Flogging Nano

So today I flogged out a bazillion (okay 50K+) words on HEART OF THE FOREST and flogged NANOWRIMO three days early. I'm so happy! Now I can happily finish writing the book without feeling the sting of not getting enough done on time. I done do'ed it!

That's why I haven't been on here recently. This year it was especially hard because every time I sat down to write I got unspeakably tired. Like I couldn't keep my eyes open for another second without a hefty nap. But I pushed through.

I also have been having a rough time with my computer since I very stupidly allowed a company to put software on my computer. Now I want it OFF. I'm never going to buy a thing from them again. Ever. I figured out a way around the craziness by turning off my wifi until I need it. Makes me happy when stupidity falls away and the sunshine peeks through.

So the itinerary? I'm going to finish writing HoftheF and then write FORLORN HOPE, the sort of prequel to HoftheF. It's a strange setup, since FH will be in a different genre. I'm hoping it'll work out fine. I'll enjoy reading it, anyway. I'm hoping it'll be a less gritty Bernard Cornwell offering. Okay that's ambitious. In that vein. There.

So. Now I'll have time to look at Christmas lists and start shopping and spend some quality time with my dog and when they show up, kiddlings...:o)

Catching Up-ish

Holy crow it's been forever since I wrote here. I'm getting ready to write either FORLORN HOPE or HEART OF THE FOREST for NANOWRIMO. I can't figure out which. HEART is actually sort of a sequel although it won't be the same genre. I know. What shelf will they put it on in a bookstore? But FORLORN has to get written because it's there in my head, banging to get out. So that's what I'm preparing to do in November. The bad thing was that my publisher didn't pick up the last book I pitched them...mostly because I think they're having a bit of a rough time lately. I'm hoping they can pull that bunny out of their hat again. Hopefully HEART will be what they want.

I had a blast at ANWA conference this year. I got several prayers answered and in a very deliberate way. It was clear why I needed to be there. The lady I pitched to wants my query letter. I've got to churn that thing out soon.

It's been a hideous summer full of angst and termites and more angst. There doesn't seem to be an end in sight, since one of us is comfortable with things as they are in the house...sigh. But that's a tale for face to facing. Suffice it to say that I am now really good at spotting the horrible little destroyers.

So our house is still in flux, although we have most things back inside--just not in a place I'd like them to be. Slowly I'm edging them back in, because it's going to be the new millennium before anything gets done.

Riley the dog is a wonderful little pup. I absolutely love that brilliant little soul. He's into chasing squirrels and cats at the moment, and was contemplating my friend's guinea pig with relish for a few seconds.

We got to go to Indiana (me twice) to see my eldest and her sweety and the kids in their new habitat. It's fabulous, but unfortunately includes chiggers. Don't like those cusses because they render those enormous yards next to worthless. We went to see the Moundbuilder Mounds (a way cool place that I wished I could have excavated). We celebrated two birthdays while we were there and played lots of games. The kids and I made a wishing well to go with their fairy village. Very fun. The baby is greased lightning in army crawling. They mostly had fun with Grandpa, though. He really enjoyed that.

I also went to CO to see my folks. I took the dog and he absolutely LOVED chasing deer. He'd take one step and launch himself off the deck. That deck later collapsed, though not the dog's fault. We went to the hot springs and to garage sales and to Durango to look at the fire that burned so much acreage.

In a while my sister is going to Southeast Asia and I get to go watch her kids. I think she should watch her kids and I go traveling. Yeah. Although I guess I get to take kids to Canada to play hockey every week.

Anywho...not loads to look forward to right now. I'm going to be steam punky for Halloween. Woo.

Tingle Shoulder and SLIPSTREAM

I'm celebrating the fact that my book, MUDLARKS is going to be born in April. I've been trying to line up a cover featuring a blond girl in a very plain and rather muddy 1830's (think Jane Eyre) dress. I may have to find a better photoshop program than I already have and work on it myself.

