Saturday, 18 February 2017

Guest Author Ian McKinley of Sackville, New Brunswick

You're in for a treat!

Ian McKinley is a Canadian diplomat currently on leave to follow his wife of 23 years, Josée Lanctôt, to beautiful New Brunswick. He writes what he calls “fantastic realism,” a genre that seeks to escape the traditional tropes of fantasy, wherein pure good confronts ultimate evil for global domination. Rather, Ian’s narratives are driven by alignments and/or collisions of human interests and values. 
His first novel, The Gallows Gem of Prallyn was released to positive reviews in November, 2014. It throws together an explosive mixture of zealotry, class oppression, and nationalism, the results of which take the reader on a gripping adventure. 
Ian unveiled his second novel, Harbinger, Book One of Northern Fire, at the 2016 Frye Festival, in which he participated as a “Prélude Emerging Writer.” In Harbinger, Ian explores questions around culture and the type of societies particular cultures construct, the various tools of societal control that societies develop, as well as the question of whether an individual can change the fate of an entire nation. Ian is working on edits to The Winter Wars, Book Two of the Northern Fire duo-logy. If things go to plan, it should be available by November, 2017.  

Ian was born in Calgary, Alberta, and grew up in Northern Ireland and on the Canadian prairies. He graduated from the University of Lethbridge and joined the foreign service shortly thereafter. He has served Canada abroad in Colombia, Kenya, Zimbabwe and at the Permanent Mission of Canada to the United Nations in New York. 
Ian has seen his non-fiction published in Bout de papier and Au courant. 
Ian is a member of the Writers Federation of New Brunswick as well as the Sunburst Award Society for Excellence in Canadian Literature of the Fantastic. He speaks English, French and Spanish.
 
 
 

And now an excerpt from Harbinger.
 
 
 

