Tag Archives: Galford

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The Tiger

When the drums struck

the alarum was the force

of dark eyes bleeding through the shade—

the cold hangs from every leaf,

the brush and stroke teaching

every motion how to breed

claws appropriate to the man-shaped

trails carved into the wood

She parallels without red capes

some wanderer left to packs

shunned for pale skin thickened

behind world-inked fur—

the lines, if only they knew the lines

time had bundled to Her breast

holding in pieces of Her

as She bloodies Herself in details;

haggard is the fall

but sharp the tongue,

curled up the spine as She bends

low, low, savoring the texture

of the wild on Her paws—

low, low are the drums

to the primal song of Her.

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Hollow March Ebook Giveaway!

Announcement time!

As many of you know, this weekend includes the day of Mothers, or at least the United States version. It also includes a lesser known holiday, much more compact and dedicated to many less shinies than the former: my birthday. While I’m not a big pusher of my own holiday bliss, it did seem a good time to take the opportunity for a giveaway, so here I am with writer’s cap in hand.

All weekend long, eBook copies of my fantasy novel, The Hollow March, will be free to anyone interested in revenge-filled, character-raging, backstabbing, magic-dealing (can you even handle that many qualifiers?) literary goodness. Copies can be picked up through Amazon, and with luck, if there’s some book love going on there, the lovers will kindly poke other lovers of fantasy, or some fantasy loving mothers, and so on and so forth, starting a chain reaction of poking that either overload and implodes Facebook (sorry Facebook), or puts a smile on one little writer’s face.

Need a reminder what it’s all about? Check out The Hollow March-dedicated page on the right side of the screen.

And if you need any gift ideas, I’ll let you in on a time-honored secret among writers: reviews are the best method to a fellow’s heart.

For those unclear, that would be this book.

Meanwhile, the first stage edits from my editor (For the sequel, At Faith’s End), are nearly all integrated now, and that just leaves a couple more beta readers and another round of editing (consequently, I’ll be seeing Mr. Hartley again this weekend), between my side of that literary venture and completion. Is it time to start thinking cover art once again? Most probably. Stay tuned.

There will probably another arms flailing reminder of the giveaway on Friday, but I’m told it’s good to plan ahead. And now I leave, as ever, at your mercy, oh gurus of the Internet.

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Poetic Measurements

I may have mentioned earlier in the week that the poetic muse was striking me again (it has been some time since our last encounter). Perhaps it’s all the sun, perhaps it was the drama of nature’s power on display a few weeks ago, or simply life being in a sustainable position at the moment. It could also be the steady march the next novel’s taking to completion–got initial edits back from the editor a week or so back, and it has set my creative mind into a furious spiral of scribbles (or his own rather strikingly wonderful bits of poetry he shared with me at the time–mark my words, he’s going places). So much to do.

Regardless of the source though, a frenzy followed, and numerous works were penned this week. So it seemed only good and right to toss out a sample this weekend. Thus I give you the short “Poetic Measurements”…

Poetic Measurements

The weight of a poet

lies perched upon a strand of hair:

a breath could shudder out the shape of it

yet the light could scarcely lay it bare.

Its power crawls in shadow

a textured investigation of the fall

clinging fractions of humanity endow,

wriggling whispers beneath the mortal pall.

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Pure Michigan: Waterworld

RIVER_49

Welcome to Waterworld!

Water. Water everywhere! While many things have been occupying the eyes of the nation this week (and rightly so–many tugs of the heartstrings have gone to many corners of the U.S. these past few days), but locally, nature has been at the forefront of things.

Michigan, my home, is a land of water. It surrounds us. It pierces into the very heart of our state in its many rivers, lakes, and ponds. This is, truly, the Great Lakes State. Yet this week the state has been rocked by record rainfall. The end result: flooding. Massive flooding. And when I say record-breaking, don’t mistake me: the Grand River, in western Michigan, was predicted to hit a 24.76 foot crest today. Compare that to previous floodings here, as listed from the Grand Rapids Press…

24.76 feet on April 21, 2013**
19.64 feet on March 1, 1985
19.54 feet on May 27, 2004
19.50 feet on March 28, 1904
19.29 feet on March 8, 1976
19.25 feet on April 3, 1960
19.25 feet on September. 4, 1986
18.83 feet on March 3, 1982
18.60 feet on June 9, 1905
18.5 feet on April 18, 2013
17.87 feet on February 25, 1997
17.84 feet on December 31, 2008

Flooding is not new here, but bloody hell, this one takes the cake. Large swaths of the city of Grand Rapids and western Michigan are going underwater. To prove that point, I took a little photographic adventure. Here are just a few things to show you what we’re dealing with up here. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Barreling through.

