Inkabout L. Darby Gibbs

Science Fiction & Fantasy author

What I’m (th)Inkingabout

Busy in 2020 by an order of 4 maybe 5

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I thought an update was do. I’ve been writing, editing, redrafting, planning and preparing paperbacks.

This won’t be a long post, more of a list of what is in the works.

  • The fourth book in the Solstice Dragon World, To Harbor a Dragon, is now up as a pre-order set to upload at the end of April. A paperback version will follow shortly after the eBook goes live.
  • The third book in the Solstice Dragon World, Dira’s Dragon, is in the works to be available in paperback, tentative deadline is set for mid-March.
  • My new series Kavin Cut Chronicles is moving along nicely. Covers are in the works next week with Ryn Katryn Digital Art. (Loraine has done all my covers. I love her work!) I expect the first to publish about May with the pre-order coming out in March.
  • The two Kavin Cut Chronicles that will complete the trilogy should be out before summer ends and in eBook and paperback.
  • A fifth book for the Standing Stone series will be hitting the drafting board sometime in August, I expect, and will be out before the end of the year.
  • The Standing Stone series should be out in paperback by summer 2020.
  • If all goes according to plan, this will be the year I publish four perhaps even five books in twelve months, a new record: One Solstice Dragon World, three Kavin Cut Chronicles and one Standing Stone. All will be in paperback shortly after the eBook publication.

So that is the plan, subject to change, of course. The fifth Standing Stone is the one that has the greatest wiggle room. It may have to wait until January 2021 for publication, though the pre-order will definitely go up between October and December 2020.

This year is off to a wonderful start. I hope yours is as well. May you find plenty of lovely books to read, lots of adventure in your world and contentment where it counts the most.

My plans for 2021 are very fluid, so if you have a particular series you wish me to focus on next year, post it in the comments. My fans definitely have pull with me.

In search of inspiration

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Some days are more inspiring than others. I find myself sitting at my computer with several tasks to do.

  • write monthly blog post
  • post to Facebook, reply, repost, respond
  • get lost on Twitter, reply, retweet, comment, post
  • write 1,000 to 3,000 words to current book
  • review edit back from the editor
  • redraft book back from beta readers
  • outline: next book in current series, new series, previous series, new idea
  • approve cover layout/changes, final
  • come up with idea for a cover (I once told my cover artist I had no ideas for the cover I was booking with her, and ten minutes later, I emailed her and said, “I have the whole series’ covers figured out.”)
  • create ads
  • write monthly newsletter

It’s a never ending search for inspiration that is worth writing and (please God make it so) worth reading. I look at every action in the course of the day as a possible relevant topic

A dog with slippage is not a happy dog.
  • trim the dogs foot hair (otherwise she is constantly fighting slippage on the wood and linoleum floors)
  • trim dogs toenails
  • sort mail
  • clean kitchen
  • fold clothes
  • be a passenger in the car
  • shower
  • dry hair
  • put on makeup
  • treadmill, free weights, stair steps, walk

I rarely get a zone-out moment to myself. Sometimes my brain demands I cease all efforts to create. So I grade homework, essays, etc. It really doesn’t replenish the creative stores. Actual time to just vegetate does not exist in my world.

Wisteria, right?

What would I do if I could?

  • sit on a porch and listen to the rain fall
  • walk up and down the pathway in our backyard along the carport and admire the wisteria blooming
  • cloud staring (I wouldn’t even look for shapes, just stare.)
  • put on nail polish and take my sweet perfectionist time at it
  • learn how to whistle
  • learn how to play my ocarina
  • learn how to tie all sorts of knots
  • make that t-shirt quilt (my husband then would stop asking what I’m planning for that stack of clothes building up in our daughter’s abandoned bedroom.)
  • sand my face with my micro-abrasion tool
  • dust the entire house
  • try different eye makeup styles (there are tenth graders whose eye-shadow looks ten times better than mine. I’ve been asked if I even wear makeup.)
  • read all the writing-related books I have
  • read more fiction
  • complain (I don’t even have time to complain. Big moment here. I think I just complained. I need more practice. I’m not sure that’s an actual valid complaint.)
  • vacuum the entire house, even the walls and ceiling. (You know when you have a baby, and someone gives you the plaque that says its okay not to clean the dishes, dust, fold clothes, etc., because you have a baby. Authors just plug writing into the baby slot — have a book to write.)

Back to inspiration.

I’m big on questioning. Whatever the “mindless” activity I’m involved in, questioning has always been my go-to “slide into what to write next” approach. I just keep asking questions until the character or narrator or my “planning” brain starts answering.

You’ve caught yourself doing it, I’m sure.

A question comes to mind because someone said something, others answered, and you didn’t get your chance. So you self-question. “When did you graduate high school? Have you ever broken a bone? Where did you meet your spouse/special someone? If you could be any age, what would it be?

And there you are telling your story even if nobody is listening. The only difference for me is I’m listening and at some point, I say, “Hold that thought,” and sit down at the computer and write.

