| Storytime 2.0 | date 10/3/2007 / issue #4 | ||
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Introducing Storytime 2.0
We're proud to introduce Storytime 2.0 -- a video blog by authors of Rowan of the Wood Christine & Ethan Rose. Each day one or both will read an excerpt from the book and act (I used that term very loosely) it out. It will certainly prove to be embarrassing for them, but we hope that it will be entertaining for our audience.
This is the fourth Newsletter from us, and we're happily getting more submissions for your reading pleasure! If you've missed the first three, you can view them at Archived Newsletters. Please forward this to your friends and family inviting them to join and submit their stories, poems, jokes, photos, etc. Check the bottom of this newsletter for a special coupon for a free DVD with your pre-order of Rowan of the Wood. Forward it far and wide! Also, link to our blogs/vlog and bookmark them on sites such as Digg, StumbleUpon, De.licio.us, and Techorati.
See you in cyberspace... Allison Willows |
In this issue: The best 30 seconds of Angel.
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Editorial Fantasy literature is a pathway to temporary escape…an art that has served me well since I was an adolescent, when I received my first fantasy-themed novel from my aunt. Madeleine L'Engle’s, “A Wrinkle in Time” was the first of many epic stories I would experience throughout my life. I was in such awe of this story that I went on to the read the other books that took me back to Meg and Charles Wallace Murray’s world of “tesseract travel” to other dimensions. I recently learned that Madeleine passed away on September 6th. I will forever be grateful for her creatively intricate imagination and story-telling abilities. This novel opened a door that leads to a great library of adventures that have allowed me to, at times, remove myself from the hectic world spinning around me. The spark to write about my experience with fantasy literature came to me when I found out about another fantasy author’s death. Robert Jordan, author of the epic series “The Wheel of Time”, passed away on September 16th. I didn’t come fully to the world of fantasy literature until my junior year of high school, when I came down with mononucleosis and was sent to bed for an entire weekend. A friend at the time insisted that I begin reading the “Dragon Prince” series by Melanie Rawn. I figured, sure, what else was I going to do while I was feeling this crummy? A few pages into the novel I was lost in a desert world with two suns, traveling to a palace for an arranged marriage with the new king. As the story continued, I was introduced to the wild dragons of the desert and a huge cast of characters, some of whom seemed so real I felt as if I had known them all my life. I went on the read the remaining five books of the series, and after finishing the last I was ready for more. Adding medieval, world, and classical music to the ritual, I created an ethereal environment in which to immerse… Read the Rest of the Editorial
More than ten thousand soldiers, marines from Onserf, invokers from Eue and dwarves from Clanggedin moved into the valley that lay between the upper portion of the river Drew and the mountains. That range of snow capped mountains was the natural boundary between the Ragnall nation and the rest of the world. That river was the artery of life for the city of Dran. Thandor led. He sat astride Traveler, his invoker stallion. Rank after rank of defenders followed. Rosie led four thousand fierce Dwarven warriors from her faraway nation. Strifus led his magnificent invoker cavalry. He led four thousand men, consisting of equal numbers from the Northern Opens and survivors of the battle for D’While. They all rode forward sharing the same grim look. The Prince of Onserf led two thousand soldiers and marines of several races from his city by the sea. Scouts reported contact with scattered bands of Ragnall. The Ragnall invaders retreated quickly as the three armies behind Thandor bore down on them. Dwarves with axes hacked their way through subtropical forests that lay in the way. When swamps were encountered, the dwarves cut down leagues of forest to make corduroy roads. Invokers hunted the forest for game while marines gathered fish, fowl and plant-food from the banks of the mighty river Drew. Dercy, with her amazing bow, hunted with the invokers and brought down every forest buck she wished. Still, the armies made six leagues a day. They fancied themselves the swiftest force on the planet. It was almost true. Weeks passed before the armies met anyone from the city of Dran. People that had once lived in the valley at the foot of the great city had become refugees. A fisherman from the eastern bank of the river was the first friendly soul Thandor's scouts met. The man was found hiding in the swamp forest. He had thought the combined army of defenders to be the main body of the Ragnall army. Thandor questioned the man. The fisherman gave his entire catch to the armies. He joined the ranks as a provider. From the fisherman Thandor learned that the battle for the fields of Dran had been going on for a month. Thandor also learned that the main force of the enemy was expected soon. Thandor's armies were eight days from the Fields of Dran. Ten invoker riders, the best available, were sent ahead to inform the forces of Dran of the imminent arrival of help. On the sixth day, the lieutenant of that scout force returned. Strifus and Thandor were there when he rode up. "We were ambushed yesterday, at the point where the valley narrows
between the river and the mountains... Henry: He Stumbles out of the Bedroom Suddenly Blind “There is nothing redeeming about my stories, they are just stories.”-Henry He stumbles out of the bedroom doorway suddenly blind at the top of the stairs. Stepping off into darkness he makes his way through the descending coldness and through the hard closed French doors through the living room, (ducking just in time to avoid hitting his head on the too-low doorway) and into the ice-cold kitchen. Then through one more solid wood door to the moonlit patio area. He paused for a moment to stare at the semi-full moon warped through the corrugated transparent ceiling, and then out to the street to the orange brightness, crisp, like a knife, against the deep early morning sky above. After a few moments of trying to sort out the stars, he continued through another thick wood door and navigated his way through the randomness stored in that room…boxes of toys, dead plastic inflatable pools, odd lengths of wood, tools, empty coffee tins, shelves cluttered with things that lived in household limbo. Still in the dark, he managed to slip through another door to the huge workroom now smelling of fresh sawdust, old smoke, with a hint of cat piss. Five more steps and one heavy plastic door later, and he is in his inner sanctum. The ‘blue cocoon’ as he liked to call it secretly. It was his own private room… Read the Rest of "Henry: He Stumbles out of the Bedroom Suddenly Blind" Read more about the adventures of Henry in a few weeks with "Henry: Searching for Bukowski"
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We're proud to announce the first review of Rowan of the Wood! It was written by last week's story submission author Brian Malone on his blog. Here is an excerpt:
OUR LINKS
OUR BLOGS
FREE DOWNLOADS Phantom Lover
by C. Bell
Lying on an empty bed On a night so cold in Glasgow Dreaming dreams inside my head Of a love I'll never know. Just once to touch his perfect lips, And feel his sweet caress, As we engage in a tender kiss, And both begin to undress. There's passion like I've never felt, He wipes away the tears. His soothing voice makes me melt, And takes away my fears. So here we are the two of us, Forever and so deeply in love. What began as simply lust, We now have risen above. And then so suddenly the song does end The dream is gone forever. And here I lie to meet no friend, Or my phantom lover. by Catherine Weisheit
 Mystic Woodland
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