Destiny Governed their Lives at Goodreads

Destin Governed their LivesGoodreads is for readers. It’s a place to check out favourite books and favourite authors. Readers form groups and discuss their likes and dislikes, they share information and write reviews. They can also become fans of their favourite authors and set up virtual bookshelves where they store their books they’ve read, books they’re reading and books they wish to read.

Goodreads is for writers. It’s a place they can create a virtual library of their books so fans can easily find them. They can add information about characters, plots and settings, and they can post favourite quotes from their stories. Writers can promote new books by hosting giveaways of paperbacks.

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Name Dropping Creates Instant Images

Baby cowExert from Pockets of Wildflowers:

My heart leapt, and I spun around to see Harry Graham walking towards me.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” The tall man who always reminded me of Lorne Greene—except I admired the actor—smiled down at me with his corn-on-the-cob-shaped teeth. He appeared ready to dine at a fine restaurant, not tend to cows. Although I didn’t genuinely like the man’s business tactics, he was still a person respected in the community, one who had never said a mean word to me. He was just a jerk, like the guy who doesn’t show up for a date and later says he ran into a buddy and they went fishing, and expects another date just because he really didn’t do anything wrong.

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Does your character drive a 1951 Crosley?

1986 Ford Half TruckI’m not a car person; I’m really not. If one drives by, I can tell you what colour it is, if it’s small or large or a convertible. That’s it. I might be able to identify it if it’s a Ford Focus wagon—that’s what I currently drive. I can also tell you that ten hay bales can be stuffed in the back and there’d still be room for one passenger.

I can distinguish between a car, a truck, a mini-van, a van and an SUV (although this seems to be getting harder each year). But I’ll be honest; I don’t take interest in details unless it’s something I’ve driven and loved.

Ah, my 1982 Ford F-150, midnight blue, 6-cylinder automatic…now, I can tell you all about that. I’ve been under the hood, on top of the engine and at the rear replacing a gas tank. I can tell you the ignition key didn’t unlock the doors or the glove compartment; you needed a second one for that. The locks were manual—you actually had to push them down, but you could also pull them up. You could unlock the vehicle from the driver’s side and the passenger side with the key!—something you can’t do in today’s vehicles.

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Exclusive Interview with Bronwyn Darrow

Bronwyn Darrow is one of the main characters in Shadows in the Stone. Recently, I had the pleasure of speaking to him. This interview takes place in the same time frame as the opening scene of the fantasy novel. It provides a peek into Bronwyn’s world before the action gets underway.

Diane: Welcome to my farm, Bronwyn. I hope you don’t mind sitting here in the barn to talk; I don’t want to miss this beautiful day.

Bronwyn: No, I don’t mind. I love being outside. (pulls up a hay bale, sits and leans against a stall gate)

Diane (grabs her own hay bale, plops it against the opposite side of the six-foot aisle running through the barn and sits): Great because I also love the smell of this place.

Bronwyn (grins): Me, too. I love being around horses. It makes me feel free. (tosses his chin toward the pasture where our pony grazes beside the miniature donkey). What breed is that? I don’t think we have that type in Ath-o’Lea.

Diane: It’s a Haflinger.

Bronwyn: He’s a stalky creature. Gelding?

Diane: Yup, about five years old. The breeds supposed to be sure-footed, great for mountain trails.

Bronwyn (flashes his dark brown eyes at me): Can I ride ‘em when we’re done?

Diane: Sure, as long as you don’t take him on the road. He’s not wearing shoes.

Bronwyn (his face lights up): Promise, I won’t. He looks like he loves to run.

Diane: Do you ride a lot in your position at Aruam Castle?

Bronwyn: I do. Learning to ride well is part of a soldier’s training. We spend at least two hours a day working with horses.

Diane: How long have you been serving the castle?

Bronwyn: I’ve been a soldier in the reserve for about two years.

Diane: So you’re not a castle guard? (He shakes his head). What’s the difference?

Bronwyn: The soldiers are a reserve for the castle guard. When a guard retires, dies or is injured to the point he can’t fulfil his duties, his position is filled by a soldier. This means the castle guard is always working at full capacity with well-trained men.

Diane: What duties do you perform as a soldier?

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I’m a Guest at Thea’s Blog

Characters are the essence in a story as corned beef is the heart in Jiggs Dinner. But just like the beef, characters can have no flavour and instead of enticing you to eat read more, you pass on seconds put the book down.

Like corned beef, good characters take time to create. I’ve cured my characters in Shadows of the Stone for several years. Now, they’re almost read to be served (think May 6th). I love my characters, the good, the bad and the ugly. None of them are perfect because perfect characters are boring. Even The Good Guys Must Be Flawed. You can read my thoughts about this in a guest post at Thea Atkinson’s blog.

Shadows in the Stone May 6, 2012

Change is Excruciating

I met Argon when I was thirteen. Back then I was a naive thief, a wee hauflin traipsing through the forest acting like I knew how to pick a lock faster than any other thief. I was pretty handy with a sword, better with a dagger, and possessed a silver tongue that could talk me out of a fickle.

While lost in the Caverns of Confusion with my travel-mates, we stumbled upon a young dwarf who turned out to be an explorer from Aruam Castle. He was fairly handsome and I thought, if only he was fifty years younger, I’d give him a whirl. But then again, he was an honourable man and wouldn’t be interested in a common thief.

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A Haflinger for a Hauflin

Gipsy gold does not chink and glitter. It gleams in the sun and neighs in the dark. Attributed to the Claddaugh Gypsies of Galway.

When I went searching for the perfect horse breed for my fantasy novel, Shadows in the Stone, there were several characteristics I desired.

1) She had to be pretty with a flowing mane to capture the attention of readers and other characters.Haflinger

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Forget the Shoes; Climb into their Pants

You’ve heard the old expression, To really know someone, you must walk in their shoes.

This expression reminds us to not judge people before we get to know them and to not assume we know what they’re thinking and feeling. This expression holds true for the people in our life as well as the characters in our stories.

Writing about someone without knowing them first makes them flat, uninteresting and possible unreliable. When I begin a new story with new characters, I often stumble my way along, wondering if my character will go this way or that. If they are faced with a challenge, what will they do? Turn and run? Or stand and fight?

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“A free ebook!” exclaimed Jiggles.

Names. Our characters need them, but where do we find them? I’ve searched dozens of sources looking for perfect names, ones readers will remember easily and relate with. Often times I do find unique ones that suit the characters, but not always.

Sometimes my adult brain gets in the way of finding a great name. Perhaps I should start letting my kids pick them. They seem to have a knack for discovering the perfect name that describes a character, is unique and memorable. Their names – which are mostly gender neutral – for their pets stand out and make visitors smile.

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Deep in the Heart of an Island Forest Lived a Hauflin

Imagine stepping between enormous ferns and entering a world filled with horse-size elephants, rats the size of dogs and ten-foot-long dragons. As you make your way through the gigantic flora, you stumble upon a massive turtle basking in a ray of sunshine. To your left, a strange, colourful bird cries out and takes flight. It sails over a small pool fed by a crystal clear spring and surrounded by blue and pink hydrangea and wild flowers of vibrant colours.

In the distance, you see a caldera atop an inactive volcano. You imagine it is filled with water. High peeks on the horizon sharply contrast the deep valley in which you stand. Sniffing the air, you smell the unmistakable odour of sulfur. There must be a hot spring nearby.

Movement to the right catches your eye, but what had caused the leaves to shake has gone deeper into the shadows. You approach cautiously. What was it? A child?

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