Rival Gates's Blog, page 20

Girls and Books

Guys, have you ever asked out an absolutely beautiful girl who hasn’t gotten back to you promptly. Then another amazing girl shows up on your radar that you want to ask out. You can’t ask the second girl out because the first girl might still answer yes. In fact, you expect her to do so…in time. On the other hand you hate to lose the time you could be enjoying with the second girl. If only life had been so simple for me when I was younger? Now replace the girls with books. The first girl represents the book still at the editor’s. Are the corrections taking this long or did I cross the line with my number of corrections. Now think of the second girl as the second book I want to start. Once I start something, if I don’t finish it I tend to forget parts. That causes huge delays and eventually rewrites. Once the book is published there will be a great deal of promotion to do. I can’t concentrate on that and writing a book. My mind does not multitask on these things. So I’m stuck without a girlfriend, as it were. One I have to wait for and can’t do anything about. The other is there for the taking but I must wait for the first one’s response. I know there’s some fellow with bravado out there saying he’d date them both. Well my friend, it doesn’t work in life with girls or books. Take my word for it. Once again all I can do is wait for girl 1 or the book at the publisher. Girl 2 has been waiting over 30 years for me to take her out. She can wait a little bit longer.

Tuesday Excerpt, "Revenge"

Mandrean bent down to bring his face directly in front of
Necromancer’s. “You say you’re patient, but you’re not. You want
me dead so badly it’s eating you up inside. I know you just as you
think you know me. You wanted Grithinshield to murder me. The
fact that he failed is tormenting you day after day.”
Necromancer looked away during the speech and then focused
on the emperor.
“The only thing tormenting me is your minute intellect.”
“Say you are a spineless coward who can’t do things
himself…Say it,” Mandrean ordered as he stepped back.
Necromancer stood and looked Mandrean in the eyes. “Very
well, Sire. You are a spineless coward who can’t do things
himself.”
“Not me, idiot! Say I’m a spineless coward,” Mandrean raged.
“But I just told you that you are a spineless coward. If your
grace has forgotten, I would gladly tell him again.”
The master lost his temper and threw a stool across the room.
He stood by Necromancer shaking from his anger in frustration at
not being able to let it out at the wizard.
“Now,” Mandrean bellowed as he began to circle the albino,
“you didn’t help Grithinshield by any chance, did you?” He paused
and heard nothing in reply. “I didn’t think so,” Mandrean said with
sarcasm. “Because if you had helped Linvin kill me, that would
violate our little arrangement and present serious repercussions for
you.”
Necromancer did not speak. He merely looked away. Mandrean
found the silence more infuriating than the rude comments the
servant normally made.
“You do remember the agreement, do you not?” Necromancer
looked at him with a face that acknowledged the absurdity of the
question. That expression alone put his benefactor over the edge.
“You must follow my commands to the letter,” Mandrean
yelled. As if to prove his point, he barked an order.
Water had spilled on the floor from the bath. It made the surface
slippery and dangerous. “I wouldn’t want to slip and hurt myself in
a fall. Dry up all the water on the floor immediately!”
Necromancer rose and smiled knowingly. Then he waved his
hand. The floor turned red as it instantly became superheated. In as
much time as it took Mandrean to scream in pain and leap into the
water, all the liquid on the ground was dried and gone.
Necromancer was unaffected by the sudden change in ground
temperature as he hovered above the floor. He bowed in jest and
said, “As you commanded, Oh, great one, all the water on the floor
was dried up. Do you have any other commands that I may follow
so precisely?”

Waiting...

It took longer than I expected but I finally finished my last edits on “Repercussions Abound.” Now it is in the hands of my publisher. Will they go along with the numerous changes I have made? Will they ignore my changes and print it as is? Like I said, it’s in their hands. I’ve had publishers make my changes before printing and I’ve had them ignore my opinions. It can be a frustrating time but in the end the writer usually has to make some concessions. After all, the publisher holds all the power in this situation from the time you first submit your manuscript. All I can do now is sit and wait. I often refer to my works as my children. This is like sending your children to school on the first day and waiting for the bus to drop them off to you at the end of the day to see how it all went. The tension is tremendous. To distract myself I am reveling in my first book, “Quest for the Red Sapphire” receiving a five star review! It was a glowing endorsement and really made my day. You can read it on Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... or Amazon. It was a ray of sunshine on a rainy day. It’s always nice to hear someone loved one of your babies.

