tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34656330745483942002024-03-13T17:30:16.175+01:00Dense WordsHarry Dewulf's personal blog and the home of densewords editingHarryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07127058082626598689noreply@blogger.comBlogger232125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-5170098741215479062017-01-01T11:58:00.000+01:002016-02-26T11:59:56.277+01:00New Website live and official - this site now mothballed archivePlease visit me at <a href="http://harrydewulf.com/" target="_blank">http://harrydewulf.com</a><br />
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Follow me on twitter at: <a href="http://twitter.com/densewords" target="_blank">@densewords</a><br />
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Facebook: <a href="http://facebook.com/densewords" target="_blank">http://facebook.com/densewords</a><br />
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YouTube: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCFozClrrdAE5zdpDhP8fJ9A" target="_blank">#AskDewulf</a><br />
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Here I am talking about verbs:<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-36278564655613208922015-12-28T18:12:00.000+01:002015-12-28T18:17:47.332+01:00Weird Words: Bend and BowIt's that time of year when I worry about the Holly Bears. There can't be too many of them in rural France, but you never know.<br />
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In France, although there are Christmas songs, there isn't the same tradition of Carol singing, or bearding people to their front doors to either endure the performance with a smile or offer spiked mulled wine to the revellers in the hope of slowing them down. So French people don't know about Holly Bears, and the way they lurk behind Yuletide installations, with their cheerful red waistcoats and wreaths of ivy.<br />
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Traditional English woodland spirits aside, there must be something about December that gets me thinking about words. This time from another song, the nursery rhyme, <i>London Bridge is Falling Down</i>.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.arizonagolfauthority.com/coursedirectory/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/BridgwaterLinks_LondonBridgeResort660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://www.arizonagolfauthority.com/coursedirectory/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/BridgwaterLinks_LondonBridgeResort660.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of Bridgewater Links Golf Club - picturesque ain't she?</td></tr>
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Thankfully this is no longer any concern for the City of London or its Mayor, since as any schoolboyorgirl knows, London Bridge is in Arizona. It's actually a very handsome bridge, and as the song says, once built up with stone-so-strong it seems to be making a good go of lasting ages long.<br />
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By now, you're all wondering what's in this drink.<br />
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The children's song asserts that London Bridge is Falling Down. Verse three proposes to shore up the structure with Iron and Steel (eye Nan steal, if you remember was a precious artefact shared between the three blind witches who advised Perseus on his quest to, *cough* borrow Medusa's head in order to kill 'the Kraken'... actually the mythology is all a little confusing in any case, and made all the worse by the 1981 film Clash of the Titans... But that's an excellent excuse for me to drop in a little <i>homage</i> to Ray Harryhausen.)<br />
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You might have the impression that this rambling tangential post is out of the ordinary, but actually all my blog posts start out this way. Then I edit them.<br />
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Now. Where was I?<br />
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Bend and Bow.<br />
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Pretty much anyone can pronounce bend. Bow can be a problem. Bad fantasy writers will say that one of their characters (either the cool one or the nerdy one, depends on the writer) is <i>good with a bow.</i> I say bad writers but actually they just don't know that for hundreds of years, people would say that someone was a skilful, gifted or experienced <i>archer</i> - but somewhere along the way, fantasy writers forgot that the word archer existed. Rant over.<br />
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In that situation, you know exactly how to say bow. And if I tie a ribbon or a shoelace you know, too. And also if I take a bow. But not if I take a bow and sew it onto a pretty frock. And if I go around to the bow of the ship, but not if I go around to the bow-window to look through it at the bow-fronted cabinet.<br />
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It's a minefield. A very small, very well indicated minefield that very few people can be bothered to cross. So lets go around.<br />
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In the song, Iron and Steel both bend and bow. In this case, bow is a verb. And you could be forgiven for thinking that the only reason why the song has both words is for the alliteration. Bend and Bow sound good together.<br />
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But whoever wrote the song (I'm reliably informed that <i>Nobody Knows</i> who wrote the song), clearly knew that bend and bow are not synonyms. They are very closely related verbs, but their meaning is both subtly, and extremely usefully, different.<br />
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In general, Iron is either very rigid and brittle, and therefore does not flex at all - if you try to bend it it will snap - or iron is rather soft, and will tend to bend like an elbow, sharply at its weakest point. Steel, however, can have another property - springiness. So steel, rather like a yew bow, can flex evenly all along its length, forming a continuous curve. Iron bends, steel bows. To bow is to flex like a steel spring or like a wooden (or fibreglass) bow, whereas to bend is to flex like iron, or an elbow.<br />
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Sorta.<br />
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Nothing is ever black and white in English, and words that are nearly synonyms often just <i>are</i> synonyms. There's no evidence that bend and bow signified different kinds of flexing from their derivations, and throughout much of their existence, they've been pretty much interchangeable. However, the distinction (which for bow-windows and bow-fronted cabinets <i>might</i> be a consequence or that might be a completely different word, <i>bough</i>) seems to have arisen around the way that a longbow flexes, and I quite like this nicety, unnecessary and seldom applied as it might be.<br />
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Oh... and the bow of a boat is completely unconnected, and actually comes from a word meaning <i>shoulder</i> so, er... don't put your trust in etymology.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-80135769652234195032015-12-21T10:17:00.000+01:002015-12-21T10:17:13.906+01:00Weird Words: Lacklustre and DaisHaven't done one of these in a while, and these two words have caught my attention for very differing reasons.<br />
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<br />Lacklustre</h3>
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I've already mentioned that I'm a fan of self-describing words, of which the best one I know is the French word <i>cucu</i> which means <i>infantile</i>. <i>Cucu</i> is actually baby-talk for <i>cul</i> which means, well, <i>arse</i> (<i>ass</i> in US English). So the French common-use word for <i>infantile</i> is not only an infantile word, but it's formed in an infantile way, from a completely transparent euphemism.<br />
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Love it.<br />
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<i>Lacklustre</i> is the opposite. It's a word that is not at all what it describes. The synonymous <i>dull</i> is practically onomatopoeia for dullness. Dull sounds like dull feels. Whereas <i>lacklustre</i> is a sparkly, ostentatious, attention-seeking anomaly. "Look at me!" shouts Lacklustre, "My dullness scintillates like myriad stars."<br />
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Love it even more. A word that is not what it means.<br />
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Dais</h3>
Authors seem to have a problem with this word. Hardly anyone other than authors even use it. In speech, I've only heard architects, historians and archaeologists.<br />
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And I suppose that authors are dimly aware that the word gets minimal use outside a few special contexts, because although many authors seem to want to use the word, most authors seem worried that readers won't know what it means. And rightly so. Doug Harper says the following:<br />
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<span style="background-color: #ddd9ca; font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px;">Died out in English c. 1600, preserved in Scotland, revived 19c. by antiquarians.</span><br />
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This is his deliciously polite way of saying that in modern English its use is limited to a pretentious few.<br />
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So it's understandable that authors can't resist putting things like:<br /><br />
"on a low dais" (a dais is <i>by definition</i> a low platform)<br />
"The raised dais" (the whole point of a dais is that it's raised)<br />
"raised up on a low platform that formed a dais" (I'm speechless...)<br />
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In part, this issue arises because authors are not conscious enough of their, and their readers', relationships with words, and are making these qualifications, justifications and explanations unconsciously. But mainly, it's because these authors are not being judicious in their choice of words, instead allowing the words to 'flow out organically.'<br />
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I got new for you: you can do both. If you've trained yourself to be conscious of your word choices, then you can write organically, you can "pants" a whole lot more than just your plot; but only once the groundwork has been done.<br />
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Oh yes, and while I think of it, next year, 2016, over on Narrative Path (link in the tab at the top), you will be able to access the first 30 lessons of a course that will teach you how to become an effortless language expert. This is my 100 lessons poetry challenge. I'll blog again about it when it launches.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-66469633412885352872015-10-26T12:10:00.004+01:002015-10-26T12:10:45.030+01:0024 Things No One Tells You About Book Publishing that are oversimplified for clickbaitSo there's this, and it's cute: <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/curtissittenfeld/things-no-one-ever-tells-you-about-the-publishing-industry" target="_blank">On Buzzfeed</a><br />
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Here is the list, with my responses, with my view from both sides of the coalface.<br />
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1. When it comes to fellow writers, don’t buy into the narcissism of small differences. In all their neurotic, competitive, smart, funny glory, other writers are your friends.<br />
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<i>Some folks are friends, some folks are not friends. And some folks are colleagues. Think of other writers as colleagues. If you become friends with another writer, congratulations: you made a friend. Not a writer-friend.</i><br />
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2. Unless you’re Stephen King, or you’re standing inside your own publishing house, assume that nobody you meet has ever heard of you or your books. If they have, you can be pleasantly surprised.<br />
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<i>Be true to yourself when you react to being unrecognized or being recognized. 'Pleasantly surprised' is hard to fake, and I've seen it faked a whole lot. Badly.</i><br />
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3. At a reading, 25 audience members and 20 chairs is better than 200 audience members and 600 chairs.<br />
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<i>This is complicated. Reading to 25 dedicated fans is hugely rewarding, and you'll get a really strong feel for how they feel about your book. But you won't get from them what you get from 200. If you have 200 people and 400 empty chairs, ask everyone to move down to the front so they're as close to you as possible. If necessary, tell them you prefer not to have to speak too loud. What you'll get from the 200 is a sense of what, in your book, is </i>working<i>. Because you'll feel a generalized reaction from the room, the way an actor or a standup does from an audience. You will learn </i>so much more.<br />
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4. There are very different ways people can ask a published writer for the same favor. Polite, succinct, and preemptively letting you off the hook is most effective.<br />
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<i>Okay, I have no idea what this means. So it may be good advice.</i><br />
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5. Blurbs achieve almost nothing, everyone in publishing knows it, and everyone in publishing hates them.<br />
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<i>If this were true...</i><br />
<i>The reality is that too many people, both in publishing and on it's fringes, think a blurb is supposed to be some form of the statement "please buy this book, whoever you are." The best blurb, and I'm sure I'll never tire of saying it, is the blurb that does not try to get everyone to buy the book. The best blurb is the one that </i>tries to ensure that people who will not like it do not buy it. <i>It's carefully worded to say: this is the sort of thing this book is, if you like this sort of thing, open the book. If you don't like it, put it down.</i><br />
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6. But a really good blurb from the right person can, occasionally, make a book take off.<br />
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<i>See? See above.</i><br />
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7. When your book is on best-seller lists, people find you more amusing and respond to your emails faster.<br />
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<i>In demand. The funny thing about this is that it isn't that they are pretending to find you more amusing. They genuinely do. It's like the price tag on a bottle of wine.</i><br />
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8. When your book isn’t on best-seller lists, your life is calmer and you have more time to write.<br />
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<i>See #19 below. When you are in demand, be blunt in your refusals: 'no, not now, I have to write,' is th best one.</i><br />
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9. The older you are when your first book is published, the less gratuitous resentment will be directed at you.<br />
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<i>Haters gotta hate.</i><br />
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10. The goal is not to be a media darling; the goal is to have a career.<br />
