Avril Sabine's Blog, page 17

The Twelve Brothers

I’ve been having a great time rereading fairytales, choosing which ones I want to retell. There are so many that I enjoy, ones that bring back memories of the first time I read them. And not only of reading them, but of my own plotting and planning of the parts of the stories that I felt needed more answers. Today the second story in my Retold Fairytales becomes available on Amazon. The Twelve Brothers.

I remember the first time I read this story. I had so many questions about the king and queen. Why didn’t they want to protect their children? All of them. The tale never said. I needed a reason for the decision they made. One important enough to make them think they only had that one option. What would have driven them to choose the path they took? After discarding numerous ideas, I finally found the one I felt was strong enough to force them towards the choice they made.

Spirit

There is something special about your first dog, no matter how many other dogs have been a part of your life. Before my first dog, there was my father’s blue heeler who played hide and seek with us and always helped whoever was ‘it’. There was my mother’s dachshund that stopped me from escaping onto a busy road when I was two, and other dogs owned by family members and friends. But none of them could compare to owning my first dog. I got him just before my eighteenth birthday. I went to see some puppies who were a little too young to leave their mother, but she was losing her milk. One of them tumbled over to me, playing with my hand and looking up at me with eyes that begged for attention. His mother was a Dalmatian, his father a black Lab. He had a short black coat with a dash of white under his throat, down his face and at the tip of his tail. The other pups were disinterested, larger and more well fed then the one who was curious about the person sitting down in front of him.

I asked a million questions about him, wanting to know what he was like. He might have been the runt of the litter, but he was the curious one and had a lot of spirit. He now had a name, Spirit, and I had my first dog.

On his first night I made a warm nest for him, including a ticking clock. But he wasn’t to be fooled. He wanted living company. That first night I sat with him in the garage doorway, half dozing as he curled up on my lap. I wasn’t allowed to bring him inside my grandmother’s house, where I stayed part of the week because it was close to work. He came to expect that and each night he’d whine until I dozed in the garage doorway with him on my lap until morning arrived. Then he’d happily play in the backyard while I got some sleep.

He wasn’t about to be left behind.

One day when I went into the backyard to play with him, he greeted me with a bunch of flowers. It would have been the sweetest gesture ever, if he hadn’t dug up my grandmother’s gerberas to be able to give them to me. And the first time he barked, he scared the hell out of himself, hiding behind me as he looked for the dog who’d made such a deep sound.

The sleepless nights and dug up garden beds didn’t continue. Before he was a year old, I had a different job and moved into my own place. Each night Spirit would pace around my house, guarding me from the strange and noisy neighbourhood we now lived in. And it was a good thing that he did because one night a man knocked on my door. He demanded that I let him come inside so he could stay the night because he’d known the people who’d lived there before. He was drunk enough that his request made perfect sense to him. Then Spirit was there, growling and the man was apologising and quickly leaving.

Our roles had changed. He was no longer a little puppy, runt of the litter, who needed to be cuddled all night and saved from the sound of his own bark. He was all grown up, the protector of his family and he’d just proven himself capable of that task.

Spirit and my daughter.

Fairytales

When I was really young, I had a book of fairytales. It was a large blue book with an image of a princess taking up most of the top and middle of the cover and pictures from the other stories below her. Every time I opened that cover I knew I would find magic within. Words and pictures that took me to worlds filled with adventure. But it wasn’t just the words or even the pictures that I loved, it was the questions those tales left unanswered. Questions that I spent hours answering. Creating the reasons behind why some of the characters acted the way they did, fleshing out the ending and what happened after the happily ever after, turning some of those one line sections into major episodes in each tale.

I would spend hours sitting on my bed reading my book and recreating the tales. Why was Thumbelina given to human parents when she should have been raised amongst fairies? Why didn’t Cinderella ever stand up for herself? And what about Sleeping Beauty? Why didn’t her parents warn her what could happen if she used the spindle? I wanted to know the reasons, the how and why. So I made them up, often changing my mind numerous times until I’d found the one I liked best.

Fairytales were some of the first stories I ‘wrote’. Writing Retold Fairytales allows me to use some of that early plotting and planning I did as well as revisit well loved stories.

Books have always been a big part of my life. First being read to, then reading them for myself, then creating my own. I’ll always be grateful to my mum for introducing me to books and the magic within their pages. Books that allowed me to realise that I wanted to write my own stories.

People have been telling stories since the beginning of time. Fairytales, folklore, myths and legends are among some of the stories that have been told over and over through the centuries. The basic story remains the same, but each storyteller adds their own style, sometimes adding something unique to the tale.

Today the first of my Retold Fairytales is available on Amazon. Snow-White And Rose-Red. A tale I’ve read numerous times over the years and still continue to enjoy. But like so many of the other fairytales I’ve loved and enjoyed, it raised questions that begged an answer. So I answered some of them.

