EVER_MAEDHROS

Hello, all! Sorry I've been pretty much MIA, as of late. I'll try to be better about keeping things lively here.

Lately, I realized I have a lot of unfinished writing projects. Over a period of five to seven years, these stories have been slowly congregating into one big, inter-connected saga, with huge time jumps in between some of the books. Rather like Tolkien's works, which is half coincidence and half not.

I'm tired of leaving these stories alone for weeks at a time, so I'm challenging myself to work at least a little bit every single day. I want this saga, big and cumbersome though it is, to be DONE in five years. I want the crux point, which was suppposed to be one novel and ended up growing into a trilogy, to be done in two.

I think I'm crazy. But I'm happier for coming to this decision, so I'll be crazy and happy. :)

Hope you're all doing well!

(Here is Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.)

Chaos breaks out. Not the giant spiders are attacking, we'll all be spun cocktails in five seconds, run, Mr. Frodo, run sort of chaos. (Thankfully.) Just the social discomfort of the highest degree that seems trifling when read about, but very, very, very bad when actually experienced first hand.

( Onward, ho! )

(Here is Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.)

Chapter IV
The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel

Everybody's sitting happily at the well-laid table in the coffee room of the Fisherman's Rest—everyone, that is, except one of the following possible people.

a. Severus Snape
b. Eeyore
c. the Lone Ranger
d. those domino-playing guys who are NOT French

( And the answer is . . . )

I just got a few more ideas from these beautiful images (found in this tumblr post). That's it, I need to tear myself away from the internet and WRITE.

To those of you all excited about the beginning of 2012: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

To those of you feeling a little jet-lagged by the sudden ending of 2011: Know the feeling. Maybe we'll all get better at getting used to how quickly time flies next year.

I'm feeling just the slightest bit depressed, because I would have liked to have more to speak for at the end of this year; but that's life.

( And now I'm going to get wordy, like a true wannabe-novelist . . . )