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<i>There's nothing wrong with being a Dilly if that's your thing. I know a couple of really smart people who could have become full time writers but who prefer to flit from one all consuming passion to another. So don't think that just because you had a success that you have to get all serious. Be true to your joy.</i><br />
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11. The farther you live from New York, the less preoccupied you’ll be with literary gossip. Like cayenne pepper, literary gossip is tastiest in small doses.<br />
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<i>No. Comment.</i><br />
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12. Contrary to stereotype, most book publicists aren’t fast-talking, vapid manipulators; they’re usually warm, organized youngish women (yes, they are almost all women) who love to read.<br />
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<i>Yes. Absolutely.</i><br />
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13. Female writers are asked more frequently about all of the following topics than male writers: whether their work is autobiographical; whether their characters are likable; whether their unlikable characters are unlikable on purpose or the writer didn’t realize what she was doing; how they manage to write after having children.<br />
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<i>You want the biggest generality about gender? I'm going to give it to you: </i><br />
<i>Female writers are generally better writers than male writers at the same level of sales, even though their cover prices are (still) generally lower.</i><br />
<i>There is a good reason for this, and it's called the 'approval gap.' Because, throughout their education, women have to work harder for the same level of approval, </i>they work harder<i>. And the continue to look out for anything that will give them an edge. Which means they are also more likely to try out other people's suggestions. On a positive note, in younger writers (those under 35 in the USA, under 50 in Europe) I'm seeing more and more men who work as hard as the women. So as the approval gap closes, the attainment gap closes too.</i><br />
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14. If you tell readers a book is autobiographical, they will try to find ways it isn’t. If you tell them it’s not autobiographical, they will try to find ways it is.<br />
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<i>All books are autobiographical. Once I've read just one of your books, I KNOW YOU. And this is exactly as it should be. Underneath, all books are about </i>being what we are.<br />
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15. It’s not your responsibility to convince people who don’t like your books that they should. Taste is subjective, and you’re not running for elected office.<br />
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<i>I'd go even further. See #5 above. It is your responsibility to give the reader the best possible experience. But some people just aren't your reader. And you have a responsibility to discourage them from reading your books at all.</i><br />
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16. By not being active on social media, you’re probably shooting yourself in the foot. That said, faking fluency with or interest in forms of social media that don’t do it for you is much harder than making up dialogue for imaginary characters.<br />
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<i>Meh. Social media is good for getting reader reaction. But not as good as live reading. Its effect on sales is limited. So have no regrets if you can't be doing with it.</i><br />
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17. If someone asks what you do and you don’t feel like getting into it, insert the word freelance before the word writer, and they will inquire about nothing more.<br />
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<i>Awesome advice.</i><br />
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18. If you read a truly great new book and feel more excited than jealous, congratulations, you’re a writer.<br />
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<i>See the gender divide on #13 above. There's this progress to maturity that begins with 'bastard, why didn't I think of that!' and progresses through 'damn, I wish I'd thought of that!' and finally matures to 'awesome, I'm totally using that in my next book!'</i><br />
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19. Fiercely, fiercely, fiercely protect your writing time.<br />
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<i>Not kidding: your spouse should know that your marriage is at risk if he/she trespasses on writing time.</i><br />
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20. It’s OK to let your book be published if you can see its flaws but don’t know how to fix them. Don’t let your book be published if it still contains flaws that are fixable, even if fixing them is a lot of work.<br />
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<i>Dangerous advice. Prioritize flaws. You have a duty to learn to be a better writer through each book. So eventually you have to weigh the seriousness of the flaw against the difference between what you will learn by fixing it and what you will learn by moving on to the next book.</i><br />
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21. Talking about how brutally difficult it is to write books is unseemly. Unless you’re the kind of writer who’s been imprisoned by the dictatorship where you live and is being advocated for by PEN American Center, give it a rest.<br />
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<i>In fact, if it is brutally difficult to write, you're doing something wrong. Perhaps we should talk?</i><br />
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22. Books bring information, provocation, entertainment, and comfort to many people. You’re lucky to be part of that.<br />
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<i>Yes.</i><br />
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23. Sometimes good books sell well; sometimes good books sell poorly; sometimes bad books sell well; sometimes bad books sell poorly. A lot about publishing is unfair and inscrutable. But…<br />
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<i>But good authors endure longer than bad authors, and authors who get better and better endure longest of all. Even in this new world of digital publishing, this is as true as it ever was.</i><br />
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24. …you don’t need anyone else’s approval or permission to enjoy the magic of writing — of sitting by yourself, figuring out which words should go together to express whatever it is you’re trying to say.<br />
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<i>This is a weird kind of advice. Everyone needs positive interaction with other people, and artists need to know that their work is appreciated and understood. So I'd qualify this by saying that until you have readers who depend on you (and that's how it feels, by the way), you don't need anyone's approval or permission to go in search of the magic of writing. But once your writing sees daylight—and realistically this means 'has been read by 200 or more strangers—approval matters and there's nothing wrong with admitting that you need it.<br /><br />And in reality, a lot of people </i>do<i> need permission. That's exactly what #24 is doing—it's giving you permission. It may be in your culture, or in the way you were raised. I have worked with many authors who needed someone to act as the authority figure and say to them "yes, you can do that, if you want to." People don't learn that they didn't need permission until after it has been given.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-11248830422459969172015-09-21T11:56:00.000+02:002015-09-21T11:56:12.583+02:00Old Website Formally RetiredIn the interests of simplicity and efficiency, the old www.densewords.com website is now formally retired, and the address <a href="http://www.densewords.com/" target="_blank">www.densewords.com</a> now redirects here (www.harrydewulf.com).<br />
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This makes no difference to the services that I'm offering to authors, but it does streamline my online presence, and also limit's any confusion over which out of <a href="http://narrativepath.com/" target="_blank">Narrative Path</a>, densewords.com and harrydewulf.com people should come to.<br />
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The densewords website has been around a long time - since Autumn 2008. Here's a snapshot to remember it by:<br />
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"densewords" continues to be the name of my editing activities, and I continue to use the "Porte de la Craffe" logo.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-7386432426619884082015-06-08T09:50:00.000+02:002015-06-08T09:50:50.763+02:00More Antigrammar: the "sentence fragment"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you use MSWord, or any other conventional commercial wordprocessor to do your writing, you may have used a "grammar checking" feature.</div>
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You might well expect me to put scare quotes around "grammar checking" but actually this feature in MSWord is pretty innocent, and for many people, extremely useful. I find the spell check dictionaries far more harmful, as they create false segregations. A whole generation of English speakers the world over is coming to believe that there clear divisions in spelling between the US and the UK, when until recently this has only been true for <i>two</i> spelling rules: meter/metre and color/colour.</div>
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You can learn a great deal from the grammar check - not least from realizing when it's wrong. If you're an author, run the grammar check on your latest manuscript. It will flag <i>hundreds</i> of "sentence fragments."</div>
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This is because in fiction it is extremely common to work in incomplete sentences. So common, in fact, that treating them as an error is definitely an error.</div>
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Grammarians often talk about parts of speech getting <i>elided</i>. <i>Elision </i>is when a word or phrase is left out, usually because it is implied by the context, so not really needed. When the main verb of a sentence gets elided, the sentence will be, to old school grammarians, <i>ungrammatical*</i>.</div>
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This is because we get our language via a tortuous, mixed and messy descent from a disorderly jumble of languages most of which at some point diverged from a common root (know as PIE, <i>proto-indo-european</i>), and then came back together at different times in different places, and at different speeds... whereas our grammar - our language for describing language - comes more or less directly from Latin.</div>
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There is a profound difference between Latin and modern English. A difference so profound that unless you're an author using the grammar check in MSWord, you might never notice it.</div>
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<b>In Latin, the Verb is God. In English, <a href="http://www.harrydewulf.com/2011/08/context-is-everything.html">Context is Everything.</a></b></div>
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In Latin, an entire sentence can be contained in a single verb. In Latin the verb is so important that for preference, it is placed at the very end of the sentence, as if to ensure that you have an opportunity to give a fair hearing to all the other words before the verb takes over.<br />
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English can function without verbs. Not always. Some verbs can't be left out. "can" is a good example. But notice that I just wrote "not always" as a complete sentence, which it was. A grammarian would say that I elided "it does" - not just the verb, but the subject too.<br />
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But calling it "ellipsis" suggests that I'm thinking those words, just not saying or writing them. Nonsense! I'm not thinking them. The ideas that become words somewhere between my thoughts and my fingertips are limited to the core meaning that I want to convey. When I exclaim "nonsense!" I'm thinking "nonsense!" not "<i>that is</i> nonsense!".<br />
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In modern English we can, and frequently, manage without verbs. Not to seek or distract attention, but just because we don't always need them. Meaning matters. In modern English, meaning trumps grammar.<br />
<br />
In fairness, this is mostly because grammar as a tool for describing language is sometimes not quite up to the task. As a tool for constructing proper syntax, grammar is as much a disaster as trying to construct a heroic fantasy by slavishly building a <i>hero's journey</i>.<br />
<br />
In the end, single sentences, and whole stories, come from the same place: a <i>meaning</i>, that you need to communicate to others. A simple message might take a few words. A complex lesson might take a whole story. The meaning of life probably takes a lifetime of reading and writing to communicate.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
____<br />
* In fact, the word 'ellipsis' is often used for when a word or words are left out *cough* by ignorance or accident. This is apologism. Grammarians want to be able to say that it isn't the description that is at fault, but the object being described. I'll leave you to judge for yourself.<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-71996362139228398442015-06-06T09:55:00.000+02:002015-06-06T09:55:03.340+02:00The Long War, by Stephen Baxter and Terry PratchettWarning: this is not a book review. I won't be telling you the plot or advizing you to read it, or not read it. I expect you already to have read it, or to go and read it, once you've read my analysis.<br />
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<br />
My summary of this book is as follows:<br />
<br />
<i>Lacks any strong narrative oversight, consequently lacks a clear direction.</i><br />
<br />
If you know your Pratchett you will know how unusual and surprising that summary is. It is very difficult to identify a Pratchett title that lacks a clear, focused and determined didactic purpose. Most of his books also include incidental or collateral lessons about <i>being human</i> and how to live a good life.<br />
<br />
I've often thought that a driving force behind Pratchett's stories is <i>anger</i>, and it may be that what's missing in The Long War is exactly that; the emotion that always worked for Pterry, that always tied his disparate and incongruous incidental ideas together into a powerful narrative whole was that he wanted his reader to <i>know why he was angry, and want to do something about it</i>.<br />
<br />
I have no doubt that The Long War's disparate and incongruous incidental ideas come from Pratchett, and his collaboration with Baxter. But the only mind tying it all together here is Baxter's.<br />
<br />
At its worst, and knowing Baxter's own work I don't make this remark lightly, this reads like Pratchett fanfic. There are, for instance, obvious nods to classic SF, but they don't all come through the same way. Baxter spots the obvious parallels with Star Trek and signposts them. He spots the obvious parallels with Henlein and lampshades them. But misses the way that Pratchett (in his earliest work) sneaks in echoes of Bradbury. There's a moment where it looks like Pratchett snuck one under Baxter's prodigious fan-radar, and leads the reader up a path that is so suspiciously similar to Eric Frank Russell's "And Then There Were None" you can almost see Pterry smirking.<br />
