Tell me, tell me...(as The Contours sang)

It has been awhile since I posted on here, I know, and maybe I should reconsider being more proactive in blogging and perhaps sharing some of my thoughts and feelings on writing and other matters. I haven't really given this blog a fair try and perhaps I have ignored it when it might be what I need to support my work, for lack of a better term. Admittedly there are secondary motivations sometimes to writing a blog, but perhaps such secondary motivations aren't the core of the matter here.

I have tried in the past to find ways of encouraging and supporting my writing, or to put it a bit more bluntly, present my writing to readers, and after some forays and attempts in these areas, I usually abandon such efforts. It might not be sincere or earnest in those regards and so it is with the blog at times, but perhaps I could be more earnest and sincere with the blog than via other means and methods.

I don't know how to present myself at times and I don't know how other readers might find out about my writing, but other readers have found my work, mostly through Smashwords, and I wonder if these are accidental discoveries, if they stumbled upon my work while searching through Smashwords archives, or if they might read the blog or come to via other means. I can't tell sometimes, and I am curious to find out the truth of the matter here.

I probably shouldn't poke or ask questions about how I got my readers. I am glad to have some readers. But I just want to know if there is anyone who has stumbled across this blog, who read my work, and if the blog helped them to learn about it.

Please comment on this post or in any of the other posts and tell me if this blog has been successful in a certain regard. Or write a review of my work on Smashwords and other sites if you've had a chance to look at it. I am very interested in such comments and reviews, positive, negative, or neutral, and I thank you in any case for writing such a comment or review.

Now progress report, because I haven't been keeping up this blog in over half a year: I've edited 120 pages on the Kirna's Apprentice 2002 with over 200 pages left to go. I hired a editor to look over the sequel, whose title I'm not ready to reveal yet, and while they did a fairly thorough edit, I'm going back in to change some stuff and I've gone about 120 pages to editing/rewriting some of that material as well.

In the end, I might drop the 2002 from the titles, because of all the editing and rewriting I've done with both of these books that have changed the style and tone from my more youthful writing in 2002. But both of these books will still remain in the Legends of Arria 2002 series because, at this point, it's going to be difficult to insert them into the main Legends of Arria series. I cannot do that because I'm not certain how some of the older characters will play out, change, or if they might even exist in that other continuity. And I do have some crazy ideas for parallel universes and crossovers between the two series with the different standards and characteristics between them, but that's another story.

As to the 5th volume in the Legends of Arria series, still not quite keen on what title to use, I've written approximately 260 pages, up about 120 pages in the last 6 months or so. I have a fairly good framework for what the story might be, I just have to set it up some more and stitch it together, literally in some cases.

I've kind of veered off and considered an interest in other mediums of writing, but I will try to get back on track with novel writing and dive deeper into that. Thanks again for your consideration.

New Year's Resolution Post

So at long, long last I am writing on my blog. 2014 has been an interesting year for me. I have published the first four books of my Legends of Arria series, which are the new, updated versions of The Knights of Arria 2002.

I attempted to use Kindle Scout, Amazon's new crowd-sourcing publishing program, to get some attention for The Lion and the Kirna 2002. I didn't get selected there, but it was an interesting experiment and I do intend to try that Kindle Scout program again sometime soon, depending on how quickly/soon I complete either The Kirna's Apprentice 2002 or the 5th volume in the Legends of Arria series.

I had an idea for the 5th Volume's title, but now I'm starting to worry if it might be too similar to another writer's title. I may work on that later. I currently have about 140 pages worth of material there, although who knows for certain. I have less of a framework for this book as I did for previous volumes, especially as I am going 'off-grid' in regards to what happened in the 2002 scheme of things. I have plenty of notes and ideas for what I want to do or where the story might go, but materializing that within the novel could be a different story.

I had intended with the 2002 version of the series to stick with what I had written, for the most part, in the past, although I have admittedly veered off from that. The Knights of Arria 2002 is pretty much straight-forwardly what I had written then with some polish. But when it came to The Lion and the Kirna, I deleted some 10 pages of material near the beginning because it was redundant, added nothing to the story, and might have been embarrassing. I polished other bits here and there, streamlined some description, but I deleted some dialogue with the falcons because it went on a bit too much.

One thing that was really interesting was at some point when I was originally writing The Lion and the Kirna, I had forgotten that a character named Witta was a griffin. So somewhere between Shama's arrival in Coe Kiki and what happened in the park, I forgot Witta was a griffin and wrote him as human near the end of the book. So I had to change some scenes and write out Witta.

Plus I changed some of what happened on the bank of the Tau River near the end. Now when it comes to The Kirna's Apprentice 2002, I am doing a drastic change close to the beginning, in regards to a character showing off their magical powers much sooner and more dramatically than they had done before. All because I felt...well, I might explain that later, sometime.

