Taking a Break

Hi everyone!

How are you?

I'm doing pretty well. The crippling fatigue that dragged me down at the end of last week and the beginning of this week has vanished. I'm now simply normal-tired. Whatever that is.

Editing is going, but slowly. This is largely due to the book I'm reading. Damn you, Steven Erikson!

Starting tonight, I'm on holiday until next Friday. I'll still have a few blog posts ready for you, I hope. Perhaps I'll give you all a break from my inane mutterings for a week.

I haven't decided.

I am excited about November. I've decided (for the umpteenth time) to hold of writing The Great Man until then. That might change. It might not. I keep changing my mind on it, which means it might well be November before I decide to start writing it before November.

A quandary.

Right, I should print out chapter five and start editing. Have a wonderful weekend all, and I'll see you soon.

Bedswerver

On that is false to the bed. [Related to Dutch swerven, to roam.]

- Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language, 1755

No Regrets

You know, there's a fair amount of stuff I've given up to do this writing gig.

I could've opted to be a government employee, with high pay and benefits and job security. It's what most people living in Ottawa do. My job, from anyone else's perspective (as my father tells me. Often.) is pretty crap. It's dull. It's not in my field. The pay is pretty low. There are no benefits.

From a writer's perspective, it's heaven! It covers the bills. I'm healthy and pretty much all my health care needs are met by O.H.I.P. (Ontario Health Insurance). The best part, it lets me write for almost eight hours a day.

Do I regret sacrificing a high paying job, sacrificing benefits, sacrificing employment stability just so I can write? Not a bit.

Writing is my passion. I hope to one day make it my profession. No, scratch that. I will one day make it my profession. Until then, I intend to work at it as often as I can.

Luckily, I have that opportunity.

Thank-you, Universe!

Right, chapter 4 needs printing and editing. I must get on with it. Have a good day!

Denranthopology

Study based on the theory that man had sprung from trees.

- T. Lewis Davier' Supplementary English Glossary, 1881

So Much Paper

I feel so guilty editing as I am - printing out a chapter a day and pouring through it with a red pen. So much paper that will one day be nothing but scrap... it's depressing. Still, it needs to be done.

As I'm editing, I've really noticed that I absolutely without reservation need a second, third and fourth pair of eyes. I know this by the dirth of red marks on the page. That is to say, there aren't very many. Which is to say, I'm not a very good self-editor.

Argh!

I currently have my very first Beta Reader going over the book chapter by chapter. Her prologue comments were both useful and amusing. I can't wait to read what she has for the first chapter. There were many more awkward sentences in that chapter than in the prologue.

I'm currently reading a Steven Erikson novel, and feeling incredibly jealous. The man is a master of prose. I am, well, not. I find as I read, being much more critical in general (though, this particular story sucks me in too deeply to be overly critical), and with this book (Midnight Tides, a Malazan Book of the Fallen novel), I find myself wishing I could write like him.

Gosh he's good!

Right, that's enough crazy stalker fan girl from me. There's editing to do. Wish me luck!

Pollrumptious

Restive; unruly; foolishly confident.

- John Farmer's Slang and Its Analogues, 1902

On Being Nothing

So... how's life?

Mine's great. Can't complain. Not really. I've been exhausted and fairly short tempered for the better part of three days now, and I couldn't understand why until last night - I haven't taken my holidays this year yet.

Oops. Should get on that.

The work for today is much the same as it always is. Edit. I might write some too, as I had a dream last night that related to The Great Man. I did want to save the start of writing for NaNoWriMo, but it looks like I'll have to miss out on that again this year because the book won't wait.

Oh well.

Right, I owe you a fair amount of Forgotten English and so, here it is:

Propheciographer

One who writes down or records prophecies.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1909

Flexanimous

Having the power to change the disposition of the mind.

- Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language, 1755

If a minde easily bent or turned.

- Thomas Blount's Glossographia, 1656

Flexanimousness, flexibleness of mind or disposition.

- Nathaniel Bailey's Etymological English Dictionary, 1749

Yankeese

American English; [1800s].

