S.M. Pace's Blog, page 3

Wewriwa and a glimpse into Maren

 

Time for another round of Weekend Writing Warriors, hosted on Wewriwa.  Participants share their 8-10 sentence WIP snippets.  Click the link to check out the rules, visit some blogs on the linky and sign up to share your writing.

Today you get a little glimpse into the world of Maren.  I’m planning to be a nano rebel this year, and at least a portion of my daily words will go toward a series of short stories set in Maren.  If you’re at all curious about Maren, check the link and learn more about this strange, alternate world.

 

 

 

Jessa hurried down the mostly empty street, her overcoat skirt gathering dust.  The North Street railcar rattled along, on the other side of the median.  Jessa glanced at it with mild distaste before hurrying on.  No way was anyone getting her into one of those contraptions, with that damn lightening sparking off the top.  People were insane, and always in such a damn hurry. 

She stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk.  With a grunt, she stopped and bent to adjust her overshoes.  It was a good thing she always left early, or else she’d be late every day with all the things that held her up.  She started forward again, but a soft noise brought her up short. 

A cry, like a small, wounded animal.  

Writer’s World Interview with Allie May

Welcome to Writer’s World, a semi-monthly showcase of authors from around the blogging world.  Allow me to introduce today’s guest, author Allie May.  

[image error] Bio:  

I am Allie May, fantasy author and mother of the world’s cutest dog. I run the blog, Hypergraphia. Hypergraphia means the overwhelming and uncontrollable impulse to write, and I combat it by writing fantasy novels and blogging twice a week. When I’m not writing or working, I’m usually at Disneyland. I’m currently editing my novel, Powerful, while working on another novel that I started when I was twelve called A Fairy’s Tale. On the weekends, you might catch a glimpse of me in the shadows as a lightsaber-wielding superhero. Maybe.

[image error]

Question time!  Without spoilers, is there any part of your WIP you regret writing but is integral to the plot?
 
I am very anti-romance. It’s always far too cheesy for my taste and there’s no way to make it likeable. So while I didn’t want to write a romantic subplot, I think it’s something that is necessary for a YA story.
 

Oh, I do hate cheesy romance.  Maybe you could make it very tongue in cheek and snarky  Besides those pesky romance subplots, is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing as far as content?

Fitting all the little pieces of the story together is the most challenging. [image error]I have so many different ideas for scenes, but they don’t always have anything to do with the plot. Since I’m a hardcore planner, it drives me crazy because I like to have every little detail planned out first!

I’m such a panster, I really admire writers who produce a well planned draft.  Speaking of things that are hard to write, do you ever get Writer’s Block, and do you have any tips for getting through it?

I get Writer’s Block every time I take too long of a break from writing. I have a few ways to try and overcome my blocks. I have a Pinterest board full of writing prompts {Pinterest Writing Prompts and check out Allie’s Pinterest} and I’ll use one of those to do a free write. Sometimes I’ll make it a stand-alone short story, and sometimes I’ll write a scene with characters from what I’m writing. Other times, all I need to do is switch from typing to writing by hand. I frequently have to find new music to write to, usually movie scores.

I swear by free-writing to break through a block.  In general, what is the hardest thing about writing?[image error]

Staying focused. I’m very easily distracte….Oh look! A puppy!!!! Wait, when was the last time I checked the internet? Oh yeah, ten seconds ago. Hmm…I’m hungry…


I’m sorry, did you ask me something?

Ha!  That seems very famil- squirrel!  Ah, sorry.  Moving away from the hard stuff, what is

the easiest thing about writing?
For me, getting the ideas are the easiest part. I’ve always got a million notes floating around with plot and character ideas.

As long as ideas are still coming, you can always be writing.  Thanks so much for stopping by Allie.  Catch up with Allie in her online homes at the links below, and learn more about her novels.    

Facebook

Twitter

Google+

Pinterest

Blog

 

Wilde Born Chapter 1

Lou has always known she was a foundling, discovered in the forest by her adoptive parents.  When she tries to learn more about her past, she brings dangerous creatures to her family’s doorstep.  To save her parents, she must team up with someone who betrayed her long ago, in a life she barely remembers.  A life she must remember, or else lose everything she holds dear.  

