Sean Gibson's Blog, page 3
April 17, 2017
A Peek Behind the Curtain: An Early Look at the New Heloise Story
Calling all FOHAGs!
(What's a FOHAG? "Friend of Heloise and Grimple," of course, which you'd know if you'd read The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple--and if you haven't done that, your only possible excuse can be that your eyeballs are quite literally on fire, because it costs all of $2.99 and a portion of the proceeds go to benefit ProLiteracy.org; also, it is a transformative, seminal classic of the genre (that genre being the much-lauded comic fantasy genre in which the likes of even Michael Chabon, Jonathan Franzen, and Zadie Smith don't dare to tread for fear of being compared to me (though that's probably just because they worry about how it would besmirch their reputation to be mentioned in the same sentence as me, unless that sentence is something like, "Michael Chabon ran away from Sean Gibson because he (Sean) is a total lunatic, and, otherwise, the two have absolutely nothing in common, though both are male and appear to be white.").)
I digress.
FOHAGs, take note! I'm in the (very) early stages of a new Heloise story and wanted to share a taste of what's to come, though I reserve the right to drastically edit or delete the following section entirely when the work is complete (I also reserve the right to eat your cookies if you leave them alone, so I strongly recommend keeping them with you at all times, except, perhaps, when you visit the restroom, though that's really the time I'm most likely to strike, so consider yourself warned).
At any rate, please enjoy this very preliminary look at a story in progress! (Note: the adventure described herein predates the tale told in The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple.)
A CLASSIC BEGINNING…
Few are those who know the true terror of a furious dragon’s roar or the skin-blistering heat of its fiery breath. Few, for most who do know such things know them for but an instant before they are consumed by the dragon’s flame and turned ashen husks, burned beyond all hope of recognition.
Such was the horrible fate of so many who called the village of Skendrick home on the fateful day when the great red dragon Dragoria first arrived and painted the evening sky red and orange with searing gouts of fire, raining death upon them all, men, women, and children alike without distinction or hesitation, the tallest and smallest alike unable to withstand the dragon’s terrible fury.
A small girl huddled in the corner of her family’s home, a wooden structure little more than loose planks nailed together and covered with tarpaulin, shivering and shaking with fear, her hands clapped over her ears as she listened to the screams and wails of agony that knifed through the air and pierced her heart. Her mother must be among them, for the woman had gone to the market only an hour before, and her daughter knew that the dragon would strike there first, at the heart of the village, where most would be gathered. Market day happened once each week, and more than half the villagers gathered in the town’s central square to trade goods and gossip. A teeming mass of humanity conveniently clustered—an irresistible target for an angry, and insatiably hungry, dragon.
The girl cried and prayed, beseeching aid from gods she had never believed in but turned to now in desperation, hoping against hope that divine intervention might spare her life and, somehow, some way, bring back those who had died so horribly already.
But, her prayers went unheard, or at least unanswered, for it was only moments later that her own ramshackle dwelling was engulfed in flames, and the girl, clutching her most beloved doll, wailed in agony as hot tongues of fire kissed her feet and proceeded to consume her, leaving nothing behind but a bleached pile of bones and the ashen corpse of a blond doll.
The dragon left some alive that day, though—it would never kill them all, not when it wanted survivors to spread the word far and wide of what had happened that day, how the town had burned, how the people had suffered, and how no one could resist its awesome might. For then, perhaps, the forays into its territory would cease, the disturbances to its slumber would stop, and it could sleep, finally, in peace.
The great wyrm wheeled and turned overhead, leaving the smoking crater of the village behind as it flew north to its lair. It had no doubt that some hearty adventurers would come in the vain hope of righting this terrible wrong, but it would be ready.
And they would die in agony just as the villagers of Skendrick had died for daring to defy it.
…IS NOT NECESSARILY HOW IT ACTUALLY WENT DOWN
Being in the business of barding, one must not be bothered by blurting bull…excrement (though one should act excited about abusing alliteration).
Hi. My name’s Heloise, and I am, if not the most well-known bard in Erithea, arguably the most talented, and unarguably the cleverest (I wouldn’t argue if you suggested that I am also the most beautiful, but that’s just because I’m very agreeable). Consequently, I’m no stranger to telling a tall tale or two (and there I go with the alliteration again; I suppose it’s healthier than other habits I could adopt, such as shoving twigs from a Blinker tree into my eyes, which is less painful than it sounds—the twigs are so soft that they do little more than cause mild irritation, but they also pass along a hearty dose of bluridium, a drug that causes powerful hallucinations, generally involving very small, often naked blue sprites parading on (and sometimes through) one’s body…that’s okay once in a while if you’re into that sort of thing, but it can be very disruptive, so I’ll stick with alliteration).
Sometimes, though, it turns out to be the case that the unembellished version of a story is far more interesting than the tale the bards sing; it’s just rarely the case that bards know the truth behind the legend, and so the listening public misses out on something truly epic (or, at least, epically weird).
Fortunately for you, dear readers, it just so happens that not only do I know the truth about what happened that day in Skendrick and the subsequently shocking events, but I’ve decided to write that story down and share it with you (you’re welcome, incidentally).
I may not look it on account of being so stunningly beautiful (not my words, mind you—that’s how noted seer Llendarlin Wayfender once described me, and even though he’s blind, he is a venerated font of knowledge, so who am I to argue?), not to mention half-elven, but I’m approaching 140 years old, and I’ve had more than a few adventures in my time. I was sworn to secrecy regarding the true story of the great and terrible Dragoria, but recent (sad) events have released me from that promise, and so I’m free to tell the tale at long last.
I will warn you, though—those of you who think you know the story will scarcely believe the truth. You will be shocked, stunned, surprised, and staggered. The faint of heart should stop reading right now, close the book, and proceed to the nearest public garden or quiet pub to watch butterflies or enjoy a hoppy pint.
