A New Home for The People of Azorea (And I don't mean Earth.)

Hi All,

As you have probably guessed, I have a new website and blog location that I will be posting to.  This blog will remain and maybe I'll throw a post on here occasionally, but my new site will be my permanent home.  Please visit us Here.

The Smallest Pipe Band Ever!

Here we go.  Uh, you guys coming?  Okay, I'll just keep going then?  Uh, ok.  

Hey, you guys aren't pipers.  Where's the band?  Oh it's just me?  Hmmm.

Well at least I can have this flag in my sporran,  heh, heh.  

Band! By the Center, Quick March!  Oh wait, I'm talking to myself again, never mind just keep going.  The sound of the drones and then the beautiful skirl of the pipes.  Hey, wait a minute, my pipes don't Skirl.  You're thinking of those other guys.  That's right,

SKIRL: A shrill, wailing sound, especially that of bagpipes.  Oxford Dictionary

Hmmm, that doesn't sound very pleasant, must have been coined by an Englishman.  Try this:

SKIRL: The soulful music that lifts a person to transcendent heights and provides healing balm for the bereaved soul.   PiperBob Dictionary

Yes, much better.  Anyway, there I was marching down the street with my Jacobite shirt and kilt, sporting a beautiful set of Naill bagpipes, engraved I might add.  Oh the grandeur of it all; the women fainting (not sure why that was, could be my forgetting to shower that morning); the children running in panic, screaming for aid.  The farm animals restlessly pawing the earth desperate for peace (I love it when that happens).  All this as I strut forth plying my trade and filling the air with the melodious strains of "Scotland the Brave", "Green Hills of Tyrol", "Rocking the Baby", okay that last one wasn't as traditional but it still rocks.  

I marched and marched at a grueling pace for almost a quarter mile.  What a sight, what a rock of Gibraltar.  The manliness, the sheer grit, and that was just the asphalt.  With every step, the crowd undulating and screaming their acclamation, "Give it a rest", "Get a job", "Is that a kilt or a dress?".   Ah yes, they loved it.  Seldom does one receive such useful counsel from strangers.  Their wishes and heartfelt suggestions touched me.  I could feel the emotion welling up, much like a well digested round of curry.  

I cast a loving glance to my ardent admirers only to see most were absent.  That's right, there were only a few brave souls huddled in the fetal position with their fingers in their ears, obviously so overcome by the beauty of my music that it rendered them helpless to their pent up emotions.  Where were the crowds?  

Then the thought came to me, 

"Your's is a solitary life.  Few can appreciate the symphony that you present.  Let the swine feast on their tripe of mediocrity, you're strains are meant for loftier patrons."  

Maybe That's why Pipers play in the cemetery.   No matter, it was an honor to serve these poor teaming masses.  I was again reminded why I do it all: it's for them.  Viva la Pipe!

     On the advice of a local publisher, I took a hard look at the finished manuscript for The Piper of the Glen. I found some startling errors. The writing process has been a difficult learning path. It's hard for me to cut portions of the book that may appeal to me but do not add value to the story. I had to take the book into the operating room and surgically remove things that held the reader back.

Unreadable Dialog 

      For example, Though I love the ethnic dialect of Scotland, trying to reproduce it via the written word was a huge mistake. Misspelling words to try to duplicate the Scottish inflections merely slowed the reader down. I found myself struggling as I reread the text. I came to the realization that I could still convey the feel and flavor of the Scottish brogue without making it sound like Rabbie Burns himself had written the story. By simply interjecting a word like "no'" in place of "not", the same purposes were achieved. For example:
 "Ach, keep yer heed doon lad, I'll no' tell ye agin".

      It's a distraction trying to sort out the words of this sentence. The same feel can be achieved in a simpler form, as follows.
 "Ach, keep your head down, I'll no' tell you again." 

     The sentence structure itself helps to provide the feel and rhythm of the highlands. Anyway, after learning this lesson I corrected all the dialog in my manuscript and the flow was greatly improved, but there were still other log jams to clear.

Useless Information 

     There were a lot of useless things cluttering up the body of the manuscript, for example, I spent a great deal of time talking about the political struggles and bureaucracy of the Azorean culture. Why they were at war, what their power infrastructure entailed, etc... Unfortunately, no one gave a rat's behind about any of that and it did nothing to further the story. I axed all of it.

     One of the main things I had a hard time resolving was how could an advanced civilization like the Azoreans, arrive on Earth and be using rudimentary swords, bows and arrows. Initially I tried a lengthy explanation about how their civilization was science oriented and that they were a peaceful society with that had not known war. I explained that with the destruction of their planet they were caught off guard and could not develop modern weaponry fast enough. It took pages and pages to explain and the reader was forced to wade through this diatribe before continuing the story. Like being at an exciting movie and having some narrator provide a boring explanation just as the heroin was about to vanquish her foe. It took the readers out of the story. I still had to resolve the problem, but I realized I had to find a brief, non intrusive way to do it. The final solution was deceptively simple. I just destroyed their weapons bay when the transports were hit with the planet's final explosion. The blast destroyed their propulsion systems, why couldn't it get rid of their weapons at the same time? Too Convenient? Perhaps, but at least the reader can be on with the story, and it's believable... well as believable as any of this can be.

     So, on it went. I continued my surgery on the story and when I was done, almost ten full chapters lay strewn on the floor. I had a leaner and more manageable version of the story. And so Azorea, The Piper of the Glen, fourth Edition was born. I felt bad for all those who had purchased my earlier versions, but I suppose that is all part of the creative process.

   Where to from here? 

      I have replaced all versions available on line and am now moving on. I have made excellent progress on the second installment of the series. I actually changed the name in an effort to get away from the "Piping" emphasis. The second installment will be called "Azorea, The Maid of Braemore" and will recount the tragic true historical account of Helen Gunn the only daughter of Lachlan Gunn Who on her wedding eve was kidnapped and her fiance brutally murdered by Dugald Kieth of clan Kieth. This event sparked a 500 year feud between the Kieths and the Gunns which ended as recently as 1998. I obviously take quite a bit of literary licence here, because I interject my Azoreans into key roles in the story, thus changing the flavor and slant of the event. I have also used fictitious clan names to avoid any possible offences. It continues to be quite an exciting adventure to lay down on paper. I hope to have this book completed in the next few months. I will update the blog with more as the time draws closer. Til then, happy writing.