<br />
It falls apart, when Baxter starts showing up the nods to, and echoes of Pterry's back catalogue.<br />
<br />
But that isn't what kills it. In fact it isn't even the lack of story.<br />
<br />
It's the lack of cutting.<br />
<br />
I work with several SF writers, and the good ones spend a lot of time deep in thought about the practicalities of the way their worlds work. What I call the "fantasy economy" - how do people produce and transport food? How do the distribute resources and information? How do they educate their children? How do they obtain medical care? <i>How do the life support systems actually work?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
For every SF <i>or</i> fantasy writer that I have to bawl out for failing to think of these important details, there are 10 who have gone to all the necessary trouble to work out the answers.<br />
<br />
And they're the worst. Because they put all the answers in the book.<br />
<br />
What really destroys this book is the bloat. It is packed with "hard" SF author notes about how everything works.You could probably cut out a third of the text and it would make no noticeable change to the experience. But worse than this, is the repetition. Details that the reader ALREADY KNOWS are reiterated each time a new character turns up in an already visited situation.<br />
<br />
There are two basic rules that I have to throw at writers in all genres and this book breaks them carelessly, liberally, and without any thought to the reader's experience. These rules are divine twins, castor and pollux, two sides to the same coin, of Need to Know:<br />
<br />
1. Do not tell the reader anything that the reader does not need to know. This includes anything that the reader can guess, infer or reasonably assume.<br />
2. Do not tell the reader anything that the reader already knows, especially when characters are telling eachother things that they don't all know, but the reader does.<br />
<br />
(There is a great deal more I could say about these rules. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/narrativepath">Narrative Path</a> will probably have to devote whole courses to them.)<br />
<br />
Both of these rules are broken so many times in this book that it just isn't a joke.<br />
<br />
Baxter can, in his own work, get a little too fond of the effectiveness of his careful hard SF groundwork, but generally curbs it before it gets in the way. I do wonder if he was trying too hard to do justice to the collaboration, and I also wonder if the whole text has been treated with a little too much reverence.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-58697645931401487072015-05-19T18:21:00.002+02:002015-05-19T18:21:53.740+02:00"Trapped" is out! W00t!I'm really enjoying working on this SF series with M. Terry Green.<br />
<br />
Terry's writing is sharp and breathless like the sub-zero world of this series. Even if you don't love it (and you will) you won't be able to put it down.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Typical symptoms of reading Terry's work are:<br /><br />
<div>
<ul>
<li>lack of sleep</li>
<li>wearing an extra cardigan</li>
<li>paranoia</li>
</ul>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-65968118171919059232015-05-18T10:45:00.001+02:002015-05-18T10:45:48.736+02:00Shooting Actors (in a barrel)Very few actors have ever been shot.<br />
<br />
Setting aside the obvious injustice of this fact, it creates a rather complex problem for the author.You see, when most people imagine someone being shot, they imagine <i>an actor pretending to have been shot</i>.<br />
<br />
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<br />
In effect, in the popular imagination, getting shot looks like this. Actors show the body jerking with each impact, or being flung to the ground. Soldiers and law-enforcement officers (and increasingly, mobile-phone footage) all attest that most people show no physical signs of having been hit until they actually start to bleed, or fall down dead or unconscious. Indeed, most people stay standing until they realize they've been shot.<br />
<br />
This makes plenty of physical and physiological sense. A .45 calibre bullet weighs about 15 grams. The average adult male weighs about 90 kilograms. That's 6000 times more. The inertia of the bullet is tiny compared with the inertia of a human body, and the body is (mostly) pretty soft. So a bullet will penetrate without causing any jerking or throwing the person backwards. Not even Dirty Harry's Auto Mag.<br />
<br />
The problem for the author is that if you describe getting shot realistically, there are some situations where the reader will think what you have described is unrealistic, because of those damn, dirty, actors.<br />
<br />
The below is how I would write a "police incident report" for a book. It bears very little relation to a real police report, which would be more detailed and much less interesting to read. My approach is to imagine how a fellow officer might summarize the report to the Commissioner.<br />
<br />
<i>As the suspect ran, he reached behind him, and continued to discharge his weapon, without looking back to aim. At this point, neither Detective Ramirez nor Officer Jones knew whether the suspect had reloaded, or whether this was a second weapon, so they could not tell how many more times the suspect might fire into the busy street. Both officers opened fire. The suspect ran around the corner of the block. When the firing stopped, they proceeded to the corner with caution. Not far beyond the corner, the suspect lay seriously injured, having been struck at least three times by bullets from the weapons of both officers.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Members of the public are always shocked by the number of times that police officers fire their weapons, but the fact is, you can't always tell whether or not you've hit someone. If there's a continuing danger to you or the public, you keep firing.<br />
<br />
Because so many people think that: you shoot someone, he staggers and falls, if it happens in a more realistic way, they may find it hard to believe, or shocking or disturbing. It may break immersion. It may even break sympathy with your main character to discover that he's emptying his gun into an attacker rather than trying to take him down with a single, neat, shot.<br />
<br />
So you have to balance realism with what people think happens. This sort of narrative lie is a tricky area. If you specifically want to write about the realities of life on the street, then it makes sense to assault all the popular misconceptions. If on the other hand there is only one shooting in the entire book, and the book is not <i>about</i> the realities of lethal firearm usage, you may have to present it the way an actor would: with a jerk, a <i>wilhelm scream</i>, a shudder, a stagger, he clutches his chest and falls to the floor.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-63652318176453571212015-05-12T22:42:00.000+02:002015-05-12T22:45:56.361+02:00Narrative Path ProgressWe're out of alpha and gearing up for a full launch some time in the next few weeks. I'll say more when the last tumblers click.<br />
<br />
Dense Words blog has been quiet because not only have I been working on the course for Narrative Path, but I've also been writing blog posts for the NP blog.<br />
<br />
Once NP is live, I'll be blogging here about my usual editing activities, but much of what I write <i>about writing</i> will be on the NP blog.<br />
<br />
Here is a tiny sneak preview of the final Narrative Path logo:<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTgxWdQc4qq-r58iT8l-cufao81HrH2P6KQR-pOsTyi7ZnaJc4gXceLwb5zZhN6lM8ehRHF6eedV4eCDkrQyowizEqmU7jMkwP9yYISeYBYJ4pysXohno77WwSXLM4NV5fsQHMueiRao/s1600/NP1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTgxWdQc4qq-r58iT8l-cufao81HrH2P6KQR-pOsTyi7ZnaJc4gXceLwb5zZhN6lM8ehRHF6eedV4eCDkrQyowizEqmU7jMkwP9yYISeYBYJ4pysXohno77WwSXLM4NV5fsQHMueiRao/s1600/NP1.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">probable NP logo...<br />pending final acceptance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-3150332058427345342015-04-14T16:36:00.003+02:002015-04-14T16:37:48.491+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Kary English wins the grand prize for a short story for "Poseidon's Eyes".<br />
<br />
Take a look at Kary's other SF shorts:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E91QL40">Flight of the Kikayon</a>
and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00R80IHIW">Totaled</a><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-60987664514772423252015-03-27T21:06:00.003+01:002015-03-28T00:07:30.557+01:00Event Manager neededIN May, Narrative Path is launching.<br />
<br />
Narrative Path is the result of many months of research, study and learning, that results from a conversation I had with one of my wonderful authors. The question he asked was: how can densewords editing be made available to more authors. The problem is twofold: time and cost.<br />
<br />
Even story development on a typical novel takes two 90 minute chats and up to ten hours additional time spent analysing and providing advice, help and answers to questions. A full literary edit takes 10 to 20 days.<br />
<br />
Development consultation costs anything from $250 upwards and a literary edit on a full length novel anything from $1500 upwards.<br />
<br />
But I'm convinced that a lot of what I can teach can be presented in a way that reaches a lot more people. It certainly can't be the same level of personalized help and support that I provide to my writers. But much of what I provide them can be organized in other ways.<br />
<br />
Narrative Path is the result of this.<br />
<br />
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Narrative Path centers around a series of online courses, the first of which is specifically designed to help a new writer through their first book. In addition, there is access to additional resources, such as my edited writer's guide, a book about dealing with the kind of problems that commonly arise during the act of writing a novel. Writers will be able to access more content, such as webinars, lectures and hotseats, exercises and direct access to my development and editing advice, via a continuity program.<br />
<br />
All the resources provided through Narrative Path are derived from my core goals: to reach more writers, and to teach writers by teaching writing, not by teaching critical analysis.<br />
<br />
In parallel with Narrative Path, I plan to set up some local events. At this time, I haven't yet got a fully realized idea of the form that the events will take. I can envisage anything from panels at conventions, through weekend lectures, weeklong hothouse courses or two week exclusive writers' retreats - and anything else I haven't thought of. I want to do this on both sides of the Atlantic; all parts of North America, and in Europe any suitable venue should be considered.<br />
<br />
In setting up Narrative Path, I have a business partner who is dealing with all the stuff that I have no knowledge or time to do - marketing, sales, technical, logistical, etc, in return for a substantial share in the profit. This arrangement also results in my learning a great deal about better communication and presentation of ideas, because we work very closely together on developing the courses and support materials.<br />
<br />
For the events, ideally, I would like to do the same. So I'm looking for someone experienced in small-scale event management and promotion, for what is likely to be a long term partnership. I will bring the subject matter expertise, and they will bring the events, promotional and logistical expertise. Just as I like to edit all kinds of books, my events partner need not be specialized in literary, artistic, creative or academic events; if anything, I like working with people from outside my usual milieu as it produces a more creative partnership. Initially I'd like to organize four events for the upcoming months, at least two of which should be in North America.<br />
<br />
But I will want to develop ideas for the form, frequency and presentation of these events with my events partner, so at the moment, everything is open to ideas and suggestions.<br />
<br />
So if you are interested in this opportunity, or know anyone who you think might be, let me know.<br />
<br />
If you want to know more, contact me via <a href="http://www.densewords.com/?contact">this page from my website</a>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-9322689582166273232015-01-29T15:04:00.000+01:002015-01-29T21:21:23.738+01:00Weird words: Why an escrow isn't an escrocWorking as I occasionally do as a translator of contractual and other legalese documents, I occasionally come across the English word escrow.<br />
<br />
It is a noun, defined by my dictionary as:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 15.6000003814697px;"><i>a bond, deed, or other document kept in the custody of a third party and taking effect only when a specified condition has been fulfilled.</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 15.6000003814697px;"><br /></span>
However this term has a tendency to terrify the French, because there is a French word, <i>escrow</i> which is defined by my dictionary (translated from the French, <i>bien entendu</i>):<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>person who commits, or is in the habit of committing, confidence tricks or petty fraud.</i></span><br />
<br />
As I'm sure you can imagine, my French customers hardly want their legal arrangements in any way associated with petty fraud or cons.<br />
<br />
So how did two words that are pronounced the same, and written almost the same come to have such widely different meanings?<br />
<br />
My French and Italian etymological dictionaries blame eachother, but I tend to go along with the Italian dictionary's assertion that "escroc" is French in origin - but as these thing do, it may well have gone both ways, between the nominal and verbal forms in each language <i>escroc, scrocco, </i>and <i>escroquerie, scroccare</i> respectively.<br />
<br />
Either way, the number one suspect is the French word <i>croc, </i>in Old French a hook, in modern French a fang. The prefix e-, es- would therefore suggest 'unhooking' - which suggest a cutpurse or pockpocket, however it may also suggest coin clipping, or some other form of skimming or graft.<br />
<br />
As to <i>escrow, </i>my preferred source for English etymology is of course Doug Harper. He has this to say:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #ddd9ca; font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px;">1590s, from Anglo-French </span><span class="foreign" style="font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">escrowe</span><span style="background-color: #ddd9ca; font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px;">, from Old French </span><span class="foreign" style="font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">escroe</span><span style="background-color: #ddd9ca; font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px;"> "scrap, small piece, rag, tatter, single parchment," from a Germanic source akin to Old High German </span><span class="foreign" style="font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">scrot</span><span style="background-color: #ddd9ca; font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px;"> "a scrap, shred, a piece cut off" (see </span><a class="crossreference" href="http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=shred&allowed_in_frame=0" style="color: #800020; font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">shred</a><span style="background-color: #ddd9ca; font-family: Georgia, Garamond, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px;"> (n.)). Originally a deed delivered to a third person until a future condition is satisfied, which led to sense of "deposit held in trust or security" (1888).</span><br />