Mount Coolum Summit Track

This month I went for a walk up Mount Coolum, on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland, Australia. It’s been something I’ve been talking about doing again for a while. Eighteen years ago I walked to the top on a dirt track, with timber sleepers fixed into the ground with wooden stakes at strategic places along the path to help hold it together. Towards the top there was a section where you climbed over natural rock formations then walked through wind twisted trees to reach the summit.

The walk has changed a lot since then. There’s now a rock path going nearly all the way to the top making it a much easier walk. It’s still a strenuous walk, but the views make it worthwhile. They are as great as I remembered them. Every direction you look in you are greeted by postcard views. Long stretches of beaches, sailing ships out at sea, rock formations, trees twisted into interesting shapes by the wind and birds darting about.

It’s a two hour walk, return, and much quicker coming back down than it is going up. Along the way are numerous places where rocks have been positioned to make resting areas to sit and take in the views. There were many other people on the walk, from toddlers only going partway up to retirees striding along. People walked or jogged on their own, others went in groups. But no matter who it was or how they reached the top, they all stopped and paused once they did, taking in the view. Some stopped for a while, some only a little before they headed back down again.

It was really good to return to a place I had been to years ago and see the positive changes that have occurred. The new path has not only created a safer walk and addressed environmental concerns, but is a work of art with how the rocks have been fitted together using dry stone construction. The locally sourced rocks blend into the environment making the track feel a part of the mountain. It was certainly worth revisiting and I’m glad I made the effort to walk to the summit again.

Retribution

Demon Hunters 2: Retribution is now available on Amazon. The entire series started from a fragment of a dream focused on Gran and evolved from there. Since that moment, I’ve had many more dreams and ideas for future stories in the series. Other members of the Hunter family will be introduced and there’ll be more stories involving characters in the first two books. The next book in the series is called Tainted and will be available in 2015.

Gone Too Soon

Just before Father’s Day 2011, my siblings and I lost our father. If he was still with us, today he’d be turning sixty-seven. Instead, we are left with only memories. In one sense we’re lucky we have a lot of great memories we can look back on, but we still wish he could have been with us for many more years. The following is one of my childhood memories of my dad.

The Fishing Trip

Dad believed fishing was the only good reason to skip school. You learned more about life by fishing than you ever could at school. At ten years old, fishing was the perfect opportunity for me to read. The only problem was that the fish always seemed to bite when the story was at a really good part. But I had a plan and keeping my back to Dad I put it into action.

Line cast out, I turned on the seat of the tinny, that was starting to warm in the sun, to face Dad. With a rod in one hand I picked up the paperback that sat beside me and opened to the bookmark. I immersed myself in the words until a sound drew me from them. I came back to reality, trying to focus on my surroundings as a way to ground myself after being lost in another world.

The tinny bobbed in the water, two fishing lines cast out. I watched as Dad rested the rod between his knee and the side of the tinny, reaching for the esky. The tip of the rod bent slightly. He continued to rummage through the ice in the esky, not even glancing towards the rod. It dipped further.

I glanced between him and the rod. “You’ve got a bite.”

He lifted a stubby from the esky, sliding the lid back into place to keep the heat out. “It’ll wait. Or another one’ll come along.” The stubby was opened with a slight hiss and he dropped the lid, the ping as it hit the metal in the bottom of the boat sounding loud in the hot, bright day. A deep drink and then he put it beside him, taking hold of the rod that bent towards the rippling water. He slowly wound the reel, paused, then wound again. The tip of the rod bobbed up and down. Minutes stretched as the fish pulled and tugged, being slowly wound in until it lay flopping in the bottom of the tinny.

Another swig from the stubby and he baited the line before casting it out in a single smooth motion. Again the rod was held between his knee and the side of the tinny as he looked first at the fish still flopping between us and then over at me. “See, no need to be in a rush. It waited.” He reached for the stubby again. Beads of water had condensed on the side, leaving behind a wet ring on the seat beside him. “But they won’t wait around for an unbaited hook.” He glanced towards my line still in the water as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

I grinned. He’d noticed. “It’s an experiment.” I looked at the book in my hands, keen to get the last couple of chapters read.

“Uh huh.” He took another mouthful from his stubby, sitting it beside him before he reached for his rod again, holding it loosely in one hand.

A thin trail of smoke curled lazily into the sharp blue sky from his cigarette as I returned to my book.

Eternally Late

I’ve been going over final edits on Demon Hunters 2: Retribution, but took time out to put an urban fantasy short story up on Amazon, Eternally Late. The other books I’m currently working on are Earth Bound, a young adult fantasy, and another series which is a young adult urban fantasy involving dragons. As usual, I’ve been losing myself in interesting worlds and causing my characters to face all sorts of calamities. If you want to find out more about these stories check out my Release Schedule.

Time to get back to work on the first draft of the third book in my series, Dragon Blood, but in the meantime, enjoy Eternally Late, my first short story available on Amazon.

