Crier's Tower
I have done jack in keeping up with my website during my school break. Other obligations interfered. I am a terrible webmaster ... of my own website, anyway.
As always, I am hoping to make progress around here. I suppose that updating my sidebar is a positive start!
Magic and Mechanica is out from Ricasso Press! And I'm in it!
My short story "Cogs" has been published in this anthology, which centers on speculative fiction about "piston-driven fantasy and industrial sorcery." "Cogs" is about a heroine's attempt to reclaim her people's humanity in a world overrun by machines. Magic and Mechanica is available from the Ricasso Press Bookstore or on Amazon.com.
New in the Library:
The Message. Valinor has been left in darkness, and Finarfin is the new king of the Noldor. One night, he awakens with a strange vision: Someone has died in Middle-earth--but who?
New on the Heretic Loremaster:
Move over Fëanor . . . Some thoughts on Fëanor's jewelry choices and the larger lessons they suggest about how to read The Silmarillion.
I Need to Rant. On the notion that slash is a disgrace to Tolkien's world.
Inferior Writing? On Chicklit, Fantasy, and Mary Sue. Why do we put down certain genres of writing? Is there anything anti-woman about those we choose to scorn?
Dispatches from Other Lands:
I'm on Facebook. OMG yes really.
You can find me now on FanLore!
And my obsession du jour is Delicious: Check out what I'm reading and researching here.
What I'm Reading ...
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Beyond These Borders
There is a whole world beyond the Midhavens, begging for exploration. Herein lies a list of places where I have hung my banner on occasion--even flown it proudly--else found friendly company willing to share a song and a cup of wine.
Silmarillion Writers' Guild. Dedicated to studying and writing about J.R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion, I founded the SWG as a place for discussion, fellowship, and the celebration of creativity.
Hundrede Artes. Here I document my progress as I attempt to create one hundred pieces of medieval-inspired artwork in seven years.
The (Cyber) Bag of Weasels. This was my first online home and, today, serves as my personal journal.
Droplets
I.
The waterfall fell over the mouth of the cave in a shimmering curtain, and Elrond backed against the damp rock. His hands slipped over it; he was loath to touch it. One of them was whimpering: who? His cold hand found his brother’s, which was warmer than the rock but not much. Elrond wanted to shush the whimpering, but his throat was tight with unshed tears.
I am not afraid.
Behind the curtain of water came a ripple of color, an apparition: red cloak, black hair. A water-bright sword washed clean in the pool.
I am not afraid.
So why did he quiver, why did his heart flutter, why did the tears race down his face? He imagined that he could hear the teardrops as he could hear the waterfall, the whisper of water caressing rock. A second apparition joined the first: same cloak but red hair and a sword still crimson from battle.
The whimpering grew louder, and Elrond realized: It is both of us.
The curtain parted, water pattered raven-dark hair and rang against armor. Elrond struggled to step in front of his brother even as Elros tried to step in front of him.
I am not afraid.
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