Betrayal (March - May 2005)

    Looking back on this project allows me to reflect on the fact that the writing itself has been a long journey.  The writing process for this novel began with a visit to my best friend, and ended 15 months later with another visit, this time to his wedding.  I had no idea how this story would unfold as I began composing it.  Many of my initial concepts didn’t make sense as the narrative evolved, so I simply abandoned them.

    The paddle wheeled steamer I describe in this chapter is derived from actual boats that worked the waters of British Columbia after European settlement began.  I have  toured one of these vessels, and read that the sheer volume of firewood used to raise steam on boats that plied the Skeena River actually denuded the riverbanks for many miles!  Selecting the route across Broken Wing Lake to Deception Creek, rather than down the Desolation River and up the Angry Bear to Marvic, served several purposes.

    Doing this allowed me to flesh in a description of the Broken Wing Valley in greater detail, especially as it relates to economic sectors beyond the realm of agriculture.  One of the problems I have frequently encountered in fantasy novels centers around the lack of actual economy described in the narrative.  While this may not be essential for advancing the story, it certainly makes for a more realistic milieu.  The reader learns, either directly or by implication, about fishing, mining, ranching, small scale jewelry and textile manufacture, large scale concrete, transportation and energy industries, as well as the education and hospitality sectors in this region of Tamaria.

    I wanted to clue new readers in to the ongoing conflict that Garrick experiences with his family, which blossoms as the story unfolds and sets the backdrop for the trouble that Algernon and Kira go throught, by setting up a reason for him to be thinking about his parents.  It also puts the Ravenwood family property on the map somewhere.  I’d initially intended to have Garrick return home at the end of the book, but I had very consistent feedback from my previewing readers that this didn’t make sense.  In deference to their perspective in this matter, I didn’t have the story come full circle as I’d done with The Edge of Justice.

    The scene at the tavern exists only to outline important elements in Garrick and Brenna’s history for the sake of new readers.  I also mention, for the first time, that Garrick doesn’t drink anything that’s been fermented.  There is a contrast at work here.  Brenna, who believes in God, will drink wine and mead while Garrick, who is an atheist, abstains.  Most readers pass over this kind of subtlety, but I enjoy inserting ironies like this.

    The path Garrick and Brenna follow to Marvic is better than 450 miles in length, but this is much more direct than the 650 mile trip down and across the Desolation River, up the Angry Bear River to Fallen Moon Lake, and then over to Marvic.  (There’s an error as this relates to The Edge of Justice, because in that book I had the siblings head to Burning Tree first.)  Had I not written train transport into the milieu it would have taken at least a month for the couple to make the journey, rather than the few days I describe.  The train trip allows the reader to quickly experience the Tamarian countryside while platforming problems to come, such as Brenna’s difficulty learning the Tamarian language.

    The train ride up to Traitor’s Pass was inspired by a train ride I took back in 1972, up Corcovado Mountain in Rio de Janeiro, to the Christ the Redeemer statue.  Thus far, it’s been my only experience with cog wheel trains, but I have very pleasant memories of that ride through the rain forest.

    Introducing new characters always presents an element of risk.  Readers have told me they find multiple characters hard to keep straight, but in human interaction, this is the reality of our experience, and to a certain degree, the multiplicity of characters in a milieu of the nature I’ve created adds realism.  Trying to balance these competing objectives isn’t easy.  I brought in Major Gretschel, initially intending for him to shrink from battle as one idea that sparked this chapter’s title involved Garrick and Brenna being abandoned to fight the giants alone.  That concept seemed implausible as the story progressed, so I simply didn’t go there.  The major’s arrogance seemed more fitting for a competent organizer than a coward.  I’m more satisfied with Major Gretschel thinking through a battle plan, (splitting his firepower onto the flanks, and putting his most experienced soldier at the point are two elements that I think a competent commander would naturally develop) it works very well with the story, and his survival enabled me to use him for another conflict later on.

    Since Brenna had returned Woodwind’s sword, I needed her to earn her own Lithian weapon.  However, her acquisition of the blade had to fit seamlessly into the overall narrative.  Weaving the story of how she obtained the sword without making it sound too fantastic occupied my thoughts for a very long time.  Utilizing the giants as a vehicle to get the weapon into her hands dovetailed into details derived from The Edge of Justice, and the most plausible explanation for a confrontation with giants always came down to an attack on the train.

    I don’t particularly like writing combat.  In this chapter, however, writing the battle I describe became a kind of cathartic experience.  I’d left a career position to start my own business, and though the lull in activity gave me time to write that I’d missed over the years, I felt considerable anxiety concerning my finances.  These became my personal “giants,” and I really enjoyed killing them in the story!

    Readers who remember The Edge of Justice will note that this battle is the first one recorded in which Garrick fights very well. In interviewing veterans, I learned that soldiers are far more likely to die when they first arrive at a battle front than is the case when they’ve become seasoned.  I wanted to portray Garrick as a mature veteran.  This is also the first instance in which he inflicts more damage to the enemy than Brenna, though she does her part with considerably more grace than he.

    Detail invigorates a story, but readers found my anatomical depictions distracting and I wound up significantly subduing my descriptions of injuries.  Part of the writing process involves paying close attention to feedback, even when my readers tell me that a cherished technique didn’t work.  Honoring their counsel often emboldens them to tell me things that I don’t really want to hear, yet the process results in a story that has a broader appeal than would have been the case if I’d written this without help.

    Movements of characters in this battle remain faithful to the classic “feet first, body follows” method I’ve used in the past.  While most female readers told me that they simply glossed over my combat descriptions in The Edge of Justice, the women readers who helped me in The Long Journey found its battles compelling.  I don’t really know why this is so, but the three women who read through the novel prior to its publishing ALL told me the same thing!

Above the Clouds (May - June 2005)

    Several conflicts take place in this part of the story, but the main tension develops with Garrick.  Facing the possibility of career limitations because of his devotion to Brenna seemed to blossom in the dialogue he sustains with Major Gretschel.  It’s more than a mere revisiting of the advice Garrick received from Lieutenant Kohler, I found Major Gretschel the perfect vehicle to attack Brenna’s belief system, and in so doing, sought to underscore Garrick’s acceptance of her contrasting philosophy as meritorious.  This is a theme that comes back near the end of the book, and one thing that readers have consistently commented upon as being a real strength in the relationship between Garrick and Brenna.  Having an atheist character defend someone who believes in God carries an irony all its own, and in some ways, Garrick expresses a more profound faith than does Brenna, because he never ridicules what she believes, even though he doesn’t accept the existence of any deity.

    Yet the underlying problem of how to reconcile opposing perspectives creates a vexing issue for a writer who staunchly believes in God.  I’d determined that Garrick should simply accept Brenna without wishing her to accommodate his view, while giving her a “way out” of the proselytizing mandate typical of God-fearing belief systems by making her religion something intensely personal and unique.  The age old question of “what will happen with the children” comes to light in this instance.  I think that’s a very good question to ask, and no, I’m not going to answer it . . .

    Three things developed in the narrative I wasn’t initially expecting.  The first was that I received feedback on an initial draft of “Betrayal” concerning Brenna’s weapon, its size and weight relative to her, and its origin.  These were legitimate issues that had to be dealt with, so I took the opportunity to explore them while Brenna sits with Garrick on the train.  It lengthens the chapter enough to question whether or not all of that description really serves to advance the story, but since my writing is not a commercial success anyway, I decided to leave the description intact.

    Most of the erotic tension in The Edge of Justice centers upon Garrick.  I decided to reverse the role of sexual aggressor and make Brenna the one who initiated more intimate contact, for the sake of drawing out the conflict between them.  This scene is derived from my own experience, though Brenna’s reaction blends the responses of different young women I've known.  Their contact soldifies Garrick’s resolve, so that no matter how critical people become of his relationship, he remains determined to love Brenna.  And for Brenna, the idea develops that because she has initiated this intimacy, she has selected Garrick as her mate, no matter what the consequences may be.  The two of them frequently arrive at agreement from two very differing perspectives.  Near the end of the story, I reverse the roles as a means of forcing Brenna to confirm that she really intends to follow through and commit herself to Garrick.

    I learned a lot about glaciers in researching this chapter!  In addition, I studied altitude sickness.  One report that I read described a Japanese climber who was fluent in many languages.  His experience with altitude sickness seems unusual because while he remained at high elevation, he could neither speak nor understand ANY language aside from his native tongue!  Although in this chapter both characters get sick, I deliberately made Brenna’s condition worse to contrast her extreme fitness, and also that Garrick might again defend her honor with the linguist.

