Future Published #4: The Bride Gift

Today's interviewee is Sarah Hegger, author of THE BRIDE GIFT. You can follow Mrs. Hegger on her Facebook, Twitter, or her blog. In this case I must confess that I am cheating, because I happen to know that the novel has been sold to Soul Mate Publishing and will be out in May, 2014. Thank you, Mrs. Hegger, for journeying all the way to Elflandia.

Mrs. Hegger: Thanks for letting me drop by.

So, tell us about your novel. What inspired you to write this story?

Mrs. Hegger: I have always been interested in the role of women and specifically the power, or lack thereof, they have had over the centuries. Even in times when women were the most powerless, there have been those that stood out. Empress Maude, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Elizabeth l, Victoria and so many more. I wanted to write a story where a woman was powerless and how she worked within the system to get what she wanted.

Who was your favorite character to write?

Mrs. Hegger: My hero Guy of Helston. I set myself a tough task with him. I didn't want to pretty him up, but keep him pretty much your basic medieval fighting machine. Guy is so non-verbal that I had to find inventive ways of getting him to 'speak' and still keep him to growls, grunts and monosyllabic responses.

What motivates your characters?

Mrs. Hegger: In essence, both Helena and Guy are motivated by security. They want to secure their futures. Both of them have been at the mercy of others and are determined never to be in that position again.

Why Medieval England?

Mrs. Hegger: Castles, horses, those lovely bliauts. And I also don't think I ever recovered from seeing the old Richard Harris/Vanessa Redgrave version of Camelot.

Do you ever kill characters? (You don't have to answer that!)

Mrs. Hegger: Oh, yes. This is bad Olde England after all, but I'm not going to give anything more away.

Tell us a little about yourself. What are you reading these days?

Mrs. Hegger: I am a voracious romance reader. I always have one or two on the go. Which is probably why I can never get the titles straight. I never miss a Kristan Higgins or a Jill Shalvis. I love Eileen Dreyer, Madeline Hunter and Lisa Kleypas. I have just finished reading Wounded Wings by Shauna Allen. I managed to get lucky enough to get my hands on an advanced copy.

Where did you grow up?

Mrs. Hegger: I was born in England, but spent most of my life in South Africa. I just mourned, with my country men and women, the death of the incredible Nelson Mandela.

What's your favorite kind of coffee?

Mrs. Hegger: For some reason, since my pregnancies (many moons ago) I can't take strong coffee anymore, but I still love it. I compromise with a Venti Non-Fat Latte every morning

What are you working on, now? Do you have a sequel planned, or something new?

Mrs. Hegger: I am just putting the finishing touches to a new medieval called "Sweet Bea." It's set in King John's England in the year 1215 and I have taken a huge chance and made my hero a thoroughly unlikeable SOB for the front part of the book. He gets better, though, and by the end of it, is as lovely and dreamy as any other romance hero. (This is my hope, anyway). I have also just started a new contemporary and am experimenting with the idea of perfect that we women can get so tangled in.

It's my observation that books seem to reflect their writers. What aspect of you is reflected in your book?

Mrs. Hegger: Hmmm - now you've got me thinking. Probably the fact that most of me heroines present as tough, but they are masks to conceal a softer inside. Actually, a lot of my heroes do the same thing. I like to play around with the ideas of strength and vulnerability and how closely they are tied together.

Would you like to leave us with a quote from your book?

The blurb: 1153, in the period dubbed ‘The Anarchy’, King Stephen and Empress Maud are not the only ones embroiled in a fierce battle of the sexes.

Determined to control her own destiny, willful Helena of Lystanwold has chosen just the husband to suit her purposes. But, when her banished guardian uncle attempts to secure her future and climbs through her bedroom window with a new husband by a proxy marriage, she understandably balks. Notorious warrior Guy of Helston is everything Helena swore she would never marry; a man who lives by the sword, like the man who murdered her sister.

This marriage finally brings Guy close to his lifetime dream of gaining lands and a title. He is not about to let his feisty bride stand in his way. A master strategist, Guy sets out to woo and conquer his lady.

Against a backdrop of vengeance, war and betrayal, Guy and Helena must learn to forge a united front or risk losing everything.

An Excerpt: Her husband. Her uncle had given her safekeeping, her future, into the hands of this man. The Scourge of Faringdon.

He looked the part, a large man with broad shoulders blocking the rest of the room from view. In the scant light, his face was all rough­hewn angles and hard planes. His eyes were light, colder than the stone at her feet.

Helena shivered suddenly.

