I am one who can create an entire world that never existed. I can imagine in my head epic battles…or the quiet flutter of a butterfly’s wings. In my world, in these dimensions, a lone warrior can travel into the very belly of the beast to claim his queen or he can walk the halls of a high school with no memory of the night before, save for a burn mark in his palm.
I Am…Writer.
For this first post in a new feature for Wednesdays, I posed a question: What does it mean to you be a Writer?
I am ever-blessed to know so, many great, talented, extremely supportive people. Here are some of their answers. Enjoy. Take something, anything away from this. Share it. Do the same. Make it yours.
Me. It means finding out who I’m “supposed” to be. Who God called me to be. He gave me this gift. I’m running with it. For me it means-I have found my destiny. All else is beauty. Continue reading
We hold the fate of this whole world in our hands. We must fight!
Don’t let them break us down!
If we choose to free this world we must stand with pure hearts and clear minds!
And through the anguish will we find meaning beneath these ashes of our destiny?
In this world of false remorse they manipulate our trust to fight for a blackened
cause (all for hate)
The ones who have fought for us have all but failed!
Their words…their thoughts…their acts I embrace!
I lie lifeless on the floor, I awake from this dream once again.
The sky burns red as I stand before my fate I will rise!
I will rise!
Don’t let the fate of this world be controlled by hate make a choice, because the sky burns red, rise against.
The sky burns red as I stand before my fate
Rise against…the sky burns red. “The Sky Burns Red”
Like many Writers in this age music is inspiring. More. This brief “look-see” provided by this song. Also when I first heard it…I was literally astounded at the lyrics* for my story…is similar to a certain portion.
This is what I call…a verbal trailer.
“The rain is coming harder,” the giant says. “But, sure as I know her she will only become stronger in it.”
“Indeed, mountain. She is like no other. She leads us,” says the man in beggar’s clothing. “Sts, we await her signal, old friend,” he continues, peering over his shoulder.
“But of course, old friend,” a small voice answers.
A mile or so ahead of them, high atop a cliff the girl raises her hand, high into the air. First, a fist. Then, she extends her index and small finger, simultaneously. The wind blows through them as she gives a blank stare to the terrain before her. She’s calm, though her chest heaves in and out with great force. No words come out of her mouth. Just her hand, in the air. Her hood caresses her face and she closes her eyes tightly. Finally she speaks where only she can hear. “As I am breathing, so are you, Sarah.” She pumps her hand into the air twice and the silence is broken.
First, a tiny creature, scurries through the leaves on the ground. He goes in front of her, ahead of the rest. He is the sight; one with a gift. Precognition. He can’t explain how he does it and doesn’t need to. He jumps off the high cliff she’s standing on, towards the dark valley below.
Her hand remains in the air with her eyes shut. She is praying. Her grandmother taught her how.
The small creature is far ahead of her now just as the man, lithe in stature, but holding more power than any mere mortal being, joins the small creature. In his hand, a rather peculiar looking instrument, made of dark rowan wood. He sprints past the girl, after the creature, and says these words: “And so the time for pretense, the time for hiding in the shadows……is dead.”
He flips head first into the valley below, disappearing from sight.
Then the giant-the mountain- is heard. His every step as loud as the whipping thunder in the sky. He brandishes a special weapon, one never seen by any. “I am my brother’s keeper!” he shouts and smashes it into the rocks at his feet, causing him to catapult next to the girl, landing with an explosive boom. He stands 12 feet to her 5.
The dust has yet to settle and he stands next to her.
“Now… that you know what you are,” he begins.
“Say nothing,” she interrupts. “I am who I am. I am who Sarah made me to be. Beneath this shell is…is…”
“Say nothing,” the giant says, looking out towards the valley.
“Very well,” she says quietly.
“The Ozul was right, you know?”
“I know. It makes sense, D. I always stared into the sky… wondering.”
“You know she loved you.”
“Yes, …and that is why I’ve done all that I have. She’s with us, D. She sent those two……
…to us. We hold the future in our hands, Brother.”
He grunts. Then he looks down at the girl and nods. He puts his hand on the top of her head and closes his eyes.
“Let the blood speak, child. Let the blood speak.”
She says nothing, only nods in return. This is her way.
