I tell a lie, or is that a lay?

When you’re writing, one of your duties as a writer is to make your story easy to read, so that your thoughts and feelings travel to the reader’s mind hopefully unscathed, and with ease. No matter how long you live, or how much you write, you will never stop sucking at this – you will just suck at a higher and higher level until at some point people no longer care about the suck.

As Mr. Terry Pratchett has remarked on several occasions, “correct spelling, grammar and punctuation are not things that only happen to other people”. And the things that go wrong are many. I often change one end of a sentence, then forget to change the other end. I repeat phrases too often. I misspell, use the wrong word, don’t keep the vocabulary in check so that this peasant is suddenly using words like “vouchsafed”.

These are simple errors, and that is why it is so important to have a dedicated beta reader, who can point these mistakes out to you, because when you are in full flow, telling your story, you are trying to get it out of your head and into words. Editing comes after. Editing is important, because mistakes in your words are like bumps in the road. They distract your reader and make them think about grammar rather than gryphons.

Now one of these bumps in the road for me is when I read a phrase like “she laid down on the couch”, or “she laid down her head on the soft pillow”. Both phrases just look wrong to me. It should be, “she lay down on the couch”. The other phrase is actually correct, but still looks wrong to me.

The thing is, mistakes in this are now so common that I’m starting to doubt myself. Is there a transatlantic difference here? Don’t think so. So I need to get this straightened out once and for all, so I can pedant with righeous zeal. Nothing worse than being counter-pedanted.

So the two verbs that cause this confusion are: to lie, meaning to rest, be stretched out or reclined somewhere, and to lay, meaning the act of putting something down. (Interestingly, you have the same problem in Dutch with liggen/leggen). They are declined thusly:

To lie, lay, lain, lying: Being horizontal.
To lay, laid, laid, laying: Putting something or someone down.

So the phrase, “she laid down on the couch”, uses the past tense of to lay, instead of to lie, which is wrong. In the second phrase, (she laid down her head) she casually removes her head, and gently puts it down on the soft pillow before her body collapses in a fountain of blood. Unwise, but gramatically correct.

There’s also a few variations that muddle up the waters: “Now I lay me down to sleep” is correct: you take yourself to lay down. The rather uncouth expression of “gettin’ laid” and not “gettin lain” refers to someone laying someone else down and giving them a jolly good seeing-to.

So I have now printed out the verbs and stuck them on top of the bathroom mirror. This will allow me to lay down the law, and I’ll avoid lying awake at night pondering this.

Jackie Chan

Just found out to my delight that Jackie Chan, contrary to messages on the Internet, is alive and well and doing benefit appearences in Hebei Province in the Xuanhua County of China. I have edited the post where I mention him…

Fun with the Anime facemaker

So one of the blogs I follow pointed me at this Anime Face Maker.

Which allows you to make all kinds of Anime people. It’s amazing how recognisable you can make these people. For instance, Ariciel just came rolling out of there with no trouble at all. And once I had her, of course, I had to do her boyfriend as well. Now Bannog, I’m afraid, looks too thin for me. He’s a guy as broad as he’s tall, who can lift Night-elves with one hand.

One limitation of this site (but you can hardly blame them) is that you can only do Humanoid species. So Hunter s’dezo’houn, I’m afraid, is beyond the capabilities. Still, I think I can do a passable Mareva. She, of course, should be dark blue rather than dark brown, but when I get rich and famous, and the movie comes out, I will accept nobody but Tamara Taylor (Camille Saroyan in “Bones”) to play her. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to insist.

And of course, Ellandriel must feature as well. She looks a bit worried here. Perhaps, murderous Keldorei are waiting to fall down upon her from the trees. So then, on to the rest of my people. I find I have rather a lot of girls here. It’s not that I don’t have guys – I do. (Bannog, Cullan, Smitty, Gerrig, Father Eolas, Stetson, Griggin) but apart from Bannog, who is bald and has a beard, they don’t really have all that many distinguishing features.For instance, here’s the best I could do for Nix:

Now Nix, I’ve once described as the poster boy for Totally Unremarkable  Gnome Magazine. There’s a reason. He’s a rogue. He doesn’t want to stand out, he wants to be invisible. Trixie has no problem being seen. She wants to be the centre of attention. She’s a tank. Also, the pink pigtails are there, as is the murderous grin. Cullan is another story. He’s a fairly nondescript guy who occasionally turns into a wolf. He grows a beard, and looks like a butler.

