Helen B. Henderson's Blog, page 54

Dreams Can Come True #MFRWauthor

We're at week 25, almost the mid-way point and the official topic is "Describe Your Dream Wedding." The first issue is whether to answer this as myself or someone else. I had a small, informal wedding during war years. As to a fantasy wedding? Mega weddings where the gown costs a decade worth of income and the wedding and reception costs more than many people make in their lifetime may set the bar for comparison purposes. Would I want that? First I have too much Scotch blood for that. And, after almost five decades I think it is a little late to go the fancy expansive route. A number of the people I'd want to be there would have to be watching from beyond the veil.

After reviewing the Windmaster Novels and the Dragshi Chronicles, I decided to showcase a wedding that was the dream wedding of one of my characters.


SPOILER ALERT -- If you haven't read Hatchling's Mate or Hatchling's Vengeance to see who Glyn and Talann are, and what is their future, then STOP here.



From the reader's bonus of the handfasting of Glynnes and Talann, planning a wedding. Now, keep in mind, that the event is being put on by the dragshi who are leaders of their world and not without funds. Glynnes has come into the room after the last of the meetings to plan their upcoming nuptials. She's angry that Talann hasn't been at most of the planning meetings.


 

Excerpt from the Reader Bonus from Hatchling's Vengeance

Talann enfolded Glynnes in his arms. “The ceremony is for you, darling. My job is to do what I’m told, to look handsome. And…” A corner of his lips lifted in a smile and laughter danced in his eyes. “Not to disappoint you on our wedding night.” 

An innocence at odds with the earlier mischievousness smoothed his features. “I’m doing the best I can.” He held the disarming pose until some of the tension left her body. 

“Who told you that?” Glynnes growled.

Talann waited a heartbeat, then started holding up fingers. “Ranald, my father, Liam, Kynan, and that is just a few of the men from Cloud Eyrie.” He held up a second hand. “Vivel, every married master of the Ceoltier Guild who ever lectured me on protocol, my Uncle Eroh of Clan Weiss, Uncle Elem of Clan Miller.” He waited and added, “Uaine threatened me with dismemberment if I make you unhappy.”

Before his mate could react, he flicked up another finger. “Our illustrious lady ruler, my mother, Lady Dealan, Lexii.” He paused as if taking a breath before continuing.

“All right, I yield,” Glynnes said, holding up a hand. “No one can fight that horde of relatives and friends.”

Satisfied he had Glyn’s attention, Talann pressed. “So what would you do differently for our handfasting?”

Resignation on her face, she responded, “Nothing.” “But our ceremony isn’t at all like the event held for Lexii’s and Kynan’s joining.”

Now it was Talann’s turn to laugh. “My ancestors protect me. I had marks for a week from the belts and cuffs of that monstrosity of an outfit Dealan and Lexii created for Kynan and me to wear. And then we had to repeat it a dozen more times at every hold that claimed a bridal relationship.”

He kissed her lightly. “I’ll let you in on a secret, my love. Did you notice my mother or Eirwen lay a hand on your shoulder during the plannings?”
Glynn’s quiet nod was followed by an intense silence. “They were reading me?” she finally asked.

“Not in the way you mean,” Talann corrected. “They just listened to your emotions, your responses.” He searched for how to explain it. “Their present to us is to make our handfasting the one of your dreams. Not theirs, not something they or anyone participating wished for and never had. Yours!”


~ ~ ~Now that sounds like the description of a dream wedding. 

You'll have to read the readers bonus included with Hatchling's Vengeance for the actual ceremony. Start here for buy links to Amazon, Kobo, and others.And don't miss the other posts in this final week of the challenge. Thanks for hanging out with me for the year.  Helen

Free Read - Withym,Treasure Beneath the Sands

A treasure lost for generations --and an archaeologist determined to save it from destruction.
 
A short story of adventure in a world of imagination.




A lost archive buried beneath the sands of the planet Withym's immense desert is threatened when a volcano, dormant for many years, erupts. Desperate to save what she can, archaeologist Treall not only enlists the aid of a member of the planetary survey team, but breaks rules and regulations. An adventure in the world of tomorrow, "Treasure Beneath the Sands" blends technology and human spirit to save an alien treasure.


Click here for a free download of Withym-- Treasure Beneath the Sands


If you enjoyed this story, come join me on journeys through the stars, back to the past, or among fantasy worlds of imagination.

