About the Chat 2

How's the idea of meeting at 9-10PM EST, guys? That's all I can think of! So, if ye want to meet at that time I'll see ye guys then everyday or something :-P

Summer's Three Little Buddies

Summer...

Hot...

Clear Skies...

Hot...

Sunshine...

Hot...

Nowhere to go...

Nothing to do...

Heh, Did I mention it's HOT?!?!?!


DX And then here I am... trapped in the realm of Homeworld. Nothing to do but have a visit every day from Summer's three little buddies...

Creativity, Boredom, and Insanity...


Here's the problem.. No matter what time of day they visit me, These guys keep arguing about what I should do and who should I hang around with. And it all starts with Creativity.

  Creativity is the first to come. She has all these great ideas whether it's for the computer, the kitchen, or even my room. There's never anything Creativity can't turn into something interesting.
  Then Boredom comes in. When he sees me having fun with Creativity, he and Creativity start arguing. When Creativity finds something to do, he just messes it up by introducing himself until I give up and sit on the couch.
  That's when Insanity decides to join in.
Insanity fights with Boredom, but the only problem for him is if Boredom looses to Creativity. So Insanity makes Boredom argue with Creativity and helps him win, then he fights against Boredom until Insanity makes Creativity and Boredom leave the house. Then Insanity won't leave me alone and makes me lie on the floor completely wasting myself away until the summer sun falls and he disappears along with it...

You better help Creativity keep Boredom and Insanity from visitin ya, or else all you'll do is waste the summer away....

The Gael's Apprentice Exerpt 4

 Apologies, folks, for my silence on here. I've been incredibly busy with college and whatnot. Anyhoo, on with the show! this is from Chapter 7, still in progress.

In the dark of night, the McGordon tower stood tall and silent in the whispering clearing, like a stalwart rock in the midst of a typhoon. Around the tower, the trees whispered and swayed in the breeze, as though gossiping amongst each other about some monstrocity. There was evil abroad this night. Unseen by the slumbering McGordon household, a slim, fluttering shadow peeled itself away from the shadows of the woods, paused, seemingly giving a once-over on the tower, and fluttered off into the darkness.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Girl, where is your head this morning, sighed Brother Martin, looming over Eothain in his mud-spattered brown robes. She was just a little girl, barely ten, dressed in a patched and battered hand-me-down tunic from her big brother, Liam. Her vivid blonde hair was tucked behind her ears gingerly, so as to keep her hair out of her face, and away from her work. She was supposed to be writing her alphabet, but she had been distracted by a fluttering feather trapped in the blades of grass, and was painstakingly drawing it. She was nearly done with the final tufts of grass, when a scarred, withered hand settled on the edge of the parchment.

"As beautiful as God's creations are," Brother Martin said, "your practice-piece is not the place for it." Eothain dropped her quill pen, making a huge blot on her scrap of parchment, and very carefully looked up at him. The deep-set wrinkles in his face crinkled back like old parchment into a soft, wry smile. His gentle blue eyes seemed to be an even mix between joyous laughter and weariness, telling the wordless saga of his life.

What hair he had left clung to his scalp in a silver crescent. His heavy brown robes hung loosely off his narrow frame, as though made for a person much larger in size. Eothain's terrified eyes stared up at him in horror, expecting him to smack her knuckles or otherwise express his disapproval, but he just sighed gently, and picked up her scrap of parchment to examine her handiwork. Finally, after a while, he looked up from the parchment, beaming down at her, allaying her fears.

"Young miss," he began. "The Father has granted you a talented and steady hand. Mayhaps one day you will grace God with your gift." Eothain smiled in wonder at the encouraging, gentle words of the strange, ancient monk.

Brother Martin of Bannockburn was certainly an odd one. Several years ago, he had shown up in her small, wayward village in the middle of a raging thunderstorm, pushing a canvas-covered wheelbarrow full of books and writing supplies. He had said little of his past, much less what he was running from, but once he offered to give a noble's education to the children of the town, they all looked the other way. Unlike other passing priests, Martin genuinely cared for the well-being of those of his new home town, and was humble in spirit and kind in heart. Quite simply, everyone loved him, despite his secretiveness, and he appeared to love them the same.

