After taking a hiatus from all writing activities that did not focus solely on completing Tongue of Hauden, I am happy to announce that I have finally finished.  This was the most productive six weeks I’ve had in quite some time, facilitated by the nicer weather that allowed me to reoccupy the three-season porch, my favorite writing spot.

Book three turned out to be nearly thirty-five percent longer than books one and two, and while I don’t think this is abnormal as a series progresses, it was about ten thousand words longer than I had anticipated.  Part of this length might have resulted in many of the ending chapters requiring me to move main characters to certain points in the plot, but I was also conscious that many of the scenes would be the last for the characters in book three.  Whatever the case, I’m very happy with how it turned out, and after rereading the entire book again to perform final edits and continuity checks, I’m confident book three will provide a nice sequel and progression to books one and two.

My next steps will be to go through the text one more time in preparation for final formatting and layout, for both print and electronic versions.  I also have back cover material to write as well as additions to the appendix.  As of now, I don’t see anything that will hold up a release by August first.  Sadly, I will have to move out of the porch and return to my den since the desktop is where the InDesign and graphics software are installed.

Welcome to the April 2011 issue of the Musings of the Othar.  This month’s Feature Article will be examining Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.  It seems there is a lot of hype surrounding this book, and for the most part, it is justified.  Well written, controversial and enjoyable aptly describe it, and I will add to the hype and recommend it with enthusiasm.

The Pocket Watch continues this month, and I would again like to remind everyone that you can easily catch up with the series if you have missed an installment or two.  Each chapter is intentionally short, and they are designed for quick easy reading on a PC or a mobile device.

The Fayersae Histories is actually going to be a little late this month as I spent most of my writing time this month working on Tongue of Hauden, Book Three in the Harmony of the Othar Saga.  As usual, each of the previous chapters can be found in the Full Fayersae Histories link at the top of the page, so while this month’s installment is a little delayed, this becomes a good time to catch up if you are a new visitor to the blog.

Clarice Publishing and Othar Saga updates are also available, and I would like to remind everyone that the book trailer is now up on Barnes & Noble here: Othar Saga Trailer.  Please have a look if you have not had the opportunity yet.

Anyway, again I am hoping that my busy schedule allows me to continue the decent progress I have made on book three, Tongue of Hauden, over the last few weeks.

Yours Truly,

P.A. Seasholtz, Editor

This month’s Feature Article will be looking at Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.  Usually, I choose my books a little less randomly than I did The Hunger Games, which I just bought off the recommended list from Amazon via my Kindle.  I was in need of something to read, and I did not have access to my PC to do any type of pre-review or research on what to read next.  What this meant was that I was unaware of the hype surrounding Collins’ novel while reading it.

The only thing I really knew about The Hunger Games was that it was classified as young adult literature.  I will be honest here, I am not sure what the specific distinctions between young adult and adult literature are exactly, although in my mind, I just break them along the PG-13-rated and R-rated lines.  Consequently, as I was reading, I was continually asking myself if I thought The Hunger Games was appropriate for my seventeen year-old daughter, and if so, would she even like it.  Essentially, was the subject matter that had an authoritarian government running an ultra-reality show that forces twenty-four teenagers to battle to the death something I even wanted her to read?

Now, I cannot make any predictions whether she would like it or not, but I have decided that despite the subject matter, it is appropriate.  I had just finished rereading Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, mainly because it is on my daughter’s curriculum this spring at school, and The Hunger Games is certainly no less cruel and graphic than that timeless classic.  Therefore, I would ask that anyone objecting to the subject matter of The Hunger Games to simply check out the reading list at your local high school.  In fact, I would even recommend reading a few of the titles you find there yourself.

This, of course, brings up an entirely different question concerning young adult literature in general and The Hunger Games in particular.  Was it appropriate for a middle-aged man?  Before you raise your eyebrows at the question, let me explain.  What I mean here is this: Am I even able to understand how a book like this is perceived and interpreted by a teenager?  Could it be that adults have more of an issue with the subject matter than the intended audience does?  I have tried to think back to all the things I read as a teenager, and I have tried to step back and view The Hunger Games in that context, and in so doing, I have decided that adults and teenagers may not view Collins’ work the same way.