 
    They sailed from Cape Terror on the dawn. The mainland off Rignil’s port rail rose in sheer cliffs and the first of the Demon’s Teeth neared off the starboard beam. As if on cue, the winds found them; between mainland cliff and sea-bound tooth, the gusts buffeted the longship from changing directions. Then the rain began. At first it was but a mist, hard to differentiate from the spray thrown at them by the swirling winds from the wash rising off the prow or from waves surging against their sides. It turned into a steady drizzle, and, just before midday, to rain. Lars muttered. “Can this get any worse?”
Before Thay or Cairn could reply, Krüllig laughed and said, “Of course it could, lad! Be glad this is a summer crossing. In winter, you could be treading freezing cold water and watching our stern slip beneath the waves! But I wouldn’t worry too much about that; Kindron’s been through the Teeth two-score times. He’ll see us through.”
As if to underline their captain’s skill, Kindron delivered them a small blessing. He leaned against the rudder and turned them into a channel that ran between two jutting islands. He brought Rignil close to the southern island’s cliff face and ordered oars raised. The crew all leaned forward on their oars, panting in the pouring rain, but laughing as well as they saw that Kindron had found a current that pushed them along faster than any wind could. Then only he had to work as he controlled the rudder, pushing it or heaving against it as need be. But he grinned as he did so and that grin gave them all a fire in their bellies to combat the cold rain. Thunderer and Northern Fire hove-to and heard their fellow Sea Wolves bellow approval from the other boats.
Their respite lasted long enough for them to gobble down a damp meal. Kindron even threw them a skin full of wine to pass around. However, the captain’s face darkened at a low drumming of thunder that suddenly rumbled across the waves. Before it echoed off the cliffs, the men were back on the oars. By the time the boats shot out the other end of the channel, lightning arced between the Teeth. The clouds turned jet and sank lower to the water. The seas, too, surged and dipped, currents colliding and waves coming at them from every direction, once combining to heave the stern aloft and throw men backwards onto the oars of their crewmates.
Thay looked about him. Lora, huddling near the stern, looked as worried as he felt. Beside him, terror was carved on Cairn’s burly features: the big youth looked horrible, with his dark hair lank, wet, and clinging to his ashen face, his brown eyes red-rimmed and wide, and his head twisting from side to side as he shot panicked looks at the sheer cliffs bursting from the swirling sea on either side of their longboat. Thay felt Cairn strain against the oar, quickening the rhythm but for the countering control that Thay exerted; it would not impress the captain if they broke the unison of the crew. It occurred to Thay that though Cairn, the son of herders, had never sailed in a storm.
“Calm down,” Thay grunted between oar strokes. “This crew knows what they’re about.”
“The cliffs close in on us!”
“That’s just the boat shifting in the swirls,” Thay responded, but he glanced at the mountains involuntarily as he did so. At first glance, it did indeed look like the great wall to starboard loomed closer and the cliff to port filled more and more of the roiling grey-black sky.
Suddenly thunder boomed overhead, drowning the drumming of Asgear and wiping the grin off Kindron’s face. Thay quickly realized how much he had drawn confidence from the captain. Kindron studied the low, swift-flying clouds and then ordered the sail unfurled and trimmed. Rignil listed away from the wind and held to a course Thay hoped would steer them clear of the fangs of rock that rose from the waves. Salt spray carried on the wind from the bow showered him and mingled with his sweat. Behind Rignil, Thay could see that first Toftig on Thunderer, and then Albig on Northern Fire, followed Kindron’s example, unfurling and setting their own sails. He could see less to starboard as the boat leaned in the water, but he saw frothing whirlpools and white foam splashing off the ever-approaching cliffs to port. He gave a start when he heard the crash of a wave against a jutting point of rock an oar’s length from the gunnel.
They passed a headland to the south and heard Kindron yell from the stern, “Hang on!” As Thay hooked his legs around the prop of the bench in front of him, he saw terror on Lora’s face. Then the instant was gone as a wall of water hit them from starboard. As he rose into the air, he reached for the gunnel. He saw Cairn pitch sideways and flail at the bench. Then Thay flew.
When he broke the surface, he gasped from the shock of the cold water and fought to keep his head above the waves. Against the backdrop of the Tooth to the north of them, he saw the flotsam of the boat all around him; men, oars, cloaks, planking, sea-chests and rope bobbed on the water. Six men had gotten their bearings after having been thrown even further and they began swimming towards him. Thay twisted his head around and saw Rignil floating low in the water only an oar’s length from him. Improbably, the only person still in the boat was Cairn.
