Behemoth Books

GRAHAM COMPLETE

2012-05-08T19:01:30-04:00

GRAHAM 2 is complete. Finished it today. I have started reading it to my class and reaction has been fantastic! The aspect of sharing it aloud is really helping me comb through words and phrases that don't work. In my next post, I'll shed more light on this unique process. The class has really been alert to helping me fix my gaffes, and I know the book will be better for having their little ears listen in. My hope is that I can sweep through the text edit in the next month, send it out to my two beta readers for June and work up a cover in July so the book can debut in August.

Up next, uploading STOMPER REX to the website and beginning NED FIREBREAK in June. It's going to be my seventh book in four years. Not a bad track record, huh?

THE PLOT THICKENS

2012-04-28T14:59:07-04:00

I wanted to talk about how my work evolves from plot to finished piece. This time, I'm taking a look at the summary and all the elements that were added in the writing process that thicken the plot.

Here's the original rough plot for GRAHAM 2:

It is called FLENN'S FOLLY and involves the trolls from the neighboring village suddenly turning up as statues. The blame for their stony reshaping falls squarely on Graham's little sister who somehow manages to look guilty at every turn. The twist is when Graham swoops in and reveals the true villainess is Medusa herself. The gargoyles are immune to her gaze, which is a wonderful application of their stony magic and will make for a great endgame battle (the immunity aspect really changed in the actual story).

The joy of actually working on the chapters is experiencing where the plot starts to thicken. I love when story elements congeal, becoming additive to the plot and building supports and tangents that can only be revealed as you write the piece. None of the thickening elements I'm about to share were in my head at the onset. As they materialized, I had to make sure they never subtracted from the story or took it off on tangents. I find this part of the creative process the most stimulating.

Blossom Possums: These little orphan rodents came into being as yet another injection of the native fauna found in Cascade. How they became orphans adds suspense and a touch of tragedy. It also helps create a quiet moment between Graham and the Widow Stemmel. And, while I think actual possums are rather ugly, these fellows, with their colorful back fur laid out to resemble a batch of beautiful flowers, are decidedly cuter than their Earthen counterparts.

Cascade's Flora: Brumbleberries have been featured in both GRAHAM books. They are, after all, our young gargoyle's favorite fruit. Other plants found in Cascade are introduced in this volume such as: taffy trees, hushrooms, goadstools, merry cones, boomberries, sagbottom holly and whoopsie-daisies. Readers of NORTON THE VAMPIRE (an older book of mine that takes place in Cascade and soon to be reprinted will know the last plant played a big part in that story). Some plants are indigenous while others have been bred by the mischievous and vicious wizards to cause havoc throughout the realm. Sagbottom's gravitational properties are especially endearing and essential to the climax. With the use of merry cones and boomberries such lynchpins in the plot on several occasions, it's funny how plant-driven my story became. In fact, I would guess my readers would grow to even root for the herbaceous life that surrounds our cast.

Widow Stemmel: Graham has strong relationships with the older cast members. He and his grandfather were very close and, through complications involving merry cones and boomberries, he finds himself working for the Widow Stemmel. Not only does she help him open up about his problems, she also offers the young gargoyle another view of the adults in his family as she grew up alongside Graham's grandfather. Her inclusion in the story delivers some of the most weep-worthy moments.

Troll Cave Contemplation: Since Graham and Flenn had to appear in front of the gargoyle council and watch them deliver a verdict on their crimes, I needed the structure of the troll government to be different. The idea of one member of the troll's government body going off to commune with the earth in a cave in order to deliver a verdict, helped emphasize the troll's closeness to the land and their respect of individuality. Their government is much more democratic than the gargoyle council, and the solitude of the cave lent them a deeper emotional investment when it came time to decide about the troll's extinction dilemma.

Squeeters: Vicious insects that could penetrate the hide of even a gargoyle were not on my mind when I started GRAHAM 2. They quickly became essential to the plot as an early-warning system for the detection of the gorgon and as a way to emphasize the bully Blord's family strife. Along with tatterpillars and lava beetles, they helped flesh out the ecology of Cascade.

Groom To Medusa: In the first Graham book, the Flying Mummy tells Graham a bedtime story of how the gargoyle's grandfather rescued him from a horrible fate -- that of marrying Medusa. That earlier adventure gets fleshed out and delivers the motivation for our villainess to show up and harass Graham's family. Why Medusa would think of wedding a mummy is revealed in the final chapters and is a twist I am especially proud of.

Laroonae The Harpy: Harpies as disgusting, foul creatures with poor hygiene and next to no appreciation for appearance or dental care is given a reason in the story. And, by golly, it's pretty brilliant if I do say so myself. Hint: It's a magical commonality that both gorgons and harpies share with sirens. It's also additive to the gorgon's characteristics as Medusa has not been shown to have any allure in previous tales. The development of the harpy as a clean specimen of her race creates problems and solutions alike in the story. Laroonae is pivotal to persuading both governments to take action thanks to her unique talent. She also causes Graham's little heart to go pitter-patter for the first time. Aren't young crushes so sweet? She flies in and out of the story, adding another juicy and feathery layer to the mix. Laroonae is such a fun character that her story will continue in Graham's third adventure.

Graham's Father And His Concern For His People's Welfare: Graham's father had to be less of an adversary for Graham and more of a person that gargoyle comes to regard as far more complex than he originally thought. And aren't all dads that way? Early on in the story, Graham encounters his father's devotion to keeping his gargoyle race alive when he spies his handiwork in the far off city of New Asgard. The Flying Mummy relates other aspects of Graham's father that makes the gargoyle reconsider his strict parent as more than just a thorn in his side. Plus, graham spends more time alongside his father and grows to see he is a man of integrity who is saddled with more responsibility than just taking care of his family. It also became a driving force for where the setting of the third book will be and it makes amazing sense. These happy accidents of plotting are what makes the book shine and helps fashion genuine world building.

Young Gorgon Thief: Having Graham foil a robbery was put in play in the first few chapters out of a desire to have the story start with some action. The young gorgon Graham helps catch serves as foreshadowing for the more adult threat of Medusa herself. It also gives our hero a false sense of confidence with how easy it is to take on a gorgon. When the stakes are raised with the potency of an adult gorgon's powers, Graham slips up and that creates wonderful complications. The character is such a find that she will be pivotal to Graham's story in the third book. I can't wait for readers to see her story fleshed out further.

So there you have it, some of the many plot elements that helped thicken the plot. Hope you enjoyed the chance to see the writing breakthroughs that make crafting a story so much fun for me.

GRAHAM 2 CHAPTER TITLES

2012-04-27T23:15:57-04:00

With only four more chapters to go, I thought it might be a kick to post the chapter titles to GRAHAM2. I love crafting titles and feel these really shine.