“So,” she tugged the sides of her robe closer together. “We are at an impasse.”

“Nay, my lady,” he replied with that infuriating calm. “Now we must open the gates.”

“Must we?” she taunted. Why did he not challenge her? She wanted him to demand she do his bidding so she could fling it back in his teeth. He merely stood there for a moment and looked at her.

His continued silence unnerved her. “You do not speak much.”

He moved suddenly and Helena jumped. It was as if a tree had suddenly sprung into life. He motioned for her to precede him. “Gates?” he reminded her in his rough voice. It was the sort of voice accustomed to yelling commands across a battle­strewn field. Urging his men forward to murder and mayhem.

Helena raised her chin. “And why must I open the gates?”

“My men . . . are outside.”

It was so absurd that she started to laugh. When he did not join her, but just looked at her with his chillingly pale eyes, Helena’s laughter died in her throat.

“I am not letting your men into my keep.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him. This game he played could be equally well­ played by two. He moved toward her so suddenly that she stepped back. Her foot tangled in the carpeting and she nearly lost her balance.

“My keep,” he growled. “And my men. Open the gates.”

Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely speak. He gripped her arm firmly, but not hard enough to be painful. She tested its strength and found it secure. Her anger grew stronger. This was not his keep. Lystanwold was hers. This mockery of a marriage changed nothing. She shook her head.

He stepped closer until she could feel the heat from his body. “Be you willing or not, those gates are opening.”

“Do you plan to force me?”

“If I must.”

The silence stretched between them. His eyes were as hard steel and seemed to stare a hole right through her head.

“Lady?” The soft rasp in his tone warned his patience was at an end.

Helena felt an unbidden surge of elation. “How do I know I can trust you?” she flung at him. “You could have deceived my uncle into trusting you and when I open the gates, your men will run havoc through my keep and her people.”

He frowned as if she had just said something so stupid it pained him to consider it.

“You would not be the first to come here with false promises spilling from your lips.” Helena’s fingers curled into her palms. “How do I know you will not kill us all?”

“You do not,” his voice rumbled through his chest. “You have my word only.”

“The word of a hireling sword?” she sneered.

His eyes narrowed. “Gates,” he insisted.

Helena peered at his grave, stern face. He was tall. She barely reached one powerful shoulder. It made her feel tiny by comparison. She bent her neck to maintain eye contact. The cold, implacable certainty of his eyes held hers. And she knew then it made no difference what she believed or what she wanted. He could snap her in two, right this instant, before anyone in the keep was any the wiser. Her courage wilted within.

Yet she resisted. “If you force me, I will scream for help. My men will roust you before you can make a sound.”

“They will try,” he responded, seemingly indifferent to her threat.

“You are not that fearsome.” She tugged at her arm, but he held firm.

He stared at her, battering her resistance with his quiet certainty.

Her husband. Sweet Jesu. Her breath clogged in her lungs. Her mind spun in ever increasing circles. Do. Not. Panic. Think, Helena, think.

As if reading her thoughts, he rumbled softly, “I will not harm you. Do not be afeared.”

“I’m not afeared.” She tossed her head rebelliously even as she lied.

He raised his brow, a silent mockery of her boast.

Her shoulders slumped to admit he’d bested her. If she did not open those gates, there would be blood, and it would be on her hands.

“Open the gates,” he said softly.

“I do this under duress,” she hissed, beaten for now. But she would fight again. He nodded as if he understood and drew in a slow, careful breath. For a moment, she thought he might have looked relieved. Helena dismissed the notion as ridiculous.

“Have you no slippers?” he demanded.

“Eh?” Helena noticed he stared at her pale feet sticking out beneath her night rail. “I have slippers,” she replied.

“Put them on. The stone is cold and hard.”

Helena looked down at her feet and up at him again, then reached below the bed for her slippers.

Coming from Soul Mate Publishing in May, 2014

Thanks for everything!

Mrs. Hegger: Thank you for letting me be here.

Stalin vs. Marie Antoinette

Which is worse: A bad system filled with good people, or a good system filled with bad people?

Right, so I was reading about the French and Russian revolutions, and thinking about how glad I am that my country had George Washington instead of Stalin, and feeling bad for Marie Antoinette.

George Washington I regard as basically a good person in a good system. He's underrated these days, but the US did well under his leadership, and he established norms (like peacefully leaving office) which have served us well.

