Sharon Wray's Blog, page 29

A Halloween Short Story: The Pit and the Pendulum

It’s Halloween week, and I’m revisiting some of my favorite scary short stories. I have to admit that, although Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favorite authors, it took me years to appreciate the Pit and the Pendulum. This story was written in 1842, ironically in a Christmas collection of short stories. I think I was too young to understand the context of this story–I didn’t realize until I was an adult that the unnamed main character was a man being tortured during the Spanish Inquisition. And that the story was being told through his haze of pain and sensory deprivation, making him an unreliable narrator.

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But now that I’m an adult, I understand that the true horror of this story comes from the fact that the man has the courage to use his individual senses to figure out where he is and what’s going on, only to discover that things are far worse for him than he’d imagined in the cold, silent, dark. I’m not going to give away the ending, but I encourage you to read this very short story. It’s a perfect tale for this week, when the veil between the living and the dead thins until we’re not sure who’s dead and who’s alive. A terrifying illusion that this story relates so perfectly. This story is in the Public Domain, so I’ve posted it below. I hope you enjoy it!

The Pit and the Pendulum by Edgar Allan Poe (1842)This story is in the public domain.

Impia tortorum longos hic turba furores
Sanguinis innocui, non satiata, aluit.
Sospite nunc patria, fracto nunc funeris antro,
Mors ubi dira fuit vita salusque patent. 

[Quatrain composed for the gates of a market to be erected upon the site of the Jacobin Club House at Paris.]

I WAS sick — sick unto death with that long agony; and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me. The sentence — the dread sentence of death — was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. It conveyed to my soul the idea of revolution — perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr of a mill wheel. This only for a brief period; for presently I heard no more. Yet, for a while, I saw; but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed judges. They appeared to me white — whiter than the sheet upon which I trace these words — and thin even to grotesqueness; thin with the intensity of their expression of firmness — of immoveable resolution — of stern contempt of human torture. I saw that the decrees of what to me was Fate, were still issuing from those lips. I saw them writhe with a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the syllables of my name; and I shuddered because no sound succeeded. I saw, too, for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible waving of the sable draperies which enwrapped the walls of the apartment. And then my vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed white and slender angels who would save me; but then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave. The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out utterly; the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensations appeared swallowed up in a mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, night were the universe.

I had swooned; but still will not say that all of consciousness was lost. What of it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet all was not lost. In the deepest slumber — no! In delirium — no! In a swoon — no! In death — no! even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. Arousing from the most profound of slumbers, we break the gossamer web of some dream. Yet in a second afterward, (so frail may that web have been) we remember not that we have dreamed. In the return to life from the swoon there are two stages; first, that of the sense of mental or spiritual; secondly, that of the sense of physical, existence. It seems probable that if, upon reaching the second stage, we could recall the impressions of the first, we should find these impressions eloquent in memories of the gulf beyond. And that gulf is — what? How at least shall we distinguish its shadows from those of the tomb? But if the impressions of what I have termed the first stage, are not, at will, recalled, yet, after long interval, do they not come unbidden, while we marvel whence they come? He who has never swooned, is not he who finds strange palaces and wildly familiar faces in coals that glow; is not he who beholds floating in mid-air the sad visions that the many may not view; is not he who ponders over the perfume of some novel flower — is not he whose brain grows bewildered with the meaning of some musical cadence which has never before arrested his attention.

Amid frequent and thoughtful endeavors to remember; amid earnest struggles to regather some token of the state of seeming nothingness into which my soul had lapsed, there have been moments when I have dreamed of success; there have been brief, very brief periods when I have conjured up remembrances which the lucid reason of a later epoch assures me could have had reference only to that condition of seeming unconsciousness. These shadows of memory tell, indistinctly, of tall figures that lifted and bore me in silence down — down — still down — till a hideous dizziness oppressed me at the mere idea of the interminableness of the descent. They tell also of a vague horror at my heart, on account of that heart’s unnatural stillness. Then comes a sense of sudden motionlessness throughout all things; as if those who bore me (a ghastly train!) had outrun, in their descent, the limits of the limitless, and paused from the wearisomeness of their toil. After this I call to mind flatness and dampness; and then all is madness — the madness of a memory which busies itself among forbidden things.

Very suddenly there came back to my soul motion and sound — the tumultuous motion of the heart, and, in my ears, the sound of its beating. Then a pause in which all is blank. Then again sound, and motion, and touch — a tingling sensation pervading my frame. Then the mere consciousness of existence, without thought — a condition which lasted long. Then, very suddenly, thought, and shuddering terror, and earnest endeavor to comprehend my true state. Then a strong desire to lapse into insensibility. Then a rushing revival of soul and a successful effort to move. And now a full memory of the trial, of the judges, of the sable draperies, of the sentence, of the sickness, of the swoon. Then entire forgetfulness of all that followed; of all that a later day and much earnestness of endeavor have enabled me vaguely to recall.

So far, I had not opened my eyes. I felt that I lay upon my back, unbound. I reached out my hand, and it fell heavily upon something damp and hard. There I suffered it to remain for many minutes, while I strove to imagine where and what I could be. I longed, yet dared not to employ my vision. I dreaded the first glance at objects around me. It was not that I feared to look upon things horrible, but that I grew aghast lest there should be nothing to see. At length, with a wild desperation at heart, I quickly unclosed my eyes. My worst thoughts, then, were confirmed. The blackness of eternal night encompassed me. I struggled for breath. The intensity of the darkness seemed to oppress and stifle me. The atmosphere was intolerably close. I still lay quietly, and made effort to exercise my reason. I brought to mind the inquisitorial proceedings, and attempted from that point to deduce my real condition. The sentence had passed; and it appeared to me that a very long interval of time had since elapsed. Yet not for a moment did I suppose myself actually dead. Such a supposition, notwithstanding what we read in fiction, is altogether inconsistent with real existence; — but where and in what state was I? The condemned to death, I knew, perished usually at the autos-da-fe, and one of these had been held on the very night of the day of my trial. Had I been remanded to my dungeon, to await the next sacrifice, which would not take place for many months? This I at once saw could not be. Victims had been in immediate demand. Moreover, my dungeon, as well as all the condemned cells at Toledo, had stone floors, and light was not altogether excluded.

A fearful idea now suddenly drove the blood in torrents upon my heart, and for a brief period, I once more relapsed into insensibility. Upon recovering, I at once started to my feet, trembling convulsively in every fibre. I thrust my arms wildly above and around me in all directions. I felt nothing; yet dreaded to move a step, lest I should be impeded by the walls of a tomb. Perspiration burst from every pore, and stood in cold big beads upon my forehead. The agony of suspense grew at length intolerable, and I cautiously moved forward, with my arms extended, and my eyes straining from their sockets, in the hope of catching some faint ray of light. I proceeded for many paces; but still all was blackness and vacancy. I breathed more freely. It seemed evident that mine was not, at least, the most hideous of fates.

And now, as I still continued to step cautiously onward, there came thronging upon my recollection a thousand vague rumors of the horrors of Toledo. Of the dungeons there had been strange things narrated — fables I had always deemed them — but yet strange, and too ghastly to repeat, save in a whisper. Was I left to perish of starvation in this subterranean world of darkness; or what fate, perhaps even more fearful, awaited me? That the result would be death, and a death of more than customary bitterness, I knew too well the character of my judges to doubt. The mode and the hour were all that occupied or distracted me.

My outstretched hands at length encountered some solid obstruction. It was a wall, seemingly of stone masonry — very smooth, slimy, and cold. I followed it up; stepping with all the careful distrust with which certain antique narratives had inspired me. This process, however, afforded me no means of ascertaining the dimensions of my dungeon; as I might make its circuit, and return to the point whence I set out, without being aware of the fact; so perfectly uniform seemed the wall. I therefore sought the knife which had been in my pocket, when led into the inquisitorial chamber; but it was gone; my clothes had been exchanged for a wrapper of coarse serge. I had thought of forcing the blade in some minute crevice of the masonry, so as to identify my point of departure. The difficulty, nevertheless, was but trivial; although, in the disorder of my fancy, it seemed at first insuperable. I tore a part of the hem from the robe and placed the fragment at full length, and at right angles to the wall. In groping my way around the prison, I could not fail to encounter this rag upon completing the circuit. So, at least I thought: but I had not counted upon the extent of the dungeon, or upon my own weakness. The ground was moist and slippery. I staggered onward for some time, when I stumbled and fell. My excessive fatigue induced me to remain prostrate; and sleep soon overtook me as I lay.