Wilde Born 

Chapter 1

Gnarled hands tightened around Lou’s arms and yanked her back.  She bit her lip to hold in a cry of pain.  Beside her, Warren groaned.

The Wilde Prince sneered at her, and Lou longed to punch him in the face.  She wrenched her arms in an effort to follow through, but the fae holding her proved too strong.

They dragged her and Warren out of the great hall, and Lou took the opportunity to check on him.  Anguish struck at how ashy his normally ruddy brown skin had gone.  Half his shirt was soaked in blood.  She’d dragged him into this.

But fear for her family quickly overshadowed her worry for Warren.  As the fae led them down one twisting, dim corridor after another, she imagined Mami and Papa, farther and farther away.

They stopped at a round door set into the earthen wall as if it had grown there.  At the touch of one of the fae, the door peeled open, like an unfurling leaf.

The fae shoved Lou into the confining space.  For a terrified moment, she thought they would take Warren somewhere else.  But he landed in a moaning heap at her feet.

She knelt beside him.  “Don’t move.  How bad is it?”  She’d seen the knife go in.

Warren clutched his side, and his fingers glistened in the poor light.  He grunted and moved to sit up.

“I said don’t move.” Lou shrugged out of her jacket, bunched it up and pressed it to his side.  Warren winced, making a low noise of pain.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I wish I could use my magic better.”

Warren shook his head.  “My kind is tough, little bird.  I’ll be all right.”  Still, he didn’t try to sit up.  He touched the hand that held her coat against him.  “Listen to me.  You grew up here.  Those memories are still inside you, and still inside the Mound.  Remember.”

Lou shook her head.  “I can’t.  I tried, and I can’t.”  Whatever life she’d had before was locked away.

Warren’s expression cleared of pain, and his dark eyes shone with an intensity Lou had not seen from him before.  “You must.  Or you will die here, and so will your family.”

Her family.  Worry over her family was what had landed her here in the first place.

 

3 days earlier

 

Cats speak at midnight, Grammy had said long ago.  And tell the secrets of magic to anyone willing to listen.

Lou stood on the porch and breathed in the hot, midsummer air; the smell of honey suckle, and mown hay.  She stared across the yard toward the cow barn.  Mama coughed, a faint sound from inside the house.  As if the cough spurred her on, Lou walked down the porch steps.

A full moon rose, its milky light bathing the barn roof and yard.  Shadows blurred the patchy grass.  A breeze stirred Lou’s braids, as she walked toward the barn.  A pale shape darted around the corner of the building and, with a flick of a familiar, white tail, disappeared.

Tears burned Lou’s eyes.  She eased open the barn door and slipped inside.  The musky-sweet scent of hay and cows comforted her and she scrubbed her eyes.

The two milk cows swayed and lowed in their stalls, disturbed by a late night arrival.  Lou wandered into the empty stall, and huddled down, drawing up her knees, and wrapping her arms tightly around her legs.

She tried to think of good things.  Mami finally well, walking around the house on still too thin legs, but getting stronger.  Eating more in the last two days than she been able to keep down in a month before.  Her skin gone from ashy-gray to the rich, rosy brown it had been before she took sick.

Fresh tears spilled.  Lou remembered crying at Mami’s beside just three days earlier, Mami barely breathing.  Daddy and Grammy crying quietly by the door.

She’d touched Mami’s hand, started to say good-bye.

Green light had burst from Lou’s fingers.  It burned her skin and eyes, and left her too shocked to scream.  Daddy and Grammy started shouting.

Now Mami was on the mend, but they spoke to Lou in cautious whispers.  Asked her over and over, what she had done.  Where the green light had come from.  Lou didn’t know and they stared at her, like they were afraid.

Shadows moved.  A tawny cat sat in front Lou’s stall, glowing eyes fixed on her.  The she-cat’s white tail whipped through the scattered hay and dust as she studied Lou with the look of contempt so natural to cats.

A weight bumped Lou’s shoulder and Indigo, the other farm cat, crawled between her belly and thighs.  Indigo’s purr rumbled through Lou’s middle, and she dug her fingers into the tomcat’s thick fur.  “If magic is real, maybe you really can talk.  Can you tell me what’s wrong with me?”  She flushed at the desperation in her words and the silliness of talking to a pair of cats.  She ought to go inside and straight to bed.