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1918

(Ah hah hah hah hah! Oh, I like that one!)#

Offscouring

Rejected matter; that which is vile or despised.

- Noah Webster's American Dictionary of the English Language, 1828

And now I'm off to edit. Wish me luck!

Oh, and I should also note that the title of today's post has nothing to do with today's post. Sorry about that (not really - I'm enjoying the weirdness of it).

Also, I'm currently addicted to the T.V. show Castle. It's the perfect blend of quirky, funny and serious.

And now I'm done procrastinating and will get back to editing. Goodbye!

Ill In Bed

So, this blog post is going out in the afternoon... because I've been ill in bed today. That also means I don't have the Forgotten English on my desk before me to relate to you today. But what I do have is the awesomely funny comments my first Beta Reader sent me on the prologue.

My Beta Reader is, of course, my flatmate... and she's very flattering about it. Of course, flattery won't make me a better writer, but her comments made me laugh out loud. And here are the best bits, prefaced by the things I actually wrote:

Pallid greyish skin stretched over bone and sinew as if sewn on by a cobbler who couldn’t quite afford enough hide. (way to give me nightmares.)

When they grinned, it was as looking into the mouth of death. (when these things show up in my dreams, no matter what time it is I’m coming into your room to hit you in the head.)

You know, these sentences aren't side by side in the book, and now that they are, they seem well... bad.

And now, I'm watching a Castle marathon with said Beta Reader and laughing hysterically. Have a great weekend all! Hopefully I won't be ill for very long.

Going Slow

Catching up yesterday took all day. Literally. I'm getting on with Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince now, but it took me a while to get there yesterday.

Slow computers are fun. Not.

There isn't really much to report except that I've moved chapters around a little bit, and should be getting stuck into the proper editing today. I'm thinking I might print one chapter out and spend the day editing that.

It's so much easier to edit actual paper than on screen, though I do feel terribly guilty for using paper that will become nothing better than scrap the moment it's printed upon.

Le sigh.

Tomorrow I'll be having a special guest post. I was approached by Amy Shoemaker of nursinghomeabuse.net to ask if it was alright to volunteer an article about her field of expertise.

I checked out nursinghomeabuse.net. This is what they had to say:

Nursing Home Abuse was founded by the National Association to Stop Nursing Home Abuse (NASNHA), a non-profit NGO. NursingHomeAbuse.net exists to raise awareness of the nursing home abuse epidemic, educate the public about its causes, help residents and families prevent abuse, and help victims cope with the consequences of nursing home abuse.

Having known and loved elderly people, I didn't hesitate to accept. Amy's article goes up tomorrow. Be sure to check in.

Until Friday, then!

Breklasse

Without breeches; naked; from Old English brek, breeches.

- Edward Lloyd's Encyclopaedic Dictionary, 1895.

Catching Up & Getting On

Despite this computer being slower than a walrus without flippers.... I'm slowly catching up on all the stuff I didn't do this long weekend. Speaking of, fellow Canadians, how was your thanksgiving?

Mine was quiet and intimate with my Papa and his friend. It was quite lovely, actually. But I've made a decision:

I can't keep not writing.

Worst. Sentence. Ever.

In any case, I'm starting to crawl out of my own skin. This is a weird feeling - I'm scared of starting, and itching to get started. I'm a little terrified of facing the final book in The Great Man series for several reasons.

The last book gave me nightmares. Seriously. Like wake-up-in-a-cold-sweat-heart-pounding nightmares.

I also, counter intuitively, don't really want to finish this story. It's been a part of me for so long (Julian has been hovering at my shoulder since I was 14), I'm terrified of letting it go. Of course I must eventually, but I just don't wanna!

Also, lots of really good people die in this last book. I will be an emotional wreck by the time the book ends, guaranteed.

So, instead, I'm going to go through Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince again before I start on The Great Man. The goal is to have a draft ready for my first Beta Reader by the end of the month. I'm still not releasing it until Hallowe'en of next year, but it would be nice to get all the really difficult stuff out of the way before I begin the final chapter in a really difficult series.

At least I'm working with words again. It'll be nice to start on that once more.