I just finished my first editing job and it went swimmingly. I really enjoyed it.

I'm also writing SLIPSTREAM for NANOWRIMO this month. I'm writing anywhere from 1.5K to 3K words a day. It's sci fi YA. I've stopped for the day because my shoulder is giving me fits.

Tonight I'm going to the open house for my friend Christine's new therapy clinic. It's the one I did murals for.

I've also found a new favorite band. I'm hoping it'll embed well. I'm hoping I can sing their song, "Rags and Glory" for Christmas this year. It would work well with a trio. I'll be looking around for a couple more people to fill the bill if they okay it. They are probably going to remaster it with extra verses this year, but not in time for Christmas. Wah. Hopefully they'll still let me sing it.

Welp. Time to go fold clothes until my shoulder freaks.

The Excuses Abound

It's echoing in here something fierce. I've been hitting it hard in NANOWRIMO and now have over 30K words out of 50K for the month. I'm working on a book called MUDLARKS--a Dickens-style book set along the Thames.

I wasn't going to write this book until I went to London to experience the Thames myself. However it wouldn't wait. Sarah/Molly and Josiah/Joss couldn't wait any longer. The book that WILL have to wait, however, is FORLORN HOPE, a book about a band of people attempting to lift a siege on a castle. Hopefully in May I'll be kicking back in a real castle and can gather an inordinate amount of research...:o)

Anywho, there are all kinds of ways to avoid writing all day and today I used up several. I went and rescued a friend from walking home, had a good-sized chat about all things important, took the dog for a pint-sized run, and fetched the boy home from school. I'm sure tomorrow there'll be another load of excuses. But forcing myself to plant myself on my bed, open my laptop, and plow through my imagination is paying off. 

Anyway, I'm off to bed. I've been writing most of the afternoon/evening/night and I need to regenerate.

Of Babes and Toes and Floor Pie

The month of writing dangerously is over and I have stomped it. MUDLARKS is well on its way to the middle of it's finishedness. I have taken today off to get some chores done...you know...like mucking out the midden, scouring the garde-robes, blacking the guns and the shoes, and scouring all the dishes in the scullery, devising new tortures for the prisoners...that sort of thing.

We made a journey to the land of dented guardrails and vultures and ubiquitous stars to see the wee bairns--the heirs of our heirs. We did consume several tons of comestibles, not least being a large bird of the turkey variety. I wonder what ostrich would taste like?

The bairns are a total blast. Their energy and mischief are unbounded. A and I made some more pictures and should make a book together because she has inherited her mother's talent. N also shines in that area. W has a brilliant smile and a ready hug. And my dear B is a blast to tickle. I only regret not being able to play with them more this time, mainly because of The Toe.


I, the Queen of Grace, did kick the couch on my way down to put on my running shoes and go running with the Daughter of Racing, which resulted in breaking my toe. It blew up like a giant tick and looked about the same color. I couldn't even wear a shoe on it yesterday to church. Today it was almost as bad. I'm hoping it won't take long or I'll look like the Goodyear blimp fell to earth.

We played many games and made some particularly handsome gingerbread abodes and I broke my long-standing vow never to go to Walmart and never on Black Friday. But it was to hang with the Eldest and get Christmas presents. What can I say? I did not, however, wear my Walmart uniform (mukluks, a propeller beanie, and a mu-mu).


The trip home was interesting (part of it. The other part is West Texas, dull as dishwater and good for writing or sleeping through) mainly because we road on the cusp of an ice storm. In the warmest part of the day, the precipitation had iced the plants with hoar frost while leaving the ground still brown. Had we left any later, we'd have had to slow down and worry about skidding.

We did, however, learn about floor pie. It's a new thing. You take three kinds of otherwise delicious pie(pumpkin, apple, and mincemeat). Seal them on a plate in a zip lock bag. Place them on your dashboard and proceed to drive. Somewhere outside of Caldwell, we slammed on the brakes and voilà, floor pie. You get what you get. And if you step on the bag, it's shoe floor pie. Huh. And if you catch it mid-air, it's shoe fly pie.

