cat brought her a gift (however unintentionally)–for Russian’s weather is changing, and not in a good way.

The Pheonix, a beautiful, fiery bird that can grant a child a wish if the child steals one of his tail feathers, has died…but he has not yet been reborn. And this break in the cycle is causing many, many troubles, from the flooding of Saint Petersburg to the waking of another ancient creature, far to the North…

Through this story I was enchanted by the landscape, the characters, and their individual tales all woven into a great tapestry of life, wonder, and hope. There’s no romance to be found here, only friendship and courage and determination. And more than a little dash of magic, that at the same time manages to melt into the landscape, becoming one with a Russia that is part reality and part myth.

I definitely think lovers of Russian fairy tales will enjoy this story, as well as anyone who enjoys a good fantasy with strong, proactive characters (not to mention the female leads, and especially the lead role of Baba Yaga, who is as impressive and frightening as you can imagine…and yet carries her own sort of frailty.)

Intrigued? Egg and Spoon available on Amazon. You can also learn more about Gregory Maguire and his stories on his website.

Thoughts? Comments? Let me know below!

Ensign’s Log, Entry 23: I have returned!

Technically, I never really left… Or, at least, I continued writing. However, since my blogging has been, well, less than par for a while, I’ve decided it’s time to get back into the swing of things.

I’ve already scheduled the Magic Monday post for this month, and plan to schedule a few more posts on various things in advance, just to get the ball rolling again.

You might be wondering, “Well, how long are you going to stick around this time? Seems like you keep coming and going!”

This is true–I’ve chewed myself out more than once in the past couple of months for not doing more with this blog. After all, if I want to look back in a few years and rejoice at how much I’ve done here, then I’ve got to do it!

However, I also realize that berating myself is not productive, and in fact could result in negative results–me associating blogging with that negative feeling and not wanting to do it even more. So, instead, I’ll celebrate each small step I take down the road, each word I write, whether in a new story or in a new blog post.

I’m happy to announce that my writing has been going much better! Although I had another lull during a week’s trip to my old college town for a friend’s graduation, I jumped back into things feet-first upon returning home and am already four chapters into editing Upgrade‘s latest draft.

I have serious motivation for finishing this draft as well, as I’m racing another writer friend to see who gets down with their manuscript draft first. At the moment, he’s ahead, but I’m not going to let it stay that way! The best part is that when we’re both done, we can swap manuscripts and beta-read! Best way to celebrate ever! (I’m such a bookworm.)

Not only have I been working on Upgrade, but I’ve also gotten myself into another project I’m really excited about! I don’t want to say too much about it yet, but more will become clear soon enough. Suffice to say, I have another story to write, one I’m looking forward to writing once my muse stops being indecisive about how to handle it.

So, I guess this post is mostly just to say, “Hi, I’m still floating around in the Internet, and plan to be more active now!”

Due to planned circumstances, my internet access will be limited starting late next week, but I knew this ahead of time–part of the reason it’s important to get posts scheduled ahead of time! I’m really looking forward to it, though–I think a break from the distractions of the internet will help my muse flourish and refill my well of imagination.With that thought in mind, I’m off to continue working on Upgrade!

Ireland: Kerins Hole

At long last, another post about my trip to Ireland!

During my visit, I visited a number of different beaches with my grandfather as well as some friends of his (and my sister, when she was home from school and after she finished her semester.)

One of them was Kerins Hole.

This trip I was with D and L, Papa’s friends; Papa had stayed home to take care of some things, and my sister wasn’t yet done with school.

When you arrive at the beach, there’s a parking lot tucked in behind a trailer park of summer residences. From the lot is a concrete walkway leading down–you can see Charlie’s already exploring! (Charlie is my grandfather’s dog and an absolute sweetheart.)

As we got closer to the end of the walkway, I realized just how slick that green stuff–some sort of tiny algae or seaweed–was, and backtracked to rock-hop my way down to the beach. Not the easiest path, but I still beat D and L, who braved the green slick, to the beach!

It was too cold for swimming, but apparently some people do brave it… We were the only ones on the beach, though. It was beautiful, despite the chill in the air!

Sea foam always makes me think of The Little Mermaid.

The great water path–there was a stretch of beach with a shallow but wide stream running down it to the ocean. You can see our footprints and a bit of a dip where I jumped across the first time–I jumped back (being a showoff) and then rock-hopped the other way. I love running around on beaches–it’s one of my most favorite things in the world.

We headed down the beach, and then up again to walk along the cliff through farmland.

I have no idea what plant this is–it might be from the carrot family–but it was so fluffy and green I couldn’t resist taking a picture.

