“Barbigerous” or “Here Lies Romance”

It’s Save-a-Word Saturday! For any who need a reminder of/never knew what that means, here’s how it goes:

Save-a-Word Saturday

1) Create a post linking back to the hosts, The Feather and the Rose.

2) Pick an old word you want to save from extinction to feature in the post. (If you find yourself in want of options, Feather ‘n’ Rose recommended a site that may have some word-lovers drooling. Luciferous Logolepsy. Even its name is old and delicious!)

3) Provide a definition of your word, and use it in a sentence/short paragraph/mini story vaguely related to the particular week’s chosen theme.

4) Sign up properly on the host post’s linky list so participants can easily find each other and share their logophilistic joy.

5) Be a hero by sharing these retro words with the world!

I’ve been participating in the weekly fun via my Ballad of Allyn-a-Dale” Facebook page, giving myself the extra challenge/fun of relating every word I pick to my re-imagining of the Robin Hood legend (a.k.a. the magnum opus to be self-published after the completion of “The Wilderhark Tales”). But I figure, hey, since I’ve gotten in the habit of having my vignettes all pre-written and ready to go, no reason I can’t pop over here real quick and post it for the blog-inclined to see, too!

So, without further delay, here’s my word-saving civic duty of the day.

The theme: Roses.

The word: “Barbigerous”, an adjective meaning “having a beard”.

The Example: Will Scarlet presented the bouquet with a flourish. “Roses are red,

Scarlet is, too.

And speaking of red things, here!

These are for you!”

Little John looked down at the ribbon-bound blooms. “Why are you giving me these?”

“Why? Look at a calendar for once, will you? It’s Valentine’s Day!”

An expression as black as the beard framing Little John’s mouth defied Will to say something stupid. “So?”

Will heaved a sigh. “So Robin’s got Marion, Arthur’s got Guinevere, and you and me? Well, at least we’ve got each other – even if you do make for a huge, barbigerous sort of woman.” Will pulled a pathetic puppy-dog expression. “Humor me for half-a-minute, please? All the Faeries just laughed at me when I tried to woo one last year.”

His turn to sigh, now, Little John rolled his eyes skyward. “Fine,” he rumbled, taking the rose bouquet. “Even if you do make for an absurd, mentally-challenged sort of woman.”

Will’s grin flashed bright. “But gorgeous, though, right?”

Little John glowered. “Roses are red,

Go away, Scarlet.”

Will walked off, shaking his head. “Romance is so dead.”

*Notice: From here ‘til Labor Day, my weekends will be dedicated to the Bristol Renaissance Faire. So while I’ll still try to participate on the “Ballad” page when I can, this begins Ever On Word’s hiatus from Save-a-Word Saturday. Thanks for joining me hitherto, and I hope to get right back into the groove in September!

“Mechanics” or “The Business Side of Bookmaking”

As I hope you’ve heard by now, I’ve got my first self-published book coming out on May 31st. (Yeah, the one just a week and a day from now. Eep, eep, eep!) What you may not know are the “functional and technical aspects [behind this] activity”. So in the interests of letting everyone in on what all has being going into the production of “The Swan Prince”, today I’ll be sharing some details from behind the curtain.

– First, I wrote the “Wilderhark Tales” series. Actually, I did that years ago. But it was an important step, not to be glossed over.

– That done, I searched for an illustrator to create my cover art. It took a few tries, but I found a great one, and the artist and I have been collaborating on Wilderhark art ever since.

– Meanwhile, I browsed my self-publishing options. There are plenty of companies out there who advertise themselves as happy to help independent authors get their books out. I went with CreateSpace, in no small part because I’d used them to get a free proof copy of a book before, and it had been a relatively painless experience. (For someone whose dealings with all things technological tend to devolve into mini-nightmares, familiarity counts for a lot.)

Apart from that, I looked over their site and didn’t get knocked over with any red flags. They’re print-on-demand, meaning I don’t have to pour a bunch of money into books that, worst case scenario, won’t ever be bought. Their proof review system lets me get a physical copy of the paperback in my hands to scrutinize for anything I want to change, and I can do that as many times as I like until I’m satisfied, for no more than the cost of printing the book and shipping it to me. They even gave me the option to use my own ISBN.

On ISBNs (abbreviation for International Standard Book Number). It’s a legit book thing. Probably a lot of self-publishing companies will be up for providing an ISBN or its equivalent for you, even for free; CreateSpace certainly offered that alternative. And there’s nothing wrong with using that freely-provided identification number, if you don’t mind having the self-publishing company listed as your publisher. I was okay with that for the e-versions of my books, but for the paperbacks, I preferred to be listed as my own publisher; no major reason, it’s just the way I felt.

