Morgan Daimler's Blog, page 47

Novel Writing

I started writing the sequel to my novel (which is free on amazon right now) a couple weeks ago. As part of my writing process I post little word count update and plot hints on my facebook page as I write and I thought it would be fun to share them here as a follow up to my "Novels, sequels and looking back" post. At this point I think I'm about 1/3 of the way through the draft of the new book, so here's where it's at so far:

4,436 words - only just beginning. There's a very dangerous man, a missing girl, and a distraught mother - but my protagonist does not want to deal with more problems. She has enough of her own, and she just wants some control over her life....
6, 037 words - sage, 4 thieves vinegar, and a hopeful attitude might not be enough to turn my protagonists luck around but she's trying. Misery loves company though and she's not the only one with problems....
8,044 words - rekindling romance is a complicated thing when my protagonist feels like maybe she's bad news for the person who cares about her most. Meanwhile there's a new roommate reminding her that life goes on whether she wants it to or not....
11,602 words - Sometimes you really just need a friend to tell you to stop being an idiot. Sometimes instead what you get is a voice from the grave telling you to get your head out of your butt. We'll see if this is a wake up call for my protagonist...or not.
14,664 words – just under 15,000 words and really only just beginning. Comparing to the last book I’m estimating this one will probably end around 100,000 words total so a bit more meat on the bone for you guys that have been eagerly awaiting the sequel
16,800 words - sometimes we just can't let go of the past. Of course its harder to let go when the past is also holding onto us. One small ray of sunshine in my protagonist's otherwise cloudy day is a friendship that is proving much stronger and deeper than she realized it was.
19,763 words - my love triangle is still triangular despite my protagonist's attempts to round it out. Maybe because her heart isn't as clearly decided as her mind is, which is bound to cause trouble for everyone later. Meanwhile there's some very suspicious activity afoot...but no one is connecting the dots yet.
21,732 words - beware making bargains with elves; my protagonist is about to learn that they are a lot better at it than she is. The devil, as they say, is in the details...
23, 574 words - time is running out for our missing girl. We'll have to wait and see if she meets a bad end or not, but the bad end may be the greater mercy in this case....
25, 779 words - more than one conspiracy is a foot, and they may be on a crash course with each other…
32,669 words - someone is keeping a close eye on my protagonist but they definitely don't mean her well. She's under a lot of pressure and may be relying on the wrong person, but how do you know who to trust when nothing is quite what it seems to be?

37,092 words - the other shoe has dropped and its a big one, but my protagonist has no one to blame but herself for thinking that dealing with elves was a good idea. Meanwhile the game's afoot and my protagonist is finally on the trail of the missing girl, which means she's also only a couple steps behind a very dangerous person....

Donn and the House of the Dead

 "The wind concentrated upon the ship where Donn the king was, and Donn was drowned at the Sandhills; whence Tech Duinn derives its name." - Lebor Gabala Erenn, volume 5

