Beautiful People: Gondian

A hand rested on his shoulder, and Jasper felt Gondian slip into the space at Jasper’s left, the familiar creak of leather from whenever Gondian moved accenting the kneeling of the bodyguard. “The advisors are holding a meeting with the Eden” Gondian whispered, his voice masked by the cries of Helen and funeral chant from the other woman in the room. Jasper nodded, not daring to uncover his face. 

- To Selcouth

It is long time that Gondian be featured here on my blog. Of all the characters I have ever written or planned to write, Gondian makes it on the list of my top five.

He's also absolutely gorgeous too.  Cut me to pieces with those cheekbones because
they have already killed me. yum. also that sneer warms my soul.
The art is the skilled talent of Mirriam, who drew Gondian for my art commission.

To Selcouth is a novel that originally started out as a fantasy-spun story of Moses and Ramses; then it become complex and was birthed into it's own right.

The character who I thought would represent Ramses (Gondian) became the clear Moses of the story and the original Moses (Jasper) was indeed the Ramses.
"Let my people go," became the cry of the novel, but the person speaking it was not the one I had originally planned or pictured.

In his own right, Gondian is a hero and very much an anti-hero and, to some degree, an almost-villain.  He betrays the woman he loves and the brother of his soul, but only because he believes they endanger his people and while he knows he is going down a dark, wrongful path...he cannot let his people be cursed and hated any longer as the trod-upon minority of strangers.

I love Gondian, if you haven't noticed. 

Sky at Further Up and Further In and Cait at Paper Fury have this perfect monthly link-up called "Beautiful People" and its really great because you can just talk about your characters and answer provided questions (usually they are themed. but not always) and its basically a lot of fun. Please join in.  There's really no cons to this.

What is their first childhood memory? 

 He was three, and he remembers seeing a tree for the first time.  He was in the back of a merchant's wagon, and woke up when the air cooled as the wagon passed through the barrier that bordered the desert.  Gondian rubbed his eyes and crawled out of the sand-caked wrappings they had found him in and moved to look better and that's when he saw the trees, the grass and water that ran like a snake above the earth.  He had no idea where he'd come from or where he was going...just that green was the most beautiful color he had ever seen.

What were their best and worst childhood experiences? 

 Best was practically his whole childhood until he was ten. Gondian's adoptive parents adored him, he was inseparably close to the youngest of the King's sons and he did not have a care in the world.  And then the sand came. At first, he thought it was a nightmare, dripping off the sides of his bed, filling his room as if it wanted to suffocate him.  It did not help that when he begged it to leave...it did. He realized he was a monster that night and the rest of his life turned sour as he tried to protect himself from that monster and hide it from his family. 

 What was their childhood home like? 

Very cozy and full of plants.  When he arrived on the back of a merchant's cart, the first person who stopped treating him like an oddity was the palace gardener and his wife.  That night, Gondian went home with them and never thought differently of it. They were his parents and their home was full of love and plants and always smelled like warm bread.  They lived in a tiny cabin on the edge of the palace walls, surrounded by cool grass and more love than Gondian could bear.  Gondian left to live in the barracks shortly after the sand found him, as he realized that just being around his father's plants killed them. 

What’s something that scared them as child? 

Well the sand scared him, and still scares him half to death.He isn't really all that afraid of the secret getting out...but he is afraid of Jasper finding out.  He knows that once Jasper realizes that Gondian is a monster, their friendship will change and will never be the same.  Gondian desperately fears never being normal even though he knows he cannot be an ordinary bodyguard any longer.

Who did they look up to most? 

Tough one.  He looks up to Jasper, as Jasper is so rooted in doing what he thinks  is right and Gondian envies Jasper's niave trust in the world.  Gondian looks up to Arany and respects how unswayed she is and he looks up to Alem.  In many ways, Alem is Gondian's guardian angel.  He soothed him when the sands came and explained it in ways that young-Gondian could understand.  But Gondian knows he shouldn't love Alem like he does. He knows Alem isn't pure and his intentions are bitter...but like a loyal dog who was trained by a strong master's hand...Gondian still idolizes Alem.

