Update

As it says on the title a little update.

Unsurprisingly NaNoWriMo didn't go too well, brilliant start but life and college got in the frakking way, not finished, no where near the finish and a day and a half to do it. Sucks cause I wanted Running out of Space finished this month so I could bounce it out to alpha readers, but that's life.

Don't get me wrong I have been writing, but it's not been RooS, it's been my High Fantasy series, which admittedly is in it's infancy and requires a whole lot of prep work, creating the world alone is huge, something a whole lot of writers just do as they go along, admittedly do it myself all the time, never really been the one for huge prep and planning, but this is one that you have to do hard and with deep thought.

Finished the planning part of my graded unit for my HND, and thank god it is, heavy of importance since hitting every mark is worth 40% of the project, might drop a few but hopefully not many.

Filling out my application for the degree year through UCAS, the fact that I have to pay for it is actually a pain in the ass, I don't remember having to the last time.

Anyway that's me done, update you again in a bit.

My Country

A little unusal for me in that I'm going to talk politics.

Anyone who known me for any amount of time is of the knowledge of that I am what you would class as a rampant Left-Wing Warhawk Nationalist Republican and I have no problem with articulating my views.

I consider myself Scottish, not British and have always felt this way.



I think that the current political set-up both North and South of the border are corrupt and out of control.

I think that far too many of the elite of England have a say in how my country is run.

I know my country pays more tax per person than we recieve back.

I know that the Oil of the North Sea won't sustain my country for as long as anyone claims, I also know that the Nationalist's projections are far closer to the truth than any Tory or Labour government has ever claimed.

I know that a disproportionate amount of Scottish blood has been spilled for the United Kingdom than the English.

The bullshit that's spilling from England about the shipyards if we become independant is a pure falicy, that the armed forces of the United Kingdom don't contract out to other countries to build their equipment is pure fiction, and as if it matters, if we become independant we're going to need 25 warships of our own, which will keep Scottish Shipyards in buisness for years to come, if we become independant there won't be English shipyards to pick up the slack, and again as if it matters, the yards are already using their knowledge for sustainable energy that no English led goverment would ever let us continue with if we didn't have our own devolved government that can tell them to go fuck themselves.

A lot of people say oh, we have a devolved goverment that does lots of things that we wouldn't get to do if it was purely up to the English, so why rock the boat. If you vote no, Whitehall and Westminster will take it as a sign that Holyrood isn't working and tear away the powers that it already has, the last time there was an Independace referendum the bastards took away every single thing they could get away with, we got Maggie Thatcher and two decades of Tory governments who stripped away every industry they could think of to try and kill us off, like every silver spoon fed government the English have ever had have tried to do to us.

Next year is the 700th anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn, which is of significance but we weren't truly independant of English rule for another sixty odd years until we were sold up the river by James the VI in his power grab that's known as the Treaty of Union in 1707. That's right we've been getting sold up the river for over three hundred years.

I'll be honest I consider anyone, if you are born and bred in my country or have lived in my country your whole life, who have lived through successive Conservative and Labour governments that don't give a shit about my country, and have read all the papers and information written by both sides of the argument and those learned members of both camps who have written papers on the issues involved in the referendum, and still vote No, a Traitor.

But then that's my opinion, I was raised to be a proud Scotsman, and also believe I was raised to be a Proud Nationalist and Republican.

Oust the Queen
Oust Westminster
Get rid of the United Kingdom

And

Freedom for the Kingdom of Scotland

NaNoWriMo Update

Just a little update on the progress for NaNoWriMo

Wrote another two thousand odd words today, O'Hearn being a total asshole towards his enemies as is his norm, piss him off enough and he'll just kill you, piss him off too much he might actually just disable the spine.

Anyway my hand is killing me cause I did it with pen and paper, best way to be able to be able to prove that it's an original story. Now it needs to get typed up, hate having to type up notes, and I wouldn't subject anyone else to trying to read my handwriting. The fact I can't just dictate it onto the damn word processer is a pain in the ass, the fact that it costs a lot money to get a decent speach to text program is beyond ridiculous.

Anyway I'll update the end of week count on the 8th and see how far we have gotten to the total.

NaNoWriMo

Yes, I did it this year, committed Running Out of Space to NaNoWriMo, at least at this point I'm already halfway to the finish line before I even start, I know it's probably cheating a bit but here's the site.

http://nanowrimo.org/

You can sponser me doing it too, it's for charity so if you can please do.