“Thay!” Cairn yelled. “Grab the oar!” The big lad stood unsteadily and ran out an oar.
As Thay swam he called out, “Sit down, you ass! And lean to the other side of the boat!” Cairn did so, scrambling to a bench and then straining with his great strength to haul Thay to the gunnel. Thay scrambled over and Cairn ran out his oar to the six men swimming closer.
Thay sloshed over to the rudder as Rignil bobbed on the waves. The wave that had tossed them overboard had also left the sail flapping in the wind, but pulling on the rudder only brought the water-logged boat around slowly. Thay looked then to the sea and saw another massive wave bearing down on them. He knew the rudder would not turn the boat around quick enough to point the prow into the wave, there were no crew at the oars.
Quick as he could, he pulled on the rope lashing the anchor to the stern, expecting the slip knot to give and release the heavy stone in its wooden cradle. The rope, however, was thick and sodden, and some misfortune had pulled the ends of the knot too tight to allow the loop to slip. He fixed his legs and gave the lashing a great heave. Still the knot would not give. He whipped out his dagger, pried its point into the knot and used the blade as leverage, hoping to loosen it. He glanced over and saw that it was not another man at all that had clambered into the boat, but Lora. He did not breathe a sigh of relief. Rather, he glanced at the approaching wave, suddenly much nearer, and put his entire strength behind a last heave of the rope. It gave way in a sudden rush and he fell back onto the deck, the anchor thumping onto the deck at the stern.
“Lora!” he yelled, “Trim the sail!” She did not reply but scrambled over to the loose ropes that set the sail.
Thay lifted the anchor from the deck and heaved it astern, towards the rock face of the nearby Tooth rearing up from the frothing sea. He could not heave it far, but he hoped it would be enough as it trailed its rope behind it, just as he hoped the water would be shallow enough for his gambit to work. As the anchor’s rope unwound with a whir, the prow crept to starboard, towards the wave that approached with alarming speed. But then suddenly the rope stopped unwinding. He knew he had to change dramatically the angle of the prow to the wave and that pulling on the rope from the stern would have no effect. So, with the black wall of water looming above them, Thay grabbed hold of the slack coils of rope attached to the anchor and ran, bounding from bench to bench above the water in the boat, to the prow yelling, “Hang on.” He looped the rope once over the prow, forming a noose for the wolf that was the figurehead, and he hung on for dear life. They were not going to make it, Thay suddenly realized in the moments before the wave hit. They did not have enough forward momentum to swing the boat around.
That was the moment that Lora got the sail properly trimmed. Being the daughter of a fisherman and so bold as to insist on accompanying her father out to sea to learn the handling of boats, she knew how to catch the wind in a sail. In the near-gale now blowing, she pulled the sail into position, it caught the wind and the boat lumbered forward and it came about. As the sea welled up and the wave towered over Rignil, Lora kept the sail in the wind and they turned. Thay pulled on the anchor rope with all his might, tugging the prow southwards. The wave crashed against their starboard side at an angle, but the prow had come about enough to cut into the onslaught. The boat lurched but did not capsize or toss them overboard, and then the wave was past them.
Only one other such wave hit them, but by then Kindron had relieved Thay at the rudder and had pointed the prow into the swell. The men hauled out of the sea had also bailed a great deal of water out of the boat and Rignil rode the waves with greater ease.
Northern Fire drew up beside Rignil after having scooped up Lars and Krüllig. Thunderer returned another five crewmen to them - sodden and shivering, but all grinning. Kindron did a head count, and then repeated it with Asgear, before dousing the momentary elation. “Hossig’s gone.” He strode from prow to stern, looking into the dark water, the other two captains looking around them, but they saw nothing. “We’ll mourn on the other side of the Teeth,” Kindron declared and then set about putting his boat in order.
The wind and seas calmed and Kindron passed around his wineskin again. Then he had them finish the bailing, return the sea-chests to their owners and re-stow them, secure the rigging and order the sail. He took his own woollen blanket from beneath the deck and, though it was sodden, just like everything else, he draped it over Lora’s shoulders, patting her on the back. He gave Thay and Cairn each a serious nod. All three knew they had just received Kindron’s deepest thanks.
 
