MeiLin Miranda's Blog, page 19
February 10, 2013
Miss November
The first accidental, obvious lesson Neil Gaiman taught me six or so years ago was this: Everyone gets ideas. Writers write them down. Idle observations, daydreams, they're ideas. I don't know where I thought ideas came from, but that? Was too obvious. Couldn't be so. But it is.
Here is the second.
Neil is doing this Blackberry-sponsored project called A Calendar of Tales. He's writing flash fiction (very short stories) based on answers to questions he asked on twitter, one for each month. For instance: what's the best present you ever got in April?
For November he asked: what would you burn in November? I answered immediately and without thinking: my medical records, but only if it would make it all go away. To my surprise, he favorited it. If you're not familiar with twitter, you can "favorite" someone's tweet, rather like bookmarking it, and when someone favorites something of yours you get a notification. Then he retweeted it--he was RT'ing a lot of these--and a bunch of people responded "OMG I love that." And then Blackberry wrote and said my tweet had been chosen.
All it really means is Neil is using that tweet as a prompt to write the November story, which it looks like he wrote yesterday or so he told us all on twitter. For this honor (and I do count it as one), I had to sign a three page "YOU OWN NOTHING OF THIS, DO YOU HEAR? NOTHING!" agreement with Blackberry. I suppose there really are people out there who would try to claim ownership of something based on a tweet, which is a fantastical story in and of itself.
I scratched my head about it all. Why did he see a story in that, why did so many other people see a story in that and I didn't? The last ten years or so we've struggled with my health. It's like being followed around by a giant, be-sneaker'd centipede; we keep waiting for yet another shoe to fall. We try to find Ma Ingalls' "some small gain" among the great losses. Beginning to write fiction was one small gain. But teeter long enough on the edge of death and bankruptcy and it gets old. It was just the bald truth, the very first thing I thought and blurted out.
Which is the second, accidental, obvious lesson Mr. Gaiman's given me: the truth, bald and blurted, is always the best prompt. No matter how fantastical the story. So even if I don't get to go to Clarion West this summer, he's taught me something this year anyway. What I really want to learn next is how best to exercise that muscle, the one that recognizes truths strong enough to hang a story on.
(The title of this comes from one of the other "prompters," who introduced himself on twitter as Mr. August and referred to me as Miss November.)
February 8, 2013
Chapter 13 Part 2 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
Tennoc and Hanni rode through forests, over rolling grasslands, past oak groves, ripening grain fields, neatly tended farms and grasslands dotted with sheep, cattle and horses, all sleek on the lush pasture. Tennoc wondered if it was a good year, or if the land was always this rich. His grandfather must be wealthy indeed. "Prime horse country, just as I've always heard," said Tennoc.
"Aye, sir. Once, long ago, when I served my Princess Inglatine, came I here to Whitehorse. Best horse country there is."
They followed the main track, camping at night wherever they could find cover. When he could, Tennoc practiced his magic, trying little things he'd seen Kenver do. If he concentrated, he could snatch a flame from the fire and bounce it in his hand like a ball. He could float good-sized rocks, though the larger ones made his broken rib hurt and he couldn't always make them go the direction he wanted them to. More than once, Hanni unleashed a torrent of Leutish curses at him when a rock went astray and came close to braining the man.
February 7, 2013
Final Cover of the Machine God!
Elsa Kroese has delivered the final cover for the book and it's a doozy. I'm so happy with it!
If you've got the ARC, don't forget to send me typo/inconsistency reports. It's been vetted pretty thoroughly but stuff always creeps in. Thank you thank you!
February 4, 2013
"The Machine God" Advance Review Copy
This is meant for Kickstarter backers only, but if you want to pay this much for it, hey, I won't stop you. 
$1,000,000.00
Quantity: *
Chapter 13 Part 1 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
Meals at the Estate were still catch-as-catch-can; no one seemed up to being in company. Temmin and Jenks sat in his drawing room over a cold luncheon of cheese, fruit, ham, a loaf of good bread and a dish of pickles; the Estate's own dark amber ale foamed in mugs before them. "How is your pupil coming along?" said Temmin.
"Young Mr Wallek I believe has come far enough to spar with you, sir--if you've kept up your form at the Temple?"
February 1, 2013
Chapter 12 Part 10 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
Tennoc's new power crackled in Temmin's hair and skin as he left the story; shadow pain stabbed at his side. "It never occurred to me Tennoc would get magic when he crossed the border."
"It never occurred to him, either. He knew both Dunnoc and Kenver had magic, but Kenver's was limited--blocking the spring at the siege of Maalig took all of it. Dunnoc was stronger, but men's magic is tied to the lands they control. Just the Heirs of Tremont held more even then than the kings of Kellen ever did. Were Dunnoc to ride into Whitehorse, his magic would vanish in any event, just as Tennoc had none in Kellen."
January 29, 2013
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January 28, 2013
Chapter 12 Part 9 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
They approached the Whitehorse border and the River Cobb. Tennoc paused, considering their options. "We'll avoid Crymavon Castle."
"Your mother's cousin is Lady there, no?"
Tennoc nodded, but said, "For all we know, Dunnoc's sent word ahead. If he hasn't, I won't put Lady Flaryn in danger should the King follow us here."
"Cross we at Riverbend Ferry? Supplies at the village we might buy."
"I'd rather not risk the ferry, and we can always forage. A little upstream there's a ford. We'll cross there."
The ford ran deeper than they'd expected, and soon they were soaked to the waist, their horses snorting and holding their heads high. They climbed the bank and entered Whitehorse.
A searing light flooded Tennoc's body. A thousand doors opened at once within him, a terrifying elation rushing through them into his body and mind. His skin tingled and sparked, as if static crawled across it in all directions. He slumped in his saddle.
January 26, 2013
Kickstarter update: $3500, less than 48 hours left!
Yay! Stretch goal! All backers at $45 and up now get a year's access to the premium area of my site! This is a $60 value. There are less than 48 hours to go in this presale. Thank you to everyone who's backed me so far! It's given me the courage to apply to Clarion West in Seattle. I sent them "Dalston Junction," I'll find out some time in March if I get to go. Thank you!
January 25, 2013
Chapter 12 Part 8 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
Kenver told Tennoc the moment they were alone. He fell on his stepbrother's shoulder and cried. "How could Father turn on you, knowing how Gwynna and I love you!"
Tennoc held Kenver close. "That's why he wants me dead. He was as my father--no more, but you will always be my brother, Ken, always!"
They parted, and Kenver wiped his eyes. "Shall we tell your mother?"
"No, no," said Tennoc, "I want her held blameless."
"I could take you by reflection to Brunsial."
"Then your father will be angry with you, and I'll look guilty. I've done nothing wrong."
Kenver worried the corner of his mouth. "What will you do?"