A drastically blurry pic of the ISBN on the back of my “Swan Prince” proof copy. I need to outfit my new laptop with some photo editing software, stat.

A drastically blurry pic of the ISBN on the back of my “Swan Prince” proof copy. I need to outfit my new laptop with some photo editing software, stat.

So I had to purchase my own ISBNs, and that meant a shop stop at Bowker.com, sole seller of this little commodity. You can purchase them in ones, tens, hundreds, or more, if I rightly recollect. I went with ten, which will cover all six of my “Wilderhark Tales”, my subsequent “Ballad of Allyn-a-Dale” trilogy, plus one extra, which I’ve got ideas for. For those of you wondering about the bottom line, the set of ten costs $250 – a better deal than buying them one at a time. (The bigger packages were even better deals, but I don’t have anywhere near one hundred books to sell, just now, so…)

– With the ISBNs for my paperbacks acquired, I had to figure out a way to format my e-book files. I know nothing about e-readers, and my late laptop couldn’t even deal with PDFs, half the time. An appeal to the internet for guidance introduced me to PressBooks.com. The free site is designed to work a lot like WordPress (a big selling point for me. Familiarity, remember?), only with a feature that exports your content into PDF, EPUB, and MOBI files. I was able to review the PDF on one of my home’s newer computers, a couple of friends were good enough to look over the other files on their devices (big thanks, Emerald and Nikki!), and of this post’s drafting, it looks like everything’s a go! The next stop on this front will be over on Amazon Kindle Direct and NOOK Press (formerly PubIt!).

– In the meantime, I went over to the U.S. Copyright Office to (appropriately enough) officially register my book’s copyright. To quote CreateSpace, “Every artist’s situation is different, and copyright laws and registrations can be complex. As a self-published artist, it’s up to you to ensure you are protected as you desire. For that reason, CreateSpace will not register or submit your work for copyright protection under any circumstances.” So I had to be a grownup and do it myself. Bless the copyright site for providing a tutorial I could follow every step of the way; I’d have been stressing out even more, otherwise. (I have this phobia about filling out forms. Especially important ones. Especially online.) The copyright registration cost $35, but it’ll more than pay for itself if I win an infringement lawsuit. (Pirates, ye be warned.)

– I’m also in the ongoing process of compiling a list of book blogs which may, upon invitation, be interested in reviewing “The Swan Prince” and/or interviewing me about it. If any of you readers are bloggers with such an interest, give me a holler via my contact page.

Phew! Anybody else feel exhausted, just reading along? All that and readying my novel “Inspired” for publication next March (not to mention gearing up for the One More Day” anthology in Decemeber)! But I’m not complaining. This is making The Dream happen the best way I know how, and my cartwheeling heart already knows it to be worth it.

T-minus 8 days ‘til launch, guys!

“Sample” or “A Girl in the Woods”

Not even a dozen days left until the release of my fairytale novella, “The Swan Prince (Book One of the Wilderhark Tales)”!

Wait, what?? *double-checks calendar* Holy smokes, it’s true.

Wow.

I can’t tell if this feeling is panic or just wanting so bad for you to read this book that I’m fit to bust. How to tell the difference?

The only swarms I like to think about are readers swarming Amazon to buy my book on launch day.

The only swarms I like to think about are readers swarming Amazon to buy my book on launch day.

Well, let’s try an experiment: I’ll let you all read a “small part of [The Swan Prince], intended to show the quality, style, or nature of the whole”, and we’ll see if the sharing of this piece of the book’s early pages helps to lessen the monarch butterfly migration passing through my midsection.

Ugh! Swarming insects! Why did I choose that analogy?! This sample chapter will now serve a twofold purpose – a lovely “Swan Prince” appetizer for you, and a distraction from disturbing thoughts for me. Enjoy. (:

<> ~ <> ~ <>

~ A Girl in the Woods ~

 

Doctor Villem Deere was not easily surprised.

It was not that he could be said to have “seen it all”; he had only lived a little more than twenty years of life, and had spent much of that time seeing the same few things many times over. And it wasn’t that he had a particularly outrageous imagination. Rather, he was open-minded enough that he could accept almost any circumstance as being a perfectly probable one, and if it was only likely that something would happen, it would be foolish to be surprised when it did.

So when – one autumn morning, not long past dawn – his door was thrown open by a panicked young nun, Doctor Deere took it entirely in stride.