Upon awaking, and stretching forth an arm, I found beside me a loaf and a pitcher with water. I was too much exhausted to reflect upon this circumstance, but ate and drank with avidity. Shortly afterward, I resumed my tour around the prison, and with much toil came at last upon the fragment of the serge. Up to the period when I fell I had counted fifty-two paces, and upon resuming my walk, I had counted forty-eight more; — when I arrived at the rag. There were in all, then, a hundred paces; and, admitting two paces to the yard, I presumed the dungeon to be fifty yards in circuit. I had met, however, with many angles in the wall, and thus I could form no guess at the shape of the vault; for vault I could not help supposing it to be.

I had little object — certainly no hope these researches; but a vague curiosity prompted me to continue them. Quitting the wall, I resolved to cross the area of the enclosure. At first I proceeded with extreme caution, for the floor, although seemingly of solid material, was treacherous with slime. At length, however, I took courage, and did not hesitate to step firmly; endeavoring to cross in as direct a line as possible. I had advanced some ten or twelve paces in this manner, when the remnant of the torn hem of my robe became entangled between my legs. I stepped on it, and fell violently on my face.

In the confusion attending my fall, I did not immediately apprehend a somewhat startling circumstance, which yet, in a few seconds afterward, and while I still lay prostrate, arrested my attention. It was this — my chin rested upon the floor of the prison, but my lips and the upper portion of my head, although seemingly at a less elevation than the chin, touched nothing. At the same time my forehead seemed bathed in a clammy vapor, and the peculiar smell of decayed fungus arose to my nostrils. I put forward my arm, and shuddered to find that I had fallen at the very brink of a circular pit, whose extent, of course, I had no means of ascertaining at the moment. Groping about the masonry just below the margin, I succeeded in dislodging a small fragment, and let it fall into the abyss. For many seconds I hearkened to its reverberations as it dashed against the sides of the chasm in its descent; at length there was a sullen plunge into water, succeeded by loud echoes. At the same moment there came a sound resembling the quick opening, and as rapid closing of a door overhead, while a faint gleam of light flashed suddenly through the gloom, and as suddenly faded away.

I saw clearly the doom which had been prepared for me, and congratulated myself upon the timely accident by which I had escaped. Another step before my fall, and the world had seen me no more. And the death just avoided, was of that very character which I had regarded as fabulous and frivolous in the tales respecting the Inquisition. To the victims of its tyranny, there was the choice of death with its direst physical agonies, or death with its most hideous moral horrors. I had been reserved for the latter. By long suffering my nerves had been unstrung, until I trembled at the sound of my own voice, and had become in every respect a fitting subject for the species of torture which awaited me.

Shaking in every limb, I groped my way back to the wall; resolving there to perish rather than risk the terrors of the wells, of which my imagination now pictured many in various positions about the dungeon. In other conditions of mind I might have had courage to end my misery at once by a plunge into one of these abysses; but now I was the veriest of cowards. Neither could I forget what I had read of these pits — that the sudden extinction of life formed no part of their most horrible plan.

Agitation of spirit kept me awake for many long hours; but at length I again slumbered. Upon arousing, I found by my side, as before, a loaf and a pitcher of water. A burning thirst consumed me, and I emptied the vessel at a draught. It must have been drugged; for scarcely had I drunk, before I became irresistibly drowsy. A deep sleep fell upon me — a sleep like that of death. How long it lasted of course, I know not; but when, once again, I unclosed my eyes, the objects around me were visible. By a wild sulphurous lustre, the origin of which I could not at first determine, I was enabled to see the extent and aspect of the prison.

In its size I had been greatly mistaken. The whole circuit of its walls did not exceed twenty-five yards. For some minutes this fact occasioned me a world of vain trouble; vain indeed! for what could be of less importance, under the terrible circumstances which environed me, then the mere dimensions of my dungeon? But my soul took a wild interest in trifles, and I busied myself in endeavors to account for the error I had committed in my measurement. The truth at length flashed upon me. In my first attempt at exploration I had counted fifty-two paces, up to the period when I fell; I must then have been within a pace or two of the fragment of serge; in fact, I had nearly performed the circuit of the vault. I then slept, and upon awaking, I must have returned upon my steps — thus supposing the circuit nearly double what it actually was. My confusion of mind prevented me from observing that I began my tour with the wall to the left, and ended it with the wall to the right.

I had been deceived, too, in respect to the shape of the enclosure. In feeling my way I had found many angles, and thus deduced an idea of great irregularity; so potent is the effect of total darkness upon one arousing from lethargy or sleep! The angles were simply those of a few slight depressions, or niches, at odd intervals. The general shape of the prison was square. What I had taken for masonry seemed now to be iron, or some other metal, in huge plates, whose sutures or joints occasioned the depression. The entire surface of this metallic enclosure was rudely daubed in all the hideous and repulsive devices to which the charnel superstition of the monks has given rise. The figures of fiends in aspects of menace, with skeleton forms, and other more really fearful images, overspread and disfigured the walls. I observed that the outlines of these monstrosities were sufficiently distinct, but that the colors seemed faded and blurred, as if from the effects of a damp atmosphere. I now noticed the floor, too, which was of stone. In the centre yawned the circular pit from whose jaws I had escaped; but it was the only one in the dungeon.

All this I saw indistinctly and by much effort: for my personal condition had been greatly changed during slumber. I now lay upon my back, and at full length, on a species of low framework of wood. To this I was securely bound by a long strap resembling a surcingle. It passed in many convolutions about my limbs and body, leaving at liberty only my head, and my left arm to such extent that I could, by dint of much exertion, supply myself with food from an earthen dish which lay by my side on the floor. I saw, to my horror, that the pitcher had been removed. I say to my horror; for I was consumed with intolerable thirst. This thirst it appeared to be the design of my persecutors to stimulate: for the food in the dish was meat pungently seasoned.

Looking upward, I surveyed the ceiling of my prison. It was some thirty or forty feet overhead, and constructed much as the side walls. In one of its panels a very singular figure riveted my whole attention. It was the painted figure of Time as he is commonly represented, save that, in lieu of a scythe, he held what, at a casual glance, I supposed to be the pictured image of a huge pendulum such as we see on antique clocks. There was something, however, in the appearance of this machine which caused me to regard it more attentively. While I gazed directly upward at it (for its position was immediately over my own) I fancied that I saw it in motion. In an instant afterward the fancy was confirmed. Its sweep was brief, and of course slow. I watched it for some minutes, somewhat in fear, but more in wonder. Wearied at length with observing its dull movement, I turned my eyes upon the other objects in the cell.

A slight noise attracted my notice, and, looking to the floor, I saw several enormous rats traversing it. They had issued from the well, which lay just within view to my right. Even then, while I gazed, they came up in troops, hurriedly, with ravenous eyes, allured by the scent of the meat. From this it required much effort and attention to scare them away.

It might have been half an hour, perhaps even an hour, (for I could take but imperfect note of time) before I again cast my eyes upward. What I then saw confounded and amazed me. The sweep of the pendulum had increased in extent by nearly a yard. As a natural consequence, its velocity was also much greater. But what mainly disturbed me was the idea that had perceptibly descended. I now observed — with what horror it is needless to say — that its nether extremity was formed of a crescent of glittering steel, about a foot in length from horn to horn; the horns upward, and the under edge evidently as keen as that of a razor. Like a razor also, it seemed massy and heavy, tapering from the edge into a solid and broad structure above. It was appended to a weighty rod of brass, and the whole hissed as it swung through the air.

I could no longer doubt the doom prepared for me by monkish ingenuity in torture. My cognizance of the pit had become known to the inquisitorial agents — the pit whose horrors had been destined for so bold a recusant as myself — the pit, typical of hell, and regarded by rumor as the Ultima Thule of all their punishments. The plunge into this pit I had avoided by the merest of accidents, I knew that surprise, or entrapment into torment, formed an important portion of all the grotesquerie of these dungeon deaths. Having failed to fall, it was no part of the demon plan to hurl me into the abyss; and thus (there being no alternative) a different and a milder destruction awaited me. Milder! I half smiled in my agony as I thought of such application of such a term.