“Nothing wrong with you, girl.”  A soft, creaky voice said, from somewhere by Lou’s knee.

Lou blinked.  She was dreaming.  She must have fallen asleep in the stall, or perhaps never gotten out of bed.

Indigo rose up, paws braced on Lou’s knees and touched his cold nose to Lou’s.  “What you are is a changeling.”

A snort came from the front of the stall.  Snowtail strolled in and spoke in a low growl.  “Nonsense.  Changelings are left on purpose.  They found this one, abandoned in the woods.”

Lou glanced back and forth between the two talking cats and wondered if she were losing her mind.  It didn’t feel like a dream.

She jerked back in sudden terror.  Indigo hissed and jumped away, while Snowtail remained unmoved.  She fixed Lou with that oh so arrogant gaze.  “You healed your mother with magic, but cannot accept talking cats.”

Lou shook her head slowly.  She remembered the stories.  Mami and Daddy finding her in a ragged bundle in the forest.  Like a little miracle, they said.  A little green-eyed miracle.  Her strange, green eyes.

With a cry, Lou stood up and stumbled out of the stall.  She clutched at her arms, shaking and sick.  “What am I?  What’s a changeling?”  But Snowtail had said she wasn’t one of those.  She laughed a little hysterically.  Which talking cat was she supposed to believe?

“You are half wilde fae.”  Snowtail walked out of the stall, with Indigo bringing up the rear.  “I assume the other half is human.”

“What’s a fae?”

Indigo answered this time, as he approached her with caution.  “These days, humans call them fairies.”  He shook himself, then tumbled to the floor, to wriggle on his back.  He continued to talk, as if nothing was strange about rolling on the floor for a back-scratch in the middle of a conversation.  “But they’re nothing like humans imagine them to be.”  He paused and glanced at Snowtail.  Something about his expression suggested to Lou that he was afraid to go on.

Snowtail had resumed whipping the dust.  “They are … complicated creatures.  Like humans, in a way.” The cat stared at Lou and tilted her head to the side.  “Find the little man in the woods.  The one who sometimes works for you father.  He can tell you more.  There’s a lot he’s never told us.”

With a halfhearted nod, Lou turned and hurried from the barn.  Snowtail’s final words seemed to follow her all the way back to her bed.

IWSG and When Do you Know You’re Done?

Happy early Halloween!  Another month has come and gone, and it’s time to get insecure!

Wait, that came out wrong.  Anyway, it’s Insecure Writer’s Support Group day!  On the first Wednesday of every month, bloggers get together to share their deep seated insecurities, and find/offer support across the blogosphere.

ISWG is captained by Alex J. Cavanaugh.  The awesome co-hosts for the October 5 posting of the IWSG are Beverly Stowe McClure, Megan Morgan, Viola Fury, Madeline Mora-Summonte, Angela Wooldridge, and Susan Gourley!

The question this month is when do you know your story is ready?

The truth is, both never and whenever you feel like it

To clarify, I can always keep working on a story.  I grow and change as a writer every day, and I could revise the same story a dozen times, and come up with something new, and probably better to me, because my taste will have changed since the last revision.  I’ve even thought about doing this for the two stories I’ve already self-published, Shadow and Wings.

I re-read them recently, and found a number of things I’d like to change, because I’ve learned a lot since publishing those stories.  Which leads to the second part of my answer.

At some point, you have to decide that you’re done.  After a couple revisions each and a pass through my critique group, I made that decision with Shadow and Wings.  While I might entertain fantasies of revising both those stories and releasing new editions, I won’t be doing it.

Because, it would never end.  That feeling never goes away for me.  I would look back on every story I published and decide it needed to be fixed.  Not because it wasn’t a perfectly good story, but because I had changed, and it wasn’t the story I would have written anymore.

I have no regrets about what I’ve published.  I’m ready to move on to something new.

Do You Have Goals – Here Comes October

Autumn has officially set in, and we’re well on our way to the dreaded/beloved holiday season.  In my neck of the woods, the Christmas songs start playing on the radio early every year, so I’m guessing it’ll be some time after Halloween this year.  I’m looking forward to it

It’s the last Friday of the month, and that means it’s time for Misha and Beth’s Do You Have a Goal Blog Hop, where bloggers share their monthly goals.  The hop is hosted by Misha Gericke and Beth Fred.  Click the links to read the guidelines, join the hope and find some great bloggers to follow.