Just me and the humans

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It’s been a rough two weeks without Lacey.

Just me and the humans.

I’ve been watching the house and yard the best I can, but it’s not as fun as it used to be.

I was caught under the house again. Lacey used to cover for me, and I’d be back out before they noticed. But not anymore.

I haven’t slept much. I have to run sentry through the whole house at night now. Lacey always took the kitchen, dining room and back hall.

Don’t even get me started with the day duty.

I check constantly to see if they’re pulling into the driveway yet. I don’t want them thinking I’m sleeping on the job. And they need to know someone’s still around to love them. I used to sleep right up until the door creaked and make a big deal out of getting up for them.

I have to cuddle with the humans a lot. They say her name frequently and tell me how great I am. They’re not handling losing Lacey well.

And the grooming! I think I got brushed twice this week.

I haven’t figured out how she got lost yet.

We’ve one less bed in the house. They took it out when Lacey got real quiet sleeping there.

But we still have Lacey’s favorite bed. I sleep in it a lot. It smells like her. It’s not as comfortable as my princess pea bed (two beds atop each other. Another story for another time. It’s my favorite, but not right now).

I used to nap on Lacey’s bed, but only just to rile her and only for a minute or two. Soon as I got off, she got on. Made me grin. I don’t grin much any more.

We have a ramp down the back stairs now. It went in for Lacey because she was having trouble going up and down the stairs her last week. They want me to use it, but I’ve been getting these treats, and I think they’ve helped my hips a lot. I don’t need that dumb ramp. I use it when they ask me though since they went to all that trouble, and Lacey didn’t use it for very long.

I miss Lacey. She was goofy. Never watched where she was swinging that thick tail of hers. Worried about everything, I mean everything. The list is miles long, I tell you.

But outside, she made sure everything was safe, and I could just sniff around. I have to watch every corner now.

We had three kittens hanging out in the backyard for a few days. Lacey would have dealt with them in a minute: no visiting kittens. Me, it takes me three days to send them packing. I’m such a softy.

I like weekends the best because the humans stay home, and I can hang out with them. I try to catch up on my sleep.

Sometimes I curl up at the bottom of the stairs at night. It’s not comfortable or close to the heater, but I can hear them upstairs sleeping. That helps. Also, I see both sides of the house from there.

It’s weird not having to bark when they ask Lacey questions. “You want water?” She’d stare intently. “Ready for dinner?” She’d bounce. “Outside?” Prancing feet.

Me. “You want water?” Bark! (damn straight! [I put my nose in the bone-dry bowl just to make sure they get the message.]) “Ready for dinner?” Bark! (No, I’m standing by this empty bowl for my health.) “Outside?” Bark! Bark! (We’re going to burst if you wait even one more second. Open the door!)

I don’t have to wait for anything now. Everything is done just when I need it. Kinda strange, but thoughtful, too.

Just me and the humans. I love ’em. But it was better with Lacey here.

She left, and I’m left behind.

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I hadn’t thought I would write about this, but I have written about my dogs in posts before as metaphors for writing and life in general. So this is about Lacey who left us recently.

She was strong, energetic, cheerful, loving, and we thought she was going to be around for years yet. A perpetual puppy.

She left us last week. It was sudden.

Lacey

Those words don’t cover the loss. Lacey ceased to be in our house. She doesn’t greet me each morning at the bottom of the stares. She doesn’t watch me from her bed look ridiculous going up and down the same two steps for five minutes. (Part of my exercise routine, separate from my walk in the backyard several times a day to keep the two girls out of trouble which she considered a perfectly normal and appropriate activity for me.)

We have a back hall in our old house. A narrow, nine feet of hallway to the back door. We make our girls wait on the rug there a few minutes when their feet are wet before they can come into the main house.

Sometimes we forget they’re waiting. Or they think we do.

Lacey has (sorry had) this crazy rumble in her throat, like she’s gargling, when she wanted to be released from the back hall, when she thought we might have forgotten after the first twenty seconds of her wait. She’d peek around the corner of the doorway and rumble/gargle, gurgle, what have you.

It always made me laugh and was far from getting me to release her because it was such a soft, grumbly sound, too enjoyable to listen to.

She didn’t like to bark. Strange, I know. A dog that is embarrassed to bark. But she didn’t like it. So when she wanted to go outside for, you know, the necessary stuff, she’d sort of dance and hop around in the back hall. My office is just past that hallway. I would hear her prancing and hopping.

She’s a Labrador, seriously. Cagney barks. Lacey would prance.

Of course, I would ask as if it was all a mystery to me, “Whatcha doing there?” She’d jump and prance some more.

So I’d head for the hall, stand there at the end and ask again. “Whatcha doing there?” And she’d do that chest to the floor thing and leap into the air. I’d ask, “Do you want to go out?” And she’d leap even higher.

She’s not here to do that anymore.

I don’t like that.

I miss her.