Chapter 1 BOOTS ON THE GROUND

Chapter 2 STONY RECEPTION

Chapter 3 SLY SCROLLING

Chapter 4 BLORD'S BLACKMAIL

Chapter 5 STREET SEARCHIN' FOR A STREET URCHIN

Chapter 6 BELIEF BREEDS RELIEF

Chapter 7 LOCATIONALLY CHALLENGED NO MORE

Chapter 8 MAP QUEST

Chapter 9 SIMPLE TRUTHS

Chapter 10 THE BELL TROLLS FOR THEE

Chapter 11 FADE AWAY

Chapter 12 LOFTY GOALS

Chapter 13 MAKING MERRY

Chapter 14 BROTHER'S KEEPER

Chapter 15 ENTAILED BLACKMAIL

Chapter 16 FRAIL BETRAYAL

Chapter 17 HEAVY KARMA

Chapter 18 EARS ON FIRE

Chapter 19 TWISTED TAKE

Chapter 20 IT'S CURTAINS FOR YOU

Chapter 21 BIRDS NOT OF A FEATHER

Chapter 22 ROOM WITH A VIEW

Chapter 23 HOSPITABLE CORNERS

Chapter 24 BLORDING OVER HIM

Chapter 25 FLENN FLEES WITH UNEASE

Chapter 26 THE STING OF LOSS

Chapter 27 THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD

Chapter 28 NATURE VS. NURTURE

Chapter 29 DELICATE DINNER

Chapter 30 STONY PATH

Chapter 31 BULLY PULPED IT

Chapter 32 EAVES DROPPED

Chapter 33 GAME OF THORNS

Chapter 34 FREEZE PLAY

Chapter 35 SHOULDERING RESPONSIBILTY

Chapter 36 BELIEF RELIEF

Chapter 37 STICK TO THE PLAN

Chapter 38 CAVING UNDER PRESSURE

Chapter 39 GHOST OF A CHANCE

Chapter 40 DEEP-ROOTED

Chapter 41 A CHARMED STRIFE

Chapter 42 FIGHT OR FRIGHT

Chapter 43 NEARLY DEPARTED

Chapter 44 MISERY LOVES BAD COMPANY

Chapter 45 BREAKING BREAD AND NOT BONES

Chapter 46 FRESH FACES

Chapter 47 THE SCIENCE OF FRIENDSHIP

Chapter 48 VOICE OF DISSENT

Chapter 49 CASTING THE FIRST STONE

Chapter 50 THE LYING GAME

Chapter 51 UNDER WRAPS NO MORE

Chapter 52 FATHER KNOWS BEST

Chapter 53 MOTHER MAY I

Chapter 54 LIAR, LIAR, LET'S YOU AND ME CONSPIRE

Chapter 55 THE EYES HAVE IT

Chapter 56 FLENN FOR HERSELF

Chapter 57 IT TAKES A VILLAGE

Chapter 58 ROOTING FOR THE UNDERDOG

Chapter 59 IT'S IN THE BAG

Chapter 60 NOT SO STONY RECEPTION

Chapter 61 FAST FRIENDS ARE NEVER FAR AWAY

Epilogue

GRAHAM BACK COVER SYNOPSIS

2012-04-27T21:10:17-04:00

BEING a gargoyle with tiny wings, learning to fly is just the beginning of all too many of life's challenges.

It has been a year since Graham took his first flight and said goodbye to his grandfather. Even a trip to New Asgard isn't enough to take his mind off the anniversary of his grandfather's crossing over. Back home, his younger sister Flenn sneaks across to Earth using one of Graham's spell scrolls only to have her highly illegal trip found out by the bully Blord.

As Graham returns home, he learns from his hero escort, the Flying Mummy, that Cascade isn't as safe as it seems. When mortals stopped believing in magical and mythological creatures, myriad magical denizens faced extinction without belief fueling their existence. They banded together and migrated to the new dimensional home of Cascade, hoping believing in each other would keep them alive. But survival isn't guaranteed. If a species closes themselves off from others, they risk fading out of existence. This has the young gargoyle worried, both his people and the nearby troll village, home to his best friend Ot, keep to themselves.

When Flenn and Graham wind up at the troll village, they are shocked to find the trolls fading out of existence. Deeply disturbed the same fate awaits his own hermetic people, Graham and his sister defy convention and champion making changes. As they wrestle to convince the gargoyle council to take action, a deadly new complication arises. Gargoyles and woodland animals alike start popping up as statues. Soon, trolls do too and the troll council lays the blame squarely on Flenn and her overreaching plan to save them.

Can Graham and his sister capture the evil presence that is turning everyone to stone and ensure that neither magical race evaporates into thin air without outside belief? And what role do Blord and a fetching harpy play in their schemes? Find out in -- GRAHAM THE GARGOYLE: FLENN'S FOLLY.

EXAMINING MY WRITING PACE

2012-04-12T11:03:46-04:00

As my track out time ends, I wanted to look back at where the workload for GRAHAM2 fell.

January (last week of that track-out)
12,000 words

February/March (nine weeks of teaching)
21,000 words added to 12,000 equals 33,000 words

April (three weeks of track-out)
(track-out week one)
12,000 words
(track-out week two)
18,000 words
(track-out week three)
24,000 words
33,000 plus 44,000 equals 77,000

So where does that leave GRAHAM2?

With most of the book done, it's a matter of writing the climax and wrapping up the major plot points (and boy did they grow as I wrote). I am estimating another 8,000. So, if I push myself, I can write that in three weeks of being back in the classroom, bringing the book to a little over 83,000.

Quite a far cry from my original plan of 40,000 words, but that's more than okay. The plot and character development executed in the book really is amazing and has huge payoffs in the book and for the Graham series. Does that mean next January's third book will be that many pages? We'll see. My guess is 80,000 is the max for any book in the series.

Up Next: THICKENING THE PLOT

MUSHY STUFF KEEPS SLIPPING IN

2012-04-09T22:35:23-04:00

While more and more of my writing features a renewed interest in ramping up the action and jeopardy, I still find myself coming back to the familiar territory that rings true in my work: the mushy, sentimental scene.

I'm a softy at heart. OLD YELLER makes me cry. BRIDGE TO TERABITHIA and THE CAY, when I have to reread them to prepare my novel study lessons for each, always bring me to tears. I find a good cry cathartic and creates a deep tie to a piece of literature.

Well, those emotionally-committed scenes work their way into my writing quite regularly. Readers of the first GRAHAM know that emotion and remembrance carry a great deal of weight in the book's plot and resolution. Graham's relationship with his father and grandfather resonates and deepens the message of the book. Yes, I cried when I wrote the final sentence of that book.

Anyway, I found the emotional scenes came fast and furious in GRAHAM2. It's a tear-jerking blockbuster, quite frankly. And I had little idea they would be coming on so strong. The Widow Stemmel and her warm rapport with Graham weren't in the first outline. Laroonae the harpy and her heartfelt plight weren't there either. Graham and Flenn's back and forth with Blord was sort of there, but it developed a richness and back story that raises the emotional stakes. Flenn's vulnerability and courage and Graham's drive and heroic strivings were there in the initial outline, but the dual nature of the narrative creates a wonderful emotional immediacy and allows the reader to analyze scenes from differing perspectives.

Many times I feared going too sappy, but the genuine reality and personality of my main characters, two sibling gargoyles, can carry the emotional weight and not have it tilt into the realm of the schmaltzy and downright cheesy.

So, if you want your stories with consequence and suspense along with emotional blowback that truly affects the plot, the character and the reader, then look no further than GRAHAM2. It won't disappoint.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I think I have something in my eye.

WENSEN CHAPTERS PREVIEW

2012-04-09T10:10:20-04:00

Here are the two chapters where Wensen takes centerstage. It is an emotional turning point in the story and will begin to get Flenn in over her head. The joy of writing about Graham and Flenn in different chapters has helped both characters become more elevated and complex. It's also added terrific layers to their relationship. I'm proud of the character development happening in GRAHAM2.

Chapter 39
CAVING UNDER PRESSURE
The trek to the cave took longer than expected. By the time they arrived, Flenn could see Elder Kreisk was pale and out of breath. The older gargoyle leaned on Humaska as they took the last few steps leading to the cave together.

Flenn glanced down the wide stone steps carved into the mountain itself. The majority of the village stood together in a clearing below. Only the troll prefects had accompanied them up the steep stairs. The Flying Mummy and Laroonae, who had chosen to fly there, landed closer to the cave entrance. The two younger trolls dressed in green appeared to take offense at the pair's closeness to the cave. They rushed forward and pulled the outsiders back to the top of the steps. Laroonae said nothing at the rough treatment. The mummy slipped out an apology, understanding he had overstepped his bounds.

On the trip there, Prefect Sig had told her about the Cave of Contemplation. The Final Arbitrator closed themselves off from the rest of the village for five days and pondered the issue at hand. Ot's father had followed through on his duty with honor. Flenn wondered why Ot had not said anything when she had come by all worked up about Blord. He could've at least told her his people were working on a solution. Of course, she was an outsider and according to Prefect Sig, while their people were open to all seeing their own government at work out in the open, they were not accustomed to inviting outsiders into their decision-making process. Ot might have wanted to tell and been sworn to uphold some vow of secrecy. That sounded right. Ot was not one to withhold information.

Flenn examined the cave. The entrance was blocked by a large boulder. It was held in place on the slight incline leading to the entrance by two large stone wedges. Thick straps made from intertwined wa-wa vines further braced the heavy stone. The vines, in turn, were secured by sections of scaffolding. She saw the vines ran through a series of pulleys. The ends of the vines farthest from the boulder were attached to several wheels and axles that were turned by large black levers.

It was a series of simple machines combined to create a complex one. It reminded her of Graham's Level Five science project where he had had to design a series of simple machines to perform a simple task. Her brother had needed her help to build a machine that in the end raised a small flag. It had been a lot of fun working with him on it and they had both discovered their strengths complimented each other. Flenn had been the brains, coming up with the means to do it, while her brother had been the builder. He had a knack for anything involving making models while she had been the planner, more paper and pencil. The machine before them was much larger than the rinky-dink gadget they had worked on.

Prefect Sig motioned for the two younger officials to man the black levers on either side.

He looked at his visitors and said, "Wensen will come out as he was put in. He had food to last him more than the allotted days. There are fissures that allow adequate air to circulate and he has been given a sufficient number of water sacs. He will come out nourished and with a clear mind. He will deliver his decision as the first words out of his mouth. Do not communicate with him until he is done. While he may not show it, being cut off from others will have taken a toll on him. But through closing himself off, it is how he can be assured his verdict is meaningful and clear. It is our way."

