The First Three Months

Reflecting back upon the day I began this blog, it amazes me to think of how things have surpassed my expectations. I figured this would be a small blog where a few family and friends would read occasionally because they feel the need to be kind and read a post or two. That was the status of my previous attempt at a blog almost two years ago. I think that one made it a month before it died off, much like my attempt at creating a website.

That tends to happen a lot. The grand visions fizzle out when the initial excitement wears off.

The excitement for this one hasn't fizzled yet. Instead it is exceeding what I aspired to accomplish when I created Scholarly Scribe. So, in celebration of reaching this first minor milestone, I will answer a few questions that were put forward by some of the readers of my Guys' Night post on Friday.

The following questions were asked by Youngman Brown:

1. What was your original reason for starting a blog?

My original reason for starting a blog was actually highlighted in my first post, Why I Write. I created this as a place to share my thoughts on writing and being a writer. I wanted to be able to share some literary opinions and make book recommendations for other readers (which I still haven't done!). And, most importantly, I wanted a place to share my writing with the world.

Like I mentioned in that post, I don't care whether or not I become a rich or famous writer. I write because I want to share my poems and stories with others. If I were to measure the success of that over the past three months, I would have to say I've succeeded. I've had almost 800 page views in three months. That is much better than I anticipated, and a lot of that is courtesy of Yeah Write. But people are reading some of these posts, which means I've met that goal.

2. Have you always been interested in writing/sharing your life, or was it something encouraged by others?

I have been interested in writing itself since about my Sophomore year of high school. That would date around 1999 or so. My earliest poems and stories come from that time frame, and some of them are still among my favorites. For years I have dreamed of getting things published so others could read what I've written. I have made websites and a blog over the past few years where I would tease with a portion of a story, or with some of my poems that I didn't expect to submit.

I was worried about First Electronic Rights for future submissions. So I posted subpar material or general blogs with my thoughts on a certain topic. But I never really shared the ones that I loved. That ended when I started this blog. I've shared a few of my favorites so far, and have even more to come (and others that I've yet to write!)

3. And would you say that now, three months later, that your motivation for blogging has stayed the same or has it changed?

I would say that it has evolved. Originally my intent was to do nothing but post short stories and poems and occasionally throw in something blogish, like my post From Skeptical to Faithful. Today I still have some original writings, such as my Serial Novel that I started a few weeks ago, but I also have a fair mix of regular blog posts about my life or my thoughts on certain topics. I'm sure over the next nine months it will continue to evolve as I find my style and my voice as a blogger.

But I don't think I'll ever lose my desire to share my writing with everyone. I love getting feedback on poems and stories. The good and the bad. Those comments help me to continuously grow as a writer and hone my skills.

The next set of questions come from Shiftless Mommie:

1. What were your biggest concerns when you first got started?

I was concerned about several things when I first started this blog. The first concern was that I would lost interest, yet again, in an attempt to share my thoughts and writing with others. As I mentioned above, I have had several failed attempts at starting blogs and websites with a similar purpose in mind. Thankfully it only takes one exception to break the cycle, and I think that is going to happen with Scholarly Scribe.

My second concern was that no one would take notice. My blog is still small enough and new enough that I get a sense of excitement when I see any new comment, or notice that any single post is getting a fair number of views. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment that aligns with the goals that I had for this blog. As long as I continue to get some views and some comments, I believe I'll continue to have a reason to post.

My third concern was that my greatest fears would become realized. My self-confidence would take a beating. The comments I would get would all be negative and along the lines of telling me to stick to a real job and that I couldn't make it as a writer. Finding acceptance and a sense of belonging never really came easy to me growing up. For the most part I have left that sense of insecurity in the past, but it is always ready to sprout up at the (not so) perfect moment and crush my hopes.

2. What is drawing you to WordPress?

Comparitively there aren't many major differences between Blogger and Wordpress. At least that is what I have been led to believe from the bit of research I have done into the matter. Blogger is newbie-friendly and has some great features. Wordpress, from what I have read and seen so far, takes most things a little bit further in what you can do. I like the designs offered on Wordpress, and they have a free account that gives the same sort of address choice that Blogger allows.

