I’m all atwitter tonight because of twitter. On the advice of my Niece, Amy, I decided to open a twitter account. Much to my surprise I discovered that there was already and account open under my preferred email address. Not remembering the password I reset it. Behold a suspended account and a name user name I did not recognize.
Long story short. Someone in 2015 opened a twitter account using my email address. It might be wise to check if yours’s is being used.
So I finally finished the re-write. Major struggle that it was. I cut about 10% from the book. Took out at lease on story line. And now I’m ready to start submitting again.
Just added an image to share
I’m here to share myself on the web. To communicate with my
family, friends and hopefully readers. I have stories from my life and stories from
my imagination. I believe I have some
good stories to tell. Bear with me while I remember and conjure them.
On the trail back to Utroor.
“Jaernleik Tygeson from Hver Landnam?” The courier quizzed as
he walked up to where Jae and Catherine were sitting. Jae’s ears reddened as he
stood and acknowledged that he was indeed Jaernleik Tygeson. The packet had to
be from his mother, she was the only one who insisted on calling him by his
formal name. The one his grandpa Ingle had insisted he bear. “I’ve a packet for
you. I thought you were in Boar Akarn. Probably passed you on the road on the
way there. When I got there, they told me that you were escorting with the king’s
party on the way to Goa Vollar.” He handed a small packet to Jae and began to
“Can you take one I’m sending home?” Jae asked. The man was
a military courier and might have orders preventing him from carrying it to the
next station on the way back through the web of couriers that made the communication
network of Alfheim’s military. In peace time they also carried private letters
between the various towns and villages. The small fees charged helped defray
the king’s expense.
The man nodded his head that he could so Jae reached into
his shirt and pulled out the letter he had written to his family. He passed the
courier a halfpence as he entrusted the letter to him. With any luck it would relieve
his mother’s distress from the tales of the yetann raid that would have reached
their village. She would recognize that he was in the area of the raid and be
“So, your real name is Jaernleik?” Asked Catherine.
For once Drew did not attempt to redden Jae’s ears more. Jae
knew his given name as well. He considered Dureast. How his mother derived that
from dugr and oestr was beyond his keen. Naming a child courageous noble was by
far worse than play of iron any day.
I sent off 5 queries today. I told one agency that it felt like the church dances I went to as a teen. The pastor expected you to ask all the girls to dance. You steeled your self for what seemed like endless rejection, stepped up and embarrassed yourself and the girls. Thankfully some said yes and I survived. Hopefully this is true of queries about my book.
So this character appeared while I was trying to write something. I’m not sure what to do with him. He would fit into the dragon spine world, I suppose.
Thor Thorsen shared the family name with his father and his grandfather. If family history was to be believed he shared it with his grandfather’s grandfather. Somewhere in the distant past the family stories claimed that they were descended for the god Thor. That was why all firstborn males were named Thor.
A family tradition he would gladly abandon it he could. His mother was already matching him with a second cousin named Sif. Another family tradition. His mother was named Sif as was his grandmother. He was expected to marry a Sif. He had avoided that fate by joining the kings service when he was 15. The earliest they took students at Virkiflyot. If he had waited another year, he would have been married to his second cousin. Not that she wasn’t a pleasant enough girl. As his younger brother, Connor, had observed she was quite comely. Yet he wished that he had some choice in the matter. The kings college and service in the kings army gave him the best hope of finding a Sif of his own choice. Not one of necessity but of choice. So far, he had only met three women named Sif. The prettiest and closest to his age wasn’t interested in him and a rebuffed his advances. The other two were almost twice his age, maybe older.