Today I finished my last classes for TCC’s College For Kids. I had this whole cool idea of letting the kids take turns presenting their web pages to the rest of the class on the projector. That idea failed yesterday when the 70+ CD-RW discs that we had WOULD NOT WORK. I was sad since I was going to put each on my website for the presentations. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to do that, I accepted and moved on. So today I went to buy regular CD-R’s for them to save their sites on.

When I got to school, NONE OF THE NEW DISCS WORKED EITHER! Oy, what a day. We finally worked it out (sort of…) by zipping up all the files and sending them to their emails (or their parents). Some of the kids didn’t know, so I emailed all theirs to myself and gave them my card. Now it’s up to those parents to contact me and get them. It was an event, but it went pretty well.

It’s never fun to say goodbye to the kids we meet, but that is the way of education. I still haven’t had to say goodbye to a class I’ve had for any length of time. In some ways I guess this is better, since I can build up to a whole year. Most of my teaching jobs have been only a couple months.

It looks like next up for me is a few websites and hopefully a job working for Habitat for Humanity. One of my TCC professor’s told me about the job, and she gave them the nicest recommendation I have ever seen! I am so very appreciative. She is the one that set me up with College for Kids as well. A good friend to have. They have a long questionnaire for applicants to fill out and I can understand that, for a community-oriented company it makes sense to learn as much as you can about someone. One question asked about my online endeavors. My list could have gone on for quite a while… I only listed my most active.

Tomorrow we’re Austin bound for my cousin Jacob’s wedding. It should be one of those weddings you don’t want to miss. I imagine they went all out on it. I’m looking forward to a fun weekend. In addition to the wedding, I’ve set up visits to a number of friends I haven’t seen in awhile! I think it will be a lot of fun.

The latest of, “When Troubles Follow You Home”.

There comes a point when everyone has to decide between fighting and solving problems more peacefully. This is something I take seriously when I consider my plots because personally I hate war. Why would I want to spend my career romanticizing it? When I was trying to think of an ending to this story this kept popping into my head again and again. We’ll see how you guys like where I’m going with it.

Audio version narrated by David Carroll:

As always, I hope you enjoy the story.

Darren knocked on the door trying once again to hide his nervous shaking.  Everything around him was falling apart.  He thought his Amery dead, but then found a note from her in his pocket when dressing this morning.  It made no sense, but he knew it must be, he’d never said such things to anyone else.

At her bidding he had raised questions to five of the Order today.  Or almost five anyway, there was one left on the short list, one that was supposed to come last.  Elder Hemmon was the oldest living member of the Order, of those that had been found at least.  Nobody believed that all surviving members had found their way here yet.

The door opened only enough to permit a slice of the man’s face in the light of the hallway, he looked out suspiciously then looked down the hall.  The suspicion had spread all over the house throughout the day.  The surprise attack had failed miserably and many of them lost their lives to it.  Darren felt responsible for that, but it seemed many of the others blamed Zydala.  That she too blamed him had only fueled the fire.

Not only did they feel she should have been honest about what they were up against, but a lot of them took serious issue with the crippling attack she had directed at Darren out there, another member of the Order.  Darren hadn’t woken for an entire day.  He still felt weak.

“What is it you want, Boy?”

“I must speak with you, Elder Hemmon.  It is important.”

The old man looked behind Darren again, as if expecting a trap.  Then he opened the door wider and motioned him to come in.

Hemmon’s room was an absolute wreck.  Books by the dozens lay half opened and discarded.  Darren had never seen an elder’s room look like this before.  The windows all were drawn shut and only a single candle burning on the table near his chair gave light to the room.

“Excuse the mess.  I have been looking for information and cannot seem to remember where it is written.  It is something I haven’t thought of in some time, I’m afraid.  Anyway, enough of that, what can I do for you?”

Darren took a deep breath to steady himself.  “What do you know of Ambassador Sarrell?”  Elder Hemmon lost his composure and stared in open shock at him.