What boots it to tell of the long, long hours of horror more than mortal, during which I counted the rushing vibrations of the steel! Inch by inch — line by line — with a descent only appreciable at intervals that seemed ages — down and still down it came! Days passed — it might have been that many days passed — ere it swept so closely over me as to fan me with its acrid breath. The odor of the sharp steel forced itself into my nostrils. I prayed — I wearied heaven with my prayer for its more speedy descent. I grew frantically mad, and struggled to force myself upward against the sweep of the fearful scimitar. And then I fell suddenly calm, and lay smiling at the glittering death, as a child at some rare bauble.

There was another interval of utter insensibility; it was brief; for, upon again lapsing into life there had been no perceptible descent in the pendulum. But it might have been long; for I knew there were demons who took note of my swoon, and who could have arrested the vibration at pleasure. Upon my recovery, too, I felt very — oh, inexpressibly sick and weak, as if through long inanition. Even amid the agonies of that period, the human nature craved food. With painful effort I outstretched my left arm as far as my bonds permitted, and took possession of the small remnant which had been spared me by the rats. As I put a portion of it within my lips, there rushed to my mind a half formed thought of joy — of hope. Yet what business had I with hope? It was, as I say, a half formed thought — man has many such which are never completed. I felt that it was of joy — of hope; but felt also that it had perished in its formation. In vain I struggled to perfect — to regain it. Long suffering had nearly annihilated all my ordinary powers of mind. I was an imbecile — an idiot.

The vibration of the pendulum was at right angles to my length. I saw that the crescent was designed to cross the region of the heart. It would fray the serge of my robe — it would return and repeat its operations — again — and again. Notwithstanding terrifically wide sweep (some thirty feet or more) and the hissing vigor of its descent, sufficient to sunder these very walls of iron, still the fraying of my robe would be all that, for several minutes, it would accomplish. And at this thought I paused. I dared not go farther than this reflection. I dwelt upon it with a pertinacity of attention — as if, in so dwelling, I could arrest here the descent of the steel. I forced myself to ponder upon the sound of the crescent as it should pass across the garment — upon the peculiar thrilling sensation which the friction of cloth produces on the nerves. I pondered upon all this frivolity until my teeth were on edge.

Down — steadily down it crept. I took a frenzied pleasure in contrasting its downward with its lateral velocity. To the right — to the left — far and wide — with the shriek of a damned spirit; to my heart with the stealthy pace of the tiger! I alternately laughed and howled as the one or the other idea grew predominant.

Down — certainly, relentlessly down! It vibrated within three inches of my bosom! I struggled violently, furiously, to free my left arm. This was free only from the elbow to the hand. I could reach the latter, from the platter beside me, to my mouth, with great effort, but no farther. Could I have broken the fastenings above the elbow, I would have seized and attempted to arrest the pendulum. I might as well have attempted to arrest an avalanche!

Down — still unceasingly — still inevitably down! I gasped and struggled at each vibration. I shrunk convulsively at its every sweep. My eyes followed its outward or upward whirls with the eagerness of the most unmeaning despair; they closed themselves spasmodically at the descent, although death would have been a relief, oh! how unspeakable! Still I quivered in every nerve to think how slight a sinking of the machinery would precipitate that keen, glistening axe upon my bosom. It was hope that prompted the nerve to quiver — the frame to shrink. It was hope — the hope that triumphs on the rack — that whispers to the death-condemned even in the dungeons of the Inquisition.

I saw that some ten or twelve vibrations would bring the steel in actual contact with my robe, and with this observation there suddenly came over my spirit all the keen, collected calmness of despair. For the first time during many hours — or perhaps days — I thought. It now occurred to me that the bandage, or surcingle, which enveloped me, was unique. I was tied by no separate cord. The first stroke of the razorlike crescent athwart any portion of the band, would so detach it that it might be unwound from my person by means of my left hand. But how fearful, in that case, the proximity of the steel! The result of the slightest struggle how deadly! Was it likely, moreover, that the minions of the torturer had not foreseen and provided for this possibility! Was it probable that the bandage crossed my bosom in the track of the pendulum? Dreading to find my faint, and, as it seemed, in last hope frustrated, I so far elevated my head as to obtain a distinct view of my breast. The surcingle enveloped my limbs and body close in all directions — save in the path of the destroying crescent.

Scarcely had I dropped my head back into its original position, when there flashed upon my mind what I cannot better describe than as the unformed half of that idea of deliverance to which I have previously alluded, and of which a moiety only floated indeterminately through my brain when I raised food to my burning lips. The whole thought was now present — feeble, scarcely sane, scarcely definite, — but still entire. I proceeded at once, with the nervous energy of despair, to attempt its execution.

For many hours the immediate vicinity of the low framework upon which I lay, had been literally swarming with rats. They were wild, bold, ravenous; their red eyes glaring upon me as if they waited but for motionlessness on my part to make me their prey. “To what food,” I thought, “have they been accustomed in the well?”

They had devoured, in spite of all my efforts to prevent them, all but a small remnant of the contents of the dish. I had fallen into an habitual see-saw, or wave of the hand about the platter: and, at length, the unconscious uniformity of the movement deprived it of effect. In their voracity the vermin frequently fastened their sharp fangs in my fingers. With the particles of the oily and spicy viand which now remained, I thoroughly rubbed the bandage wherever I could reach it; then, raising my hand from the floor, I lay breathlessly still.

At first the ravenous animals were startled and terrified at the change — at the cessation of movement. They shrank alarmedly back; many sought the well. But this was only for a moment. I had not counted in vain upon their voracity. Observing that I remained without motion, one or two of the boldest leaped upon the frame-work, and smelt at the surcingle. This seemed the signal for a general rush. Forth from the well they hurried in fresh troops. They clung to the wood — they overran it, and leaped in hundreds upon my person. The measured movement of the pendulum disturbed them not at all. Avoiding its strokes they busied themselves with the anointed bandage. They pressed — they swarmed upon me in ever accumulating heaps. They writhed upon my throat; their cold lips sought my own; I was half stifled by their thronging pressure; disgust, for which the world has no name, swelled my bosom, and chilled, with a heavy clamminess, my heart. Yet one minute, and I felt that the struggle would be over. Plainly I perceived the loosening of the bandage. I knew that in more than one place it must be already severed. With a more than human resolution I lay still.

Nor had I erred in my calculations — nor had I endured in vain. I at length felt that I was free. The surcingle hung in ribands from my body. But the stroke of the pendulum already pressed upon my bosom. It had divided the serge of the robe. It had cut through the linen beneath. Twice again it swung, and a sharp sense of pain shot through every nerve. But the moment of escape had arrived. At a wave of my hand my deliverers hurried tumultuously away. With a steady movement — cautious, sidelong, shrinking, and slow — I slid from the embrace of the bandage and beyond the reach of the scimitar. For the moment, at least, I was free.

Free! — and in the grasp of the Inquisition! I had scarcely stepped from my wooden bed of horror upon the stone floor of the prison, when the motion of the hellish machine ceased and I beheld it drawn up, by some invisible force, through the ceiling. This was a lesson which I took desperately to heart. My every motion was undoubtedly watched. Free! — I had but escaped death in one form of agony, to be delivered unto worse than death in some other. With that thought I rolled my eves nervously around on the barriers of iron that hemmed me in. Something unusual — some change which, at first, I could not appreciate distinctly — it was obvious, had taken place in the apartment. For many minutes of a dreamy and trembling abstraction, I busied myself in vain, unconnected conjecture. During this period, I became aware, for the first time, of the origin of the sulphurous light which illumined the cell. It proceeded from a fissure, about half an inch in width, extending entirely around the prison at the base of the walls, which thus appeared, and were, completely separated from the floor. I endeavored, but of course in vain, to look through the aperture.

As I arose from the attempt, the mystery of the alteration in the chamber broke at once upon my understanding. I have observed that, although the outlines of the figures upon the walls were sufficiently distinct, yet the colors seemed blurred and indefinite. These colors had now assumed, and were momentarily assuming, a startling and most intense brilliancy, that gave to the spectral and fiendish portraitures an aspect that might have thrilled even firmer nerves than my own. Demon eyes, of a wild and ghastly vivacity, glared upon me in a thousand directions, where none had been visible before, and gleamed with the lurid lustre of a fire that I could not force my imagination to regard as unreal.