Beta Testing For Elder Scrolls Online

I have played the Elder Scrolls games for years. Over a decade actually. So to be able to beta test is a pretty big thing for me. And not only am I getting to play ESO this weekend, but my boys are too. There’s nothing like gaming as a group.

As always, I’ve been impressed with the world. The scenery is magical and you can almost imagine you’re there. The only downside I’ve found so far is the need to complete a quest to move onto the next land, but for those of us who love questing that’s not a downside at all. I know everyone won’t agree. Yes, I’m looking at you, General. Not everything is about the battle. Although the battle is fun too.

I have to say that once again ESO certainly hasn’t disappointed me. I love this game and every time an Elder Scrolls game has come out I’ve complained that I wished it was co-op. I guess I can quit complaining now and get back to exploring and battling a few more enemies.

When you get distracted by the scenery and your group leaves without you, don’t panic. There’s arrows that will lead you back to them.

There’s still heaps to do and plenty to explore even when the rest of your group goes offline.

More screenshots to come later.

Update:

Even the loading screens are amazing and have awesome detail. It’s not often that I think a loading screen is replaced by the game too quickly, but there were times when the picture was so interesting that I wanted to look at it longer.

It was nice to see there is still mudcrabs to train on. It wouldn’t have been Elder Scrolls without them.

There was so much to explore that it would probably take months to see the entire world. I spent a lot of time checking out unusual areas and wandering off into the wilderness to discover interesting places.

Whispers In The Dark

The wait is over, Whispers In The Dark is available on Amazon.

I didn’t set out to write a story with same sex relationships in it. I wanted to write a story that included the struggles of being yourself. The pressures placed on some people to conform and live up to certain expectations.

There are still a lot of strange beliefs about what makes a person gay, as well as a lot of people who treat being gay like it’s wrong, or even some freakish sort of disease. I’ve had people tell me that times have changed and gay people are being treated better now. Sadly, not everyone has changed with the times.

The bigotry used in the story is based on people I have come in contact with, comments from strangers that really make me wonder, and not in a good way. Both of my sons have long hair and have had for most of their lives. This means they often get mistaken for girls and I end up in situations such as the following.

Random stranger around my age: What a beautiful daughter you have, it’s a pity you’ve dressed her in boys’ clothes.

Me, taking a step back: I really don’t think my son is interested in wearing dresses.

Random stranger, shaking her head and gesturing towards my son: No, your daughter there.

Me, trying not to grin: That’s my son.

Random stranger: He’s got long hair.

Me, thinking not so complimentary thoughts: I know.

Random stranger, with a look part horror, part disbelief and part who knows what: You should cut his hair! He’ll grow up to be gay.

Me, staring at the stranger in disbelief: My kids are welcome to grow up to be whatever they want to be.

You might say that’s only one person. Nope, it wasn’t. I’ve lost count of the people, from various age groups including much younger than me, who’ve told me my kids are going to grow up gay because of either their hair or hobbies.

And it’s not just the people I talk to randomly when I’m out and about, but people who come up to me and start chatting. It doesn’t matter where I am either or what town. Luckily not everyone is like that and I’ve met some very interesting people over the years. People who have fascinating things to say and who’ve led marvellous lives and done great things. People who remind me that there’s a lot of good in humanity.

I still shake my head when I think of the amount of times I’ve been told that I should make my boys cut their hair or they’ll end up gay. I mean, seriously, if that’s the case, it’s a wonder the human race has survived. History has a lot of eras where the men all had long hair. But I know that’s not the only myth still in existence. I’m sure other people have had similar experiences. What’s the hardest to believe or just plain ridiculous fallacy you’ve ever encountered?

Demanding Manuscripts

There are some manuscripts that demand to be written. Whispers In The Dark is one of those. The first draft was completed in twenty days. Now that might not sound like a long time to write 64,500 words, but I slept very little during that time. After putting in long hours during the day, I’d collapse into bed thinking I’d well and truly earned a good night sleep. The story had other plans. I’d be dragged from a restful sleep an hour or two later by the next scene invading my dreams, demanding I get up and write it. Ignoring it was impossible.

After another few hours at the computer I’d check the time and think, yeah, I reckon I could get another couple of hours sleep before I have to face the day. Of course that plan would work out as well as my earlier attempt to get some sleep. Sometimes I’d no sooner close my eyes, falling instantly asleep, only to be disturbed by the next scene, in vivid colour. I’d be dragged from sleep, the memory of the dream that had delivered the scene fresh in my mind.

Shelby and Cameron wanted their story told. They didn’t care if I got any sleep. Their story is nearly finished, just receiving its final polish before it will be available on Amazon this month, but they are two characters that I will occasionally think back on, along with some of the other characters from the story.

Whispers In The Dark is a contemporary paranormal with a bit of thriller and gothic romance thrown in. I hope you find it as compelling to read as I found it to write. I would love to hear what you think of it.