#also this damn page. after finishing (the first draft) I woke several times in the night with 'important insight' on what needed editing -

[secretsimpleness]

Is Kesten a kinda stick-in-the-mud who probably works way too much? Yeah. Did I like him from the very first moment he was introduced? Yeah...

The (newly!) Baroness, Kesten Garess / Pathfinder Kingmaker (c) Owlcat Games

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus

Chapter 1- Siros

Chapter Summary: Luwyn and his guardian, Jahal move from their home in Rodan to the beautiful kingdom of Siros. Jahal is exciting about the move, prepared and oddly calm, while Luwyn wants nothing to do with it.

Word Count: 2427

Author’s Note: Draft #2 in on the way and I am so excited! I’ve change a bit to my story, mainly just how the beginning starts. I’d like to say I’ll post a chapter at least once a week, with a decent break between Part 1, 2 and 3. Please enjoy, tell me what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 

WIP Page | Characters 

(Chapter 2 coming soon!)

The wind nipped at Luwyn’s face and the sun beat down on him. The sound of wooden wheels creaking woke him from his nap and he stretched out on the back of the cart as it trudged ahead.

It was a beautiful day; warm for the north, but perfect here in the unfamiliar south. Luwyn groaned.

He hated new places. Strange people and buildings and foods. He wished that he and Jahal had stayed in Rodan. He asked Jahal over and over why they had to move, to which his grumpy old guardian replied, “It’s time.” And that was all he said any time Luwyn asked. “It’s time.”

Time for what? Luwyn thought, his arms folded and face twisted into a pout. Seated among all of their belongings and few pieces of ragged Rodani oak furniture, he looked at his surroundings like it were a filthy stable.

Though he hated to admit it, the countryside of Siros was beautiful; rolling green hills dotted with brilliant, colorful flowers, doves and crows and eagles soared above, hare and deer and elk skittered across the ground, hiding in the safety of their holes or sparse rashes of trees. Clusters of huts grouped together formed the kingdom’s farming villages just outside of the city walls. Children ran around the huts whilst men and women worked the fields. They led oxen with plows on their backs, or gathered vegetables, or tended livestock.

Luwyn hadn’t seen anything that impressive, he thought, until he laid his eyes upon the great golden walls of the capital city of Siros. Two tall doors, the right engraved with the face of a snarling lion, the left with the an eagle’s triumphant sneer, were open, and looked as though they rarely closed. Luwyn looked closely and saw dimples in the metal, as big around as his face, and wondered what could make that kind of mark in solid gold.

Jahal called out from the front of the cart. “Luwyn, come sit up here.” It was the first thing he had said all morning and it surprised Luwyn.

With another groan, Luwyn hopped off of the slow moving cart and nearly stumbled onto the stone street. He righted himself, and jogged to the front of the cart, where Jahal sat. He held the reigns between his chubby fingers lazily and greeted Luwyn with a terse, professional smile.

“Come, sit.”

Luwyn sat down and looked at Jahal with one curious eye. He was a large man, in height and girth, with big hands and tan, leathery skin. His black hair was peppered with grey and pulled back in a balding ponytail. He was gruff and stubborn and loud and loved to call out Luwyn’s flaws. Today, he was oddly quiet and gentle.

“Look around you, Lu,” Jahal said, gesturing to the city around them. “This is Siros.”

Tall buildings made of flawless white marble and polished grey stone stood tall and close together. Little huts and stalls sprinkled between their taller counterparts, and people moved throughout each building. Women holding their young children close by, lords strolling here and there in ornate robes and suits with gold and silver trim, followed by pompous ladies in their flamboyant, and expensive looking, fancy gowns. Overdressed for midday, Luwyn judged in his head. Guards in deep crimson suits sprinkled at every corner, silent and stern. Music floated gently in the breeze, bouncing off of the towers. Pleasant smells of sweet buns and pies and spices he couldn’t recognize ran through his nose, and, for a second, he forgot his displeasure of foreign places.

It was nice and pleasant and all, more open and warm than the bleak grayness that was Rodan, but it was unfamiliar. It wasn’t his home.

“Why did we move, Jahal?” Luwyn asked after a beat, his arms tightly crossed. “We were perfectly fine in Rodan.”

“It’s time, Lu,” Jahal said flatly.

