Tag Archives: words

An Apology for an Absence

Good Morning One & All,

On Saturday, we had a large party to celebrate my dad’s 50th birthday. He had no idea and was greatly surprised to see friends & family gathered there. The biggest surprise was that among these cherished guests was his cousin from Australia!

They’ve only met once before but they have such a great bond. My uncle’s staying with us until April 12th, so I don’t have much time to do any of my editing or usual blogging / Twittering routines.

So my apologies everyone. I won’t be very responsive for the next few days. But come April 13th, I’ll be putting in my best effort to get caught up.

With that said: have a beautiful week! Best of luck with all your goals. I wish you good health and much happiness.

See you on the 13th 🙂

May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith quill-ink


Camp NaNoWriMo | Day One

Good Evening Everyone,

Today marks day 1 of Camp NaNoWriMo. I haven’t been able to devote as much time to my edits as I wanted to today, because this weekend my family is hosting a big party that requires a lot of preparation. It’ll make it difficult to set aside the time I want to until Monday, but I’ll steal whatever time I can get. I managed to reach the end of my Prologue at least. All 1,883 words of it!

My big focus this time around is on finding the bothersome sections and marking down my reasons for them: plot holes, repetitious, not enough conflict, unnecessary scenes, even lines that just seem off in terms of language.

I’m also making general notes on character and plot development from scene to scene to be sure that there are no plot holes, enough development, enough foreshadowing, etc.

There’s a lot to do, but I want to do it well.

Here are just a few pictures of my writing station pre-edits which also provide a few small snippets from my prologue if you take a close enough look. It also gives a glimpse of my series title 🙂




I’ll post more tomorrow before the party!

Best of luck with your writing pursuits this weekend.

If you’re participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this April, then I wish you all the luck in achieving your goals 🙂

May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith quill-ink

Wordly Wise Wednesday | Zwieback

Hi everyone,

It’s evening here! I didn’t mean to be late but it’s been one of those weeks. Long hours at the office means little time for anything but reading and vegging when I get home. I’m hoping to do some writing before I head to bed tonight, but we’ll see how that pans out.

In the meantime, here’s a small WWW. I didn’t want another week to go by without doing a proper one.


n. (SWEE – back)

  1. a usually sweetened bread enriched with eggs that is baked and then sliced and toasted until dry and crisp


In ages past, keeping food fresh for any length of time required a lot of ingenuity, especially when one needed to carry comestibles on a long journey. One of the solutions people came up with for keeping bread edible for traveling was to bake it twice, thereby drying it and slowing the spoiling process. The etymology of zwieback reflects this baker’s trick; it was borrowed from a German word that literally means “twice baked.” Nowadays, zwieback is not just used as a foodstuff—the texture of the dried bread makes zwieback a suitable teething device for infants. Incidentally, other twice-baked goods whose origins reflect that fact include biscuit and biscotti, both of which come from phrases meaning “twice-cooked bread.”

The first day without Greta was the hardest.

She had always known what I needed before I even realized that I needed anything at all. Whether it was packing an extra pair of boots the morning after the Rains, knowing that mine would be worn out before the day’s end or preparing an extra batch of zwieback to last me on a week-long journey to the next county’s market. 

I had never fully appreciated how dependent I was on her love and care until the morning I woke up and realized that I would need to care for myself.

And so I went through the day, without my sister, without my twin, and understood for the first time, what it was to feel empty inside.

The first night was harder still. There was no voice to lull me to sleep, no one to soothe me when the nightmare of our parents’ death crept through my sleeping mind. 

I daren’t close my eyes and face the darkness alone and so I paced through the house. I searched through every nook that I could uncover for no better reason than to distract my distraught mind.

In a cabinet in the kitchen, I found pack of zwieback, enough to last me fourteen days. 

Greta had always known what I would need without me ever needing to ask. But somehow, she had not realized that the thing I needed most was her.


May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith  quill-ink

© 2016. Faith Rivens.