Marie Antoinette and even Louie XVI do not seem, from the accounts I've read, to have been bad people on a personal level. They didn't kick puppies or leave offensive comments on Youtube. But they were definitely part of a bad, oppressive system. Even after they were deposed, they could always call upon the armies of Austria and other allies to attack France and put them back in power (which they actually did try to do.) It did not matter that they may have been nice folks--their continued existence posed a threat to the revolution; their deaths were deemed necessary to end the system.

Russia before 1917 was an abysmal place. People were starving, and the gov't, needless to say, was terrible. It is almost unimaginable that so many starving people wouldn't rise up against a system that was killing them. They established what they hoped would be a utopia, a workers' paradise. Unfortunately, they ended up with Lenin, then Stalin, at the helm, and the tragic deaths of a million beautiful dreams.

You know the history. America remains one of the nicer spots in the world. The French eventually got Napoleon and then kings again and finally democracy, but France is also a fairly nice place. The poor Russians got the Soviet Union.

Of course it is best to have a good system with good people.
A bad system with good people can, I think, eventually work itself out, if everyone involved is devoted to fixing things.
But a good system with bad people will simply turn rotten.

Your thoughts?

Future Published #2: Effin' Albert

"Future Published" is a series of interviews devoted to fabulous unpublished authors whose work I have been blessed to read, and believe is good enough to deserve professional publication. Today's interviewee is K. Kellie Edwards, author of EFFIN' ALBERT. I read Ms. Edwards's first page on Flogging the Quill some time ago, and thought to myself, "This is gonna get published. Hey, I should do a blog series about books that are going to be published, but haven't yet." Only I didn't have a blog back then. Since then, I have read more of Effin' Albert, including the in-process query letter, and it has remained strong. So if you see this book at the store one day, pick it up and read it. Preferably after buying it. :)

Anyway, thank you for journeying all the way to Elflandia!

Ms. Edwards: Thank you for inviting me, although your last interviewee is a tough act to follow. She's amazing.

Link to your blog?

Ms. Edwards: Wait, I'm not done. She's creative, humble, funny; a gifted and talented writer. I can’t say enough great things about her.

Anyhoo, I blog at kkellie: write me. I write about writing mostly because, you know. :)

Why don't you tell us a bit about your book?

Ms. Edwards: First thing to come to mind is innocence versus evil. Yikes.

The narrator is an eleven-year-old kid named Mike. Since his dad died, Mike's been taking care of his weird brother Albert--weird because of how he looks, and because the kid gets episodes--sees bad things happen in his head, bad people doing bad things.

Mom drinks. A lot. Since the boys' dad died, Mom's developed a taste for Jack Daniel's and rotten men. Her first boyfriend is real asshole but this one . . . this one's a killer. Albert sees the guy kidnap a girl, hurt her bad and shoot her in the head. Albert tells Mike and Mike tells their mom but she doesn't believe him. They should tell the cops except for one thing: Jerkface Knowles is a cop. And he just scared Albert into telling what he saw. The two brothers are on their own--they have to figure out how to stop that fucker before he kills another kid.

Just have to stay alive long enough to do it.

What inspired you to write this story?

Ms. Edwards: I'd been kicking around the idea of a story told by a kid, first person POV, suspense, for sure--his little brother sees bad things. That's as far as my idea went. Then NaNoWriMo 2012 reared its ugly head and a fellow writer over at Absolute Write talked me into giving it a shot. She's really persuasive, so enthusiastic, a wonderful writer and. . .

Don't get me started. :)

Anyhoo, I sat down and started writing. The characters came to me instantly, no problem. The story? Oy.

What was the hardest part about writing this book?

Ms. Edwards: The whole process was hard. It was like pulling teeth the whole way. By the end of NaNo last year I'd only managed 3000 words. Took nine months to drag most of it out of me, another two to write the ending. The ending almost killed me.

The best part?

Ms. Edwards: Mike and Albert. I love 'em. They feel real to me which is weird because, you know. :)

Who was your favorite character to write?

Ms. Edwards: Mike narrates the story so I spent a lot of time with him, really got to know that kid inside and out. Little Albert is so sweet, a little sweetie pie but Mike. Oh man. That kid goes through some shit.

What motivates your characters?

Ms. Edwards: For Mike and Albert I'd say love first, responsibility second. Self-preservation third. For the cop, motives are base. That's the theme throughout my novels, I think--protagonists motivated by love; antagonists, by base desires. For that cop, it's this twisted desire for power, fueled by anger and resentment, amplified by a sick lust for little girls.

He's a horrible, horrible man.

Do you ever kill characters? (You don't have to answer that!)