Now here is a toast to 2015, huzzah, huzzah, may it bring us all new challenges and opportunities to fulfill. Salute.

Smiling Stallion Inn Excerpt

Another excerpt from The Smiling Stallion Inn
Copyright © 2014 by Courtney Bowen

*The Smiling Stallion Inn is available at these online retailers and all ebook editions are currently just $0.99:
 

Amazon
 

Smashwords
 

Barnes and Noble

Basha waited, thinking that it was taking a while for someone to open the front door. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his pants and then wiped off his face and forehead, smoothing back his hair in the process. He wanted to see Jawen, but he couldn’t stand around out here all day. He hummed and sang a little tune, whistling as he started to sniff himself, hoping that he smelled nice and clean. And then the front door opened.

Even knowing who would be there, Jawen’s heart leapt at the sight of him. He looked ridiculous standing there with his pathetic bouquet and holding his arm up to smell himself, obviously very nervous. He reminded her of the little boy she had made fun of long before she had ever gotten to know him, long before she had ever fallen in love with him. He could not be any more different than what her father had planned for her.

Yet when she looked at him, she did not think much about respectability, or money. He reminded her of a god, one that stayed young and indomitable forever. And that scared her. He just had to use that hidden force of strength and determination to do some good.

Basha lowered his arm, freezing as Jawen stood in the doorway, staring at him and at his bouquet with her blue eyes. Her face was prominent with large features, hardy and full of class. An old blue cotton dress covered her shapely form. Basha couldn’t help but notice the laugh lines around her mouth and the coy glint in her eyes as he saw her throat move when she gulped. She looked past him, apparently checking again for anyone watching them, just as he said, “I have come here…” He inhaled, trying to calm himself down, “to ask you…”

“Are you here to woo me, or have you come to help me feed the pigs?” Jawen asked.

“I come to you with a yearning heart!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. His heart had been yammering so fast that nothing could touch it, but now it came crashing down. “Respect me, and accept me for who I am, and what my feelings are!” he insisted. “At least don’t joke about it. Don’t joke about my love for you,” he said, lowering his hands and pulling back his flowers in frustration. “Be serious for once.” Several petals had been shaken loose. He should have known that she would do this, Basha thought. He could almost hear his older brother laughing at him in the back of his mind, but he had hoped that she would take him seriously, just this once, especially when the Courtship ritual would take place tomorrow.

He reminded her of a puppy dog, especially when she made fun of him. His little nose would flare up, and his large brown eyes, usually as intense and somber as a scholar’s, would light up in anger. It was priceless. She tried not to laugh as he ranted and raved about a bit. She ought to be scared that he might harm her, but she wasn’t—she knew that he wouldn’t. No matter what she did, or what she tried to say, she ended up always teasing him. It was easier than trying to acknowledge her own feelings for him sometimes, and at least she was kinder to him than she had been before.

Her little sister stood behind her, watching Basha’s reaction to the pig joke. Annalise whispered, “You know you should not be seen with—”

“Be quiet! Go away!” Jawen told her.

Annalise finally went away, but she was bound to blab to their father soon. So Jawen had to get Basha out of here, but she wanted to hear what he had to say. She owed him that much after the years of trouble she had put him through. He had not even noticed Annalise was there at all, he was so angry, and Jawen was angry at him, too, for putting them both at risk.

“I am not. Basha, you shouldn’t even have asked me for anything,” Jawen said. “You shouldn’t even have come here. What do you want me to say?” Yet he put up with it for the most part. He knew that she was still attracted to him. Why else would he keep coming back? She wished that she wasn’t, sometimes, but she couldn’t help it. It was the way that they were attracted to each other; it was the way that they were meant to be together. She could see him as something inevitable. She could not put him off for years; eventually he would find a way into her heart.

“When will you say you love me, in front of everyone, by accepting my proposal of marriage?” Basha asked.

Jawen frowned. “I ought not to, but Basha, I love you; you know that.” She softened. “I just don’t know if I can say it in front of everyone just yet when I’m going to be facing my father along with them.”

“Jawen, please tell me when.”

 “I don’t know when I can accept your proposal of marriage, but not right now. Maybe when Mount Doomba turns to ice?” she asked, hopelessly smiling. There had always been a certain amount of tension between Basha and Jawen, a back-and-forth game of love and lust ever since they were little; she had not recognized it then. But as they got older, it had developed and grown more intense, a ritual of fight or flight between them, chasing each other around and trying to hide, or show, their real feelings.

 “Jawen, be serious.”

“All right already, I will be serious.” Jawen groaned. “But can’t it wait just a little while longer?” she wheedled. “I haven’t lost you yet, have I, Basha?” She knew she was being ridiculous, but she hoped that it would be enough to keep him satisfied for now until she was ready to get married.