  There is some debate about whether the Irish have a God of the dead, but if they do its generally agreed that it would be Donn, a king of the Milesians who died at sea when the sons of Mil were trying to take Ireland. The place where he died, off the southwest coast of Ireland, was called Tech Duinn - Donn's house. Tech Duinn became equated in folklore with the Otherworldly land of the dead and Donn with a primal ancestor and underworld God (Jones, 2004). In the Death Tale of Conaire Donn is explicitly called the King of the Dead and a 9th century text has Donn claiming that all who die will go to him and his house (OhOgain, 2006).
   According to Green Donn's name means 'Dark One', however looking up the Old Irish we see a variety of meanings for the word donn including brown, noble, poet, stolen property, pregnant, and ale (Green, 1997; eDIL, n.d.). The dictionary also defines Donn as "Probably the god of the dead or the ancestral father to whom all are called at their death; Amalgamated with the Christian Devil" (eDIL, n.d.). Both Green and Jones compare Donn to the Roman Dis Pater, who Caesar said the Gauls believed they descended from; as Donn was seen to be an ancestor of the Gaels and also a deity of the land of the dead this comparison seems valid. Green goes further in saying that Donn is likely also Da Derga, who appears according to her as a death God in the story of Da Derga's Hostel (Gren, 1997). Berresford Ellis suggests that Donn might also relate to Dagda and Bile (Berresford Ellis, 1987). O'hOgain agrees with the Dagda association, seeing the name Donn as originally an epithet most likely of an Dagda's; he relates the name to the concept of darkness and the realm of the dead (O'hOgain, 2006).
    There are a variety of explanations for why Donn died. I have heard some Irish pagans say that it is because he insulted Eriu, one of the main sovereignty goddesses of Ireland, when the Milesinas were negotiating with her. Others say Eriu only predicted his doom but did not cause it (Berresford Ellis, 1987). The actual text from one redaction says: "Then Donn son of Mil said: I shall put, said he, under the edge of javelin and sword all that are in the island now, only let land be reached. The wind concentrated upon the ship where Donn the king was, and Donn was drowned at the Sandhills; whence Tech Duinn derives its name" (Macalister, 1956) I tend to read this myself and believe that it was his threat to kill all living things in Ireland that led to the sea and air turning against him and causing his death before his ship could land.
   Folklore tells us that Tech Duinn is a place where the dead go, but not necessarily their final destination. Some believe that the house of Donn is where the dead go before moving on to the Otherworld (Berresford Ellis, 1987). In the 8th to 10th centuries Tech Duinn was seen as an assembly place of the dead, and a place that the dead both went to and left from (OhOgain, 2006). Besides Tech Duinn (present day Bull Rock, County Cork) Donn is also connected to Cnoc Firinne in county Limerick and Dumhcha in county Clare.
    The Donn of Cnoc Firinne had strong aspects of a lord of the aos sidhe, being called Donn Firinne and said to kidnap people into his hill who had been thought to have died (OhOgain, 2006). Like many other Irish deities belief in Donn seems to have survived conversion to Christianity by shifting him from God to Good Neighbor, albeit a very powerful one. In county Clare Donn was Donn na Duimhche, Donn of the Dune, and was believed to ride out as a fairy horseman with his army (OhOgain, 2006).
   Donn may or may not always have been seen as a deity but he certainly seems to have been understood as one from at least the 8th century onward, until his shift into an Otherworldly horseman. throughout his shifting mythology though he has always been related to death and the dead, both as the Lord of the 'house' where the dead go and also as a primordial ancestor of the people. He also has a strong association to the sea, the drowned, and to horses.



References
Macalister, R. (1956) Lebor Gabala Erenn, volume 5
Jones, M., (2004) Tech Duinn. Retrieved from http://www.maryjones.us/jce/techduinn...
Green, M., (1997) Dictionary of Celtic Myth and Legend
eDIL (n.d.) Donn
Berresford Ellis, P., (1987). A Dictionary of Irish Mythology
O'hOgain, D., (2006). The Lore of Ireland. 

