Monday, 23 March 2015

Dusty Red ~ Part 2

So now we come to Part 2. I will not apologise that it is 'a few days late' as I never said I would post every week. That was my sister's doing, I had nothing to do with it! But as I didn't have any other ideas I thought I'd better go ahead anyway and do Part 2!
But before you read it I have something to say...
I was very disappointed at you readers - not all, some of you were good - but some (about half, if not more) of you, I could name at least three, didn't comment on my post.
Naughty naughty naughty!
If I said, "I command you to comment!" I mightn't get any, but let's see if this works...
I fall to my knees and beg them, "I beseech thee, thou art good people, so I sayeth have mercy! I have no a chance if thou withholdeth thy comments from my eager hand! Pray give, and do not hold back!"
The certain people to whom I was speaking to, stepped back a pace and raised their eyebrows at me. One was heard to mutter, "Whoa, maybe we should leave."
But at that I stand again, "Nay, leave not! As the scriptures say, 'what ever you do for the least of these you do for me'. Likewise, you also ought not to leave me without adhering to my plea."
I now await eagerly for their answer.
So...will you comment? (Comment and say if you won't)
But if you don't, I suppose I'll forgive you, but be warned, soon I'll be writing two stories at once! As with Dusty Red it appears that it is up to you to decide what happens next to the luckless girl who's readers refuse to comment.

I've been informed that it is a bit difficult to locate where my story is situated, and one or two other things. Basically, it's taken off outback Australia, (not America) Kendal is pretty much a bush-ranger (hence the gun) but as there is no real law enforcement in Dusty Town he is allowed to get away with his actions. But after this instalment, I'm not so sure that Dusty Town is in Australia after all...
Well, I'd best be getting on with the story:

Flicks paused then she nodded to Smokey, and passed a few coins across the bar as if nothing had happened, “Just tea please,” she said.

Smokey swallowed then shrugged slightly, turning again to the pot over the fire. Flicks could feel Kendal’s gaze on her but she ignored him steadily. Smokey turned back to Flicks and placed the tea on the bar. A gun roared. Flicks’ hand shot out and pulled the cup forwards.

The bullet grazed her knuckles and she pressed them to her side. Taking the cup in the other hand she drained it quickly and set it down again. “Thanks,” she said, flashing her easy smile at Smokey who was looking at her in surprise.

The tall girl clapped her hat back on, turned on her heal and walked to the door, when she reached it she looked back momentarily and a satisfying glimpse of Kendal’s furious face before she left the room.

The air outside was dry and hot, to put it lightly. The red, sun-baked dust seemed to pump out heat. Flicks untied her horse, and swung into the saddle.
Instead of heading home she turned her mount down the street to a building with a large painted sign over it. The sign read: “Ron’s Rust and co.” Flicks dismounted again and led her horse – which was named Dust Storm – to a small shed at the side of the shop.

The interior proved to be a small stable; two matching brown horses were in two stalls already and Flicks lead Dust Storm to the third and last stall.

After unsaddling and taking off the bridle, Flicks left Dust Storm with a bucket of water and a murmured, “There you are girl,” and a pat on the chestnut’s silky neck. 
Flicks entered the shop by the back door, knocking first and entering at the, “Come in,” from within.

The unusual amount of rusty gizmos and gadgets lying around would surprise most people but Flicks was used to it and threaded her way through them to the old kitchen.

“G’day old girl! Don’t this be a nice surprise!” old Ron’s face creased in a smile which was always ready when Flicks was nearby.

“You’re looking even older than when I last saw you if I do say so,” she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face also, “Been busy?”

“Weel, I can’t be a complainin’ now, I’ve got one or two bits an’ pieces as I’ve been workin’ on, but ‘part of that,” Ron spread his hands wide and shrugged, smiling ingeniously, “It all be good!”

Flicks looked suspiciously at him, “That’s all? No crazy ideas?”

“Ermm, weel, now you says it I can be thinkin o’ somfin’ else,” he trailed off, shifting his feet awkwardly.

Flicks sighed, “What is it this time? An automatic horse harnesser? A lunch cooker? A unrust illusion?”

Old Ron frowned, “What be a unrust illusion?”

Flicks shrugged, “Ive got no idea, I just thought you might.”

“Weel, no, leastways that aint be what I be makin’,” Ron glanced around the room then leaned closer to Flicks and whispered, “I be inventin’ a magic potion!”


I'm quite interested to see where this goes next, so, your options...

1. Then Ron laughed, “Weel, not actually, though some might be regardin’ it as dat.”

2. “No really,” Ron’s deep brown eyes regarded her seriously, and a mysterious edge came into his voice, “I am.”

3. Flicks regarded him with a sceptical expression, “A magic potion? You really must have kangaroos loose in your top paddock.”


I really couldn't help throwing a bit of fantasy/magic in there.
If you thought that the beginning was a little boring, that was all your fault. You all had to choose the most boring option! (Personally nuber 3 was my favourite. 1 was the only one I had no idea what could happen after.) But this time I be thinkin' all de options be intestin' so as no one gets sick o' readin' 'em. 

Now please, Please don't forget to comment and vote, or you'll miss out on all the fun! (And believe me, I had so much fun this time, I be lovin' de way as old Ron talks.)

Have fun!

