Lynn Flewelling's Blog, page 9
February 4, 2013
Today's Best Typo
Seregil stripped off his traveling clothes and sank into the tub beside Thero with a long sigh of satisfaction.
Should have been "the tub beside Thero's"
Should have been "the tub beside Thero's"
January 19, 2013
Edgar Allen Poe
Another writer friend, Jennifer Crow, reminded me that this is Edgar Allen Poe's birthday. She is considering walling someone up in the basement in his honor. I shall be more obscure and get so drunk I see the Angel of the Odd-- no, wait, I'm not drinking these days. So I guess I'd better get started on digging that pit and hanging that pendulum. Hey, is that a gold bug on the hearth? What did it do with my crickets?
I read Poe when I was much too young and he marked me deeply. Does it show?
I read Poe when I was much too young and he marked me deeply. Does it show?
January 18, 2013
Cuteness Overload
I've been feeling rather quiet lately. Didn't want you to think I've deserted you. In lieu of a funny typo, of which there were none today, here's a kitten in a top hat.
A Worthy Cause
Patrick Rothfuss runs a wonderful charity called World Builders and they give away lots of goodies to donors.
http://blog.patrickrothfuss.com/2013/01/worldbuilders-a-pitch-of-three-parts/
http://blog.patrickrothfuss.com/2013/01/worldbuilders-a-pitch-of-three-parts/
January 1, 2013
Happy New Year!
Happy 2013, dear friends, and may it be so.
My two main resolutions for this year are to 1) abstain from intoxicants and 2) to be kinder to myself and try to enjoy life more, with less worry. Both fly in the face of circumstance, with a book due in April and massive classwork assignments for my master's program. But hopefully the resolutions will actually make the work easier.
School is grueling, wonderful, and challenging. One of my great challenges this term (yes, they gave us a shit load of reading over the break) is a class in child abuse issues. The readings have really depressed and saddened me. As a parent, as a woman, as a hopefully enlightened (in the general sense) human being, what is done to children, and the lack of legal protection afforded them, even in the US, is heart breaking.
SHARDS is creaking along, too. Hopefully I will have some amusing typos for you soon. I really don't make those up; I only post real ones!
My two main resolutions for this year are to 1) abstain from intoxicants and 2) to be kinder to myself and try to enjoy life more, with less worry. Both fly in the face of circumstance, with a book due in April and massive classwork assignments for my master's program. But hopefully the resolutions will actually make the work easier.
School is grueling, wonderful, and challenging. One of my great challenges this term (yes, they gave us a shit load of reading over the break) is a class in child abuse issues. The readings have really depressed and saddened me. As a parent, as a woman, as a hopefully enlightened (in the general sense) human being, what is done to children, and the lack of legal protection afforded them, even in the US, is heart breaking.
SHARDS is creaking along, too. Hopefully I will have some amusing typos for you soon. I really don't make those up; I only post real ones!
December 24, 2012
Merry Christmas Eve snippet SHARDS OF TIME
Did you think I'd forget, my dears.
SHARDS opens a year after the end of CASKET OF SOULS:
They returned to Wheel Street and public life a few days later, attended the prince’s birthday gala, and the social whirl began again. The foul weather continued—with sullen rain giving way to dank fog. They went to the theater, to gambling houses, and a few salons, including that of Marquise Alania, a fashionable dowager who’d taken quite an interest in them since Seregil’s risqué display at the Three Dragons nearly a year ago. To her credit, her circle was an interesting collection of well-educated nobles, philosophers, artists, and amusing ne’er do wells like Seregil. The food and wine were always exquisite. Even Seregil had to grudgingly admit that life was a bit less tedious than it had been.
#
The weather improved at last, rain giving way to bright sunshine and brisk winds. They were at Alania’s house one night during the Festival of Flowers when Alec noticed Seregil blinking and rubbing absently at his left temple as he lost a bakshi game to the court painter, Vireus. Finishing his game of Blue Goose with Alania and two flirtatious young noblewomen, Alec laid his cards aside and went to sit by Seregil.
“What wrong?” he murmured as Seregil conceded the game.
“Headache,” Seregil replied. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to make an early night of it.”
“I’m so sorry to hear it,” said the marquise, coming to join them. “I can have Evers prepare you a willow bark tea.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I think a good night’s sleep is in order.” Seregil bent over her hand and kissed it gallantly. “I promise you a fine dinner at Wheel Street to make up for this.”
The wind had blown out many of the street lanterns and those few left cast uncertain shadows at the edges of the street. It was a good night for footpads, even in this fashionable district of guards and walls, but Seregil seemed unusually distracted, often raising a gloved hand to his brow as he rode.
“You’re in real pain.”
“Must be the change in the weather,” Seregil muttered.
