A few things, my readers: 

First, though it comes late, I think this bit about how Lugh came to be beneath that tree comes before.  I feel that you need to know a bit more about Lugh as he is your point of view and this story reveals the child of Moss, Oatey. 

Second, I plan to make this, of Lugh and Oatey, my first polished stone, a story that I’ve at least tried to revise and so hope to have made better than THIS first rough draft.  I began it imagining Lugh on his hill and all that followed surprised me.  Now I’m thinking in terms of the story as a whole, I had a good middle of the beginning, I’ve imagined what I think is a pretty good end, so with the expansions and many discoveries already I give you this first of two (I hope) that came before the first moments there on the little hill.  So I beg your pardon, now HERE, begins

Child of Moss

Lugh of the Long Journeys trudged through the swirling cloud of midges and flies that found the swamp comfortable.   Lugh far Reacher, Lugh woman despoiler, Lugh who runs away, He thought, Lugh of the slough.  He laughed, “That’s who I am,” Lugh said and immediately regretted it.  Now there were wee flies in his mouth to add to his misery.  Did he really deserve this exile?  How was this betrayal of Findabair and Gormflaith unlike so many others?  Worse or better?

Lugh mulled his sad fall from their graces.  It was the story of his life, it was his nature, it was the rutted path he could never seem to leave.  When Findabair had learned of Gormflaith and in turn Gormflaith had learned of Findabair he had been forced from his cozy arrangement. 

Maybe no worse or no better but Lugh was haunted, Findabair’s face, white as snow at all times, was a mask that hid the great pain she felt when learning of his infidelity.  The disappointment of the innocent.  That gentle soul would not take revenge for the shambles he had made of her honor.  Not so her brothers.  They pursued him, ejecting him as surely as the hurt in Findabair’s eyes, and more so.  They would not let him live if they caught him.  And Lugh, for his part, would not be caught.

He should have known the jig was up and fled where he would or where his bones might lead, instead he’d fled to another lover.  He chuckled ruefully, Gormflaith had been another matter.  She was not one for holding her pain behind her eyes, nor one to leave revenge to another.  Lugh ached, but not from loss, Gormflaith had taken what revenge she could, at the moment of knowledge, with a foot to the offending member.

“Ah me, the girl has fire,” He said to himself, “Red was her mane, flame her desire, Hot was her rage, now my self is on fire.” Not really flame anymore, now more like the ache that he imagined Findabair felt in her heart, now for him, between his thighs.

So he fled, but at a walk and in disguise.  Findabair’s Maines were looking for a dashing rogue who’d stolen their fair sister’s heart, her innocence, and her honor.  They would not find such, for Lugh was a man of many talents, I am a poet, I am a sacrificer, I am a brehon. Judge me.He strode (at what speed he could make considering Gormflaith’s revenge) along the way in the robe of a druid, head deep in his cowl, and person safe against violence by taboo.  It had been a long long time since he’d been to the North.  It was as likely a time as any to return to the land of the Norfolk, to the land of Von.

Aah pretty Von.  It may be that she is the only lover I left who still wished me well at my going,  thought Lugh, Since that time I fled Llyr to save my life, my goings most often involved a father, a brother, or a husband.  Ah but I remember my Von of the wavy brown hair and the sun brown skin.

Llyr had not yet gotten over Lugh’s elopement with Brigid.  Von had not known that he found himself in the North because of what he’d done with Brigid in the South.  Mayhaps she would have wished him dead then instead of well, but she hadn’t known and so Lugh could cling to one woman’s love.  One woman who may have learned of his true nature, his roguishness, and hated him for it for all he knew, one woman who was dead now for 300 years and more. 

Oh maybe she hated him one day but still, that night she had come to him, with tears in her brown eyes, to warn him of his brother’s men, she’d given him warning, some food, and these bones around his neck.Lugh clutched the divination bones he wore on a thong around his neck for all these many days, so many years of days, he knew them by feel. 

