Rani Divine's Blog, page 12

Not really love

Hi guys, and welcome back to Too Many Books to Count! I’m glad you stopped by. Personally, I’m in mild shock that we’re already this far through February, but I really think that happens every year, doesn’t it? It always seems to go faster and faster, and before I know it, it’s Christmas again.
This month, since it’s February and a month where we tend to focus on ideas of love, I wanted to spend some time talking about the many different forms of love, and how we use them in our writing. We’ve already discussed the big ones, however, so it’s time to get into those you might not have thought of before.
This week, in fact, we’re looking at some of the negative forms love can take.
Lust
I know, I know, some of you will right away point out that lust is in fact not a kind of love, but that’s part of the point in including it. Remember, the lack of love or the perversion of love are also themes we see a lot in writing, themes prominent in a lot of stories we love, though we might not have ever noticed it.
Lust, in my opinion, is usually between two characters who don’t belong together. Two characters who the reader probably knows do not belong together. And somehow, that’s what makes it an interesting read.
It’s one of those things that usually looks a little like unrequited love, but in a very strange way. Lust usually takes place when one character loves another, and that other character does not love the first. But, it also takes place when two characters do indeed believe that they love each other, though in actuality are together out of convenience (or some other reason, as it completely depends on the story, in that case).
For me, lust is actually something I’m quite fond of, in writing. It feels wrong of me to say that, but it’s true. It’s one of those themes that I eat right up, when I pick up a book that contains it. It’s a love that should never have been, a love that shouldn’t be now, and a love that our characters need to find a way out of.
That process, to me, is fascinating. I’m not morbid, I promise. I just love the way people think, and I love seeing how they process emotions.
In any case, I’m not alone in my feeling. Millions of readers also love this theme—why do you think it’s so popular in romance novels, if that’s not the case? (I actually really don’t like romance novels, but the point still stands!)
Lust can be a powerful motivator in a story. It can motivate your antagonist, yes, but it can also motivate your protagonist. Maybe your protagonist thinks they are in love, and will do anything for the person they love. Only, partway through the story, we realize that this love is not love at all. It’s lust—and it’s something our protagonist must learn through, in order to find the true love they so desire.
Because, as we’ve already discussed, everyone loves to be in love.
If you’ve haven’t tried out lust as a theme in your stories, I certainly hope you’ll give it a go—and if you have, you should leave me some links to your work, cause I’d love to check it out!
[love]
{Rani Divine}

By blood

Hi everybody, and welcome back to Too Many Books to Count! I’m so glad you stopped by. If you’ve been hanging with me for a bit, you know that this month we’re taking some time to talk about love. Love in its many forms, all of which become catalysts for the vast majority of good books on the market. There’s always love, in some shape or form. It’s always there. It’s always a major plot point—whether you realize it or not.
So that’s what we’re discussing this month. We’re looking at some of the various forms of love, and discussing how they fit into our writing, and how we can use them to better our works. Why? Because everybody loves to love, whether they’ll admit to it or not.
Today, one of those I’m sure you thought of right away (and could probably name a million examples of, too):
Friendly Love
We’re talking the love you share with your best friend, the bond you have with the people around you, the people close to you, but the people who are definitely not related to you. Yeah, those relatives get their own special little love box, and it’s nowhere near this one.
Friendly love, brotherly love, whatever you want to call it, is a love that drives… oh, I don’t know, a million billion stories forward?
Think Lord of the Rings. That story is filled to the brim with friends, and has very little in term of family. Sure, Pippin and Frodo are distant relations, Elrond and Arwen are father and daughter, and Boromir and Faramir are brothers—but none of those are the primary relationships that are drawing the story forward.
No, the primary relationships are those of purest friendship.
Think of Frodo and Sam. Sam loves Frodo, Frodo is his very best of friends, to the point that Sam is literally willing to die for Frodo. That’s a kind of love that readers adore. It’s a kind of love we hope we’ll feel one day. We all want to be a friend like Sam (and really, we all want to have a friend like Sam, too).
I’ll go one deeper though. Ever heard of blood brothers?
I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, “blood is thicker than water,” but did you know that it’s not actually intended to mean that your familial relationships are stronger than the friendships you make outside your family? It's derived from blood brothers. It means the brothers you choose, the brothers you make a vow with, are the strongest relationship you’ll ever have. It means that this bond you have with your friend, that’s blood. And every other relationship is like water in comparison.
That’s the kind of friendly love that drives a story forward, compelled by purest love, that readers just can’t get enough of.
It’s a love that never leads to lust or romance, a love that never strays from what it was at the start, a love that chooses again and again and again to fight for each other, because blood is thicker than water.
And if it’s not a love you’ve written before, you’d better get on it. Because everybody needs a Samwise Gamgee in their life, even if you have to be the one to create him.

