What Do Celestials Wear?

Posted on November 7, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

The characters in my soon-to-release Devouring Light are celestial beings charged with the guardianship of heavenly bodies.

Some of them share a name with a Greek or a Roman god. Thus Ares protects the planet Mars. Artemis Diana cares for Earth’s moon. While Gaia watches over Earth itself.

Other celestials bear unique names. My protagonist, Mercurio Veloxus Ludificor, tends the planet Mercury.

All of the celestials wear the garb of the ancient Romans and the ancient Greeks.

Everyone knows what a toga is. (Or thinks he does! 😉 ) But what about the peplos? Or the strophium? I had to research the topic in order to describe Mercurio’s garments accurately—when he’s striping them off after a long, hard day! As well as those of Lixy, his unexpected visitor.

Of course, I’m going to share what I learned! Let’s take it garment by garment.

The Tunica

The tunica is your basic undergarment, often worn under another tunic or peplos. It usually hangs to the knees, but sometimes falls to mid-calf, or even the ankles. Children typically wear only a tunica at home, but don an outer garment in which to go out. Adults prefer more layers.

The tunica is a rectangular garment sewn into a tube. Pins (fibulae) or buttons secure the shoulders when it is worn solo. A sewn seam is more usual when it is worn beneath other clothing.

The Strophium

Another undergarment: the breast band. It’s a long, narrow strip of cloth bound tightly around the chest to support a woman’s bosom.

Obviously, Mercurio does not wear one of these. But Lixy does, as do Juno and Star and other female celestials.

Spoiler: As it turned out, I never did mention the strophium in Devouring Light. So often we writers do the research and only a tiny bit makes it onto the page. But we need to know.

The Subligaculum

This word was too long, with too many syllables, for me to use it in Devouring Light. Yes, I did need to refer to it in the course of my story! But I called it a “loin brief,” because that’s what it covers: the loins.

The subligacula of the ancient Romans took the form of either shorts or a cloth wrapped around the loins. It was a standard part of the dress for active folk like soldiers, gladiators, and athletes. Sometimes it was made of leather.

The Peplos

Reading about the peplos was an aha! moment for me. So that’s why those ancient Greek statues look the way they do! Ha!

So what’s the trick?

The peplos is essentially a long tunic, worn by women, that stretches from shoulder to ankle. Like a tunica, it’s sewn along the sides to make a tube. But it’s so long that the top third is folded over and drapes to the waist. That’s what makes that blousey over garment on all the statuary.

A sash or belt gathers the peplos at the waist.

Pins or buttons secure the fold at the top over the shoulders. And there you have it: the peplos.

The Tunica

This is where the garb of the ancients gets confusing. Because while the tunica is the basic undergarment, it can also serve as outer wear for children and for men.

Thus Mercurio might wear a short tunica next to his skin, with a longer tunica over it. Especially when he wants to be most formally dressed!

So is the tunica underwear? Or is it a formal robe? Only context makes this clear!

The Stola

The stola is a woman’s version of the men’s toga, but it’s a lot more convenient!

It’s a long, pleated linen dress – generally sleeveless; sometimes sleeved – worn as an outer garment.

Clasps secure the shoulders. Two belts confine the garment to the torso: one immediately below the breasts, the other at the waist. The belts create many folds and layers. The more layers, the higher the woman’s status.

The Toga

The toga is the outer garment for males, worn both for warmth (in cool weather) and for propriety when leaving the home. Going without, in ancient Rome, would have been shocking. Not quite so shocking for my celestials.

Being a casual guy, Mercurio doffs his when he can get away with it, because the thing is so unweildy!

Togas are huge! And heavy! Made of a rectangular piece of wool, they measure 20 feet in length, and were wrapped around the body, under the right arm, and over the left shoulder.

Pure white togas dignify ceremonial occasions, but my celestials wear them in all hues.

