This is how the first ranging of the hero, CuRuada, came to be.  After CuRuada and several of the Boy’s Troop of the Red Branch warriors took up their arms, these were exhibiting their skill at arms before the hosting of the Red Branch and before the king, Concubar.  The Boy’s Troop lads were all sons of the Red Branch warriors for none was admitted to the Boy’s Troop unless he was a son of one of the Red Branch knights.  Indeed this was true of everyone, proud fathers looked on as their sons showed their prowess, and none was so proud as Concubar, for though he was not married, CuRuada was indeed his son, though secretly to most, by the faerie woman, Fand.

These lads were in very high spirits, and with their martial display they were a danger to themselves and to others.  Perceiving the potential for disaster, Fergus, who was the commander and main instructor in arms of the Boy’s Troop, advised the king to send CuRuada and the rest out on a ranging where their high spirits would do no harm and likely some good.  This seemed wise to the King, for though a king is the leader of his warriors, he is established and maintained by the peace and prosperity that he brings for his people.

Now the King, Concubar, had a great shield that would roar when the king was in danger, and too Concubar could wield it so that its roaring could gain the attention of warriors even in the noise of combat.  So Concubar took his great shield and made the roaring that brought the king to the attention of the lads and brought them immediately to heal, even the hound, CuRuada.

When they were all gathered, the King, Concubar said, “Welcome all you new warriors to the knights of the Red Branch, and you have arrived at a fortunate time for Ulster.  You may all have heard the words of our chief druid, Cathbad.  Though harvests are plentiful, though calving will bring wealth, there may be war too, in fact we know that one almost always brings the other from jealous neighbors.  For this reason we must be vigilant and we must expect danger from places where we do not expect it, and threat where there has never been before.  So my lads, it is important that we send you, young heroes, on an urgent quest to range our borders to the North and the West where we do not expect trouble and, having seen to their security, return to report their condition.”

So saying the king gave their war-like, rambunctious, pugilistic, contentious, battle anxiousness a direction where he thought it would do no damage, for in the West of Ulster were the great mountains of the West and true, there were hill men there in the foothills below, but none below the White Dash, the violent stream of water that fell rapidly from the foothills. 

To the North the King had still more confidence, for there beyond the ridge that later fell down to the great lake of the north, was no neighbor at all save the deer.  Perhaps too might be the folk of Fand the faerie woman, but who knew if they even inhabited the same world as Concubar and his Gaels, for Fand seemed born of the mist where he found her and to which she later returned after their trysting.

So, while the other fathers were advising their sons on what the proper manner of a warrior on a ranging should be, Concubar took under his arm, Son, named by his mother, Fand, and sent to Concubar, and known by all as CuRuada, the Hound of Ulster.  Concubar gave some martial advice and he advised CuRuada to go West from Emain Macha and to the White Dash but no further.  Then, said the King, turn along that stream and go northward to the ridge above the forest that falls to the great inland sea, but no further, said he.  Then go you and your mates along that ridge’s base, and not the heights, until you come to the forester’s road, and so by that way back to Emain Macha.  This do you, for yours will be the command and when you return we will all go a’hunting in the South. 

This then was good to CuRuada’s hearing because, having taken up his arms, his would be the command of the expedition.  Then too, he was not unaware that South along the way was the Ford across the Red Branch river where lived Emer.  This too seemed very good to him as he meant to have her as his wife. 

Thus CuRuada began his border ranging, but he did not know that Concubar had met with Wil McCullen, Emer’s father, and they had spoken of a marriage and made sureties.  For this reason Concubar meant for this hunting trip to lead to a feast at that same hostelry where Concubar would see his bride to be, the daughter of McCullen, Emer, who CuRuada loved.

In the first section of this story, we are introduced to Ulster (in this world, Tir na Nua, a young country in the North and West by the Western mountains), the king, Concubar, and of course, CuRuada and Emer.  This post begins the heroic deeds of CuRuada and what leads, finally, to tragedy.