As soon as they got home Seregil went to bed with a cup of willow bark infusion. When Alec came to bed later, he was asleep but restless. Alec touched Seregil’s brow and was relieved to find it cool. He didn’t wake when Alec blew out the night lamp and climbed into bed to pull him close. That seemed to calm him and Alec soon drifted off.
#
A high wind yanked persistently on his cloak and whipped his hair across his eyes as Seregil bent to inspect the lock on the huge oak door. The moon was high, casting enough light to see the rusted plate and enormous keyhole. Nothing in his tool roll was large enough to pick the lock. Surrounded by lichen-blotched stone, the door stood between him and Alec, and he had to get to Alec. The thought made his head and his heart pound painfully: Must find Alec!
Thrusting his hand into the keyhole he felt for the tumblers. They were razor sharp, cutting the sensitive pads of his fingertips, but he could not stop. The pain was unbearable, but at last he felt the lock give. Withdrawing his bloodied hand, he swung the door open and found himself in a long corridor. The stone floor was covered with rushes and clay lamps of antique design burned in niches high in the plain stone walls. Behind him the door had disappeared, leaving a blank wall and no way out.
“Alec!” His voice came out strangled, barely audible. He tried again but could only force out a hoarse whisper.
As he started down the corridor, however, he heard his name called from a great distance that had nothing to do with stone walls. The corridor was long and at the far end stood Alec, facing away from him.
“Alec!” Seregil croaked, knowing there was no way that Alec would hear.
As he’d feared, Alec disappeared around a corner to the right. Seregil ran to the turning, only to find another, equally long corridor, and once again, Alec with his back to him. He called again, and Alec disappeared again, to the left this time. It happened again, and again, and again, as if they were playing some strange and frustrating game not of Seregil’s choosing.
Rounding a final corner he nearly ran into a tall, spare figure who stood with arms outstretched, blocking his way. Seregil could not make out the figure’s face, but beyond it he could see Alec crouched against the wall that dead ended the far end of the hallway. He had his face in his hands but Seregil knew him by his blond braid and his clothing.
He tried to push past the man blocking his way, calling Alec’s name. When his lover looked up, his once beautiful face was nothing but an empty-eyed skull. Suddenly a door opened behind him and Alec sprang through it. The door disappeared as suddenly as it had come.
“No!” Seregil screamed, finding his voice at last. Come back—”
#
“Come back!”
The desperation in Seregil’s voice jolted Alec awake in time to catch something hard and blunt in the face. With a grunt of pain and surprise, he automatically reached out to fend off an attacker, but instead felt Seregil sitting bolt upright in bed, trembling and covered in cold sweat. His voice was ragged and eerie as he whispered over and over, “Come back! Please come back!”
“It’s all right, talí.” Alec gently pulled him back down into his arms and settled Seregil’s head on his shoulder. It was too dark to see him, but Alec could feel his lover’s heart hammering against his ribs, and the clamminess of his skin. Seregil was no stranger to nightmares, but it had been ages since he’d had one this bad. “What was it?”
Seregil moaned softly. “A bad one.”
“What about?”
“I—I can’t remember.”
“You talked in your sleep. You were begging someone to come back.”
“Really?” Seregil drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything except being terrified.”
“Maybe you will in the morning. How is your headache?”
“Still bad.”
“I’ll get you something.” But when he tried to leave the bed Seregil’s arms tightened around him.
“It’s all right. Stay.”
“All right.” Alec rubbed pulled the sheet up to Seregil’s chin and rubbed his back through it.
It was a long time until he was certain Seregil was asleep.
SHARDS opens a year after the end of CASKET OF SOULS:
They returned to Wheel Street and public life a few days later, attended the prince’s birthday gala, and the social whirl began again. The foul weather continued—with sullen rain giving way to dank fog. They went to the theater, to gambling houses, and a few salons, including that of Marquise Alania, a fashionable dowager who’d taken quite an interest in them since Seregil’s risqué display at the Three Dragons nearly a year ago. To her credit, her circle was an interesting collection of well-educated nobles, philosophers, artists, and amusing ne’er do wells like Seregil. The food and wine were always exquisite. Even Seregil had to grudgingly admit that life was a bit less tedious than it had been.
#
The weather improved at last, rain giving way to bright sunshine and brisk winds. They were at Alania’s house one night during the Festival of Flowers when Alec noticed Seregil blinking and rubbing absently at his left temple as he lost a bakshi game to the court painter, Vireus. Finishing his game of Blue Goose with Alania and two flirtatious young noblewomen, Alec laid his cards aside and went to sit by Seregil.
“What wrong?” he murmured as Seregil conceded the game.
“Headache,” Seregil replied. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to make an early night of it.”
