Poetry Train Monday - 58 - Scorpius Excerpt

Just back from the writers' retreat. Ah!

I went there knowing I wanted to start working on a new idea. I plunged right in with it whenever we did writing exercises. Here is what I came up with. It's the result of four different exercises, which I purposely linked so I could follow my new character for a bit. Thanks to Renee Field and Lilly Cain for the workshops which lead to these scenes.


Excerpt


Agony ricocheted from the cells ahead as Scorpius strode along the stone corridor. The weight of the chains he once wore settled upon his wrists and ankles, slowing his pace.

He stopped. The chill of this place erupted over his skin like a cold sweat. He was Chamberlain of the Keep, now. Nothing prevented future tides from returning him to bondage, mind. But at present, his service to Lady Elysande kept him safe enough.

Resuming his pace, Scorpius kept his gaze straight ahead as he passed the cells with their huddled heaps of rags. He must tell the Master-at-Arms about the sighting on the north ridge. Bad enough a recent skirmish between the royal houses left its wounded bleeding all over the stone floor of the Great Hall.


They didn’t need a great-horned dragon swooping in like carrion looking to dine on mens’ bones. But that was what they had, with travelers expected in a few days for the lady’s Bacchanalian Ball. Gods preserve me, he thought. He dreaded telling her the news more than anything else. Lady Elysande didn’t hold back her displeasure. It stung like acid ants.

Scorpius rounded the corner and came to a curved doorway. He swiped his hand over the sentinel eye and waited to be recognized. In a moment the faint beep sounded and the heavy door slid effortlessly open. Gathering himself, he went in.

Pahlmot looked up from his work, distracted and frowning. “What is it?”

“There’s been a sighting.”

The Master-at-Arms laid down his stylus and leaned forward across the desk. “What sort of sighting? Not more wounded?”

“No. Not that.”

Pahlmot’s hard gaze grew harder. “Speak.”

Scorpius sighed. “A great-horn. They took a capture of it. Cleared the north ridge a few times. Nothing more since this morning.”

The Master-at-Arms’ expression clouded. He turned to the view screen and tapped in a few commands. A grainy image showed the dragon’s outline unmistakably against the pink sunrise. The chill Scorpius felt earlier settled over him once more.

Pahlmot wiped his hand over his eyes in an uncharacteristic gesture of dismay. “It’s too late to call off the lady’s ball. Isn’t it?”

Scorpius nodded.

Rising from his chair, Pahlmot headed for the door, which opened at a wave of his hand. “Inform her ladyship. I shall head the first patrol.”

Scorpius followed before the door could close. “Of course. What exactly am I telling her?”

“I shall take one patrol to the Bermu quadrant, and send another along the Triangle. To return at 00:1.”

***


Scorpius stepped forward into the lady’s marble chamber. Sunlight filled the room with warmth, the muted oranges and pinks of her draperies and cushions promising a welcome he knew was not for him. She was not here, but her charged presence filled every corner of the chamber.

How different it would be if this room held echoes of smiles instead of what really lurked in the folds and swags around her canopied bed. The open windows with their dazzling views might as well be grated doors thick with locks.

He took a deep breath, which did nothing to calm the swirling in his gut. The tumbling flowers in the vase before him mocked the morning like a slap. Lady Elinor would certainly kill this messenger. Or at least draw blood.

Copyright - Julia Smith - 2008

The Gray Character

Here's a preview of the writing craft session I'm giving at the writers' retreat near White Point Beach tomorrow.

I'm looking at characters who show equal aspects of light and dark elements. They end up being very gray. And not very predictable, which is their biggest draw.

A hero, no matter how complex, is definitely recognizable as a shiny character. When the chips are down, this character will reveal himself as having a solid moral core. He will do what is necessary, do what is right, no matter what it may cost him.

The villain, no matter how sympathetic, will be recognizable as a dark soul. When push comes to shove, this character will stoop to incredible lows to get what he wants. It's all about him, and there's no room for anyone else as he squeezes through his rat hole to escape.

So what happens when a character reveals heroic qualities one moment, and dastardly qualities the next moment? Does he count as a dark hero? How about a tragic villain?


For my workshop, I'm taking a look at one of my favorite characters, Sir Guy of Gisborne from BBC's Robin Hood. Guy is presented to us as a villain. He terrorizes the peasants and acts as the enforcer for the Sheriff of Nottingham.