I’m finding it hard to find the time to write.  I believe I mentioned before that my hours have changed from the optimal late night schedule with easy access to the Internet to this less helpful one.  Worse, while once I was left alone at the end of the night recently I’ve had company.  I believe when I mentioned this, I suggested that I might need to figure out how to work at home.  I regret to inform you, dear reader, that to this point I havehad no success in that endeavor.

Then too, I’m running up against the realization that I should put some effort into taking the raw ideas I have put out on these pages and posts and refine some of them.  I’ve spent time on organization here at L. Stephen O’Neill dot com, but I haven’t begun to polish.  I’m sure there are many other projects I could work on too, many that I haven’t even thought of, though there are many that I have and then realized that, though valuable, they were not top priorities.

So, what to do?  I believe that I am going to put my effort into two main areas that will lead to a third.  First, I am doing research that I hope will lead to more “Celtic Fiction.”  That is my original and most treasured goal.  Priority-wise, that is what I most want to present.  A reason that it hasn’t been most of what I have presented is really that it IS what I value the most and I don’t want to screw it up. 

So, to address the glaring lack of things Celtic in my fictional offerings, I began a novel that is going to present a group of people I want to resemble Irish Monastics with a little fictional leavening and of course their setting in the world of Tir na Nua.  I think the Abbott and the Djinn project will continue.  I need to put more effort into that project making it the first of the two priorities.

Truth to tell, its ponderous pace led me to realize that I need to present something good.  I mean, you can look at the Abbott and the Djinn, but with the exception of a few passages that I’m proud of I don’t think it is very good.  (not yet anyway)

I have promised Free Celtic Fiction.  It’s what I want to do.  So I think that the second thing leading to the third is to come up with more that can be directly called Celtic in outlook, presentation, topic, and flavor.  Along with continuing the Abbott and the Djinn I see this as a top priority.  That would make it the second priority which I hope will lead to the third.

When I’m able to produce some of this “Celtic Fiction” (in outlook, presentation, topic, and flavor) I will need to begin to polish.  Hopefully it won’t take a long long time.  Perhaps Child of Moss will serve, it certainly needs polishing.  Let me know if you have some ideas.  Producing more polished work, stories I can stop claiming I’ve put out raw and unedited, will be that third key priority.

But the problem still remains.  I have little to no time, so I very much need to prioritize and capitalize on the little that I have.

At least that’s how it seems from here.

LSO

Note: I’ve been sitting in a common area at work where I’ve had two co-workers jabber away about their weekends making it impossible for me to get anything done.  One of them is so irritating I am imagining a horror genre story involving the offender at least at the beginning of the story all in livid detail.<sigh> Such is life.

The monks were chanting morning offices and had not yet set out for work so that Smoke, Iamerge he had to remind himself, was free to grab a few bites off of the table in the guest house and head for town.

The yellow sun was tinting the thin veil of clouds in morning colors and the air was fresh and clean as he walked out from the beehives and stacked stone oratories.  Iamerge whistled as he walked toward docks and people and noise of the little port.  He was penniless and in borrowed clothes, but he had planned for nearly this condition though loosing his boat and the things he had aboard was a blow.

Still, he was alive, despite the odds.  He had made a friend, he felt, that would reward him personally and perhaps with the sort of information that had helped him in the past when it had become necessary to shed a life, like a snake sheds his skin, and begin anew.

“Iamerge,” He tasted the new name in his mind and laughed, “odd how chance brings about a path, like this one.  Iamerge.  Iamerge.  Iamerge the Merchant?  Maybe.  Iamerge the scribe?  Iamerge dressed like a monk today.” he thought. 

“I am Iamerge” and saying it made it so.

Iamerge’s beginnings, it appeared as he approached the small port, would be humble.  He had grown up in the stinking narrow streets of a port city, perhaps the largest in the world.  This was far from that in more ways than one on the face of it.

There were a few boats drawn up to the quay.  None of them looked like a trader to Iamerge.  Fishing seemed the mainstay of the harbor though the quay was a little larger than what fishing boats would need.  There were a few large buildings near the stone and wooden artificial spit that reached out into the calm waters. 

