Archive for September, 2014

Writer’s process and finishing Mermaid Steel

September 24, 2014 Leave a comment

Chapter 16 is short and nasty, setting up a cliff hanger. Cue evil laughter. Only two chapters left to wrap up the whole adventure. I have them figured out down to a fine detail, so these will come pretty quickly.

Next will come the beta reading, comments, and editing. This step really shows my process. I make passes through the text, starting with sketchy bits and filling in with each pass to finished text. Once I see the story I had in mind to tell, I go back in the final passes to add continuity details like accents, patterns of speech, clothing, smells, and architecture that I did not make clear in the earlier rounds. Where to add these details often is not clear until the first complete draft is done. That’s the stage you see in these published chapters. So in the final print version, you can expect to see a lot more richness of environment and personal details – the stuff that helps you feel like you’re really there.

I am still building a beta posse. So if you would like to critique a complete copy, please let me know. No committee of more than six people ever made a decision, so I will cut off the list at six.

I originally set a personal deadline of having the first draft done by this weekend so I could crow about it at Convolution in Burlingame, California. After decades of making competition costumes for conventions, I should know better than set a con as a deadline. Costumers will understand.

I hope you enjoy Chapter 16.

Categories: Mermaid Steel, Writing

Chapter Sixteen of Mermaid Steel

September 24, 2014 Leave a comment

Thymon followed his sister’s lead as she signaled to the other fourteen young Merrow to fan out in front of the advancing whales and not let them pass.

“You have to be nice to them. Firm but nice,” she told him.

“Yes, I’ve done this before. You compliment them, praise them, they like that.”

“They’re probably pretty scared from the storm. I expect they won’t want to stop. Just don’t take no for an answer.”

The usually clear water was churned cloudy even this far out and deep. Thymon spotted six whales, four big females and two smaller males. He was glad to see there were no babies. The females could get violently uncooperative when they had babies along. He swam up to one of the females and pulled alongside her enormous head. “Welcome beautiful sister,” be greeted her in her own language.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Welcome to you,” she said steering away from him.

He darted around to her other side. “I need your help. Rorra needs your help. You alone are strong enough to help.”

Two other Merrow fell in alongside the forty arm-length whale and stroked her barnacle-scarred gray sides with their hands.

“Storm coming. Must leave,” the big gray told him.

“Yes, big storm. We will keep you safe from the big storm,” Thymon assured her. “First we need your help, your strong and gentle help.”

She slowed to a drift. “You will keep us safe?”

“Yes, there are many of us. We have refuge. You are large and able. We are small. Will you help us?”

“To do what?”

“Push boats.”

“How far?”

“Not far. From the harbor to the drop off.”

The whale turned toward the harbor as she spoke, guided and encouraged by the Merrow. “How many?”

“Ten. It will be easy with you so strong, so graceful, so gentle.” Thymon looked back and saw the other teams had turned their whales too. They were all pointed toward the harbor, and they seemed to be watching Thymon’s whale who was in the lead. “You are leader mother. The others look to you to lead.”

She kicked and sped up the coast and into the harbor.

Thymon signaled for his partners to swim ahead and prepare the first fishing boat. When Thymon and his whale arrived, they had jumped on board and pulled up the anchor. Thymon was thankful there was still enough depth in the harbor for the whales to maneuver. He guided his enormous charge around behind the boat and to nudge against its stern. The boat was longer than the whale, but she had no problem shoving it out to sea. Thymon was pleased with how easy this was going.

He looked around and saw there were another two dozen boats anchored in the harbor besides the ten fishing vessels. Thymon wasn’t sure if they would have time to rescue them as well.

His pleasure did not last long. By the time the first boat was beyond the lip and he told his partners to drop the anchor, the sea had grown choppy with whitecap waves and the wind was howling. He was glad to see another five boats moving into position. He turned his whale back for another boat as quickly as he could coax her.

Back in the harbor, things had become dangerous. The waves were tossing the boats high and low, and it was hard to get his whale to cooperate. His partners barely got the anchor up and had to jump off the boat or be thrown. Thymon put his hands on the stern and pushed. His fellows saw what he was doing and joined him.

“We all work together for Rorra,” he chanted.

“We all work together for Rorra,” the others joined in.

“We all work together for Rorra,” they sang all together.

Finally the whale followed their lead and pushed up against the boat. “Together for Rorra,” the behemoth sang as she took over the pushing.

He looked across the harbor and could barely see how the other teams were doing in the dim light under the sky that was now black. Rain started coming down in great sheets. He caught a glimpse of Chielle lining up her whale behind the next boat over. The anchor was up.

A bolt of lightning flashed and he saw men on board the boat. Chielle did not see them. One of the men had a harpoon and he was running for the stern. Thymon left his team to handle his whale and swam as fast as he could to his sister’s aid. He cried out to her above the water, but his voice was lost in the wind. He dove under and yelled her name through the water as he swam, but he couldn’t be sure she heard him.

He arrived in time to see the man throw the harpoon. Chielle saw the man and dove under. The whale slammed the boat hard and the man tumbled over the back rail. Thymon dove under looking for Chielle, and found the harpoon lodged shallowly in the whale’s side. He pulled it free and circled around for his sister. She wasn’t where he had seen her. She wasn’t with her team at the boat either.

The man floundered and yelled for help. Thymon decided he could wait. He dove under and peered into the dark water but could not find her. He circled the area twice more, fighting back panic. He surfaced to ask the man if he had seen where she went, but the man wasn’t where he had left him.

Frustration, anger, and fear all overtook him. He looked back and watched the whale, guided by Chielle’s team, pushing the boat to safety. Thymon felt powerless with the storm so violent and overwhelming. He dove again, continuing to look for his sister.


Sten sat at one of the front tables in The Pied Cock, looking through the shuttered windows at the wagon he had loaded with his most valuable tools. Rain fell from the black sky in a continuous downpour. The wind tore at the tarpaulin he had tied over his belongings, making sure the water got in. He knew his shack would not survive the beating the storm was giving the wharf. He looked around the room, which was full but not as crowded as he expected, at the others who had come to wait out the storm. The place often smelled of damp. This was the tropics, after all. With the downpour, the usual sap smell of the wood beams was mixed with mud and mold from below the floor boards.

One table was full of the fishermen he had helped at the beach. They all looked really worried and made small talk to distract themselves. Clete Sandsen caught his eye and nodded. Sten raised his glass and nodded back.

Arum Blaine returned to their table and set another beer in front of Sten. “We’re going to be here for a while,” the constable said humorlessly.

