The Rowan by Anne McCaffery

After writing my post about one of the great influences of my writing career, Anne McCaffery, I felt it was about time I started the book reviews of her work. Most would perhaps start with her better known Dragonriders of Pern series but I have to be different and focus on her The Tower and the Hive series; and perhaps in that case I should start with the very first, To Ride Pegasus, which happens in the same universe but centuries before The Tower and the Hive series. However I am going to concentrate on the first I read and instantly loved, The Rowan, book one of the series.

The novel centres around the character known only as the Rowan to begin with. She emerges from a devastating mud slide which wipes out her entire mining community. She is only about four years old but already exhibiting substantial mental abilities; she was found due to her mental screams alerting everyone in the area.

The story then progresses while the Rowan grows older and undergoes extensive training to become a Prime, one of the powerful beings possessing of telekinesis and telepathy that helps the universes function. During this time Rowan suffers with several residual problems left over from her being buried as a child but she also suffers with a claustrophobic problem enforced on her by her trainer Siglen. She believes she can never leave her planet as it is too painful and traumatizing.

Soon, through old records, Rowan discovers her birth name is actually Angharad Gwyn and she had parents that loved her. She also mentally bonds with Jeff Raven who is in need of her help and attracted to her mental signature. Through defeating an attack on his home World their destinies soon become set in stone and they look forward to their futures…

This book is so well written that you hardly notice the in detail science which is written about. You are more involved in the smooth tempo of the narrative and the intense personality of the story. You find yourself hoping that things work out well and that every character is given the ending they deserve; you get lost in the imaginative and fanciful universe created.

Have you read it? What do you think? 🙂


There Comes a Time One Must Admit Defeat…

…Although don’t panic, I’m still working on my novel. For a while now I have been convinced that the storyline has been finished and indeed I have come to the ending wanting to really portray the feelings generated by it for both the readers and the protagonist. However, editing as I am I have come to various points where I just have to add more. There has been many aspects; the nuances of different relationships, some missing action and even the hope to portray your characters in a different light; that I have discovered I need to add but I’m not entirely sure how to do this or how to feel about it. I don’t want to add something in that i feel needs adding just to find it makes the entire section of the novel seem obsolete or pathetic.

How do you come to terms with thinking you are so close to the finished product and yet discovering you are so far away. I really admire my friend Jex who always has a lot to write about and is always so passionate in the writing. She’s very good and I worry that my novel may not stand up since I have to add more in. This is a moment of doubt I’m sure I will work though but for now must work on my novel and getting it right 🙂

Thank you for listening to my vent 🙂

Also yes the artwork is again by Luis Royo, I can’t help it, he’s my favourite 🙂

Lay In Wait

As I have said previously when I find something that moves me I will post it on here to tell others of the creativity I find. This time I am proud to say that the creativity itself comes from a member of my own family. This is an excerpt from my young cousin Amelia Hinchey who is showing an artistic flare that seems to far surpass my own. She is currently working on this story and I can see that it’s one to watch and want to read once ready. I’m very proud of you Amelia and all I can say is keep working on it and keep reading and writing. I’m very glad to see I’m not the only writer in the family 🙂 *Artwork is by Luis Royo*

Lay in Wait

DO NOT COPY, PASTE, EDIT,RENAME, REWRITE! (my cousins instructions bless her)

Under a school which was filled with nothing but laughter I lay in wait for another black out game… I wait for the sound of footsteps, I wait for the sound of a turning door nod. I wait for the next round to begin. The wait of wonder if it will be fists or feet this time. The wait of dreaming of a world which I can never be in… Once the door opens blood is spilled and I remember nothing… All I remember is looking into the eyes of my twisted father. His golden eyes trying to break my soul, trying to make me as black as him. I cannot die here, I have to lay in wait for freedom. A freedom I was born out of as I am a slave. And once a slave your always a slave. So I lay in wait for another day in the hell hole I call my life. Here in the dark room I live in I lay in wait of the day I am free…

My day came of freedom as hands of a murder freed me… He was kind, smart and most of all he showed me that the world is a nice place. Because of him I am free, because of him I found my lover. Because of him I can forget the days in wait as I do not have to wait anymore.

Because of him I am free, because of him my father is dead and i have my freedom..