This eBook is a gift from the author, and may be shared with a spouse or partner, but may not be uploaded to shared sites. Thank you for preventing piracy, and respecting the hard works of authors, whether in print or ebook.



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Gardening? Hard on the Knees. #MFRWauthor

Growing plants for food was a regular part of my childhood. There was a garden plot behind the house with tomatoes, onions peppers, carrots and radishes. Seedling potatoes were sometimes planted, but more often than not, the plants grew by themselves from the peels worked into the soil for fertilizer. The closeness to the house helped keep the larger raiders such as the deer away, but did nothing to deter the numerous rabbits that inhabited the farm. No fence kept them out. But I digress, the topic is pain or pleasure.

Image by Markus Spiske from Pixabay
Pleasure comes from watching something grow. And then creating something with your own hands when you put up shelves of mason jars full of vegetables or freeze the results of your growing labor. Pain comes from sore hands after pulling weeds, and the ache in your back from bending over for an extended period of time.


There is a frustration when after pulling weeds for weeks to keep the plants growing and the pathway between them clear, to pull a carrot and find out that there is nothing there. An animal had helped itself to your hard work and eaten everything deeper than an inch below ground. In my latest attempt at gardening which consisted of a few pepper plants in tubs on my front porch, there was the same frustration. After watering, weeding, nurturing, (and even a little verbal coaxing) the blossoms turned into peppers. Except just before they were large enough to pick, some local critter, whether a rabbit, a raccoon, or even a deer, decided to help themselves.


Image by Soorelis from Pixabay
Hope you'll visit the other posts in the hop.

~till next time, Helen

Hooked on Windmaster Legacy, Intruder In the Night, #MFRWauthor #MFRWhook

Chose between magic, revenge... or the life of a loved one.
Since there were questions about the previous post, At the Door, a continuation of the night. To set the stage, vows have been exchanged, and a celebration held. Now the bride and groom have escaped and they are behind closed doors. Only the planned wedding night is interrupted as the past and the present collide. A man thought dead reappears... only to vanish again. 


EXCERPT:

Ellspeth’s arm entwined with Dal's, she returned his caresses. Now his skin warmed beneath her touch. Her wandering fingers lightly touched the scars on his back. She tried to block the memory of their creation. ...
She squashed the image but the incoherent screams of a mind tortured to its limits echoed in her mind. They faded only to be replaced by a voice she had hoped never to hear again, “Come to me, my little wizardling.” A haggard face superimposed itself a heartbeat later confirming the speaker’s identity. Bashim—he’s alive!

The notion vanished so quickly beneath another wave of passion Ellspeth doubted she had ever thought it. Dal’s next caress removed the furtive wisp from her memory.

~ * ~
Windmaster Legacy Available At:

Ebook Amazon / Walmart / More Ebook sellers
Paperback: Amazon



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Dishing on Strange Research

Research, more specifically the strangest thing researched for a book? Some Authors Dish on that topic on the CTR Blog.  Oh yes, I am one of them.

I talk about long bows, flying as in controlling the yoke from the pilot's seat, and swords. Researching a long sword does cross the line into strange. Not surprisingly since I write sword and sorcery fantasies, I have researched how to use a sword. Besides search engines and utilizing my own list of military weaponry sites acquired from when I was a correspondent, documentaries on how modern day artisans reproduced ancient weapons and armor added an additional dimension. Attending re-enactments added a personal touch.




The full list of authors is at https://coffeetimeromance.com/CoffeeThoughts/ad2019-may-search/. My post is here and I hope you'll start there. Won't you?

~till next time, Helen

Gift or Not? #mfrwauthor

The official topic for this week's post is "Gift Getting - What I Wanted, But Not Very Much." Thoughts on the first part of the topic were shared as "Best Gifts Are Personal" in the 2018 challenge.

A post that covers the good and the bad of a gift was also part of that challenge. It covered piracy (the worst gift to an author) and a review (which could be the best.) So, no talking about reviews which are gifts we as authors want, but sometimes not very much. Instead, I asked my characters to share. First up, Captain Ellspeth.


Lady Ellspeth, have you ever received a gift that you weren't sure you really wanted?

That night at dinner when the Archmage Lord Dal implied that I had the ability to work magic, it took every ounce of my self-control not to throw him overboard. Sea Falcon was my ship. I earned my command and vessel. But magic and the deep blue didn't mix, so the gift he offered meant losing everything I had worked my entire life for.

And now?

A smile twitched her lips. I couldn't imagine not being a mage.