First, while I see an incredibly high hurdle to overcome in even believing the geo-political context that is the basis for the story, I suspect that my teenage daughter, who has no real interest in politics, would simply find it unnecessary to question the absurdity of such a society.  Now I know there are many adults who seem to think aspects of our government are degenerative toward authoritarianism, but let us be realistic here.  The depth of callousness and cruelty exhibited by the government in The Hunger Games far exceeds the limits of credulity in my opinion.  However, I have decided to allow Collins this construct in order to tell her story, which I suspect is exactly what a majority of her teenage audience will do, albeit in many cases, they will be doing so unconsciously.

Now, moving on to the actual story of teenagers being forced to fight to the death, I begin to wonder if adults and teens even view this the same way.  While it is distasteful and controversial, and a bit disturbing, especially as a father, I am not sure teens have the perspective to be touched the same way I was.  This is not meant as a knock on their empathy or depth of feeling, but simply on their perspective of death.  What I am raising here is this: Does the supposed “invincibility” that we always hear about concerning their own mortality cause a teen to view this life and death struggle differently than adults?  Perhaps I have degenerated into too much psychoanalysis here, but I wanted to raise the point that perhaps teens would not come away with the same revulsions and qualms regarding The Hunger Games as an adult does.

So now that I have touched on a bit of the controversy surrounding the subject matter of the book, let us turn to the writing itself.  Aside from the aforementioned forced suspension of disbelief regarding the geo-political context for the story, I found it to be an excellent read.  Collins’ writing style was clear and fast-paced, and I connected with each of her characters immediately.  What I found amazing was how she kept up the suspense, even though there was little doubt regarding the outcome since it was written in the first person.  I especially thought Collins’ ability to connect the reader to Rue so quickly was brilliantly crafted.  I did not count the pages, but it seemed like a very short amount of time to have pulled that off so successfully.

I am not really going to comment on my thoughts regarding Katniss, other than to say that you should read the book.  She is definitely one of those iconic characters that simply needs to be introduced via reading rather than getting anything secondhand; and on that note, I am not sure I can give Collins any better compliment on the job she has done with The Hunger Games.

I would like to add that after finishing The Hunger Games, I discovered that it is in the process of being made into a movie.  This is intriguing because I think so much could go right or wrong with the adaptation to the screen.  It will be very interesting to see how all the inner-dialog is presented, as will the degree of graphic violence that finds its way into the screenplay.  I do not see a lot of movies, but this is one that I will make an effort to go to since I am very curious to see how it will translate to the screen.

Unfortunately, very little was done regarding the publishing side of things this month.  Most of my time was spent working on final edits to the opening chapters of Tongue of Hauden as well as finishing the final few chapters.  I would have liked to spend more time on marketing endeavors, but sadly, there are only so many hours in the day.

I remained pretty focused this month on making progress on Tongue of Hauden, and for the most part, I met my goals.  I’m into the final chapters now and have completed final edits on earlier material, barring of course any need to alter anything in the open third of the book.  I feel this is getting less and less likely, as the remainder is outlined and plotted.  Still, there could be some twists that require slight rewriting, but any minor adjustments should not negate the polish that I have applied.  My goal in April will be to continue the progress, and hopefully I should solidify a release date.

Chapter 7: Preparation for Murder

A rickety cart laden with barrels rattled into the alley, reminding me that while the macks and whores slept late following their nighttime trade, the new day would soon rouse tired scullery maids and serving girls to their hard labor under the cold eye of unmerciful masters.  I needed to get out of sight until dusk, after which I would become just another patron of the district despite my young age.  Our breakfast over, I opened the lock on the storeroom door with hardly a thought, the mechanicals easily manipulated, and I ducked into the dark as the hound alertly followed.

This had once been the tack room for communal stables on this block, the smell of horse and leather forever impregnated into the old wood, but none of the establishments here kept horses anymore, and the mildew and dust of discarded junk added their odor to the forgotten decay of an earlier era.  I didn’t dare a light just yet, even though the boarded sealed windows let no light escape, and I moved to the back where I knew an old stair led to the attic.  With careful steps, we climbed the creaking wood.

I lit a candle stub, revealing a dirty room strewn with broken furniture, and I moved to a corner even though the feeble light of my candle did nothing to illuminate the lower level.  The intelligent hound sensed that this was where we would spend the day, and he stretched out to sleep, content on his half-full stomach.