For more about the world of Devouring Light, see:
The Celestial Spheres of Sol
The Graces
Roman Dining
The Heliosphere
The Oort Cloud
Mercury the Planet
Draco the Dragon
The Simiae

Where Should a Paragraph End?

Posted on October 31, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

I always thought I knew.

I’d be writing along, feeling the rhythm of my story, and the impulse – to end my paragraph and begin another – struck.

Bingo! I’d hit the hard return on my keyboard.

And write some more, until the next same impulse blared.

It turns out I was not “hearing” all the calls for hard returns that were actually coming my way.

Here’s a case in point.

Check out this passage. Or, I should say, try to! You may not find it to be readable!

(Extenuating circumstances caused it to be a very dense package of prose indeed.)

But here it is:

Abruptly she returned to herself. Where had she been? The desert spaces of a dream, hunting as a lioness should? She didn’t know. But this dim-lit vault looked different through waking eyes than dreaming ones. Why didn’t they sweep the floors? Sand lay on the flat stone expanse in patches or dusty sparkles. The whole complex cried out for a scouring. Rust coated the iron bars of the cages, from their tops, anchored in the granite ceiling, to their bases, sunk into rock. Dung decorated the corners. And the carcass of her last meal rotted against the bars separating her from the jackal next door. That black-coated beast gnawed at the bloody remains, his snout poked through a gap. Fah! She lifted her forepaw fastidiously to lick it clean. Movement diagonally across the broad corridor caught her eye. Another feline – a cheetah, not a lion – paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. Prowling restlessly. This is no place for me and mine. I, who carry the sun in my eyes by night.

Bottom line?

This is way too much to put in one paragraph. Most readers won’t put up with it! With reason on their side.

I was convinced that I’d never naturally stray so far. And I’m still sticking to that claim. 😀 But, nonetheless, I err in that direction.

The old truism that a paragraph should consist of ideas that hang together is largely correct. My problem is that I’m good at seeing the connections between things. So I tend to think more ideas go together than most people do. And that can result in unwieldy paragraphs.

I was scribing the above passage for a workshop. And my assignment called for one paragraph describing a scene via the visual sense. To strictly abide by the instructions, I needed to prune, creating a sparser paragraph.

Thing was…I could hear Bastet’s voice so clearly in my head. And I couldn’t bear to cut her off! My storyteller self warred with my student self, and the result was not pretty!

When the workshop teacher chided me on my quadruple-chocolate-mousse-tort of a prose passage, I apologized. And offered up a more reasonably paragraphed version. Which I’ll show you below. Check this version out:

Abruptly she returned to herself. Where had she been? The desert spaces of a dream, hunting as a lioness should? She didn’t know. But this dim-lit vault looked different through waking eyes than dreaming ones.

Why didn’t they sweep the floors? Sand lay on the flat stone expanse in patches or dusty sparkles. The whole complex cried out for a scouring. Rust coated the iron bars of the cages, from their tops, anchored in the granite ceiling, to their bases, sunk into rock. Dung decorated the corners. And the carcass of her last meal rotted against the bars separating her from the jackal next door. That black-coated beast gnawed at the bloody remains, his snout poked through a gap.

Fah! She lifted her forepaw fastidiously to lick it clean.

Movement diagonally across the broad corridor caught her eye. Another feline – a cheetah, not a lion – paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. Prowling restlessly. This is no place for me and mine. I, who carry the sun in my eyes by night.

Better, right?

Defintely more readable. And closer to my natural paragraphing tendencies.

But! Still too much. Because…check this out!

My teacher agreed it was indeed better, but showed me how he would have broken the paragraphs, if he were writing those very words for a medium pace. My words. Not one changed, but the paragraph breaks added. Here it is:

Abruptly she returned to herself.

Where had she been?

The desert spaces of a dream, hunting as a lioness should? She didn’t know. But this dim-lit vault looked different through waking eyes than dreaming ones.

Why didn’t they sweep the floors?