“Could be even longer,” Sten countered. “After this, I am probably homeless.”

“The town’s got a bigger problem than that.” He sipped the foam off the top of his own beer. “How are we going to rebuild with no working blacksmith?”

“Damiel’s will be open. He’s way inland. Besides, I can set up shop anywhere you’ve got bricks and charcoal. When I first got here I was working out of one of Norn Tureck’s barns.”

“That was just over a year ago? You came from up in the northeast, mountain country, right?”

“Yeah, a village called Nathanson. Why the sudden interest in my background?”

“Well, I was going to sidle up to it, being all clever, but I guess I’m just not that smooth. I understand Patry Bilboa treated your broken ribs after your fight with Selric Boole. She asked me if I knew about your lash scars. She said she counted fifteen. As the Officer of the Peace here I have a right to know if someone has a criminal past, even if they have paid for it. Fifteen lashes got my attention. Anything you want to share with me?”

Sten looked around the room and no one was listening. “I murdered a man. It was revenge. He killed my younger sister. Actually he raped, killed, and mutilated her. I was responsible for her after our parents died. She was sixteen. I was twenty-four. I was found guilty, because I was. No one could prove the killer did it, but everyone knew he did. The judge went light on me instead of hanging me because he agreed the killer had it coming.” Sten was surprised at how calmly he could talk about this most painful time of his life. Enough time had passed, apparently.

“I thought I paid my debt to society and should be able to go on with my life. Nothing was ever the same after the people I grew up with thought of me as capable of cold-blooded murder. So I left. I made my way all across the continent for four years before I finally felt like I could make a fresh start here.”

Arum leaned back and stared at him dispassionately all through his story. Sten had seen that look before, that taking-it-all-in, non-committal look the lawman had. “That explains a lot of why you are so driven by justice issues. When you got so fired up about the Merrow being mistreated, I thought that might mean you knew a thing or two about the law.”

“I’ve just been on the receiving end of the law.”

“That’s right, when Roff Collum got his lashes for shooting that merman, you said he should pay the price like a man and be done with it. You paid your price but it didn’t work out so well for you.”

“I hoped for better here.”

The building shook and groaned against the wind. Sten looked back out the window.

“We’ll be fine,” Arum dismissed.

“I’m not worried about us.”

“You’ve told me what a smart girl your Chielle is. She knows that ocean better than any of us ever will. You’ve got to assume she’ll be fine. Otherwise you’ll just stay up all night sweating it, which will make no difference.”

“You have an amazingly detached sense of things, you know that?”

“I don’t let things get to me, if that’s what you mean.”

“You’ll have to share your secret with me sometime.”

Arum squinted on a thought. “I know it’s not my pace, and the last time I said something stupid about the Merrow you let me have it out in the street.”

“Even so, you feel compelled to stick you foot back in your mouth?” Sten said with a smile.

“I guess so.” He grinned and shook his head. “You seem awfully smitten with this girl in a very short time. Are you sure she hasn’t enchanted you? Mermaids are supposed to have siren powers over men.”

Sten saw this coming and chuckled. “You know, as ignorant as that is, I can’t get mad at you, because I asked her the same question. No, they actually can’t use their voice or any magic to enchant a man. That really is just a myth. No, I fell in love with her the old fashioned way, for all the right reasons.”

They were interrupted by a roaring sound that seemed to come up from below the floor. Sten looked out the window again and saw water flooding up the street from the ocean. It came in waves, just a few inches at first, but soon there was a couple of feet of standing water filling the street. Many of the bar patrons got up and looked. Paulbert Caron came running up, pony tail wagging, with an armload of towels which he kicked into place across the bottom of the door.

“This street has got to be, what, twenty feet above highest tide?” Sten figured out loud.

“That’s some storm surge,” Arum agreed.

Everyone sighed relief when the water stopped rising and seemed to recede slowly back to the sea.

Sten shook his head and rolled his eyes with a great exhaled sigh.

“What is it?”

“Here I am sitting, waiting for the storm to pass, unable to do anything to save the town or help the Merrow save the boats. Just sitting here going with the flow of things, trying to have faith that things will turn out all right,” he said with exasperation. “That’s the Merrow way of doing things. They trust in Rorra, their sea god, and wait to see what Rorra will give them. At this same time, Chielle, the love of my life, is out in the hurricane dragging fishing boats to safety. She’s taking control. She’s seizing the opportunity. Isn’t that supposed to be the human way, the way Atlan taught us?”

“You have a problem with this? Would you rather be out in the ocean fighting a hurricane?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not the point. The irony is just making me crazy. I’m so frustrated. I can’t stand this.”

“You should take this as a lesson. She learned assertiveness from you. You should learn patience from her.”


Chielle looked up and was shocked to see a man on board. She was further horrified to see him haul back to throw a harpoon at her and she dove under the stern of the boat. Her whale also saw the man and kicked mightily, plowing the boat so hard it lifted the back out of the water. She turned around to see what the whale was doing and the boat slammed down on top of her, knocking her unconscious. With all of the air forced out of her lungs, she sank heavily into the dark waters.

Categories: Mermaid Steel, Writing

Short Story Accepted for “Spooky Halloween Drabbles 2014”

September 22, 2014 Leave a comment

My micro story (100 words) “Anticipation” has been accepted for a new anthology from Indie Authors Press. Just in time for Halloween!

Categories: Writing

Chapter Fifteen of Mermaid Steel

September 12, 2014 Leave a comment

As he swam along underwater, Sten slowly realized he was in another mermaid dream. The motion of sliding through the water with only the slightest push with his tail felt so natural he didn’t question it at first. Once he did connect, he looked around more carefully, wondering what the dream would show him this time.

He was swimming over the amphitheater in Celidan. He looked down at what should have been the Eye of Rorra, but he couldn’t see anything. He remembered Chielle had shown it to him from the stone seats, so he dove and turned to face the center from where he had stood in the diving bell.

He couldn’t see anything at first so he stared intently. He caught a glimpse of rippling water and waited for it to open up into the window that was the Eye. It did not. Instead the ripples coalesced and appeared to be moving right at him. He started to back up but it was moving too fast and it was upon him.

It was the shape of a mermaid, made of water, visible only by the distortions and reflections of things behind her. Sten was transfixed and before he could move, she reached out and held his face in her hands and kissed him full on the mouth. He felt water rush into his mouth and all around his face as the watery form rushed past and around him. He turned to watch her and she was gone.

His heart was racing and he found himself breathing hard through his gills, which felt really strange. He had no idea what had just happened. Was that Rorra? Why did she kiss him?