The Great Man will be started in November. I'll be trying to make the first 50 000 words of the book part of the NaNoWriMo challenge, seeing as I've never participated before. I'll kill two birds with one book that way.

I'm terribly behind today, but I should get started. I hope your Tuesday is wonderful. Mine will be painful! Back to training tonight...

Snool

To dispirit by constant chiding; or to depress the energies of life by excess of bodily toil ... a poor pitiful fellow.

- Charles Mackay's Lost Beauties of the English Language, 1874

Pottermore Hates Me

At least, I think it does.

You see, I got my invitation to partake in the Beta version this week, and I was thoroughly excited.

Except that high traffic meant that Pottermore wouldn't load... All day... and then all night. I got in in drips and drabs, even managed to get sorted... shortly before midnight (Gryffindor, if you must know).

The Beta version was opened to a few to test out and suggest improvements. Here's a suggestion:

Get a server that can handle it.

No, seriously. I mean, we're just the test group and we can't get on and enjoy a smooth, frustration free experience. What the hell's going to happen when the whole world jumps on the site?

Seriously. I don't think this was thought through at all.

And that's my griping for the day.

Yesterday was a weird day all around. By the time 3pm rolled around, I was so exhausted I could barely move. I went straight home - no training. Yes, I was that tired. I ordered pizza because I was too exhausted to cook. I ate almost the whole thing before I felt satisfied... and then I got my energy back.

Say what?

I ate well that day (pizza aside), so I shouldn't have been the food. The air in the office is bloody terrible, so I can totally see it being that.

But then, why the boost after the pizza? Is it because the pizza is full of fat and sugar? I don't understand.

Oh well, there goes my weight loss goal at any rate. I'm definitely going to training tonight to make up for all that terrible, terrible, but so yummy, food.

Oh, writing. Right. That's what this blog is supposed to be about. So, in between trying to get onto Pottermore and trying hard not to fall asleep, I worked a little bit on Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince. I figured another basic edit would be in order. It's a good thing too. There were still a mountain of typos, and I only got to chapter 3!

I suppose I ought to go through a bit more today.

All-Sorts

The leavings of [saloon] glasses, poured together and sold cheap.

- Mitford Mathew's Dictionary of Americanisms, 1956

A slang term designating the drippings of glasses in saloons, collected and sold at half-price to drinkers who are not overly particular.

- Sylva Clapin's Dictionary of Americanisms, 1902

... or hygienic, apparently...

The End.

Well, I finished writing Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince. Well, the very rough first draft at any rate. As I typed the last sentence, I genuinely felt melancholic. I really didn't want to finish. I had so much fun writing this one.

I'll go through now and do a cursory edit, and divide the great big long block of words into chapters of some description, and then I'll file the story away and work on something else after a break of undetermined length. Maybe the rest of the year.

Who knows?

Today, I'll do nothing but a few silly things - answering some questions, playing silly games online... that kind of thing.

I'll also be grieving the end of a story that, for some reason, I've grown extraordinarily fond of. I honestly can't wait until it's ready to go out into the world. Not that I expect too many people to read it, but still, I'm feeling pretty good about it.

The happy ending (WHAT?! I wrote a happy ending? Me? No!) probably helped...

Oh, and before I forget, I've been interviewed by Rainy Kaye (of Rainy of the Dark). You can read that interview HERE if you want.

Right, I'm off to do nothing in particular. Have a great Wednesday!

Holy-Dabbies

Cakes of shortbread, formerly used as communion-bread.

- Alexander Warrack's Scots Dialect Dictionary, 1911

Singing-Loaf or cake, the Eucharistic wafer, because a psalm was directed to be sung while it was making.

- T. Lewis Davies' Supplementary English Glossary, 1881

Oops, or, I'm Such a Procrastinator!

Yeah... so... I didn't end up writing 3 000 words yesterday. I didn't even manage 1 000. The computer was slow and stressing me out... but that is just an excuse - and a poor one at that.

The truth was, I didn't much feel like writing and I think I know the reason why. I don't particularly want this book to end. I've had so much fun writing it - giggles and snickers and in-jokes that precious few people would get... I don't particularly want to be finished.

