Tale Telling

d as imaged by Green Embers

By Green Embers

Have I told you? My name is D.

Go on. Click on the link. Read that masterpiece I inspired A to write. It’s posted on the wePoets Show It community blog, and you are going to love it. I do.

A says she’s going to write a rejoinder, but nothing can be as awesome as “My Name is D.”

As is our habit of late, this will be brief. I simply wanted to showcase what our dear friends and acquaintances are up to on the blogosphere. One day, A will do things, I know it. Don’t tell her I said so – it might go to her head – but I have high hopes for her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spent all this time knocking around her imagination. It’s not like I didn’t have options. I am a great and powerful druid, after all.

A: You know, D, Oz was a fake.

D: I wasn’t –

A: You were.

D: But you—

A: You interrupt me all the time.

D: Pay no attention to that woman behind the curtain! I have a tale to tell.

Publishing Bliss

Not only was creator of worlds, scribe of Windemere, Charles Yallowitz, interviewed by Indie Author News, he’s also concluding a insightful Women of Windemere series with illustrations, poems, excerpts and videos. The series starts with Headmistress and ex-mercenary, Selenia Hamilton.

Did you enjoy my chats with Billy the Kid? Well, the author behind Billy’s genius, Briana Vedsted, has a delightful tale to tell with A Girl Named Cord, which is on sale this weekend for .99. If you haven’t had a chance, pick up your copy.

Anne Rice’s assistant, Becket, has likened a Ms. Sarah M Cradit to Anne herself. I couldn’t agree more. Read more about Sarah’s second book in the Crimson and Clover Serise, The Storm and the Darkness on the Girls Heart Books Tour.

Sarah also has a new novelette, Beyond Dusk: Anne. A hasn’t had a chance to read it (surprise, surprise), however there is every indication that it will be as powerful as Sarah’s other works. Can A and I just say (yes, we do agree at times), Sarah’s works are on our list of most-anticipated. We wouldn’t mention her here if we didn’t want to read.

Another author with a flair for the Southern Gothic is… Jessica Bell. Helena Hann-Basquiat, you have created–I mean found an incredible treasure-trove in Jessica. Read the latest installment in the Bayou Bonhomme Serial.


Looking for a prompt? Check out Dean’z Wordz at the Community Storyboard. The 30-Day challenge may have ended (Pity A didn’t have the chops to do all 30 days. Watch it, Druid. I control the passwords for the blog. Right. Sorry. Ish.). This week is the cheeky meerkat.

The Community Storyboard also has a new Twitter account. That’s truly splendid.

A: Whatever happened to Twitter being “pointless ridiculousness

D: I said your twittering tweets were pointless and ridiculous. Calling the entire Twitterverse pointless and ridiculous is a bit like throwing the baby out with the bathwater, don’t you think?

A: Who does that? Who would throw a baby out with the bathwater? Who throws out bathwater, anyway? And who is this baby? Why haven’t social services been called? What—

D: A.

A: Sorry.

D: Finally, the hard-not-to-adore Rarasaur joined forces with the Community Storyboard to bring you a wonderful series of poems. They are all wonderful, but A has a soft spot for the first, “To the Guardian of My Muses.”

Dread things

The Query Letter. A tells me it’s a hideous thing, worthy of sleepless nights, mania, fits, and all sorts of other things that would have piqued the interest of ancient demonologists interested in one for all the wrong reasons.

Luckily, Ionia at Readful Things says A is wrong.

Well, maybe not. But at the very least, she breaks the query letter down into manageable increments for those who are like A. Oh. That’s all of you? Well, then what are you waiting for? Read Ionia’s post!

Good luck

Helen Midgley, contributing author at the Community Storyboard has entered herself into some contests. Helen writes with a keen eye, feel, ear, and touch (and maybe even smell) for atmosphere. A and I know she’ll have a better chance than she thinks! Good luck, Helen.

Good luck . . . and good night!

A note from A: I love you all. I am desperately behind in my reading of blogs and interacting. I’m not sorry. See first statement: I love you all.

I set a goal to complete Book 1 in the Dubh Súile Series by this weekend, the symbolic end of summer. I’m doing my d*mndest to make that happen. Expect a rousing post on Tuesday. Or a ridiculously morose one. Either way, I’ll be back! For the Americans, have a great and safe Labor Day weekend. For everyone else, try to fit as much fun into 2 days as we Americans do in 3! 