Novels, Sequels, and Looking Back

So I'm working on the sequel to the novel I wrote last year for NaNoWriMo, and I'm having as much fun with it as I did with the first one. Something I did to help stay motivated during NaNoWriMo last year was to post word counts and little summaries of plots points or how the writing was going every day. I'm doing it again for the new book on facebook but I thought it would be fun to post the recap of all the posts from the first one, Murder Between the Worlds. It's an interesting look back at the process I went through while I was writing and also some fun hints about the way the story developed:
7,101 words- And the plot thickens.I seriously doubt this thing will be done at 50,000 words; I'm almost 1/7th of the way to that and no where near out of the basic intro stuff...I'd guesstimate maybe 70,000 or 80,000 words in the end...
12, 623- ....and its just starting to get interesting
14,739- I have totally jacked up my protagonists day. Don't judge me! Also this book officially needs a warning for graphic content.
17,882- My protagonists day has not improved and the plot is even thicker.
19020 words- Thanks to my awesome friend Tricia for reading the draft and suggested some changes I have to add some more early stuff, but it was great criticism.
22,347- Someone's running out of time - I feel so Joss Whedon-ish
24,767- My protagonists day has improved and romance is in the air, but someone else is definitely about to end up on the wrong side of a sharp knife....
26,580 words-  6 rough chapters, 45 standard pages - plenty of room for fleshing things out later onlots of dialogue today and some important character back-story....
30,085 words - My protagonist is about to find out that things can get a lot worse...and there's a love triangle even I wasn't expecting that is definitely going to complicate things.
33,439 words- my protagonist has made a significant breakthrough, clue-wise. Unfortunately someone close to her made the mistake of trusting the wrong person and was rewarded with a knife (or two) in the back....
37,006 words- Death has caused someone to seek solace in another's arms, which is bound to agitate my unintended love triangle. Someone else might have a chance for unexpected redemption - the question is, does he want to be redeemed?
40, 088 words- Some relationships are starting to fracture under the strain of the recent murder, while others are strengthened. My protagonist has made a major breakthrough, which is turning out to be a double edge sword, and little does she know the worst is yet to come...there's another knife waiting in the dark and this time its hitting very close to home indeed...
42,778 words- A minor clue has been slipped in with the bigger one and my protagonist is on the cusp of a major breakthrough- but the killer is about to throw out a big red herring to try to get the investigators off his trail...we'll have to see who falls for itAlso, I apparently really love writing dialogue - who knew?
45,177 words- My protagonist has realized that knowing as much as she does is putting her in danger. Those around her who need her help to solve this mystery are trying to protect her but it may not be enough.Also there's a kelpie, because why not?
52, 228 words- my protagonist made a huge breakthrough in understanding why the killer is killing, and then made a very hard decision; she also seems to have uncovered an unexpected ability, but unless she learns how to use it, it could be more of a weakness than a strength. Unfortunately for her the killer has struck again close to home, trying to throw the investigators off his track, and he may have found some new allies.
55049 words- my protagonist has gone to the borders of Fairy seeking answers, and met the an important person there. Soon though its back to reality and there's bad news waiting for her there...
59, 281 words- my protagonist is taking the latest death very badly. The killer has set his sights on her as the biggest risk to his plans, but she may be too blinded by grief to see the danger, and the investigation is in chaos as the police argue over the false clues...
62,736 words- my protagonist has decided to be proactive and try to actively seek the killer out, rather than wait around to be killed, but this might not be the best idea. The investigators have divided and the official search for justice is stalling as everyone fights among themselves, which might also place my protagonist in more danger.
69, 736 - my protagonist found the last major clue, but no one has been able to put the cryptic pieces together yet. The other side of the love triangle chose the worst possible moment to start fighting for the girl, but he may have waited too long - when everyone's guard was down my protagonist ended up in the killer's hands. He's got a fate worse than death in store for her unless she can find a way to use her new ability to call for help, and even then - will help arrive in time?
73,387 words- denouement ~ finis opusSorry guys can't say anything else or I'll give away the endingI suspect with editing and some added description and dialogue it'll pass 75,000...
83,421 - final word count

http://www.amazon.com/Murder-Between-...

Dreaming of Ravens

 I know I don't often write about my own personal experiences with deities and spirits. There's a couple reasons for that, including that it's often hard to put such experiences into words. I also find that discussing such experiences is a very soul baring, exposing kind of thing and I'm not a big one for offering up that part of myself to public scrutiny. The biggest reason though is probably the simplest: it is nearly impossible to put a numinous experience into words without losing the very quality in it that made it numinous. Trying to describe it loses its feeling of mystery. You just can't really convey in words what it was to experience the thing you are trying to share. Nonetheless I am going to try here, but I'll take a page from the old Fili and Druids' books (pun intended) and attempt to do it in poetry.
 I dreamed last night -
 dream or vision or something more -
 of ravens and bloody rivers,
 hounds and horses coursing,
 pounding hooves and howling voices,
 Herself* crying "Woe to those who flee!
 Blood and battle is upon them!
The fight is upon you! 
Stand your ground! Stand and fight! 
Hard slaughter and a great victory!"
Her voice and the roaring of a river, 
water and blood mixing,
and hounds and horses, 
and riders armed and armored,
A feeling of panic and joy
of despair and ecstasy joined
twisting together in my gut
until I wanted to rush forward
into any danger, throw myself,
heedless, into madness and battle,
blades clashing, water rushing,
screams of war and death together,
ravens' wings tearing the air
My breath coming in gasps and gulps,
too winded to add my voice to the din,
but pushing forward, forward, further,
each step a success as earth 
become mud as it mixed with blood.
And then, abruptly, the dream was gone
in a baby's cry, in my son's need for me,
I woke to stillness. 
No blood. No battle. 
No death. No river.
But a yard full of black birds
their voices strident and discordant
singing to me of dreams and shadows
I moved through the day 
expecting wings and warriors
the vision like a memory of feathers
which irritates and soothes simultaneously
and, again and again, ceaseless as the tide,
Or a fast flowing stream,
Her voice calling "Awake! Arise!"....




