Nyssa and her pack howling together, well, except for Wicket.
As they have gotten more comfortable with each other, the dogs have started howling together. It tends to happen when they are all playing and excited in close proximity to one another. Usually Cedar and Wicket are trying to get Dash to run so they can chase him, and Nyssa takes over, as you see and hear above.
They seem to enjoy it, and honestly, I do too. Most times I participate as well. 😄
This communication has brought them closer as a pack and they seem happy to have me in on the event. Good communication often has that effect.
The editor-author relationship is built on communication, in addition to respect and trust. Communication is also the vehicle by which the other two elements are fostered.
Sending your work off to an editor is a huge step. Hopefully it is also one that will contribute to your growth as an author and writer. Most writers have ideas of where their work may be a bit weak, or need some tweaking or building-up. Letting your editor know these areas ahead of time can help them focus on where to direct their attention.
It also lets them know what you perceive as some of your strengths or weaknesses as an author. And how they can best assist you in making your manuscript the best it can be.
Of course there is always the moment when the editorial letter and edited manuscript arrive back in your inbox. Remember your editor is likely nervous too, sending their carefully crafted letter back to you.
When the objective of all parties involved is the same, we have a better chance of understanding each other and having meaningful discussions. We speak the same language about the manuscript in the interest of improving it. We work together, and in the process, strengthen our editor-author relationship.
Just like Nyssa’s pack. Howling together for a stronger bond.
Have a great week! Woof woof roooooo! 🐕🦺
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Two and a half months have passed since Cedar and Wicket came into our lives. From watching all of their interactions, I would say that collectively they are all now a family pack. Both puppies have fit into the routines and daily flow of the household.
It did take Nyssa and Dash some time to accept the two young ones, though. And I expected that. However, her manner for accepting them was very different. Cedar kind of forced his way down her throat by throwing himself in front of her constantly and kissing her whenever he could. She gets annoyed and he flops in front of her submissively and they play.
It took Nyssa a long time, until last week or so, to give any individual attention to Wicket, though. I was starting to get nervous even, but then she gave him her “nibble treatment” for a while and they played tug and all has been well since. I guess she figured Wicket isn’t going anywhere, and he is sweet and fun, so why not. Dash already plays with him, she may as well, too.
Her decision to accept and integrate, and this time of year when many association memberships come due put me in mind of the benefits of these organizations.
I’ve seen several queries on social media channels about whether the professional editors associations are worth joining. What are the benefits? Is the cost justifiable?
In my opinion, yes, they are.
I am a member of the Editorial Freelancers Association (EFA) and several others. Last year I took a full complement of editing courses from the EFA at discounted rates, which balanced the membership fee. Not to mention those courses were all taught by EFA members who are highly respected editors themselves. I enjoyed every one of them and was grateful for the connections I made with experienced editors. Their feedback was insightful, instructive, and helped me be more confident in my work. I highly recommend the EFA courses if you want editing instruction.
The communities these associations give you the opportunity to be a part of is also a huge resource. Most of them have Facebook groups, both public and private, and the amount of information shared in these forums is astounding. Peer-driven support can be so important for this industry, given that so many of us are working from home, much of the time in solitude. Having a group at the ready to answer questions and bounce sticky bits off of is invaluable. I’ve learned a metric ton just by lurking and following along!
For new editors like myself, it also gives us the space to integrate slowly, to get up to speed at a pace we are comfortable with. Introverts, (like me), certainly appreciate this.
Once again, Nyssa is right. Might as well join and have fun (and learn), than resist and be left without support when it may highly benefit you. If you can join some associations, I say do it. Be part of the community. #editorsjustwannahelp
Have a great week! Woof woof roooooo! 🐕🦺
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Hello Everyone! Happy New Year and welcome to 2021… I think? I hope your New Year was fun, safe, and positive, however you chose to celebrate. Did you make resolutions? How are they going? I don’t actually make resolutions. Like expectations, I think they are more-often-than-not let-downs in the end, so I don’t bother. I do turn the page, though, pack up my financials, and try to remember to write “2021.” We’re off to a rough start in many places, but here’s to moving onward and upward. That’s where I’m going. I hope you want to come along, ’cause Elahna’s got plenty of places to go this year!~
Ivy and Elahna were last chatting about family, Ivy’s kids, getting-to-know you kind of stuff. Oh yeah, and the matriarchal society part. Keep that in mind for this next chunk. It gets more in-depth 😉.