The giant grabs his weapon, looks intently at it and raises it so high the clouds seemingly part for it.
“Brothers,” he says, beating his weapon against his chest then letting out a bestial roar, and mocks the thunder, again. He then jumps feet first below and joins the two that go before him.
The rain begins to fall onto her. She lifts her head and embraces the hard drops with fervor as she moves her left her hand on the hilt of her blade. “This is …this is who I really am?”
She closes her eyes and the hood falls over her head, shadowing her face.
She breathes, in and out, opens her eyes, and as their amber glow of shines onto her skin, one word falls from her lips.
“Yes.”
She puts her hand in front of her chest and makes a fist, choking the air within. As she lifts her head towards the sky, words she said when she first “became” what she is now come to mind:
In the dark is where I run.
In the dark is where I am strong.
I do not fear, that which I can not see…
For in the dark is where I am free.
She feels guilt about cracking a slight smile, but she does anyway.
“I am no longer alone, Gramma!” she yells. “Yes! The time for pretense! The time for hiding in the shadows…
…is dead! With you. With me.” Her skin begins to glow as bright as the stars above.
“Yes.” she says again. “I am the shadow.”
The light envelops everything around her and as she begins to hover off the ground, she leaps off of the cliff, lighting the valley below.
“Let the blood sssspeak…” sounds an ethereal whisper in the wake.
*hmm.–This would make a cool book/movie trailer. I like the epic feel of your story and the poetic prose. I’m also intrigued by the heroine because she is a girl (and she seems a girly girl–not a total badass. Sooo sick of female main characters who might as well be boys) I like that she is leading all these powerful beings. The dialogue is nice, brief without seeming curt. It cuts right to the bone. Good job! I like it now that I understand what it is! Thanks for sharing.–JMK, from my Writers GroupThank you, J! 🙂
Reychel is a slave girl surrounded by magic, lies and manipulation. Her best friend disappears in the middle of the night leaving Reychel to face her fifteenth birthday, the day her master burns his brand into the back of her bald head, alone. She’s sheltered from the outside world and doesn’t have any hope for escape, but when people desperate for freedom ask for her help can Reychel learn to believe in herself?
1. Megg, how syked are you to see your words in print at this level? You are on Barnes & Nobles PubIt! Teen bestseller’s list!
I was stunned, to put it mildly. But I know I have to keep up the momentum. Maybe someday I’ll break the top ten?
2. Indie. Firstly, for the reader’s that are unaware, what is an “Indie”?
An indie is an author who’s decided to go it alone, without the an agent and traditional publisher.
3. Why are you an Indie?
I’m not against agents or traditional publishers. This was just the right option for me. My goal is to have people read my book and that’s something I can achieve as an indie.
4. Other than having pretty much all the say in your books development, what would you consider the best part of self-publishing?
Control. Especially control over my covers. I’m not an artist, but I always have a particular image in mind. I’m lucky I’ve found a designer who works with me to make the images in my head real.
5. For those debating whether to take the chance or risk, whichever sounds better, :}, what advice would you give an aspiring writer that would help in their decision after the writing is done?
I would tell every writer to make a list of their goals. Is their main goal to have their book in all the big bookstores? Then go traditional. Are they willing to take some risks, even the risk of falling flat on their face in failure? Then go indie. Look, the market is a big unknown. There are traditionally published authors hitting it big and some indies are making millions. It shouldn’t be about the money, since it’s not guaranteed in either arena, but about the writer’s personal goals.
6. Lastly, Megg, without giving too much away, how does Reychel differ from other heroine’s?
I think Reychel is different because even though she’s told she’s something special, she doesn’t buy it. She finds strength in herself, in the girl she was before everything changed. She takes nothing for granted.
Megg Jensen. She writes about magic, mystery and fantasy, which is this Writer’s personal favorite, ahem. 🙂 She is an inspiration for all writer’s, young and old, who are contemplating self-publishing as a means to get their precious stories “out there.” An inspiration to us all.
Aspire No More.
Pick up Megg’s book and stop by her place. Also “Like” her fan page, today!
The free give-away has ended! Congratulations to the winner, Lindsay Cummings! Enjoy Anathema!
All others thank you very much for the awesome comments and keep ’em coming! I’m bound to have more give-aways and more excitement to come!
Aspire No More 