For those who have the stomach (and I realize I’m mixing my metaphors here, because it’s entirely possible to have a weak heart and a strong stomach, in which case I leave you to make the decision whether to proceed at your own peril, or, at least, on consultation with the nearest physician, witch doctor, or oracle), however, a tale the likes of which has never been told before, and is unlikely to be told again (well, at least not until I get paid to write another book, at any rate) awaits you.
So read on, brave souls…adventure awaits. And shenanigans. There will definitely be shenanigans.
(What's a FOHAG? "Friend of Heloise and Grimple," of course, which you'd know if you'd read The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple--and if you haven't done that, your only possible excuse can be that your eyeballs are quite literally on fire, because it costs all of $2.99 and a portion of the proceeds go to benefit ProLiteracy.org; also, it is a transformative, seminal classic of the genre (that genre being the much-lauded comic fantasy genre in which the likes of even Michael Chabon, Jonathan Franzen, and Zadie Smith don't dare to tread for fear of being compared to me (though that's probably just because they worry about how it would besmirch their reputation to be mentioned in the same sentence as me, unless that sentence is something like, "Michael Chabon ran away from Sean Gibson because he (Sean) is a total lunatic, and, otherwise, the two have absolutely nothing in common, though both are male and appear to be white.").)
I digress.
FOHAGs, take note! I'm in the (very) early stages of a new Heloise story and wanted to share a taste of what's to come, though I reserve the right to drastically edit or delete the following section entirely when the work is complete (I also reserve the right to eat your cookies if you leave them alone, so I strongly recommend keeping them with you at all times, except, perhaps, when you visit the restroom, though that's really the time I'm most likely to strike, so consider yourself warned).
At any rate, please enjoy this very preliminary look at a story in progress! (Note: the adventure described herein predates the tale told in The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple.)
A CLASSIC BEGINNING…
Few are those who know the true terror of a furious dragon’s roar or the skin-blistering heat of its fiery breath. Few, for most who do know such things know them for but an instant before they are consumed by the dragon’s flame and turned ashen husks, burned beyond all hope of recognition.
Such was the horrible fate of so many who called the village of Skendrick home on the fateful day when the great red dragon Dragoria first arrived and painted the evening sky red and orange with searing gouts of fire, raining death upon them all, men, women, and children alike without distinction or hesitation, the tallest and smallest alike unable to withstand the dragon’s terrible fury.
A small girl huddled in the corner of her family’s home, a wooden structure little more than loose planks nailed together and covered with tarpaulin, shivering and shaking with fear, her hands clapped over her ears as she listened to the screams and wails of agony that knifed through the air and pierced her heart. Her mother must be among them, for the woman had gone to the market only an hour before, and her daughter knew that the dragon would strike there first, at the heart of the village, where most would be gathered. Market day happened once each week, and more than half the villagers gathered in the town’s central square to trade goods and gossip. A teeming mass of humanity conveniently clustered—an irresistible target for an angry, and insatiably hungry, dragon.
The girl cried and prayed, beseeching aid from gods she had never believed in but turned to now in desperation, hoping against hope that divine intervention might spare her life and, somehow, some way, bring back those who had died so horribly already.
But, her prayers went unheard, or at least unanswered, for it was only moments later that her own ramshackle dwelling was engulfed in flames, and the girl, clutching her most beloved doll, wailed in agony as hot tongues of fire kissed her feet and proceeded to consume her, leaving nothing behind but a bleached pile of bones and the ashen corpse of a blond doll.
The dragon left some alive that day, though—it would never kill them all, not when it wanted survivors to spread the word far and wide of what had happened that day, how the town had burned, how the people had suffered, and how no one could resist its awesome might. For then, perhaps, the forays into its territory would cease, the disturbances to its slumber would stop, and it could sleep, finally, in peace.
The great wyrm wheeled and turned overhead, leaving the smoking crater of the village behind as it flew north to its lair. It had no doubt that some hearty adventurers would come in the vain hope of righting this terrible wrong, but it would be ready.
And they would die in agony just as the villagers of Skendrick had died for daring to defy it.
…IS NOT NECESSARILY HOW IT ACTUALLY WENT DOWN
Being in the business of barding, one must not be bothered by blurting bull…excrement (though one should act excited about abusing alliteration).
Hi. My name’s Heloise, and I am, if not the most well-known bard in Erithea, arguably the most talented, and unarguably the cleverest (I wouldn’t argue if you suggested that I am also the most beautiful, but that’s just because I’m very agreeable). Consequently, I’m no stranger to telling a tall tale or two (and there I go with the alliteration again; I suppose it’s healthier than other habits I could adopt, such as shoving twigs from a Blinker tree into my eyes, which is less painful than it sounds—the twigs are so soft that they do little more than cause mild irritation, but they also pass along a hearty dose of bluridium, a drug that causes powerful hallucinations, generally involving very small, often naked blue sprites parading on (and sometimes through) one’s body…that’s okay once in a while if you’re into that sort of thing, but it can be very disruptive, so I’ll stick with alliteration).
Sometimes, though, it turns out to be the case that the unembellished version of a story is far more interesting than the tale the bards sing; it’s just rarely the case that bards know the truth behind the legend, and so the listening public misses out on something truly epic (or, at least, epically weird).
Fortunately for you, dear readers, it just so happens that not only do I know the truth about what happened that day in Skendrick and the subsequently shocking events, but I’ve decided to write that story down and share it with you (you’re welcome, incidentally).
I may not look it on account of being so stunningly beautiful (not my words, mind you—that’s how noted seer Llendarlin Wayfender once described me, and even though he’s blind, he is a venerated font of knowledge, so who am I to argue?), not to mention half-elven, but I’m approaching 140 years old, and I’ve had more than a few adventures in my time. I was sworn to secrecy regarding the true story of the great and terrible Dragoria, but recent (sad) events have released me from that promise, and so I’m free to tell the tale at long last.