Wordly Wise Wednesday | Just the Words

Hi all,

I’m kind of cheating with today’s WWW, only because I haven’t been feeling great recently. My head’s a little groggy and my ability to write stories is…questionable. So today I’ve chosen three words to share. Feel free to write a story with them, if inspiration strikes and just send me a link if you do so I can check it out 🙂


n. (NIM-rahd)

  1. Hunter
  2. Idiot; jerk


“Great hunter,” 1712, a reference to the biblical son of Cush, referred to (Gen. x:8-9) as “a mighty hunter before the Lord.”

It came to mean “geek, klutz” by 1983 in teenager slang, for unknown reasons. (Amateur theories include its occasional use in “Bugs Bunny” cartoon episodes featuring rabbit-hunting Elmer Fudd as a foil; its possible ironic use, among hunters, for a clumsy member of their fraternity; or a stereotype of deer hunters by the non-hunting population in the U.S.)


adj. (mahr-MOR-ee-ul)

  1. Of, relating to, or suggestive of marble or a marble statue especially in coldness or aloofness


“Resembling marble,” 1798, from Latin marmoreus “of marble,” from Latin marmor, from Greek marmaros “marble, gleaming stone,” of unknown origin, perhaps originally an adjective meaning “sparkling,” which would connect it with marmairein “to shine.

  • -al suffix forming adjectives from nouns or other adjectives, “of, like, related to, pertaining to,” Middle English -al, -el, from French or directly from Latin -alis


n. (WILL-ih-waw)

  1. a sudden violent gust of cold land air common along mountainous coasts of high latitudes OR a sudden violent wind
  2. a violent commotion


In 1900, Captain Joshua Slocum described williwaws as “compressed gales of wind … that Boreas handed down over the hills in chunks.” To unsuspecting sailors or pilots, such winds might seem to come out of nowhere—just like word williwaw did some 170 years ago. All anyone knows about the origin of the word is that it was first used by writers in the mid-1800s to name fierce winds in the Strait of Magellan at the southern tip of South America. The writers were British, and indications are that they may have learned the word from British sailors and seal hunters. Where these sailors and hunters got the word, we cannot say.

All information above provided by Merriam-Webster Dictionary and Online Etymology Directory.

May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith  quill-ink


Wordly Wise Wednesday | Plethora

Hello all,

After a week’s hiatus, WWW returns with a word inspired by Mollie at Mollie’s Musings. She mentioned that it was one of her favourite words and I agree! It’s such a fun word to say. If you haven’t already, I recommend that you go check her out at her blog HERE!

Now to our word of the week:


n. pleth·o·ra \ˈple-thə-rə\

  1. a very large amount or number : an amount that is much greater than what is necessary (i.e. excess, superfluity, profusion, abundance…)
  2. medical: a bodily condition characterized by an excess of blood and marked by turgescence and a reddish complexion


1540s, a medical word for “excess of body fluid,” from Late Latin plethora, from Greek plethore “fullness,” from plethein “be full”.

Figurative meaning “too-muchness, overfullness in any respect” is first recorded 1700.

I followed him down the elongated staircase. It was a steep descent, but we were neither of us challenged by the arduous path to a most exquisite treasure.

He extended a hand as we reached the end. I did not take it. He smirked and strode on without a word.

It was a well-lit cove that we entered, the floor dry despite the river meandering along rocky ground.

He tread a well-known path, and I followed. The darkness did not encumber us. Our eyes were better suited to the obscurity. Light would hinder us.

A jade door impeded our journey. Without a knob or a keyhole, it presented no familiar means of opening.

Navarine stooped beside the water and extended a hand beneath the surface.

An audible click resounded and the jade door rose up, emitting a grinding sound that echoed harmoniously through my ears.

He rose again and our eyes met.

His orbs boasted a pale gold flecked with magenta, glittering in that moment with whimsical fancy. Giddy.

It was an infectious sentiment that billowed in the depths of my own soul. My craving was a potent poison, coursing through me, filling me with want.

The jade door slid once more into place in our wake, the note of its final closing resounding through the narrow chamber that we now trespassed through.

The space we traveled through grew ever tighter as we progressed, a chill settling around us.