<br />
It is also probably worth speculating that there may be a connexion with <i>crotte</i> which is closely related to the OHG <i>scrot</i> and which means an animal dropping or other small blob of organic waste.<br />
<br />
Either way, how does the taking away or unhooking of a small scrap or fragment, become the setting aside with a trusted third party a deed or sum of money?<br />
<br />
With the sources I have available, there is only some very thin speculation, but here is what I think is most plausible:<br />
<br />
There is anecdotal evidence, and evidence in historical archives, of documents, in particular title deeds and bills of sale, that have either been cut in half, or have been stamped, and the stamped part cut through, leaving part of the stamp or seal on the two pieces.<br />
<br />
Going out on an even thinner limb - maybe at one time, property that was in dispute was literally placed on a hook until ownership was settled?<br />
<br />
And another - practically the tip of a leaf, is <i>encrouer</i> which means to attach, hang up or hang a person from a hook, as a means of detaining a condemned prisoner (the meaning is shared with the Italian word <i>incrocare)</i>, which suggests a general meaning of 'setting something aside' - but which brings us back to the unwanted criminal associations.<br />
<br />
Sometimes you just can't know. Suffice to say that in modern English an escrow is not merely a good guy, but someone universally trusted, while in modern French an <i>escroc</i> might not be a thoroughly bad person, but certainly should not be trusted!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-75610425873222247122015-01-09T17:32:00.001+01:002015-01-09T17:32:33.332+01:00Je Suis Charlie<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p>Dammartin libéré merci</p>— Soso ✌ (@Soniiaa28) <a href="https://twitter.com/Soniiaa28/status/553587465714679808">January 9, 2015</a></blockquote>
<script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-58999174759169194122015-01-04T19:55:00.000+01:002015-01-05T09:29:24.806+01:00The Prince who was really a Princess<i>For the new year, a new fairytale, in the classic "tell don't show" style. I've been reading a lot of Andrew Lang's immortal collections recently, and I think the influence is obvious. After some effort, and wading through pages and pages of ridiculous boobplate, I managed to find some images on Pinterest of girls and young women wearing practical armor. Most of them are rather glammed up, though. The hero of my story was raised as a boy, though, so you'd do better just imagining him. Also, this is a first draft, so expect errors. Also I wasn't sure whether or not to give the characters names.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
___<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><b>The Prince who was really a Princess</b></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><br /></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">There
was an old King, who had a young queen who bore him only daughters. Such was
the custom of the time, that should a King wish his daughters to marry, he must
part with some of his land, giving it as a gift to whatever Prince might win
his daughter's heart. For it was also the unlucky custom of the time that a
Princess could only marry a Prince, and Princes, who were raised to rule, would
only seek the hand of a Princess whose father could offer them some sizeable
territory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Luckily,
the old King had lived a long life, he had been married more than twice, and
made a number of conquests, but after the marriage of his twelfth daughter, he
began to imagine the borders of his kingdom closing in, and to fear that if he
ever did have a son, it would be a sorry small kingdom indeed that he would
inherit. So he resolved to have no further children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A
few more years passed, and the King began to feel his great age, and to fear
that he had not done his duty to his Kingdom in not providing it with a son to
rule it. His wife was still young and beautiful, but if he died, she would be
at the mercy of the surrounding Kingdoms which abounded with dukes and
princelings, many of whom would pursue her to marry her for her Kingdom, and
many others who would simply take it with an army. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He
resolved to try one final time to have a son. He told himself that if it was a
daughter, he would choose the Prince to marry her, announcing it to all the
world, so that he would at least be able to name his heir. And if a son, so
much the better. However, he failed to tell this to his wife.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">When
the child was born, it was, as all the others had been, a girl. Beautiful,
strong and bonny, but a source only of grief to her mother who so loved the old
King that she swore the midwife to secrecy, and had it announced that she had
at last borne a son.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">There
was much feasting and rejoicing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
young prince, who was really a princess, grew up healthy and strong on a diet
of good meat and fresh air. Every weekday he, who was really a she, learned his
letters, studied statecraft and warcraft in the mornings, and horsemanship and
swordsmanship in the afternoon, manners, charm and cheer in the evenings; on
Saturdays he, who was really a she, rode with the hunt or did falconing, and on
Sundays gave alms to the poor, and studied piety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
King provided the finest teachers, trainers and tutors in the land. And if any
of them discovered the Prince's secret, none of them revealed it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Now
it so happened that the King's eldest daughter had married a bad Prince named
Hasba. He had recently become King of his own Kingdom, and had begun to turn
his greedy eyes to the Kingdoms around him. Greedy King Hasba had already
enlarged his kindom several times over, through clever politics, through
extortion, and through war, until it almost completely surrounded the Old
King's lands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Old King died when the Prince, who was really a princess, was fourteen years
old. Handsome and strong, but not yet in his majority. Before there was a
chance to crown him, however, Greedy King Hasba invaded with a great army.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
only person who was ready was the Queen, for she had been warned in a letter
from her eldest daughter, who although almost as greedy as her husband, had
felt a few mild pangs of guilt when she learned of his plans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Very
early one morning, the Queen came to the Prince's chamber, bade him rouse and
clothe himself; the Queen took a small purse of gold, and the Prince, who was
really a princess, took a small gold ring. With the sound and clamour of war
approaching, they stole away on swift horses, into the great forest that
bordered the Kingdom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">They
didn't have time to bring much more than their clothes with them, and soon they
were lost, cold and hungry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It
began to grow dark, but just as they were beginning to lose hope, they came
upon a large house in a clearing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"This
will surely be the den of some Bandits," said the Queen, but the Prince,
who was really a princess, insisted that they must find warmth and shelter, and
risk what they must within.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">To
their surprise, the house seemed to be recently deserted, for though there was
a fire in the hearth and food and drink on the table, with torches and candles
lit about the place, they could find no sign of any people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">They
resolved to eat their fill, and should someone come, they would give them a
little from their small purse of gold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Finding
a small bedroom, they slept well, although the Prince had to rise twice in the
night to feed the fire. In the morning there was still no sign of the house's
owners, but the day had dawned bright and clear, so the Prince went outside to
prepare the horses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
horses were nowhere to be seen. Outside the house was a small clearing,
completely and tightly enclosed by the forest, with no sign of road or path or
trackway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">There
was some magic or mischief afoot, but the Prince did not want to alarm the
Queen. Returning to the cottage he told her that she should take some
breakfast, while he scouted the path, to find a proper route through the
forest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince, who was really a Princess, hadn't ventured far into the forest when he
heard an unruly commotion behind him, and at once hurried back to the house. On
the lawn was a group of a hundred fat
black ponies, and from within there came the noise of revelry and carousing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince crept to a window and saw to his horror that the house was indeed
occupied by bandits, who on discovering the Queen had apparently pressed her</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> to all sorts of indignities, and the Prince watched as she hurried from place
to place, serving the Bandits their dinner, and suffering their harsh words and
rough hands.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Though
strong, and well taught and well practiced, the Prince knew well that he had
not the strength or skill to confront a hundred bandits, so resolved to seek
help where he might find it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince hurried off through the forest, careless of wild beasts or pursuit,
since haste could be the only deliverance of his unfortunate mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">At
length, he came to another clearing. All around the clearing were stalls and
stands, as if for a village market, and gay flags and bunting hung from the
trees. But all was not gay and cheerful, for among the flags and pennants were
also the corpses of crows and butchered rats. The strangest of the spectacle
was that although the stalls seemed to have been set up only that morning,
there was no sign of any sellers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As
the Prince, who was really a Princess, crept into the centre of the clearing, a
strange music started up, and he spied a movement from one of the stalls. The
stall itself was bedecked with many wonders. Boxes of jewels and gems
overflowed; fine silks were draped across beautiful tapestries and lace as fine
as frost. Gowns and dresses from far corners of the world, boots and shoes of
surpassing workmanship and a bridle of dragonskin. In the centre sparkled a
remarkable breastplate that shone with the light of a thousand suns, and across
it lay a sword so sharp that the very air seemed to be cut into blue light
around it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">From
behind the stall came a strange dancing figure, draped in a hooded robe of
midnight black. The figure danced and turned
in the strange music, until finally stopping before the Prince, and
revealing her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She
seemed to be a woman of great age, but her age did not seem to have affected
the agility and strength of her body, nor the beauty of her voice when she
spoke, with an elegant calm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Young
Prince, what gift do you bring me, that I may aid you in your quest?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince, who was really a Princess, understood at once that this was an
ensorcelled clearing, and the woman a hag or witch, and that he might find some
aid, but as likely there would be some trap or terrible bargain to be struck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"I
have nothing of value but my little gold ring and my secret," said the
Prince, "And neither are of much value since I no longer have a kingdom to
be Prince of. But I must find a means to rescue my mother from the clutches of
cruel bandits, and I will repay any aid by whatever means is demanded."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"A
pretty speech young Prince," said the hag, "And I have much that may
help you." She led him to her stall, and showed him the many objects of
great magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Here
is the gown of Loltha. Any man who wears it is transformed into beautiful
woman, and it is beyond the means of any divination to see through the
disguise. Here is the bridle of the Dragon King, which when the magic words
'Awake my steed' are spoken will summon the Dragon Horse, that can be ridden to
the ends of the World and back untiring. Here are the shoes of Queen Abtath,
that will make any woman the greatest dancer in all the world, and here are the
boots of Ironsmith Wild that give the strength to carry any load. This is the
sword and breastplate of the Angel of Silver. It is said that the sword will
cut anything and the breastplate protects from all harm…" and so she went
on, until the Prince was dizzy with all the great magics and how any one of the
least of them would be enough to help him to defeat the bandits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Now
my young Prince," the hag continued, "my price is very small. I will
not ask your small ring or your small secret, since you have nothing else. Give
me but what I ask, and in return I will give you the magical gift that will
most aid you in your quest."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Ask
what you will," the Prince, who was really a Princess, replied with all
the manner and charm that he had been taught, "and if it is in my power to
give, I will give it."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Of
course, the hag was up to no good. She herself possessed a powerful charm. She
made the same promises to anyone who passed her way, and as soon as she used
the charm, they were in her power, and
she would take all that they had, and send them naked into the forest to be
devoured by the wild beasts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"All
you need do is give me one kiss upon my lips, to show that in spite of my great
age, you, a young man, will show that my beauty is still great."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">This
did not seem too high a price to the Prince, even though it seemed a little
vain. He assented and kissed her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
hag's charm was that any man who kissed her fell at once under her spell, and
she did not hesitate to boast and crow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"And
now," the hag shouted, "as all men, you are in my power, and will
give me all that you have, and go naked into the forest, there to be killed and
devoured by wild beasts."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But
the Prince was not a man, but a Princess, and the hag's charm had no power over
him. All at once he snatched up the glittering sword, and struck off the hag's
head with a single blow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
hag's body transformed into a pile of a thousand frogs, that hopped off in all
directions, leaving nothing but her midnight black robes and her strange charm.