I will warn you, though—those of you who think you know the story will scarcely believe the truth. You will be shocked, stunned, surprised, and staggered. The faint of heart should stop reading right now, close the book, and proceed to the nearest public garden or quiet pub to watch butterflies or enjoy a hoppy pint.
For those who have the stomach (and I realize I’m mixing my metaphors here, because it’s entirely possible to have a weak heart and a strong stomach, in which case I leave you to make the decision whether to proceed at your own peril, or, at least, on consultation with the nearest physician, witch doctor, or oracle), however, a tale the likes of which has never been told before, and is unlikely to be told again (well, at least not until I get paid to write another book, at any rate) awaits you.
So read on, brave souls…adventure awaits. And shenanigans. There will definitely be shenanigans.
February 15, 2017
Heloise & Grimple is on sale for 99 cents, and civilization is saved (you’re welcome, civilization)
Every once in a while, the world needs a special kind of hero, one equipped to deal with the unique challenges of a particular time and place.
In the beginning, it was Gilgamesh, because we needed someone to get the ball rolling. In the 1960s, it was James Bond, because we needed a nihilistic hedonist with a Scottish burr (then again, when DON’T you need one of those?). In the 1970s, it was Luke Skywalker, because we needed an idealist on a quest for something bigger, something better. In the 1980s, it was Ripley, because it was about time we had a badass lady action hero. In the 1990s, it was Homer Simpson, because, well, that was about right for the 90s.
So it has gone since time immemorial (or, at least, since Gilgamesh got written down), and so it will continue thus—we can only hope—for all time to come. Because, in a day when we are more divided than ever, when horrific things occur on a daily basis, when no one knows what the future will hold, I think we can all agree on one thing: we need a hero now more than ever. One who is smart. And tough. And maybe more than a little sarcastic. And if our hero for today is friends with a less-than-intellectual hill giant, an aspiring illusionist, and a dwarf who has one heck of chiseled backside? Well, so much the better.
At the moment when we need her most, Heloise the Bard is here to save us all (or, at least, make us grateful that we’re not the ones getting pooped on by a hoard of bats), and now, through the miracle of modern technology, you can bring her home (virtually) for the sum total of 99 CENTS—but, ONLY FOR A LIMITED TIME!
That’s right, FOHAGs*—from now until Friday night at midnight Eastern, The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple is on sale in the Kindle store for 99 cents (you can’t even buy a soda for 99 cents in most places, and, come on—which would you rather have speeding at you through a straw, something that came out of a soda fountain, or something that came out of me?).
Click here to go to the Amazon page.
Spend some time with the hero the world needs now and see what all of the hubbub is about. You might even come to realize why the good folks at Readers’ Favorite opined, upon reading about Heloise’s exploits, that "Mr. Gibson has the potential to be the next Terry Pratchett” (speculation is rampant that such high praise was due to a mix up with the review of another, much better book, but you’ll have to judge for yourself).
So tell your friends. Tell your family. Heck, tell your enemies. We need to come together, and there’s no better way to do that than a massive, Goodreads-wide buddy read that entails enjoying the adventures of a half-elven bard who gets frustrated at her moronic companions while pursuing the sweet possibility of getting some burly dwarven tail.
Happy reading, friends.
*Friends of Heloise and Grimple (duh)
In the beginning, it was Gilgamesh, because we needed someone to get the ball rolling. In the 1960s, it was James Bond, because we needed a nihilistic hedonist with a Scottish burr (then again, when DON’T you need one of those?). In the 1970s, it was Luke Skywalker, because we needed an idealist on a quest for something bigger, something better. In the 1980s, it was Ripley, because it was about time we had a badass lady action hero. In the 1990s, it was Homer Simpson, because, well, that was about right for the 90s.
So it has gone since time immemorial (or, at least, since Gilgamesh got written down), and so it will continue thus—we can only hope—for all time to come. Because, in a day when we are more divided than ever, when horrific things occur on a daily basis, when no one knows what the future will hold, I think we can all agree on one thing: we need a hero now more than ever. One who is smart. And tough. And maybe more than a little sarcastic. And if our hero for today is friends with a less-than-intellectual hill giant, an aspiring illusionist, and a dwarf who has one heck of chiseled backside? Well, so much the better.
At the moment when we need her most, Heloise the Bard is here to save us all (or, at least, make us grateful that we’re not the ones getting pooped on by a hoard of bats), and now, through the miracle of modern technology, you can bring her home (virtually) for the sum total of 99 CENTS—but, ONLY FOR A LIMITED TIME!
That’s right, FOHAGs*—from now until Friday night at midnight Eastern, The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple is on sale in the Kindle store for 99 cents (you can’t even buy a soda for 99 cents in most places, and, come on—which would you rather have speeding at you through a straw, something that came out of a soda fountain, or something that came out of me?).
Click here to go to the Amazon page.
Spend some time with the hero the world needs now and see what all of the hubbub is about. You might even come to realize why the good folks at Readers’ Favorite opined, upon reading about Heloise’s exploits, that "Mr. Gibson has the potential to be the next Terry Pratchett” (speculation is rampant that such high praise was due to a mix up with the review of another, much better book, but you’ll have to judge for yourself).
So tell your friends. Tell your family. Heck, tell your enemies. We need to come together, and there’s no better way to do that than a massive, Goodreads-wide buddy read that entails enjoying the adventures of a half-elven bard who gets frustrated at her moronic companions while pursuing the sweet possibility of getting some burly dwarven tail.
Happy reading, friends.
*Friends of Heloise and Grimple (duh)
December 19, 2016
Your Good Deeds Deserve Free Books -- So Come Claim Them!
While one hopes that the pursuit of philanthropy is a year-round endeavor, there’s little question that the combination of November/December holidays and the prospect of the end of another year prompt people to focus more on do-gooding than they might at other times.