“What do you know of him, Adept?  How do you even know that name?  I must admit it is suspicious that you mention the name of the very man I have searched through my notes to find.”

“Here,” Darren said, handing over the note from Amery.  “I am supposed to show this to you.”

Darren waited while the man read through the note just as he had waited four other times today.  None reacted so strongly to it though.  The man actually looked excited as his eyes moved down the page.  Most of the other men had only looked more and more suspicious.

“So, he will come in two days.  Good, good, I have many questions for him.  There is the problem with Zydala.  She will never let the man have his say before all of us.  She will never let it go through.”  He paused in thought, Darren just waited patiently.  “For so many years I have sat back quietly while she tore apart everything we once stood for.”  The old man turned to him before going on.  “Of course, none of us have the strength to stand up to her.  But you…”  He let the thought hang in the air as he eyed him.

“Elder, you cannot be serious.  There is no way that I could stand up to Zydala.  And why should I?  Since I came to this place she has been in charge, she has cared for us and watched over us.  Everyone keeps saying that we should just turn on her.  Well, why should I!”  Darren collapsed onto a chair near the door having trouble finding his breath.

The man was on his feet and coming toward him in an instant.  “Cared for you, has she?  Watched over you, you say?  Open your eyes, Adept.  There is nothing she cares for beyond revenge on the man who ruined her plans.  I have suspected it for some time, she told us that the man you asked about was dead, and, in a way, I suppose he is.  That part of him, anyway.”

Darren hadn’t the strength to retort, nor did he have anything to say even if he could.  Besides, the man had Amery and she seemed to trust him after only a day.  Even if they had talked for a number of hours, it felt too quick to judge.  Everyone seemed so ready to betray Zydala.  He tried to stand and couldn’t, maybe they weren’t wrong about their mistrust.

“Very well, then.” He said, defeated.  “I still don’t see how I can stand up to her.”

“Yes, well we have some time for me to teach you.  Two more days that note said?”  Darren nodded.  “It should be time enough.  There are many lessons Zydala has forbidden.  I worry much has been forgotten or lost to time.  It pains me to see how much knowledge can be lost in less than a decade.  Some knowledge is not lost though, things that might just turn things in our favor.”

“What sort of attack are you talking about?”  The man paused and pursed his lips.

“The things I have to show you are not any sort of attack; think of it more as ways to protect your mind from the attacks of others.”

Darren couldn’t deny that he was excited.  He had a thirst for knowledge that he felt the Order was lacking.  The idea that there was more to learn, things that may have been lost in the last few years, well it was exciting to say the least.  Perhaps he could take Amery, and they could travel about, looking for remnants of hidden powers.  He noticed that Elder Hemmon was talking again and left his excitement for the time being.

“The great Ambassador Sarrell, I still cannot believe it.  One of the greatest philosopher’s of our Order is coming here in only two days.”  He stared off to the window as if talking to himself.  “It has been so long since I last saw a chance of hope for us on the horizon.”

I’m extremely happy to announce the release of my brand new front page. I think it’s fantastic. The custom mp3 player was designed by Samantha, and then made in flash by David, the narrator of the stories.  The percent bars I talked about in a previous post, but for those that missed it, Samantha made those as well. I mention it again because I asked her to do the same to all my headers. So each one now has the same effect.

On the bottom of the page is another new addition. Samantha made these images, so far 9 in all, that randomly appear on the page. They lead to interesting things to do around here. Of course, I like databases so everything is now controlled through my admin panel. I can add podcast episodes to the list, add new image links, and change my percentage bars. All for the fun of it.

I’m not really done, so expect more updates soon.

The latest of When Troubles Follow You Home.

Audio version narrated by David Carroll:

As always, I hope you enjoy the story. For previous parts click here.

The first calls came at dusk.  The pattern of the short chirps signified they were not from an actual bird.  Men at the front were given specific orders to stay silent and still.  With any luck none of them would lose their life today.