The whoosh of dragon wings overhead told of another who wanted to share. A tall slender man walked from the dust raised by the dragon's landing. Good day, Lord Talann.

I heard that the talented writers of MFRW were talking about gifts.

He pulled a small, black velvet pouch from his pocket and dumped its contents into his hand. After a brief moment, he extended it for me to examine. The gold cylinder was embossed on one end with a dragon in flight. What Talann showed me was what many would kill for, the symbol of the power of the dragshi. With that seal, a person could get food, shelter, transport, or anything he wanted.

Yes, it is the symbol of the dragshi. When my parents gave it to me, I saw a different reality than what was was generally expected. It was not the key to a treasure but a curse. A shadow darkened his face. To me, the gift meant that my parents believed I would never be a dragshi, never take on dragon form.

What does the seal mean to you now? 

A genuine smile twitched his lips. A special gift from my parents, of their faith in me--and a special remembrance of my heritage.


Thanks for stopping by the challenge. More authors share their insights and thoughts in the list below. ~till next time, Helen

Hooked on Windmaster Legacy, at the door, #mfrwhook #mfrwauthor

Chose between magic, revenge... or the life of a loved one.
In honor of the season of weddings, a smippit from Windmaster Legacy. To set the stage,vows have been exchanged, and a celebration held. Now its time for the bride and groom to escape.

EXCERPT:

Ellspeth's skin tingled as much from the cloaking spell Dal threw over them as the touch of his hand. By magesight, Ellspeth ran hand-in-hand with him down the darkened corridors. She didn’t even attempt to keep track of the left and right turns, or how many stairwells they climbed. She knew where he was leading her—to his room, to his bed.

Dal stopped at a pair of intricately-carved wooden doors. A rope of green ferns, the Mtwan mountain people’s symbol for happiness in marriage, hung over the door. “Hope you approve,” he murmured. “I told you I could find a better place than a cave in a blizzard. And I promised you a warmer room than Fearguis offered us in Dardlen.”

A kick opened the left-hand door and before Ellspeth could squeal, he had swept her up into his arms. Two steps took them over the threshold and to a night she been awaiting and yet dreading for many sevenday. She held her breath as he pushed the door closed with his foot. Their privacy assured, he walked toward the bed. As if he sensed her uncertainty, Dal stopped in the middle of the room and set her on her feet.

In the soft candlelight his eyes sparkled with an inner fire.

~ * ~
Windmaster Legacy Available At:

Ebook Amazon / Walmart / More Ebook sellers
Paperback: Amazon

Hooked on Hatchling's Mate, Rescued? Or the River Wins. #mfrwauthor

To set the scene, against all orders, Talann swam across a flooded river to save women and children stranded on a hill. After successfully taking across a rope that served as the foundation to tow a barge back and forth. The women, children, and horses across, Talann is returning to the safe side of the river with his stallion, a mare and her very skittish colt. The makeshift barge capsizes and its precious contents are tossed into the raging waters.

Excerpt:

Fear chilling her soul, Glyn continued the breakneck race to catch up to Kynan whose stallion closed in on the floating man. “Talann is still too far from the shore,” Kynan shouted.

The reality of the situation burned in Glyn’s mind. Only Lexii could save Talann, and Beylnea the dragon soul twinned to Lexii, was newly fledged and not that strong.

A shadow passed overhead and the yellow dragon that was Lexii dove. With a scream, her claws wrapped around Talann’s waist. She strained to catch air beneath her wings. However Talann weighed her down and no matter how hard Lexii tried, his feet still dragged in the wild surf.

“You can do it,” Glyn encouraged.

Talann slipped from Lexii’s grasp. Yet again, she dove to grab him. This time, she only gained enough height to lift his head and shoulders above the wave’s surface. His body limp in her clutch told a tale Glyn refused to believe.
Side by side with Kynan, Glyn raced into the water. Neither spoke a word but acted in the perfect unison of a trained team to drag Talann to the shore. It appeared every bone in Talann’s body was broken.

A moan escaped Glyn the sight of the unconscious man’s blue skin. “He’s not breathing.”
 ~ ~ ~
Hatchling's Mate - From their birth it was expected that Talann’s and Lexii’s destiny would be entwined. However fate had other intentions. Lexii and Talann could not stand to be together.


Ebook Available at:   Amazon   Kobo  Walmart
One click to more ebook stores

Paperback:  Amazon   Barnes&Noble

Click here for another excerpt and a free read of the first chapter.

