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Backing away from social media is not always easy.  Often we feel compelled, even when we are busy doing more than we really can or should take on; yet I was fortunate.  I forced myself to lay a few things aside; to re-prioritize and re-focus, the result of which was over 2500 words in one afternoon!  (Yes, I’m smiling!)

The scene is an epic fantasy battle; war between the Fey of the Light and the Reviled, which has been brewing since the middle of book one.  It has also been hindering me for months; after all, I’ve never written an epic battle scene. How do you relate the horrors of war without the graphic violence that is inescapable?  How do you describe the emotions of battle when you yourself (thankfully!) have never personally experienced it?  How do you build suspense to a fevered pitch without going into horrifying details that are neither the true point of the scene nor what you really intend to relate?

I knew what I wanted, but had no idea how to create it.  I spoke with a friend about the realities of war and being a soldier (as he has suffered through that particular horror) and gained some measure of perspective; yet the hows and whys swirled in my mind like a blizzard.

A Blizzard, during which an epic battle would take place.  I mulled and I pondered; I mused until I was extraordinarily confused.  Then it occurred to me; the blizzard was the answer.  It was the symbol of the confusion of battle I was searching for; and with a bit of silence (brought on by backing away from the aforementioned social media, which, sadly, even included BnV) I was able to sit quietly long enough to hear the voices in the blustering gales.

My point is two-fold.  Perhaps, in sharing how I found inspiration, it may be of some measure of help when The Silence assaults your own writing, and possibly it may also lend some ideas of how to let the story lead you when you become entangled.  Today I’d like to share two short excerpts from Dark Fey:  Breaking Into The Light, which may illustrate how the blizzard inspired.


Arrows rained down on the Liberators, bouncing off shields and skidding across leather fortuitously coated with a heavy rime of ice and snow.  Fey Guards and Legionnaires slashed at each other with blades nearly frozen into their hands.  Demonfey hurtled from the sky with spears, seeking the lifeblood of any Lighter they could catch unawares, and the entire clearing seemed to shudder in the violence of the tumult.  Screams of pain and hatred mingled with cries of lament and weariness; growls of ferocity answered viperous hisses of hatred, and the shrill clangor of metal against metal shook the snow-laden air.  Beneath their boots, trampled and torn, the pristine landscape wept crimson tears while the hands of winter enwrapped the combatants in a unifying mantle of white.

As the uniforms of those locked in battle became masked by snow, the Fey of the Light and Reviled found it increasingly difficult to distinguish Light from Dark.  They looked to the wings and the shade of the eyes of the one they faced, as they alone became the means of differentiating one from the other.  Red blood bled red and pain expressed itself through its own language that all too clearly understood.


Zraylaunyth stood upon the bulwark of one of the Temple walls, winter whipping around him as if hysterical, whispering in voices only he could understand.

It spoke of wrath and loathing in wailing tones.  It articulated enmity and mistrust through its icy hands.  It shrieked in anguish as the life-force of countless Fey suffused into its inexorable embrace.

Sparkling cerulean lifted to the starless sky, seeking release from the torturous song of the storm.  Cobalt, emeraldine, amber and violet glistened in the azurine sea of his gaze amid crystalline tears; yet the howl of the tempest did not relent.

Listening keenly, he held his silence and waited.


Discover more about the Dark Fey Trilogy at its website

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Beautiful artwork found at Wallpaperscraft.com.  Credit Acknowledged to the Original Artist.  Thank You~