“Jahal.”

Jahal snorted. “I bought a few stalls at the market, and a stable. A nicer house too...we were stifled in Rodan! Dim and rain and cold. That damned, cramped brick cave.” He spat. When Luwyn didn’t respond, he followed with, “I’m sure you’ll like it, Lu.”

Luwyn rolled his eyes and slouched down. Decision making was not his strength, but he had already resolved that he hated the house and the city before he even saw it. It was probably a decent house, better than the musty, crowded brick building they lived in. But it wasn’t the same. “I still don’t see any reason for moving,” he said finally. “I don’t like it here. It’s a bit...much, don’t you think?”

Jahal chuckled and took a deep breath. “Aye, the upper level, even parts of the Mid, have always been posh and extravagant.”

Luwyn rolled his eyes. “Understatements,” he whispered under his breath.

“What was that?” Jahal barked. Anger flared in his dark eyes and his lip quivered. There was the Jahal he knew.

Luwyn lowered his head. “Nothing, Jahal.”

Jahal was not Luwyn’s father—he scarcely acted like it and reminded him everyday. He didn’t have to, Luwyn could see the differences; Jahal’s tan skin was sun-worn, and use to be more fair, while Luwyn’s was a natural honey color. His mop of hair sat on his head, the color of dull, spun copper, and his eyes were like amber. Jahal’s features were square and severe, his body big and hardy, Luwyn was softer, more angular, his build slimmer. He looked different from Jahal, everyone in Rodan and he even stood out from the pale, sun-kissed round faces of the Sirosi.

Jahal was never too emotional and rarely comforted Luwyn; he treated him like an apprentice or a squire rather than his ward, or perhaps even his son. It frustrated Luwyn to no end. He also rarely spoke of Luwyn’s parents. “I could never be your father. I just owe him a debt,” is what he would tell Luwyn whenever he asked about them. He wanted so badly to know about his parents, and for some reason, Jahal thought that picking up their life and hauling it to a new kingdom would do the trick.

“Up there, that’s the Palace of Arandus. The royal family lives there.” Jahal pointed. High above them, an obnoxious cluster of gold, marble and crystal towers swirled together around a robust castle and glistened under the sun. It sat on the top of a hill, the entire compound nearly half the size of Siros looking over the city, with it’s minarets peeking over the wall. There were rows of curly symbols sketched into the palace walls, just large enough for Luwyn to make out each character. It was some ancient language that Luwyn had never seen, but could somewhat recognize. He found himself trying to sound the words out, and they danced clumsily on his tongue.

“Can you read that?” Jahal broke his concentration. Luwyn lowered his head and shrugged. Jahal chuckled and shook his head. “That’s so far, I’m surprised you’re able to see the shapes from that far, much less understand the god-tongue, or even old Sirosi.”

“God-tongue?” Luwyn’s ears perked. He looked back to the symbols and realized how far they were from the castle, nearly half a league.

Jahal nodded and pointed to two large statues that emerged ahead of them. “That,” he pointed to the left statue, “is Solandus. Dead king of the gods. He ruled as the sun for millennia, until his brother, Oni the Great Void, overthrew him.” The statue, as tall as a building, was the grand bronze depiction of a great bearded man, with curls rolling down his back. He donned elaborate armor and held a greatsword in one hand, and a large shield in the other.

“And that is Arandus, patron god and founder of Siros.” Jahal waved at the other statue. The structure was made of solid gold, and Luwyn started to notice a theme in the kingdom. Pretentious, he thought. The golden statue was slightly shorter than the other, but stood ahead of his bronze counterpart, proud and centered, more prominent in the square. His armor looked light, encrusted with jewels along the chest plate. Gold curls sat underneath a ring with three rubies in the center. A large battle-axe rested under his hand, the blade large and vicious, with an eye engraved where the blade met the hilt.

“God of War and Fortune, eldest son of Solandus he was,” Jahal continued. “Everyone in Siros prays to him, in a language they could never understand, the god-tongue. It was the language Arandus spoke before he united Siros, and it mixed with the common-tongue, creating Old Sirosi. Royals and nobles speak that mostly. Common-tongue for the common folk,” he finished matter-of-factly.

