Where To Go From Here?

Curious about the picture? Check out the new short story book linked below. 

Hello to my fans and fellow authors!

I thought I would post an update and a poll.

I have moved to Minneapolis to attend the Mayo clinic.  The cancer just won't let go.  Currently, it is only effecting my mobility, well that is the chemo but it is related.  I haven't been writing the last two months as I settle into a new home and environment. I will be attending the clinic in Rochester, MN.

I have been asked why I am staying so far away from Rochester?  Two reasons, first I am living with friends that offered to be my caregiver on chemo days.  The second, I wanted to experience big city living.

A Dragonologist's Journal

Dragonologist: June 14, 2014 (First publication of this dragonologist's search for a live dragon and the revealing of the red dragon, Keensight.)


I did not see a dragon at all today even though I am in an area where there was a reported sighting.  I did find some burn marks that might indicate this is a hunting area of a dragon with a breath of flame. However, I am unable to verify at this time.  This area is rife with mosquitoes and other irritating pests.  While this would not deter a dragon, I am finding myself quite uncomfortable and smelling of a great deal of bug spray.  Fortunately I thought to pack my mosquito net and will be able to sleep without such irritations.

Dragonologist:  June 16, 2014

I have entered more dangerous terrain. There is more evidence of flaming here even among the rocks. I think I am getting close and will proceed with caution.  A soot test revealed that some of the marks were as recent as within the month.

Work, Relax - A Needed Concept in an Author

It is amazing to watch others write.  Some write for the money, some for non-fiction as it is a constant source of income and I might do some of this if I ever cannot teach.  Some write for fame - but don't want the work it takes to achieve fame.  And some, write like I do, because the story bubbles behind the self conscious, teasing and creating anxiety until you write it down.  My brain sees things and goes - that would make a good story, hears things and goes - that will make a good story, feel things and goes... well you get the idea.

I cannot refrain from writing. If I am not writing, I am role playing which is just another kind of writing, but you don't know where the end will be.   I am also a pantzer - this means I don't outline. I am all about characters and well, they tell the story.

However, I do have a mentor that I strive to model my routines after - Ray Bradbury.  This amazing author wrote 1000 words no matter what and many of them never reached but a few in the public eye. Regardless, he wrote.  For those of you that like writing novels, that is a new rough draft every 120 days.  As an independent writer, the long tail effect begins to ebb after about 180 days.  So if you want to stay viable, you have to write daily and read daily.

Livewrite: Ferryman of the Damned

Anonymous submission
slavetrader
place where I was born
addiction
Mud puddles

The sound of pelting rain, it never failed to fall when it was most unwelcome. Curt tugged up his collar of his jacket in a gruff manner. Giving a heavy sigh, he ran through the streets of the coastal city of Davenport. The streets barren of anyone living that didn’t have to be out in the pouring rain, soon he would be out of this mess and back to his ship. The new goods had come so quickly from the seller, his crew had hardly set foot onto land before they were wanting to shove off again.

 His thoughts yanked back as he misstepped and sank ankle deep in mud. Falling forward, his right arm came into contact with another puddle as the mud oozed through his fingers. With a growl, Curt wrenched free his arm and foot. The rain making it no easy task and further soaking his clothing.

 “Great, juuuust great.” muttering as he shook off the muck. The squishing of his boot sounded just above the din of the rain falling. Home after warm home and inn he passed, tempting him with a place to hole up until this mess of wind and rain was over. But, duty called and he wasn’t getting paid to sit comfortably on his ass in a warm hut. After rounding yet another switchback in the streets, the port was in view, his ship, Mari Toth, bobbed in the waves.



A smirk crossed his face once he got closer to the warf inns and saloons. The sound of revelry whispered like a siren’s call. He could imagine his men trading slips and tokens for drinks and the touch of soft pleasures, oh how he desired that. A gust of wind whipped surf into his face as he looked up. One of the crew was looking over a soaked manifest near the ship. His expression sour, Curt knew instantly that this was not a job he wanted to be taking.  His crew were standing around with large eyes and the ship was strangely quiet enough to hear the small harbor ripples hit the side of the massive ship.