Sand lay on the flat stone expanse in patches or dusty sparkles. The whole complex cried out for a scouring. Rust coated the iron bars of the cages, from their tops, anchored in the granite ceiling, to their bases, sunk into rock. Dung decorated the corners.

And the carcass of her last meal rotted against the bars separating her from the jackal next door. That black-coated beast gnawed at the bloody remains, his snout poked through a gap.

Fah! She lifted her forepaw fastidiously to lick it clean.

Movement diagonally across the broad corridor caught her eye. Another feline – a cheetah, not a lion – paced.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Prowling restlessly.

This is no place for me and mine. I, who carry the sun in my eyes by night.

When I read this, fireworks went off in my head.

This. This! This.

Yes. It was right. It conveyed what it was meant to convey. It conveyed what I wanted it to convey.

Can’t you hear Bastet’s voice in your head now? So much more clearly than before?

I hope so! Because I’m now paying a lot of attention to my paragraph length. And hearing those muted calls for hard returns that I was missing before. Seeing the point where I’ve left one idea – Bastet noting her disorientation – for another – Bastet remembering a dream.

And, yes, I will be writing Bastet’s story.

Soonest! 😀

For more writing tips, see:
The First Lines
Writing Sarvet
What is the Worst Thing?

For tips on writing marketing copy, see:
Eyes Glaze Over? Never!
Cover Copy Primer

North-lands Timeline

Posted on October 24, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

So far, many of my published stories take place in my North-lands. But some clearly transpire in the earliest history of the world, while others are more “modern.”

Several weeks ago, a reader asked me in what order the events narrated took place.

Great question! Here is my answer.😀

ANCIENT TIMES

Skies of Navarys – 3000 years before Troll-magic

THE WARRING EPOCH

The Smith and the Hermit – 2500 years before Troll-magic

Blood Falchion – 200 years after The Smith and the Hermit

The Kite Climber – 400 years after The Smith and the Hermit

To Haunt the Daring Place – 450 years after The Smith and the Hermit

THE BRONZE AGE

The Tally Master – 2000 years before Troll-magic

Sovereign Night – 18 months after The Tally Master

Resonant Bronze – ~8 years after Sovereign Night

THE MIDDLE AGES

Hunting Wild – 800 years before Troll-magic

BEFORE THE STEAM AGE

Rainbow’s Lodestone – about 100 years before Troll-magic

Star-drake – immediately after Rainbow’s Lodestone

THE STEAM AGE

Sarvet’s Wanderyar – 52 years before Troll-magic

Crossing the Naiad – concurrent with Sarvet’s Wanderyar

Livli’s Gift – 38 years after Sarvet’s Wanderyar
(14 years before Troll-magic)

Troll-magic – the now of this timeline

The Troll’s Belt – contemporaneous with Troll-magic

Perilous Chance – contemporaneous with Troll-magic

Winter Glory – 3 years after Troll-magic

A Talisman Arcane – 7 years after Troll-magic

For more about the North-lands, see:
North-land Magic
A Great Birthing
Character Interview: Lorelin

New Release! Resonant Bronze

Posted on October 22, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

It usually takes several weeks for a new release to go live on all the different e-tailer sites. I tend to get impatient, waiting and waiting for the new book to appear!

I’ve been especially eager for Resonant Bronze to debut. You see, Skies of Navarys is the first story in my Lodestone Tales, while Rainbow’s Lodestone and Star-drake are the third and fourth. What about the second? How can you have a proper sequence when number two is missing?

Well, it’s missing no longer. Resonant Bronze is here!

Resonant Bronze The warriors of Torbellai brought back a prize in the night, and young Paitra wants to see it. Even hidden away in the armory, the artifact changed the whole mood of their mountain citadel from dread foreboding to hope. And Paitra’s people need hope to turn the tide in their long war against the troll horde. Might this small triumph presage a mightier victory?