Favorite and least favorite childhood foods? 

 Gondian loves his mother's brothy beef stew with the bread that she baked fresh each day dipped into the bowl. She frequently jokes that it was the sheer amount of stew that he ate as a child that made him grow so big and strong; "thats the only explanation as to how the skinny, scrawny dark-haired thing that we brought home has become a man who now stands like a tree!"  His least favorite foods are anything with tomatoes in them.  He wont touch tomatoes.

 If they had their childhood again, would they change anything? 

He'd change not telling Jasper about the sand sooner.  He honestly doesn't think he'd take away his sand, but he would have told Jasper about it before it became as big a secret as it is now.  He wouldn't have trusted Alem and he would have never obeyed Alem.


What kind of child were they? Curious? Wild? Quiet? Devious? 

Quiet, curious and watchful.  Jasper is the talkative one, but Gondian could sit in a corner as a child and those in the room would forget he was there, as he'd be so quiet and intent on watching everyone without disturbing anyone. 

What was their relationship to their parents and siblings like? 

He is an only child.  Gondian's adoptive parents had multiple pregnancies, but suffered heartbreak after heartbreak until they decided that enough was enough.  Then they found Gondian and both knew, instinctively, that he needed them. 
In turn, Gondian adores them.  He cherishes his parents and would do anything to protect them. His biggest regret about the sands is that it destroys all greenery and his father lives to see tiny buds push through the earth.  They wanted Gondian to take after his father and become the next gardener...Gondian pushed to enter into the royal guard instead. They accepted his choice, but a part of them truly wishes he'd have taken the path that kept him close to them. In many ways, Jasper is the brother he never had.

What did they want to be when they grew up, and what did they actually become? 

He also wanted to be a gardener.  He loves green.  Gondian loves tiny, delicate flowers, trimmed shrubs and the smell of warm soil and blooming green. When he realized that his presence and touch kills plants, however, he entered the royal guard and was assigned to be Jasper's bodyguard.  Gondian doesn't complain, as he honestly believes Jasper would have somehow died without Gondian watching out for him.  Jasper isn't very good at making good choices and not irritating the wrong people.  Also...Alem won't dare kill Jasper as long as Gondian is at his side.

Until he mentioned a companion, Arany hadn’t even noticed the darker, silent figure behind him. If the redhead was a gem, than the other man was a shadow. Despite the fact that he stood in full sunlight, an orb of dark seemed to swirl around him, and keep her from fully seeing him. 

- To Selcouth 

Did you get a small sampling of why I adore Gondian so much? He's dreamy, complex, tortured and holding secrets.  Also he only ever wears leather (because his race gets random golden tattoos over their bodies and its the sure-fire way to spot them.  If Jasper saw the tattoos, he'd immediately know. If anyone say the tattoos, they'd know. The tattoos stretch from around his collarbones, travel down his chest, torso, and end at about his hips and they also go to about half way down his arms).

Gondian makes some pretty bad choices and pretty much learns that every secret, no matter how deeply buried, has a way of coming out.  but who can really blame him? I mean, if my best friend was saying, "I'm going to kill all of Race X," I'd probably hide that I was Race X too.

Does any of my readers take part in Beautiful People? Let me know, as I'd love to read your posts!

beautiful people :: florence ambrose

Here I go...linking up with Beautiful People for the first time in a loooong time!
I figured it is long overdue, and as I need to put together a post anyway, I decided to hop on in and join.