In the end it is just those minor things that Blogger doesn't do that draws me to try it out. I think the biggest appeal is the ability to create Pages, which will make it easy for readers to access each part of my Serial Novel. I'm 98% certain I'm going to enjoy the change to Wordpress and stay there for a long time. Now I just need to get enough skill to create a passable-looking banner for the top of my blog. I've never been able to do things in Paint, much less any of the more advanced photo/image creation/modification programs.


Many thanks to the two bloggers who presented some questions. Any others that happen to pop up over the next few days will be addressed in a future blog post. Feedback is always welcome, as are any other questions you may have thought of!

The Curse of Fierabras - Part Three

Part III - The First Battle

            The blade of the saber slices through the air. Dante crouches down, shifting his momentum and leaping back to avoid the fatal blow. The soldier’s force carries his weight forward and his sword cuts into the ground. Dante runs from the man as he struggles to remove his weapon from the arena floor. With his eyesight finally adjusted, Dante is able to look around and see what he is facing.

            A dozen pillars are scattered throughout the arena, most of them broken and worn down with time. Several large pieces of pillar lie among scattered rubble and debris from the prior battles. The floor of the arena is coated with a thin layer of reddish dirt intermixed with coarse sand. A few broken weapons have been left abandoned around the arena, many coated with a layer of dust. A few spears and an axe are lodged in the wall encircling the arena.

            Half a dozen men, including the one Dante evaded, are their opponents. Each one is wearing the same gold armor on their upper torso and is wearing a pair of gold greaves on their legs. Their feet are sandaled. Each appears to carry two weapons with them: a sword being paired with shield, spear, or mace. The four prisoners are outnumbered and outmatched, just like he was told they would be. The other three aren’t faring much better, either.

            Dante turns back to check on the location of his opponent. There is a large gash in the ground where the sword became lodged, but neither man nor saber is anywhere to be seen. Dante steps around a stone pillar, determined to locate this missing soldier. A large piece of stone falls to the ground in front of him, sliding into the pillar. Dante looks over and sees the soldier reaching down to grab another stone to hurl.

            Dante notices a splintered shaft of wood on the ground a few feet away from the soldier. The man is taking aim with another stone. Dante charges forward, sidestepping the projectile as it flies through the air. The soldier picks up his sword and plants his feet, bracing himself to meet the attack. Dante slides along the ground, his fingers grasping the fragment of a wooden handle. Dust stirs in the air. The soldier swings his sword in a powerful cut, but the shaft of wood has better reach and pierces the soldier’s exposed shoulder.

            The sword drops to the ground and the soldier staggers back a step. His left arm dangles uselessly at his side. Dante gets to his feet and grabs the dropped sword. He swings wildly, cutting through the air. The wounded soldier easily dodges a few attacks. Dante rushes forward with a feint, but the soldier trips him up.

            Dante slides along the ground, his lungs filling with dust. He rolls over in time to see the soldier pull the splintered stick from his shoulder, blood oozing from the wound. Dante scrambles backward, sword still clutched in his hand. The sun gleams on the golden armor as his opponent readies the makeshift weapon for a fatal blow. He pulls the weapon back for a powerful thrust. Dante brings his arms up over his face and braces himself for the upcoming pain. Instead of being skewered, the soldier falls to the ground, his neck twisted.

            Dante looks up to see Slate standing over him, arm extended to help him up. He is covered in cuts and scrapes. His one good eye is slowly swelling shut. His breathing is ragged. The corpses of two soldiers are behind him. Hoggle is pinned to the wall of the arena by a spear through his chest. Jerek is nowhere to be seen. The remaining three guards are advancing quickly on Dante and Slate. Dante grips the saber in his hand and Slate picks up a massive stone.

