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.

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.

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