Though, I suppose, all good things come to an end. I will write today. I suppose.

You can't see me, but I'm making a frowny-face.

On with my day! Have a great Tuesday everyone.

Hunt's-Up

A tune played on the horn under the windows of sportsmen to arouse them.

- Robert Hunter's Encylopaedic Dictionary, 1894

The phrase, a "hunt's up," implied any song intended to arouse in the morning - even a love song - the name having been derived from a tune or song employed by early hunters. The term occurs in Romeo and Juliet, where Juliet says to Romeo, speaking of the lark,

Since arm from arm, that voice doth us affray,

Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day.

The morning song to a newly married woman was [also] called the hunt's up. This may be alluded to by Juliet [in] urging Romeo to make his escape.

- Rev. T.F. Thiselton-Dyer's Folklore of Shakespeare, 1884

Strake, a particular note blown by a hunter, apparently after the game is killed [From Middle English] strake, to sound a blast on a trumpet. [Mallory's] Morte [d']Arthur has "To the flighte, to the dethe, and to strake."

- Walter Skeat's Glossary of Tudor and Stuart Words, 1914

Almost There... Almost!

Well, today, if all goes according to plan and this stupid computer speeds up some, I will have reached my target length for Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince. Of course, that doesn't mean the book will be written.

I'm almost near the end, but not quite, and then there's the prologue and epilogue's to write. But hey - the extra words give me some paying room when it comes time to edit. Then, I have the rest of the year off!

That's right. You heard me. The rest of the year. Having finished three first drafts this year, I think I'm entitled to some extended R&R.

Those of you who know me aren't fooled in the slightest, are you. My compulsion to write will, no doubt take over after my first week of 'rest.' Whatever. I'll try to take the rest of the year off, anyway.

It's obnoxiously late in the morning (the computer is being especially difficult this morning), and I should hop to.

I just remembered that I forgot to schedule your weekend Forgotten English, so today you get a two-for-one special!

Glossator

He that makes a glosse or comment to interpret the hard meaning of words or things.

- Edward Phillips' New World of English Words, 1598

In Blood

To be in blood, to be in good condition, to be vigorous. A term of the chase.

- Rev. Alexander Dyce's Glossary to the Works of William Shakespeare, 1902

Chillaxing

Good morning!

Is it a good morning because:

a) The first, most difficult week of training is over. It'll only get easier from here,

b) I slept really well last night,

c) Today is my first ever violin lesson,

d) My muscles have ceased to ache quite so much, or

e) All of the above.

If you answered e), you are correct. Reward yourself with a square of rich dark chocolate and a small glass of port. Trust me. It's a reward.

Oh, I do have to tell you, in training last night, we were supposed to do as many chin-ups as we could. I am so ashamed to say, I cannot do a single one. I am very tempted to put a bar up in my doorway and practice at home so I don't look like such a fool the next time around. Oh well, there's only one way to get to doing a chin-up... I'll look the fool a few classes longer, I suppose. Until I can do a chin-up again.

I used to be able to do them. What the hell happened?!

I didn't, sadly, make my daily 3 000 yesterday. I made 2 000 (still a good haul, when I think about it). So today will be spent writing that final 1 000, then goofing off. I'll still be on target, and Monday will see me hit my goal! Yay!

Of course, the book won't be finished. There's the prologue and epilogue to write, and then a cursory format and edit, before I tuck it away and celebrate by goofing off for the rest of the month.

Ahhh.... today is a good day!

Anthropotomist

One who studies human anatomy.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1888

One who cuts up or dissects a man; [from Greek] anthropos, man, and tomis or tomes, one who cuts.

- Edward Lloyd's Encyclopaedic Dictionary, 1895.

Facebook Shenanigans, or, Why I Adore My Friends

It has become my habit to post the last few lines of whatever I've written that day on my facebook page. On occasion, someone will "like" the post. Yesterday was rather extraordinary and very, very amusing.