:About Death Bringers:

Brume, a cold and foggy city edged by the sea is the gateway between the different lands.  Brume knew nothing of the magic within the world and the whisps of magic that did seem into their borders was viewed as trickery or falsehoods...until the Death Bringers.
Men with magic in their fingers that brought death to whatever they touched came to Brume, slipped through the cracks of society and set themselves up as gods in the land.
death became a feared thing as the death bringers cursed victims to death and awaited the dreaded black letter to be delivered to them.
Florence Ambrose expected the letter any day; born sickly and small, it was a miracle she even lived to her present year.  but when the letter is finally delivered to her family's home, but not to the person that she expected, Florence undertakes a task to undo what the death bringers have brought about, and stumbles into a world that is different than she ever imagined and that magic is closer to Brume than expected...and her own life may never be the same.

:Beautiful People - Florence: 

"What first inspired this character? Is there a person/actor you based them off?" 

via

Honestly...not really. Originally, when I started plotting Death Bringers, I only had the foggy idea of a sin eater, a death bringer and a old, dying life bringer (ironic because he can give life to everyone but himself). As the story unfolded, however, Florence presented herself and took on the look of Elle Fanning, but she honestly didn't become the main character right away.  All the other original ideas are still in the book and are amazing characters that I love and adore, but Florence quickly made it clear that this story was about her.

"Describe their daily routine"

 It honestly depends on how Florence feels that day.  Some days, Florence feels strong and can leave her bed.  During those days, she eats breakfast (which is normally brought to her by servants) while reading.  Florence tends to have a light breakfast; tea, buttered croissant and a fruit or berries on the side.  After breakfast, she dresses (sometimes with her sister, Genevieve's help.  Even when shes strong, too much activity wears her easily), and goes downstairs.  The rest of her day is spent reading, playing with her cat, Chiffins, visiting with any guest that stops by and socializing with her mother or sisters.  Honestly, she was bored with her life until....well. until things happen.

"If they joined your local high school, what clique would they fit into?"

This is a hard one to answer.  But, I think if Death Bringers was set in a high school theme (oh what an idea THAT would be), you'd either find her hanging out with the indie kids or the overachieving kids. maybe a mix of the both.
She'd be the girl that listens to only the obscure music and doesn't attend those jock parties because, ugh. why? 
but secretly she doesn't because she has mountains of homework just to get through being duel enrolled, she's in five different clubs and two sports.   She's not drinking that coffee just to look hip. she needs that caffeine dosage because she only slept for two hours last night.

"Write a list of things they merely tolerate. Ex: certain people, foods, circumstances in their lives..."

Florence fights a lot of things. she fights a lot of situations and refuses to be looked down on by anyone.
however, the same cannot be said for her looking down on herself.
on the days where Florence is too weak to even move out of bed, she just lays there.  Florence fights the outside world, but when the trouble is within, she tolerates it. She allows herself to be that way because she figures she can't change it.
she can change how people view her...but not how she is.
except she can.
and her days of tolerating her own weakness are drawing to the end.

"How do they react in awkward silences?"

 talking. she feels the need to break the silence and tends to make it worse, due to the awkward nature of her grabbing anything and everything to talk about.

"Can they swim? If so, how did they learn?"


No. it isn't proper for a lady to swim and even if it was...her parents were far too protective of their sick daughter to ever permit her to learn.  It's amazing they even let her take baths by herself.

"What is one major event that helped shape who they are?"

 When the death bringers came for her grandmother, and the one in the bird's mask stopped, and gave her a little ebony carved cat.  That event shaped her for future happenings.  The death bringer, his gift of the cat and his eyes, eyes she can't forget, eyes that told her that underneath the mask...was something living and breathing. All those things played deeply into her story.

"What things do they value most in life?"
Her sister, Genevieve. She would, literally, do anything for her. 

"Do they believe in giving other people second chances? Do they have any trust issues?"

 Florence is trusting to a fault.  she believes in second chances, but only two chances. after that...its over.

"Your character is having a rough day...what things do they do to make them happy again? Is there anyone they talk/interact with to get in a better mood?"