He heard what sounded like distant drums. He spun around, trying to place them, but couldn’t. He remembered Chielle describe how she “heard” with her face to get an all-around picture of her surroundings. He paused and felt for the sound. Yes, drums, drums and cymbals, maybe even stomping feet. Feet? Maybe it was coming from the surface. He swam up and found he could track it.

He breached the surface right off the beach next to his wharf. He knew this place was miles from Celidan, but he went with it. The sound was huge and coming from up in the town. What in the world could be making such a racket?

He struggled up out of the surf and onto the beach, trying to quickly learn how to achieve the hunching step shifting his weight on and off his pelvic fins like crutches. He failed to time his weight shift and he threw himself on his face. He looked around and there was no one on the beach to see him. He squirmed around and got himself up over his tail again. He tried to remember exactly how he had seen Chielle do this. She was so fluid in her motion, he had never really broken it down. Doing it himself was an entirely different matter. He planted his pelvic fins stiffly and coiled his tail up off the ground and swung his weight under to land on what should have been his thighs, but was now his backwards curving upper tail. It worked!

He only made it a half dozen “steps” up onto dry sand when the source of the noise came to him. A throng of villagers spilled out onto the beach, singing and dancing and pounding drums and shaking noisemakers in what he now saw was an enormous celebration. His first reaction to all these people coming his way was to dive back into the sea. He didn’t know if his dream villagers were more or less friendly to Merrow than the real world ones.

He got his answer when several men and women ran up to him and started cheering and patting him on the back and welcoming him into the merriment. He couldn’t tell what they were so happy about, but he was glad they hadn’t attacked him. He looked around and saw several other Merrow dancing and singing in the crowd. The camaraderie took him entirely by surprise.

“What are we celebrating?” he asked a random dancer.

“Rorra’s gift!” the man cried over the din.

“What is Rorra’s gift?”

The man double took on him. “You’re a Merrow. If you don’t know, then who does?” Before Sten could ask him further, he spun off into the crowd dancing and singing.

Sten saw Merrow standing on their folded flukes in the sand swaying and gyrating their hips to the drumbeats and handclaps while singing their long warbling songs. Alongside them humans danced faster paced steps to the fiddles and whistles, yet stayed in time with the Merrow music. The blending of the two musical styles was striking and yet felt so right. Like so many things he had seen between humans and Merrow, they seemed to fit together like two halves of a whole.

A woman called his name from behind him that he thought might be Chielle. He started to turn around but tripped over his tail and fell.

He landed awake in his bed. Being horizontal under covers with legs took a moment to accept. He wiggled his toes just to be sure. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “What was that all about?” he asked his empty room. “Clearly wishful thinking having its way with me.”

He saw dawn was just breaking out through the window on the far side of his bedroom. Something did not look right about the sky. Or was it the sea? He leaned over without getting out of bed to look straight out but saw nothing unusual. Maybe he was just disoriented from the dream. He got up and started his day as usual. By the time he started thinking about breakfast, the odd feeling was back. He decided to go outside and see for sure.

The ocean was gone. He ran to the edge of the wharf and the sea had dropped to only a few feet of water. The Back Forty was tilted over resting on its keel in what couldn’t be more than ten feet of water. Even the lowest tide left over twenty. The ramp down to the landing hung almost vertical. There was a steady cold wind blowing off the ocean. The wind was never cold here, and it was certainly never steady off the sea in the morning. It was all so weird he wondered for a moment if he was still dreaming.


He scanned the choppy waves and saw Chielle bobbing out in front of the wharf. “What happened?”

It’s Rorratonton, the storm of all storms!”

He looked to the horizon but saw nothing. “Where?”

“Out past the horizon, but moving really fast. You have to evacuate the village.”

“Did you pray to Rorra last night?”

“Yes, I did, but not for this. Did you pray too?”

“No.” He felt the cut on his jaw. “Well, kind of, yeah. I think Rorra has decided the humans have to go.”

“No, that’s why you have to evacuate.”

“That won’t help. We can save ourselves, but a storm this size will smash all the boats. Without the fishing fleet, the town can’t survive.”

While they spoke, Sten kept watching the horizon. He suddenly realized what he was seeing. It had turned black and was moving this way. It stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions. “Holy Atlan,” he muttered to himself. “There won’t be much left of the town itself.”

“It will be here in less than an hour.”

“That’s not enough time to row out to the boats, sail them out and re-anchor them away from the shore, and still make it back to safety.”

“Is half a mile far enough?

“I don’t know. Probably, depends on the storm surge. Why does that matter?”

“There is a drop off half a mile outside the harbor. The ships’ anchors might hold if they stuck below the lip edge.”

“You’re not hearing me, Sweetheart. There isn’t enough time.”

“Not for the fishermen, but there is for us.”


“The Merrow can pull the boats to safety.”

“Pull, what? Why would you want to?”

“The fastest way to wipe out fear and mistrust is with generosity.”

Sten was struck speechless for a moment. He was so proud of her yet so afraid for her. “Isn’t that going to be dangerous even for you? What if the storm hits in the middle of your efforts?”

“The more Merrow we get to help, the faster we’ll get done.”

“How many do you have?”

“Certainly all the younger generation who don’t like the old law. Lots of us have been waiting for the chance to break out of the old ways, and this is it.”

“I think you underestimate just how dangerous this is going to be.”

“We work as a community, remember?”

She was right. It wasn’t in her culture or her nature to put herself first. “Chielle, please be careful.”

“We don’t have time to worry,” she answered with a smile that told him she knew what he was thinking.

“All right. Gather up your people. I’ll convince the town. But please don’t do any hauling yourself!”

“Gotta go! I love you!” she called as she disappeared under the waves.

“I love you too,” he said into the wind.

He ran as fast as he could. He passed Jacio coming the other way, and the boy joined him running down the beach. The soft sand at the wharf end was hard to push through. He saw the fishermen down on the wet pack dragging their rowboats down the very long beach and launching them into the much too shallow water.

“Stop!” he yelled. “There isn’t time!”

They didn’t even look up. The wind coming off the storm had grown too strong and loud. Finally he and Jacio got onto the hard, wet sand and could run. “There isn’t enough time! The storm is too big and it’s moving too fast. The Merrow are pulling your fishing boats out of the harbor to safety!”

The men within earshot crowded around him and spoke at the same time.

“They’re what?!”

“Who said they could touch our boats?!”

“How do you know?”

“Those boats are our livelihoods!”

Sten tried to calm them down. “Your boats mean the survival of our whole town. The Merrow know that. We may have our differences, but they aren’t going to sit by and let us get wiped out.”