            Slate times his throw perfectly, but the three soldiers scatter before it hits them. The stone shatters into a dozen smaller pieces, flying in various directions. Most bounce harmlessly off the greaves, but a few cut through skin and one lodges itself in the foot of a soldier. Dante swings his sword at the nearest soldier. It is easily deflected off a large brass shield and the soldier thrusts with a counter-strike. Dante steps aside to avoid the blow but the sword catches his side, leaving a narrow gash in its wake.

            The soldier presses the attack on Dante, slashing and striking relentlessly. Dante backpedals, struggling to keep up with each attack. His breathing becomes heavy and sweat pours down his face. The soldier sees the sign of slowing and presses with renewed vigor. Dante parries a thrust, ducks under a slash. The soldier sweeps at Dante’s feet with his shield. Dante jumps to avoid the blow. The soldier anticipates this and stabs Dante’s thigh.

            The crowd frantically cheers for the soldiers. Dante is exhausted and wounded. Slate takes the mace from one soldier and crushes his skull with it, but the other soldier takes advantage and runs Slate through the chest with his sword. Jerek is still nowhere to be seen. The other soldier picks up a discarded spear and starts toward Dante. Pain shoots through his left leg from the wound, but Dante tries to ignore it while fending off the swordsman. His reactions are getting slower and the attacks are getting closer to striking a lethal blow. Dante closes his eyes and makes a desperate thrust, praying for a miracle.


Go To: Part Two - Cellmates                                                                                Go To: Part Four - Jerek

Reject This

At the end of the week I had something arrive in the mail that I forgot even existed. Last year I had entered some of my writing into the Des Moines Area Community College writing contest and my essay took first place. I opened up a packet from DMACC and inside were two copies of the West Campus publication that had winning writings from 2009-2011. I finally held in my hands a printed, published copy of my writing.

That feeling was inspiring. I have felt the urge to write and submit some more. I've decided to put pen to paper and start writing more new things. And this motivation came at the perfect time...

Because yesterday I got an email back from Poetry magazine with a polite rejection of the poems I submitted to them.

Normally I would go through a phase of lost motivation because I sent them what I felt was the best of the best. But today I really feel like just submitting even more things.

Because I know my writing is good enough for publication. I have physical proof of that on my desk right now. If it is good enough for one, it is good enough for others. I just have to find the right place at the right time.

So I'm going to send out a flood of submissions this week. And if I get a flood of rejections, hopefully there will be at least one pearl that washes up with an acceptance.

And those publications who reject me have only strengthened my resolve to continue writing. And inspired this poem:

Reject This

Reject this poem

Like you have rejected many others,

You aren't rejecting me;

I am not this poem.

Reject this poem

So that it can move on

To be rejected again and again;

That is its fate.

For if a thousand publications

All read this and reject it,

At least it will be read a thousand times.

  And the reason I write

Is so that others can read, so

Reject this poem.

I'm linking this post up with Yeah Write this week so they can all read and reject this poem, too. Feel free to share this with others so that it can get rejected 1,000 times! :)

Poem - Facing Fear

Last night, during the breaks in my class, I submitted 7 poems for publication. This marked the first time in over a year that I finally broke down and submitted my writing. For some reason the idea of facing another rejection was something I was intimidated by. Last night, while falling asleep, I had the spark of an idea for this poem. It is unedited, in its purest form. It may not be perfect, but that is facing yet another fear. I want things to be perfect before I share them. But sometimes you just have to jump in and do it anyway.

Facing Fear

A shadow freezes the blood

Flowing through my veins,

Giving my hand pause as my

Mind dwells upon dark fears.

 Hesitation lurks around the corner,

Always there to comfort me with

A pessimistic perspective.

I can't do it. I'm not good enough.

Who would take them, anyway?

You really think it is worth

The monetary prize?

For each thrust from the

Pessimist my mind attempts to

Counter with a quick parry

To drive back this gloomy fog that

I have succumbed to so easily.

This is what I am meant to do.

It is my hobby, my passion, the one thing

That is my calling in life.

I am a writer, not some novice who

Quivers in intimidation and

Cowers in the corner with a tail

Between my legs.

This fear that threatens me daily is

Not something new; it is merely taking

A new form. I have always sought

Acceptance, encouragement, success

And hoped to avoid failure.