(I’m reminded of the “Let’s make Earth Day every day!” campaign, and thinking that it would probably have been less successful had the holiday focal point been Columbus Day. “Let’s make Give the Natives a Smallpox Blanket Day every day!” just isn’t quite as catchy (unlike smallpox…hey-oh!)…but, I digress, as I usually tend to do. (Note: the preceding insensitive joke was made with no intent to offend anyone to whom it might prove offensive, and I apologize for offending anyone who might be offended by my pre-apology to anyone who might have taken offense. I think that disclaimer covers Red and Blue America both.)
I’ve written before about the importance of using one’s own gifts, hobbies, and interests as a means of giving back (see Do What You Do Well to Do Good), but, this time of year, people often focus on two simple ways of doing what they can to improve the world around them or the lives of those who are in need of assistance: by donating time or money to various charitable causes.
Not everyone has extra cash laying around to donate to worthy endeavors, as much as they might wish to, and some people are so exceedingly busy that the donation of time is as feasible as a comfortable colonoscopy, but in most cases, people can find one or the other, at least in a small quantity.
I want to hear about what you’ve done this year to help make someone’s life better, whether it was volunteering at a soup kitchen during the holidays, shoveling an elderly neighbor’s driveway, boxing up some gently used clothes to donate to the local mission or shelter, or contributing ducats to an organization that helps those in need, be they children, grown-ups, adults, or Earths. It’s always inspiring to hear what people are doing to help others, and my hope is that hearing what fellow Goodreaders are up to will inspire some ideas for all of us—not just now, during a time of giving, but all throughout 2017.
To encourage you to share (though I realize this might have the opposite of the intended effect), I will be giving away free copies of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple and The Camelot Shadow to anyone who shares their story in the comments section below by December 24 (I promise not to force either on you, however—you’re more than welcome to post even if you’ve already read either (or both) (because you’re awesome) or have no interest in reading either.* It’s a contest where everyone’s a winner!
So, tell us what you’ve done this year to help someone in need, and help inspire others to continue to do good into 2017 and beyond!
*That said, no less an authority than my friend Kevin**, who once finished a book, declared, after seeing both books, that they “certainly have all the outward characteristics possessed by books.” So, if that doesn’t pique your interest, I don’t know what will.
**I don’t actually have a friend *** named Kevin.
***I don’t actually have friends. Just nemeses****.
****None of my nemeses are named Kevin*****.
*****My realtor was named Kevin, though, and he was a solid guy. He’s never read, or seen, either book, though.
(I’m reminded of the “Let’s make Earth Day every day!” campaign, and thinking that it would probably have been less successful had the holiday focal point been Columbus Day. “Let’s make Give the Natives a Smallpox Blanket Day every day!” just isn’t quite as catchy (unlike smallpox…hey-oh!)…but, I digress, as I usually tend to do. (Note: the preceding insensitive joke was made with no intent to offend anyone to whom it might prove offensive, and I apologize for offending anyone who might be offended by my pre-apology to anyone who might have taken offense. I think that disclaimer covers Red and Blue America both.)
I’ve written before about the importance of using one’s own gifts, hobbies, and interests as a means of giving back (see Do What You Do Well to Do Good), but, this time of year, people often focus on two simple ways of doing what they can to improve the world around them or the lives of those who are in need of assistance: by donating time or money to various charitable causes.
Not everyone has extra cash laying around to donate to worthy endeavors, as much as they might wish to, and some people are so exceedingly busy that the donation of time is as feasible as a comfortable colonoscopy, but in most cases, people can find one or the other, at least in a small quantity.
I want to hear about what you’ve done this year to help make someone’s life better, whether it was volunteering at a soup kitchen during the holidays, shoveling an elderly neighbor’s driveway, boxing up some gently used clothes to donate to the local mission or shelter, or contributing ducats to an organization that helps those in need, be they children, grown-ups, adults, or Earths. It’s always inspiring to hear what people are doing to help others, and my hope is that hearing what fellow Goodreaders are up to will inspire some ideas for all of us—not just now, during a time of giving, but all throughout 2017.
To encourage you to share (though I realize this might have the opposite of the intended effect), I will be giving away free copies of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple and The Camelot Shadow to anyone who shares their story in the comments section below by December 24 (I promise not to force either on you, however—you’re more than welcome to post even if you’ve already read either (or both) (because you’re awesome) or have no interest in reading either.* It’s a contest where everyone’s a winner!
So, tell us what you’ve done this year to help someone in need, and help inspire others to continue to do good into 2017 and beyond!
*That said, no less an authority than my friend Kevin**, who once finished a book, declared, after seeing both books, that they “certainly have all the outward characteristics possessed by books.” So, if that doesn’t pique your interest, I don’t know what will.
**I don’t actually have a friend *** named Kevin.
***I don’t actually have friends. Just nemeses****.
****None of my nemeses are named Kevin*****.
*****My realtor was named Kevin, though, and he was a solid guy. He’s never read, or seen, either book, though.
November 21, 2016
A (Slightly Bawdy) Holiday Greeting from Heloise
As the holiday season fast approaches, Heloise asked if she could borrow my blog to share a message with all of you. For those who don’t know Heloise, check out The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple, and be sure to recommend, if not purchase, a copy for anyone on your holiday shopping list who has ever killed a mythical creature by rolling dice. They’ll thank you.
There are few things in life I love more than a good tradition (a tight dwarven backside would be one of them, which is, I assume, true for everyone, and a perfect melody would be another—but, I digress), and one of my favorite traditions is the annual Chriskahzaa holiday song festival in the bustling city of Lurvaine. They take their Chriskahzaa celebrations very seriously in Lurvaine, to the point where those who don’t exhibit enough holiday cheer (in the estimation of Lurvaine’s legendarily dour city watch) are press-ganged into work crews that are forced to string up magical twinkle lights across the city while imbibing the city’s traditional nog, a heady mixture of egg whites, fresh cream, cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar, and massive quantities of spiced krumk, a more alcoholic version of rum (I highly recommend it, though, as the work crews demonstrate, there seems to be a strong correlation between nog consumption and poorly strung magical twinkle lights, off-key singing, shedding of clothes, and occasional bouts of public fornication).
