This week I hope to make some forward progress with my third book, Emily, Brave and Swift. I have nearly completed the editing and have sketched the cover art and four of the seven interior page illustrations. The concept of Emily, Brave and Swift came to me early one morning, several months ago. The idea of an isolated, somewhat neglected child who is both independent and brave is a challenge. To make it more of a challenge, the setting is in medieval times and blends in a little present day technology just for fun. On top of all of that--it's an illustrated, rhyming book.  What a fun trip this has been!

I plan to publish three versions of the book within a month or so:

  • Hard Cover
  • Soft Cover
  • E-Book (Kindle and other e-reader formats)

The following is an excerpt from the book, which can also be found on the home page of this website:


A creak     a shuffle     a slide     a bump,

A rumble    a scrape     a smash     a thump


S


trange noises in the night,

Something is wrong, not quite right.

 

Darkness envelopes young Emily’s room,

Blue-black so thick, it feels like a tomb.

Young Emily bolts upright in her over-sized bed.

She listens, she swivels her tussled, brown head.

 

She leans in closer to favor one ear,

And can hardly believe the things she hears:

Chewing and gnawing,

Pulling and crashing,

Smacking and slurping,

Licking and cracking.


What ruckus is this in the mid of the night?

What foul creature hath gall to make such a fright?


It shan’t be her father, Sir Guy is away.

Off fighting and purging-keeping enemies at bay.

It couldn’t be her mum, for she snores quite loudly.

And is above anything that is garish or rowdy.


The sounds come not from young Emily’s room;

Nor from where her mum slumbers in the gloom.

It is further along the manor’s cavernous halls,

Something lurks in the darkness, invading galley walls.

 

Young Emily, the daughter of a brave, young knight,

Is not the least bit afraid to take up a fight.


Swiftly, she gathers her bow and arrow,

Then scoops up her sword that lay near her pillow.

She leaps from her bed not a moment too soon.

Her gown gathering wind, like a hot air balloon.

 

Some day again she will question Sir Guy,

As to why her bed sits over 20 feet high.

At age five, she inquired of the bed’s ill-fit,

Her father simply replied, “You’ll grow into it.”

 

Emily glides to the floor on bended knee,

Then springs to her feet, with a chuckle of glee.

She smooths out her skirts, stands up straight and proud.

Then declares, “This is serious business, defending one’s ground.”


On silent tips and toes, she moves toward the door.

Like her bed, the door is tall; nearly 30 feet or more.

Emily grabs the brass knob, turns and pulls with a snort.

In streams the light, from the candlelit lanthorns.


Instantly her frame casts a grotesque shadow,

That at first glance, looks like a herd of cattle.

She steps into the hallway, hunkering down low.

Heading towards the galley-silent feet, movements slow.

 

She curves the first bend, steps past her mum’s room.

Then stops quite abruptly at the loud CRASH, KA-BOOM!

Emily is certain that her mum will awaken.

But Ma Lady would snore on, though the earth was a quakin’.


My next post will include process and samples of the book's illustrations.

Best!

Til the next time.


Text and artwork © Copyright 2010 Janice Reynolds

All rights reserved. Published by Thomas Lee Publishing This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.