My Name is D

D: Take that, A! Here’s my side of the story.

A: Don’t think you’re getting the last word, D.

D: I’d never think that, A. I just know that mine is the *best* word.

A: Whatever, Druid. “Bloody lunatic,” indeed.

While this was originally hosted at “wePoets Show It,” that site has shut down. Below is Part 1 of the in-progress “My Name is D” saga in its entirety. 

My Name is D – Part 1

My name is D. My parents gave me this funny pseudo-Irish name. According to the birth certificate, I’m Dubh an Súile mac Alasdair. New age hippies.

Yeah. Just call me D.

I have been living on the road for fifteen years and let me tell you, I’ve had some . . . . Excuse me; I’m trying not to swear. I know there are ladies present and I’d rather not, but gods’ breath, I’m in trouble. I’m on the run – and it isn’t even my fault. I could see if I had robbed that bank, or I had stolen that car, then maybe, but I didn’t.

I was just a chap in the wrong place at the wrong time. Believe me or no, it’s the gods’ honest truth.

Let’s just say that I was fingered. It might have been my past catching up with me, or it might have been simple bad luck. There’s a story there, and I’ll let you judge for yourself. In the end, though, I got away. I always get away.

I didn’t anticipate A, however. I don’t think anyone can anticipate A.

A – I think it stands for Amelia – is a bounty hunter, a madwoman. She kept me hostage for ten of those fifteen years. Apparently keeping me around was worth more to her than turning me in for the bounty. She is an odd duck. It took me those ten years just to find some of her weaknesses – give myself the opportunity to slip away. I don’t know if I’ll ever really get away. Ten years – gone. Bloody lunatic.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. I look young, there’s hardly any grey in my black hair and the wrinkles around my blue-blue eyes appear to be from laughing, don’t they? I know. I’m lucky. I’m older – a lot older – than anyone suspects. Luckily, with age – and torture – comes a certain wisdom.

Of course, I’m not sure wisdom was with me when I rolled into this town.
I only knew that I needed a way to put gas in my old jalopy. Well, not mine exactly. Old Johnson’s boat of a Buick wasn’t particularly what I was looking for in a getaway car, but it worked in a pinch. And, judging by the look of this place, the car fit in pretty well.

But, I digress. I needed gas, and for that, I needed cash. Banks weren’t an option. They still have my face on posters – never mind my protestations.

Then I spied the café. A cyber something. Fancy. I wondered . . .

I pulled my now-rattling boat up to the curb. It was making noises that would make my grandmother – gods rest her soul – blush. I had people, distant people, who might be able to put me in touch with someone – make a connection, you know?

I opened my door. Regretfully, I was not paying attention to my nearest blind spot, so worried was I about watching the road behind me. A – she was dangerous and she was pissed.

I smashed the unknown woman in the leg. I heard the crack. I heard her scream and my heart sank. Oh no, not again. . .

Read more in the My Name is D series

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Adventure calls

This summer’s catch phrase was “I’m going on an Adventure.” I’d like to thank Bilbo and Company, and particularly Mr. Freeman and Mr. Shore, for making the line so charming. Freeman’s delivery, coupled with Shore’s score, was perfect. I have listened to it so many times this summer that they are intrinsically linked in my head and in my heart.

This summer was an adventure.

My son went on vacation with my sister’s family, and had a wonderful time. I cannot thank my sister enough. Then he went to band camp. Within the structure of daily classes and rehearsals, he had a liberating sense of freedom. Again, he had a wonderful time and discovered musical things about himself that he may never have known without it.

As I delivered him to each adventure, we listened to The Hobbit soundtrack, specifically “The Adventure Begins” track. We’d both crow, “I’m going on an adventure” at the appropriate moment and giggle at our nerd-ery.

We even used it to lighten the ill humor of getting lost and driving in a great big circle after my niece’s wedding. There is a lot of big empty nowhere in Wisconsin and I – being one who is easily lost crossing the street – managed to drive us through most of it. But we were on an adventure.

