Coming Soon on ~Tales of Fantasy and Adventure

Just a brief note to introduce that I will be posting selected excerpts from a work in progress on a weekly basis beginning Monday, May 28th.  All of the selections will be from a first draft and will identify the Chapter and Scene.

For me the purpose of this little exercise is twofold: first; to help me keep momentum in getting through the first draft, and second; to prevent my blog from going stale.

I have found it increasingly difficult to keep up my blog while focusing on other projects. Hopefully, I can accomplish both and provide a little entertainment along the way.

And thank you to the members of the Your Write Dream Facebook Group for coming up with this idea.

Best,

G M Cleary

Marystown

~Tales of Fantasy and Adventure

Bears are Fast, Really Fast

Beethoven has always been my favorite composer and pianist, music in general a passion. Not being able to play a single instrument myself, I appreciate those who can and just enjoy listening. I was introduced to Beethoven for the first time after relocating to Marystown, Newfoundland. This was 1970, the same year James Taylor released Fire & Rain. Moving around was not unusual for me, my father’s work took us all over the world. Marystown was different for me though, she changed me, opened new worlds.

Shipbuilding and fish processing were the economic forces of the town in those days and the reason we were there. My father was a marine engineer, he specialized in hull design. But his true expertise, and why they needed him, was his ability to analyze and correct balance miscalculations. Newfie fishermen were notoriously optimistic, boats routinely listing into port.

View original post 1,262 more words

1912

thepoetslotus

Titanic 1

1912

Arrived

Dockside

And saw

Her awe

Her Regalness

Her Pride

Unsinkable

As She was called

No turning back

Elizabeth

Boarded

Not knowing

The fate

Of a new adventure

Uneasy

By all accounts

Makes her way

To B Deck

B7

All she knew

And so told

The unsinkable

Set sail

Waves

Caressing her hull

Wind

Boisterous

Knocking at her bow

Elizabeth

Strolling along

Nestled in

Warmth

Bitterness

Ran through her

The Atlantic’s bite

Comfort found

Within the sun

Stillness overcame her

Dressed in Elegance

Admiring the

Grand staircase

Dinner this evening

Music rang with joy

Cigars

Laughter

Pleasantries of the evening

Stillness

In the night

Something is not right

Go back

And enjoy

The pleasantries

Something

Is not right

Nestled within

The berth

Her book in hand

The night glided on

Then

11:40pm

A shutter ran

Beneath

Right side

Shivers of fear

Arose within her

Book dropped

To the floor

View original post 38 more words

Tips on Promoting Self-Published Books in Kenya

Here’s a great article from Elly in Nairobi. Advice that crosses borders.

Love in Nairobi

Reader Question: What self-promotion tips result in high sales?

I got this question on my blog, and it had me thinking, of course.  When I first started writing, I felt a little bit a lot like a fish out of water.  Gasping for air, with no real idea on what to do next.  I know what it’s like to feel as though you have this need to keep writing, but have no real solid foundation to make it a workable financial solution for

tom-holmes-556800-unsplash Photo by Tom Holmes 

your life. In short, this question filled my head on a constant when I started.

Two things to remember :-

  1. Yes, when you start, you will need to find other means to fund your life until your book turns out sales that satisfy you.  If you haven’t already.
  2. Yes, you will need to invest in your book to make it a success…

View original post 1,087 more words

Rangi Ya Bahari – The Short Story

I have so many rewrites in mind…but this is my light for now…

~Tales of Fantasy and Adventure

R A N G I    Y A     B A H A R I

Azure

Ativa was the finest sailboat captain in all of Lamu. Up the mast, flawless straight, cleat the boom, nine meters long and with Shakwe alert at her shoulder she was unbeatable. Maulidi was Ativa’s favourite time of year and this year a warm offshore breeze blessed the annual celebration and the famous race as it graced the surface of the Indian Ocean. Proud, bold and feared, she had come from behind again, stealing that breeze with an artful tack and with a crisp snap of the hand-stitched mainsail gained the lead and the final buoy. A lead she would not relinquish under any circumstance.