It was vexing.  Druidry was a bit tame for him.  Truth to tell, he’d wished he could stay the rogue.  It was his core.  The Maines denighed him his fine horses and his hidden things and Gormflaith had denied him a place of safety for his offense.  Lugh smiled, Well, she’d cast him out for the offense she knew. Why must ill news travel so fast, faster than feet and faster than fine horses?

Why must these sad endings drive me out just when things are going so well?“Ah, my fine fine horses.”  Lugh sighed, “enjoy those lovely mares I brought you, Chara Dubh.  Consider yourself free, free to make a herd of such beauties.”  Perhaps that little hidden valley would hold a great herd of horse when he returned to find Findabair a memory and all the Maines long dead.  Then his loss would be an investment.  Best to think positively.

So the man went North and farther North from his lovers, Lugh of the long journeys, whistling and wondering what adventure would find him next.  He was a brehon until he could buy a lyre, a bard until he could find no Gael to listen to his songs, and a hunter when that was the only way to fill his belly. 

When he no longer feared the Maines, he began to think more of his future, what should he do next and where?  Fleeing North, it occured to the him, I should go to the Norfolk and see what has come of them these hundreds of years.  I do doubt anyone would remember Lugh who left sweet Von in a hurry, that time with his brother Llyr in pursuit.  “Yet I should take no chance, I’ll name myself for my light hair, and call myself Fionn.”

And so he did.  When he passed through a border town and looked to buy provisions for a journey still further North, he was Fionn to the old woman who sold dried fish and jerked buffalo.  He bought a fine bow from the Umircen bowyer and to that man he was Fionn.  From a tanner’s wife he bought a fine skin bag, some water skins, and a good pair of boots and a wool lined leather cloak, to her he was Fionn and Sweet and Love.  Ah the tanner’s wife, he didn’t really remember her, and too, it had been dark, but stolen fruit was sweet, he thought.

So it was that Fionn must needs go North or West or East but not South as he marched into the trackless wastes in search of the Bramblewood Elven, the Norfolk, and he went as quick as he could go, lest the tanner come on him.  And he suffered, suffered his memories, suffered from the heat of the Summer, but most of all he suffered from the clouds of insects that whirled around him in a hungry cloud.

Lugh splashed through a creek like so many others on the marshy plain.  He trudged through the tepid water and into the brush on the other side, miserable, he thought as he waved his hands before his face in hopes of frightening away the midges that kept him grieving his condition, but saying nothing for fear that the flying pests that haloed his head would invade his mouth at their first opportunity.

Hot, miserable, sweaty, miserable, besieged by vile insects, miserable.  “Aaah!” Lugh howled in pain and slapped at the black fly that had found his neck exposed. Midges invaded as he feared they would and he sputtered and spit to be free of them, miserable, he thought.

Oh sweet Von of the Norfolk, where have your people gone?  He thought.  He was in a stand of close spaced little trees that provided some shade, so Lugh took off his pack and his hide strung bones, he pulled out a skin tarp and hid beneath it with his divination bones between his palms and let his mind grow calm.  “Sweet Von of the Norfolk, where have your people gone?  Where can I find your folk in this my time of need?  Shall I turn to the left or the right?”  Lugh cast the bones.  He felt for them.  “Two and three and one.  The bones are ambivalent.” 

Lugh scooped up the bones and whispered to them “Tell me true, my beauties, tell me.  Shall I go to the right? ” He cast and felt for the marks again.  One mark, and one mark, and three.  “So, not to the right.”

Lugh rubbed the bones between his palms, “Shall I go left then?  Shall I turn away to the left?  The bones came to rest on the skin bag.  “Three marks, and three, and again three!” So definitely not to the left either.

Forward then?  Shall I go straight as I am to find those elves of the brambles, those folk of the north, the people of Von, YeVon Mendez, who cared for me? “Shall I continue on as I was then?” Lugh cast the bones and felt for his answer.  One mark there is, and three on the other, and TWO. Yes then it seems.  “Tell me true bones, shall I find the folk of Von ahead, neither turning to the left nor the right?”  Lugh cast and counted.  Two and Two and Two, no stronger augre could there be, straight ahead for sure.