Lacey wasn’t the most confident dog. She tended to skate on linoleum floors like she was on ice, her toes curled so her nails were the only thing in contact with the smooth floor. Veterinary offices always have linoleum. Have you ever seen a Labrador sprawl, all four legs sliding out from under her, repeatedly, with no sense of why it is happening to her?

Cagney would look at her like she was too embarrassing to acknowledge they lived in the same house and trotted the same backyard.

Lacey had all the gumption she needed to take on a stranger or another big dog, but otherwise, she was always in need of attention. She would fall in love with a perfect stranger if they would just rub her ears. She once looked like she was going to take out the kennel lady. (We had to leave town, and the girls couldn’t join us.) I told the woman to rub her ears. They’d be fine.

I just had to say that I miss Lacey. I can’t hear her grumble/gurgle anymore.

I wish I could.

The Kavin Cut Chronicles and the Truth Behind It

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The first book in my new series is coming to a close. This is always satisfying, especially when I am planning a second book to follow. The Kavin Cut Chronicles book 1 should hit the virtual shelves some time around the first of the year.

Kavin Cut’s Ring True is a fantasy romance, inspired by a cover my cover artist made and put out for any author to purchase. It starts with a chant on a meadow before a wooded area. There’s a legend that goes with the chant, but it has always required the person saying it to be in some sort of danger. The woods offer sanctuary to anyone who needs it.

Seems a safe bet that if people sing the chant and no danger races behind them, no worries. Or better, don’t say the chant at all but be around someone who does, still no worries.

Either the white oaks of Kavin know something Kambry doesn’t or she’s the answer to a conflict within the innocuous woods. One thing the legend was certain about: whoever the Kavin Cut opens to never returns.

And why would they want to? There’s always that danger they ran from lurking in wait. Except for Kambry who found her danger within.

That’s how this story began back at the start of August.

Each of my series has had its own unique inspiration.

  • Students of Jump (Time Travel): the song “Just Dropped in (To See What Condition my Condition Was In)” by Kenny Rogers and the first Edition.
  • Standing Stone (Fantasy Magic): A blog post for a friend about how the rules of magic guide the story.
  • Solstice Dragon World (Fantasy with dragons and romance): a conversation with my husband about dragon novels. We started brainstorming and had three stories mapped out in just a few hours.
  • Kavin Cut Chronicles (Fantasy Romance): a pre-made cover that would not let my imagination ignore it.

I wasn’t sure Ring True would end up a series, but coming to the end of writing it has proven there is more going on here than a wayward legend and the prince of Kavin Wood behind it.

If you like fantasy, rifle through my other series while you wait for this one to come out. Check out the tab labeled All Books. The links are there to take you to each book at popular major retailers.

#newseries #fantasy #inspiration

Along the road: Musing on the past

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Tandem riding the country roads

We went on a tandem ride today on the local farm roads. There is always something to see, and what is seen changes with not just the season but how deep in the season it is.

We’re at the end of an unusually rainy summer, so the greenery is wild. What was quite visible in the spring is now lost behind wild grape, out-of-control undergrowth and the extravaganza of full-leafed trees.

Hop in; this crane is ready to serve.

There’s a spot we stopped at today that caught my eye because of an abandoned crane next to a cornfield. Rusted, but still holding the crane arm high, its end lost among the limbs of a tree that grew in the course of its frozen moment, the machine appeared to be in pause.

Someone was using the area to store hay rounds, perhaps with the belief the crane could act as guard. Who used this crane and why was it just left there, seemingly ready to charge back to the job? The cab door’s open, hop in.

Just across the street, where we stood in the shade and drank water, we pondered its possible history. Then my husband turned, saying that there were at least three abandoned houses along this stretch, as well. We gazed into the almost impenetrable woods.

“There. I can just see the roof,” he said.

I looked and could not make out any sign of a house. So I stepped closer, peered around a hedge of wild grape. There, not more than fifteen feet off the road stood a wood-frame house, its shingle roof still in fair repair, the siding, an upgrade to what we usually see, was lapboard, its white paint still discernible.

With such a small window of view, I couldn’t take a picture. It was an old home, but its lines were still straight, no lean present. Was it owned by one family for forty years or a turn-style home, with family after family rotating in?

We’d never know, but the wondering and sharing that wonder was enjoyable.

The cows musing on our now and then.

It made me think of the cows we’d seen earlier. They were adults, mostly, used to strange humans trundling along the road, though a tandem did seem to pull at their curiosity. Often the response is to get up and leave, first one then the next and soon the whole small herd exiting at a trot, deeming us some danger to them best left alone.

But this group took it in stride by not striding away, the white-faced ones giving us their full attention.

We’re they wondering what our bone-skinny, white steed was? What our history of existence contained?

They had the time to ponder these things. We did too, and it was a peaceful, enduring gesture, a homage to the past of “who knows.”

Twenty-three miles of “thoughtfulling,” musing on the past, turning it as our wheels turned to see its full round of life. We need to take the time to ponder, to examine what is, was and the possibilities of will be. It’s a peaceful gesture even the cows can appreciate.