But the warlord hid the fighters’ plunder for good reason. Forged by trolls and radiating magic, it presents grave risk to the soul and spirit of any who approach it. Sneaking past the weapon smiths into the armory with his brother, Paitra still believes his home a safe place for boy’s mischief. But bronze hammered by trolls is anything but safe. Opportunity cloaked within its lethal enchantment awaits the right unlocking key. Could Paitra wield that key? And will he survive his curiosity?

Through death into magic and sound, Paitra confronts . . . resonant bronze.

Resonant Bronze is available in electronic bookstores.
Amazon.com I Amazon UK I Amazon DE I Amazon ES
B&N I Diesel I iTunes I Kobo I Smashwords I Sony

Fox in the Hen Coop

Posted on October 17, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

I must apologize for the lack of a new post here last week. I was sick. So sick, that even posting to say I was sick seemed beyond me. I’m on the mend now, but still not well enough to write the post I had in mind. Maybe next week! In the meantime, here’s a story opening, one of the bunch I listed under the popcorn kittens post. 😀

Mary cursed. Then cursed because she cursed. Cursing was symptomatic of the whole problem. She shouldn’t be able to do it, but Farmer Braun had replaced two corroded cybernetic chips in her temporal lobe last week with cheap black market knock-offs. New shades of meaning, along with new vocabulary, were the result.

She decided against a third round of blue – this was too serious for venting – and engaged the spooler again, heard its anti-grav whirr uselessly, followed by an ominous ka-chunk. Damn! That spooler needed to go out. The repulsion fence had to be deployed. The chickens must emerge to scratch.

Mary was only one of a thousand mobile avian robotic eyries – model MRY97 – in this meadow, the dirty system of Eridani78. But even one gap in the orbital shield would be too much. The Eridani primary generated plutonium and uranium nano particles in quantities immense enough to read as geysers of debris from far-off ancient Earth. A leak through Mary’s field . . . would poison an entire continent on the planet spinning lazily below. Her chickens must scratch.

She engaged the photoreceptor inside the housing that formed her body. The chickens – TCHQN49’s – clamped onto their roosting bars, indicators all go: internal checks performed, cleansing cycle complete, repair cycle complete. Mary permitted herself some sarcasm on that repair. No thanks to Braun. Why couldn’t the astro-shepherd keep the supply bays in Mary’s dorsal spokes stocked?

She threaded her photoreceptor through to the spooler’s hutch. And cursed again, unnoticing of herself this time. Black carbon soot mottled the spooler’s ceramic carapace, concentrated around the ejection module. Mary unfurled her molecular probe to analyze the vacuum. Yep. Bitter scent of burnt copper. Sweet taste of almonds. Damn, damn, damn! She’d noticed the older repulsor beads growing ragged and scratched. One of them – she launched her internal palp – was fouling the ejector mechanism. The carbon scorching felt gritty under her palp, the jammed bead, sharp where its hull was delaminating.

Damn! This was the rat that ate the cheese that lay in the house that Jack built. Except her rats, the TCHQN’s, wouldn’t eat. And her cheeses – the plutonium nanos – were deadly.

* * *

For more science fiction samples, see:
Dragon’s Tooth
Dream Trap

For a fantasy sample, see:
Fate’s Door

What Genre Do I Write?

Posted on October 4, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

When I attended a publishing workshop last summer, my teacher said that the writer was usually the last person to know what genre he or she was writing. I laughed along with everyone else in the class, and filed that tidbit away as largely irrelevant to me. After all, I write fantasy. How could I be wrong about that?

Wondrous setting? Check.

Fantastical creatures? Check.

Characters possessing extravagant powers? Check.

Fantasy. Yes.

Then I remembered my struggle when I released my second ebook, Troll-magic, on Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing program. I needed to specify my story’s “category,” and the options bewildered me. I could select “fantasy & magic” under the broader category of “juvenile fiction.”