Ativa’s father was a skilled craftsman and boat builder and had presented the mahogany dhow to Ativa as a birthday gift and with the help of her father had…

View original post 3,826 more words

About Rangi Ya Bahari

~Tales of Fantasy and Adventure

Sina pesa,” I’m limited to this response. It’s what I’ve been armed with.

“Rafiki.” Persistent. “A few schillings for needle and thread to fix my sail.”

My choice to ignore the young man and move along. My morning walk along the seawall.

“I will be a great captain!” He’s walking at my side now, working to get my attention. Persistent. “Rafiki.”

“Sina pesa,” smiling at the young man I move along knowing that what I say is not true.

It is this interaction that occurred nearly five years ago in December in Lamu on my honeymoon on my morning walk that plays in my head and is the inspiration for this story. Inspiration in that I have wondered what if I had given that young man a few schillings?

What if…

Rangi ya bahari, roughly translated from Swahili means “the colour of the sea”.

So set sail with Ativa…

View original post 28 more words

Winter Song – Version I, Scene One

Where the road bent away the sidewalk was bright and cold and where the sun reflected back from the snow the road trapped noon shadows cast by bare oaks.  Parked cars lined one side of the road. The road curved away and up out of sight between the old brick houses with roofs made bright from the sun on the snow.  Bare oak limbs glistened and shed freezing clear droplets of moisture onto the cars lined up below.  Plumes of white exhaust escaped a car coming to life down the road.  It was cold and bright from the snow.

He waited, leaning against the hard metal cross-bar of the bike rack with his feet planted in the fresh cover of snow.  The bike rack sat in the shadow of the cafe he had been inside a few minutes ago and it was warm inside the cafe.  The snow in the shadow had not melted.  It felt good leaning against the round of the cross-bar.  It felt good where the hard metal bar hit his back just below the belt.  It was cold in the shadow and he wasn’t wearing a jacket, but it was not too bright so he could see better.  He could hear droplets of water striking the cars lined up below the oaks.

Three people approached passing through the shadow and disturbing the snow and heading for the entrance of the cafe.  He could hear them stomp free the snow that had collected on their boots.  Bells jingled releasing the aroma of wood-fired bread, onion, and roasted garlic into the chill of the mid-day air.  Notes of conversation cut short by the slap of wood and muffled jingle as the door snapped closed.  A second door bounced open and closed at the back of the cafe.  Tobacco cut through the warmth of the bread and garlic.  It was cold in the shadow.

Another person approached heading down from the road that curved up and away.  Wool cap pulled down over her ears, hands jammed in her pockets, keeping to the sun and careful not to slip in the snow.  She reached the bike rack without breaking stride and he was no longer resting his back on the bike rack.  She crossed from the sun into the shadow, removed her hands from her pockets and pressing her head against his chest wrapped her arms around his waist.  He held her close, hands high on her back and liked the warmth of the top of her head as he rested his cheek on the curve of the wool cap.

“I missed your car,” raising his head, looking down into sharp grey eyes.

“It’s down around the road that way.”

“I mean I didn’t see it.”

“It’s new, I don’t have Keys anymore,” eyes pelagic now.

“Where is she?”

“In a field above the plateau where the mountain goats sometimes come to eat the grasses.”

‘This place was easier to find than I thought,” glancing back over his shoulder, nothing meaningful to add.

Together they turned away from their place at the side of the cafe toward the sidewalk and followed footprints left in the snow.  The surface was tricky where melting snow filled the footprints and they were careful, hand in hand, to where they knocked the slush from their shoes and made the bells ring.

Winter Song – A Preview

Where the road bent away the sidewalk was bright and cold and where the sun reflected back from the snow the road trapped noon shadows cast by bare oaks. Parked cars lined one side of the road. The road curved away and up out of sight between the old brick houses with roofs made bright from the sun on the snow. Bare oak limbs glistened and shed freezing clear droplets of moisture onto the cars lined up below. Plumes of white exhaust escaped a car coming to life down the road. It was cold and bright from the snow.