Tweaks and timelines

The innards of a Christmas coaster; not sure if I will get around to adding a border, as well as the rest of the quilt sandwich, before the end of this year.

I'm powering through the LAST revision of That Which Can Be Remembered, its probable release slated for the fifteenth of this month. I'm a little dismayed to still find a few typos, sigh. However, better to locate them now than later, ahem.

A final edit is for my own peace of mind; well that and fixing the previously unnoticed gaffes, lol. I still need to format this document, then decide if I will include the first chapter of my next.... It would definitely be a series, the length of which is wholly unknown. Upon completion of the formatting, I will then decide if a teaser chapter will close TWCBR, something I have never done in any other of my published novels, not even The Hawk, which would have benefited from such a move.

Independent publishing permits last-minute alterations; I'm bound by my own personal goals for every project, and each novel/series is different, and I mean DIFFERENT. Genres are all over the place for me, standalones mixed with lengthy sagas, although truthfully the sagas now outweigh those solo stories if only in the word counts. But while TWCBR is fantasy, the next theme is sci/fi, and those two aren't on opposite ends of the spectrum. So hopefully a reader (or three) won't be opposed to some science fiction tacked onto their fantasy/women's fiction tale.

As for the timelines aspect of today's title, by aiming for the middle of the month, I am possibly missing out on other retailers getting my book in time for Christmas, but coordinating alongside Smashwords' annual end of year sale. That Which Can Be Remembered will be a freebie; its predecessor Gracious Mysteries is ninety-nine cents, but will also be free during the two-week sale. The Possibility of What If, the series' starter, is also free, and yes, I planned to release TWCBR to coincide with the sale. I don't do much marketing, but when the planets align, what the hey?

This means making certain I have synopses written, but the cover is ready, woo hoo! I don't think of all of this as a career, in part that I don't spend eight hours a day focused on my writing. And that I prefer the freedom of puttering about with the mantle of an author. Yes I write books, and I take that blessing with a healthy amount of respect. Yet being that it is a gift, the ability to craft stories and release them at no cost to myself, and a nominal fee because I chose to publish Gracious Mysteries as a pre-order, would sully such a treasure by slapping upon it the career label. Not that I think what I write isn't worthy, but not everything requires a price tag.

But that's fodder for another day perhaps. Today's authorial joys are merely to denote that yes, another book is about ready for release! Here's a little excerpt between teenagers Finn and Lon. I truly enjoyed crafting their travails, this series a multi-generational affair.

Finn’s tears dried as she rode the horse hard, the wind warm against her cheeks. Finally she brought the horse, still unnamed, to a trot, sweat streaming down the animal’s body. “I’m sorry,” she said in Vodali. “I didn’t mean to be so….” She swore in Vodali, words that she had heard cast her way by youths of her age. “How they can learn those epithets and not bother with the rest of it,” she muttered, then she sighed. “Roque knew those words too, but the worst I ever heard him say was mulka. Maybe that’s what Krowe thought of us, who knows?” Finn let the horse wander, houses to her left, fields to her right, what looked like a forest straight ahead. “Shall we Nana?” Finn smiled, patting the horse on its star. “I’m gonna call you Nana. It means….”

From the left another horse and rider tore across the landscape. Finn trembled as Lon slapped Jeson’s backside with a hat. “Oh Nana, I’ll never ride you that way again.” Finn leaned over her horse, caressing its neck, then mindlessly braiding its mane. She remained stationary until Lon was out of sight, then she gingerly allowed Nana to canter forward.

They went as far as the last house on the left; Yoson Phile lived here, Mo having taken Finn and Seti out this far right before…. Finn sighed; if Nasri fell ill, then she scoffed. “He shouldn’t have done what he did. Now Aunt Polly’s gotta relive all that and….” Tears stung the corners of Finn’s eyes; her father had recalled her mother, but Brynn hadn’t inferred the return of other memories. “My dad is dead,” Finn whispered, then she repeated the statement until finally she screamed what in her heart she knew wasn’t true. Yet it felt good to say it, although as she swallowed, her throat ached. “Stupid parents,” she muttered in Vodali, unaware that from behind Lon was observing her.

“Your father isn’t dead,” he shouted.

Finn whipped around, Nana turning as well. “Would you stop stalking me?” Finn grumbled.

“I was here first. Stop following me.”

Finn shook her head, then tried to rein in Nana, who began heading for Jeson and Lon. “Nana, don’t, hey, I thought you were a good girl.”

“What’s Nana mean?” Lon asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Because if I don’t like it I’ll call her something else.”

“It means….” Finn sighed, patting Nana’s forehead. “Beautiful unexpected gift. Well, that's the basic explanation.”

“Your language is complicated,” Lon muttered.

“Maybe. But it requires few words once you know the gist.”

“I guess.” Lon put on his hat. “Is he dead yet, were you sent out looking for me?”

“Not that I’m aware. Do you always beat your horse with your hat?”

Lon stared at the ground. “Never until today.”

Finn released the reins, allowing Nana to touch noses with Jeson. Then she stared at Lon. “What’s on your forehead?”

He wiped it with his sleeve. “Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Finn squinted. “Who put ashes on you?”

“Timral.”

“Huh. I had to sprinkle them on her flower garden. Adults are so weird.”

“They can be.” Lon raised his eyebrows. “Is there any left?”

“A little. Grandma probably told her to do it.”

Lon sighed. “I don’t want Da Miri to think I’m being disrespectful.”

Finn sniffed, then looked toward the forest. “You ever been out that far?”

“With my…Dad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about….”

“Don’t be. He’s nothing but a mulka.”

Finn grimaced. “Do you know what that word truly means?”

Lon shook his head.

“It’s the worst thing a Jolem can call a Yunka. Just want you aware of that.”

“They’re all dead now, what does it matter?”

“You said it. It matters.”