 

Another excerpt

Another excerpt from The Smiling Stallion Inn

Copyright © 2014 by Courtney Bowen

*The Smiling Stallion Inn is currently available at these online retailers and the ebook edition is currently just $0.99

Amazon

Smashwords

Barnes and Noble

“Penniless miller, come singing on the road, the lovely maiden passes by with a hope,” Basha sang as he walked down the main road of Coe Baba, adjusting the tie around his neck. “Blow her a kiss, and dance away from haven.” His other hand gripped the bouquet of early-blooming flowers, barely more than weeds at this point. His feet nearly slipped, as the road was still wet from the thaw, not good to walk upon unless you were sure of yourself.

The snow was behind them now; it would not snow again, or at least not so heavily, until the next Sna season. It would rain instead. The mild snow would turn into sleet and slush and dissolve into rain once the sun shone brighter and the temperature rose. It was the first day of a new year and the first season Reda, the season of rebirth in between the seasons of Sna, snow, and Plig, planting, one of five seasons with two months each. Each season had thirty-six days in the first month and thirty-seven days in the second month, with the exception of an extra day every four years at year’s end. For five months now--or close to five months now, if one did not count the months when they were apart--Basha had dated Jawen, ever since their first kiss.

He continued on his own, once he had turned onto the side road that led south and west from the town square. “I love you, I love you, that’s all I want to say. I love you, I love you, that’s all I want to sing…” He stopped and sighed, saying to himself, “But I hope I can say it, I hope I can sing it, without the door slamming right into my face.” He was now surrounded by the houses of the rich in Coe Baba, not his type of neighborhood. He stepped around a herd of sheep, hoping to avoid their balnor as a shepherd boy prodded them on toward the fields by the river near the baron’s estate. He hated balnor. But then he paused when he thought he saw the shutter to Jawen’s bedroom window move. Was she up there? No, it must have been the wind.

Calluses covered both of his hands from his years of labor at the inn and in the communal fields, cuts as well from learning how to use a sword in classes taught by Sir Nickleby. He hoped that she might be able to see these hands, these calluses and cuts upon them, as signs that he could support her with his hard work. But he also wished that he had smoother hands, so that he might be able to hold her without his skin brushing up roughly against hers.

He was seventeen years old, and this was going to be his best year ever. He was going to make it so by doing all of the things he had wanted to do, but had never dared to do, namely proposing to his beloved Jawen.

He stopped in front of a large house, second only to the baron’s at the very end. The merchant’s house was two stories tall with blue shutters in the front and made from brick, the most expensive material. It was adorned with blue and red wooden trim, almost too similar in shade to the baron’s and Coe Baba’s heraldic colors, a decorative cornice along the roofline, and pilasters alongside the paneled red wooden front door supporting a roof over the front porch. All of the windows of Lapo’s house, including the large dormer windows on the second floor, were casement windows with delicate, fragile, and expensive glass panes.

Basha hesitated, wondering if he should go up to that front door, but then Jawen would not like that, especially if she was still worried about her father. Always her father. Lapo, Lapo—everything was about Lapo. Basha thought he couldn’t hide it anymore, all of his anger and frustration over what could easily be solved if she wasn’t so insistent upon not upsetting her father.

And yet she was sparing herself as well as him, wasn’t she? Basha couldn’t blame her for trying to escape her problems, but even he had to admit that she had gone too far and had avoided too much trouble for too long. She had to face what she had wrought and decide what she wanted to do with her life, just as he would decide with his own. It was time. “Someday, Jawen, you will see me,” Basha said, a refrain he had repeated over the years ever since he was eight years old; a refrain he had repeated to give himself strength, especially now as he stood on Jawen’s front doorstep.

His actions were crazy. They would immediately put both of them at risk, not just with Lapo, but also with Jawen, as she had forbidden him from coming near her home. Lapo might answer the door or something like that. He just hoped that he would be able to run fast enough if that was called for. He did not want to wait anymore, though, and to take a risk like this, so soon before the Courtship ritual would start, might make Jawen think twice about what his intentions and what she wanted to do. Maybe she might even realize that it was time for them to be together. Basha knocked on the door, taking a deep breath as he hid his anxiety by holding his head and his bouquet high. Today would be the start of his new future and his new life with Jawen, and maybe then he would be satisfied.

 

“Jawen! Can you go get that?” His manner businesslike and self-assured, Lapo wrapped his arms around his wife, Mawen, as she cooked breakfast and rubbed his face into Mawen’s neck as he yelled at his oldest daughter. Though Jawen liked the thought that her parents still loved each other after so many years of marriage, she did not like the sight of them so promiscuously intertwined together, right in front of her when she was just about to eat breakfast, and with the other children present as well. Her parents weren’t supposed to have such “feelings” for each other out in public, Jawen thought to herself, when they were supposed to be mature, respectable adults. No wonder they had so many children.