 
 
Thank you Ian for being our guest this week. Looking forward to reading more of Harbinger.
 
Drop by Ian's website to  discover more about him and his novels and watch for his next novel.
 
 
 
 
And a huge thank you to our Faithful readers for visiting this week. Please leave a comment below before you go.
 

 

 

Saturday, 11 February 2017

Back-to-Back Special Guest Chuck Bowie of Fredericton. NB

He's Back...!

Another back-to-back feature on the Scribbler last week and this one. We are fortunate to have Author Chuck Bowie from Fredericton, New Brunswick, who joined us last week with an essay on the topic of his writing. (if you scroll down to the end of this post, you'll find it there) He's back this week for an interview with a different format than the regular 4Q  you are familiar with.

The Scribbler is ever grateful to have Chuck as a frequent guest. His stories are entertaining, witty and a treat to read. You will find his links below.


 

Today, we’ll put Chuck on the hot seat, asking him a few questions about his favourite writing: Genre Fiction.



Genre Fiction (Or, As I Like To Call It, Fiction)


Question: Do all writers of fiction novels write genre fiction?

Answer: Certainly, there are a number of kinds of fiction writers, some being literary fiction writers, some genre writers. Literary Fiction is anything that does not fit into a genre. If you’ve written The Great Canadian Novel, in which man’s inhumanity to man is explored, it can be amazing writing, but somewhat more challenging to classify. Oftentimes, this type of novel would not be classified as genre writing.

Today, though, I’d like to chat about genre fiction. As a species, we humans like our lists, our boxes…our shelves. If, for example, you write a thriller and classify it as such, it is lumped in with millions of others. If you refine this identification—as I do by identifying my series as an international suspense-thriller series—it’s far easier, in this way, for the reader to anticipate that they’ve found the kind of thriller they were seeking.

Q: So, what is genre writing?

A: Fiction can be classified by content and theme. Here is where we find our common genres: adventure stories, science fiction/fantasy, mystery, horror, romance, realistic fiction, and historical fiction. One thing to keep in mind while reading different texts: genre categories aren’t always clear-cut. You can have a crime/mystery story set in the future (science fiction) or in the past (historical fiction). Some readers quite enjoy ‘mashing up’ genres to suit their reading desires. SteamPunk, for example, is an entertaining mashup of history and science fiction.

Q: And you prefer to write genre fiction?

A: Absolutely. Regardless of the genre (or sub-genre), this kind of storytelling encourages the writer to create a world according to their design, populate it with the characters they feel are necessary to tell a specific story, and begin that story exactly where the author tells them to! That, I feel, gives my imagination free rein to manage all of the components of the story. I like that.

Q: Tell me more about the specific genre of writing you engage in.

A: As I mentioned, I am writing an international suspense-thriller series called Donovan: Thief For Hire, and I’ve just finished Book 4, entitled The Body On The Underwater Road. Thrillers usually begin—in the first few pages—with a dramatic act. Tension rises, and remains quite taut throughout the entire novel. The climax is very near the end of the book. As a thief for hire, my man Donovan travels all over the world, taking things that don’t belong to him in exchange for large sums of money. One of the pleasures of writing thrillers is I have the opportunity to experience, vicariously, what it is like to do things I would never consider doing in real life. One of the perquisites of the job!

Q: You’re beginning another novel now. Is it a continuation of the thriller series, or have you embarked on a new project?

A: Ah. It’s a new series, and I’m switching genres. It will still be a mystery series, but not a thriller. The genre for this one is a cozy mystery, set in a fictional town in New Brunswick, in fact.

Q: What’s a cozy mystery?

A: This genre is a very popular form of the murder mystery (although there doesn’t always have to be a murder, there usually is). Specific constraints include restrictions on graphic sex, violence and language. Charm, warmth and wit are considered attributes of the cozy. In my novel, the small town itself will in a sense become one of the central characters the reader will love. We’ll see.

Q: Can you give us a summary of the plot?

A: I’m sorry; no. For many writers, it’s bad luck to say too much about their story while it’s still being written. Suffice it to say, there will be a murder or two, the town will be charming, and we’ll all be rooting for the protagonist.

Q: I wish you good luck on this foray into a new genre. Will you come back to talk with us when your fourth Donovan novel is published?

A: I’d love to! In the meantime, here’s something to ponder:

 
 
 
 
 
Stephen King once posed the theory, based on the notion that all stories are love stories of one form or another, that there are essentially three kinds of stories. There is finding love (sometimes known as power), losing love, and losing and then finding love. The advantage of this sort of generalization is it’s easy to sort this type of categorization. I would argue this applies to genre and literary fiction (as well as flash fiction!) Perhaps we need to ask ourselves: ‘Why the compunction to classify at all?’ But perhaps a blog on Chaos Theory is for another day.
 

Thank you Chuck for being our guest again this week. Always a pleasure having you on board!


Chuck’s novels can be found on Amazon



and at Chapters-Indigo.

