Filed Away

This is starting to get annoying. I need to write- I’ve got so much piling up inside me, but it just doesn’t get out in any meaningful way, so instead I just post novel excerpts and ignore this site and pretend everything’s fine.

 In the end it’s really my own fault- I let myself get distracted and don’t apply my time to the things I say I want to do.

Chapter 17 is up at 3500years.com, and it has some disturbing stuff in it. I remember when I was writing it and told Dean about it he was taken aback. More than one person who read it asked just how in the hell I could write something like that.

Either way, don’t click the link if you are easily disturbed.

And of course, if you can’t wait for more you can always buy the book… 

Chapter 16 is up at 3500years.com. I haven’t got a lot to say about this piece- it’s pretty much classic Zsallia, particularly the confrontation with Joshua. My only regret here is that we didn’t take the time to develop both Edna and Joshua earlier on in the story because I’m not keen on introducing new characters sixteen chapters in, but it is what it is and in the end it works fairly well.

Most of the people who read this blog are already very familiar with Zsallia’s blog, but on the  off chance you’re not, there’s a trio of entries from November of 2003 that introduce Edna and Joshua: Returnings, Visitations and I know Who You Are. Some of the assumptions have changed from what is presented on the blog- originally Edna’s Great Grandmother died before Edna was born, but Dean thought it would be more powerful if Edna had actually known her personally, so Catherine Tremblay got an extra thirty years of life. I was against it at first since I’d already laid out the entire family tree, but once I gave in it became clear to me Dean was absolutely correct. Edna is now a direct connection back to Zsallia’s former life with Jeremiah McAllister (another of Dean’s changes was to rename Jeremy from Jerome to Jeremiah- he was right about that, too).

Hope you’re enjoying the story so far, and if you just can’t wait you can always buy the book 🙂

I’ve been busy for a bit, so little posting is the result. Built my new computer- Athlon X2 64 5300, 2GB DDR2 800 with a Gigabyte GeForce 8500 GT 512MB PCIe graphics card.  The thing screams under XP 32-bit, but I’ve noticed the drivers from the Gigabyte motherboard leave a bit to be desired. Reports are the 64 bit Vista drivers are solid, so I may rebuild it with that- I’m just not eager to upgrade my Quicken software (it craps out under Vista), and Vista is still not my favorite OS by a long shot.  I’m the sole Windows Admin at my company and I refuse to deploy it for numerous reasons.

Anyhow, I’m determined to keep this blog and 3500years.com moving forward. I’ve given up drinking for the foreseeable future, always guaranteed to remove obstacles to writing, and I’m moving again on the Dalene thread- perhaps I can finally wrap that up, though the characters still refuse to cooperate with me.  I have the proofed version of Methuselah’s Daughter in hand and I can finally start prepping for the third edition.

Last, but not least, I have a meme to respond to for Jayne. Plenty to get the writing jiuces back into the flow.

Chapter 15 is up at 3500years.com. This was a fun piece to write in that it hints at the future, when isolation and insanity drive Zsallia to believe she is a goddess. We actually had further plans for this story arc, but in the end they never came to pass.  We were writing furiously at the time and as the story raced ahead we just couldn’t stop long enough to flesh it out, so Attuz disappears after this chapter, never to be heard from again. Rather like everyone in her life.

Chapter 14 is up at 3500years.com. This chapter is a bit incongruous, given where it’s located and what happens in it, but both Dean and I liked it too much to cut it. It’s the first point in the book where the reader learns there’s more to Zsallia than just arrogance and fear- she’s a barbarian at heart, she’s just learned to be civilized for sake of convenience. She recognizes the benefits of civilization and would never suggest a return to what some might call a more ‘natural’ human state, but when confronted with aggression she prefers to respond in kind.

There’s actually a follow-up to this chapter on the blog, titled “Why do you carry a gun?”. I’m thinking of working it into the third edition of the book because it puts much of her attitude towards the modern world, and her notions of personal responsibility, into perspective.