Another unknown but pretty plant.

Lichen! I actually took this photo mostly because I knew someone at school who would love it, but also because lichen is awesome.

More of the pretty pink flower that I saw at The Bridges of Ross, which I’m still not sure is a heather.

Buttercups! We get those at home, too, and in PEI. I love how sunny they are!

Looking back at the beach–you can see the car in the distance and the path we came down, and a second concrete path half covered in stones. Those houses are the summer residences I mentioned (except for the one on the far left, which is the lifeguard building, I believe.) The summer places were all badly damaged in a storm a while back that carried stones all the way up the beach and water even further than that–apparently people came out the next summer, found their houses looking fine, until they opened the door and stepped through the floor. The water damage had rotted away the floorboards in a lot of the houses.

We walked through the park on the way back to the parking lot, and some people were already moving in for the summer, so I’m guessing the damage has been repaired by now. Still, it’s impressive to think how powerful that storm must have been!

The sign at Kerins Hole. It’s a popular swimming area, and not too long ago a new walkway down was installed because the old one fell into disrepair and was dangerously unsafe.

Charlie really wanted to go down! He and Luna (L’s dog) took off across the rocks for a bit, and I went down the walkway, though not on the rocks because everything was very wet and slippery.

The walkway had several plaques along the edge–this one caught my eye especially. I love the message so much.

The land we were walking across was part of a farm, and we actually passed by someone who might have been the farmer. Given the number of other people we saw walking as well, it’s a popular spot for the locals to walk, and the farmer doesn’t seem to mind as long as people keep to the edge of the land. The bird flying past is a seagull–there were a lot of them.

The rough waves carved a lot of cool rock formations and tiny beaches into the side of the cliffs. Many of the beaches were covered in rocks–small and large–worn smooth by the waves.

More cool formations!

I thought it was neat how the rock changed color as it moved toward the ocean…and I also wondered what kind of rock it was. Then I got closer…

Turns out the brown stripe was actually a coating of barnacles, and the black stripe was a coating of baby mussels! Here’s a close up of some of them…but you can imagine just how coated the rocks were to have changed color like that.

I was really glad to have my shoes when we were walking across the barnacles–not sure how the dogs were able to run about the way they did, but I guess their paws are a lot tougher than my feet.

The black dog is Luna, L’s dog. Charlie has a thing about waves…he’s certain they’re out to get everyone, so when he’s at the edge of the ocean, he barks at them. It’s hilarious.

Charlie started to head for the huge row of seagulls a ways off and I had to call him back because I didn’t want him disturbing the birds. He was reluctant, but finally turned around and came back. The seagulls didn’t even blink.

The rocks near the ocean, where they’ve been worn smooth and ridged by the water, remind me a bit of the sandstone flats on the beach in PEI that I frequent during the summer. It’s amazing how much water can accomplish, just by moving over and over. It’s the element of my zodiac, and I’m very proud of that.

On the way back, I found more of the maybe-heather growing from cracks in the rock. It’s amazing how strong this little flower is.

I saw the cute fuzzy caterpillar before anyone stepped on it, thankfully. Then L spotted more. They were so adorable! We were careful to go around them. D was playing ball with the dogs, so wasn’t on the path. The plan was to keep the dogs occupied until we got past a swampy part. That way they didn’t get muddy again. It worked–except for when the ball rolled over the cliff and Charlie went after it and my heart stopped beating for a moment. Thankfully, there was a sort of path down to the rocks and he found the ball and came back up (Luna right behind him.)

Down on one of the rock-covered beach inlets, someone had built a cairn. Not sure how they got down here, as the cliff is pretty steep in that area, but it was pretty cool to spot from above.

Another cairn, this one on the path on the way to the trailer park.

The path down to the parking lot–another car turned up while we were walking, but the people were still sitting inside when we got down there. Hopefully they got out for a walk as well–it was a beautiful day!

Kerins Hole isn’t too far from where my grandfather lives, and I really enjoyed my visit. If you’re looking for a quiet place for a nice walk along the cliffs or beach, it’s a lovely area. I can’t attest to how quiet it is in summer, but late spring was perfect–the grass was green, the sky blue, and the walk peaceful.

I’ll be sharing more memories of my Ireland trip in the future–and also a post (or three) of my three-day trip that took my sister and me to Dublin, Edinburgh, and England.