I've recreated it for you below, typographical errors and all:

Cap'n S. M. Carrière

The angry flash in his eyes became a savage glow. Ethan stepped back, for the first time genuinely afraid. With a snarl, the king attacked again. Ethan hadn’t a hope in the world.
Quick slice after quick slice came at him, from seemingly every direction at once. He stepped back, to the side and backwards again, barely keeping his balance. Three savage blows he had no choice to parry cost him his weapon. The blade snapped at the hilt.
“Shit!” Ethan said.

And now I'm going to play games.

And then this happened:

P.M.: shit is right...

P.M.: that's why you need differentially tempered steel

P.M.: if you jut quench the whole thing it ends up being brittle...

P.M.: remind me to take ethan sword shopping

P.M.: of course the elf has am unfair advantage knowing steel and magic....

J.M-B.: i better show up and save ethan's sorry ass. he sounds doomed.

P.M.: how come I'm not in the story?

P.M.: wouldn't have needed saving if I was he'd have had a better sword

J.M-B.: well where the hell are you phil? get it together man! ethan needs us!!!

P.M.: alright let me get a horse. now all I need is a hill to come over...

J.M-B.: for crying out loud you don't need a horse. TELEPORT.

P.M.: but then how can I be the cavalry coming to the respect to the blare of trumpets? how can I be the knite in shining armour?

J.M-B.: it's only knights in shining armour that need horses and trumpets. knites in shining armour arrive via teleportation.

P.M.: true... can I say Ni?

P.M.: as I teleport in?

Me: Ah hah hah! I love you guys!

J.M-B: yeah i can allow that. ni away. just arrive already before ethan becomes mincemeat.

P.M.: The angry flash in his eyes became a savage glow. Ethan stepped back, for the first time genuinely afraid. With a snarl, the king attacked again. Ethan hadn’t a hope in the world.

Quick slice after quick slice came at him, from seemingly every direction at once. He stepped back, to the side and backwards again, barely keeping his balance. Three savage blows he had no choice to parry cost him his weapon. The blade snapped at the hilt.
“Shit!” Ethan said.

P.M.: Suddenly the king stopped and looked over his head, his brow creased in puzzlement. He seemed to hear something that no one else could.

Ethan was puzzled but wasn't about the waste the reprieve he'd been given. But just as he was about to reach the back of the kings head with the viciously swung pommel the King ducked. As he turned to face him with a snarl distorting his royal face Ethan knew he was going to die

P.M.: And then he heard it too. With an annoying "Ni" Phil the Great and Powerful Master of Swordplay and Wit popped into existence and gave Ethan a stern look.

"I'm not sure what you were thinking" he intoned "picking that piece of shit sword. Inferior quality steel and entire quenches in salt water? I'm surprised you didn't shatter every time you thought vaguely of waving it around in that ghastly parody of grace you so delusionally call sword play"

J.M-B.: you tell him.

P.M.: The king was slowly backing away with fear in his eyes as the supremely awesome Phil, lord of Awesomeness began to expound on carbon content, phase diagrams, ductile strength and hardness numbers.

P.M.: ‎"Look at this" he finally wound down "This is a sword. Feel the balance, see the temper mark, DON'T touch to edge you blithering imbicile, this one is actually sharp."

P.M.: Ethan took the sword with the proper reverence such an august personage and such a beautiful weapon demanded. As he experimentally swung it back and forth the almighty Phil, destroyer of worlds and saviour of souls pronounced:

"Now try again and this time try don't come whining to me expecting some sort of deus ex machina intervention if you're too incompetent to know good steel"

P.M.: Ethan took the sword with the proper reverence such an august personage and such a beautiful weapon demanded. As he experimentally swung it back and forth the almighty Phil, destroyer of worlds and saviour of souls pronounced:

"Now try again and this time try don't come whining to me expecting some sort of deus ex machina intervention if you're too incompetent to know good steel"

P.M.: And with a finally supremely annoying "Ni!" The Phil vanished

J.M-B.: now sonia doesn't need to bother writing tomorrow, you just saved her story. BEST ENDING EVER.

P.M.: Well you did say to save his ass...

P.M.: but that's not even close to 3000 words

J.M-B.: it's so awesome it doesn't need to actually be 3000 words to count as 3000 words.

