Out of Context

The Newsletter Page

PaperHill Writing

P.O. Box 1491

Taylor, AZ 85939


November 02 2023

Almost two months ago Kelly, my editor at CursedDragonShip Publishing, called me and went over the outline I had sent her for book two in the Not Quite Legendary series.

I’d decided the book would focus on secondary characters from The Twelve Trials of Doug, Doug’s brother Modifixeus and the curse-free Gorgon Medusa. I was going to call it Medusa and Mod’s Oddity Odyssey. I had a pretty solid idea of what I wanted the next book to be, and had about 30,000 words or so written of it. I was feeling pretty confident in the story and where it was heading.

Then Kelly, god bless her, torpedoed me hard.

All the points she brought up were excellent and insightful. She felt her suggestions would elevate my storytelling to a higher level, and she is most likely right (We’ll have to wait and see how that goes). She had faith I could make the changes she was suggesting work.

I have a philosophy that you listen to your editor, unless you have a really, really good reason not to.

I didn’t have a good enough argument not to do what she was asking.

The changes left me with the title of the book. I was able to salvage about 5,000 words of what I had already written. Not ideal, but workable.

Then she told me the deadline for the rough draft. November 4th.

“That’s really soon,” I said, flop sweat already preparing itself in my armpits.

“That’s two months away. You can do it,” Kelly said.

“Seven weeks,” I replied.

“Two months,” she repeated. 

Never argue with your editor, even if she can’t decipher a calendar. (Just joking, Kelly. Please don’t hit me with the motivation rod again.)

You’ll notice that the writing date of this newsletter is November 2nd. And, to answer the obvious question, no I have not finished the novel, but I am close enough that I will have the first draft wrapped up and turned in to Kelly on the fourth of the month.

Thank you, Kelly, for challenging me and pushing me. Seven weeks(two months) to write a novel is not a bad thing for me to have accomplished. With all the life stress I’ve had going on I still managed to make it happen.

It is a good thing to know what you are capable of. I can write a novel in less than two months. If life gives me a break I think I could do it quite a bit faster than that.

Kelly said in an update from CursedDragonShip that those signed up for my newsletter will be getting an advance copy of The Twelve Trials of Doug with one of my newsletters. That’s a great reason to sign up! Do it!

Go to paperhillwriting.com or jeremybrundage.com and click on the link on any of the pages to add yourself onto my mailing list!

As always, I’ll have a little something in each email, and then you won’t have to search for that funny little story I shared on FaceBook because it will be right in your inbox! How cool is that?

I have another section of the dictionary from The Twelve Trials of Doug to tide you over until next month. 



Satyr plural Satyrs - ˈsā-tər, ˈsā-tərs

Hardcore goat or horsemen with a wicked sense of humor. Overly fond of Dyonisian virtues. Bold, brash, bawdy boozers. You can usually smell where their last party happened.

Nymph plural Nymphs - nim(p)f, nim(p)fs

Minor deities of the forest, waters, mountains, or trees often depicted as beautiful, young women. The cute girl at the nature co-op that everyone wants to date.

Sigma Chi - Ͼ Χ - sig-mə kī

The Greek lettering system to denote Frats and Sororities came about because the members were trying to prove they were better and more educated than everyone else. Really. That message has somehow been lost and the words now are mostly associated with the years of college you can’t remember because you “had a good time”.

Diples - thip-lez

Deep-fried rolls of thin flaky pastry drizzled with honey and sprinkled with chopped walnuts. Crispy. Crunchy. Flaky. 

Warning: Contains nuts.

Barry White - bä-ˈrē ˈ(h)wīt

King of boudoir disco. Smooth, sexy voice that no one can come close to imitating.

Everest - ev(ə)rə̇st

Mountain 21,031.7 feet above sea level. 21,000 feet is pretty impressive, but it's the 31.7 feet that really matters. It’s the last 31.7 feet that gets ya.

Himalayas - hi-mə-ˈlā-əz

India turned her back for 70 million years and before she knew it she had mountains all across her backside. “Does this range make my ass look fat?”

“India, you look fine just the way you are.” - Buddha

Macadamias - ma-kə-ˈdā-mē-əz

Hard shelled nut of an Australian evergreen tree. 