Magic Monday: The Mermaid Summer by Mollie Hunter

Once a month I post a book review for a fantasy novel that I’ve read in the recent past. These reviews are posted on “Magic Monday”, the second Monday of every month. (Except when I’m late, as was the case this month…)

Image courtesy of Goodreads

 

Today I’m reviewing The Mermaid Summer by Mollie Hunter, a fantasy novel for children (given the story, I’d say probably middle grade and up, age-wise.)

Although I haven’t read this book recently, it was a staple of my childhood summers, way back when you could order books from a catalog and they would arrive in brown bags (I don’t remember more details than that, but they were library books and you’d send them back after a few weeks.) For as long as that program existed, I ordered The Mermaid Summer every year. It is a beautiful, somewhat eerie tale.

The reason the cover picture is so small this time is because I wanted to use the cover from the copy I read in my childhood, which I think best captures the mood of the story.

Here’s the book blurb:

About a hundred years ago, they say, a mermaid ruled the cold sea that washed around northern lands Everyone in Jon and Anna’s village knows of the mermaid’s beauty — and her cruelty — and is careful to speak well of her. Everyone but their grandfather, Eric, until the day the mermaid smashes his fishing boat against the rocks.

After that, Eric bids his family good-bye, for no one will sail with him again. But Jon and Anna never stop missing him, so they decide they must defeat the mermaid’s curse and bring their grandfather home. . .

Now, I’m doing this review from memory, as I don’t have access to the book myself right now (though if I find it in a used bookstore someday, I’ll definitely snatch it up.) I can, however, attest to the fact that this spellbinding story is part of the reason I love fantasy and the ocean so much today.

The basic story is simple and complex at the same time, and told in third person from Jon and Anna’s point of view for the most part. Their grandfather left to travel distant shores, away from the mermaid’s influence, and sends them home gifts–a beautiful comb, a sharp knife, lovely silk for a dress the colors of the sea, a conch shell, a mirror… I think there was at least one more, but I don’t recall it.

There are legends wrapped around the mermaid, including one that if her hair is cut, she loses her magic, and someone who traps her can force her to grant them wishes. One day, Jon decides to blow the conch shell, and summons the mermaid by accident.

Jon and Anna are both intelligent kids, and they miss their grandfather. They come to the conclusion to make a deal with a mermaid in order to free their grandfather from her curse. His gifts come in handy then, though I don’t want to go into too much detail for fear of spoiling the story. It is a definite battle of wills–two kids against a much more powerful and dangerous opponent–and the final confrontation is terrifying. As a kid, I would devour the story over and over, my heart always pounding at each brush with death.

The imagery throughout the story is beautiful. One passage I especially remember is how the mermaid’s damp touch took away the shimmering beauty of the silk dress… And another time when she is so delighted with the mirror that she does a flip in the water, and is further excited when she sees that the water does not harm it. And the way the eerie sound of the conch is described…just thinking about it now sends a thrill down my spine.

The story itself has a tight plot and fascinating characters, and the mermaid is beautiful and terrifying in her otherness. I would recommend this for anyone who loves mermaids.

Intrigued? The Mermaid Summer is available on Amazon.

Do you have a story that has stuck with you since childhood, even though you haven’t read it in years?

Ensign’s Log, Entry 22: Time for some Introspection

This is a picture of me in Acadia National Park a couple years ago. It’s also my current profile picture on Scribophile, because I still haven’t gotten a good picture of my face (I’m simply not photogenic.)

I like this picture because it reminds me that sometimes I need to sit down, stare out at the horizon, and just think about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes I get so caught up in trying to do a hundred different things, for work, for family, for friends, that I forget to take a step back and just breathe. And think.

It’s a lot easier to do this when I have that flat horizon. One of my favorite summer pastimes is to go running on the beach, then sit on a rock and watch the horizon. Sometimes I talk to myself, sometimes I talk to whatever bird is passing by, or the ocean, or a wandering crab, sometimes I think about life, or my writing, and sometimes I sit there and simply exist.

I love being surrounded by trees, or mountains, or rolling hills. There are definitely times when I feel at peace when surrounded by such vistas. But it’s that flat horizon that calls to me most of all.

Yesterday I returned from my trip to Ireland. I posted about a few places I visited, and will be posting about others in the future, but one thing I did not do much of during my travels was write.

Not very writerly of me, right? Well, I felt the same way, even berated myself for being so tired after every day of new adventures and not having the energy to write. And there were days when I did write a bit… I even wrote a short story for a writing contest, completely on the fly! But for the majority of my vacation, I wrote nothing. Not one single word.

I had many plans for April. Write 15 poems! Finish the first draft for Of Beauty Within! Finish editing Upgrade! And so on and so on. I had this vision of myself doing all this while enjoying my stay in Ireland–and even traveling briefly to Scotland and England (a trip that deserves its own post(s) at some point!).