Next week, we’ll start talking about some kinds of love that you’ve probably never considered as kinds of love before—and I’ll even explain why you should use them more often!
[love]
{Rani Divine}

Sibs

Hi guys, and welcome back to Too Many Books to Count! I’m so glad you stopped by. All month long, we’re talking about the extremely logical February topic of…. (you guessed it)… love! But We’re not just talking about romantic love. No, no, we’re taking this month to talk about the many different kinds of love, and dig a little deeper into why love is so central in every good story ever written.
Last week, we started off with the mushy one. The romantic one. The one you think of whenever somebody says “love story.” This week, let’s derail that a bit.
One of my favorite kinds of love stories, involves none other than…
Sibling Love
And maybe some rivalry, too. Because we siblings love each other while also simultaneously competing with each other. Why? Because we do. We don’t need a better reason than that.
You might not think of sibling love as a kind of love that could drive a story forward, but you’d be wrong. See, siblings have a bond that’s not easy to find among other people. Unrelated people. Random people. Friends. Even in other familial relationships. There’s just something special that unites siblings under a single banner, and it’s something that draws readers in, time and time again.
I’ll use one of my own books as an example for this. In Dwr: People in the Water, the only reason Malcolm and Maisie are leaving the plains is that Malcolm wants to find a better life for his sister. He’s her caretaker at this point in the story, sure, but mostly he’s her big brother and he just wants to look out for her. He wasn’t able to do that in the plains, and now he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
They’re each other’s family—the only family they have left. And it unites them in a unique way, a way that’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t have a sibling.
Then there’s Freia and Emmett, from Cedwig: People in the Vines, the twins who couldn’t be more different, and yet their rivalry is what ends up pushing the story through several of its major plot points. Emmett wants to be the strong and logical leader of their family, but Freia was never going to need him that way. She loves her brother as a brother, but she could never look up to him as a father figure.
Two very different perspectives on sibling relationships, and yet both were primary draws within stories of their own.
It’s all boiling down to love. Malcolm made the decisions he did in Dwr because he loved his sister and wanted what was best for her. Emmet did the same, in Cedwig. So did Freia.
And you know what I love most, about writing this kind of love? It’s a love that innately knows, what the other person is going through. How? Because we share a unique bond with our siblings. We grew up together. We faced the world together, as children. And now we’re going to face it together as adults, because of a love that unites us.
Of course, the opposite can also be true, in many stories—and still be a fantastic driving force. Consider Rydrek and Loke from The Wraith and the Wielder (AC Schafer). They’re twins, and they’re always trying to one-up each other, but their relationship always boils down to how much they love each other. The events of the book follow all three siblings, Merrith and the twins, and their loving and loveless relationship that could bring the world down, if they let it.
Sibling love is one of the better and more fun versions of love, to play with in story. If you haven’t given it a go, I highly recommend it!
[love]
{Rani Divine}

Mushy

Hi everyone, and welcome back to Too Many Books to Count! I’m so glad you stopped by. It’s really a joy to have you. I love knowing you’re out there, reading what I’m writing. As a writer, it’s one of the most thrilling things in the world, to know someone else is enjoying the words I write. So, really, thank you for stopping by.
All month long, we’re talking about love. If you didn’t check out my intro post for the series, check the navigation on the right to find it.
As February is the month of love, I wanted to spend the month talking about the most pivotal plot point in any given story, whether that story be centered on what most people think of as love, or not. And because it’s the first thing we think of when someone says “love story,” I thought we’d start with…
Romantic Love
Getting the mushy one out of the way first.
I know for a fact that when anyone says the words “love story,” this is the kind of story that will pop into your head. You’ll think of a romance, a story where the romantic relationship between character A and character B is the only thing that really matters throughout the entirety of the story. I’d argue that you’re wrong, that this is not the most common type of love story, but we’ll get into that later.
See, readers love romantic love. They do. We all know this. We know how well romance novels sell. We know how quickly readers will gobble up a romance novel, even if it’s essentially the same novel they’ve read a hundred times over. It’s a safe story, a story where they know the boy and the girl will get together in the end and all will be well. That’s why a lot of easy readers love the romance genre. They love the ability to pick up a book and know they won’t be sad at the end, that they’ll get to experience the romantic love of this beautiful couple, and when they close the book they’ll be ready for another one.
Romantic love is also something that’s permeated pretty much every genre, no matter how you slice it. There’s always romantic love, in nearly every book you’ve ever read, and every story you've ever seen. There’s always a couple, a pair of people you, as readers, just really want to see together. Whether it’s Arwen and Aragorn, Geralt and Yennefer, Robin Hood and Maid Marion, or Spiderman and Mary Jane, Iron Man and Pepper (can you tell what genres I like?), there’s always a couple.
The reason for that is the same as the reason why readers love romance books. It’s safe. It’s a story we all know, a plot line we can root for and hope for and dream about. Why? Because the majority of people really do love to be in love. And they’re willing to experience it through someone else’s shoes, because they love it so much.
But romantic love is also something many writers struggle with, both if they do and if they don’t know it’s something readers will inevitably be looking for in the books they read. See, if you, as a writer, know that it’s something you need to include, then you tend to force it out. And if you, as a writer, don’t know it’s something you need to include, then you tend to push it aside as a cliche. And if either of those happens, nobody wins.
I’m not entirely sure why so many writers struggle with this theme of romantic love, or why it’s so polarizing in the world of writing, as to whether it should be included or not, but I do know that it’s an issue we could all stand to work on—and that there’s a simple fix.
Don’t force anything. Please.
The best love stories are the ones nobody saw coming—even you. The love stories readers adore are the ones they start shipping before you’ve even noticed your two characters are making eyes at each other.
Your story needs to have love. It will probably have romantic love, because as humans, we can’t help but include it. But if it does have romantic love, let it happen naturally. The same way it should happen in real life.
The point of today’s post is this:
Just stop fighting it. It’s going to happen. Let it happen naturally, and see where it goes. Your readers will thank you for it, and they’ll probably love your love story even more because of it.
[love]
{Rani Divine}

