I have the flu. Blegh. Proper stuff; joints aching, temperatures, loss of appetite, upset stomach, the works.
Anyway, next chapter of Poisonroot.
“Hold this,” Victor rumbled. Trip looked up from the campfire where he had been staring into the soup pot, lost in memory. The man was holding a short sword out, hilt first.
Trip took it, holding it gingerly. “Right?”
Read MoreThe Mayor of Everywhere is a character that we use in D&D. He's a short guy in a black robe with a book and a wonderful bald spot. Essentially he's the character we use when we need a mayor or another official.
He makes a cameo appearance here as the Mayor of Deep Round.
Trip awoke. It was warm, dark; too warm, suddenly. He took a deep breath, stale sweat and worse filling his nostrils. He was suffocating, buried under a pile of bodies, quiet breathing all around him. He let out a howl of fear, struggling against the weight of so many people on top of him.
Read MoreSo, a challenger appears!
This year's National Novel Writing Month seems like the perfect excuse to come back to Poisonroot. Now, I know it's supposed to be a new piece you start, but the story of Trip and Victor is just too wonderful, and the world is just too rich, to let lie. So I'll be finishing Poisonroot during NaNoWriMo.
Here for you today is Chapter 7!
His heart pounding, Trip crept through the lines of pews as silently as he could. Every one carried the signs of some sort of struggle; discarded hymn books, torn clothing, a small purse that jingled when he picked it up. Feeling a pang of guilt, he put the purse inside his habit. Maybe he could find the owner.
Read MoreI'm going back to work next week. Can't help feeling slightly trepiditious for a number of reasons. That's not even a word, but I'm claiming it.
I'm worried I won't be able to fit in writing, D&D and schoolwork; the latter pays the bills, though I sorely wish the former did. I have to concentrate on that. However, I'll be putting as much of my time as possible into this project.
I'm also now unsure who the audience is for this. It's turning into a sort of young adult type thing. Do those sell, I wonder?
Anyway, Chapter 6 after the jump!
The next chapter; thanks to everyone who's commented, it means a lot. I managed to bash this out today while sat in the Barbican, London; it's a really interesting space, coffee nearby and small tables in the carpeted area. Lots of people there today as it's Bank Holiday Monday!
Abruptly, Victor turned and grabbed hold of Trip’s arm. “We should not be here,” he ground out. Trip struggled against the iron grip but could not break free, stumbling as they walked back to the field gate.
Read MoreI wrote this in several sittings so it's not as polished as it should be, but it's a first draft and of a decent length. I'm satisfied with it for now.
I'm heavily influenced by D&D at the moment. I've been running a campaign now for about six hours, maybe more, and I have to say it's freakin' awesome. I have a great group to play it with and they've been really imaginative.
I'm hoping I can use some of their ideas in this, and vice versa.
Today is Bank Holiday Monday, I plan to drink coffee from my favourite coffee place and write this novel.
Chapter 4, and we find out a little more about Victor. Public opinion has this guy as some sort of saint, but the reality is apparently far from the truth. I've used some older material on this chapter, and I'm hoping it still comes together to make a coherent chapter; much of it, about 80%, is brand new and written this evening, mostly after a pint of beer, so I hope it still makes sense. As always, this is a FIRST DRAFT.
Read MoreChapter 2 - we find out a little about what's going on.
Visually, in my mind at least, Victor is based on Sarge from Quake 3. No shit. Down to the cigar and everything. He's a world-weary fighter, seen it all, done it all, killed it all, retired but not really; he's something like Bruce Willis' character in that film about the retired assassins.
Chapter 1 - I've sat on this for far too long, so I'll just get it out there. As always, this is a FIRST DRAFT.
POISONROOT
Trip stumbled on through the night. Thick clouds covered the moon but ahead, through the gloom, he could see his goal; the village of Monk’s Retreat, at once close and far away to his twelve-year-old mind. He took a deep breath and pushed away his weariness, concentrating instead on heading towards the small town. An especially sharp gust of wind blew through him and he shivered, hugging his simple brown robe closer. Not for the first time, he wished that the monastery had believed in warmer clothing. Or better weapons.
Read MoreI know that a prologue is meant to be written after you've written most of the rest of the story but, screw it, I know where this story is going; I've got it planned out, the whole document. It probably means I'll fall into JK Rowling's trap where my final chapter is still doggedly trying to fit into a dress that is ten years too small for it, but we'll see. I'll be glad to get to the end of the book!
So here it is, the FIRST DRAFT (and those two words apply to everything else about Poisonroot that come onto this blog) of the first part of Poisonroot. This is a special project for me, because I'm writing it twice, effectively; parts of the world and setting are being used for my D&D campaign which I'm running with the brilliant Nana Li, John Aggs, Chippy and my beautiful wife Susan; somehow, miraculously, all four have blogs I can link you to!
The Prologue!
I've been working on Poisonroot. I've written a couple of short pieces and one long one, and here is the long one. I'd write more, but it's late and I'm in a bit of pain after aikido class so that will do for now.
Duke Fennic’s manor stood in its own grounds, north of the river. A series of large buildings connected by passages, it seemed strangely deserted as Trip and Victor walked towards it. The iron gates stood open and it wasn’t until they were halfway across the sandy courtyard that they were intercepted.
Read MoreI've been prevaricating long enough over this. I had a good long chat with Sue today about the plot to this and she said it seemed to be pretty good, though I'm still having trouble grasping it in my own mind. It's like trying to grab a soap bubble; I don't want to grab it too hard in case I pop it.
Anyway, I've written a couple of pieces of non-story stuff to get the characters better acquainted in my mind. The first is a short piece about Victor. He's old, he misses his wife, he's lonely and he's fed up of kids coming and standing on his roses. The second is a piece about young Trip, aged 6; he's quite advanced for a six-year-old in thinking, I guess, but that's ok. In the main story he'll be about 12, but this is how he ends up doing a job by choice that most others have to be ordered to do, namely working in the Library.
Victor grunted and spat into a flowerpot. There were tourists outside his house again, damned bastards, always wandering around and pointin’ at this and that. Damn it, they’d be in the rose bushes in a minute trying to see into his windows.
Read More