For the first time, my hear fluttered with an anxious energy. I was not afraid, but my excitement was no longer pure. It was blemished by a doubt that the promise he had made would not be honoured. My hand crept beneath my cloak, to find the dagger resting against my hip. It brought little comfort to my agitated mind.

Navarine came to a halt then and turned to face me. Those eyes, so piercing, so captivating, met mine. 

“We are here.”

A passage opened in the wall and he led me into the vault. The sight that greeted us overwhelmed my senses.

The plethora of books filled every inch of the space available, leaving little room for maneuvering.

“And these are…?”

He nodded once and reached for the nearest tome. It fell open to reveal printed words, unblemished, untarnished.

I took it from him and ran a hand delicately over the page. It had been three years since last I had held a book in my hands.

My heart beat quicker, my breath catching in my throat. Emotions whelmed inside and I allowed the tears to descend, to reveal to him the extent of my gratitude.

“This is not the only one. There are others.”


He nodded once, his eyes conveying a solemn promise. “We will not let the bastards destroy them.” He gestured at the books. “We are their guardians. You may join us, if you wish.”

“Yes,” I declared without hesitation. This was my purpose. My destiny.


May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith  quill-ink

© 2016. Faith Rivens.



Wordly Wise Wednesday | Rapscallion

Hello and welcome to another Wordly Wise Wednesday!

I don’t much to say in introduction, except that I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read and comment on these. I hope you’re still enjoying these posts. I am!

Have a lovely Wednesday 🙂


n. (rap-SKAL-yun)

  1. Rascal; ne’er-do-well


The word rascal has been part of English since the 15th century, but on its own it apparently didn’t quite capture the disagreeable nature of the wily knaves of yore. By the 17th century, English speakers had modified rascal to create rascallion. But it seems that even that term didn’t sound quite mischievous enough. By the century’s end, rascallion had been further altered to create rapscallion. Today, rapscallion is still commonly used as a synonym for blackguard, scoundrel, and miscreant. Rascallion is still around as well, but it’s very rare.

Info comes via Merriam Webster Dictionary

 The window looked higher up at night than it had that morning. And was it just his imagination, or did the tree look less solid than it had a few hours ago too.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered under his breath. It was true too. He wasn’t young and spry as he once had been. Age had worn away his muscular form, leaving him thinner and feebler. He wouldn’t accept it, though.

That’s why he was standing there now, in the darkness of the evening, the moonlight concealed by ominous clouds. Dressed in black, he embraced the shadows. In a few moments he would shed them all to embrace the light of a woman.

A deep breath lessened, but did not eradicate, his nerves. He reached for the lowest branch on the tree and began a slow and painful ascent.

His joints cracked as his arms dragged his body up the old oak. He wondered if he was crazy or just plain stubborn. People never changed. That’s what his father had always told him. He had proven it to him too, getting himself killed while in a drunken state over a game of cards. Maybe that’s why he kept doing this.

This will be the last one, he promised himself. Then I’ll turn honest for good.

He pulled himself onto the branch that extended closest to the window and paused to take a breath. His heart pounded in his chest, his face slick with sweat. He hoped he would have enough energy to get himself through the next few hours.

Scrabbling onto the window sill, he tapped upon the pane.

Her face appeared, plump and worn with anxiety. She opened the window to let him in.

He alighted upon the floor with a soft thud and grimaced.

“What took you so long? You said nine o’clock.”

“I know. I got held up. Now,” his lips curved into a suave smile, “come here.”

She giggled as his hand wrapped around her waist and drew her in close to him. His lips met hers and he felt her desire like his own. 

The door to her room slammed open.

They pulled apart and turned in chagrin.

A young boy no older than ten stood in the hall, brandishing a sword. A fierce scowl darkened his features.

“Rapscallion! Leave my mother be!”

“Mother?” How had he not realized. He observed the woman before him. She bore no wrinkles, only youth.

“Get back to bed, Daniel.”

“Mother,” he repeated. It tasted sour on his tongue.

“I will not let him besmirch your honour.”

He shook his head, bemused by the sight of the trembling lad.

“No need to exert yourself, lad. I’ll be off.”