Prefect Sig didn't wait for their acknowledgement. He waved for the young prefects to unseal the cave. "As the oldest prefect, I order the Cave of Contemplation to be opened once again. May the wisdom of the ages absorbed into its walls have aided to inform Wensen's thoughts and helped him come to a profound conclusion."

Flenn had never met Ot's father before. She was surprised Ot's family had not mounted the steps. She wanted to look back and see if he was down below with the rest of the trolls, but her attention was too caught up in watching how smoothly the simple machines worked together to move the heavy boulder away from the entrance. It rolled back onto the two sloping wedges, grinding into the large stone triangles. As the boulder loomed closer and closer, Flenn wanted to fly off. She saw the older prefects stood between her and the approaching boulder. They didn't flinch or slip out of the way.

The boulder came to a halt about three feet away. The wa-wa vines that cradled it were stretched to their limit, but did not snap.

The prefects at the levers slipped large chucks in place, locking the lever from moving and insuring the boulder would not slip further on the dual wedges. They joined the prefects in red. All four trolls slipped their hands into their opposite sleeve and waited.

The cave entrance was large. Her father could easily fit inside even with his wings fully extended. She saw the distinctive glow of will-o'-wisps illuminated the interior.

Everyone was silent.

A minute passed. Another. Flenn counted to one hundred.

Wensen had still not appeared at the mouth of the cave.

She so wanted to fly in and move things along. Was it customary for the trolls to have to wait so long for their Final Arbitrator to emerge?

Prefect Sig whispered something to the other older troll. Both looked worried. Neither moved forward.

It was clear from their reactions they had expected Wensen to have walked out of the cave and uttered his decision by now.

Somebody had to do something. Flenn had a terrible feeling. Something had happened to Ot's father.

A faint cough and a raspy plea, no more that a murmur, leaked from the cave. "C-Come... "

All four prefects gasped.

The plea was louder, but still barely audible. "Help... "

The younger prefects raced to the cave's mouth.

Prefect Sig sucked in a sharp hiss of air.

The younger prefects froze in place in reaction to the elder's sudden inhalation.

Another cough issued from the opening.

Prefect Sig closed his eyes and delivered permission to enter with a nod.

The two prefects disappeared down the slight decline of the cave. Prefect Sig and Prefect Nomble held back.

Flenn wanted to ask them what could have happened, but knew her voice would not be appreciated. Her father slipped his firm hands onto her shoulders. She looked up to see him send her a smile of reassurance.

There had been no further coughing.

Flenn thought she heard the voices of the young prefects who had entered, but couldn't be sure.

Seconds later, both exited the cave. They waved the elder prefects to come with them. Flenn thought she heard one whisper the words medical attention, but couldn't be sure.

Her father and the mummy took a few steps closer to the cave. She knew what they were thinking¯Would they be breaking the law if they entered to help?

Flenn had to see for herself what was going on. If she snuck in, the punishment would not be as bad. They couldn't possibly issue a cruel punishment to a young child who let her foolish curiosity get the better of her? They might not be so forgiving if her father or the mummy stormed in.

She decided it was worth the risk.

She launched into the air and flew toward the cave entrance. Almost as if he had known what she was going to do before she had done it, her father's hand shot up and snagged her by the legs. He stopped her cold, but in no way harmfully. Her flapping slowed and she plopped down on the back of his hand. He held her aloft, his fingers wrapped around her ankles with authority.

"Not needed, Flenn." Her father didn't look at her. His eyes were on the cave. "See for yourself. They are coming out with him."

The two older prefects walked out first. Both looked back at what their younger counterparts carried.

Ot's father was not malnourished. Neither was he injured physically.

The troll who had locked himself away for five days was literally a ghost of his former self. He looked just like the mother troll Flenn had seen on her first visit to the village, only worse off. He was almost completely transparent.

"What happened to him?" her father asked.

"We did not think this would happen, but we should've. It is truly a sign of how dire our plight is. He has been away for too long, away from his people, away from sustaining belief." Prefect Sig waved for them to step aside.

"He is too weak to deliver his verdict. Out of the way! He must be seen by his fellow citizens. They must deliver their faith to him before it is too late."

The shorter prefect in green, Ringle Flenn thought his name was, screamed, "My hands are slipping through him. Hurry!"

They shuffled the nigh immaterial troll forward. Both prefects hoisted him higher for the village below to see.

Prefect Sig slid up next to them and shouted, "Citizens of Newholm, awaken your thoughts and prayers to one of our most honorable. Focus your love to Wensen Gleeblehut. He cannot be abandoned."

Flenn slipped from her father's grasp, glided to the edge of the steps and stared down at the trolls. All eyes were drawn to Ot's father. She saw Ot and his mother racing up the steps, breaking convention she was sure and running toward their loved one. The young troll, she could tell even from a distance, had tears in his eyes. She wanted to call out to him, but the lump in her throat prevented her from doing nothing more than an awkward croak.

Flenn tore her eyes away from him and flew back to her father, burying her head in his chest. His massive arms folded around her as she sobbed and sobbed.

Chapter 40
GHOST OF A CHANCE
Her father's soothing voice drew Flenn out of her misery. She looked at Ot's father. He was still transparent, but not nearly as much as before. She slipped out of her father's arms and took a step toward the fallen troll.

Ot and his mother were now by Wensen's side. The two prefects had lowered him for his family to get closer. Ot swung his arms around his father.

"I can feel him. He's still solid," The small troll shouted.

Ot's mother placed a comforting hand on her husband's brow.

Flenn kneeled next to Ot. She directed all her thoughts toward the ghostlike troll. She wanted to add her belief to him like she had done with the troll mother. She had reverted back to being solid because of Flenn simply talking to her.

Several minutes passed with all eyes on the weakened troll.

Wensen coughed.

Ot said, "It's not enough. He's still see-through. What else can we do?"

The harpy stepped forward and dropped to one knee beside Flenn. She reached out her clawed hand. She didn't latch hold of Wensen, but waited for Ot and his mother to approve her participation.

Ot gave the harpy a sheepish smile. Again, the harpy had a glamour that Flenn couldn't see. She appreciated how clean and beautiful the harpy kept her feathers, but she didn't feel compelled to give Laroonae puppy dog eyes like the males she encountered. The harpy had some sort of attractive magic about her.

"Please help," Ot said.

Laroonae wrapped her long fingers around Wensen's wrist, being careful not to scratch him. At least he was no longer immaterial. That was a good sign. He was solid, but still transparent.

Laroonae spoke in a whisper. "It is a pleasure to meet you Wensen. I have only spied trolls from afar. You are a brave and kind man." She nodded at Ot and his mother. "Your family is here. Your village is down below. They are all giving you comfort and support. I, an outsider, am here too. I am sharing my belief with you. Don't leave us. You still have much to accomplish."

Laroonae's voice caught. She waved away tears and continued. "Your people need you. You must mend."

Wensen said, his voice weak, "Thank you. It's nice... to have a visitor such as yourself... here."

"Tell me about your people. What do you do? How do you interact with your family?"

Flenn found the harpy's phrasing awkward, but she understood what she was doing. Getting the troll to tell her about himself and his people would help her form a more concrete opinion of trolls. That in turn would add her fuel to the troll's sputtering fire.

Wensen's eye welled. He understood what she was doing. He shifted his weight and looked into her large eyes. "We are simple farmers, always communing with... the land. On Earth and in Cascade, the earth is our church. Everything good and plentiful comes... from her rich soil. My people... we stuck close to her for many generations, clinging to caves and bolt holes so we could curl up in her embrace each night. Eventually, we moved out into the light, but still our relationship with the earth was kept close. It's why our homes have dirt floors and all our bedrooms are always on the first floor. Most second stories are for storage or activities that are not time-consuming. We don't like to be away from the ground... under our feet for long." He coughed.

"Sounds much like my people's connection to the air."

Wensen smiled. "Yes, I would imagine so." He cleared his throat. "My family is amazing. My son, he is never afraid... of where friendship will take him. He is bold and loving. My wife, she... is a pillar of hope and adoration. I am... a stronger man for marrying her." His eyes slipped to his wife.

As Ot's mother smiled back at her husband, Flenn saw Wensen's yellow coloring return. His skin looked less transparent. It was working.

"And did you miss them while away in your cave?" Laroonae took Wensen's hand and directed it into his wife's open hand.

In response to his wife's touch, Wensen sat up, his strength returning. "Yes, very much so. They were on my mind while I toiled away at my decision. I thought of their future, our future."