The Prince felt that the charm was probably wicked, and struck it with the
sword, shattering it to dust.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince at once fell to looking over the various objects of great magic on the
hag's stall. He put on the breastplate of the Angel of Silver and buckled on
the sword. He pulled on the boots of Ironsmith Wild, and took up the Dragon
King's bridle, saying at once the magic words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Fortunately,
the Dragon Horse, fiery eyed and ill-tempered though it was, had magical saddle
bags. Most of the hag's magical hoard was unidentified and unlabelled, so the
Prince, who was really a princess, took only what the hag had already
described, and added to this a few small items that did have labels, such as a
Bottle of Everpure water and a Key of All
Locks, and other sundries of improbable usefulness, that the Prince supposed he
would probably be able to sell for a King's ransom and hence buy himself a
King's Kingdom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince sprang easily into the saddle, and bade the horse gallop with all speed to
the bandit's house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">His
arrival in the clearing on a tall black dragonskinned horse with fiery eyes did
not go unnoticed. The Bandits, who were well fed and a little the worse for
drink, climbed onto their fat black ponies and charged at the Prince, all at
once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Dragon Horse was deft and agile, and dodged here and there, so that the
Bandit's arrows flew wide and hallebards fell through empty air. As the Dragon
Horse dodged about beneath him, the Prince, who was really a Princess, swung
stabbed and chopped with the Sword of the Angel of Silver that was so sharp
that it cut the air into blue and green fire around it. Soon, ninety-nine
bandits lay dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince jumped out of the saddle, and ran into the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Chief Bandit sat, careless of all danger, in a large chair by the fire, a mug
of ale in one hand, and the Queen, looking a little flushed and tired but
largely unharmed, sitting on his knee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Let
go my royal mother and prepare to defend yourself!" the Prince shouted a
clear challenge, as he had been taught to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Chief Bandit rose lazily to his feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"My
dear boy," he said, " You clearly know how to fight well, and I doubt
I could catch you if you ran. But fight me and you will surely die, since one
must die and it cannot be me. On the day I was born I was dipped in the River
of War and wet from head to foot, so not even an ankle was not touched by the
strange water. It was prophesied that no man could ever harm me."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But
the Prince was not a man, but a Princess, and the Chief Bandit's geas could not
affect him. He drew his sword and struck off the Chief Bandit's head with a
single blow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Queen was overjoyed to see the Prince safe and sound, and even more so when the
Prince related his adventures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"With
all these magics," said the Queen, "you will be able to take back the
Kingdom that is rightfully yours. But although a Prince you seem, you are a
Princess, and a Princess cannot have a Kingdom without a Prince. Luckily, I
heard the Bandits speak of a young and foolish Prince held captive by a Troll
just beyond the mountain to the south. If you free him, he will surely help you
win back your Kingdom."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince, who was really a Princess, had been hoping one day to become a King who
was really a Queen, but did not doubt the wisdom of his mother's words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">They
gathered provisions and loaded up the magic saddle-bags of the Dragon Horse.
The Dragon Horse was so large that it could easily carry both of them, and the
Prince bade the horse take them to the cave of the Troll that lived beyond the
mountain to the south.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It
so happened that a kindly Duke lived in a tower not far from the cave, and he
agreed to lodge the Queen while the Prince, who was really a Princess,
continued his quest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
path up to the Troll's cave was strewn with rocks and boulders and also strewn
with skeletons of men, none of which had feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince was nearly at the top of the path when a mighty voice rang out in mighty
challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Who
approaches the cave of the Mighty Ghroll?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Tall
as five men, with three heads and seven arms, the Mighty Ghroll stood before
the cave, menace on all three of his countenances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Remembering
the importance of truth and politeness, the Prince, who was really a Princess,
replied, a little awkwardly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"I
am a poor Prince who has lost his Kingdom, and have come to rescue . . .
another Prince, who I hope will aid me in my quest. Will you release him or
shall I have to fight or make ransom?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Troll was a little taken aback by the Prince's honesty and politeness, but it
was his custom to make adventurers fulfil strange and impossible tasks in order
to win his favour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Very
well," said the Troll with a wry smile, "You need only complete one
challenge and I will allow you to free the other Prince. Follow."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Troll walked into the cave, and the Prince, who was really a Princess, had to
run to keep up, having only normal sized legs. Deep in the mountain, the tunnel
expanded, into a vast empty room with a floor of polished red granite, and lit
like a ballroom by ten thousand candles. In the middle of the floor stood a man
made entirely of brass, dressed in a brass tailcoat with a brass rose in his
buttonhole and brass dancing shoes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Your
challenge," said the Troll, "is to dance with the Dancing Man until
he tires."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince at once turned and ran from the cave, and the Troll stared after him,
the wry smile turned to surprise on two of his three faces, but the third face
also turned to surprise as they heard the sound of feet hurrying back into the
cave. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince, of course, had run to the Dragon Horse to fetch the shoes of Queen
Abtath, which fit him especially well, since he was really a Princess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Without
another word, the Prince took the hand of the Dancing Man, and placed another
hand carefully upon his waist, and an unseen orchestra struck up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">For
many hours they danced. The Dancing Man was an excellent partner, and since the
Prince had been taught to dance as a man, graciously allowed him to lead. The
Dancing Man's brass shoes struck occasional sparks as the shoes of Queen Abtath
glid and flew across the granite floor, and never before had the Troll's six
eyes beheld such a spectacle. Hours turned into days and days to weeks until,
one morning, the Dancing Man's hips gave the smallest <i>creak</i>, and he suddenly stopped still, to dance no more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">By
now, the Troll was not surprised. Two of his heads had begun to suspect some
sort of sorcery after the third day, and the third head had begun to expect
that they Prince would succeed after the first week. So all the rest of the
while they had been trying to think of ways to keep their bargain and get
revenge for having lost the pleasure of cutting off the Prince's feet (as they
would have done).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Now,"
said the Prince, still full of vigour, "you promised to allow me to free
the other Prince."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"I
did," said the Troll, adding gleefully, "so go and free him. If you
can."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince, who was really a Princess, ran off into the Troll's dungeon to seek the
imprisoned Prince. Eventually, he heard the prisoner's mournful cries, and
sought him out, in a deep, dark pit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He
was bound and weighed down with heavy chains, was thin, unshaven, filthy, his
eyes sad and piteous as his mournful cries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Now,
" said the Prince who was really a Princess, "cease your complaining,
for I have come to rescue you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"It
is hopeless," the imprisoned Prince replied, "for the chains of the
Troll are cursed. All who seek to free me and cannot are themselves enchained,
by the ankles, and the Troll cuts off their feet to remove and eat them."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"But
the others who have tried did not have a Key of All Locks," the Prince who
was really a Princess replied, producing it with a flourish. However, he soon
discovered that even the Key of All Locks was of no use, since the imprisoned
Prince's chains had no keyhole.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
imprisoned Prince nodded resignedly, but the Prince who was really a Princess
remembered his lessons, and did not give up so easily. He drew out the Sword of
the Angel of Silver, and cut through the chains as easily as through a loaf of
bread.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But
as they fell away from the wrists and ankles of the imprisoned Prince, he saw
to his dismay a strange transformation take place, for the curse of the chains
was such that they made woman appear to be man, so before his eyes the imprisoned
Prince became a beautiful Princess. The rescued Princess was so grateful that
she showered the Prince who was really a Princess with embraces and kisses, and
was surprised at his apparent lack of joy at this development.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Come,"
said at length the Prince who was really a Princess, "let us escape this
dungeon and take council with my Mother and her new friend the kindly Duke."
