Undead lay waste to Europe. A failed Templar rejoins his comrades in the crusade, but the dice are cast against the living. The demons slay him, impressing his reanimated corpse into their ranks.
He is gifted. He shows great promise as a servant to his new master.
But life is not yet done with him.
Chapter III is here! Toothless reaches a fork in the road, and must choose a path. Download the latest at iTunes or at Podiobooks.com!
Chapter IV will be a bit delayed, next week. I'll be away.
Check out the PodioRacket interview! Visit PodioRacket to download or subscribe. Thanks, Heather and Rhonda!
Someone recently asked about the role of metaphor in my writing. At least that's what I thought they were asking, and launched into a long thing about setting as character (with metaphor providing the depth), etc., etc.
I'd misunderstood. The question was meant to discover if I had a metaphor to describe my process of writing.
I flubbed an answer. Climbing a mountain, or something silly like that.
Reflecting since, though, I realize that there is one. There's always been one. I've always imagined combing strands. Hair. Threads. Something like that. I get a tangled pile of them, and I comb them straight. It describes the process perfectly for me, since that tangled pile tends to be a mess of little bits of whatever I'm reading, thinking about, etc., at the time. Sometimes, there's weaving involved. Patterns and colors. I don't see the machinery, just a portion of the product still hanging from the loom. (It's a loom, right?)
It all got me wondering, though, if I have a metaphor for the reading that I do. A lot of it is enjoyment, but some of it is definitely looking for those little bits, those little threads. Harvesting the little stigma of saffron, maybe?
Please share your metaphors.
© 2009, J. P. Moore. All rights reserved.
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