I have been working on the sequel

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I have been working on my sequel. I haven’t written any new chapters, but I fixed up what I already had written.

It felt strange and wonderful catching up with my characters and revisiting Lendaw. I can now continue onward, so I will not be pu

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I have been working on my sequel. I haven’t written any new chapters, but I fixed up what I already had written.

It felt strange and wonderful catching up with my characters and revisiting Lendaw. I can now continue onward, so I will not be publishing as frequently. I will try for once a week maybe twice. I still want to read when I am on transit. I have purchased a lot of e-books that I haven’t gotten to and I feel I should read them before I purchase any more. It is tricky juggling all I need and want to do, so this is my compromise.

I have been off for two weeks and during that time I have been reading and writing and playing/surfing/socializing on/via my computer. I also took time to just relax. Work has been busy and hectic, and we have been (are?) shorthanded, so I needed the break.

I am back to work (the routine) this week. It was a bit of a struggle getting up this morning after sleeping in for two weeks.

I will keep you posted and continue to post my stuff.

Until the next time,
—Robert Confiant 22 October 2018

 

Off and writing

Well, I am off for a while. I have returned to the sequel. I took time off. I don’t really know why; I wasn’t stuck or anyrhing like that. I guess I just needed time away.

Anyway, I am back at it. Here is the Prologue:

Prologue

Keri looked contemptuously at Gerek.

It was a mistake to escort the Dwaran. Such a loathsome creature.

Keri called it a Dwaran, for there was no name for a creature such as he before, after this venture, she hoped she never would see another like it again. The half-human and half-dwarf mix made for a creature that, in her opinion, was an abomination. A little taller than a lad, his hands and feet were too big for his body. In fact, everything about him seemed wrong he had a crooked nose, a patchy beard, his crooked teeth were yellow and brown, his breath was sour with the rank odor of gouk, a thick leaf weed for chewing. He wore a cap to cover his balding head, he wore travel pants, shirt and tunic. His looks were not the only aspect which Keri abhor Gerek. To make matters worse, he barely washed himself the resulting stench was too much for Keri to bear. Most annoying thing for Keri were none of these. No, she could tolerate his appearance, she had seen many strange creatures in her many travels; no, it wasn’t his looks that irritated her most, its constant bickering and droning on and on. Since Keri agreed to escorted Gerek through the Dark Lands three weeks ago, he had not shut-up. His constant whining and bickering began to irritate her. She despised him. For Keri, this was the final insult.

What has become of the world, when creatures such as this are deemed of such importance? In her experience, it was one’s actions and deeds that determined whether one was a great leader, or not.

Keri shook her head disapprovingly.

Keri’s rough exterior was a result of her being a woman in a man’s world. The cutthroat existence that was customary of the roamers. Her black hair grew mid-way down her back which she often wore up tucking her tresses under her hat; she had an oval face with a small, dainty nose, brown eyes, and a wide mouth with thick lips. She was medium built, lean and muscular, she was stronger than she appeared earning her place as leader of her tribe.

Keri was Chief of her people. For the most part, her people considered her a respectable leader. Her expectations of others where high; though no higher than that she placed on herself. She could be quick to temper, especially when irritated; she knew to keep her anger in check. She was not one who acted out of anger. Her people considered her a fair and just leader. One who listened to her people and contemplated her next move before making any decisions before.

Keri regretted her current decision to guide Gerek and his men through Toirmait, or “The Dark Lands,” as it was known by outsiders. The lands were hers; to her and her people, these were sacred lands. The Shaemis kept its secrets.

The Dark Lands, Gerek now knew why people oft referred to this territory by that name. The land was barren, nothing grew in these parts: Charred trees and shrubs were all that remained, they scattered sparsely across the great expanse in a patchy form. The sky was with dark and grey with stratus clouds. Gerek and his men struggled under its gloom. Gerek knew of the dangers within the boundaries of The Dark Lands. Bogs of poisonous gases and water, quicksand and sinkholes, Gorgens and Snarecaps beasts of man-eating flesh. These traps lay scattered the countryside making their trek to Kirell even more dangerous. This was unmapped territory. Gerek relied on Keri’s lead to guide their way safely through the dangers, and for this, he paid her well.

