Fugitives in the Forest

Hi there! 🙂

Firstly: update on the Guardians of the Path!! I’ve done the rewrites on book three and returned it to my lovely editor, so that’s moving along. I’ve been writing away on the first draft of book four – my goal is to get that done before line edits come back on book three, so: *fingers crossed* – oh, wait, no: *fingers flying furiously on the keyboard* 😉

And for a little Sunday reading enjoyment, here’s the last writing exercise from the ISG Skype meeting.


feather, light, swirl

The touch of the fairy was feather-light, but it was enough to bring him leaping
up, eyes blurred with sleep, stabbing the sword in the air in an uncoordinated
“You’re more likely to kill yourself if you keep doing that, than someone else,”
the tiny magical creature taunted, and floated away out of reach.
Harrison glared at it. Their relationship had been growing worse the longer they
had to hide out here in the Borderland Forest together. He didn’t know how much
longer he could last without trying to squash it. He did not deign to respond to
the insult. He settled down in the roots, and watched the leaves swirl down in
the gentle breeze.
It was going to get cold soon, and the first snow wasn’t that far off. The
homesickness bubbled up again, but he pushed it away. He wasn’t going to let the
fairy see him cry.
“How much longer do you think we have to wait here?” he asked instead.
The fairy considered. “Well, how long do you think that spell is going to take to wear
Harrison sighed. “A thousand years.”
“Well, I guess you answered your own question,” the fairy grumbled. “I just
don’t know how I got roped into this. I didn’t have anything to do with the
Harrison tried to think of a snide comeback, but his mind was blank. It was just
as well that he didn’t say anything, because in that moment, the sound of people
crashing through the trees reached his ears.


Talk to you soon!

❤ DragonBeck

Magic Dances and Bottles

Yesterday the Ink Slingers got together again. We had tea and a wonderful time with many laughs, which was appreciated by all as it seemed to be “one of those weeks”.

I got almost nothing done writing-wise the last two weeks, so there went my conquests (and I started out the year with such a good streak!). I did however accomplish a few things, including reading Stephen King’s It, which had been moved to the top of my reading list by recommendation of the Committee of Recommended Books. Apart from the Dark Tower series, I don’t usually read Stephen King, because horror is not my thing. However, I found It to be within acceptable horror parameters and quite enjoyed it. I still will not be seeing the movie. There are some things I cannot be talked into.

This week, Jen brought me the Silmarillion, which was also moved to the top of my reading list for the same reason above; and she brought me The Children of Húrin, so I’m going to have a Tolkien fortnight. I have been instructed to enjoy them, an injunction I cannot slight. In that light, I structured my conquest more ambiguously this time, because I love loopholes, and also perhaps I’ll be able to say I’ve done a few more of them at the next meeting 😉

I did receive exciting news from my lovely editor: I should get the edits back on Ria’s Mark in a week or so!! So that’s coming along well. I shall keep everyone updated as to pre-orders, giveaways, and release dates as those become known.

And as always (except for that one time), we did our writing exercise to keep our minds sharp and our fingers nimble. Again, we were very productive and got four exercises in. Here are the first of mine:

dance (my word), flutter, circus.

Mirelda watched the group of young girls move through the dance. The flutters of
their hands and the kicks of their feet were awkward and uncoordinated. It
appeared as though it had been choreographed by a circus clown. Mirelda tried to
keep her growing unhappiness from showing. When the girls had finished, a
dozen fresh faced turned to her expectantly, waiting her approval. Mirelda
didn’t know what to say.
“That was, um, delightful,” she managed to get out without choking on the words.
The girls looked uncertain.
“But will it work?” a voice in the back called out, sounding very much like the
girl was on the verge of tears.
And she had every right to be. What they were doing was not to be taken lightly.
With this in mind, Mirelda was blunt with her response. Perhaps cruelly blunt,
but it could save lives.
“No,” she told them. “I do not think that will work.”
A cacophony of wails erupted, a Mirelda winced.
“That’s not going to work either,” she yelled over the noise.
The girls quieted to whimpers.
“We have to appease this demon with grace and aesthetics,” Mirelda said. “Not
that staggering and lurching you were doing before.”
“We don’t have time to put together another routine,” a girl to the left said,
her face streaked with tears.
She was perhaps fifteen years old. Mirelda knew she was right, but she could not
have them give in to despair. No ceremony would be worse than a poor one, for
the only alternative was the sacrifice. Mirelda lifted her chin and put on a
brave face.
“We must do the best we can, girls,” she said. “After all, it is the lives of
your brothers you hold in your hands.”