Let’s see how I did for September –

Start publishing my serial fiction – It’s actually happening.  Chapter 1 of Wilde Born releases this Friday, on my blog and Wattpad.  I already have a few stories up on Wattpad you can check out by clicking the link.

Publish 16 posts for the month – Done and done, because this is officially post number 16!

Add at least five more pages of content to my website – Nope

Add at least five more flash fiction pieces to my website –  I managed 1

Start taking and using my own pictures for the blog – You’ll find a decent amount of my pics in my blog posts.  They may or may not relate well to the post they appear in.

Goals for October

I’m changing things up a little, because I’ve realized I’m spending way too much time spewing out blog posts and not nearly enough time working on my writing and adding real content to my website.

Writing and revision are my new focus, as is adding more quality content to my website.  Wish me luck!

Add a new world (Coventry) to the Explore section of my website
Add 5 new pages of content to my website
Add 5 more short stories to my website and Wattpad
Post the first chapter of Wilde Born
Get ready for Nanowrimo

Good luck to my fellow Goal Blog Hoppers, and to everyone striving to meet their goals this month.  Sound off in the comments and share you own goals.  

Top Ten Tuesday – Fall TBR

It’s Tuesday! That means it’s time for a Top Ten List.  Top Ten Tuesdays are hosted by the wonderful ladies at The Broke and the Bookish.  Check out their website, and consider signing up for the Top Ten blog hop.

This week’s theme is Fall TBR.  I have a few more than ten books on my list for fall, but here are the top 10.  I’m also taking the Goodreads 2016 challenge.  Wish me luck, and let me know if you’re taking the challenge as well, or another reading challenge.

The Guns of the South by Harry Turtledove – I’ve been meaning to tackle this one for a while. I love alternate histories.

The Windup Girl by Bacigalupi Paolo – The title made me think steampunk, and the sample intrigued me enough to carry on reading.

Forgotten Arts and Crafts by John Seymour – I’m a crafty witch and always looking for new inspiration.

The Long Earth #1 by Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter – Another one that’s been on my radar for a while.

A Fine Romance: The Passage of Courtship from Meeting to Marriage by Judith Sills – Sort of curious what this one is about, so I’ll give it a shot.

Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott – I do love getting instructions on writing. If there are any good ones for life, I can only imagine they’ll be found in a writing book.

Between, Georgia by Joshilyn Jackson – I don’t read a lot of realistic fiction. I found this one on a recommended list, so I decided to go for it.

Everyday Life During the Civil War by Michael J. Varhola – Quenching my thirst for history, as my Christmas present to myself.

The Belgariad, Pawn of Prophecy by David Eddings – I’ve seen this one recommended on a lot of fantasy lists, and it’s recently floated to the top of my reading list, so I decided to give it a go.

The Five Love Languages of Children by Gary Chapman – I read the one geared toward adults and it made me curious whether the one for children would be much different.

Monday Update and feeling relaxed and educated

Another busy weekend, though a bit more relaxing this time.  I went out of town with my Mom and Bunny to visit a historical park near where we live.  Bunny loved it because there were a lot of places for him to run around, and plenty of animals for him to point at.  My mom and I enjoyed the attractions, history stories and beautiful weather.  Perfect for inspiration.

Writing

Caste of Iron –

Achieved:  1 scene, but a good scene. A scene that may actually stay in the finished novel.
Goal: 2 scenes this time, and I will make that happen.

Witchhunt –

Achieved:  Finished. It will need a lot of work, but for now, Witch-hunt can sit and breathe.

Flash story –

Achieved: Nothing, which was my goal, so, success?
Goal: Thinking about taking another flash break this week, but we’ll see.

Revising

Chalice –

Achieved:  50% achieved! While I do enjoy drafting, I love revising.  There’s something so magical about seeing what a story can become.  Trashing all the stuff you know is not working and developing all these new and exciting ideas.  I come up with some interesting stuff while drafting, but by far, most of my favorite ideas appear during revision.
Goal: Get 60% revised.  Not going too crazy. Last week went really smooth, but now I’m actually going to be re-writing my MS, and that can get more difficult and slow things down a lot.