Being, for a short while, free of the bugs had quite renewed his spirits, that or using the gift of divination bones that Von had given him or both.  Lugh had quite forgotten how fun was this little game of chance.  Having restrung them, repacked his things, shouldered the load, and alas, recollected his cloud of midges Lugh trudged on. 

The man found his path leave the soggy marsh and enter an older section of forest.  The trees were magnificent, stately and shady.  The insects would not relent, but they were tolerable in the shade of the trees.  Everywhere beneath the mighty trees were ferns and moss.  Even the light seemed green in it.  Then, like a vision, the old trees fell away and a sapphire jewel was revealed, a lake of deep water, cooler even than the shady old forest.

Laughing, Lugh threw off his clothing and his fine boots and packed all but what was too long to fit, his bow and a sword, into the skin bag with a strong puff of air as well.  Thus protected he took to the water, after kissing the bones, “Neither left nor right and see you’ve brought me to this lovely lake.  I can only go through and bless you for it.”  He ran naked through the rushes and into the lake.  Soon he was swimming upon his side, towing his bag of possessions behind.

I mentioned in my post about my progenitor, Niall of the Nine Hostages, High King of Ireland, son of Eochaid Mugmedon (Slave Lord), that I found Finn MacCool in the genealogy of Niall Glundub (Black Knee)

Just an aside.  Does anyone know why Niall Black Knee was called Black Knee?  I have no idea and I’ve been watching for it.  The bi-name thing is kinda cool.  Nine hostages, 100 battles, slave lord, even red sides makes some sense but Black Knee?  I’d like to know what the story is with that.

Fionn Mac Cumhaill is the focus of one of the three great cycles of Irish Mythology.  The Fenian Cycle follows Fionn and his struggles to survive, first of all, and to assume the champions role that his father had, and then as the leader of the Fiana (think Irish knights errant).  In his quest he is opposed by Gol Mac Morna among others.  Later legends turn him into a clever giant, but I like the Finn of the Fiana.

That Finn may have been an actual person is debatable, but what isn’t, is that this character, construct,  or perhaps my distant cousin, this Finn left a mark on the Irish.  And why not?  If there was ever a perfect Irishman then it most likely was Finn.

Finn was a true Renaissance man.  He was an outdoors man and hunter, a warrior or fearsome aspect,( and elf? Well, his mother was a woman of the Sidhewho turned into a deer so Finn ordered his men not to hunt deer… but that’s another tale.) but even more than these or rather despite undoubtedly being these he was also a poet.  A sensitive guy.

He was a smart guy, a politically astute man, who served several kings in an era when regicide was the most common route for prospective sovereigns to reach their thrones.  Finn seemed to know everything, perhaps it was tasting the Salmon of Knowledge, there are stories that he did, but where did all this stuff come from if not from a seed of truth?

Well, I left you plenty to think about, a bit of an intro to Finn, and perhaps you can see why I thought it was sorta cool that he might be a relative through his daughter Aine, if there was an Aine.

Happy clicking,

LSO

Tir na Nua

Primarily Tir na Nua is the setting for my Epic Celtic Fantasy.  This makes it your home for development ideas, short stories, and information about the world of Tir na Nua created ( or rather in the process of creation) by L. Stephen O’Neill.

But What is Tir na Nua Really?

Tir na Nua, the New Land, is a world far from the Earth we know.  Three stars light it, three moons circle it, and there are three worlds associated with it.  Tir na Nua might look like Earth, there are trees and rivers and seas, there are beasts, and monsters, and men, AND these all live together in varying degrees of harmony. 

Yet there are differences.  The South is warmed by the sullen glow of a brown dwarf star, Ember, that the planet of Tir na Nua cartwheels around.  Much of the weather of this world of necessity comes from that most important and close relationship. 