Warning: Contains nuts.

Isaac - ˈī-zik

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the incomparable Ted Lang!” Enthusiastic clapping ensues.

Jehovah - ji-ˈhō-və

God. With the big ‘G’.

Satan - sā-tᵊn

Not God with the big ‘G’, but he could be, if only the jerks in charge would give him a chance. (Not gonna happen).

Tsunami - (t)su̇-ˈnä-mē

A great ocean wave created by earthquakes or volcanic activity. Also, the single “Punk Means Cuddle” by the band Tsunami is featured on the album Teriyaki Asthma vol 7. The tune contains a simple refrain on how differing perceptions can alter our understanding of words and phrases.

Olympics - ō-ˈlim-piks

Of or relating to the Olympic games. Did I mention the dress code for the participants? The viewing opportunities alone were well worth the cost and hassle of attending.

Ktesibios - ktee-sEE-vee-aws

Greek inventor and engineer. He discovered the elasticity of air while sitting on his father’s barber chair. His father told him to hold it in or go into another room because the smell was driving away the clientele. 

Europa - yu̇-ˈrō-pə

A Phonecian princess with a thing for a white bull. The bull was Zeus. Three children resulted from the ensuing rodeo.

Crete - krēt

Largest Island in Greece. The history of Crete goes back 7000 years BCE. The earliest known civilization is the Minoans. They liked bulls, baths, and flushing toilets.

Talos - tä-lō-s

Bronze giant automaton who circled Crete three times daily to protect Europa from would-be kidnappers and pirates. The bouncer protecting Zeus’ private club, if you will.

Automaton plural Automata - ȯ-​ˈtä-​mə-​tən, ȯ-​ˈtä-​mə-​tə

A being or mechanism that is fairly self operating. Think robots like in Disney theme parks or the pseudo girlfriend that nerd built in his parent’s basement out of a life-sized Barbie doll and a broken toaster.

Mahna, mahna - Mah-na mah-na

Truly inspirational and inspired entertainment doesn’t need to make sense.

One - wən

Uno. The first sister and leader of the group of artificial people sent to follow Doug.

Three - ˈthrē

Tres. The second sister and third mechanical person following Doug.

Four - fȯr

Cuatro. The second brother and fourth person assembled by Ktesibios and Talos. 

Five - fīv

Cinco. The fifth of the metal siblings.

Six - siks

Seis. The sixth mechanical sibling created (and if you ask him, the best).

Two aka Nine - ˈtü / nīn

Dos or Nueve. This guy is different from his brothers and sisters. Something in the settings is off, but because of that he is the most free thinking and original of the bunch. Doesn’t help much though. He’s kinda a pain.

Shetland - shet-lənd

A horse the size of a dog. Alternatively, a dog the size of a horse.

Valis - välēs

Local name for the area around Elis, meaning the lowland. It all sat a bit higher after Snickers the dog was through with it.

Typhon - ˈtī-ˌfän

When addressing Typhon I never know which snake head to look at. Very embarrassing in social situations.

Titan - ˈtī-tᵊn

(Sniggering) “So your dad is Uranus?” (Pronounced slowly and suggestively for ultimate comedic effect) 

Titan - “Shut up!” Hits the speaker with a tree.

Gyro - ˈjī-rō

Tasty, spicy, thinly sliced meat on flatbread with veggies and Tzatziki sauce.

Perimedes - pa-rē-mēd-es

Good friend of Odysseus.  Good appetizer for Polyphemus.

Akanthos - AAk-ann-thaws

Full of deep thinkers in the time of our story, it changes hands every time new neighbors move in. Akanthos is the apartment in the neighborhood someone rents on a month to month basis.

Tzatziki - (t)sat-ˈsē-ˈzē-kē

Tangy, zesty, Greek yogurt sauce with cucumber and garlic. The ancient version of ranch dressing.

Kabobs - ka·​bobs

Cubes of meat marinated with vegetables and grilled on a skewer. Street vendors make the best ones, but with great rewards come inherent risks.

Hoi polloi - hȯi-pə-ˈlȯi

The writhing, unwashed masses. The Grassroots. Pennylings. People that shop at WalMart.

Xerxes - zərk-sēs

Would be leader of the local Mediterranean HOA.