Or I had options from six categories under “fiction, fantasy”:
• general
• collections & anthologies
• dark fantasy
• epic
• historical
• paranormal
• urban

Other e-tailers included “sword & sorcery” under the fantasy umbrella. And YA or young adult under the juvenile category.

But I hadn’t known which category to choose. I knew I shouldn’t chose “general.” The whole point of the categories is to help readers find the types of stories they prefer. “General” would do nothing toward that goal.

My novel was clearly not a collection or an anthology. So I could rule that one out.

Nor was it a dark fantasy. I hope my readers feel uplifted and inspired when they finish reading one of my stories, more able to tackle the challenges that confront most of us humans here on the planet. The mood of my works is, I hope, anything but dark and despairing. (I learned later that my idea of dark fantasy was not correct, but let’s not debate that right now, ‘kay? Actually all my ideas on genre were wrong, but we’ll leave that aside too! 😀 )

Epic? Isn’t that stuff like Lord of the Rings? Incredible quests across impossible terrain, big battle scenes, and the fate of a world in the balance? My story focused more intently on the fate of one person and her friends and family, although her actions do impact her greater community. But, not on an epic Middle-earthian scale.

Historical? Surely not. I wasn’t writing stories set in Tudor England or America’s pioneering west or any recognizable time period in our world. In fact, I wasn’t writing in our world at all. So, no. Not historical fantasy.

Paranormal? While some of my characters posessed magical powers which might be classified as “paranormal,” my heroine emphatically did not. She’s a musician trying to find a way to pursue her art.

Urban? Lorelin lives in a decidedly rural setting. Gabris, another POV character, lives in one of the biggest cities in my North-lands, but none of his scenes involve running through scary urban streets with bad guys after him. Nor is his city modern. It’s steam age.

Sword & sorcery? Well, there’s plenty of magic or “sorcery.” But no swords at all. And the only true battle is one of will and “troll-magic” versus “patterning” near the end.

Young adult? I’m sure there are many older teens who enjoy my stories, but I’m really writing for adults. So, no.

Do you see my problem? I’d ruled out all of my options!

I did some digging. Among all the authors whose work I love and read, whose stories do mine most resemble? I’d have to say Robin McKinley. So how are her books categorized on Amazon?

Well, Spindle’s End lists out like this:

• Books > Children’s Books > Fairy Tales, Folk Tales & Myths
• Books > Children’s Books > Literature & Fiction > Historical Fiction > Europe
• Books > Teen & Young Adult > Historical Fiction
• Kindle eBooks > Teen & Young Adult > Historical Fiction
• Kindle eBooks > Teen & Young Adult > Literature & Fiction
• Kindle eBooks > Teen & Young Adult > Science Fiction & Fantasy > Fantasy > Myths & Legends

O-oh! Oh!

Those results were not entirely self-explanatory to me, but they certainly gave me food for thought. Apparently I’d been defining category or genre too narrowly. Perhaps Troll-magic was paranormal fantasy. Or historical fantasy.

The more I thought about it, the more I saw that my book might fit in several categories: paranormal or historical under the fantasy umbrella. Or even literary or fairy tales-folk tales-myths under the larger fiction umbrella.

Historical fantasy seemed the closest fit. Apparently the “historical” meant anything in a setting with a technology level or cultural mood similar to that from a period of our own world’s history. It didn’t have to be an alternate history actually set in our world. So you might have medieval fantasy or prehistoric fantasy or steam age fantasy or Norse fantasy. And so on. In the end, I chose the categories of “fairy tales, folk tales & myths” and “historical fantasy.”

And I was wrong! Proving my workshop teacher to be utterly right. The writer is the last one to know!

So how was I wrong?

First the YA or young adult label. It does not mean what I thought it did. I thought it meant you were writing specifically for teens. Well, it can. But no. The relevant factor is: what age is your protagonist? If she is 16 or 17 or 18 years old, then you are writing YA.