I’ve also spent the last six months on the incredible adventure of writing (or re-writing depending on one’s perspective) a book. I’ve walked the path of this book before, but never with such emotional depth. This adventure has been hair-raising, gut wrenching but most of all, satisfying. Camp NaNoWriMo was another incredible and daunting adventure – one from which I am still recovering.

As we head into the autumn, I will be on another adventure called editing and begging for beta readers. Watch this space for much grousing between D and I. Hopefully I will remember that it’s an adventure, and keep it lighthearted. No one wants to see Druidicide in cyberspace.

D: Least of all, me.

A: Don’t tempt me D. What are you doing here? This is my space!

D: I thought Sundays were your space. It’s Tuesday.

A: Congratulations. You’ve mastered the modern calendar, D.

D: . . .

A: Right. I meant to post this on Sunday. However, I’ve had some busy weekends lately (my real-life adventure) which included a tussle with a swarm of wasps.

D: You mean they had the temerity to bite you? At least I only nibble at your sanity.

A: Nibble at my sanity? If by nibble you mean take giant, slobbering bites. . . Yes, the wasps bit me. And bit me again. The third one that tried it got a great big backhander, but I think that was pure luck on my part.

D: Wait, do I understand you correctly? You’re a warrior, you engage in timey-wimey antics and make mysterious allusions to real-life adventures. . .

A: Yes, D. It’s true. . . . I’ve been around you waaaaaaay too long.

D: (Eye roll) I try being nice . . . Fine. I will leave you to your “personal space” on the blog. Let me know when you’re done, will you, A? You did promise the good people editing, begging and grousing, after all.

A: You almost sound like you’re looking forward to it, D.

D: Anything beats the empty cavern of your mind, A. The echo is creepy.

A: Cheers, D. Here’s to the adventure!

What is your idea of an adventure?


The Billy the Kid and D Files, Pt 3

They were found on a roadside, deep in the Nevada desert. Part of a cache of documents obviously intended for a secure location, the files have been kept secret until today. Their earth-shattering contents will amaze, possibly frighten and answer the question: what happens when an infamous Old West gunslinger and a centuries-old time-travelling Druid meet up?

 Chaos. Card games. Drinking. And chaos.

Part 3: Cheers

D: Greetings on this lovely day! How is everyone!

Billy: D! Good to see you, pal! Goin’ great here! How in the heck are you?

D: Just grand, Billy. For once, I can say there is nothing wrong in my world (even A is behaving herself)!

Billy: This calls for a celebration! I don’t usually drink, but when the occasion calls for it…

Angel: Billy?

Billy: Yes?

Angel: Keep in mind that you’re talking to a real Irishman. He’d drink you under the table.

D: Ma’am, I am a Druid – I only drink when the rituals of my people call for it . . . of if my clan is celebrating a feast day. . . or if we’ve just won a great battle and are mourning the loss of our friends. . . or. . . Well, it’s been a while, Angel. I’m fairly certain Billy and I are evenly matched!!

Angel: In that case, I’ll go get the whiskey.

D: Billy – she’s a right keeper, that woman is! Angel in name and deed!

Billy: Yessir! Never met better. And beautiful to boot!

D: That’s a splendid combination! Will you lead us in the toast, Billy?

Billy: It would be my pleasure! Here’s to true friendship and never ending love! And my new best pal, D. Cheers!

Angel: Cheers!

D: Cheers – Sláinte . To your health, Billy and to your beauty, Angel!

Billy: Thanks D! Have another round! Sláinte !

Angel: You are really too kind, D. And no more for me, Billy.

D: Indeed – Cheers – to the wild men of the west, may they live on forever!

Billy: And to the free druids! May they be reunited with their lost loves and forever be victorious in battle!

D: Sláinte – Thank you, Billy! What do you say to that game we talked about earlier? Want to play a hand or two?

Billy: I’m in!

Angel: Oh no, now he’s going to be drunk and dirt poor. Billy, do remember that you’re playing against a friend. Give me your pistol.

D: Ma’am, it’s likely we’ll both be drunk and poor! And Billy, i haven’t a pistol, but I gladly surrender my long sword and the ceremonial dagger at my belt.

Angel: At least then it will be fair. And you can keep your sword and knife. Later I’ll call you out and see how good you are with that knife.

D: Trained with it since I was a lad of 3, ma’am. My father’s cousin was the clan man-at-arms and trained us all in the arts of war.

