Skip to main content

And now for something totally different...


Here's my promised short story, Shag Rocks (a little long at 8,000 words, but who's counting). 

When a strange man shows up at one of the remotest places on earth, South Georgia Island, new government officer, Ally Waddell, is faced with the challenge of her young career.


Available now:


Kindle/Amazon link (Kindle only $0.99):  


Createspace link (paperback):

https://www.createspace.com/4245730

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

hopeful quote

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”

A long awaited...snippet?

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’. “Randa, 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. “O…

a time for everything...

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…