Braydon watched the men digging a trench in front of the bridge to town.  It was a common action before a battle, but he didn’t have the heart to tell them it would do no good this time.  This enemy didn’t use traditional weapons.  Still, it calmed their nerves and that wasn’t a bad thing.

He turned back to the trail through the forest.  The real weapons were out there.  Things he had hidden over the last few days.  There were some traps and snares, among other nasty surprises.

He wondered how many were out there this evening.  All the Grand Master’s were dead, that he was sure of.  But none had proven to be the biggest threat.  No, they were all pawns of that damned fool, Zydala.  How many were left now in her manipulative care?

“Sir, they approach.”  The man was pointing off in the distance and he saw the movement as well.  He held a scope to his eye.

The men here started addressing him officially as the one in charge once preparations had begun.  In front of a council meeting, it was hard for him to demand attention being an outsider for so many years.  But out here, he was at home.  Most of his life had been spent with men under his command.  They saw it just as easily as he.

The man approaching to his left interested him first.  If he just kept walking in that direction…  The snap was loud enough to be heard all this distance away, and so was the man’s scream of agony as his leg was cleanly severed in the trap.  The men around him looked uncomfortable.  Luckily, none would have seen such detail without his instrument to make it clearer.

He panned the looking glass over in time to see an old woman scream and run to her fallen companion only to set off a trap of her own.  She fell out of sight and would be as good as dead when she landed on the long spikes three feet below.  So far so good, he thought.

A young woman, no a mere girl, was the third his sight fell upon.  He ran as fast as he could when he saw where the girl was heading.  She was too young to die for her atrocious master.  He felt her intrusions as he ran, but he was no novice at fighting such people.  His mind was much better protected than the average man.

With a heave he jumped over the trap that she was approaching and pushed her hard the other direction.  The girl fell back against a tree and hit her head on one of the branches.  She collapsed in a heap.

A guttural scream filled the air around him and he turned to see Zydala with the boy next to her.  She was looking down at Darren, amused.  Then Braydon felt the wave of fury that came hard from the boy; it was unlike anything he had ever felt before.  Both he and Zydala lost their feet.  The sheer force of the attack shook him to the core.

Alarm forced Braydon to search his mind for a place that he hadn’t tapped in many years.  The power and control that it brought made him tremble.  He hadn’t felt the surge of energy flowing through his body in a long, long time.  A time back when he himself was among the Order, before he had seen the truth of what they were doing.  It felt wonderful.

None-the-less, he’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, people thought it was something evil and it got people into trouble more than any good it did.  With a light step he danced around the delicate parts of his mind tapping them when necessary to give strength to the parts he needed most.  Now he saw the waves of energy coming off his opponents like heat waves now as well.  They, no doubt, could see the same coming from him.

The boy’s eyes widened in shock at the revelation that Braydon too had the power of the Goddess inside him, which meant Zydala didn’t tell them everything.  Confusion wracked Darren’s face as he turned to his mentor.  Perhaps he could use that distrust.  It also supported the thought that she was controlling them with false news of the fall of their Order, and blaming Braydon for that fall.

Unable to find the strength for a full retaliation after the boy’s attack, Braydon felt around the forest for his other traps, one’s he wouldn’t have been able to use without freeing his mind for it, setting them off at his enemies.  Rocks, branches, and other debris assaulted the two remaining Tykaron members.  Zydala screamed for retreat and he heard the boy protest.

“We can’t leave Amery.  I won’t leave her!”

“She is dead, you stupid boy.  This fight is lost.”

“She is not dead, we can-.”  Braydon saw the waves of the attack that knocked the boy off his feet.

She turned to Braydon then and called out, “You do well on your own turf, betrayer.  You have three days or I will bring all my followers.  We will kill everyone in the village and burn your home to the ground.”  With that, Zydala lifted the boy’s limp body and ran off through the forest.  He had no choice but to let them go for now.  Darren’s attack had greatly shaken him.  He’d learned the harm in pushing his mind too hard without having complete control, it wasn’t pretty.

