Coffeesupremo 5:11 pm
heyaa!

FrozenSince1984 5:12 pm
Who is this?  o_o

Coffeesupremo 5:12 pm
hope you wanna chat with a horny girl today !

FrozenSince1984 5:12 pm
zomg, ur a bot.

Coffeesupremo 5:12 pm
Ok, now you really lost me?? bot???

FrozenSince1984 5:13 pm
You aren’t a real person.
B/c real people don’t randomly message others wanting cyber sex.

Coffeesupremo 5:13 pm
what’s up though qt? how’s your day..
    i’m 24

FrozenSince1984 5:13 pm
I don’t want e-herpes. Sorry.

Coffeesupremo 5:13 pm
im good.. hey can i ask you a question.. Do you like fat asses or big tits? lol ;x

FrozenSince1984 5:14 pm
Well, if I had to choose, I’d say I’m more fond of bewbs. Unfortunately, I’m not a lesbian.
I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.

Coffeesupremo 5:15 pm
well im told i have a lot of both.. wanna see then i can get your opinion  

FrozenSince1984 5:15 pm
No, I’m not into 001001100 pr0n.

Coffeesupremo 5:15 pm
  ok let me load my HD webcam..

FrozenSince1984 5:15 pm
No, really. I’m not into having cyber coitus with a robot.

Coffeesupremo 5:16 pm
Ok, now you really lost me?? bot???

FrozenSince1984 5:17 pm
I think I’ll have to block you now that you’re just repeating yourself. Good luck getting Skynet up and going, btw. I’m sure even Terminators need a little lovin’.

Coffeesupremo 5:17 pm

In the simplest definition, a motte-and-bailey was a highly important medieval fortification made up of two structures. A motte was an earthen mound, which was sometimes artificial, that was topped with a wooden or stone keep. A bailey was a type of enclosed courtyard that was built next to the motte.

Mottes were raised earthworks that were flattened on top, and these had a tendency to vary considerably in size (mostly depending on how much wealth and forced labor the lord had at hand). The motte had very steep sides, and usually had a protective ditch dug around it from the process of digging up earth to create the mound. On top of the motte would be built the keep, and if the medieval folks decided to go the extra mile they would even build a wall around the keep on top of this ridiculously steep miniature mountain. As you can imagine, this was not an easy structure to lay siege to. The keep served as a look-out point, an elevated and well-defended fighting point, as well as the home for the lord of the town. The keep itself could sometimes be as tall as three stories. The ground or first floor would consist of the kitchens and storeroom, the second floor would sometimes serve as the great hall, and the third would then be the lord’s apartments.

The bailey was an enclosure overlooked by the motte, and was surrounded by a palisade and maybe even another ditch which would connect to the ditch around the motte to sometimes create a figure-eight. Oftentimes the bailey was built upon a much shorter raised mound, and the only entrance was through a wooden gate that generally had guardhouses built to either side of the gate itself. The bailey was the center of the town’s activity, and would often contain many of the more important inner workings such as a chapel, barracks, forges, stables, and buildings for storing food, weapons and equipment.

The motte-and-bailey were linked to each other either by use of a wooden flying bridge that would stretch between the two, or by steps being cut into the side of the motte that would lead down into the bailey. If a motte-and-bailey were built near a water source it would be diverted to fill the ditches that surrounded both the motte and the bailey, thus creating a water-filled moat. Many motte-and-bailey castles were covered in white plaster to further fortify them, as well as give the appearance of being made of stone. Just so you know, stone structures -aside from being difficult to assail and damage – were also a very important symbol of wealth and high-standing.

Thus wraps up this week’s Medieval Monday. Below are a few pictures of the variations that came in the motte-and-bailey design.

Motte-and-bailey with steps.

Motte-and-bailey with a flying bridge.

Motte-and-bailey with multiple baileys.

After taming a miniature invisible vampire, Jami Gold moved to Arizona and decided to become a writer, where she could put her talent for making up stuff to good use.  Fortunately, her muse, an arrogant male who delights in causing her to sound as insane as possible, rewards her with unique and rich story ideas.  Fueled by chocolate, she writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy tales that range from dark to humorous, but one thing remains the same:  Normal need not apply.  Just ask her family—and zombie cat.

