Monday, 3 October 2016

Excerpt from "Wings in the Wind: The Reign of the Mawh'eyri." from Chapter 1: Mawharhikan

It was not merely the height that daunted most eagles, but it was spoken in Windlords’ lore that the lord of all demon-storms, Mawharikhὺn slept within the mountain peak.
Prouder than the proudest eagle, he ruled the lands with fear. He rarely ventured forth in those days, partly for fear of the mighty servant-winds of the Great Spirit Wind, who hunted for him.
However, he hated the proud wingfolk of the mountains who would not acknowledge his lordship. It was said that High-Soarer, ThunderWing’s father, had fallen to his death after being struck by Mawharikhὺn in one of his rampages. ThunderWing still bore the grief from the day that the Windlord messenger brought the news of his death.

‘I defy you, evil Mawharikhὺn!’ he called fiercely as he watched a dark cloud sweep across the great peak. ‘You shall be humbled, though I fall in the attempt.’

His challenging call, similar to that of eagles about to do battle, echoed across the valley. As if in answer, a distant rumble emanated from within the great peak itself.

This distracted the Windlord Council, and they glanced in his direction.
The eldest of them spread his wings and flew across to his perch.
ThunderWing knew the old eagle well. He had a few bald patches and scars. His remaining feathers were rough, but he still flew strongly and held his head proudly. They bowed to each other and Thunder-Wing’s beak touched the rock before his senior in deep respect, for he stood before none other than StrongFeather, Father-of-Many, Lord of the Western Crags.
Not the least of his children was SilverSong the Fair.

‘Hail, ThunderWing Mawharhipi, son of HighSoarer! Your father was my greatest wingfellow, and we grieve at his fall.’

‘Hail, Windlord StrongFeather, Father-of-Many! You honour us in that you remember our father in great kindness. Do your eyries prosper? Do all your eaglets fly high and strong?’

The elder eagle gave a laughing hiss.
‘You are courteous! But in truth you ask only for the health and dwelling place of SilverSong, my daughter—this I know well. She thrives, but she presently sojourns upon the Northern Mountains where the singers-of-the-wind gather until the storm season comes. She teaches my eaglets in the ways of the Great Spirit-Wind’s song. But she often remembers you with kindness.’

ThunderWing hung his head in embarrassment for a moment, but then lifted it proudly.
‘It is true that I desire SilverSong the Fair as my nest-mate, Windlord StrongFeather. I seek to conquer the peak and so to win the right to choose her.’

StrongFeather shook out his neck feathers and settled back to stare piercingly for a moment at the younger one before him.
‘I hope that you have her favour in this, for I see the spirit of your father is in you. I would gladly give my daughter to such a one.’

The young eagle hung his head again, overcome with gratitude and gratification. But was this not his due, as a son of Windlord HighSoarer?
He lifted his head proudly, only to hear not so good news.

‘NightFlyer, son of SwiftSlayer came yestersun on the same errand,’ continued StrongFeather, still watching him closely. ‘But he contemned the traditions of the Mawh’eyri and spoke his desire before the Council were ready to hear him. He demanded his right for the trial of the peak. He was sent away until the changing of the moon as penalty for his disrespect.’

‘Then I have come not a moment too soon, Windlord!’

‘Yes, he rivals you in many things, and never forgave you for defeating him at the Mawharhipi trials. But still, he is one hunting season your senior. Are you not too young to attempt the Summit? The season of tempests draws near also.’

‘I am the Swiftest in the Mountains, Windlord,’ answered Thunder-Wing in barely-restrained impatience. ‘Does that not show I am ready for the attempts? By the wings of the moon, I swear that I will conquer the peak before the coming of the storms!’

StrongFeather tilted his head a little in doubt, but said, ‘Very well. Windlord Council has allowed for one attempt, and you are the last of this season to do so. NightFlyer must await the passing of the tempest season. Do you need guidance?’

‘I need no guidance, Windlord.’
ThunderWing was too impatient and too proud to delay the process any longer.

The elder eagle shook all his feathers and sighed.
‘You indeed follow the same flight as your father. All must rise or fall by their own wing-beat, it seems. Go then! I will warn you of this only: Beware of the black cave of the southern face. Do not rest upon the crags thereof, for it is manifest that Mawharikhὺn is stirring again, and comes
forth at night to terrify the eyrie-folk of these mountains at times. Fear and terror is as his meat and drink. Yet he hides again in his caves here for fear of the good White Wind Warriors, Servants of the Great Spirit-Wind. Be vigilant, for that demon-storm may be on the watch for us.
You must return before sun’s rest, or you are easy prey to night-eyes of the evil one. It is not as easy to attempt the peak as it was in the days of my youth. There has not been any Reigning Windlord for many hunting seasons.’