Technically, Jawen was the most responsible figure in the household, beside her parents, at this point, as she was the oldest child still living there. Sencaen, who was nineteen, had already married and moved out of the household. He was…Jawen could not really describe him. She had never been as close to Sencaen, perhaps, as to her younger siblings. Sencaen had been close to her father before he left, traveling with him on his merchant trips, but Jawen had spent most of her time here, helping to take care of her younger siblings, especially Rajar, Annalise, and Tukansa, and the household in general alongside her mother.

Her father had been disappointed when Sencaen had abandoned him, absconding with a young woman he had disapproved of, when he had wanted Sencaen to take over some of his duties in preparation for his inheritance. But for now, her father had to look elsewhere for solace and continue the family business on his own.

Jawen sighed and said, “Okay, Father!” as she got up, already leaving the kitchen table.

Tukansa, or “Tuki” for short, was about six years old, the baby girl of the family who had little idea of what was going on around her as she played with her dolls. Annalise was about eight years old and starting to become more aware, or at least more curious about what was going on around her, as she often glanced over at her parents kissing whenever she thought no one was looking.

Rajar was ten and obnoxious. He was always pulling on Annalise’s hair or stealing Tukansa’s dolls, trying to lord it over his younger female siblings or get attention for himself. Jawen never could figure out his motivations. All she could to do was to intervene and make sure that Rajar behaved, giving back Tukansa’s dolls intact and apologizing to the girls. Either he would learn how to behave, grow up enough to supplant and suppress his feelings, or Annalise and Tukansa might gang up on him, or perhaps a little bit of everything.

Fence was twelve and had already gotten out of the worst phases of childhood by most accounts, although now he was on the brink of manhood and almost ready to train under Sir Nickleby, commander of the town militia. Fence’s head had swelled a bit, and he imagined himself to be a dashing knight or a daring highwayman. She passed by Fence’s chair and had to dodge his knife and fork as he dueled with himself. “Watch it!” she cried. “Aim for the fork!”

“Sorry!”

Talia was fifteen, the sister closest in age, if not in temperament, to her. Talia seemed to be the most spoiled and conceited of her siblings, though Jawen was incapable of judging herself. The two of them shared a room and held a lot of grudges against each other. Talia was the closest thing she had to a rival in her family. Talia and Jawen glowered at each other as Jawen passed by. “I wonder who it could be?” Talia smirked at her older sister. Jawen raised a finger and shook it at her but didn’t say a word.

She did not want anyone to suspect what was happening outside, as she had already glimpsed through her bedroom window, just before coming downstairs to help separate Rajar and Annalise, Basha walking down the street, dressed in a fine white buttoned-down collared shirt with a tie, and flowers in his hands. Her mouth had dropped at the sight of him moving with a spring in his step. She almost thought about running outside to stop him coming here, but her family would surely notice.

 Not now, she had thought, not today. Why couldn’t things just stay the same as they always were? He had been dancing, she was fairly certain of that, and singing, or wailing at least, and she could not look away from him. He was saying something, over and over again, though she could not hear what he was singing, or saying, as he was too far away. She had closed the shutters to her bedroom window just as he had looked up while sidestepping around a flock of sheep and their shepherd. She did not think he had seen her.

She had hoped that it would be just an ordinary day, that nothing new would ever change it, but it was not meant to be. Not now, she thought, not today. Did she ever want to leave her family? Jawen thought as she closed the kitchen door behind her. Maybe she did, but only just a little bit. She loved her family, despite what troubles she might have with them.

Conflicted about what to do, she went down the front hallway, which was lined with tapestries and even bits of wallpaper, but she did not want to look at the decorations. They reminded her too much of her father’s activities, which may or may not be legal. A clock chimed, and she brushed back a bit of hair.

Her father was the one of the most respected, richest merchants in town who supplied the stores with what they needed to sell, goods from faraway places that people could not find in Coe Baba, and he also sold furniture and other goods from Coe Baba in other towns as part of the exchange. Not many townspeople traveled beyond Coe Baba, along roads or trails that had to be cleared if they became overgrown, or might contain traps that lulled travelers into believing that everything was safe. And sometimes, if people did survive the trip to another town, they did not come back here ever again.

Coe Baba was one of the smallest towns in the middle of nowhere. Who would ever want to travel here, or live here? Except for those fanatics, the worshippers of the Oracle of Mila, nobody from out of town ever really came here, and people mostly only stayed in Coe Baba because it was safe and peaceful and they were used to living here.

And for those who got the chance to leave, most often the ones accepted by the Border Guards, some of them never came back again, because there was so much promise, excitement, and opportunities out there for them to enjoy. Basha could be one of those young men, Jawen thought to herself sometimes. If he ever got the chance to leave Coe Baba for good, joining the Border Guards or something like that, then he might never want to come back again. There was very little holding him here, aside from his family, and her. If he ever got it into his head that there was nothing left for him here, then he might leave for good. He always said that he never really belonged here, and he ran away once, as a boy. He could do it again.