Unreal! — Even while I breathed there came to my nostrils the breath of the vapour of heated iron! A suffocating odour pervaded the prison! A deeper glow settled each moment in the eyes that glared at my agonies! A richer tint of crimson diffused itself over the pictured horrors of blood. I panted! I gasped for breath! There could be no doubt of the design of my tormentors — oh! most unrelenting! oh! most demoniac of men! I shrank from the glowing metal to the centre of the cell. Amid the thought of the fiery destruction that impended, the idea of the coolness of the well came over my soul like balm. I rushed to its deadly brink. I threw my straining vision below. The glare from the enkindled roof illumined its inmost recesses. Yet, for a wild moment, did my spirit refuse to comprehend the meaning of what I saw. At length it forced — it wrestled its way into my soul — it burned itself in upon my shuddering reason. — Oh! for a voice to speak! — oh! horror! — oh! any horror but this! With a shriek, I rushed from the margin, and buried my face in my hands — weeping bitterly.

The heat rapidly increased, and once again I looked up, shuddering as with a fit of the ague. There had been a second change in the cell — and now the change was obviously in the form. As before, it was in vain that I, at first, endeavoured to appreciate or understand what was taking place. But not long was I left in doubt. The Inquisitorial vengeance had been hurried by my two-fold escape, and there was to be no more dallying with the King of Terrors. The room had been square. I saw that two of its iron angles were now acute — two, consequently, obtuse. The fearful difference quickly increased with a low rumbling or moaning sound. In an instant the apartment had shifted its form into that of a lozenge. But the alteration stopped not here-I neither hoped nor desired it to stop. I could have clasped the red walls to my bosom as a garment of eternal peace. “Death,” I said, “any death but that of the pit!” Fool! might I have not known that into the pit it was the object of the burning iron to urge me? Could I resist its glow? or, if even that, could I withstand its pressure And now, flatter and flatter grew the lozenge, with a rapidity that left me no time for contemplation. Its centre, and of course, its greatest width, came just over the yawning gulf. I shrank back — but the closing walls pressed me resistlessly onward. At length for my seared and writhing body there was no longer an inch of foothold on the firm floor of the prison. I struggled no more, but the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long, and final scream of despair. I felt that I tottered upon the brink — I averted my eyes —

There was a discordant hum of human voices! There was a loud blast as of many trumpets! There was a harsh grating as of a thousand thunders! The fiery walls rushed back! An outstretched arm caught my own as I fell, fainting, into the abyss. It was that of General Lasalle. The French army had entered Toledo. The Inquisition was in the hands of its enemies. 

The post A Halloween Short Story: The Pit and the Pendulum first appeared on Sharon Wray.

The Witch’s Broom

Halloween is fast approaching, as are the trick-or-treaters who knock on our door, hoping for candy. These visitors include ghouls, goblins, and hungry witches, and I always love the see the kids run up to the door in their costumes. Recently, my great niece asked me why witches fly on brooms. Since I didn’t know the answer, I did my usual thing that included a deep dive into the folklore behind the witch’s broom. And this is what I found: Not much.

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There’s not a lot written about why witches fly on brooms. Black cats are considered familiars. Cauldrons were popularized by Shakespeare’s witches in Macbeth. Here is part of their song:

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake;

But brooms had to come from somewhere. And it turns out, the only real evidence I found for witch’s brooms comes from testimony in 1324 regarding an accused witch named Lady Alice Kyteler. Lady Alice was an Irish widow tried for sorcery and heresy. When investigators searched her house, they found a “pipe of ointment, wherewith she greased a staff, upon which she ambled and galloped through thicke and thin.”

So there’s a lot of subtext in this quoted line. To start with, the ointment found in Lady Alice’s home was a middle ages concoction from Atropa belladonna (deadly nightshade), Hyoscyamus niger (henbane), Mandragora officinarum (mandrake), and Datur stramonium (jimsonweed). This concoction would have been not just poisonous, but it would’ve also caused hallucinations from the chemicals we now know are tropane alkaloids.

According to historians, because this ointment would’ve been so toxic, the middle ages investigators would never have suggested the accused witches ingested it. So they came up with another possible way of using the ointment–by rubbing it on the skin, especially near private parts. To make things even grosser, they accused witches (men and women) of rubbing the ointment on a stick or the end of a broomstick so they could insert it into body in their most intimate areas.

In the book Murder, Magic, and Medicine, the author John Mann cites Jordan de Bergamo, a 15-century theologian who wrote that “the vulgar believe, and witches confess, that on certain days or nights, they anoint a staff and ride on it to the appointed place or anoint themselves under the arms and in other hairy places.”

By the 17th century, there were stories of witches flying up and out of their chimneys on broomsticks. Some historians believe that because of a common practice of women who’d leave their broom outside their doors to let their neighbors know they’d gone to the market and weren’t home, that the broomstick became associated with women’s inability to leave the house without being noticed. Honestly, the ties between witches and broomsticks seems tenuous at best, especially since there are very few written admissions of broomstick flying by people actually accused of witchcraft.

Witches illustrated in Martin Le Franc’s ‘Le Champion des Dames’ (1451) (via Bibliothèque Nationale de France (BNF)/Wikimedia) {{PD-US}} – US work that is in the public domain in the US for an unspecified reason, but presumably because it was published in the US before 1929.

There is one intriguing account of a man accused of witchcraft who admitted he’d flown on a broomstick, but it dates to 1453. Guillaume Edelin, a priest from Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France, was arrested and tried for witchcraft. Probably because he was quite public about his criticism of the church and their pursuit of witches. Anyway, during his interrogation which included torture, he confessed to riding a broom. He repented, but spent the rest of his life in prison. But Edelin’s story of riding a broomstick could’ve been inspired a French poet named Martin Le Franc. In 1451, two years before Edelin’s accusation, two illustrations were added to Le Franc’s manuscript titled “Le Champion des Dames (The Defender of Ladies). One drawing features a woman on a broom, and the other shows another woman riding a plain white stick. It’s possible that Edelin was inspired by these drawings, especially since Le Franc’s publication had been hugely successful.

By the 18th century, most of the witch panic had subsided, partly due to the horror of the Salem Witch Trials in 1692. Even during those testimonies, the witches were supposedly flying on poles, not brooms. But the images of a witch riding a broom has become even more popular today, and I suspect it has to do with an old movie called Häxan (1922) that is part horror flick and part witchcraft documentary. This black-and-white movie silent movie included scenes of broom-riding witches. (If you want to watch it, there are multiple versions floating around the internet, but the Criterion version is the best one.) And, supposedly, the style of filming inspired the young filmmakers who made The Blair Witch Project. (That is hearsay I was unable to corroborate, but it’s plausible since Häxan is still studied in film schools.)

So while the connection between witches and broomsticks seems tenuous, I can’t deny that it makes for a great visual. And maybe that was the point all along. Maybe, to rile up people and get them to believe outrageous claims, they needed propaganda that people could visualize on their own. Broomsticks were ubiquitous. Every household, rich and poor, had one. That meant that every household had the potential to be hiding a witch. And as far as propaganda goes, that’s an easy and powerful symbol that everyone could understand… and fear.

I hope you all have a wonderfully spooky week and maybe, just for a few days, put away your brooms!

 

The post The Witch’s Broom first appeared on Sharon Wray.

Rough Draft Preptober: Part 4 & Meal Plans

Rough Draft November is almost here! While my project is set, I’m trying to get my life ready for such a huge project. One of the things I do ahead of time is to plan meals for my self and my family. So I make a basic weekly menu that allows me to mix-and-match foods and snacks. While each menu isn’t enough for the entire week, each recipe offers lots of leftovers (especially if they are doubled) so I can eat yesterday’s dinner for lunch, and then eat the homemade bread with a soup or salad for an afternoon snack or late dinner. t the bottom of this post, I’ve also included free printable shopping lists to help you in the grocery story, or you can place an order with your favorite grocery store and do a pickup instead.

Rough Draft November Meal Planning Notes

Below is an example of a weekly menu that can be made on Sundays and stored for the week. I start making the bread in the morning and then begin the soup. While the soup is simmering and the bread is rising/baking, I prep the dinner and the salad/veggies for the rest of the week. While I don’t eat a lot of sweets, I do make a weekly cookie for my afternoon tea. But the deal is I can’t have the cookie unless I’m working on my WIP.

This is not a complete menu for the week (there’s not enough food), but it’s a menu that offers lots of leftovers, depending on the size of your family. It’s meant as a guide to help you get started.