Luv

Hey everyone, and welcome to Too Many Books to Count! I’m so glad you stopped by. If you’ve been sticking with me a while, then I sincerely hope you enjoyed last month’s series on the Druid Novels—and that you’re as excited as I am for Anialych: People of Sand to hit shelves! It’s now available for preorder at RAD Writing, so be sure to head over and get yours reserved!
(and if you weren’t here last month, scroll down or click in the side navigation to read all about my Druid Novels and check out some awesome excerpts from my upcoming release!)
But now, we have a new series to get to. It’s somehow already February, which means it’s time to change things up and get into a new topic for the month. And, since it’s February, it makes sense that we should talk about…
Love
I’m about to get super technical on you, right here. Watch.
Miriam Webster’s dictionary defines love as a strong affection for another, rising out of kinship or personal ties. As tenderness felt by lovers. Affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests. Even as an assurance of that affection. It’s also defined as a warm attachment or devotion, and as the unselfish, loyal, and benevolent concern for the good of another.
And it’s one of the biggest themes you’ll ever see in writing—because it’s literally in every story you’ve ever read, every story you’ve ever told, and every story that will ever be. No matter what, no matter if you’re writing a love story or not, there’s always an element of love—because if there wasn’t, most readers wouldn’t know how to read the story. Why? Because we all love, every single day. Our lives revolve around love. It’s just that we don’t often think of it that way.
That’s what we’re going to spend this month talking about.
February is, after all, the month of love. It’s the month we always think about, when we think about love. (I think that’s a little weird, by the way. I would imagine December would be more lovey, what with all the holidays)
Today, as the start of the series, I’m just going to give you a taster of what’s to come this month.
You see, love has many variants—and that’s what I’ll be spending this month talking about. We’ll discuss the many different kinds of love, and even the lack thereof. We’ll talk in detail about everything from romantic love to crippling fear, and discuss why it is that readers love stories that revolve around love.
This month, my dear writer friends, I’ll show you how it’s not anger that’s the opposite of love. No, no, anger is the opposite of happiness. Hate is the opposite of joy. Love, my friends, is the opposite of fear. The two go hand in hand. And once you, as a writer, come to realize that… well, you’ll be able to take a whole new spin on every single story, and bring your readers along for a ride they’d never imagined possible.
The discussion starts on Thursday. I hope you’ll join in the fun!
[love]
{Rani Divine}

My Boy (excerpt)

Hi guys, and welcome to Too Many Books to Count! I’m glad you stopped by for this, the last of our excerpts for the month of January. In this one, I want to show you a little something about what’s coming, a little flavor of what these people will face.
I want to get you as excited as I am—because preorders hit shelves tomorrow.
So, I hope you enjoy this excerpt. And I hope you see how much went into this story, how deeply this story impacted me.
I can’t wait for you to read the whole thing.
[love]
{Rani Divine}