Luwyn stared at the statues, then onto the giant marble temples which, Jahal explained, were dedicated to Solandus and Arandus, respectively. Monks and nobles dressed in silk and velvet robes sauntered in and out, kneeling at each statue then raising their hands in exaggerated worship. Jahal and Luwyn were never religious, and Rodan had no particular gods or goddesses, so this was a strange sight. Luwyn also wondered how Jahal knew so much about about these foreign gods. He swore he even saw Jahal bow his head in respect as the passed each stature. .

Between one temple and another building, sat a little peach tree, probably planted by the monks. Behind the tree, Luwyn saw a girl with black hair in brown robes, watching him and doing a very bad job of hiding. Before he could look again, she vanished and he swiveled his head in search of her.

“What it is, boy?” Jahal questioned, a bushy eyebrow raised.

Luwyn shook his head and sat back, folding his arms, and returned to his internal grievances. A large crowd built up ahead of them, people bunched together and waved and chanted. At the center of the commotion, a palanquin with gold and silver framing and blue curtains sat on the shoulders of burly, scantily dressed servants, each fitted with silver collars. Jahal cursed, and Luwyn knew why. The old man had a sore spot for slavery; the idea of being owned bothered him fiercely. Though, somehow being “in debt” to Luwyn’s father, was not the same thing, he would say.

The palanquin was surrounded by imposing guards, covered with black, spiked armor, wielding iron swords. Each had a grim frown and fierce eyes that stabbed the crowd, pinning them back. Inside sat a figure wrapped in blue velvet and what looked like a fur cloak. He wore a gold band with three rubies set in the center around his golden-blonde curls. He sneered down at the people outside the palanquin. The man barked an order, and his guard cut through the crowd like a knife. He turned and his eyes found Luwyn’s. Luwyn flinched and looked away. When he looked up, the palanquin was gone, followed by the crowd, as it ascended toward the palace, crimson street guards blocking their way.

“King Liandros,” Jahal informed, shaking his head. His face twitched when he said the word king. His hooded eyes were solemn. “Be careful around him, Lu.”

Luwyn gulped and nodded nervously.

They rode through the upper level, down a little hit to the Mid, the middle section of the city. Here, the houses were a mixed of stone and brick and wood, smaller and less expensive looking than their upper level counterparts. They were stacked closer together, and which made the area seem a bit smaller than the upper level, though the whole area of the Mid was nearly twice the size. It felt a little more crowded that the previous level of the city. The people were more modestly dressed, their statues of the gods were smaller and a smooth gray granite.

Luwyn heard the hum of another crowd and looked up. The cobblestone street opened up into a large market area. Stalls and huts were mashed together, with townsfolk trying to sell their wares to anyone who bustled past. Old ladies displayed their homemade breads and jewelry, and men bartered over fruit or weapons. People hurried past each other, rushing to the next stall, then the next.

Jahal slowed the cart to a stop. He hopped off and grabbed the pony’s reins and lead them through the narrow aisles of the market. They reached an empty little stall with a small tarp hut behind it.

“Here’s one of our stalls!” Jahal boomed proudly. It was a modest thing, made of some rickety local wood. The hut behind it smelled of sawdust and mildew. There was no trace of the previous owner, just a little sign with Jahal’s name. Luwyn realized that Jahal never owned a stall at any point in Luwyn’s life. He wondered if Jahal could manage this stall, much less a few more.

Jahal clapped his hands and rushed to unload things from the cart into the hut. Luwyn started to help, grabbing a crate full of horseshoes, when Jahal wrenched the crate from his hands.

“Go and explore the city, Lu,” Jahal said with a gruff, but warm voice. “Get a taste for your new home.”

Luwyn gave him an odd look. This was unusual behavior for Jahal; the calm tone, letting Luwyn off from a chore, he even shot him a little smile. Luwyn stared at his guardian pointedly.

“Thank you,” he said carefully, then slunk off and disappeared into the market.

Luwyn explored the stalls, lazily perusing the different selections of fruits and vegetables, meats and spices. He stopped at a larger stall, lined with colorful tunics, embroidered with little gold vines. There was a hut behind it, the tarp a rich crimson fabric. Luwyn rummaged through the tunics and trousers and vests, when he noticed that no one approached him trying their hardest to sell him something. No one seemed to be working the stall at all. Luwyn looked from side to side and noticed that he was in an secluded part of the market. No one paid particular attention to him, those around napped or were entranced with the attraction of a rare passerby.