Ms. Edwards: I have. Some innocent; some, not so much. Tougher for me is when I hurt the characters I care about, hurt them physically, emotionally. I have to gird my loins. Sometimes I cry.

The first thing I noticed about your novel is its strong voice. Which accent do you use in the novel?

Ms. Edwards: Thank you. The accent, vernacular, whatever you want to call it is something that just came to me. I made it up. Eek. Because the story is told by Mike, first person POV pretty much, voice had to sound real and be consistent throughout the book. I worked really hard on that and fretted about it because I knew I had to nail it.

Is this your personal accent, or did you learn it for the novel?

Not mine, I'm a Michigander by way of New England and like I said, I pretty much winged it. I posted some excerpts on AW's SYW forum to double-check that I was still on the right track. Folks there are wonderful, btw. So supportive, so smart and wise and talented. . .

Don't get me started. :)

Tell us a little about yourself. What are you reading these days?

Ms. Edwards: I started writing by accident. Literally. I was a teacher, taught little kids. Loved it. Then I fell off a chair and all kinds of weird shit happened physically. Foot and back and fusions blah blah. I couldn't teach and I was down, really down. Then my husband suggested I try fiction writing. I always loved to write; that, and draw. Decent at both. Anyhoo, I gave it a shot and now it's in my blood. Like a virus or something. :)

Currently I'm reading three different things: my own stuff, a 90K fantasy manuscript, and a novel by Jeffrey Deaver--slogging through that one. The manuscript I'm reading is by someone I met through AW, an amazing writer and an amazing story. I am blown away. The talent out there is incredible.

Where did you grow up?

Ms. Edwards: Michigan, in a suburb of Detroit. I was born in Massachusetts and have spent a lot of time in the New Bedford area. My Gram and Gramp lived there. I love it there.

What are you working on now?

Ms. Edwards: Well, I'm tweaking EFFIN' ALBERT as I wait on my second round of betas, who are so awesome. I am so lucky. And I'm trying to get CHERRY published. Right now the full is out there, a couple of agents and an indie publisher are considering it. Waiting is part and parcel but ugh.

I started a new novel at the beginning of this year's NaNo, got three cpts. in then set it aside so I could concentrate on ALBERT. I have three other novels waiting in the wings for me to tweak. I think they're all decent and could be viable. First, though, ALBERT and CHERRY.

Hopefully.

Do you have a sequel planned, or something new?

Ms. Edwards: Already answered the second part. As for any kind of sequel, no. I've written five complete novels now, all stand-alones. Don't know why. I wish I could write sequels. I have to write what comes to me and thus far, what has come to me are discrete stories, complete in one volume. Except CHERRY, in that one, the ending was kind of nebulous, so. . .

It's my observation that books seem to reflect their writers. What aspect of you is reflected in your book?

Ms. Edwards: Yikes, I'm everywhere. Especially in EFFIN' ALBERT. A lot of the things that happen to those two kids happened to me, or to somebody I know. For instance, that beginning scene when Mike's feeding the worm--I did that. The escalator scene? Happened to me and my sister. My brother-in-law drew a black dot on his nose with permanent marker one Halloween. A sister-in-law smacked her gum on a table and cut herself four new teeth, just like that. My dad died when I was four, we kids pretty much took care of ourselves. I had a lot of the same feelings Mike has, emotions bubbling up, being afraid, feeling helpless, screwing up, finding out how strong I was.

So.

Would you like to leave us with a quote from your book/query?

Ms. Edwards: My query for EFFIN' ALBERT is in process so I shall leave you with an excerpt from the book. Thank you, btw.

Okay, here we go.

I don’t want to think about if it ain’t the right way so I think about that girl. Amy. I don’t know her last name. Maybe it’s Wong then I remember the dad ain’t Chinese so probably it ain't Wong, probably it’s a plain name like Smith.

Amy Smith. She got real shiny black hair. I bet that’s why he picked her. Amy Smith, you better watch out. He’s making my brother tell your last name, he got my brother where are you Albert? Please be okay. Please do what he wants don’t let him hurt you Albert, please—

I’m crying again and don’t even know. It’s so hot. I try to stop crying and finally I do, I think ‘cause I’m dried up.

The tent’s way back there, I can see the top of it from the ditch. I don’t remember walking so far. There’s a big field on my side of the road, I don’t know what they got growing, oats or wheat maybe. Across the street there’s another field, who cares what they got growing in it, I don’t care, I just wanna go home. I want Mom. I want my brother. I want a big giant bottle of Coke, ice cold Coke so cold your skin freezes to the glass. I don’t care, I don’t care if my skin freezes to the glass and peels right off.