Well, her father always came back. She could always depend upon her father for that, and he brought things from the outside world such as books, clothes, and jewelry that people needed to sell, to survive and thrive, and he also helped them sell their own goods in other towns. They demanded his service, and he profited from it, garnering a lot of praise over the years from the townspeople of Coe Baba, for he gave them what they wanted. He sold his wares to the storekeepers and to the Baron in Coe Baba, he sold their wares in other towns, he partnered with other merchants to help transport their goods and he kept a little more for himself than was agreed upon in these exchanges.

“I deserve such rewards for what I can get for the townspeople,” Lapo had said to Jawen once when she tried to confront him about these extra cuts for himself. “I risk much on my trips, when my invested time and money, not to mention my life, is threatened by thieves, swindlers, and even nature along the way.”

“Not to mention the money and goods from other townspeople and the Baron.” Jawen had said. “And who knows what else from other merchants?”

“So what if I take a little, money or goods? It’s not exactly what you would call stealing.” Lapo had said.

“But you lie to them!” Jawen had cried. “You lie and shortchange the townspeople for the sales of goods from Coe Baba, you overcharge them on the sales of goods from other towns, and you still take money from them for your salary!”

“How did you learn all about this?” Lapo had asked.

“I looked at your accounts.” Jawen had said. “There were some gaps between what you earned and what you charged. Not to mention this painting, which was a duplicate that you would have sold, along with others, as an original in Coe Wana, and this mirror from Pakka, which should have gone to Coe Anji with the rest of the merchant train passing through Coe Dobila, but you stole it, along with numerous other pieces around the house. I can’t even fathom how much all of it is worth.”

Personally, Jawen thought that Lapo had kept the mirror for himself to admire his reflection in and to have everyone in the family look presentable before they went outside to face the world and that he had kept the painting to ennoble his household, as if it belonged to a lord and his family. But she did not feel so noble.

“Huh. Smart. Be that as it may, you have to figure in the costs of my trips, both ways.” Lapo had said, “My salary doesn’t cover all of those costs, not to mention the side trips and transportation partnerships.”

“How much do they cost?” Jawen asked. “And how much do you earn from them?”

“Not nearly enough.” Lapo said. “I need to esure that I have full coverage with my livelihood if anything goes wrong with one of my trips.”

“Or if you do anything wrong.” Jawen remarked.

“Anyway, as for these other pieces of furniture and decorations, well, I paid for these goods, the same as anybody else, even though the price might have been different for me in the end.” He shook his head. “It’s not like anybody else, or hardly anybody else, could afford the merchandise that I pulled off of my own wagon or merchant train.” He coughed. “And those things would have been wasted if I or anyone else, had to sell them, and couldn’t, except at a slashed rate, and after I had traveled so many miles, faced constant threat, and paid good money just for a clearance sale? Malakel it, I am not going to stand for that!” He thumped his hand down at this point, startling Jawen and setting her teeth on edge. “I might as well enjoy the fruit of my labor.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Jawen said.

“The baron knows about it, by the way.” Lapo added. “He understands that I have to do this for the sake of our family.”

“And your friendship with the baron doesn’t factor into it?”

“He is my friend, but most of the time, that doesn’t have anything to do with my job. He is still one of my employers and partners.”

“And you give him a generous loan every once in awhile.”

“I am the only merchant who will handle Coe Baba’s trade!” Lapo had cried. “Without me, there would be no outside trading! None of the other merchants in Coe Anji or Coe Dobila or Coe Wana will even come to Coe Baba! I talk to them, I try to arrange some trades, to get some of my partners to invest in Coe Baba, but they think we are too backwards, unprofitable, and dangerous. They don’t think it’s worth their time and effort. But I am committed to this job and I can be trusted to handle it. I haven’t earned a name for myself just by shortchanging and overcharging everyone. I do the job, regardless of what happens. I bring wealth to this community.” He had said. “The baron knows that. He knows that I won’t cheat anyone beyond what I require and I still contribute. I don’t abandon my hometown.”

“But father, I still don’t see how you could justify it.” Jawen had said, though in a timid voice as she started to see her argument failing.

“Look, Jawen, I know that you think life should be fair, and that there should be a balance in the world with everyone earning what is fair and reasonable, but that’s not how these things work out.” Lapo said. “Life is unfair, things can change suddenly, and sometimes you have to take advantage of what you can get before it is too late. You have to fight for your share and earn as much as you make or take.”

“I’m not that naïve.” Jawen muttered.

“I only take a little bit to support myself and my family, give them the nicer things in life. My ventures pay off well in the end for everyone involved, and everyone is happy. You are happy, aren’t you, my dear baby girl?” He would smile at Jawen then. He would win his arguments with her by saying so much that, after awhile, even Jawen agreed with him.