Excerpt from Anialych: People of Sand
By Rani Divine© Copyright RAD Writing, 2019
Rhaden leapt onto the back of his horse and firmly took hold of the reins. He didn’t bother to make sure Zion followed suit. The man had already now spoken to Moses himself, and knew there would be no transfers, no reassignments. He was stuck with Rhaden, until such time that he was officially promoted to command.  The hardest part about this day would be spending it with a man who thought so little of him. Even a few days ago, Rhaden would’ve said that the man who now rode beside him was one of his best friends, that the two of them would likely always play some role in each other’s lives. Now, he wondered how long it would be before Zion gave up and found a way to subvert Moses in order to get out from under Rhaden’s command. Or how long it took him to resign.  His heart burned in his chest with the movement of the horse beneath him as they started up and out of the valley, around the edge of the cliffs to a path that led to higher ground. When he’d been in Aran’s home, he’d thought it would be the most difficult part of the day; being so close to Delilah without seeing her, having her in the same building, hearing the faint sound of her tears through the door, while not allowed to do anything about it. But that had only lasted a moment, and there was no telling how long this task would take.  All he hoped was that the army wasn’t already on their doorstep, that they had time to prepare, time to send the women and children away to the Anialych before the battle began. He’d already thought things that far through. If the men were ordered by the village leaders, to send the weak away to another land, they would listen without hesitation. They wouldn’t even have to know where their families were going. The men themselves would stand and fight, if only to protect those they loved. He couldn’t stand to think how much hurt could come over Tywed if the army had already arrived, if the danger was already on their doorstep. There wasn’t much two men on horseback could do to thwart an entire army.  He sighed under his breath and kept his eyes on the path before him. He’d wrapped a cloth around his head, to keep him cool in their travels. Zion had neglected to do the same, but it wouldn’t be an issue. The man had always been able to last longer in the sun. Only Rhaden’s eyes had been left uncovered, unprotected from the rays of heat that bounced all around them.  As they went, he scanned the road. Parts looked as though another group had passed through here recently, but from atop the horse it was difficult to tell if the tracks were from other horses or if they’d been made by animals in the wild. With much of the ground hard and rocky, it was hard to tell where anything had actually walked anywhere, or if the mess had only been caused by a landslide. They’d seen dozens of those, in the caravan’s first trek down to where Tywed now stood.  For hours they rode, Zion a short distance away to Rhaden’s left, as they made their way up the hillside. Neither had spoken a word since they’d left the town, and for Rhaden, it grew cumbersome. The least Zion could’ve done was speak to him about the tracks, the strange markings upon the ground, the fact that there might very well have been an army up there waiting for them. But all he did was ride in silence, keeping his eyes on the path and following in Rhaden’s command. If he hadn’t been ordered to do so, Rhaden had no doubt that the man would’ve stayed behind. He’d done everything in his power to stay behind as it was, but Moses didn’t like to see newly promoted men slacking off. He wanted to see the new lieutenant commanders doing what they’d been called to do, no matter what. So, unhappily, that was what Zion now did.  When they were almost halfway up the side, Rhaden tugged on the reins. “Whoa,” he said, patting the animal’s thick neck.  Zion silently came to a halt behind him, as though he didn’t even care why his commander had stopped.  Sighing under his breath, Rhaden dismounted and tied his horse’s reins to a cleft in the rock formation beside him. “We go on foot from here,” he said, looking up at the lieutenant still upon his horse. “That’s an order,” he added when Zion made no move to follow.  By the look in his eye, Rhaden knew what the man was thinking. This was far from the first time he’d angered a man enough to have him plotting murder. Unfortunately for Zion, this path was well known by the rest of their people. If he did try something, they would know. Moses would know. And Zion would lose everything he’d worked so hard for—including Delilah.  “Don’t make me repeat myself,” Rhaden said as he started up the hill on foot.  Behind him, he heard Zion’s begrudging feet land solidly on the ground. The horse trotted a few steps, and within moments Zion was walking up the hill behind Rhaden.  That was all he’d needed to know. Zion was still willing to follow orders, even when he no longer fully trusted his commanding officer. It meant he would make a good commander, when the time came. In many ways, he was already good enough to have been promoted. But he was still naïve in so many others.  Less than a mile later, Zion was the one to break the silence.  “Why couldn’t you have brought someone else on this mission?” he asked, exasperated.  “Moses wouldn’t allow it,” Rhaden replied flatly. If all the man wanted to do was complain, he would’ve preferred if he’d kept his mouth shut.  He grumbled under his breath, quietly enough that Rhaden couldn’t quite make out the words, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t listen as Zion groaned about his current circumstances, about being stuck with a man who he believed had solicited a woman of the night, a man who no longer held his respect. There was no point in fighting it. If Zion had already made up his mind, how could he hope to change it back? The man was as hard-headed as a mule. Delilah had even said as much.  “Quiet,” Rhaden whispered as a few stones slid down the hill ahead of them. He couldn’t see where they’d come from, couldn’t tell what might have caused the slide, but he didn’t want to take any chances.  They stopped and waited a few moments, both men staring in the direction of the fallen stones.  “It was probably just a lizard,” Zion breathed.  Rhaden nodded. “Carry on.”  Again they walked, and again Rhaden felt as though the man at his side wouldn’t bother to stick up for him in any sort of fight. Why would he? He wondered if this task had been a good idea at all, or if they should simply turn around and go back to Tywed. But if they did that, he would have to explain about the druids. He sighed quietly. Many still suspected there were creatures out there. The stories were still told in some of the taverns, late at night. What harm would it be, if they found out how much was true?  “Zion,” he said, slowing his steps but continuing up the path.  His lieutenant did not reply.  “I am aware of your lack of trust,” he continued, glancing over to look the man in the eye. “But things are not as they seem.”  “Unless you have an alibi I’m not aware of.” Zion shook his head. He saw hope in the man’s eyes, hope that somehow he’d been wrong, that the man he’d chosen for his little sister was not as bad as he now seemed. It spurned something in Rhaden, something that caused him to open his mouth and speak the words he’d been avoiding since the beginning of the incident.  “That night, when you saw Jezea in my home, I was not in Tywed,” he said, shifting his eyes back to the path in front of him.  The words were out. If Zion believed him, then the conversation would continue. If he didn’t, then Rhaden would again be scoffed, and they would continue on in silence. Either way, he’d tried. Something had been done.  For a long time, silence stood between them once again. Neither spoke a word, only kept their eyes upon the path and walked up toward the top of the cliffs. Rhaden’s mind turned back to the mission, to the task at hand, to finding a way to get Delilah back. That was the whole point of this, after all. He’d come out here in the first place to find the army, to tell the leaders of Tywed about the druids, to make it known that he’d gone to see them, and to have a solid alibi. Having Zion by his side now was the one thing he hadn’t accounted for. It gave him pause, made him wonder what would happen if the army really was up there waiting for them. This man wouldn’t be prepared to face them, especially if the plains had sent Scarrah’s best warrior.  “Why?” Zion asked, breaking the long quiet.  Rhaden stopped in his tracks and turned toward his second in command. “I saw two creatures, standing on the edge of town,” he said. “I went to them, and they took me to their home.”  He knew even as he spoke the words how bizarre and untrue it sounded. He doubted Zion would wish to continue the conversation, much less consider the fact that it might be honest. But the man looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “The ones that visit Delilah?” he asked.  Rhaden’s eyes widened. “You know of them?”  He shook his head and turned back to the path. “I don’t know what I know,” he breathed.  Having this new knowledge, Rhaden took a step closer to his friend. “I went to them to ensure your sister’s safety,” he continued. “They asked her to come to their village, to live the rest of her life with them.”  Zion’s narrow eyes looked back up at Rhaden. “Lilah would never—”  “What did she do when your brother threatened her?” he asked.  He nodded slowly. Delilah was going to leave them, when Aran had threatened her. She had no problem turning her back on her brothers, on their whole way of life. Silently, Zion started back up the trail, still following the tracks they’d seen from the very beginning—which were, by now, undoubtedly tracks.  Rhaden watched him for a moment, sighed, and followed after him. He’d hoped, when Zion knew of the creatures, that he would be more understanding. But this was not the time nor place to discuss such things. Zion had been right to walk away, to continue the mission. He couldn’t have his mind clouded, not with so much at stake.  He walked several steps behind his friend, and stopped in his tracks when Zion rounded a rock formation and lifted his hands in defense. “Run,” the man breathed, just loud enough for Rhaden to hear.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  Three more men walked out from behind the formation, arrows pointed directly at them.  “Take it off,” one of them ordered, gesturing to Rhaden.  He did as they said, unwinding the cloth from his head and letting it drop to the sand, unsure what else to do.  “My boy!”  Rhaden’s eyes closed and his heart sank to hear those words, words he’d hoped he would never endure again. The plains had done as he’d feared.