I continued on, “I do miss my family, and I feel awful for how they must be feeling, not having any idea what happened to me, if I’m alive or dead, there’s just nothing for them to go on that would give them hope. But I have to admit, I am enjoying myself here. This world is beautiful, the magic is amazing and beyond what I thought magic could be, and the people… Everyone has been so wonderful, so understanding and helpful. There’s also not many people compared to what I’m used to. Is Irillo a really large city?”
“Oh yes. Irillo is the largest city in Eflary. The same is true of Rusmaar for Maarran. I don’t know which would be bigger, though. The older elven construction buildings make Irillo look imposing on approach, but Rusmaar’s High Seat is spectacular, too.”
Ivy and I continued to chatter on about our worlds, falling into an easy camaraderie to the rhythm of our horses’ easy gaits. She seemed younger than me, but I still wasn’t sure how time correlated with what I knew. I knew about erdurs (hours) in a anar (day), and that an anid is a year, but what is it made up of… how was I going to wrap my head around that? I pulled back from the spiral of that thought line to remain attentive to the conversation.
The sun felt like it was directly overhead when we found a more open, grassy area along the road to stop for lunch. There had been a good giggle as we dismounted, stumbling with pins and needles in our feet from so long in the saddle. Felicity and Revel tossed their heads and stepped quickly out of our way as we pitched and hopped about.
Then we slipped their bits and they drifted off into the deeper shade as we unpacked a snack and ate in a relaxed, companionable silence.
As we got back underway, the horses having been refreshed from the fine grass, some of the nosebag oats, and a long drink from a forest pool, I picked back up on conversation. “Are you excited to see your matris? It sounds like you haven’t seen her in a while.” I wasn’t trying to pry, so to speak, but I was curious about this family structure, and I was tired of talking about Earth.
Ivy shrugged. “Sure, it’s been an anid, I guess. We do send letters though. She likes to have news of Lignan and Heather. I will have a fair amount of time to myself, her council duties keep her occupied. I look forward to having some time in the city. It’s so different from Cragbend. I have friends here too that I visit with.”
“How long has she been on the council? Is it a lifetime service thing?”
“About quinduary anids, I think. She was appointed by the House under Regna Cercis, Regna Halesia’s mother. I actually lived in Irillo with her for a while, until my nova name day, when I was called to Rosewood.”
“So she doesn’t really get to come back to Rosewood, then?”
“Only if she wants to. Rosewood isn’t her House. My mother is a Florian, so she returns to Hazelwick in Sagebridge on her leave. I’m only an Arborea.” This last she said with her eyes downcast, like it was a condemnation.
To be fair, I did feel some reticence at asking that, but I desperately wanted to understand why she seemed ashamed of that, and what it meant in the larger scheme of families. Clearly, I have spent too much time reading epic fantasy and historical fiction tales filled with political intrigue and hierarchy. Oh well.
The weight of my question hung like a granite dirigible over us, I actually shivered under it. Revel snorted and danced a step or two sideways, earning him a sidelong eyeball from Felicity.
I was just about to retract my question with an awkward apology when Ivy flashed the barest of smiles and blurted out, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that. An Elemental’s power is a blessing and a gift, as there are some who are without abilities despite their parentage. They are the unfortunate ones. I am thankful for my Arborean talents.” She raised her palm up as if in greeting. This time it appeared to be more in supplication, though. It was the first time I had witnessed any person performing something even vaguely religious, or perhaps pious. The topic of religion sparked another line of questions in the back of my mind. I was starting to feel like the proverbial three-year-old that everyone wants to shut up.
Ivy pulled randomly at the braids in Felicity’s mane, smoothing stray strands flat, then reaching up to smooth the braids at her own temples. They were dyed a rich cocoa brown, in contrast to the very light blonde of her waist length hair. She had the two braids pulled back and fastened together at the back of her head so the upper parts held the rest of her hair off her face. Tiny bells were woven into the fastenings, which chimed softly with her movements.