It took the form of isolation from intimacy,

Keeping me locked in bad relationships

That never should have thrived.

It took the form of hesitation to leave a job

That I loathed, dreaded, hated

Each day. I forced myself to get up and return

To the grind of a retail void where

Creativity and motivation where sucked

Out and replaced with the possibility

Of becoming a mindless zombie.

I hate the struggle with this fear,

But I know that it is as normal

As the breath I take each moment.

It is there for me to overcome

And push to greater heights. It is His will

That I grow to greater heights

By triumphing over this inner demon

That haunts me at every turn.

Each time I've surpassed the barrier

In the past my life has inevitably become

Better by an unmeasurable quantity.

This will be the same because I know

That God has a purpose for these obstacles,

These fear which dwell upon my mind

And freeze me with doubt.

I will succeed. He has seen it happen

Because He knows me and knows what

I am capable of. He bestowed this talent

Upon me when He molded me in His likeness.

I understand why the fear was placed before me;

If this came too easily I would take it 

For granted and gain nothing. To finally

Get past rejection, and my fears of failure,

And become a published author will be

A sweet victory that I can relish

And revel in. I will have earned my place

Among the others before me who have

Earned the right to have their name published

Alongside their writing.

All I need to do is take the first step.

I need to send my beloved pieces

Out for judgment by the editor. And as I

Hit submit I feel peace, knowing that even if

The result is rejection, my will is strong and

In my heart I know that it was all part of

His plan for me. Because I am a writer

And I will become published.

Someday.

This post is being submitted for consideration in Yeah Write #45. This marks the third week taking place in this exciting contest! Check it out and enjoy reading all 50 blog posts.

Story - Keeper of the Woodland Creatures

I'm currently without internet at home so I'm out supporting my local bookstore/coffee shop and enjoying their free WiFi in the process. I have to admit it is a nice little place, and I think I should set aside a small portion of my spending money this month to purchase a book from them in return. Right now I will find out how good their coffee is.

I've begun a little bit of work on my future entry into the Writers of the Future contest. I think I like where my mind has decided to take things, but so far it isn't coming out as brilliant as I imagine. Such is the nature of a first draft. I just need to set my writing perfectionism aside long enough to get the entire story onto the computer before I begin to revise. I'm sure I am not the only one who feels that is easier said than done sometimes.

The story I am going to share with you today came about from an offhand comment once from my fiancee, Nicole. I am rather pleased with the resulting story, and hope you enjoy reading it. This is certainly one of the things at the top of my list to submit for publication somewhere. She thinks I should try and get it published as a children's story. What do you think?

--------------------------------

The Keeper of the Woodland Creatures

            “I wonder where all the animals go when the rain falls and the winds blow?” says Terra, watching the clouds fill the sky. Her hands play with the pink ribbon in her wavy brown hair. A boy, standing next to her, gazes out the window. His face crinkles with lines as he thinks. His blue eyes widen and his face lights up as he finds an answer.

            “They go to the Keeper, of course,” he says. Terra frowns, picking her answer carefully.

            “Who is this Keeper, and why have I never heard of him?”

            “Her,” he corrects Terra. “She is the Keeper of the Woodland Creatures and she cares for all the animals in the world.”

            “That is crazy, Nathan. How can she care for all the animals when the wolf hunts the deer and the hawk hunts the mouse?”

            “They are all welcome under her care and protected from all harm. Not even a lion would dare to hunt while in her care.”

            The rain comes down in dripping droplets. Nathan and Terra play all afternoon without a thought toward their talk of the Keeper. It is much later before it crosses their minds again. The two children, sitting on the couch with their parents after eating a large dinner, are watching the news. The weather reporter comes on with his yellow rain coat and his muddy galoshes, reporting heavy rain and high winds tonight. He advises anyone going outside to be careful, and that sparks a question again in Terra.

            “Mommy, where do all the animals go when the rain falls and the winds blow?”

            “I don’t know,” answers Mother, her eyes fixed upon the television. “They probably hide in the rocks or trees.”