* The Morrigan, possibly Badb

The Morrigan, War, and a guest blog on Patheos

 Yesterday I wrote a guest blog for Raise the Horns on Patheos titled The Morrigan, War, & How We See Our Gods. It looks at the more difficult aspects of the Morrigan's mythology and character and why it's important, in my opinion, to face those things in her we fear or are disturbed by instead of turning away from them or trying to minimize them. It also touches on the equally challenging subject of the value of war in the quest for peace. Click over and give it a read if you're interested.  

Sovereignty Then and Now

  We talk a lot about goddesses of sovereignty, especially in Irish polytheism, but there is a disconnect between the ancient understanding of what those goddesses did and what they are seen to do in a modern context. Often the way that sovereignty is perceived is heavily colored by modern ideals of the value of the individual and of individual freedom, while the ancient view saw sovereignty as the right of one person to exert control over others. This disconnect is born from a misunderstanding or romanticism of the historic concept and yet may also represent a way in which the old gods are evolving and adapting to a new world.
   To begin, sovereignty itself may not be a very good translation of the Old Irish word flaitheas, although it is one given by the dictionary. Flaitheas more properly should probably be translated as "rulership" or the right to rule, which is also another of its meanings. The ancient goddesses of sovereignty gave the kings and chieftains the right to rule over the people, effectively legitimizing their kingship. To have the blessing or approval of the goddess of sovereignty, to symbolically marry her, was to be given the divine right to rule. In the context of ancient Irish culture this was a very important thing because only with the approval of this goddess, only with flaitheas, could a king prosper in his rule; through right relation to the goddess of flaitheas a king could bring abundance and security to his people and land. Angering her though would lead to destruction, one way or another.
   Where this gets tricky linguistically is that the word sovereignty in English not only means the authority of someone or something over a group, but also freedom from external control. While the Old Irish word means ruling, and is even used as a word to mean a kingdom or realm, the English word only partially overlaps these meanings and includes connotations of independence and freedom that are entirely lacking in the Irish. In this case the choice of words in translation is very important, especially since the newer understanding has grown largely out of the concepts surrounding the English term, not the Irish.
    Many people today when they see the word sovereignty used interpret it not as the right to rule a place and its people but rather as a word relating to personal autonomy. This may be inaccurate in a historical context, but for those of us living in a place without a functioning monarchy what else would sovereignty be? When there is no king to marry the land, no chieftain to be chosen and blessed by the goddess, then what becomes of the concept of sovereignty itself? How can we not internalize it and make it personal, make it about our right to rule over our own land, which is our body, our own kingdom, which is ourselves. When we honor the goddess of sovereignty in our lives we are honoring a modern concept of sovereignty, but that is no less impactful or important than the ancient one. It is different, and more personal, but just as powerful in its own way to call on a goddess of sovereignty today as ever.
    What does a goddess of sovereignty do in a culture with no kings to crown? Perhaps she adopts a new understanding of sovereignty in line with a new time that sees the value in the individual over the value of the group. Perhaps she shifts her view from weighing the merit of kings to rule the land to the merit of the individual to rule their own life. She will test us, she will judge us, she will weigh our worth.
  Let us strive to be worthy. 