I opened my bags, retrieving the bundles, and one-by-one I unrolled the oily cloth to inspect the results of nearly two year’s labor at Feigl’s shop.  Twelve clockwork spiders dully reflected the flickering candlelight as I pulled my stolen tools from my backpack.  The clumsy Spotter on the ferry hadn’t damaged anything beyond repair, and after a few adjustments, I tested each one.  The whir of small gears and the light eight-legged tapping lifted the ears on the hound as he watched the small constructs skitter across the floor.  I inspected the bulbs that comprised the abdomens of each one to ensure that none of the kerosene had leaked before I carefully rewrapped the spiders and returned them to my bags.  The candle sputtered in its puddle of wax, giving me a few more seconds of light, and I quickly buckled the bags and returned my tools to my pack.  Satisfied, all I had left to do was to wait until dark, when my quarry would return to McGowen’s looking for me.  I curled up beside the hound to wait out the day.

When I opened my eyes, the darkness in the room was unchanged, but I knew evening had come by the din and hum from the streets outside.  My heart raced for just a second on the prospect of achieving my end after two long years, both in anticipation and mild anxiety.  Rubbing my tongue against my bruised cheek reminded me of the danger while also steeling my resolve.  I shouldered my bags and left the attic, commanding the hound to wait.  I left the door unlocked and slightly ajar, knowing that if needed, he would follow.

The sky had turned an overcast gray during the day, hastening the evening twilight, although it did not look to threaten rain just yet.  I moved into the main thoroughfare, the animated sounds of drinking spilling into the street as patrons entered or left the rows of establishments.  I took up a position opposite McGowen’s, claiming a vacant lamppost, drawing no attention, this perhaps being the only redeeming quality of this district.

The quick transition from day to night altered the scene before me, the orange-yellow glow of gas lamps replacing the last gray of twilight, changing the hue of the district from a drab mottle of doggeries and brothels into a row of lively inviting establishments.  I had always hated this false painting, which did nothing to lessen the hardship of the indentured serving girls and whores here.  With that thought, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cooling air, the premonition brought on by the sudden appearance of a lanky figure outside the doorway to McGowen’s.  I could not keep the feeling of trepidation from knotting my stomach, almost as if I were inside McGowen’s waiting for his arrival rather than standing safely disguised on the street.

Two long years of waiting and planning were over, and I watched the man haughtily push his way into the establishment.  I wouldn’t have to wait long for him to reemerge empty handed and angry, McGowen not even likely to remember the girl he sought, the girl who had run away so long ago that McGowen must surely think she had long ago succumbed to a cold orphan’s death in this dirty uncaring city.  I adjusted the bag on my shoulder, knowing that no one could fathom that I had patiently made other plans regarding who would die first in this city.

Welcome to the March 2011 issue of the Musings of the Othar.  I’m definitely looking forward to an early spring as each year it seems that I get tired of winter at an earlier and earlier stage.  I guess this explains all the southward migrations as we age.  At any rate, I am looking forward to some warmer weather so I can move my writing endeavors back to the three-season porch from the confines of my basement office.

This month’s Feature Article will be examining Scott Westerfeld’s steampunk novel Leviathan.  My review will be a little short this month as there was really nothing to say other than ‘read this book’.  It was one of the most entertaining reads I have had in quite some time.

The Pocket Watch continues this month, and I would like to remind everyone that you can easily catch up with the series if you have missed an installment or two.  Each chapter is intentionally short, and they are designed for quick easy reading on a PC or a mobile device.

The Fayersae Histories continue this month as Cettan and Lyhtan are reuinted.  As usual, each of the previous chapters can be found in the Full Fayersae Histories link at the top of the page.

Clarice Publishing and Othar Saga updates are also available, and I am pleased to announce that the book trailer is now up on Barnes & Noble here: Othar Saga Trailer.

Anyway, again I’m hoping that my busy schedule allows for better progress on book three, Tongue of Hauden, in the coming weeks.

Yours Truly

P.A. Seasholtz, Editor

This month’s Feature Article will be examining Scott Westerfeld’s steampunk novel Leviathan, and while there may be no such thing as a flawless novel, Leviathan certainly gets very close to that mark.  This is one of those effortless stories that reads so quickly that you forget you are even holding a book.  Now there may have been flaws in Leviathan, but Westerfeld’s story is so engrossing, and his prose is so smooth, that any flaws are never even perceived.  Westerfeld has taken an extremely imaginative idea and coupled it with great storytelling, and the result is pure entertainment, which I will argue is the entire point of a book like this.

The story opens on the eve of the Great War, and while Westerfeld uses the historical events more as a backdrop than an accurate retelling of history, the events leading up to the war will be familiar to most readers, as will the alignment of the powers.  The imaginative scope of the novel comes with the splitting of the two camps technologically: the Darwinists of England, France and Russia rely on genetically modified creatures for their war effort; and the Clankers of Germany, Austria and Hungary rely on the use of more traditional mechanical steampunk devices.  This adds an intriguing cultural layer on top of the political, but more than that, we have each camp making use of some very interesting devices.

I immediately fell in love with the two main characters, Alex, the son of assassinated  Archduke Ferdinand, and Deryn Sharp, a sixteen year old girl masquerading as a boy who serves in the Royal Air Corps aboard the Leviathan.  I won’t get into any plot details here lest I spoil the read, other than to say that by the time our two young protagonists meet, you certainly will have fallen in love with them.

One final comment other than the simple directive to just read this book.  If Leviathan in not made into a movie, I would think Hollywood would be missing a blockbuster here.

Fayersae Histories

Second Battle of Jent

Chapter 18

“You’re a damn fool,” Lyhtan said angrily from atop his horse.

Byldan rode beside his father wearing the same hard expression of displeasure.

“Perhaps,” Cettan said wearily, still glad to see his brother and nephew.  “But you’re on the wrong side of these mountains.  I wonder who our father would think the bigger fool.”

“His orders were to march to the Jent Pass.  I have them right here,” Lyhtan said, patting the chest of his jacket.  “It says nothing regarding which road to take.”

“A nice technicality, one which I am sure our exacting father would accept,” Cettan said, smiling.  “Although, all you have done is to ensure that future commands from him are received on two pages rather than one.”

Lyhtan grunted, but some of his anger evaporated, and he shook his head at his brother.

The smile on Cettan’s face faded as he shifted his feet, the pain from his many wounds reminding him how fortunate he had been to survive until his brother’s timely arrival.

“In all seriousness, you have made a fortuitous tactical choice,” Cettan said.  “Even if you had not arrived in time to save me, this may turn out to be more help to those gathering in the Pass than if you had come from the east.  The Dasyu here were not a small pillaging party.  They were probably moving to the Pass, and they might have gotten there quicker than many of the assembling forces had you not changed course to march on this side of the mountains.”

“I had deduced as much,” Lyhtan said.  “Bruchmon messengers arrived by sea soon after we parted.  Your doing, I assume,” he said to Scieden.

“Yes, My Lord,” Scieden said.  “I sent out calls requesting aid when they began to overrun this province.  Those messengers were traveling toward Torbod by sea, however, even though we had little hope of receiving assistance from that quarter.  They must have been harried by Dasyu ships if they turned toward Troth.”

“Well, then we all have been a little lucky it would seem,” Lyhtan said.  “However, we are now taking the longer road to the Jent Pass.  We should pray that a larger Dasyu force is not at our heels as we march.  We have many leagues to go, and we are not equipped to fight our way north.  We have neither the supplies nor the numbers to hold back the Dasyu horde should they leave off their assault on Torbod to follow us north.  You should have fled back to the coast and abandoned this folly,” he said pointedly to Cettan.

“Brother, let’s not rekindle that argument,” Cettan said looking at Scieden.  “What’s done is done.  We were short on horses, and I decided it best that we stick together as long as possible.  Stannen was holding the defenses in the hills with his men, and we have not yet learned their fate.  If you have a horse to spare, I am eager to see if they have survived the night.”

“You should be seeing the surgeons,” Lyhtan said, but he waved a hand to have a horse brought up.  “Wrap that cut on his shoulder at least,” he said to a surgeon who had been waiting for instruction to approach his Lord and offer that aid.

Cettan accepted the quick triage on his shoulder and a few of his other more serious wounds, and took some more water as the pain of his injuries grew as the adrenalin from the battle fully subsided.  He was battered but not beaten, and if Stannen and his men still lived, he thought they might be able to continue toward Torbod in a few days.

He let himself be helped into the saddle, and Lyhtan gave the order for the group to move out, letting Scieden lead them back to Stannen and his men at the ridge.

A constant flow of messengers rode into their midst, keeping Lyhtan abreast of the fluid situation, and most of the reports indicated that the Dasyu had been scattered.  Coordinated groups of Haelanhon foot were fanning out across the area to hunt them down, ensuring that none would escape to regroup.  Weary as they were, Scieden sent the few remaining Bruchmon cavalry to assist, ordering them to round up any of the common folk that may have hidden themselves to escape the Dasyu.  Word had gone out that the Bruchmon citizenry in the area should make for the safety of the ridge now that Lyhtan had come to their aid.

When they reached the ridge, Cettan and Scieden were relieved to see that Stannen and most of his men had already come off the ridge.  Scieden had been correct concerning their fate since the Dasyu had broken off their assault on the steep slope after they had ridden forth.

Greetings were reluctantly made as Lyhtan ordered his command to be set up below the ridge.  It was clear that most of his men did not relish mixing with the men he had recently exiled, and Cettan, Scieden and Stannen were left mostly alone with the beleaguered artisans that had followed Stannen off the ridge.  A few surgeons did stay to assist the injured, and Cettan was now thinking about seeking proper care when he looked at Byldan who sat atop his horse staring at the ridge.  He had not ridden away with his father.

“Do you see the same thing I do, nephew?” Cettan asked, getting his first good look at the ridge under the light of day.

Small sections of the hastily built stone wall still lined the front of the ridge, and it was easy to imagine what a properly made wall would look like.  The steep slope offered a good natural defense, guarding the two narrow paths that climbed to the flat area beneath the steeper cliff face, and if those paths were widened and fortified to protect men and horse during their descent, they would easily become strong ramparts.

“How has Bruchmon failed to build a proper castle here?” Byldan asked his Uncle.  “The entire side of the cliff can easily be excavated and built up, providing more than enough space and stone for a small keep.  The countryside would easily feed the garrison, and that protrusion there could easily be built into a watchtower,” he said pointing.

“What do you think?” Cettan asked Stannen who had overheard the conversation.  “Bruchmon will need a new stronghold in this province after today.”

Stannen slowly surveyed the area, taking a harder look at the ridge under the growing morning light.

“I think my young Lord has an excellent eye,” he finally said.  “The natural formation here would provide for most of the defenses, and the rock that is quarried would easily provide the rest.  With enough men, the outer walls and the foundation for a small keep could be completed by spring.  A watchtower there,” he said pointing, “would take some many months to complete, however.  What do you think, my young Lord?” he said addressing Byldan.  “Do you think your father could be swayed into seeing the logic of leaving some men behind here?”

Byldan’s jaw clenched and he was reminded that he had lingered with the exiled men.  However, he continued to stare at the ridge, his sharp eye analyzing each crevice and outcropping where hammer and pickaxe would best be deployed.  He wanted to speak up, and in fact, he would have liked nothing better than to stay behind and help transform the ridge into a strong keep, but he would not countermand his father.  These were exiled men, no longer Haelanhon.  He shook his head and tapped his horse to follow his father.

“Hold up,” Cettan said.  “Your father has already become embroiled in the battle to control the countryside here.  He will not leave the Bruchmon women and children undefended now that he is here.  There is a simple way to convince him to leave enough men here to fortify that ridge and to safeguard the Bruchmon common folk that are still at risk of wandering Dasyu.”

Byldan stopped his horse, but did not turn around to look at his Uncle.

“What words would my father hear from exiles?” he asked.

“None,” Cettan said.  “But he will listen to his son.  You can convince him to leave enough men here.  Our road still takes us to Torbod.  You can make the argument and sway him after we are gone.”

“Your exile will be lifted if you turn away from that path,” Byldan said, still not turning to face his Uncle.

Cettan lowered his head, now acutely feeling his injuries.

“Would you have me abandon my own son, nephew?” he asked.  “Is being Haelanhon worth more than family?”

Byldan tapped his horse and moved off to join his father.

For information on Heart of Hauden, Book One of the Harmony of the Othar Saga, or any of the books in the series, please visit http://www.otharsaga.com/.

The book trailer for the Othar Saga is now up on Barnes & Noble.  I’m very happy with how it turned out, although I have to admit that I’ve watched it so many times now throughout the editing process that it’s getting difficult to remember my first impressions.  Follow the link and have a look: Othar Saga Trailer.  Let me know what you think.

I also spent some time reviewing and tidying up the style sheets used for my Kindle layouts.  This gets a little tedious when editing the source html, and I may start looking around to see if I can find a better editor, although I’m not sure it would matter all that much.