The song festival—which, not coincidentally, also usually involves the consumption of massive quantities of nog, albeit with a higher quality of singing—showcases bards from across Erithea, each vying to have their song chosen as the Song of the Season, an honor that confers both status (most bards would happily stab their own mothers, or at least their creepiest uncles, for the title) and lucrative popularity (local wizards mass produce magical recordings of the songs, which an eager and adoring public happily purchases).
I have attended the festival many times—and, it goes without saying, even though I’m saying it anyway (because all good bards say things that will get a cheap cheer from an audience)—have consumed more than my fair share of nog, though I can neither confirm nor deny the rumor that I once prevailed in a drinking contest against legendary lush Bordan Bilderbuff, a 7-foot mountain of a man who, it’s said, has more than a bit of giant blood in him, and who has been known to drink a keg of ale before breakfast as a means of cleansing his pallet for his beloved apple cinnamon oatmeal—but have not officially entered the contest.
Until now.
With my star on the rise after that business with the lich near Galverton (for the full story, see The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple, which you’ve already done unless you’ve been living a dreary and joyless existence in a dark hovel without the benefit of the enlightenment that comes with reading stories about yours truly, and Grimple (I suppose)), I figured it was about time to change that.
I’ve included the lyrics to my Song of the Season entry below (I should note that the Song of the Season tends to be a little on the ribald side). I realize that without my melodious voice to provide resonance and emotional inflection, it’s just words on a page, but I’ll match my rhyming skills with other bards any day. (And, should you make it to the festival, I’d be delighted to share a nog with you—Grimple and Rappy will pick up the tab…assuming you vote for my song, of course.)
Let ‘em Blow
In the key of festive merriment
Oh, the battle outside is frightful
Double-crossed demons always spiteful
And if they won’t let you go
Let ‘em blow, let ‘em blow, let ‘em blow
They’re sure to put up a fight
When they’re in their true hellish forms
If they try to hold you tight
Here’s something that will keep them warm
Take two parts red dragon urine
Mix with crushed basilisk spleen
Add a dash of displacer beast anus
And blow them right to smithereens
Once you have got your potion
Time to put your plan into motion
If the demons refuse to slow
Let ‘em blow, let ‘em blow, let ‘em blow
Now that the battle is ended
With demon guts sprayed all around
And your honor and virtue defended
Drink your nog up and party down
Pull your favorite dwarf in close
And give his backside a squeeze
I know one thing about those fellows
They sure do love a good tease
But before long they’ll want more
Their faces with nog all aglow
And they will soon start to roar
Let her blow, let her blow, let her blow
And it’s fine for you to comply
If you love your dwarven fellow
But as for me, I’ll always reply
After you go, after you go, after you go
Whether you celebrate Chriskahzaa, Merlinpeen, Glorbus Day, or any of the other traditional Erithean holidays this time of year (except Vorpal Fest, because I refuse to acknowledge beheading goats as a proper way to celebrate the season), may your nog be spiked, your clothes be discarded, your public fornications be uninterrupted, and your life be enriched by the warm embrace of friends and family alike.
Happy holidays to one and all!
There are few things in life I love more than a good tradition (a tight dwarven backside would be one of them, which is, I assume, true for everyone, and a perfect melody would be another—but, I digress), and one of my favorite traditions is the annual Chriskahzaa holiday song festival in the bustling city of Lurvaine. They take their Chriskahzaa celebrations very seriously in Lurvaine, to the point where those who don’t exhibit enough holiday cheer (in the estimation of Lurvaine’s legendarily dour city watch) are press-ganged into work crews that are forced to string up magical twinkle lights across the city while imbibing the city’s traditional nog, a heady mixture of egg whites, fresh cream, cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar, and massive quantities of spiced krumk, a more alcoholic version of rum (I highly recommend it, though, as the work crews demonstrate, there seems to be a strong correlation between nog consumption and poorly strung magical twinkle lights, off-key singing, shedding of clothes, and occasional bouts of public fornication).
The song festival—which, not coincidentally, also usually involves the consumption of massive quantities of nog, albeit with a higher quality of singing—showcases bards from across Erithea, each vying to have their song chosen as the Song of the Season, an honor that confers both status (most bards would happily stab their own mothers, or at least their creepiest uncles, for the title) and lucrative popularity (local wizards mass produce magical recordings of the songs, which an eager and adoring public happily purchases).
I have attended the festival many times—and, it goes without saying, even though I’m saying it anyway (because all good bards say things that will get a cheap cheer from an audience)—have consumed more than my fair share of nog, though I can neither confirm nor deny the rumor that I once prevailed in a drinking contest against legendary lush Bordan Bilderbuff, a 7-foot mountain of a man who, it’s said, has more than a bit of giant blood in him, and who has been known to drink a keg of ale before breakfast as a means of cleansing his pallet for his beloved apple cinnamon oatmeal—but have not officially entered the contest.
Until now.
With my star on the rise after that business with the lich near Galverton (for the full story, see The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple, which you’ve already done unless you’ve been living a dreary and joyless existence in a dark hovel without the benefit of the enlightenment that comes with reading stories about yours truly, and Grimple (I suppose)), I figured it was about time to change that.
I’ve included the lyrics to my Song of the Season entry below (I should note that the Song of the Season tends to be a little on the ribald side). I realize that without my melodious voice to provide resonance and emotional inflection, it’s just words on a page, but I’ll match my rhyming skills with other bards any day. (And, should you make it to the festival, I’d be delighted to share a nog with you—Grimple and Rappy will pick up the tab…assuming you vote for my song, of course.)
