I’m sharing the news and the cover goodness not only online, but this weekend as a guest author at BritishFest 2 in Council Bluffs Iowa. Pics to come later. Because, cover. ——>>
It is beautiful, isn’t it?
Shobana Appavu is a goddess of all things art.
You can find more info on Winterwode by clicking on the amazing cover art —–>>>>
I was asked to write a mini story (a.k.a. ‘ficlet’) with the prompt word of “voice”, featuring the Saracen archer Siham from Shirewode. This was the result:
(Artwork of almost-could-be-Siham archer by Masway)
DSP Productions and J Tullos Hennig present the re-release of Greenwode, to be followed by the re-release of Shirewode, and–
In Autumn of 2015, the Robyn Hode legend continues with the release of WINTERWODE, the anticipated third book of The Wode!
Greenwode and Shirewode will be re-released with new material, and shall be temporarily off-market in preparation for the event. The audio books will continue to be available through Audible.
And I was right. It IS.
Awesome, in the true sense of the word. Thrilling. Humbling. Those are your words. Someone arsed themselves to speak them aloud, tell them. Greenwode is on audiobook, and I’m finally getting to listen to it. In another month, Shirewode will be joining it, and yours truly will be in auditory bliss. The narrator–I prefer storyteller because, well he IS–Ross Pendleton, is fabulous. I sincerely want to share the auditory squee!
So, in aid of this, I want to invite you to visit the Dreamspinner audiobooks Facebook page tomorrow, (Saturday, 22 Feb) where I will be helping to host a giveaway of an audio copy of Greenwode. Come on over, say hullo, enter to win this fabulous audiobook. I’ll be checking in pretty regularly throughout the day to chat and answer questions: DsP Audiobooks on Facebook
I’m reading another book whilst listening to Greenwode. This in itself not unusual–there are books piled all over the cottage, half-read or being read, much of them research for the next projects because, well, everything eventually comes back around to the writing. But this book (The Guardian of All Things: the Epic Story of Human Memory by Michael Malone) has a particularly strong correlation:
“It was the increasingly complex demands of daily life, combined with consciousness and this irresistible call to meaning and purpose, that drove language forward toward realisation. We learned to talk because we had things to learn, and stories to tell.”
Written words can give one a shiver, like that passage did for me. The written word can be life-altering, uplifting, damaging, diverting; a power its own existence. But telling the stories, listening to the stories; this is something even more primal, buried deep within our consciousness. A storyteller is what I have no choice but to be; to hear one of my stories told–passed on–by another is something truly to leave one, temporarily at least, without words.
‘Tis true–the first of the Wode books is now audible–and on Audible.com. Follow this link for all the details–and hear a sample in Ross Pendleton’s lovely voice!
I’ve been meaning to put up extra scenes, bits of bits and shorts from the Wode books. Well, after spending several weeks beneath the influence of Plague (or the nasty not-go-away head cold bronchitis version of it), many things I intended to do have not been done. Like writing. Or putting new goodies on the website. (Thinking with some cogency and breathing freely have been compromised, too. ) :/
Anyway, intentions were to have this little Offering on its own shiny new page on the site… which is coming. But not waiting any longer, so here’s a teeny thing for those who have expressed interest. (And if you sign up for the mailing list here on Musings, you’ll receive notice direct to your mailbox, as well as other planned extras.)
This first Extra is from Greenwode; it’s a true ‘drabble’ in that it is neither an incomplete or excerpted scene–and is meant to tell its own mini-tale in a precise 100 words, no more or less. These sorts of exercises are immense fun for me, challenging by the very nature of such strict limitations. This is the beginning of a small series of assorted extras, and I hope you enjoy these bits as much as I enjoy doing them.
Preen. Ruffle. Shudder. Sharp profile lifting against motes of sun, then it dips, collects and stretches, sideswipes digits through ebon then across the tilt of clever-cruel jaw. Head cocking sudden, eyes gleaming dark-bright: game spotted. Then the crouch, the intensity of imagining the stoop, the quivering smoulder of tension: awaiting the loose.
Gamelyn is unassured whether his fascination centres upon the tiercel perched, trammelled wildfire upon his gloved fist–or the rangy, graceful melange of raptor and wolf treading beside him.
“Rob,” he murmurs, and Rob, arrow on string, growls back, “Shut t’bloody fuck up, Gamelyn; you’ll scare the game.”