Tuesday Excerpt, "Crucible"

General Maxion was the first to step forward. He cried aloud, “Pawns.” Three young boys dressed entirely in black rushed from their seats on the benches toward the map on the floor, in between Maxion and the Emperor. Each boy had a number sewn onto his shirt. They were clearly numbered one, two and three.
They all took up positions north of Marinhalk on the map. One went to the extreme north, closest to the Emperor. Two and Three took up positions parallel to one another further south on the map.
Maxion bowed in a grand gesture and addressed his Emperor. “My good Lord Mandrean, my Province continues to flourish. The mines continue to produce vast quantities of precious ores. Iron mining has nearly doubled since our last meeting. Lumber also is progressing well into the northern wilderness. Our contribution to the glory of the Empire is clear and noteworthy.
“The First Division patrols the border with the Ice Giants to the north. The Second and Third Divisions are segmented into garrisons and placed around the key mining and forestry production to prevent slave revolt. All is well with my Province.”
Mandrean looked irritated and handed his goblet to Fendri without saying a word. He stood and observed the pawns’ position in detail. “As usual,” he barked. “You tell only the side of the story you want to be heard. What of the revolts in the mines?”
“As I mentioned, My Lord, the Second and Third Divisions are in place to prevent such instances.”
Mandrean appeared evermore lucid as he paced before his general. “So I was misinformed that gold production was brought to a halt for nearly a month? Are you saying the reports were wrong about your subordinates selling the slaves’ food for profit to line their pockets and afford their…attire? Are you also saying that the chain of revolts by starving slaves that followed did not require both the Second and Third Divisions to quell? In doing so I suppose it would also not be true that crushing the revolt reduced the work force by half. So did these things happen or are you simply withholding my gold shipments?”
Maxion’s arrogance evaporated in the light of the disclosure. After a moment’s pause he replied. “My Good Lord, the facts of these matters have at the least been contorted and spun in a most incorrect manner.”
“Well,” Mandrean said as he walked forcefully to his general and stared him in the eye. “Why don’t you explain it in a way that will not have your skin hanging from the battlements of this building?”
Maxion’s words sputtered out slowly. “You see…the Ice Giants have increased their tribute demands. If we do not meet their quota of food, we risk them coming into our realm this winter and taking what they wish. I do not have sufficient men to fend off such an attack. It was for that reason some of the provisions intended for the slaves were diverted to the offering. In hindsight, we gave too much and the slaves rebelled. The results were unfortunate but could have been considerably worse if we had not paid the ransom.”
Mandrean struck his palm to his forehead. “So let me understand. You took provisions from the workers and caused a mutiny with great loss in manpower and production and I am supposed to believe you did it for the good of the Empire?”
“Those would not be my words, My Lord, but the essence is correct.”
Mandrean produced a knife from his sleeve and held it to Maxion’s throat. “I will investigate your statements. If I find the slightest discrepancy in the story, I will peel your skin like that of a potato and feed it to the hogs. Now get out of my sight.” Maxion stepped back and performed more of a courtesy than a bow. Then he meekly returned to his seat.

Final Edits

The final edits are back for me to go over and look for errors. After I’m done with this, the book should be ready to go. Now I have to be meticulous and be sure nothing was missed. It won’t be long now until you will have your chance to get “Repercussions Abound” and find out what happens next in the story. It should be out in September.

Tuesday Excerpt, "Quest"