Find Jami at her blog, Twitter, Google+, Facebook, and Goodreads. No, seriously. Go find her now. *thwacks a switch threateningly into her palm*

✖ Hello, Mrs. Gold! Could you tell us a bit about yourself? What’s the quirkiest thing about you?

*laugh*  Please, call me Jami.  Hmm, I suspect everything about me is quirky, so I don’t know how to choose just one.  Then again, we often don’t have a clear sense of how weird we are compared to everyone else when our family and friends match our weirdness.

For example, I share my sense of humor with my family, so it feels normal to me.  If you’re familiar with the “Family Circus” comic in newspapers, you know they imagine invisible people running around their house as “Not Me” and “Nobody,” and these poor creatures are blamed for anything the kids do wrong.  (“Who spilled the juice?”  “Not me!”)  In my house, which is filled with paranormal/supernatural/fantasy buffs, a miniature invisible vampire takes the blame for everything, from misplaced keys to klutz-induced scratches.  Now that I think about it, we should name him.  Any suggestions?

✖ Was there a defining moment that led to your wanting to be a fictional writer? Was there a defining moment where you nearly decided “to hell with it” and almost quit writing?

I’ve written on my blog how JK Rowling and the Harry Potter books inspired me to write a fan-fiction novel.  What I didn’t mention was why that was such a big deal to me.  The further we get from school/college, the more our brain can stagnate.  I don’t know about anyone else, but I felt stupider every year.  The process of writing, twisting words and sentences to make them go the right way, erased all that mind rot for me.  I knew then that I’d always want to write, and I’ve never been tempted to quit.

✖ Could you give us a brief synopsis on your two novels you’re shopping: THE RESURRECTED and THE TREASURE OF A DRAGON’S HEART?

In THE RESURRECTED, a stay-at-home mom is dragged into the middle of coup d’état between immortals.  Her resemblance to the current leader’s lost love makes her the perfect weapon for the traitor’s attempt to gain control.  Before she can go home to her family, she has to stop the rival’s plans, but it won’t be easy.  Especially when she dies—twice.

In THE TREASURE OF A DRAGON’S HEART, which is set in modern day, the heroine must steal, er, “acquire” more treasure before she’ll be powerful enough to shape-shift into a dragon.  When a human man catches her in the act and detects her real identity, she suspects the worst, he’s a knight—and he knows how to kill her.  After he gives her a choice, she has to decide if she’ll change her ways, even if that means remaining vulnerable to her murderous father.

✖ What inspired these two stories, and more importantly, about how many steamy scenes are there between the main characters? I confess, I’m most interested in some hot lovin’ between a dragon and a knight.

THE RESURRECTED started as “why would someone do that?” when I dreamed about the scene that is now the turning point at the end of Act One.  THE TREASURE OF A DRAGON’S HEART started as a “what if” story when I knew I wanted to write about a female dragon character.  They both grew from there until I now have a hard time remembering where they started.

I’m afraid to say there aren’t any steamy scenes in THE RESURRECTED.  There will be some later in the series, just not yet.  However, there are quite a few scenes in THE TREASURE OF A DRAGON’S HEART.  If the hero had his way, there would be a steamy scene every chapter.  *snicker*

✖ How do you manage to continually come up with blog posts filled with great writing advice? More importantly, which color do you most liken writing to: red or blue? Why?

I’m able to come up with blog topics because I haven’t kicked my muse out of my head yet.  He pays his rent by keeping me in ideas.  We’re a good team.

Blue.  Don’t ask me why, it’s just my favorite color.  *smile*  Okay, I’ll fake an answer relating it to writing.  When I write, even when I feel like tearing my hair out, the experience is more psychologically torturous than physically violent.  Red seems more physical, and therefore, blue must be psychological.  *receives a high five from my muse for making up that on the spot*

Keeping all this in mind, I am equally obsessed with making character sheets for my characters. I wanted a way to ensure I knew every tiny detail about the important people, and when I needed to go back and remember what eye color that one guy back in chapter three had, well wouldn’t you know, there’s a handy-dandy sheet with his information on it. It was also important to make sure all this was easily contained on one page, because I wanted to be able to alphabetize the characters by name in the three-ring binder notebook I have that contains all information for ELVEN SOUL (which has been printed off from my laptop, so really the notebook is a back-up).