So what do you think? 🙂

Anne McCaffery… RIP You Are Missed

Today it’s time to talk about some great nineties Sci-fi/fantasy. If you attempt to write fantasy, like me, and you have never heard of this author you should be ashamed of yourselves 😉 Anne McCaffrey has graced us with her wonderful writings for decades now and though she has sadly passed on (RIP) her works live on through their wonderful nature and through the work carried on by her son Todd McCaffrey, an author and self-proclaimed geek. He started working on one of Anne’s series, the Pern Series, before her death and they have worked collaboratively on several novels. Reading just one book of the many she has produced both during life and after her passing you will find yourself immersed in a World of fantasy, science fiction, imagination and (somehow) reality. The Worlds she creates are so real and much like several of the other books I have written about, you will find yourself needing to read more.

Her multiple works count among their number her Dragonriders of Pern series, her The Tower and the Hive Series and her Acorna series. I can tell you with some authority that all her works are marvelous but I have to concentrate on her The Tower and the Hive series as they have always been my favourite. They are based around women with telepathic and teleportation abilities that form the backbone of the FT & T world federation for… well basically they make different Worlds in different Galaxies function. These women are known as Primes and are all linked together through their considerable mental agility. I will do individual book reviews as and when I can but I love this series for how real Anne McCaffrey makes them. They are powerful beings but she deals with complexities like relationships with men of considerable character and mental abilities of their own, mental handicaps and loneliness. You will find yourself drawn into the Worlds and love every single minute of reading each book as they have a smooth tempo and immersive vocab. The first one is as the picture shows entitled The Rowan and I highly suggest you pick it up for a read 🙂

What do you think? 🙂 Thank you 🙂


This is the working title I have given to my second concept for a novel. I want to store the first writings of it here and if you wouldn’t mind giving me feedback that would be wonderful 🙂 Please keep in mind this is a very, very early attempt. Thank you 🙂


The journey to the High Court was always perilous for her people at this time of year. The golden sunshine shone down on their carriage with intense venom. Snow sighed and pulled the silk back over the window, being enveloped once more in its cool calmness. The silk was made especially for her family by the Oracles and she appreciated them beyond all others. Her people thrived in the crystal snow and silver moonshine and could not understand why her father was insisting they make the journey now. The High Court existed in a realm between all others and every season had a turn of being predominant; at this moment it was Summer with its treacherous sun. Snow sighed again and adjusted her spiders silk gown. In turn she heard her father sigh;

“Do not fret so Snowflake,” her father pleaded. He was Frostfall, King of the Winter Fae and she was sure she had never heard him plea before, what was he up to? “This is merely a trip to acquaint ourselves with the other Fae people’s. You know things have been tense between us and we do not want war to break out.”

“Father,” she began tentatively. “You worry beyond measure. I know of the myth where the War of the Fae begins and I think you put too much merit into it. Why did I have to attend?” She knew she was whining but couldn’t help it. She had been happy hunting and defending the borders when she had been called home. She was surprised her father had even remembered her existence. Yes she was the Crown Princess but she had been sure her father had been intent on naming one of his several other children as heir. She was the only child by Queen Winter before she had been killed in a riot and that made her sole heir but she was allowed to not like it.

“You come because you are needed.” That was all her father would say and he sat back and shut her out once more. She knew she should be insulted but she had been shut out most of her life so she was indeed used to it.

The dress felt alien to her, like it was too heavy and it over encumbered her. She longed for her Nightsilver armour and pure Nightsilver bow. Then she felt invincible, away from the politics and drama of the court. No one could touch her, ignore her or demean her. She had no responsibilities there and it felt wonderful. She brushed a lock of silver hair back behind her ear and winced. Her hair was a sign she was of royal blood; her family were signified by their silver hair, piercing ice blue eyes and blue tinged skin. When away she had sought different ways to hide it and blend in with the green-eyed, black-haired demeanor of her people but had failed miserably. Instead she had woven a tail about the bastard child of the High King unwanted and unneeded and for the most part it had worked.

She sighed and was just about to settle back into her contemplative whining when a heavy object hit the side of their carriage. It was quickly followed by another and another. The horses screamed in protest and bolted, breaking their fine Nightsilver chains and leaving their passengers behind. Snow stood, a little unsure of what to do in her father’s presence. He never condoned her fighting in any sort of way; he prefered she sit back and let the men fight in her stead. Her luminescent wings twitched in annoyance at that thought.

