What happened to this site, why it was down so long and... an Alexander invitation


OHHH THIS FEELS SO GOOD... to be logged on, to have control over this site again, to have zotted a whack of spam comments, to be posting a blogpost!

All I could do in that dead time, was make anonymous comments, and so I did a couple explaining what happened. (See here.) But without the "Recent comments" list, to your right, I imagine a lot of people didn't find them, and I could do not a thing about it.

So... here is what happened. And, further down, what's going to.

Whither Chevenga, Alexander... and Karen?


The purpose of this blogpost is dual. To let you know:

1) that I have not fallen off the face of the planet
2) what the heck is going on such that I haven’t started posting again.

What the heck is going on is that my inspiration for IA fled me after the Muskoka Novel Marathon in July, and remains in absentia. I’ll quote from an email I wrote to reader J, with enhancements to further clarify:

Writing linearly, and me


So you've kind of noticed that, unlike PA or ak, I'm all over the place with IA... inserting biggish hunks into the existing text, jumping ahead in the story to do a sequence at a Novel Marathon, saying I'm off to do research or straighten out my emotions, etc., etc. And possibly you are thinking, 'This way does not lend itself to weblit, at least the linear way you've been doing it, Karen."

So, confession time: this may seem hard to believe after the last five years, but -- I am not a linear writer.

My Muskoka Novel Marathon 2014: Finalist AGAIN


UPDATE Sept. 1:

It's official: I placed in the top four this time, not sure where I placed except it was not #1.

And part of me feels like shit... what do I have to do?

Ch. 003 - The possibilities of love


The palaistra in the Palace is a great rectangular courtyard surrounded by two storeys of pure white marble columns. The ground is not flagstone but plain earth, since that’s what a man most often fights on, worn almost barren of grass by hundreds of feet. There are two trees with scars all over their trunks. The men and boys train here, in sacred nakedness; armoured fighting and big maneuvers they practice out in the field north of the city.

Back on the front page of Daily Kos


Click here to see my latest work, done as usual for Darksyde's "This Week in Science" feature.

Larger, lighter version (click on the image to see it whole):

Ch. 002 - Despise strife


“There is no such thing as a pure Argead,” my mother tells me, during one of our secret times. “Nor who is pure Makednian. You are half Epeirote, since I’m from there. Your Grandma is half Illyrian, only learned to read as a grown-up; that’s why it’s so special to her. None of it matters. Don’t listen to the codgers; they were wearing animal skins until the past few years and most of them still can’t read. Race counts for nothing, merit everything.”

My father agrees, says that’s one thing the southern Greeks have wrong. “Swear loyalty to me and you are Makednian,” is his rule.

Courtroom drama


I don't know whether it's because of the Oscar Pistorius trial happening right now (have you ever wished so fervently that truth-drug existed in real life?) or what, but I got the hankering to put into one blogpost all the scenes in which Chevenga is, for one reason or another, in court. And the scenes surrounding them.

Waiver: By reading further and especially clicking links you hereby consent to significant and major story spoilerage.

Disclaimer: IANALBIHGCWA (I am not a lawyer but I have great characters who are).

"All rise..."

The blow that fate has struck upon you (Chevenga's theme song)


Long ago I wrote a longish blogpost about the music I listen to while writing. It's been many things over many years, mostly in the progressive rock/jazz/fusion/new age/world areas. I love music and... while I guess I could write without it, I would never want to. Music blasting into my head from the phones is part of what powers my creativity.

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