    The milieu of Devera exists on an earth - like planet, but one that is smaller and possesses a thinner atmosphere.  Conditions at the Traitor’s Pass complex resemble those on earth at elevations between 3 500 and 4 000 meters, but the overall difference in elevation between Mercenary Ridge and Traitor’s Pass is just beyond 1 200 meters, so the impact of the increasing elevation begins before Garrick and Brenna board the cog wheeled train.

    Lieutenant Hougen’s role in Brenna’s life wound up being a considerable and influential one.  The accusation she makes against Garrick in this chapter sets the scene for later mistrust, but initially, I intended for him to find her attractive enough to question his devotion to Brenna.  The trouble was, whenever I tried to write the narrative that way, it seemed strained and really tugged at Garrick’s credibility as a character.  Most of my female readers do not like Mariel Hougen because of her duplicity.  To the men, however, she seems powerful and seductive.

Anger (June - August 2005)

    I spent the months of June, July and August working through this chapter.  Developing my web site diverted much energy and attention during this period, and I found that returning to the hard work of writing seldom captured my imagination.  This chapter is, therefore, more the result of discipline than pleasure.

    Introducing Algernon presented a number of challenges.  Readers who have become familiar with Garrick and Brenna might find the sudden insertion of Garrick’s younger brother into the narrative a disruptive influence.  Striving to make Algernon’s story interesting enough to capture a reader’s attention required a great deal of thought.  While Algernon has been in my mind for many years, writing him in a way that emphasizes the differences between his character and Garrick’s character demanded an attention to detail that gives this chapter a contrasting feel to the others I’ve written thus far.

    Several men whose exercise of authority impressed me as respectful and even handed while growing up influenced my depiction of Volker Pfaff and other adult male characters in the story.  In addition, I know how I feel as a teacher when a troubled student with strong potential comes into my classroom.  That tension between love and loathing should be familiar to anyone who has worked with children for an extended period of time.

    Having experienced both sides of a student / teacher conflict made for a relatively easy beginning to this chapter.  After this, however, it became progressively more difficult to write.  Astrid, yet another composite of several people I’ve known over the years, presented a unique set of problems I had to solve.  She couldn’t be “strong” like Brenna, or “forward” like Mariel.  I didn’t want to make her weak and uninteresting either, though she came across as rather weepy in my first few drafts.  Early on, I decided that she would become a kind of “mirror” through which Algernon evaluates his own character, and while she certainly influences him, Astrid struggles to deal with her own issues.

    Astrid’s lesbianism is certain to offend some people, and I thought I’d hear complaints from previewing readers that I’ve gone down this path with her.  It simply didn’t happen.  Conservative readers complained a lot about Brenna, but nobody griped about Astrid, perhaps because I remained careful not to specify the details of her relationship with Kira.

    Astrid’s acceptance came as a surprise.  I’d expected Astrid to get readers thinking about their own attitudes, because when I first told people who know me that I’d have a lesbian as one of the supporting characters, they were shocked.  The conflict Algernon experiences with her goes beyond the simplistic condemnation of homosexuality easily engaged in by all of us who don’t view life from Astrid’s perspective.  Algernon loves his sister, Kira.  Astrid does too.  Love for a family member complicates the issue.  Exploring the challenges of human sexuality beyond the common prohibitions and taboos requires sensitivity and forces me, as a writer, to look at people through a very different lens than I am accustomed to using.  Needless to say, this was an uncomfortable, yet valuable, experience, but it didn’t generate the kind of discussion I’d expected.

    My description of Algernon’s foul temper and Kira’s aberrant sexual proclivities also risks alienating conservative readers, so I’ve tried to portray the reasons behind these behaviors to elicit some sympathy from the audience.  Given that all three Ravenwood siblings suffer grievously from their childhood experiences, I hoped that the sympathy extended to Garrick would translate into similar feelings for the younger twins until the reader establishes an independent concern based on the likeability of each character.  This turned out to be another non-issue, as previewing readers simply accepted the characters without complaint.

    Algernon’s fighting style is an eclectic, open handed technique that relies a lot on grasping and maneuver, so that no one can say: “Oh, that’s Kenpo, or Kung Fu.”  Though he’s portrayed as an intuitive fighter, in reality, he fights like I do; the critical difference being that Algernon is actually proficient and holds no compunction against hurting another person, while I’m an absolute klutz who would rather be left alone than fight.  (I don't even like arguing.)  The lack of empathy he feels for his opponent enables him to attack with brutal, ruthless efficiency.  Because he's young, the enemies he takes on consistently underestimate him, and once Algernon begins fighting, he is utterly remorseless.  At least one reader found his astonishing fighting skill unrealistic, but  I’ve personally known a handful of martial artists who approached their craft with a similar mentality, and I’ve pitied any thug who wished them harm.

    Readers who enjoy exploring different worlds in science fiction and fantasy novels have often urged me to outline contrasts between the milieu of Devera and that of earth.  Aside from creatures that differ from those with which we earthlings are familiar, the socio-religious realm ranks high on the list of requests for description among these readers.  My trouble, however, is writing about a planet remarkably similar to earth adds realism to the narrative in my view, and I’m reluctant to depart too radically from things that are familiar.  When confronted with the task of developing a completely novel religion, I elected a cowardly path and relied heavily upon a philosophy familiar to me.

    “Gottslena” is supposed to mean “God’s love” in the Tamarian language.  The Germanic derivation for the name is deliberate, but the actual tenets of this philosophy are twisted out of Plato.  Socrates taught that all concepts exist in perfect form within the heavenly realm.  Their material manifestations are imperfect variations on a theme.  I borrowed this idea and transmuted it somewhat, so that the material manifestations on Devera (at least from the “official” Tamarian religious perspective) exist as imperfect copies of ideas in the heavens, created for the purpose of expanding the personal knowledge of a great, unknowable deity.  This gives a “why” to the Tamarians.  They are left to figure out the “how”, and this is the essence of their religious study.

    This kind of thinking should be different enough to satisfy the curious reader, but close enough to something with which I’m familiar that I can write it with a degree of confidence.  It also serves to contrast with Brenna’s Lithian perspective, in which a personal relationship with Allfather God must be pursued, and that of the Abelscinnians who enter the narrative in later chapters.

    To Algernon, these issues begin as something worthy of ridicule.  He faces progressively more vexing moral problems as he hunts down his wayward sister, which forces his outlook to mature.  Several previewing readers commented that the Ravenwood children are emotionally precocious, yet I can vividly recall rolling my eyes at the antics of my classmates in high school, wondering WHEN they were EVER going to grow up!  In those years I also kept a journal, and my perspective at that age is faithfully reflected in Algernon’s view of his world.

    Bringing Brenna into the chapter created a link that I needed for the next segment.  I didn’t explain why she would go to the university cafeteria armed with a sword, but since every reader already knows she’s proficient with the weapon, her warning to the Kamerese student fits the narrative nicely.  This ended up being the only other time she actually USES the blade in the novel.

Approval (September 2005)

    Prior to composing this chapter, I’d never completed so much writing this quickly!  While it’s clear to me that the entire story is too long, it’s hard to find WHAT to cut out.  Part of its length stems from extended monologues and dialogues between characters with little bits of narrative separating these conversations.  Since these remain central to plot or character development, trimming scenes may weaken the carefully planned transitions between the personalities.  It may be hard for the reader to appreciate how difficult this is, but the emotional investment in every paragraph is considerable, and cutting is always hard.

    The first scene, with Garrick in TAC Vogel’s office, spilled onto the page as if I happened to be in the room listening to the exchange myself.  Having never been in such a situation before, and actually knowing very little of what goes on in officer training, I relied on advice from Alan Petrillo, who served in the U.S. Army, and information gleaned from several military web sites.  Nonetheless, Alan had to point out several glaring omissions and outright errors when I sent him the initial draft.

    Brenna really has nothing to do at this point in the story, so I wanted her experience to reflect a restless dissatisfaction.  Moving her out of the military and into college at this stage in the story enables Garrick’s career to develop independent of Brenna’s significant influence, and also gives her a reason to stay in Tamaria, rather than returning to her family.  Conveying the sense of profound loneliness experienced by a person of faith who remains isolated from a nurturing community isn’t easy.  Brenna has to be very strong to hold to her convictions, and among my spiritually-minded readers, outlining Brenna’s struggle to retain faith resonated strongly.

    My experience teaching English to foreign students and reading to children who struggle with school informs the difficulty Brenna experiences with the Tamarian language.  Readers should grasp, by this point, that Brenna understands far more of Garrick’s native tongue than she lets on, but reading differs substantially from hearing.  Brenna, who does just about everything well, struggles with Tamarian because it differs structurally from her own language, and that of the Azgaril.  This also gives me a reason to keep Mariel involved, as the linguist’s actual role in the story is revealed much later on in the narrative.