I think I got heat stroke. You go crazy and start thinking weird stuff then you go unconscious then you die which means I’m gonna die but I can’t go no further, I just can’t or maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I just want to die right here.

I get myself out of the ditch and sit cross-legged like a Indian ready to die. The ground’s hard and little rocks hurt my butt but I don’t care. I say a prayer for Albert, Dear God, protect my brother from Jerkface Fucker Knowles.

Then I shut my eyes and wait for the ax to fall.

Me: Good luck and thanks for everything!

Future Published #1: The Love Song of Numo and Hammerfist

"Future Published" is a series of interviews devoted to fabulous unpublished authors whose work I have been blessed to read, and believe is good enough to deserve professional publication.

Today's interviewee is Reilly McCann, author of The Love Song of Numo and Hammerfist. In this case, I read Reilly's wonderfully off-beat query letter, which appeals to my love of strange and curious things. If I were an agent, I'd be requesting pages!

But enough about me. Thank you, Reilly, for journeying all the way to Elflandia!

Why don't you tell us a bit about your book?

Reilly: It's a speculative novel--a love story about two homunculus-slaves who, in my head, look like a potato with limbs and a werebadger, respectively. ...Crap, that's a really bad logline. I haven't quite worked out the logline yet. But it's sort of like Spartacus made snugglebunnies with Wall-E on a mattress made of Alchemy and Shit I Made Up and produced a big fat baby.

I notice there's a revolution in your book. Was it inspired by any thoughts about real revolutions?

Reilly: The revolution in the book is, at the outset, built on the general notion of a slave rebellion. But it turns into something bigger. The characters all have their own agendas and use the revolution for their own purposes, so it kind of snowballs...

I don't think I was aware of any specific thoughts I had on the business of revolutions. Which is a really boring answer. But it's sort of a backdrop against the question of freedom, which is a significant issue for all of the main characters. Numo, the MC, starts off having no idea what a revolution is and no concept of being "free," really, or why it would be a good thing. The story, for him, is all about the evolution of his own thoughts on the matter, and ends with his own personal rebellion, which involves stabbing people in the face and using a dead whale as a weapon.

Are politics a big part of the book, or is it basically apolitical?

Reilly: Oddly, yes, I made it kind of political, but not on purpose, and it's all fantasy politics. I don't mean to make any statements about real-world government with it, if that's what you mean. But it really surprised me when my stupid little love story ended up also being about overthrowing the (imaginary) government and gender divisions and stuff. I suspect all that will either go very well for me or very very badly.

What inspired you to write this story?

Reilly: I have no idea what inspires me to write anything. I just seem to do it, like farting, but it takes a lot more time and effort.

But as to how this specific story came out...There was some idea about messing with common tropes. Insta-love and lovers-not-meant-to-be and the like. Trying to turn those things into something fresh; facing their typical failings head-on.

And I'm pretty sure the subconscious influence of Winnie-the-Pooh had a lot to do with it. I fucking love Winnie-the-Pooh.

Who was your favorite character to write?

Reilly: Numo, the main character. Hammerfist, his love interest, has given me a hell of a time because her mental state fluctuates so much. Both of them are difficult, actually, because they're unreliable narrators to some extent. The third POV character has been "easiest," because she is human and actually knows what the hell is going on in her world. But Numo's my favorite because he's cray-cray adorbs.

Do you ever kill characters? (You don't have to answer that!)

Ever? Yes. I'm a violent heartless dickface.

Tell us a little about yourself. What are you reading these days?

Reilly: This is a weird time for me because I've just finished three years of internships at literary agencies. So I've been reading a lot of unpublished manuscripts that are all over the map, with very little time for pleasure reading, which is awful of me. But now I have time. And I have a huge fucking reading list. I'm working on Fade to Black right now. Next on the list are Sacre Bleu because I love Christopher Moore, Lone Survivors because I'm a dilettante anthro dweeb, and Divergent, because I haven't read nearly enough YA and someone told me I should read it. I'm very susceptible to suggestion.

What do think of dragons?

Reilly: Most of them are far too nice to humans. I appreciate a dragon who knows how to throw down. Although, I have to say, if I could have my own pet Toothless, I'd piss myself with glee pretty regularly.

What are you working on, now? Do you have a sequel planned, or something new?

Reilly: Right now I'm still working on this book...it is currently pretty rough, and the ending is the literary equivalent of a toddler's smeared-poop painting on the kitchen wall. After I deal with this one, I plan to go back and try to salvage my first two manuscripts, which might be too stupid to work.