He saw a little glint from inside the hut. Something in him told him to move on, explore the rest of the market, or go back to Jahal’s stall. But there was something deeper inside him, ringing in his head, telling him to go inside.

Luwyn looked around again. Satisfied that no one was watching, he stalked around the stall and slipped into the hut.

[canaryatlaw]

alrighty. well today wasn’t bad, not all that much thrilling stuff but nothing too bad either. I was bad again this morning and didn’t go to PT because I wanted to keep sleeping and hey I mean I’m on my period so that’s a good enough excuse right? whatever. I woke back up at 11:20 and got ready for class, then headed out. Got to school, stuck my lunch box in the fridge and dropped my stuff in the PAD office and picked up my civil rights book that I left there on Monday since I was done with my reading and didn't want to lug it back and forth unnecessarily. Civil rights was fine, I wasn’t concerned about getting cold called since I was on Monday, though I did raise my hand at one point to comment on one of the “problems” in the book because it had to do with a qualified immunity defense against a social services caseworker for their actions in a child protection case, so I just commented that everything the problem stated was standard protocol and she would definitely be entitled to qualified immunity for it (qualified immunity generally covers actions government officials take that aren’t blatantly against clearly established law, but can be waived in certain circumstances, whereas absolute immunity is much more difficult to waive and only applies to certain officials like judges and prosecutors). And yeah, that was that. I have to remember to work on our midterm essay prompt for the class which I think is a third of our grade and is due on Monday (and of course I haven’t even looked at the prompt yet) but I should have plenty of time to do that over the week going to and from Cleveland for Wizarding World Cleveland (though probably more on the way back because I may sleep on the way there as we’re leaving at 2 in the fucking morning) so I’m not too worried about that. After class I went back to the PAD office, which pretty much stayed empty the whole time I was there (which was a solid 3 hours) which is kind of odd, but I think my one friend is working now and the other has just been MIA because he was dealing with some family stuff and his grandfather just passed, so I think he was having to go home semi-often to deal with all of that. So it was just me, which is probably good for getting work done purposes. And it was time to actually do my legal drafting assignment, and let me tell you, after bombing the last assignment my LARC Anxiety™ was at an all time high (I know I’m technically in legal drafting now and not LARC, but it’s really just a continuation of the same thing). So now I’m trying to write the damn thing and I’m like. I know what I’m writing is not good, but I just don’t know what the fuck else to write. I provided the law, I cited how the facts apply to the law, and stated what I believe should be done, but like, it feels super repetitive but I just don’t know what the fuck else to say and I have to hit the minimum page amount, which has legit never been an issue for me before because I always have more than enough to say on a subject. So this was painful and like, I finished it but I have so much dread about the assignment and I’m worried I’m gonna totally bomb it and get such a shitty grade in this case that I should be fucking CALI’ing because I clearly know more than literally any other person in the class (and I’m not like, tooting my own horn here, it’s like I’m more of a TA than a student at this point, I end up explaining half of the concepts we’re learning about to everyone else) and I’m just so fucking frustrated over it and don’t know what else to do. Ugh. I finished it around 4:40 though and I’ll review it tomorrow during the day and try to revise what I can before handing it in at class tomorrow night. I ran over to Starbucks when I was done and got a venti pink drink because I needed sugar and I’m such a basic white girl it hurts, but it actually has a lot less calories than their hot drinks made with steamed milk and flavored syrups so 🤷🏻‍♀️. I also got some of their reduced fat coffee cake, which is great. Hung out for a little while longer and then headed up to class at 5:50. I didn’t even attempt to do the reading for secured transactions this week, I just didn’t have the time or strength to do so, and paying attention in class was really not something that was gonna happen, and I can recognize that, so I did some other random stuff and tried to tune in for a few minutes where I could so I would at least have some semblance of what we were learning about. Eventually that ended, I went home and walking back from the train was super cold, which was obnoxious because when I left this morning it was like 60 degrees out, and now it was like 35, and that’s just not cool, So I got home and was settling in, the casually turned on the tv to see what had recorded, only to see I was 38 minutes into the mid-season premiere of Designated Survivor, which I had no clue came back tonight, so I immediately started watching that. I am soooooooooo pissed about Alex being dead though, like I freaking adored her character, she was such a badass female lawyer and I’m going to miss her so freaking much. I do have to say though that it did make for some interesting plot development. I hope we get more stuff with the kids now being that they obviously can’t use the “oh they’re away with their mom” excuse anymore. Hannah of course was back in action and kicking ass, MAH GIRL, she was so great and I appreciate her so much. I absolutely lost my shit during the preview at the end of the episode when they announced FREAKING KIM RAVER is going to be on the show, like I literally jumped out of my seat and like, screamed. So basically, for those of you not familiar with 24, Kim Raver played Audrey Raines, Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland’s character)’s love interest for like two seasons, and they were so perfect together and it was all so heartbreaking because they never got their happy ever after and like, they were my baes before shipping and social media was really a thing, so for her to show up on Designated Survivor and being reunited with Kiefer is definitely not something I ever thought I’d see, and I’m absolutely thrilled at this news. I was actually very invested in Kim Raver at one point because she was also on Third Watch, which was like, my first real tv obsession when I was like 12, and she was in several seasons of that, so I’ve watched a hell of a lot of Kim Raver on my screen, but it’s been years since I have. So yeah, I was pretty pleased to hear that in case you couldn’t tell (lol). I stayed up for a little while longer taking care of some stuff while watching Jimmy Kimmel, then started getting ready for bed and here we are. Tomorrow morning I have to go do this thing that I will explain in more detail after it happens, and like, I feel like it’s gonna be super uncomfortable and I’m really anxious about it all, even though I know it’ll be okay in the end, I just need to get it over with. But yeah, more on that tomorrow. Alright, time for me to hit the hay. Goodnight lovelies. Have a wonderful night.