“I’m so sorry to hear it,” said the marquise, coming to join them. “I can have Evers prepare you a willow bark tea.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I think a good night’s sleep is in order.” Seregil bent over her hand and kissed it gallantly. “I promise you a fine dinner at Wheel Street to make up for this.”
The wind had blown out many of the street lanterns and those few left cast uncertain shadows at the edges of the street. It was a good night for footpads, even in this fashionable district of guards and walls, but Seregil seemed unusually distracted, often raising a gloved hand to his brow as he rode.
“You’re in real pain.”
“Must be the change in the weather,” Seregil muttered.
As soon as they got home Seregil went to bed with a cup of willow bark infusion. When Alec came to bed later, he was asleep but restless. Alec touched Seregil’s brow and was relieved to find it cool. He didn’t wake when Alec blew out the night lamp and climbed into bed to pull him close. That seemed to calm him and Alec soon drifted off.
#
A high wind yanked persistently on his cloak and whipped his hair across his eyes as Seregil bent to inspect the lock on the huge oak door. The moon was high, casting enough light to see the rusted plate and enormous keyhole. Nothing in his tool roll was large enough to pick the lock. Surrounded by lichen-blotched stone, the door stood between him and Alec, and he had to get to Alec. The thought made his head and his heart pound painfully: Must find Alec!
Thrusting his hand into the keyhole he felt for the tumblers. They were razor sharp, cutting the sensitive pads of his fingertips, but he could not stop. The pain was unbearable, but at last he felt the lock give. Withdrawing his bloodied hand, he swung the door open and found himself in a long corridor. The stone floor was covered with rushes and clay lamps of antique design burned in niches high in the plain stone walls. Behind him the door had disappeared, leaving a blank wall and no way out.
“Alec!” His voice came out strangled, barely audible. He tried again but could only force out a hoarse whisper.
As he started down the corridor, however, he heard his name called from a great distance that had nothing to do with stone walls. The corridor was long and at the far end stood Alec, facing away from him.
“Alec!” Seregil croaked, knowing there was no way that Alec would hear.
As he’d feared, Alec disappeared around a corner to the right. Seregil ran to the turning, only to find another, equally long corridor, and once again, Alec with his back to him. He called again, and Alec disappeared again, to the left this time. It happened again, and again, and again, as if they were playing some strange and frustrating game not of Seregil’s choosing.
Rounding a final corner he nearly ran into a tall, spare figure who stood with arms outstretched, blocking his way. Seregil could not make out the figure’s face, but beyond it he could see Alec crouched against the wall that dead ended the far end of the hallway. He had his face in his hands but Seregil knew him by his blond braid and his clothing.
He tried to push past the man blocking his way, calling Alec’s name. When his lover looked up, his once beautiful face was nothing but an empty-eyed skull. Suddenly a door opened behind him and Alec sprang through it. The door disappeared as suddenly as it had come.
“No!” Seregil screamed, finding his voice at last. Come back—”
#
“Come back!”
The desperation in Seregil’s voice jolted Alec awake in time to catch something hard and blunt in the face. With a grunt of pain and surprise, he automatically reached out to fend off an attacker, but instead felt Seregil sitting bolt upright in bed, trembling and covered in cold sweat. His voice was ragged and eerie as he whispered over and over, “Come back! Please come back!”
“It’s all right, talí.” Alec gently pulled him back down into his arms and settled Seregil’s head on his shoulder. It was too dark to see him, but Alec could feel his lover’s heart hammering against his ribs, and the clamminess of his skin. Seregil was no stranger to nightmares, but it had been ages since he’d had one this bad. “What was it?”
Seregil moaned softly. “A bad one.”
“What about?”
“I—I can’t remember.”
“You talked in your sleep. You were begging someone to come back.”
“Really?” Seregil drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything except being terrified.”
“Maybe you will in the morning. How is your headache?”
“Still bad.”
“I’ll get you something.” But when he tried to leave the bed Seregil’s arms tightened around him.
“It’s all right. Stay.”
“All right.” Alec rubbed pulled the sheet up to Seregil’s chin and rubbed his back through it.
It was a long time until he was certain Seregil was asleep.
December 17, 2012
The Hobbit
The family went to see The Hobbit last night, and came away with mixed feelings.
*spoilers*
The casting was wonderful. Martin Freeman was an excellent choice for the young Bilbo. His mix of earnestness and humor was perfect. Seeing Ian McKellen (or his double) kick goblin ass as a 400-year-old wizard was great fun. The dwarves were-- dwarves. A few stood out: Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bombur, but mostly they were cutouts, especially compared to the party in LOTR. Andy Serkis was once again brilliant as Gollem! His scene with Bilbo and the riddle game was a highlight of the film.
