Anoethau eBook Release - Partying like it's 1995

Zzzzzing, I'm so happy, flying, or at least floating a foot above the ground. I just published my first fantasy novel on Amazon. I'm glad I did it, I'm glad it's finally "out there in the universe". I have been coming back to this story since NaNoWriMo 2012, when I wrote the first draft. 

Synopsis

A play on the famous Arthurian legend, Anoethau tells the story of Artie Kendrick, an ex-convict, who has spent the better half of his life in prison, and now prefers the solitude of his house to being in the company of people. Backyard gardening is a newfound and most welcome hobby of his, until, after days of heavy rainfall, he discovers a strange artifact in the puddles of his vegetable patch - a sword. It's not just any sword, since it was given to him by a mysterious woman named Viviana, who introduces herself as a deity of another world. The gift comes at a tremendous price: with it, Viviana wants him to kill her arch enemy and save her world from destruction.

Since some of you asked: The book title Anoethau is mentioned in the longest surviving Welsh prose tale "Culhwch ac Olwen", and refers to impossible task or "difficult things of wonder". It is allegedly the first time, Arthur and his huntsmen are mentioned in a manuscript that old (about 11th century).


Once more unto the breach, my friends. I'm diving head on into the second book in the series. The story evolves around an important character in Anoethau, Eloise Walsh. I feel as though she didn't get enough "screen time" in the first book - and clearly, she's the reason Artie gets to have such a well-trained companion in Cabby, the French Bulldog.

I wrote the first draft of Aned in 2013 and it is a prequel to Anoethau. This will be fun! Wish me luck with book number 2.

Anoethau on Amazon.com

Anoethau on Amazon.de

I'm off!

I guess the time has come to admit it, so I'll finally admit to it: I'm off. I'm blank. I'm vacant. Being creative, making time for other things besides maintenance of life (hah, gotta love the specifics): it's all gone. Off the map. Me, the person who wrote each and every day and blogged half-regularly: was it just a fluke? Or a placeholder? Am I being overly dramatic? Well, I guess it's a little bit of all of the above.

I'd like to cling to the hopes of having a tiny little residue of energy left to go on - creatively speaking. Some day. I haven't given up the idea of a writerly career. But to get there, I have to write. Every day. Stay in shape. Honestly, it wouldn't be hard to make time if I really wanted to do it now, but the truth is, these days I'm burning on a low flame. And I prefer sleep over writing.

With a second kid, I somehow feel ridiculous talking about the importance of art and leisure. It has little meaning to me. I'm not saying that I found it elsewhere, because there's no infinite wisdom buried beneath baby poop and vomit, but these are the pressing issues in my life right now. Life upkeep. Hey, by the way, here's the test to find out if you are a real writer: If you have the choice between writing a story and cleaning up a spilled drink that drips down to the floor, what would you do first? If you choose writing over cleaning up, congrats, you are a writer! If you are like me, and you can't do anything else, knowing that something is dripping, you are not. Or maybe you have OCD.

There are a couple of other options, for those of us who want to combine the everyday life with writing. I thought about it. Writing about the everyday life. Unfortunately I can't mash up these things. I'm not a baby blogger. I just don't have it in me. And I rarely find other baby blogs to be insightful or original, least of all entertaining - except for the Baby Bible, which I've come to enjoy quite a lot.

Me, I don't want to talk regularly about the ups and downs of being a nurse, janitor, baby feeder. Unless those babies have magical powers hidden beneath their diapers that is, then I could write about it and call it a fantasy story. And in regards to writing about being a parent, there's not much to go on either. My quintessential parental insight basically comes down to one rule, namely "try not to kill kids". Well, there could be a funny angle to this, but it's more like a pun: "Today: tried not to kill kids, and barely succeeded." But that's about it.


Why didn't I jump in while I had more time? It's easy. I'm afraid. I'm afraid no one will care about the story I labored over, and worse, that it's an utter failure, and no one will care,  which is basically worse than having a million bad reviews. Having a sucky story and no reviews. Annoyed people still are an audience. If no one is annoyed, is it like the proverbial tree in the forest? Does my writing even exist? Seems like at the moment, I can't answer these questions.

Right, I do care a little too much for someone who doesn't put any effort in having their story published, don't I! Hah, maybe there is a grain of hope. A little one.

Thank You - Come Again

Look at this mess. An unwashed, wild-haired filthy beast of a woman. And it smells funny, too.

 

Well that was yesterday. Now, I'm back to my more spiffy self (as seen in the picture). Both funny and not so funny things happen in life, not only when you're trying to write a story in only a month but all the time. It sounds like back-alley psychology, doesn't it. I reached the 50k goal in NaNoWriMo yesterday, but the plan is to also finish the story before Nov 30th ends. And then one of the not so funny things happened on Monday, the kind of thing that made me temporarily forget all about my plans. My hubby had this horrible biliary colic, and it came right in between Artie Kendrick's attempt to flee from his parole violation and me, writing about it. He's the main character in my fantasy story. But since hubby is the main character in my life story, he always trumps Artie.

The whole incident made me obsess about other things for a while, but I'm not grateful for that kind of distraction. Doc said he should be fine. We're still waiting for the results of the blood test to hopefully eliminate a more serious underlying cause.

No, I'm fine now, really. Gained two pounds due to eating nothing but crap. I have stopped looking in the mirror with the lights on. My desk shows a striking resemblance to John Nash's wall, plastered with teeny tiny notes written in pencil. The annoying thing is that other work starts to pile up, and I have been staring at it for two weeks now, hoping for an extension; or wishing for it to magically disappear.

But hey, I'm fine. My throat feels like someone skillfully acupunctured it in several places at once. My back hurts. My cheeks have started to feel numb against the chair. Other than that I have no legitimate excuse to stop now and be a winner by word count only. Three more days.