L, M, N…I’m so far behind

Ok, so I get sicker than a dog, traveled to NC and back, went to work and kind of forgot about posting all my A-Z goodies.   Soooo…..I’m lumping them all into one post.  I promise, I’ll make it short and sweet.

As they relate to my novel, The Eye of Kedge:

L ~ Mr. Earl Loudermilk

An older man and former history teacher at Havendale High School.  An avid collector of medieval weapons, old books, and historical memorabilia.  He is David Heiland’s next door neighbor, mentor and friend, that is until he turns wackadoodle. The reason for his odd transformation is dangerously absurd.

M ~ Mangus Grythorn

A handsome and lethal man. Part mage, part human, he is Supreme Master Jared’s closest ally, collaborator, and serves as General of the Felindil Legion Command.  Standing 6’4″, Mangus speaks seven languages, has a twisted sense of humor and a kind heart…when he’s not trying to rip out the heart of his enemy.  Inspiration for this character can be found here.

N ~ Northern Forest

The realm of Fallhollow is bordered to the north by the Northern Forest and to the South by the Southern Forest.  Seyekrad, one of two protectorates of the realm, lives in the Northern Forest.  The second protectorate, Slavandria, resides in Chalisdawn, in the the Southern Forest.  The Northern Forest is also home to the Sankara Mountains and Berg Castle.  Here, you will also find the Elastine Forest, an unusual, magical prison, and haven to shy and timid dryads.

I – Insecure

Happy Wednesday,and welcome to day 9 of the A-Z challenge.  Thank you once again for visiting and reading my contribution to this fun blogging event.  Please take some time to visit the other A-Z participants to see what they’re up to.

Now on to the letter I.

I’m insecure about my YA novel, The Eye of Kedge.  This novel has been in the works for years.  It started off many, many years ago as a thought that went dormant for a very long time.  Then, in 2003, it resurfaced again and I took out my pen and starting plotting it out a bit.  I wanted to get a feel for it, to see if I had something.  I dabbled with it here and there.  Did some research, wrote a bit but didn’t devote myself to it full-time until the spring of 2010.  Then, I whipped it out and sent it off to a publisher.  Thankfully, that publisher saw a diamond beneath all that black coal, and they gave me some really great advice on how to fix it – something unheard of in today’s publishing world.

I sat on it.  Mulled over their suggestions.  Some I liked.  Some I didn’t.  Then life sort of got a hold of me and well…let’s just say the past 2 years were really, really tough – physically, mentally and emotionally.  Now, I’m perked back up again.  I have a job.  I’m bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan, but I can’t seem to finish editing my novel.  I told a friend of mine tonight I’m scared – scared of succeeding.  Scared of failing.

I’m insecure.

We keep hearing and reading about how our novels have to have that special ‘umph’, that ‘new thing’, that ‘wow’ that hasn’t been done before.  But no one tells us what that is.  Is it enough that I love the story I wrote?  Will it hold up to scrutiny?  Will it garner such horrible reviews I’ll want to climb under a table and die?  Will I ever think it’s good enough to see the light of day?

A publisher two years ago thought so.  Otherwise they wouldn’t have taken the time to hand out page after page of suggestions with an offer to resubmit.

So why am I so insecure?

Do any of you feel insecure about your passion?  How do you pump yourself up?  How do you find the courage to believe in you?

It’s an “A-Z challenge” and “If you could” Friday! Whoo Hoo!

Hey everyone!  I was going to forego “If you could” Friday because I’m doing the A-Z challenge, but I thought about it and said, why not to both, so here goes:

If you could /date/marry/have an affair with your favorite fictional character, who would it be and why?

Now on to day 5 of the A-Z challenge.  Today we bring you the letter E.  As in keeping with my theme, I bring to you Eric, another protag from my novel, The Eye of Kedge.  Eric, take it away.

As squire to Sir Trogsdill Domnall, Eric makes it his personal mission to find and offer his services to a mysterious paladin summoned by the mages to protect the realm of Fallhollow.  Fearless in his pursuit, he defies danger in his search for this magical being.  What he finds is nothing like what he imagined, but that’s okay.  Even head-strong, fearless squires have to make unlikely alliances to find what they want, even if it’s hidden in plain sight.


Eric nodded and shuffled his feet under the weight of Trog’s stare.  He waited for Sestian and Farnsworth to get far enough away before lifting his head and meeting Trog’s gaze.  The knight raised a brow.

“Are you going to tell me where you really were, or are you going to hold to your story that you were listening to a lecture that ended this time yesterday?”

“Which one will get me in the least amount of trouble?”

Trog placed his hand on Eric’s back and edged him down the stone steps to the lower courtyard.  “The truth, Eric.  Always the truth.”

“What if I promised not to tell?”