So because of The Toe, the poor dog didn't get in his daily sprint today, so he's been especially...um...enthusiastically seeking a mate (although he has lost his cahones and shouldn't have nearly that kind of drive). Mostly he's in love with my black jacket. We left the poor dog home and he has been beside himself with joy to see us and reassure himself that we still love him.

Welp. The Man has come home, patted the dog, kissed the wife, and checked the preparedness level of the food. I suppose I shall crack the whip over the table slave so we can eat sometime this century.

A Snatch of MARIN AT THE WELL

The year is winding down to NANOWRIMO--National Write a Novel in a Month month--November. Therefore I am getting as much done now as I can before the first of the month.
I have big plans to write MUDLARKS therein. I shall be wallowing in Dickens to my heart's content, as the above book shall be as close to a Dickensian novel as I can make it. I wish I'd already gotten to go over and actually muck around in the Thames mud, (I know. Barking mad.) but not only is that trip not happening until next May or so, but I don't know if we'll get down into London. We'll be up in Ireland--a place I've ALWAYS wanted to go, though not under a bridge near the Thames.

So. In preparation, I've just finished approving the first half of the rewrites for the second printing of SUNRISE OVER SCIPIO today. I also wrote an alternative ending for SUMMERHOUSE, the next book coming out. Later today I'll probably get into THE DAY IT RAINED GLASS if I have edits back. I'm also trying to finish sending out Beta versions of MARIN AT THE WELL.

For your viewing pleasure and because I think you're pretty cool for coming here, Here's a snatch of MARIN ATW. I hope you like it:

I wondered where the rest of the sheep and goats had strayed. I loudly cussed them out until I remembered it was all my fault. I was the shepherd. I should have been paying attention. Now I'd have to fix the problem or I'd cost us loads of money and food and wool for Martha to weave. Then I yelled at myself—something I never did. In my regular life, mistakes I made rarely showed a clear picture of the consequences as this mistake would.

But how could I get that fat ewe back up the cliff? The ledge she stood on was tiny. I could barely stand on the ledge and it didn't look all that stable. I couldn't see anything nearby that would work.

“Why don't you talk to Me, Marin?” I heard in my head.

“Great. Now I'm going insane and hearing voices,” I said to no one in particular. “Must be sleep deprivation and eating who-knows-what.” And then I caught myself and giggled a little hysterically. “No, it's sheep deprivation.”

I thought I heard a mental groan. Or maybe it was my pun-detesting side rearing its ugly head. But the voice was there, quiet but strong like my dad's heavy test fishing line. “You aren't delusional.”

“Said my crazy head. I doubt any really loony person thinks they're insane.”

“Be still and know that I am God.” I felt the power of that statement zip around my body, arcing between my fingers, lifting the hairs on the back of my neck. Power. Real power.

That got me. I would never have said that in my head. So I was hearing God now? Inside my head like it was coming over my headphones? “Why haven't I ever heard Your voice before?”

“You were not listening.”

“How is it any different today?”

“You are ready. Ask Me.”

“Okay. Will You...Thee...whatever...get this stupid sheep up the cliff?”

“It does not work that way.”

“Of course not.” I folded my arms and glared up at the sky. I felt like stomping, but I was afraid the ground would give way and I'd be down there with the dumb sheep.

“What do you really want?”

“I don't know. Help.”

“Study it out in your mind. This is your test.”

“Well if you won't get the sheep up the cliff, would You at least make me strong enough to do it myself? And could You strengthen the ledge so it won't fall away and take us both with it?”

“There is a stick over there.”

I looked around and spotted a broken sapling lying on the ground not far from me. I could have sworn it wasn't there before. I'd have noticed it and added it to my short list of things that probably wouldn't work. What was a stick supposed to do? I couldn't just lean the stick against the wall and hope the sheep could scramble up it.

