Sarah Barnard

Magical Portals, Spaceships and flying cars….

Before Sam did this, she wrote to Kate.

From Child of the Portal.

Child of the PortalShe let herself flow outwards, seeking the still torn areas of land and allowing her essence to fill and heal them. With her last remaining breath Sam flung out a farewell to those she felt closest to and all the magic she had taken from others or imposed on anyone was returned or negated. She felt a moment of regret that Kate was almost deaf and blind to the magic and with the Portals sealed she couldn’t reach her. She should have told Kate. Then she simply let go. She willingly let go of the pain, of the turmoil, of all uncertainty. She relinquished her hold on memories both good and bad. As part of the deal she also let go of her heartbeat, of breathing. She let go of living. That which had been Sam spread out across the realm like oil on water until it was so thin it was no longer anything. Her body rested quietly at the foot of the tree and the final breath sighed from her open lips into the grass.

As she made her choice to take this path, Sam wrote to Kate, and to Lily. She wrote it in secret, hid it from all other eyes, and left it for the Naiad to find after she left the glade for the last time.

Elder handed the document to Lily as she left Talamathir after Gentian’s daughter was born.

Later, Elder tugged Lily to one side, away from Kate and Susan and pulled her into the yurt that Elder shared with Drummer. “I had forgotten that I kept this for you. The Naiad found it on the day your daughter died and then you took her before we could give it to you.”

“And then I brought chaos to you again and it was forgotten.” Lily took the offered roll of paper and held it lightly in her hands. “I understand, Elder, I really do. Thank you for keeping it safe.”

Elder nodded as she laid a warm hand gently on Lily’s arm and squeezed softly before walking to the door, leaving Lily with the paper in her hands. She let it rest there, curious but reluctant to look inside. Lily swallowed and slid off the plaited threads binding the paper. She opened it and read the first few lines.

“Wait,” Lily called as Elder put her hand on the door to close it as she left. “I’ll take this home and read it later. I think I need to be alone and with time to deal with what’s in here. And I suspect Kate needs to read it too. Do you want it back?”

“No, it is not mine, it was left for you.” Elder smiled, a warm sad smile.

Broken promises is that document, Sam’s story, and it’s coming to an ereader and bookshelf near you soon.

Broken Promises

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Always winter….

The snow is thick across the garden, the kids had an day off school on Friday and have been having a great time with snow sculptures in various forms, snowball fights and generally not having to go to school – an extra day of weekend is always a bonus. A sledging accident left us grateful that nothing was broken, just bruising and a limp for a while.

It’s not looking like school will re-open on Monday. But homework has been done just in case, and uniform is ready.

There are birds fighting over the pile of seeds, meal worms and scraps on and around the bird table. The path outside is icy and the wind bites through several layers and leaves you so cold it burns.

Reminds me of a book I wrote….

Child of the Portal WebpicA handful of snow flew in a smooth arc through the air and landed squarely on his back, powder shattering in a spray around him. With a roar he whirled, slipping in the snow and falling to sit in the deep drift, snow flying up to cover him. He scooped up a double handful of snow and flung it towards the tree he knew she hid behind, missing her as she ran from him, laughing as her feet kicked up loose snow behind her. His second snowball hit a branch as she ducked under it, shedding its white covering and showering her with snow which shed a sparkling spray as she shook out dark curls and ran on, easily outpacing him, weaving through the trees until she burst from cover and onto the deeply white meadow. Then she slowed, wading through thigh-deep drifts until she found the path they’d dug out earlier in the day and even that was filling with fresh flakes falling in thick sheets. She raced for the huge, heavy doors with him in pursuit, snow flying from both sets of feet. She could hear his boots thundering closer and she knew it would be close but she just squeezed through as he caught up. He threw a heavy arm round her shoulders and rubbed snow into her neck. Read More…

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What is it?

What is it? This brightness that sears through the mist. As the day ended yesterday the landscape was closed, sealed from view in cotton white mist. We walked in the clouds and felt the rain cling to us before falling the short distance to earth where it left a sheen that belied the grubbiness.

It wasn’t raining, not really, but the air was thick and heavy, wet. Chill crept into bones while we spoke of how mild it was, for the time of year. It’s January, it should be colder, and we’re walking around with coats undone and complaining it’s too mild.

But our bones are chilled, our marrow crushed.

We slept; too cold, too warm, can’t get comfy. We dreamed dreams so deep and so clear that we weren’t sure when we woke. Were we still dreaming? Are we still dreaming?

Today, the Solar spotlight throws all into crystal razor-sharp clarity that stabs through the brain when gazed on for more than a moment.

