An Ancient Tome

I wrote a paper on JRR Tolkien for an independent study while in school in London, this thirty years ago. Time is beating the crap out of me, no doubt. So I wanted to travel to Oxford to have look at a few original sources kept in the University libraries.  I am big on original sources. 

One of my professors proudly supplied me with a pass. However, I did not realize there were limitations to the pass. Much to the horror of the librarians, I was drawn to a restricted section full of ancient tomes. Most were locked behind glass. That should have been a hint. 

There was, among those moldy old books, one left unintended written in a script and language I could not decipher. On impulse, I picked it up thus earning my lifetime banishment from that library. 

It was totally worth it, despite the possible apocalyptic horror it might have unleashed. Oopsie. 

In the  moment I touched that book, I felt a surge of energy pulse through me. Possibly  brought on by the horror of the ruddy security guard sputtering at me, but I rather believe that electrified pulse came from the book itself, the book wanting to impart its contents to someone, anyone. Or possibly it unleashed the apocalypse, given current events. 

All books are magic. I have no clue what was in the book I came across, be it spells of a lost power or possibly a transcription of some church records. I never could find out. My escort, the one that unceremoniously threw me out of the library into the rain, only lectured me on how rude Americans could be and would hear no excuses from me. 

I only had my imagination to go by. I think the script was Gaelic of some kind. It possibly came from a monastary but I don’t even know how old the book might have been. I did not have enough time to examine the vellum. Might it have been crafted of human skin? There was a time… but such parchment would not hold ink for so long. Well, unless there was some evil enchantment at work. Definitely a possibility. 

Yes, all books are magic and so, some are quite dangerous. Magic and truth in equal measure all in black and white. Most people avoid both of these more vehemently than they do root canal. 

My imagination crafted that old restricted book into a grimoire, a spell book for the darkest of sorcerers. And so filled my nights with horrors for years after, some demon force chasing me across time and space. 

Now, I seek a way to defeat the dark magic unleashed on me by that ancient tome, to tame or banish the demons that rose with its powers. Sadly, books of miracles, are so rare. Well, I never could find one equal to the demons that haunt me so I decided I would write one, an Idyll. I am running out of time. I can’t hold off those demons  much longer. They are consuming me so back to it.

 I do apologize if my jaunt into the restricted section of the library ultimately leads to a zombie apocalypse should I fail at my writing. Awkward. 

Living an Alternative Reality

So this happened. The Chicago Cubs won the World Series. Donald Trump of The Apprentice is president of the United States (a joke made on The Simpsons in 1997- not even kidding), and The Atlanta Falcons are headed to the Super Bowl. 

This is not normal. Being from Georgia, I am thrilled about the Falcons. Just amazed, startled. Like everything that has happened in the last 12 or so months, this is simply not the expected result. All that has happened is not necessarily bad, just odd. Reality has crashed into the bizarre. 

Disturbedly, my current book, a fantasy full of magic and all sorts of mystical creatures is far less odd than the real world. It makes me worry for my genre. 

At this point, if dragons suddenly emerged and took over the world, it might be less insane than the current goings on in the world. And that would quite spoil my book sales. 

Frankie, my pug, also quite magical, tells me to relax. Probably, Frankie says, I am simply in purgatory and to move on to something more wondrous, I must keep writing. So that’s the plan. For now.

If I manage to finish this book, find an agent, and publish this year despite having to reside in bizarro world, then I will know I have moved on. So back at it. 

2016’s Last Gasp

The world has changed. In the inestimable words of W.B. Yeats, “A Terrible Beauty is Born” 
Midnight is almost upon us and I have nearly survived. For those who are promoted to the New Year, hang on tight. It’s going to be a wild and bumpy road. 

Our possibilities are infinite and as encouraging as they are horrifying. Let’s make 2017 count. Hello World.  Happy New Year. 

Week 49-50 2016 Pug Dreams

It is less than 2 weeks until 2017 and I am wondering if I will squeak into the New Year. I have a mess of a 1st draft of my new book and 3 stories I am grooming for submission. 

The year has not turned out as I hoped. It never does. I have found new ways to fail and fall behind. Still, as long as I draw breath, fool that I am, I will keep trying for something better. If only I understood what better meant. 

Week 48 2016 – The Unyielding Hour Glass

The end of 2016 draws near. Like most years, my goals and dreams amounted to dust and elusive unicorns and dragons. I did write more. Still, another year is fading and so am I. 

I have no talent for precognition. I have no idea what tomorrow holds in store. I look to it in an equal measure of hope and dread. 

I was wrong about nearly everything this year. That is quite a trick. It is almost a talent. I mean even a broken clock is right twice a day. Maybe next year I can be a broken clock. 

Four more weeks to put 2016 to rest. The hourglass is refusing to yield. Time will keep seeping through my fingers.  All I can do is try. 

Week 47 2016 #NaNoWriMo All Done

So I wrote 50,000+ words in a month. Which I suppose is something. However, this did not result in a novel or even a serviceable draft. But I met the bar for my participation certificate. Which is great I suppose. 

My pug, however, is not impressed. It is my general impression that a mere mortal like myself cannot write an epic fantasy in 30 days. Not even a serviceable draft. But I can write a lot of words that represented ideas that I can cobble together over time into the desired tale I wish to produce. 

Congratulations to all those who challenged themselves in this year’s NaNoWriMo. 

Week 46 2016 Nap Time

So it’s cold. And me having been a bear in a previous existence wants to hibernate until Spring. Instead I am trying to complete a draft of my new book in a month. This was a very silly idea. 

I think I will hit the #NaNoWriMo 50k threshold in 10 days, but I won’t have a complete draft. I am a little sad about this. Publishing is such a long road, even after you have a finished manuscript. And I am not getting any younger here. So I am not going to hibernate or nap. I’m going to write.