            “I think,” Nathan starts but he is cut off by a shush from Father, who turns the volume up. Their evening passes without word about the Keeper. Later that night, after the children are in bed, Terra rolls over and asks Nathan about it again.

            “Do you think she is real?” asks Terra.

            “I know she is. I saw her with my own eyes.”

            “Really?” asks Terra in a loud voice. Nathan glares at his sister but the sound of footsteps in the hall forces them both to feign sleep. The door creeps open a crack, a narrow beam of light cutting through the darkness. Several minutes of silence passes after the door shuts. As the children are lying there, listening to the rain and the wind pound on the house, Nathan gets an idea.

            “Come see, Terra. I bet there are animals crossing into the forest right now.” The children slip out of bed and walk to the window. Even through the rainy darkness they think they can see three deer and a burrow of bunnies scampering into the trees behind the house. A flash of lightning shows birds diving into the trees, their paths erratic as they fly into the wind.

            “We’ve got to follow them,” says Terra. Nathan nods and they go to their closets and arm themselves with what they think they need. Nathan grabs his Spider-Man rain coat and matching rubber boots. He stuffs his Batman backpack with a flashlight and a dozen toys he thinks the animals might enjoy. Terra grabs her Tinkerbell rain coat and umbrella, along with her favorite pink rain boots. She places her brush and many ribbons into her purple purse, hoping to give some makeovers to the animals. The children look at each other and nod, ready to go. First they have to get downstairs without being caught.

            Nathan goes first, flashlight in his hand. He opens the door, freezing at every sound made. Finally he has it open far enough to wiggle out the door and they sneak out of the room. They push the door shut with equal care but the only sounds reaching their ears come from their beating hearts. They move like a pair of ninjas down the hall, counting the stairs as they descend. Terra loses track and sets her foot down on the seventh stair. The stair moans under the weight of her foot and the children stop. Their father lets out a loud snore from the bedroom. Terra whimpers in fear, biting down hard on her lip to prevent another sound. The two children feel relief when the sound of deep breathing resumes from Father. They sneak down the stairs and dash out the kitchen door.

            Nathan steps onto the deck and is blown over by the wind. He grabs the rail and pulls himself up, but gets startled when Terra’s umbrella flies into his face. It blows into the forest and Terra sprints after it. The wind pushes at her back, adding speed as she chases her umbrella. Nathan lets go of the deck and runs after her as she disappears into the forest.

            The trees crowd around the children, the branches shifting closer to block the wind and rain. Terra gasps when she looks back and notices this. Nathan shouts that he sees her umbrella and they race deeper into the woods. The umbrella rolls and bounces across the path and neither child notices that the trees are getting sparse and the air is lighter. They can no longer hear the sound of rain or wind present, but neither Nathan nor Terra realizes this. They glimpse spotted owls and scurrying squirrels and prancing ponies as they race through the woods. The sound of soft, graceful singing reaches their ears.

Oh where do they go

When bad weather blows?

When rain floods the seas

And the wind bends the trees;

When the snow blankets grass

And storm clouds won’t pass.

They don’t hide in bush, vine, or creeper;

They gather here with the Keeper.

The mouse is most fun

To watch as he runs,

The thrush and the owl

Are among most beloved fowl,

The wolf and the deer

Play together in here.

You’ll never learn this from teachers

But children will find—

This place is one of a kind—

The grove of the Keeper of Creatures.

            Nathan and Terra step into a clearing. Everywhere they look there are animals. Bears are chasing antelope in a game of tag. Instead of growls and snarls they hear laughter from the animals involved. Several squirrels scamper up a tree, leaping branch to branch ahead of a spotted leopard. Frogs sing in harmony with the buzzing of flies and bees. Amidst all these playful animals sits the Keeper.

            Fireflies dance around her and animals approach her in turn. She bows her head to each animal as they come, the silver curls of her hair dangling. She places a hand on their heads and, though no words are spoken, the children understand that she is communicating with them. The children lose track of time as they stand watching all the wondrous creatures. Eventually no more animals approach the Keeper and the children notice she has turned to gaze at them. Nathan and Terra come forward, being beckoned by the old woman in front of them. Her lips move and the singing voice echoes into the forest again.