Cheers

David

Time

Hey guys,

Been a while since I posted so I thought I would today. Basically, not had the time for a whole lot of writing other than those that are going to be submitted for anthologies and magazines, sent out a whole load of people the parts of Running out of Space that I've written so far, and currently waiting for the returns, got a short story sitting with a potential publisher int the book Fantasy for Good just waiting to hear back about that, I've got about a dozen short stories to finish writing, or even start, so Return from the Empire's next part isn't written yet, but I've got six days to finish five of the stories so when they're done, I'll go back to that and work on the magazine submissions after I've finished RftE, when I've got news on any of them I'll let you know.

A lot of free time is being eaten up by college studying and the graded unit for it so that's another reason it's been so long, so far it's going well though, hopefully in the coming weeks the free time's going to be freed up since studying won't be so intensive and the graded unit plan's almost finished weeks ahead of schedule.

Looking forward to the 25th of November for Tash Bash at the Classic Grand, a charity gig for MacMillan Cancer Support, loads of the friends that I rarely get to see should be there.

So, keep on the look out for updates on future published work (hopefully) and the next part of RftE.

Cheers

Davie

***Also for those who have already read RftE, it's been edited so it isn't so confusing and crap, alas this is what happens when you are a turd and don't edit shit when you write it.***

Reluctant Prophet Blog

Well another stop on the Blog tour train.

This time with the Reluctant Prophet, as per usual I ain't read it, I swear I really mean to and the only reason I read Shadow is because I read it way before it came out so I new it was going to be awesome and bought it. I do plan at some point to read all of them and when I eventually get my finger out and publish (One is coming, first draft will be done in a few weeks, one is in it's infancy and I still can't read Burn all the way through without almost wanting to smash the keyboard.)

Anyway, shouldn't rant about my own shortcomings, should give Gillian a hand for completing her manuscript and getting it published, now knowing Sammy one of the owners of the Publisher as I do, and knowing how she's raving about it, it's probably top notch just not for the mainstream publishers, who let's be honest are getting stupid at the moment, but Kristell Ink like so many small publishers have become a welcome home for the great fiction that wasn't being published.

I digress from my usual rant and here is the actual stuff I should have been posting:                      

The Reluctant Prophet

by

Gillian O’Rourke

There’s none so blind as she who can see . . .

Esther is blessed, and cursed, with a rare gift: the ability to see the fates of those around her. But when she escapes her peasant upbringing to become a priestess of the Order, she begins to realise how valuable her ability is among the power-hungry nobility, and what they are willing to do to possess it.

Haunted by the dark man of her father's warnings, and unable to see her own destiny, Esther is betrayed by those sworn to protect her. With eyes newly open to the harsh realities of her world, she embarks on a path that diverges from the plan the Gods have laid out. Now she must choose between sacrificing her own heart’s blood, and risking a future that will turn the lands against each other in bloody war.

The Reluctant Prophet is the story of one woman who holds the fate of the world in her hands, when all she wishes for is a glimpse of her own happiness.ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Before settling down in the Emerald Isle with her husband and three dogs, Gillian O’Rourke lived in Melbourne, Australia.   She received her first fantasy book from an English teacher at the age of fourteen and has loved the genre ever since.  Although she writes fantasy, she occasionally dabbles in the paranormal.  Gillian currently works in the healthcare sector, helping adults with disabilities live as independently as possible.

LINKS

http://www.twitter.com/gillywrites

http://gillianorourke.com

Amazon US link

Amazon UK link

AN EXCERPT FROM THE RELUCTANT PROPHET—

I had never been able to see my own future, not the way I could see it for others. Even now, on my unanticipated return to Rycroft, a part of me rebelled at the thought of facing a past I believed long behind me. If I had known then what a luxury it is to go home, I might not have dismissed it so.

As an initiate to the Order, I learned from women far wiser than I that the past was a wraith that could come back to haunt the future. I imagined it looming overhead like a hidden cloud, waiting, maybe over many years, to rain upon me when I least expected it, not a soft, white thing, but an angry, vengeful thundercloud. Perhaps I had lived too long in the calm now, because I once again began to feel the storm approaching. Entering the village, I steeled myself to face it, but despite the many prayers I had said for courage, that long-forgotten anxiety crept its cold tendrils into my soul.

I escaped the painful memories this place forged in my childhood, and had taken a chance to make my future a safer, happier one. But now I had come full circle, and it was the temple above Rycroft village that held the balance of my future within its cold, imposing walls.

I followed the path past the village with the other initiates, and climbed carved granite steps meticulously shaped by skilled stonemasons. Upon a stone archway were the effigies of the three Gods we Sinnotians worshipped. Lo, Creator and Destroyer, an armoured warrior with the head of a wolf, carried an array of weapons, but it was the large war-hammer in his hand my eyes gravitated to. Beside him stood Era, the graceful feline-faced goddess of emotions, and of life and death. Finally, at Era’s left hand, stood Tyrus, master of elements.  He was the God I most often found myself drawn to, his wise, owl-like features faced the valley directly upon Rycroft.