You can read more about Chuck and his works at his website: http://www.chuckbowie.ca
 
 
A tremendous Thanks to you Dear Reader for visiting the Scribbler. It's all about you - We hope you enjoyed your stay and would love to hear from you. Please share a thought below.


Saturday, 4 February 2017

Returning Guest Author Chuck Bowie.

Hey Lucky Us!

Another back-to-back feature on the Scribbler this week and next. We are fortunate to have Author Chuck Bowie from Fredericton, New Brunswick, participate with an essay this week on the topic of his writing. He'll be back next week for an interview with a different format than the regular 4Q  you are familiar with.

Chuck has been a favored guest on the Scribbler before. I've had the pleasure of reading the Sean Donavan - Thief for Hire series and if you like action novels, great dialogue and clever plots then these are for you.

We are posting links to his previous visit below. Please take a few moments to discover more about Chuck and his stories.



Are All Writers ‘One-Trick Ponies’? 

Okay, who is the better writer; Fredericton’s Roger Moore, or Britain’s JK Rowling? (Harry Potter fans aren’t allowed to vote!) Some would argue Ms. Rowling, because of the vast number of book sales she’s enjoyed. Others would argue—compellingly—Mr. Moore, because of the diversity of writing he’s excelled at. Ms. Rowling has written a brilliant fantasy series, as well as a fairly average murder mystery. Mr. Moore has written literary analysis, reams of poetry, fiction (flash and otherwise), essays, academia, non-fiction and much more.

Where am I going with this? Two things occur to me as I perform this ridiculous compare-&-contrast between these two fine writers. My first thought is it’s madness to compare two very different writers and think you’ll arrive at a valid conclusion. My second thought is one of wonder. Writing a book is hard work. Writing a series is really hard work! Writing a series in a certain subject matter, and then switching to a different genre or subject matter is, well, taking the challenge up another notch. I admire those who attempt it, and until now, I’ve wished them well as I plodded along on my one-track series.

But then, I finished Book 4. My suspense-thriller series about a thief for hire began as a one-off, with the publication of Three Wrongs. But I wanted to know how, or if, Donovan, my Thief, would find redemption. So I wrote a second novel: AMACAT, which for a time I called a sequel. But a great plot visited me in the night, and with the publication of Steal It All, I had a trilogy. But I dislike loose ends, and so a fourth novel: The Body On The Underwater Road is now being edited and will hopefully be out late this year.

So, it’s a series.

I confess I have the rough idea of a fifth novel, but I’ve put it on hold, for the moment. For some time now, I’ve been dreaming. I’ve been dreaming of a new non-Donovan character, and she doesn’t occupy the world of the thriller. She’s warm, she lives in a small town, and nobody swears. At least, they don’t swear much, and then, only in their mind.

That’s not a suspense-thriller. That’s a cozy mystery. Add a dead body, a nervous heroine and a suspicious policeman, and you have a different sub-genre. Am I now writing a new series? I guess so. And have I moved to a different subject matter? I guess so. Part of me—the devil on my left shoulder—is telling me I have a lot of nerve, writing a non-thriller when all I’ve ever had published are thrillers. The angel on my right shoulder is telling me I have to try. Sadly, the angel did NOT promise me it would be easy, and she did not slip me a plotline or three to get me started.

How am I doing, so far? I began by reading up on cozy mysteries. And early on I decided which town to modelled my fictional town after. I also determined that, to meet my personal goal, this fictional New Brunswick town would be imbued with so much personality, it would have to be considered a character in- and of itself.

The format of a cozy is not the same as other mysteries. Timing, level of violence, (language, sexuality) are all different. But there are similarities. If I don’t make the town worth visiting, if I don’t make the plot the very best I can, if the reader doesn’t fall in love with my characters, I will fail, no matter what the genre.

So I thought about it. And I dove in. Then, Christmas season, together with a Christmas cold came and went, and with it my momentum flagged. But I dreamed. And my partner let me talk at her and, to my joy, she had great ideas I could use. This is how the trauma of letting go of a previous writing project gets mitigated. And this is how the wonder of beginning a new, foreign writing project is embraced.