One of the captains, Dade Bellows, a white haired man with a dark golden tan, and friend of Selric Boole’s, demanded, “How do we know they aren’t just going to steal the anchors for scrap metal?”

“Are you serious? Have any of you ever found anything stolen from any of your boats? Those boats sit out in the harbor every night. If the Merrow were the thieves you say they are, why haven’t they stolen you blind? They’re not thieves.”

“We’d still rather take care of our own boats!” insisted another.

“You can try, but by the time you sail against that rising wind and set anchor, you’re going to be stuck on board when the storm hits. Do you want to go down with your boat if it sinks? There just isn’t time!”

“Why should we listen to you? You’re just a fin lover.” Captain Bellows fired back.

Jacio surprised Sten by stepping up. “I used to think they were no good thieves too. But I’ve met a few of them, and their really good people. You should be glad they are willing to help you out after all the hate you’ve shown them.”

Sten was proud of him, and he saw several of the men consider Jacio’s words.

Dade wasn’t having it. “Are you men going to listen to a boy, the blacksmith’s boy?”

“Use your heads, men,” Sten insisted. “What would Atlan do? He survived the Great Cataclysm by using his head first and his hands second. Why fight the sea when the Merrow have that covered. You’ve got better things to do with the short time you’ve got.”

One of the men in the back who had not spoken yet stepped forward. “Sten, what are you suggesting?”

Dade cut him off. “Clete, are you really going to listen to him?”

“Yes Captain Bellows, I am. Captain Boole showed us where blind hate takes us. If these merfolk are out there risking their necks for us, then we can do better than standing here debating how much we don’t trust them.”

Sten was amazed. “We need to get these rowboats and all your nets and gear back off the beach, as far back up in town as you can get them. Tell everyone to evacuate the coast. From what I saw up on the wharf, the sea could rush in and flood all the way back to the town square.”

Clete turned to the others. “We’ve got work to do.” They all grabbed the rowboats and started heading back up the beach. Dade hesitated and flustered, but then followed suit.

Sten, Jacio and a sailor grabbed the sides of a rowboat and started sliding it up the beach. Sten looked back and saw Captain Bellows, white hair blowing in the wind, and three of his crew running one of their rowboats out into the surf after all.


Chielle swam right passed the red-garbed temple guard, reached up, and rang the town alarm bell with all her might. The guard stared at her with a menacing glare while two others swam up behind her and surrounded her. They did not seize her. The rule was anyone can sound the alarm, but you had better have a really good reason.

Villagers rushed to see what was the matter, but she kept ringing it until she had most of the town in the arena. She figured she would only get this one chance, she needed a response right away, and she would either succeed or fail. She stopped ringing it when she saw her father arrive.

“Please listen up, everyone! We have an important decision to make, and we need to make it right now. Rorratonton will make landfall in less than an hour. The humans do not have time to sail their boats out to safety and still make it back to shore before the storm hits and floods Saint Rachel. If we let the storm smash their fishing boats, their village will fail. They will have to abandon their homes.”

“Finally, some good news!” someone yelled from the back. She thought she recognized the voice as belonging to Yurum Bool, a loud-mouthed, mean-hearted friend of her father.

She pressed on undaunted. “We have a once in a lifetime chance to do the right thing. If we drag their boats to safety, they will know we saved them, and all this hatred that has grown from their suspicion and distrust of us will end.”

At that, most of the gathered muttered objections and criticisms among themselves.

She knew she needed to make her point before she was booed off the stage. “They know how much trouble they are in. They know how badly they have treated us. A lot of them want to reach out to build bridges between our villages, but they can’t because we have decided to cut off contact with them. Now, I’m not going to argue whether that’s a good idea. Our elders have decided we need to stay away from the human influence. But does that mean we should sit by and watch them lose everything, when it would be so easy for us to save them. Even if we stay separated, they would be forever grateful for our help. They would know how good we are and how much they can trust us. They are part of our world, like it or not. They are part of Rorra’s world.”

“Then why is Rorra about to drive them into ruin?” someone called out.

“I don’t pretend to understand what Rorra is doing. Maybe she is giving us this chance to show how good we are.”

The crowd stopped shaking their heads and muttering. Maybe she was getting through to them.

“We need to stay here and secure our own village,” someone point out. “This storm is too big to just pass over us with no damage.”

“It won’t take many of us to do this. Rorra has also given us a pod of gray whales who are coming up the coast right now, out of season, ready for us to put to good use pulling those boats to safety.”

“How do you know about that?” This time she was sure it was Yurum, and he was definitely hiding back in the third row.

“I just saw them on my way back from Saint Rachel.”

“What were you doing there? We’re forbidden from making contact.”

“Yurum, I thought it only fair to warn them of the storm.”

“You saw your boyfriend, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I told Sten to tell the village.”

The crowd parted and Jeljing himself swam up toward her.

She swallowed hard and pressed on. “How will you all feel if we let the humans lose their homes when we know how easy it would be…”

The Shaman held up his hand and settled to face her. “You can stop. You made your point.” He winked at her and turned to face the crowd. “Chielle is right. We are above being vindictive. I too am confused by what Rorra is doing with this storm. If we can make good of it by doing the right thing by our neighbors, in spite of how they have treated us, then we should.”

He turned to her and smiled. “Go get those whales and save those boats.”

She bowed down, grabbed up his hand and rubbed her cheek on it to kiss it. “Thank you, Your Grace. You won’t regret this.”

She swam out across the crowd, signaling to her brother and their friends to come along. Numerous other young Merrow swam up from their families and joined them. As she swam passed, she saw her mother standing by her father. Chumbor Mmava watched her with neither a smile nor a frown. Chielle knew that was her father’s wait-and-see look. Gonnakaa, on the other hand, quietly beamed up at her in pride.

Categories: Mermaid Steel, Writing

The Power of Five

September 5, 2014 Leave a comment

The Power of Five

A word of encouragement for creative folk

Unless you are one of the extremely rare and lucky folks who lands a benefactor early in your career (an art patron, a large publisher, a successful film producer), building an audience takes a long time, longer than you think. Based my own experiences and those of my creative friends in many walks, the magic number looks like five. It takes until about your fifth published novel, your fifth major art showing, or your fifth distributed film to build enough audience that it grows under its own power by word of mouth. At that point you can stop fretting about your reach and focus entirely on your craft.

