I love you guys!!

*sniffle*

Sorry. I can't help it. It's just, Liz and Casey ... BOTH posting ... within two days of each other! I get so emotional sometimes ...

*grin* Nah, seriously. I'm proud of you. :-P ;)

Oh, please help....

I was looking for scholarships the other day, and I came across one called 'Writers of the Future'. If you write a short story, you could get the 1000 dollar scholarship. not bad i guess. I thought about doing it, and my parents said i should. They asked if I had any short stories already written. I hesitantly said yes. They told me to send it in.

But I can't.

Maybe it is senti ental, and silly, but I can't turn in Marian. Win or lose, money or no, I cannot. i'll try to come up with another story. The deadline is still a few weeks away. Maybe something else can work. Mariuan...Marian is precious to me. If i turn that in...it's like losing a part of my soul. Like heartlessly selling a piece of my heart. I can't do it. Not for any shcolarship. Marian is ... beautiful, to me. somehow. i can't just give her away so heartlessly. I want to publish her, and share her, perhaps, but not win a schlarship with her. It'll hurt too much.

But I can't think of another short story plot.

What should I do??

ACK!! NO!!!!

"Burn whatever pages you wish. The words are written on our hearts."

Do you know who says that? Do you know? Can you possibly guess who?? It's horrible! *points down to previous post* She does. Miriam. But NOT IN THAT STORY!!!

It shall NOT turn into a novel. I shan't, it shan't, it shan't! Because I won't let it.

However, I have discovered it has a sequel. Hang it all. I even have the stupid title already.

At least Noah will be happy.

Anyway. So that line came to me today as I drove home from school. I wrote it down - yes, while I was driving. Hehe. No accidents - I didn't really look as I wrote except for a glance now and then to make sure I wasn't scribbling over what was already there. :) (Did I ever tell you that I wrote and entire page of my '04 Nano novel in the car - in utter darkness? And that it was actually legible?)

Actually, that wasn't the only thing I scribbled. There's a whole slew of 'em, all on the back of an ancient quiz that was lying on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Perhaps not the safest thing to do - jotting down sparks of inspiration while driving - but I knew I'd lose them otherwise, and I NEEDED them.

See, today I am going to write an entire chapter of Shanlara. But it doesn't belong where I am now. If you set it out on a timeline, perhaps, it would only be about 2 chaps ahead; but it will be located towards the end of the middle third or the beginning of the last third of the book. (I'm not really sure how long this is going to end up being ...)

It's very cool, actually. See, the MC in the chapter is Oisin. (Those of you who've read Shanlara - he was one of the knights on the Council, who did a lot of the talking when Fiontan died. And if you remember when Adrian passed through Malona - that's his regency.) And I kept coming across these wonderful details; but last night I didn't quite catch them the way I wanted.

So perhaps you can understand why I wrote even though I was driving, when the words came to be in rough perfection.

"Tapestries of rich, deep colors stirred as he brushed past, shimmering as if their weave was laced with gold."

It was those tapestries that eluded me; that I could grasp through several words, but not portray clearly. Funny how little details like that matter so much, isn't it?

Then there was this:

"...Lies that were fed by malice, but sprouted from the seed of truth."

Now THAT one ... that one led to an incredible revelation that has me very excited. But I'm not telling what it was. :-P

But the chapter will be written. After I write for school. (Theses are the bane of all sentient life forms and should be banished from the face of the earth. I believe they would count as ESCTs.) And I have the quiz with me now. Think of how uplifted its life now is ... It could have lain for ages on the floor of my car, being continually stepped on and dripped on (my car leaks ... lol), until one day next fall I found it, realized it was from last year, and ... threw it away.

Now it shall serve an incredible purpose. It holds beauty, not just facts mingled with environmentalist nonsense. And it shall never be thrown away. Hey, someday it may even be collected in a museum or something ... ;)

Typed up for Dessa on Inkies, as I promised her an excerpt. But I thought I’d share it here as well. :)

“There are no knights. Chilvalry is dead. It was lost with the old order.”

Thaddeus leaned forward with a strange glint in his eye. “And what if I were to tell you that the old order was not lost?”

Miriam turned to stare at him. He watched her, a small smile forming on his lips. If his words had some meaning other than the obvious, it was one she couldn’t comprehend. But he couldn’t be serious …

“But it is,” she insisted, unsure of how to react. “It is all but forgotten.”

“Ah! But there’s where you’re wrong. It has been forgotten, so that it’s all but lost.” He chuckled quietly to himself and began filling his pipe.

Miriam was thoroughly agitated. She had a feeling he was greatly amused at her expense, and she didn’t like it. But worse was that hard as she tried, she couldn’t sense a hidden meaning to his words, let alone find what it was. It was as if he meant them as they were.

Somehow it made her feel defensive; and she spoke with more anger than intended.

“Of course they’re not forgotten! Who doesn’t remember them, and tell tales of them in the secrecy of their homes in the dark? But there hasn’t been a knight since they were outlawed by the king’s father.”