This is a milder menu when it comes to flavors and tastes since I’m often cooking for people with allergies, gluten-free needs, etc. So it’s low on allergens or, if there are nuts, etc., leaving them out won’t change the taste. Every recipe I included can be adapted for gluten-free, vegan, etc. diets.

I never drink alcohol during deadline projects, so I keep my Berkey water filter filled and have my favorite sparkling water in the fridge. I LOVE coffee, but also I try not to overdue the caffeine otherwise I’ll be suffering from headaches all of December.

For snacks, I keep seasonal fruit (like apples and pears) on hand, as well raw veggies, yogurt, and nuts.

Yes, it’s easier to buy fast food or rely on UberEats during deadline project months like Rough Draft November. But that gets expensive and can widen your waistband, especially if you’re not moving/working out like normal. So while making meals takes more time, you’ll feel better in December me when your favorite holiday clothes still fit.

Each menu below offers ideas and corresponding recipe links. Each week offers a homemade bread, healthy breakfast, a hot soup, a filling dinner, a salad/veggie that can be eaten any time day, and a cookie. All the links go to recipes in The Hungry {Romance} Writer Index, and they are all printable.

At the bottom of this post, I have free project printables and an index of last week’s Preptober posts. And Happy Rough Draft November!

Rough Draft November Weekly Meal PlanRDNA Writer’s Meal Plan: Week 1Rough Draft November Meal Plan: Week 1

Whole Wheat Molasses Bread Apple Oatmeal cookies Baked Cranberry Oatmeal Ham & Cheese hand Pies Chicken Taco Soup [image error] Southern Broccoli SaladRDNA Writer’s Meal Plan: Week 2Rough Draft November Meal Plan: Week 2

Sourdough & Rosemary Bread [image error] Raspberry Crumb Bars Pumpkin Pancakes Slow Cooker Chicken BBQ Butternut Squash & Bacon Soup Warm SaladRDNA Writer’s Meal Plan: Week 3Rough Draft November Meal Plan: Week 3

Irish Soda Bread Garza’s Almond Cookies Apple Cinnamon Granola Kells Torridan’s Corned Beef Cock-a-Leekie Soup [image error] Winter SaladRDNA Writer’s Meal Plan: Week 4Rough Draft November Meal Plan: Week 4

Bannock Juliet’s Apricot Oatmeal Bars Lemon Ricotta Pancakes Pink Salt Pulled Pork Winter Squash & Apple Soup [image error] Classic Cole SlawPreptober Index & Printables Rough Draft Preptober Part 1: A checklist to help you prepare. Rough Draft Preptober Part 2: Resources to help you begin.Rough Draft Preptober Part 3: Apps to help you plot & write. Setting Questionnaire : To help guide your world building. Autumn Word Count Tracker 30-Day Turkey Word Count Coloring Tracker

The post Rough Draft Preptober: Part 4 & Meal Plans first appeared on Sharon Wray.

Rough Draft Preptober: Part 3

My absolute favorite way to plot and write is longhand. But as a working writer, that’s not fast enough. So I thought I’d give another honest review of the systems I have used extensively. 

Note: This list is for crafting novels. I use systems like Trello, Excel, Quicken, and Canva to help run other aspects of my business but this list below is just for writing. And, while I’ve added links to this post, I am NOT selling these programs and I’m not an affiliate for any of them. If you purchase any of these, please search the internet for coupon codes. There are ALWAYS coupon codes available for these systems. Some of the coupons can save you hundreds of dollars!

Favorite Rough Drafting Tools: Microsoft Word 365: My editor and agent expect my manuscripts to be submitted in Word. I write on multiple machines, sometimes in different places other than home, and I keep some of my manuscripts in a cloud to ensure I am always working on the most recent version. I save my work every night, and I email the manuscript to myself so there’s always a copy on my email provider’s server. Word can get expensive so make sure to check the internet for coupon codes. Scrivener: I’m not even sure how to describe Scrivener. It’s part word processor, part indexer, part visual editor, and part story & plot designer. Imagine taking all of your writing notes (sticky notes, journal pages, jottings on napkins) and placing them in Scrivener so you can keep track of everything! You can build book worlds, develop character and setting sheets, and break down your manuscript into the smallest scene that can be moved around on a virtual bulletin board. It is a complicated program and takes some time to learn, but it’s worth the time. When my trad books are done and ready to submit, I reformat the book in Word 365 for my editor and agent. If It’s an indie book, I’ll move it to Word 365 before uploading it to Vellum (noted below). In Word, I’m able to strip out extra, hidden formatting that makes it easier to use Vellum. Abbie Emmons, over on YouTube, has a great playlist on how to personalize Scrivener. Here’s the link to her YT playlist. But I’m warning you–this will suck up hours of your time! I especially love the video on how to change your Scrivener aesthetic to match your current WIP. Plottr : Plottr is a visual planner and outlining tool that helps you plan out your story. There are timelines, character and setting sheets, and scene builders. There’s also a free YouTube channel with tutorials so you can check out the program and how to use it. This software is for visual learners. So if you’re a hardcore journal scribbler, this may not work for you. There’s also an ability to create a limited story bible. I love this app’s timeline capability that helps me map out different books within series and across connected/shared worlds.Vanessa Keir has a great YouTube video on using Plottr to plan your project. And the Plottr YouTube Channel keeps adding videos on how to plan and structure your current WIP. Novelcrafter: Novelcrafter is one of the newest AI tool on the block. Although AI is still hugely controversial, I want to mention this program because of its Codex. This is an AI-driven story bible builder that has been super fun to play with, especially if you have a lot of world building, tons of characters, and hundreds of tiny details to track. They also have a YouTube channel with free seminars on how to hook your Codex up to your favorite LLM.This software, though, does require a basic understanding of how AI LLMs (Language Learning Models) work. But they do have a free 30-day program you can try before you purchase. I suspect they’ll be having a Black Friday/Cyber Monday sale this year–so definitely watch for that. For a new system like this, coupon codes are the only way to go just in case you don’t like it. This is another AI grammar checker and writing/style editing software. To be honest, I don’t write in this program but I’ve taken some of their courses. I especially loved the one on writing horror. While I don’t write horror, I love to read it and the course was fascinating. They also offer writing sprints to build community. Because it’s a lonely world for us writers!

ProWritingAid : This is a grammar checker and style editor software. You just dump your manuscript into the editor and it evaluates your writing and tells you everything you’ve done wrong. What I like most about this software is that it helps me identify reused phrases and word echoes. It also evaluates your writing style and gives you ideas to improve readability. Although this AI program is not a replacement for proof reading or copy editing.Grammarly: This is another AI-based grammar checker and style editor software similar to ProWritingAid. There’s a free level and sometimes I’ll use it if I’m struggling with how to structure a particular sentence. Grammarly, ProWritingAid, Word 325, and Google Docs all use proprietary AI systems and I’m always struck at how differently they evaluate my writing.

Adobe Acrobat Pro:  My publisher uses Adobe Acrobat Pro for copyedits and final galley proofs. While I hate paying the monthly fee, the software makes it easy to read through the final versions of the manuscript. For my indie books, I’ve yet to run into an editor who works with Adobe. But if you’re a trad author, or hope to become one, you may have to sign up. Luckily you can sign up month-to-month so during the months I’m drafting and revising, I turn it off. It’s easy to turn back on once I receive a final version of the manuscript. 

Vellum:  I use this software to format my indie books and get them ready to upload to vendors like Amazon and Barnes & Noble. It even has an option to load up paperback versions to KDP and IngramSpark. But if you’re not using it to publish right away, you don’t have to pay for it. I’ve used the free version of this software to read through early versions of my book because sometimes reading drafts in a book-style format helps me see grammatical errors and pacing issues.

Reedsy:  This is a free formatter (similar to Vellum) and AI manuscript checking program (similar to ProWritingAid). While it doesn’t offer all of the fancy things Vellum does, it’s easy to use and it’s free!

Google Docs:  This is a free word processor that works great, and is cheaper than Word 365. But I don’t use it to write. I use it as a free spell check because their AI system is different from Scrivener, Word, and ProWritingAid. I just upload the finished draft into a google doc and then run the spell check. You’ll be amazed at what the other AI programs have missed! 

Aeon Timeline:  I used to use this visual editor to help lay out my books in the Deadly Force series but I recently switched to Plottr. Aeon Timeline is a beautiful app and offers a ton of options but it’s too complicated. I’d rather spend my time writing. But if you are working on a large series, like a space opera or an epic fantasy series, this may work well for you.