The audible effect was quite soothing, I noticed, as was the visual. She had matched the color of her hair braids with the light riding leggings she wore, tying all the colors and sounds of Ivy together. It was deliberate, but so representative of the little I knew about my traveling companion. If I had had to guess her magic without knowing, a tree would have been the first thing to mind.
“You heard my Unclen and Grand Matris Daphne call us Scion Arborea. House Florian is the House we belong to, the other Scion being Herball. We have abilities relating to trees and hardwood shrubs. Herballs have magics founded in herbaceous plants. Florians, though, have abilities in both areas. A child can have one of, or both, of the House talents, or be a rare paterif, as I mentioned earlier. If a child of a Scion mother has House abilities, they are said to be increased, and it can be either natural or spontaneous. A nats child’s powers are an increase over their matris’ due to the combination of both parents’ powers. A spont would be a random appearance of an increase in power in a child over the matris’ power. Does that make sense? You now explain it back to me to see if I said it right.”
I took a long moment to consider this. Genetics had always fascinated me, I studied it when I could in school, so I immediately reduces this to X’s and Y’s in my mind to chart it out. According to her last statement, though, Mendelian genetics wasn’t going to explain it all.
“So if the parents are a House and a Scion, the child would have House abilities?” I asked. That would explain an increase, was there a decrease, then too?
“In many cases, yes, you would be right. That child would be a nats increase, or nats-i, we say. There is a nats decrease, nats-d, as well. Like me.” She managed a small smile this time for her own description.
“And there are also spontaneous increases and decreases? How does each parent’s magic factor in to a child’s abilities?”
She explained that yes, those individuals did exist, as spont-i and spont-d, as did nons, those born without any ability. But like any natural system, it was unpredictable because nons could have offspring with abilities. This path was the source of the common magics, those that townsfolk have. It was more like an ability to use a bit of the vitae for a certain purpose, like stirring, or lifting, instead of the ability to use vitae at will with a specific focus.
It was a tad bit confusing, but when I pondered it as I fell asleep that night, it did make perfect sense. As much as any natural system can. There was certainly class distinction in this land, but the lines blurred often. Ivy didn’t mention any negative stigmas, no slurs or restrictions, except for the self-imposed ones I observed in her. And we all know how deep those can be. Knowing she felt that way, I was certain there would be more who shared the sentiments, whether in private or in the open. I would be paying close attention to this facet of society, especially since I was a true Ungifted, which was not even at the level of a nons.
If she ends up having to stay, at least Elahna has an idea of where she will fit in—at the very bottom of the society ladder. To be expected, of course, but how would you feel about being in that position? It was difficult being around so much magic and not being able to use any, but as we will see later, I made up for some of it. Drop me a comment below, let me know how you would handle it 😊.
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Writing fiction has its advantages—you get to make stuff up. But what happens when you draw on what you know (as we all do) and then EVERYTHING changes mid-draft? Did your writing change from pre-pandemic to post-pandemic and how do you handle that? I found this a very thought-provoking article that touched on some of the wrinkles many authors may dance around.~
Carolyn Haley Thanks to our collective and often-divisive experiences over the past year, I’ll wager we all agree that 2020 was one heckuva rough ride with long-term consequences yet to be known. The events have introduced new concerns specific to fiction writers, editors, agents, and publishers. For instance, should authors of contemporary fiction include the […]
I see this topic come up in conversation in online writing groups constantly. This Writer Unboxed episode provides a solid idea of what to expect from an editor and why we aren’t to be feared. Editors have a genuine desire to help authors improve their craft and see their creativity shine. Many of us are writers too, we understand the discomfort involved, and trust me, we don’t want to perpetuate it in someone else! ~
Letting other people—even those close to you—read your novel for the first time can be stressful. You’ll wonder if they’re going to judge you, if they’ll recognize themselves in there, or if you really want your mother to know that you know about these things. But after the first few times, you get used to…
One difference I would note is that where Mr. Dempsey talks about the notations and comments made in “…copy editing and proof reading” stages, at Quill & Orb Press those notations would be part of my line editing and copy editing services.
If you would like to learn more about Quill & Orb Press editing, please visit me here. Enjoy your day!~
Hello Everyone! Happy last day of 2020! Whew, it has been one crazy, long, convoluted trip of a year. It will be a relief to turn the page and begin writing “2021” on everything.