As Iamerge approached the town, nodding to the occasional farmer on his way out to his fields, he saw that the fishing fleet mostly used the beach and not the quay at all.  The town ran along the beach so that from the end as Iamerge had approached it had looked much smaller than it truly was.  Much of the town was hidden behind the large quayside warehouses.  The farmers he was passing turned out to be from a community, of sorts, before the town proper, a small attached farm village.

He was somewhat surprised by the lack of interest in a stranger, as he passed, until an old woman heading for the well bid him, “Good morn’ brother,” and he remembered he was dressed in the borrowed habit. Beyond the well there was a low palisade of logs atop a slight bank.  The gates were actually movable parts of the wall rather than true working gates with hinges and bolts.  It looked to Iamerge that they were never closed and stood wide as he walked through into the town.

The yellow sun was a good hour passed dawn and the town, as towns tended to be, was behind the farm village, but was beginning to shake itself from slumber.  Immediately within the gate was a larger than normal house that Iamerge guessed was an inn.  Likely it was cheap and shoddy, relying on its position not its service.  Then too it was away from the quay, which he expected would, anchor a trade district or market square along with the warehouses.  Traders and the moneyed would look for lodging there.  Iamerge walked on.

The screams of the sea birds were the only things that Smoke could point to as disquieting, a break to the peace of the day.  Smoke and Gospels sat high on the island above the place, Gospels had explained, where the boat from the abbey would put in. 

Smoke was excited to be off the little pinnacle of rock, a hungry prison in all but company.  He sat with his new friend Gospels and hid his excitement in deference to his friend’s discomfort at facing his brethren.  It would be awkward in a way that he knew something about, other people’s expectations.

And yet, as much as he would like to be appropriately somber for his friend, he was delighted with the day, freshening wind, wind whipped cloud torn to reveal bright sunshine, a day to sail, a day to delight a man like he had always been.  Smoke inhaled the salt freshness of it, “Oh Gospels, this is a day to be on the water.”

Gospels sighed, “God is good.”

Smoke chuckled at his friend’s inscrutability.  Was the sigh impatience, discouragement, awe, sarcasm, praise?  Smoke didn’t know, but he was happy and couldn’t keep it to himself. “You know the worst part of my youth was existing in a stinking port city knowing all the while that I was born for the sea.”

“hmm, I too was raised in a city by the sea.  I rather liked the scent of it though.”

“Oh yes, a Northern port city no doubt.  I did not mean to insult.  And too, it may have been the parts of the city I frequented that stank, not the city itself.”

Gospels laughed, “I’m sorry.  I was just. . .    . . .my mind was elsewhere.”

Smoke let things lay.  His new friend was used to solitude, not just as a hermit, but in his life before he took to his coracle.  Smoke was brimming with questions and conversation, yet he knew that he would get no pearls from the oyster.  Well, that might not be a good analogy. 

It was exciting to think that these monks were literate.  His pattern had often been to seek knowledge when he gave up on a life, cut ties to business and family, and lost himself.  Perhaps this time, more than others, he felt the need to know.  He had been so near to knowing nothing ever again.  Nothing like a good death to bring back the zest for life.  So he would build a new life, and for this one as for all his others, he would seek knowledge, he would plan, and then he would live.

He inhaled the salt freshness,  “I’ve been to your city, I didn’t know there was an abbey.  I might have visited your library if I’d known.”

“The abbey had been half a century before the Navigators even came.  Six monks in a coracle ran aground in the bay and that full two hundreds of years agone.”

“I thought you said you were a Navigator.”

“I was of that people.  But I’m not quite that old.” Gospels laughed again.  He seemed a bit more merry, as if his mind had come to some resolve or comfort as they sat there in the sun. “The abbey came before the Navigators, but I, a Navigator, came to the abbey in a boat.”

Greetings!