The townspeople killed three of the Order on their own.  Arrows were responsible for all the kills.  They suffered far more losses though, eight good men that died for him today.  Braydon went to the fallen girl and woke her.

“You are too young to die for a lie, girl.  Quiet, just listen.  I don’t want to hear anything from you until we have the chance to talk in private, do you understand?  You should realize that these people, with full justification, could kill you in whatever way they see fit.  I don’t want that any more than you do, believe me, so you must heed my words and keep your mouth shut.”

The girl had no reason to believe him, but she looked trapped—and caught.  Her mouth closed slowly as she looked around, miserable.  Seeing no other option, she nodded as if to say she didn’t trust him but saw no other way.

“Good girl, maybe you’ll live through this.”

It’s a lot of fun changing the way websites work. In my opinion, it’s more fun to spruce them up than it is to make them sometimes. You can really take a look at each aspect and ask yourself, “What would make this better?” A question that is almost always fun to answer.

The first update I’m going to talk about is the BRAND NEW books page. I’ve put two of my three projects on there (with samples of both). The assassin book will show up there soon, but I can’t for the life of me think of a neat cover for it. We’re (my wife and I) are thinking we can make a temporary image that would work for any new project. But then we have to make that, so either way, it’s still not ready. I like it though, and I’m glad visitors will a chance to read what I write. Samantha made the cover for The Forest Awakens. My good friend Rob, of Evolinium, made the Draknor cover. I think both are awesome.

Another fun thing we added was the progress bars to match my current projects. This is fun because of the geek in me. I first saw it on Brandon Sanderson’s website. I thought the idea was fantastic. So set it all up in PHP so I could change the numbers in one place and everything would update itself.  It’s very fun. Samantha made the three bars.

I’ll have more new updates to share soon, but they are still not quite finished. I plan on updating pages all over the place, and adding fun ways to find them. Including a random option.

Last week was looooong. Yesterday was a quick trip out of town, but today I had absolutely nothing planned. It was fantastic.

I’m not really big on sitting around doing nothing though, so the website got lots of little updates and changes. Take a look around, you might see some of them. I’ll probably post a more detailed talk about what I’ve done, and what I am, doing, but not until it’s all finished.

Have a good weekend, everyone!

The latest of WHEN TROUBLES FOLLOW YOU HOME.

Audio version by David Carroll:

As always, I hope you enjoy the story.

“Who was that boy last night? He had red hair and sat with three other men at a table by the bar.”  Braydon asked.  It had been some time since he performed menial chores around a house, but his father made it quite clear he didn’t need, or want, any of his servants.

“I’m not sure; I don’t remember him among the festivities.”

“No, he left just as I was coming in.”

His father looked confused.  “You remember all that about someone you saw for less than a minute?”

“Yes, old habits die hard I suppose.”  He shrugged.

“I can only imagine.  Well, there is that boy that comes in from the north from time to time.  Darren I think his name is.  A strange lad, but he’s always seemed nice enough.  If you are really curious you would do better to ask some of the others.  Mitchell or Pereval, both friends of yours as a child weren’t they?”

The connection made him even more curious.  “Yes, I remember them.  Does the boy ever bring people with him when he comes to town?”

“Not that I know of, wait, there was a pretty young girl with him once now that I think back.  It was quite obvious that he was smitten with her.  Why are you so curious about him, anyway?”

Braydon saw no reason to lie to his father.  “I felt something inside him that I haven’t felt in a very long time.”  A very long time indeed, he thought.  “How long has he been coming to town?”

His father thought for some time before answering, “I would say about three or four years, I guess.”  An old familiar knot formed between his shoulders.  Braydon didn’t believe in coincidences.

“You mentioned he was strange, what did you mean?”  The question made his father stop what he was doing, lost in what Braydon assumed to be a memory.  “Is everything all right, Father?”

“Yes, everything is fine.  It was just a bit over a year ago I suppose.  There was a northerner visiting, said he knew you in fact.  The man called himself Victor.  Well, not long after his arrival, the boy showed up with an old woman.  The next thing we knew the inn was on fire and nobody could find the three of them.”

