The Journal of Author Peter Dawes
But you can call me Jules...
You ever have one of those really awesome runs of good luck and ask yourself... okay, so seriously, either I had some really good karma coming to me or the universe is just trying to mess with me? That's been my life lately. I have been blessed with so many awesome twists and turns lately and I'm humbled by all of them. My fans all chipped in to help with a technological meltdown I had late last month. I now have a family computer and a personal laptop to take around to write-ins... rather than a sputtering Acer and a dead-in-the-water Dell. Our production schedule at Crimson Melodies looks achievable for once and after the most stressful summers I've ever experienced, fall is here and brought in some fresh air with it.
And then, I randomly logged in tonight to find an old flash fiction piece I wrote six years ago...
And discover I'd been given a Daily Deviation.
For starters, *TarienCole
are amazing individuals and I'm so appreciative for this nod. Talk about a shot in the arm just as *theJRWesley
and I are setting out to seize the moment. To say I never expected it isn't false humility; I haven't been as active here in recent years and The Unquiet Dead
has been one of those books where I'm flying by the seat of my pants, wondering where the hell we're going to wind up in the end. Oh sure, I have a plot outline, but outlines be damned, Christian has a story to tell and can't wait until we get to NaNoWriMo this year. 50k down, 50k to go. *cracks knuckles*
The Unquiet Dead - PrologueHe stood nearly a foot taller, and looked to be a decade older. I’d never seen him before, but from that day forth, I would never forget what he looked like. Chestnut-colored hair and cold, gray eyes. A full beard, which covered his lips, and a distinct facial profile. The stranger walked up beside me and set his sights on the innkeeper, but the name he spoke made my blood run cold.
“Have you heard of a man named Richard Hardi?”
There I sat, all of fourteen years to this man’s twenty-four? Twenty-five? It was hard to gage solely by looking up at him. He still bore the benefit of youth, but the gravity of his gaze suggested someone much older than he appeared. His question had me frozen with shock, forcing me to stare despite the fact that I knew I should run, hide; do something other than sit at the bar gawking at him so conspicuously. Father often had people calling after him, but they were townspeople. Merchants. Customers.
The sigil emblazoned on the man
So, here's to my medieval rogue. And to you wonderful people, for picking me up during the bad times and carrying me across to some better days. *TarienCole
, here's especially to you, because you have been a huge help and an amazing supporter. Thank you so, so very much.
If any of my followers have yet to delve into his amazing work, they should hurry over and remedy that.
More news soon. In the meantime, stay crazy, my friends.