Jawen had been through this type of conversation with him before. Ever since she was little, she had been told that she was her father’s baby girl, and she could depend on him to get her everything she had ever wanted. He was good at getting things from other people, sometimes selling to them at a higher rate than he was charged and sometimes buying from them at a greater quantity and lower price than he needed to sell.

Oh, sometimes it did not matter to her what her father did, so long as he did not try to interfere in the personal affairs of anyone, especially herself. For even though she did not exactly like what he was doing or saying sometimes, he only tried to provide the best for himself and his family, right? And he might have cheated the townspeople a little bit, not to mention other merchants, but that was only to be expected, only fair, when life could be cruel. He was ruthless in protecting what belonged to him and what he loved. He was her father, after all, and she loved him as well.

Jawen hesitated before opening the front door. Her father had told her and her siblings to never settle for second-best but to always keep negotiating for the best offers. That was how he got to be so successful in business. Though she was old enough now to be serious about finding a potential husband, she doubted that Basha would be a respectable-enough candidate for her father—or for herself.

Her circumstances as the merchant’s oldest daughter carried a certain amount of prestige. The townspeople did not know the full extent of her father’s indiscretions, and neither did she, but they all saw him as respectable. There were two other fledging merchant businesses that had tried to trade in or around Coe Baba, but Lapo owned the monopoly; he was the merchant prince of Coe Baba, and no one could beat him, so he was respectable. That was how society ran.

Who would ever want to leave Coe Baba, this peaceful place, when the world was such a dangerous place? Jawen thought to herself. Those that did had to be crazy. Sometimes she wanted to leave Coe Baba, in her most desperate moments, but she was so scared, so afraid of going out there, with good reason, that she was afraid that she never would.

Jawen heard a sound and turned around to see Annalise standing in the hallway, framed by the tapestries and wallpaper on either side of her as she grasped her dolly. Annalise asked, “What are you doing?” to Jawen.

“I’m just…Go back into the kitchen,” Jawen told her little sister before she opened the front door to Basha.

Excerpt from The Smiling Stallion Inn

I'm going to start posting excerpts from my first novel on here, just because...

*The Smiling Stallion Inn is currently available at these and other online retailers with ebook editions at just $0.99:

Barnes and Noble

Amazon

Smashwords

The Smiling

Stallion Inn

The Legends of Arria: Volume 1

Copyright © 2014 by Courtney Bowen

Arria, a land of rocky shores, myths and legends, mist and magic, mystery and music.

Arria, a song that is both familiar and unfamiliar to you. It bears you to the surface, and moves you to the depths of your being as the woman stands alone at the center of the stage, singing her heart out to you for one brief, yet long moment in the middle of the chaos that is the opera of life.

 

 

Part One: The Militia Tryouts

Chapter One: On the Threshold

Marry me, my dear, and I will give you

A bed of roses to sleep on. Marry me, my dear,

And I will give you the dreams we have to share.

Marry me, my dear, and you will know only happiness.

--Love song from Mirandor

 

“You could wait, you know,” Oaka said to Basha a month after Basha’s birthday. When stretched out on his back, Oaka was a tall, thin young man. Half-dressed in a linen shirt and breeches with his hands tucked underneath his tousled black head, he didn’t seem to want to move out of bed, a little lazy this morning.

“Wait for what?” Basha snapped, feeling nervous. He was already up, getting dressed in his freshest, finest clothes. A small bouquet of flowers lay on top of the armoire, just waiting for his hands to hold and carry them to Jawen. Mila be praised that there were flowers already blooming this season, although they were weak. New blossoms did not have the full strength and beauty that later flowers did.

Yet he already knew what his older brother was going to say even before Oaka brought it up. “To propose to Jawen. A few more years, you both might be ready.”

“I’m not going to wait a few more years,” Basha said, fixing up the tie around his neck and checking his reflection in the small mirror hanging inside on the door of the armoire. He sighed to himself. “And Jawen will be ready tomorrow, I know it.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Oaka remarked.

“If I wait, I might lose the chance to marry Jawen.” He turned around to face Oaka, a little fed up with his brother’s criticisms. But to save on time, so that he wouldn’t be delayed with another long argument with Oaka over Jawen, he explained, “If I wait, she might marry somebody else. What is the matter with you?”

“What?” Oaka asked. Right now his eyes seemed to be glazed over with fear and happiness, an odd combination.

“Are you nervous?” Basha asked.

“Why should I be?” Oaka asked as he stared up at the ceiling’s wood beams with a half smile, half grimace frozen on his face. “Apart from the big day tomorrow.” He fidgeted a little bit. Besides the tightness in his voice and the look in his big green eyes, he otherwise had an easy demeanor visible in his body. Oaka was always at ease, like a cat after a kill.

“You’re going to ask for Sisila tomorrow?” Basha asked, wondering if something else was amiss with Oaka.

“Yes, yes, of course I will, who else would I ask for?” Oaka asked and then inhaled sharply, sitting up in bed. “You don’t know that she will marry somebody else.”