“I thought you said nobody else had come to town with him?”

“I’m sorry, my boy, I’m sorry, I suppose I had blocked out the thought.  Three people died in that fire.  We don’t see much death in these parts.  Darren told everyone he had never seen the woman before, that she asked him to help her in getting to town.  The story seemed likely enough.”

“What did this woman look like?”

His father thought about it for some time while they worked in silence.  “I’m sorry; I just can’t seem to remember.  She wore a hooded cloak mostly.  It’s her voice that I remember though.”  Braydon stopped sweeping and looked up at the man.  He had an intense expression.  “I’ll never forget that raspy voice so long as I live.”

That solidified the thought in his head.  After all these years, Zydalla was here, waiting for him.  Braydon closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “The man was Captain Victor Dunnis.  He served with me in a great many battles.  He was made Lord Protector of these parts, but we never heard from him again.  After an investigation, it was assumed he was killed by brigands, but now I think he met a different end, one much worse.”

His father gave him a fearful look.  “Do you think we are in danger?”

“Yes, I do, and I’m afraid it would do no good for me to leave at this point.”  Pain filled him as he said the words.  Had he doomed his own people by coming home?

Many hours later, Braydon left the town hall grumbling.  He blamed himself as much as the villagers, if not more so.  After all, why should they listen to someone they’ve hardly known?

At least they had listened to some reason.  Tripling the guard would help to give them advance notice.  There was something in that.  Braydon hadn’t realized that the village had been attacked a number of times.  Many of the men even seemed to be proficient with their defensive strategies.  Maybe it wouldn’t go as bad as he thought.  Still, they were grossly underestimating what he knew must be was coming.

It was up to him, then, to protect them from the danger.  Braydon just hoped that it would be enough.

Today was full of mixed thoughts. For one, I started teaching my new kiddos at College For Kids. Not to brag, but quite a few of them said this was going to be the best class. I agree, I think they’re all going to love it. I have plans to set it all up on this website under a folder. So that they can go show their parents–hopefully they will.  I think making them proud of it is the best way to make sure they remember some of what they learn.

On the other side of the emotion spectrum. I got home from work to an email letting me know that one of the agents I submitted my book to wasn’t interested. I’ve been bracing myself for months for my first rejection, but it sucked none-the-less. But oh well, at least it’s over. Now I don’t have to worry about it anymore. I have a list of new agents to send it to already. Perhaps one will like it, and if not, maybe they’ll like my next book. Whether it sells or not, this book is a lot of fun to have. It will always serve as a memory of my nephews’ youth.

My assassin book is going well. It’s moving up steadily during the first week of writing. I plan to keep that going on till November, when it should be done. I’m estimating the middle of that month. That is at a goal of 5,000 words a week, which I’m sure I can pass some weeks.

I’m closing this with a quote from David Morrell, one of my favorite writer’s. It’s from his book, THE SUCCESSFUL NOVELIST. One I have read more than once. I turned to it tonight after reading the rejection and it made me smile.

Any type of story is only a means–what a writer does with it is what matters. You’ll find it revealing if, after asking yourself, “Why do I want to be a writer?”, you ask yourself, “Why do I want to write this particular kind of fiction?”

“Because I need to.”

“Why do you need to?”

If you follow the logic in the progression of these questions, if you pay attention to the ferret that’s gnawing inside you, you’ll have a subject matter that’s your own. You’ll also approach your favorite type of story in a way that has special meaning to you. You’ll be an original and not an imitator. Because you’re true to yourself. Because you use your unique one-of-a-kind psyche as your guide. It may be that you’ll never be one of those twenty-five hundred writers who earn a living at it. But that was never the point in the first place. You didn’t become a writer to make money. You became a writer because your ferret and your daydreams/nightmares forced you to. If you do achieve financial success, all the better. But in the meantime, you did what you knew you must, and your reward was–only now is it a valid answer–the satisfaction of self-expression, of being creative.