How was your December holiday, whichever one you celebrate? To be honest, it was a quiet, very subdued Christmas and Christmas Eve here.
My brother, who I share a house with, tested positive for COVID-19 on the 13th, and just when he would have been cleared to come out of quarantine, my nephew tested positive as well, the Monday before Christmas. It was a lot of passing food from down here to them via an outside table, and heavily disinfected gift exchanges. Symptoms have been very light to non-existent for both of them, very thankfully, and the rest of us here have been negative. We have been fortunate, and it left us with a Christmas we won’t easily forget.
I hope you are safe and healthy where you are, with a fun plan to ring in the new year! Me, well, I’ll be sleeping, early mornings aren’t as conducive to late nights anymore, and my dogs are insistent 😆. But I have a great book picked out for the evening!
Ok, enough about reality, let’s get back to the fantasy, right? Happy New Year! Do better 2021!
Elahna and Ivy were heading down the lane away from Rosewood when we last left them, let’s rejoin them as they head through Cragbend.~
The early morning sun cloaked everything in a golden hue. Townsfolk were loading wagons with goods and produce to take to the market, and the sounds of bells on the mill horses’ harnesses signaled the start of the sawyers’ day.
I knew this trip through the forest would be much different than the previous one. But that wasn’t a bad thing, either.
Revel and Felicity settled into an easy trot that gave Ivy and me the ability to still talk. She seemed a bit withdrawn, so I tried to re-lighten the mood by picking up the conversation again.
“How come Lignan didn’t just come with you to Irillo? Is the city a bad place for a boy?”
“Oh no, not at all. He came with me anid-last, and his patris collected him on the way home in Illedale. He travels well. Egan has a surprise for him this time, though. A horse of Lignan’s own for his name day gift. He has outgrown Ebony this past anid, he has put on some height. It was Egan’s idea to bring the new horse up with him to collect Lignan, that way they would have the whole ride back to Spark Island to get acquainted. I wish I was there to see his face, he will be thrilled.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet. How far is it to Spark Island?”
“It’s tertia to quarta anar south to Flame Harbor, then they have to take ship over to the island. They should make pretty good time with dua strong horses, though. It is much needed time together for them. Egan will see how much work Lignan needs to do with his emotions. His Spark-ness is revealing itself more and more.”
“Daphne said much the same thing about his letter yesterday.” She shot me a narrowed look. “Are Sparks dangerous or something?”
“Oh, yes. His plea letter. I apologize for that. I’m afraid I do coddle him some to keep the impulsiveness under wraps, but it doesn’t always work. They aren’t dangerous, as in evil, but they are fire-strong, so they tend toward quick decisions, rash judgments, fast action, dramatic emotions, that sort of thing. I found it impossibly alluring when I first met Egan, he was all heat and motion, very different from the placid coolness of the trees and forest. I only learned better once Lignan came along. Then I made sure my dual child was of a more tranquil nature. Lignan is a bright light, he just needs some instruction, that’s all.”
“How long will he be gone? You and Egan don’t live together, ever?”
Ivy turned and cocked her head at me, “No, why would we live together? I’m an Arborea, I belong in Rosewood, and Egan belongs at Scorchpoint. Rosewood won’t even allow him inside. It could never work.” She actually looked mildly horrified at the thought. “Do you live with the patris of your children?”
It was my turn to be awkward then. “No, but I don’t have kids, either. But most people in my world do live together as families, parents with children, that is. They raise the children together.”
“We raise ours within the matris’ house. Everyone in the Seat contributes to their upbringing until they reach nova, then they petition the House that fits their abilities. If it is not the same Seat they grew up in, they then leave and become part of the new Seat.”
“But it is always through the mother’s, oh sorry, matris’ line? Does a child ever go live with their patris’ family?”
“Only in the case of a paterif, or line jumper, and they are quite uncommon.”
“That is fascinating.” I grinned. A society not inclined toward a patriarchy! Finally, someone realized the logic in maternal heredity and they weren’t afraid of it. I could definitely live here!