So saying, He took up the broken manacles of the cursed chain and placed them
in his sack, explaining to the rescued Princess that he collected all he could
that was magical.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">On
arrival in the great ballroom under the mountain, they saw that the Troll waxed
with anger, and at once threw itself upon the Prince who was really a Princess,
intent on rending him limb from limb. But the claws of his seven hands skidded
across the breastplate of the Angel of Silver and the fangs of his three mouths
found no purchase anywhere on the Prince's body as long as he wore the armour.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince who was really a Princess drew his glittering sword and struck off two
of the Troll's heads, which tumbled away across the polished red granite,
cursing and spitting as they went. The Troll hesitated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince remembered his lessons in piety, and declared, "I can yet be
merciful if you will promise to mend your ways and let us go in peace."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In
fear for his immortal life, the Troll promised that henceforth he would waylay
and imprison only the wicked, and so the Prince who was really a Princess and
the rescued Princess went back up the tunnel to the entrance of the cave, where
the Dragon Horse waited to bring them safely back to the tower of the Kindly
Duke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Kindly Duke was overjoyed to see that the Prince had rescued a Princess, and
was confused as to why the Queen seemed less happy about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
rescued Princess was, for her part, deeply enamoured of her rescuer, though she
realized, of course, that they could not be married until the Prince had
reclaimed his Kingdom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"My
father," said the rescued Princess, "is King of Araby, and will
surely provide you with a mighty army with which to reconquer your
Kingdom."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Upon
hearing this, the Queen resolved that it was best that the Prince, who was
really a Princess, should continue to appear to be a Prince, if this was a safe
means of obtaining an army.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
next day, the Prince who was really a Princess, and the rescued Princess, took
their leave of the Kindly Duke, and set off upon the Dragon Horse for Araby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Many
would have been their adventures upon that long road, had it not been for the
swiftness of the steed of the Dragon King. But as it was, before long and
without incident, they were received a the tented palace of the King of Araby,
who wept for joy at the sight of his lost daughter, and the handsome and noble
young Prince who had delivered her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince who was really a Princess told the King of Araby the sad tale of the
loss of his father's Kingdom, and the King of Araby at once declared that he
would bestow upon him one of his nine armies of Djinn, that he could reclaim
his Kingdom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">This
was good fortune indeed, since it was a long road back to the North, and no
ordinary army could keep pace with the Dragon Horse. But any one of the Nine
Armies of Djinn was fast enough to arrive in advance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">And
so it was that a mere few days later, the young Queen and the Kindly Duke, the
Prince who was really a Princess, and the rescued Princess, and the Dragon
Horse, and the great host of one of the King of Araby's Nine Armies of Djinn,
stood at the edge of the great forest that encircled the Kingdom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Emissaries
were sent to the Queen's eldest daughter, begging that she prepare for sudden
invasion and reconquest, but the eldest daughter sent back a message that
filled all with dismay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Greedy King, the message said, possessed a magic throne, and once he had sat
upon the throne in any Kingdom, no man could take it from him, neither through
force of arms, nor subterfuge, nor by theft nor by process of law.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Well,"
said the Prince who was really a Princess, who read the wording of the magic
with great care, "that's convenient."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"I
for one," replied the Queen with a conspiratorial nod, "am beginning
to see a pattern."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince who was really a Princess rode out at the head of his great army, the
rescued Princess at his side, and was met upon the official field of battle by
the Greedy King and his Wife, with their great army.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Greedy King was not concerned by the Prince's Dragon Steed, not his glittering
breastplate and shining sword, nor by his magic boots, nor even by the
thousands of Djinn who stood, screaming, behind him. He sat, complacent upon
his magic throne, that was borne on a bier by ten huge slaves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Now
the Greedy King's wife was, after all, the Prince who was really a Princess's
sister, so he didn't feel altogether right about just striking the Greedy
King's head off with a single blow. So, as was the custom, they met alone
between their two armies, and the Prince who was really a Princess bent close
to the Greedy King, and whispered his secret in the Greedy King's ear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Upon
hearing the secret, the Greedy King looked again at the Dragon Horse, he looked
again at the glittering breastplate and the magic boots, and the shining sword
that cut the very air into blue fire, at the vast army of screaming Djinn, one
of the King of Araby's Nine armies, and grew suddenly rather pale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">"Now,"
said the Prince, "I suggest you take your Magic Throne and your army, and
you leave my Kingdom never to return, and in return I will tell noone the
secret of your vulnerability."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Greedy King made no reply, but instead departed at once for his own Kingdom,
and indeed handed over several other Kingdoms to the Prince who was really a
Princess, in the hope that no longer surrounded, the Prince would be more
likely to keep his promise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
young Queen and the Kindly Duke were at once summoned, and preparations were
made for the Prince's coronation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It
was, of course, the expectation of every subject that the Prince would marry
the rescued Princess, so the Prince, who was really a Princess, felt that it
was only fair to reveal his secret to her, also. At first she was downcast,
because even if they kept the secret, they could still never have an heir. But
the Prince pointed out that this was really of little concern, since they had
magical chains that could make any woman into a man, and a magical gown that
could make any man into a woman, and all manner of other magical objects and trinkets
besides, so they could do much as they wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
Prince who was really a Princess was crowned King who is really a Queen, and he
married the rescued Princess and they lived long and happy lives. And she bore
him several sons and daughters, and in his turn, he bore her several sons and
daughters, since it didn't much matter which of them wore the chains. And of
their many sons, some were probably really daughters, and of their many
daughters, some were probably really sons. It hardly really matters.<span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">Hhag</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-10073275799410539102014-12-27T10:51:00.000+01:002014-12-27T10:51:50.699+01:004 End of Year (ish) Releases. Yay!A year of sporadic berating, bemoaning, chivvying and chiving (is that a word?) has made, as usual, no difference to my authors' publication schedules. However, the last quarter of the year, no less than four of them have pulled their fingers out in order to bite the bull in hand. Two in December.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OPP6OTC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51WnGl6qy7L._SL160_.jpg" /></a><br />
First to the big red button was Damon J Courtney, finally giving us the last instalment in the Dragon <br />
Bond trilogy. The trilogy is an object lesson in how to become a fantasy writer. I'll be gushing a whole lot more about it next year, but suffice to say that this book is a lot subtler, and more sophisticated, that what came before, even if it seems like the plot is simpler... <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OPP6OTC">The Fate of Champions</a></i> explores what it really means to be chosen by the gods to fulfil your destiny.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OPC55LS" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/517XBcg6nSL._SL160_.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a>In November, Colin Taber released the sequel to <i>United States of Vinland: The Landing</i>. In <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OPC55LS">Red Winter</a></i> we see the Viking settlers face a new crisis. In The Landing, they survived shipwreck and the harsh Markland winter. In <i>Red Winter</i> the seeds of mistrust, mistreatment and brutality sown by the Lakeland Wolves finally yield the requisite whirlwind. (Didn't really mix enough metaphors there. Must try harder.) Meanwhile, back in Iceland, manoevres are afoot that could challenge the very ownership of the Lakeland vales.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00R0HDAR6" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Hhqkb0ujL._SL160_.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00RG4RY66" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/5128CVI-G-L._SL160_.jpg" /></a>First in December is <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00R0HDAR6">Survivor</a>.</i> This is old school space adventure. Saff manages to combine some serious and hard imagining with a whole sackful of nods to everything in and a few things out of the genre, old and new. A hugely satisfying read, this is a sort of Lara Croft in space only written by a woman, so I guess what Lara Croft would be like if she was being scripted by, I dunno, Rhianna Pratchett?<br />
<br />
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<br />
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Finally, and finally is the word, Jack Shilkaitis has at long last released the sequel to 2012's <i>Apostasy </i>on Christmas Day. Is he trying to tell us something? <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00RG4RY66">Atonement</a></i> picks up more or less where Apostasy left off, but begins to deal with the consequences. The main character, Tokara, has killed one of the gods of his people. How will the other gods react, and if they can be killed, are they really gods at all? And how will his people react? Is he a heretic or a messiah? Or is he something else...?<br />
<br />
Honestly, the blurb to Jack's books write themselves.<br />
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I'm looking forward to some exciting releases in 2015, including one on which I have an author credit (shock horror!) and some innovations here at densewords. Enjoy your Holidays, and keep writing.<br />
<br />
Happy new year!<br />
<br />
H<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-24968340337178771272014-11-30T09:20:00.001+01:002014-11-30T09:20:33.346+01:00Early Diagnosis - save time and save money by getting a professional analysis of your work before you write it.<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Early Diagnosis - $147</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Once you have started writing your first draft, </div>
<i>Send me: </i><br />
<div>
<ul>
<li>The first 5000 words of your book</li>
<li>A one page outline of the story</li>
</ul>
<div>
<i>I will send you:</i></div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>An <i>intense</i> edit of your first 5000 words</li>
<li>Pointers, suggestions and pitfalls</li>
</ul>
<div>
You will write the rest of your manuscript <i>knowing</i> that you have already addressed and eliminated a variety of issues of style, technique and process that would otherwise have cost you a lot more in editing and redrafting.<br /><div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
I have set aside time to do one of these every week. Book yourself in now, and write your first 5k.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
_ _ _ </div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
Two things come up over and over again when I talk to new writers about the process of self publishing.<br />
<br />
1. The biggest delays in the writer's anticipated publication schedule come from the second draft<br />
2. The biggest costs come from content and copy editing<br />
<br />
I think both arise from a hangover from pre-self-pub days, which is:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>before anyone else sees a manuscript, it should be complete</i></div>
<br />
So whether your work is a 40k novella or a 300k epic, you have to write all 40k or all 300k before you show it to <i>anyone</i>.<br />
<br />
In fact, a lot of editors (myself included) insist that your manuscript should be finished, and be at a "best draft" stage before they will even look at it. It should at least have had one round of beta-readers and a couple of self-edits.<br />
<br />
If you've already been through that process, pause and think how much time all that takes you.<br />
<br />
And how much a content editor charges for a full edit of 100k words. And how much a copy editor charges for 100k words.<br />
<br />
If the last 5 years, the last <i>seven million</i> words, have taught me anything, it's that mistakes that you make in the first couple of chapters, you will continue to make throughout the rest of the book.Whatever is <i>worst</i> about your writing, whatever you (and, let's face it, I) will most want to eliminate, will be in those first couple of chapters.<br />
<br />
It seems to me that writing an entire manuscript before you let anyone else see your work is rather like setting out on a journey and not checking to see if you have the right map until you reach what you think might be your destination.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-12017014585958627192014-11-28T09:17:00.001+01:002014-11-28T09:17:45.237+01:00India Pale Ale - Kev & Steve's Indie Publishing Adventure<div style="text-align: justify;">
A couple of weeks ago I got a follow on my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/densewords" target="_blank">@densewords</a> (a rare event) from <a href="https://twitter.com/kevandsteve" target="_blank">@kevandsteve</a>. Curious as to what their "Indie Publishing Adventure" might be, I checked out their various podcasts via their website.</div>
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<a href="http://kevandsteve.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://kevandsteve.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/cropped-kevandsteveHeader.jpg" height="83" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PPQ6U30" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51V9n8Eh2QL._SL160_.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PPQ6U30" target="_blank">USA</a></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00PPQ6U30" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51V9n8Eh2QL._SL160_.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00PPQ6U30" target="_blank">UK</a></td></tr>
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Kev and Steve are new to fiction and are entering the self-pub world with a spirit of adventure and experimentation. Their <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baldrick" target="_blank">magnificent octopus</a> is officially released today.</div>
