Reviresco (I grow strong again)

So this week was trying at best...
However, did manage to get through it well enough!
Spent sometime at the pub, Fados, listening to the Irishmen tell their stories...amusing and informative...
After a few hours, was able to imitate the telling quite well, if I do say so myself!
Couldn't dance..back hurt far to much, ah but that is quite a grand excuse isn't it? Truth be told I cannot dance. Oh you'll say that I can, 'til you witness the craziness...lol
Loved the phone call that I recieved the very next day from a now sober and remorseful Irishman inquiring as to his actions the night before...worried that he had offended the world at hand...
I had a choice, tell the truth, or lie and grant him a weeks worth of aoplogetic, poetic prose that he'd be ever so inclined to tell the 90 or so persons that he had spoken to...
I told the truth
But only because he sounded so sad...
The Irish are great, they tell you to go to hell and do it in such a way that you can't wait to go...

*Enough of that hey?*

The writing came easily this week, I wrote late at night- windows open, cool breezes, lots of rain to contend with.
Loved the stormy weather, took the jeep and bah haaaad through the flood waters...
Freedom as such warms the soul, reminds us all that we are but a product of our child's heart beating beneath the culluded adult one that we all possess.
So a little fun, alot of jogging and a wee bit of the sauna to inspire the words that would fall from Ansten McEwans lips into his grand love.
And how he loves her truly...
Michael McEwan enters the sequel a much more deep and complex character. Previously, you would have found him a tad bit dry, pompous, and in stark honesty, stuck completely in the past, a past that he seemingly cannot pry himself from. To eradicate this protion of his life, he feels, is to allow the modern way of life to encroach into this one.
This is not something that he will tolerate...not in this lifetime where women are now both decision makers and bread winners...
No, he is of the Dire, and men of the Dire are unilateral decisive forces to be reckoned with, admired and feared...
His dilima becomes his private fear
How is it that he comes to love his cousins wife Sawyer, while married to Ansten McEwans mistress Kelly Sunday?
Ansten possesses both his future and his past...has done so with ease...
But it is surpisingly not Ansten who stands in his way, it is the Pater Nostras himself. One of the most formidable men that the Dire in its entirety has come to know...
And Penington will not have dissention, even from a distant relative.

For Sawyers part, Michael is a difficult man to endure. He bears an uncanny resemblance to Grant McEwan, her lost love...
Yet she is a leader in her own right...
Do you see the paradox faced by Michael? To love such a woman, to care so deeply for another person who represents all that you abhore?
All that you desire to attain in this that you reside with such unabashed ambition?
To surrender to his raw emotions means to betray...
And within the Dire, you do not betray...
You do not betray and survive the pack...

The truth for me this week:
"aut viam inveniam aut faciam"
I will either find a way or make one
For those of you closely following the subtext, I raise my glass to you, its an increasing desire to see it to its fruition in the book Prevenient Grace.
The first reviews coming forth are encouraging, and for this I am grateful.
Its probably my favorite tell...

Well have a wonderful week, live your life with passion.
Love mightily
Laugh
Inspire
Refuse to give in to the dark veil of "can't"

Until next week,
From my hand to yours...
Sawyer
Saint Andrews

Acta Sanctorum (Deeds of the Saints)

Esse acta sanctorum
Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem
A fortiori
Its been a difficult week, so many ups and so many lows...
Been writing quite a bit however, mostly working on the sequel, which is coming along splendidly...
I believe that the conversations between Pennington and Sawyer, his love, are the most poignant, He is direct in his intent while she is evasive and considerably emotional.
Ansten on the other hand exposes the most emotion that he has to date, when he holds the belief that he could've lost Sawyer due to her more than reckless behavior.
For the first time, though immortal, he feels the tenderness, the frailty of their lives together slipping through his hands.
He unabashedly allows her access to the deepest part of his soul.
For this, Sawyer realizes his unconditional, passionate love.
Because her former mortal life was utterly void and empty of this reassurence (of lifes well), she finds the solice needed to propell her in her current circumstances.
Also wrote some of the prefaces to the chapters, as I am prone to do.
I often do this to express their emotional state...
I think that it brings the reader into their hearts and minds...

Here is an excerpt of one such notation:

Be there when I stumble
when I fall
I'm hurt badly by ommision
What is not being spoken...
Such a brutal fall into the depths
I shudder at death by disregard
even worse
this silence that has gently fallen between us
suddenly
its wicked poison shatters the nights closing with a slow, thought provoking, acidic burn coarsing through our veins
vessels
that once pumped joyous light into our hearts

All that I asked of you
(was) to be merely be there
loves promise was squandered
all lies
promises broken
I never wanted to believe that this was who you really were...
you forgot
about me
I am the forgotten
the fallen

Be there
when I awake
when I am no longer there for you
your reach will come up empty short of lifes breath
We held so much promise
(but) as old love letters clutched
we dissipate into nothing more than ashen reminders of what could have been...

Be there
when I arise
I omit no words, ever
you have all but to look into my eyes
to witness
the reflection
of your fall
into memory

Well until next Thursday, hope you enjoyed the thoughts, although a bit dark, even for me eh?

From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews

October 29 2009 Cor Unum (one heart)

Haec ego multis (scribo) sedtibi: satis enin magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus...
Probably my favorite phrase/saying in latin...
It begins the subtext for all of my novels.
In this I am most consistent.