Let ‘em Blow
In the key of festive merriment
Oh, the battle outside is frightful
Double-crossed demons always spiteful
And if they won’t let you go
Let ‘em blow, let ‘em blow, let ‘em blow
They’re sure to put up a fight
When they’re in their true hellish forms
If they try to hold you tight
Here’s something that will keep them warm
Take two parts red dragon urine
Mix with crushed basilisk spleen
Add a dash of displacer beast anus
And blow them right to smithereens
Once you have got your potion
Time to put your plan into motion
If the demons refuse to slow
Let ‘em blow, let ‘em blow, let ‘em blow
Now that the battle is ended
With demon guts sprayed all around
And your honor and virtue defended
Drink your nog up and party down
Pull your favorite dwarf in close
And give his backside a squeeze
I know one thing about those fellows
They sure do love a good tease
But before long they’ll want more
Their faces with nog all aglow
And they will soon start to roar
Let her blow, let her blow, let her blow
And it’s fine for you to comply
If you love your dwarven fellow
But as for me, I’ll always reply
After you go, after you go, after you go
Whether you celebrate Chriskahzaa, Merlinpeen, Glorbus Day, or any of the other traditional Erithean holidays this time of year (except Vorpal Fest, because I refuse to acknowledge beheading goats as a proper way to celebrate the season), may your nog be spiked, your clothes be discarded, your public fornications be uninterrupted, and your life be enriched by the warm embrace of friends and family alike.
Happy holidays to one and all!
November 1, 2016
For Your Consideration: Vote Heloise & Grimple for Goodreads Choice Awards!
There’s a brilliant old Halloween episode of the Simpsons that aired during the 1996 election season in which the two primary candidates for President, Bill Clinton and Bob Dole, were replaced by those alien rapscallions Kang and Kodos. Once this is revealed to voters, one man boldly proclaims that he’ll vote for a third-party candidate, which prompts mocking laughter from the aliens, who admonish him, “Go ahead, throw away your vote!” as an angry Ross Perot punches his fist through his hat.
Is voting for a write-in book in the Goodreads Choice Awards the digital literary equivalent of throwing away your vote? Of course it is. But, like Homer Simpson, who, when President Kang is his horse-whipping his slave labor force (which is, of course, all of humanity), asserts, “Don’t blame me—I voted for Kodos!”, it never hurts to exit the voting booth with a clear conscience, which means voting for the most worthy candidate. Or, at least, the one I paid you to vote for.
To that end, then, I’d like to present a historic longshot, a dark horse so obsidian that it may, in fact, be a black hole that allows neither light nor readers to escape, for the 2016 Choice Award for Fantasy: The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple.
Why, you ask, should I use my valuable vote on this particular tome, which seems both inconsequential relative to the weighty (and worthy) competitors it faces and to have been written by a caterpillar-eyebrowed jackanapes who’s wasting everyone’s time penning blog paeans to his own greatness? Glad you asked, because I’ll tell you:
1) Fresh voices are in vogue, and it’s hard to be fresher voiced than a strong and assertive half-elven bard who takes no guff from dimwitted hill giants, potentially evil wizards, or smoking hot dwarves, no matter how taut their backsides.
2) The world is a scary and tumultuous place, and what better way to escape from the horrifying prospect (and horrifying reality) of war, terrorism, trade imbalance, and Donald Trump’s pervasive hand gestures than by spending some time in a comic fantasy where the single most important objective is the aforementioned dimwitted hill giant getting back the giant club he lovingly refers to as “Banger” (yet inexplicably also describes using feminine pronouns)?
3) Eyebrow situations and prodigious proboscis notwithstanding, the book’s author smells nice (generally), takes a daily multivitamin (even though that might be the biggest scam ever perpetrated by the supplemental health industrial complex), and is often kind to cuddly creatures, unless said creatures are vampiric chinchillas, in which case he evinces a casual indifference. Do him a solid and help spread the word about what he thinks is a tale that’s at least entertaining enough to make you go, “Meh.”
(Wait, what? You haven’t read the book yet? Well, jeez—get on that so you can vote your conscience!)
Regardless of whether or not you actually vote for H&G (which you would only do if you’re a good person who is also cool), be sure to recognize at least some of the amazing works that have been published in the past year and share them with your friends—the authors will thank you!
Is voting for a write-in book in the Goodreads Choice Awards the digital literary equivalent of throwing away your vote? Of course it is. But, like Homer Simpson, who, when President Kang is his horse-whipping his slave labor force (which is, of course, all of humanity), asserts, “Don’t blame me—I voted for Kodos!”, it never hurts to exit the voting booth with a clear conscience, which means voting for the most worthy candidate. Or, at least, the one I paid you to vote for.
To that end, then, I’d like to present a historic longshot, a dark horse so obsidian that it may, in fact, be a black hole that allows neither light nor readers to escape, for the 2016 Choice Award for Fantasy: The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple.
Why, you ask, should I use my valuable vote on this particular tome, which seems both inconsequential relative to the weighty (and worthy) competitors it faces and to have been written by a caterpillar-eyebrowed jackanapes who’s wasting everyone’s time penning blog paeans to his own greatness? Glad you asked, because I’ll tell you:
1) Fresh voices are in vogue, and it’s hard to be fresher voiced than a strong and assertive half-elven bard who takes no guff from dimwitted hill giants, potentially evil wizards, or smoking hot dwarves, no matter how taut their backsides.
2) The world is a scary and tumultuous place, and what better way to escape from the horrifying prospect (and horrifying reality) of war, terrorism, trade imbalance, and Donald Trump’s pervasive hand gestures than by spending some time in a comic fantasy where the single most important objective is the aforementioned dimwitted hill giant getting back the giant club he lovingly refers to as “Banger” (yet inexplicably also describes using feminine pronouns)?