Every couple of minutes I considered giving up. I mean, why was I putting all this effort into helping one stupid sheep? It's not as if I'd be around to miss it. Plus I was ignoring all the rest of the missing sheep to help this one. But a growing feeling inside me told me this was something I had to do. I'd never really pushed through in my former life. If a job was difficult, I bailed. Clean up dog logs? Bleah! Wash my own clothes? Mom's job. I mean, who wants to ruin her manicure if there are people payed to do the work for you?

This, though, I had to see to the end.

I wanted to ask for an idea, but I figured God had done enough helping, or at least He'd think He had. It was up to me to come up with something. I was still kind of freaked that He talked to me at all. I thought about calling for Joab, but he'd taken off as soon as it looked like I was crazy. He was probably far away by now. Even if he wasn't, he'd mock me for losing all my sheep. So that wasn't going to happen.

I picked up the stick and looked at it, turning it this way and that. I could use it to whack the sheep, but it wouldn't do any good if the sheep couldn't get up the cliff. I could maybe make a halter with my head scarf, fish it down with the stick onto the sheep's neck and haul the thing up, but the old biddy would just strangle. I'd just have to climb down on that ledge and boost her up. Maybe I could put the stick under her hind end and push with it. Hopefully I wouldn't get kicked to death.

I rolled onto my stomach and dangled my legs until they were about a foot from the ledge. There was nothing for it but to jump. Getting back up? Unless the sheep helped me out like I helped it, I'd be out of luck. And believe me, I already knew sheep were total ninnies.

I jumped.

The ledge crumbled alarmingly but most of it held.

“Tie your veil around the ewe's neck and don't let go of the end when she climbs out.” I heard those words as clear as tap water. So I did that. Maneuvering on the ledge was as hard as trying to share a bathroom with my little sister. Finally I managed to straddle the sheep and angle the stick under its rear and rest it on my bent knees. Talk about heavy! This one must have been grazing on lead. I pushed with all my might and felt it's legs scrabbling against the cliff side, knocking dirt and pebbles bouncing past me, reminding me how far it was to the bottom.

My whole body shook with effort, sweat slicking my hands and trickling down my back. At the extreme end of my strength, I gasped, “Some help here, please?”

Suddenly I felt strength flow into my body. I was able to bench press that fat old biddy the last bit up the wall until she could get purchase with her hooves. She lunged up and stood there like someone had carefully trained her, waiting for me to haul myself up using my delicate veil. Amazingly nothing tore. Inch by inch I staggered up the wall until I fell stomach-first at the sheep's feet, gasping for air, my muscles twanging guitar strings.

When I could, I sat up and looked that sheep in the face. She stood there placidly chewing her version of gum with a vacant look in her eye. I had a new yardstick for stupid. “Thanks and no thanks. I'm going to call you Ethel because it's the worst name I can think of, you fat tub of lard.” I felt a presence waiting. “Oh! And thank You, God.”

“You're welcome.”

© 2016 by H. Linn Murphy

Leave me a comment sometime...:o)

NANO SLAYER

YES!!! I slew NANO a week early! And I'm still going strong. It's just taken off so well. For a while there I nearly ran out of gas, but the honey badgers seem to have taken the story by the scruff of its neck and shaken it into waking up for me...like honey badgers do.

I'm actually going back to writing on this thing after I bake a few pies for Thanksgiving tomorrow. I can't leave the gang hanging.

Just came to crow a bit. Thanks for being patient while I worked. More later.

Winning Nano--Year Three

This is why there is little content on here for the month of November. I'm sprinting, now, to finish the entire book THE DAY IT RAINED GLASS by December first--at least that's the idea.

Here's a short synopsis:

Thrace and Chara are sisters who have survived the end of civilization as they knew it. Now they are fighting just to find food, shelter, and safety from the hungry cannibals who rove the landscape looking for anything they can sink their teeth into.