A Note on Story Bibles: These software programs are for planning, plotting, and writing. But Novelcrafter, Scrivener, Aeon Timeline, and Plottr can also be used to build story bibles which is especially useful if you’re writing a series. A story/series bible is crucial if you’re writing a long series with a large world, like in the sci fi or fantasy genres. I’ll be honest–these all work okay as series bibles but I’ve yet to find a software that can be a plotting/planning tool and offer a full Wiki experience. I’ve seen videos that the productivity tool Notion can do this, but that seems super complicated as well. So I’m using what I have… until the next shiny app comes knocking on my inbox!

While I don’t use Trello as an outlining tool (it’s more of a Kanban-type productivity tool), I do love this YouTube video by Megan Tennant on how to use Trello as a WIP outlining tool. Two of my favorite author YouTubers also have great playlists for videos about the technology they use when crafting and editing their stories. Here is Bethany Atazadeh’s Playlist and here is Sarra Cannon’s Playlist. I hope this information helps and I can’t wait to hear about your journey on the other side of Rough Draft November.

The post Rough Draft Preptober: Part 3 first appeared on Sharon Wray.

A Halloween of Dislodged Souls

I’ve written a lot about Celtic fairytales and the Sidhe and, for the most part, the stories are quite terrifying. Many of these tales are dark, morally and emotionally, and talk about headless horseman, devils and jack-o-lanterns, werewolves, witches, and revenge-seeking ghosts. But one of the scariest folktales are about The Sluagh Sidhe aka “fairy hosts” of “The Unseelie Court” (the Scottish version of the court of the fairies). Sluagh is short for Sluagh na marbh which is early Scottish Gaelic for “‘host of the dead”.

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The Sluagh are spirits of the restless dead who were unforgiven in life. They are so angry and bitter that they fly threw the night skies looking for easy human prey. Some historians call them Fallen Angels, others believe they are demons. Still some folklorists believe they are unbaptized children who went to limbo instead of Heaven after their deaths. These children are now ghosts desperate for revenge.

Some of the earliest accounts of Sluagh spirits come from the Scottish Highlands where the spirits were part of the great fairy armies that held battles in the sky. On the Isle of Barra, supposedly these vengeful spirits fought such a huge battle that their blood stained the rocks which is why the rock formations on the isle are crimson red.

But the Sluagh Spirits didn’t just fight each other. During the middle ages, the Sluagh were considered a scourge that took for the form of wind gusts, terrible sunburns, and blistering skin. Since they were deceased, these spirits could take any ghostly form they wanted. And many folktales describe these spirits as black birds, some as large as ravens and others as small as starlings. These Sluagh spirits would fly from the west, also known as “the mouth of the night”, searching for souls. They’d steal them from people wandering the moors who were late getting home. They’d also search for people who were dying with their windows open which is why, in traditional Celtic homes, all the windows and doors on the west side of the house were always kept closed and locked from dusk until dawn.

But Samhain, aka Halloween or Liminal Time, was when people truly feared the Sluagh. That was the time of year when the gates of Hell would open and demons would encourage the Sluagh to fly forth, seeking anyone who was unlucky to be out alone. Sometimes the Sluagh would kill and steal the souls back to Hell. But there are other tales of the Sluagh stealing people off into the night skies and then returning them at dawn “exhausted and prostrate”, unable to speak or sleep, and these poor people were never the same again.

One folktale tells a story of the beautiful princess of France who was abducted on Samhain by the Sluagh and carried through the air, over lands, seas, continents, and islands, until they dropped her on the tiny island of Heistamal in the Outer Hebrides. The Sluagh threw her to the ground, injuring her badly. But before she died, she told the people who found her about her journey and the how brutally the Sluagh treated her. After her death, the islanders supposedly buried her near when she’d been dropped. They then covered her burial spot with a cairn–a pile of stones–to prevent the Sluagh from ever coming back and taking her body again.

But the oral stories of the Sluagh didn’t end with the modern era. The most recent about comes from the early twentieth century and tells the tale of a young boy who was abducted by black ravens on Halloween. When he was returned the next day, he was both death and mute. He never fully recovered, but spent his life drawing pictures of black birds flying through the night sky.

So this Halloween, avoid being out alone in the middle of the night. And if you see a murder of crows flying through the darkness, run!

The post A Halloween of Dislodged Souls first appeared on Sharon Wray.

The Hungry {Romance} Writer: Autumn Beef & Squash Stew

Tomorrow night, I have company coming for dinner. This is an annual event where we have dinner with friends and family and then go to the Clifton Haunted Walk. It’s a wonderful-yet-scary event in a nearby village where a local park is transformed, for one night only, into a haunted woods. It’s a charity event that is both fun and terrifying. We’ve been going for years, and I still remember the year the kids were old enough to go with us. They were so excited, they couldn’t sleep for weeks ahead of time.

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But part of the fun is the dinner beforehand and then the late-night party afterwards. And for this year’s dinner, I’m making this wonderful Beef and Butternut Squash Stew. I’ll be serving it with a simple side salad and crusty bread and hot apple cider. We’re saving the adult beverages for the after-party since it will take all of our wits to wander through the dark woods while avoiding spooks and ghosts!

PrintAutumn Beef & Squash StewCourse Main CourseKeyword Beef, StewPrep Time 45 minutes minutesCook Time 2 hours hoursServings 8Calories 348kcalIngredients¼ cup flour1 ½ teaspoons Kosher salt1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper2 pounds boneless beef chuck trimmed of excess fat and cut into 1 1/2" chunks2 strips bacon cut crosswise into 1/4" piecesOlive oil2 medium Vidalia onions cut into 1/2" wedges4 cloves garlic peeled and smashed2 Tablespoons tomato paste5 cups chicken broth2 cups beef broth1 ½ cups dry red wine3 bay leaves1 Tablespoon fresh thyme leaves about 4 sprigs1 teaspoon smoked paprika1 pound small baby potatoes cut into 2" chunks1 pound butternut squash peeled, seeded, cut into 1 1/2" chunks4 carrots cut into 1-inch chunks2 stalks celery sliced 1/2" pieces¼ cup chopped fresh Italian parsleyInstructionsIn a large, leak-proof plastic bag, mix together the flour, salt, and pepper. Add the beef and shake it well to coat all the meat. Let this sit for 30 minutes in the refrigerator.in a heavy stockpot or dutch oven, cook the bacon over medium-high heat, stirring frequently until the bacon is crisp. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon to a plate lined with paper towels and set aside. Add enough olive oil to the bacon drippings to equal 2 Tablespoons of oil. Reheat the oil and add half of the meat chunks to the pot. Shake off any excess flour as you add the meat to the pot. cook, stirring frequently, until the meat is browned. Remove the meat with a slottted spoon and place in a bowl.Repeat until all the meat is cooked, adding more olive oil, if necessary.In necessary, add more olive oil to brown the onions. Cook and stir the onions for 5 minutes or until they begin to brown. Stir in the garlic for 1 minute and then add the tomato paste. Return the beef, bacon, and any remaining flour on from the beef bag to the pot. Stir well and add the chicken broth, beef broth, and wine. Stir in the bay leaves, thyme, and paprika. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer, covered, for 1 1/2 hours or until meat is tender. Stir occasionally.Stir in the potatoes, squash, carrots, and celery. Return to a boil and reduce heat to a simmer. Simmer, covered, for 20 minutes or until all the vegetables are tender. Add more beef broth if stew seems dry. Serve immediately with fresh parsley.

The post The Hungry {Romance} Writer: Autumn Beef & Squash Stew first appeared on Sharon Wray.

Prep & Plan: Early Thanksgiving Preps

Part of the preparedness mindset is being flexible. I re-started this blog series, I had a full outline of what I wanted to write about each week. There is a logical plan to how I’m laying out the homework, but then while I was working on the Preptober posts (for the writers among us), I realized the year is flying by faster than I realized. That also means my next writing deadline is closer than I thought!

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So this week I’m taking a quick detour to talk about early holiday preps. First, I want to recap last week’s homework:

In Week One, we did a whole house assessment. This includes a light clean up/decluttering so we can evaluate the details of each room: how many interior/exterior doors, how many windows, type of electronics, proximity to water/bathrooms, etc. This is an enormous project so please take all the time you need. This first step is crucial to setting up a plan. 