Seer –

Achieved – Another hour with this one. Hopefully Seer isn’t feeling too neglected.  I am still enjoying it, when I get the chance to work with it.
Goal: Going for two hours again.

Disaster Story –

Achieved – I made it about half-way through the revision, so, not bad.
Goal – Hopefully I can finish it this week

Website

Still pretty quiet on the website front, but I can announce that I have a Wattpad account!  I know, not terribly exciting, but it’s new to me, so I’m pretty in to it.  I’ve only put up a couple stories so far, both of which are also available here on the website.  However, I did design some fancy cover art, so go me.

If you’d be willing to check out my stories and review them if the spirit moved you, I would really appreciate it.

Personal Goals

Dedicate a half hour, three nights a week to sewing Bunny’s quiet book –

Achieved: Two pages done, so I know it’s possible.
Goal: Going for it again this week, although with only twelve weeks left, I’m getting worried. There’s still the little pieces that go with each page, and the actual sewing the book together.

Exercise for at least 20 minutes every day.

Achieved: Not as much walking, but I did get into a workout every day, so I’m pleased. Bear was out of town quite a bit, so we didn’t get our couple’s walk.  Hopefully next week.
Goal: Trying for every day again

Read 10% each (I’m all about the ebooks) from:

Fashionable Food: Seven Decades of Food Fads by

Achieved: Finally made it to the 60s, and into the health food craze. Not surprising after the canned and pre-prepped decadence of the 50s.
Goal:  Can’t wait to see what’s happening in 80s cooking and hopefully it will start to look familiar J Granted, my experience was unique, as my family was half Cuban.

Almost through September and the holidays are getting closer!  Sound off in the comments, and share your goals for the week. 

Wewriwa and more from the world of Coventry

Time for another round of Weekend Writing Warriors, hosted on Wewriwa.  Participants share their 8-10 sentence WIP snippets.  Click the link to check out the rules, visit some blogs on the linky and sign up to share your writing.

A couple Sundays ago I shared a snippet of my current draft, Caste of Iron, set in the steam-punkesque world of Coventry.  It was a nice little family scene between main character Lewk and his sister and step-father.  Today you get to meet Lewk’s formidable mother, although she may not appear that way in this snippet.

This vase screamed Coventry to me :-)

Lewk walked through the small sitting room and into his mother’s bed chamber.

Songhist Khalope, matriarch of the Khalope family since her own mother had passed away, sat propped up by several thickly stuffed pillows. A damp cloth was wrapped around her neck, and her end table was scattered with jars and boxes of poultices and powders. 

She kept her healer busy, Lewk knew, and the man was too terrified to tell her she was perfectly fine.  He’d certainly told as much to Lewk, Mosa, Silla and anyone else who would listen.

Lewk suspected that his mother feigned her hypochondria so that her competitors in business would underestimate her.  And perhaps so she could avoid important family gatherings and reunions. 

He kissed her cheek and she wrapped her arms around him with a strength that belied her claimed weakness.  “Oh, my love, it’s wonderful to have you home.”  She released him and fished a handkerchief out of a box on the side table. 

As Lewk hints here, Songha is not someone to trifle with, as will be revealed later in the novel.  Let me know what you think and happy writing.

 

 

 

Lost in Worldbuilding – Writing Systems

Welcome to Lost in Worldbuilding, where you witness the crazy things I’ll do to avoid writing while still pretending that I’m writing.

Here’s where I admit the embarrassing truth, that I am a conlanger.

I have around a dozen languages in various states of creation.  Even worse, I have begun developing writing systems, runes, syllabaries and alphabets which the fictional people who speak my invented languages can write them.  Or would, if they were real.

Of all the ways I could possibly waste my time in worldbuilding, conlanging might be the biggest, at least to the level that I do it.  According to most critic and editors, conlangs don’t belong in my novels.  That hasn’t stopped me from putting them in there, and I know plenty of readers, including myself who love seeing invented languages in writing.  But based on the number of critiques I’ve received telling me these made up words were distracting, annoying and pointless, I believe I’m in the minority.

A lot of language conflict can be conveyed without using made up words, and certainly without inventing whole lexicons and grammars.  But designing languages appeals to the part of my brain that wants to understand how things work.  It’s nitty gritty, and fun, working out the sounds, the words, their meanings.  Figuring out how a single word comes to mean many different things.  Developing grammar, function words, word order, rules about how verbs, nouns and adjectives change to fit into a sentence.  And then figuring out all the fantastic conflicts that can arise from two people who speak different languages try to converse.