An expectant hush fell over the group, followed by soft murmurs from the young women. They praised the Gods in whispers, for this sight we beheld as we moved forward, heading for the path into the mountains, awed even the noble-born among us. Like a flock of white doves, innocently seeking an arbour to rest in, we wore the modest robes all initiates of the Order wore, to signify their intentions to serve the Gods. But only a select few would ever don the red robes of a fully-fledged priestess. The final testing awaited us. I already knew that most of the girls would return home dressed in the same clothes they had worn before their training began, and all I could do was to hope I would not be one of them.

I glanced over my shoulder, catching a final glimpse of my birthplace, and the anxiety melted away; it was behind me now. A veil of calmness enveloped me as I turned my gaze to the temple looming ahead. Its exterior was a thing of perfection, as if the Gods themselves had used a hot sword to cut through the stone. Barely a window could be seen from this low vantage point. A shiver ran across my skin. Like the tip of my tongue verging on speaking a forgotten word, an elusive vision teetered on the edge of my sight. The sensation faded away before fruition, however, and was replaced with awed anticipation for what I was soon to encounter.

It would take several days to test the initiates in their obedience, faith and humility. At the end of the ordeal, I hoped to find myself clad in the red robes of a Priestess of Oraccles.

Give me strength, I begged the Gods as we settled into the long climb. My legs began to burn and the summer sun was growing hot with the afternoon. The priestess ahead turned and eyed each one of us. Most of the initiates did not notice her quiet surveillance, but when my eyes met hers, her gaze narrowed before she looked away and sharply directed the girls to quicken their pace. Her scrutiny left me wondering whether the testing had already begun.

*

Days of inflicted pain, humiliation and cruelty brought me close to the brink of madness, closer to my gift, leaving me weary in body and spirit. I did not know which part of me hurt more, but when my eyes met those of the head priestess, the superior who would decide my fate, the keen pain of expected failure rose in my chest. Her dark eyes seemed to swallow me whole. I felt both hot and cold at once; days of obedience, suffering and fasting had blurred the days into one long torture. I longed to sit and weep, but my body was too sore to do anything but kneel slowly, stiffly into a submissive position. Many girls had failed, and now I was to learn my own fate. My ears were ringing and I almost cried out when my knee, cut open on a sharp stone during one of the tests, sent pain reverberating throughout my body. I kept my eyes upon the superior’s face. Lined and calm, her expression betrayed nothing.

I flinched when an unexpected vision assaulted my senses, propelling me from the room and into a place I barely caught a glance of. A trace of darkness; a laugh, a dark green eye. Each small glimpse offered me no more than a confusing jumble of images I could not piece together to make a whole picture. Swaying, I wondered if I was ill. My body throbbed and the days of fasting, beatings and silence became as fractured and unreal as my visions. The testing had taken its toll, but I needed only make it through this last moment. As I fought to return to myself, I worried again that I would make it this far, only to be rejected because of what I was: a peasant.

The superior rose. My awareness had been completely focused on her and I had not noticed an inch of the marble-columned room I had been brought to. The distracting sparkle of candlelight danced on a pool of water and I looked away quickly, not wishing to see the future reflected in those waters. The superior’s thin lips moved, but I heard no sound. The ringing in my ears worsened and my heart rate trebled. When she stood before me, she lifted her hand and smeared something powdery against my forehead. Her touch sent waves of premonition into my mind, making my skin shiver and creep. Fighting the urge to succumb to the sight left me weak and trembling.

I was not altogether myself when I managed to overcome the visions. My chest constricted when a distant voice – certainly not the superior’s worn croak – spoke to me, gently whispering, ‘Esther . . . Esther,’ over and over.

All the while the superior’s mouth moved, but I knew nothing of her words. The room tilted and the first spark of emotion lifted the older woman’s eyes from blankness. For a moment I believed I was succumbing to the visions her touch was invoking, but I slipped instead into waiting darkness.

WRITE.

As I say, writing is what I haven't been doing a whole lot of recently.

Spent most of the past couple weeks is studying in my spare time.

I really need to start siting down for a couple hours a night writing.

But tonight while in the pub (funny that, me writing in the pub) I felt myself going back to what I had planned on being my autumn main project before Caleb of Bifrost pulled me back into the Magiverse, I began writing Crime fiction, based in Glasgow, something I'd been planning on doing back in the summer. I had got so caught up in working on the Military Sci-fi stuff, that the research I had been planning to do got put on the back burner which frankly was a little rude to Logan Scott who was going to help me out.

Any way, I think if I get a good three hundred pages out of this, it may be awesome, also it may be a pile of crap and too close to the truth.

I think the next blog may be another Blog tour jaunt, I'm drunk so I can't remember.