A thread

Hi there, and welcome to Too Many Books to Count! I’m glad you stopped by in this, the final week of January.
All month long, I’ve taken Tuesdays to talk about the stories behind the Druid Novels. The last few weeks, I’ve talked all about the circumstances surrounding my writings of Coetir, Cedwig, Dwr, and Mynidd. And now, we’ve come to the fifth book, the book that will be available for preorder this Friday. The fifth book to be released, and the first book, chronologically.
That made it a challenge to write, to be sure.
Anialych: People of Sand
Last week, I told you a bit about Mynidd, and how easy it was for me to write. I talked about how simply the words of that story flowed off the page, by the time I sat down to write them. Because of that, it was even stranger for me to sit down and find that I didn’t know how the story of Anialych really began.
Honestly, I didn’t know. No idea. Zilch. Zip. Nada. Nothing.
In fact, I tried three times to write the beginning of Anialych, each of which failed by chapter four. That’s almost one hundred pages in. I made it that far in, only to realize that the story wasn’t working and I needed to start over.
This had never happened to me before.
I had no idea how to respond to it, what to do with the mass of ideas in my head, that I knew by now didn’t really go together.
Up until this point, I’d known long before I sat down to write the book, who my first person narrator was going to be (remember, in the Druid Novels there is always one first person narrator, while the rest of the characters exist in third). I always knew that character, long before I started. Always. I knew them. I’d gotten to know them.
With Anialych, that narrator eluded me.
At first, I thought it might’ve been a druid.
I tried to write through the POV of the witch. I tried again, through the POV of a wanderer, Aedan (you met him, last week). Then, I tried through Delilah.
The final version of Anialych is actually my second attempt at writing the story through her POV. The first… well, it had issues. A lot of them. But by the time I stepped back and looked at it again, this time in her first person POV, I knew what the problem was.
I had too many ideas, too many things I wanted to express, and I needed to boil it down. The story had one thing it needed to do, one theme it needed to tell.
New beginnings—and the decisions that lead us there.
I’ve dedicated the final version of Anialych to everyone who’s ever looked back on a decision they made, wondering if they did the right thing. I did that, because it’s a major theme of Anialych. The world is going to change, and the people in this story are the ones to kick it off. They’re the ones who will first shake the world, first reveal the druids to humanity. If they don’t do this right, a vein of their failure will exist throughout time. If even one thing goes wrong, every other part of the world will feel it.
And I realized that there was a thread in every story I'd already written, a thread I could tug on. A thread I hope you’ll discover with me, in the first story of the druids.
Preorders open this Friday, only at www.RAD-Writing.com/Store.
[love]
{Rani Divine}

Nightmare (excerpt)

