Author Archives: Amy Jane

The End of Zohak

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Oops.  Forgot to finish this one.  Anybody still hanging, or have you googled it already?
The book’s unavailable, so this ending will have to be all my words (and month-old memory).

As you may recall, when we last saw Zohak he was in a state of fearful anticipation, having created (in his attempt to protect his future) the man who would make it his life’s work to destroy Zohak.

Kava, for all that he gave the first 17 of his 18 sons to be the brainfood of Zahok’s shoulder serpents, had known for many years without telling that secret which Zohak wanted most to know: the location of the young warrior Feridun.

With his leather-apron banner and all who would join him in resisting Zohak following, Kava led the way to the hidden fortress.  Feridun saw the eager men before him and decided the time was right.  Leading the way he began the desperate advance: expecting to be confronted at many points along the way, but meeting no one who would stand against them.  Even as he reached the gates of Zohak’s city, where he expected the fiercest resistance and Zohak himself, he found instead the gates open to him, for Zohak was away, collecting more oathtakers in his growing fear.

The chamberlain left in charge (“who wished to retain his post, no matter who wore the crown”) did all blandly to make the young conqueror comfortable before slipping away to inform Zohak of the new state of things.

So great was Zohak’s fear of the young man’s coming, he did not at first seek to return and set things to right.  The chamberlain gave an account of all Feridun had done: Set himself on Zohak’s grand throne, killed Zohak’s elite demon guards, set Zohak’s great crown upon his own head.

Each time Zohak merely laughed and said that it was the duty of a good host to put up with much folly and foolishness from one’s guests.

“Even when the guest enters the women’s quarters and takes the daughters of [the king you defeated] into his own arms?”

And this, at last, was enough to rouse Zohak’s anger: that his unwilling wives would welcome the arrival of a strange man and call him husband.  He was near insanity in his fury, and went alone to his palace, scaling the wall to his garden and looking into it, planning with what subterfuge he would retake his city.  But there, when he saw his younger wife sitting in the garden with Feridun, the hotness of his rage overwhelmed his plans and he rushed the intruder with sword and snakes.

But Feridun overcame him and was about to slay him when a messenger from the source of all that is good came and made it know Zohak was not to die.  Ever.  He would be bound, and left for all eternity in a forgotten cave with only his serpents.

This as a reminder to all of the reward of wickedness.

My Favorite quilts

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I have experimented with a number of different quilting methods and styles, but my favorite is still the Gordian knot quilts.

(If you’re wondering what happened to the dinosaurs, the project was delayed on account of bedbugs- among other things.  The new fabric was in a “potentially contaminated” area and so had to be put out in the cold.)

~

For what it’s worth, I find definable, sequential projects like these very settling.  I always know what to do next, and they give me a sense of accomplishment.

Something that stays done! Yay!

They are a type of paint-by-number, I suppose, but at least I get to pick my own colors.

These will all grow into the design at the top right.  I set up a sort of assembly-line with all the bits and pieces across my couch:

Yes, those strips and bits take forever to cut (I got all the way through the BBC Jane Eyre and absolutely *killed* my knees, even on a gardener’s pad), but once you’re done, you’re done.

In all fairness, the cutting included pieces for three additional quilts of a different knot.  If I’m still feeling like show-and-tell when I get there I’ll put them up.

So the results of this night’s work (the length of the Masterpiece Theatre Jane Eyre):

You can see what a dramatic difference color makes.  And even these looks are deceptive, because the look continues to change as the knot grows and is set in its “background”.

So… woopie for me.  It’s 2 a.m. and I’ll be crashing now.

More Novel Work

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I’m currently working out a timeline for my characters– what happens when.  Just realized I was “plotting.”

Heh.

~

Since I split my story into two simultaneous novels (We’re on round three, if you’re coming in late) I’ve been juggling what happens when, and trying to work out tricky elements like travel times and (Bluah) geography, making sure the groups’ encounters happen within the same calendar.

The idea is that I don’t need to write #2 at the same time, but I sure as heaven need to know what’s happening when or the next novel will be a scramble to fit rather than a natural fit.

Since my new division, the split has settled and whatever part of the story that “comes” to me generally nestles into one or other of the pieces and moves it forward nicely.

My biggest challenge with time (I’m not directly dealing with it yet, but I’ll have to soon) is how to deal with “jumps” in time to skip over the nothing-important-happening bits.  I have several options I’m considering, but haven’t yet decided what fits best.

It’s made me notice how many novels and movies take place in one un-interrupted chunk of time, and look for intelligent transitions.