He paused, waiting for a response. But since these warnings also did not seem to daunt the young eagle, the Windlord turned to more everyday practicalities.
‘There is fresh-killed prey and a water stream at need within Resting Cave, near the mountain’s pass. A Windlord shall watch from afar to judge your progress and witness your success, if indeed you do
He lifted up his voice in a Windlord’s song to the great Spirit-Wind.
‘Go, young warrior! May the great Wind-Spirit bear you upward!’

ThunderWing bowed again and leapt off the ledge, his wings spread wide, his eyrie’s war-cry on his tongue.

To read more of this story, visit the product page on 
Comments and queries welcome.

Wednesday, 28 September 2016

"Wings in the Wind: The Reign of the Mawh'eyri."

Now available on Amazon!

Printed version also available on request.

Monday, 15 August 2016

My Tribute to Jean Denehy

It's very difficult to keep to topic with these posts, especially when a sad event occurs, like the passing of Jean Denehy -- a most loved soul.
I was asked to do a tribute at her funeral, which I did in the form of verse.
Her daughter gave me permission to publish it.

My Tribute to Jean Denehy

Jean Biss, she came across the sea, a sweet and virtuous young KiWee,
To see the world, adventure seek, wild oats sowing, so to speak.
She suddenly came face to face to a dashing world war ace.
The rest, they say is history but left an awesome legacy.

Her tale with laughter and with tears I'll tell you now of bygone years.
The kindest Mum-­in-­Law was she, and Doug, too, did so much for me.
The greatest gift to give a man is a daughter like my Anne.

One thing that I admired so much was how she used the artist's touch
And style in ev'ry undertaking -- even things like compost-­making.
Her artist's studio cum cuisine displayed such wonders seldom seen.
Her canvas was the dinner plate where carv'd chooks tastef'lly met their fate.
Her pallet was the frying pan or pots of mashed spuds peeled by Anne.
She'd place precisely ev'ry bean -- 'twould make the great Picasso green!
With graceful Knife-­strokes she did slice Doug's buttered toast: ­­ a masterpiece!

Now greatness is a curious thing, a theme of which we often sing.
A source of great hilarity, this thing called popularity.
Celebrities would strut their stuff and then they'd go off in a huff.
Their fans have gone to next­-door's show that sing their hits from years ago.

But Jean found greatness in God's grace. That sweet smile never left her face.
Through hardships, trials she'd ne'er complain: "Just look to God!" was her refrain.
Her attitude put me to shame, inspiring me to do the same.
Her gentle heart, her constancy, her kindness and integrity,
Her patient labours seldom seen, her faithful prayers from morn to e'en,
Her open house, her open arms, her faith-­filled words --­­ the kind that calms.

For great names rise and often fall, but Jean was always loved by all.
In heaven all will hear her story -- the real one in it's shining glory;
And Him she loved the most will stand and take her proudly by the hand
Saying: "Of My Kingdom not the least. Well done, good handmaid, join my feast!"

Friday, 27 May 2016

New publication: "Wings in the Wind"

I've let my good habits slip, and I haven't posted for a while.
I'm also going to change my focus for the moment, and centre it around my publications.
I will include some excerpts and other sub-plots, off-shoots of the main story.

This is a short synopsis of my next publication called "Wings in the Wind: The Reign of the Mawh'eyri":

ThunderWing was a young warrior-eagle, a champion among the Great Eagles, the Mawh’eyri, who dwelt in the Mountains of the fair and ancient land of Mawha,.
His ambition was to fly over Mawharikhan, the almost-impossible peak of the Great Mountain, evading the great demon-storm that lived there, and thus win the title of WindLord. This would also give him the privilege of taking SilverSong, a beautiful eagle-maiden, as his nest-mate. He was impetuous and impatient, hoping to forestall his rival, NightFlyer, who had the same ambitions.
But the road to greatness is far more difficult and eventful than his proud heart anticipated. 

Does he succeed?
Watch this space.

Sunday, 29 July 2012

Writing and our World View

In this series, I’m taking the bull by the horns here… stretching out my neck …. putting my life on the line… and if I survive all this and other dangerous metaphors, then I might take a bit of a risk. 

Let’s discuss how our World View affects our writing and reading.

For those who aren’t quite sure about what I’m talking about, World View (often shortened to WV – yeah! OK! Not the car!) is defined in as follows:

n. In both senses also called Weltanschaung.
1. The overall perspective from which one sees and interprets the world.
2. A collection of beliefs about life and the universe held by an individual or a group.