Week One’s second assignment was to make a list of all the possible disasters that could happen in your area. Anything from floods to hurricanes to blizzards to riots. On the second half of the page, keep a list of the disasters that have happened to you or your family personally. Keep this list on your refrigerator or someplace where it would be easy to add to. This will be an ongoing list we’ll use later on when we begin long-term planning.

Week One’s third assignment was to start a meal list–listing every meal you eat in a month. So this is ongoing homework until you feel you have a good idea of what meals and foods/snacks you eat and drink every day, every week, every month. (this is not a grocery list!)

Now, because we’re about six weeks away from Thanksgiving, today I’m using this week’s class to talk about planning now for extra meals (if any) we need to make in November. Like dinner and breakfast for overnight company, kids returning from college, Thanksgiving Dinner, etc. This way we can get most of that shopping done as early and cheaply as possible.

Early Holiday Meal Preps:With your Legal Pad 2 (Food and House Inventory), take a blank page and mark it with a page flag. First, note if you’re having any visitors around the holidays. Mark the dates and number of people. Include the college kids coming home because they eat a lot!Decide how many large and small meals you need to make. If you’re not entertaining or cooking large meals, are you going to someone’s house and want to bring an appetizer or a dessert? If so, mark that down.NOTE: If you’re not doing any cooking or entertaining or bringing anything to a party, you’re don’t need to do the next activity. Use Legal Pad 2 to jot down any meal ideas besides the big ones like Thanksgiving dinner. (See below for an example)Are you doing a dinner for guests the night before Thanksgiving? Breakfast on Saturday or Sunday? Or a dinner on Friday night after a long day of shopping? Will you be snacking while watching football games? It doesn’t matter the meals look like–write down any ideas. Sample weekly plan for feeding a house full of guests during Thanksgiving week is below.Here is a printable for a Thanksgiving Portion Planner.Here is a printable 6-Week Thanksgiving Planning Chart.Use Legal Pad 2, itemize all of the meals and do a quick ingredient list. Once you have your list of ingredients, check the pantry, freezer, etc to see what you have or what you can use, even if you end up changing your menu plan.Make a complete shopping list. Highlight the ingredients you can buy now. Canned goods, meat you can freeze, baking goods, etc. Make a separate list for last minute items like fresh veggies. There’s no getting around buying fresh veggies closer to the date until you can have a farm/CSA deliver them to you. Collect coupons or sales flyers, begin to look for the best prices and start shopping. NOTE: Don’t run out and buy everything all at once! If you do that, you may miss out on sales that happen closer to the holidays. Take your list and your coupons and every time you go to the store, see if there’s anything on your list you can pick up now. If the shelves empty again, especially after the election, you’ll be happy you started now. 

EXAMPLE WEEKLY FOOD PLAN, WITH SOME RECIPES, FOR COMPANY DURING THANKSGIVING WEEK: (It’s a lot of meals to make, but it’s still cheaper than eating out all week long!)

Monday Lunch (6 adults): Grilled Ham & Cheese and Tomato Basil Soup (soup made ahead to time)

Monday Night (7 adults): Slow Cooker Chicken Barbecue Sliders & Poppy Seed & Peanut Cole Slaw

Tuesday Morning (4 adults): Whole Wheat Pumpkin Pancakes and Bacon

Tuesday Lunch (4 adults): Warm Salad with Grilled Chicken (partially made ahead of time)

Tuesday night (8 adults): Slow Cooker Black Bean Chili party around the fire-pit with store-bought cornbread.

Wednesday Morning (6 adults): Baked Cranberry Oatmeal (prepped the night before)

Wednesday Lunch (4 adults): Leftovers from earlier in the week.

Wednesday Dinner (8 adults): Ham & Potato Chowder with store-bought sourdough bread and salad.

Thursday Morning (6 adults): Pumpkin Muffins & Lots of Coffee (muffins made and frozen ahead of time)

THANKSGIVING DINNER: Turkey dinner including apps and dessert (21 adults & 3 children under 8)

Friday Morning (6 adults): Pecan Pancakes and Bacon

Friday Lunch (8 adults): Thanksgiving Tea at local tea shop.

Friday Dinner (10 adults): Turkey sandwiches and other leftovers.

Saturday Morning (6 adults): Breakfast is scrambled eggs and leftover Thanksgiving pie!

Saturday Lunch: Leftovers and store-bought football snacks for the men (5 adults) while the women (6 adults) go thrifting and have a pub lunch.

Saturday Dinner (10 adults): Slow Cooker Turkey Dumpling Soup and store-bought rolls and salad.

Sunday: Brunch at our favorite cafe (11 adults). Dinner is leftovers (6 adults)

NOTE: For dessert throughout the week, I usually have ice cream in the freezer, buy ingredients for S’mores to make around the fire pit, and my husband loves to make cookies so I’ll probably have a cookie jar filled with Apple Oatmeal Cookies and Gingersnaps, both of which can be made a month in advance and frozen.

NOTE ABOUT INFLATION: Prices are going up and down daily, so sometimes I play supply-chain-roulette with coupons and store flyers where I’ll wait to get something so I can use a double coupon the next week. But this year I’m marking my shopping list with things I MUST have and buying them when I see them.

Not everyone has that option, but if you figure out what you need now, and start shopping around, you’ll have a better chance of getting it at the best price. If you can’t find things at a good price, you’ll have time to determine how important each ingredient/food/drink is to your celebrations. But by making this list early, you’ll have more controlled flexibility over your decision-making. And that’s the goal of Prepping & Planning!

Okay. So that’s this week’s assignment. Figure out your menu for the next month or two (depending on the holidays you celebrate and all the things/visitors you have planned). Make an ingredient list and, from that, make a shopping list, and begin checking prices.

I know this is a lot of work, but I promise it’ll feel great knowing that we won’t be rushing around in November looking for spices and cleaning supplies. We can stay home, watching holiday movies with our families, while the rest of the world fights for the last bottle of cinnamon.

The post Prep & Plan: Early Thanksgiving Preps first appeared on Sharon Wray.

Let’s Get Naughty Vol. 3 is finally here!

I love release days, but I especially love Christmas anthologies. This collection, in particular, is important because Let’s Get Naughty Volume 1 was one of the first anthologies I ever wrote a story for–so to be writing for Let’s Get Naughty Vol. 3 makes me so happy. And this year’s LGN Vol. 3 holiday story is a Kingsmill Courtships novella called Snowbound with Lily. This story revisits Lily and Gage Mosby (the hero and heroine of The Summer Promise) and gives them a Christmas story (and a snowed-in, sexy situation) that will change their lives forever.

Let’s Get Naughty 3A Limited Edition Holiday Romance Collection

It’s never too soon to get on Santa’s naughty list…that means it’s time for Volume 3!

Cancel your plans and spend this holiday season with 24 romance authors who have teamed up to bring you a delicious holiday treat. This holiday collection will have it all: fake relationships, second chances, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, snowed-in sexiness, and falling for the best friend’s brother.

Each of the authors will have an unforgettable, steamy story. So come on over, grab a blanket, and get started on finding your next favorite author today. Let’s Get Naughty Vol. 3 is the perfect anthology for you to binge this holiday season.

Buy now!Snowbound with Lily

Will an old secret and a deadly storm destroy a married couple’s last chance for a Christmas miracle?

Lily and Gage Mosby thought reuniting after years apart would give them the happy ending they’d always dreamed of. But two years into their marriage, Lily has reasons to question their future together. With Christmas approaching, a snowstorm forces them to take refuge in a remote mountain cabin, offering them a chance to reconnect—until Gage is seriously injured.

While desperately searching for a way off the mountain in a blizzard, Lily makes a startling discovery: a young girl hiding in the cabin, who may have ties to Gage’s past. As Lily fights for Gage’s life, she must confront her own fears about motherhood and their future as a family.

With Christmas just days away, Lily wonders if miracles are real, and whether love can heal even the deepest wounds.

Buy now!

The post Let’s Get Naughty Vol. 3 is finally here! first appeared on Sharon Wray.

The post Let’s Get Naughty Vol. 3 is finally here! appeared first on Sharon Wray.

Rough Draft Preptober: Part 2

Yesterday I offered a quick list on how to get started if you want to write a rough draft within a month without becoming stressed. Today I want to offer a few resources that may help you on your writing journey. This list is similar to one I published last year, except I updated some of the resources.