Really? Yep. In fact, half the readers reading YA fiction are well out of their teens. Lorelin is 17. By definition, Troll-magic is YA. Who would have guessed it? Not me!

Indeed, the writer is the last one to know.

I went back to my Amazon KDP dashboard and made the categories for Troll-magic “juvenile fiction: fantasy & magic” and “historical fantasy.”

And, guess what? I was still wrong. Or half wrong.

The bottom line is that my workshop teacher had touched on a very real difficulty. Categorizing a book’s genre is hard. He suggested asking your readers which genre they thought your book was. They probably know. But you, the writer, don’t. And your readers may not volunteer the information. Go ask!

Did I put this excellent advice into action? Of course not, because now I thought I did know. I wrote historical fantasy and YA fantasy. So I selected those categories for all my stories with protagonists in the correct age range, and swapped out the YA category for “folk tales, etc.” when the protag was older or younger. Done.

How did I find out my mistake? I got lucky and a reader in my writer’s group called Troll-magic epic during the course of some writerly feedback about the book.

Hmm. Interesting.

Did that make me realize that Troll-magic was epic fantasy? Of course not. Like any writer, I’m dense about these things.

I didn’t sit up and take notice until a reviewer called Sarvet’s Wanderyar epic fantasy. What?! Sarvet’s Wanderyar is epic fantasy? How can this be?

Finally, I turned my analytic brain on.

Sarvet does, in effect, go on a quest. It’s personal, but a quest nonetheless. Her journey does not cover vast distances or varied terrain, but it does involve a profound transformation of scene: from her grand-but-prosaic mountain milieu to the fantastical plane of the pegasi. And finally, her heroic actions profoundly change her culture, the insular world of the Hammarleedings.

All the elements of epic fantasy were present, and I never saw it.

The key facets of epic fantasy are not miles traveled, battles fought, or the size of the “world” transformed. Epic fantasy is characterized by the stature of its characters or the scope of its themes. I am drawn to stories of profound transformation, impossible odds, and numinous wonder. I like a close, very personal focus, but consequences both deep and far-flung. My ultimate scope is large, epic, if you will.

Did I go change all my books’ categories?

I’m working on it. On the e-tailers that permit three categories for each story, I’m good. Because I am writing historical fantasy. It’s just that epic fantasy is an even better descriptor. Ideally, I would categorize all my stories as epic fantasy, historical fantasy, fairy tale, and (for about half) YA fantasy. That would give all my potential readers the best chance of finding my books.

But most e-tailers permit only two categories. For the non-YA titles, I can use epic and historical. But for the YA titles – and there are a ton of YA readers, so I don’t want to skip the YA moniker – I have to chose either epic or historical. It’s a judgment call which is better. Some of my stories fall on one side of the divide, some on the other.

And, as we probably all know by now, my judgment is likely wrong! So readers, if you have an opinion on the matter, I’m all ears. 😀

For more thoughts on communication between writers and readers, see:
Eyes Glaze Over? Never!
Cover Design Primer

Celestial Spheres

Posted on September 26, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

Mercurio, the protagonist of my current work in progress, Devouring Light, serves as guardian to the planet Mercury, as well as running messages between his fellow immortals. Like his prototypes, the ancient Greek Hermes and the ancient Roman Mercury, Mercurio’s a bit of a Peter Pan, possessing a liking for pranks and an aversion to responsibility. The one responsibility he does not shirk is his care for his planet, the closest to his primary Sol, and the coolest celestial body in Sol’s demesne (as far as Mercurio is concerned). But events are about to demand more from the young planetary than heretofore.

Haden plots to retrieve his absconding wife Proserpina. The constellation Draco sates his jaded appetite with mischief more lethal than any Mercurio ever dreamed up. And the dark forces outside Sol’s heliopause follow whim and caprice to bring destruction in their wake. Will Mercurio succomb to the role of cat’s paw designated for him? Or will he save the solar system?