Strangely, the person who always knows what to say and how to make Florence brighten up isn't her sister, Genevieve, but rather, Florence's best friend, Leo.  Leo is her bff, her father's apprentice and the awkward duckling who is head over heels for Genevieve. Naturally Florence blesses the idea of Leovieve being a thing.
Leo always knows what words will work best at comforting her and making the worst day seem a bit brighter.  The days when Florence is bedridden, Leo visits with stories of the places he's been, the magic he's witnessed and the tiny shoulder dragons in the land of Linattu.   He's her soulmate of friendship.

there is so much more to Florence..and Death Bringers for that matter...

but, that just leaves more to tell later.

why i quit nanowrimo for this year

“A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in--what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him, the stars.”
Victor Hugo

 if you know me any way at all online (or maybe not) you probably knew how pumped i was for nano this year.  however, at some point within my novel, I realized a fact that had not been something I had expected. 

january jenkins and her story does not like to be rushed, nor crammed into a 30 day speed write. 

it was a kinda hard decision to make, to take the arrival of january at a slower pace than i had wanted, but overall...i think it best fits the style i'm trying for in this novel. 

thats not to say that i am anywhere near finished with this novel. i have had this idea in my head for a year (or perhaps a bit more) now,  and january is very dear to me, as are the others. its not fair to only harp on jan when channer, ayla, and rio are just as splendid.  this is one of my only novels actually set in my corner of the united states, its a poem in my heart, and january is a part of me that i dont show to people at all.  

so never fear, ye who have encouraged me this november! 

january has an arrival still to happen,

and i still need to see this novel completed just as badly as my beta team do 

(mainly: lisa needs to see it completed. poor girl)

so, that is why i did not finish nanowrimo. 

i swear, it was, by no means, because i got lazy and then decided to just give up.

(ok, so maybe it helped my decision come along that i had already slacked so terribly, but..i didnt say it, ok?)

as i think my dear girl would say, 

"januarys cannot possible fit into such a short time and be expected to bloom"

it makes no sense, but january jenkins says it does.

"how soon until its break time?"

this is literally my creed/motto for this NaNo.

dont get me wrong, I'm loving writing TAOJ, but I'm still having to go on a very strict reward system.  Every so many words, I can watch a tv episode. Every so many words I can listen to music that isn't in my novel's playlist.  And trust me, that last one is the one I look forward the most.  My novel has a beautiful playlist, but listen to anything long enough and you'd want to throw it out the window.

So yes. I may need to stop taking so many breaks, since I'm rewarding myself probably far too many times (like how 'write a thousand words and you can watch a ouat episode' turned into 'write a thousand words and you can watch three ouat episodes' and it kinda ate up an afternoon. what can i say. there were cliffhangers) and I'm falling behind on my word count which isn't a good thing. Mind you, its not too bad. its only like...4K behind....wait...when I say it like that...

maybe I shouldn't be writing this blog post...I think I'm just trying to procrastinate. 
hmm.

Ok darlings, have some snippets while I go and attempt to not not write.

 

"January was born on a December night, five days before christmas, and as pale as the stars above.  She’d blinked her eyes, and never once cried, even though the midwife said she needed to.

She was the child that tucked herself into corners, or fell asleep nestled among the antiques in the attic.  Any ordinary house might have forgotten a second child was a  dweller under its roof, but not this house.

The house always knew exactly where she was, and made sure her steps never made creaks, and you could say that January was the child that the house loved."

"Happiness wasn’t something that was ever complete itself, was it?"

"Channer turned, and found Rio grinning at him with a frightening intensity over the edge of his coffee cup.  “what the heck?” Channer laughed, and Rio shrugged, the smile not dissipating. “Nothing, nothing at all except Holly Richards just tried to ask you to ask her out” 

“Can I plant thistles in the yard?”