Frau Holda, physical worship and a story about knitting

 Recently there was an interesting blog about hands-on worship, the idea of honoring our Gods with practical physical actions. I thought it was well written and made good points but it also got me thinking about how often we may be called to do that in our own lives and how - or whether - we respond. So I wanted to share a story about my experience with Frau Holda, and the way that tangible skills are an act of worship in themselves.
   When I began honoring Frau Holda one of the first things I felt strongly was that she wanted me to learn how to knit. To me this made sense from her, as she is a Goddess associated with spinning yarn, and knitting is about as close to working with yarn as I can afford to get. But sensible or not I was dismayed. I am a domestic person in certain ways but anything relating to yarn makes me twitchy - its too tedious, too sedentary, too repetitive. I love the end results but I hate the very idea of my being the one to do it. So suffice to say that I was not thrilled to feel called to learn this skill. I dreaded it. I dragged my feet and of course found circumstances aligning so that I had ample unexpected opportunities to learn anyway. I was given all the supplies I needed, including yarn, by my grandmother who suddenly decided I was the perfect person to give her knitting paraphernalia too when her eyesight no longer let her do it herself. The same day I was at my daughters' school book fair, walking past a display, when one of those hobbies-for-dummies boxed kits suddenly fell off the table onto the floor in front of me. The topic of the kit? Knitting of course.
    I can't say I've enjoyed the process so far, and I find it challenging my weaknesses in ways that are both frustrating and irritating. I would have thought I was a patient person before starting to learn this skill. But there is undeniably something about the feel of the yarn under my fingers, the motion of my hands, the almost meditative quality of the motion, that is very powerful. I think of my grandmother knitting. I think of all the women in my family for hundreds of years that helped clothe their families with this skill. And I meditate on Frau Holda spinning, spinning, spinning....
   I haven't produced anything yet worth bragging about, but I haven't given up either. I keep trying, and honoring Frau Holda with my effort. 

In the Earth - a poem

In the Earth
PublicFriendsOnly MeCustomClose FriendsMoon BooksSee all lists...Familydruid/CR friendswiccan friendsrealreconfriendsasatru/heathenstrangerhigh school friendsfamilygameChanging Times-Changing WorldsLedyard, Connecticut Areapandora's boxGo BackIf I were a Goddess, ancient and mighty
I'd choose to live in the dark earth
deep down in the fertile soil
full of life and death and growth

What does the sky offer, after all?
Boundless, borderless, endlessly shifting
Nothing to dig your hands into
No place to put down roots

Give me dirt and depth to anchor myself
Give me solid stone and sleeping seeds
The bones of the dead and cycle of seasons
blended and blurred and twisting together

If I were a Goddess, ancient and mighty
I'd leave the sky and make a home in earth
where blood and shadow dance together
where life and death are joined