Gesundheit - gə-ˈzu̇nt-ˌhīt

From German. (Gesund)Healthy, and (Heit)Hood. Someone should be shouting this all over the southside of the tracks.

Gaea - ˈjē-ə

- “Your mom is so fat she birthed the titans.”

Dad, aghast. “That’s it! Go to your room!”

Athos - a-thōs

A holy mountain on the Acte peninsula in Greece. Home to many monasteries. Only the males of any species are allowed to enter the territory surrounding the mountain, with the exception of female pussycats... No further comments.

Augean Stables - ȯ-ˈjē-ən ˈstā-bəl

This is the horse barn you would have seen on an ancient Episode of Hoarders.

Chiton - kī-tᵊn

The basic garment worn by Greeks, knee length for men and full length for women. “It’s the latest fashion, darling. Absolutely everyone is wearing them.”

Cyclopes - sī-​ˈklō-​pēz

One eyed, oversized, unionized. 

Cauldron - kȯl-drən

A big metal pot. Had gone somewhat out of style due to association with witchcraft. Oddly enough, has come somewhat back in style due to the Harry Potter franchise.

Demeter - di-ˈmē-tər

You know how I told you about Rhea being Zeus’ unwilling consort and the whole snake thing. It gets worse. In the same myth the snakes have a daughter, Persephone, whom Zeus then mates with and has another child. That child must have had a whole slew of identity problems when it came to figuring out how he was related to whom. 

Hippocrates - huh·paa·kruh·teez

Advocate for the balance of the Four Humours. Not referring to the ‘Laughter is the Best Medicine’ kind of humor.

Philippides - fi-lə-ˈpē-dez

You know the one kid who is bursting to be the first to tell everyone that one exciting tidbit of great news? This guy wanted to share the happy word so badly he wound up dying because of it. Managed to deliver the message, though.

Ethiopian - ē-thē-ˈō-pē-ən

Of or relating to Ethiopia. Mountainous country that gave the world coffee. For that reason alone 90% of people on the earth should be thankful for Ethiopia.

Parkour - pär-ˈku̇r

Running, jumping, leaping over obstacles rapidly and efficiently. Not a recommended form of exercise for people with inner-ear imbalances.

Starbucks - stär-bəks

Go for the caffeine jolt, stay for the nice baristas and free wifi. 

Genghis Khan - jeŋ-gəs-ˈkän

Mongol over-achiever. If you’re driving to the store and there is only one parking space and two cars and the other driver is Genghis, I suggest you let him take the parking spot.

Khwarezmid - k-wəˈræ-zmid

Didn’t give Genghis the parking spot.

Mongol - män-ˌgōl

A member of any group of traditionally pastoral peoples from Mongolia. I like that definition. It makes them sound nice.

PaperHill Writing

P.O. Box 1491

Taylor, AZ 85939


October 4 2023

Sometimes the things you put a lot of effort into work out, and sometimes they don’t.

A few years ago I was approached by someone to ghost write a biography for a successful businessman from the South. He’d started from nothing and had built a chicken packing empire (cooked chicken, not the kind still clucking and pecking in the dust) and his son wanted to make a record of the man’s hard-fought story for the family and the business to have forever.

Writing the history of a meat-packing magnate had never been high on my list. But as I went through the varying interviews with underlings to prove I was qualified for the job, I was starting to get a bit hyped for it. I did enough research to have a good idea of where to start, and we began setting up times for me to head south to do in-person interviews.

Then the old man, the subject of the biography, told the son pushing the project that he didn’t want to do it. The son pushing the project said we could find a way to still make it work.

Did I mention that I hadn’t been able to get the son to sign the contract I’d sent to him?

I already had an unpaid time sheet total of five or six grand by then.

I’d put a lot of work into this.

I had a meeting with the son in charge of the project, and basically told him without the consent and willingness of the subject of the biography, the project was pretty much dead. It was a polite way of saying that I hadn’t even been paid a deposit on the job, and I wasn't willing to put in more work on the nebulous promise that something might work out someday. There was potentially a lot of money for me if the project finished. The hope and dream of actually being well paid was a hard thing to let go.

Cutting them loose was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

Picking myself up to start the next thing was even harder.