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This is Episode 1 of their serialized zombie apocalypse experiment, Left Behind, which sees a couple of very ordinary blokes coming to realize that all is not well with the world around them.</div>
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Left Behind is light-hearted and humourous and distinctively British though apparently this does not mean that it in any way resembles <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2M8_DZvF2FI" target="_blank">Benny Hill</a>.</div>
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Anyway, they let me take a look at the first episode, so I did a sample edit on the first couple of chapters. Issues with POV, character consistency, setting, some vocabulary oddities notwithstanding (of which the best was <i>thermidor</i> as a place to keep cigars), the characters are strong and likeable - remind me in no small way of the work of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CMJ6MHC" target="_blank">Ray Kingfisher</a> - and the story is simple and obvious. It's the combination of these factors that makes the story both likeable and readable. As in all Zombie Apocalypses, as a reader you want to watch the characters discovering the changes in the world, trying to understand, come to terms with, and survive them, and the characters are made strongly enough in the first couple of chapters that you can get a pretty shrewd idea of how well (or, more likely, badly) they're going to handle it.</div>
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Usually when I do an edit, I like to go through it with the author over Skype, so last night, that's what I did, and Kev and Steve recorded it for the next edition of the IPA Podcast, and you will be able to listen to me trying (and failing) to make them cry by telling them everything that's wrong with their writing, and one or two things that they're getting dead right.</div>
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You can listen via iTunes, Spreaker or here! I'll be on episode 006 which airs tomorrow morning.</div>
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<iframe frameborder="0" scrolling="no" src="//www.spreaker.com/embed/player/standard?show_id=1285373&autoplay=false" style="height: 131px; width: 100%;"></iframe>
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Find out more about Kev & Steve:</div>
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<ul class="show_contacts_list" style="background-color: #f1f1f1; color: #212322; font-family: 'Avenir Next', 'Lucida Grande', 'DejaVu Sans', 'Bitstream Vera Sans', 'Segoe UI', Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-78008174480149168532014-10-06T13:49:00.000+02:002014-10-06T13:49:46.870+02:00The Head: why the first paragraph of a chapter deserves a name.Chapters are a convention that we have inherited. I don't know when they first became formalized. We find episodes where distinct events take place and specific objectives are achieved in some of the earliest stories. The first example out of my head is the Iliad of Homer, which is divided into 24 books, whose distinguishing features are much the same as what we use to define chapters: differences in time and place, characters, and completed events, each of which contributes to a larger story.<br />
<br />
Whether it is simply the practical convenience of having a point where you can put down the book and turn out the light, to pick up again easily the following evening, or whether there is something cognitive, or rhythmic, or otherwise mysterious about the nature of this structure, it is one that is used in most modern novels.<br />
<br />
Indeed, many modern writers subdivide their chapters into scenes. Usually this subdivision allows the author to avoid wasting time with <i>narrative taxis*</i>. Sometimes this subdivision shows that the author can't write long scenes.<br />
<br />
A new chapter, therefore, begins something new in the story. A chapter has to have a goal or objective; something has to be achieved, so that the chapter can come to an end, and a new chapter begin.<br />
<br />
The first paragraph of the chapter, therefore, has a very specific job of work to do. This is why I don't call it a paragraph at all. I call it a <i>chapter head</i>.<br />
<br />
My reasons for not calling it a paragraph are partly because of objectives, partly because of conventions, and partly because it is a place where normal narrative rules are broken good and hard for solid practical reasons.<br />
<br />
Consider this as the first line of a chapter:<br />
<br />
<i>It seemed to Inspector Bodkin that the carriage door was not properly shut.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
In any other paragraph, you would be rebuked by saying that something seemed. Using "seem" is a crime I call 'touching the mask' which I will probably have to explain in a lot more detail in another post, but which is, in brief: calling attention to the process of narration within the narration.<br />
<br />
But in a chapter head, the fragment 'It seemed to Inspector Bodkin that...' gives the reader vital practical information; it tells the reader that this chapter will be, either broadly or narrowly, from the point-of-view of Inspector Bodkin.<br />
<br />
It also gives us "carriage door". The broader context of the book will tell you whether this is a train or a coach, and whether the Inspector is on it, in it or beside it you would expect to know from the next line:<br />
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<i>Despite his badge, or perhaps because of it, the inspector had had a hard time getting a ticket, but now that he was on the train he was having a hard time finding the conductor</i>.<br />
<br />
In modern novels it's very common to place the character mid action in the first couple of lines (<i>in medias res</i>), and then use the next couple of paragraphs, in the pluperfect, to explain how he got there. I like things to be a little more efficient, so I'm limiting my pluperfect to hinting at the inspector's possible state of mind - someone was being difficult at the ticket office, and now he can't find the conductor, so he may be feeling impatient or frustrated.<br />
<br />
<i>As he bumped through the crowded carriage, he wondered where the hell sergeant Baxter had got to.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
'Where the hell' (rather than just 'where') signposts the fact that the POV is narrow enough that Bodkin's thoughts can be heard in the narration. This line achieves three more objectives: the train is crowded; it's probably moving (though at this stage, <i>bumped</i> might just be referring to people in his way); there is another character who is expected to be present in this chapter. The reader will probably expect some clarification about the nature of Baxter's absence in the next line or two.<br />
<br />
The chapter head, then, is doing a number of jobs, other than just setting the scene. Whether or not it uses the <i>in medias res>>flashback</i> convention that is so popular right now, or some other narrative device, the purpose is not only to place the reader in the location and with the characters, but also to remind the reader of the type of story, the type and style of narration. It's purpose is of orientation. The very best chapter heads also hint at a story objective. Sometimes through foreshadowing or irony. Sometimes they state them explicitly:<br />
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<i>Wherever Baxter had got to, Inspector Bodkin couldn't hang about. He had to locate Forstner before the train reached the next station</i>.<br />
<br />
That is a really bold statement of narrative intent, of a kind that (again) would usually earn a scolding. It's almost as bad as <i>little did he know</i>. But in a chapter head, a statement like that reads like a sort of challenge. It's like the writer has said the the reader "I'm daring myself to resolve this plot point by the end of this chapter."<br />
<br />
Chapter heads, then, are special places. Time, and tense need not follow their usual rules; rules of subtlety can be ignored, boundaries between narrator, character and reader can be weakened. Often, the chapter head is the best candidate of all for the trick of moving the sentence you wrote last to the beginning. Unconventional order of narrative is the convention.<br />
<br />
A chapter head has to say: a new chapter has begun. It has to say: this is who and what it is about, and: this is how I will be telling it.<br />
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When editing, I spend about ten times as long on the chapter head as I do on every other paragraph in the chapter, including the last. As a writer, you should spend at least as long.<br />
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___<br />
* A narrative taxi is a passage, often no more than a short paragraph, that moves a story from one scene to another. The name comes from the analogy that I usually give to explain it, where characters have some meaningful event in the restaurant, and then go on to a nightclub, where something else meaningful occurs. Nothing meaningful occurs between the two locations. So a narrative taxi is when the whole process of calling a cab (or hailing a taxi), the trip, the arrival, and so on, are narrated. Most modern writers will skip all of this, by beginning the nightclub scene with the characters <i>getting out of the taxi</i>. This provides a bridge for those readers that need it, with out taxing, boring or insulting those that don't need it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-12116603182508514382014-09-29T14:51:00.000+02:002014-09-29T14:51:03.454+02:00Weird Words: RecoveryHaving taken some time off for ill health...<br />
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Actually, that common turn of phrase is itself rather daft. It sounds like I took some time off in order to be unwell.<br />
Be that as it may, I was wondering about a small group of words whose meanings and derivations overlap, but which are not all that close, after all.
Usually, on a post like this, I would start with the research into derivation and past usage, but I want to be clear first on what I <i>think</i> are the usual modern meanings of this small group of words, to whit:
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<br />
<ul>
<li>recover</li>
<li>regain</li>
<li>recuperate</li>
<li>recoup</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>Recover</b> - the most commonly used, with the widest variety of meanings, all of which orbit around notions of getting back something lost, to which you have title or ownership or otherwise <i>deserve</i>. In my case, recovery from ill health is the recovery of good health. But you can also recover your investment, your stolen goods and your long lost sister.</div>
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<b>Regain</b> - seems to be more specific <i>and</i> more abstract than <i>recover </i>at the same time, since you can regain both the shore having been blown adrift, and also regain consciousness having been knocked out. Soldiers can regain ground that was lost, and also regain their former glory after being dishonoured. <i>Some</i> of these things can also be <i>recovered</i>, but unlike recover, regain has not yet made the leap to intransitivity. You always have to regain <i>something</i>.</div>
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<div>
<b>Recuperate</b> - almost exclusively used in the expression R&R - rest and recuperation. It seems to mean something very similar to recovery - to restore a depleted state - but suggests a more active, concerted and/or directed approach.Whereas I have been languishing in my bed, passively awaiting <i>recovery</i>, soldiers on leave seem to have a whole host of things they do in order to recuperate their physical and mental good condition. Some of those things seem quite strenuous and even risky.</div>
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<b>Recoup</b> - used almost exclusively in the expression <i>recoup your losses</i>, it seems to imply in most modern usage some sort of damage limitation, often after a risky investment.</div>
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NOW I'm going to visit my lexicography shelf. Back in a mo.</div>
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...</div>
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<b>Recover</b> - I have not been surprised to discover that this is etymologically the same word as <i>recuperate - </i>with the latter coming direct from Latin and recover coming via medieval Latin and French, which explains the small vowel shift and transformation of 'p' to 'v' (transformations between p, b, v, l and r are commonplace). Has a acquired a wide range of uses across the ESW but in all cases about getting back something lost - generally quite recently, and often figurative or abstract.</div>
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<div>
<b>Regain</b><i> - </i>same root as <i>again</i> - which is 'gain' - being profit, or more specifically (in ancient usage) <i>yield of crops</i>. Regain is complicated, though. The modern (if ancient) French word <i>regain</i> refers to hay collected a second or third time from the same field - the sense of yield being very strong, but illustrates well the sense of profiting more than once from the same endeavour, which was the sense of <i>regain</i> for a long time. However in English the sense of getting back something lost has almost completely eclipsed this sense. We seem to prefer <i>regain </i>over <i>recover</i> in certain situations, and many writers prefer if for the spurious virtue of being "less Latin".</div>
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<b>Recuperate</b> - Etymologically, this means to recapture. Usage seems to be largely interchangeable with "recover" though the Latin haters hate this even more. Most usage centres around physical condition or loss of assets or investments. A telling distinction is that you can recover a lost cargo, but you can't recuperate a lost cargo. However freight can be recuperated. Heh...</div>
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<b>Recoup</b> - by far the most interesting of the bunch, the "coup" is to cut. It was a legal term, meaning to recover or redress a loss, such as by deducting expenses. As such the most common usage is to indemnify or otherwise make up losses, typically in investments.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-59557797901746054932014-07-09T10:58:00.001+02:002014-07-09T10:58:58.058+02:00Fixed Price Content Edit AND Royalty SplitFrom July 2014, my minimum price for a <a href="http://www.densewords.com/?litediting" target="_blank">full content edit</a> has crept up just a little, from 0.0115 EUR per word to 0.0121, or approx. 660 USD for 40k words (~0.0165 USD per word).<br />
<br />
In addition, I am formally adding a new service and a new payment arrangement:<br />
<br />
<b><u>One Shot Read and Comment</u></b><br />
<br />
This is a content edit, where I read and analyse your manuscript and focus my analysis on a few critical factors. More details <a href="http://www.densewords.com/?litediting" target="_blank">on my website</a>. This is offered at a fixed rate of 0.005 USD per word.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Payment by Royalty Split</u></b><br />
<br />
Subject to my accepting your manuscript, I am offering four of these per year, and the next one available will be Q4 2014. The split is an "earn out + bonus" arrangement. On seeing your manuscript, I will set a fee for my edit. Once your book is launched, royalties are split 50/50 until my fee is paid, then 10% (the 'bonus') until the first anniversary of the book launch. If my fee is not paid by the first anniversary, then I will write it off. In other words, you have nothing further to pay. To be absolutely explicit: if the book sells zero copies in the first year, you don't pay me anything, ever for that book.<br />
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This arrangement is intended both to encourage new writers to take a more businesslike approach to selling their books, and to defray the costs of free edits, which I want to be able to continue to give. As such it isn't really suitable for authors who are already making a steady income - you will probably lose out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-73318970653135562742014-07-07T16:19:00.000+02:002014-07-07T16:19:13.327+02:00How to keep your gun in handConsider the following:<br />
