Path Unchosen Cover

Path Unchosen is the title of my novel. It’s the story of an apprentice necromancer who discovers that someone is deliberately raising zombies. She risks her life, and her soul, to stop them before any more innocent people die. This book is the first in a somewhat darkish urban fantasy series I’ve called Daughter of Ravenswood.

I’m very happy with the cover, which was designed by Andrew Brown, of Design for Writers.  I like its feel, its just the right amount of creepiness 🙂

According to Dr. Carl Jung ravens symbolize our shadow selves, the dark side of our psyches. If we want to be whole we need to acknowledge and communicate with that dark side. Wholeness brings balance, and facilitates wisdom (something the wise raven would be very pleased with). It might be the end of the series before we see how much balance and wisdom my heroine achieves.

Can you see the dragon? Nothing thematic here. I just like dragons, and can’t imagine writing a story without one!

I am also pleased with the series and book titles. It’s funny though, as soon as you decide on a book title, you can’t remember or imagine any others. The hours, days, even weeks of indecision and brain pain are forgotten.

The name Path Unchosen was suggested by one of my beta readers when I begged for help after pulling out the last strands of my hair! The series name and future books in the series came slightly easier 😛

It will be available as an eBook soon, and in print in a few weeks. I’m so glad I decided to self-publish. Even though its mentally exhausting I can’t imagine not being in control of my own business. Exciting times ahead 🙂

What do you think of the cover? What does it suggest to you?

On Being Welsh

Beddgelert, North Wales by A Roger Davies on Flickr (cc)

I’m not sure why I feel so Welsh.
Though I do.
I always have.

I grew up in Birmingham in the UK. But my family hails from Wales (and before that Ireland) and we spent every holiday in our caravan in a Welsh camping ground. Mostly we stayed at a small village near Rhyl.

Late sun on New Years Day, Conwy Valley, Wales, UK by erwlas on Flickr (cc)

Perhaps it’s because of the happiest memories: of forest walks and mountain climbs. Donkey rides on the stony beach. Hot chips in newspaper, the salt rough on my lips. Ice-cream cones melting down my wrist. Vinegar on bee stings and bulls in green fields. Waggly tails on black faced lambs. Even in summer, it rained like old ladies and sticks (mae hi’n bwrw hen wragedd a ffyn). Spots hammered against the caravan windows, and we grabbed books and jigsaw puzzles to wait for the sun to come out.

Wales, UK by neiljs on Flickr (cc)

When I first started writing my short story (the one that turned into an urban fantasy novel, you can read about that here) the setting was always Wales in my head. No-one wants to read paragraphs of description anymore, so the trick is to give a snippet of setting in context that sets the scene for readers. I hope I’ve achieved that!

A stormy day at Mewslade Bay, Gower, South Wales, UK by geographyalltheway.com on Flickr (cc)

My father, like a dog with two tails (fel ci efo dau gynffon), remembered a few words of Welsh at the end of his life and told us stories of scrumping apples, catching rabbits for dinner, and doing anything to avoid working in the pits. That’s how we ended up in Birmingham!

Knowing who I am makes me stronger.

How about you? Do you know where you come from? Does it help you to understand who you are?

Until next time, Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn (The dragon will show the way).

Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn

Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn

Fish or Hedgehogs?

I couldn’t think of a blog topic this week.

I’ve got the cover for my debut urban fantasy novel. Which I LOVE! But while I’m excited about it…I don’t think many other people will be. Not as excited as me anyway 🙂

My friend suggested fish. Yes, fish. He was probably thinking about the kind that goes with hot, salty, vinegary chips. He lives by the sea and no doubt eats them all the time.

I’m vegetarian, so of course l don’t eat fish. Not even when its wrapped in crisp white paper that flaps in a sea breeze. I can almost smell hot chips now. Taste the salt on my lips. Why are hot salty chips so moreish?

my goldfish pond 🙂

The cat from next door keeps trying to catch my goldfish. It fell from an overhanging branch the other day, bounced into the fernery and scampered away. Unfortunately for it, Billie was in the garden at the time…

No harm done to fish, cat or dog I’m happy to report!

Maybe I will post about the cover next time 🙂

Now I’m thinking about Babelfish!

That is one fish I would love to meet and use. Although… “Arthur Dent commented only ‘Eurgh!’ when first inserting the fish into his ear. It enabled him to understand Vogon Poetry – not necessarily a good thing.”

A day that starts out with a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy reference has to be a good one 🙂

Adam Foster Photography on Flickr

I think I’ll end with one of my favorite Douglas Adams quotes:

“If somebody thinks they’re a hedgehog, presumably you just give ’em a mirror and a few pictures of hedgehogs and tell them to sort it out for themselves.”