The north draws rain from the South, but it never sees Ember’s light save painted on the world’s satellites.  There is ghostly blue light that shines from blue/white dwarf, Spark, that dances closest to Ember, but the world’s most Earth-like light comes from distant Sol na Nua, it marks the day, sharing it in the North with Bright and brightening the South as well.

Tir na Nua is a world that is marked by cataclysm.  The violent genesis of the planet is painted on its moons as well.  Nearest is the Wanderer, a blasted lump that hurtles around Tir na Nua, racing across the sky.  The Stranger is next nearest, but it is not very reflective, making a ghostly shape in the night sky.  Farthest of Tir na Nua’s moons is Bright, truest reflector of the three suns of the world.

I have several stories, likely novel length, that I am in the process of writing.  Most if not all are set in the world of Tir na Nua.  This new world is a world apart from the Earth that we know and has been, there are names and situations that may seem familiar, but though they echo the world we know they are not from that world at all.

The People of Tir na Nua

Human habitation has diffused from the center of the Gaellic Plain, over the Western Mountains, across the seas, to the South and the East until it has met its opposite in isolated islands like the volcanic island group of the Losterlies.  Man exists on the top of the world, on the ice sheet above the Iron Mountains of the Rus and man also inhabits the misty hot forests of the South.  He lives on and in the mountains and he exists and even thrives on the islands of the seas.

Here are some of those peoples:

The Gaels of the Central Plain .  (A Story of these folk “The Red Son of Concubar“)

The Monsters who ravaged the Plain, The Gobli.

After the great hordes sweep the Gaelish Plain, the Norfolk, the people of Oatey Moss and of Jella, still live where the Great Ice Sheet ended and now on the Plains to the South the horse folk, the Scythians, rule unchallenged. (CPSL to continue these stories.)

In the Far North, The Rus and the Ice Folk.  For a bit about Ice Folk culture read an Anuniaq Tale.

In the Inner Sea, South of Sliebe na Gael, The Eirelanders.  In the scattered islands of the inner sea, the Fae Islanders.

East over the Saffron and driven down into the great isthmus and the mountains there called Scotia.

Above Scotia is a land of Slave camps and warring city states often called the Disputed Lands.  Before the Hordes of Gobli and Darklings ravaged it the land was controlled by Balor and his Slave Raiders who became the Fomor.

North of the Disputed Lands and East of the Norfolk are the Cold Forests of the Darklings.  The Sinoese live above them on the pinnacles of hard rock that stand after the lighter ash of that volcanic lowland was washed away and overgrown with rainforest.

The Great Mountains to the West of the Great Gaellic Plain are ruled by  the Lokians.  Some call these folk Dwarfs, they are dark and stocky in general, they are miners and workers of metal who live in the continental ridge that divides all the east from Umircea.

Across the Mountains to the Western Seas is Umircea, but in the North of that land is the Ribbon Wood, from whence come the Ui Uilsen, the Ribbonwood Elves.

What is the Purpose of Tir Na Nua

On lstephenoneill.com I plan to gather research material, scene drafts, character development studies, back stories and perhaps short stories that contribute to each novel or at least flesh out this new land, Tir na Nua.

I want to write, fantasy stories, sword and sorcery novels, epic fantasy, you know, the whole lot, and Tir na Nua makes this possible for me.  But having the place to write, having stories to tell, wanting to do it, none of these things mean that I can do it.  I can put it out there, but frankly, I was never that good a writer, so says my report cards. (Sad to say I thought I did much better in English than I actually did. This was a bit of an unwelcome surprise. Still, I have these stories. . .) I guess my point is that I really need to practice.  I need to try to write and see if I can do a good job.  Perhaps most of all I need to get faster.

The reality of my life is that there isn’t much time to develop. . .    . . . or write.  So I’m going to jump on in and do it.  As such, these pages are intentionally rough (not because I’m trying to make them bad, I’m trying the best I can as quickly as I can) so that I get the ideas out of my head and onto the page.  I think I’ve mentioned that I think of these pages as something of a writer’s notepad.