“No,” Channer glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen, was she cooking something still? “if we had thistles in the yard, it would make going out to the mailbox a pain” 

nanowrimo 2014 ::: The Arrival of January

 Not really linking up, because I'm a late daisy, but these questions came from Sky and Cait's new blog linky uppy thingy...do check them out: Beautiful Books.



Q: What came first: characters or plot idea? 
 A: the characters, by far. I really had to think hard about what sort of plot to spin around the spirits I had created, and so it's been an interesting experience. To my knowledge, I can't remember creating characters so greatly and having 0 plot ideas whatsoever.

Q: Are you a plotter or a pantser?
A: a little bit of both.  I like to have a skeleton idea for my novel's plot, but I tend to fill in details as I go and sometimes, my skeleton is abandoned for ideas I came up with on the spot.


Q: Do you have a title and/or a “back-cover-blurb”?
A: I do! My title came about the same time as the characters (so yes, I had a title and a cast of characters before even knowing what this book was even going to be about). 'The Arrival of January' has always seemed like an extremely important title, before knowing exactly what January was arriving upon, and why she needed to arrive.  Its very interesting, really, how well this book fit its pieces together.
As for blurb...
eh.
its a rough one, and when written down on hand, took up a full page.  I can't do this blurb thing. help.

Q: What wordcount are you aiming for when your novel is finished?
A: um. I have literally no idea. hopefully more than 50K, because I would like to finish NaNo, but I can't see this particularly novel being incredibly long winded. 

Q: Sum up your novel in 3 sentences.
A: one beautiful tragedy.

Q: Sum up your characters in one word each.
A: Channer: Loyal
January: fairytale
Rio: prince
Ayla: bright

Q: Which character are you most excited to write? Tell us about them!
A: Oh definitely January! I really do love all four of them, but Janaury has a special pop that really clicks somewhere deep down inside me, like a sister in the house of joseph (raise your hand if you get that reference, btw).  January Jenkins is...remarkably unusual. After the death of her parents, she took to submersing herself into a fantasy world, and despite various therapists and medication, she remained determined to ignore reality, causing her brother, Channer, to realize that his sister's condition was self induced as a way she had chosen to cope with the world.
Years forward into her and Channer's adulthood, she's still just as reclusive and whimsy as before, and Channer has learned to accept his sister's decision to live half in, and half out, of the real world, and in fact, he could be given fault at encouraging.
What I love about January, is that at any time she could choose to wisen up and accept the world, but she's decided to see things differently, and even while being a young woman, she looks for fairies behind every flower and fern, and has a sort of childlike innocence that is so uncorrupted by reality.  January is a very competent young woman, but she only insists on staying happy in her own fantasy rather then let her heart be broken by the world. She's refreshing to me.

Q: What about your villain? Who is he, what is his goal?
A: actually, this is the first novel I have where there isn't a villain. If I had to say there was a 'villain', it would be an idea, not a man or a person.  Though, January and Channer's aunt is definitely evil too. 

Q: What is your protagonist’s goal? And what stands in the way?
 A: January's goal is happiness for Channer, she wants her brother to go on and grow wings and not be shackled down by her 'disability'.  But of course, her reluctance to let go of her fantasy/reality complex is forever going to stand in the way of Channer ever chasing his own dreams and desires for his life, because to him, his little sister always comes first.

Q: What inciting incident begins your protagonist’s journey?
A: meeting Rio is the beginning of January's 'arrival'. Meeting Rio and Ayla makes January realize that reality and the world, while sometimes terrible, must be experienced in order to be happy.  hurting is just as much a part of life as loving.

Q: Where is your novel set?
A: somewhere in the south. I'm thinking perhaps Alabama or Georgia?  I need sweet tea, cicada noise, lemonade, and peaches.

Q: What are three big scenes in your novel that change the game completely?
A: January being introduced to Rio,  Ayla and Channer's first date, and a scene towards the end that I can't disclose because, spoilers sweetie.