Devouring Light blends astronomy with Greco-Roman mythology and Dante’s Paradisio to create looming disaster on a cosmic scale. I hope you’ll enjoy the story when it releases sometime this winter. In the meantime, I’ve been doing some fun background research for the work, and I’d like to share bits and pieces of it with you.

First stop: where does this story take place?

Well, our solar system, but not purely our solar system. Permeating the physical reality is the essential inner reality, rather like the “real” forms generating the shadows in Plato’s allegorical cave. For Mercurio and his fellow planetaries, the physical reality and the “essential” reality are equally real. They speak of each planet’s orbit and its “sphere” almost interchangeably. Devouring Light’s celestial spheres owe their inspiration to those of Dante’s Paradisio, but I adjusted their numbering and content to suit my own more modern notions and my story.

Just to be clear, Devouring Light is fantasy, not science fiction, despite its outer space setting. As I say in a comment below (this paragraph is an update – the comment came first – thanks, Mira, for the excellent question), the astronomy is inspiration, not prescription. I’ve attempted to adhere to the facts as they are currently known, layering the fantasy atop. And, yes, I know that Pluto is no longer a planet. At the beginning of my story, it is. At the end . . . well, you’ll have to read it! 😉

I’ll share more about Devouring Light in future posts, but here I give you…

THE CELESTIAL SPHERES OF SOL’S DEMESNE

First Sphere
The Sun tended by Sol

Second Sphere
Mercury tended by Mercurio

Third Sphere
Venus tended by Star

Fourth Sphere
MAIN ELLIPSE
Earth tended by Gaia

DEPENDENT ELLIPSE
The Moon tended by Artemis Diana

Fifth Sphere
INNER ELLIPSE
Mars tended by Ares

OUTER ELLIPSE
The Asteroids tended by Plurima
Ceres tended by Ceres

Sixth Sphere
Jupiter tended by Basileus

Seventh Sphere
INNER ELLIPSE
Saturn tended by Saturnus

MIDDLE ELLIPSE
Uranus tended by Ouranos

OUTER ELLIPSE
Neptune tended by Neptunus Equester

Eighth Sphere
The Zodiac Perspective inhabited by the Constellations

Ninth Sphere
Pluto tended by Haden

For more about Devouring Light, try What Do Celestials Wear? or The Graces.

The Green Knight

Posted on September 19, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

This tale of a reluctant nymph and her unlikely helper tickles me, but it feels like a full novel. It will be some time in the writing, when I tackle it. I will tackle it. Too much fun to allow it to linger unwritten!

Glauce pummeled the massive green shoulder under her hands. Slick as an eel and slimy to boot. Great gods and little fishes, how she hated it!

She looked around her a little wildly. Echoing grotto with the generous rocky shelf where she knelt. Check. Rushing waves plowing in through the opening to the sea. Check. Posing, preening nymphs awaiting their master’s whim. Check. But no way out for Glauce.

Salt sweat dripped down her nose, fell through the briny air, sparkling, and plopped onto a colossal bicep.

“Lick it off!” roared Neptune.

Glauce winced. Ugh! And bent her face down toward the smelly green flesh of her liege. She hesitated.

“Now!” he growled.

She licked. It was fishy. It was salty. It was yuck. She exchanged glances with Xantho beside her, working rather lower down. Xantho’s duties were more intimate than Glauce’s. How could she stand it, letting this vengeful despot between her legs? But Xantho looked amused, not disgusted.

Glauce moved to the other shoulder.

“Not there, nymph! Lower!” insisted her lord and master.

She sighed and joined Xantho on his gluteus maximus. Thank Zeus he was lying on his belly, nasty immortal! Her hands dug into the mass of muscle, taking more and more of her weight in order to generate the pressure Neptune preferred.

“Harder!”

Clouds above and waves below! She was practically in a crane pose. What more did he want?

She allowed her legs to rise from the god’s couch – balanced a half heartbeat on her palms – then skidded down the slope of Neptune’s hip, pinching his left love handle as she went.