The wind picked up then, and a strong breeze bristled through the glen, setting the segments of parchment alight on the breeze, and Eothain's wild, untamed hair tangled itself in the wind. Martin cautiously looked up into the rapidly darkening sky, as thick, black clouds raced towards them. He looked down at her grimly, his eyes starting to echo the clouds. "There's a storm coming, lil'un," he said somberly. "If you thought it was bad before, the worst is yet to come."
~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Eothain awoke, sheets entangled around her, to her shared tower-top bedroom. Narrow beams of the early morning's sunlight streamed through the windows, enlightening the room just a bit. She sighed in relief, her heart slowing down to a normal, steady pace. It had been ages since she had last dreamed of that day with Brother Martin. Not long after that day, he had disappeared without a trace.

She carefully got out of bed, and sleepily stumbled down the tower stairs. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the McGordon kitchen was in chaos. Willum, clutching a little wooden dagger, was being chased around the kitchen table by a cloud of his siblings, wielding wooden swords, axes, and other weapons of wooden death. Aidan was face-down on the kitchen table, sound asleep. Mr. McGordon looked much better than he was the night before, and was trying to take a taste of the bowl of some scrumptious-smelling dish, and got a smack across the knuckles with the ever-ready iron ladle from his wife. In short, it felt like home.

About the Chat

I'm thinking of setting a time for us to meet on the chat when we can all meet up together... what would be a good time generally for you guys? I want to bring this group back to life! :-D Also... I wanted to show a link to my blog, Nutty Sundae for you guys to go by and learn about my crazehness! <333

Preferring to look insane,
Mari J. Fahel

I need some advice

I'm kind of stuck and need some advice.
Right now in my novel my characters are stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean and no one knows where they are (it's 1602 so no way to call for help).
In my original draft I had my MC Sebastian's sister and her husband (who is a duke) come looking for them personally in their nice fancy boat. Re-thinking that now, it seems a bit far fetched. They got the location of the island from the same person Sebastian's got it from.

Here are the options I'm considering, which one sounds the best to you?

1. Leave it as it is: Sebastian's sister and brother in-law come personally searching for them and rescue them. Then on the boat journey back, have the characters (who are mostly "peasants") get into some trouble on the fancy ship.
2. Have the Duke send a ship to rescue them, and don't have much happen on the way back except one or two talks between the main characters.
3. Have a random ship that happens to be passing by see the characters and come to rescue them. On the ride back, nothing much happens except one or two talks between the main characters.
4. Something completely different (please suggest!)

Right now options 2 and 3 look the best to me because I'm trying to get this novel completely done before the end of August and I'm only on the first edit/re-write of five. I don't really have time/don't feel like writing some adventures while on the boat back (plus the first time around I couldn't really think of anything and kind of stole a scene from Tintin... Haha).

What do you guys think?

A little writing

So, I haven't been writing nearly as much lately, as we are redoing our kitchen counters, a long and tiresome job.  Also my oldest younger brother and I were helping our grandparents out last week.  Today, however, I had time to write a little.  Here is a sample:

The rust-colored sunlight in the south pierced the needles of the evergreens and left sharply outlined shadows all around Rugema Ruvin.  Birinin sat in her father’s house, fashioning her silvery arrows.  It was a delicate work, and her hands, which may have seemed rather clumsy at first sight, were nimble and adept at the craft.  She made the shafts by pulling light from a small, golden lamp with a pair of little tongs.  She would thrust the tongs into the lamp and pull them out, and in them would be a thick shining blob of ethereal light.  She took the blob in her hands and pulled it through her fingers, making it into a slender rod.  Another thrust of the tongs brought out a smaller blob, quickly fashioned by her quick fingers into a lethal point, which she attached to the shaft with a lick of the tongue.  Her fletching was made of white swan’s feathers, which she split with a little golden knife and bound to the end of the shaft by running her finger around it.   It took only a little time to make quite a few arrows, and these were all straight and true.

Hope you enjoyed that!  Thanks for reading.