Methuselah’s Daughter, A Novel 

I’ve done it before- start a story, things are shaping up nicely… and suddenly you run out of ideas, or the story takes a turn you can’t seem to flesh out. I’m staring that in the face right now with a story line on 3500years.com. It starts with this post, titled Dalene.

The comment thread in that post is great and if I’d had any brains I would have let it end there, but nooooo… I had to follow up with this post, titled 1967. This was also pretty satisfying, and again, I could have left it at that. Probably should have. The problem is, I had the beginning and the ending of a story- it was impossible to resist the urge to fill in the details, particularly since a fiction blog is always short on material.

It’s been my experience that the most important thing to know about a story before you start writing is how it will end, and here I had it- beginning and ending. The rest would be a snap! Unfortunately, the characters in the story are refusing to cooperate and suddenly I realize that the ending I had in mind is pretty damned weak. I would change it, but it breaks the continuity of the blog, something that is very important to me both personally and creatively.

Here are the characters:

Zsallia (under the name Angevin DuMarmande and playing the part of a French prostitute in new Orleans circa 1964)

Dalene Carr:

Dalene is nineteen in 1964. She grew up in New York City and was an accomplished classical guitarist at 16, with what looked like a promising future in music. This came crashing down around her when her father discovered she was a lesbian and forcibly married her off to a man who essentially held her captive and raped her on a daily basis. When she inevitably got pregnant she persuaded her husband to take her to a doctor in Albany where she took her chance and managed to slip away. She eventaully landed in New Orleans where a pimp named Jacques reeled her in, helping her get an abortion, then pressing her into prostitution. When she and Zsallia meet Dalene is a hard-core heroin addict rapidly sliding towards her death and not caring about anything or anyone other than her two freinds, Neff and Aiko.

Nefirtiri (Neff) Obanya:

Neff is also nineteen as this opens. From a devoutly Muslim family, she fled under circumstance similar to Dalene’s, but in her case her family was preparing to murder her after they discovered she was gay. From California she eventually landed in New Orleans where Jacques managed to drag her into his prostitution ring. Originally Neff was just background, but as soon as the story opened up I realized there were no background characters and Neff grew into an almost Earth Mother figure, a transformation that is not well expressed in the story to date. She is the calm one, the one Dalene and Aiko (described next) rely upon when things seem to spin out of control. For Neff’s part she’s as confused and lost as the others, but she puts up a good fascade. She doesn’t know how long she can keep it up and it terrifies her to think what will happen when she finally cracks.

Aiko Oshima:

The daughter of a Japanese father and Swedish mother Aiko is unusually and strikingly attractive. She’s eighteen when the story opens in 1964 and has been on the streets since the age of twelve. Her family fell apart and her father returned to Japan, leaving she and her mother on their own. Her mother descended into alcoholism and when Aiko was moved into foster care she decided she was having none of it and set out on her own. Her mother still lives in Metarie, but Aiko has never sought her out. A prostitute since the age of fourteen, Aiko is the least stable of the three, her tough-girl act so transparent as to be pitiful. She and Neff became attached to each other soon after Neff arrived in New Orleans (Jacques used Aiko to recruit other girls, something that she hated doing, but did because Jacques took care of her and, of course, she was afraid of what he would do if she let him down). The two of them were together for a year before Darlene arrived.

Zsallia’s first encounter with them is recounted an a post titled 1963.

Latest two chapters are up on 3500years.com. It opens with more talk between Int and Zsallia, then moves forward with the tale of Att and Attuz. As the book progresses a real antagonism develops between Zsallia and her ghost writer, reflecting the growing tension between Dean and me that eventually culminated in our ending the book after Part 4, rather than continuing on with the story of Jeremy and Elaine in Part 5.

