{"id":2151,"date":"2004-02-05T10:54:09","date_gmt":"2004-02-05T10:54:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/?p=2151"},"modified":"2020-09-25T08:39:59","modified_gmt":"2020-09-25T07:39:59","slug":"to-make-a-short-story-long-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/to-make-a-short-story-long-2\/","title":{"rendered":"To Make a Short Story Long"},"content":{"rendered":"

Or All About Drawers and Dreams\u2026<\/h4>\n

Once upon a time, I had the ambition of actually writing (and while building castles in the air, of actually getting someone else to illustrate) a children\u2019s story, the initial idea growing out of a portion of a picture I had done for a Robin Hobb book. After sending it off to fourteen different editors (three of them twice), and hearing back from NONE, I decided I was definitely misunderstood and before my time (i.e. that the story was no good), that it was all Megan\u2019s fault for the unwitting instigation of my inspiration, that greener grass in other pastures meant that the fences were harder to wriggle under, that rising above your station only meant there were no trains (okay, so it is a metaphorical mix of social awareness and rolling stock, but what the heck), and shoved the thing in that very deep and capacious drawer, the one reserved for dusty dreams. I\u2019ve chopped it into three parts; here\u2019s the first:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

THE SEA QUEEN\u2019S SECRET<\/p>\n

The fisher village huddled under the high cliffs. A tattered hem of white waves rose and fell about its feet, the deep blue-black depths tossing the amber reflections from the cottage windows to and fro.
\nThe villagers were poor, the cottages with their heavy shutters unpainted, the windows glazed with oiled parchment. In their wave-battered boats, the men hauled at their heavy nets, grim-faced in winter with freezing hands, burnt by the sun in summer. Merchant vessels never ventured near their coast, ringed as it was with reefs and waiting rocks, with tides and currents deadly to all but those who knew them. The rest of the world came only as flotsam on the steep beaches, or the odd peddlar who dared risk the narrow stairs from the cliff top. It was difficult to imagine another life, the sea was a harsh and unforgiving mistress, the fisherfolk her docile children. The women would climb the high cliff, to repair ragged nets and threadbare garments twenty times patched, and to watch for their men returning with their meagre harvest. Often, not all would descend again with the setting sun, and would huddle in the cold night wind, praying the moon\u2019s path would lead the boats home.
\nOndal was among the poorest, and an orphan besides. He lived alone in a tiny house clutching the cliff, his clothes even more patched and tattered than most. Of his mother, nothing was known, though many of the older women said he much resembled a man long since lost to the sea. But despite his patched brees and patchwork tunic,\u00a0 Ondal possessed something extraordinary – his boat.<\/p>\n

No one could find the words to describe it exactly; it resembled a leaf, a seashell, or a storybook. The prow and stern were like gilded ferns, along the gunwales were carved the most exquisite of decorations and tiny fantastical sea creatures. The hull was like the belly of a fish, lightly carved with fine scales that seemed to ripple under the waves\u2019 caress. It rode high in the water, even when laden with fish and damp nets, and the oars never slipped from the oarlocks, even in the worst of storms.
\nThe story of the boat and how it came to Ondal was even more extraordinary. Two dozen winters before, just beyond the breakwater that guarded the tiny cove where the village\u2019s meagre fleet sought shelter, a boat was found. Unanchored, it rode the winter sea as if on a calm lake. Once towed into the port, for it was too dangerous to try to board her in the storm, a baby had been found, wrapped tightly against the spray and damp and tucked away along the keel.\u00a0 As for the boat, it proved treacherous and unmanageable. Few were even able to climb aboard, and those who did could not row or steer. Finally, it was tied to the quay and abandoned. The baby – a boy, wearing a fragment of coral with strange writing scratched on it tied around his neck – was given into the care of an old couple with no children, a gift come to brighten their declining years. They named him Ondal, because his eyes were the emerald green of the sea.<\/p>\n

Years later, playing on the quays with the other village urchins, Ondal climbed aboard the boat on a dare. To the amazement of all, it neither tipped nor rolled. He shipped the oars, and soon he was ferrying all the children, amid peals of delighted laughter, around the cove. No one had forgotten how the boy had appeared the same morning as the magical boat, and no one questioned. The fishermen shook their heads, though, and made the sign they make to keep them from harm on the sea.
\nThe years passed, and Ondal became a fisher of course. His foster parents died, and he lived alone in the tiny cottage clinging to the cliff. In all seasons, his catch was plentiful, and as he had but his own mouth to feed, he gave the rest to any who were in need.
\nAll was far from well, however. For many seasons, the fish were becoming ever more scarce.\u00a0 More and more boats returned empty and one boat\u2019s catch could not feed the whole village. Some grumbled at Ondal\u2019s good luck, others muttered unkind words, but as he gave freely and generously, none dared say more. Things might well have worsened though, as the villagers turned their worried minds to an uncertain future. No one dared dream for a miracle, but the story of how their difficulties were resolved is even harder to believe. It started the day Ondal fished a knight\u2026<\/p>\n

To be continued\u2026<\/p>\n

CH\u00c2LONS<\/p>\n

The show is opening in Ch\u00e2lons tomorrow. Next venue will be in Saint-Nazaire, on March 10th. I\u2019ll also be at the Salon du Livre in Paris on March 23rd (but let me double-check those dates first). This afternoon we\u2019ll be printing the next limited print. All the others, with the exception of Glorfindel and the Balrog, are more or less sold out. The remaining ones for sale (with the exception of the small stock I have here and hope to flog for a small fortune when they become collector\u2019s items) will be available in Paris.
\nGANDALF<\/p>\n

Oscar has finished the statue and will be delivering it later on in March. He has had to stop sending photos because his camera is currently welded to its tripod for a marathon step-by-step weeks-long photo session, but will post more soon.
\nFATANEH<\/p>\n

Due to a rather annoying server crash and my ill-placed over-confidence in back-ups, this section of the site, which I had hoped we could open this week, will be open next.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Or All About Drawers and Dreams\u2026 Once upon a time, I had the ambition of actually writing (and while building castles in the air, of actually getting someone else to illustrate) a children\u2019s story, the initial idea growing out of a portion of a picture I had done for a Robin Hobb book. After sending […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[96,22,11,515],"class_list":["post-2151","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chronicles","tag-fataneh","tag-gandalf","tag-robin-hobb","tag-royal-assassing"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1PY8Y-yH","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2151","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2151"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2151\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2151"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2151"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.john-howe.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2151"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}