Is Guy prepared to lay down his life for the woman he loves? Definitely. That's kind of heroic, though, isn't it?




Do we feel for Guy when he's treated miserably by the Sheriff? Yes, we do. Do we normally feel bad for villains? Hmm...





Are we shocked when he taunts his enemy, Robin Hood, even when he's at Robin's mercy? Not really, no. Do we actually admire him for his bravado? To be honest, yes.




Are we surprised at the lengths he'll go to attain power? You'd have to be daft. So is Guy a villain? Or a dark sort of hero?





Isn't it heroic to stop the Sheriff's men from putting boys to death?





Why does Guy put up with so much abuse from the Sheriff? Is he a coward? Is he that desperate for power that he considers the Sheriff's treatment an acceptable price for his ambition? That's not terribly heroic.












Are we impressed by Guy's unshakeable loyalty to the Sheriff, even after everything he's had to endure? Yes. Not to mention confused. Heroes aren't generally confusing. Villains aren't, either. The Sheriff certainly doesn't behave in any other way than we expect him to. Nor does Robin.



Do we forgive Guy his horrible behaviour because he's sexy?

...maybe...

I leave you with some clips from Season 2 of Robin Hood. I'll let you know all about the retreat when I get back. Ciao!

Thursday Thirteen - 64 - 13 Ways to Remember My Dear, Dear Friend - Pam Langille

On Saturday night, July 12th, while I was in Yarmouth for my grandmother's funeral, my friend Pam passed away.

I knew she was near the end. She'd emailed me the previous weekend:

hi ju
I'm on oxygen as of 2 days and catheter fo 3... have 14 hours of car duryng the day ad overnight...love to have a visit!!!! if you can manage it.
all my love, pam

She'd been living with cancer for the past year, but her recent decline was quite rapid. Blessedly so. I had a beautiful visit with her on Wednesday before I headed to Yarmouth with my family. There was a line of cars up and down her street, just like there was a house party - and there was. A Pam party, her home filled with all her loved ones. Her friend made room for me to sit on the bed with Pam, and we embraced, kissed, held each other, talked, smiled, laughed - and said goodbye.


1 - I met Pam when we were both hired by Land Registration for the scan project to upload all the property deeds for Halifax County onto the Property Online database.

L to R, back row: Chris, Bernie, Pam and Mike H.

Front row: Myself and Robert





2 - Pam and I clicked within seconds of meeting each other. She was 56 and I was 40. I was actually the second youngest member of the team. Far more than simply being the two non-males of the group, we got one another immediately and deeply.

This is the two of us one Halloween when the office went absolutely Halloween crazy. I arrived dressed as a Dark Age warrior, and Pam complemented me perfectly as a witch.




3 - This is a picture Pam took of me when we spent a magical day together in the Annapolis Valley for a horse logging demonstration.




4 - This was the team hauling logs out of a woodlot owned by a friend of Pam's. She was a passionate promoter of sustainable forestry. Selective logging preserves the old growth and manages the health of the woodlots.

Pam asked that donations made in her memory go to "the Eastern Shore Forest Watch Association, a nonprofit group dedicated to the long term care of our forests. The group was established in May 1998 by a group of citizens who were concerned about current tree harvesting practices. Members include woodlot owners, residents, foresters, tourism/business operators - people who are genuinely concerned about the health and future of our forests."

The address for donations: Comp 10, Site 2 R.R.1, Head Jeddore, NS B0J 1P0



5 - Pam knew she'd found a kindred spirit in me in many ways. When she asked me if I wanted to spend the day hiking through old growth forest to see horses hauling logs, she knew I'd say, "For real?"









She was a passionate advocate for the Acadian forests of Nova Scotia. "The Acadian forest region encompasses all three Maritime Provinces, northern New England and some southern parts of Quebec. A unique, diverse ecosystem found only in eastern North America, it's a meeting place where the northern boreal forest blends with southern hardwood forests creating a remarkable variety of forest ecosystems and opportunity." - www.acadianforest.ca





6 - Pam worked alongside the Ecology Action Centre on many projects. I met a few of her friends from the Action Centre during our day in the woods. We all got invited to a nearby farm run collectively by more of her friends to warm up and have lunch. An absolutely wonderful day I will cherish forever.



7 - Pam encouraged buying local produce and often shopped at the farmers' market on the weekend. She was friends with many local food producers, especially organic farmers.