    Originally, I’d written that Brenna wove a set of beads into her hair.  A change in a woman’s hair often reflects a change in her outlook, or her situation.  I spent a lot of time and exerted quite a bit of effort describing these braid beads and blending Brenna’s use of them into the story.  Male readers who have not grown up with older sisters, or female friends who had long hair may not fully appreciate this, but I thought that the women in my audience would understand.  However, with the overall length of the novel beyond 250 000 words in its initial draft, this was one thing that simply didn’t make the final cut.  I had to got back and “undo” all of what I’d so painstakingly done!

    I’ve been told that Algernon seemed frightening in a fascinating sort of way.  The final version of this story is shortened and somewhat toned down compared to its early drafts, but I'd initially cut the scene where he threatens to kill Gretchen while trying to escape from the monks who are seeking to apprehend him, only to re-insert it later.  While I didn’t like his extreme behavior, Algernon's volatility makes him very dangerous, and while the scene is unpleasant, it sets up the kind of person he is so that later on, readers are less surprised at how quickly he resorts to killing.  Algernon's acrid wit intentionally contrasts with the gentle role of a priest because I have seldom met an actual man of God who did not struggle against his own character flaws in carrying out the duties of his calling.  Algernon’s growth in this story is considerable, yet in the end he’s still the same person who has to deal with a violent temper and a very strong sex drive.

      It’s Astrid, his unlikely companion, who draws on deep courage in pointing out his problems.  She gets away with this because Astrid, like High Priest Volker Pfaff, sees goodness buried beneath Algernon’s angry demeanor, and she treats him with genuine kindness.  Rather than having the two acolytes fall desperately in love with one another, the tension introduced by Astrid’s sexual preference keeps the relationship firmly platonic.  Although Algernon misunderstands her, his appreciation for Astrid’s character moderates his behavior.  He does this willingly because he knows she speaks the truth, and that is where his growth as a character begins.

    I have often, though not always, felt emotionally closer to my cousins than my sisters, though I love my siblings.  Writing about the bond between Garrick and Algernon proved more difficult than I’d initially thought it would be, simply because I lack experience in relating to a brother.  However, male cousins and male friends serve as a kind of model for the relationship between Garrick and Algernon.  Garrick understands his brother and accepts him as he is, always seeking to support and never to condemn.  And for his part, Algernon believes that his older sibling will always come to his aid, if necessary; yet he remains careful not to abuse the privilege.

    Perhaps this isn’t an honest reflection of brotherhood, as it certainly contrasts with the relationships I sustained with my older sisters when we were teens, yet this kind of dynamic is precisely what I would wish for in a brother.  I hope readers will become motivated to re-evaluate their own relations in light of what I have written.

    Once again, my lack of military experience presented challenges at the conclusion of this chapter.  Simple issues, relating to practical concerns–such as how a platoon commander actually gets his orders–became glaring problems to overcome.  At first, I thought I’d get Garrick into trouble with TAC Vogel for missing the deployment announcement, but that seemed awkward, added too much length to an already “too long” chapter, and seemed an unnecessary adjunct to the story.  The way it’s currently composed allows the reader to glimpse the camaraderie of men undergoing a strict training regimen, where cooperation becomes an essential key to survival.  This is the reason Greg Schmidt helps Garrick with the Operation Order and map.  People who have actually served in military forces tell me that the brotherhood (or sisterhood) developed by intense training or actual combat is a bond unlike any other.  My feeble attempts to describe this likely fall short of what a real soldier feels, but it’s the best I can offer and I apologize to any veteran who believes I didn’t get it right.

    Hungry Valley is a name derived from an isolated place an hour or two north of Los Angeles.  I’ve always liked that name, but the geology I’ve described for Hungry Valley is closer to that of the Nass Valley in northern British Columbia.  I want the reader to believe that Hungry Valley is an unforgiving, inhospitable place.

Run Away (October - early November 2005)

    When I was young, part of my neighborhood had been demolished to make room for a freeway.  A great swath of abandoned houses and overgrown yards tangled in weeds created the perfect environment for a boy to explore.  Nestled into a hillside among those condemned properties lay several parcels that had been between a quarter and a half acre in size.  Large lots of this kind were not entirely uncommon, though most had long since been subdivided into higher density residences many years before.

    One day while exploring on my own, something I did quite frequently that I would never permit my own children to do, I wandered into a small, isolated arroyo.  Hidden amid the chamise and tall grasses behind a fold in the hillside, I discovered a small hay shed.  Its pole construction supported a slanting roof covering two rooms, with an open front.  The first of these rooms still contained a couple of hay bales, while the other, where some grass eating animal had been penned, remained littered in dried animal dung.

    This place formed the model for Algernon’s refuge on Superstition Mesa, though the one I describe in the story is much larger.  The abandoned homestead provides the same kind of quiet refuge for Algernon that I found in the hills above my home as a boy, and as I composed this part of the chapter, memories of misty mornings graced by the sad, cooing sound of Mourning Doves tugged at the fringes of my conscious mind.

    I can recall dreaming up scenarios about how and when the various places I explored as a child were first settled.  I’d written an extensive dialogue between Algernon and Astrid concerning the demise of the homestead that explained why such a pleasant place so close to a major city would remain uninhabited, but I cut it out because it didn’t advance the story.

    Superstition Mesa itself, like much of the land surround Marvic, rests upon a mineral water aquifer.  Having grown up in Southern California, a place famous for water shortages, I am very familiar with water conservation and figured that this made the problem of survival on the mesa difficult enough that most Tamarians would naturally seek easier refuge in the well watered valleys to the west and south.

    Making a well functioning cook stove out of a tin can is a fascinating experience.  I have built several of these that have been very difficult to start, but once lit, provide a  hot, easily controlled and smokeless flame.  After much experimentation, I broke down and bought a commercial gasifying stove from Tom Reed’s Biomass Energy Foundation that’s powered by a battery operated fan.  With it, I can cook a meal for my family with a handful of dried twigs.  Not only does this conserve fuel, but in the situation Algernon has put himself into, collecting a small amount of dry twigs from the forest floor would only take a few moments per meal.  (See the “Technology” page for further details.)

    I’ve always loved organ music.  While I admit to being a bit of a musical snob, it’s not because I have more talent than most of the people with whom I interact.  There’s a connection in my soul with keyboard music that extends back into the early reaches of my memory, and since she had been platformed as an organist early in the narrative, Brenna’s practice session serves as an appropriate vehicle to provide a sense of emotional release.  As is often the case in this story, Brenna’s practice session also serves as a platform for another scene, later on.

    I’ve written nearly all of my combat scenes from an omniscient perspective, but I thought my readers should see battle from Brenna’s perspective.  How would a woman deal with the terror, the bloodshed and a sense of helplessness when being subjected to an extended artillery barrage?

    I spent a long time during the summer months thinking about how Brenna might respond to these stresses, and wrote a draft of her encounter with the Azgaril army in August.  Weaving that necessary part of the story into the current narrative seemed most appropriate in a flashback, but I wanted to try writing something a little different.  The “flashback within a flashback” accounting of the battle, as retold to Mariel while Brenna is thinking back to her dialogue with the Tamarian woman earlier the same morning enables the reader to better understand why Brenna is having trouble sleeping.  I came very close to cutting this out of the story, but when I asked my readers for advice, they told me that this scene really brought the conflict with the Azgaril home for them and advised me to leave it alone.

    Details for the city of Marvic have evolved over time, but it has always remained the type of city that I would like to live in, if I had to live within a city; it’s a place where buildings blend into the landscape, where parkland mingles with art.  Marvic is clean and full of vitality.  Even the Paradise neighborhood, though it’s considered the worst place in town, is a far more pleasant area than many others I’ve described.  Within the milieu of Marvic, moving materials, goods and services around remains an important aspect of how the city actually WORKS.  Many planning and zoning details have been derived from Curitiba, a large city in the southern state of Parana, Brazil, where my father was born.

    The scene where Brenna shares her blouse with Mariel serves a larger purpose than merely inspiring lust on the part of my male readers.  (And yes, that’s something I’ve been accused of doing.  Brenna is a lightning rod for that kind of criticism.)  My sisters used to share clothing with their friends, a habit that my male mind had a hard time understanding, as guys never do this.  Though I find it bizarre, loaning an article of clothing to a friend seems to indicate trust among female friends.  Further, this scene platforms a key plot point later, in "Crisis."

    It also enabled me to create a believable reason for Brenna to be in the garment district.  The female friendship bond is an exceedingly difficult thing for me to write, as that secret world is one I can never enter.  I wanted readers to develop a sense that Brenna and Mariel are becoming true friends, so I deliberately portrayed them involved in what I consider “female bonding activities”, like shopping together.  Most of my female readers thought I didn’t do a terribly good job of portraying this, outlining the truth that imagination is no substitute for experience.

