Well, I’ve changed the name of Book 4 to Wulfendragon.
I’ll explain more about how that name came about later, but for now I thought I would give a quick update and share some images of the characters so you could see a bit how I write.
I used to use little figurines to help me keep track of all my characters, but that got progressively more complicated and expensive as the stories grew. So now I search for images on pinterest, size them in photoshop, print, and cut them out. Then I put them in collector card sleeves.
The images I find aren’t exactly what I picture in my mind, but they work beautifully – and it is a lot of fun to arrange them when I’m starting a new scene, and I can keep other cards grouped according to where they are ‘off screen’ so as to help me keep track of what is going on in the story as a whole.
You’ll recognize some of the old characters here and as you can see I’ve introduced some new ones. I’m especially having fun with Buttersmere, the assistant to Clive Greyhame Gettlefinger.
But, just as his eyes settled on the document, he was startled by a deep voice, “You, Buttersmere. I had hoped to enjoy some solitude before our meeting.”
Buttersmere’s smile disappeared at once. He looked up into the sober frown of Father Scabtree.
His hair was streaked with grey, and pulled back from his forehead, and then it feathered strangely out to the sides and down his neck. Deep creases were everywhere about his face, no doubt from perpetual thoughts of indignation towards the lower life forms that surrounded him. Line after line upon his large forehead ran parallel to his furrowed brows, as if his voluminous thoughts all pointed downward like a furious river; foaming water bottlenecked by enclosing banks, rushing forward to destroy everything in its path, and then disappearing into an underground cavern. Buttersmere shuddered.
“I see you are equally pleased to see me.”
Buttersmere covered his mouth with his hand. It almost seemed as if he had muttered some terrible thing about the priest, and had been overheard. Maybe the priest could read his thoughts.
“Come now, I do not bite.” said the priest, “Let’s go about our own business until we’ve arrived at Pigeon Porch. Then we can pretend to meet again.”
Buttersmere was able to raise one side of his face into a smile, while at the same time his chin retreated into his neck. A noise of agreement came out of his throat.
He now felt as a captain must, who harbors the terrible knowledge that his obedient sailors are actually pirates prowling on the edge of mutiny. Buttersmere lifted his treasured paper, but his hands were now shaking, and he sensed that he was being watched. As naturally as possible, he raised the paper higher and higher until it hid him from Father Scabtree’s view.
I’m finished with part one, which is eleven chapters long, and I’m beginning part two. Now, I’ll have to search for a few more character images 🙂