Now if you want Griggin Steambender, just imagine a slightly older Nix whose hair has gone a bit grey. Smitty is a completely normal Human. Dark hair, fairly well-muscled, but that’s more or less a given in the World of Warcraft. Gerrig is basically Bannog with a full head of hair. They’re brothers. Totally uninteresting. So in rapid succession, let’s have Naegling and Selena.

They look good, but Naegling needs more bulk and Selena needs many many more freckles. The generator doesn’t do standing-up plaits, so I can’t do Interalia. It also doesn’t do pandas, so I cannot do Thunderpetal either.

Why yes, I am enjoying myself too much, why do you ask?

Part 22: Home, or what is left of it

Part 22: Home, or what is left of it

The penultimate chapter! Next one will be the last! We can see Mareva taking big decisions here, while Ellandriel settles into Keldorei society, though not without a little hitch now and then.

Ariciel walked down the path to her small house to find Stetson sitting on the bench in front of her window, Morgan at his feet. His hand was gently scratching Morgan between his ears, and his pale blue eyes shone as he watched the clouds drifting slowly over the woods of Teldrassil. Mareva was nowhere to be seen.

“Hi Stetson. Why is Mareva not sitting on your lap, and more importantly, where is she?”

Stetson raised his hand, palm up.

“We have a saying among my people. Love, it is like a small bird resting in the palm of your hand. Keep perfectly still, and still it might flutter off for no reason.” He made a tight fist. “Grab it quickly, and if you crush it, it will be yours forever.”

“My goodness. You haven’t buried her in my garden, have you?”

“Of course not. That would be most rude.” Stetson pointed. “She said she wanted to think. She went in that direction.”

 

Part 20: Over the shattered world

Part 20: Over the shattered world

And here is where we open up a can of Night-elf Sentinels, and they open up a can of whoop-ass on the Horde. We’ve arrived in Astranaar, and there is a bit of a disturbance going on.

The rooftops of Astranaar came into view, exactly where Mareva had expected them to be. Good. This communing with the Forest Spirits was all well and good, but sometimes, you couldn’t beat a nice, exact bit of trigonometry. By way of celebration, she flipped her gryphon’s tail in the air and flew down in a power-dive. She pulled up sharply, and landed right in the middle of town. She blinked. The smell of smoke was on the wind, and all round her, Night-elves were pointing arrows and other sharp things at her. She raised her hands.

“Please do not shoot me. I am good people.”

On an unrelated subject: I have just been to Stormwind, and there’s a balloon of pandas there! Also, all my spells ant abilities have changed! Wot?

Part 18: Sharp things and blunt instruments

Part 18: Sharp things and blunt instruments

Coming to you live from the Discworld Convention. Ellandriel and her friends set off for Darnassus, across the frozen wastes of Northrend. Luckily, now that the Lich king is no more, these lands are once more safe to cross. No, really!

Ellandriel pushed her plate away, and opened the book again. The pages were yellowed, or as the book people have it, “slightly foxed”. It was written mostly in Darnassian, with occasional quotes in Common or Thalassian. Mareva looked over.

“What does it say?”

“It is mostly about the doings of various cults, and the gods they worship. Or, in this case, the Black Dragon Aspect.”

“Do they perform evil and debauched rituals to appease their gods?”

“Ritualised perverse sexual acts, blood sacrifices, and depravities of a disturbing nature?”

“Perhaps,” said Mareva, looking over Ellandriel’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t say,” said Ellandriel.

Part 15: Friends, enemies, same difference

Part 15: Friends, enemies, same difference

It’s always wonderful to meet new friends, the thrill of finding out all about them (which Ellandriel would do her best to avoid), perhaps even finding out you have a mutual acquaintance, taking pleasure in each other’s company (which Ellandriel is entirely not onterested in thankyouverymuch). if all else fails, there’s safety in numbers, as long as you don’t go looking for trouble. Yes, indeed.