The first man came to a stop not more than ten paces away from the one blocking his path. Then he spoke. “You certainly chose an obscure place for this transaction, Mr…”
The second man answered. “My name is of no consequence here, but yours is Dirk Grithinshield. I suppose you would have preferred to do business in your sizable store in the merchant district, but I find this setting more to my liking.”
“Your odds are better as well,” Dirk commented dryly. “You can tell your men surrounding me to come out. We are alone, and I already know where they are hiding.”
“You are mistaken,” the man said halfheartedly. “The agreement was that we each come alone.”
“Indeed, that was the arrangement,” Dirk confirmed. “You can tell that I have not been followed. However, I can see the breath of your men hiding there, there, there and there.” Dirk pointed at places in a circle around him. “It makes me wonder if you have kept your word on the rest of our bargain.”
The man waved, then four armed men stepped out of the shadows and moved closer to Dirk. “You’re observant, Grithinshield. I’ll give you that.”
Dirk sighed in a tone that suggested that the situation did not surprise him in the least. “I could inquire further about your expected deception, but I want this transaction to be over with as soon as possible. Do you have the key I seek?”
The man was angered that his actions were anticipated and that they had not intimidated Dirk as he had hoped. “I have the key, but I didn’t hear any coins jingle as you were walking. That makes me wonder if you have the money on which we agreed.”
“I am quite prepared for you, good sir,” Dirk answered. “The money is close by. Now, since you appear to have me at a disadvantage, and I am the one who has kept his word so far, you will show me what I am purchasing first.”
The man scowled and produced a golden key from his pocket. Begrudgingly, he tossed it to the waiting right hand of Grithinshield. Dirk ran his fingers down its length and looked at its handle in detail. Then, he tossed it back to the man who caught it in midair in an effort to defend his face.
“That is a poor attempt at a forgery,” Dirk said sternly. “Not only is the key warped, but you can see a glimpse of the iron underneath, where it was held as it was dipped in a coating. The key I seek is solid gold. Your credibility is dwindling by the moment and I am mildly annoyed. Show me the real key, if you have it, or you will not see a single gold pharring.”

Editing

I am going through edits for my fourth book, “Repercussions Abound.” This is actually my second time going through the edits. You see there is a process to editing a book. If you have followed my blogs over the years you might remember this. I send in the manuscript. The editor then tears it apart and finds twelve different sections they want written differently. The problem is, I wrote the story the way I did for a reason and so I end up fighting back and forth to save my “Babies” that I have created against the slash and burn of the editor who wants it written their own way. After going back and forth, you give a little and they give a little. In the end neither of you is totally happy but you have your book finally done. When I received the new edits I expected the usual battle. Then I went to work. There were some minor spelling and grammatical errors but the big line of red through a section of the writing never appeared. I reached the end in record time and was in a state of shock. Then I started to wonder. Had I just written a novel without disputable points or did the editor skim through the document? Was it bad that there weren’t any areas of contention? I consulted my wife with my concerns. She said, “So let me get this straight, you’re upset because they DIDN’T find anything wrong with your book?” Am I just paranoid because I have been brutalized in the past? Maybe so. I am doing a second edit just to make sure everything is up to snuff but then I will send it back. I am proud of this book. It is definitely some of my best writing. Let’s hope this second edit goes well.

Wednesday Excerpt, "Crucible"

It was at that moment the locked double doors flew open and a hurricane force wind swept into the room, extinguishing all the torches and lanterns. The goblins were knocked to the ground alongside their captives. A bright white light shone in through the doorway. Its radiance was blinding and all shielded their eyes. Through the luminosity the silhouette of an individual grew as it approached. Once the shadow reached Linvin he could finally see who entered the room.
Hovering just off the ground was a diminutive Human man, no bigger than Rander with his arms outstretched to the sides. He was adorned in a white silken robe with gold embroidery at every edge. Handcrafted sandals of the finest quality covered his feet. He lowered his arms and the light and wind dissipated. His face could be discerned.
His skin was white as snow. It was as though he had never been in the sun. A gray beard obscured much of his lower face and dipped down to his chest. As the breeze subsided, his hair fell back around his head. The short salt and pepper locks fell gracefully around his face. Even with that, the most notable feature was only just coming into view.
The man’s eyes were sunken deep into their sockets. There were no pupils or irises in the eyes. They glowed in a combination of red and orange hues. Their appearance in the darkened cavities of the skull was that of smoldering coals in a blacksmith’s forge. They gazed about the room as the man set down on the ground. The goblins shook with fear. Even the obstinate Hugon cowered on the floor.
The man spoke with a voice that was both amplified and at a screeching pitch. “Word has reached me that my prisoners have arrived. You did not inform me as I had ordered. WHY?” The walls shook from his voice.
Hugon crawled forward with his belly impeding his progress. “Great Necromancer, we received no orders telling us to inform you.”
Necromancer grew enraged at the statement. “Do not lie to me, Vile Vermin.” He held out his palm. A wind blew through the room and gathered the ashes from the scroll. Drawing together in a vortex, it deposited the remains in his hand. With the soot in his possession he closed his fingers. The ash changed back into the scroll. Opening the parchment he read it to himself. “I seem to have found the orders,” he said as he dropped them in front of Hugon. The Jailor did not move.
Without notice Necromancer reached out one hand and unleashed a plume of fire the like of which no one but a Lava Giant had ever seen. The flame poured over the quivering bodies on one side of the room. The entire area was enveloped in liquid flame. After a few short moments, he pulled his hand back and the fire withdrew back to his palm. All the goblins on that side of the room were gone. No trace was left to show they’d ever existed. The elves had been in that area as well, but they were unscathed. Their skin had not even risen in temperature.