I don't have a sequel planned for this book. I'm honestly kind of awed by people who can think up sequels to things. It's an amazing gift that I might not possess. Yet, anyway.

I have an idea for a new story. Something about a professional jellyfish-stabber and a cannibal who eats her legs. A romantic comedy, in other words.

...I'm not quite sure about it yet.

It's my observation that books seem to reflect their writers. What aspect of you is reflected in your book?

Reilly: I'm told that it's weird. Or that it sounds weird, anyway. I suspect people are right, even though it seems to me like it's the least weird manuscript I've ever written. But I guess I'm predisposed to the ridiculous in any case. ;) I might be a ridiculous person.

Would you like to leave us with a quote from your book/query?

The query:
"Numo, if he is to think anything, should only think of his masters’ needs. It is only proper, after all, that a slave and homunculus devote what little his fatty brain can offer to their service, especially for two of the most esteemed alchemists in the city.

But instead, he can't stop thinking about Hammerfist.

Hammerfist, a lady battle-homunculus, has eyes like the purest embers, a mane like a sea of moon-glitter, and a horrible brain disease that is slowly eroding her sanity. The pain of squishing other slaves' heads the arena is a most ponderous weight to bear, and if she snaps, her owner will cut off her legs and dump her in the woods. Numo desperately wants to help, but presents of flowers and tree sap aren’t enough. She needs a way to get out of the arena. She needs a revolution.

Numo only wishes he knew what a revolution was.

But it doesn’t matter. If it will save Hammerfist, he’ll do anything to help. Except, of course, the things he’s too stupid to do. Things like keeping the plans for the revolution a secret from his masters.

THE LOVE SONG OF NUMO AND HAMMERFIST is a [word count] fantasy. Thank you for your time."

A quote from the book:
"The smell of the master struck him first, and the sight was equally odoriferous. Balbus was the sort of man who looked like he slept in a barrel of brine and kept company with rogues, scoundrels, and harlots. Numo did not know what a harlot was, but he often heard the word in association with things like knaves and stinkards, and he imagined that it was some sort of dirty animal that carried diseases and squirted men with milk from its poisonous bosoms."

Thanks for everything!

The Little Ice Age and Revolution

An interesting climactic observation fromNASA: "A cold period that lasted from about A.D. 1550 to about A.D. 1850 in Europe, North America, and Asia. This period was marked by rapid expansion of mountain glaciers, especially in the Alps, Norway, Ireland, and Alaska. There were three maxima, beginning about 1650, about 1770, and 1850, each separated by slight warming intervals."

Charles I of England was executed in January, 1649, after which Oliver Cromwell rose to power.
The Americans signed their Declaration of Independence in 1776.
The French got a late start in 1789, but a couple decades of crop failures and food shortages are undoubtedly to blame.
Revolutions and political upheavals swept Europe in 1848. " It remains the most widespread revolutionary wave in European history... The revolutionary wave began in France in February, and immediately spread to most of Europe and parts of Latin America. Over 50 countries were affected..."

The Russian Revolution, of course, was also prompted by suffering, death, and starvation, thought most likely due to World War I, rather than climate.

Some of these revolutions turned out well. Some turned out terribly. The Americans were quite lucky to have George Washington, and the Russians terribly unlucky to have Lenin and Stalin. But the Americans also had better access to land to feed their families, and no reactionary counter-revolution to deal with. The leaders of the French Revolution took advantage of the instability to reform the state, but (as far as I can tell,) could do little about the country's biggest problem, lack of food. The new government never had a chance. (As for the English, well, I don't know enough about the 1600s to really comment.)

When man is starving, the political order loses legitimacy and the wealthy--the folks with food--become his first targets.

Lost

I went through this phase a while back when I was doodling a lot of bird-people, and a lot of bird masks, and so occasionally bird-people wearing bird masks. I also had a habit of working exclusively in extremely fine point pen, which was probably not such a great idea, as the details just don't scan very well. The result here is a lot of texture, but it's fairly evenly distributed. This needs more tone. The background should be dark (I tried, but it just didn't quite work,) and the foreground should also be dark (not as dark as the background. The bird person should be highlighted, though perhaps only parts of him.

Well, I still like it, anyway.

Goblin X

"There are two kinds of goblins in this world, the field goblin and the hobgoblin. The hobgoblin serves the nobles. He eats the leftovers from their tables and says, 'What a fine city we have. What fine buildings we are building.' The field goblin works for himself. The field goblin is wild and free and that's why the fae hate him."
--Baku Nin, A Midwinter Night's Revolution.

