The LotR blog party Eowyn and I are holding (go here for more details) is in five days! Both of us are really excited and I think it's going to be a LOT of fun. ;) You probably won't hear from me again until then.
There are a bunch of reviews that I meant to do in November, but kept putting off and ended up not doing. So near the end of December/the beginning of January, keep a look-out for a flood of reviews from me.
Other than that...there will be a special blog party going on over at A Cowgirl and A Dream and Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens. As I'm going to be holding a party of my own during the first week of it, I won't be able to participate during the first part, but I think I'm going to try for the second part. For more information on it, you can go here or here.
I suppose I had better tell you a little bit about my WIP now...
My NaNo novel is the first in a trilogy. Its working title is To Kill a King, but that will probably change when I can think of a better one. Here's my temporary synopsis:
Rafe has longed for vengeance against the immoral King Lamar of Deri since he was sixteen. He dreams of the day when he will slay Lamar with his own hand. But when he is faced with a choice to save a village or kill Lamar, will his need for revenge overpower his heart and conscience?
Tristan looks up to Rafe as the hero of the people-- until he meets the girl he loves, who believes that Rafe is going down the wrong path. Which does he want more: love or revolution?
I'm loving my characters still, and I'm really enjoying writing this book--although of course, it's a lot of work as well! ;)
And now, for the snippets!
Now...Rafe could feel a pounding, fiery hurt inside him, something that wouldn't let him go.
“Are you sympathetic to the king, then?” he asked sarcastically, knowing that it might hurt Tristan but not caring any more.
Tristan looked hurt for the shade of a second. Then his eyes veiled over and he responded angrily, “No, I'm not. But I don't think I'm very sympathetic to you, either.”
Rafe instantly regretted his outburst, but it was too late to back down now. He gave Tristan a look of scorn. “Do you even know what I'm fighting for?”
Tristan seemed to completely lose his temper. “I do now. I used to think it was about the people, but it wasn't. It never was. It was all about you, you and your hurts. You wanted to get even with the king, so you used other people who were sick of his rule to do it. You talked to them of freedom while thinking of death.”
Rafe, now that his first wave of anger was over, was surprisingly calm. “And so what if I did?” he asked. “If it rids them of Lamar's rule, good. Do you really want to stop the revolution, Tristan? Just because the motives don't strike you as good, do you want to deprive the people of their freedom?”
“Freedom is not freedom when it's taken by a chaotic people who have no idea what they're going to do after the king is dead,” Tristan replied sharply. “It may seem like freedom at first, but with no government, with no authority at all, this land will fall into ruin. Do you care about Deri at all?”
Tristan's words cut Rafe. He did care about the well-being of every Derian; he felt for them in their misery. Tristan was not being just. And he did have a plan for a democratic government afterward. He knew that, with care, Deri could grow into a great nation, instead of being scorned because of its king.
“I do care!” he exclaimed. “You are not correct there, Tristan, no matter how much you pride yourself on being right. This revolution isn't just for me. It's for Deri. It's falling into ruin because of its king. Lamar needs to be stopped, and soon. Just because I have a personal score to settle with Lamar doesn't mean I don't care about anything else. We have sent food to poor villages. You have seen how they are received sometimes.”
Tristan hesitated. For a moment, he seemed like the old Tristan: glowing with enthusiasm for a cause. But then his eyes grew cold again. “So you want their gratitude, is that it? You want to be universally loved and admired? You are vain, perhaps. And,” he rushed on hotly, heedless of the growing hurt on Rafe's face, “I don't care what your other motives may be, your main one is evil and the revolution cannot succeed when those who start it care about something else much more.”
“But I don't!” Rafe said, feeling the hurt and confusion inside him double and turn into a burning anger. “I have dedicated my life to this cause. What else have I left to give?”
“You have dedicated your life to revenge, you mean,” Tristan said shortly, “and that is quite different.”
Back at camp, he found confusion and shouting. “What's this about?” he demanded quickly.
Several of the men all tried to explain at once. “Hunter went down and...” “There's a riot!” “Something's stirring in the...” They drowned each other out, and Rafe had to shout to be heard.
“One at a time!” he said when he had their attention. Having heard the name of Hunter several times in the confused babble of voices, he pointed to the man. “What's happened?”
Hunter's face was awash with excitement and enthusiasm, a rare occurrence. “I went down the mountain, just a little ways, and I could see smoke rising from a village or two. So I went down farther, and there are riots everywhere! The people are starting to rise!”
Rafe forgot all about Tristan, God, and everything else. “Then it's time.” Those three words filled him with adrenaline. The work of six years was finally coming to fruition, and he was going to see it happen, was going to lead it, was going to create freedom...
And King Lamar would meet an implacable foe.
Tristan smiled at her, but both their glances were suddenly arrested by several men running down the street at some little distance from them. He hailed one of the men as he flew past.
The man gave him a glance full of fear and anger and gave him one word in reply, one word that sent chills of excitement and dread shivering up Tristan's spine:
Tristan wondered briefly whether 'Maggie' was Chase's wife, but decided to keep his mouth shut this time and await developments.
He was soon rewarded, as a large, fat woman—the exact opposite of Chase—swept into the room. “I'll make up the beds and get a meal ready, sir.” She curtsied, which settled the question in Tristan's mind. She was probably the housekeeper.
This done, Chase turned back to Tristan. “Maggie, my wife,”he said briefly.
For whatever reason, the boy's expression softened for a moment. “I'm Devin.”
Rafe nodded. “A pleasure.”
Devin studied him. “Not a pleasure. Now good-bye.”
Rafe let him go, and he slipped off into the darkness.
And that's it! Thoughts? :)
-Miss Jane Bennet