Saxon Combat

I recently donned a helmet and shield to adopt the mindset of a 5^th Century Saxon warrior, to enhance my research on the first novel in my Saga trilogy.  With the help of Andy Pilkington I was shot at by arrows, advanced in a shield wall and took out an opponent with axe and sword.  Most of the action was slow-motion relay and we discussed how to wield the weaponry, though I found there are some things you cannot slow down.

Although it's been a while since I've posted I have not been idle.  Honest.  I've been as busy as the birds in my garden who have been foraging for nesting materials and fending off rivals among the conifers and apple trees.  In a way, I have also been nesting, preparing something that I hope will support me.  Only instead of twigs, fluff and feathers I have been using pens, paper and my computer.

A Mother's Tale

          Foliage breaking strides through the undergrowth of the uneven holt floor was barely enough to delay the pounding of clawed feet.  Tongue sliding through the side of my mouth and breathing ragged, I tried to outrun them.  They were hungry, however, and would not slow down merely to provide me with more time to prepare.  Heavy with young, I wanted to quell their lust for larger kill; wanted to tame them before I birthed my own into their hungry midst.  There were too many males and I feared there would be bloodshed.

Pre-Writerhood

          It is interesting to know what writers were before they were writers.  For most of us, we have taken a long and winding journey before destiny found us and handed us the golden pen of creation.  Even those of us lucky enough to have been scribing since a young age, have always come by way of another route.  Often the way of the writer is a never-ending twisted and gnarled path of trials and tribulations, with occasional high notes and flat plains of free sailing.

Contentment is...

          Sometimes the simplest things can be the hardest to achieve.  Hours, days or weeks pass, for some maybe even months, with nothing; a wordless page, an empty document, a mind void of inspiration and full of hesitation.  For me it was four weeks; four weeks of numbing dead space inside my cranium.  I had been steaming ahead with editing my second book in my trilogy, boldly confident that I would soon be back to writing the rest of book three in no time at all.  I was wrong.

Forward!

It’s been a long process but I am finally ‘there’, by which I mean I am ‘here’, that is to say I have arrived at a pre-disposed point, which I had set as a personal goal.  In plain English, my first novel in a trilogy is complete and has been submitted to a literary agent.

A Day at the Museum...

          There’s something majestic about entering a museum; an awe that slides down the spine, slow like honey.

Snowdrops

          I received a snowdrop plant this week.

All Time

For Summer’s warm embrace we await,

Spiralling in and out, not yet awake,

For mere mortals here are we,

No strangers, but visitors to this land

And carefully tread we must till

Some Divinity does take us by the hand.

Then into some warm and nestled place

We will be led,

Forever With Me

I don’t think I quite realised the effect completing a book would have on me.  I had greatly underestimated the sense of loss I would feel, once there was nothing left to work on.  I have two other books awaiting my attention for editing.  However, they cannot compare to the first book.  It is finished, written, edited, soon to be sent to agents.

Biting the Langseax...

It's finally arrived; the fated moment when I realised I could do no more redrafting and my first of a trilogy was ready to wend its way to agents.  Heaving a deep sigh, I have begun the task of printing what must constitute half a forest.  Not as many agents accept electronic submissions as I thought, but several will retain your MSS for shredding and recycling, which acts as a bonus.

How Do You Start a Novel?

It is something I have always yearned to know from other writers but never asked.