K.R.: I agree - very awesome! Just curious: Are there any loud noises accompanying the teleportation, such as a boom or sucking in of air as The Phil appears and disappears? Or the twinkling and chiming of the heavens lining up for such an illustrious event?

And this is all the stuff you miss out on, when you're not on my facebook page. Shame on you.

Incidentally, P.M. really should take up writing himself!

Alright, I'm done. Back to writing. I'm almost there!

Black Ox

"The black ox has trod on his foot," he has fallen into decay or adveristy.

- Walter Skeat's Glossary of Tudor and Stuart Words, 1914

Black oxen were scrificed to the [Roman] gods of the Lower Regions. The [c. 1546] proverb, "the black ox never trod upon his foot," means he is not married. "The black ox hath trampled on him" is an equivalent of "He is henpecked."

- Albert Hyamson's Dictionary of English Phrases, 1922

The black ox is said to tramp on one who has lost a near relation by death.

- John Jamieson's Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, 1879

There's Something in the Air

I've been reading about, hearing of and experiencing something remarkable. Sleep deprivation. For the past week or so, I've averaged four hours of sleep a night. My flatmate keeps waking up in the middle of the night. Friends have been averaging anywhere between two to five hours of sleep a night. Some get their eight, but it's continually interrupted for no apparent reason.

What is going on? Is there anyone else out there in blog land that is suffering the same as this transitional period?

Perhaps something big is shifting in the universe, and we're all unconsciously tuning to it. Perhaps my luck will finally change and I'll be a writer for real - like earning a decent income real. I mean, I am a real writer in that I write stuff all the time...

Well, that was awkward.

The point is, things are weird, and they're like as not going to get a bit weirder until we all settle down into our new seasons.

Personally, I'm looking forward to the autumn. It's my favourite time of the year. The weather cools and becomes comfortable instead of sweltering. The colours are amazing. It used to be that a new year of university was about to commence (here in North America), and the anticipation was delightful - particularly if I registered for very cool classes in the summer (and I usually did - thank-you Celtic Studies!).

This year, I'm anticipating the commencement of my violin lessons (so excited!) and the return to my martial arts training. The prolonged break from Kung Fu has helped me immensely to refocus, to heal up and gather myself together. I should be in a much better frame of mind this time around.

Also this autumn, despite still being behind 8 000 odd words, I will be finishing the first draft of Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince. I'll then be working on getting it into publishable shape for Hallowe'en of next year. Being as how I'm self-publishing, I can set my own deadlines and release date. I'm enjoying that immensely, actually.

I might be a bit of a control freak.

In any case, I think autumn is by far the best of the seasons. Out of curiosity, what's your favourite season, and why?

The Squares

"How go the squares?" how goes the game? The reference is to the chessboard. [Thomas] Middleton, Family of Love [1608]. Yomenne, "yeomen"; the pawns in the game of chess.

- Walter Skeat's Glossary of Tudor and Stuart Words, 1914

Checking in After a Long Weekend

Good morning everyone!

It is still morning, correct? *checks computer clock.

Yup, still morning. Though this computer is so slow it wouldn't surprise me if it was afternoon by the time it decided to load this page.

So, the Labour Day long weekend went by much too quickly. In it, I achieved very little. I managed, in one marathon sitting, to finish watching season 2 of Rush (an Australian cop drama that happily replaces Blue Heelers). It's a great show, and I highly recommend it to anyone who likes cop dramas.

Also, I might be slightly in love with the character Lawson Blake. Just sayin'.

I also managed to clean house a little bit this weekend. That was nice. The house feels 1 000 times better now. However, while cleaning, I neglected the cat (Persephone) who desperately wanted cuddles and was, therefore, in disfavour when I did finish cleaning. So much in disfavour was I, that she spent the whole night in the living room where usually she cuddles up to me while I sleep. Le sigh.

Some exciting news - I've signed up for violin lessons! Finally! I think I've told the story of always wanting to learn only, the very year I was old enough to learn, the only string violin teacher in the town upped and moved away. I was very disappointed.