Q: What is the most dynamic relationship your character has? Who else do they come in contact with or become close to during the story?
A: January and Channer's relationship as a family is definitely the strongest. It shows a love that you can't get from anyone else but your close family.  As orphans that only had each other, they became each other's worlds, and tied themselves to each other so closely that it isn't at all surprising that later on, their dedication to one another became destructive towards their own happiness in life.

Q: How does your protagonist change by the end of the novel?
A:  she has opened up a lot to the world, to being hurt, and hurting others when its best for them in the long run.  She is less selfish with herself, and...she's finally willing to let free the person she had chained to her out of fear of losing that person.

Q: Do you have an ending in mind, or do you plan to see what happens?
A: oh yes I do.

Q: What are your hopes and dreams for your book? What impressions are you hoping this novel will leave on your readers and yourself? (This is your mission statement, one you can look back on when the road gets tough.)
A: is it shallow if I say I want to bring my readers to the highest pinnacle of grief, and then smash their hearts brutally on a rock with a flint hammer and sit back smiling?
hopes and dreams, I just want to break hearts.
sounds about right.
good lord I need a life.

Want to add me as a buddy on the NaNo site?  do so -->here<-- are="" buddy.="" i="" just="" know="" let="" me="" might="" nbsp="" not="" otherwise="" request="" return="" send="" the="" when="" who="" you="">

May the odds be ever in our favor this november!

Also, if you are interested, the pinterest board to TAoJ is open to any viewers who want a visual slice of the novel

things restless fingers do

When writer's block strikes, when words get stopped up and the inspiration runs but the muse takes a trip, there are articles and letters and posts and vlogs dedicated to telling you what to do.

It's simple, it's easy, it's a breath of fresh air. 

so naturally I don't comply. 

here is a list of things I do when I get saddled with writer's block; a list of things which only serve to undoubtably complicate matters.  

• sit poorly in furniture • 

under normal circumstances, I sit very nicely in chairs and sofas. I'm a good child who never lifts soled feet to cushions. If I curl up, I make sure I do so in socks and do so the right way (because their are right and wrong ways to curl up). 

but, at this moment, my booted feet are slung over the back of my dad's comfy couch as I sit in a general upside down direction. 

my parents would raise Cain. 

I swear, I only do thus when devoid of my writer soul. 

• listen to music I generally dislike • 

can someone explain to me why 1D and Carly Rae Jepson has been on endless streaming on my pandora? 

• foolishly continue • 

they always say to get away and take a break from the computer and your writing. 

but I'm not going to do that. 

nope nope 

nope. 

I'm going to sit there for hours, write a single sentence 126 times over, and sob harder each time, but I will not get up until at least a paragraph has been crafted. 

• start new writing projects • 

Just because I cannot handle my current ones should mean I need to put a stop light on the whole thing, right?

So, I'm going to start at least two more projects, and then sob more when they flop while still in chapter one. 

which leads me to

• vow to quit and take up crochet • 

I am apparently not cut out for this hobby. I've failed, and I am a shame to the title of writer and author. I should just quit before I get any deeper into it, and just give up. 

And I'll probably cry on my bed for a good couple of minutes, and then I'll resolve the ridiculousness of that, and then I'll be back in figurative tears an hour or so later. 

And, along with too much lounging and whining and food eating, there you having it.  what I do when my inspiration and Muse decided Honolulu looked good for the week.

e.t.a: my muse returned early this morning. i finished a chapter and started the next. it was nice. 

a post about that which I am writing

for the past 6 months (because i'm not counting nanowrimo because i did nothing during nano except for my nano) i have been working on a lovely little book (do you mean: a pain in the neck with a hero that wont tell me his secrets and an antagonist i keep falling for?) titled the 100 year queen.

roughly, i would say its about a 100 year old queen.

but thats roughly.

and roughly should be left to those who do roughly.