“Secrets are grave burdens to bear.”

“I can’t betray his confidence, Sir.  I promised.”

Trog nodded.  “Then you’ll sleep in the stables tonight as punishment.”

“But, how is that fair?”

“You know the rules as my squire and you still choose to withhold the truth.  Therefore, you shall be punished accordingly.”

“But the rules of knighthood require I not reveal confidences or secrets under any circumstance to anyone at anytime, even under pain of death.”

“Nice try, lad, but that rule only applies if you’re a knight and have been captured.  Last time I looked, neither of those apply to you.”  Trog placed a heavy hand on Eric’s shoulder.  “I’m going to give you one more chance.  What will it be?”

Eric clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides.  “With all due respect, Sir, I cannot and will not betray my friend.”

Trog removed his hand.  “Then you have made your choice and will suffer the consequences of it.  Now go on and get busy with your chores.  I want each of those blades in your hand sharpened and polished by morning—”

“But, Sir—”

“And for protesting when you should not, you will also sharpen and polish Sir Farnsworth’s blades. I’ll see to it they are dropped off this evening.”  Eric opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind at Trog’s lifted brow.  “Would you like me to add Sir Gowran’s and Sir Crohn’s weapons to your load?”

Eric bit his lip, his guilt boiling below the surface.  “No, Sir.”

“Very well.  Bring the blades to the farrier’s stall in the morning around eight.  It will be a dual-fold meeting as you can visit your father at the same time.”

Trog paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful, then turned and strolled across the courtyard.  The beast of a man hoisted a young page from a game of marbles and lectured him on the pitfalls of wasting time. Eric snorted at the boy’s bewildered expression and the speed at which he ran once set down upon his feet.  Been there, boy.  He cursed beneath his breath.  What am I talking about?  I’m seventeen and I’m still at his mercy.


For a glimpse into my vision of Eric, click the guy below:

anime boy


D – David Heiland

Good day everyone, and welcome to day 4 of the A-Z Challenge.  Thanks for stopping by and reading my contribution to this fun blogging event.  Please feel free to stay as long as you like, then jump on over to see what the other participants are blogging about.

Now on to the letter D.  From my YA novel, The Eye of Kedge, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to David Alwyn Heiland, one of three main protagonists.  Charlotte you met yesterday, David is today, and Eric follows tomorrow.   Anyone interested to see how I envision David?  Click on the little guy below to find out.

anime boy

David was born March 31 and is almost 18 years old, extremely wealthy and lives with his godmother, Lily, in an 1860’s mansion in Havendale, Tennessee.  His father died 3 months before David was born.  His mother died from complications after David’s birth. His car:  a steel-blue 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500.

He is a champion archer, great at shooting paper targets, but his love for living creatures makes it impossible to shoot and kill.  He’s secretly in love with his best friend, Charlotte, and his OCD tends to get him in sticky spots.  He takes pride in his appearance, is always stylish.  He can be  short-tempered, stubborn, and quick to judge, but those traits are quickly squelched when thrust into the care of Sir Trogsdill Domnall, a highly respected and lethal knight of the kingdom of Hirth.  David may not be fond of Trog’s methods of teaching, but when he comes face to face with two enemies determined to kill him, David  realizes Trog may not be such a bad teacher after all.


David woke upon a straw mattress in a moon-lit room cluttered with strange items.  Braided vines hung from the rafters, piles of river rocks and unusual stones, talons, teeth and amulets perched on weather-beaten shelves.  Sloughed reptilian skins hung like party streamers from the ceiling while red and black ink blot paintings clung to the walls at a tilt. A high-backed rocking chair sat in the corner like a lone, forgotten figure, its seat in bad need of repair.  Soft moonlight reflected off the water in the basin, casting ripples of glimmering brilliance upon the planked walls.

A knock on the door broke his concentration.  He flung his long legs over the edge and sat up as the gangling, paper-thin stranger entered carrying a wooden bowl and mug, both with knots, branches and leaves protruding from their sides.  He set them on a nearby round table, along with a lit candle, its yellow wax dripping like lemon tears down its tapered form.

“I have brought you nourishment.”  His voice was soothing, lyrical, like the gurgle of a babbling brook on a Spring day.  “I figured you could do with some stickies on your insides.  I have drawn you a warm bath. It awaits you at the end of the hall.  Fresh clothes are on the chest at the foot of the bed.  Take your time.  When you are done, come downstairs.  We have much to discuss.”  The stranger turned to leave.

“Wait.”  David stood and swept aside fringes of dark hair clumped together by briars. “Who are you?  What are you?”

The stranger flashed a mouth of paper-flat teeth.  “My name is Finnegan.  Finnegan Aginagin and I am a sestra, an emissary of the mages.  You may call me Finn.”