At the End of Misery: More Misery

Reading about the emancipation of Russian serfs today. Interesting that this happened about the same time as the US abolished slavery (the 1860s)--Russian serfs, after all, were not all that different from slave. Unfortunately, it seems that emancipation actually led to lower standards of living and even more poverty for many Russians. It's as if... as long as the serfs were someone's property, those someones had some economic interest in their property not dying. But once the serfs were no one's property, then no one cared if they lived or died.

Sometimes history is sorrowful.

Kings and States

I confess I have generally thought of the European past, excluding the classical era, as filled with 'kings' (occasionally queens) ruling what we might call 'states'. Of course I maintained some vague awareness that Odysseus, King of Ithaca, might be better called a baron, but I didn't give it much thought beyond that.

Anyway, so I'm reading Historian on the Edge's essay, The Crisis of State, about W. Europe in the late classical/early Medieval period, not very far in, and he says two things which strike at my ignorance:

"...to call western polities after 600 'states' is to rob the word state of any analytical value."
Not states. The political entities we are dealing with in this period are not states--and that from a guy who seems to know his stuff.

"There will be a weak and a strong thesis to this paper. The weak thesis is that a crisis of the state occurred around 600; that changes took place which compelled a real shake up in the ways in which central and local power interacted, a critical moment which, whether or not it did, at least could have produced a breakdown of the state. A supplementary to the weak thesis is that these changes killed off the ‘Roman World’ that is still so visible in, say, 525-30.3 One might entitle this ‘weak thesis’ ‘the end of the late antique state in the West’. The ‘strong thesis’ is that the result of these changes was the end of political formations that can usefully be analysed as states in any way. With a slight but important change in the word order, the strong thesis can be entitled ‘the end of the state in the late antique West’.

"As a corollary, it is probably not surprising that government continued in recognisably Roman fashion. For all that we are used to conceiving of them as ‘Germanic’ kingdoms in this period, it is very difficult indeed to find much that can cogently be called Germanic or even barbarian. Certainly there were new elements in western rulership but these developed within a distinctively late imperial framework. It is worth remembering how new kingship was and the extent to which it was being made up by political actors as they went along. It may also be that even as late as the early sixth century it was not regarded as a permanent or even ideal solution to the problems thrown up by the fifth century, even by those occupying royal thrones."

Kingship was new.

Goodness. I'd never thought of it that way before. I mean, were there kings in the pre-classical era? Significant ones? Surely nothing on the scale of Queen Elisabeth I or Louie the XIV. I suppose most areas were governed by tribal chieftains, though some places (Ireland comes immediately to mind, having not been significantly influenced by Rome or the barbarian invasions,) had "high kings". What exactly makes one a king, and not a chief or a sultan or an emperor? Does the terminology matter, other than perhaps denoting something about the size of the territory under governance?

I suppose I should read on.

Never start a land war in Asia--unless you're Genghis Khan

I drew this during a Mongolian history binge. Someday I should figure out what spears actually look like (also, I'm pretty sure they didn't use spears.)

The military achievements of the Mongol army (especially under the famous Genghis,) are really quite impressive.

Viewing the Past (and Present) Through Tinted Lenses

I just cracked open Cipolla's Before the Industrial Revolution: European Society and Economy, 1000-1700. I'm only a few pages in, don't mind me, but the discussion of wealth distribution and poverty in pre-industrial/late Medieval European society struck me as a very good example of how much our perceptions matter.

Cipolla cites numerous studies of the wealth/income distribution in various parts of Europe prior to the industrial evolution, as evidence of the unfairness of the system and the poverty of the majority of those in it. The funny thing is, America today is less fair--we have an even more extreme divide between our rich and poor--than the vast majority of Copolla's examples, by an order of magnitude.

Myself, I'm rather worried about modern society.

Post-it-note Dragons

Art Post

They seem happy together.

Vita Nostra

I'm currently reading Vita Nostra, because it was recommended as "like Harry Potter, if Harry Potter were written by Tolstoy." That was enough for me to actually buy it, because the Kindle edition was cheap and it probably wasn't available at the library.

Turns out it's nothing like Tolstoy. Tolstoy, as many of you probably already know, loves his characters. (At least most of them.)

This is like Harry Potter, if Hogwarts had been created and run by Gendo Ikari, and Gendo were Russian.

Bedtime Stories

There is an amusing irony, a conflict of interests, in reading to my children before bed. I want them to fall asleep, but they want to hear the rest of the story.