Barreling through.

No walkway for you.

No walkway for you.

RIVER_65

At least the cops get to bust out their boats!

At least the cops get to bust out their boats!

Waiting. Watching. Wondering.

Waiting. Watching. Wondering.

Under the Sea.

Under the Sea.

 

Kayak business? Probably booming.

Kayak business? Probably booming.

It was such a pretty house, too.

It was such a pretty house, too.

Beach? What beach?

Beach? What beach?

And the real kicker? More rain is expected to come…

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Good News, Everybody!

Curse you, blue screen. Curse you.

For those who met my announcement a few weeks back with scorn, derision, or at least a quirked eyebrow or two, let it be known that the issues of technological explosiveness have since been corrected. After a few days of hyperventilating and making crude gesticulations at the fickle computer gods (You, Microsoft, are nothing if not Fickle; don’t ever tell me otherwise), the problem was identified, the cause rooted out, and my files secured. Also, a neat little back-up program was to (hopefully) prevent that terror from happening again, but it is what it is.

The writings have been saved. As has i-Tunes, though I suspect that interests you less. A fellow needs some Mumford and Sons for the writing process, though, among other things…

The Problem:

  1. Norton. Norton. NORTON! It expired. It was reinstalled. Somewhere in between it had a heart attack looking at itself in the mirror and caused the blue screen of death. Suffice to say, a shiny (other) antivirus has been hunted down and installed.
  2. Failure to back-up. My silly self (thoroughly chastised and thwacked at this point) had fallen into a regiment of “every month.” Well, when you get on a writing streak for a few weeks a month may not be enough now, huh?
  3. Solved thanks to: the excellence that is a tech-savvy brother (also a writer, whom you may remember me mentioning before…*hint hint*).

So what now? Well, more writing, certainly. Despite my moans and groans in our previous meet and greet, the scribbling kept up strong during the last few weeks. Note pads and journals–they are a writer’s friend. Several new short stories (mostly comical–an odd binge for me–some dark; some sci-fi, some fantasy) have arrived, along with ideas for a stack more. Where they came from, who knows, but when the muse dances a jig on my back I certainly don’t complain. Likewise, I’ve dispatched another batch of those scribbles to some SpecFic mags, whilst my editor drums his way through to the final notes on At Faith’s End.

Also amongst the good news:

  1. I got a gig that’s actually major-related! Huzzah! Copy editing was to be had during the week, of the freelance variety (coincidentally, hey, I’m on elance: https://www.elance.com/s/galfordc/), with a potential for more to come. Details on the lovely art and insights I got to see during that time will come once the end results are out and available for all to see. (Art Majors, be still your beating hearts.)
  2. Joblessness has been temporarily corrected, at least through the month of April. More editing, this time for schools. Cubicles, computers, and essays for the classic 9-5 (alright, actually 8-4, but you know what I mean). It’s a start.

Suffice to say, they’re needed boosts. While the computer thing was a blow this month, there’s other things lurking behind the scenes as well. General joblessness is enough to stand anyone’s hairs on end after a while, but when you toss in medical things (yes, some are related to the recent poem), a person starts to feel like their day is nails on the chalkboard. Another doctor’s appointment in a few hours that will (hopefully) lead to corrections of at least one of this brand’s downswings, though.

I realize there’s little physical substance going along with this article, but it’s an update piece–mostly wanted you all to know I hadn’t quite dropped off the face of the earth. With luck, I shall be doing some lurking about in days to come, and will have some more substantial posts to come. Meanwhile, hope everyone’s spring is gearing up (Wednesday, fools) for a better opening then it is here. In Michigan, they’re predicting the next four days shall be given over to the snow.

Point of reference: at this time of the year last year it was 80 degrees. Winter is determined to stalk me.

White Walkers optional. (24 Days of Christmas – The King in the North http://awhoreslies.tumblr.com/tagged/%2Achristmas)

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Indecision

Regulation

is far afield of degradation—

any soul what calls them indivisible union

is part and parcel to a different communion—

no, you should not call it vice

if its only purpose is to excise

English: a hand holding unidentified white pills

(Photo Credit: Wikipedia)

because, sweet child, that pill

may look back at you like some foul shill

but if we’re all dying in leagues

that intrigue will only lead to grim fatigue

and in the dying—we’ve all done it—

would you not ask for every trick or wit

in the hopes that one might cry sanctuary

salvation from death’s actuary?