[char27martin]

How I Got My Agent: Author Michael Haspil

I dreamed of being a writer for most of my life and, although I had undertaken efforts in screenwriting, it wasn’t until 2009 that I decided to commit and try my hand at being a professional author. Always on the hunt for excellent ideas, I kept a journal near my bed so I could write down particularly vivid dreams. One morning, I woke with a doozy. I didn’t remember the dream as a whole, just the overall concept and one line: “I used to hunt vampires for the NSA, now I work vice.”

This was it. This was the one.

This guest post is by Michael Haspil. Haspil is a geeky engineer and nerdy artist. A veteran of the U.S. Air Force, he had the opportunities to serve as an ICBM crew commander and as a launch director at Cape Canaveral. The art of storytelling called to him from a young age and he has plied his craft over many years and through diverse media. He has written original stories for as lon gas he can remember and has dabbled in many genres. However, science fiction, fantasy, and horror have whispered directly to his soul. When he isn’t writing, you can find him sharing stories with his role-playing group, cosplaying, computer gaming, or collecting and creating replica movie props. Lately, he devotes the bulk of his hobby time to assembling and painting miniatures for his tabletop wargaming addiction. Michael is represented by Sara Megibow of the KT Literary Agency and Adrian Garcia of the Paradigm Talent Agency.

In high school, I was editor of our literary magazine and a theater nerd. No one expected me to pursue a career in the military. They all thought I would be an author. I’ve been a play-it-safe adult, but in this case I was so inspired and excited I had to make a change. I was so sure I could succeed that I actually quit my day job.

To say I was naïve is a massive understatement. I undertook the task of turning that one line into the novel that would become GRAVEYARD SHIFT. As I reworked the novel through subsequent drafts, I achieved a point where I thought it was good enough to send out and began a long query process. I lost count of how many agencies I queried. To my excitement, I received requests for pages from many of them. However, the rejections came later. I estimated that my concept was sound, or at least intriguing enough to get me through the door. Since that’s always as far as I got, I rightly assumed I needed work on my craft.

In the fall of 2009, I attended the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Colorado Gold conference. I remember now, with an ironic smile on my face, that I brought miniature business card-sized CDs of my novel, just in case an agent or editor wanted it right then and there. As you might expect, my experience was somewhat different.

I went to a standing-room-only presentation called, “How to Avoid the Slushpile.” The industry information presented was eye opening and disheartening. At day’s end, I drove home in a funk, aware of the colossal dragon that guarded my path to being a professional author.