“What’s the matter, Sister?” he asked with efficient calm, already reaching for his medical bag and shrugging into his favorite twill jacket. “An illness at the asylum?”

“A girl in the woods!” gasped the nun – Sister Ariana, by name. “Her leg’s caught in one of those ghastly steel traps meant for things like bears and wolves and mountain lions and— well, never mind! The point is, it’s trapped a girl! Please, Villem, come quickly!”

The supplies of his profession in hand, the fair physician followed his dark-haired friend out of the quiet village of Wilderhark and into the vast forest that bore the same name, working to make sense of Sister Ariana’s disjointed explanations all the while.

“I was taking my daily constitutional, the same as I’ve always done – for the past four years, anyway – or has it only been three? Well, never mind, that’s hardly the point: The point is that it wasn’t the same as I’ve always done.

“Normally, I circumvent the woods, but I didn’t today, because I heard this terrible, tortured sound coming from inside them! I can’t really put a name to it or describe it and I very much hope I’ll never be able to reproduce it because I just knew that such a sound could only be the result of overpowering agony!

“And I hadn’t even gotten over the shock of the first noise before there was a second one; what sounded like ragged, tearful breaths. I followed them to their source, and— ah! There she is!”

As one might reasonably suppose, the girl with her leg clamped tight in a steel trap had not gone anywhere.

In the ungainly-looking girl’s childish face, Villem observed the signs of physical distress one would expect to see in the expression of one in her situation. But what he had also expected to see, and yet did not see, was relief; relief that salvation had arrived, that she would soon be liberated from her entrapment. Instead, Villem saw no small amount of fear in her hard, staring eyes, as if the girl viewed him not as a source of deliverance, but as just another threat. He sought to reassure her.

“It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “I’m Doctor Deere, and I’m here to help you. Can you tell me your name?”

The girl’s voice was shaky, but she managed an answer. “Sula.”

“All right, Sula. Now, how did this unfortunate accident happen?”

Assuming that it was an accident, Villem thought. It most likely was, but you never could tell what some people might do to each other; it was a mad world, and everything was probable.

“I was… running,” Sula said tentatively. “It was dark. I didn’t see the trap until too late.”

“What were you running from?”

“I—” Sula began, hesitated, and began again. “I was running from a bear.”

“A bear.”

“Yes.” Sula nodded several times. “I mean, I thought there was a bear. Maybe there wasn’t, but I thought I had better run, in case there was.”

“I might have known there was a bear involved!” Sister Ariana cried. “I’ve heard of more than a dozen reported bear sightings in this area since this past spring alone. It was very foolish of you, dear,” she chided the girl, “to go into these woods at night; that’s when these local bears tend to be most active, I’m told. Your parents ought to have known better than to let you— Where are your parents, by the way?”

Sula’s answer was near inaudible. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh, you poor thing, how terrible! Well, never mind – I have just the place for you to stay. Would it be safe to move her there right away, Doctor, or will she need special care elsewhere?”

“Oh, she’s quite fit to be moved,” Villem replied, finishing his careful inspection of the girl’s entrapped leg. “You’ve been very fortunate, Sula: Somehow, your bone has withstood any breakage. How old are you, seventeen?”

“Sixteen.”

“Remarkable,” Villem murmured. That a girl of sixteen should have fared so well when a grown man’s leg would almost surely have been snapped in two by such a powerful contraption…

Perhaps something is the matter with the trap’s springs, he reasoned. He would have to look into that later.

“So I can take her to the asylum now?” Sister Ariana asked.

“Once I’ve cleaned and bound her wound, yes.”

“Thank goodness. Now, don’t you fret, Sula,” she said, noting the panicked look that had reappeared in the girl’s gray-green eyes. “We’ll soon have you where you won’t have to worry about getting hurt by traps or bears anymore.”

If she was worried about bears to begin with, Villem thought.

It wasn’t that Sula’s story had been an improbable one; but for reasons he had yet to scrutinize to his scientific satisfaction, Doctor Villem Deere was unconvinced it was the whole one.

<> ~ <> ~ <>

To be continued… on May 31st!

“Senocular” or “Sleep Is For The Weak(er Than Lute)”

It’s Save-a-Word Saturday! For any who need a reminder of/never knew what that means, here’s how it goes:

Save-a-Word Saturday

1) Create a post linking back to the hosts, The Feather and the Rose.