it is about a puppet queen who is not all she seems to be. controlled by her lord, manipulated and humiliated each time she makes a move of her own, she is little more than a queen chess piece of a game her Queen's Lord  (aka: Taj, aka: the antagonist: aka: the one i keep falling for) is obviously winning at.
it is about a young man who has grown up with a darkness in his heart that defies all love.  a young man who has history with Taj Roku, and wishes to wash memories away. a young man who believes himself more creature and animal than human and perhaps he is right. a young man who plays his hand for a blood sacrifice to cleanse his soul and finds a love and comforting home instead.
it is about a Queen's Lord who rules his queen with a tight fist and a kiss on the lips. but who is a troubled young person who questions himself and is lost without his guidance. a young man who will do anything and everything to win at his game, but only if he can keep from falling apart first.
it is about a young woman married to a man far beyond her years, a wife shushed into silence and making a sacrifice for the man she truly loves. a young woman who, despite her fear for herself and her loved ones, still moves with what she believes in and stands by those who need love the most even if they do not deserve it.
it is about a fishermen in love with a lady, a young man who never gives up on his sweetheart even is she is beyond his grasp and with another.  a man who stands with his feet planted firm and no wave can ever wash him away and yet is the most sweetest and gentlest of them all.


as far as novel writing goes, this ones been a bit easier. which is slightly troubling but then i remember there were weeks on end i could not get a squeak out of Keir even when it was undisputedly  his turn to have a bit in his pov.

and Taj, who kept stealing more hearts than just mine and made me question if I even knew how to write a convincing villain. but I stopped calling him 'villain' and switched to 'antagonist' and the stealing of hearts was made alright. 

i suppose the true villain type would be Ciran Roku, Taj's father. it was, after all, his fault that Taj and Keir turned out and turned against each other the way they do. 

and of course, there was that time i decided to humor myself by reading the almost 50k (and not even halfway finished) fledgling novel I was writing. 

oh ho ho. nope. what was i thinking. that wasn't humoring. that was mortifying. 

that was when i made my new writing rule 'never read anything written over three weeks ago because there is an 80% chance you will hate it. no rereading until editing'. 

with that rule in place, i'm sure i am giving cause of headache to a future me while she is editing this novel that present me found charming but future me will find horribly poorly written. 

but my goal for draft one is to merely finish a novel. to achieve that lofty goal that I have never held on my own.  I am hoping that the joy of actually finishing something as well as my fierce love for my babies will carry me through the editing process. 

that and the constant reminder that I spent nine months (my goal for this novel is to finish in/before march) carrying this novel child and I refuse to let that be a vain suffering. 

naturally I will not remind myself that it was not suffering but most of the time was great lark. 

if by chance I fail and decide to give up on creating draft two, I will call upon my betas and they will keep me working by the threat of death. 

such lovely girls my betas are. I could do a whole post singing their praises. 

I suppose after having this long long ramble that told you nothing about my book (I shamefacedly admit I have no blurb or synopsis put together. I need to work on that) I should humor you with some snippets. 

Please, no closer. I don't want to kill you. 

As if reading his thoughts, the boy stopped, and slowly moved to a crouching position so he was more or less then same height as his crouched chicken killer. 

"Hey buddy" 

The Boy laid his hand on the dusty ground, and shifted his weight, The Fox's eyes taking in every movement. 

"Hey, I won't hurt you, calm down" The words were spoken in the same soothing tone others might use on a dog caught thrashing in a sharp wire fence when they wanted to calm him down enough to free him. 

The Boy sat down completely, his legs drawn up in a crossed manner, a hole in his pant's knees stretching. 

"I'm Cody, do you have a name?"

The Fox dropped the dead chicken to the ground, and eyed him warily.  He sat back in a more human like fashion, and remained silent. 

I do not have a name, only a title. 