Insanity, truly.  But I love it.  Words, speech, language; it’s an art form.

If language is aural art, then writing is visual.  Here is the same sentence (give or take) written in my three biggest languages from the Threads of Magic series; Yois, Skaod, and Bok Sa, in their respective forms of writing.

Mameoch tosan! Roughly translated, it means “we go to war!”

The Yois have an alphabet similar to ours, with about two dozen letters.  Around a hundred years ago in Yois history, spelling was standardized.

Many at war.

The Yurha use a pictograph system, with pictures also representing certain sounds, in order to spell out words.  Men and women who live through the current conflict happening in Kerila will likely get something like this tattooed on their arms.  These pictographs are also written into wood, metal and rock.

Je sui emen oksyui! More directly translated, “go we to war.”  

Nietza’s alphabet has a nearly 300 letters, heavily paired down from the syllabary their ancestors brought from across the ocean.  The vast majority are consonants, which are the more decorative letters.  The relatively few vowels used in the alphabet are represented by a pair of triangles in various positions.  Pictured above is more common, informal writing.  Formal writing used in government, religious texts and engravings, is much more complex, and difficult to read without years of study.

I hope you enjoyed this little peek into my favorite way to kill time.  What do you do to avoid what you should be doing  Cheers!

Wednesday Word Count; a metal monster and a mysterious pox

The last of the summer flowers, for inspiration :-)

Caste of Iron –  12,047

snippet: Main character Lewk Khalope is right in the middle of a difficult magical working, when he’s interrupted by a terrifying arrival.  

****

“Kadi Khalope.”  The voice sounded distant to Lewk’s ears, as if the person whispered the formal address across the breadth of a canyon.  He pushed it away.  He’d warned the dock keeper not to interrupt him while he worked.

“Master Lewkam, it is important.”  That was Kotya, his ward.  Her voice trembled.

Little could faze Kotya.  Lewk unwove the strands of his power, and drew them back in.  His vision still tuned to magic, he turned.

Sadi Letsh, the dock keeper, was a rather dumpy man, with a thin mustache and an expression of perpetual boredom.  Now his dull eyes were bright with terror as he pointed up the shore.

Lewk followed the path of the finger and offered fervant prayers to the High Gods, the Inters and the Lowlies.  He wrapped an arm around Kotya and pushed the girl behind him.

A great metal beast lumbered over the beach.  Sunlight glinted off its clanking gray and black body. The horrendous creaking of the beast’s joints made Lewk wince.  Fishing nets spread across the sand caught its talons, ripping like tissue.  People scattered, screaming.  Men and women baring rifles fired them.  The bullets dinged against the monstrosity’s metal sides, but did no damage.

****

Witch-hunt – 6,481

snippet – Mara, and her fellow witch-hunters Baldur and Hedmar, have just arrived in a small village where several missing children were reported, only to discover the village itself overrun by a strange pox. Eon is the village mayor.  

****

They settled into chairs.  Eon rested his steepled hands against his mouth, seemingly lost in thought for a few seconds.  “It was a couple of children, this morning, that came down sick.  Around the same time we realized that five were missing.  We sent the report in for those five, and received word that Queen’s Mages would be arriving.  Not to long after that, the pox began to spread.”  He leaned back, touching his face gingerly.  “For many, it seems to be having little affect.  Aside from the sores, those afflicted still have good appetites, good breathing, no other signs of illness.”

Mara frowned.  “But others?”

Eon nodded toward the back of the tavern.  “We’ve brought them all here.  Most are near death, vomiting, expelling their bowels, can’t keep any food down.  Their skin damn near peeling off.”  He gingerly touched a sore on his forehead.  “There’s no rhyme or reason to who suffers.  Some of our strongest men are laid up in that room.”

Baldur grunted, exchanging a glance with Mara.  “Would you say most of them are?”

Eon shook his head.  “I considered that too, but no.  It’s all a mix in there, men, women, all different ages.”  He shook his head, expression growing dark.  “I’ve no idea what a witch would gain from this, but …”  he trailed off, clearly having nothing else to offer.

****

Sun through the trees, palate cleanser from all that pox talk :-)