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New Years Eve – Goodbye 2012.

What a year…. 2012. The year I moved from a decent sized market town close to a city, to a small village in the middle of nowhere. A year of upheavals and changes that turned life upside down and gave it a damned good shake until all sorts of rubbish fell out.

I made new friends, changed old friendships and, I suspect, lost a few along the way too. Those who care made the effort, and are worth the effort of maintaining a long distance friendship.

I lost my chickens, had to leave them behind. I lost my garden, just as I was about to start thinking about the coming Spring. I gained a garden untouched by any form of real cultivation in years – and swimming in a torrential downpour for much of the last year so it remains untouched.

Our last guinea pig died, very peacefully of old age.

Earthlink: Impact was released just before we moved, and The Heir just after.

So many emotional ups and downs, and we lived every second of them all. We found new places to walk in the trees, play in rivers, build castles on the beach.

I revisited the Naiad’s water and found it dramatically changed. I found Lily’s oak tree, less than 5 minutes from my new home.

And then, in the dying days of 2012 I found I can write funny and started something new… if I can stop giggling long enough to finish it.

Also had an idea that might take me away from writing for a while, but I’ll be back.

2012, a proper mixture. Ranging from sheer terror to such a feeling of happy satisfaction, through that thrill of excitement as a new idea takes root.

Thank you, 2012 for one hell of a ride. Already looking forward to exciting things happening in 2013.

I hope that you have a fabulous 2013, riding on the tails of a wonderful 2012.

See you all on the other side….

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Christmas Blog Hop

Tag, you’re it….

I’ve been tagged by J Lawrence (blog link) (Amazon Author page)

What is the title of your latest book?

Let’s see, the last book I released was the short story: The Heir, a prequel to my Portal Series. I have another prequel with the editing team aimed for release next year. But, The Heir was the last one and therefore the latest.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

The HeirI wrote the main Portal books first and I had readers asking me why, and how, certain events happened. The beginnings of a character, even if off the page initially, are critical to their behaviour and reactions as an adult.

I had the back story in notes, from about half way through the second book – and most of it came from one of those mad conversations with a friend where we bounced around the room sparking ideas off the walls. You know the sort of conversation where one of you says, “What if….” and a whole new universe of possibilities opens up. That was where The Heir came from. Read More…

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A misty morning.

I was always going to take part in NaNoWriMo.

I wasn’t ever going to take part in NaNoWriMo.

Then November arrived and I couldn’t help myself, I started writing.  Real life and other demands ate up all my days and I stopped after a few days. The story wasn’t working as I’d hoped, and it was all too easy to become distracted.

Monday was a day shrouded in mist, filled with steady drizzle, and I had to go out in it. There comes a point when the shopping has to be done, regardless of the weather or other concerns. That point was reached when I could see the end of the milk in sight! I need milk for tea, and the cupboards were looking more and more bare.

As often happens while driving, descriptions began to flow. Words tend to choose to flow with such eloquence when you’re incapable of recording them.

It was a day when the world shrank, encased in mist and rain, to a narrow view where the mountains vanished.

The valley was still beautiful.

Tiny, shimmering droplets of water clung to the long fur on her tail, held over her head for shelter.

I’m still not convinced I’ll make the NaNo deadline with the required number of words, but I’m writing and that misty valley has me gripped. I can see it in my mind, I can smell it.

What do you think? 5,000 words a day and I might just scrape over the finish line.

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Happy Birthday Elois.

It’s not NaNoWriMo. I think I’ll call it NoNoNaNo! If I was taking part in NaNoWriMo then I’d be around 600 words behind schedule.

NaNoWriMo 2012Elois liked to sit with her back to the stove, not because it was warm, but because it faced the kitchen door and if the door was left open she could look outside as she ate. Her place was set neatly, but her bowl was already full, even though the porridge was still cooking. Small packages spilled over the top and Elois’ father grinned at her, as her mother arrived carrying an armful of larger gifts.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” Mari Young’s hair was as wild as Elois’ mad curls, but there were a few grey hairs in the riot that fell below her shoulders. She let the parcels down gently onto the table and swept Elois into her arms. Read More…

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Still not doing NaNoWriMo.

I’m still not doing NaNo, but I’m still writing insanely fast. It just happens to be November.

Beyond the side door was a path that wound along the side of the house, past the stone forge and finally curved off between the trees.

The wood pile was stacked against the side of the forge, where her dad would be working later in the day. He had a set of horseshoes to make for their own pony and Briony Fitzwilliam had a new set of harness parts ordered. Briony would barter for good leather, Elois hoped there would be enough for warm winter boots.