This week sees 2 models flying on over to Maine for a photo shoot, ultimately for the book cover, (Pater Nostras Canis Dirus).
I'll post pictures of their adventures as soon as I have them. Should be interesting I think!
We are hoping for a black and white cover...I had originally hoped for a different appearance, however locating men of such elevated stature who would willingly pose proved to be quite daunting.
A youthful heart, I'm finding, is extremely difficult to find amongst my peers...maybe we all simply choose to forget how to laugh,
how to explore ,
what to do when life throws its curves at us...
We are who we always were, merely wiser (I hope) which is why I wrote the men in all of my novels the way that I did.
I wanted you to witness what could happen if we were released...
suddenly,
to find ourselves,
albeit dealing with impossible odds... as immortals... weighed down both with our mundane daily lives and that of the extraordinary measures needed to be taken to maintain that unique, foreign, standard way of life.
What would you do with all of that newly found freedom?
Would you soar? Would you leave your current life for another?
Would you pursue your deepest darkest needs?
As I ask this, I am fully aware that the mere action of placing pen to paper perpetuates this in my very own life...
So you'd ask of me... just where is it that I do so stand?
I soar.
We only have one shot at this life, sink or swim I can't imagine a life taken with no risks...
This week I was subtly reminded of the frailty of life, perhaps that is what ultimately reminds me to write in the manner in which I do...
I spoke of Pennington. In his circumstances, he found himself entirely lost amongst the mediocrity of the life that he had chosen for himself, until her.
Until she came... he hadn't recognised the fall that he had begun to take... the fall into the black death of boredom.
Within this novel he flies, he witnesses things that he could never have even begun to dream of...
So, I too write to live, albeit somewhat vicariously as of late.
This week I've been working diligently on the sequel, Cross Dominance...
You know its strange... when you leave a novel to its natural completion, you find yourself longing to write a sequel, if not to simply revisit the folks that you've been writing about.
Being a scribe means feeling all that they feel, all of their triumphs, every single failure...

Well, that concludes this weeks updates.
As you can see, I've a tremendous amount clouding my thoughts...
nothing negative mind you, yet none the less, clarity comes and goes when you have so much going on at once!
Someone once remarked that my thought process seems chaotic... hmmm I might just agree with that assessment on this day!
All the best...
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews

Adequatio rei et intelletus (Correspondence of the mind and reality)

Hello...from my mind to yours.
The first novel to arrive into your hands will be "Pater Nostras, Canis Dirus" loosely translated (Our Father, of The Dire Wolf)
It's all to do with Werewolves...not your a-typical ones however...I thought to do what no one had before, define the beasts in such a way that you and I could relate...could romance along side all of the wonderful beings crossing your path, page for page, word for word.
I wanted you to lose your breath as you ran along side theses magnificent beasts...
There has been so many stories told...all of which I adored as a fascinated young girl, which, by the by, I am not far from. Like a great wine, I age ever so fine.
Yes, I did just say that. lol
So I'd like to share with you my thoughts on the novel, and some of the subtext for you who will seek that particular path...
Pennington Hastings, or 'Ethan' as the Sawyer in the book refers to him as, is a bi-product of one man: Declan McDaniels, you can read about him in another upcoming book "Prevenient Grace". Ansten McEwan would be his other half....So enticing was Declan that I divided him into two parts...
Pennington is dark, both emotionally and religiously...yet he finds this breath of light within her...his greatest love...
His Satanic ways though dark, though deadly, are at the least honest and forthright.
The Pagan aspect in this novel is as close to what I'd reveal as possible. I think that one has to tread lightly, not desiring non-degreed younger Pagans to seek the "fast track" as it were. It is in the subtext however, as was taught to me so very many years ago, in Europe. If you are one such individual, than have at it. That type of curiosity deserves the knowledge - but reader beware, these are high ceremonies. None should be trifled with.

As for Penningtons dark sexual appetite...it amazes me still that a man could structure his needs, his desires in such a decadent manner...yet I enjoyed, thoroughly, writing it. The cadence provided me, as I hope it will you, many sleepless nights...
One last word on Pennington: the question that is continually asked of me is how could he live this way?
The simple answer is that this was his way of coping with a very difficult woman. The more complex and accurate answer is that Pennington remained deeply entrenched in his dark beliefs...
In the sequel that follows "Cross Dominance" you, the reader will really begin to understand his personality in depth...

Ansten McEwan. Ah so beautiful to be such a tortured soul...what a unique pleasure to place pen to paper and speak of him...
For this I pictured a brutal, handsome Scotsman...didn't you?

As to why I relieved you of so much description in the book...I felt, I still feel that a reader deserves credit for seeing with intelligence, with imagination.
Why then should I be the one to road block your vision of the picture that I am painting for you? Is it not your own reality that does so shape your reading of the tell?
Do we not all bear witness to the same event yet recount each version selectively?
So it was in that manner in which I wove this tell for you...
Let yourself go and fall into the pages...

And now for the question of the name of Sawyer...
Ah, what can I say? Am I like her? Am I merely apart of her?
I don't have a real answer for you. She is fictitious, in truth, yet I am the one who's breath brought her to life.
Creator, creation. Are they one in the same?
Who can say?
As I read, re read, edit, etc. I, simply put, feel at home.
In the book she is outrageous, yet it is understandable, given her life path thus far.
I implore you to allow her some latitude in this!
How are we to know how any individual will react after having changed so irrevocably?

well, I've taken up a considerable amount of your time...
I will return as more comes to mind...

From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews