Showing posts with label Quirk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quirk. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 15, 2025

A Writer's Week #143: Hammering Out an Identity

 Hi all. Things are progressing as I work to get my new novella, Fire & Ice ready for publication early next year. Artist Emily Hurst Pritchett has just sent me rough sketches of the cover, the map of Dragon Home, and some choices for the chapter header. They all look really great, and I'm excited to see how the final versions turn out.

Once the book comes out, it will mark the second work I've published that is not really a part of the Deliverers Series. As I slowly move away from Eric, Stig, Kate, and Hallo. I'm trying to find my identity as an author as well. While I am still writing middle grade fiction, I can't use the Deliverers as an all-encompassing marketing blanket.

The question for me was, how to market my writing? At first, I thought it might be using White Owl Manuscripts as the flagship. I use the name as my Defacto publisher. But I decided that I needed to put my name out there more. I'd always used The Deliverers or White Owl whenever talking about my books. Those just did not seem to be satisfactory options, particularly now that I am writing other things, with maybe some even more different topics yet to come. I finally decided that I should start putting my name out there more. With that in mind, I turned to AI for an author logo. At first, I thought I'd do that just to get some ideas. However, Microsoft's Co-Pilot actually came up with something that was pretty good. Here it is:


So, for now, at least, I'll be using it to "brand" myself and my writing. Marketing my name rather than the series or my faux publishing arm will enable me to branch out for future projects. After all, I still have the beginnings of my teen fantasy, Quirk, and I keep kicking around an idea for a middle grade historical novel in revolutionary Connecticut (along the lines of My Brother Sam is Dead), in addition to a few more novellas chronicling Dragon Island Legends in the planning stages.

It still seems surreal to me that I will soon release my sixth book, and that I have ideas for four to five more. I am truly blessed to have been able to write and release what I have so far. I am beyond thankful for all of you who have been following me and reading what i put out. It inspires me to keep going. I want to give you all stories that you will enjoy.

Thank you, and I'll keep you posted as things develop.

Peace.



Wednesday, January 8, 2025

Quirk: Chapter 3

 Here is the third chapter from my teen fantasy WIP. Thoughts?


Chapter 3

Can three ever be company?

             We traveled through the night, trying to put as much distance as possible between us and our captors. Finally, as dawn was breaking above the hills, we came upon a cave in the pass we were trekking through. We all headed for it without a word.

            Once inside, we slumped to the dirt floor. Lying back against the cold, hard rock of the cave wall, I breathed a sigh of relief. At least we’d been able to find some shelter.

            “I suppose we should gather some firewood and build a fire,” I said.

            Hugo nodded. “Uh, huh. I’m hungry.”

            “Mmm, yes. We’ll need to hunt up some grub, agreed, but I’m not inclined to go out hunting while the Cratt soldiers are anywhere about.”

            Hugo nodded glumly and slumped back against the wall next to me.

            All this time our cranky companion had been staring at me. Her hazel eyes were boring into me as if she were trying to peer into my very soul. It was just a touch unnerving.

            “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but why the hell are you staring at me like that?”

            “How did you do it?” she barked.

            “Do what?” I asked.

            “Release us from our chains.”

            “Oh, well, it’s no great thing, really. I’ve always had a gift for, er, extricating myself from situations like that.”

            “Lightning sprang from your finger. Don’t deny it! Are you a sorcerer?”

            I laughed at that. “Sorcerer? Hardly. It’s just when the need is great, I’ve found that I can come up with ways to help myself. It’s purely self-preservation.”

            She looked at me doubtfully.

            “Look, who are you? I don’t know you. You’ve been cranky and bad-tempered this whole time, and you demanded to come with us. What is your name, and where are you from?”

            “I am Rosetta. I was a soldier in the Cratt army,” she said with a somewhat defiant look.

            Hugo gave a huge laugh. “You, a soldier? Your chest’s too big and your muscles too small.”

            The words were barely out of his mouth before Rosetta had leaped across the cave and had him in a headlock. I really think she would have throttled the lad if cooler heads (mine) hadn’t prevailed.

            “Well, Rosetta, no need to do away with a third of our fighting force. I think it’s fairly obvious that you’re quite a talented and, uh, unusual warrior. Isn’t she Hugo?”

            Poor Hugo barely had any breath left with which to speak, but thankfully he had the wits to nod his head as vigorously as he could.

            With a grunt, Rosetta released her hold. “Forgive my anger, but your reaction is all I’ve heard since my enlistment.”

            Hugo sat back against the wall, rubbing his neck. “I’m sorry. I just never seen a woman warrior. You’re tough though. What were you doin’ in the cage with the prisoners?”

            “Yeah, that’s a good question,” I said. “What were you doing in that cage?”

            “A couple of my tent mates were trying to be more than friendly. After I disabled them, they went to our captain with a tale that I had tried to kill them in their sleep,” Rosetta said.

            I nodded and rubbed my neck. Judging from personal experience, I could see how her accusers’ story would be believable. “So, what does Cratt hope to gain by raiding my country’s neighboring villages?”

            “The Cratt government is under a lot of stress at the moment. I think the raids are a means of diverting the attention of the masses away from the capital,” Rosetta replied.

            “I guess that wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened,” I said. “So where do you fall in all this? Do you support your government’s initiative?”

            I noticed that Hugo had straightened up a little bit and was watching our companion curiously.

            “As a soldier, I had no opinion one way or the other.” Her eyes hardened. “But butchering helpless villagers is not honorable.”

            “Good, so I guess we’re more or less on the same page then. The question is what to do now? The Cratts might just forget about us. After all, three people in the wilderness is not really much of a threat to their national security. Still, we don’t want our paths crossing.”

            “Maybe we should go home,” Hugo suggested.

            “There isn’t any ‘home’ to go back to. The Cratts leveled everything, remember?”

            Hugo sighed. “Oh yeah. I forgot. It doesn’t seem like it really happened.”

            I nodded. “Yeah, I get that. So again, I’m asking. What should we do? Rosetta, we’re in your territory now. What do you think?”

            “Our garrison is billeted at the foot of the mountains. My unit will be making for that, so I guess we better head farther west.”

            Hugo nodded, and I shrugged. One direction was as good as another to me, as long as it took us away from our marauding friends.

            “What’s that way?” I asked.

            Rosetta shrugged. “The Forbidden Lands.”

            “Huh?” Hugo asked, looking slightly alarmed.

            “You said it, Hugo. What the heck are the Forbidden Lands?”

            “Nobody really knows. Its history is shrouded in myth and legend. Some say it’s a land of shamans who wield a deadly black magic. Others say fell beasts and monsters inhabit the forests there, and that they guard mystical truths.”

            “Mystical truths?” I asked. “Like what?”

            “How to find the path of wisdom and the secret of eternal life.”

            “Wow,” Hugo said. “If I could live forever, could I maybe learn to be wise, Quirk?”

            “Um…I think you’d have to live a long time, so maybe eternal life could get you there,” I admitted. “So why is this land forbidden? I get that shamans and black magic and all could be a little off-putting, but if there’s a chance to gain eternal life, well, why not check it out? Is that why you want to head over there?”

            Rosetta shook her head. “No, but where else can we go that we won’t be hunted? Not to the east, the most heavily populated area of the Cratt kingdom. Not back across the mountains to your land—the Cratts patrol every pass, and your folk have border patrols as well. Where else then but west to the Forbidden Lands?”

            I rubbed my chin. She had me there. We didn’t seem to have many options.

            “How do we get there?” Hugo asked. It seemed he had made up his mind at any rate.

            “First, we have to get out of the mountains and head west. Then, we have to get past the wall.”

            “Wall? Your people built a wall to keep people out of the Forbidden Lands? How are we supposed to get past it?” I asked.

            “We did not build it,” Rosetta said. “The shamans built it to keep us out.”

            “Hmmm, that brings to mind a couple of questions, the first of which is that maybe Splendaria should do the same to keep the Cratts out. Seems many people, even evil shaman and fell, magical beasts have little use for your people.”

            Rosetta frowned. “A wall alone would not keep the Cratts out. It is said to be protected by magical spells and wards. It cannot be climbed over and cannot be tunneled under.”

            Hugo shook his head. “So why are we even tryin’ t’ go? Don’t sound like there’s much chance of gettin’ in.”

            “There’s a door,” Rosetta said.

            “A door? Is that it?” I asked. I doubted very much it would be as easy as walking through a door.

            “The door is locked. The lock is guarded by many magical spells, or so it is said.”

            “So, what makes you think trying to get through the door would be any less impossible than trying to go over or under?” I asked.

            “It’s the only place we can go to evade capture by the Cratts.”

            I shook my head. “Yeah, but it sounds like our chances of getting into this Forbidden Land are next to zilch. We’d need a way to get through the lock.”

            Rosetta gave a sly look. “True, but I saw you get through several locks as easy as can be.”

            “Those were regular, run of the mill padlocks, unguarded by any kind of magic. I don’t have the power to get through a magic lock.”

            “I’m guessing you do,” Rosetta retorted. “I think you possess more power in you than you let on, or than perhaps you know. One zap from your finger and those locks were fried. I’ve never seen anyone else with anything close to a skill like that. Hugo, have you?”

            Hugo scratched his head. “Have I what?”

            Rosetta rolled her eyes. “Have you seen anyone who can shoot lightening out of his fingers?”

            “No, no. Have you?”

            “Yes, our friend Quirk here did it to release us from our chains.”

            “Oh, I was asleep when he done it. Hey, Quirk, I didn’t know you could shoot lightning from your finger. That would be a good trick t’ play on the Cratts. They’d leave us alone for sure then.”

            I shook my head. “That’s the only ‘power’ I have, if that’s what it is. I’ve only ever been able to do it with locks. I don’t know if I can do it for anything else.”

            “Aha, you don’t know for sure!” Rosetta said, an ‘I told you so’ look on her face. “You’ve never tried, I bet. For all we know you could be a great shaman yourself.”

            “Okay, okay, hold on there. Simmer down a bit. I think you’re getting a little bit ahead of yourself. I’m no shaman. I’ve spent my whole life drifting from place to place. My parents either abandoned me, or were killed, depending on who you talk to. I was too young to remember.”

            Hugo scratched his head. “Um, so that means you could be anyone, don’t it?”

Thursday, January 2, 2025

A Writer's Week #136: New Year is Here, Time to Get Down to Business

 Well, 2025 is here, 2024 is--literally--history. I hope you had a great Christmas/holiday and New Year celebration with family and friends. I sure did. This year, we went up to my brother's house in Vermont. Almost the entire side of my family was there--may parents and four out of five of the "kids" and their significant others and children. Needless to say, it was a very fun time.

      

Once I returned home, I got down to work. No, I did not do any writing. That will come as we move a little further into the new year. No, I have several author goals for the coming year. Before I outline those, I'll give you a quick review of my goals for the past couple of years. 

In 2023, I began a search for an illustrator with a view toward updating the covers, maps, and chapter illustrations of my three existing books. I was lucky enough to partner with Emily Hurst Pritchett. She updated the art for the first three books in the Deliverers Series. My other main goal was to resume writing book four in the series and complete it before the end of 2023. I was successful with that as well, and Emily began work on the cover and interior art before the end of the year.

In 2024, my goal was to publish book four and the collection of short stories and poems that had been kicking around for more than a couple decades. Again, I was able to accomplish this with the help of Emily who provided the finished book four illustrations and map as well as the short story collection cover and 12 illustrations, one for each story. My wife, Stephanie Shaughnessy, did four watercolors to illustrate the poems. I even produced an audio book for As the Owl Flies, partnering with narrator Lena Hibala. In addition, I was able to ramp up the number of books signings, author events, and craft shows that I attended--16 in all.


My goal for the coming year is to complete the first draft of at least one of my two works in progress--Quirk, a 1st person teen fantasy, and Tales of the Dragon Islands, a middle grade fantasy/adventure. I am also currently searching for someone to help me with my social media marketing platform. I've muddled along for many years on my own, but I just don't have the knowledge and talent for it. I've got a couple of irons in the fire, and we'll see where that leads. I need to get the word out.

I also made the decision that I have to start running this enterprise more like a business than a hobby. To me, it was never a hobby, but I was handling it like one--paying for art, audio, stock and marketing materials with my personal funds, and mingling all my book income in my personal bank accounts. That made it hard to figure out my income and expenses. So, I registered White Owl Manuscripts as a trade name, and I've opened an account under that name to run all income and expenses through that dedicated account.

Essentially, the past two years have been one long startup period. I've been operating at a loss, which was fine because I needed to revamp things and add to my published titles after my long layoff. Now, everything is in place, so it's time to raise awareness and move toward profitability.

I am profoundly grateful to you for accompanying me on this journey and for your unflagging support. I am looking forward to bringing you more tales and adventures in the coming years. I'll keep you updated on how it's going.

Peace





Tuesday, October 8, 2024

A Writer's Week #134: Busy Times

 So I have to say that September was a very busy--and fun--month for me. I had three events during the month, which is quite a bit. They were all rewarding in their own ways. I was able to meet and greet young readers at all three, which is something I love above all else.

For me, the most rewarding experience I had was my author signing at the BookSmiths Shoppe in Danbury, CT on September 14. It was a fantastic experience. Michelle is extremely reading and author friendly. I can't tell you what it means as an author to have someone in the community as supportive of local authors and young readers.


At the event, I was able to share thoughts about my writing process and some of the experiences I've had on my author's journey. There were several young readers who were forming a book club and a couple that were writing their own books. One young lady had written almost 60 pages. I was able to read the first few pages, and I must say, she had a great story idea. I'm looking forward to reading more!

I was also able to take part in the Litchfield County Irish American Club's Irish Festival on September 7 & 8 in New Milford, CT. This was new for me. It was the first time I had sold my books at a two-day event. Even though it was a larger fee, it was entirely worth is, in spite of the fact that day one was shortened by rain. The crowds on both days were great and I managed to make some money and see some folks I hadn't seen for a while, and make some new friends, too.



It also marked the debut of my new 6-foot Deliverers banner that I'll be using for outdoor shows. It looks really nice, and I've had multiple comments on it. I think I missed a slight opportunity by not making it two-sided, but it definitely draws attention, as does the video display and wireless speaker that I've started using to play my video book trailers. The music attracts folks and then they stay to find out about the books and perhaps watch the videos. I'm thinking about maybe making a video incorporating excerpts from my two audio books. What do you think?

Anyhow, last month was great, and this month is off to a fantastic start. I had an event in Bethel, CT this past weekend, and another one is scheduled in my town of New Fairfield, CT on the 26th.

In addition to that, I'm up to over 9,500 words of my new teen/YA novel, Quirk. I'm hoping the first draft will be complete by the middle of next year. You can check out the first and second chapters in my two previous posts. I've got a page set up here.

I guess that's about it for now. I'm truly grateful for all the support everyone has given me, and I look forward to all the great things yet to come on this journey. Until next time, be well.

Peace.

 


Thursday, October 3, 2024

Quirk: Chapter 2

I've been working quite a bit on this work in progress, and I think it's starting to come along. I'm up to almost 8,000 words. I think I almost know which direction this will go. So far the reading level is grade 4, but I'm gearing it toward teens. The writing is pretty simple and direct, so I guess that's why the level is so low. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts in the comments section below. Any input is always appreciated.


Chapter 2

Quirk takes a journey and describes his traveling companions.


    Listen, I’ve never been one for travel and this little journey has done nothing to change my mind. If anyone ever offers you the opportunity to travel through the mountains in a cage on four wheels being pulled by a team of old, broken down, farting horses, I suggest that you politely decline, turn, and run the other way as fast as you can. Although if you were surrounded by a large contingent of Cratt soldiers as were are, your chances of running away would be slim to none.
    Unfortunately, no one gave me or my companions the opportunity to do so. What? Oh, my companions. I suppose I should tell you something about them, seeing as how I’m locked up with them, and you, by association, are as well.
    They’re not much to look at right now. A few I know, the rest appear to be people from other villages in the area. I guess Naguu wasn’t the only village on Cratt’s hit parade. Anyway, we’re crammed in here pretty tight, not much room to breathe let alone move. At the moment, I’m jammed up against some guy in a dirty leather jerkin and some torn breeches. He’s wearing some sort of leather helmet with iron bands and studs. He’s unshaven and his breath stinks, but I guess I should be a little understanding, mine is probably none too fresh, either.
    My back is pressed up against the iron bars of the cage we’re sitting in, and there’s a guy standing in front of me with his backside at eye level. Not a pretty sight. Doesn’t smell too good, either. To my right is a lady with long, mussed red hair in a ripped homespun shirt and linen pants. She’s wearing a leather vest and has knee high leather boots and while she’s softer and squishier than the dude on my left, she looks meaner. She’s already told me about ten times to stop touching her. I’ve done my best to explain to her that I’m not trying to touch her, it’s just that I don’t have much choice in the matter at the moment. Secretly, I’m glad I have an excuse.
    Now, don’t think ill of me, it’s just there’s not much to do in a cage traveling through the mountains for who knows how long to who knows where. If I can’t keep myself preoccupied, I’ll start to think and worry and realize that I’m jammed in a cage with a bunch of people and not a privy in sight. Oh, damn, now that’s done it. I’m thinking about something else now. Great. Guess I’ll have to start a conversation with someone.

 


    I turn to the girl, but she stares daggers at me and looks like she’s about to tell me to stop touching her again. The guy in front of me is not a candidate for conversation. So, I turn to my left-hand neighbor. He’s sitting there with his helmet scrunched down almost over his eyes, shocks of dirty, sandy blond hair sticking out from under it at odd angles.
    “Uh, hey there,” I venture, trying to sound cheerful and friendly. Got to admit that’s hard for me at the best of times.
    “Whadda ya want?” he snorts.
    “What village you from?” I ask.
    To my surprise, he answers. “Snoroth.”
    “Ah, I know where that is. You’re about a day’s ride east of us.”
    “We was, ain’t nothin’ left now,” he said, sounding a bit forlorn.
    “Yeah, not much left of Naguu, either. I guess we’re in the same boat.”
    He unwedged his arm and tilted back his helmet. His blue eyes stared at me curiously. “Boat? This is a cage, ain’t it?”
    Oh great. Okay, not the brightest star in the sky, but he looked strong. Might as well try to make friends. He could come in handy. “My name’s Quirk, what’s yours?”
    “Hugo.”
    I try moving my arm to shake hands but realize doing so would risk even more intimate touching of the lady next to me, so I refrain.
    “So, what did you do in Snoroth, Hugo?” I ask with as genuine a smile as I can muster under the circumstances.
    “I was part of the guard.”
    “Oh, too bad, guess you boys weren’t very successful at, er, guarding.”
    Hugo frowned as if realizing something. “Nope, s’pose not.” He sighed. “I’m the only one they caught.”
    “Did the others get away?” I asked hopefully.
    “Nope, all killed.”
    “Oh, too bad for them.”
    “Only just a little better fer me,” Hugo noted, with what I suspect was a rare amount of insight for him.
    “Yeah, well like I said, we’re all stuck in this cage now. I’m thinking maybe we should try to team up and think of a way out.”
    Hugo frowned, obviously puzzled at the notion. I guessed that the thought of thinking himself out of any predicament was inconceivable to him.
    “Okay, my bad. I guess I should be more clear. I’m suggesting that I think of a way to get us out of here and you provide whatever muscle that may be required to do it.
    Hugo’s face brightened, and he smiled. This was something he understood. “Uh, yeah, okay. Sonds like a good idea. You’re smart.”
    “We won’t know that for sure until I actually come up with a plan,” I replied.
    At this point I guess I should tell you that I’ve had, uh, extensive experience with cages. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in and out of Naguu’s local lockup. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a dangerous criminal or anything, but sometimes I can be a little impatient. I mean, why bother planting corn when I can cadge some spare ears off a farmer’s cart on the way to market? And if a shepherd has too many sheep, goats or pigs to keep track of, I do my best to help him out by looking after a stray or two. Now sometimes, the farmers resent my lifestyle philosophy and complain to the local constable.
    The result is that I often find myself in the position in which I am now. The only difference this time, and I have to admit it’s a big difference, is that I was reasonably sure that I’d be released in a month or so, and in the meantime I’d have two or three square meals a day and a fairly comfortable cot to sleep on. I had also built up a good rapport with my jailers over the years. All in all, it was a reasonably pleasant experience.

Monday, September 23, 2024

Quirk: Chapter 1

 As I mentioned in my previous post, I've started a new book. I've tentatively entitled it "Quirk", but that could change. Anyway, I've written about 5,000 words so far, and I'd really like to hear some feedback. It's a departure from my previous style.

Chapter 1

In which we meet a young citizen of a tiny, remote village.

What is life anyway? Some say it’s a grand adventure, spread out before us waiting to be grabbed by the horns and enjoyed to the fullest. For others, it’s non-stop trial and testing, a battle between failure and success. According to some, it is whatever we make of it.

To me, it’s all a lie. We tell ourselves that we are in control, that our destiny is in our hands, and that things will work out in the end. Rubbish. To me, life is a crapshoot. Some roll sevens while others…snake eyes. It’s all random.

Take me for example. My name is Quirk. I’ve lived 17 summers so far. Not long, you might say, but I know this isn’t my first go-round. I’ve lived before. Don’t ask me how I know, it’s just something I’ve felt, known, since this birth. From my earliest memory, it’s been a given that I’ve gone through this thing called life at least several times before. I can’t remember specifics, just impressions. Sometimes, it’s been rather nice, but most times…not so much.


I thought that this was a common thing, so imagine my surprise when I learned that in fact, I seem to be the only one in my village that had these past life impressions. I mean, I don’t know for sure. I didn’t go around asking people. But I’ve never heard anyone talking about it—not even a whisper. You’d think that if people did have these impressions, I’d have heard something, especially since I was looking out for them.

But no. Nothing. Mind you, a village can keep its secrets when it really wants to. Take my village, for example. We are—or maybe were—just a small settlement of 250 or so souls tucked into the northeast corner of one of the largest kingdoms in the world. Not much happens here. In fact, it’s kind of boring, until this morning, but I’ll get to that. Boring looks pretty good at the moment. I guess what happened this morning is the most excitement folks around here have seen since the Troubles.

Nobody around here talks much about the Troubles. It’s all kind of hush hush. The nearest I can figure is they happened about 25 years ago or so. There was a lot of unrest—a revolution or something. All villages were required to come to the aid of the king to help put down the uprising. No one really wanted to go, but each village had a certain number of soldiers they were required to provide. Now, there has never been, and probably never will be a soldier born in this village, but we still had to supply them. So, about 80 men left to join the army. From what I hear, not many returned.

I don’t really know much about those times. I may have lived through them in a past life, but like I said before, I only have vague impressions. I do have a sense of darkness and pain that I feel is pretty recent, so perhaps I lived through that time and experienced some sort of hardship. 

Anyhow, the king was overthrown and as is the way with most revolutions, a new king took his place. From what I can gather, he is even worse than the previous king. That’s not really a surprise, as things are pretty bleak around here these days.

My village is called Naguu. Like I said, it’s tucked neatly in the northeast corner of the kingdom. Our backs are right up against the Pellegost Range. That’s a line of mountains that forms the border with our neighbors, the Cratts. As you could probably guess from their name, the Cratts are a nasty, greedy, vicious, and misbehaved race of marauders and thieves. By all accounts, they are a nomadic people who take great delight in coming down from the mountains to attack and pillage poor, defenseless villages. 

Our own wonderful monarch had set up a sort of border patrol to protect his beloved northern subjects from attack, but patrols have become far less frequent in the past few years than they had been. It is said that he has more pressing political and crowd control matters to attend to closer to the capital down south. It’s really unfortunate that he’s having some difficulties keeping everything in order.

I say that, not because I really care about the king’s situation, but because this morning the Cratts took advantage of the lack of patrols to issue forth from the mountains and level my little village. It wasn’t pretty. They looted and killed most of the men, women, and children. A few of us “lucky” ones were thrown into wagon cages. I guess we’ll either be sold as slaves or maybe pressed into service in their army or something.

Anyway, I suppose it’s better to be alive rather than dead, but I could be wrong. Time will tell. Life goes on…for now.


Monday, September 2, 2024

A Writer's Week #133: Enough Promotion, Time to Write!


 Hello everyone. Happy Labor Day! I hope you are all having a restful weekend and are enjoying the beginning of the end of summer.

I've been spending a lot of my time this past week prepping for the Litchfield County Irish Festival in New Milford, CT on the 7th and 8th. I'm really looking forward to it, and I hope to see many of my Connecticut friends there.

I've also begun writing a new book that popped into my head a couple of weeks ago. From what I can tell, it will be a teen/young adult fantasy. I'm writing it in the first person, and it's definitely a little more grown up than what I've published so far on my writing journey.

The working title right now is Quirk. It's from the point of view of a 17 year old orphan (I guess) who lives in a mountain village called Naguu in a remote corner of whatever kingdom they're in. Quirk is a little snarky and he has to live by his wits. I am also thinking he has some special powers, but is only slightly aware of them right now, and that he has some inkling that this is not the first life he's been plunked down in.

As you can probably guess, I don't have a clear vision for how this story will unfold. I'm learning a lot of things right along with Quirk. I do have a vague idea of where it's going, but as to how we get there...we'll just have to wait and see. I think when you're Writing first person, you kind of have to discover things along with the character, otherwise they come across as too puppet-like. The big danger, though, is being careful to ramble too much. you have to stay dialed in to moving the plot along most of the time.

Anyhow, I was fiddling around with AI and I came up with two interpretations of Quirk. It's my first time dabbling in this. I don't intend to illustrate my book and the cover in this way, but I wanted to give you a peek into what he looks like. The top image is a whole lot closer to where he is right now. Will he progress to picture number two? Perhaps...and perhaps not. We'll have to see how the story unfolds.

Image
Quirk as envisioned by AI
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A slightly more regal AI Quirk

Again, I don't endorse the use of AI for writing, illustrating, or any other creative process. However, for a blog and to show you what I'm getting at with right now is only a three chapter book, I think it's okay. I am also intrigued by the potential of AI marketing, but I don't think the technology is there yet.

When the time comes, and if she is available and willing, I plan to let Emily Hurst Pritchett take a crack at the enigma that is, or will be, Quirk.

Right now, the book is at 3,400 words over 11 pages, so it's very early days. I'm not sure exactly how long it will be, or if it will wind up being a series. I find it rather exhausting to write for long periods in the first person, as I keep having to rein myself in. We'll see how quickly (or not) this moves along.

Whatever happens, I'll keep you all in the loop.

Peace.