Suzanne G. Rogers's Blog, page 69

Author David Pilling Tells Tales of Olde – Guest Blog

Lythe and listin, gentilmen,

That be of frebore blode;

I shall you tel of a gode yeman,

His name was Robyn Hode

These are the opening lines of the first verse or 'fytte' of the 'Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode', the fifteenth century compilation of Robin Hood ballads. There were earlier stand-alone ballads, and 'rhymes of Robyn Hode' are mentioned in passing in a text from 1377, but the ultimate origins of the legend are unknown.

What has this potted history of Robin Hood got to do with my upcoming novel, Folville's Law? Well, the germ of inspiration for my story came from my interest in medieval outlaw legends, and the history that lay behind the romance. Robin himself may or may not have been a real person, but what is certain is that the forests of medieval England were stuffed full of real outlaws. They were hard men, these 'wanderers by night', and two of the most notorious to stalk the troubled northern parts of England in the early fourteenth century were Eustace Folville and James Coterel.

Eustace and James made for perfect villains, being charismatic, ruthless gangsters who would cheerfully smile at you while sticking a knife under your ribs. And they lived in interesting times. England was a mess, presided over by a catastrophic king, Edward II, and his dreadful favourites, the Despensers. Law and order had broken down, allowing men like Eustace Folville and his gang to run riot, and the country was threatened by invasion from Edward's estranged Queen, Isabella, and her lover Roger Mortimer. Again, all perfect raw material to stitch a story from.

So much for the historical personalities, what of my fictional hero? Sir John Swale is a 'knight of Cumberland', the far north of England, a grim place blasted by decades of ruinous cross-Border warfare. I have tried to portray him as a man of his time, haunted by the slaughter of his family by a band of raiding Scots, and motivated (at least in the beginning) by standard knightly preoccupations i.e. land and money.

The 'love interest', so to speak, is supplied by Elizabeth Clinton, a widow and possibly the most modern of the characters, in that she is an independently-minded woman in charge of her own affairs.

Add to this a bucket of blood, intrigue and politics, and you have 'Folville's Law', an effort to portray the drama and brutality of life hundreds of years ago, and tell a good story into the bargain…I hope!

- David Pilling

Book Cover Blurb:  When Sir John Swale, knight of Cumberland, is sent on a secret mission to the Midlands by his ruthless and corrupt master, little does he suspect that his life, and the future of his country, is about to change forever.

England in 1326 is a land ruled by the corrupt and inept Edward II and his hated favourites, the Despensers. Threatened by invasion from Edward's estranged Queen, Isabella, and her lover Roger Mortimer, they turn to desperate measures to preserve their precarious hold on England. Caught up in the vicious game of war and politics is Sir John Swale, a landless Northern knight with a dark past, who in the course of serving his masters makes a lethal enemy in the shape of the ruthless outlaw, Eustace Folville.

Excerpt:

Swale caught the thrust and turned it aside. His opponent was too close to attempt a cut, so he struck out with the cross-guard, feeling the impact as it thumped into the man's cheek. Howling, the robber stabbed again, missed, and threw his weight against Swale. Strong fingers groped at Swale's face, trying to gouge his eyes. He caught the robber's hand, bit his fingers and hacked at his shoulder. The habergeon absorbed the blow, and the robber's hasty attempt to gut Swale in return failed as his falchion scraped harmlessly against the knight's breastplate.

Their horses surged apart, whinnying in panic. Swale had the distance now to bring his longer reach into play, and pressed his attack, chopping and slashing with sheer brute strength. His opponent parried, but was tiring, his face wet with sweat and his sword arm shuddering under the impact of each blow. Fierce joy flowed into Swale's breast as he realised that he was going to win.

Then the shirtless old man appeared from nowhere, lunging and grasping at the robber's leg with his scrawny dead-white arms. "Strike!" he croaked.

Amazed, Swale's opponent gaped at the greybeard clinging on to his leg. His guard faltered, and Swale unleashed a vicious backhand cut that bit deep into the robber's neck, chopping into his throat and half-decapitating him.

Links:

Buy @ Musa Publishing  (Also coming soon to Amazon and other fine outlets)

David's Blog: http://pillingswritingcorner.blogspot.com/

*****

Thank you, David, for being my guest!

- S.G. Rogers

Kicking It With Author Lindsay Downs

I'm guesting at author Lindsay Downs' Murders and Mysteries blog about my path to self-defense and inner magic.

- S.G. Rogers

Fantasy Friday – Warrior Woman

Today's Fantasy Friday photo is a provocative 3d illustration of a awesome and styling warrior woman who can wield two swords…the better to skewer you with?  Is she coming down those stairs to rescue someone she loves or to seek revenge?