I have convinced my 4 year old to let me read him The Hobbit by changing Bilbo's name to that of his favorite stuffed animal. Well, great, only now he listens with rapt attention. Last night I read for two hours, and he still wasn't asleep. Finally I went and got myself a midnight snack, and by the time I got back, he was out.

Deleted Bits: Chapter 52, Deception

Lyta paced. She had tried to sleep, but when nightmares hadn't woken her, the trolls had. There had been fighting and screaming, the army trying to drive them back and the trolls surging forward, again and again, until she thought she would never escape the memory of the men crushed beneath her tower.

Nuala had brought her lunch -- she'd picked at it -- and tried to dress her. She didn't know what to do next. Horse had disappeared, and though she had tried whistling out the window and calling his name, he hadn't appeared. Now she waited for nightfall, for news of the queen's death, for the castle to sleep and let her sneak into the dungeons and find her husband.

Nuala had returned with dinner and tried to brush her hair. The serving woman seemed concerned for her, and prattled endlessly about the trolls. Lyta slumped on the bed, exhausted.

The door opened.

"Jasper!" She flung her arms around him and kissed his broken lips, his dirty cheeks and blackened eyes. His arms were chained and he stared at her, his eyes hollow and distant, until his demeanor cracked and black misery flooded out of him like a river that had cracked its dam. He scooped her up and laid her on the bed, kissing her with the desperation of a man who had thought he would never see his wife again, and still might loose her yet.

He clutched her against himself and buried his face in her hair, kissing her neck. "Lyta." His voice was hoarse. "Why are you here?"

"I came for you. You knew I would." Lyta caught Jasper's hands, tugging at the manacles. "What have they done to you?"

The guard cleared his throat and glared at them.

The color drained from Jasper's face. "I must do something terrible." He turned away and picked up her satchel, slipping a hand inside.

Lyta helped him with the strap, which he couldn't manage with his hands bound. "What is it?"

His expression hardened. "Come with me."

She swallowed, then took his arm.

...

Lyta couldn't help but stare at the queen, rendered so commonly mortal by a simple dose of poison. Her head lolled against the pillow, a line of blood staining the silk. Her eyes flicked back and forth, and as she returned to herself, she grunted and gestured for all but her dead guards to leave.

Jasper knelt, staring at the floor. "I have brought her."

Lyta's heart began to pound.

The trolls outside had begun to roar, beating their fists against the castle, demanding kaolinite and retribution. They stomped and rumbled and shook, and the castle shook with them, chunks of mortar falling from the cracks between the bricks. "Give her..." The queen's voice was a whisper, rough and hoarse.

Jasper picked Lyta up. "Don't worry," he whispered, "this won't hurt." He kissed her forehead, and the world went black.

Conla, King of the Golden Isles

"The king smiled. There was fire in his eyes, but also kindness; summer and age had browned and crinkled his cheeks, and a full beard hung nearly to his chest. His hair was gold flecked with grey. The resemblance between him and his son was striking, even if Jasper stood a foot shorter, and had much more reasonable horns. She wondered if the king had a tail."

Poor Jasper's dad. He was a nice guy in the first few drafts. He had to become an antagonist to create more conflict, but Jasper still loves him.

'“And yet you tax those who can least afford to pay!” said Jasper.
The king waved away his objections. "It is a privilege to live in the Golden City. If they cannot afford it, they must go elsewhere."
"But where? You know very well that they have been expelled from their homelands."
“Only because they were lazy! The lords' estates are more profitable without them.” '

Fishie

Alberich the Cunning

"Albert the who?" asked Lyta.
"Alberich the Cunning! He's the greatest smith who ever lived," said Durin, smiling.
A distant look entered Jasper's eyes. "Nurse always told us his tales before bed. This volume tells how he stole the Rhine Ring back from Odin, married a mermaid, and for his cleverness became king of the Dwarves."

Congratulations, Sarah!

One of my writer-friends, Sarah Hegger, was very proud to announce this morning that her debut novel, a medieval romance called The Bride Gift, has been signed by Soul Mate Publishing! What a happy day!

Deleted bits

This little exchange once took place in Chapter Twenty-Six of A Midwinter Night's Revolution, so if you haven't read that far, look away.

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.

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'Lyta regarded Jasper. "Who's Madeleine?"
He flinched. "Only the most utterly unsuitable woman my father could possibly have found for me to marry."
"Besides Wilgefortis?"
He frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Wilgefortis had a heart. Madeleine boasts of no such treasures."
"Is she pretty?"
"If you wished to make a portrait, I suppose."'