Gods With Us

  An interesting topic that crops up in Celtic pagan discussion groups from time to time is whether the Irish (or more generally Celtic) Gods and spirits travel with the people who acknowledge them, or whether they are stationary, tied as it were to specific locations. People who argue for the latter view point to the way that Irish Gods were strongly associated with specific locations and the way that they were said in some cases to be embodied by the land, such as the hills called the Paps of Anu. How, this argument says, if the Gods are so strongly connected to those places can they also be elsewhere? Now my own view takes the former side and I decided to use today's blog to explain my viewpoint.
Brugh na Boyne; image in the common domain courtesy of http://www.public-domain-photos.com/t...
   It is true that many if not all of the Irish Gods are said to have homes, or sidhe, in specific places. These were established when the Gods moved beneath the hills after the Milesians came and we know what many of them are because of the strong local folk traditions surrounding each location. The Tuatha De Danann are inextricably linked to real world places and these places are woven into the tapestry of the Gods' stories. Oweynagat is the Morrigan's and part of the story of Odras. Brugh na Boyne is Oengus mac Og's and part of the story of his conception and cleverness. Emhain Macha is Macha's and a symbol of her sovereignty. Our Gods do not essentially live in some distant, unreachable world or some separate plane of existence; they live here, in our world, or at least their homes have physical, tangible, counterparts here that we can visit and see and touch. Perhaps this is what leads to a feeling that these places are not just where we can find the Gods living, but are the only places the Gods can be...but if we look at myth we will see that our ancestors never held such a view. Each God had many homes, many places, and some gained and lost different places over time, indicating the transient nature of these connections.
    The Irish Gods, the Tuatha De Danann, were not native to Ireland but rather came there later, whether you choose to believe that in the mythic sense outlined by the Invasion Cycle or whether you see them arriving with the Celtic peoples. Either way they were foreign Gods once who made homes in a new place. We see echoes of this ability to go where the people honoring them went in the spread of the worship of the Gaulish goddess Epona to Rome, as her worship caught on with Roman soldiers and was imported back to their homes. We see this as well in the way that the Irish migrating to Scotland brought with them some of their Gods, like Brighid and Angus and possibly the Cailleach. The Gods are not omniscient or omnipotent but they are Gods and it is entirely within their ability to go where they will, especially I think if they are being called and honored in a new place. Even the slua sidhe, the fairy host, is said to be able to cross the ocean and journey far afield of their homes; why would the Gods be able to do any less?
   Speaking of the fairy host, another related argument that I hear is that the spirits of the Otherworld are bound to specific places. Now I grant you that land spirits generally are tied in this way to a location; however I do not believe that applies to the Good People. In stories they are clearly said to change their homes (their sidhe) at certain times of year and are wont to travel which is why building on fairy roads is such a bad idea. Yeats speaks of a woman whose mother had a fairy woman as a friend and the woman would tell her of things occurring in America; this can be interpreted as the fairy woman having oracular abilities, or perhaps she was able to travel there herself and directly see the events. I'd argue each possibility is equally likely. Spirits, like people, move and travel and explore new places. They also in my experience tend to follow those who believe in and offer to them. There are spirits of place and spirits of stationary things like trees or rocks that do not move around but there are other spirits that are not anchored to a specific thing that go where they will. And it is possible that how we perceive them plays a role as well.
    When we move from place to place we bring our Gods and many of our spirits with us, and we also have an chance to meet new ones. We carry them with our traditions and practices and beliefs into new territories and new opportunities. In a way - perhaps the most important way - we ourselves are what anchor our  Gods in this world as they migrate with us, until they establish new physical ties to things less transient....

Brón Trogain 2014

  This year we are celebrating Lughnasa by it's older name of Brón Trogain. For my family it begins today, July 31st as we go out and start picking berries. Berry picking for several years has been the main activity of our holiday, the way we officially begin celebrating.
wineberries We have allowed large sections of our backyard to be taken over by berries, producing a thicket of thorns and fruit that provides an ample harvest. In the morning my children and I went out and began picking the ripe berries, working our way around the yard, weaving over and under the sharp branches. As we went I told them stories of the Tuatha Dé Danann and of the Gentry. I also recited this prayer:
"On Brón Trogain at the rise of the sun,
With the sun rising, warm, in the east,
I will go forth into the morning light,
And I will reap the harvest I have sown.I will stand under the open sky
With the fruitful earth all around me,
I will raise my eye upwards,
I will turn on my heel quickly,Rightway as travels the sun
From the airt of the east to the west,
From the airt of the north with motion calm
To the very core of the airt of the south.I will give thanks to the Gods who bless me
For the growing crops of the ground,
Who give food to us and to the flocksI will give thanks to the Gods who bless meFor the harvest that flourishes in my lifeWhatever that harvest may beAnd I will offer to them, sharing what I have"
my daughters pointing out a patch of Jewelweed next to a berry patch  After we filled our bowl - with plenty left unpicked - we made offerings on our outdoor altar. My oldest daughter asked if she could have a few berries to offer to the daoine sidhe; she took a handful and went and prayed for a bit before leaving them beneath our hawthorn tree. My younger children were more interested in eating the results of our efforts themselves (I believe my son may have eaten his own weight in berries).   After the berry picking - and offering and eating - we had our version of athletic games, which mostly ends up being foot races, ball tossing and playing tag. The age range and needs of the children mean we have to choose things that will be more for fun than to show skill, but the intent is certainly there. We also added some prayer ribbons to our fairy tree and decorated our outdoor altar with flowers.    We held a small ritual to honor Macha and Nuada, with offerings of berries and of straw and prayers for blessing and protection. We also offered ghee to the ancestors, Other Crowd, and Gods in thanks for the blessings that provide the harvest we are enjoying. Divination was done with the Ogham and the message received was quert (apple).   Thus begins our holiday....