On Oct 23 last year, I wrote my first post here. Many marketing gurus say that a writer’s website should be her foremost sales tool, but my blog isn’t that. I don’t sell anything. My website serves mostly as an information depository. People who want to know what I do as a writer, what I think, or who I am, can log on, stroll around, and satisfy their curiosity.
My blog is rather eclectic. Instead of being a sales tool it’s become my way of opening up to the world. I learned to tell what I think on my blog – something I seldom do in real life. I’m a very quiet person but I learned to express my opinion on my blog, even when nobody asked for it (oh horror). And of course, as I’m a fantasy writer, most of what I write on my blog pertains to the fantasy genre.
Sometimes I give voice to other fantasy writers and publish interviews with their characters. Other times I give writing advices (unsolicited – urgh) even though I don’t consider myself an expert on the topic. It’s become fun through the months my blog has been active to think up the next post or the next issue I want to discuss online.
As I don’t have a persistent theme for my blog, I don’t have many followers, but some of those that I have read and comment on my blog regularly. They have become my friends, and I want to thank them for their unflagging support.
I also want to celebrate my first blogoverse birthday by a micro fantasy story. I wrote it as an example for a writing lesson but I think it stands up on its own.
Knight lunged at the sleeping dragon, his sword fully extended. Kill the wretched creature, his mind screamed, before he wakes up. Suddenly, the dragon opened his eyes and snatched the sword with his big teeth, wrenching it out of Knight’s hand. He’d kill me now, Knight thought and straightened up proudly. He wouldn’t bow to the monster, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction to see his fear.
The dragon ignored him. He chomped happily on the sword and swallowed loudly. Then he grabbed the shield, inspected it, and tossed it away, out of the cave, over Knight’s head.
“Wood,” the dragon rumbled disgustedly. “Your shield is wood. I don’t like wood. Next time bring copper pots. Much tastier.” Every R rolled in his chest like thunder. He closed his eyes again and put his big head down. Then he opened one eye. “You can go,” he said kindly.
Baffled, Knight stumbled out of the cave and picked up his wooden shield. It was cracked. Copper pots? The damn lizard wanted him to bring copper pots? What was he, a dragon’s gourmet cook? Seething with indignation, he started down the mountain path towards civilization. Would the dragon accept tin pots instead? They were much cheaper.