Journaling - A Thought or Two #mfrwauthor

Yes, I know the 52 week challenge is at week 20, and this is the first time I'm popping in. After completing both the 2017 and 2018 challenges, having a new release, and completing the AtoZ in April Challenge, focus was on things other than writing for pleasure. However, I've decided to do a few of the 2019 challenges. This week, the official topic is "Does journal keeping help with the writing process?."

How to write something different than the 2018 topic, Diary or Journal. That focused more on the differences between the two types of writing. No instead this post will be more of the writing life.

One of the pieces of advice I often give authors in my lectures, especially those just starting out, is to keep a journal. No it is not the diary once popular among young girls. It is not a small pink book with a lock whose key was worn on a chain around your neck or hidden in a secret spot in your bedroom. The purpose of the writing journal can be to record feelings, however it is much more. A journal as a motivational tool records each days accomplishments in words written or edited. (Or if in promotion mode, number of social media posts.) Of course, if the numbers aren't what you wanted, that might be motivation to quit rather than continue on. 

Pixabay Image. Used under CCO Creative Commons.Some might call a novel notebook or a series bible the journal for that particular project. Character lists, storyboards or outlines, and pictures to inspire settings or characters fill the pages.
 
But for the purposes of this post, I'll talk about the small spiral notebook that I jokingly call my journal. And since, it's a digital world I also include the files and folders on the laptop into which some of the data has been duplicated.


What goes into the physical or the virtual journal. On their blank pages storyline ideas develop and expand.  Notes on scenes to write, unique words to add to my vocabulary, also get jotted down, although sometimes in cryptic notes.

One of the main uses of my writer's journal is to accumulate names. The credits of a television program often contain a name that says "I am xxx." I have to admit that my memory for small details (or even some larger ones) isn't as good as it used to be. Age has introduced the shiny object syndrome. Or what I like to call "walk into a room and forget the reason why," because going through the doorway took away all memory of my task. So writing information down immediately upon discovery helps save it for potential use.

But there are problems with having a journal. Handwriting gets illegible. Even worse, they are hard to organize. The information is not grouped by subject but chronological. Sticky notes or paperclips used to mark a particular piece of data fall off.  And you have to remember what information you wrote to be able to search for it.

Still, the act of writing something down helps its capture in the memory, so I will keep my spiral notebook with the black script on the cover that says "Journal."
 
~till next time, Helen

Windmaster, At Day's End, #mfrwauthor

Since summer is approaching, I thought I'd share a scene from Windmaster of my favorite way to cool-off after a hard days work. And the reason the cover for Windmaster Legacy is shown when the excerpt is from Windmaster? The hunk on the cover is the one in the mill pond.

---------------------------------------------------



An old wagon with a plume of dust in its wake, rattled up the road to the mill. Olier moved to the doorway while Dal stood in the shadow alongside the door. His grip tightened on Ellspeth’s shoulder.

“It’s old man Steryl,” Olier hissed. “He snarls a lot but has no love for the Oracle. Dal, can you mill his grain? If I leave now, we’ll lose the entire batch of syrup. Just to be safe, Ellspeth stay out of sight. I can explain Dal’s presence, but not yours.”

Dal gave Ellspeth’s shoulder a quick squeeze and stepped out to Olier’s side. The men raised a hand in greeting to the wagon driver. Before the newcomer could say a word, Olier pointed to the mill wheel. “You know where to take it, Steryl. The marka’s at a critical stage. Darmen here will grind it for you.”

The wagon driver grumbled in response.

Dal gave a pointed stare at the doorway behind Olier. But, there was no sign of Ellspeth. Good, Ellspeth is doing what she’s told. Although he mused, I wonder how long that will continue. An inadvertent sigh of relief escaped him. The wagon creaked as he swung up beside the driver.

Steryl glared at the man beside him. The whip crack was accompanied by more mumbled comments.

Dal hid a smile. He knew how to handle this one. And with a little luck, he’d get the latest news.

One big heave and the bag of meal thumped onto the wagon bed. Dal’s hearty, “All done,” was answered by Steryl’s grumble. Glad to see the grouchy old man leave, Dal snatched a cloth from atop the grain chute. He wiped his face to see the rough material turn brown with dust and sweat. The millstream looked so inviting he dropped the makeshift towel and stripped off his shirt and breeches. Three steps took him into the cool water. Several quick splashes cooled his sweat-drenched skin and ran in rivulets down the muscles of his chest.


~ * ~
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