7 quick takes Vol. 2

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My brain is so full (and my time so clogged) that I’m going to do this again.  I’ve written at least four posts since the last 7-takes, but none of them were right for general consumption, so I’ll just touch some here and go on.

~ ~ 1 ~ ~

Been fighting bedbugs since last Sunday’s blitzkrieg.  Three days ago I realized the hardest thing about it all (okay, one of the three hardest tings) is a basic reality I learned in Introduction to Logic 10 years ago:

You can prove something exists.  You cannot prove something does not exist.

I’m feeling very good about the situation currently, but I can’t change what I’m doing because I have no way of knowing if I’ve “won” or if I’m just holding things off for the present.

I pray it’s the former.

~ ~ 2 ~ ~

I find constant housework mentally draining.  “Just pick it up when you see it” only works for me if I’m chooing not to see it all.

As a project-oriented person I feel I do my best when rotating between specific, goal-focused tasks.

The necessity of daily pick-ups for the daily vacuuming makes me a little nuts and I haven’t really figured out why or what to do about it.

~ ~ 3 ~ ~

My laptop’s mouse disappeared while I was vacuuming in the other room.  I really hope it surfaces soon.

~ ~ 4 ~ ~

I’ve been pulled toward my novel several times this last week, but not done any serious work.  I was reviewing my characters’ playlists (I’ve mentioned these before), adding songs, and really noticed the gap in appropriateness between my children and the stuff I’m writing.

Oddly (?) enough, it entered my awareness mostly from my realizing i didn’t want my kids listening to a steady diet of these songs I’ve collected.  Maybe they wouldn’t notice or care, but the stuff I collect leans toward the more emotionally intense.

It could be just my wiring, but these are rarely just background music, and when I finish one of these playlists I have a similar feeling to when I’ve sat through a movie– that breathless, half-tired rush of reentry to reality.

(And, again, if you look, the movies mean nothing– I collect these for the songs, so don’t read into what you might see.)

~ ~ 5 ~ ~

Because of all the “extra” work the dinosaurs have been put on perpetual hold.   Bummer.

~ ~ 6 ~ ~

Despite telling myself a long time ago that I would focus on guitar alone, I just realized I’m at about the same level on both.

That is to say, not great, but competent enough to accompany myself on songs I’ve practiced.  It’s amazing to me how much more alive and full a song sounds with an instrument.

And then it all jumps up that much again when a “real” pianist or guitarist plays that accompaniment.

~ ~ 7 ~ ~

I had a couple positive reminders yesterday of kids absorbing their parent’s enthusiasm for something.

  • I was practicing In Christ Alone on the piano and all the kids cycled through sitting with me until Natasha came and stayed.  I showed her the shaping of a couple cords, and her hand wasn’t quite stong enough, but she stayed with me and sang along while I played, watching the words and hardly missing any.
  • The bible study I’m visiting just now has the high goal of memorizing a verse a week of the passage we’re studying.  Yesterday I was playing catch-up and had my reader watch the words while I recited them.  I couldn’t pause long to think because she’d start reading.  By the end she was cheering me on, and when I paused her little sister launched into Psalm 19, the passage we memorized together last summer.
    • Melody might have been the quickest learner back then, but she quite suddenly decided she didn’t like it any more and quit participating, so this was a “breakthrough” moment to have her back on board.

The best argument I’ve yet met for “old-earth” creationism:

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Bedbugs.

And maybe mosquitoes.

Not being a “providentialist” (or whatever they call themselves– the Calvinist-leaning types, which is most of my church, so I don’t mean that as a slam) I don’t believe that God plans or ordains evil, so I can’t really imagine the little vampires as part of day six.

~ ~ ~

I’m ready to give a detailed account of how unhelpful and misinforming was the staff at the Grotto Bay Beach Resort in Bermuda, but I can’t expect my little blog to get enough hits to change much.  (Feel free to leave now, total gripe to follow.)

Continue reading »

7 Quick Takes (Vol. 1)

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From Jen F.’s lovely idea of lumping the littles together in their  beautiful, interconnected randomness.

~ ~ 1 ~ ~

I read a book Monday, took Tuesday off, read a book Wednesday (I had a *completely* different ending mapped out for the book you sent me, Bluestocking.  Couldn’t help feeling mine was just a bit more logical/realistic.  If nothing else, intense.)

Jay walked in on me starting a third book Wednesday morning and was a rather efficient wet blanket to my smoldering enthusiasm.  I gave up the new book and returned to a book that was already at “favorite” status with only one read.

~ ~ 2 ~ ~

While on my way home from Bermuda last week I finished Stephen King’s On Writing.  I loved how right he was about being encouraged by what you read.