Luckily, I stumbled into something else that seemed to work. I told a joke to my brother, and then wrote it down. The ideas to expand on the joke kept coming, and before I knew it I had a rough novel on my hands.

The release of the first book in the Not Quite Legendary series is coming up soon, with the first book being available in digital and paperback Feb.6th, 2024.

I did the cover reveal promotional event for my book The Twelve Trials of Doug last Sunday. My publisher, Kelly, asked a few questions and read the back cover copy. I read half a chapter from the book. We lost the internet on my end halfway through, but I managed to get back on and we were able to finish the event. If you want to see the video you can copy and paste this link to watch it on YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rByiXUF0qc

The listing for kindle pre-orders is live on Amazon. You can check it out here with this link - https://curseddragonship.com/thetwelvetrialsofdoug

I’ve put most everything else on hold while I’m writing the second book in the series. The first draft of book 2 in the Not Quite Legendary series - Medusa and Mod’s Oddity Odyssey - is more than halfway done, and I’m supposed to be turning it in to Kelly at CursedDragonShip Publishing on November 4th.

Sometimes the things you work hard on don’t work out, and sometimes they do. I lost a job writing for someone else, and wound up writing something unique(at least I think so) of my own.

If you haven’t signed up for my newsletter you can always go to paperhillwriting.com or jeremybrundage.com to click on the link to be added to the mailing list. Just be patient if there are any hiccoughs with the first few letters I send out. This is still all very new to me.

This month I wanted to include an unused scene from The Twelve Trials of Doug. This scene connects with the excerpt I read live on Sunday, but I had to trim it from the novel. I loved the imagery of the man being thrown by Heracles, so it was hard to edit it out.

I hope you like it.



There was a commotion at the back of the crowd. Someone new appeared and attempted to politely move to the head of the group. Someone else didn’t like that. Words were exchanged and someone said something unbecoming to the newcomer.

“You dare?” Heracles spat.

“Uh, oh,” Doug facepalmed. “I recognize that voice.”

There was a very brief scuffle and the losing party was pitched from the square. Pitched. As in thrown. Having never experienced flying before, the loser was at first rather silent. Then the gravity, or lack thereof, of the situation became apparent and he let out a high pitched keening that slowly dwindled the farther away he traveled until you weren’t really sure if you could hear him anymore or not. The crowd continued to watch in silence as the man flew further away until he disappeared into a very high and very distant cloud. A contrail lingering in the sky reminded all of his trajectory long after he was gone.

All in all the brief exchange was rather impressive.

As he stared at the demigod, Doug’s eyes grew wide. “I’m really, really glad we avoided pissing him off when we ran into him earlier.”

“We ran into that big guy earlier?” Mod said. “Funny, you think I’d remember something like that.”

From time to time, Mod truly caught Doug off guard. “How can you possibly forget someone the size of Mount Olympus threatening your life?”

Mod screwed his brow in thought, then he suddenly beamed. “Oh, yeah! The guy who made me drop my whirligig! I remember now!” Mod was now just a little too loud and excited, and other people were starting to look their way.

“Shush! Don’t get his attention!” Doug grimaced.

He didn’t need to worry. Everyone else assembled was paying attention to the victorious tosser. The newcomer moved forward and the dumbfounded, speechless crowd parted rather neatly down the center to form a path for him.

Doug couldn’t back away from the man fast enough, grabbing Mod by the shoulder and pulling his brother with him. He and Mod had been lucky once, and Doug didn’t feel like taking a chance a second time.

While they watched the big man stride boldly through the masses, someone brushed up against Doug’s shoulder. If felt like whoever it was pushed a finger against Doug’s robe.

“Sorry if I backed into you. I was just trying to get out of the way,” Doug tried to apologize. He turned just in time to see a cloaked, hooded figure disappear into the crowd.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Hey, Mod. Did you see someone just bump into me?” Doug asked in a quiet voice.

“Whoever it was must be clumsy or in a hurry. He bumped into me too,” Mod whispered back. He glanced away from the crowd and saw a streak on his brother’s chiton. “Did you know there’s a blue chalk mark on your back?” With a quick pause before he added. “Why are we whispering?”

