As we delve into the changing seasons of spring here in wormwood Valley, we ponder growth, renewal, change, and the inevitable expansion and continued development of the Village and central town of Wormwood itself. Spring is nearing, and while winter still holds it's opaque grip upon the forests of the Wormwood Valley, the residents of Wormwood begin to look for whatever gleaming ray of sunshine and rising temperature they can find, if only to lift the spirit slightly from the long dark days that by this time each year, seem to have stretched from beyond history.
In this strange time of late winter to early spring, one begins to see the coming forth of life everywhere, if one but looks around one's own feet. The scent of Snot blossoms dripping through the trees adds a nauseating stench to the sharp morning air as Elongated Scab Beetles make their nests of hair and candle wax along the disjointed and upturned cobbles of central Wormwood square, nearest of course, to the disposed of droppings of local Wormwood candlemaker, Burny McTavish, may he rest in pieces.
As the Editor at large for the Wormwood Chronicler, I, Inkley Tolew the Third, Esquire, have had the pleasure to experience, explore, and research some of Wormwood's darker and more sinister moments. From following the infamous Pirating upsets of three seasons past to the continued expulsion of the Scallywaggers Pirating team to the dark discovery of the Viking ship of the Cliffs of Sidd, I have been in a position to judge which of Wormwood Valley's most sordid histories are brought to the light amongst the populace of our fair valley through ink and pulp and the occassional scripted drawing and photo.
But in this most recent exploration, I wish to only briefly delve into one such event of mystery, adventure, and shadow. One which, as the seasons now turn, took place also in this strange time between Winter and spring. And so it is to Mr. McTavish and the Wormwood WaxWorks that we turn for this installment of The Occasional Chronicle's Wormwood Valley editorial and history discussion.
Mr. Burny McTavish was a criminal. A dark, foul, nasty, mean and all-together unpleasant chap who enjoyed more than anything else in this world, burning things.
Burny enjoyed lighting everything from toys to camping cots to small kitchen pots in flames of flickering carcinogen, and watching their evil and twisted light dance and twirl. As he graduated his mischievous passion from small household objects and ramshackled scraps of last eve's meal, he eventually found himself in quite a fix when he doused the local graveyard in a Halloween prank of horrific proportions. Little did he know that the ancient and cursed grave of Burny McTavish's great great great Grandmother's Uncle, thrice removed, lay buried beneath the very spot where he first set ablaze a scraggly and withered pot of Old Gut Flower.
Now, Old gut Flower is a noxious weed, oft times laid at the grave of criminals and miscreants. Of which, Burny's great great great Grandmother's Uncle (thrice removed) was one. He too, was a criminal of the fire-provoking kind, and found himself in quite a spot of bother when he set ablaze the local constable's prized yard Gnome statuary collection, lighting each little statue's cone-shaped hat in a blazing pyre of prancing light.
Now, as all well-educated citizens of Wormwood Valley know, one NEVER sets ablaze a yard gnome. Least of all, upon their great coned hats. It is quite well accepted that within those pointed little spires sits the ashes of the very gnome that statue represents. And nothing releases their spirited and paranormal fury like fire.
But even worse, is the curse which lays upon any who does such. And for Burny McTavish's great great great Grandmother's Uncle (thrice removed), his was just such a curse.
Well as any can guess, this made for quite a memorable Halloween as old Burny's long-dead relative, who died himself in a curious spontaneous combustion related incident (most widely accepted as Wormwood Forest Gnome magic of course) rose from the grave that very night and made quick work of poor Burny McTavish, ending his burning spree once and for all.
But the legend goes that soon after, a candlemaker started the Wormwood Wax Works, making candles that held curious properties, strange scents and ingredients that some swore created images of old Burny dancing upon the walls in their gentle waving flames. And this candlemaker, legend says, is the very spirit risen from the grave and exhumed from his cursed demise that night in the Wormwood Graveyard: Burny McTavish's great great great Grandmother's Uncle (thrice removed), now the proprietor of the Wormwood WaxWorks and maker of the most gentle, most warming, most fragrant, and most curiously sinister candles ever to light a Wormwood hovel.
On these cold nights of changing, when the Gods of nature are still deciding upon their seasonal path, look to your WormwoodWaxWorks candle, and in the distance, listen closely for the shadowy laugh of old Burny McTavish as he writhes and turns in the churning flames of his gnomish demise.
From deep below Wormwood Square,
Inkley tolew III, Esq.
Editor at Large
The Wormwood Occasional Chronicler
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
All who wander are not lost, but sometimes they are....
I know I know, I'm sorry. I have not been posting in sometime, but there is a good reason for it, I promise.
I once heard that blogs are but useless forms of personal dribble if you either a) don't have any followers, b) can't be found on the web, or c) don't post anything at least once a week. Well, I seem to be the captain fo the anti-personal promotion trifecta as of late, as life has simply just gotten in the way.