Wensen's eyes were more alert. The troll glanced at the prefects huddled around him. They had drawn closer during his exchange with the harpy.

"And what did you decide? What salvation did you unearth?" Laroonae smiled.

Flenn liked her words. They were so keyed to who the harpy was talking to.

Wensen rose awkwardly to one knee. His looked whole once again. "To do whatever it takes to ensure the longevity and prosperity of my people. I cast my vote for reaching out."

Laroonae shuffled back as Ot's family helped Wensen to his feet. The troll stood with renewed confidence.

Prefect Sig shouted to the villagers below, "We will hear what the young gargoyle and harpy have to say. We will initiate immediately steps to ensure that never again will any one of us be neglected or diminished, that we will all stay anchored to our beloved earth and walk on its firm land for centuries to come."

The crowd cheered. Her father and Humaska cast wide smiles at Flenn. Even Elder Kriesk appeared in step with the mood of the circumstances. A grin rippled across his wrinkled features.

Wensen stood straight, his yellow complexion rich and enlivened.

Matching the troll's vibrant skin, Flenn saw Laroonae's tail fathers were just as bright. Their thick yellow streaks touched with hints of orange told Flenn what she needed to know about the harpy's mood -- she was happy.

AFTER THE SMOKE HAS CLEARED

2012-04-05T19:06:12-04:00

Okay, it's official -- I got done 14,000 words in four days! A new personal best. Bad news for me is that I've still got a ways to go. With the creative rampage I'm on, the story has really grown. It's looking like I'll be lucky to come in under 80,000 with this book. But that's okay. So much new ground is being broken with these characters and since I know there'll be a third book, I feel justified in letting the character development shine. It's all feeling very organic and right for the characters. The life they are living is unfolding before me with such clarity that it's a little frightening. It really spurs me to keep feeding the words to the page.

Anyway, look for a two-chapter preview featuring Wensen to go up next week.

Also next week, I'll finally get to that post on the mushy stuff and I'm shooting for 20,000 words in five days. That could get me nigh close to the end, folks!

ALL ABOUT BULLY BUDDIES

2012-04-05T12:43:13-04:00

Holy cow -- 12,000 words in four days! Not only that, the story moved in a very unexpected direction.

Graham and Blord have to work together to hunt down a particularly nasty beast. And their team-up is completely organic and natural. I can't believe the dialogue that is sparking between the two of them.

And, Jensen, next chapter features Wensen. He's no longer Ot's younger brother, but Ot's dear old dad. I think you'll really like what happens to him. He's a crucial plot point that will set in motion the endgame of the story.

WHAT'S IN A CHAPTER NAME

2012-04-03T10:54:59-04:00

Wow, made 5,000 words of progress in two days. On a roll here! Hoping to write 12,000 words this week. Had to share two of the most recent chapter titles because they're just so much fun. Look for a post soon about my process in writing chapter titles and why puns figure in so heavily.

Here they are:

Chapter 30: BULLY PULPED IT -- see Blord rend fruit into a pulpy mash as he extorts help from Flenn yet again

Chapter 31: EAVES DROPPED -- watch Graham encounter a troublesome shingle when he picks a poorly constructed roof as his spy spot

Now what agent could refuse a story with chapters than can be summed up like that?

FLAME AND FORTUNE REVIEWED BY PIERS ANTHONY

2012-04-02T13:43:01-04:00

I send my books to my favorite writer from my childhood, his Xanth books were among my favorites when I was a teen, and he has written nice things about every single book I've sent him. This time, it was a beta copy of FLAME AND FORTUNE. Here's what he had to say on his website:

"I read Flame And Fortune, by Brian Clopper, published by Behemoth Books last year. This is a fabulous story, full of imagination. It features the fire elemental Flame, whose mere touch burns what he touches, and his friend Fenris Fortune, a were-elf, and a will-o'-wisp Maleeka, a tiny girl who lives in a lamp. This unlikely trio is good-hearted but tends to blunder constantly into trouble. Maybe one example will do to illustrate the tapestry of magic here. At one point they are trekking toward their destination when a storm comes up and they must take shelter in a house with an odd old woman; she is hospitable, but says don't even look at the papers on her desk. Naturally Fenris is curious, so he waits until the others are asleep then starts reading the letter on the desk. And it starts Dear Stranger, I hate that you have decided to read my words... What's going on here? Well, it seems that whoever reads the letter to the end will get trapped inside it, and that last victim doesn't want to do that to him so is trying to dissuade him. But he can't stop reading. I love the imagination of that sequence. To my mind, Clopper is emerging as a significant fantasy writer, not just for children."

Makes me want to do the rewrites and get it out there as an e-book soon.

HIT MY MARK

2012-03-30T10:38:31-04:00

Just a quick announcement to say I hit my weekly goal of writing 10,000 words. Awesome! Not only that, but I finished a chapter that I'm betting will be the first time a harpy has brought anyone to tears. It was such a great piece to end the week with. Can't wait to start back up Monday and knock out another 10,000 words.

HOW PLOT OUTLINE AND ME DON'T ALWAYS SEE EYE-TO-EYE

2012-03-29T12:57:24-04:00

Okay, I have to admit -- I start most of my stories without a clear cut endgame in mind. I've always trusted the process to steer me in the right direction and so far it's been a writing approach that has worked well. I don't mean to say that I don't write anything down before I start Chapter One. I do have a list of about a dozen mile markers that hit key plot points in the story, but I've never written a chapter-by-chapter outline until GRAHAM 2. This was in part due to wanting to contain the story and keeping it to a set word count.

Hah, looks like that didn't work out for me. The story complexity grew past my outline, but that's okay. I pegged the story to run about 30,000 words. Well, I'm at 40,000 and it looks like 60,000 is more appropriate. I tried the outline format after my writer friend, Keith Robinson, shared how it helped him guide his stories so successfully. And if you've ever read any of his books, you know the man knows how to plot an adventure. Anyway, I took the time to write a sentence or two about each chapter and then set off to write GRAHAM 2. As the book unfolded, I started veering from the outline by Chapter Seven. And it was only drifting into better and better plot threads. Elements were presenting themselves that fit so neatly with the narrative that I had to deviate. I had no idea that Graham would be conscripted into helping a widow who would help him deal with his grandfather crossing over. I didn't even see his need until the story veered toward that emotional beat. Now I can't picture it without the emotional scene.

As I approach the last third of the book, I can see having that initial outline was essential in getting me to focus. Every time I deviated, I had to justify it. Sometimes it meant shooting down a plot point that went nowhere (like having Graham stay longer in New Asgard) and sometimes it meant going on blind faith that the chapter could find its way to a stronger resolution (any chapter with Blord working his evil ways). Sometimes, a chapter just said Blord shows up again and it was up to me to figure out what to do. The merry cone scene was a result of such freeform writing and it's a major thread holding the book together now. I'm happy to say the narrative thrust of GRAHAM is better for combining both techniques.

Maybe I'm forever consigned to being a daydreamer. It's the only way I can explain the blind faith I put in my writing every time I start a chapter and don't have an inkling where it's going. It's probably the element of writing that gets me the most excited.

Perhaps: Enter Bully, is enough to go on to get my creative juices flowing. Seems to work when Blord happens upon the narrative.

Up Next: MUSHY STUFF KEEPS SLIPPING IN

WRITING MOMENTUM

2012-03-28T12:39:39-04:00

My writing schedule has typically run in fits and starts. I teach at a year-round school and have nine weeks in the classroom and then three weeks off. I get a lot of writing done in the three weeks off. Probably 30,000 words each of the four track outs. The problem was when I was in school I'd barely manage 5,000 words during those nine weeks. Well, not anymore. This past track-in, I was 12,000 words into GRAHAM 2 and itching to make progress. I didn't want to wait until the next track out to finish the book. If I only wrote 5,000 words, the story would stall and I'd lose all momentum. Instead, I set a goal of writing 3,000 words each week while I taught. How did I do? I managed to go from 12,000 words in January to 33,000 words by the time I left school for my spring break. 21,000 words in nine weeks. I was so pleased. I kept up with all my family and teacher responsibilities and still pulled it off. Truthfully, I took two weeks off toward the end so I managed to do pretty well with my goal. I didn't lose one bit of the story momentum and now I find myself in the thick of a novel that is promising to deliver so much more than the first one.