bottle, paisley, giftcard,

Melly walked into the old shop and was immediately overcome with a fit of
sneezing. Cleaning up her watering eyes and running nose, Melly peering into the
dim, dusty corners of the shop. She pulled the giftcard out of her purse and
checked the address again. Yes, she was in the right place. It was an odd store,
bigger on the inside, and messier as well.
Melly walked back though the random shelves and piles of stuff, searching for
the sales attendant. The store was empty. At least that was what she thought
until she rounded the corner and ran into an old man with wild white hair and
halfway vacant eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked, peering at her, and she thought he must have lost
his glasses.
“No, thank you,” Melly said. “I’m just looking.”
“See anything you like?” he asked as he turned back to the shelf and began
cleaning an odd vase with a rag that was dirtier than the vase.
“No, I… ” Something caught Melly’s eye.
On the next shelf, in the middle, sitting on a folded paisley something, was a
bottle. At first glance, there was nothing particularly spectacular about this
particular item, but the closer Melly looked, the harder she found it to look
“What is that?” she asked, her eyes fixed on it.
The man didn’t look up from his work. “Don’t know. I just work here.”
Melly reached out to touch the bottle. There was a bright flash, and the store

Hope you enjoyed that. More coming soon! (And no, I have not forgotten my promise of the previous week, that story is coming soon as well.)

Tenna’ ento lye omenta

❤ DragonBeck

DragonBeck – 2015, a review

(I love this picture; it is tied for first place in my favorite photos of the year 2015.)

When one gets to the close of a year, a certain reflection on the past year is due. This is a look at 2015 (mostly in pictures).

It had been a busy year, and I’ve learned a lot about writing, editing and publishing books. I’ve been working diligently on my writing goals, using my cover as an author to achieve total world domination. I began my own dragon hoard of dragonish stuff, including my towel for when I go hitchhiking across the galaxy, pens, jewelry, cups, and bookends. I believe in this way I will preclude forgetting my name. I started blogging, and broke 100 followers on twitter (I’m hoping I look back on that statement some months or years from now and am able to laugh at how cute and naive I was when I was a young writer).

The biggest accomplishment came earlier in the year, when I released my first novel First Magyc and had an awesome party to celebrate (with color-coordinated decoration!!):

(This is other photo tied for first place in the Greatest-DragonBeck-photo-of-2015 contest.)

I started reading at local events hosted by Wordier Than Thou, and commiserating about the nervous butterflies which accompany same with Alanna Cormier helped get over the pre-show jitters in a marvelous fashion:


Naturally there were many awesome ISG meetings, and yet I don’t think there could ever be enough of that particular brand of awesomeness:

ISG bw 02

Along the way I penned a few Stories My Friends Started, which was a lot of fun.

There was the book fair:


and my short story “Blood Oath” published in the Ink Slingers Guild’s fourth annual anthology Bent Horizons:


All in all, 2015 was a fantastic year; thank you to everyone who was a part of it. I am really very glad you were there to share it with me.

May the coming year bring abundant love and laughter, and as many good memories, good friends, and triumphs as there are stars in the sky, and a few dragons as well (the good kind) 😉

❤ DragonBeck

The Perfect Word

Hello everyone 🙂

Writing is going well. Editing is going well. Things are coming along. The Guardians of the Path: First Magyc will be out shortly. I’m really, really excited about that. The cover looks amazing, and yes, The Song managed to get onto the back (yay for Lisa Barry of Witching Hour Publishing!!).

I don’t have much to say about anything else at the moment, except for this rather random thought. Sometimes I think of something in a story, an object, a color, a pattern or other thing, and I don’t have a word for it. So, I spend a sentence or a paragraph describing it and forget about it. Later, I’ll be browsing the Internet and stumble upon THE PERFECT WORD.

The most recent example happened this weekend and it really tickled me, because it led to Celtic and Norse mythology, which I have a special fondness for. I had described a tattoo on the back of a certain character’s hand as “a series of interlocking triangles”. Then I changed my mind and decided it was a series of interlocking circles. Or maybe it was a mix of the two.

Well, guess what? There’s a word for what I was thinking. The word is “triquetra”. Google that.

Perfect right? I thought so. I found out that it’s a pagan symbol of three, most often associated with maiden, mother and crone, or heaven, earth and the underworld. It’s also called an Irish Trinity Knot, which is even cooler than triquetra, but I don’t have an Ireland in my story, unfortunately. I jumped some more links and got to the Norse valknut, a symbol consisting of three interlocked triangles (Norse mythology fascinates me). As it is said to be associated with the journey to death and back to life again, it fits into my story rather nicely (cue ominous music).

I do hope your weekend was as fulfilling as mine, and in the words of the Norsemen: Ásáheil og vána! (Blessing of Aesir and Vanir!)


❤ DragonBeck