Keri gazed at Gerek and his men, “Hurry up you slugs. It is almost night; we must be there before sunset.”

You cannot believe what fate awaits us if we delay much longer. If you believe you have paid a great price with the loss of half your men, if you do not hurry, we will all surely die.

Gerek shivered, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He looked to his left, then to his right, and finally turned to the rear.

Nothing.

He chuckled to himself, You dunce, why are you being so foolish?

Still he could not shake the feeling they were being watched.

Gerek promised the men a share of the great treasure to secure their services.

Thieves and scoundrels the lot of them.

Gerek cared not whether they survived this quest or not. He only cared only to acquire The Cau.

The company marched cautiously onward. Occasionally, Keri backtracked before continuing in a different direction; she rarely explained herself to the others mumbling to herself before moving onward.

By sunset, Gerek spied a structure in the distance. Kirell, the Temple of Kael – The Destroyer. They had arrived. Gerek shoved his way forward as he raced toward the entrance of shrine.

Keri lit four torches distributing them to Gerek, two hirelings, and herself. Gerek and Keri took the lead, while the other two men covered their rear. Down and down, and down they went. The walls in the stairway were damp and grimy. They slowed their pace lest they fall off the side to their death. Once at the bottom, Gerek ordered his men to stay.

Gerek and Keri weaved through the corridors until the reach the inner-most chamber.

There ahead stood a statue of two figures, the first figure and the shorter of the two was struggling to reach and grasp the object in the taller figure’s hand.

Keri witnessed the exhibit.

It is as if they were imprisoned for all eternity. What a terrible way to go.

Gerek rushed over to seize the orb.

“Wait you fool,” hissed Keri.

Gerek snarled, “You only wish the prize for yourself.”

Gerek seized the stone from Kael likeness. The stone flared to life. He cringed in pain; the fire began to burn within the palm of his hand.

Gerek realized his mistake too late. Try as he might, he could not shake the stone loose. The fire continued to burn and burn. Gerek shrieked with pain. The fire intensified until it consumed Gerek. He wailed a final time.

The stone dropped to the floor, and Gerek was no more.

Keri grinned smugly.

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My goaI is to continue writing in the evenings and weekends until I complete the first draft.

It feels good to be back at it. In the next few weeks, I will have news that I hope will excite my readers further.

—Robert Confiant  October 2018

 

I am a re-reader

I am a re-reader. If the book is enjoyable, then I will read it again. I do this for movies as well.

reading

Currently, I am re-reader the Harry Potter series; although, I am not doing so all at once. I do read something new between every book, or two.

I am on a young adult genre kick though. Call it, “Indirect research,” as I write YA Fantasy. I do not; however, stick to just the Fantasy genre. I read other types of materials. I find reading this material helpful to my writing as it has been a very long time since I was a teenager LOL.

I read a lot of fiction. I no longer read a lot of non-fiction, but I do have some mythology references, foreign language references, and some writing references. The references come in handy.

When I first got back into writing, and I began to take it more seriously I decided to take a few writing courses. One of my favorite writing courses was a grammar refresher course at UBC. The grammar refresher was very helpful. Although, I still have a long way to go before I become a good writer. I have observed improvement over the years, so I keep at it (Those who are familiar with this blog will know that “Improvement” is one of the criteria for me to remain doing something, or staying with a thing I am currently doing). Besides I love to write.

I am an avid reader and writer. It can be difficult trying to balance my time between these two activities, but I manage. I used to fret if I spent more time with one over the other. I don’t let it bother me anymore as both reading and writing are important.
—Robert Confiant 26 September 2018

 

 

This writing craft proffession is odd

Awake and writingThis profession called, “Writing,” specifically the craft of writing is odd. Some days, it comes easily and naturally, while other days, one draws a blank. In my case, I pretty much write something every day (I just don’t always post it).

