LTUE

I had a great time this weekend. I was able to attend all of the LTUE symposium. I went last year and it is what truly motivated me to pick up my writing again. This year I was re-motivated once again. That and I got a lot of books to read.

I was really impressed with all of the guest speakers. I will say that I liked Brandon Sanderson before this weekend but my impression of him has increased exponentially. I am also a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and I have often wondered what it would be like to be in the limelight. There was a panel on being Mormon and writing science fiction and fantasy. His view on it was so neat and I hope that if I ever have to step into the limelight I am able to present myself with such self-confidence and stay fast to my standards. He is a hero of mine.

The rest of the symposium was great as well. I learned a lot about what I was doing right in regards to my writing and what I need to improve. I recommend LTUE for anyone interested in writing or even interested in reading. I had a whole entourage with me this year, not all of them are writers but everyone enjoyed it. LTUE is simply awesome.

*Free Time

Intro: Where do the mentor figures go when they leave the hero?

The wizard Penderton slapped his forehead, reapplying the red mark often found there. His crystal ball showed the new polished armor of Prince Wilbur gleaming in the sunlight as the young man turned the map upside down in confusion.

“Drat that boy. Can't he do anything on his own?”

Penderton stared longingly at his stack of manuscripts and the plush armchair. He grumbled roughly, “If he doesn't get moving the next group is going to catch up,” as he snapped his fingers and the homey library melted into a grassy field.

Snatching up the nearest stick, Penderton walked briskly until Wilbur came into view. He switched from the practical pace to his perfected hobble as he approached the prince. Still engrossed in the wrong portion of the map, Penderton's raspy cough caught Wilbur's attention.

“Wizard? Where did you come from? Glad you're here old man.” Wilbur looked at Penderton confused, “What is that red mark on your forehead?”

Penderton cut him off with a wave and pointed shakily with his stick in the right direction. Wilbur nodded and asked the familiar question, “Can't you come?”

Penderton shook his head as he thought longingly of his chair and manuscripts back in the warm sanitary tower. He waited until Wilbur was out of sight before dropping the dirty stick and rubbing his hands on his robes trying to clean them. He gave happy chuckle as he snapped himself back to his tower knowing he had some more free time.

Penderton watched the prince in the crystal ball for only a moment before picking up the latest manuscript and settling into the chair.

Several hours later, an alarm sounded and Penderton ignored it just long enough to finish the page he was on. As he hauled himself out of the chair, he mentally cursed how well his business was doing and how it was cutting into his reading. He moved back to the crystal ball and slapped his forehead in agitation.

Wilbur was dancing around the dragon waving his sword wildly. Penderton pursed his lips surprised the prince didn't injure himself and watched the short battle. After the dragon's tail disappeared into the cave, Penderton moved to the table to write the letter that would be sent to Wilbur's parents.

He dipped his quill into the ink and completed the form quickly.

Congratulations/Condolences (circle one)
Your son/daughter _____________ has won/died.
We apologize for any concern you might have.
Thank you for your business.
(No refunds available.)
Wizard Penderton's School for Heroes.
New applicants welcomed.

Penderton stuffed it in an envelope, sealed it with wax, and put it in the mailbox so it could be delivered the next morning. Penderton was grateful he wouldn't have to divert the stable boy coming behind Wilbur to another monster. He checked on the other adventurers to make sure they weren't dead or lost. Penderton turned his warning siren to silence and decided to take the rest of the evening off.

Flight of Fancy

After only six months I am racking my brain for something to write about. How pathetic, really. So instead I am going to put a picture here that I entered in a fantasy/sci-fi conference.I had a lot of fun trying to get the coloring right in photoshop. I know it is pretty cheesy but at least it is eye catching. You probably can’t tell that I have been taking an art class for more than a year and a half. Although I do say I am better at oil painting than photoshop. But not by too much.

Have I Done Any Good?

Two weeks ago in my weekly church meeting we sang a song entitled "Have I Done Any Good?" The song is lovely with a message about helping the people around us.

Chorus:
"Then wake up and do something more
Than dream of your mansion above.
Doing good is a pleasure, a joy beyond measure,
A blessing of duty and love."

However when I sing that song I am not reminded to help others. I am in fact reminded about the joys of sleep.

My older sister started high school while I was still in elementary. Every morning my family would try and have family prayer before we all went our different directions. Since my sister left with my dad right after the prayer to go to school, she was always the first child up and trying to get the rest of us moving so she would be on time.

My sister is a very good singer. She can also be a very loud singer. She came up with a song that she would use to convince us we really did want to get up in the morning if only to stop her.

"So wake up and do something more
than dream of your bed so warm.
Sleeping in is a pleasure,
a joy beyond measure.
A lesson in beauty sleep and love."

Having heard almost every school day for at least a year I can never quite seem to sing the hymn correctly.

My sister's singing was contagious and one of the rules that developed from our enthusiasm was that we weren't allowed to sing at the dinner table. I can't even remember why we would sing at the dinner table but that rule was often mentioned and the guilty party would then fall silent.