Hi guys, and welcome back to Too Many Books to Count! I’m glad you stopped by. It’s Thursday, after all, and this month, that means it’s excerpt day!
Today, I’m introducing you to one of my favorite characters. A character I had a hard time writing, all because he’s such an enigma. I think you’ll love him too, once you get to know him.
Today, I want to introduce you to Zion, and to Aedan.
Believe me, there’s so much more to come from both of them.
[love]
{Rani Divine}
Excerpt from Anialych: People of SandBy Rani Divine©Copyright RAD Writing, 2019
Zion’s eyes snapped open to see only darkness around him. His body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat and his heart raced, his hands clenched tight into fists. Never in his life had he had a dream so vivid, so lifelike and real. It was as though he was actually there, as though all of it had really happened.  It’d been nighttime, and all of Tywed had been in a still silence unlike any he’d witnessed before. It was as though they’d known what was coming, as though they’d known all along and done nothing to prevent its coming. The whole town had lain utterly quiet as arrows of fire rained down upon them, as everything went up in smoke and flames. He’d tried to run out and stop them, to put out the fires or shout for people to leave their homes, but he’d been unable to move. All he could do was stand in the center of Tywed and watch as everything he knew, everything their people had worked so hard to build, was turned to ash and dust. The whole valley oasis had gone up in flames, the fire reaching so high that he couldn’t see anything around him, but he heard their screams. Women and children had cried out for a rescuer, for someone to come and lend them aid, for someone to be their salvation from the depths of the flames. Zion had tried to run out to them, to go out into the village and save as many as he could, but still his feet would not move. He was cursed to stand and watch, to look on as destruction rained down upon the land he so loved.  Then his body had been taken out to the cliffs, to the top of the mountains to where he was looking down over Tywed. He saw the army that surrounded him, their flaming arrows still shooting down into the former oasis below. None had any expression upon their faces, but simply stood there and did as their commander ordered. He was taken to where he could look out over the army, and to where he could see the very face of the man who’d caused such death and destruction. The man was familiar, as though Zion had seen him and spent time with him on many occasions, but his face was somehow different. He was older, more rage and experience in his eyes than Zion had seen before.  The man had lifted his sword and cried out in a loud voice, again silencing the whole of Tywed. When his cry was complete, he lowered his sword and watched as hundreds of soldiers made their way into the city to destroy what was left of it. Every last man, woman, and child was destroyed. The animals were burned alive. Crops were set aflame. Houses were torn down and ransacked. The city was no longer recognizable, and the valley could no longer have been seen as an oasis. Zion had wondered if anything would ever grow their again, after that amount of death and destruction. After so much fire, would anything ever find a way to live in this place of death?  When Zion had looked again to the leader, his eyes had shifted to another man on his knees beside him. The man was in chains, tears streaking down his face and catching in his beard, wails of agony and deepest rage echoing through his soul. This was the man that Zion had known. The man, this chained beast, was the man Zion had known since the time they’d left the plains upon this expedition. He’d watched in silence as the man had cried out in grief and looked up to the leader of the army, begging him to cease this madness—but the leader would not hear him.  Then Zion was carried to another land, through the desert along the path of the river, to a mountainous region of trees and wildlife. He’d seen the army surround the people who lived there, seen the fire that raged down upon them as well, heard their cries as they were destroyed, their deaths coming even faster than the deaths of Tywed. His heart had ached for them. Never before had he seen these people, never had he imagined that they might exist, and still he hurt for their demise. This should not have come here, to this place of peace.  Then his eyes had opened and he’d known that it was all a dream, the most lifelike dream he had ever before experienced.  Zion sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, jumping out of bed when he saw the man standing in the corner of his bedroom, beside the only window.  “Who are you?” he demanded, taking hold of the sword that lay beside his bed.  “What you have seen will come to pass,” the man replied, hiding his face beneath the hood of his cloak.  “Show yourself.”  “May your eyes be opened, that you will believe,” he said before he disappeared from sight, leaving Zion again as the only person in the room.  His hand gripped tighter around the hilt of his sword and he turned in circles, searching for the man who had been in this room. He’d heard the man’s voice: it couldn’t have been a dream. The fire and destruction had been a dream, but now he was awake. He felt it. With wide eyes, he went to the window and opened the shutters, allowing the moonlight to filter in through the darkness. Again he turned and looked across his room, but no one was there. He was completely alone. But in his heart he believed that the man had been here, that it had not been a dream.  As quietly as possible, he went out and checked the rest of the house. He scanned the main room and stoked the fire to ensure there would be enough light before going to each of his sibling’s rooms. Aran was asleep on the edge of his bed, Yosef sprawled out over the whole of his mattress, and Delilah slept with open eyes, but they were alone. No one else was here. The house was empty, save the souls who lived within it.