Will I be a ‘one-trick pony’? Or will I be able to transition from one sub-genre to another? Time will tell, but if I have to write—and I do—I might as well write what I really want. And this year, I want to write a cozy. And to paraphrase Honoré de Balzac, really, it’s all done. Now, all I have to do is write it.

 


Chuck’s novels can be found on Amazon



and at Chapters-Indigo.

You can read more about Chuck and his works at his website: http://www.chuckbowie.ca


August 2016 4Q Interview with Chuck


November 2015 featuring Chuck.


Thank you Chuck for being our guest this week. We look forward to your coming interview.

So Dear Readers, make sure to drop by again and thank you for visiting the Scribbler. We would love to hear what you have to say. Please leave a comment before you go.

Saturday, 28 January 2017

Guest Author Michael Marcondes of New England, USA


I’ve always enjoyed writing but you may be amazed to learn, I’m not so much of a reader. I used to skip parts of high school reading assignments because reading would put me to sleep. I started writing when I was a teenager on a sci-fi time story but couldn’t finish because of my lack in knowledge about government affairs in cold war time. Once I stopped I got busy with jobs I held and life in general until 2006/7 when I wrote a totally new sci-fi book of science fiction and real time science mix together in a time traveler adventure story, The Traveler the beginning, which is out now.



My writing schedule is sporadic. Unfortunately, with my almost always weekly changing work schedule I have no structured writing schedule so I can go weeks and months without doing a single thing and then I get a weekend or week of down time and, wham, I may write entire chapters all at once.

Publication has been a long, sometimes tedious and unfulfilling road with a lot of disappointment -much of it was caused by my former publisher. Looking back, after I spent around a year of researching what I needed to know about Indie publication vs. publishers vs. using agents I still didn’t know nearly enough. While I was searching for a publisher and found a Christian based place whom I called. We made a deal and arrangements for the books but over time I started to see a trend at the publisher who really wasn’t helping much since the books went public. A year and a half into it I fought to market myself and do mostly everything including foot huge multi-thousand dollar bills to get known while trying to balance life, several family tragedies and an ever-changing monthly career schedule. It’s taught me a lot, which I believe as a Charismatic Christian and author I probably needed as part of a great future that is still being written! Because of the hard road I was forced to take I believe I will be able to offer my reading fans someone awesome surprises in the future – which I am currently in progress of now. Hint, hint!

I have two other books in progress right now – a Christian fiction and another sci-fi. With God’s help I plan to complete these very soon. I’ve already done the leg work to lower my EBook prices from where the publisher had them and I am dedicated to the readers to make them more easily attainable by everyone worldwide. There’s also a new website coming February 2017!

My future plan is to commit to writing full time and get myself out of the eighteen-year computer and networking career that I am currently working in.

One favorite thing I enjoy is doing the book autograph signing events. It’s that excitement of seeing the person’s face after we’ve talked some about their lives, the book and about me. Second, I think once I’ve finally written the book as well and completely as I can before it goes to someone to edit and I see how the entire story has run its course - that makes the time and effort worthwhile.

When I’m not working or writing, I like to watch the Sci-Fi channel, documentaries or science shows on T.V. and attending family get-togethers like cookouts and birthday parties and other events.




There are two books currently out in EBook format. I am pleased to include a brief few paragraphs from them both here thanks to my interview host.  My inspired non-fiction Christian book “Life Explained a Journey to Selfless Love”;
 
 

 
 

Chapter 1 Love—Real Selfless Love


I was a little unsure where to begin and how to open this book in a way that would grab the reader’s attention, so as I wrote this sentence, I just placed it into the hands of the Lord, that He would write it for me and through me. I wanted to allow him to be in control without taking a chance that my limited human knowledge and abilities would ruin the content of the subject matter of these very important chapters.