    On occasion, I have found myself in a neighborhood or an environment clearly above my socio-economic strata.  When Algernon and Astrid walk into Fang’s boutique, they experience the same sense of disconnection, but this occurs on two levels.  Beyond the physical inability of either character to afford any of the garments on display, they also represent the spiritual pinnacle of Tamarian society, whereas the Fang family is underwordly.  The words of Lieutenant Streng ring true when Algernon has to fight for his life, outnumbered and facing death at the hand of a shooter who intends to kill him.

    While Dmitri seems to come out of nowhere, several details hinting at his appearance are reviewed in the next chapter.

Unexpected Visitors (November 2005)

    I finished writing this chapter on the day the Vancouver region received its first snowfall of the season.  Cranking out better than 16 000 words in a single month is a significant accomplishment for me, as writing is normally a slow and careful process.

    Field exercises for military training typically take place near the end of a given course.  I have changed this to generate a sense of urgency in Garrick’s situation, and though I wanted him to do well, I didn’t think that having him completely dominate the leadership exercises would sit well with readers, particularly those with a military background, who already have to extend a measure of grace to me.  Inserting a failure adds natural complexity, especially given the petty nature of social conflict that resulted in Garrick’s bad decision.  Reflecting upon this, rather than describing the actual events, speeds up the narrative somewhat.  At this point in the story, momentum was critical!

    I briefly considered having Algernon charged with manslaughter after his fight with the Kamerese.  This would involve introducing a newspaper reporter whose article on the conflict creates an uproar in the city. I rejected this idea because it seemed too complex and distracting for a story that’s already quite long.  Lieutenant Streng and his role in the investigation supplies a measure of skepticism and tension that preserves realism, while serving to keep the character list as lean as possible.

    Algernon simply couldn’t get away with killing people, drug dealers or not.  I don’t advocate violence as a means to solving problems, and I don’t want one of my main characters espousing that attitude either.  Yet the apex of violent behavior also serves as the catalyst for changing Algernon’s outlook.  This could not have been wrought in a compelling manner beyond the bounds of a crisis, and though I’d intended to Algernon to carefully avoid killing anyone after this, his situation later on does not permit such restraint.

    The mystery of Astrid deepens.  Some readers didn’t like the fact that she remained passive while Algernon engaged his foes in hand to hand combat, but I didn’t want her to be a fighter like Brenna.  Initially, I had planned for her to take some kind of role in Algernon’s struggle.  In one of those rare moments of unplanned “idea fortune”, I cast her passivity in a very different light and in doing so, demonstrated that she is not only courageous, but that she’s also speaking the truth when she expresses her love for Kira.

    It’s very easy for me to describe an attraction to a woman, and in this manner, Astrid’s perspective is not difficult for me to entertain. I sincerely hope that my efforts to portray Astrid in a genuine manner will ring with truth.  One of my previewing readers who has some experience in this area called Astrid a “lipstick lesbian,” a comment I take as a compliment.  I must have done something right to merit such a remark.

    Some readers have expressed curiosity about Queen Tamar.  She’s been mentioned several times in the narrative, but always in a distant manner, and never have I talked about succession in the Tamarian regime.  She is otherworldly and immortal, but I didn’t want to portray her as some kind of deity.  Because her knowledge of Brenna’s intimate struggles directly follows the scene of Brenna breaking down in prayer, I wanted the reader to grasp the idea that Tamar maintains a close connection with Allfather God.  Tamar never claims divinity.  In this instance, she serves as a messenger, bringing comfort to Brenna’s soul at a time when she desperately needs to feel that she belongs somewhere, and that she’s doing the right thing.

    I’d originally planned for the raid on Fang family clothing boutique to serve as the end of this chapter.  The two scenes that follow resulted from my need to move the story forward.  Having Algernon describe his search for Kira, and implying that he’s taken some time to do so, pushes the narrative onward, enabling me to focus my creative energy on re-establishing the relationship between Garrick and Algernon.  Unlike many sibling pairs that I have known over the years, these two brothers see themselves as interdependent.  In fact, Brenna’s deep involvement in Algernon’s plan to recover Kira indicates that Algernon has allowed her to move into that close circle of belonging characteristic of functional families.

    That is the real point of the story.  The Ravenwood siblings have been torn apart by circumstances.  Brenna has left her own family and has felt adrift as a result.  This coming together, this inclusion and drawing close, marks the beginning of a rebuilding process that will continue throughout the remainder of the narrative.

Conversations and Introductions (December 2005)

    The marathon of writing I invested in creating this chapter has left me feeling somewhat listless.  It became something different than what it started out to be, and I worried that I’d written too much about things that won’t sustain a reader’s interest.  At over 19 000 words, this ended up being the longest chapter I’d ever written.

    While much of the intial interaction between Brenna and Mariel expands upon Brenna’s difficulty with language, it sets the stage for Brenna to lean about her role in the upcoming drama in Kameron.  The conflict with Mariel has been very carefully set up, but the dynamic between Brenna and Mariel changed several times as I composed the chapter.  Initially, the two women parted company on bad terms.  That seemed immature, so I tried having them argue heatedly, then manage to reconcile their differences, but that didn’t work well either.  The way the situation eventually resolved isn’t perfect, though it fits the story better than any other way I’d tried it.  This is an area where women readers will have to extend me some grace and suspend their disbelief.

    Leaving the trip to Marvic out of the story earlier on, when Garrick and Brenna were traveling from Traitor’s Pass, allowed me to describe it with Algernon and Astrid.  Their conversation is a difficult one, which really outlines the bewilderment heterosexuals feel about those who prefer same gender liasons.  It’s very hard to understand, so if Astrid comes across sounding a little bit like a guy in this exchange, it’s simply because I have no other idea of how to describe her view.

    With two pairs of conversation ending badly, I really wanted to write something happier.  As the daylight period grew shorter, the mid December weeks were blessed by clear, cold skies.  This is my favorite type of weather, but my days were filled with anxiety over finances at the time and I found myself brooding a lot.  Describing the encounter between Garrick and Brenna, alone for the first time since their trip up to Traitor’s Pass, went through several revisions as well.  I don’t want to write erotica, yet there without some kind of sexual tension between the characters, their relationship lacks interest.  (One reader commented that I could write real "bodice rippers" if I set my mind to it.)  Besides, I don't think it would be realistic for two attractive people who are attracted to one another to not engage in some exploratory behavior.  Anyone who thinks otherwise isn't being honest about their human experience.

    So, I resorted to the playful tickling and wrestling I’ve described as a means to sustain the need for physical contact, while allowing the two of them to exhibit reasonable restraint.  Of all the things I’ve written in this chapter, this particular scene was the most satisfactory to me.

    One of my sisters has long urged me to write about the situation in our family as we were growing up.  I’ve always resisted this, partly because I think it’s nobody’s business, but also because I don’t think my childhood is terribly interesting.  I did, however, take elements of conflict among some of my own relatives and neighbors, blending and exaggerating them to create the family life that Garrick and Algernon remain so unwilling to discuss.  The situation Garrick describes to Brenna is not at all like the one I grew up in, but the “love you / hate you” dynamic is one in which any reader who experienced a dysfunctional childhood should relate well.

    I recall a neighbor who often drank too much.  He and his wife would have screaming sessions that echoed off the apartment complex walls near my house, only to subsequently engage in very passionate and loud (hence, public) lovemaking.  It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so sad.  This served as the model for the relationship between Cyrus and Sylvia Ravenwood, Garrick and Algernon’s parents.  While it contrasts somewhat with my description of why Garrick left home in The Edge of Justice, it expands the reader’s knowledge of what the Ravenwood children experienced growing up, and perhaps, explains why each of them sees the world in such contrasting ways.

    When I discussed Garrick’s reaction to Algernon’s situation and the associated issues involving Kira with a psychologist friend of mine, he suggested that perhaps Garrick would need time to process everything.  Given the intensity of his training, it didn’t seem likely that he’d have a lot of time to invest in thinking about his siblings, so I borrowed a line from singer / songwriter Cheryl Crowe and had Garrick tell Brenna that after thinking all of these problems through, he couldn’t cry anymore.  I like the way it fits.  If Cheryl Crowe ever reads this, I hope she smiles!

    The milieu of Tamaria has lived in my imagination for better than 20 years, so I’ve had a lot of time to think about how the country works and what it looks like.  In The Edge of Justice the area I described remained fairly confined to the southeastern section of the nation, but Fallen Moon Lake–which is large enough that its breadth cannot be seen by human eyes when standing on its shore–its surroundings and the area along the Angry Bear River draw much of their imagery from the Upper Fraser Valley, the place I’ve called home for better than nine years.  Of course, the climate of Tamaria differs significantly, but some of the places, such as the unnamed valley between Thunder Ridge and The Serpent’s Tail, represent unique, highland valleys that exist only in my imagination.

    Jihran Vell is another very old character that I decided to bring into the story because I’ll need her unique skills later on.  Fiesty and childlike, though she is a widow, Jihran begins her journey with Algernon and Astrid by putting him into a situation that genuinely tests the limits of his restraint.  Long ago I drew a picture of her, a three quarter view from the back, that I always liked.  Though I’ve looked, I can’t find the drawing anywhere.  Jihran is full of surprises, but she very nearly didn't survive the cutting and editing process . . .

    I simply don’t like the scene I’ve written where Mariel confronts Colonel Vines about Brenna, but I’d sort of written myself into a corner by this point and couldn’t think of a better way of dealing with the issues that are presented in this scene.  In addition, the following section, where Brenna confronts Mariel with the truth of the Tamarian lieutenant’s role, didn’t please me either.  These sections, and the one that follows, were written after I’d heard that a good friend of mine had been diagnosed with cancer.  I was simply not in the mood to write compelling fiction!

    Doing this, however, saved me from writing yet another lengthy dialogue between Brenna, Colonel Vines and General Stassen.  The reader should be able to imply that this dialogue has already taken place, and further, that Brenna has agreed to help the Tamarian army in their upcoming operation.

    This is a delicate matter.  Many occupying armies have, in historical terms, failed to understand the cultural milieu in which they operate.  I wanted the Tamarians to concern themselves with this in order to avoid a quagmire, and I will portray them as far more sensitive to the Kamerese and Lithians among whom they operate than is often the case with armies facing this task on earth.  This also will limit their power.  Although this ended up not being a problem in this book, it may become a point of contention later on.

    I’ve also implied that the major screening process of Tamarian officer’s training has now been completed.  Garrick has been evaluated, and his trainers now believe he has what it takes to competently lead men in combat.  (Of course, this has already been proven.)  The balance of his training will involve training his platoon, and learning how to administrate the unit in day to day operations.

    My father-in-law grew up south of a little town called Revelstoke, a place which served as a main depot for the rail lines serving southwestern British Columbia.  He knows more about trains that I EVER will, and though he doesn’t know that I’m constantly picking his brain for data, we sustained a lengthy conversation over Christmas about how trains work in a mountainous region.  I learned a lot.  Some of that knowledge has trickled into the story.  I realize that some readers find my obsession with transportation a bit tedious, I hope that most of you will grant me some grace.  I find this kind of thing fascinating . . .

    The crystalline disc that Brenna gave Algernon contains information for a holograph projector.  It’s a blend of technology and magic intended to verify that Algernon is, in fact, who he says he is in relationship to her.  Brenna did this because she understands the suspicion Algernon would likely arouse among her people.

    Though I didn’t describe her appearance directly, the way Algernon and Astrid respond to the image should hint strongly to the reader that Brenna is dressed as a proper Lithian maiden should appear.  She does this partly to send a clear signal to the people she loves that her virtue remains intact, and also to ensure them that the message actually comes from her and not an imposter.

    I got the idea for this from a laser inscribed glass that my brother and sister in law had made in Las Vegas.  Theirs contains an image of their faces, and when a light is shone through it from beneath, their faces appear in a kind of three dimensional display.  Since the Lithians are skilled at working with light, I took this idea a little bit further and had the disc reader display a three dimensional image.  This also sets up the concept that Lithians can manipulate non imaging optics, something that will grow in importance as the story moves forward.

    My experience with Northwestern names, particularly aboriginal names, informs the naming of Lord Kerry Halvord’s boat.  My first encounter with a name whose pronunciation didn’t fit my pre-conceived notion concerns the resort of Semiahmoo, near Blaine, Washington.  Coming from Southern California, where we make fun of people who can’t pronounce “La Jolla” as “Luh- HOY-uh”, when I referred to the Semiahmoo resort as “Seh-MY-uh-moo” my sweetheart laughed and laughed!  The name is supposed to be “Se-me-AM-oo”.  Well, how was I supposed to know that?

    Likewise, it’s easy to tell someone who has never lived in the northwestern part of British Columbia by the way they pronounce the names of towns and geographical features in that region.  The town of Kitwanga is an excellent example.  I’ve heard people from as nearby as Williams Lake pronounce that name “Kit-WANG-uh”.  People who actually live up there, however, say “KIT-wung-uh”.

    So, I imagined Algernon pronouncing the name of Lord Halvord’s boat as “Hail-il-EYE-luh”, rather than “Ha-ih-LIL-yah” as the Lithians themselves would say it.  Thus, we have Algernon’s first experience in a culture very different from his own.  He’s interacting with people who don’t give him automatic respect just because he’s a priest, and his violent interactions with Jihran have already soiled his reputation.
   
    He has a lot of work to do in order to extricate himself from this . . .

    Algernon’s longing for Marie comes directly out of my own memory and will likely resonate with male readers.  Although I’ve hinted at his interest in her during previous chapters, I’ve not explained how they actually related to one another.  Marie is very loosely based on two or three different young women I knew growing up, all of whom shared the same intense self-interest I have outlined in the story.  Perhaps it isn’t fair to judge them for having this kind of attitude in their teens and early twenties, yet I can recall the same sense of remonstrance I’ve described with Algernon many years after these girls departed from my life.  So, their self absorbed point of view has left its mark.  Some might describe it as a wound, though I like to think of it more as a battle scar.  Love leaves its indelible influence, and as a result, I'm better equipped to appreciate a woman's character now than was the case when I was younger.

Mirrors (January 2006)

    Another marathon writing session amid a long string of rainy days (a record volume of rain for this region) resulted in yet another LONG chapter.  The sheer distance involved in Algernon’s restless pursuit of Kira had a lot to do with this chapter’s length, but I also spent a lot of time in describing parts of the countryside that the reader has not been exposed to in previous chapters.  After going through this chapter, every reader will have undertaken a fairly extensive rail tour of Tamaria.

    Getting back into the moody mind set of a teenager brought up many less than pleasant memories.  In the eyes of a forensic literary analyst, I’m confident that many insights into my own experience could be derived.  Both Algernon and Astrid spend a great deal of time brooding over things which neither of them can control (as I did when I was a teen), but in Astrid’s case, I’d carefully setting up my intended end with her.  I knew where I wanted to go, and in order to make that part of the story realistic, I’d written snippets of insight into her thinking that reveal what she fears.  There’s a measure of balance to this process that I had to preserve, so that I don’t reveal the ending prematurely.

    But at least I was THINKING about an end!

    Jhiran serves as a “mirror” into Algernon’s soul.  Through her his fear of being unloved is underscored, but likewise, because of Jhiran’s actions his own capacity for love begins to be revealed at the end of the chapter.  She is an interesting character to write because she’s incapable of judging whether or not her behavior is appropriate.  I’d written an explanation that explains why she act as she does, but strangely, some of my previewing readers advised me not to keep it.  Apparently, they preferred the mystery to its revelation, and in honor of their request, I cut it out of the story.

    Jhiran can’t help living in the moment and acting impulsively.   This knowledge, however, leaves everyone else at her mercy, or at least, forces them to guard their thoughts with greater care.  She represents a strange mix of childish and mature that makes her unlike anyone else in the story and enables me to force situations into the open that some of the characters might prefer remained hidden.  Jhiran became very difficult to keep actively involved in the narrative, but when I expressed a desire to cut her out, some of my readers expressed outrage!  They really liked her.  Subsequently, some readers have told me that she should have occupied a more prominent role in the story.  I brought her back into Crisis, but she remains a minor character.

    Years ago my sweetheart and I befriended a young woman whose family originated in India.   My friend, John Masih and his wife, Esther, had introduced me to Indian cuisine, and since I am quite fond of spicy food, I quickly developed a taste for curry.  With this in mind, my wife and I were delighted when this particular woman invited us to have lunch at her house after church one day. 

    According to her family tradition, eating involves sitting on the floor around several prepared dishes.  Utensils are used to serve food into a bowl, which is subsequently eaten using fingers.  I watched in astonishment as she dipped her (recently washed and hence, clean) hand directly into her bowl and scooped food into her mouth.  Indian food can be rather greasy, but she said that feeling the texture of food is part of a very comforting experience for her.  At the conclusion of her meal the young woman washed her hands, yet the wonderful aroma of curry remained on her fingers.

    Apparently, many people in India eat this way.  I borrowed the custom for Algernon and Astrid, who are desperately poor.  Algernon grew up in a underprivileged household, so moving to the Temple Elsbireth would not have caused a decline in his accustomed standard of living, and Astrid has known no life other than her ascetic existence in the temple.  Therefore, they think nothing of eating with their fingers.