Unique

Hi guys, and welcome back to Too Many Books to Count! I’m glad you stopped by :)
All month long, we’ve been talking Druids. Why? Because Anialych: People of Sand will be hitting shelves this March, and because preorders open in just over a week! I’m unbelievably excited for you all to experience the chronological first of the Druid Novels. Seriously, you don’t want to miss this one. It’s time to find out how it all began.
For now though, let’s continue our discussion on the other Druid Novels. So far, we’ve talked about the book that started it all, the book that started the series, and the book that I fought like nobody’s business. Today, let’s talk about the one I couldn’t get enough of.
Mynidd: People of the Hills
For the first time since Coetir, I didn’t fight this one. I knew now that it was a series, and that it was a series I couldn’t stop writing. By now, I’d taken the time to map everything out, to design the series as a whole, and I knew exactly what Mynidd needed to be. By the time I sat down to write it, I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know how this story unfolded. I needed to experience it for myself. And that’s why I still call Mynidd my favorite of the bunch. Because it was the one I couldn’t wait to write.
Mynidd, after all, is the story that flips everything on its head.
If you know anything at all about the druids, then you know they’re peaceful creatures. You know that they’re out in the world striving for peace. So when Mynidd opens with war, with the druids battling their way into the human’s village and detonating bombs, you know that this book isn’t going to be like the others.
No, this is the book that I couldn’t wait to write, because at the time, I had no idea how this was all going to work.
The Mynidd aren’t like their brethren. They’re not the kind of druids that thrive on peace and gentility. They’re harsh. They’re set in stone. And they know what they need to do. Even before I started writing the book, the Mynidd characters knew exactly what they needed to do and how they were going to do it. While I struggled to figure it out, they sewed the pieces together all by themselves.
I’ll tell you, I loved this book so much, I even loved editing it. Yeah, it was a lot to do, yeah, I had to rewrite whole scenes because I’d written them in the wrong person’s point of view, but you know what I didn’t have to do? I didn’t have to change the plot. I didn’t have to make hugely any major changes, or cut out any characters, or do any of the things I hate doing when it comes to editing.
I loved this book so much that it flowed out of me, that the edits flowed out of me (even when I was tired of doing them), and that I know once you pick it up, you won’t be able to put it down.
Of course, that made it quite the shocker, when it came time for me to write Anialych. You’ll see.
[love]
{Rani Divine}

A Private Affair (excerpt)