I was completely enthralled with the idea of a matriarchal society, and I wondered if the human land Maarran worked the same way. It sort of had to, I imagined, since they were two halves of the same continent. And Daphne did say they intermingled freely. I was losing my desire to return home really fast.
We talked on, and I learned that Ivy’s dautris was with her patpa in a town in Maarran called Duskreach, the home of the Fairmoon scion. (Which also answered my unspoken question—the human country Maarran was matriarchal as well.) The Seat name was Mesonox, and she described it like it was a permanent planetarium, it sounded truly celestial.
The girl was beginning to exhibit talent with night-blooming plants and fungi even though she was only quarta. I could tell Ivy was apprehensive about this, and then she confirmed it when she said they would be making a trip next anid to Violetmere to introduce the girl to that Seat’s gardens and hothouses, which contained such species. She was already preparing mentally for her dautris’s departure in quinta anids.
No where in this discussion of children and families had the word marriage come up, but I decided to leave that alone for the moment. Ivy seemed to need some topic re-direction, or perhaps a bit of time to regroup.
I turned my attention to Revel, patting his sleek gray neck. I remembered this stretch of farmland from my ride with the Bluebirds, and noticed new stacks of hay in the fields and rows ready for gathering. A herd of large, chocolate brown cattle grazed in a lush pasture along the road, barely lifting their heads at our passing.
We met several freeholders on their way to Cragbend, one with a barred cart of squealing piglets behind his produce wagon. Both horses flattened their ears at the ruckus and quickened their pace for about a quarter of a mile to leave it well behind.
Despite Kaval’s misgivings, I was finding the half-saddle, stirrups and blanket combination to be quite comfortable. I found it amusing to be riding in sandals as well, remembering my riding instructor when I was twelve and her insistence on shoes with heels to prevent my feet from sliding through the stirrups. This way felt much more natural. I could be a seamless part of Revel’s effortless strides.
We were approaching the edges of the forest when Ivy spoke again. “You must have so many questions, Elahna. I was just thinking to myself what it would be like to know nothing about this place we are riding through, yet being sent to Irillo to try to find out how to get back to your home. Is it frightening at all? Is your world very different? Do you miss it?”
I smiled at her, wanting to say something to continue the conversation, but my mind was a tumble of differences, better-thans, gripes, and misgivings. I settled for simple answers to start with.
“I do have questions. Many, many questions, but I can’t just ask them all up front. I’m enjoying learning as I go. I was nervous, certainly, when the Bluebirds first found me, but their warm, casual manner made me forget about it. My time with your, well, at Rosewood, has been just as supportive and welcoming. I am surprised and happy that everyone I have met so far has been willing to talk, or explain what I don’t know. Including you. It wouldn’t necessarily be that way in my world, on Earth. Well, not in my country, at least. Yes, my world is very different.”
“I’ve heard it said that your world doesn’t have magic. Is that true? How do you get things done if there is no magic?” Ivy was settling into herself now. I would be glad for the full bottle of fruity smoothie to whet my throat.
We passed from the fragrances of freshly cut hay and sun-dried stacks into the scents of woodland moss and leaves. The dappled shade of the road nearer the trees offered some relief from the brilliance of the sunlight. My eyes were stinging and burning like I had been looking into LED headlights for hours. Sunglasses. I did wish I had my sunglasses.
“That’s right, we don’t have magic like here, but we do have something called technology. It’s based on sciences and allows us to do most anything we need to. My world is vastly different from yours here. I don’t know if I can describe it to you.”
I struggled a bit with what to say here because I didn’t want to belittle the beautiful place I was in. Honestly, I was hoping she wouldn’t ask me to explain in detail, but if she wanted to know specifics, I would do the best I could. And probably end up with a headache for it.
I’ll pick up with my reply next time, this is a good place to stop for now. Hooray for getting underway! Irillo, here we come!~
The first part of the journey has already yielded one of the most important facts about Huphaean society—it is matriarchal. Elahna obviously loves that fact, what would you think? Drop a comment below and let me know what you think about Elahna’s discoveries today. And there’s much more to come!