8 - A talented computer graphics technician, she worked on many projects for the Bedford Institute of Oceanography here in Halifax. Even while working her 9-to-5 job with me at Land Registration, she worked at home in the evenings on mapping projects of the sea floor. In fact, if Pam did one thing, she did three things. She was a whirling dynamo.




9 - This is Pam with Holly, who also worked with us at the Registry mapping streets with GPS technology. It was Holly's bridal shower.

Before we met, Pam worked for 10 years as the Director of Volunteer Services for the Nova Scotia Hospital, a psychiatric facility.

She was also a regular contributer to the Ability Network Magazine and acted as an advocate for people living with physical or mental challenges. In fact one of her closest friends has Multiple Sclerosis, and Pam sometimes left work to fill in when his home care worker hadn't shown up.


10 - Here we are at Holly's wedding. The photo at the very beginning is from the wedding, as Pam blew bubbles for the bride and groom.

She was a true supporter of the New Democratic Party, and took her role as a citizen of a democracy very seriously. She sat on many committees over the years. Here's a quote from Pam when she took part in the Standing Committee On Resources, Sept. 25, 2001:

"To come back to the issue of our public lands and so on. Where we have so little public land and no control over the development on private land that it seems it is crucial now to be protecting as much of what remains wild land as possible." - Pam Langille


11 - This is a photo taken by Pam's daughter Katharine on another dreamy day we spent together. Pam and I drove to the Land Registration office in the Valley to train the staff there, and Katharine came with us.


Her daughter joined us for our lunch break, which we spent on a bridge over rushing water as Katharine played her mandolin and sang. That's Mike J. looking over at the water.









After work, the three of us gals stopped for ice cream, sat on Queensland Beach and had supper at a gorgeous restaurant in Hubbards. Katharine took the shot above of my glass of wine.


Katharine and Pam, taken by me







Pam is also survived by Katharine's older brother, Christopher.




12 - We could never be serious for long. Our team laughed, joked and sparred with each other mercilessly. This is a tender moment at a Christmas dinner for the scan team between Pam and Mike H.









It's rare to luck into a group of people that makes each day at work a total thigh-slapper. But we hit the jackpot on that one.

L to R: Mike H., Chris, Pam, myself, Patti, the King of Supervisors Mike J. who put our team together, and Bernie





We enjoy socializing together, long after our team has disbanded and the scan project completed. Here Pam nurses a beer with Ning, our other supervisor, as we play pool.





Here we gathered at Ning's new house this spring for a delicious dinner whipped up by his wife Yao, the most incredible cook you can imagine.

L to R: Mike J., Ning, Patti's boyfriend Tom and Pam





Life is real! life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

- Henry W. Longfellow


13 - Pam, I already miss you more than I could ever express. Thanks for taking this picture of me. This is the smile that was always for you.

Wordless Wednesday - 57

Poetry Train Monday - 57 - Fly Me To The Moon

My niece Christi married her sweetheart, Jeremy on July 11th, which also happened to be my 16th wedding anniversary. She chose her special day to coincide with ours, and my heart was full of love for her all day long. We couldn't be there to share their beautiful event, because we were in Yarmouth to celebrate my grandmother's life and lay her to rest with my grandfather.

For this week's Poetry Train, I'm dedicating one of my favorite Frank Sinatra ballads to Christi and Jeremy.






Fly Me To The Moon

Fly me to the moon
And let me sing among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby kiss me





Fill my heart with song
And let me sing for ever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you

- Bart Howard, 1954

Anniversary Time

Sixteen years ago today, Brad and I said "I do."




Dad gets me to the church on time.



His hand on mine as we head down the aisle.















Mrs. Smith!

















Everything about our day was magical.
















See the older girl beside me? My niece Christi.
















She's now 22. Sixteen years later, she's getting married on our wedding day. I hadn't realized how special our day was for her, until she told me of her choice for a wedding date. She chose it because of what it means to her, and what we mean to her. That just makes my heart melt.

How I wish we could be with her as she marries her sweetheart.

Brad and I will be in Yarmouth with my family for my grandmother's funeral. Another special ceremony for a cherished mother, grandmother, aunt, sister and friend.




My mom, Gram, me and our other niece, Emily (Christi's sister)












Let the dancing begin! Our first dance was to Sergio Mendes - Pretty World. We even did the samba.
















Dad twirls my sister on the dance floor.

















My Gram the Dancing Queen with her youngest son, my Uncle Louie.