This got me to thinking. Do you other writerly folks enjoy making character sheets for your characters? What about your locations? Here’s a PDF of the character sheet I’ve put together. I specialize in high fantasy, so this particular character sheet may not be as useful to someone that, say, writes contemporary romance (unless your characters tend to carry around weapons and worship strange gods). Feel free to print it off and use it yourself though, as well as share your own if you have any!

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Auralessa wasted no time chasing after her brother once the king and queen departed. Her voice echoed down the wide hallway. Its floor and walls were painted in a rainbow of colors from the sunlight that spilled through the high-set stained glass windows. Much of their kingdom’s history was depicted in the artwork of the stained glass, and it was due to this that the hallway had long been known by the name Time’s Passage.

Her twin stopped in the center of the hallway, but kept his back to her. His posture was stiff, and as she approached she could see him clench and unclench his hands. She stopped just a few feet behind him.

“Why did you make it a point for me to win?” Vangelis’ voice was strained, as if at any moment it might break. “Do you think so little of me?”

“I was trying to help.”

“You failed!” Auralessa flinched, resisting the urge to cover her ears as Vangelis’ wrath reverberated around her. “All you succeeded at doing was proving to Father that the only way I shall ever become a man is if others concede to me.”

Auralessa reached out to place a comforting hand on Vangelis’ shoulder.

“Don’t.”

The bitterness in his voice stopped her, and her hand hovered over his shoulder for a brief moment before she slowly pulled back and clutched it to her chest.

“Have you not been listening to me? I don’t need you constantly coddling me. When will you learn to let well enough alone?”

She bowed her head. Blond ringlets of hair still damp with sweat from their sparring session framed her heart-shaped face. A troubled frown creased her forehead. “You are my twin. What hurts you, hurts me. I want only to help show others the worth I see in you.”

“Innocent, sweet Auralessa.” Scorn laced his words. “Have you not heard the whisperings of the nobles? They do not support me as king. They say I am too weak. They would break away from ancient tradition to place you upon the throne as their queen.”

“I have heard the rumors.” She shifted uncomfortably. The many other reasons the nobles had to dislike her brother flitted through her mind. “It means little though. You are the only male heir, and by law you are to inherit the throne.”

“The people do not want me.” His head drooped, and his voice was soft and resigned.

“The people do not know what they want. You are a worthy king for our realm. With the Saulaeshins to the south, we need a ruler that is clever and knows when to take risks. You have these qualities, Vangelis.”

Vangelis’ shoulders sagged, and he let out a weary sigh as he ran a hand through his black hair. He at last turned to face her, and Auralessa resisted the need to pull her brother into a hug. There were lines at the edges of his eyes, and dark circles beneath them. His face was far more pallid than she could remember ever seeing it, and his cheeks had a sunken look about them. She could only guess at the many troubles that burdened his thoughts.

“Auralessa, I–”

Vangelis broke off midsentence at the sound of approaching footsteps. A soldier dressed in the plate mail and flowing blue cape of the royal guard turned the corner of the hall, and jogged up to them, his armor clanking loudly. He halted before them and stood stiff, much of his face obscured by the barbute that he wore. Auralessa had always thought it made their soldiers seem fiercer when only their eyes and mouth could be seen from within the Y-shaped opening of the war helmet.

“The king requests your presence in the throne room immediately.” The soldier made it a point to look at each of them in turn. “Both of you.”

Servants rushed in and out of the large dining hall, continually bringing in heaping platters of food that smelled of roasted meats and baluster jugs overflowing with spiced apple wine. Her father sat at the head of the table, his jovial laugh bouncing his white-blonde hair and echoing in the narrow hall.