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<i>Flint stood, gun in hand, at the door.</i><br />
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What you get from this is that Flint is in a state of readiness. What's going on syntactically is that he is performing the action of "standing, gun in hand".<br />
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Now this:<br />
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<i>Flint stood at the door with his gun in his hand.</i><br />
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Somehow this suggests a hint of trepidation on the part of Flint. As if he's about to defend, rather than attack. Syntactically, 'his gun in his hand' is an ablative complement introduced by 'with'.<br />
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Finally:<br />
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<i>Flint had his gun in hand when he stood at the door.</i><br />
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There's nothing grammatically wrong with this, but I suspect this is a failed attempt to reproduce the syntax of 'gun in hand' of the first example. Because it doesn't mean what the author wanted it to mean. "To have something in hand" is an expression meaning that it is taken care of, under control, or in the course of being done:<br />
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<i>Preparations for Flint's surprise birthday party were well in hand when I arrived. We were concerned that the children would give away the surprise but Molly kept them in hand. Needless to say, Flint got the wrong idea, and as his surprise turned to alarm, the situation rapidly got out of hand.</i><br />
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"Out of hand" is the opposite of "in hand".<br />
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Misuse of "in hand" is getting out of hand. Rather like the whole "look at/look to" confusion, this isn't the grey area you might think it is. We often need to differentiate between "in hand" and "in his hand"; we often need to differentiate between "look at" and "look to". Useful differentiations like this are what tend to armour usage against evolution.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-49736497011314340192014-05-09T20:58:00.001+02:002014-05-09T20:58:06.226+02:00No Name Key - Jessica Argyle<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00K6YM1Z2" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/P/B00K6YM1Z2.01._PB_SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg" height="320" width="202" /></a>Jessica Argyle has just hit the big red button on her new book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00K6YM1Z2" target="_blank">No Name Key</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/P/B00K6YM1Z2.01._PB_SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>No Name Key is a sort of crossover between a retro/historical murder mystery and a story of emancipation that occasionally (and according to the author, unintentionally) borders on feminism, without being preachy or moralistic. Morality is satisfyingly blurry.<br />
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Its atmosphere is humid, heavy and sensual, like the landscape.<br />
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Jessica Argyle is a member of the same writing group as the excellent Mike Dennis, and although her treatment of the Florida Keys environment is very different from his, it shares a distinctive sense of place, a place that has its own personality, that permeates, as if inevitably, the story and characters.<br />
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I'm looking forward to seeing what she produces next.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-87621361807180367152014-04-04T10:42:00.001+02:002014-04-04T10:42:54.257+02:00Avoiding failed metaphors and missed similesI was going to call this "when metaphors attack" but the reality is that I'm the one attacking the metaphors, and shaking them like a terrier until they fall apart.<br />
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I have already mentioned in other posts how there is a lot more metaphor in people's language than they realize. That the babble of a babbling brook is a metaphor, and the play of a play of light. But it is fairly rare that these clichés fail - we are so used to seeing them describe what they describe, that we don't really call them into question.<br />
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Simile and metaphor work by resemblance, which can be strikingly vague, but there is a case where both can fail, and fail quite jarringly.<br />
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Consider first the use of a simile to describe an abstract idea:<br />
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"His job fit him like a glove."<br />
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In this case, we mean that his job is perfectly suited to him, or he to it. Being suited to your job is abstract. "Fit like a glove" provides us with an image of suitability - the glove is the precise shape it needs to be to fit a hand. So we take an image of physical suitability, and use it as a symbol for abstract suitability.<br />
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Consider next:<br />
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"His car fit him like a glove."<br />
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At first, this might not strike you as strange; it is still all about suitability; the author is using the simile to show that the car suits its owner in every possible way. It's meaning is therefore <em>still abstract</em>. But I'll come back to this example.<br />
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"The hilt fit his hand like a glove."<br />
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This ought to be immediately jarring. But I see examples of this often enough that I suppose there must be some common reasoning behind it, and I suspect that reasoning has to do with the way that we can use simile to describe abstracts, which therefore bear no physical or visual resemblance to the image chosen, because an abstract has no physical or visual characteristics. The author still wants to describe a perfect fit, but has chosen to compare one concrete image — the hand gripping the hilt — with another — the glove fitting the hand — and these two fits are NOT analogous. The glove fits the hand because it is <em>hand shaped</em>. The hilt fits into the hand because it has been designed to be gripped by a hand using it for a specific purpose. Conceptually, both are about fitness for purpose, but the image of a grip and a glove-fit are not similar.<br />
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In effect, it is easier to choose a simile for an abstract idea, because it isn't confused by the possibility of provoking dissonant imagery.<br />
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Going back, therefore, to the car fitting like a glove. This is an example of the most common problem that I find with figurative language, and it is a form of indiscipline that arises from a lack of awareness both of the way in which figurative language functions and the way that the writer should be consciously choosing his imagery.<br />
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The car fits both in the abstract sense - that is perfectly suited to its owner - but also in a concrete sense, in that the owner fits inside the car. But like the hand/hilt relationship, the car/driver relationship is not the same as a glove/hand relationship. The exterior of the car is not driver shaped. The author who has selected this image has got the abstract part right but failed to notice that the simile fails as a physical comparison.<br />
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I selected "like a glove" for this post because it is so heavily used that most readers will not notice if it doesn't fit the intended description, ahem, like a glove. Cliché makes simile and metaphor rather more adaptable. But if (as I hope you do) you prefer to make up your own similes, then you don't have the cosy flexibility of the cliché to protect you.<br />
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I'm not sure that this post is completely clear. I'll probably have to revisit this idea at some point.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465633074548394200.post-26292862727304523132014-04-02T11:42:00.000+02:002014-04-02T11:42:21.453+02:00Why self-pub e-books are not like digital photographyI again found myself faced with the "Parable of the Professional Photographer" in the context of a discussion of the impact/future/durability of e-books and self-pub.<br />
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The Parable recounts the story of the appearance of digital cameras and its impact on professional photographers, and, in accordance with the prejudice or intended conclusion of the teller, shows how digital photography:<br />
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1. Is here to stay<br />
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and either:<br />
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2a. Will eventually be used by all professional photographers<br />
2b. Will eventually be used by all except the best professional photographers<br />
2c. Will be an important tool to professional photographers but never completely replace film<br />
2d. Will differentiate between "art" photographers and mere "snapper for hire"<br />
2e. Makes all forms of photography available to everyone, thereby putting all professional photographers out of business<br />
2f. and so on.<br />
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People draw whatever conclusions they want from the Parable. But the main reason for trotting it out when discussing the new self-pub landscape is in order to say that e-Book self pub is <em>not vanity pub</em> as is <em>here to stay</em>.<br />
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But they are not analogous.<br />
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What we do is important. No matter how little you may think of your work, we are creators, teachers, curators, communicators and perpetuators* of <em>culture</em>.<br />
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Wedding photographers do not create culture, but they do perpetuate it.<br />
Photojournalists often create culture, but also do a great deal to perpetuate it.<br />
Art photographers are often trying to force culture to change, to give us new eyes, so that we think differently.<br />
Photopornographers might be a special case...<br />
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We writers, do much the same thing. There are plenty of (excellent) writers who do exactly what wedding photographers do; they provide a demanded service within an established cultural framework that their customers do not want changed. Those who write non-fiction (whether factual books or journalism) are writing within an existing cultural context (which they therefore perpetuate) into which they want to introduce new information (and therefore drive the evolution of the culture). Those who write fiction with provocative content are trying to challenge culture, in the hope of bringing about change - even if only in very small ways.<br />
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Hang on? Wasn't I going to say why writers and photographers were not analogous? No, I wasn't going to say that at all. Writers and photographers are both artists. Always have been, always will be.<br />
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What has changed for photographers is that they have new tools with which to create their art. Some artists actively seek new tools. Some embrace new tools as best they can. Some (like my friend <a href="http://www.gerard-larguier.com/index_fr.php" target="_blank">Gérard Larguier</a>) have a feeling at the discovery of a new technology that their creative process had been waiting for it all along.<br />
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(Gérard combines collage, paints, papier-mâché with "photocopier abuse").<br />
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The arrival of digital photography means new processes for photographers, and possibly, therefore, entirely new types of image. And new ways of creating older types of image. It also means (for the professional) a very dramatic drop in the overhead. That might be where the confusion arises. It so happens, by chance, that the new technologies in photography add BOTH a change in the artists tools AND a change in the production costs. But in thinking about what this means to the artists, those two points should be kept apart. Because acceptance of the new technology is confused by the issue. Many artists are reluctant to change their tools. Very few artists are reluctant to decrease their costs. In photography, the technology can reduce the costs AND produce better results. A wedding photographer could take several thousand photos on the Big Day, and then select the best ones. Imagine the cost of doing that with film!<br />
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The arrival of digital distribution (for that is what e-book self pub is) DOES NOT AFFECT THE ART IN ANY WAY. These are not new tools for producing stories. You still produce stories the same way you always did, by narrating them. Even your keyboard, dictaphone, shorthand-typist, typewriter, biro, quil, wax-tablet, makes no difference whatsoever to what story you can produce.<br />
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This is where the analogy is broken. There is no "technology acceptance" issue for the writers, because the technology doesn't change the art. It is true that many readers have yet to accept this fact. The print and paper fetishists fear that the stories will be less good because the binding is plastic. This is obviously nonsense, so much so that it will fade away. It's been obvious to SF writers for over a century that eventually print and paper would be replaced. It's never been a sticking point for their readers.<br /><br />The major "technology acceptance" issue is for the same people that we all know it has always been for: the middle men, who are now eliminated, unless (like some agents) they can find new value to add to the process of production and distribution. We may regret the effect that it has on some of the distributors. I feel a nostalgia for the bookshops where I spent so many hours of my youth. I had a particular affection for a little shop in the Oxford Covered Market, and another in Falmouth, Cornwall. But if high-street distribution is going to continue, then it has to evolve. (In-store POD is where I think they should all be going.)<br />
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Digital Distribution is not an established market. It's a new market, still in its very early stages. It has plenty more bubbles and crashes to go through, plenty more delusions and peaks, before it can even be said to have arrived.<br />
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Whenever something new comes a long we want to reassure ourselves, and others, that it is analogous to something that has gone before. If you want a good analogy, then look at the railways, and their effect on the distribution of farmed produce and (in particular) locally manufactured luxury or artisan goods. There was nothing digital in it. But there was a revolution in distribution that completely changed the economic landscape for producers. It also created new opportunities for unscrupulous middle men. So far, very few of those have found their way into what we do. But they will.<br />
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* I'm not sure if this is a wordAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14421526608194399666noreply@blogger.com2