SO, What’s in the Works?

I’m trying to write an online novel right here in front of you, the reader.  Firstly I plan to write a first draft, and I’m not being very picky.  I can’t, I’m trying to do it by my birthday.  Wish me luck.  You can follow my progress here at my progress page for the novel: The Abbott and the Djinn.

I’ve started a story that involves one of Dana Bailey’s children, Lugh, and a young woman of the Norfolk, Oatey Moss.  The third main theme of this story is giants.  Start to read Child of Moss HERE.

Currently I am focusing on a novel set in a island archipelago, the Losterlies, that is effectively on the opposite side of the world from where humanity was first established and from where it diffused. The working title for this novel is “The Man Who Forgot Himself.”

On the Losterlies are a people known as wanderers or gypsies who are descendants of a particular Inuit by the name of Anuniaq.  “Anuniaq Goes to Sea… …Again” is a tale from his life as is Anuniaq and the Storm Tossed Sea.

People groups converge on the Losterlies and one of the cultures that has great impact are the Inuit peoples, known by the Rus as the Icefolk,  who leave with the Russians and are later enslaved by them.  I want to develop a tale about one of these people, a whale talker, who’s people are annihilated by the iron Rus and who in turn gets revenge and then must rebuild a life afterward.  The working title for this novel is “The Poet and the Ice Princess”.

I have a few stories developing in an area of the world, Northern Umircea, that involves or evolved the Ribbon Wood Elves or UiUilsen as they are known. “the Lost Prince”, “Sasha and Faolan”, and a trilogy of stories, “the UiUilsen Cycle” will develop and expand both the peoples of this part of Umircea, the land beyond the Western Mountains of the Gaelish Central Plain.

I love the movie “a Knights Tale” and would like to write my take on the idea of nobility. I also like the idea of warfare as sport presented in that story (I’m an American Football fan) and think it has application, especially in the gaming community of today, but also to the Celtic lifestyle or my perception of what the Gaelic people were about.  I want to set my knights tale in Umircea, but I may move the setting to the cities of the Disputed Lands though nobility is much less a factor in that wild land.

An important part of the development of my fantasy world are figures who make a huge impact by virtue of their many talents and even more because of their longevity. The children of Dana Bailey are intended by Dana herself to be a Celtic Pantheon. These genetically altered super Celts make contributions both by virtue of their leadership, and also in just being a tie and a memory to a technological past that is being lost and replaced by new progress informed by the past but not dependant on it.  Among the characters stories will touch on: Balor, originally Llyr, who was first born and most willing to serve Dana Baily’s purposes, but came to work hardest against those goals as the leader of the Fomorians; Lugh of the long reach, a wanderer and a philanderer at first, godlike in his self-absorption, his many talents are at last turned to good when he learns responsibility; Bridget, maternal in truth and in temperament, she must learn how to be good at her role; Epona, but more her most impressive daughter, Scythia, who’s leadership gives the freedom loving horse folk of the Gaellic plain a name, an identity, and a mother; Loki the miner and technical genius who’s folk live under the mountains, and many more.

In the Disputed Lands life is cheap.  Warlords carve out kingdoms among the fortified city states of the broken and war torn landscape in a section of the northern continent east of the Safron River that drains much of the Great Gaellic plain, north of Scotia and the fortified wall that splits off the Scots Highlands from the rest, west of the Great Sea that has become dominated by the Fomor, and South of the lands of the Sinoese and most notably the Darklings.  Several stories will be set or will touch this volitile region.  Among them are “Icarus Flight”, “Kitsuniko”, “Led from the Dark or the Blind Deaf Mute and the Idiot” (a story about overcoming disability, frustrated revenge, and simple peace), “Fitch in His Majesties Service”

What do you mean by Free Celtic Fiction?

Ah, I’m glad you asked.  Is this fiction from Ireland or Scotland or Wales?  No.  The title of my pages, this “blog”, was L. Stephen O’Neill.  Sadly, not so many folks were searching for me by name, so being advised to be more descriptive I came up with descriptive words that I felt would be popular searches as well as descriptive. 