Wormwood Valley, this blog really, started as a way to explore small snippets and stories that came to mind fro the setting, Wormwood Valley, a peculiar land of strange creations that gather in one locale from all over the world to reside in and amongst fables, fairy tales and legends from multiple cultures and countries. Sort of a place where all stories and myths come to reside, along with every created and imagined "thing." From drawings to sketches to ideas half-realised, Wormwood Valley was where they came to reside. And Inkely Tolew the Third, esquire, is the Editor at Large For the Wormwood Daily, the chronicler if you will, of all things Wormwood.
But this blog has also become an exploratory place for the ramblings and wonderings and personal inquiry for an aspiring YA/Fantasy Fiction writer. But it is in fact this goal, this aim, that has kept me away from Wormwood Valley all together. I am now finishing the final typed edits for Shadowborn, The Alliance of the Black Triangle, and am nearly done. Wether it will be a resounding success and usher in a new era of JRR Tolkien-esque fantasy with an old saga and biblical flare or just another shelved Fantasy remains to be seen. And from what I read about the ever-changing face of the Publishing Industry, I am even more skeptical. But none-the-less, it is a work of love and fun at the very least.
The more I learn and read and study and research about the modern Publishing industry and a writers place in it however, I learn that self-promotion seems to be the order of the day. And that having the career background and technical skills to carry out such a charge is even more important now than ever before. But yet, I still find myself reluctant to "promote" this blog and other projects via Social MEdia outlets such as Twitter and Facebook, because I am as of yet, NOT published, therefore, part of me questions:
What exactly do you have to "promote?"
Good question, with a slightly humbling answer.
Very Little.
And so, I go back to the laptop and continue to revise in hopes that soon this will change, and that feeling of shameless self-promotion and public relations will soon subside when I do indeed have the accolades or at least the publishing contract to support such endeavors. In the meantime, I basque in the inspiration-giving shadows of Stacia Kane, Holly Black, Tor, Christopher Tolkien, Wizards of the Coast, Trevor Kidd (you have such an awesome last name..."Captain"....), Bloomsbury, Simon & Schuster, Amanda Devine, Random House, The Black Library, DK, and the list goes on and on.
People always thank those that follow them. But for a brief moment, I just wish to thank those that let me follow them. Thanks for the daily dosages of inspiration and often times random banter that reminds me that even you icons of the industry are in fact, real people. And often have real life distractions as well....
I once heard that blogs are but useless forms of personal dribble if you either a) don't have any followers, b) can't be found on the web, or c) don't post anything at least once a week. Well, I seem to be the captain fo the anti-personal promotion trifecta as of late, as life has simply just gotten in the way.
Wormwood Valley, this blog really, started as a way to explore small snippets and stories that came to mind fro the setting, Wormwood Valley, a peculiar land of strange creations that gather in one locale from all over the world to reside in and amongst fables, fairy tales and legends from multiple cultures and countries. Sort of a place where all stories and myths come to reside, along with every created and imagined "thing." From drawings to sketches to ideas half-realised, Wormwood Valley was where they came to reside. And Inkely Tolew the Third, esquire, is the Editor at Large For the Wormwood Daily, the chronicler if you will, of all things Wormwood.
But this blog has also become an exploratory place for the ramblings and wonderings and personal inquiry for an aspiring YA/Fantasy Fiction writer. But it is in fact this goal, this aim, that has kept me away from Wormwood Valley all together. I am now finishing the final typed edits for Shadowborn, The Alliance of the Black Triangle, and am nearly done. Wether it will be a resounding success and usher in a new era of JRR Tolkien-esque fantasy with an old saga and biblical flare or just another shelved Fantasy remains to be seen. And from what I read about the ever-changing face of the Publishing Industry, I am even more skeptical. But none-the-less, it is a work of love and fun at the very least.
The more I learn and read and study and research about the modern Publishing industry and a writers place in it however, I learn that self-promotion seems to be the order of the day. And that having the career background and technical skills to carry out such a charge is even more important now than ever before. But yet, I still find myself reluctant to "promote" this blog and other projects via Social MEdia outlets such as Twitter and Facebook, because I am as of yet, NOT published, therefore, part of me questions:
What exactly do you have to "promote?"
Good question, with a slightly humbling answer.
Very Little.
And so, I go back to the laptop and continue to revise in hopes that soon this will change, and that feeling of shameless self-promotion and public relations will soon subside when I do indeed have the accolades or at least the publishing contract to support such endeavors. In the meantime, I basque in the inspiration-giving shadows of Stacia Kane, Holly Black, Tor, Christopher Tolkien, Wizards of the Coast, Trevor Kidd (you have such an awesome last name..."Captain"....), Bloomsbury, Simon & Schuster, Amanda Devine, Random House, The Black Library, DK, and the list goes on and on.
People always thank those that follow them. But for a brief moment, I just wish to thank those that let me follow them. Thanks for the daily dosages of inspiration and often times random banter that reminds me that even you icons of the industry are in fact, real people. And often have real life distractions as well....
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