“I know I have already said it, but I am gladdened to have my daughter back!” He took an overly long swig from his bejeweled goblet of wine, and then wiped his lips dry with the back of his hand. Her mother sat to her father’s left, and her lips puckering into a sour frown was the only sign she gave of her disapproval. “The instructors at the war academy tell me you were an exceptional student, Auralessa.”

“I learned much, Father. I also have more respect for our knights.” She took a far daintier sip of wine compared to the king, before continuing in a humble voice. “I had never imagined their armor to be so heavy.”

“Vangelis has been practicing daily with the knights.” Her mother’s face lit with pride as she looked at Auralessa’s twin brother, but her voice turned scornful when her gaze slid over her in turn. “His skills with the sword have doubled in your daughter’s absence.”

“Is that so? Well! Perhaps we should see how much both of our children have improved by having a friendly match between them down in the training yard!”

Auralessa’s brother shifted uncomfortably beside her, his face paler than normal. She bowed her head, and kept her blue gaze pinned on her lap where she had folded her fidgeting hands. Her mother spluttered, but seemed unable to form a coherent retort.

“Then it’s settled!” A cheery smile spread on the king’s rosy-cheeked face.

* ~ *~ *

Auralessa stood across from Vangelis, her body turned at a slight angle with her right foot leading. They both bore wooden practice swords, and Auralessa could already feel sweat beading on the back of her neck. The sweltering heat of the midsummer day did not mix well with the leather armor padding they both wore.

“Begin!”

The king’s voice came from the balcony that overlooked the dirt training yard, and it acted like a battle trumpet. Auralessa launched into an aggressive onslaught against her brother. She swung the wooden sword at his left side, and the dull clack of wood meeting wood resounded through the yard as Vangelis met her attack. He threw her sword back and heaved upward, but before the tip could clip her chin she parried it aside and countered with a thrust to his gut.

Vangelis knocked her blow low and to the right, and followed through with a spinning attack that brought his sword down toward her right shoulder. Auralessa dodged the blow with ease, and then brought her sword up in time for it to clash against Vangelis’ as he swung again.

The two’s swords remained locked together as both strained against the other in a test of greater strength and endurance. Vangelis’ sword ground a fraction lower as she pressed in harder, and with that added bit of leverage she surged forward and drove his sword out to the side. In the same motion Auralessa stepped in and bashed the pommel of her sword against his face. He let out a cry and stumbled back, blood flowing from his broken nose.

Auralessa paused, taking in her brother’s sweat-drenched face and the heavy droop to his shoulders. Her gaze strayed up toward the balcony, where both the queen and the king watched. They looked on expectantly, a frown on their father’s face and a scowl on their mother’s.

She clenched her jaw and turned her attention back to Vangelis, who still held his broken nose. He had the posture of a man that had already accepted defeat. She stalked toward him with resolute steps. She knew what had to be done now.

Vangelis almost noticed her too late, and only barely managed to duck below her swing that could have removed his head had it been a steel sword. He stumbled to her left side, and she pressed in tight, managing to whack him hard on the arm with the flat side of the sword. He yelped, but something also sparked to life in his eyes. Auralessa suppressed a smile.

He stabbed at her gut, and she jumped back to narrowly avoid the attack. Auralessa soon found herself on the defense. When Vangelis left himself open for attack she ignored it, and when he made a particularly good jab at her she forced herself to dodge or block just a little too slowly.

Vangelis grew fierce in his attack, his teeth gritted together in a disturbing grimace. Auralessa became heartened at the spirit he was finally showing for the fight, and when he slashed down toward her right shoulder, she made a feeble attempt to dodge but took the brunt of the blow. She was now legally dead as per the rules of their match.

She saw her mother start to proudly clap when a puff of dust erupted at her feet. Vangelis’ sword lay on the ground before her. She looked questioningly at her brother. His tanned face was contorted with rage, and it was then that she realized he had grown brutal in his attack because he had known she was letting him win. He spat on the ground and then spun on his heel, stalking out of the training yard.

“You dishonor your brother, Auralessa.”

Auralessa glanced up to her father on the balcony, and rubbed at the shoulder that was now sore from being whacked by the heavy wooden sword.