He basically said that no matter what you read it’s good for you: either as a model to emulate/aspire to (though he repeatedly emphasized dreaming was the most we mortals can do with the really high caliber stuff), or as an encouragement that there’s stuff published that’s worse than what you’re currently producing.

~ ~ 3 ~ ~

That said, I felt encouraged by both “new” books I read this week.  I felt that I am writing solidly at the level both these books were at, and it really gave me confidence to dive back in…as corny as I sometimes feel.

The what (and flaws I noticed as a writer: i.e., the biggest things I would have tried to revise):

  • The Hound and the Princess (the story was engaging, but quite a few talking-heads scenes.  Gave me hope that my own tendencies might not be as dangerous as I thought).
  • Dream or Destiny (head-hoping and minute description of clothing choices.  Got used to it, but the quick-changing POV is a no-no in my writing circle/according to my training) D or D was a murder mystery/romance, and the jumps from leading man to leading lady are an understandable device of the writer to make it clear neither one is guilty.   Though she could have been sneaky and revealed one of them as an unreliable POV….

But then it wouldn’t have been a very satisfactory romance.

~ ~ 4 ~ ~

At the dog class last night the teacher asked what tricks I was teaching Joule.

Taken aback I said we weren’t don’t anything special– she can’t jump up, and has to lay down before she gets her dinner.  She *loves* to retrieve.

That’s not enough, I was informed.  She needs to be able to bow or wave or something. 

Get to work lady.  Don’t waste a brain.

~ ~ 5 ~ ~

I have a challenge looming over me that has given me some kind of emotional flu.  It’s resulted in my being less-kind than (honestly) I can ever remember being before.

Any prayers will be appreciated.

~ ~ 6 ~ ~

Have I mentioned here that one of my creative outlets (though not recently) has been making stuffed animals?

This would be of the distinctly-identifiable variety.  Not the make-a-blob-and-call-it-cute type.

I started making Teddy Bears (that’s my book review on Amazon) when I was 17.  Jointed and un-jointed.  Big coolness points.

Creating stuffed animals is something related to noveling and giving birth.  There is a moment when you see the spark of life and *other* in the thing taking shape under your hands: both of you and different from you.

Perhaps pathetic, but I am picking up the scissors again in an attempt to battle my “flu” and hope to finish designing my own pattern.  It is not a bear.  It combines what I learned from that book and this one about dinosaurs to mesh what I found to be the best elements of each.

I made my prototype two Mays ago and it only needs the head and tail modified.  Body spot-on the first time.

Comfortably pleased with myself.   Yes, I really do leave projects to sit for years at a time.  Less-pleased about that, maybe, but not enough to change.

~ ~ 7 ~ ~

Fascinating place, Bermuda; everything that’s not a a bar or restaurant closes at five.  And the sun goes down within the next hour.  The warm dark was quite as surreal as expected.

And I *loved* the warm rain.

I was sitting in a hotel room writing while Jay was in a conference most of the day, and wrestled my way to a clean 3/4ths mark— before I had a whole flop of revision assert itself and create 5 new sections to write.

Yes, I might now be procrastinating a bit; but at least I have reasons.

To Write or to Read

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Apparently that is the question at my stage of life.

Except for last week (when I was totally focused on writing) I’ve been trying to do a bit of both, and it’s fairly unsatisfying.  Not enough continuity for either.

So I’ve going to see if I can refrain from writing for a week and start pecking away at the collection of YA fantasy that I’ve been accumulating.  I can’t promise I won’t write about them later, but I’m going to try to stay away from writing and just see what it feels like to shift focus.

I’ve often felt that reading makes me want to write the same way eating something fabulous makes me ask for the recipe: I want to do this! But I’m trying to remember that there are people “out there” perfectly content to just read.

To just eat.

And (while I think the latter are plain lucky and possibly in danger of over-indulging) I think the former experience a type of enjoyment I’ve been missing for a while.  So here I go…

~

One more note:  Semicolon posted an excerpt that perfectly encapsulates why I haven’t tried this for a while:

“But I too hate long books: the better, the worse. If they’re bad, they merely make me pant with the effort of holding them up for a few minutes. But if they’re good, I turn into a social moron for days, refusing to go out of my room, scowling and growling at interruptions, ignoring weddings and funerals, and making enemies out of friends.”

–Vikram Seth in A Suitable Boy

To resist this common result, my goal at the same time– though it seems at first to be contradictory– is to experiment again with finding patterns in my daily life, and seeking how we might tie that pattern to day.