Angel: Then you are far too skilled for me. Richard started teaching me when I was eighteen, but before he died, he told me I was very good.

D: Oooh,I sense a story here – who is Richard? I have no doubt that you are very skilled. And in the state Billy and I could be in, you’d probably take me down easily!

Angel: Richard was my friend. He worked for the same man as Billy and I did. He became the closest thing to a brother I ever had. But then the was came and our boss was murdered. Richard led us into battle against those bad men. Then one day, he was gunned down. I was there with him as he took his last breath. I still have his knife. It is my most treasured possession.

D: Miss Angel, you give me the shivers. I’m sorry for your loss – it’s hard to lay to rest a man such as that. His memory lives on in you, and I think you do him proud.

Angel: The hardest part was, I didn’t even get to be there at his funeral. His killer wanted me dead, and Billy made me run away.

Billy: it was for the best, love.

D: I would have to agree. Sometimes we have to run in order to live and fight another day. I’ve run in my time. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve always ended up stronger for the fight to come.

Angel: I appreciate your kind words, D. You make me feel like what I did was not wrong. Thank you. Okay, now I think I need another drink.

Billy: Thanks D. I’ve been trying to tell her that for years.

D: We’ll raise a toast to you, Angel – a toast to living – to honoring those who have fallen.

Sometimes we just need to hear it from someone who isn’t as close to it as we are! I’m sure there is many a thing I’ve only come to understand now that my elders and friends tried to teach me long ago!

Angel: Sláinte ! Thank you, my friend.

Billy: Sláinte ! Say, D? I’m not sure if I can play cards anymore. I might have had a little too much……..

Angel: Billy? Hahahah! He passed out! I told him you’d drink him under the table, D!

D: Sláinte  – whoa, missed the chair! Hey Billy. . . what are you doing on the floor buddy. . . ?

Um . . . it looks nice and cool down there, Angel. . . I think I might. . . zzzzzzzzzzzzz……..

Angel: A? Briana? Little help? Please?

A: Oh boy. . . God, he had to be a big hulking Scot, didn’t he? Oof. . . he’s heavy. D! Yo! D! Wake up!

D: (Slurring) I’s a Pict, lady. . .

Brian: Billy! Come on! Get up! Rise and shine! Anyone have any ice water around?

A: Oh, please, Angel. Say you do. I will pay you to have ice water around.

Angel: It will be my pleasure, A. No money required. I’ve wanted to do this for years! But he always wore his gun and I didn’t want to get it wet…

A: Angel, you’re a life saver!! I can understand your restraint, but splash away, please!

Angel: Lovely. Watch out ladies!

Billy: Jiminy Christmas! What in the-?

D: Oh by the gods, that’s cold! Oh, A – Angel – Briana – how could you?! *shiver* Gods…

Billy, I don’t care what they say – women are most certainly tougher than men – meaner too. I think I have an ice cube lodged in my robe…

Billy: Darn womenfolk! Can’t live with ’em and can’t live without ’em! Come on D, let’s go find a towel or something!

D: Too right, Billy. I’m with you – see you, “ladies.”

Angel: Ta Ta.

Briana: Bye, guys.

A: Cheers, D. Bye Billy.

Billy: *frown* I guess that’s just tough love, D.

D: I suppose. I just wish they’d wipe those smiles from their faces!

Billy: If they smile any bigger, their jaws are going to dislocate theirselves.

D: Bloody harpies . . . no disrespect to Angel, of course. It’s just the glee. . . that’s what really gets to me.

Billy: Naw, look at her! Angel planned this! She’s laughing the hardest! Look, she’s crying!

Briana: You deserved it, Billy. She warned you.

Billy: I thought you said you’d let us men talk!

Briana: Angel needed help.

A: And you always deserve it, D. I was just happy to help!

Billy: Angel can take care of herself! Who put her up to the ice water?

Eh? She thought of it on her own, didn’t she?

A: *whistles* Um I’m pretty sure it was all of us… Sure. All of us.

D: Bloody woman.

Briana: Actually, I suggested it, but A was already thinking it. Angel just happened to have the ice on hand.

Billy: I give up. Let’s go find something to eat. Know of any diners that sell steak, baked potatoes, beans, and coffee at this hour? Apple pie would be good, too.

