Sketchbook ramblings

Sometimes I like to go back through my sketchbook. I find interesting things.

Here’s a partially inked picture of *shock* Steigan. I use to draw him more than anything else. Not so much these days, but every now and then he pops up.

You can see that it’s over 2 years old.

More interesting is that on the next page, I found this statement that I wrote:

His eyes are older,

Yet they still mock me.

Temptation leave me be.

I am an idiot.

His eyes still haunt.

My heart grows none the wiser.

Just have to say, “Say what?” I found this to be a completely odd statement in my journal. Who the heck was I talking about? Was it just words that popped into my head? I have lines that do that sometimes, but I generally write them down in an idea file, not in my sketchbook. This makes me think I was actually referring to someone. Besides, words like “I am an idiot” don’t usually fill the snippets that land in my head; that also feels more like me talking in my head.

Since this was also dated around 2017 and there is absolutely no clue as to what I was thinking about on that day, I guess this will fall off into the mysteries of mankind. The world will never know what adventure I was on that day which led me to write these words.

Oh, and it’s more proof that I am no poet. But I do enjoy it when my past self leaves my future self some tantalizing mysteries.

Free Fiction: Dragons of Wellsdeep – Chapter 5

Are you ready for another chapter of Dragons of Wellsdeep? This is one that dredges up quite a bit of personal history here. It makes it that fine line where fiction and reality merge.

For starters, the thing (and I won’t spoil any of it) that Sapere Lyma tells to Balthier is something I remember my mother saying. It’s probably my way of saying that I miss her; those little things that slip in that make me think of her.

Then there is Moonhunter all hanging out in his cabin. Yeah, I wasn’t the best child. YOu know how everyone says, “Beware of the quiet ones”? Yeah, that was me. Quiet, shy, and always plotting something. Honestly, writing probably kept me out of a lot of trouble because I could disappear mentally from my small town onto some adventure with people I liked. (Yes, read what you will into that sentence — you probably won’t be far off.) When I wasn’t writing, I was certain that there were secrets to be discovered, adventures waiting for me to uncover, and getting into places I shouldn’t be. Generally I kept this all contained within the ranch where I grew up. My dad knew every cop in town, so I didn’t want anything out-of-line to get back to him. I walked a fine line between quiet and troublemaker.

As such, I was often up to something I didn’t want anyone else to know about. Honestly, I still don’t.

Side note: I was recently sent a picture of Loki. Across the top, it said, “Good girls go to heaven.” One the bottom, “Bad girls go to Asgard with Loki.” I was asked if I thought this were true. All I could do was snicker. Oh yes, when it is my time, I have no doubt that Loki will be waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge. ‘Nuff said!

It’s a good thing I’m still a writer.

I do remember many days when I was a teen when I would head off to my room to be by myself. My mom, bless her heart, was certain that I was doing drugs. Never. Not once. (Again, I have the worlds that I slip through to via a hole in the paper — who needs drugs when you have that ability?) That is honestly what I’d do in my room. Okay, there was the pyromaniac part of me that burned stuff just to watch it burn — hence the smell which made my mom think “Drugs!” I swear it was just paper. Usually full of bad teenage poetry. Things I didn’t want anyone else to know about — better to burn it than to have it discovered! I would also write (obviously), listen to the radio (because the only time we could hear the rock stations was after it got dark), and dream about far off places and a life beyond a little town.

I always felt that this was Moonhunter in this chapter, waiting for his life beyond what he was doing now. Sometimes, I think that’s the hardest part about growing up.

Then, just when you reach it, you wish you hadn’t wanted it to come so badly.

To the chapter!

Dragons of Wellsdeep is an epic science fantasy story filled with action, adventure, space travel, magic, dragons, and flying. Chapter 5 is available for 1 week only! Then it will turn back into a pumpkin and a new chapter will appear! 

 

Dragons of Wellsdeep cover small
Cover and layout copyright © 2018 by Morning Sky Studios
Cover design by Dawn Blair/Morning Sky Studios
Cover art copyright © Ingus Kruklitis | Dreamstime.com, © Digitalstormcinema | Dreamstime.com, and © Kalcutta | Dreamstime.com

Dragons of Wellsdeep

Chapter 5

by Dawn Blair

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Progress – August 20, 2018

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View while I’m walking of the college campus

While taking my lunchtime walks this week, I finished up listening to Kristine Kathryn Rusch’s audiobook, The Freelancer’s Survival Guide. It’s interesting to see how things have changed in the 5+ years since this book was written as posts on her blog, then published. While there were many good gems in this book (brilliant advise I wish I’d had ages ago and some that I will be delving into myself over the next few years), there was one thing that really struck me and I want to share.

Don’t make the words fancy. Translation into other languages translates the story, not the words.

These were my notes, so I’m certain I paraphrased for me to remember. So often, I know I try to strive for just the right sentence or word. All too often, I feel like I’m just using the same words over and over. Oh look, another THE. How about and AND. Yes, I’m oversimplifying here, but that’s how it feels some days. It’s if I’ve just taken every word I learned in first grade, probably when we were pasting words into the sentences on our sheets, thrown them into a bag and shook them, and now I take them out one by one and line them up all in a row just like I did then.

I remind myself that my purpose it to entertain with a good story, not fancy words. I don’t want to mire my readers in a deluge of words to get through. No slough for them to cut through. 

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