Oh, you’re a noble crusader

you are, you wall, you sacrificial trader

willing to give all for some

but none for your own sum

when it’s a little thing, such little thing

could be the hope for which to sing,

instead participating in a self-castration:

questioning virtues of moderation.

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Too Much, Too Quick

Apparently technology knows when you’re back on a horse, reaching for stars (in this analogy I suppose the horse would also have to be a Pegasus, but I’m actually alright with that). After a very sorry attempt of a southern trek Friday, having encountered horrendous roads and some nasty bits of lake effect snow, I returned this weekend and burrowed myself in some more writing. Encountered big scary words last night, in the midst of said writing.

It was everyone’s favorite: Hard Drive Crash.

Not just any old affair, either: it was blue screen of death quality. While most things (remain) relatively intact, in checking through my external memory bits, I have found a number of major things that did not survive. Anything accomplished in the last 3 weeks, for example. Thank goodness I sent out copies of At Faith’s End on Friday, for example–otherwise half the edits would be lost to the darkness. All the new writings I had begun, notes, ideas, as well as dear sweet Photoshop, and the most recent copy of my resume.

That, suffice to say, hurts. A lot. It’s not as bad as it could be, but for someone that’s been struggling with writer’s block and a fitful, uphill struggle in general with their creativity for a while now…it’s still disastrous. Religious folks might take it for a sign, I suppose. Divine or Alien presence trying to tell me something.

Well. I’ll no doubt head back to the drawing board. But those ideas are gone. I’m wavering and reeling and it’ll take a bit. I’ll go back, but for a while, blogosphere (and I know we were just getting to know one another again), I’m probably going to recede.

Here’s hoping your week’s starting off better than this silly little scribbler’s.

 

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Take that, Grindstone!

From At Faith’s End:

“ Fever made a crossroads of the flesh. Iron bound it down. Iron, after all, was the ages old remedy for witches’ magic. Or so the old wives claimed.

Sweat made a sheen of her olive skin, sun and stone her only companions. And the woman, hovering at the edge of it all. Charlotte could see it through her eyes, yet she had the prescience of her own sight as well. Abandonment. This was all that remained to her. Even the keep would not hold the witch now.

Clouds bled the horizon of its precious light. She sat among the rocks, watching as the distant sky lit with nature’s solemn trill.

She did not remain to listen to Usuri’s own tears fall. ”

~Charlotte, Chapter 16

 

Happy Valentine’s, everyone!

Question mark

Insert Fantasy visual of a Book Cover here. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The above, my friends, is what people where I come from call a tease. It also happens to be an excerpt out of the second novel in The Haunted Shadows series, At Faith’s End, specifically from one of the Charlotte-centric chapters. I offer it as a means of announcement: I can now proudly say the first stage editing of the beast is nigh finished. What of it remains should be completed over the course of a very long car ride in the wee hours of the morning to come (to be explained later).

What does that mean? Editors, check your in-boxes this weekend, as I’ll be sending copies your way. You too, beta readers. Presumably, the pestering, somewhat addle-brained (but hopefully loveable?) act of a nervous writer will shortly follow. My condolences.

Final word count: 178K-ish. Another beefy entry into the fantasy genre, but it also means it’s a good deal shorter than the first, curiously enough. As in, about 20K words shorter. Let’s see if I can resist adding another scene or two into the mix once all the peer reviews or over, shall we?

(For those that need to catch up, take a look at the first book in the series: The Hollow March)

I would also like to send congratulations (they’re not really belated, because I already congratulated her on more personal notes!) over to Mrs. Emmie Mears—a fellow writer—for recently wrangling herself an agent. They can be wily and slippery devils. If you get the chance, swing by her blog and give her a round of applause yourself—and keep an eye on her. She’s going far, I tell you.

Sadly, not all the news today is good news, though. For those of you that didn’t catch my tweet on the matter, my sister-in-law’s mother passed away suddenly yesterday, after a long struggle with cancer. I’ll be driving down south in the early hours of the morning tomorrow to pay my respects and support to both my brother and sister-in-law. As such, my presence over the weekend shall likely be the barest flicker of a candle’s light, at best.

Please keep their family in your thoughts. For more information on this broad and terrible group of diseases, as well as the struggle against cancer, I encourage you to visit the website of Cancer Centers of America.