What's your idea?

© Luca Oleastri | Dreamstime.com

How I Learned to Love Rejection

I'm guest blogging about REJECTION on Word Crushes.  Check it out!

- S.G. Rogers

 

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The Creation of a Character – Author Lindsay Downs

I'm so pleased to welcome author Lindsay Downs to the pages of Child of Yden.  She's a writer with a very unique voice and a very big heart.  100% of the proceeds of her novel, Emily Dahill CID, Part One (dedicated to the brave women and men in the US Armed Forces) is donated to victims of the Japanese tsunami.  Thank you, Lindsay, for being my guest. – S.G. Rogers

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The Creation of a Character

Or

How Did Emily Dahill, CID Come to Be

How do you come up with your main characters? A question authors are asked all the time.

When I came up with the idea/concept of doing a series of books, featuring a special agent with the U.S. Army Criminal Investigation Command, more commonly referred to as CID, I knew what I didn't want.

A special agent who was: arrogant, egotistical, self-centered, had a fault, but wouldn't let others know it, coffee swilling (fine Emily does drink coffee, but she's not walking around all the time with a cup). I also didn't want someone, when wrong, who wouldn't apologize. Or make someone else they a job they could.

I also didn't want someone who let the others, working in the team, harass, debase, demean, or pick on fellow members.

I also didn't want a leader who thought they were so special they could just take over the investigation at the most critical moment thereby winning the day.

Or the sexiest person alive.

That left the question-What did I want from my main character?

Actually, I decided not on one, but two main characters.

Since I write strong female characters, actually that's the only kind I do, that was a no-brainer. A woman. So I came up with Emily Dahill. The last name, Dahill, was a very minor character in Target Identified, currently off the market and in major rewrites. And Emily, I just picked out of thin air.

The other main character was also easy to decide on. Since I'd enjoyed writing Kebi, a collie, into Target Identified, I knew a collie was the logical choice. Read Final Mission in Emily Dahill, CID Part 1 to find out what I mean and also how they met.

I wanted Emily to be determined, driven, but more so, self-assured. Confident, so to speak, in her own skin. If someone got in her way, she'd tell them to move, walk right over, or through them. A leader who also listened to those around her, even if that individual is a collie.

She has to look out for the people who work with, not for, her. If they make a mistake, she corrects, through teaching, them without raising her voice. That was something she'd learned from her father. And when she's wrong promptly admits it to the person, not storm out leaving the wronged party in limbo.

All work and no play make Emily a dull girl. To that end I have stories, and even scenes where she kicks back, and relaxes. For a laugh read Right Place, Wrong Day, and Dog on Fishing.

In short, between work and play, I am trying to create a real person. One that you, my readers, will and can relate to. Not someone so full of themselves, and their self-persevered importance that they aren't real.

As far as any romantic interests in her life, personal, not professional, I haven't decided how I will address that particular question. To begin with, anyone she might get involved with will have to have Dakota's lick of approval.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, she does have one individual out to destroy her. This person, only known as 'the brown-haired man', will periodically pop up in stories, but at the last moment, will escape, frustrating her to no end.

All the stories I've mentioned here, except for Target Identified, a romantic thriller, are in my current release, Emily Dahill, CID Part 1, where you will get a little insight into what makes her tick.

LINKS FOR EMILY DAHILL, CID PART 1

To request an autograph on your kindle (Linday's author page)

http://kindlegraph.com/authors/ldowns2966

Buy links for Emily Dahill, CID Part 1-

Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookstrand

You can follow Lindsay at:

Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, LinkedIn

 

The Last Great Wizard of Yden – Excerpt

A bucket of water thrown in Jon's face brought him back to consciousness with a gasp. A cygard unlocked his manacles and hauled him upright.

"On your feet," the cygard barked. "I'm not lugging your sorry carcass up those stairs."

As the cygard dragged Jon from the paddy wagon and onto a loading dock, he caught a glimpse of the castle exterior. The fortress had been designed to intimidate, and a shiver went down Jon's spine at the sight of the cold and desolate citadel.

The loading dock jutted out from an alcove cut into the side of the structure. Several ragged children with bare heads and dirty feet were working frantically to unload a delivery cart parked nearby, filled with fresh produce and bushels of grain. The overseeing cygard made a sport of cracking his whip at their backsides, chuckling every time a kid cowered. None of the children would meet Jon's gaze. They were around his sister's age or younger, and it curdled his blood to see them being abused.

"Stop it," Jon yelled at the whip-wielding cygard. "Can't you see they're moving as fast as they can?"

Although the kids didn't stop working, they flicked Jon a terrified glance. The overseer brandished his whip at Jon.