Being at least partly Scots I am personally drawn to the word FREE.  I consider myself a celt, live in Oregon, like bagpipes, tartan, woolens, potatos, I’m CELTIC.  and I’m constructing a FICTIONal, Roman Empire Free, world to let the Celts have another go at world domination.  I think its high time, read about that below.

I am trying to focus my efforts on a few primary storylines.  Because the posts are not always in order I’ve started to organize the storylines on which I’m working on a novel progress page for the Abbott and the Djinn, and a Current Primary Storylines page for Child of Moss, the Deer Riders, and the Red Son of Concubar.

Philosophy of Fiction

Fiction can be truer than real life.  The lives of mere characters, literary constructs, can clarify and instruct a reader, helping them to gain perspective, inspiration, and fortitude for their real life situations.  Their own problems and opportunities are much more complex to be sure, but sometimes the perspective of fiction is a perfect catalyst for positive change. . .

. . . or just a very entertaining read!

These are the stories that I have begun to commit to ones and zeroes to this point:

The Abbott and the Djinn my first draft online novel.

The Red Son of Concubar is an attempt to tell a truely Celtic story, drawing elements from some of the most loved Irish legends.

I’ve found a fragment of a planned novel (actually trilogy) That introduces the point of view character of the UiUilsen Saga.  Meet Hunter Wilde.  I had not planned on sharing things I actually planned to one day publish, but I wanted to introduce you to Hunter.

An Anuniaq Tale about an Inuit who meets the mysterious Others, folk of the Ui Uilsen.

The Deer Riders in the far North of the Gaellic plain

Information regarding the Losterlies is background material for the setting of a planned novel, The Man Who Forgot Himself.

Kitsuniko Awakes in the land of the Sinoese, but among these people she is a mystery, even to her self.

the Red Hand of Courage

 The Annals of the Tuatha de Dana

Tir na Nua

I have several stories, novels, that I am in the process of writing.  Most if not all are set in the world of Tir na Nua.  This new world is a world apart from the Earth that we know and has been, there are names and situations that may seem familiar, but though they echo the world we know they are not from that world at all.  For stories specific to Tir na Nua but not included elsewhere you could explore that blog topic: Tir na Nua

Here I plan to gather research material, scene drafts, character development studies, back stories and perhaps short stories that contribute to each of them or at least flesh out this new land, Tir na Nua.

Currently I am focusing on a novel set in a island archipelago, the Losterlies, that is effectively on the opposite side of the world from where humanity was first established and from where it diffused. The working title for this novel is “The Man Who Forgot Himself.”

On the Losterlies are a people known as wanderers or gypsies who are decendants of a particular Inuit by the name of Anuniaq.  “Anuniaq Goes to Sea… …Again” is a tale from his life as is Anuniaq and the Storm Tossed Sea.

People groups converge on the Losterlies and one of the cultures that has great impact are the Inuit peoples, known by the Rus as the Icefolk,  who leave with the Russians and are later enslaved by them.  I want to develop a tale about one of these people, a whale talker, who’s people are annihilated by the iron Rus and who in turn gets revenge and then must rebuild a life afterward.  The working title for this novel is “The Poet and the Ice Princess”.

I have a few stories developing in an area of the world, Northern Umircea, that involves or evolved the Ribbon Wood Elves or UiUilsen as they are known. “the Lost Prince”, “Sasha and Faolan”, and a trilogy of stories, “the UiUilsen Cycle” will develop and expand both the peoples of this part of Umircea, the land beyond the Western Mountains of the Gaelish Central Plain.

I love the movie “a Knights Tale” and would like to write my take on the idea of nobility. I also like the idea of warfare as sport presented in that story (I’m an American Football fan) and think it has application, especially in the gaming community of today, but also to the Celtic lifestyle or my perception of what the Gaelic people were about.  I want to set my knights tale in Umircea, but I may move the setting to the cities of the Disputed Lands though nobility is much less a factor in that wild land.