This page is where I’m assembling links to posts and any other item that goes into the writing of the first draft of my online novel, “The Abbott and the Djinn.”  I was planning to get it done before my birthday, but I am failing to do so. It occurs to me that I have a birthday in 2011 as well. Hmmmmm.  (And also 2012.)

This is a true rough draft.  I have only 15 or 30 minutes to write at a time.  I glance at the previous section and then just write.  You can argue about my process, please do, but for now and to get words on the page I think it is the best. (advise solicited and desired) 

Too long I’ve wanted things to be perfect before proceeding and so I hardly begin.  Well, the Abbott and the Djinn is begun.

Below you will find dated notes on my progress and afterward a partial outline linked to what I’ve roughed out so far.  At the bottom you can look at older notes.

August 15, 2011, Today is a long time from when last I posted an update to this page.  I have added a few posts, but not many and I think what I’ve done is not so good.  I need for Iamerge to speak to Rhaury about the stake he hopes to get from him, the investment he left with Rhaury’s father Roderick UiBirlinn.  I need to give Rhaury time to send everything out of Bellton so that Iamerge will feel he has to remain with the the monks and Gospels.  I don’t like what I’ve written, but this is supposed to be rough.  I fear my frustrated perfectionism has driven me away from this work.  I need to get back to it and hurry.

14 Dec 2010 – Beginning Chapter 8.  This is what I had anticipated doing awhile ago, but the trouble with the Gobli (oops, don’t tell anyone) intervened.  Here then is yet another character, Conal McKendrik, who will continue with Iamerge for awhile.

30 Nov 2010 – Iamerge and Conal on their way back.

26 Oct 2010 Decided to wrap up this installment and get it out. 

15 Oct 2010 – I’m well into a chapter seven that I hadn’t planned on writing at all.  In it I have introduced a character and I’ve also imagined where he might be employed in later chapters.  I fear that I’ve engaged in some sloppy writing.  I have one portion (7.2)where I switch point of view back and forth between Iamerge and Conal, the new character.  You may recall that I did that at the very beginning.

Well, as promised, this is rough first draft work that you get to see before it is cleaned up.  Lucky you.

Anyway, I believe there are links to everything I’ve done on A&D to this point.

LSO

Here is an outline of the story: (linked for easy navigation to what is available so far.)

The Abbott and the Djinn (Outline)

I.  Intro (I have an intro posted)

II.  The Skellig

     A. The Storm (I think Chptr. 1.1 fits in here)

          1.  The Storm from Gospel’s perspective. (by the way, Smoke refers to a monk he thinks of as “White Hands” until the men make a personal connection and he, the monk, reveals that his name is Gospels.)

          2.  Waking from Smoke’s perspective (Chptr. 1.2.)

     B.  Recovery

           1.  Smoke wakes Chp. 2.1

           2.  Conversation with White Hands Chp. 2.2 and Chp 2.3 AND Chp 2.4

           3.  White Hand’s wealth Chp. 2.5  (Sad to say this important connective tissue has not been written. Conversation’s three volumes  above need to be reworked I think and THEN we reveal the wealth.  It is a book or books, the very one mentioned in the introduction of course.

     C.  The Meeting of Different Worlds

            1.  Two friends (after the exciting and insightful chp. 2 that doesn’t yet exist, Smoke and Gospels) sit and talk setting the scene for the arrival of the contingent from the abbey.  Chp. 3.1

            2.  The monk goes to offices as Smoke thinks.  Chp. 3.2

            3.  Gospels discovers that he doesn’t know very much about Smoke.  Smoke tries to reassure, but raises more questions with his selection of “Iamerge” for a name.  Chptr. 3.3

             4.  Introductions.  Chp. 3.4 I jumped over this, skipping ahead to:

             5.  Boat ride to the Abbey

                   a)  Chp. 4.1 (Notably absent and I think essential are the monks chanting offices as they travel and Smoke’s glimpses of the nearby town, his anticipated destination before being wrecked on the Skellig. I think these items are important enough to add if not as narrative at least as notes here and likely in a revised 4.1.  Yes, I know what I said, give me a break.)