D: Collaborators. *Sigh* I think I know of a place. That child A purports to have raised eats well enough. Come with me. I’ll take you to a diner called Gus’ Drive-In. You like cars?

Billy: Cars? What’s that? Like horses?

Briana: More or less…

Billy: I’m not talking to you right now, Briana!

Briana: Actually, you just talked to me.

Billy: Confound it all! Let’s go, D!

D: Fancy horses, Billy – they’re the most marvelous things! See ya, ladies!

Billy: Sounds good! I had a real nice racehorse, once. Adios, girls!

Read more about Billy and Briana at her blog, When I became an Author.

Read Part 1 of the Billy the Kid and D Files.

Read Part 2 of the Billy the Kid and D Files.

Wondering how D and Billy met? It all started when A decided to go on hiatus

Frabjous Friday


Jabberwocky (Photo credit: Moochy)

D: Oh, A. That’s not even a word.

A: You sound so disappointed, D. It is a word. It’s on the internet.

D: . . .

A: I saw it in the Urban Dictionary. That means it’s a word.* Plus, it’s awesome and it means Johnny Depp dances in a kilt. There is little else better than that.

D: I . . . I have nothing for you on that. I suppose I simply feel that it isn’t up to par with your other words.

A: It isn’t? I think that perhaps it is. It’s frabjous after all.

D: You are ridiculous.

A: It’s Friday, and it’s fra-

D: You can stop that now.

A: Fine. What would you rather I have as a word for today?

D: Must we even have a word for the day? It’s a day – using some sort of spectacular and nonsensical word to describe it isn’t going to elevate it. That’s up to you.

A: Humor me, Druid.

D: I’ve spent years humoring you.

A: And another fifteen minutes won’t kill you.

D: (grumble . . . mutter . . .  grumble)

A: What was that?

D: Bloody woman. Fine. I have a word for you.

A: I’m breathless with anticipation.

D: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

A: But what about–? But you–? You know what? Forget it. Feeling old-school today, D?

D: You ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie, lady.

A: . . .

D: Don’t you like my modern parlance, A?

A: I – I’m speechless, D.

D: Well, then it is a Frabjous Friday after all.

* I don’t really believe that, but sometimes I have to take one for the team, just to rile the druid.

The Druid Tells the Tale
d as imaged by Green Embers

D, by Green Embers

D: So much has been happening on the blogosphere since A decided to indulge herself in a little bit of ‘slow-blogging’ as she calls it. Lazy is more like.

A: Oi! I’ve been busy. And you know, writing.

D: Hardly.

A: Are you going to tell the tale or tell tales on me?

D: Fair enough. Stop by Green Embers for a Blogging Birthday Serial in honor of Ionia’s Birthday. The journey starts Deep within the forest . . .

Give Green a round of applause, not only for the inspired serial, but for his incredible rendering of yours truly. It almost makes me blush.

A: Almost.

D: I’m not burdened with too much modesty, Miss A.

A: I can see that – I can also see that Green did a fantastic job. While you’re reading Green’s serial, please give Ionia a virtual hug, pray, send healing energy or sacrifice a chicken, if that’s your style. She may throw a squirrel or a cupcake at you, but we still want her to know she’s in our thoughts.

D: I’m hoping for cupcakes, myself. Finally, If chills are more your style, take a gander at the latest entry in the Jessica Bell Bayou Bonhomme series.

A: So much creativity; it truly is frapjous (don’t look at me like that D). If you are looking for a place to put your own creative wordling (as I have), look no further. The Community Storyboard wants YOU! Submit to us now.

D: A really, that is so. . . .

A: You have a dirty mind, D.

D: 13 years in your head, A. 13 years.

Don’t forget about wePoets Show It: The collaborative artistic community developed by poets Zoe and Kira – they have a schedule of posts, including spoken word Mondays. Stop by, submit and enjoy!

A: Kori Miller, over at Kori Miller Writes, is also looking for the creatively-minded to submit work on her blog so she can spread the word!

Check it out.

D: And finally, take a moment to read and vote onPatti Hall’s story on love, laughter and loss. It’s beautiful and shows a strong heart.

A: That’s it everyone. Have a Frabjous Friday!

What are your favorite nonsense words?