Mass communication is responsible for this number being so high. Without mass communication we would not have self-publishing for writers, Imgur and Instagram for artists, or YouTube for filmmakers. Ironically what has made it easy for you to show your work has made it easy for everyone else on Earth to show their work too. The good news is, quality does float to the top. But as the amount of soup in the pot grows, it takes longer for the quality stuff to make it to the top. One good film or one good book used to be enough. Now it is five.

So how do you find the patience to be happy with a small audience while you are working your way up to five, and still have the drive to keep working your way up to five and beyond? How do you not succumb to the feeling you are throwing yourself against a wall of silence and obscurity? Your work gets five star ratings from everyone who sees it, yet your sales hover at zero.

There is one guiding principle and two secrets.

The guiding principle is to have faith in your work. If it’s getting high ratings from those few who see it, then you know it’s good and you’re not just deluding yourself. This leads to the first secret.

Keep producing. You must put enough of your work into play that it gets randomly seen by enough people that you start to get traction. Believe in the five.

The other secret is to be happy with the audience you have so far. Let them know you are happy with them. They are your core followers. They will buy whatever you put out. They are the ones who will start the word of mouth machine. Talk to them. Share stuff with them that makes them feel appreciated.

I have two award-winning, five-star novels, and in the three years since my first book came out I have gathered about 60 people into my core. I love my core followers (you know who you are), and I try to let them know it as often as I can.

Five is a damn big number. It can take two years or more to produce a novel or a film or a gallery full of art. How do you keep up your faith over ten or more years of feeling unappreciated? One way is to commiserate with and support your fellow creative friends. You are not alone. Luckily mass communication makes this easier too.

You should also take solace in knowing your earlier work was not a waste of time, and it will be appreciated when your whole body of work is eventually discovered. Often you spend a huge amount of time fine tuning the first big piece you put out for public consumption. You work so hard to get it perfect before braving the critics and the marketplace, only to have it slide into the shadows unnoticed. The Internet is forever. Even if you aren’t “discovered” until ten years hence, folks can still find your earlier work online, and they will want to see and buy it. There is no backlist on Amazon. Nobody purges old clips from YouTube.

So get back to work. Promote like the wind. Don’t lose faith. Love the fans you have. Know these things take time, even for the best.

Categories: Writing

Chapters Thirteen and Fourteen of Mermaid Steel

September 2, 2014 Leave a comment

Y’all have been patient while I worked out this critical turn in the story. Thank you. For your reward, here are the next two chapters. This brings us to page 200, with about 50 pages left in the book. This is pretty much your last chance to give me any feedback for this draft. From here out I am just finishing the tale I have started. I would love to hear from you with any comment, short or long, good or bad. I am considering whether I should publish the last few chapters online or whether I should save them for the printed book. There are not that many of you reading along, so I’m not worried about giving anything away to a wide audience. This has been a fun experiment. It would have been a lot more fun if we had all played together. What can I say, I have very reserved fans. I can only hope you are enjoying the story. Here is the next 5200 word installment.

Chapter Thirteen

Sten was bored, sitting alone with his thoughts in the cave, staying out of sight of any passing boats. None came by. He looked around and considered trying again to find a way around the mouth of the alcove up onto the land behind it. His explorations had not found a way other than swimming out and around. He was enjoying dry clothes too much for that.

He saw a shape rising in the swells and was pleased at how quickly Chielle had returned with food. It wasn’t one shape, though, that emerged, but six mermen. He recognized the front three as Aalto, Pinngot, and Raggeck Blauoon, the builders who ordered tools. He also recognized the three very large mermen who followed from their red church guard tunics. This did not look good.

Sten walked down to the beach to meet them. “Aalto! What brings you to my little piece of paradise?”

“Mister Sten, I have come to apologize. I think I gave you the wrong impression yesterday about needing tools from you.”

The Merrow hunched up on his tail at the water’s edge with his brothers close behind. He nervously averted eye contact as he spoke. Sten watched the red guards standing straight with their tails planted in the shallows, looking on sternly.

Sten saw the right thing to do. “No need to apologize. We were just talking. I understand Merrow don’t need anything from humans. I certainly did not think we were trading for anything.”

Aalto and his brothers sighed a little breath of relief.

Sten spoke loudly enough for the guards to hear. “I hope someday our peoples will come to trust each other enough that you can use my tools to make a better life for yourself. In the meantime, I know you will do just fine.”

“Thank you, Mister Sten. I doubt we will ever speak again. Have a pleasant life.”

“You’re welcome. May Rorra watch over you.”

One of the guards bristled at his comment, but they then all turned back to the sea.

Sten was really glad Chielle had missed this. Sten had feared this would happen. He was even more disappointed that it was the temple guards that enforced it. That meant the disapproval was official, possibly even form the Shaman himself. This was a huge setback.

Sten was pondering this when Chielle swam up, a bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” He stepped up and kissed her.

“Sweetheart,” she pondered playfully. “I like the sound of that.”

“Well, you’re not going to like the sound of this. The Blauoon brothers came by, escorted by three of the red temple guards. They withdrew their order for tools.”

“Oh no, that’s very bad.”

“Means the Shaman ordered it, right?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I brought this on myself. I did invade your town unannounced.”

Chielle was distracted in thought. “I’ll have to find out how far this goes.”

“So now I’ve got both villages up in arms. For a man who set out to make peace, I seem to be stirring up a lot of anger.”

“Speaking of your village, that’s where I went to get breakfast.” She reached into her shoulder bag and handed him a sealed pot that was made of some kind of pink stone, but it was much too light to be stone.

“Is this coral?”

“Yes,” she said opening it to reveal rice cooked with flecks of fish and egg. “Jacio had a funny name for it that he said he couldn’t pronounce. His mother made some for him and he gave it to me to give to you.”

“Kedgeree. Good lad. This will be an excellent breakfast.”

“While I was there, I learned that indeed your constable has arrested Captain Boole and is holding him until your High Lord can decide his fate.”

“So the High Lord is still in town?”

“It would seem so, yes.”

“May I ask how you found all this out?”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “I spoke with some friends of mine who keep an eye on things in Saint Rachel.”

“I take it they are well practiced in the art of staying undetected.”

“Yes,” she said with a coy smile. “Yes, they are.”

“Now that your red guard knows where I am, I’m feeling vulnerable stuck here on this beach. Maybe it’s time to borrow Norn’s boat. Let’s have breakfast, and then can I ask you to take me out there?”

“Of course.”

“We’ll have Jacio go tell Norn what I’m up to. Norn won’t tell anyone. That way I can go into town when the time is right.”

“That would be when?”

“Give it one more day. I want the villagers united in thought that Boole and his approach is the wrong way to go.”