                   b) Arriving at the Monastery Chp. 4.2

                   c) Gospels remembers Smoke Chp. 4.3

                   d) Discussion in the guesthouse (not yet written)

              6. Smoke (Imerge) in the town

                    a) Initial impressions  (Chp. 5.1) as Smoke (Imerge) enters the port town seeking to find the agent holding his hold stake.  Iamerge Meets Ol’ Jim Cooper, the mayor of Rat Town.(Chp. 5.2)   Iamerge nearly gets run down by armed guards of the man he is looking for, but Roderick Ua Birlinn being dead, his son Ruaridh Ua Birlinn will have to do.  All this he discovers from Cooper.(Chp. 5.3)

                    b) The talk of the Tavern begins with Cooper tending bar and talk of the situation. Gospels is brought up. Conversation in the basement. (Chp. 5.4) The rest of that conversation, (Chp. 5.5). . .           . . .that does not include this part (Chp. 5.6)

                    c) Iamerge walks the streets (Chp. 5.7)

                    d) Speaking to the force of nature (Chp. 5.8)

              7.  Iamerge returns to the monastery and then leaves.

                     a) Iamerge falls asleep beneath a tree (Chp. 6.1)

                     b) Gospels talks to Iamerge (Chp. 6.2)

                     c) Hebrews and the walk to the ambush (Chp. 6.3)

                     d) Iamerge and Gospels meet Rhauri Ui Birlinn (Chp. 6.4)

               8.  The ministry of the Monastery’s Brethern

                      a)  Iamerge and Gospels reach the disaster.  Conal McKendrick (7.1)

                      b)  Iamerge and Conal in the night (7.2)

                      c) Iamerge in the blue morning (7.3)

                      d) Iamerge and Conal on their way back to the Monastery (7.4)

III.  The Monastery, Among the Merciful Brothers

     A.  The Brotherhood (specifically a brotherhood of the wounded.)

           1.  Iamerge’s discontent (8.1)

           2.  Meeting Ui Birlinn

                        a. Iamerge meets a rider, Rhaury Ui Birlinn (8.2)

                        b. The question of Niamh and Rhaury misses his chance (8.3)

                        c.  Council and consolation for Conal (8.5)

                        d.  Leading to recovery (8.6)

           3.  What Iamerge overheard at the refectory (Chp. 9.1)

     B.  The Twelve

     C.  A Thirteenth Brother

IV.  The Journey Begins

Well folks.  Until I get a little farther down the road I think that’s all the outline I’m ready to put out.  Meager, I know, but there is more rattling around in my head, not to mention the odd plot twist that keeps cropping up.

Hopefully the progress page will progress better than it has resently, but even more I hope to put more electrons to page and really get this whole thing underway.

Wish me good luck,

LSO

 past posts:

28 Sep 2010 – My last update was in April.  Yikes!!!  I HAVE added more to the novel, slowly but surely, but this progress page has languished.

The story has made a turn I did not previously outline, so it seems that Iamerge and Gospels have surprised me again.  It seems there was a Goblin attack.

19 Apr 2010 – And a little bit more.

8 Apr 2010 – A little bit more and I introduced the name of Smoke (Iamerge) ‘s Factor, Ruaridh Ua Birlinn.  We also learn that Jim Cooper is the town nose, if we didn’t know that already. 

5 Mar. 2010 – Oiye, a whole week and so very little to show for it.  I’m interested in the Jim Cooper character and where he will lead.  I don’t particularily like them talking so much again, but I threw some action in at the end.  I think I should stop criticizing it now and just let you read the little that there is.  Read it.

25 Feb. 2010 – I’m finally back at it.  I made a little change to account for Chapter 5, Iamerge goes to town, and started writing that part.  I haven’t yet wrapped up the meal and conversation that Gospels and Iamerge have, but there has already been too much talking so I skipped ahead this little bit.  No guaranties I won’t do that more.  Let me know what you think of that.