The alternative is tying the day to the activities, which invariably results in a less purposeful day, and usually ends with less accomplished.

Some might try to call this exercise scheduling, but I resist that label as utterly stifling and useless to me.

So, wish me luck.  I’m off to find out if I can mix some new things into my life.

Re-wrote after all

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10 pages.

Since yesterday afternoon.

Like I said, I wanted just to “upgrade” the storyline and work on craft in a later draft, but this latest chapter was so dated it was obsolete.  I might have saved five sentences out of the 10 original pages.  And I still ended up with 10 pages of chapter in the end.

Whooo.  That felt like a marathon, but it was only the 10K.  I’ve still got longer chapters to clean up.

Improving

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I have just reached (in my last writing session) the portion of my novel that I have not “touched” since NaNo ’06.

The story has changed significantly since then.

  • New characters have been born and others have sunk into the background.
  • The timeline has been significantly compressed (from years into months)
  • A war has been “reduced” to a kidnapping— for now
  • Whole personalities and motivations have been changed

And I’ve become a better writer.

Shew! In two years I’d hope so!

Seeing the difference is a little intimidating because it brings up a new question: Do I re-write?

As in, do I line-edit and try to “upgrade” what I wrote two years ago, or do I review what happens and start again to tell it with what I know now.

I am beginning to think I’ll have to do the latter to make the writing as good as possible, but it does feel excruciatingly frustrating to let go of so much work.

But then, maybe I won’t have to let it all go…  I’ll decide at the end.  For now I’m simply reading through and updating the plot details to it’s current form.  The larger things that need to be re-worked, e.g., transitions, cartography (God help me.), I’m just making notes of at this time.

The Beginning of the End of Zohak

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More from Tales of Ancient Persia, retold by Barbara Leonie Picard (a story introduced here).

As frequently it seems to happen, Zohak’s power, evil, and the extent of his control continued to grow.

As the strongest of a group of under-kings his peers came to him, begging him to lead their armies in the overthrow of their current lord, which Zohak did, becoming the new King-of-kings.  It was too late that the other rulers realized they had replaced self-centered vanity with overt evil, but now Zohak was too powerful to oppose, and all bent to his will.

Zohak took as his unwilling wives the two daughters of the king he overthrew, and continued every day in killing two strong men in order to feed their brains to the snakes on his shoulders.

Then came the night, as it always should happen, when Zohak dreamed of the one who would overthrow him.  He dreamed the name: Feridun, and feared it so much he sent out emissaries to seek the name and kill anyone who bore it.

Now, of course, there was only one with that name.  He was the youngest of three sons, and when the Zohak’s men heard of him they went to the house to kill him.  But his father denied them entrance long enough for his mother to escape with all three boys.

Feridun’s father was killed, and the boy grew to manhood with the one goal of someday avenging his father’s death.

Now, even as the youth was growing in strength, Zohak was growing in fear.

Too late he realized that loyalty was earned, not forced, and he sought to ingratiate himself to his under-kings and the people.  He had a type of contract drawn up, and urged those wishing to be known as loyal to sign it.  As they were overswearing their loyalty, Kava, a master smith, came to Zohak to beg for the life of his youngest son.

He had once had 18 sons, and the first 17 had all been taken to feed Zohak’s snakes.

Hastily Zohak praised Kava for his past loyalty and ordered that the smith’s youngest son was to be spared and restored to him; and Kava bowed down to him in joy and thankfulness.

Thinking such a time appropriate to gain another loyal subject, Zohak then urged Kava to sign the oath that he had prepared against the arrival of Feridun.

But when Kava heard the oath in which those who swore to it declared their loyalty to Zohak and maintained that he had ever been a just and merciful ruler and worthy of their loyalty and love, his honest heart rebelled, and he could not bring himself to swear to such a lie.

He snatched the tablet on which the proclamation was engraved and flung it to the ground so that it shattered, setting his foot upon it and crying out, “Are all the men here cowards, that they are so swift to swear themselves slaves to one who is a slave of Ahriman [king of demons, the source of all evil]?  And are they wanting in their wits, that they pronounce him good and just?  Or is it that they are all as evil as he is?  Never will I swear to such a lie, or declare myself loyal to such a slave of Ahriman.”

Then, while everyone, speechless, stared at him— Zohak in anger and all the others in a kind of fearful admiration— Kava strode from the hall of audience, hurrying his terrified son before him.

As soon as he reached home, Kava took his leather smith’s apron and attached it like a standard to the top of a spear.  With it he marched to the marketplace, urging all who would oppose Zohak to follow him and join the army of Feridun.

(to be continued…)