The liberties taken with the plot were seen mostly as padding to wring three movies from the book. None of us were impressed with the Radaghast digression, although the bunny sleigh was rather fun. The "pale Orc" thread was a little tiresome and trite. There were no orcs in The Hobbit, nor was the necromancer ever seen.
The noble eagles got short shrift to give Elrond & Co more screen time. I'd rather have had more eagles.
But the biggest thumbs down is reserved for the cinematography. This new fangled HFR (High Freakin' Resolution?) looked flat and raw, with none of the glow of the LOTR films. At times it had the grainy jerky look of an old Dr. Who video. I wouldn't pay for it again. In general I perfer good old 2 D. My photographer son said the white balance looked off.
That being said, it was great fun, and I loved that Jackson used the songs from the books, especially the two sung by the dwarves at the beginning of the movie. We're all looking forward to the next installment.
*spoilers*
The casting was wonderful. Martin Freeman was an excellent choice for the young Bilbo. His mix of earnestness and humor was perfect. Seeing Ian McKellen (or his double) kick goblin ass as a 400-year-old wizard was great fun. The dwarves were-- dwarves. A few stood out: Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bombur, but mostly they were cutouts, especially compared to the party in LOTR. Andy Serkis was once again brilliant as Gollem! His scene with Bilbo and the riddle game was a highlight of the film.
The liberties taken with the plot were seen mostly as padding to wring three movies from the book. None of us were impressed with the Radaghast digression, although the bunny sleigh was rather fun. The "pale Orc" thread was a little tiresome and trite. There were no orcs in The Hobbit, nor was the necromancer ever seen.
The noble eagles got short shrift to give Elrond & Co more screen time. I'd rather have had more eagles.
But the biggest thumbs down is reserved for the cinematography. This new fangled HFR (High Freakin' Resolution?) looked flat and raw, with none of the glow of the LOTR films. At times it had the grainy jerky look of an old Dr. Who video. I wouldn't pay for it again. In general I perfer good old 2 D. My photographer son said the white balance looked off.
That being said, it was great fun, and I loved that Jackson used the songs from the books, especially the two sung by the dwarves at the beginning of the movie. We're all looking forward to the next installment.
December 13, 2012
Salome M. Garcia, are you out there?
Please email me at [email protected]
November 22, 2012
Happy Thanksgiving!
I am grateful for all of you! I am also grateful that I finally figured out the settings to stop the onslaught of spam! Oh, and my family, life, success yadda yadda ;) I am also very grateful that both my sons live in Redlands, at least for the time being (no holiday plane tickets to buy, too) I am so thankful that they still like hanging out with us, and not just for the free food. I am thankful as hell that Barrack Obama is still our president. And speaking of Mordor narrowly escaped, that Peter Jackson's The Hobbit is finally coming out and that Jackson had the amazing wisdom to choose Martin Freeman to play Bilbo. And Benedict Cumberbatch is in there somewhere, too, as Smaug I think. Counting the days! Ok, that's enough.
The turkey is roasting fragrantly in the oven after its overnight bath in spiced brine, and the extra pan of sausage stuffing is in the fridge waiting to be cooked. I made three pies (two pumpkin, one mincemeat) last night, and eight small loaves of my great grandmother's shredded wheat bread. Buttercup squash and potatoes await boiling and mashing. Humble frozen peas, green olives, canned cranberry jelly (yes, the kind with the lines) and sweet gherkins are in the fridge, next to chilled bottles of prosecco and chardonney.
Currently watching the floats and giant balloons and bad pop music of the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. Plans for games later, if we can all stay awake.
Hope you all are having a lovely day, whether you celebrate the day or not.
The turkey is roasting fragrantly in the oven after its overnight bath in spiced brine, and the extra pan of sausage stuffing is in the fridge waiting to be cooked. I made three pies (two pumpkin, one mincemeat) last night, and eight small loaves of my great grandmother's shredded wheat bread. Buttercup squash and potatoes await boiling and mashing. Humble frozen peas, green olives, canned cranberry jelly (yes, the kind with the lines) and sweet gherkins are in the fridge, next to chilled bottles of prosecco and chardonney.
Currently watching the floats and giant balloons and bad pop music of the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. Plans for games later, if we can all stay awake.
Hope you all are having a lovely day, whether you celebrate the day or not.
November 13, 2012
Casket of Souls Makes It to the Goodreads Semi Finals! Please vote!
Yes, Casket has survived to the semi final round at the Goodreads awards for Best Fantasy of 2012. Please, please take a moment to vote if you support the book! Go Team Casket! Thank you!
http://www.goodreads.com/choiceawards/best-fantasy-books-2012#74614-Best-Fantasy
http://www.goodreads.com/choiceawards/best-fantasy-books-2012#74614-Best-Fantasy