8 Feb. 2010 -  Decided to post this beginning of  Chp 5.  Also added a little to the “Child of Moss” saga. Read part 2.

2 Feb. 2010 – Had opportunity to get to the second half of Chp. 4.  I’m still planning to rewrite 4.1 to add some elements.

1 Feb. 2010 – I have to say that hope of finishing the first draft of this novel by my birthday are dimming.  I did do a little bit of writing today, but sad to say it wasn’t focused on The Abbott and the Djinn. Instead I started a new story, I only meant for it to be a brief little vignette, but again things got away from me.  If you want to see what I did, read THIS (Child of Moss).

28 Jan. 2010 – I’ve been chiselingaway at this for too long.  I had to get it out and begun.  Having escaped the Skellig, Smoke, now naming himself Iamerge, comes to the Abbey.  I jumped over the introductions as those monks will be in seclusion, perhaps for longer than Smoke and Gospels will remain near the Abbey.  The three other monks who returned with the boat are of immediate interest. 

I am leaving the 21 Jan. post because it contains my apologies for this format.  I am roughing out a story and would be very appreciative of your help.  I fully realize that I am putting it out raw in part so that you can make comments and I won’t feel invested in work delivered with much blood and sweat.  I also want to offer a glimpse of my process.  Most of all I just want to write something down.  Names may change, place, time, order of events, facts, geography, all are malleable

21 Jan 2010 -  Sadly it has taken so long for so little.  What I have of chapters two and three might be edited down to the first half of a better 2, but that is for rewrites.  I think the momentum is stalling and so I have trouble getting things written.  In the end I have them chat. (hardly riveting)

Dear reader, please forgive me. sequentially there is an even wordier section as the group of monks meet their abbott and this new stranger.  It may not make the editing, but as I imagine it, these conversations must take place.  Once imagined they may be discarded to be remembered as needed, flashed back upon, or if they are simply insipid, left on the bone pile of events never reported.

Again, I apologize.  I am both inexperienced in writing novels AND intentionally putting things out as they come to me largely unedited.  This I do because of time, firstly, but also as a sort of writer’s seminar.  Feel free to comment, telling me what you think is of value, reveals character, effectively foreshadows (or you think might, if you guess I’ll tell you), should be kept or moved or retold.  I also value criticism up to and including matters of spelling and grammar, but also let me know what doesn’t work for you as narrative.  You are the reader who I seek to entertain, your opinion matters.

10 Jan 2010 – I’ve left Chp. 2 a mess and pressed on.  In order to get something started beyond the disaster I began Chp. 3

22 Dec 2009 – Currently there is not much of it on the site, nor much on this page.  I’m planning on getting it done before my birthday so I better get busy.  Beware the Ides of March.

4 Jan 2010 – I am unhappy with my last post, Chp 2.4.  I’m not exactly sure how I need to proceed. 

I’m sure that I will run into many such pauses.  Initially I feel like I want to resolve it right now, but I suspect a better idea would be to press on to Chapters 3 and 4, which I have in mind, instead of going back over the old material.

So, let me argue it out here before you and hopefully come to a decision that both resolves my delema and offers you insight into my process (AND has me writing if only on the progress page instead of real progress.)

This is intended to be a first draft.  In addition to being a novel it is, or will be, a bit of a foundational document that touches much of the world of Tir na Nua by speaking to the Biblious Monastics and the idea of long lived people and their impact as well as the impact being different has on them personally.  These are very important issues not only to this story, but to many or likely most of the rest of the stories.

Clearly, I want it to be right, and yet in this format I’m throwing it against the wall and seeing what sticks.  And then perhaps finding what stinks. 

In other work on Tir na Nua I have focused on characterization and have jumped from scene to scene in a story, ignoring the intervening narrative, and leaving it to the future to tie the scenes together.  I think that is a good approach. 

My plan is to rely on this progress page when editing becomes necessary.  If I leave 2 as it is, look for explanations and revision notices on this page.  Going forward, I may leap ahead and actually post chapters ahead, but I will try to at least tie such leaps together with outlines of the intervening plot.