So you can read my books

Monday, September 6, 2010


{"And death is on the air like the smell of ashes ...

Already the dark and endless ocean of the end,

Is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,

Already the flood is upon us."

- D. H. Lawrence 'The Ship of Death.'"

{Samuel Clemens, ghost, writing.

Toya, betrayer of Roland, has swaggered up to us.

The damned, literally, Door of Nasah towers over us, bound by no walls save the limits of comprehension.

The ghost of Lauren Bacall has been revealed as a disguised DayStar. Marlene Dietrich looks as if she'd kissed a corpse --

and the corpse liked it.

Bogey looks even worse. I tried to lighten the mood. But let the entry from Roland's journal take it from here.} :

I rubbed my face wearily, numbed by all I'd seen. Bogey looked terrible. Mark Twain with his sure wit and lousy timing drawled in a thick Missouri accent.

"Why this puts the phrase 'F___ me' in an entirely new light."

Bogey glared at him. "I'm in a lousy mood, and I have a loaded gun. A real bad combination for you to crack smart."

Toya spoke softly, Marlene's saber held right up against her throat, "Bogart, he is a buffoon but a good-hearted one."

Twain bristled, "Missy, this buffoon is about a second away from spanking you."

Toya smiled bitterly. "Sam already beat you to that."

Marlene husked, "You betrayed Roland to what you believed to be his death. Hembra, you deserve much worse than that."

Toya glared at me. "Worse? Worse than your boy friend?"

Toya's face screwed up in sheer hate. "You're worse than any bloody


You write worlds, people into life. Then, you throw them into the meat

grinder to watch the blood fly."

"I had no idea I did that when I wrote," I said.

"Liar! You are DreamSinger, known throughout the Shadowlands."

Her eyes narrowed into slits so small I was surprised she could see through them.

"All that anguish. All that pain. All that death. And for what? You don't even have an agent, much less a publisher."

Her face became a mask of utter hate. "Do you get off on maiming those who can't fight back? Well, I fought back! And I'm proud of it. Do you hear me? Proud of it!"

Marlene spoke thickly. "Pitiful last words."

"No!," I nearly shouted. "In her eyes, she did what she felt to be right."

Toya rolled her suddenly wet eyes. "Right? Sam's about to die because of you. I'm not right. I'm damned!"

I frowned, growing cold at what I was afraid she was talking about. "W-What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that, scribbler! You know what's happening. It's the end of your damned unsold novel. Rind has been kidnapped. And Sam ... Sam ..."

I finished for her. " ... is going to Hell to rescue her."

Toya was right. I was a monster. All these people in Meilori's.

They existed because my pen, my Lakota blood had given them life. DayStar wasn't the Devil. I was. I was.

I felt my face become stone. "But he won't go alone."

Suddenly hollow-eyed, Marlene lowered her saber and turned to me. "No, Liebchen.

DayStar meant to tempt me, for me to hurt you, so ... so you would ..."

Toya glared at me and finished for her, "Go to Hell."


  1. A knife twisting cruelly in the chest couldn't hurt worse than finding out that so very much pain had been caused unthinkingly, unknowingly. I have tears. For everyone. To know that you have caused devastation and pain and can never take it's a load too great to bear.

    A heavy post tonight, my friend.

  2. Words Crafter : I've long thought what if there was a reality wherein the tales we wrote came to pass? What if our characters were not fancies of prose but living, breathing, feeling individuals in that reality?

    What would they feel towards us if they ever met us? What would we feel as we realized the heartbreak, pain, and trauma we wrote had been inflicted on living beings who flinched, sobbed, and mourned?

    How far would we go to set things as right as we could?

  3. I'm going to beat up Blogger, grrrrr!

    I used to wonder what the characters were doing when I wasn't reading them. Were they in pain, suffering, imprisoned if I left off reading in those kinds of scenes? Were they waiting, patiently, for me to come back and bring them alive again?

    But your concept goes way beyond. The best I can do is give them hope and let them live and die with honor.

    And to answer your question, I guess we'd have to do whatever it takes. *shuddering breath* Whatever. It. Takes....

  4. Man. Getting even gooder.

    But they're not real, guys. They're characters. At least tonight they are. Tomorrow? Who knows.

    ~that rebel, Olivia
    BTW, this is one of my favorite dialogues in the whole LOTR series.