~ Jane, Misty Maiden

Saturday, 14 March 2015

Choose the Adventure ~ Dusty Red ~ Part One

I've decided to start a story writing thing on my blog, inspired by Gillian's "When Destiny Comes Calling". So, this isn't any normal story writing, yeah I do the writing, but what is different is You choose what happens next.
What I'll do is after every post on "Dusty Red" -as I've called this story thing- I'll give you three options to choose out of. To vote for your favourite just comment on the post and whichever gets the most votes is what I write about next!
No editing whatsoever has been done to this and it is simply for the fun (and practice) of writing for me, and the fun of reading for you. (I'm assuming it's not practice reading for you...)
I can't say how frequent I'll be at doing these posts, it depends if I can bother or how long it takes to think up the story.
Now for the story!

Flicks Tiller had an interesting reputation in her town, often it was said to describe her: “Eyes as green as the Mallee trees and hair as dust-red as the streets of the town,”- which was, ironically, called Dusty Town.

And it was. Very. So were its occupants.

Flicks was no exception, especially after a long ride on her horse. She had just completed such a ride and walked into the tavern for lunch.

 “Look ‘ere! It’s the Tiller kid finally coming to join us,” Kendal’s harsh, cruel voice stood out in the tavern, as her lean and wiry, albeit rather dusty, figure entered though the main door.

The girl’s gaze swept the room for a second then she took off her hat, shaking her hair, and strode over to the bar.

The bar holder was a kind fellow with a smoke coloured beard, for which reason everyone had forgotten his name and called him Smokey.

“What’ll it be today me girl?” he asked, not unkindly.

“Just a plate of grub and a dash of that tea will do thanks,” Flicks Tiller replied, gesturing to the pot over the stove.

“Coming right on, Miss Tiller.”

The large, brawny Kendal snorted, “Well now? Miss Tiller is it? I thought it were Flicks. Don’t yer know ‘er name Smokey? Flicks Tiller it is, not Miss,” he said scornfully.

Flicks ignored Kendal’s comments. Ever since her parents died two years before she had tried to steer clear of him, knowing him as nothing but trouble. But living as she did in small Dusty Town it was impossible for them not to crash into each other sometimes.

Kendal’s two friends, Derron and Lars weren’t so bad, but still, they helped him in his schemes and weren’t the nicest fellows.

Smokey pushed a plate of beef and buttered potatoes across the bar and a cup of tea beside it. Flicks smiled and opened her mouth to thank Smokey when Kendal interrupted again, “Why do we have the pleasure of seeing you here today, Miss Tiller?”

Flicks looked at Kendal, “I don’t talk much during lunch, so if you don’t mind I’ll keep that to myself.”

Kendal scowled, and Flicks looked away, shrugging inwardly. Kendal was a man hard to please.

She was about to grab her plate and cup when the crash of a gun sounded behind her, and the bullet whistled through the air, hitting the tin plate and knocking it and the tea off the bar. There was no doubt as to who had shot. 

Flicks paused then…


Now you can choose what happens next...your three options:

1. She nodded to Smokey, and passed a few coins across the bar, as if nothing had happened, “Just tea please,” she said.

2. Took a deep breath and turned slowly to face Kendal,

“Do you have nothing to do but sit in here and annoy people?” she asked, her eyebrows raised, a picture of complete calm. 

3. Turned around to leave, but a movement in the window caught her eye. A yell burst from her lips as she saw two men at her horse untying the reins. She dashed out the door, leaving Kendal smirking behind her.


Make sure you comment and vote for your favourite!

~ Jane, Misty Maiden

Thursday, 5 March 2015

The Bridge of Anskar

   I've finished the first draft of my novel! It took a lot of work and there were times when I was sure I must have been an idiot to even think of starting. But now The first bit is finished, but now here comes the editing....and the second draft...and the third draft....
   So far it has:
Pages: 121
Words: 39,967
Characters: (with spaces) 208,580 (without spaces) 169,503
Chapters: 12
Paragraphs: 1,250

Here's a link to my Pintrest board: The Bridge of Anskar.

I've written and re-written the synopsis so many times it's not funny but this is what I've ended up with:

When modern Australian girl, Anastasia Newbridge, accidentally stumbles into the land of Eirerandil in its time of greatest peril, she is plunged into the greatest adventure of her life.

With the King on his deathbed, the royals are in chaos as multiple deaths occur under suspicious circumstances. The Crown Prince, Azruen, disappears, and it is up to Ana and her friends to attempt the dangerous mission to rescue him and return him to his rightful position.

But the evil Lady Morgal is powerful beyond belief and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.​ Against such odds can Ana fulfil the ancient prophecies and prove she is worthy of her name?

I've also drawn a map of my world, Eirerandil. I'm not an artist so it took a bit of convincing myself that I could actually do it, but I did. And it wasn't really that hard.

My oldest (positively ancient) sister, Clare, has read the whole thing and critiqued it for me, and I'm currently working on fixing all the random things I wrote...
It can be funny when Clare points out some random thing that doesn't hake sense but it can also be difficult. Apparently my people sleep to much.I must admit, they do. For example, they (MC and three friends) are being chased through a forest...then they get to the beach and - this is really crazy - they sit down and eat something...then the soldiers come along and disturb their picnic...
I'm just a little ashamed of that makes my characters look like hungry idiots! (They're not)

But aside from all that, it was very nice of Clare when she finished reading it to say that it was better then she had expected. Although if you thing about that comment it could be taken as an insult but it wasn't. Besides, we insult each other all the time (for fun of course, we're Aussies!). It could be interesting to know what a complete stranger thinks of us when Clare and I are walking around in the shops dodging packets of frozen potato chips that we are swiping at each other's heads. It's quite should try it!

But back to the point (or the future) I have finished the first draft, but that aint meanin' I'm finished, so to speak. There's a lot more work ahead but I'm looking forward to it.

Now, what am I going to write my next novel about?

~ Jane, Misty Maiden