    In fact, one thing I wanted to illustrate in Astrid’s character is the natural humility of a girl who is willing to feed someone else, someone she doesn’t particularly like, with her own hand.  There is a gentle care and intimacy between Algernon and Astrid that differs from the smoldering erotic tension between Garrick and Brenna.  It’s been driven by Astrid’s conduct from the very beginning of her interaction with Algernon, and he grows in his response to her compassion.

    Because Brenna’s family is wealthy, I’ve tried to capture a sense of imbalance as Algernon and Astrid move into that circle of affluence.  This includes Algernon fretting over Brenna’s recommendations for good manners, distress over the concept of having a servant, his chagrin at the obvious comfort of their accommodations at the Velez estate, and the unease they feel when meeting Brenna’s family.

    The dividing line between the Angry Bear River and the Desolation is an idea taken from real life.  Near the city of Manaus in Brazil, the Rio Negro (which drains the Guiana Shield) meets the very muddy Amazonas.  For quite some time the waters of the two rivers remain distinct, until the Amazonas overpowers the smaller Rio Negro.  This is actually visible from satellite imagery for any readers who have Google Earth installed on their computers.  Later, while on a trip home from Quebec by train, I discovered--to my delight--that the same thing is true when the clean waters of the Thompson River drain into the larger, muddier Fraser River at Lytton.  I describe the nexxus of the Angry Bear and Desolation in this manner.  Additionally, I called upon vivid memories of the red soil found all over my mother’s home state of Minas Gerais in describing the soil of Red Claw.

    In researching this chapter, I learned a lot about riverboat navigation and the operation of steam boilers.  While steam locomotives have a heralded place in transportation history, they require a great deal more fuss than most “modern” people would tolerate in a machine.  The boiler onboard the Haililiah is more advanced than would be found on a 19th century steam train.  Nonetheless, the degree of care required to operate it is not exaggerated in the story.

    Algernon experiences a great deal of turmoil and inner conflict in this chapter.  It’s the first time in the story where he does not get into a fight, though he comes very close on a couple of occasions.  My previewing readers were nearly unanimous in expressing appreciation that Algernon is growing up so quickly.  He would not be doing so, however, were it not for the intense scrutiny he’s subjecting upon his own character.  This is one of the “mirrors” written into this chapter, and finally, in a moment of clarity, he comes to realize the extent to which everyone else has gone to assist him.

    And also, the feelings he’s developed for Astrid have moved deeper than physical attraction.  It’s relatively easy for a male writer to describe a beautiful female character and go into detail about her impact on the people she meets, as I’ve done with Brenna.  Greater thought and more careful planning are required to attain the same degree of interest in a female character who is not stunning.  This results from the conditioning of the culture in North America, where women are chiefly valued for their appearance.  (I watch this influence on my nieces with dismay!)  The contrast between beautiful Brenna and plain-looking Astrid is deliberate, but if by now the reader feels Astrid’s allure, I have accomplished my intended aim.

    There is far more value in a woman than merely what she looks like.  Algernon comes to this realization when he contrasts Astrid with Marie, his personal fantasy girl.  The only trouble for Algernon is that Astrid remains utterly committed to Kira, and is therefore, equally inaccessible to him.  Many of us men, in looking back over our experiences, will likely relate well to this.

    One of the recurring themes in this novel and its prequel, The Edge of Justice, centers on the influence of culture in determining what is and is not modest.  I have experienced the expression of strong feelings on the part of at least one previewing reader, who believed that my portrayal of Brenna thus far merged into the realm of soft core pornography.  This was a very difficult criticism to read, yet it perfectly illustrates how a woman is judged by what she looks like, rather than who she is.  Also, having written this, I find women far more critical of one another’s appearance than we men are of the women we love.  Hence, Brenna serves as a kind of mirror for the way a woman feels about herself.

    My description of Lithian dating customs generated quite a bit of discussion among my previewing readers.  I wanted to describe a culture in which establishing stable, long term relationships is a goal actively pursued by every member of the family.  For this reason, once a relationship between young Lithians becomes relatively serious, the young man leaves his own household and moves in with his girlfriend’s family.  In the case of Jared, who is dating Brenna’s sister Acacia, he lives among the servants and only spends time with Acacia while the rest of the family is present.

        Lithians live for centuries, so they would naturally be less "hurried" in their interactions with one another than would be typical in a human relationship.  Hence, the "pre-engagement courtship" ritual I've described between Jared and Acacia is something that might last for many months, but only commence AFTER the young couple had seen enough of one another to sustain this degree of interest.  This might require many years to develop.  Thus, they tend to start this process at a relatively young age.  Acacia, who is 22, has already reached the point where her boyfriend is living with her family.  Cynthia, who is 17, is still looking, whereas Camille, who is only 12, remains just beyond the threshold of menarche and isn't involved in this process yet. 

    If the interested male finds the household dynamic disagreeable, or the girl has not represented herself honestly in some way, he can simply leave before things get serious enough to move to the next level.  At this stage, they are not left alone and are only seen together in the context of a family setting, such as a meal, a worship service or a festival.

    Once they've moved into his family's house, the relationship is considered serious and they are left more to themselves.  They dress differently and decisions involving either one of them are made as a couple, rather than as individuals.  At this point, the girl is expected to begin caring for her betrothed under the guidance of his mother, who knows what he likes and can help the younger woman understand how to handle him.  For his part, the young man is expected to work and save his money for a bride price, using this time to demonstrate to his ownfather that he will not be a burden on the girl's family after they marry.

    The bride price itself is not paid to the girl's family in the sense that human families in certain cultures require a bride price.  The funds are invested into a trust overseen by both fathers to ensure that neither child is exploited by the relationship.  The couple can marry any time the negotiated sum is reached, and afterward, they live with her family again, until they can afford their own household.  The bride price and its accumulated interest is refunded to the couple after they leave her family's home.

    This process might take a very long time and would likely result in very stable families.  Sustaining relationships with another group of people for three or four hundred years compels interest in nurturing strong relations from the beginning.  In this way, the Lithian tradition of deep respect for another person's point of view is sustained.  If the couple stops getting along, the arrangements simply dissolve and both young people return to their parents' homes.

    So a question arose: “What about servants in Lithian households, and what about those who are not as well off as Lynden and Alexina Velez?”

    Servants in a Lithian household are considered part of the family. So, Tirra's daughters, for instance, would have their boyfriends come to work in Lynden's house during their courtship.  The young man would be required to earn his keep, so that his presence doesn't incur an undue burden on the Velez family.  This might result in "make work" projects, or it might simply involve dividing the current labor burden among servants with yet another person.  Yet, it's also incumbent upon the Velez family to ensure he's paid well enough to save up for the bride price.  (Since they're providing room and board, a reasonable sum is deducted from the value of the young man's labor.  This leaves some room for abuse, however.  It would be wrong of me to insist that all Lithians conduct their affairs with integrity.)

     Among Lithian families who have no servants the social arrangements are similar.  However, the young man would likely have to sustain employment outside of the home in order to earn his keep and save up for the bride price.  Perhaps he would sleep on the couch for his duration in his courtship, yet participate in family activities as if he were a son.  So if I were a Lithian, my boys would leave my house during the informal stage of their courtships, then return with the girls who might become my daughters-in-law once they’d become engaged.  The girls would be expected to behave like members of my family, weeding the garden, helping with food preparation, etc.  Once married, my sons would leave again to become members of my future daughter-in-law's household.

    In this way, there is also an economic advantage to having daughters. The father of daughters gets the benefit of masculine labor, and the benefit of having sons who will remain in his household, whereas the father of sons will lose his young men to someone else.  Hence, Lynden Velez has been especially blessed.

    The church meeting in Fair Haven Fortress is not patterned on anything with which I am familiar, though I am told that it reads very much like a Greek Orthodox service.  I sang in the California Boy’s Choir as a child, so I am acquainted with ancient liturgical music to a degree.  The rest of the ceremony comes straight out of my imagination.

    I was writing this section around the time that the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is celebrated in the United States.  The young preacher who fires up the congregation at Fair Haven is not modeled after Dr. King, however.  Two weeks prior to writing this section, a man from the Caribbean came to my church and preached a fiery sermon on “meeting God halfway”.  His was a compelling and thought provoking message.  Since I’d platformed the concept of certain clerics in Kameron stirring the ire of young men in that nation, I thought this would be a good time to give the reader insight into the kind of message that such men would be preaching.

    One thing bothered me, however.  I’ve consistently described people who originate in Southern Kameron as dark skinned.  Although there are exceptions, such as the holy man who encounters Astrid and Algernon within Marvic’s main gate, most of the dark skinned people I’ve put into the narrative have been absolutely wicked.

    So when I was dreaming up the leader of Lynden's army, I pictured Shaquille O’Neill in my mind and came up with Tegene.  Mr. O’Neill comes across in a kindly and gentle manner, even though he is a very big man and can dominate a basketball game with his imposing presence and competitive spirit.  I figured Tegene could likewise be a gentle man in person, yet a fierce warrior when the time arose for him to fight.

    Algernon also needs a friend, and I figured that Tegene’s son, Jawara, would fill this role nicely.  Jawara’s role in Algernon’s rescue of Kira becomes significant, and his seasoned counsel contrasts with Algernon’s impetuous view of the world, but these factors are not evident until later on.  Jawara’s description is intended to inspire trust on the part of the reader that he and his family are, in fact, respectable citizens.  This is very difficult for me to write, not because it isn’t true, but rather, because physical descriptions of male characters crafted with the same degree of care that I employ when describing female characters moves me into unfamiliar territory.

    The Abelscinnian religion differs from that of the intense, personal relationship with God that is practiced by Lithians in the Velez family.  I wanted to make the Abelscinnians equally intelligent about God and similar enough in belief that they could co-exist with Lithians, whose culture differs significantly.  Yet I didn’t want their belief system to reflect that of the Lithians either.  Although both belief systems are monotheistic, the Lithians view God as actively engaged in transforming the lives of his people, where the ‘Scinnians look at relating to God in a series of steps undertaken by the devout to draw near to God.

    Perhaps readers who do not believe in God might find the difference quite minor, but the diversity of belief characteristic of Christians, and the divisions that arise between them, illustrate that little issues often serve as effective barriers to harmonious relationships.  The Lithians and ‘Scinnians have to work at getting along.

Three Little Words (January - early February 2006)

    This chapter took me about two weeks to compose, yet I found myself dissatisfied with its contents, it has been extensively re-written, and very nearly cut from the book altogether.  Most of the difficulty came out of the relationship between Brenna and Mariel.  Initially, I had them not getting along at all, but it seemed out of character for Brenna to hold a grudge and really rub it into Mariel’s face.  Likewise, Mariel is mature enough to realize that withholding information from Brenna would rightfully cause the Lithian woman to question Mariel’s motives.

    In my early adulthood, I had a number of “gun enthusiast” co-workers, friends and acquaintances.  Although I went shooting with them on many occasions, I found the activity rather uninteresting and don’t recall looking forward to our journeys up Angeles Forest Highway toward Palmdale, where we would go to camp and shoot.  But I do recall their emphasis on firearms safety, and the four rules I’ve included in the narrative were a mantra repeated until they became second nature.

    The qualification exam that Mariel goes through is loosely based upon the United States Marine Corps model.  Now, I’m terrible with a gun.  There’s something about cross eye dominance that makes accuracy with a rifle difficult and a shotgun virtually impossible.  While movies and television make shooting look easy, it’s a skill that requires practice to master, and some of us are naturally better at it than others.  Mariel is actually a pretty good shot, but she’s a long way from being expert.

    This brings me to Brenna.  According to a reader who knows more about this than I do, it’s a real stretch to write that a person who has never fired a rifle before could deliberately create a cloverleaf group at 100 yards on her first session, even using a bench rest.  After writing the scene I’d wanted to delete it, but my previewing readers thought it was “cute”, so I modified it a little and left it in.

    Urban combat has to rank as one of the most dangerous tasks a soldier can undertake.  Knowing how to survive requires experience, but gaining that experience comes with considerable risk.  Armies that train their forces how to respond in an urban combat environment will preserve lives; hence, I wanted Garrick to go through this exercise with some degree of success, yet leave room for lessons to be learned.  His response to Sergeant Vidders ranks as one of the few indications of immaturity I’ve included in the narrative.  Garrick still acts like a line soldier when he’s in combat, despite the beating he took at Cutthroat Pass, rather than an officer who commands men to act on his behalf.  It’s an instinctive thing for him.  However, the lessons he learns from this exercise impact his performance later on, so that it will read more realistically.

    By the time I reached this point in the narrative, I’d read the “soft core pornography” feedback from one of my readers and felt quite frustrated.  Striking a balance between keeping the narrative true to life while not offending more sensitive readers can be a difficult thing.  Now, if I were Garrick and I saw Brenna walking toward the cleaning pit, I’d pay attention to the way the wind rippled fabric across her body and I’d notice every detail.  This is a characteristically male response that may or may not become the subject of sexual fantasy depending on a wide range of factors.  Yet it seems that my sensualized descriptions distract some readers, who breeze through chapters in a few hours that take me a very long time to write, then complain that I’m writing erotica.  In truth, I hadn’t written about Garrick and Brenna for about six weeks by the time I got to this place in the story.

    But in an effort to ameliorate concerns about sexualizing Brenna, I glossed over the detail and simply stated that Garrick noticed the fabric rippling over her body and simply didn’t include any reference to breast, hips, thighs, nipples or hair.  I know that I’m bound to offend some people, no matter what I write, and while this remains my story, I want to be sensitive to the input of people whose judgment I trust.

A Prayer for the Living (February - March 2006)

    I faced a lot of decisions in beginning this chapter.  Part of me wanted Algernon to go into Northern Kameron alone, mostly because writing about four characters requires me to keep everyone engaged in the narrative somehow, and this is not something I feel that I do particularly well.

    In addition, describing a nation that has descended into civil war is not an easy task.  This is yet another instance where I’m writing about events with which I have no experience, and I found myself staring into the computer monitor for long periods of time, or brooding about what I wanted to write while the snow and rain fell beyond my window.  The undisciplined conduct of the Kamerese National Army, the incidences of murder and large scale atrocities, sullen refugees and corrupt army officials demanding bribes may read a little bit like in-depth news coverage.  These details exist merely to flesh out the milieu through which the characters move.

    This story has always been more about the characters who are involved with one another than the political situation in which they find themselves.  Hence,  I’ve spent a fair amount of energy describing the shifting dynamic between Algernon and Astrid, who becomes progressively more moody as she travels southward in search of Kira.  Jhiran, however, proved the most difficult character to sustain.  She evolved into someone who is far more complicated than I originally intended, yet her role in the narrative simply demands this kind of complexity.

    Many of the ideas I’d originally brainstormed for events in this chapter have been summarily discarded.  By the time I’d written about 20 pages, I genuinely worried that the story was going nowhere, so I came up with an outline that included several situations later omitted.  These included imprisonment, Kira escaping on one of the bikes, a formal beating at that hands of a Kamerese official, a confrontation between Astrid and Kira, and another one between Astrid and Algernon that simply didn’t fit once the story began moving along.

    I’d also wanted Algernon to go through the rest of the novel without having to fight again.  The scene with Iago on the road to Sleepy Hollow illustrates my intention, but by the time I finally got him to The Bloody Bucket, I couldn’t think of a way for him to compel Kira’s release, other than the threat of violence against Chale.  The fact that Algernon kills the assassin Enrique, then unceremoniously dumps his body back inside the bar is really the factor I thought Chale would respond to best.  Also, Chale’s order to Alano to kill Algernon and return Kira seemed to fit nicely into the character of a wicked man thinking he’s outsmarted a worthy adversary.  This also gave me the excuse to have Jawara play an important role in saving Algernon’s life, the fourth time this has been necessary in the story thus far.

    Some readers may find my decision to have Kira reject Astrid’s advances as cowardly, but this had been my intention from the start and thoughtful readers will have to admit that this has been carefully platformed.  The dynamic between Algernon, Kira and Astrid has long been the subject of my mental musings, but the details ended up being very different from the manner in which I’d imagined them initially.  There’s a little bit of Jean Paul Sartre, derived from his play, “No Exit”, in which Algernon likes Astrid, who loves Kira, but who has a platonic, sibling relationship with Algernon.  I’d thought that Kira might become interested in Jawara, but never pursued that concept.

    Since the main theme of this novel involves the relationships between the Ravenwood siblings, the scene I’ve written between Algernon and Kira at the end of this chapter really serves as the climax of the story.  I have no real experience from whence to draw wisdom in this situation either.  My relations with my sisters have certainly evolved over the years, and I have had some uncomfortable conversations (especially with Leilane, to whom this book is dedicated) concerning our relational dynamic, but nothing has ever come close to the emotional intensity of the ending scene I’ve written in this chapter.  It was very difficult to write!

Hurry Up and Wait (March - April 2006)

     Brenna’s musings about the conflict with Kameron resonated with readers to an extent genuinely surprised me.  This was another scene I’d intended to cut, but I heard from many of my previewing readers that their respect for Brenna’s thought processes increased as she mulled through the spiritual conflicts.  Although I’ve always considered Brenna a bright woman, the scene that opens this chapter really solidified her intellect in the minds of my previewing readers.  This dynamic came as a complete surprise to me.