It’s how we try and make sense of the universe that we live in. It’s what makes you tick, what makes you think the way you do, the underlying foundation of and motivation behind all your decisions and opinions.  It effects all our daily lives and collectively, it is the most powerful influence in businesses, churches, community groups, institutions and politics.

Let’s face it, no matter what you read, no matter what you write, no matter what you hear & see in the media, no matter what you think about, no matter what decisions are made, no matter where you turn it will always be there….
…that ghostly spectre in the background called Weltanschaung.  A bit like Poltergeist, but far more common and at times, almost as scary. But unless we want to sound erudite, let's just call it our WV.

In many people, it’s represented by their religion or their faith – whether theistic, atheistic or somewhere in-between. Sometimes we’re not aware that it’s there, and we assume that everyone else should think the same way that we do. It’s powerful and all-pervading.
It’s shaped by our upbringing (or our reaction to it) our schooling and any higher education, but especially by our life experiences.

It undergirds our philosophy of life, which in turn is the material we build our lifestyle decisions on. 

I knocked together an illustration of this:

So now we all, hopefully, understand it and acknowledge its existence.
In my next post, I’ll discuss some of the implications this WV has for our reading and writing .

Stay tuned…..

Sunday, 8 July 2012

Historical Fiction vs Historical Fact - Part 5

Links & Opinions

An interesting article: "Why Fiction is Good for You" by Jonathan Gottschall

(Dr Gottshall is an English professor at Washington and Jefferson College, writing for The Boston Globe.)
It underlines some of the things we've been discussing here.
One thing that worries me here, however. It's the impression that lying is a good thing.
Yes, appealing to the imagination can be a more powerful change agent than appealing to the intelligence. But we cross the line when it affects our major decisions and leads to disaster. An example of this is Hollywood's  glamorization of casual sex. Studies and reports from sex counselors have shown that the best sexual fulfillment is found (especially for women) in committed relationships. It's the consummation of a relationship, not the basis for it. Our family law courts are a tragic witness to this fact.
Yes, we have to grow up, and learn to know when to turn on the imagination, and when to turn it off so we can function properly in life.

A link to a series of audio interviews entitled "Writing Fiction vs Non-fiction"

The introduction says it all:

"When you read a piece of nonfiction, you naturally expect that  you’re reading the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  Right?  So how would you feel if you found out that the author of an essay you’re reading was taking certain liberties with the facts to make the piece more captivating?  Would you feel betrayed?  Or wouldn’t you care?  In this hour, we’ll examine the question of creativity in creative nonfiction.  How much is too much?"

I especially found the interview with Jonathan Lethem interesting. Here he talks about his role as a novelist, which he explores in his new book, "The Ecstasy of Influence: Nonfictions, etc."

The line between fact and fiction sometimes blurs, doesn't it!
Does this give us writers the licence to lie? After all, you have to get the reader to read the facts in the first place. If the bare facts are too boring to read, they should be ... well ... sexed up a little bit. Right?
What worries me here is that if we are "sprung" after ... you know ... using that little white lie to spice it up a bit ... just that bit of exaggeration ... if that's ever exposed, even just once, we lose our credibility.
Getting a reputation for absolute honesty is hard work, but it pays long term dividends. A really good writer can, in my view, present the story as it really happened, but in an engaging manner that doesn't compromise his/her integrity.
Writers must be up front about whether they're writing fact or fiction.

I particularly like this quote from a posting in a discussion at :

Leon Garfield said, 
"The historian, if honest, gives us a photograph; the storyteller gives us a painting."

The post then goes on to say:
Give me your opinion. The historian gives us the facts, but the storyteller gives us fictional characters with real life experiences of actual people and true events in history. I read this historical fiction novel all about how the people tried to survive during world war 2 and how it affected them. The author incorporated real experiences that he got through research. I was surprised how much I learned about how that war had gotten started and how Hitler deceived the people at the very beginning. It was an eye-opener to me.

An interesting comment here from editor A. J. Sobczak called "Fiction or Non-Fiction -- True or False?

Note how many of these articles and interviews recognise that what we always accept as "Fact" is, in fact, a different form of the absolute truth coloured by our perceptions, belief systems, prejudices and sometimes our private agendas.

In future postings, I intend to discuss the role of our World View in writing.

Finally, a blog post from author Kaye Dacus.

I took note when she said that she "doesn't read a lot of non-fiction by choice."
In fact her " fiction to nonfiction ratio (not counting research books, remember) is at least 100:1 (100 fiction books to every 1 nonfiction book)."

I guess there's no surprises there. It just highlights the influence that fiction has on the mind of millions of readers -- for good or for not-so-good.

That's all in this series for the moment. Maybe we'll get back to it if any worthwhile & relevant info comes up or you have a question that needs a longer answer than a mere comment.