My students have been poking and prodding at me for years to do a follow-up to GRAHAM and this year's class was particularly caught up in his story. Now that I'm two-thirds done this second book, my plan is to write a new book of GRAHAM each year in the spring. The rest of the year will be spent on another book which I will shop to agents. So readers can count on a new e-book every year that further chronicles the misadventures of Graham and his family. That's right, I said family. The second book has really developed his sister Flenn to share almost equal billing with him. I can't wait for you to see all the trouble the siblings get into. And, of course, it wouldn't be a Cascade novel without an appearance by the Flying Mummy. He plays a much larger role than in the first book. GRAHAM 2: FLENN'S FOLLY looks to be on track for a 60,000 word adventure. I will miss my April 1st deadline, but I'm confident I can finish in time for May 1st. Hoping to debut GRAHAM 2 this August. My class will then be subjected to having it read to them in May and June. They have no choice! Bwah-ha-ha!

Expect to see the next blog entry in a week's time. The blog gets my attention more during track-outs. Haven't found a way around that. I'd rather post twelve good entries a year and write more stories than post forty times a year and eat into my writing time.

Up Next: HOW PLOT OUTLINE AND ME DON'T ALWAYS SEE EYE-TO-EYE

GRAHAM 2 PREVIEW

2012-01-16T08:47:40-05:00

GRAHAM 2 copyright © 2012 Brian Clopper.

Chapter 1
BOOTS ON THE GROUND

Graham knew the minute they arrived at the immense main gate to the realm's capital city that his trip to New Asgard would be nothing short of magical. His chaperone for this special trip was none other than Cascade's most popular guardian, The Flying Mummy. Wrapped from head to toe in royal bandages and crowned with his trademark golden asp head accessory, the hero waltzed past the city's royal guards, sending each burly soldier a rigid salute. Graham imitated his idol's gesture, guiding his hand to the tiny ridge of horns that lurked above his eyes and snapping his arm as quick as he could to his hip. He frowned, convinced his salute lacked the proper impact. The guards grinned and returned the salute all the same.

The pair of them stepped through the gate and into the city. Graham glanced at the Flying Mummy and smiled nervously. As brave a face as he had put on about tagging along with his grandfather's close friend when his mother had argued against it, he knew he was entering uncharted territory. He had never been anywhere outside of his remote gargoyle village other than to the troll village only a stone's throw away. Neither destination a place with the degree of hustle and bustle he now saw spread out before him.

Magical creatures of every stripe, shape and hue plowed through the streets with purposeful abandon, weaving through the stifling throng with experience and consideration. Not even on First Flight Day did his village population swell to such size and scope. He feared getting lost, but also nixed the idea of grabbing hold of his hero's hand. He was too old for that. He was Level Six in school and had been an experienced flyer for a year now. He did not want the pharaoh to see him as baby. The Flying Mummy had been a close friend of his grandfather's and they had apparently had several adventures together back when his grandfather had been younger and struck with a serious case of wanderlust.

Graham asked, "Grandfather really did save you from Medusa?"

The mummy's eyes flashed a brighter red. "Indeed, if it wasn't for The Great Gortle, I would've found myself the groom to that foul gorgon. Thanks to him, I was spared from a surely horrifying wedlock."

He still couldn't get used to the lofty title the mummy bestowed upon his grandfather.

The broad thoroughfare was thick with citizens going about their daily errands. He spied a griffin arguing with a street vendor over a leg of meat that looked, to his gargoyle eyes, thoroughly charred. Two firedrakes flew above, their flight paths sticking close to the pointed hat of a wizard who waltzed through the crowd with an air of superiority. If it wasn't for the magician's ridiculous choice in footwear, two bright orange boots far too large for the old man's tiny frame, he might have actually struck fear in the average passerby. As it was, all cleared a path more out of fear of being stomped upon by the boots that seemed to have a mind of their own.

The mummy chuckled as the wizard veered suddenly toward a small dryad who was staring into a store window at a display of freshly cooked brumbleberry pies. The boots trounced about, almost pulverizing the tree spirit much to the wizard's dismay. He tossed an apology at the dryad as the boots shuffled away from her and onto their next target.

The Flying Mummy pointed at the commotion. "Looks like the Wizard Robinson hasn't found the right spell to unhex his footwear. Terrible shame to be at the mercy of a pair of Combat Boots. Poor fellow, at the whim of those single-minded shoes. All they want to do is pick fights and have at the biggest brute in the room. He really should've had that footwear curse lifted by now. Surprised he hasn't swallowed his pride and asked the Wizard Bailey to remove them."

Graham watched the wizard bellow a word of warning to the large orc in his path. The boots seemed to draw a bead on the unruly oversized monster and were determined to give someone a good stomping. Graham highly doubted the orc would bear the brunt of any injury in the tussle. He wondered if the wizard had any defensive spells, but found he was denied seeing the confrontation to its bruised and bloody conclusion as his escort pushed him suddenly to the right. The pharaoh steered Graham toward a narrow side street tucked away between a very fortified looking building and a small bakery. The foot traffic looked much less in the shadows of the small alley.

The pharaoh bent low and whispered, "Stay here. Even on my day off, there are situations that require my attention. I don't think it would do to have the fair Wizard Robinson made into an honorary cobblestone by such a brute, no matter how questionable some of the mage's actions have been of late."

He wedged Graham behind a stack of empty crates and took to the air. Graham watched the hero sweep high above the crowd until he was just above the wizard. The orc had his back to the trouble-seeking boots and looked to be sweet-talking a maiden with two long spiraling horns erupting from her forehead. Graham knew how short-tempered orcs were from reading the series of novels written about The Flying Mummy's legendary adventures. Specifically, Volume Eleven, Of Mystical Sporks and Feisty Orcs. It had been a book he had read numerous times over.

The pair of firedrakes spiraled protectively above their apparent master, unwilling to intervene on his crash course with the orc. They did, however, glare at the airborne pharaoh as he violated their air space. The fierce stare the mummy fired back scattered the wannabe dragons.

The mummy swooped down and grabbed the wizard seconds before the boots were on the orc. He whisked the wizard high in the air, using centrifugal force to keep the hostile footwear from giving him a lethal drop-kick. It was clear the boots felt thwarted. They pin wheeled about. Graham couldn't hear the sky high conversation, but judging by the wizard's scowl, he was none too happy at having anyone come to his rescue.

The mummy arced high and then plummeted to the ground swiftly. He shifted the wizard's body to bear the brunt of the impact, specifically the boots. Their trajectory would put the brutal landing at a relatively open area near the main gate.

The mummy scolded Robinson, "Keep your legs stiff. Let those infernal footies of yours take the blow. It might be enough to -- "

The wizard reluctantly complied.

The boots slammed into the cobblestones. The mummy yanked the wizard up as quickly as he could, hoping to lessen the bone-shattering impact. Both the wizard and mummy sprang away from the ground and landed in a heap at Graham's feet.

The wizard pushed his rescuer off and ranted, "How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I had the situation under control."

The Flying Mummy stood and brushed himself off. "Now, now, Robinson. Simmer down. I was doing you a favor."

Behind the two, a pair of royal guards from the gate raced toward the ruckus.

The wizard wiggled each leg, scrutinizing each boot carefully. Neither boot acted possessed at the moment. Apparently, the mummy's little trick had knocked them silly. Rather than be pleased that he was now in control of his ability to walk, the wizard tore into the mummy. "A favor? Slamming a fragile old man into the ground is what you call a favor? Maybe that how they do it in your savage desert homeland, but back in merry old England -- "

The first of the guardsmen arrived, a meaty, apish creature with large compound bug eyes. His head swiveled about, taking in both combatants. "Here, here, what's going on? A disturbance of the peace at the main gate? Have you two lost all sense of manners and respect?" The guard glared at the wizard. "Wizard Robinson, has the city not already cited you twice over your walkabout with those dreaded boots on? Why haven't you rectified the situation? Seems to me any magic cobbler worth their salt could free you from those persnickety shoes. And if not, I know the Wizard Bailey can divorce you from them in a jiff."

The wizard rose to his feet, stomping each boot resolutely, his pride at being once again in charge of his stroll quite evident. Graham wondered just how long the magic boots would stay knocked out.

The other guard, a thin goblin whose loose armor rattled at his wide strides, arrived on the scene. He placed a blue hand on the wizard's shoulder and smiled approvingly at The Flying Mummy. "Come along now, Robinson. Best get you away from any other pedestrians. Your track record with managing those cursed boots of yours isn't spectacular and you know it. As it stands, we can close out this incident with a minimum of paperwork. I don't see anyone who has been injured by your little public stroll. No stepping on any dragon tails this time and that's a good thing."

The guard eyed the wizard's firedrakes who had returned and were snorting derisive clouds of smoke at him. He ignored the feeble attempt at making a scene and addressed the pharaoh, "Many thanks for intervening. We saw what was unfolding from back at the gate, but couldn't get there fast enough. Saved us from wiping up after a possible 8-13. We'll need you to sign off on a few things, routine stuff, but you know that already."