“Aaaugh! Out!” yelled Neptune.

Well, Glauce was fine with that. She went, pondering ways and means while pattering down the tunnel that led from the god’s cavernous hall to the chambers of his harem. “I’ve been planning escape too long,” she muttered. “It’s time to stop planning, time to start doing, blast it!”

Head down, she rounded the curve by the marina and ploughed smack into Psamathe, the demi-goddess who managed Neptune’s sea palace.

“Oofa!”

“Sorry!” murmured Glauce. Could she get away with the apology and then scurry on down the passage?

No. Psamathe’s hand secured her elbow; another tipped Glauce’s chin. The sea nymph looked up, perforce, trying to hunch back down.

* * *

For more fantasy samples, see:
Fate’s Door
Hunting Wild

For a science fiction sample, see:
Last Tide

Tally the Betrayals

Posted on September 12, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

This tale calls me. Plus I think it’s a short story. (No, I never know for sure, until I write it.) But if it’s short, I could complete it in a few weeks! Tempting!

ETA March 2016: I’m now writing Tally, and it is not a short story. It’s a novel, and probably a doorstopper novel! Stayed tuned. I’ll blog about my progress from time to time. 😀

ETA April 2017: The novel is now published! Follow this link to find The Tally Master at your favorite online store.

I bear the mark of Gaelan on my face, as do my brethren. But I alone, amongst all in the battalions under my lord Karbreys, bear that name. It is fitting, for I betrayed them all to their deaths. I am Gael. I am kin-slayer.

There in the bowels of the mad tower I crouched, listening to the scratching of my own quill pen. I tallied ingots of copper, ingots of tin – tin so rare. Who would believe the record keeper could be more lethal than the warrior.

The stone foundations around me echoed the metallic beating of swords, of shields, of helmets. My lord Karbreys was winning this war. His trolls mined copper ore from veins beneath the tower and smelted it with foreign tin arriving from afar, borne on galleys rowed by slaves. Every ingot in received its mark in my ledger. Every ingot out – tin and copper married to make bronze – I tallied likewise.

Who was to know that the bronze was weak? Not the four parts tin to ninety of copper demanded by the smith’s recipe, but three tin for seven and ninety copper. The blades hammered from these ingots would bend, and how would the warrior who bore one fare then?

Channeled by the tower’s tunnels, the roar of the blast furnace deafened my thoughts. Who would I betray? My kin who brought Lord Karbreys victory? The peculator stealing the tin?

Oh? Did you think it was I? Secreting nuggets away in some fastness?

No, ’twas another. Should I betray him?

Or must I betray our enemies, crushed beneath Karbreys’ might? Our enemies, those with pure faces, the ones from whom we come, trailing glory, before Gaelan marks us as his own.

* * *

For more fantasy samples, see:
Fate’s Door
Blood Falchion

For a science fiction sample, see:
Dream Trap

Ebook Release: Crossing the Naiad

Posted on September 10, 2013 by J.M. Ney-Grimm

For fans of Sarvet, as well as readers who enjoy tales of how the dead past reaches forward through time to touch later ages, Crossing the Naiad follows Sarvet on the first adventure of her wanderyar. Below a ruined bridge, she encounters two lowlanders and two ghosts.

water spirit under water Its truth forgotten in the mists of time, the old bridge harbors a lethal secret. Neither marble statues awakened for battle nor an ancient roadbed grown hungry, something darker and more primal haunts the stones and the wild river below.

Kimmer knows the stories, but she doesn’t know why the crumbling span feels so fraught with menace. Her way home lies across the ruin. Dare she take it? Or will horror from the lost past rise up to claim her, when she does?

Crossing the Naiad is available in electronic bookstores.
Amazon.com I Amazon UK I Amazon DE I Amazon ES
B&N I Diesel I iTunes I Kobo I Smashwords I Sony