Jour des Morts

You think Halloween is scary. Just wait for Jour des Morts.
November 2nd. The day after All Souls Day. I write about it in 'Vendetta', the sequel to 'The Fetch'.
Dia de los Muertos.
Jour des Morts.
Day of the dead.
When they must be pacified - with gifts, prayers, homage, candles, incantations.
As it says on Sigurd's tombstone: Non Omnis Moriar - 'I will not die... entirely.'
And they don't.
Wait till November 2nd, and you'll see.

All Apologies

(And no, I am not commenting on the news that Kurt Cobain is the highest earning dead musician!)

My apologies are for my absence from Blogspace. I have been deep deep in Fetch World. Today, I actually finished the first draft of the third novel in that series, provisionally entitled, ‘Ragnarok’ (The last battle for - and destruction of - the Norse Gods).

It is a big moment. There’s so much work yet to do. But having the draft there, even in such a rough form, is a big step forward. I can now go back and work on something. Not just sit in my chair each morning and hope that something comes. Though there are moments during first drafts when I chortle as I write, when it feels like I am taking dictation, they are rare moments. But a second draft! Paper to hold! An ending to be worked towards!

In the Academia in Florence, Italy, in the same room as ‘David’, there are four other Michelangelo sculptures. They are known as ‘The Prisoners’, because they are human shapes, in varying degrees of doneness. It as if they are struggling to free themselves from the rough marble blocks. They are art in limbo - parts of their forms beautifully smooth, others barely marked.

They are like my first draft - a rough hewn shape. But a shape nonetheless. Now I am about to take a finer chisel to it, smooth out more roughness, shape more limbs, find the fingers, seek a face; eventually reach for a polishing cloth, and a brush of the finest hair.

Something solid to work on! Hallelujah!

Rendezvous

The evening began on the bus, meeting one of my few readers, and fellow YA Fantasy Horror writer, James McCann. Discussed the iniquities of editors, usual writer moan. Then met my good friend Michael aka Jungle Boy on Comercial Drive and walked. As usual, much putting the world the world to rights. I believe in the bacchanal, a once in a while chance to drink beer, and talk both sense and non-sense.

I think I wrote one of the key passages of all three Fetch books today. A pivotal moment. First drafts are heaven and hell, both.

The Lesson

How have I blundered? Let me count the ways!

I've been ranting at Blogger because I haven't been able to sign in at will. It always rejected my password. I deleted cookies and caches, changed browser, all to no avail. But did I listen to them when they advised it might be a user name problem? Nay! I just clicked on the user name that came up each time.

So, apologies to the good folk of Blogger and to all the Gods whose names I have called upon in vain. I shall attempt to be a better blogger in the future.

Sounds of Silence

I am trying to post. But I am having huge difficulties logging in. My password is rejected each time. But I will keep trying. But if all three of you who are reading this right now have any ideas, I'd be very grateful to hear them.