“She is one of the most desirable girls in town.” Basha sighed and turned back to the armoire, picking out the waistcoat and slipping his arms into the armholes. “As the merchant’s oldest daughter, she’s going to have a whole slew of beaus wanting to marry her for her father’s wealth and position, most notably Hastin.”

“Who would want to marry Jawen and get Lapo for their father-in-law?” Oaka cringed. “Not even Hastin would be so desperate, I think. The man is a cheat, no matter how much wealth or power he possesses; Father said so. So who would want that?”

“Careful what you say, Oaka,” Basha said, raising a finger to his older brother as he pulled the waistcoat across his chest and started buttoning it up. “That man, who is a cheat, is also Jawen’s father, and he might be my future father-in-law if she likes me well enough to want to marry me.”

“Which is a big ‘if’ in my opinion,” Oaka muttered.

“Shut up!” Basha cried and then sighed as he realized that he wasn’t at all surprised by Oaka’s response. “Don’t you care enough about me, Oaka, to at least stop criticizing me all the time?”

“What are you talking about, Basha? I don’t criticize you all of the time,” Oaka said, grimacing and smiling at the same time.

“I don’t want your opinion if you’re not going to be helpful. Why are you so against me and Jawen?”

“Because she’s not right for you, Basha,” Oaka insisted.

“Then who is right for me?” Basha asked. “Because I don’t see a whole lot of girls lining up to pound on the door of the inn so that I can woo them and offer them…Well, what can I offer them?”

“Yourself,” Oaka said begrudgingly.

“So how much is that worth in the great big scheme of things?” He sighed and continued, “Lapo’s wealth and power don’t matter much to me, yet I can’t compete with what Lapo offers his daughter in terms of financial security. And I certainly can’t compete with what those other boys are going to offer her in terms of looks and prospects.”

He turned and solemnly appraised himself in the mirror with the waistcoat on, making a rather unimpressive figure in his own mind when compared to some of the other boys in town, like Hastin and even Oaka. He could hardly be called homely, yet he wasn’t exactly handsome. His body was of a medium build, not athletic, not fat, not too tall and not too short, but just average with some muscles in his arms and legs from working out in the fields and training to fight with a sword. He couldn’t be said to be the striking model of a hero, not like one of the ancient Knights of Arria, who had faced the evil of Doomba. He was just his self, and that was all he had, which frightened him most of all. What was he worth to Jawen? Was he enough?

Oaka hemmed and hawed a bit, as if he wanted to say something else just before Basha left to see Jawen, but Basha said, “You know it’s true, Oaka. You’re going to inherit the inn; there’s nothing else for me. You’re the oldest, and the trueborn son of our parents, and it all passes down to you by rights, whereas I, on the other hand, have no real parents, or family, to call my own. Just my mother, Kala, who died giving birth to me.” He sighed. “She left me with nothing of my own, nothing to inherit from her. I have food, family, and shelter, but that’s all because of your parents, not mine.”

“Basha, it’s not that bad!” Oaka said.

“I’m sorry, Oaka, I am, but it’s the truth, the truth as Lapo sees it, the truth as everybody else in town sees it. But we are a family, I know; we are a family by choice, not by rights,” Basha said, repeating a phrase that his adoptive mother had uttered to cheer him up the first time she had told him and many times after. “You might support me if I stay on at the inn, to work for you in the years to come, like Uncle Smidge does, but I still would not have enough money to support Jawen.”

Oaka stared at him. “I’m not going to argue with that,” he said in a half-joking way, although he didn’t really mean it.

“It wouldn’t be fair to her, I suppose, if I were to depend on charity for the rest of my life,” Basha said. “I might have a chance to support her by earning enough with other endeavors, like getting into the militia and the Border Guards, but still, it’s not like I can get an immediate response. What am I doing?” he asked, turning away from Oaka.

People walked by him every day without more than a casual glance. They knew him, though, these townspeople of Coe Baba, his friends and family; they knew him and everything about him here, or so they thought, except for what was unknown. Basha had no proof that he was not a balnor. He had only his birth mother’s word, and she was not alive to tell others of his birth father. If only she had lived and told them. If only she had not died. If only he had not been born at all. Basha felt that way sometimes.

No one knew who his real family was, whether his birth parents were rich or poor, and so his social status was unknown. He was unquantifiable in the legal sense, as no one could prove whether or not he was an orphan or a balnor. He had doubts about himself that even he could not stand, and sometimes it overwhelmed him to be faced with such predicaments. He wondered sometimes if he was missing something, if he was forgetting something. He wondered if he was lost, and if other people knew the way. Where was he going, and where were all of these other people going as well?

Basha sometimes thought that other people treated him differently, that his mother was too kind, his father too harsh, and his brother too overbearing with him because of who he was, or who they thought he was, and what had happened to him. And people outside his family treated him as a stranger to be regarded suspiciously. They just did not trust him completely.