“All right. After I get you to the boat, I want to go check with my family and see what’s been said since your visit. It’s really rare for me to spend this much time away from my home. I’ll spend the night there.”

“Of course. Your mother knows about us. Does your father?”

“I don’t know if my mother would wait for me to tell him myself. She had to tell him something with me gone for three days and two nights.”

“I wish I had met him before now.”

“What, to show him your feelings for me are genuine?”

He looked her in the eyes and grinned. “Well, yes. I would also hope my fighting for Merrow justice would sway his opinion.”

“My father is in a tough spot over that. He’s old enough to remember when we all got along, but as the head of our family, he has to uphold the official doctrine of separation. He had a hard time balancing that when Thymon armed his friends and went into battle. I’m afraid he might feel he needs to be strict with me. I’m really going to have to move carefully.”

“You know your folks better than anyone. I’m sure you’ll work it out.”


Thymon followed his sister up the anchor chain to the surface. “Back Forty?” he read on the prow.

“It’s a ranching term. The owner raises cattle.”

“Still doesn’t make sense,” he muttered to himself as they kicked up out of the water, over the low rail to scoot, behind-first, onto the deck.

“Sten? Sweetheart?” Her voice wavered.”Are you up yet?”

Thymon thought the gray, overcast sky less than an hour after dawn was sadly fitting for their mission.

He stepped up from below decks wiping his face with a towel. “Yes, I was just shaving. Thought you’d appreciate that. Oh, hi Thymon.”

She got up and hunched over to him. Even from behind, with her shoulders slumped, Thymon could see how dejected she was.

“Whoa,” Sten said. “That bad?”

She just nodded.

“Your father…banned you from seeing me. Which is why the escort.”

She flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

Sten looked up to Thymon. The usual ruddy color of his face blanched. “I’ve been living in a fool’s paradise, thinking I could just do whatever I wanted and people would come around to my way of thinking.”

“She argued brilliantly.” Thymon got up while he spoke. “She said you were our only hope of making peace with the villagers. She even told Father about her dreams of walking in the snow.”

Sten pulled her back. “What dreams?”

She looked up at him with the saddest eyes her brother had ever seen on her. “When I sleep in your arms, I dream of having legs and walking through snow in the mountains. At first it felt so strange, but then I started really enjoying it.”

“You never told me about this.”

“I wasn’t sure what it meant, or if it meant anything. It does mean we have a special bond. It didn’t convince my father, though.”

“This is amazing. I’ve been dreaming of having a tail and swimming through your village. I thought it was just my imagination, but then when I went there, my dream was right, down to the details.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Have you ever heard of a town called Nathanson?”

His face it up. “That’s…wow…yes, I grew up in Nathanson. I spent many an hour stomping around in the snow, in fur boots, all bundled up. Is that what you dreamt?”

“Yes.” She smiled weakly.

“Then we really do have a bond. I don’t just mean you and I, but your kind and my kind. We couldn’t be sharing memories in our dreams unless there was something much deeper connecting us. This didn’t sway your father?”

“It kind of terrified him, actually,” Thymon added. “Our father has always been strongly isolationist. My going to war didn’t help matters. This time he was acting on our shaman’s orders, but after hearing about the dreams, he was even more convinced.”

“On the shaman’s orders? Your religious leader can just order people around?”

“He isn’t just our religious leader,” she explained patiently, though it clearly pained her to talk about it. “He is our protector, our wisdom guide, our decision maker. He talks directly with Rorra, and everything we have flows from Rorra. His word is law, and his law has always been for our best.”

“What, he’s never wrong?”

“There simply is no arguing with him,” Thymon stated. “More than that, this goes right to the basic doctrine, that if Merrow started trading with humans, and using human tools, and doing things the human way, then Merrow will become selfish, corrupt, and evil like humans. We were all raised with that message. Our people are not ready to argue with that.”

Chielle wrapped her arms around his torso and put her head on his chest. Thymon’s heart broke seeing her usually shining confidence faded like this.

Sten put his arms around her while he talked with Thymon. “So the law that was written a hundred years ago prohibiting commerce, that was a Merrow idea as much as human?”

“Oh, yes,” he explained. “Our ancestors chose that path. Did you think that was forced on us by the villagers?”

“I wasn’t sure. I haven’t been able to get a straight answer from anyone. It must have been to prevent another war. Can’t they see how being separated is driving us into war now?”

“They don’t see it that way.”

“Well I know you’re worried about losing the last of your fisheries. You took up spears to defend yourself. If you pull back into isolation now, the fishermen are going to take everything and force you to leave your homes. You will have to abandon Celidan.”

“Believe me, I agree with you. My people would rather do anything but fight again.”

Sten blinked and gritted his teeth. “Boole and his ilk are going to think themselves justified. They got away with labeling you thieves, and now they’re going to label you cowards, unworthy of those fisheries the treaty is supposed to protect for you.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I just can’t help feeling I’ve made things worse. I drew this all out into the open to try to bridge the gap, and now I’ve forced the Shaman’s hand into shutting you off.”

Chielle looked up at him. “You did the right thing. You did what Atlan would have done. You seized the moment, you gave it your best try. Don’t beat yourself up for that.”

“There has got to be some way to convince your elders to stand up for themselves. Now is exactly the wrong time to go into hiding.”

She beamed at him and stroked his cheek. “That beautiful tinker’s mind of yours, always looking for a solution. If anyone can think of it, it will be you.”

He met her gaze and held her with his massive arms. Thymon still wasn’t comfortable seeing his hairy skin around his sister’s waist, even if he was only touching her tan tunic. “What’s to become of us? I’m not giving you up. If my people drive you away, I’ll come with you. Or we can both run away together.”

“Our father would come after her,” Thymon interjected. “It would be ugly.”

Sten looked into her eyes and the anger in him seemed to melt into sadness. It was at that moment that Thymon saw just how much Sten loved his sister. “I can’t believe it. They’re taking you away and there is nothing I can do about it. Your mother…”

“No. My mother knows how much you mean to me. She used to have great love for her human friends when she was young. This is now. She will not go against my father.”

“I promise I will not give up the fight above the surface. I will do whatever I can to show your people that most humans welcome the Merrow as neighbors. Somehow I’ve got to show them, or I’ll never get you back.”

“And I promise I will wait for you, no matter how long. I have faith in you. For now, though, my love this is good bye.”

He hugged her tightly and she hugged him back. “Pray to Rorra for a miracle. Rorra abides and provides, right?”