Stetson is taking it easy by comparison, making some money in the Circle of Wills.

They walked into the thicket. Ariciel looked up and round at the buildings. They were of sturdy, well-engineered Keldorei style, but nobody had lived there for a long time, and the forest was slowly reclaiming the place with leaf and bramble and twig. Ariciel ran forward.

“Look! there’s even a Moonwell here!” She dipped her hand in the water, but quickly pulled it out again. “Eww. That hasn’t been cleansed in a long time. Slacking priestesses.”

Mareva pointed. “Slacking Druids, you mean. Though in their present state, I think they cannot help it.”

Ariciel looked where Mareva was pointing, and her hand went to her staff. On the ground lay the long-deserted skeleton of a Night-elf woman. Her Druid’s robes were torn, almost taken away by insects. There was still the residue of an unhealthy green glow about the body. Ariciel had taken her staff from her back, and searched the surrounding wood for enemies. Ellandriel stood still, the syllables of her pre-combat spells revolving in her mind, waiting, eyes darting over the place.

Mareva kneeled by the dead Druid, and looked her over. All that was left of her were some bones, with occasional pieces of skin.

 

Part 14: If you strike me down

Part 14: If you strike me down

Stetson is finding out about the finer points of dining in the Legerdemain Lounge, being helpfully guided by his Blood-elf enemy. Ellandriel and Teacher are off to the abandoned armoury south of Honour Hold, for some extra equipment. Ariciel, having recovered her kettle from the rampaging ravagers, is making tea. What? You have to have tea!

Stetson stared at the plate. On it was some sort of construction made from potato strips. A leaf of lettuce was next to it, upon which was placed, with great skill, a slice of tomato, a few crumbs of cheese and half an olive. A hint of sauce was dripped, almost apologetically, over it. There were also three slices of meat next to it. Stetson was struck by the sadness that for those three slivers of meat, a whole caribou had laid down its life. The Blood-elf woman stared at Stetson’s face, leaned back in her chair and burst out laughing. Stetson frowned at her, which only made matters worse. She leant over to him, patted his arm.

“Bonum appetitus, Draenei.”

Part 13: The importance of nutrition

Part 13: The importance of nutrition

Stetson is recovering marvellously, while Mareva and Ariciel have a bit of a run-in with the local wildlife. Ellandriel and Teacher arrive in Honour Hold, and start planning for the future. And we all know what happens when you do that…

Honour Hold was a typical Human settlement: Stone walls, stone towers. Plate-wearing soldiers. Ellandriel looked at the faces of the people passing by. There was a sense of resignation that everything would end in tears, and that the people who thought it was a good idea to come here and fight should have their heads seen to, with no need to bring their bodies. And still, there was the determination that said that if it was all going to end badly, it would not be because they were slacking. A curious mixture of pessimism and confidence that seemed to Ellandriel to be typically Human. Oh, and Dwarvish.

One of the first skills a traveller picks up is to find food in the wilderness. It took Ellandriel only a second or two to spot the inn. To walk in, find a free table and order lunch was the work of mere minutes for an experienced survival expert.

Part 12: That which does not heal me, makes me weaker

Part 12: That which does not heal me, makes me weaker

Ariciel and mareva have arrived in Outland, with Ellandriel and her Teacher hot on their heels. Stetson appears to be on the mend, unlike his new-found Blood-elf fellow patient. Of course, there are things you can do in Outland that you can’t do anywhere else… yet.

The thought struck her as she flew, drunk with the excitement of flying, flying as a bird. Freedom! She looked down. The ground was far, far away. She knew already that she could cast this spell on the move. She concentrated, and a moment later, a Night-elf woman hung in the air, supported by absolutely nothing. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the ground rushed towards her. How fast could she go? She held her hands forward, turning her fall into a dive. With a wild grin on her face, down she sped. The wind rushed in her ears. Her hair flapped madly in her face. She took a deep breath, plunging down faster and faster.

Ariciel screamed!