Irons In My Fire

this may actually be the cover of a book; anyway, pinterest
I am coming increasingly more and more aware of the fractured nature of my readers' understanding of what the deuce I am up to.  That's okay, it is fractured to me as well, so it's not really your fault at all!  Perhaps I will be able to alleviate some of this confusion.

After some discussion with a few members of my family, I am coming to grips with the probable fact that I will not be able to tackle Gingerune again until I get back home.  Something remarkable may turn up between now and December, but I think I will not be able to handle the crushing weight of the thing until I am back in my familiar hunting grounds.  I have more or less come to grips with that.  So for now, I'm editing Ethandune, opening up my next novel in the increasingly lengthening train of novels, and poking into a few of the others to see where they might go.
Main character: Simon! 
Eh, the plot?  What begins as a case of civil unrest which must be quietly hushed up turns personal for Goddgofang in this fast-paced opening piece of a series.

He laughed in that old way of his, with a slight husky catch and the whiteness still about his mouth, and flung an arm round my shoulders, turning me to the horses. “I can’t lose you, Simon! I have a handful of men to call upon whom I can trust, and you are for sure the foremost among them. I can always depend upon you to have my back.”
Who's the guy? Raymond St. Jermaine.
Why do you care?  In the midst of a dysfunctional family, Raymond bears the responsibility of the family estate and keeping the name of the St. Jermaine family from falling into disgrace - but his family is not grateful.

"Don't push me, Geoffrey. I will happily stand for manslaughter."
Court du jour: Goddgofang and Bruin.
What is going on?  The sins of the fathers are not always remembered, and when they come back around to bite, Goddgofang and his brother have to determine what is happening to them - or go insane.

“If she died… If he died, she would still not come. Softly!—softly! …But if she died…” His lips spread in an expression of intense satisfaction and horror.
Members of the Equestrian families: Simon, Goddgofang, Raymond, etc...
And they are doing...? With his parents yanked off at the start of the shore season to attend an emergency political meeting, Goddgofang is left in charge of the youth of the family.  At loggerheads with his cousins over a potential beau, the summer season grows increasingly less enjoyable as the weeks go by.

He turned exasperatedly from the fireplace. “That you should have chosen now to go out of your head,” he said, 
“when your father is not here to help you, borders on the perverse—even for you!”
Orderlies: Filigree, Alwin Herro
Marching orders: Upon coming back off the frontier, ambassador Filigree Drakeshelm stops off at the Hunlaw-gang garrison for the night.  When the garrison is attacked by Steppe-Wolf tribesman and the commanding officer is crippled in the action, Filigree decides to stay on to assume command until other arrangements can be made.  The long winter is ahead, the garrison is cut off, the soldiers are restless and tribesmen close in...

His good hand clenched until the blunt nails forced apart the creases in his palm. Glory—dead. His own leg shattered so that he could not even do Rounds with the help of a crutch. This fair-haired, dragonhelm’d wench to assume command—! It was too much. The insult was too high. He wanted to give her a left hook to the jaw with such a ferocity that his drug-crazed mind half believed he had done it. He wanted to hit her. He wanted to hurl her back through the doorway. He wanted to do a lot of things to her, and from the look on her face he saw she perceived many of these things herself.
The side of her lips kicked upward sardonically. “Good-night, Commander. I will be back through in the morning.”

Talldogs is the next book I'm working on; I started at Page One this morning.  Beginnings can be a roughish business, but I think I have a decent start for a first draft.  Meanwhile, the editing of Ethandune goes on.

5 ripostes:

  1. This post is so full of promise of Brilliance To Come that it makes me VERY excited. I cannot wait to hear more about these stories as they come and on a randomish note: HOW DO YOU RACK UP WORDCOUNT AT SUCH A BEASTLY-FAST RATE?

  2. 1. Writing is pretty much all that I do.
    2. I have to actually come into the living room and plug into the internet in order to be distracted.
    3. My favourite place to write is the kitchen. Which is not the living room.

    It also helps that I show my husband what I write at each stage: I like to have something to show him at the end of each day, which perforce pushes me onward! It can make me worry about writing something that he likes rather than writing the story, but I'm getting over that. And in general he likes what I write anyway, except when it's painful or sad or gut-wrenching or morbidly introspective... You know, what I write. :P

    /tongue in cheek.

  3. I AM SO EXCITED *jumping up and down* Jenny dear!! these stories sound so interesting. Each little one pulls at me with interest, rather breathlessly. Please do tell us more about them, the more you get the chance =)

  4. So much brilliance, so much prospective promise, and you've only given us this small taste?! I don't know whether to be frustrated or excited. Jenny, how do you manage it? You've secured the Muse of fire well and truly; any chance you could lend her to the rest of us for a spell?

    I just love your stories. ^.^

  5. Uh, well, generally I panic and spontaneously combust. That is how I manage it. Securing muses of fire is not restful, trust me. I don't get a lot of sleep when I'm "in the zone," as it were... I also don't handle stress well, which results in elevated heart rate, uneven breathing, pacing, a choleric humour thrown wildly out of balance, and, under severe provocation, the acute desire to murder something.

    If you want to try handling my muse, by all means do. I would like to see what happens. The real hero, I should here point out, is my husband, who manages to keep me sane, fed, clothed, and more or less alive while managing to scribble something decent from time to time. O_o