A large square of strong canvas with leather handles, the lugger, was hanging beside the door. Elois piled the lugger with as many logs as she could carry and took them indoors to stack by the stove. It was going to be a beautiful day once the mist lifted. For now though, the trees were shrouded in grey and the air was damp and cold. Hanging the lugger back by the door, Elois gazed down the length of the valley until the river curved out of sight. The mist hung low, hiding the trees but leaving the top of the ridge clear and bright. The other houses were half hiding in the grey, shadows with no colour.

“Going to be a nice day.”

Elois jumped as a large hand fell on her shoulder and a voice spoke in her ear. “Sorry, did I make you jump?”

Kyt Young was a big man. Not tall, but solid from working his blacksmith’s forge. His voice was soft and he moved quietly, often able to sneak up on both his children, which caused him great amusement. Elois turned to glare at her father but his happy grin and shining grey eyes couldn’t allow her to be angry for long. Calloused hands gripped her shoulders, his heavy arm draped across her shoulders. “You’ll be taller than me soon,” he mused softly.

“But not wider,” Elois giggled as she leaned on him.

“Cheeky!” He mock cuffed her across the top of her head. “Happy Birthday, El.” He pushed her to arms length and studied her with a smile. “You’re growing up so fast.”

A large drop of water landed on the path, staining dark on the stone.

“I thought you said it’d be a nice day?” Elois shook her head as another drop hit, and then another. More came, gathering momentum until the rain obscured their view.

“It will be, once the rain washes away the mist.” That was Kyt, always seeing the positive, always hoping for better. “Thank you for getting the wood in.” He moved away, leaving Elois gazing at the rain. The ground beneath the trees would be soaked again. The mud would suck at her boots and she’d wanted to go and explore the ridge she’d found beyond the gully. If the rain kept up at this pace there’d be no crossing the gully today, or even tomorrow.

This one is aimed as a book for older children, confident readers, or young adults. Not that I’m counting, but the wordcount is ahead of NaNo day 3 target, if I was doing it, which I’m not….

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I’m not doing NaNo.

I’m not. I said I wouldn’t and I’m not. I just happen to be writing very fast, during November. If I happen to make it close to the 50k word mark towards the end of the month then I might consider validating.

In the meantime, I thought I’d share some of what I’m writing. Not every day, but most days, while NaNo is on. I told you about NaNo here.

NaNoWriMo 2012The house was warm and cosy. The bed was far too comfy and the curtains closed against the dark. Sunlight would filter softly through the fabric in a couple of hours and it was Elois Young’s twelfth birthday. She rolled onto her back, gazing at the fabric draped across the room, hiding the stained metal ceiling. She didn’t remember much about the crossing, only the bright lights that hurt her eyes when she woke from her long sleep and it being chaos getting everyone into the right places for landing.

That had been three years ago and on some days Elois still longed to return to old Earth, where the lights were bright all day and all night and the noise was constant. She reached to push tangled, brown curls away from her eyes. The air felt cooler, the seasons were changing again, turning to Autumn.

A thump was followed by the rattle of something falling across the roof above.

“Stupid ’Corns!” Elois muttered, not daring to shout this early in the morning. If she woke anyone too early they’d be grumpy all day. She stretched out a hand to twitch the curtains. Still mostly dark and the night sky outside was scattered with the last of the night’s bright stars. They were beginning to fade as the night lifted and dawn approached. She let the curtain drop back into place and wriggled back under the blankets, trapping warmth and hoping for a while longer before she had to get up.

“Elois!” her father called. “Your turn to do the fire.”

She groaned. “Yes, Dad.” Rolling to the edge of the bed, she eased a leg out and brushed against the floor. Cold. She lurched to the side of the bed, groping for slippers to slide her feet into. Not warm enough. Dragging a blanket with her, she rummaged in a drawer for socks. Once her feet felt warmer, Elois pulled on layers of clothing.

A small passage from yesterday’s writing. Elois is a first lander colonist on a new world. Her family shipped out when she was nine years old and I’m exploring her new home with her.

Wordcount is currently at approx 2100.

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Psst…. wanna write a book?

NaNoWriMo 2005 The first day of November, 2005, only just past midnight. My very first NaNo challenge began.

Seven Novembers have passed since then and I’ve entered into the madness every year without fail. I’ve also won, every year, without fail. It’s one heck of a achievement. From those seven Novembers I’ve produced four published books.

Wait, what’s NaNo?

Take a look here. Go on, I’ll wait. It opens in a new tab so I’ll be here for you to come back. Read More…

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