How many of those goals did I accomplish? Writing-wise… I accomplished none of them. Not. A. Single. One.

A few days before the end of the April, I saw what day it was, and panicked. How could I be so far behind on my goals? How could I get them done now? What a failure of a writer I was! I was disappointed in myself, not least because it had now been more than a year since I published Augment and I still wasn’t ready to release its sequel, much less any other books.

Thankfully, a friend of mine came to my rescue. It’s not the first time he’s talked some sense into me, and I doubt it will be the last, given my propensity for biting off more than I can chew. All I can say is how grateful I am to have someone who doesn’t mind telling me when I’m being an idiot.

To cut a long conversation short, my friend highlighted all the things I have done so far this year. A lot of progress with The Astrals. Finishing and further revision on Upgrade. A LOT of critiquing on Scribophile (and I’m currently and working on several more novels, as well as a pile of short stories, right now.) Not to mention doing a pretty good (if not perfect) job keeping up with this blog.

Maybe it’s because I often expect too much of myself, that I can’t always see the bright side of things. Or maybe there are times when I just need someone else to point out that I am in fact making progress, even when it doesn’t feel like it. Whatever it is, my conversation with my friend made me realize the truth–by focusing so much on getting so much done, I was losing sight of the most important thing–myself.

And I don’t mean that in an egotistical, the-world-revolves-around-me way. I mean my self, the writer who dreams of adventures in distant lands and galaxies far far away. Every moment I spent berating myself for failing my goals rather than praising myself for accomplishing everything I had done was a moment I was telling my writer’s side that I’m not good enough, that I’ve never been good enough.

Today, while cleaning my room (a long overdue task), I found an envelope with a letter inside from a man I only met once, but who I apparently loaned copies of novels I’d written a long time ago. Part of me immediately cringed, knowing what shape those particular stories were in…but I read his letter anyway.

Here’s an excerpt from it:

Make me a promise and continue your writing career. A good book can change the world.

I am looking forward to walking into a book store one day and buying one of your books off the best-seller shelf. Authors need life experiences to draw upon in their writing, so go experience a lot of life in as short a time as possible.

This letter is from five years ago today. In those five years, I found the college of my dreams, earned my degree, and published my first novella. I also found friends, and love, and new passions.

So what, exactly, is this post about? It’s about remembering the important things, most importantly, to do what is right for myself. Right now, I’m not an author who can write and publish a book every few months. Perhaps I will never be that author.

But I do have stories and characters I care about, tales I want to share with the world. However slow the progress might be, I’m going to keep pressing onward, experiencing new ideas and new places every day. Every journey begins with a single step… And every story begins with a single word.

Ensign’s Log, Entry 21: NaPoWriMo Day #20, Poem #7

There are moments when I need to recall a fact, a name, a date…and nothing comes when I seek the right memory. Oftentimes I will remember later on, long after the moment I needed to recall it has passed.

Recently I tried a free writing session–difficult in a moving car, with the pen skittering across the page–titled My Mind is Blank. The following free verse is inspired by this free writing session. I considered expanding it, putting more context into it, but then realized that the simpler it is, the more encompassing it is.

Because I might be reaching for an interesting fact about a plant, or I might be trying to comfort someone, or I might be trying to express my feelings…it doesn’t matter what the situation is. The emotions tied up in the struggle to remember depend on the moment, but those moments all share a common thread of forgetfulness.

Blank

My mind reaches out

Searching, searching

For the words

The right words

And finds

Nothing

Magic Monday: Steampunk Fairy Tales, an anthology

Once a month I post a book review for a fantasy novel that I’ve read in the recent past. These reviews are posted on “Magic Monday”, the second Monday of every month. (Except when I’m late, as was the case this month…)

Today I’m reviewing Steampunk Fairy Tales, an anthology containing an eclectic bunch of fairy tale retellings, all with the same common theme–steampunk. Given that I love both fairy tale retellings and steampunk, I was excited to read this anthology, and it didn’t disappoint!

I should give a brief disclaimer before I continue with this review… I do know some of the authors published in this book, but they are casual acquaintances and no one solicited this book review. I’m reviewing it because I enjoyed the anthology and wanted to let more people know about it.

The anthology contains seven fairy tale retellings, each one of a different tale, some mixing elements from more than one. They are from a variety of cultures and put all sorts of spins on the classic stories.