Hi everyone, and welcome back to Too Many Books to Count! I'm so glad you stopped by! 
As with every Thursday this month, today is excerpt day—and I've picked out a particularly good one, if I do say so myself. If you know much about the Druid Novels, then you know I'm fond of my female characters. You know I write a good heroine, a woman who doesn't take any guff. And with this excerpt, I hope to show you just how different the story can be, when you start at the very beginning. 
Everyone, meet Delilah. 
(yeah, yeah, I know you already met her—but you'll get a better glimpse of her, here)
[love]
{Rani Divine}
Excerpt from Anialych: People of SandBy Rani Divine©Copyright RAD Writing, 2019
I’d dreaded it all morning, but I’d carried through with everything that was my duty. Zion’s breakfast had been made before he woke, Aran and Yosef had had theirs shortly after he’d gone for the day, the water basin was cleaned, dishes were washed, the floor was swept, the hearth was dusted and wiped, and a fresh kettle of water had been hung over the fire. Tea would be ready by the time Rhaden arrived. Fresh cakes were cooling on the dining table, their scent wafting through the house, and now I stood by the kitchen table, staring out into the beautiful world beyond, the place to where I knew the voice had called me.  I should’ve gone. That was my one chance, and I feared that I’d lost it. Once my suitor came to this house, I would have no future ability to leave Tywed. Unless by some miracle he decided that I was not worthy to become his match, things would only progress from here. The first meeting was only the beginning. Next time we would be allowed to meet in his home, in the place where he intended to take me. The time after that we could walk in the streets of Tywed, as long as I kept my arm in his. This was Aran’s choice, his way of helping me out of the shadows after the incident with Sheia. People believed I was a risk, that I had somehow allowed a spy to befriend me and had told her as much as I could about Tywed—but I’d done no such thing, at least, not with an enemy.  For my part, I understood why Aran wanted to go through with this. The longer he waited, the more tarnished my name could become. But I didn’t care about any blemish upon my name. I could’ve remained unwed for the rest of my days and I wouldn’t have minded, if only I could do the things I so wanted to do. Aran couldn’t understand that. He was a man. He already had everything that wanted. Things weren’t the same for me as they were for him.  My eyes were fixed upon the horizon and the two druids standing there. They hadn’t moved this morning, and I believed they were watching me, waiting for the time when I came to them. I wished that they’d come here last night, that they’d taken my hand and led me away from Tywed and every memory I’d ever had in this place, and the places I’d known before. Scarrah wasn’t much better than here, especially after Mother and Father’s deaths.  I couldn’t still the tremble in my hands as the minutes ticked past. Aran and Yosef were still outside in the fields tending to the freshly planted crops—Tobias helping them before he took the sheep to pasture, if I’d heard correctly—but it was only a matter of time before Rhaden arrived. There was no longer any point in wishing. Everything was set, the deal had been struck. The only thing left to do was for Aran to come back inside and prepare himself for the arrival of the chosen suitor. As soon as Rhaden arrived, what I’d known as life would cease.  By Zion’s instruction, I’d worn my finest dress and my best shoes, pulled my long hair up into a braid that wrapped into a bun at the nape of my neck, and I’d prepared the house to look as decent as possible. I’d even tried to cover up the bags under my eyes and clean up as best I could, if only to appease my brothers. Zion wanted this to work. He genuinely wanted me to be happy, I believed. I tried my best to be understanding, even if I didn’t agree.  A knock sounded upon the front door, and I nearly leapt out of my shoes. Slowly, cautiously, I turned toward it. Rhaden should not have come here without one of my brothers to chaperone the two of us on our first encounter. No one had said anything to me about this, the two of us being alone the very day we met. Before yesterday, I’d never even heard the man’s name.  Taking a deep breath, I walked to the door. My heart pounded in my chest and my face burned with fear over who might possibly be on the other side of the wooden fixture. I took hold of the metal lever and pulled it up, lifting it out of the latch in the moment before I pulled the door inside and stepped out of its way.  “Good morning,” the man there responded, bowing his head.  “Good morning,” I replied, blinking rapidly to clear my mind. “May I assist you?” I asked.  He reached out a tanned hand toward me and took hold of mine, his eyes seeming to marvel at the very color of my skin. “I believe I am to be expected,” he replied. “My name is Rhaden Dumah, I’ve spoken with your master, Aran.” I noticed he did not say my brother. I wondered if it was because if I’d been under the charge of a brother, it should’ve been my eldest brother. Aran was six years short of that. My eyes widened as he lifted my hand to his lips, his eyes now lifting straight into mine.  I froze in place, completely unsure how I should proceed. This was highly unusual. If it was intended that he should come here alone, one of my brothers should have at least warned me. It wasn’t right that it should be sprung on me like this, that I should be left to fend for myself when I knew next to nothing beyond the name of the man who now stood before me. I hardly even knew what I was meant to do when a match came to the house. My mother should’ve been beside me, coaching me through the process—and my brothers couldn’t have known how to take her place.  Rhaden released my hand and stood there silently, apparently unbothered by the fact that I said nothing in response. I took the moment to look at him, my hands still trembling. He had short brown hair, not nearly as dark as my own. His eyes were the brightest green I’d ever seen in my life, and seemed to stare into the depths of my very soul. He wore the same militia uniform as Zion had when he’d gone this morning, his sword and knives still sheathed at his sides. Sweat had soaked through the chest of his shirt in a neat little line down the center, as though he’d dampened it that way on purpose. His lips curled up in the neatest of smiles even through the unkemptness of his stubbly beard, and his eyes glanced into the house behind me.  “My apologies,” I said then, stepping out of the way. “I’ve forgotten my manners,” I added, gesturing to the dining table beside the hearth, where the cakes sat waiting. “Please, come inside.” My voice was shaking, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. None of this should’ve been happening.  My suitor smiled and laughed to himself as he stepped into my home, and I glanced behind him out the door, hoping to see Zion coming up the street a short distance behind.  “I was under the impression that Aran or Zion would—”  “I requested that I speak to you alone,” Rhaden said, cutting me off. “I believe it best for a man and woman to speak alone to know whether or not they might be suitable for each other.”  I nodded slowly and closed the door behind us, leaving it unlatched in the hopes that Zion might come strolling in at any moment. I may not have known much about matching, but I knew this wasn’t proper in the slightest. If Aran was trying to keep my name from tarnishing further, I doubted this was the way to go about it.  When I finally convinced myself to turn round, I found Rhaden standing in the kitchen looking out the window at the fields beyond. He’d removed the belt that held his weapons and left it on our dining table—something Zion would never have done in all his life—and his hands were now clasped behind his back.  By my guess, he was perhaps a decade older than me, but that wasn’t so uncommon for matches. There were light little wrinkles around his eyes and forming even upon his hands, but not so much that it seemed I would wed an old man. There was still youth in him, the same as there was in Zion. More than age, I saw wisdom behind his eyes. When he’d looked at me earlier, when he’d looked into my soul, I’d practically felt the knowledge there.  Now, he turned and looked me in the eye. “It is an honor to meet you, Delilah,” he said.  “And you,” I replied, out of politeness more than anything else.  “Come to me.” He held out his hand in front of him, and I was obliged to go to his side and take it. My nerves were getting the better of me. I didn’t know if I should offer tea or cake, if I should show him the house, or if I should point out the two Anialych standing on the horizon. My eyes were wide, uncertain, but I stood beside him all the same, trying to convince myself that there was nothing to fear. I saw no fury in his eyes, nothing that would hint at his being a cruel sort of man.  There was nothing of my father in his eyes.  Rhaden smiled to me, in a gentle sort of way, and the corners of my mouth lifted of their own accord. I hardly realized I was even smiling until he reached out and took my other hand, his fingers playfully teasing mine.  “Why did you want us to be alone?” I asked before I even knew I was speaking.  He inhaled slowly, those green gems still piercing into me with a power unlike any I’d ever witnessed before, and his smile brightened. “I would like to get to know you,” he said. “While your brothers are here you’ll be obliged to speak as they want you to.” He squeezed my hands. “I want you to speak to me as a friend, in confidence, if that is what it takes.”  My eyes narrowed. No man ever wanted to get to know a woman before they matched. I’d never heard of that happening—not from Mother, from anyone in any of the families back in the plains, nor from anyone here. Though I did not know many people, I knew what was considered usual, and this was not it. When a man met the woman he was to be matched with, his goal was always to tell her what was to be expected, when she moved into his home. They were to find if they were compatible, if the man found the woman suitable enough to wed. Nothing akin to this.  “Why?” I whispered.  “Because beauty is one thing, and brains are another.” He winked. “I don’t want to spend my life with a woman who hates all that I am.” I nodded, my heart still pounding and my hands still trembling though they were still held within his.  “I’ve made you afraid,” he mused then, looking down at my hands. “It was not my intent, lovely one.” He lifted both my hands to his lips, his eyes again hollowing out my soul. “I want you to be comfortable with me, in every way.”