-chapter twelve

Looking at her own reflection, the vibrant lips, the dark hair that shone with sleek glamor, the eyes, the well structure nose, it was all such a familiar face; and yet, not her own and foreign in an untouchable way. 
Tilting her head, she gazed at the scars that addressed themselves so very faintly under the pink powder on her face, even paler pink lines that marred her otherwise perfect face. 
They were hers; they belonged solely to her. 
She moved towards her desk, towards the hidden place where she had stashed the book in which she had hoped to record her thoughts, because she feared speaking them aloud. 
Nothing had been written in it since her attack at the execution, she had been too confident in her thoughts to merely express them on paper. 
But Taj had beaten her down back into her former place of hesitance and uncertainty; her confidence had been trampled and lost. 
The words she had once had the rising courage to speak with her own voice were trapped inside her soul, fluttering about like butterflies that had been clamped into a sealed glass and denied freedom.
Violet cracked the stiff binding open and dipped her pen into the ink, and poised above the paper. 
There were a swirl of words and thoughts in her head, and yet one reached towards her, an image, a sole memory of the man who had tried to kill her and had instead given her a mark of individuality. 
Her pen came down across the smooth cream colored paper, and she wrote one line. 

"I remember his eyes and how they burned so blue"
-chapter fourteen

Slithering, constantly moving, tense, and yet relaxed.  Poised to kill even while sleeping.  Eyes that could still its prey just by settling a gaze upon the trembling soul.  A creature that advanced only its own position in life, not being held back by watching eggs, or young.

The snake slid from Taj’s arm  to the floor, where it’s powerful body crossed over the wood flooring to the bed, where it climbed upwards on the canopy’s poles, looping it’s powerful body around the wood.

“Come, my pretty, why do you run from me?” Taj stood, and gently stroked the python’s green head, her tongue flickering in and out, regarding him with eyes that only saw prey and potential prey.

It was a wonderful thing, to have in your possession a creature that could kill you before you could even summon aid, and yet, didn’t.

-chapter five

Harriet traced the scarring on the table top, the places where patrons’ knives had been forced into the wood; short little scars that went nowhere. 
“Foxy has never concerned himself with our duty.  He knows we protect him, but he could care less about helping our movement.  He only helps himself, Yuusa, he only does what might benefit himself” Even as she said it, she remembered those two children sleeping upstairs, and her conscience prodded her.  Either she did not know that young man half as well as she liked to pride her own self on knowing him, or he had an unknown motive for bringing them to her. 
And she knew that the first option was the one more destined to be the truth.
Yuusa shrugged, and tugged her hood back over her head, but did not bring it to cover her face, only to shadow it.  “Maybe he was tired of her, just as we are all tired of her”
“Perhaps” Harriet nodded, and her fingers continued to trace the mars in the wood.
This question had been bothering her for a time; this matter of The Fox and The Queen.
Jesmene had a point in saying he only killed those who annoyed him, he was not one to spill innocent human blood without due cause.
The Fox was not a soul to be devoted to justice in the world of wrongs and rights.  He was like a cat curled up on a hearth; should you leave him alone, he would generally continue to sleep no matter what misdeed to others went on around him.
And so Harriet refused to believe Yuusa, and the public’s growing opinion, if drunkard’s talk was to be trusted, that he had suddenly taken to becoming a fighter and attacked the monarch.
The people wanted a dramatic rebellious figure to follow.  They wanted him to attack her. Brooding emotions were being whispered in cautious voices throughout Omio city.  In a matter of days, Harriet could feel the opinions regarding The Fox change.  People wanted him to return and be their vigilante leader.
He wouldn’t though.

-chapter fourteen

and there it is, my one hundred year queen, her Queen's lord Taj, and the Fox Keir. as well as Tasmania, Taj's pet snake baby.   i really need to be speaking more of my writing, because it is such a huge part of me, and yeah.
wow i ran out of pretty words.
i guess that means i need to end this post since obviously how to word has escaped me.

sayonara