“Scoundrel! Bastard!” The boy shouted insults.

Being chased off by fathers had always been the most thrilling part of his dalliances. This was just plain humiliating.

Stepping into the night air after a few more awkward accusations and apologies, he thought again with the greatest conviction: Never again.

He sighed, then noted with some pleasure a different truth: perhaps his father had been wrong. Perhaps change was possible after all.


May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith  quill-ink

© 2016. Faith Rivens.

Wordly Wise Wednesday | Amalgamation

Good day one and all!

It’s Wednesday again which means… that’s right! Another new word. Another new story.

Today’s word comes courtesy of the very talented Al. You should definitely check out his blog: hyperactivepandemonium.

This word does present an excellent opportunity to point out one of my pet peeves…that is when a definition uses the very root of the word to describe it. For that reason, I’ve also provided some embellishments

Without further ado…


n. (amal·gam·ation \ə-ˌmal-gə-ˈmā-shən\ )

  1. the action or process of amalgamating/uniting OR the state of being amalgamated (aka united into one thing)
  2. the result of amalgamating :  amalgam (aka an alloy of mercury with another metal that is solid or liquid at room temperature according to the proportion of mercury present and is used especially in making tooth cements OR a mixture of different elements)
  3. merger


1610s: noun of action from archaic amalgam (v.) “to alloy with mercury”.

Figurative, non-chemical sense of “a combining into one uniform whole” is attested from 1775.

Info comes via Merriam Webster Dictionary & etymonline.com

Freya glanced at her reflection for what could be the last time in the mirror, savouring the image that stared back at her. She had never been a vain girl, but she needed to capture the picture of her stringy raven hair and grey eyes, to remember the pudgy cheeks and curved nose, just in case. After this moment, she might never see them again. Neither would anyone else.

They were waiting for her in the windowless room. Some faces she knew, some she didn’t. There was only one that mattered to her.

Delphira caught her gaze, those neon blue eyes billowing with the same resignation in her own. She could see the trepidation in them too; it was another emotion they had in common. Their would be a lot more shared between them after today’s Amalgamation.

Two seats. One for her. One for Delphira. They would both sit. Only one would rise.

Two minds in one body. A new form of warrior. 

It was not death, but true living was about to end for one of them.


May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith  quill-ink

© 2016. Faith Rivens.


Wordly Wise Wednesday | boatswain

Welcome everyone to our second Wordly Wise Wednesday!

Today’s word comes courtesy of the lovely and oh-so-very talented Mollie whom you should definitely check out at her blog Mollie’s Musings!

I already have another word lined up for next week, but please feel free to suggest words of your own that you’d like to see me tackle. I promise to get them all 🙂



n. (boat-swain)

  1. a petty officer on a merchant ship having charge of hull maintenance and related work
  2. a naval warrant officer in charge of the hull and all related equipment


First Known Use: 14th century

Middle English ‘bootswein’, from boot boat + ‘sweinboy’, servant.  Phonetic spelling bo’sun/bosun is attested from 1840.

Information provided by http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/boatswain & http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=boatswain.

The first cannonball rammed into the starboard side of the ‘Leana’.

Jared gripped tighter to the helm, assured in that moment that he would never see land again. An image of Leana rose to his mind. He had left her with the promise that he would come home. It was bound to be another broken vow, but not his last.

“Orders, Capain!” Grint’s brusque voice drew him away from such musings. The boatswain was flanked by the crew, terror dark in their features. They waited upon their captain.

“Arm yourselves,” Jared replied, drawing the sword that had once belonged to his father.

A second wave of cannonade fired from the encroaching pirate ship. By some miracle, they sailed past without hitting their mark. Jared could not bring himself to delight in even the smallest fortune. The humble merchant vessel had no weapons of its own to defend itself. Their best chance was hand to hand combat, and even then Jared knew better than to hold out on hope.

The brigands came alongside them, armed to the teeth. They wore vicious grins of malicious intent, hooting and hollering with the pleasure of inflicting harm.

Jared regarded his crew one final time, forcing his features to convey courage and determination. “Fight for your family. Fight for your life. To the death.”