It’s just an excuse to post a great photo of a gorgeous hedgehog 🙂

Do you have a favorite fish? Or a favorite Douglas Adam’s quote? Let me know in the comments. I love hearing from you!

Do you Appreciate Rain?

We met my sister and her farm (and her big black pig!) a few posts ago. I asked Jenny to write something about farm-life … and she got her inspiration in a downpour. Here is her amusing take on rainfall: Rain? Don’t Complain! Take it away Jenny 🙂

Here I am, water dripping down my face, off my chin, down my back, and into my wellingtons. I’m outside, in a downpour. But I’m not complaining.

Not that long ago I expected water to come out of the tap when I turned it. I was living in the city then, the whole idea of turning a tap handle and no water flowing was preposterous! Then, I moved to the country. Ahhh the serenity. Bliss. Another bonus – no water bills. The stuff falls from the sky in abundance. It fills the rainwater tanks. In fact they overflow. I can’t believe I used to pay good money for it! Well, that’s how it was during my first idyllic months in the country. My first Summer shocked me to the bone. I turned the tap handle and, you guessed it, nothing came out. Who could I call? No water company, no plumber.  Just no water.

Who drank, flushed, washed in, or otherwise wasted MY water? Made no difference really. The main tank was empty. But all was not lost, we had a small back-up tank, and at the current rate of consumption (add this, multiply by that, divide by 22.76) we should be OK for another three weeks. Shame there was still another eight weeks of Summer to go.
A new house rule was implemented, ‘if it’s yellow, it’s mellow, if it’s brown, flush it down’ and applied to basic ablutions. Trees, plants, and the vegetable garden were all watered via bucket from second hand bath water. Yep – that’s right. I watered my veggies with a human consommé. Water from the washing machine was pumped out into the closest paddock in the hope of providing a square metre of grass for the hungry ruminants.

I think I spent the whole Summer carrying buckets, dragging hoses and looking up at every cloud with a pathetic but hopeful look on my face. It’s been 3 or 4 years now and I’ve got my own little farm. I moved in not long before Summer began. The dam was full. The vegetation was lush.

But…

By the end of (would you believe) the driest Spring, Summer, Autumn in ages – my dam was just a smelly mud hole, the vegetation was crunchy underfoot and I was stressed to the eyeballs from constant threats from nearby bush-fires. It was about that time I solemnly swore to never, ever, complain about the rain again.

So here I am, outside, in a downpour.

It’s 12 days into (would you believe) the wettest start to a Winter in ages. The tanks are already overflowing. I’m watching the water gush out of the overflow. I can’t waste it! So I am dragging heavy hoses to try and divert the water 100 metres down to the dam.

Waste not. Want not! The damn is slightly less muddy, and the way things are going it will be a lake soon.

Thank you Jenny, for providing the words and the photos 🙂

What is your relationship with rain? I like jumping in puddles … as long as I have dry clothes to change into 😛

Has The Writing Bug Bitten You?

I know some people are born to write, but I am not one of them!

The writing bug fluttered into my life when illness laid me low. I was desperate to get back to work full-time and taught myself to write with my left hand – it was legible (sort of) but so slow. When my left hand suffered like my right, I started typing with speech software. I spent many an afternoon shouting into the microphone – everyone knows if you shout at it, it works better … right?

Obviously I needed more practice – lots more practice!

I couldn’t focus for long but I re-discovered a yen for poetry. As my health improved I attended a writing course, joined a writers society and spoke out a few (really dreadful lol) short stories. Then I ran out of ideas. A brilliant career nipped in its tender bud! Corporate writing no longer held any excitement, in fact by this stage I couldn’t remember how I’d ever enjoyed it. I sought inspiration but failed to find it.

Then a friend gave me an opening line I loved and I started writing a short story. At 5,000 words, my sister, a few friends and my new writing class mates kindly encouraged me. At 10,000 words, I should have stopped and neatened up the short story. Instead, I kept going, I reached 35,000 words and realised I didn’t want to stop.

Thank you Graeme for the opening line, and Jenny also for loving my characters as much as I do and staying with me through many versions and revisions 🙂

The opening line has changed, but those words that inspired me are still in my story.

That was 18 months ago, since then I’ve devoured craft classes and books and written many more words than I’ve kept; and written and removed scenes, settings and characters. I knew how to write marketing material, but it’s nothing like writing a novel; the journey of discovery is full of challenges and frustration, but mostly it’s full of joy.

Have you ever misplaced your inspiration? Where did you find it?