Graham could tell the mummy smiled, despite having the lower half of his face wrapped tight in sacred linens. "Of course, Grimguld, of course."

The Flying Mummy took to one knee as the guards guided the still miffed wizard toward their post at the gate. "Graham, I'll just be a minute." He glanced up at the storefront they found themselves next to. He reached into his belt pouch and slipped two coins into the gargoyle's hand. "Have a look-see inside this fine bakery and buy yourself a nibble or two. I'll be back shortly."

Graham smiled. "What's an 8-13?"

The mummy stood and started walking toward the gate. He looked over his shoulder at the young gargoyle. "Orc on a Rampage. Be glad that didn't transpire. I'd never hear the end of it from your mother if that gruesome display was your first taste of the big city."

Graham weighed the coins playfully and entered the bakery, taken aback instantly by the savory aromas that called the interior atmosphere of the store home.

Chapter 2
STONY RECEPTION

The sweet smells assaulted him as soon as he entered the shop. While his nose wasn't as bloodhound sharp as his friend Ot, he wasn't as bad off as some gargoyles in his village when it came to sniffing out delicious treats. He always knew when his mother baked brumbleberry pies before his sister and was the first one to the kitchen on those occasions. His adequate sniffer led him to the rack of danishes cooling in a display case by the window. His eyes feasted on the numerous flavors available: Brumbleberry, Cinnamon, Strawberry, Lemon and Lava Beetle. He wondered exactly what type of customer was so daring as to eat a danish containing the highly disagreeable insect, when he was distracted by the wall display of crullers and donuts to his left. Pastries of all types were stacked one atop another in neat little rows. He counted twelve trays of donuts and four trays of crullers. Each tray was dedicated to one mouth-watering flavor after another.

As he approached the tray loaded down with chocolate topped donuts, he overheard the elven cashier at the counter yelling into the back room. She was dainty and wore a green skirt and tunic. The small cap on her blond head did little to hide her long, slender ears. She smiled at Graham as she chewed out the worker in the back, "And make sure you don't overdo it on the sprinkles this time, Hugo. Business isn't exactly so hot we can go overboard on the toppings, all right?"

A deep, throaty voice acknowledged her from behind the closed metal door leading to the back room.

The elf said, "Any treat catching your fancy, kind sir?"

Graham looked around to see the gentleman she was talking to. The shop was empty except for him.

The elf raised her voice. "Hey, shortstuff, you hungry for some of our fine confectionaries or what?"

Graham saw she was talking to him. He looked away from the window of donuts and smiled nervously. "I do intend to make a purchase, miss. Just searching for the right snack. They all look so good."

The elf flashed him a wide smile that felt altogether insincere and disappeared behind the counter to retrieve something. He heard her open a drawer and sift through its contents. "Fine by me, little stony fella. Good to know you gargoyles do more than eat lava and suck on pebbles."

Graham replied, "What? Where'd you hear that? We eat normal things like fruits and vegetables."

"And apparently the fatty snack on occasion, right?" She popped up from behind the counter and deposited a stack of napkins next to the register. She adjusted her hair net and waltzed over to Graham. "Can't say I've ever seen one of you guys in the flesh." She poked at his orange belly. "Your lot is a bit reclusive, aren't they?"

"Hey!" he protested.

She withdrew her slender finger and flashed him an embarrassed look. "Oh, you're soft and squishy. Thought you'd have rock hard abs. Of course, your skin is a little like sandpaper." She plopped her probing finger in her mouth to cool the self-inflicted brush burn on her fingertip.

She turned her back to him and set forth to straighten a rack of breads. "Just grab my attention when you're ready, sweetie? Say wave those cute little adorable wings of yours when you've decided, and I'll be right with you, okay?" She reached to pat his wings.

He twisted away from her so she couldn't grab hold of them. He was furious at having his wings described as cute. He had flown higher than any in his class on his First Flight and over the past year earned the admiration of almost everyone in his village with his impressive flying ability. All except Blord and his band of stooges treated him with respect. He was disappointed in himself for lumping the elf's curiosity in with the foul bully. He looked at the gentle elf. How was she to know he was still a little sensitive about his tiny wings? He had thought with the intense work out he had given them every day since his First Flight they would have grown a little. No such luck. They were just as small and dainty as before. His father called them hummingbird-strong, probably the closest his dad had ever come to a compliment. Graham would take what he could get in that area. He didn't exactly care for his dad comparing him to such an insignificant bird, but he also knew he would never draw comparisons to the eagles and hawks of the world. He'd have to settle for speed and agility over might and size.

"Touchy little guy, aren't you?" She returned to her spot behind the counter, looking wounded.

Graham lied. "Sorry, they're still a little sore from flying all night to get here. This is my first time in New Asgard." He left out the part that he had spent most of the flight on the back of his hero, The Flying Mummy.

"First-timer, huh? Well, make sure you go see the palace. It's a real gem. And you got to get down to the harbor. There's always someone making a scene at The Jolly Merman. It's a little fishy down there, but nothing a big strapping fellow like yourself can't handle."

Graham smiled. Despite getting off on the wrong foot, he liked the elf. She was plucky and headstrong. She reminded him of his sister. "I'll try. Thanks."

The elf smiled. This time it was sincere.

The door to the shop opened and Graham saw two children enter. One was a goblin and the other was a mystery. She had a hood on and it was pulled far down. He could only see her lips and small chin. Her skin was a light green, he could tell that much. She hung her head low and whispered to her companion. The goblin waved at the elf and disappeared behind the large rack of fresh bread with his hooded companion in tow. Both wore ragged, layered clothes that identified them as from a lower caste. Probably street urchins or beggars. Graham wondered if they even had the money to buy a single pastry.

The elf apparently wondered the same. She looked unnerved by the new customers. She made a show of hollering back to Hugo. "Getting pretty busy up here. Got some customers."

"Yeah, well take care of them, Lil. I'm up to my elbows in dough and losing the fight."

Graham saw Lil's face tighten. Hugo had basically announced he was tied up and not available to help.

Graham couldn't see the pair of ne'er-do-wells, but their whispering grew more intense. What Hugo had said pleased them. Graham was getting a bad vibe from them. Was he about to witness a big city crime? Where was his escort? Would the mummy arrive in time to put a stop to whatever misdeed was about to happen?

He looked at the door. As far as he could see, his bandaged escort was nowhere to be seen.

The goblin approached Lil. The elf tensed as the scrawny boy slapped his hand down on the counter. "Fine morning to you, little one."

"A good morning to you, young sir. What can I get you and your companion?"

The goblin leaned against the counter and looked back at the hooded girl. "What did I tell you, sweetie pie? See what a warm welcome we're getting from this fine business. I could tell that was what we were in for the moment I spied this delightful bakery -- top-notch service with a smile."

The hooded girl nodded. "You can certainly spot a good one."

The goblin traced his lean index finger lazily on the counter. He didn't look the elf in the eyes until he ended his sentence. "We are in dire need of everything you've got in your till!"

Graham tensed. The goblin's words couldn't be mistaken. He wanted what was in the register. His steely eyes narrowed as he stared down the elf. Graham slipped behind the bread rack. Had the robbers seen him? If they had, they clearly judged him not to be a threat. He again looked outside to see if his escort was returning. The Flying Mummy was still a no show.

Lil stood frozen, overwhelmed at what was unfolding.

The goblin dropped his cool composure and snapped, "The cash box, you cow. Hand it over." He kept his voice low enough so Hugo in the back wouldn't catch wind of what was happening under his nose.

The hooded girl moved closer. Something wasn't right with her. Graham swore he heard hissing coming from under her hood.

The goblin glanced away from his companion. "Looks like she's not going to be any help. Work your magic, sweetie."

The girl dropped her hood and Graham saw her for what she was. A nest of snakes for hair, the scaly skin, the concealed eyes -- she was a gorgon, daughter of Medusa. Graham knew the magic was held in the gorgon's eyes. With her back to him, he was in no danger.

Lil, however, had not taken her eyes off the girl. Graham saw the elf had been turned to stone, her tiny body fixed in a frozen cringe.

The goblin slipped around the corner, ignoring the statue next to him. The gorgon returned the hood to her head and joined him. They opened the drawer and removed the cash with experienced hands.

"Jackpot, Cassie. We really hit it big this time. Who'd have thought this little place would be such a gold mine." The goblin stuffed the bills and coins in a shoulder sack. The gorgon did the same. In less than a minute, they had completed their transaction and were heading for the door.