The girls begin to manifest special skills that can help them make it at least to the next day. Soon other young survivors flock to their growing community, each manifesting a special skill or two. Unfortunately their opposition is also growing.

The Force is a gang of people who follow Vagio, a charismatic thug who is raising an army to take control of the ruined city. They'll collect anyone who can aid their cause, whether voluntarily or not.

In Thrace's frantic bid to keep her 'family' from being entangled in Vagio's web, she nearly misses her most valuable asset. Grit is a boy with a dangerous secret. He can spell success or absolute defeat, not only for their lives and civilization, but for love.

It's all together, or be picked off one by one.

Nano Neurosis

It's NaNoWriMo month. This means that I'm writing a novel in a month. At least that's the idea. I did this last year with Psyquake and made it to the end as a winner. The book I'm working on this year is LETTERS FOR STEPS, a book about a missionary in Ecuador and one of his contacts, a girl from Colorado, USA, who is living in Ecuador for a lark. She's a photographer and lives above the restaurant she works in.

For much of it, I'm depending a lot on my daughter, N. for her mission experiences and knowledge of the area and people. I am taking other stories and anecdotes from other friends and relatives. The rub has been in trying to make it an engaging story without having Elder Holloway unlock his heart. N. is adamant that he can have not a smidgen of romantic regard for her.

On the other hand I have several examples of people who went back later and married people from their mission. So I'm really having to be careful as I tell this story. It's a tightrope dance.

It's taking lots of research on Ecuador--people, habits, clothing, population counts, etc., which slows me down a bit, along with tightrope part. My first visit was to Chimborazo volcano, the highest mountain near the equator. From there I went to llamas and alpacas and thence to street food of Guaranda. Soon I'll be looking up info about monkeys and the Colorado Indian tribe.

I love writing! You learn so much while doing it!

Pink Rock Fairies are Making Me Crazy...er

It's a rainy day, perfect for cuddling up with the computer and a cup of cocoa. Okay, the cocoa got replaced by an avocado, but I would have to stop writing to make cocoa, and I'm still battling bronchitis so the phlegm isn't doable. I need to be able to sing as I have concerts to practice for.

I hear the Pink Rock Fairies hard at work on the median outside our house. They've come to clean up years' worth of neck-high weeds and make a racket while I'm trying to think. I'm sure they'd be happy to lay off if I went out there, but the spores are making me allergic.

(Why Pink Rock Fairies you ask? Back when they re-did the stupid medians to 'pretty' them up, those guys actually painted the rocks pink. They reminded me of the gardeners in Alice and Wonderland who were painting the roses red. It was equally absurd.)

Writing is a must today. The kids were out of school for a week and I got nothing done. It was like loping off a limb. The stories are aching to get out into the watery light of day. I'm racing to finish A Terrible Majesty so I can do Letters to Steps for Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing in a Month) (or something like that). Letters is already outlined and ready to fly. I just have to clear my docket of Terrible, a story I'm loving.

So I've spent hours working out dogfights in space and fight scenes in the brig. I've slogged through logistics and tactics and romantics and semantics and all manner of ics, trying to make the scenes believable and logical. It annoys me when sci fi shows make huge leaps of fantasy just to get the problem solved instead of working through the tangle with decent science, in a way truthful to the story. My kids keep suggesting these amazing video game cheat weapons which cannot fail and I just smile and nix the idea. These characters have to solve their own problems.


That said, I do have telepathy and beings made of pure energy--not as the solution to the problem, but as a plot point. For such things I can take a leap. And my MAC (Magnetic Accelerator Cannon) guns? They're already in use.

Hah! Okay. Did I mention the Pink Rock Fairies? I need a freakin' flyswatter. You can blame them for the disjointed quality of this post. At least they'll take care of the sticker bushes so they won't be sending their pokey little horrid messengers to bite me in the feet anymore for a while.

More later. Back to dogfights.