%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 This is a continuation of my blogging here at WdC |
|
This will be a blog for my writing, maybe with (too much) personal thrown in. I am hoping it will be a little more interactive, with me answering questions, helping out and whatnot. If it falls this year (2024), then I may stop the whole blogging thing, but that's all a "wait and see" scenario. An index of topics can be found here: "Writing Blog No.2 Index"  Feel free to comment and interact. |
| Novel #20 Beneath The Desert Sands, clocking in at 41,000 words, was one of three long works I wrote or finished in 2009. It has never been submitted anywhere for publication, because it is a little experimental, but I still like the work. This was written as a sort of homage to H.Rider Haggard’s She, one of my favourite books of all time (not top 3, but definitely top 10). In my rather odd attempt to make things more relevant to me, I took the concept of the story, and wrote a non-linear narrative with basically the same set-up but placed in the middle of Outback Australia. A trio of young men go searching for the mythical Lassiter’s Reef (a gold vein that no one has ever found, an Australian myth that has persisted for decades, and to this day people go missing searching for it), but instead find the underground domain of a She-like queen. They have surviving Diprotodons and Megalania, they have slaves and they have completely out-of-place temples. And the story does not end well for our intrepid trio. I didn’t do the death thing, didn’t include a lot of the magic in the first book, but I like to think I paid homage to a book I really enjoy without deriding it. It was a fun bit of writing, but I don’t think there is really a market for it. Excerpt: XL The water splashed down on their heads was ice cold, jolting them into life immediately. One of the dozen or so men holding the heavy stone buckets indicated for the twenty-one laying on the stone floor to stand. They all obeyed with groans and pained expressions. Kyle collapsed immediately, clutching his wounded leg and screaming in pain. It could not even support his weight for a moment. Mark was by his side straight away. “You okay, mate?” he whispered. All Kyle could do was whimper and grasp his thigh with both hands. He turned a bit and Mark winced at the amount of blood that had stained through his pants. Then hands were on him, dragging him roughly away. He fought back. “Get off!” he screamed. “My friend is hurt! Get off! Get… oof.” The fist that buried itself in his stomach was solid and carried a lot of force, doubling him over and bringing some of the water that he had had before going to sleep the previous night out through his mouth and nose. He was hurled back into line and the spear thrust against his stomach kept him at bay. “You bastards!” he cried. “He’s injured! Can’t you see that?” As though understanding what Mark was screaming, the man in charge of the soldiers standing over them all snapped his fingers and barked a few orders. Kyle was grabbed and held face down against the stony ground with two men at each of his limbs. A ninth man – the largest one here – held his head still and then the leader ripped his pants away. They were stuck to the skin above the wound, and the sound they made as they came away sent shudders through all those bound in their chains. Mark had to turn his face. Though relatively small, the injury to his leg had started to ooze a thick greenish pus from around the edges and the expressions that were not well hidden on the faces of the nearby soldiers told him just how bad the small was rising from it. The leader grunted and disappeared down a nearby tunnel. He emerged a few moments later carrying a burning torch which he handed to yet another soldier. He then knelt down and used his knife to open the wound a little more. Kyle tried to struggle, but was held fast. Then the leader squeezed, allowing the pus to ooze forth in a continual stream of putrescence along with, eventually, blood. Kyle’s head was held firmly but his body shook and quivered with the pain. Only when blood alone came from the wound did the man working on him stop. And he took the torch back. He said something to Kyle, and then pressed the burning brand down onto the wound. It took the combined strength of all the men to keep him still until the leader had finished. A bucket of water was then poured slowly over the burn mark and he barked another order. Four of the soldiers carried the whimpering man away, leaving the rest of them to watch in stunned fear as their comrade was removed. Like I said, things don’t work out well for our characters. I think I got the descriptions okay, I reckon I managed to differentiate the characters well enough, and I think it works with the non-linear nature (including explorers who were alive before the three). |
| Kenning This was suggested by Kåre เลียม Enga, and it was something I came across at university, but it had really passed me by, so I thought I would look at it. Kenning (plural: kenningar) is a form of word play from Old Norse and Old English poetry where a single noun is replaced by a different noun with a modifier, these two words often joined by a hyphen. This means something like a boat being called a “wave-traveller” is a kenning. Other old examples include:- Whale-road: ocean Battle-sweat: blood Weapon-din: battle Sun’s bane: snow While it is poetic, it is something that, as Kåre เลียม Enga said to me, can be used to avoid clichéd descriptions and metaphors. And it is something still continued to be used to this day. “Tree-hugger” for nature lover, “pencil-pusher” for white collar worker, “ambulance-chaser” for lawyer – there is no shortage of kenningar we use. Notice something, though? The modern examples I just gave are terms used derisively (although tree-hugger is being reclaimed by some). And a look through the online space shows me that most kenningar are almost insults. But why not use them in your writing? Of course, they might fit well in a fantasy setting, and many fantasy writers use them as a par for the course. And they are poetic, so poetry uses them; maybe sparingly today, but they are still there. But why not in other writing? Kåre เลียม Enga gave these examples:- Light-bright: dawn Heart’s fire: lover Cushioned-coffin: bed Mine are not as good, but:- Chest-jump: scare Flowing-mind: teacher I think it is definitely something worth thinking about, as these words double as descriptors within the context of the story itself. So, something new for me to really look into and it has given me, at least, food for thought. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