3) Eyebrow situations and prodigious proboscis notwithstanding, the book’s author smells nice (generally), takes a daily multivitamin (even though that might be the biggest scam ever perpetrated by the supplemental health industrial complex), and is often kind to cuddly creatures, unless said creatures are vampiric chinchillas, in which case he evinces a casual indifference. Do him a solid and help spread the word about what he thinks is a tale that’s at least entertaining enough to make you go, “Meh.”
(Wait, what? You haven’t read the book yet? Well, jeez—get on that so you can vote your conscience!)
Regardless of whether or not you actually vote for H&G (which you would only do if you’re a good person who is also cool), be sure to recognize at least some of the amazing works that have been published in the past year and share them with your friends—the authors will thank you!
October 3, 2016
Want to win a free copy of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple? (Who Wouldn't?)
It’s Monday, and unless you work a schedule such that Monday is your Friday or you’re just a psychotically happy person, you’re probably feeling some combination of anger, rage, and hopelessness (and that’s just because you can’t get the coffee maker to work, and before you’ve even really gotten into the day yet).
There are two primary ways to mitigate the Monday moroseness: 1) win the lottery and 2) free books.
I don’t have any lucky numbers for you, I’m afraid, but I think I can help you out on the latter point.
Start the week on a high note by giving yourself a chance to win a free copy of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple. How, you ask, do I gain the opportunity to experience this life-changing event? It’s pretty simple, really—all you need do (by midnight Pacific time on October 6) is:
*Add The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple to your TBR on Goodreads
*Comment on this blog post below about how excited you are to read the book, how devastatingly handsome I am, how surprised you are that a man with so much nose has such small feet, or whatever strikes you as being an interesting thing to say (in other words, comment on whatever you like; I’ll count your comment as your official contest entry)
Five winners will be selected and be sent their virtual booty on October 7 (book is available as a PDF or directly from Amazon in Kindle format).
Good luck to all!
There are two primary ways to mitigate the Monday moroseness: 1) win the lottery and 2) free books.
I don’t have any lucky numbers for you, I’m afraid, but I think I can help you out on the latter point.
Start the week on a high note by giving yourself a chance to win a free copy of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple. How, you ask, do I gain the opportunity to experience this life-changing event? It’s pretty simple, really—all you need do (by midnight Pacific time on October 6) is:
*Add The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple to your TBR on Goodreads
*Comment on this blog post below about how excited you are to read the book, how devastatingly handsome I am, how surprised you are that a man with so much nose has such small feet, or whatever strikes you as being an interesting thing to say (in other words, comment on whatever you like; I’ll count your comment as your official contest entry)
Five winners will be selected and be sent their virtual booty on October 7 (book is available as a PDF or directly from Amazon in Kindle format).
Good luck to all!
September 29, 2016
Heloise & Grimple is Released, and Good Is (Hopefully) Done
I’m delighted to announce, thanks in no small part to the loyalty and support of the Goodreads community, the publication of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple, which is now available on Kindle. (Take note, loyal FOHAGs—the collection includes the previously unpublished concluding installment.)
You can find a description of the book on the Amazon page or on the GR listing for the book, but I’d like to focus here not on the particulars of the story (which is probably the greatest fantasy saga ever told, in my completely objective opinion), but on the wonderful GR community that helps make it possible for these types of stories to find their way out into the world.
I have a crazy busy job that requires long hours. I have two kids under the age of 3.5 who require a ton of hands-on attention (and who think sleep for their parents is optional). I have a house to keep up and take care of. And, I have a fairly lengthy commute (usually upwards of 2 hours roundtrip each day). In short, I have a lot going on these days.
I also have an incurable addiction to telling stories.
So, what do you do when you’re desperate to write stories, but have very little time (specifically, a 15-20 minute chunk of time in the morning during the carpooling portion of your commute, and a similar chunk during the trip home in the evening)? If you’re me, you start banging out a semi-coherent, serialized story about a quippy half-elven bard and her gambling-addicted hill giant companion, and you rely on the GR community to give you the energy you need to keep at it day in and day out no matter how tired you are in the morning (after a bad night of sleep) or how worn out you are in the evening (after a stressful day of work).
Over the past 9 months, I’ve released 12 installments of The Chronicle on this blog, and, in each case, it was the enthusiastic, supportive, and very witty comments from GR readers that kept me pushing the story forward. I can’t speak for all writers, but I write stories simply in the hope that people will read and enjoy them, and that they can, in some small way, make someone’s day a little better. Of course, hearing directly from people that a story I’ve written has managed to do precisely that probably makes me feel ten times better than my story made them feel in the first place…
And so I say thank you, a million times over, to everyone on GR who took the time to read or comment on the story somewhere along the way. I would especially like to thank the following readers, who were kind enough to read/like/comment upon darn near every installment, and whose opinions and suggestions helped shape the narrative (so, yes—you can blame them for anything you don’t like), presented in alphabetical order: Aileene, Amber, Bret, Cathy, Cindy, Ginger, Lolly, Miriam, Mona, Paul, Shadowdenizen, Sharyl, and Trish (Bret, Lolly, and Paul all also contributed some stellar artwork to the collection)
In keeping with the tradition that began with The Camelot Shadow, I’m hopeful that the publication of The Chronicle will manage to do some small bit of good beyond nominally entertaining the easily entertained (not to denigrate my readers, mind you). As described previously in this space (see "Do What You Do Well to Do Good"), I’m an advocate for using the skills and abilities that we all have to try to inject some goodwill into the world; to that end, all proceeds from the first 150 copies sold of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple will be donated to ProLiteracy (www.proliteracy.org), an organization that promotes adult literacy through content development, programs, and advocacy. So, feel good about your purchase, dear readers, and contemplate how you can use YOUR unique skills to do some good out there.