I don’t always post because it is not post worthy in that it is horribly written, or uninteresting. Yes, I jot down every idea even if the idea is crap. Sometimes, I need to think about a revision. If I believe the piece to be salvageable, which if I am being honest, and I am, is not always the case. I am not as shame to admit that some of what I write is crap. I know everything I write needs editing, but if one is not signed on with a publishing, this can quickly get costly. As a result, I do my best to self-edit before I post to my blog.

Ideas, I have a lot of them. That part of writing is not too difficult for me. The difficult part is getting the idea onto paper in an interesting and presentable fashion. This is not always easy, but like every craft, I discovered that one improves over time. You should read my very early stuff. I have and I’ve revised a lot of it. For many of us who call themselves writer’s. I think the issue of: “When is a piece of writing complete,” is a struggle in, and of it. I am pragmatic about this. I post it when the article becomes a complete thought; otherwise, I would never publish.

So, yes writing is a strange craft. I can no longer stop writing; it’s in my blood. I love it. It gives me a purpose. It also leaves a legacy for me. As a gay man without children, I find this has become important to me and I find writing accomplishes this need of having a legacy. I just hope to hone my craft and that I continue to improve to become a better writer.
—Robert Confiant 25 September 2018

Importance of first readers

Darkness. It is ever so dark. The magic is ebbing; the magic is dispelling. It fades into the void and the darkness grows. As the blackness increases, we decrease. We begin to fade away. We are bound to the magic without it we cease to exist; without magic, we die. Perhaps…

Jenna slumped to the floor, her head laid within the palm of her hands. This could not be allowed to happen; the dragons must not die. She lifted her head speaking up, “Lendaw is not the only thing dying,” she paused, fighting back the tears, “The dragons are in peril too.”
…our time has come.

As opposed to:

Darkness and cold. The magic is ebbing. As it does, we depart too. Perhaps…

Jenna fell to her knees. Her face cradled in her hands.

Kur! I will never allow it. You must not die.

Jenna gathered herself together. She held up her hand to fend off the others from approaching. “I am alright,” she stated, as she rose; mumbling, more to herself than to anyone else, “I will never let you die. You have my word on this.”

…Our time has come.

Although this is still rough, one gets the point: The importance of critical first readers cannot be overstated if one is to produce good story telling.
-Robert Confiant 21 July 2018

 

 

What makes life worthwhile? What gets you motivated? What gets you up to face each day?

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What makes life worthwhile? What gets you motivated? What gets you up to face each day? These are interesting questions.

I myself cannot fully answer these questions, but I will attempt my best to answer them.
Because I must, I must get up. One has to earn a living. One has to earn an income to live. Life isn’t cheap: There is a rent/mortgage, food, clothing, and bills to pay. However, there must be more to life than being chained to the “nine to five” existence; there must be more to life than “Working for the man.” For me, writing and socializing fill the gap. I love to write. It has become my passion. I like to socialize as well. I am not good in a strange crowd, but over time I become more social. I am shy at first, but outgoing once I get to know people.

I like to meet a lot of different people from a lot of different places, and with a lot of different experiences in life. Everyone of us is unique. We all are different: We come from different classes, different cultures, different upbringings and different experience. It is a joy to learn about where people are at in life, where they have been and what their hopes and dreams are for the future. I get a kick out of learning about the people who come into my life.

I am a writer, so I write about what I know, and about what I like. Sometimes I write about what I have learnt and what I have experienced. I write about how I am doing or how I am feeling. I write about whatever comes to mind. I never really know what I will write until I sit down and start to write. Sometimes it is a topic.

I usually start with the topic on the opening line of my verse. It is still a wonder sometimes where I get my ideals; although, I try not to over analyze my writing procedure too much. I just accept that ideas come to me and I write about whatever idea has entered my brain – It’s as simple as that – no great mystery.

My partner helps get me motivated to face each day. My partner, in this case, is also my best friend. He loves me, and I him. I know he would never intentionally hurt me. This was a key in my search for a companion. We love each other unconditionally though. I accept him and he accepts me. It is why we rarely argue. We have never gone to sleep angry. We’ve always ironed out our differences before going to bed. It makes getting up in the morning easy.

So, these are the reasons that life is worthwhile, getting up is easy, and they are the things that help me face each day.
—Robert Confiant 7 July 2018