“We’re whispering because… Well I don’t know. It just got quiet.” Doug craned his neck to try to look over his shoulder. He couldn’t twist enough to see the mark on his back. “I don’t see anything. Hey, Mod. Turn around. Let me see if there’s a mark on you too.”

Sure enough. Mod had a mark on his back as well.

“I wonder…” Doug asked as he pondered the chalk. Now he knew it was there he looked out over the crowd. Sure enough, a spattering of marks were here and there on the backs of others. “This is a pretty bold color for chalk. Here, turn around,” he asked his brother.

Mod spun and Doug ran his finger through the chalk.

“He managed to give you a pretty good dusting with that bump,” Doug rubbed the chalk between his finger and thumb. The mark on his thumb was as bright and thick as the one on his finger. “How far can this bit of dust stretch?” He rubbed his thumb on Mod’s forehead.

“I’m marked now, aren’t I?” Mod looked to have a fair amount of certainty as he tried and failed to see the blue dimple now residing on his forehead.

“Sorry about that,” Doug rubbed his hands on the front of his clothes. It streaked the fabric in brilliant blue stripes. The chalk was still on his finger and thumb. “Apparently a little of this chalk goes a long way.”

“Very fashionable,” Mod said flatly. “Remind me not to touch my cheek or forehead or I might spread it over half my face and wind up looking like a sports fan, which I’m not* **.

*Footnote - True. Wrestlers in ancient times might paint their faces to signal who they wrestled for. It's ancient Greece, so it's not like you could go by the color of the uniform. Greek sports were performed starkers. Fans might also paint their faces to show support and solidarity with their teams, while not quite sharing the same dress code as the athletes unless it was something really important like the playoffs or the wine was exceptionally fine.

**Footnote footnote - I totally just made that up. Sounded pretty convincing though, didn’t I?

PaperHill Writing

P.O. Box 1491

Taylor, AZ 85939


August 31 2023

I got asked by my publisher at CursedDragonShip what signings and appearances I was planning on doing next year. Being rather new to all of this, I have no idea about how to set up an appearance, or how to schedule them out a year in advance. I’m sure I’ll figure it out. I have plenty of people to ask if I get stuck along the way.

It is always good to go back and look in on the items in the last newsletter, because it reminds me of where I was a month ago, and helps me gauge the progress I’ve made in the past month. I didn’t get enough writing done last month, but there was progress and I’m still learning how to manage my creative time.

I did get a couple of good chapters done in the next Not Quite Legendary series. Medusa and Mod’s Oddity Odyssey is shaping up to be something very fun to write and is going to be a very good sequel to the Twelve Trials of Doug. The back cover copy for The Twelve Trials of Doug is locked down, and we’re working on the cover for the book now. The publication date is slated for Feb. 6th, 2024. That date is coming up faster than I can comprehend. I’m still not sure what I should be expecting, but I guess I’ll find out soon.

My science fiction novel, Open Skies, placed in the StarFlight universe, is coming along with about 10,000 words written so far. I have most of the outline for the first novel laid out, and the rough outline for two more books if the first one goes well. That book will be coming out through Three Ravens Press.

I’m still working on the edits for Stoat of Wild Reign set in the Eldros Legacy world. I need to wrap it up soon just so I can figure out the publishing details. There are several options for getting my books set in Wild Reign out, but I haven’t figured out which way is best yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it all out.

I’m still working out the ins and outs of creating a newsletter. I will try to be fairly consistent in getting the letters out on time, but life, being what it is, can always be a bit unpredictable. All I can say is that I will try my best.

If you haven’t signed up for my newsletter you can always go to paperhillwriting.com or jeremybrundage.com to click on the link to be added to the mailing list. Just be patient if there are any hiccoughs with the first few letters I send out. This is still all very new to me.

This month I wanted to include a short chapter from a story I’ve been writing for a very long time. The fourth boy in this chapter will become a young man named Farmer, and the story of Farmer is one I hope to edit and publish sometime in the near future.

I hope you like it.


Inside the short picket fence the garden slowly turned from the variety of the summer greens to the brittle bleached yellows that signal the end of the season.

The plants inside the barriers weren’t the only things dying.

The three boys shouldn’t have been outside the orphanage courtyard, but they were hungry and thought that maybe they’d find a few beans or peas drying in an overlooked, unharvested pod; maybe even a couple of carrots or potatoes still hidden in the hard earth.