[5 Important Tips on How to Pitch a Literary Agent In Person]

I stood at the kitchen trashcan and threw away all the little CDs I’d been so proud of a day before and contemplated not returning to the conference. In the morning, I made the best decision I could. I made myself a strong cup of coffee and drove back. That dragon wasn’t going to slay itself. And, if I didn’t know how to do it, then I was damn sure going to learn.

Over the course of the next year, I joined the Pikes Peak Writers, the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, and attended every single workshop they offered. I became active with three critique groups and entered as many contests as I could. I even placed in some of them. All the while, I reworked my novel.

It paid off in 2011 at the Colorado Gold conference.

I signed up for a workshop with an editor from TOR, Moshe Feder. We worked through our pages and he responded extremely well to my work. The next day, I had a scheduled pitch session with him and it was one of the strangest in my experience. I hardly pitched at all! Since he was already familiar with my concept, I answered questions about my world building and further elaborated on the story. When he requested the full manuscript, I emailed it to him moments after the pitch session. (Pro-tip: It pays to have a completed manuscript when you’re pitching.)

Elated, I regaled my critique partners, all of whom were also attending the conference, with tales of my achievement. Laura Main and Anita Romero, from separate critique groups, both said the same thing, “You need an agent right now.”

Sara Megibow of KT Literary, who I had already researched, was at the conference. She had the passion and drive I was looking for. Though her agency rejected an earlier draft, this time would be different. Not only had I significantly reworked the novel since submitting it, I was coming at it from a different angle and with editorial attention. I made plans to attend her presentation “Bang, Zoom, Pow! The First Thirty Pages” and since I pitch much better in person than on the page, I thought I would try to speak to her after her talk.

During the presentation, Sara made numerous gaming, science fiction, and fantasy references and jokes. Long before she’d finished, I knew she was the agent for me. However, I wasn’t the only one with the idea of conducting impromptu pitches after her talk. Quite the line assembled. I exercised my patience and waited. I told her Moshe was interested and asked if she would consider representing me. Sara requested that I also send her the full manuscript.

When I got home, I fired it off to her, clapped my hands, and contemplated my next novel. I’d finished this one, and it was well on its way to publication, or so I believed. (You’d think somewhere along the line I would stop being naïve. You’d be wrong.)

[Want to land an agent? Here are 4 things to consider when researching literary agents.]

Alas, Sara passed on the story. She wasn’t sure it was the right story for her in that iteration, which is agent-speak for she didn’t love it as it was and it still needed editing. Nevertheless, she left a sliver of a window open. Months passed as I waited for the fateful response from TOR. Nothing came. Ever the optimist, I did a major re-edit of the novel and incorporated Moshe’s notes from the workshop. My inbox mocked me with its lack of emails from TOR.

Then, early in 2012, I got the email. It certainly looked like an offer. I forwarded it to Sara and asked again whether she would consider being my agent. It is very important to Sara that she represent the author and not just a single work and that she meshes well with her clients. We had several conference calls to discuss my vision for the series, other works, and to make sure we were the right fit for one another. About a week later, after Sara had checked out my reworked iteration of the novel, I signed with her. It has been the best decision I’ve made in my writing career.

We’ve battled many lesser wyverns and drakes since, but this summer, that big original dragon is going down. In July, my debut novel, GRAVEYARD SHIFT, about an immortal pharaoh and his vampire partner who must ally with an unsavory cast to thwart an ancient conspiracy, will hit bookstores everywhere.

My advice to aspiring authors: Attend conferences. Not only will you get to meet people in person, but you will open yourself up to a wealth of information in a relatively short amount of time. In just a weekend you can download the type of information it would take you months to accumulate on your own. Most importantly, a conference lets you feel out different agents for one who might be a good fit, sit at their tables for a meal, or schmooze at the bar, and interact outside of a formal presentation. The publishing process is a lot lengthier than many of us would like; a good agent and partner will have to be there every step of the way. You must have the same goals and personalities that mesh well with each other.

The biggest literary agent database anywhere is the Guide to Literary Agents. Pick up the most recent updated edition online at a discount.

If you’re an agent looking to update your information or an author interested in contributing to the GLA blog or the next edition of the book, contact Writer’s Digest Books Managing Editor Cris Freese at cris.freese@fwmedia.com.

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