The basic disagreement between us was the need to reveal the mechanics of Zsallia’s immortality- Dean felt it was crucial to do it, I felt it was crucial not to. To make matters worse (from my point of view, anyhow) I had provided Dean with my working theory, one that I really didn’t like at all, and he fell in love with it. We actually wrote two very powerful vignettes around that theory and were working towards making them the climax of the book… but I hated the whole thing and desperately wanted NOT to do it. In the end we couldn’t reconcile our opinions enough to continue.

There may yet be a second book, but I’ll have to write it myself. One thing I am determined to finish is the story of Elaine and Jeremiah McAllister- that will happen regardless of whether or not there is a second novel.

The Bishop’s parlor was comfortable, but not ostentatious, bearing an air of studious contemplation: incense and old leather, the smell of libraries, every chair an invitation to sit and lose oneself in some weighty tome. Both Dralosahde and Cocia had spent many a day in such rooms in Temples, Churches, and guildhalls. His Excellency Bishop Mantov obviously enjoyed his books.

They had been separated from Captain Grimm and were escorted to the parlor by a tall, dour priest who spoke not a word, but simply gestured for them to sit and then departed. Cocia attempted to assume the composure of her Mistress, but felt certain her discomfort showed. The waiting certainly made it worse, but her mentor took it all in stride, eyes closed as if in meditation.

Cocia could sense the subtle exertion of power, but knew better than to attempt to pry into Dralosahde’s actions. Once, when she was new to her apprenticeship, so very cocky and inquisitive, she had made the error of attempting to divine her Mistress’s thoughts. What she experienced she could not to this day properly recount, but afterward she spoke with a stutter for nearly two years. Sometimes those visions still haunted her dreams.

When the door opened Cocia stood almost reflexively, but Dralosahde remained seated, her hands loosely clasped in her lap, eyes closed. Bishop Mantov entered quietly, no small feat for a man of his stature. At more than six feet and weighing closer to three hundred pounds than to two it was almost unseemly that his step should be so light. Still, it was his face that drew the most attention, his thick shock of white hair pulled back across a large head, square and massive, set with large eyes of a piercing dark blue. He frowned slightly, and the act hinted of far more terrible expressions he could bring to bear.
He looked at Cocia and she stepped towards him, dropping to her left knee. Mantov floated forward, extending his right hand and she dutifully pressed her lips to his signet ring. He turned to face Dralosahde, but she remained seated and the Bishop merely shrugged.

“Lady Campbell,” he began, his voice astoundingly soft as it was deep, but then he gagged, staggering backwards a step.

Dralosahde’s eyes were open, but rolled back into her head, and when she spoke it was with a guttural whisper that seemed to shake the very stone walls of the Basilica.

“You know my true name. Do not fail to address me properly again. Why have you summoned me to Holedo?”

This was nothing compared to her handling of Captain Grimm: Mantov staggered under the weight of her power, every word she spoke accompanied by a gesture of her left hand.

“I-I summoned no one, Dr-dr-dralosahde,” he gasped, shaking as he stepped back and collapsed into a chair.

Cocia was still kneeling when she felt her mistress’s attention touch her with a soundless command to rise to her feet and stand at Dralosahde’s right side. She felt herself moving without thinking of moving, but as she fell into place beside her mistress her will returned and the power seething in the room was muted- muffled, but not completely silent.

“You lie!” she rasped, “You sent no message, you conjured no summons, but you summoned me none-the-less. You meddle in things far beyond your meager capacity to understand. You summoned me when you dared approach Campbell Keep! WHY?”

The Bishop writhed as if in agony, teeth clenched as he struggled to keep his words unspoken. Dralosahde left her chair, standing slowly before approaching Mantov. With each step his face twisted with renewed effort, until finally Dralosahde reached out and laid her hand gently on his head. Her eyes rolled back to fix the Bishop with a piercing emerald stare.

“You cannot resist me. Your God avails you nothing in this place, at this time. Share with me.”

Scott Adams nails the Fringe Environmentalists in 3 short panels.