"If ye can't hold yer tongue, you'll get a taste of leather," he threatened. "Get the lad out of here, Stig, before I flay him to ribbons."

The cygard named Stig looped a rope around Jon's neck and led him up some stairs and into the castle. Jon tried to tell himself his situation was less dire than it appeared. On the plus side, his knapsack was still safely slung on his back and he had the use of his limbs. On the downside, he'd been captured by bad guys and for some reason he couldn't transport to safety. In addition, if he didn't manage to escape, he might shortly be separated from one or more of his appendages. He was forced to conclude his predicament was probably just as bad as it seemed, if not more so.

As he was yanked down a large passageway, Jon stumbled past cygards and other castle workers. An uncomfortably familiar cygard suddenly veered in his direction. Jon recognized him right off by his towering height—not to mention the size of the ax hanging from his belt. The supersized cygard blocked Jon's path, and Stig sighed.

"C'mon, Lyesh," he said. "I gotta get 'im up to the hearing."

But Lyesh didn't move.

"You're the whelp who gave me a hard time the other day," he said, jamming a hostile finger into Jon's chest for emphasis. "I dunno how you gave me the slip, but your luck finally ran out, didn't it?"

Jon knew a bully when he saw one, and he kept his mouth shut. Unfortunately, his silence seemed to antagonize the cygard even more. When Lyesh snatched his helmet off, Jon discovered why cygards always kept their faces covered. The giant had only one eye set in the middle of his forehead, and his hideous features were covered with lumpy knots of oozing flesh.

Lyesh sneered at Jon's expression. "What's the matter, you got a problem with cygards?"

"No, I got a problem with ugly," Jon retorted before he could stop himself.

All the cygards within earshot howled with laughter.

"Mouthy little brat," Lyesh said.

"Don't worry," Stig said. "He'll be screaming a different tune after the warlord gets through with him."

Stig's sudden jerk of Jon's rope nearly took him off his feet. With the noose burning his skin, he wasn't enjoying the tour so far. A few more passageways and a couple of staircases later, he was dragged into a large, open chamber the size and shape of a small church. A floating ball of light at the top of the cathedral ceiling provided steady illumination. Medieval-style weapons, artfully woven tapestries, and large oil paintings covered the walls. Jon couldn't help but notice several of the paintings were actually quite masterful. Under different circumstances he would have liked to have a closer look.

Various men and women congregated around the chamber in groups, mingling with one another. By their fancy clothes and head coverings, Jon guessed they had plenty of tile. Their conversations, already respectfully low, ceased altogether when he appeared. Several of them swished their robes aside as if he'd soiled them by his presence. Admittedly, he wasn't at his best.

The focal point of the chamber was an oversized wooden chair, set on a raised platform. Centered in front of a curtained backdrop, the chair was draped in silken fabrics and soft cushions as would suit a throne. The occupant of the chair, however, was an austere and cruelly handsome man. His powerful build and piercing obsidian eyes heightened the aura of danger surrounding him. The simple metal circlet resting on his head designated the man as Warlord Mandral. Jon blanched at the sight of him.

A thin, oily fellow undulated at the warlord's elbow, eager to be of service. He carried a scroll of parchment and a quill. A skullcap completely covered his hair, if indeed he had any. Jon wouldn't have been surprised to learn the cap was made from snakeskin.

The crowd parted as Jon was brought forward and lashed to a metal ring permanently set in the stone floor in front of the throne. The ring was one of many, although Jon was the only occupant. Must be a slow day for hearings, he thought.

Mandral rose from his chair and descended the steps. His observant eyes focused on Ophelia right away. "Where did you get that Dragon Clan ring, boy?" he demanded.

"None of your business."

The congregants gasped, and Jon's reply earned him a smack on the head from the nearest cygard. Mandral, however, acted as if he hadn't heard him. He beckoned to the man with the scroll. "Minister Tyrg, what is the charge against this prisoner?"

"Theft," Tyrg said. His voice sounded almost like the hiss of a snake. "Merchant Moala has filed a claim for the cuff."

Stig pulled up Jon's sleeve to reveal the transporter cuff.

"Moala is an accomplished liar. His claim is denied," Mandral said.

Jon sighed with relief, but his deliverance was short-lived.

"Take the ring and the cuff," the warlord said. "Then whip the boy for his insolence."

Ophelia's eyes remained dull, and Jon was beginning to panic.

Stig caressed his ax. "The ring and cuff cannot be removed."

Mandral exchanged a sharp glance with Tyrg. "Is this the ancient magic of inseparability?"

Tyrg shook his head in confusion. "A wizard becomes one with his clan ring and transporter cuff, yes. But there are few wizards left, and none of them have apprentices."

