Alpenglow in Huork, Nordhiem (or a facsimile of...)
My goal prior to 2012 was a modest one, and that was to reach my goal of 50k words. That is -- half a book, and half to go. I can safely say, as of this writing, "Prince of the Furies", is at 50,200 words and climbing. Nowhere to go but up from here. Things are getting thick for my crew and trouble is brewing on the horizon. Nothing like a horrible creature to make a troubled year complete.
Pope John Paul II, in his Letter to Artists, quotes the following verse from a Polish poet, Cyprian Norwid: “Beauty is to enthuse us for work, and work is to raise us up”. And later he adds: “In so far as it seeks the beautiful, fruit of an imagination which rises above the everyday, art is by its nature a kind of appeal to the mystery. Even when they explore the darkest depths of the soul or the most unsettling aspects of evil, the artist gives voice in a way to the universal desire for redemption”
As the Lords of Nordhiem takes shape, currently at 75k words, I realized it's time for a snippet. An older chapter, here we revisit Andro and his infatuation with a certain Randa (not to worry, folks -- it's still a fantasy). Enjoy:
Frost hung thick
and the night deepened. Those about the fire had no complaints, tossing logs into
the heady blaze. Ashes soared into the sky swiftly snuffed out by an autumn
wind. Folks came and went – the heartiest not ready to call it a night. But
Randa had enough and stood to depart some time before midnight. Andro was quick
to offer escort. She shrugged her shoulders in her usual impassive manner. He
took it as ‘yes’.
where are you headed?” hollered Rogan. He could not resist but laugh at the
poor display of Andro chasing at her heel. “The road is the other direction!”
“I know my
way, Rogan. I wasn’t drinking tonight…not as much as you, at least!”
“Then where are you going?” wondered Andro at her
back as they left the others behind.
A time for everything sometimes means, a time for nothing. Well, not actually nothing, but as far as my imaginary world, not much at all. Hard to say what keeps me away -- actually, I know very well, but won't bother you with the details. Life has a way of interfering with fable. Pesky life.
In no way do I compare with Tolkien, who was a professor and determined and pretty much a genius. But I do find glimpses of similarities, aside from creating an imaginary world. J.R.R. was by no means a prolific writer: how long did it take for him to write the Hobbit, LOTR, and Silmarillion (which he never finished)? A lifetime. I'm trying not to take a lifetime, but in reality, I haven't written much in months, aside from a poem and some corrections. Not making excuses, but that's the life of a storyteller. A writer no, but creator of things previously yet seen, I'll claim that one. Keep me in mind as I attempt to kickstart Book four, which is well on it's way -- so th…