Grint responded to his words with a rallying cry, shouting out. The men carried it in turn, using their raised voices to stifle the fear that truly held their hearts.

Gunfire soon resounded across the waters as the two crews engaged in their deadly scuffle. With it, echoed the clashing of swords.

Men fell. Around their corpses, blood pooled upon the deck of the ‘Leana’, scarlet stains of lives lost. Among them, Jared caught glimpses of faces both familiar and unknown. So many husbands, fathers, brothers, sons lost.

A sharp pain shot down his arm as a bullet tore through flesh and bone in his shoulder. He turned in time to see the pirate take aim once more.

The shot rang out, but the bullet did not claim his life. Another body was offered, a willing sacrifice for his sake.

Jared raised his own revolver, killing the pirate with a perfect shot between his eyes. He spared no time to watch it make impact.

Grint collapsed back into his arms, his life fading fast.

“Take care of my sister. Take care of Leana.” His final request took the last of his strength and he expired in Jared’s arms.

“I swear it, Grint.” This was to be his last broken vow.

The blade pierced his heart and he was gone before he could take another breath.


May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith  quill-ink

© 2015. Faith Rivens.


Wordly Wise Wednesday | Bogart

Good day one and all!

I’m very excited to present the very first Wordly Wise Wednesday. For this week’s inspiration I looked to the Word of the Day provided on Merriam-Webster’ site. In the future, I might refer to some other resources. I almost used Wordsmith’s ‘defriend’, but was far more inspired by MW’s ‘bogart’.

Since this is the first, I’ll just quickly explain the format of each week. First I’ll present the word, it’s definition and its etymology (aka history/origins). Then I’ll provide a short excerpt (100-300 words) inspired by it.

Please feel free to send me words in turn that you fancy and would like to see me cover. Or if you have any suggestions for how I can make this post better, I’d love that too 🙂

Without further ado, let’s turn to our first word of 2016!



v. (boh – gart)

  1. to bully or intimidate
  2. to use or consume without sharing


The legendary film actor Humphrey Bogart was known for playing a range of tough characters in a series of films throughout the 1940s and 1950s, including The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca, The African Queen, and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. The men he portrayed often possessed a cool, hardened exterior that occasionally let forth a suggestion of romantic or idealistic sentimentality. Bogart also had a unique method of smoking cigarettes in these pictures—letting the butt dangle from his mouth without removing it until it was almost entirely consumed. Some believe that this habit inspired the current meaning of bogart, which was once limited to the phrase “Don’t bogart that joint [marijuana cigarette],” as popularized by a song on the soundtrack to the film Easy Rider, among other things. Today bogart can be applied to hogging almost anything.

– Information provided at http://www.merriam-webster.com/word-of-the-day


The magic surged through her fingers and erupted in the night air in a shower of gold. It lit the darkness and the figure of the elderly man strolling along the path before her.

A rush of anticipation ensnared her. This one had taken a while to find. He had been expecting her to come for him, for the power he held, the power she longed to possess.

The shimmering magic danced in her open palm, waiting to do her bidding.

He turned at last, drawn to her presence by the flickering light.

She delighted in the dawning horror that drained his face of all colour.

“Your efforts were in vain, Karros.”

“The power will destroy you, Bogart.”

“I will destroy you first.”

With a single thought, she flung the magic at him.

Paralyzed by the knowledge of defeat, he did not flee. The magic struck him in the chest, seizing his heart.

His agonized cry died on his lips before it could resound in the world. It took several moments after that for his life to be fully extinguished. She savoured every second of his pain, drinking it in with the thirst of one who has long been parched.

His last breath passed through his gaping mouth. In its wake, the wave of gold emerged. It held within it a pulsing white orb and dropped it obediently into her expectant palm.

The magic dissolved in the night air and only the white light held the darkness at bay.

She turned from the corpse without remorse. Through the night, she strode, victory riding upon her shoulders.

Only two remained, and then her collection would be complete. Only two and then she would possess the full power of the Duodecarys.


May inspiration flow like ink upon your quill,

Faith  quill-ink

© 2015. Faith Rivens.