She could hear the footmen fighting outside and feared for them. They were part of the army but they were not her father’s elite, the men he usually took everywhere. Perhaps he had not expected an attack of this level on this particular journey. Whatever the reason he should have been more prepared and the warrior side of Snow rebelled.

She was taken aback however when her father stood, moved in front of her and drew his sword. Even she was not foolish enough to go outside, they would lose their strategic ground, surely he must know that. In any case he adopted a defensive position and waited. She hoped he did not need to fight as he hadn’t done for an age and she was unsure how good he was anymore.

They waited in silence while the fighting quietly ended outside; she wept silently for the footmen as she knew by now they must be dead. They had been good men and all with families who loved them. How would she ever be able to face them again?

Suddenly, the door to the carriage flung open and both were dazzled by the harsh sunlight. Her father faltered, as she somehow knew he would, and she had to listen as a sword sliced through his ceremonial armour and pierced him. She screamed. Still blinded by the sunlight she felt for the sword and started swinging it almost wildly, hoping she wasn’t injuring her father in the process. She could hear male laughter coming from all directions. How hilarious it must be to see a woman struggle with a sword. She wished again that she had her bow, then they would not be laughing as hard; she loved to shoot things blindfolded.

This carried on until someone grew tired and decided to hit her over the head and pick her up. She was trying her hardest to stay awake but the blackness of oblivion was quickly replacing the golden sun spots. She caught a brief glimpse of her father knelt as if in pain and in a pool of his own silver blood. She hoped he would make it; her heart broke at the thought of him dying. She tried to get to him but the overwhelming darkness consumed her…


Thank you for taking time to read this 🙂 I would love just a general thought on how I could improve it. Thank you.

Mid Life Crisis or Subtle Name Change?

I have gotten to the stage in my editing where I wanted to change the name of my main characters love interest. I had called Aly’s lover in I Cast Magic Into the Darkness Lucas Belmont but I just don’t think it goes. I have fallen in love with Rohan (and no not RoHan like in Lord of the rings lol) but couldn’t even begin to think of a surname for it; Belmont doesn’t really go I suppose. I also worry that I have unconciously taken inspiration from Jex‘s fabulous novel The Road Elsewhere as her main character is called Rowanwood, or Rowan for short.I don’t want to copy my friend and perhaps I should leave it as Lucas.

Aaahhhhhh I don’t know, what do you think?

The Tiny Limerick (minus the sauce)

During my unending years of English Language at Uni I had the honour of doing a poetry module or two each and every year. I really loved doing this as my tutors were fantastic published poets such as Carol Rumens. We studied everything from sonnets, haiku’s; all the way through to Limericks and this is what has really caught my attention at the moment. They’re just so fun to do and take very little time. They’re also perfect for the amateur poet just starting out to develop their poetic chakra. A limerick is always five lines and has a rythmic pattern of A, A, B, B, A. There’s also a tempo running through the entire poem which makes it sond almost musical. The thing that always bothered me about them however was most poets insistance on starting them ‘There once was a…’. I know this is the traditional starting to them but to be frank they always bored me to tears, so I worte a few of my own during Uni 🙂


In time when I cease to be,

I want to come back as a tree,

They stand really tall

And occasionally fall

But that’s alright by me.


My dad always try’s to be fair

But has ended up with no hair

Why can’t he see

That it’s just meant to be

To stop him from lobbing the chair.


If you’re a musical person, and even if you’re not, you can pick up the beat easily and form the rhymes from anything around you. Here’s one from my feelings of my current job:


Why will this time never end

I can’t even start to pretend

That I’m running free

and I want to be

Drinking my weight with a friend.


What do you think of limericks? 🙂 

Do You See Me?

Aches, ouchies, boo boo's and laughs.


I wudn't be able doin' anythin' if I'll not take a sip of a bitter cup of pep.




dentists in Vietnam

Sanoj Jose

Helping You Find Answers to Your Thoughts


Finding ways to educate young minds


confessions are self-serving

Thoughts of the Fallen

A collection of nonsensical words thrown together

Elan Mudrow


Subdued Flamboyance

Poetry by Dr. Abhinav Majumder



Eric Weiskott

writer, teacher, literary historian


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