2) Pick an old word you want to save from extinction to feature in the post. (If you find yourself in want of options, Feather ‘n’ Rose recommended a site that may have some word-lovers drooling. Luciferous Logolepsy. Even its name is old and delicious!)

3) Provide a definition of your word, and use it in a sentence/short paragraph/mini story vaguely related to the particular week’s chosen theme.

4) Sign up properly on the host post’s linky list so participants can easily find each other and share their logophilistic joy.

5) Be a hero by sharing these retro words with the world!

I’ve been participating in the weekly fun via my Ballad of Allyn-a-Dale” Facebook page, giving myself the extra challenge/fun of relating every word I pick to my re-imagining of the Robin Hood legend (a.k.a. the magnum opus to be self-published after the completion of “The Wilderhark Tales”). But I figure, hey, since I’ve gotten in the habit of having my vignettes all pre-written and ready to go, no reason I can’t pop over here real quick and post it for the blog-inclined to see, too!

So, without further delay, here’s my word-saving civic duty of the day.

The theme: Exhaustion.

The word: “Senocular”, an adjective meaning “having six eyes”.

The Example: When Gant-o’-the-Lute turned to peer at him, Allyn fought harder to stand steady on his feet.

“Are you all right, lad?”

“Yes,” said Allyn, blinking hard. For a moment, his fuzzy vision read his father’s face as senocular, all six eyes narrowing at him in displeasure.

“We’ve discussed this, Allyn,” Lute said crisply. “If you’re falling ill, you should say so before you vomit in the middle of a ballad, not after.”

Allyn flushed at the remembrance of that mortifying childhood episode. “I am not so unwell, Father. But as you ask… might we stop somewhere to sleep, soon?”

“Sleep?” Lute repeated, head tipped in puzzlement. “But we stopped to sleep last night.”

Though Allyn’s body was well aware that it had been two nights ago, not one, he said only, “I am sorry, Father. I fear I’ve tired myself too quickly.”

Lute tutted. “Adolescents. Nothing but energy-sapping hormones. Ah, well, as you look liable to drop off into unconsciousness whether I give you leave or no, we’d best make camp somewhere. May as well feed you, too, while I’m thinking of it.” He sighed. “Try to remind me more regularly that you’re not me, will you, Allyn?”

Allyn’s assent was lost in a yawn.

“Courtesy” or “Can You Write with All the Colors of the Wind?”

I took a break from the joys of book formatting* to maximize on the inspiration that smacked me in the face in the middle of that chore.

(* Not being fully sarcastic, here. I do rather enjoy arranging my words so they look as pretty as I can make ‘em. …Though I admit it’s a bit tiresome having to go through the same novella a dozen times in a week…)

There’s no shortage of opinions among writers, readers, and other pertinent people in the biz about what professional writing ought to look like. You’ll hear a lot of rules, regulations, and guidelines about stuff like italics, bold print, underlines, ALL CAPS, exclamation points!!!… the list goes on.

In my personal opinion, I think a writer ought to be able to use whatever typographic tools they wish to get their story across – and that goes for poor, maligned adverbs, too. An over-reliance on any of the features mentioned above can grow wearying on the eye and serve as a crutch for a feeble narrative, but used with thoughtfulness and intent, I call them all valid. To say you’re not allowed to ever use them is like telling a painter she can’t ever use a certain shade of yellow. And I’m not even particularly fond of yellow, but I believe it has its place.

Like I said, that’s my opinion. But I am well aware that others will feel differently. A page swimming in exclamation points may be as much of a turnoff for Reader X as conspicuously overused words or a lack of half-decent punctuation are to me.

(While we’re on the subject, it’s: “Whatever he said,” he said.

Not: “Whatever he said.” He said.

If you’ve made a habit of the latter, break it. Please. I can’t stand it.)

In the process of line-editing, I may come across a phrase that I’m perfectly okay with, but which I think might be likely to offend a reader’s sensibilities. In such cases, I’ll try to think of ways that I can modify it to be more widely acceptable.

Yeah, I know my rights. “The Swan Prince” is my book, to be self-published my way, and the number-one person I want to please with it is me.

That said, publishing a book isn’t just about throwing my authorial weight around with an “It’s my art! Take it or leave it!” attitude. It’s for the readers, too.

The School House Rock song never mentioned such rampant hate in the writer community.

The School House Rock song never mentioned such rampant hate in the writer community.

And in order to increase the chances that readers will like my story, I choose to extend them the “polite gesture or remark” of making the book as non-annoying for them as I feel I can. And if that means toning down the italics, all caps, and exclamations points a bit, I can live with that. Yes, that goes for adverbs, too.