An important part of the development of my fantasy world are figures who make a huge impact by virtue of their many talents and even more because of their longevity. The children of Dana Bailey are intended by Dana herself to be a Celtic Pantheon. These genetically altered super Celts make contributions both by virtue of their leadership, and also in just being a tie and a memory to a technological past that is being lost and replaced by new progress informed by the past but not dependant on it.  Among the characters stories will touch on: Balor, originally Llyr, who was first born and most willing to serve Dana Baily’s purposes, but came to work hardest against those goals as the leader of the Fomorians; Lugh of the long reach, a wanderer and a philanderer at first, godlike in his self-absorption, his many talents are at last turned to good when he learns responsibility; Bridget, maternal in truth and in temperament, she must learn how to be good at her role; Epona, but more her most impressive daughter, Scythia, who’s leadership gives the freedom loving horse folk of the Gaellic plain a name, an identity, and a mother; Loki the miner and technical genius who’s folk live under the mountains, and many more.

In the Disputed Lands life is cheap.  Warlords carve out kingdoms among the fortified city states of the broken and war torn landscape in a section of the northern continent east of the Safron River that drains much of the Great Gaellic plain, north of Scotia and the fortified wall that splits off the Scots Highlands from the rest, west of the Great Sea that has become dominated by the Fomor, and South of the lands of the Sinoese and most notably the Darklings.  Several stories will be set or will touch this volitile region.  Among them are “Icarus Flight”, “Kitsuniko“, “Led from the Dark or the Blind Deaf Mute and the Idiot” (a story about overcoming disability, frustrated revenge, and simple peace), “Fitch in His Majesties Service”

Stay tuned.  I have been adding material as quickly as I can.

Enjoy,

LSO

Free CELTIC Fiction

My hope is to create fiction that speaks to the Celtic Heart.  So, warts and all here is a new story that I rip from Celtic legend and set in my new world, Tir na Nua, the Red Son of Concubar.

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Here is the novel beginnings: Intro to and Beginning of The Abbot and the Djinn.  Follow my progress HERE.

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Using a sort of “just start writing and see where it goes” technique I’ve completed the first draft of a short story.  In the end, Concerning The Deer Riders wandered a bit farther than I had anticipated.  Legendary wanderings?  You can read Concerning the Deer Riders yourself and see what you think.

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My Polished Stones

Since this is my process, a good deal of it is rough here as I begin.  My hope is to get better and better at writing Celtic Fiction so that reading it free will become a bargain and not a chore.  I plan to work on a few of my stories to make works of fiction closer to my potential.  That is, I plan to polish them by rewriting them for your reading pleasure and in particular the reading pleasure of those who might come across this sight and have little patience for my early fumblings unfiltered from my imagination?

Recently I’ve realized that I should not.  My first goal was to get something, anything here, secondly I NEEDED to write because it had been a long time since I had.  I have courted your opinion to no effect, but then why should I expect it?  Do I read other’s work and offer up my opinion, my help?  Not recently and can I help? 

So, I intend to polish up a few of the stories that have accumulated.  The raw novelization of the Abbott and the Djinn will continue, undoubtedly I’ll put up more unfiltered imaginings like the Deer Riders and Child of Moss.  Then, in a section before those unpolished stones, I will begin to offer some that have had my attention and effort so that you can judge me or at least have a better chance of being reliably entertained.  Some may read on to the raw.  HERE is the page that will list the more polished work. (it is currently empty <sigh>)

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Other Stuff

I am in the process of writing several novels, but on the way to that I offer these thoughts, insights, resources, and diversions of interest to me and, I hope, to you.  Here I hope to gather legends and lore, notes on antiquity, and present day reality.  Have a look HERE

For now, welcome, and please tell me what you like or you don’t.  I value your insights.

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LSO

PS. HERE are some authors I have read and admire by way of giving you hints about where I’m aiming