The warlord studied Jon's features. He tugged Ophelia to confirm the ring would not leave Jon's finger. "Who are you?"

"No one in particular. I'm not from around here," Jon replied.

With practiced speed and agility, Mandral unsheathed a thin dagger strapped to his thigh and pointed it at the hollow of Jon's throat. "That's not what I asked."

Jon felt the razor-sharp tip pierce his skin. He had no doubt the blade had meted out its share of death. He gulped. "Jon. Jon Hansen."

- S.G. Rogers

****

Castle Door photo: © Sanderclaes | Dreamstime.com

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Fantasy Friday – Happy Halloween

Every Friday I'm going to post a fantastic photo or illustration that will set your imagination spinning.  This week's 3d offering is deliciously creepy in celebration of Halloween.  From the evil smile on the woman's face I'd say she was a wicked wizard assembling an army of soulless undead to do her bidding–perhaps seeking revenge on a former lover?

What do you think?

- S.G. Rogers

Wizard Woman Illustration: © Jesse-lee Lang | Dreamstime.com

 

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Fantasy World-Building

Come on over to author Beth Trissel's blog, One Writer's Way for a discussion on fantasy world-building.  Come see the wonderful photos that serve as inspiration!

- S.G. Rogers

Creative Hodgepodge – Just In Time For Halloween

Go to Creative Hodgepodge and find out which of the characters in The Last Great Wizard of Yden I'd want to be and why!

- S.G. Rogers

One Kind Word

There is a Japanese proverb that says:  One kind word can warm three winter months.  In the wake of the devastating tsunami that ravaged Northeastern Japan this past March, author Patricia Kiyono wanted to offer more than just a kind word.  She partnered with publisher Astraea Press to write a novella, the proceeds of which would benefit the victims of this horrific disaster.

Back Cover Blurb:

When Andy Tanaka finds an old wooden chest in a storage shed on his family's flower farm, he can't wait to share his discovery with his best friend, Leigh Becker.

Inside the dusty lacquered chest are a pair of swords, some Japanese clothing, and a mysterious scroll, which could provide links to his samurai ancestor. They find someone to translate the scroll and then research the significance of the other items, intent on ensuring the legacy isn't forgotten.

In the process, they learn not only about samurai history, but also some surprising truths about themselves.

The Legacy ($1) is available at Astraea Press, Amazon and BN.com, and other outlets.

***

Meet Patricia Kiyono:

"I love to travel. I guess it's because I've been traveling most of my life. When I was about eleven months old my parents decided to move to a faraway land called America. We settled in Michigan, where Dad grew up. But we kept close ties with our relatives in Japan. Even though long distance calling was expensive, Dad insisted Mom call her family on a regular basis. And there were long letters, written on blue sheets called aerograms. We had English speaking cousins in Okinawa, and we'd exchange letters, pictures and cassette tapes with them.

I remember Mom struggling to understand things people said to her, and being frustrated when she couldn't make other people understand what she tried to say. I remember older people who actually blamed us for the loss of relatives who died in World War II and refused to associate with us. But for the most part, people were interested in our differences, and were very supportive.

Money was tight in our home, so we didn't go away on a lot of vacations, but one memorable summer Dad packed us all in the car (I have two younger brothers, so there were five of us) and we took off on a trip to see several places in the eastern part of the country. We went south to Mammoth Caves in Kentucky, then up to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and then farther north to Niagara Falls before going through Ontario, Canada on our way back home. I was around twelve years old then, old enough to take pictures and treasure the souvenirs we picked up.

I think the thing I treasured most about that trip was meeting and learning about people in new and different places. While traveling, we met other families visiting these sites from all corners of the country. We learned we all have the same goals for our lives, the same hopes, dreams and fears. And we got an idea of how much there is to see in this world.

In high school I got the opportunity to visit Europe with the American Youth Symphony. Again, I loved visiting places I had read about: the Swiss Alps, German castles, and the Tower of London. But more than that, I enjoyed meeting and talking to people from all over the world. People who looked and sounded different than us, but who shared our love of life and all it has to offer. People who want peace, and harmony in their lives.

So now I'm retired (sort of) and have more time and resources to travel. And in between my trips I write. There is a whole world of fascinating people out there, and their stories are waiting to be told. My job as an author is to make their stories come alive, giving you a taste of their world, and making you believe in them." – Patricia Kiyono

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Patricia has many projects in the works.  In the upcoming novella, Aegean Intrigue, someone has been stealing priceless Greek artifacts, and it's Alex Leonidis' job to uncover the thief. She's also working on a Christmas novella, as well as a full-length historical novel about Andy Tanaka's samurai ancestor.  To follow Patricia, go to her website, blog, or Facebook.

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