Tuesday Exceprt, "Quest"

After eating a combination of pork and biscuits, Linvin took stock of his party’s condition. Bander still wore a bandage on his swollen eye. Rander moved gingerly from his bruises on his back, but otherwise appeared to be well. Anvar, however, showed no ill effects of his blow to the head only a day earlier. He acted as though he had never been hurt at all.
Linvin checked under Anvar’s bandage and found no mark of the crushing blow anywhere. “Are you completely healed?” Linvin asked in astonishment. Anvar modestly nodded as he sipped some water.
“That’s impossible,” Rander said as he looked for himself, “I saw the hit you took and was surprised it didn’t kill you. To be healed in a day, is...is...”
“Magic,” Anvar interjected. “That same energy which flows through me to give me my magic also heals injuries at a greatly increased rate.”
“You mean you can’t be killed?” Bander asked. Anvar smiled and shook his head while using his hand to seemingly wave off the idea. “Oh, I can die as surely as any of you,” he offered. “The difference is, if I am merely hurt, the magic I channel restores my body to health far more quickly than normal. Even with this ability, I have a point of injury, like you, from which I cannot come back.
It would take more energy to save me than my body has the strength to channel. If I am hurt that much, my fate is sealed. That was not the case this time.
“Make no mistake, though,” he continued, “healing is just as taxing on me as using my magic any other time. Instead of releasing the power, it repairs damage to my body.”
Linvin could not help but wonder what other bits of knowledge Anvar had yet to disclose to the company. It seemed his secrets had no end. While many people would have worried about such things, Linvin felt little concern. His faith in his uncle and his intentions would not be swayed. Whether it was denial or trust could be debated with vigor. The fact remained that Linvin would not match wits with his uncle. To do so would be as a harvest reaping only the fruits Anvar would choose to provide. He had given all the information he was willing to give for the time being. The matter was closed.

Hats Off

This piece has nothing to do with writing but everything to do with hats. I specifically refer to the baseball type of headwear. It is no secret that I am out of the loop on fashion and what is hip or cool or happening or rad or bitchin’. Most fashion statements make no sense to me like the low rise jeans which allow you to see someone’s underwear. I don’t want to see that. Well hats used to be a simple affair. You found one you liked and you wore it. Now you have the curved brimmed hat people and the flat brimmed hat people. Let’s start with the curved ones first. When you buy it you remove any stickers or tags from it and wear it either lightly on your head or down low if you’re out in the wind. I am one of these people and we seem to be a dying breed. Now let’s look at the flat brimmed hats. All tags are left on the hat including the hanging ones. There always has to be a metallic tag stuck somewhere on the lid. This is like the seal of authenticity. It has to be there or the hat is worthless. Then there is the fashion in which it is worn. It could be worn backward draping down over the neck. It might be worn to the side or to the side and slightly down. On rare occasions it is worn forward, barely touching the head. What does it all mean? Is it some kind of gang symbol? I doubt it. But it definitely has its own language. Each way of wearing it must mean something. And what’s with the tags staying on? I walk into the store with my kids and it looks like they stole the hats they’re wearing. I mean, seriously, why would you ever want a tag hanging from the back of your hat? It makes no sense. To me it says you stole the hat and you were too stupid to remove the tags before wearing it. I know right now there are people out there laughing at my ignorance. But there have to be a few who are also wondering what the heck is going on. Besides, I don’t like the flat brimmed hats because they stab into my skull when I pull them tightly. Maybe that’s the reason for all the different positions with the hat. Who knows? I’m not the brightest about these things. After all, my daughter called me a “Nube” for a whole year before I found out it was an insult. Maybe by then I’ll know why my hat choices are so out of style.