When she pulled away, tears were running down his smooth cheeks. She touched them. “I wish I had tears too, to show you how much I am going to miss you.”

Chapter Fourteen

Sten tied the Back Forty to his landing dock and looked around to see that no one had noticed his arrival. The village would be bustling by now with morning errands. No point in wasting time with social niceties, he thought. He marched up the ramp and met Jacio who was coming out to the shop.

“Hey, welcome back!”

Sten did not slow down. “Thanks. I’ll be back later.”

Gerb the sailmaker looked genuinely shocked in his shop window as Sten marched by. “Sten, you’re alive!”

“So it would seem,” he said with a smile but without breaking his stride.

It was the same with most folks he passed. They either lit up when they realized the Merrow had saved him, or double-took as if they were seeing a ghost. Both reactions meant people had taken Boole’s crime seriously which greatly buoyed Sten’s spirits. By the time he got to the constable’s office, he was sure his plan would work.

“Well, well,” Blaine greeted him as he entered. “If it isn’t the ghost of our long dead blacksmith.”

“Good morning, Arum.”

The big lawman got up from his desk and shook Sten’s hand. “Welcome back. Don’t tell me I’m supposed to be surprised your friends under the sea saved you, because I never had a doubt.”

“Just because I was saved does not mean he didn’t try to kill me.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the jail in the back. “Captain Boole will stand trial for attempted murder, especially now that I have all the witnesses.”

“You also have the High Lord to preside.”

“That’s true. He decided to stick around for a few days.” He absently rubbed his short cropped blond hair. “I think he wants to make sure we don’t go to war with the merfolk.”

“I hope that’s why he stayed. I have to talk with him about what happens next.”

Arum squinted. “You sound like something has changed.”

“It has, and not for the better. Do you want to come along? I hope to catch him before he gets busy with other business.”

Arum glanced around, then nodded. “Sure. Nothing here that can’t wait.” They left and the constable locked the door behind them. ‘The High Lord is staying at the Saint Rachel Arms.”

“That makes sense,” Sten said heading in that direction. “It is our only real hotel.”

“Did you really build a pipe and helmet rig to breathe underwater?”

“Yes, I did.”

“So you saw Celidan first hand?”

“That is true.”

“I bet that was amazing. Obviously you’ve been spending a lot of time with that mermaid lady friend of yours.”

Sten stopped walking and turned to face Arum. “Her name is Chielle. Is there something you want to get off your chest?”

“Don’t take offense, and tell me to drop it if you want to, but they are so mysterious, I have to ask. What are they like in conversation?”

Sten was relieved Arum did not go where he thought he might. “In conversation? They talk just like you and me. What do you mean?”

“Well, do they speak their mind openly, or do they hide their feelings? Are they kind to their women? Do they make jokes? You know, are they really different than us?”

Sten was dismayed. “Holy Atlan in the grave, are you kidding me? Do people really not understand the Merrow are exactly like us except they live underwater? Do you really think they are so different that you can’t even have a normal conversation with them? Have you never spoken with one?”

“Well, no, not casually.”

“Of course they speak their minds. Of course they are kind to their women. And yes they make jokes. They hold some things more dearly than we do, like sharing and community. Their culture is geared to their life in the sea. But they love and get angry and get drunk and laugh and cry just like humans. How in the world did you come to think otherwise?”

The townspeople walking nearby heard Sten laying into Arum and slowed down to listen.

“They’ve been here alongside you for the whole hundred years you’ve been here. I happen to know that thirty years ago you used to get along with them as neighbors. Humans had Merrow as best friends.” Sten noticed the crowd growing around them. He didn’t try to hide the desperation in his eyes. “I thought I was just up against greedy fishermen. Does everyone harbor these same suspicions? Have things gotten that bad?”

“I don’t know, Sten. I haven’t asked a lot of people, and people don’t speak up if they don’t have to. I just thought, since you’ve been around them so much, I should get the facts from someone who knows.”

Sten looked up at the tall blond and caught his gaze squarely. “I’m glad you did. I wish I could tell this to everyone in Saint Rachel.” He turned to the onlookers. “They are just folk like you and me. I knew this was bad. I’ve been here over a year, how could I not know it? But to think you can’t even talk with them? Lord, have I got my work cut out for me. Starting with the High Lord,” he said as he began walking again.

On the rest of the way to the hotel, the surprised looks at Sten’s reappearance were accompanied by a spreading wave of chatter about what he had said. Sten saw that Arum noticed it too. Sten hoped this was the sound of good news.

Sten marched into the hotel straight to the front desk with Arum close behind.

“Good morning,” the young man clerk in the jaunty pillbox hat greeted them.

“Good morning. Who can I speak with about seeing the High Lord?”

Footfalls from the stairs behind them were followed by a man’s voice. “That would be me.”

Sten and Arum turned around and faced Jesery Clune himself. Sten almost didn’t recognize the judge without his official headgear. With his large bald spot and his unassuming street clothes, he looked positively normal.

“Your Lordship, how good to see you again.”

“Constable Blaine. Mr. Holdsmith, it is so good to see you recovered from your watery grave. I usually don’t hear petitions before breakfast. As I am headed to breakfast now, and you have managed to catch me, I will make an exception. Why did you want to see me?”

“I have disheartening news from Celidan. With all this conflict, the Merrow have decided to retreat from all contact with us. If left unchecked, the fishermen are going to take advantage of that and seize the rest of the fishing grounds. The Merrow have given up all the fisheries they can afford to lose and still sustain themselves. If our fishermen harvest Harper’s Meadow, the Merrow will have to abandon their village and migrate away. They were here first. We will have taken unfair advantage of their good nature and driven them from their ancestral home.”

“I agree that would be a great injustice. What are you asking me to do?”

“Start by enforcing the treaty. It sets Harper’s Meadow aside for the Merrow. Forbid the fishermen from going there.”

“I understand the Merrow have arranged that the fishermen cannot find any fish there anymore. So they seem to be enforcing the treaty themselves.”

“We can only hope they continue to do that. Then ask the Merrow Shaman to alter the treaty to allow commerce. The ban has driven a wedge to where our people think of them as brute savages that can’t even communicate. You know that’s not true as well as I. We have to open up the chance for healthy contact.”

Clune raised his eyebrows and sighed. “The Merrow leaders wrote that treaty to keep their people away from our influence. If they have decided to withdraw, that is their choice. It has worked for them for a hundred years. My asking for a change would just convince them how right they are to withdraw. I understand you have visited with them extensively.”

“He went to their village using a breathing device,” Arum interjected.

“Indeed? Impressive. Does your coming to me now mean your efforts at building rapport have failed?”

