Skip to main content

NaNo Countdown....

Little more than 5 hours and the madness will ensue for the third year running. I am both excited and anxious about this year's attempt, probably because I'm venturing into untested realms of writing. I've never been strong at writing short stories and this year I plan on writing 12 with an underlying thread to connect them all, but still that's 12 short stories. Granted, they will probably be less in the realm of 'stories' and more in the realm of stream-of-consciousness, but still.

So, this year's "novel" will be, in essence, a collection of scenes that are being stitched together for the purposes of providing my POV character with his greatest opus. And, without further ado...... Requiem: A Descent into Madness & other disturbing haunts

Meet: Requiem, the offspring of Apollo, the god of music and literature, and Morta, the fate that cuts the thread of life. He is gathering movements from human life-stories for his own symphony. Torn by internal conflict as both a creator and destroyer, the stories he gathers wind up illustrating the darkest and most pitiful side of human nature. It isn't until he is wrapping up the final movement of his opus that he realizes he has, in fact, been writing a requiem for humankind.

I'm excited to see what Requiem manages to gather from my mind. I already have a list of possible scenes to include.... most of which are based in real-life, as there is no greater inspiration for fiction.


Popular posts from this blog

Y is for Yeth Hound.....

Yeth Hound--- one of the incarnations of the "Black Dog" myth, this one located specifically, in Devon, England.

"Black Dogs" appear in myths across the world, most are associated with death and bad omens... i.e. Hell Hounds.

The Yeth Hound is said to be the spirit of an unbaptised child that takes the form of a headless black dog. The Hound wanders the woods at night making pitiful wailing sounds (though, I'm unclear as to how it makes wailing sounds without having a head).

The Black Dogs were possibly one inspiration from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's ghost dog in The Hound of the Baskervilles-- "an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen."

Heed Not, the Lonesome Cry
Heed not, the lonesome cry, the baleful wail echoing through the woods. Seek not, the black hound's sigh, look not where the headless creature stood.
One sound, your limbs will shake, your heart filled with the deepest dread. One glimpse, your sou…

I is for...

... Iron Maiden

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? ---Edgar Allan Poe

---and not the English heavy metal band from East London...

Day 2 in the realm of morbid/macabre torture devices finds us back in the Middle Ages (there was definitely a fashionable trend of imaginative torture devices during this time). Though, the Middle Ages isn't really when we should be turning our attention when we discuss the Iron Maiden. In fact, there has been some debate as to the exact appearance of this monstrous creation.

It's probably easiest to relocate such a torturous thing back to a time when it seemed everyone was as skilled at exacting a confession as they were at creating the tools to exact those confessions. It's easier to blame ancestors from several hundred years ago than to accept that anyone of civilized disposition would be capable of doing such horrible things with such terrif…

Scottish Festival and a bit of poetry...

The 38th annual Arkansas Scottish Festival was held at Lyon College in Batesville, Arkansas on April 7th - April 9th. This was the first time I'd ever attended. I'm sad to say I didn't even know the festival existed until last year. On Saturday, April 8th, a group of friends and I made the several-hour trek, determined to enjoy everything we could.
The weather was glorious, all bright, bonnie sunlight and mild temperatures. Seemed mother nature approved of the festivities. The campus was appropriately kitted out, and nearly everyone in attendance was properly *ahem* kilted out. 
Bagpipes playing, we ate meat pies--- well, mine was a 5-cheese mac & cheese pie--- watched clans parade their colors, got sunburned (darn our fair, Celtic skin), and wanted the day to last forever.
There were a host of competitions, everything from Scottish/Irish dance-offs, sheep dog trials, Tartan races, a Celtic poetry competition, piping and drum trials, even a bonniest knees competition (…