    At this point, the earlier scene involving Brenna’s clothing exchange with Mariel should make sense, as should the idea of Lynden Velez having a means to rebuild his wealth.  I’d been toying with the idea of having gold, or some other valuable mineral discovered on the Velez estate, but I preferred the idea of high demand for undergarments because I’ve listened to my sisters, cousins, girlfriends and wife complain about their underwear for as long as I can remember.  (We men have issues with underwear, too, but our problems differ.)  It ties the Lithian light forges into the story and gives the Tamarian government very good reason to occupy the Velez estate first.

    While I’m not terribly proficient at developing complex political situations, many details carefully platformed earlier on make sense only in the light of Brenna discovering Lithian halters for sale in the boutique.  The previous exploration of the Tamarian garment industry, the link to the Fang family textile empire and the need to defend light forges on the Velez estate all come together in the simple act of Brenna buying a halter for her friend.

    The section dealing with preparations on the Velez estate and the conflicts occurring at the refugee camp did not satisfy me after I’d written the scenes, but deleting these would have made the later defense of the Velez compound harder to write.  In addition, this was another section that previewing readers asked me to keep intact.

    I’ve heard from actual veterans that military service often left them feeling exhausted.  Exam week at the end of each college term inspired a similar sense, along with a strong desire to simply get the ordeal done and over with, no matter what the final outcome.  Writing this into Garrick’s experience adds an element of realism to the narrative, and bringing him back into TAC Vogel’s office allowed me to write one of the “full circle” scenes that I enjoy composing.

    Just as Algernon has grown because of the situation in which he finds himself immersed, Garrick likewise has become much more of a man in the process of going through his officer’s training.  The fact that he openly challenges Mariel and reveals his suspicion that she’s more than just a linguist illustrates the extent to which his confidence has blossomed.  He’s moved from the insecure teen I described in The Edge of Justice into a young man who fully understands and accepts his role in the upcoming drama.

    This also leads him into a conflict with Brenna.  The trouble concerning the contrast in their religious / philosophical views comes to a head in this chapter, and Garrick has become certain enough of his value to her that he risks pushing her into an uncomfortable position in order to force a decision for commitment.  This would have been out of character earlier on in the story.  Though Brenna has a legitimate point in expressing irritation over his insistence that she make up her mind about him, Garrick rightly defends himself by outlining the fact that she has been baiting him for as long as they’ve known one another.

    Some readers didn’t wish to acknowledge this point and defended Brenna’s innocense, where others experienced an “I told you so!” moment of triumph.  It’s interesting for me to read comments from previewing readers concerning the evolution of Garrick’s relationship with Brenna, but no matter what perspective the men and women who read drafts of this chapter brought into it, every one of them remarked that the authenticity of communication between Garrick and Brenna ranks among the most compelling and interesting aspects of the entire story.

Deliverance (April - early May 2006)

    Much of what I’d been brainstorming for months became the glue that binds this chapter together.  The conflicts and conversations, especially between Jawara and Algernon, Algernon and Astrid, and Algernon and Kira fell into place quite easily because I’d been thinking so much about them.  I’d hoped that Kira’s revelation about her relationship with Astrid comes as a surprise, because even though I’d carefully platformed everything so that her response made sense, Kira would come across as exceedingly cold had I written this any other way.

    As is often the case, I had no experience to draw from when writing about Kira’s opium addiction.  I spent a lot of time researching the drug’s impact and withdrawal symptoms, but writing about how those symptoms actually occur in a character who is being rescued from a civil war turned out to be rather difficult!  Frustrated, I eventually joined a drug users’ discussion group and posted questions.  Someone named “Scoobie” was kind enough to help describe the frequency and duration of opium withdrawal.

    The relational dynamic between Algernon and Kira reflects the edgy, raw dynamic common among siblings who love each other but are not always nice to one another.  I didn’t want Kira to become some kind of substitute for Algernon’s affection, and I also had to keep Astrid involved in the story, so all of the tension between Astrid and Kira goes through Algernon, who acts as a kind of buffer between the two young women.

    Jawara’s value as a warrior comes through here for a couple of reasons.  He needed to have something to do, and I needed to platform the impact of the Lithian automatic rifle for the battle scenes at the end of the chapter.  I’ve grown a little tired of reading stories in which the likeable, heroic black man dies.  I wanted my likeable, heroic black man to be an integral part of the story.  Jawara’s calm wisdom in the spiritual realm serves as a nice contrast to Algernon’s raging doubts, and the maturity of the adult warrior makes for a kind of mentoring relationship that I enjoyed writing.

     If Northern Kameron sounds a lot like the coastal regions of Northern California, that’s because I drew much of the landscape, plant life and climate experience from my time living there.  My descriptions of the Velez estate, in particular, stem from the three years I lived on Howell Mountain in the northeastern part of the Napa Valley.

    Now the battle scenes at the end of this chapter are completely contrived.  For the first time in my writing experience, I didn’t use any historical examples as a model for what happens.

Reunion (May - early June 2006)

    Writing this chapter brought up many questions concerning how the Tamarian army would communicate in the field.  As Garrick’s role evolved from combat soldier to leader he transitioned rather awkwardly from someone accustomed to being in the thick of the fight, to the person managing the ebb and flow of combat.  This proved difficult to write at first, but I soon developed a feel for the way he would run his unit and the chapter flowed fairly quickly from that point forward.

    I had several ideas for which direction the conflict with the Navarro and Fang armies would move.  The ammunition and water shortages I’ve described were two possibilities, as well as a simple decline in morale to the point where the rebel soldiers simply refused to keep fighting.  I could have had Alexina perform another miraculous transformation of water to speed things up, but that seemed too much like the manner in which I’d taken care of Lord Fang in The Edge of Justice.  In the end, I decided to leave several possibilities in play, rather than focusing on a singular issue because I liked the impact of all this flux on the narrative.  The characters themselves don’t know how it’s going to end until it does!

    I’ve been told that the battle scenes in this chapter rank among the best I’ve ever written.  Some readers commented on the almost poetic imagery of whispering bullets, smoke and noise contrasting against grasses, trees and forces of life and found it astonishing that I could imagine all of this, having never experienced combat.  I think, however, that people actually involved in a firefight would have little opportunity to dwell on these kinds of things.  Later, a combat veteran from Operation Desert Storm told me that the reason it reads well is because I find the violence abhorrent, and I'm not trying to glorify combat.  I'll take those remarks as a compliment, as they resonate with my intentions.

    As Garrick leads his platoon deeper into rebel controlled territory, Brenna’s value and the esteem in which the men hold her rises.  This serves as a deliberate contrast to the way she’s viewed early in the story and should counterbalance some of the concerns expressed by previewing readers, who worried about the intense focus on Brenna’s appearance.  She, like every woman I know, is worth more than her physical appeal.  Besides, when she's stuffed into a armored vest and baggy pants, with her hair pulled back into a braid and hidden beneath a helmet, the attributes most likely to draw attention from men are less visible.  Combat vets tell me that once the action begins, gender doesn't matter.  Everyone has a job to do.  Survival and triumph over the enemy become the focus of concern.

    Garrick’s uncanny ability to lead a combat team and remain level-headed while the bullets fly contrast with his emotional vulnerability.  My first draft of the scene with Lord Navarro included cold-hearted threats against life and mistreatment that really offended by previewing readers.  Many readers expressed outrage that Garrick would resort to such behavior, but I’d thought his manner an appropriate outgrowth of an inexperienced commander who did not know how to handle the evolving situation.  Opposition to this was so universally intense, however, that I completely re-wrote the scene.

Home (June - early July 2006)

    I planned a trip to California to attend my best friend’s wedding.  That fact gave me strong motivation to finish the book, and also put me under pressure to wrap everything up.  A few conflicts remained unresolved, and I really needed to get Algernon, Kira and Astrid back to Marvic so that their story could actually end.

    After I’d finished writing, I mulled over the story on my long drive to Los Angeles with a greater degree of satisfaction than had been the case when The Edge of Justice came to its conclusion.  However, the emotional “let down” of completing such an intensely consuming project haunted me for several weeks after my return to British Columbia.

    The senseless nature of death in modern combat is deliberately contrasted with a sense of divine purpose in this chapter.  While the people of faith view the outcome of their struggle with the rebels in terms of fulfilling God’s will, Garrick understands the same events in terms of flesh, blood and bullets prevailing.  Just as Brenna affirmed her commitment to Garrick earlier on, he affirms his commitment to her, despite their differences, in light of her behavior during the impromptu worship service described in the narrative.  The fact that he does this really underscores his deep love for the woman.

    For Astrid, the pain of unrequited love finds resolution in her return, but for Algernon, the ache in his heart remains an open wound.  However, when he encounters Marie again he does so not with the ardor and longing he previously experienced, because now Algernon has a better understanding of what love really is.  He does a very mature thing in letting Astrid go, but he also has regained the love and respect of his twin sister.  For these two siblings, romantic love will have to wait for another time.