“They saw me as an invader.”

“There you have it. They would see me the same if I asked to change the treaty.”

Sten wanted to argue with him, but he knew when all was said and done, the High Lord was right. Even if Boole was discredited and his hatred rejected, even if the people of Saint Rachel opened their arms to the Merrow, nothing would convince the Shaman or his followers that humans could be trusted. Sten found himself just standing there in the hotel lobby staring at the red carpeted floor between himself and the judge, with nothing to say. He felt like something vital had leaked out of his body onto that worn carpet and left him empty.

“I am sorry. I know you wanted to fix this now. I appreciate your efforts to bring these two villages together. By forcing the fishermen to overreach the law, you have probably helped avert any further open combat. Your message of peace and goodwill will likely grow here in Saint Rachel. In time the Merrow may see that and open their borders again. These things take time, and you are doing the hard work that needs to be done. I hope you continue.” He paused and waited. “If there is nothing further, I bid you good day.” He turned away toward the hotel’s café.

“Thank you for your time, Sir,” Arum said.

The walk back to his shop took forever. Though he was greeted with smiles by everyone downtown he passed, he felt utterly alone. Having Arum walking alongside him gave him no comfort.

“Are you noticing how happy everyone is to have you back and alive?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sten agreed glumly. “So?”

“So now that they have seen where Boole’s hatred leads, they’re more likely to listen to your message of peace with the Merrow.”

Sten glanced over at Arum. Arum used the word “Merrow” for the first time. “That’s true. It’s a start. It’s not going to convince the Merrow to open their borders.”

“You know,” the tall blond said confidentially, “I’m not as thick as I look. I know your real loss is your girlfriend. I understand that taints everything else, but don’t miss the good you’ve done for the town – for both towns.”

They arrived in front of the jail. Sten held out his hand. “Thank you for backing me up with the High Lord. Let me know when you want me to testify against Boole.”

Arum shook his hand. “I will.”

By the time he got to his shack, he had thought over what Clune and Blaine had said about what good he had done. He was able to manage a smile for Jacio when the boy greeted him enthusiastically with a bowl of warm porridge.

He tried to keep himself busy and distracted. He taught Jacio how to cut fine gears out of brass to repair a mantle clock. He pounded out two hundred nails for the carpenters’ cooperative. In fact he was so productive, he finished all the orders he had in the shop with two hours of sunlight left. He let Jacio go home and then swept the soot out all the corners of his living quarters.

None of it helped. The hole he felt in his chest grew deeper by the hour. He considered sitting out in his wharf chair and drinking, but it was such a beautiful sunny day, it just didn’t feel right. Drinking the blues worked so much better in foul weather.

He did not feel social, but he did feel like being waited on, so he ended up in the Pied Cock for dinner. Paulbert Caron made an excellent shepherd’s pie, just the kind of comfort food Sten needed.

“Oh thank Atlan, you are alive!” Vanda Rymerand rushed up to his table like a ship with full blue sails billowing in a strong wind. She grabbed a chair and sat down, her hand clutching his forearm.

“Hello Vanda. Please have a seat.”

“I was horrified when I heard that crazy fishing captain tied you up and threw you in the sea. How awful for you that you had to be saved by a Fin. It feels wrong to say it, but thank goodness that Fin was there to help.”

Sten was too tired to try to find a gentle way of breaking the news to her. “Vanda, that mermaid, who saved me, is my girlfriend. She was there to save me because she had just jumped off the wharf when Boole and his goons marched out to lynch me.”

Vanda blinked in several short but fast bursts as she digested his words. “Girlfriend. This was what, three maybe four weeks after you turned me down? So you were seeing her…oh no. You threw me over for a mermaid?”

“Vanda, please keep your voice down. We agreed to stay friends. Let’s act like friends now.”

Her face flushing red did not bode well for quiet conversation. “What? You were joking in the market about trying new things. Holy shit, Sten!”

“Vanda, don’t impugn yourself with foul language.”

“I have every right to swear.” She sniffed at him. “What’s that smell? Cocoa butter? Cocoa butter?! You’re sleeping with her? Do you realize that’s bestiality?!”

“All right, now you’ve gone too far.” He looked around and not surprisingly, everyone was watching. Most weren’t even trying to disguise their watching. “Fine, yes. I love Chielle more than anyone I have ever loved. She is brave and kind and selfless in ways you will never understand. By the way, how do you know they use cocoa butter to protect their skin?”

“My mother always hated Fin, and now I can see why.”

“You and I were over last year when you left town. I made that clear last month when we talked. You have no reason to be jealous.”

“Jealous? You think I would stoop to be jealous of a Fin?” She stood up abruptly and let her chair fall to the floor. “This isn’t jealously. This is disgust.” She turned and walked straight out the door, her bustle jerking side to side as she marched.

He surveyed the collection of rolled eyes around the room. “Show’s over folks.” He took one last bite of his pie and decided he should leave too.

On the way back to his shop he realized he had publicly declared his love for a woman he might never see again. He certainly had driven Vanda away once and for all. Better to be with no one than with a bigot like her.

He was so riled up from his fight with Vanda that despite his being bone tired, sleep just wasn’t an option. He tidied up around the shop, trying to calm himself, when he came across his sketch of the wheeled chair for Chielle. The drawing ripped open the hole in his heart he had been trying to ignore all day. His chest hurt worse than after Boole had broken his ribs. He felt weak in the knees and had to steady himself on the bench. She was gone. All the hopes and dreams he had let himself grow around her were shattered, the shards too small to even grasp.

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth and let all his anger and frustration and confusion and torment boil over. He grabbed an ingot and threw it into the hearth. He spun the bellows wheel furiously and drove the embers to spewing white. Pausing only out of habit, he donned his apron before he grabbed the glowing block with tongs and seized a hammer. He brought it down on the metal bar with all his fury. “Damn the Shaman!” Clang! The ring pierced the night like a death scream. “Damn the treaty!” Clang! “Damn the old ways!” Clang! “Damn the greedy bastards that started this!” Clang! Tears welled up in his eyes and poured down his cheeks as rage overtook him. Sweat beaded up all over his face from the exertion. “Damn them all!” His aim slipped and a corner of the deformed block cracked off, spun up, and sliced him across the jaw. He ignored it and just kept crying and cursing and slamming the hammer down as hard as he could.

The blood from the cut mixed with the tears and the sweat that covered his face, formed a fat droplet on his chin, and fell cleanly through a space between the floorboards into the sea.

Categories: Mermaid Steel, Writing
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