“Father?”

There was a sad smile on the king’s face.

“You should stay true to yourself. Vangelis will never become a man worthy of the throne if you are always catering to him.”

“Husband, surely you are mistaken. Vangelis has proven himself to be a worthy swordsman!”

“You see what you wish because you are a fool.” The words were delivered cold and flat, and even after the king turned and left, they seemed to swell, filling the silence with their venom.

Her mother peered over the balcony at her, her hands gripping the bannister tight enough that even from below Auralessa could see that her knuckles had turned white. Her lips twitched into a sneer, and then the queen too turned and left, leaving Auralessa alone.

Updated 8/15/11: I decided to switch back to WordPress because Weebly is seriously lacking in certain areas.

There are many good reasons for a writer to maintain a blog. A fact which I have attempted to demonstrate in this finely crafted mathematical equation¹. Whether a person has decided to blog for their own personal expression, to share ideas and/or knowledge, or to advertise a thing or themselves², this equation is generally followed to some extent.

Occasionally it can be hard to find your own voice in a blog, especially if you are not intending to strictly utilize it as your own personal diary. Jody Hedlund does a wonderful job on talking about Maintaining a Professional Blog, which in part inspired this post. My own lackadaisical attempt at a previous blog also led to this very post³. It can be easy to get too focused on trying to appear professional, which can easily lead to the misrepresentation of yourself.

Web presence is a very good reason to start a blog. Writers stand a chance to benefit more from a blog now that a large majority of the population has access to the internet in some form or another. Writers can now more easily connect with their base of readers, as well as personally promote present or future works.

It can be said that a certain element of professionalism is vital for those who are attempting to garner a positive web presence. As mentioned by Mrs. Hedlund herself, it’s been known to happen⁴ where an interested agent scoped out the writer’s blog. Now how would you feel if you found out an agent passed you over because you had yaoi⁵ posted all over the place?

In the end, though, this all must be tempered with a dollop⁶ of your own personality. Readers only have so much attention to spare, which is why some of the most successful blogs have managed to balance their posts with both presence, professionalism, and personality. They deliver interesting pieces on the subject they focus on, while at the same time remaining human to the reader.

As always, much of this depends on the type of audience the blogger is attempting to attract, as well as how much time they have to devote to posting articles on their blog. However, the equation does still stand, and can at least serve as a “base” to build from.

¹ Actually I’m horrible at mathematics, so it may not be all that “fine”.
² No, I’m not talking about prostitutes looking for clients, though sometimes you may feel like one with all the jockeying for attention you have to do.
³ By the way, if you used to follow this blog: yeah, I deleted all the old political posts and renovated its appearance.
⁴ However once in a blue moon that occurrence may be.
⁵ I personally prefer bishōnen. Mmm.
⁶ I hope I don’t get sued. I’m pretty sure Daisy has the word “dollop” trademarked by now.

Anyway, that’s it. Be prepared for this blog to eventually be abandoned for Seussian Logic.

While it is true that the entire point behind the event is to ignore the inner editor and just accomplish the feat of producing a first draft novel (in some cases a glorified outline perhaps), falling prey to intentionally utilizing purple prose would only be detrimental to the story itself. It is at that point that the story begins to take a step backward rather than forward; when you move further away from a polished vision and toward a clumping of overly imaginative adjectives whose only cohesion lies in the fact that they all consist of more than four syllables.

There is a fine line between colorful description and purple prose, and that fine line is the distinction between smooth reading and a jungle of verbs and adjectives that the reader must machete their way through. Purple prose turns a streamlined verse into an overly extravagant puzzle that draws attention to itself rather than the story at hand.

This rush of exuberant writing may not exactly shine like gold come the end of November, but referencing a thesaurus for the most archaic synonym available for every noun, verb, and adjective will only stilt one’s growth as a writer. There is a certain majesty that can be found in simplicity at times, so let us all keep that in mind when becoming desperate to force our novels to pack on a few extra pounds as the deadline approaches.

Listen to Smokey the Bear. Only you can prevent purple prose.