(Don’t be sad, adverbs. I like you more than yellow.)

So yeah, those were the thoughts that hit me in the midst of proofreading. Feel free to share yours in the comments.

Also, if you’d like to get the jump on reviewing “The Swan Prince” before its May 31st release and/or post an author interview with me on your blog, mention that in the comments, too – or message me via my new website contact page. (:

“Revelation” or “A Momentous Glimpse of Our Future”

Be calm, anyone with the apocalypse on the brain: By “revelation”, I am not referring to a book about the end of the world.

…Well, no. I guess, in a sense, I kind of am.

Never mind. Don’t be calm. Be super excited, because this is the day for the official “act of revealing to view or making known” the cover of J. Taylor Publishing’s One More Day anthology!

OneMoreDay_Cover-blog

Breathtaking, yes?! Of course, my breath got taken the moment I knew my name was going on the cover (see, see? Danielle E. Shipley? That’s me! ^o^), so I claim very little objectivity on the matter. Ignore my hyperventilating, drooling carrying-on and read the blurb:

* * * * *

What if today never ends?

What if everything about life—everything anyone hoped to be, to do, to experience—never happens?

Whether sitting in a chair, driving down the road, in surgery, jumping off a cliff or flying … that’s where you’d be … forever.

Unless

In One More Day, Erika Beebe, Marissa Halvorson, Kimberly Kay, J. Keller Ford, Danielle E. Shipley and Anna Simpson join L.S. Murphy to give us their twists, surprising us with answers to two big questions, all from the perspective of characters under the age of eighteen.

How do we restart time?

How do we make everything go back to normal?

The answers, in whatever the world—human, alien, medieval, fantasy or fairytale—could, maybe, happen today.

Right now.

What would you do if this happened … to you?

* * * * *

So, yup – that’s what’s coming at the end of the year, if not the end of the world. One More Day (including “A Morrow More” by Danielle E. Shipley!), December 2, 2013!

P.S. – Happy birthday, Donna! (Not that my baby sister can be bothered to read my blog, or anything. But since my mom and dad got their own posts on their birthdays, I figured I’d err on the side of safety and at least give today’s birthday girl a shout-out. She’s 17, people. I feel so old.)

P.P.S – Speaking of shiny new stuff to reveal, I’ve got a full-on authorial website now, in addition to my blog! www.deshipley.com, y’all. A click on my face on the sidebar will link you straight there. (:

“Erinaceous” or “Scarlet’s Scorpion Struggle”

It’s Save-a-Word Saturday! For any who need a reminder of/never knew what that means, here’s how it goes:

Save-a-Word Saturday

1) Create a post linking back to the hosts, The Feather and the Rose.

2) Pick an old word you want to save from extinction to feature in the post. (If you find yourself in want of options, Feather ‘n’ Rose recommended a site that may have some word-lovers drooling. Luciferous Logolepsy. Even its name is old and delicious!)

3) Provide a definition of your word, and use it in a sentence/short paragraph/mini story vaguely related to the particular week’s chosen theme.

4) Sign up properly on the host post’s linky list so participants can easily find each other and share their logophilistic joy.

5) Be a hero by sharing these retro words with the world!

I’ve been participating in the weekly fun via my Ballad of Allyn-a-Dale” Facebook page, giving myself the extra challenge/fun of relating every word I pick to my re-imagining of the Robin Hood legend (a.k.a. the magnum opus to be self-published after the completion of “The Wilderhark Tales”). But I figure, hey, since I’ve gotten in the habit of having my vignettes all pre-written and ready to go, no reason I can’t pop over here real quick and post it for the blog-inclined to see, too!

So, without further delay, here’s my word-saving civic duty of the day.

The theme: Scorpions.

The word: “Erinaceous”, an adjective meaning “pertaining to a hedgehog”.

The example: “Scorpions??” Will Scarlet complains. “How in the world are we supposed to come up with an entertaining vignette based around scorpions?! Sherwood’s got nothing to do with them, the same goes for Avalon, and, so far as our author’s bothered to figure out, no one around here is a Scorpio. It’d be easier to play out a scene pertaining to a hedgehog!”

Allyn tips his head in a gesture of indifference. “I expect an erinaceous theme would present its own difficulties.”

“Rubbish,” Will declares. “A round of Wonderland croquet, a few levels of Sonic, a reading of ‘Mrs. What’s-her-name’ by Beatrix Potter… I could go all day.”

“I’m sure you could. But I’d say this conversation’s done its work, so… don’t.”