So, what’s next? Glad you asked (or, at least, are sticking around while I tell you, whether you’re interested or not). The sequel to the aforementioned The Camelot Shadow calls, and Bret and I are slowly making progress on Cheesecalibur. There may also be further adventures starring our friends Heloise and Grimple, and there are a slew of other stories waiting—practically begging, in fact—to be told, if only time will slow down enough for me to write them.
Regardless, you’ll be hearing from me soon, and probably far more (and far sooner) than you’d like.
Until then, I’ll take a cue from Grimple and sign off by saying, simply…
Tally ho!
You can find a description of the book on the Amazon page or on the GR listing for the book, but I’d like to focus here not on the particulars of the story (which is probably the greatest fantasy saga ever told, in my completely objective opinion), but on the wonderful GR community that helps make it possible for these types of stories to find their way out into the world.
I have a crazy busy job that requires long hours. I have two kids under the age of 3.5 who require a ton of hands-on attention (and who think sleep for their parents is optional). I have a house to keep up and take care of. And, I have a fairly lengthy commute (usually upwards of 2 hours roundtrip each day). In short, I have a lot going on these days.
I also have an incurable addiction to telling stories.
So, what do you do when you’re desperate to write stories, but have very little time (specifically, a 15-20 minute chunk of time in the morning during the carpooling portion of your commute, and a similar chunk during the trip home in the evening)? If you’re me, you start banging out a semi-coherent, serialized story about a quippy half-elven bard and her gambling-addicted hill giant companion, and you rely on the GR community to give you the energy you need to keep at it day in and day out no matter how tired you are in the morning (after a bad night of sleep) or how worn out you are in the evening (after a stressful day of work).
Over the past 9 months, I’ve released 12 installments of The Chronicle on this blog, and, in each case, it was the enthusiastic, supportive, and very witty comments from GR readers that kept me pushing the story forward. I can’t speak for all writers, but I write stories simply in the hope that people will read and enjoy them, and that they can, in some small way, make someone’s day a little better. Of course, hearing directly from people that a story I’ve written has managed to do precisely that probably makes me feel ten times better than my story made them feel in the first place…
And so I say thank you, a million times over, to everyone on GR who took the time to read or comment on the story somewhere along the way. I would especially like to thank the following readers, who were kind enough to read/like/comment upon darn near every installment, and whose opinions and suggestions helped shape the narrative (so, yes—you can blame them for anything you don’t like), presented in alphabetical order: Aileene, Amber, Bret, Cathy, Cindy, Ginger, Lolly, Miriam, Mona, Paul, Shadowdenizen, Sharyl, and Trish (Bret, Lolly, and Paul all also contributed some stellar artwork to the collection)
In keeping with the tradition that began with The Camelot Shadow, I’m hopeful that the publication of The Chronicle will manage to do some small bit of good beyond nominally entertaining the easily entertained (not to denigrate my readers, mind you). As described previously in this space (see "Do What You Do Well to Do Good"), I’m an advocate for using the skills and abilities that we all have to try to inject some goodwill into the world; to that end, all proceeds from the first 150 copies sold of The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple will be donated to ProLiteracy (www.proliteracy.org), an organization that promotes adult literacy through content development, programs, and advocacy. So, feel good about your purchase, dear readers, and contemplate how you can use YOUR unique skills to do some good out there.
So, what’s next? Glad you asked (or, at least, are sticking around while I tell you, whether you’re interested or not). The sequel to the aforementioned The Camelot Shadow calls, and Bret and I are slowly making progress on Cheesecalibur. There may also be further adventures starring our friends Heloise and Grimple, and there are a slew of other stories waiting—practically begging, in fact—to be told, if only time will slow down enough for me to write them.
Regardless, you’ll be hearing from me soon, and probably far more (and far sooner) than you’d like.
Until then, I’ll take a cue from Grimple and sign off by saying, simply…
Tally ho!
July 7, 2016
The Chronicle of Heloise and Grimple – A Serial Adventure (Part 12): Ruh-Roh, Rappy!
For those who dig fun, rollicking fantasy adventures, we hereby present the penultimate Part 12 of The Chronicle of Heloise and Grimple (for more background on the series and to read Part 1: All’s Well That Begins Well, click here).
Wait...where did all the content go?! You'll have to check out the collected Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple for the full story...coming soon! Watch this space.
Wait...where did all the content go?! You'll have to check out the collected Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple for the full story...coming soon! Watch this space.
June 14, 2016
The Chronicle of Heloise and Grimple – A Serial Adventure (Part 11): Beats Chutes and Leaves
For those who dig fun, rollicking fantasy adventures, we hereby present Part 11 of The Chronicle of Heloise and Grimple (for more background on the series and to read Part 1: All’s Well That Begins Well, click here). Periodically throughout the series, you, Dear Readers, will be presented with decision points at the end of installments, and it is YOUR collective feedback that will help determine the path our heroes take.
Wait...where did all the content go?! You'll have to check out the collected Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple for the full story...coming soon! Watch this space.
Wait...where did all the content go?! You'll have to check out the collected Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple for the full story...coming soon! Watch this space.
June 2, 2016
The Chronicle of Heloise and Grimple – A Serial Adventure (Part 10): A Cubic Meconium Necklace
For those who dig fun, rollicking fantasy adventures, we hereby present Part 10 of The Chronicle of Heloise and Grimple (for more background on the series and to read Part 1: All’s Well That Begins Well, click here). Periodically throughout the series, you, Dear Readers, will be presented with decision points at the end of installments, and it is YOUR collective feedback that will help determine the path our heroes take.
Part 10: A Cubic Meconium Necklace
Wait...where did all the content go?! You'll have to check out the collected Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple for the full story...coming soon! Watch this space.
Part 10: A Cubic Meconium Necklace
Wait...where did all the content go?! You'll have to check out the collected Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple for the full story...coming soon! Watch this space.