Perhaps his birth mother had done something wrong? He did not know this for certain, but he had heard rumors. Were they true?

If only he could find an easier way of going through life, he might take it. Gods, he almost missed Monika.

Info dump on books

I should really, really update this page more often, whenever I can, and add more material. Not very good on self-promotion and updating, I suppose.

Well, for some more info on recent publications and a Q&A, here's my Smashwords profile page.

Smashwords profile

Oh, and I got back a Kirkus Indie review on my first volume in the Legends of Arria series, The Smiling Stallion Inn. Sample quote from that review: 'a prelude to the rest of the saga, setting the stage for events that will come later.'

The Smiling Stallion Inn review

And here is another Kirkus Indie review on the second volume in the Legends of Arria series, Servants and Followers. Sample quote from that review: 'An often exciting adventure about a quest for a legendary object and a group of young people who come to realize their great power and responsibility.'

Servants and Followers review

And to check out Servants and Followers for yourself--
Servants and Followers in print on Amazon
Servants and Followers on Kindle
Servants and Followers at Barnes and Noble

Smashwords and The 2008 Knights of Arria Part 1 and 2

I should say that I have tried Smashwords. It's an okay self-publishing platform, although for awhile there was some one-upping with other authors who were doing pre-release schedules, but Smashwords redesigned their website slightly so now pre-releases don't show up on their website until they are actually released. I suppose too many people were abusing the pre-release schedule to appear right on the first page of their categories and people who were releasing their books on that very day were relegated all the way back to page 5 or so, Meanwhile, readers were annoyed that they couldn't do anything more than preview the pre-release books. At least that is my interpretation about what was happening there.

I did make a mistake in thinking about splitting my books in half or in thirds and publishing the separate parts. I was thinking that shorter books might be better for e-readers, although I suppose it is a confusing system and then there are the issues with having the same cover for the different parts, and so now people have to have different covers for different parts of the same book. Yeah, that was probably too much of a hassle. I decided after awhile not to focus on Smashwords too much. Stick more with the familiar Kindle and CreateSpace platforms, publish the book in full.

However, while I am at it, I also would like to share this:

The 2008 Knights of Arria Part 1

And this as well: The 2008 Knights of Arria Part 2

I know those are two weird titles, but I'll explain the situation here. So The Smiling Stallion Inn is technically the first 50 pages of the 2008 version expanded. Like...The Smiling Stallion Inn and its upcoming sequels, tentatively titled Servants and Followers, Power Over Death, and The Tiger of Light are the 2013-2014 versions of the 2008 version of The Knights of Arria. And The 2008 Knights of Arria Part 1 basically contains the events of these first three books. (Smiling Stallion Inn, Servants and Followers, and Power Over Death) The 2008 Knights of Arria Part 2 covers The Tiger of Light, although the 2008 and 2013-2014 versions are different in their own ways.

I started writing my fantasy series in 2002 with the Knights of Arria, and then I did some sequels beyond that. Back in 2007-2008, I went back to Knights of Arria and mostly I edited it, although I did change some aspects/scenes. However, then I went back and revamped it some more, except that I added more scenes, mature elements, new characters, new characterizations of old characters and basically expanded everything so that what originally fit within 50-60 pages became 378 pages. I know it's crazy, I just felt like adding more for the 2013-2014 version.

Book published

Well, it's been awhile since I last posted. In that time, I published The Smiling Stallion Inn. Here are some links:

The Smiling Stallion Inn on Kindle

The Smiling Stallion print on Amazon

The Smiling Stallion Inn print at Barnes and Noble

Otherwise, things are going well, I suppose you can say.

Extra Material

Hello, my name is Courtney, author of the upcoming The Smiling Stallion Inn, first volume of Legends of Arria. While I was fiddling around with some work a couple of weeks ago, and waiting for an edit of my book, I decided to publish some stuff that I happened to have lying around.

First off, a short story that I had written a couple of years ago as an experiment to see whether or not I could write a science fiction short story: The Sable Valley, which is available exclusively on Kindle for a limited time. (I do intend to create some other versions using Smashwords)
The Sable Valley

And then I decided to do a Kindle version of my poetry book, 'A Song of My Heart', which has been available on PDF and book format, but I decided that now was the time to create a Kindle version of it. (Perhaps I might do a Smashwords version of this, not sure.)
A Song of My Heart

And the 2002 version of the first four Legends of Arria books, The Knights of Arria.
The 2002 Knights of Arria

Why Kindle? Well, I'm used to self-publishing through Kindle now, I might use some other self-publishers like Nook and Smashwords in the future, but for now, it's easier. And beside the Kindle version of A Song of My Heart, the other two are best suited to a digital format, as they are not fully fledged books, with The 2002 Knights of Arria as more of an extra or a bonus, exploring the origins of some of my plot ideas.

I suppose that's all for now.