Many seasons have long passed

Since humans have ventured last,

For among the creatures, great and small,

Mankind is the most dangerous of all.

Their fears are now at an ease

But there is a task to appease;

For trust in people is hard to see,

And if you pass we’ll welcome thee.

            Nathan and Terra exchange a glance that speaks more than words could. Nathan bows as he responds. “Keeper of the Woodland Creatures, we will accept the task.” The woman smiles and a few of the animals crowd in closer. The Keeper springs to her feet, a flower-print dress dancing in the wind as she waltzes through the clearing, singing a new song.

Far to the left, past many a tree,

Caught in the bushes you may see

One small bunny, white spots on black;

This is your task: to bring him back.

The storm rages on ‘round the poor lad,

If he stays stuck his life will end bad;

Hurry my children, no time to waste!

Why are you standing? Away! Make haste!

            The Keeper finishes her rhyme and an aging fox, with specks of gray mixed with his red fur, steps forward and bows before the Keeper. He backs away and, to the children’s surprise, he speaks in a clear voice.

            “Mistress, worry not about the dear old bunny. I shall delight in the task of finding him and breaking his bonds.”

            The fox vanishes into the trees and Nathan grins at Terra. “I guess we no longer need to go, huh? We can just stay here.”

            Terra hits Nathan’s arm. Nathan recoils in pain, rubbing his arm. “If you trust that fox,” Terra says, “you are a bigger fool than I thought.”

The fox is a creature most cunning and sly,

He’ll tell a truth and hide a big lie;

The safety of the bunny is no longer clear,

A dinner he’ll make for the fox, I fear.

            Terra grabs Nathan’s arm and pulls him into the forest. They follow the trail as it twists and turns between trees and bushes. As they get further from the grove they can hear the raging storm again. The children nearly tumble down a slope but Nathan notices the path turning in time. But no matter how fast the children hurry down the path, they are unable to catch up to the fox.

            They come across the biggest thorn bush either of them has ever seen. The fox is sitting nearby, trying to bite a thorn from his paw. The bunny is laying motionless deep within a tangle of brambles. Several deep cuts are still bleeding as he sits there.

            “Oh, good, you’ve finally arrived,” says the fox. “Help me with this thorn and then we can free the dinner. Bunny.”

            “Dinner, huh?” says Terra.

            “A thorn is less than you deserve, Mr. Fox,” says Nathan.

            Terra kneels by the rabbit, untangling the animal from the thorny mess. She pulls the final branch as the fox frees his final thorn from his paw. The fox makes a quick leap at the rabbit, jaws snapping. Terra moves the injured bunny out of the way, and the fox tumbles into the thorns head-first, yowling in pain and in rage. The children get up and walk away when he calls out to them.

            “Wait! Don’t leave me here to die. I’ll never eat another animal!”

            “How can we trust you?” asks Terra.

            “I swear by the good name of the Keeper, no animal shall suffer harm from my jaws or claws.”

            “Let him rot,” says Nathan. “He got what he deserved.”

            “He is sincere,” Terra says. “I forgive him. Let him be free.”

            The fox whimpers in pain as Nathan removes the thorns from the fox. The fox leaps from the brambles as soon as he is free and darts off down the road. The children follow after him with the small bunny in their care.

            The Keeper, and all the gathered creatures, celebrates their return. A feast of honey and bread and fruits and nuts is laid out for all to enjoy while the storm blows around them. With their bellies full, the children lean against a tree to take a short nap before heading home. The sounds of the Keeper singing and the merriment of the animals fill their minds as they fall asleep.

            They wake the next morning in their beds, the sun shining bright in their eyes. Nathan and Terra sit up with a start and look at each other.

            “Was it all just a wonderful dream?” Nathan asks.

            Terra thinks for a moment and answers. “No, I don’t think so. She is the Keeper of all Creatures, and she took care of us, too.”