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Hello Everyone! Wow! It’s been a while since the last episode, but if you saw the MIA post, you will know why 😉. But there is creative work to be done, so I am pushing ahead to regain a posting schedule once again. I hope this missive finds you safe, healthy, and looking forward to a festive holiday season. 🎄🕎❄🎅🏼
We last left Elahna slumbering in her rooms in Rosewood the night before she is to embark on the journey to Irillo. She is supposed to meet Ivy Arborea in the kitchens “sometime after seisla.” Let’s pick up the story there and see what the morning has in store for her.~
Morning dawned bright and crisp. I opened my eyes to the insistent, musical notes of a purple martin singing on the branch outside my window. He remained there, peering in at me as he trilled, until I swung my feet to the floor; then he disappeared in a flash of indigo, his task complete. I smiled, shaking my head as I opened the pocket watch and checked the time—just after 5, well, quinta.
“Thank you, Rosewood, that was the loveliest alarm to wake up to.”
The leaf shutters rustled in answer. I stretched and began my routine and preparations to leave.
Rosewood, somehow, was much warmer than Alexa or Siri, or any of the AI’s we have now, even though I suppose it was potentially more pervasive. I can’t quite describe it, but I was never disturbed that the manse could potentially know anything I did. There was no creepiness of being spied upon or listened in on, it just was. Right there is a statement—it all has to do with intent, doesn’t it?
The yellow stones, (sapphires maybe?), led me to the kitchen wing.
Ivy called out as I passed the open door to a small room set up like a café.
There was a dark, butcher-block table set out with baskets of rolls and breads, crockery jars of butter and jams, wedges of cheese, baskets of eggs, plates of bacon, a bowl of beautiful fruit, carafes of juices, and the accoutrements for coffee or tea. Five or six sets of tables and chairs filled the room opposite a raised stone hearth, where a small fire burned.
Ivy sat holding a cup of something warm between her hands. Coffee, I determined as I laid my pack beside hers at the door and greeted her.
“I did, yes, deeply I’d say. And I was woken by the sweetest purple martin outside my window. You?”
She smiled and put down her mug, “Yes, I did, and he woke me too. Rosewood must have sent him to me first, knowing I would need more time to extract myself from Lignan. Help yourself to the spread, and don’t be afraid to take some extra for the journey if you want. We won’t see Sawyerset until this evening.”
I helped myself to some bread, really wanting to make toast, and then I realized what the raised fire was for. A few minutes later, I had an entire cooked breakfast of eggs, a couple slices of bacon, and perfectly browned toast. The little flame was hot, precise, and cooked items perfectly with only a pass or two through it on a thin metal plate or the grilling grate. Faster than any gas stove or toaster.
I sampled a dark red juice that turned out to be a smoothie, and decided I would be filling my corked bottle with that for the ride. It was an amazing combination of berries, I guessed. It would be perfect for a summer picnic lunch.
We finished our food and packed our extras away. Ivy eyed my rucksack as I kept stuffing things into it, and its shape never changed.
“A spelled sack, great idea. Especially since you will have to wear it the whole way because Revel is so touchy. I’ll help you settle it on your back before you mount so it adjusts to you and feels weightless. I should have thought of that myself.” She frowned a little at her saddlebags, which were obviously spelled as well, with the amount she was stuffing into them. “Perhaps I can find one in Irillo for the ride home.”
“No idea. Matris summoned me, but I’m not sure why. Perhaps she is just lonely for the country, though, and for Arborea news. She’s on the Eanneadic Council, so she has to spend most of her time there advising the Queen. But I know she misses the quiet of her home outside Irillo. And she knows my young ones are with their patres, so it is the perfect time for me to go.”
We reached the stable then, and I thought to mark the place in that conversation to pick it up again once we were on our way.
Arlen danced out to meet us, and I could hear whistling along with the slicking sound of a horse being brushed. Kaval had Revel and Felicity out, tacked, and waiting for us in the main aisle, running a last brush over their coats to make them shine.
“Ah, there you are. Right on time. Arlen woke me early, said you’d be heading out afore septa, so I got them ready for you. She’s assured me they’ve promised to get along and be proper. I don’t want to be let down.” The last was said with a pointed look at Revel.
He handed us a couple nosebags of oats for the long afternoon stretches, and we swung up onto the horses out in the yard. My pack really did feel like nothing more than a sweatshirt on my back once Ivy adjusted it properly. She placed the oatbags in there as well, and it shifted a bit, but never registered any more weight. I’d had no idea the backpack could do all this when I bought it, but I was very glad I had gone back for it. And thankful to Daphne and Aymur.