The goblin shouted loud enough for Hugo to hear, "Much obliged. I'll be sure to send my friends a callin' to your fine establishment. Can't say enough about your excellent service. You folks really care." The two thieves raced out the door.

Hugo called back to them. "Thank you, kind sir. Word of mouth is always appreciated."

Graham held his breath a moment longer. They hadn't seen him and they were getting away. His brow furrowed. He needed to act. He stepped out from behind the bread rack and approached the stone elf. He poked at her skin. It was as hard as his grandfather's. He looked out the front window to see the two culprits darting down a far alley. The goblin wore a carefree grin.

He whispered to the elf. 'I'll make this right."

Just then, Hugo chose to grace the front with his presence. With flour still covering his forearms, the immense ogre barged in through the back door. It scraped against the elf, almost knocking her over. Graham reached out and steadied the statue.

Hugo caught sight of him and the open cash drawer. His face drew back into a grimace. His eyes played over Lil and her stony condition. "Gargoyle, what have you done?"
Graham backed away, angling himself toward the front entrance. "It wasn't me, sir. It was a pair of street urchins. They came in and turned her to stone."

Hugo roared. The long hairs on his back stood. Graham knew that ogres were overall gentle creatures unless backed into a corner. Then, their berserker natures took hold and what resulted was never pretty.

"You did this? You turned my darling Lil into stone?" The ogre lunged at Graham. His bulk crashed into the rack of bread. It clattered to the floor, spilling loaves everywhere.
"No, it wasn't me. I'll show you. I know where they went." Graham stumbled out the front door with Hugo emerging right behind him.

The young gargoyle took to the air, his wings a blur. He zoomed high and then arced toward the alley the real thieves had used.

Hugo bellowed, "Stop, thief!" The ogre tripped over a family of gnomes and fell to the cobblestones. His double chins slammed into the hard stone roadway. He waved a fist at Graham." Guards, help me. That little pipsqueak turned Lil into a statue with his freaky gargoyle magic."

Graham wanted to correct the ogre, tell him that gargoyles didn't have any magic, but knew it was not the time or place. He looked over at the rapidly approaching squad of guards. His escort was not among them. He knew if he stopped to explain himself to the guards, the trail would go cold. He needed to go after the goblin and gorgon on his own.

Decisively, he flew into the tight alley, disappearing around a bend in hot pursuit with no inkling what he would do when he caught up with the two young felons.

Chapter 3
SLY SCROLLING

Flenn knew she shouldn't be snooping around in her brother's room, but she felt justified in her little crime. After all, her father had allowed Graham the privilege of going to New Asgard without her. She fumed, knowing such a trip was wasted on her brother. He'd probably spend the whole time gazing up at his idol and not at all the breathtaking wonder around him. She had studied so much about the city as a Level Three student that she could draw a map of it from memory. Her brother was a homebody. Why did he get the chance to expand his horizons and not her? She was the one who wanted to strike out and see all of Cascade. She thought to her future and what her adult life would be like. She'd leave the gargoyle village, maybe petition to be an ambassador for her people. They were closed off from Cascade. No one represented them in New Asgard, despite being asked to send an emissary by Odin himself on three separate occasions. With her people's laid back nature, it was a wonder they had ever worked up the nerve to leave Earth for Cascade. She was sure many on the council hated the inconvenience of having to pass through a dimensional gate when it was time for them to ascend a church and take their rightful places as guardian statues.

She refocused her effort on finding the scroll. She knew Graham still held onto it, having seen him take it out to the woods at least twice since their grandfather had passed. She had tailed him one night and watched him step through the open gate only to return a few minutes later appearing equal parts sad and overjoyed. With him away, it was her turn to use the spell. If Graham, Mr. Straight-And-Narrow, could break the rules and cross over to Earth then she could too. Their father would be dismissed from his spot on the council if Graham were ever caught. She really wanted to see what drove him to commit such a risky crime. She suspected he was visiting their grandfather in his resting place and was jealous he hadn't invited her to come along. Probably didn't want her to get in trouble.She went through his bookshelf, looking behind each book. She thought she had found it behind the first volume in The Flying Mummy series, but the tiny scroll hidden there was for a spell designed to increase the size of a creature's wings. She recalled when Graham had sent away for the silly spell. It had been an ad in the back of a Flying Mummy comic book that had spurred him to purchase such a spell. She had told him it was a scam, that no magic bought through the mail could help him with his tiny wings, but he hadn't listened.

He had tried the spell in the bathroom every night for two weeks before finally abandoning it. Why had he kept it? She slipped it back in its hiding place and moved onto the closet.

She abandoned her search of his impossibly disorganized closet in less than three minutes, empty-handed and growing nervous. Her parents were due back from their night out in half an hour. If she didn't find the scroll soon, she'd have to call the whole mission a wash. She refused to do that. When would her brother be away from the house overnight ever again? It wasn't like he ever did any sleepovers and she knew he wouldn't suddenly become a world traveler and set out to see the three other major cities in Cascade.

It was now or never. She glanced around the room, wondering where he would hide such a large scroll. Rolled up, it would be awkward to stow away. It suddenly clicked. Storing it rolled up would be too much of a hassle. Unrolled, it could be kept flat and take up much less space. She spied her brother's prized wall hangings. A small poster of The Flying Mummy leading the Eternity Guard in battle against the Zombie King hung over his desk. She thought it too small to cover the scroll, but checked it just the same. She carefully removed the two lower thumbtacks to find a pink school referral slip tucked away. She read over it. Her brother had apparently stood up to Blord in the playground yet again and earned himself another lunch detention. The bottom of the slip was unsigned. She checked the date. Three days ago. He had kept it secret from his parents so he could go on his trip. If he had shown them this, their father would have surely grounded him indefinitely. She frowned, disappointed she hadn't found the referral earlier and used it to her advantage in some way. She slipped it back behind the poster and affixed the tacks in their original holes.

The large poster of The Flying Mummy battling Professor Scarab mounted above Graham's bed was certainly big enough to hide the scroll. She hopped up onto his bed and removed the four thumbtacks along the bottom. She lifted up the bottom half and hit paydirt. The parchment was taped to the wall halfway up. She slipped under the poster, leaving the bulk of it to flap down over her wings, and slowly pried the scroll from the wall. She removed the tape with care, placing the six strips of clear tape on the edge of Graham's desk so they could be reused upon her return. She unfurled the scroll and confirmed it was indeed the teleportation spell needed to open and close the gateway. She raced to her room to retrieve her sandals, a lava beetle lantern and a light jacket.

As she zipped up her jacket, she eyed the living room clock. She had twenty minutes. It would be calling it close. While in her room, she had unlocked her window in case she would need to sneak back in. She quickly wrote a note complaining of a tummy ache and how she was going to bed early. She left it on the kitchen table and hoped they would not bother to check up on her. That might buy her a few minutes. She went out the front door, being careful to lock it. The will-o'-wisp floating about in the porch lantern tsk-tsked her. She squinched up her face and stuck out her tongue at the light pixie. Thank goodness the little creature couldn't talk or it would surely squeal about her absence.

She glanced down the main road leading to the village. It was so rare that her parents took time for themselves, that Flenn knew her mother would squeeze every last second out of the evening, much to her father's dismay. He hated going out in public, a trait he shared with Graham. She frowned, once again peeved that her brother was receiving such an undeserved reward.

She struck out into the forest, swatting to the side the vines and branches that crowded in tight. The path to the summoning stone was more overgrown than before. She kept the scroll tucked safely away in her jacket. No sense trying to read it on the way and risk skewering it with an errant branch or thorny vine.

***

Behind her a tall, barrel-chested gargoyle stepped out of the shadows and grinned. His black eyes tracked her progress through the thick underbrush. The gargoyle rubbed his hands together, his thoughts flush with cruel intent.

Satisfied Flenn had just enough lead that he wouldn't lose her, Blord stalked into the forest.

ZOMBIES, GARGOYLES & DRAGON NEGOTIATORS, OH MY!

2012-01-13T13:56:32-05:00

Okay, so here's what's on my plate for the next six months.

TURNCOATS: Two edit pass-thrus are done, and I'll sit down next week and read the whole book through in four days to get the big picture of how it holds up. February is reserved for my beta-readers to get their mitts on the manuscript and give me feedback. March is the month I make corrections and then April is when I make the big push to send it out to agents. I have to confess I haven't pursued sending any queries for anything since last July. I'm hoping to query with much more vim and vigor this year.