Well, fairly recently, I'd been given a violin and I swore I'd learn. Only, every time I went to pay for lessons some sort of financial crisis occurred. It was vexing. Well, this last pay, I took the plunge (I hope there will not be any financial emergencies coming up, or I'm screwed) and lessons begin this Friday. Eep! I'm very excited. I just adore music.

Writing wise, I'm so far behind target I don't even want to think about it. I have to write 8 000 words today to catch up. Obviously it's not going to happen. Worse still, I neglected to factor the long weekend into my estimated word count, so to keep from falling further behind, I'll have to write Friday. Looks like I'll be writing for a few Friday's actually - just to catch up.

I'll already well behind schedule for the day, as well, so I'll leave you alone now. I hope you all had a marvellous long weekend!

Flutter the Dovecots

To cause mild excitement in society. Shakespeare, Coriolanus.

- Albert Hyamson's Dictionary of English Phrases, 1922

Mind Bend, or, Trouble at the Halfway Mark

I'm not yet at 50 000 words, but I'm over the halfway mark.

My mind is having great difficulty wrapping around this idea. Perhaps it's really anal, and requires wonderful round numbers for halfway marks, and can't handle all the messy fractions of 75 000.

Yesterday, something happened in the story that was supposed to happen ( my apologies to the Elgin Street Police Headquarters. You're all dead. Sorry), but I kept thinking that this book was going to be crap because it wasn't the halfway mark yet. Except that it was.

I was confused. Even now I'm having difficulty dealing with this relatively simple concept. In short, I'm a twit.

Oh, a lovely note this morning - two rejections in my inbox. Oh goodie. Le sigh. Oh well. I guess.

UGH!

On a happier note, just ten more writing days and I'm done Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince. Yay!

Also on a happier note, I managed to fix up The Dying God & Other Stories (for the last time, I swear!). I only found two typos and had one change of mind. Thus, only three corrections. All the eBook versions have been changed AND, this time, Lebrary.com accepted the update! Yay! You can now buy it there again if you so wish. Hopefully I'll get the confirmation email from Createspace.com today that The Dying God & Other Stories is all good to go for the paperback edition. Then I can press that 'publish' button. It that happens today, I'd have met my self-imposed deadline. Just.

Damn, I'm good.

Right, I really have to get on with it now. Have a great Thursday all!

Algerining

The act of prowling about with intent to steal... Probably from Algerine, an inhabitant of Algiers. The greatest commerce of the Algerines consists in the merchandize which they obtain by the piratical plunder of Christians over the whole Mediterranean.

- Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1898-1905

NOOOOOOOOOO!

I found another typo in The Dying God & Other Stories!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

So far, there's only one. Which is good. I suppose. If that proves to be the only one, I'll fix it and publish without ordering yet ANOTHER proof, I think.

I swore like a sailor when I saw it; and it's such a stupid typo as well. One would think that by this stage of my life, I'd know how to spell the word 'knives.'

I need to punch something.

Le sigh. Today, I'll go on with writing Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince and then continue to proofread The Dying God & Other Stories.

I'm so mad at myself!

Called to Straw

A woman who is called to straw is about to have a baby. I first assumed that it referred to a straw mattress, just as "hit the hey" signifies "go to bed." But many natives, including physicians and midwives at widely separated points in Missouri and Arkansas, assure me that straw means the act of parturition ... It is sometimes used as a verb as in "Mable's a-strawin' right now."

- Vance Randolph's Down in the Holler, 1953

I'm still mad at myself.

Do a Little Dance!

Ohhh yeaaaaah! I'm past the half-way mark. Ooooh yeah! Do a little dance...

That was my minor celebration on this project. Past the half-way mark is a big deal since I started not loo long ago.

If I stay on track, that's just about three more weeks of writing, and then I'm done the obnoxiously written first draft. For the record, all first drafts are obnoxious. Just so you know.

I can then edit and format, then shelve for a while before I edit again... and then send it out to Beta Readers for more edits, before getting it back and editing again and then...

... I can prepare for self-publication.

A few reasons why I want to self-publish this one (I've touched on these before):

1. This is really a just-for-fun project; a silly thing that I don't expect will get a large readership.

2. You pretty much have to live in Ottawa, and know my friends and I (and the ridiculous things we get up to) in order to get any of the jokes.