We said ‘Elements be’ to Kaval, and trotted down the drive. I noticed Ivy glance up to the middle of the manse and blow a kiss to a small figure in a window. Lignan, I guessed. He held up his hand, then turned quickly away.
And so we were off! I remember feeling nervous, but really happy to be moving along toward some answers about my situation. And I REALLY wanted to see Irillo. I’ll leave it here for now, Ivy and I talked a lot on the ride, so there’s lots to tell of what I learned from her in the next few segments. It won’t be long until I post next, I promise!~
What did you think about my comparison of Rosewood to our in-home AI’s? How would you feel about that type of situation? Drop a comment below and let me know, and thank you for your patience during my hiatus. It means a lot!
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Quill & Orb Press, (the fiction part of my word services business), is open to do developmental, line, and copyediting for YOU! Fantasy, paranormal, YA, historical fiction, steampunk, and other genres welcome.
Are you an indie author? I’d love to work with you!
If you’d like more information about my editing services, or the differences/distinctions between the three types of editing, head over to the website here:
One of my favorite things about reading fantasy and historical fiction is the element of description. Setting scenes and locations is fundamental to these genres. It is also one of the most fun aspects to write, as you may have noticed if you read my Collection of Huphaea blog series. This blog post explores scene-setting from a couple perspectives. I found it informative and thought-provoking, see if you do too.~
Image by Thomas H. from Pixabay I have always been a visual writer. When formulating a scene, I have to envision each moment in exacting detail. As such, a good deal of my editing process involves scaling back, sharpening key images and finding short cuts to capture the feel of a moment with fewer words. Even…
On the heels of the finish of NaNoWriMo, this Writer Unboxed post discusses many of the questions authors need to answer for themselves as they decide on a publishing route. Indie or trad? Have you made your decision yet, before you start the editing process with your new manuscript? This post is full of information about this all important decision. Enjoy!~
I made my independent publishing debut back in 2011, and if this journey has taught me anything it is that realistic expectations are critical to a productive, rewarding experience. 2,413 more words
Well, I’ve gone and done it—disrupted Nyssa’s world. I brought home a puppy, and am expecting another one to arrive any day now. She was integral to raising Dash in our family and I believe she will be with these two as well. If there is one thing I have to keep a close eye on though, it is how rough Nyssa can be with puppies.
She is genuinely trying to play, she just doesn’t realize that one swipe of her big foot is enough to send them tumbling and me cringing.
It just means that for quite a while we have policed outdoor sessions when the puppy zoomies start. When I express my displeasure to her, she looks at me like “But, I am just playing!” Gentle is in her nature, but not in her physical repertoire so much. She doesn’t realize how big she is.
In editing or critiquing, this is a concept we must always be cognizant of. It is easy to grasp, but not as easy to apply to the language of our commentary. It is truly one of the most challenging parts of editing—how to convey our concerns, questions, critiques in a manner that is able to be understood by the author, but that does not offend or put them off.
In other words, being gentle with our authors.
I approach this facet of editing from the angle of “How would I receive this if I were the author?” Of course, I do want to make sure they understand my points, and that my suggestions are designed to improve and enhance. The language used to present them is the most important part of the exchange.
I spend much time composing comments and editorial letters that do not discourage; turning the shortcomings of a piece into opportunities to challenge their creativity, to draw out the threads from the depth of the story in the author’s head, and to construct scenes from an alternate POV to strengthen them (to name a few specifics).
Just because I’m being paid to offer my professional observations does not mean they should be presented devoid of empathy, in a manner that provokes strong emotions.
In no way am I saying that editors in general don’t do this. I know that they do. But watching Nyssa play with a much smaller, floppy puppy is a reminder that the objective can always be attained in a much gentler manner, and it should be.
Authors are as full of the “soft bones” of their stories as little Cedar the Aussie puppy is here. We want to make them feel safe in our zone of interaction, and then watch the collaboration take shape.
Have a great week! Woof woof roooooo! 🐕🦺~
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The Sun, a Book, and a Dog 