I loved The Clockwork People, a retelling of Pinocchio by Angela Castillo. Perfection by Chris Champe sent chills down my spine. I remember studying a variety of retellings of Blackbeard in my Fairytales class in college, but this one takes it to another level.

The Mech Oni and the Three-Inch Tinkerer by Leslie and David T. Allen is my favorite of the bunch–I have a weakness for Japanese fairy tales and they capture the essence of the original tale with a smooth steampunk twist.

Allison Latzko‘s The Copper Eyes was creepy, but awesome, and I loved how she handled the damsel-in-distress. Strawberry Sins by Heather White was even creepier, vying with Perfection for most sinister (Perfection wins that competition, but only just.)

The Yellow Butterfly by Ashley Capes was as lovely as its title, and the haiku that evolves as the story unfolds captures perfectly the heartache of the main character. The last story of the anthology, Aubrey in the World Above by Daniel Lind, I will admit was my least favorite. Although I love retellings of Jack and the Beanstalk, this one didn’t quite capture me. The pacing felt off, almost rushed at times, and the ending was quite sudden. It felt as though some important parts of the story were missing. However, I have read stories in a similar style before, and I think it’s less the story’s fault as my own; I prefer a little more cohesive narrative.

All in all, I greatly enjoyed this anthology and will be saving it on my Kindle to read again in the future.

Intrigued? Steampunk Fairy Tales is available on Amazon!

Thoughts? Comments? Let me know below!

Ireland: The Bridges of Ross

County Clare has some wonderful places to visit, including the famous Cliffs of Moher. Last Thursday, my grandfather took me to another wonderful place to visit–the Bridges of Ross.

Once upon a time, the Bridges of Ross were three in number, lovely natural sea arches. Only one still exists today, but it’s stunning.

The path from the parking lot follows along the fence you can see in the above picture–a farmer has cows in there at times, though they’re not out yet due to grass being slow to come in this year.

As you can see, I really liked the bridge!

We followed the path along, seeing all sorts of rock formations and cliffs and inlets along the way.

Amazing striations in the rock.

Rocky beach/inlet. Papa wished he’d brought his fishing rod… It definitely would be a nice place to sit and fish.

The other side of that beautiful bridge. I can’t believe the water created it–nature is so wonderful and powerful.

Eventually we reached a section where the grass became stone slabs that ran all the way down to the ocean. Of course, we headed out across the rock…and found tide pools!

Limpets!

Close up of a limpet’s foot… If you look closely at the top, you can just see a bit of the head and the limpet’s little tentacles.

This tide pool was packed with life–baby mussels, limpets, snails, and anemones! Still no crabs in sight, though…

This one was actually feeding, rather than tucked in like many of the others I saw.

We found this poor little crab tipped on his back and unable to flip himself over. (Or herself, I forgot to check its gender.) Papa got pinched, but we did manage to rescue the crab and move him to a tide pool where he could wait happily for the tide to come in.

Since the tide was coming in, we started heading back. I found this seat, a few others like it, along the path–I don’t know who installed them, but they have a lovely view… I imagine in non-windy, warm days they’d be great place to read a book or just enjoy nature’s beauty.

At one point along the path, there’s an inlet that comes in, getting skinnier and skinnier until it’s this thin opening that runs under the path…

To this hole. Which is fenced off on all sides, because it’s deep.

Very deep. I’d say a good fifteen feet at least. When the tide’s in, the hole fills partly with water, and Papa says that as the tide’s coming in, he’s seen sea foam in this hole so deep that if he stood at the bottom and I stood on his shoulders, my head might just be above the foam. Unfortunately it was low tide while we were there, so I didn’t see it myself, but I imagine it must be quite a sight!

Papa says this is a species of heather… I’m not sure but we’ll go for that with now until a botanist tells me otherwise! At any rate, it was one of the few green things growing in patches in the rocky area; definitely a salt-resistant plant of some sort. Papa told me that if you take a small patch of it, spread honey underneath it, and place it on a rock, it will grow. I don’t know how the honey helps (perhaps the sugars feed it?), but pretty cool all the same! We left them in peace, of course. Only thing I walked away with was pictures (over two hundred of them, in fact.)

This is near the entrance… I loved how this bay is shaped like a bird, or an angel. You can see dark storm clouds gathering–we beat the rain to the car, thankfully!

If you’re ever in County Clare, the Bridges of Ross is a wonderful place to spend a morning or an afternoon. Low tide is the best, as you can wander around looking in tide pools, though I’m sure it’s gorgeous at high tide as well (and if you’re there when the tide’s coming in, you can see if there’s sea foam in the giant hole. Just don’t fall in!)