3. I whipped this up in a little over a month. Unlike The Great Man series, I haven't been slaving over this for years and years. I'm not so attached to the characters or the story that I feel I really desperately want to see this printed traditionally in the same way I do The Great Man. Of course, that said, I am exceptionally concerned about the quality of all my work, so never fear, dear reader. I will endeavour to create the best possible piece of printed material I know how.

There were other reasons, but I can't remember them now. Right, I should get on with it. Have a good Tuesday everyone!

Magastromancy

A word invented by Gaule for magical astrology; so magastromancer, one who practices magastromancy, magastromantic, pertaining to magastromancy.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1908

Examples of the magastromancer's fatall miseries are too many to be instanc't... To what end serve the feigned mirables [wonders] of mature but to feigne the magastromantick art for the greatest mirable.

- John Gaule's Mag-Astro-Mancer; or, The Magicall-Atrologicall-Diviner Posed and Puzzled, 1652

A Dull-ish Weekend

You know those lives in which nothing exciting happens? Yeah... sometimes I feel like I'm living one (which is ridonkulous - I do so many cool things, it's not funny).

I'd love to excitedly tell you about an agent who wanted read more of my manuscript, or having met someone I just can't get out of my head.

I've got nothing. I spent most of this weekend in bed, trying to get my lower back to stop aching. It's been hurting for the better part of a fortnight. Woah... when did I turn into an eighty-year-old? Do I honestly have nothing more exciting to do than grumble about my latest ache? Man... time for a switch-up!

Here's some awesomely good news that I heard via my father on Sunday. My kid bro is thinking of moving over here in October! Yay! That makes me happy! I can't wait to introduce him to the Kung Fu gang!

There really isn't anything else. It's back to writing today, after a good long break. If I stay on target, I ought to kick the pants out of the half-way mark. If not, oh well. There's always catch up time on Friday, I suppose.

I should get to it. Oh, since I forgot to prepare a post for Saturday, you lucky ducks get two Forgotten English entries today.

Boniform

Of a good nature or character; from Latin bonus, good, and forma, shape.

- Edward Lloyd's Encyclopaedic Dictionary, 1895

A faculty by which moral goodness is appreciated; from Latin boniformis.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary , 1893

Batten

To fatten, or grow fat. In Stenberg's Folk Lore and Glossary of Northamptonshire [1851], the local phrase is quoted, "Them pigs batten in the sun."

- Charles Mackay's Lost Beauties of the English Language, 1874

Fattening and battening, a toast of a child's fattening and thriving given at its baptism in private, when the bread, cheese and whisky are partaken of.

- Alexander Warrack's Scots Dialect Dictionary, 1911.

The Road Goes Ever On and On

A small victory for me yesterday - I caught up on my writing! I'm right where I need to be at the start of today.

DANCE PARTY

Of course, I'm not yet finished the book, so the dance party will be relatively quiet, with not too much drinking and an early night. There's work to do.

I'm having so much fun with this book, it should be illegal. I'm sticking in people I know left, right and centre. I'm putting them in places I'm familiar with (hello, Carleton University), and the adventure is just good clean fun. Only two people die - and neither of them are the protagonist!

I think that's a record for me.

Right, I want to get finished writing early enough to goof off and watch Mock the Week. With luck, I won't fall behind again today!

Oh! And before I forget, The Dying God and Other Stories is now available on the kindle! What will hopefully be the final proof of the paperback edition has been shipped, according to createspace.com. I should be getting that early September. With luck, everything will finally be in order and I'll be able hit that important 'publlish' button.

For now, there are two e-Book editions available. The Illustrated Edition, available via the Kindle HERE, and the Unillustrated Edition available in multiple formats via smashwords.com HERE.

I'll still fighting with the uploader at Lebrary.com. With luck, I'll be able to get that up and running soon.

Also, here's an excellent article on genre writing.

Right, now I must dash. Until tomorrow, then!

Bizz

Hair all tossed on end is said to be in a bizz; from the English word Frizz.

- John Mactaggart's Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, 1824