GRAHAM 2: FLENN'S FOLLY: This sequel to GRAHAM is really exploding on the page. I plan on writing the book in January and February. It looks to be about 40,000 words and 5,000 are already done thanks to starting it this week. It's been a joy returning to these characters and I think readers will love seeing Graham sharing the spotlight with his sister on this much bigger adventure. Sure, our little gargoyle has taken his first flight, but he's soon discovering there's a whole wide world out there ready to swat him down just for looking at them funny. In April and May, I'll test-drive this manuscript by reading it to the class that is the authority on Graham's life, my current class. They love the little scamp and will be very pivotal to me fine-tuning the book. May will have it go out to my beta-readers and then final edits will be in June. My plan is to debut it as an e-book on this site by the end of the summer. Liking this book so much that a third book might be waiting in the wings for early next year.

NED FIREBREAK: Lots of great ideas for this project are filling up my inspiration journal. The plan is to start this in April and finish it by December. It's going to be a really fun project with vivid characters that will rewire the damsel-in-distress/knight-to-the-rescue genre.

Along the way, I plan on final edits to STOMPER REX so it can also be added to the website as an e-book. Look for that in the summer.

Up next: An exclusive preview of the first three chapters of GRAHAM 2.

IT'S DONE!

2012-01-09T16:28:30-05:00

TURNCOATS is complete!

I'll have a post later this week detailing my next steps with this delicious manuscript. Know that I'm making a big push to get through all the editing and revising in time to pitch it to agents in April. More about my plans for the next six months in a more detailed post.

APOCALYPSE IS NOW!

2012-01-01T13:01:28-05:00

I love end-of-the-world fiction. Doesn't matter how the world ends; whether it be a large chunk of space rock whose commute through the galaxy coincides with our orbital path or the universal equalizer of an EMP blast high overhead or the more visceral threat of the undead reanimating, I can't get enough of the doomsday scenario. I love me atomic wastelands, roving bands of mutants and rag-tag survivors making a last stand. Apocalyptic fiction has become a big thing in the last few years and I'm just ecstatic.

It got me thinking recently how I would fare in a world gone mad. Not very well, I fear. I'd like to think of myself as a flexible survivor, but when I inventoried my true assets and deficits when faced with outrunning a rabid horde of zombies or helping rebuild society with my extensive knowledge of weapons or gardening, I fall woefully short of the cut.

Below are the reasons why I wouldn't make it past the first week of any brave, new world:

1.Caffeine. I'm horribly addicted to a high level of caffeine consumption on a daily basis. When I try to cut it out, I get dizzy, nauseous and vomit. Even if that cleared up after the first few days, I'd have to hole up somewhere and wait it out. And as we all know, alien death squads, the former dead and angry mutants don't play by the rules of Five-Mississippi.

2.Marketable Skills. With the collapse of our society, having an experienced trigger finger and a green thumb will be in high demand. Any remotely organized refuges with thoughtful Honey Do lists of who they need on staff will just turn me away. Drawing cute aliens, writing escapist stories and teaching 5th graders how many degrees are in a pentagon rank low on the skills needed to land an express pass into the world's most elite gated communities.

3.Pop Culture Withdrawal. My daily diet of television, comics, books and music would evaporate in snap. Long would I languish on how the world ended when I still had 64% of my DVR filled. I'd never see how CHUCK ended. My extensive backlog of HOUSE HUNTERS episodes would go unwatched. The depression I would lapse into at having all these bright shiny things taken away would make me easy pickings.

4.My Family. We never arrive on time to anything. The moment's notice edict with travel during a world-shattering disaster would mean: a) Forget outrunning any nearby rising oceans, b) end of the line for any supply handouts from the soon to be destroyed government-run relief facilities, c) an uncanny imitation of a slow-moving gazelle at the fringe of the herd easily plucked up by the nasty flock of vampire men who have infested the planet or d) all of the above.

5.Denial. As much as I read about how to survive the end of the world, the psychological stress of such an event would play a lethal game of Freeze Tag with my decision-making skills. It's one thing to be able to quickly order off the Taco Bell drive-thru and entirely another to have the wherewithal to select which subway tunnel leads away from the cavern loaded down with subterranean unmen.

As you can see, I'm not going to be the extreme survivalist you want on your crew as you brave radiated cities, fight off disfigured fish people or hopscotch through a magma mine field courtesy of the supervolcano that now occupies the greater part of the ATL.

It all makes me wonder if I'd be a better candidate for time travel. Surely I'm not that chronologistically impaired. But that's a post for another time and place.

NOVEMBER FLU BY

2011-11-29T20:09:22-05:00

This was a first for me. As a teacher, I found my sick days comprised mostly of a day off here or there for the 24-hour bug or taking time off because of a sick child. I was getting pretty consistent at only missing one or two days a year. Well, along came the last week of October and that record changed. We had just tracked in for only a day and I was feeling altogether funky. I woke up the next morning sick as a dog. I took the day off, thinking it was another 24-hour bug. Twelve days later of being bedridden and very out of it, I had to admit I had just endured my first run-in with the full-blown flu. And it was nasty. Constantly weak, achy and no appetite. I dropped fourteen pounds in the first two weeks and it showed. In all my years of teaching, I had avoided the flu shot every year, thinking my mighty immunity streak would hold. After this illness, I can safely say that won't be the case anymore. I was out for two weeks, nine days from my class. Even when I came back on the third week, I mustered only two half days and barely got through two full days before the week was over. Now, five weeks after the illness began, I still have a breathy cough that flares up after I speak for any length of time. The dreadful aspect of being so far gone was that my ability to concentrate was next to nil. I didn't read a single book or comic for two weeks. That was unheard of. I was always running around with my nose in a book. Forget even trying to write my own creations.

So November passed on by, and I didn't do any writing of TURNCOATS. If I had, I would've been done. It's the first real break I've taken from writing in the three years since I started seriously working on novels. I'm happy to say that Thursday and Friday night this week are dedicated to wringing out another chapter, and that I'll be forging ahead on completing a chapter a week of TURNCOATS for the next three weeks. With my long December/January track-out looming large, I know I can knock out the end of my zombie book and also put a big dent in GRAHAM 2.

My students during my absence were so patient and kind. I really appreciated their understanding as I came back and struggled to make it through those initial post-illness work days. Look for blog posts to resume on a regular basis with the advent of December. Just wanted to post this to let you know why my long absence from this site.

CHECKING IN WITH ZOMBIES

2011-10-14T15:57:48-04:00

Okay, I have to admit to being a huge zombie fan. I read a ton of zombie books, follow THE WALKING DEAD in comic form and on TV and especially love all the YA zombie books that are starting to show up. It's not the gore and body parts that captivate me. I actually have a pretty low tolerance for that. It's the on-the-run vibe, the intense character moments, and the big question of what next that I find so appealing about zombie fiction.

Since I wanted to do a project that would have a very dark edge to it, I found myself drawn to trying my hand at a zombie book. The title came to me: TURNCOATS. With the title, the central conceit played out in my mind immediately. A living teenage boy, Nathan, is visited by his sister's best friend, Trina, days before the true zombies show up. The hitch, Trina has been dead for over a week herself. She warns Nathan of the impending apocalypse and the two of them soon see the world around them descend into chaos. Trina has visions and nightmares that tell her Nathan is the key to ending the evil invasion that is spreading with every bite.

The two, along with a small group of friends and family set out in the changed world to be greeted with mistrust from both the living and the dead. Nathan is branded a traitor for being with a zombie and Trina is shunned by the ravenous creatures that grow in numbers with every day.

The first book, OVERRUN, is about set-up and action with heaping helpings of swell character moments. It's been the most rewarding book to write, and I can't wait to see it unleashed on the world.

I found writing such a full-throttle story held many attractions. It got me writing faster because of the intensity of the action. That really pushed me to reach the end of a chapter whenever I sat down to write.

I found inspiration from my own experiences. When Nathan flees the grocery store with his mom in the back of a watermelon truck, that came from my teen years working as a produce clerk and unloading umpteen watermelons from the back of a straw-laden truck bed. Of course, I never used the melons to fend off a throng of zombies. Either way, its back-breaking work.

The kudzu sequence came to me after my children pointed out a massive mound of kudzu piggybacked on a tree making it look like a stooped green gorilla. I then began to wonder if kudzu could be a possible hiding place from zombies. Adding that element, keenly placed the setting in the South. North Carolina to be exact.

TURNCOATS is a book that is the most alive of any of my creations. Sort of fitting since it's all about dead folk. I plan on doing edits in the next two months and start out the new year pitching it to agents.

As you can see from the counter, I made my 65,000 word goal today. Well, the story still has a few more pages. Probably about 5-7,000 more. I'm hoping to finish it next week.

Now, I have to go proof the last three chapters. If you need me, I'll be knee-deep in the thesaurus looking for fitting replacements for dismembered and medulla oblongata.