Sunday, 24 June 2012

Historical Fiction vs Historical Fact - Part 4

Part 4: Realism vs Idealism

Next, I'd like to discuss an underlying and common, though often unacknowledged debate between the Realists and the Idealists when it comes to fiction

At one end of the continuum we have the rose-coloured-glass-wearing, starry-eyed, tree-hugging, glass-half-full romantics....
At the other end are the skeptics, the survivors, the pessimistic doom-sayers, cynical, glass-half-emptys.....


…..though most of us are distributed somewhere in between, and occasionally change places depending on our life-experiences and personalities. Most of us find that representatives from either extreme are either annoying or depressing, so I'll leave them for the moment.

Idealism in fiction

This element tends to be more popular among fiction readers and movie-goers than realism, for reasons I've already discussed. It has had a long tradition in the history of reading, and other media, and doesn't appear to be dying by any means. Most of us still look to a happy ending, and feel cheated if the bad guy gets the girl, the hero loses or comes to an ignominious end.
A sad but honourable death for the hero? Yeah, that’s OK… sometimes….  provided he died for a noble cause, his death brings the bad guys to their knees in remorse, a memorial is raised for perpetuity, his kids/followers are inspired to carry on his battle for freedom, justice etc etc. That leaves us feeling uplifted and a bit teary. But … Yeah! That was a good read/movie, that was!

Taken too far, however, idealism leads to over-sentimentalism (my daughter calls it “Mushiness”) and predictability. I think of the TV series in the 50s, the Cisco Kid. Cisco always outshot, out-fought, outwitted the bad guys,; there was always a señorita to flirt with but leave; there was always a chase where Cisco jumps from his horse to bring down the bad guy; and the latter were always such lousy shots! Us kids loved it for the first 100 episodes, but then it began to pall.
The Scarlet Pimpernel was one of my favourite reads for a while. Baroness Orczy did a good job, I think, but looking back, even my own sentimental tummy turns over at some of it. I don’t like dairy-milk-coated sugar candy any more. One’s taste changes (Matures? Possibly) with age. Romance and larger-than-life characters will never die, I believe, but that all has to be balanced.

Realism in Fiction

Obviously, realism is like adding salt to our meal, and choosing savoury from the menu rather than sweet. Even the sentimental-leaners like myself like a taste of the “Real World”, and acknowledge the tragedies of life, the fact that we live in an imperfect world. The reality check is not always unpleasant.  I’ve read many a historical novel that ends with the survival of the fattest, the good guys defeated and in retreat, or exposed as fools or even just as bad as the bad guy – and enjoyed it, if it’s written well. We feel that it does us good to see a little bit of blood ‘n’ guts, thinking “Yeah! That’s how it must have really been. That’s how they really felt.”
My taste in TV viewing has changed more to documentaries than fictional drama. That’s quite amazing for a dreamer like myself.
The next series I want to write is based on a movement toward freedom that was brutally repressed. I hope to deal with it in an uplifting, not a negative manner, if I can..

However, I’ve read some reviews and blogs that object to too much blood ‘n’ guts, and they pine for a little bit of English Countryside in Autumn in an Old Fashioned, Charming Rural Village etc etc.
It can lead to depression. I don’t always finish reading/watching such stories. Why read this stuff when you here it on the News every night? I'm not alone in that attitude, am I!?

Where am I on the continuum?

I have to admit to being a bit on the idealistic side of the continuum, being a bit sentimental.
I started writing the "Poor Preachers" from that angle, and it served its purpose for the beginning.
I had a general interest in history from previous reading. I read history books, dry though they were, to learn about the history –makers of the past. Then I came upon Dr John Wycliffe and his Lollard preachers.
Suddenly, the glorious vision of noble and dedicated preachers defying the odds, enduring hardships and persecution to bring hope to the hopeless burst in upon my imagination. It  motivated me enough to start on the whole journey. It gave me the basic plan of the whole series still to come.
I must admit that the hero theme has been a major influence. I even added a nice gooey romance between a hero and heroine. I was on cloud V9.1.

Then my daughter picked up the first draft of my manuscript. She has been an amazing support and sounding board in much of my writing, and I feel that every writer must have someone like that in their life.
She leans somewhat on the Realist side. I guess you know what follows:
“Hey, it’s a great story, Dad, but parts of it did make me feel a bit queasy…….”
I came down to earth somewhat, but not completely.
In the ensuing revision of my revision of my revision, I “de-mushified” the more sentimental sections, even dropping a scene or two. (But I still insist on having my romance in it somewhere :-P ) But that may change with time. Who knows?

So…..Where are you on the continuum?

All comments are welcome, provided they’re not too sentimental or cynical…..