Already she’d said more than she’d intended. But he sat back, and drew on his pipe, and smiled. He was laughing at her.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you this!” she exclaimed, jumping from her seat in anger. “You where there when it all happened. The knights are gone, Thaddeus, no matter what anyone says or wants. I wish it wasn’t so, with all my heart; but it is.”

“And yet you obey _____ the moment he tacks a rag of parchment to the side of the square.”

Miriam stood perfectly still, stunned into silence. A single hot tear ran down her cheek.

“You think I’m lying,” she whispered, trying not to choke on her words. “That what I say about ____, about what I want, isn’t true. That I may even betray you to the Guards. Is that what you meant?” She blinked hard and quickly wiped the corners of her eyes. Her anger drained away, robbing her of her strength. “You could have said so. It would have been better than the lies about knighthood … it would have hurt less.”

She turned to him, but couldn’t clearly see his face through her own tears. “I have no knight to help me. And if I haven’t even you … then there’s no one. But you’re wrong; and maybe you’ll believe me after this is over.”

Miriam turned and half-stumbled to the door, fumbling blindly for the latch; but she was stopped by a hand on her arm. She faced Thaddeus, who was peering intently at her face.

“I’m sorry, Miriam. I don’t think you’re lying – I trust you.”

She stared back at him. He was no longer laughing. “But why …”

“The question is,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken: “Do you really trust me?”

She hesitated, unable to sort through her own thoughts. Was that all it had been then? A test?

“Yes.”

“Very well then.” The old man reached for the oversized cloak that hung on a hook near the door. “We must waste no time. You should have come to me sooner, but that cannot be helped now.”

As he spoke he hurried about the small room, gathering a few things into a bag which he hug beneath his arm, throwing his cloak about his shoulders, and grabbing a thick staff that leaned in a dusty corner beyond the lamplight. Miriam watched him in silence, puzzling slightly ober the last item. She began to reach for her own cloak; but then something was thrust into her arms.

“It is a warm night; but wear this. Yours won’t do.”

It was a soft cloak, much thicker than her own, that could have passed for a man’s or a woman’s. It was a bit large for her, but she wrapped herslef in it as Thaddeus laid his hand on the latch.

“There is only one way to save you from this,” he said suddenly. “Only one path to take that doesn’t end in hopelessness – but it leads into more danger than you’re in now.” He turned to look at her. “Do you still want my help?”

Miriam felt a thrill run down her spine as she met his eyes. His words and actions alike were a mystery to her; but she sensed adventure close at hand, as if the days of the old stories were alive. To step out the door was to step into their world. She could believe almost anything – what lay ahead she couldn’t imagine.

“Yes.”

Thaddeus smiled and turned the latch. The two stepped outside into the night, leaving the lamp burning behind them.

Damsel In Distress

And I am. There is something that has been distressing me for a long time, something that I have been thinking about alot lately; something that I talked to Rose about over the phone. I have finally decided to say something, but before I had really hesitated.

It concerns Inkspillers.

Recently, the number of members has exploded. One would think that this is good....and so it could be, and should be....but in a way, it is bad. Why?

Because we, the founding members, are forgetting why Inkspillers was ever made; why Mara ever first created the site. As we all know, Inkspillers is a place for Christian writers to come home to. But not just any Christian writers. Specifically (as I have always been led to believe) NOVELISTS. Yes; specifically novelist/poets. And yet it seems that every new member does NOT write. When we say 'write', we do NOT mean school papers; everyone does that. We do not mean journalists, or anyone who writes for a school newspaper or any other paper. We not mean someone who intends to write....someday. We do not mean those who wrote the beginning of a novel 12 years ago, but who don't intend to again.

My fellow writers, we seem to have forgotten all this. All of it. Some of the newer members have even invited their friends to join Inkspillers without Mara's permission first.....and yet, although these friends are Christians, they do not write, at least as far as I have seen with many of them. So population booms in a writer's village......where half the people are not even novelists/poets. And yet once these people are invited, it would be quite rude to deny them admittance.

I do not mean to kill everyone's fun. But I am concerned. The posts in the Chit-Chat section overflow, but the writing threads are either ghost towns, or only visited every so often.

Inkspillers is a special, tight-knit, fun place to be in. One could see why others want to join, even if they never have a pen in hand, or keyboard before them that is about to have its very keys create a world that moves and breathes in the mind of its creator. But Fellow Quill-bearers, there are many other forums where these good people can go, forums that are for everyone, and not just writers.

Now that I have had my say....what are your opinions, Mara's particularly? I would really like to know.

I think it is time we take some form of action, anyway....sadly, it would seem, perhaps we need to create a list of qualifications that need to be met in order to join Inkspillers. And perhaps the newer members, aka, those who were not part of the old Inkies, should be asked to go to Mara before inviting a friend.

So there are my present distresses. I have laid them before you.

Joseph has joined!!

Just in case ya'll we wondering. :D