NOTE: This is not an exhaustive list of resources. This post offers an abbreviated list specifically for authors who are trying to write a rough draft in a short period of time.

Preptober Resources

FIRST: I’ve set up a bibliography of some of my favorite writing craft books. It will eventually be annotated, but right now it’s just a list with links to Amazon. It is indexed by topic and in alphabetical order by author. (I am not an Amazon affiliate and make no money from the links on this site. I only recommend and link to products I have used and loved but I have no relationship with these vendors.)

SECOND: There so many websites out there that offer great writing information and free guides, printable, etc. I’ve listed some of my favorite websites below. 

https://www.eadeverell.com, run by Eva Deverell, offers a free One Page Novel workshop to help you figure out the main elements of your story before you start. The site is filled with writing craft articles and links to other resources.

https://heartbreathings.com is run by YA author Sarra Cannon (see YouTube link below) that corresponds to her YouTube channel. Sarra offers tons of freebies and printables about how to craft the best novel possible. 

https://thewritepractice.com offers a ton of annotated lists and links to all the tools a writer may need to craft a novel. But the real treasure is found under the articles tab where guest authors write about everything from drafting to refining grammar.

https://writerunboxed.com is a great aggregate website filled with articles on writing craft, writing technology, and writing encouragement. You could spend hours on this site!

https://writershelpingwriters.net is a large website with a lot of things for sale–but head to the resources tab where you can find free printables, lists of articles and books all about the craft of writing.

THIRD: I love YouTube videos about writing. A few (such as the Heart Breathings channel) even offer free printables and other information specifically for Preptober. I’ve posted a few of my favorite channels below.

Sarra Cannon/Heart Breathings. Sarra Cannon, a successful indie YA author, has two channels. Heart Breathings is for writers and Sarra Cannon channel is for her readers. But they both have great information for both experienced and new writers. If you sign up for her newsletter on her website, you can even get a free downloadable Preptober Planner that I use every year. https://youtu.be/ftm9kWn-IHo

Bethany Atazadeh. Another successful indie YA author, Bethany offers information from writing craft to managing a publishing business. Bethany has a degree in creative writing and speaks on all aspects of the writing craft from outlining to writing a series. https://www.youtube.com/c/BethanyAtazadeh/featured

Alexa Donne. A successful trad YA author who offers great-if-harsh advice on writing and querying and other aspects of the writing industry. She’s tough and honest which is why I’m addicted to her channel. This is a tough industry and I always appreciate it when another author offers real advice instead of general validations. She has great information on drafting and editing. https://www.youtube.com/c/AlexaDonne

Shaelin Writes. Shaelin is a young fiction writer from Canada with a large channel filled with craft and grammar advice from filtering words to line editing. And she has an interesting take on NaNo and why sometimes it’s better to lose. https://www.youtube.com/c/ShaelinWrites

Abbie Emmons. Abbie is young adult fiction author who also teaches classes on YouTube about how to plan and write novels. She also has a great YouTube playlist for Preptober. This video, in particular, is a great lecture on developing character profiles. https://youtu.be/k1W5DSOlPrw

Like I mentioned above, there is so much information about writing books in the world that it can become very overwhelming very quickly. So I hope this shorter list helps… and remember. No one can write your book better than you can. Good luck!

The post Rough Draft Preptober: Part 2 first appeared on Sharon Wray.

The post Rough Draft Preptober: Part 2 appeared first on Sharon Wray.

Rough Draft Preptober: Part 1

Last year, for a few reasons, I decided not to participate in NaNoWriMo. If you’re a member of the community, you’ll understand why. And if not, you can search for the drama in the internet. And this year I deleted my account all together. To be honest, I don’t really miss it because I’ve always thought that November was a terrible month in which to write 50,000 words. As a mother, wife, sister, friend, etc. who always has a Thanksgiving dinner that serves 24 or more, as well as weeks of houseguests and preps for Christmas, I have always tried to finish my contracted work by the second week in November. That left very little time to write a whole new book in less than a month.

But this year, with so many groups doing their own thing, I’ve decided that I’m just going to write a rough draft of a gothic women’s fiction story I’ve been working on for years. With no word count pressure, or any other kind of accountability, I’m going to do the best I can between Nov. 1 and Dec. 31st and we’ll see how it goes. For me, this isn’t about “winning” or “finishing a book”. This year it’s about having fun while writing a terrible rough draft while still enjoying the holidays and my family.

But regardless of what you’re doing this November, it still pays to do a bit of prep work to keep yourself organized. So below I’ve added quick checklist of things to think about before you begin, with links to other writers who know way more than I do! Some of what you see below is the same as last year (and the year before that), but I’ve also added links to some wonderful writing YouTubers who offer great advice–for beginner and advanced writers. Many of these videos also come with links for free printables. This list, the first in a series, is a guideline to help you mentally prepare to write a rough draft in November. 

We all write different things in different ways, so change/add/delete whatever works for you! I’m also working on an annotated bibliography here on the website that is available for free to anyone who is interested. While I would never presume to tell another writer how to write a book, I am a reference librarian who is good at organizing and making lists of resources for authors at all stages of their careers.

Now let’s get started!Choose the title, genre/sub-genre, and length of the story. Check your calendar/schedule for November and set aside days and times you know you can write. Do it now before your schedule fills up! (Here is another video from Sarra that offers a free Preptober Planning Guide with a full calendar)Set up your Scrivener or Word file. Play around with templates. (Alexa Donne, another great YouTuber and author, has some great videos on how to set up Scrivener for beginners and for Scrivener for advanced writers. Bethany Atazadeh, another great YouTuber and author, has this great tutorial on tips for setting up a Word document for a complete novel.)Write a logline: Who, what, when/where, how, & why (See Hauge, Michael, Selling Your Story in Sixty Seconds: The Guaranteed Way to Get Your Story Read, Michael Wiese Productions, 2006 for a great walkthrough on how to do this.)Decide on the type plot structure you want to follow and jot down the basics you already know. (Blake Snyder’s Beat Sheets, The Hero’s Journey, etc. See the annotated bibliography for more resources) Plottr, the online writing app, is also a great resource and it comes with a free 30-day trial.Make a list of character names and roles they play in the story. (primary and secondary)Brainstorm your characters’ traits, personalities, etc. and create character summary sheets (Enneagram? Archetypes?)If you have any ideas of scenes you already know, journal about them quickly. Just get them down before you forget.Decide on a setting and do some preliminary research.Buy the perfect writing candle to light for inspiration while you write. (Not a necessity, but fun to do)Fill out a world-building questionnaire (especially if writing sci-fi or fantasy or paranormal).Research ways to build a series bible, if necessary for your story/series/world. (Here’s another video by Bethany Atazadeh on building a Story Bible)Create a writing music playlist or white noise.Plan rewards and reward system.Pre-plan easy meals for November, maybe even make some and freeze ahead.Choose a new writing craft book to read this month. (some suggestions below)Stock up on snacks/coffee/tea/treats for November.Find other writing friends/accountability partners.Clean and prepare your writing space. Buy whatever office supplies you may need (notecards, highlighters, colored markers, etc).Buy a new journal and begin brainstorming your story outline.Abbreviated Writing Craft Bibliography BELOW are a few books on my ONGOING LIST OF FAVORITE WRITING CRAFT BOOKS, ALPHABETICAL BY AUTHOR’S LAST NAME:

Bell, James Scott, Write Your Novel from the Middle, 2014.

Bork, Erik, The Seven Elements of a Viable Story for Screen, Stage, or Fiction, 2018.

D’Costa, H.R., Sparkling Story Drafts: How to Outline Your Way Toward Cleaner Rough Drafts, Reduce Your Revision Time, and Get a First-Rate Screenplay or Novel onto the Marketplace, 2018.

Hauge, Michael, Selling Your Story in Sixty Seconds: The Guaranteed Way to Get Your Story Read, 2006.

Hauge, Michael, Storytelling Made Easy, 2017

Hayes, Gwen, Romancing the Beat, 2016

Henley, Jodi, Practical Emotional Structure: An Easy to Understand Plain-English Guide to Emotional Theory and the Transformational Character Arc, 2013.

Weiland, K.M., Outlining Your Novel, 2013.

Weiland, K.M., Structuring Your Novel: Essential Keys for Writing an Outstanding Story, 2013.

The post Rough Draft Preptober: Part 1 first appeared on Sharon Wray.

The post Rough Draft Preptober: Part 1 appeared first on Sharon Wray.