Health and longevity of life ties to quality of life, and that’s something we all need and many of us feel we are deserving of. The Bible references long life and quality of life as being tied together and tied to keeping of the Old Testament and New Testament scripture readings. Some of you are saying, “This is absolutely true and for real,” and you have seen firsthand accounts of it and the results of keeping up with it consistently. Now there’s the other half of you who are partially or even totally against it. Keep reading on. I personally have seen the results, speaking as a person who was raised Catholic and a churchgoer but who would waver or fall away, as they say, because I would allow life, work schedules, and my laziness to interfere and draw me away. Many fall prey to that because we are submerged in a lifestyle of desiring things that are pulling us in multiple directions daily.

“Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad the leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it. For the gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to life, and there are few that find it.” (Matt. 7:13–15, nasb)

The path is selfless love and commitment to the God, who is love itself.

By the time I reached my late forties, life had taken a toll on me, as it does to us all, causing us to harden ourselves to survive; even if we remain good people, after decades on this planet, we lose our true selves. We lose part of the humanity the Lord designed for us to have. I took time to help people, tried not to break the law, and obeyed my parents, for the most part, and all those things that supposedly make us nice people. Like many of you, I worked hard and remained vigilant to my beliefs and responsibilities to myself, family, friends, job, and other life-related things. One night as I was going to bed, I knelt beside the bed and cried out to the Lord, “I give up! I can’t do this anymore. It’s too hard. Like a broken record, life problems and struggles keep coming back over and over again. I need help. Lord, I need your help. I will put you first above everyone and everything— over work, family, friends, everything—and never stop!” …
 
 
 
 

And for “The Traveler the Beginning” the sci-fi time traveler adventure story;

THE BEGINNING


I sit alone in my home, shielded from the outside world, abandoned by many of my people and hounded by many others. I can hear the sounds of militant forces encroaching into my personal living space. They are in need of answers to questions they are not yet prepared to deal with. I am an outlaw in their eyes, cut off by my own actions. The innocent actions that began a journey of wonder and enlightenment have now forced me into my seclusion. The sounds of helicopters fade in and out as they swoop in, checking the perimeter of my yard, my confines, in hopes of my capture. In the far distance, across my long yard, television and radio crews line the street beyond the boundaries of my property line in either direction. The once-tranquil neighborhood where I live has turned into a form of a battle zone, a mockery of my achievements and significant contributions to mankind’s continuation. It’s still here, an almost deafening silence resounding through the back of my mind while I sit and watch their unrelenting advancements. Outside troops mass on the lawn. Jeeps, men, and tanks tear up my gardens. Bullhorns and walkie-talkies echo orders from commanding officers to penetrate my home and bring me out by force. I am not a criminal and thus will fight to the end for my freedom. The shields are impenetrable to their efforts to reach me, shy of digging deep into my grass and tunneling under the protective barricade I have erected around my home. Over and over they call for me to come out. It’s been going on now for several hours. The year is 2052.

I believe I need take you to the start of my adventures to give you a better perspective of why this is.

The pages you are about to read are taken from my memoirs. An extraordinary event has unfolded itself onto me as part of my own undertaking, an event that captured the minds and hearts of a tiny planet located in a solar system just as small in proportion. I have been time traveling now for a total of 1,500 years, though I am now only sixty-five years old. Much of this time was spent in various centuries living new lives and learning new cultures. I speak over forty languages and fifteen different dialects from this planet alone. In my adventures of time traveling, I have been to the future and to the past. I have been through many dangerous and terrible times, seen so much beauty and glory—more than my words can begin to describe— and beings the like of which my imagination couldn’t begin to fathom…
 
 
 
Thank you Michael for being our guest this week.
 
Please check the links below to discover more about Michael and his writing.
 
 
 
 


Thank you Dear Reader for visiting the Scribbler. As always, you're the reason for our blog. I hope you enjoyed your visit. We would love to hear from you. Please leave a comment below.