They’d found something unexpected; something that’d taken their minds completely off their empty stomachs.

“Have you ever seen one that large before?” One of them wiped a grimy nose on the back of his even grimier sleeve.

“I seen bigger last year, but I never got as close to it,” said the boy in the poorly patched trousers.

“Did not,” the boy in the odd green coveralls said.

“Did too!”

The snake reared up, annoyed at being interrupted in the middle of his work.

The three boys took a step back from the snake in unison just as a fourth boy stepped out the courtyard gate.

The fourth boy was dressed in clothes just as shabby as the other boys were, but cleaner, or at least more neatly kept. He looked intelligent but unusually somber for his age of seven or eight years. A small fabric bag filled his hands. He clung to the bag like it was all he had in the world because it was.

“It’s almost got it now,” said Grimy Shirt, “the cat is gone for sure.”

“Are we gonna watch it eat it?” Coveralls said in fascinated disgust.

“Yeah!” said Patched Trousers with glee. “It’ll be gross.”

“Then what’ll we do?” asked Coveralls.

“Dunno,” said Grimy Shirt. “Kill the snake?”

The fourth boy looked back at the orphanage longingly, let out a long, silent sigh and shuffled away from the gate toward the garden.

“You can try to kill it if you like,” said Patched Trousers. “It might kill you a’stead.” He pointed a grubby finger at the snake. “’s got a red triangle behind its eyes. It’s poisonous!”

Grimy Shirt sneered at Patched Trousers. “Poison snakes don’t kill cats by wrapping em. They just bite em and let em die before they eat. And red triangle is only deadly on a black snake.”

The fourth boy came up behind them as they argued, and craned his neck to look over their backs to see what was happening just beyond. As soon as he saw what they gawked at he dropped his bag and stepped past the boys to the snake.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Get outta the way!”

“’S dangerous!”

The snake’s head rose as the fourth boy approached. It hissed at him and struck the air with fangs bared. The boy didn’t flinch or hesitate. He reached down and grabbed the snake’s coils and twisted, sending the kitten the snake had wrapped around falling to the ground.

There was a collective gasp from the other three boys.

The snake had had enough. Fury in its eyes at the thought of losing its meal, it lunged forward and sunk fangs deep into the web of flesh of the fourth boy’s right hand.

The boy grabbed the snake behind the jaw with his left hand and pressed until the snake’s jaw popped open. He pulled the fangs out of his skin and tossed the snake outside the fence.

Grimy shirt screamed as the snake flew past his face.

The fourth boy leaned over and picked up the kitten.

It looked pitiful, patchwork fur matted and ripped, small spine twisted almost to the point of breaking. The small animal gasped and stretched out to its full length the way animals do as they take their final breath.

The fourth boy probed gently against the small ribcage. He pushed back and forth just enough to inflate the kitten’s lungs again.

The cat gulped the air and let it out in a staggered, harsh sounding exhalation.

A moment of silence followed.

The cat took a shallow breath, followed by another. Its eyes rolled forward, heavy lids blinked slowly as it looked upon its benefactor for the first time. Recognition of what had just happened became clear and the kitten clung to its new life and new master with all the tenacity and strength its small claws and exhausted body could muster.

“It’s all right,” The fourth boy said, stroking the cat gently. “You’re fine now. I watch over my friends.”

Holding the cat close to his chest the fourth boy walked away from the orphanage.

“Did you ever?” Patched Trousers asked.

“No. Never,” Grimy Shirt replied.

“I could a saved the cat,” Patched Trousers said.

“Yeah, right.” Grimy Shirt sneered.

Coveralls watched the boy walk away. “Neither of ya would have done nothin. You both know it.” Then he noticed the package on the ground. “Hey, he left his bag.” He picked it up, pulling loose the drawstring and peering inside. “There’s stuff in it. A couple biscuits and some dried fruit!”

“Gimme that!” Grimy Shirt shouted as all three boys wrestled for the new found treasure.

The fourth boy never looked back.

PaperHill Writing

P.O. Box 1491

Taylor, AZ 85939


August 02 2023

A friend of mine informed me that a newsletter legally needs to have a valid address. I can’t believe I’ve been skirting the law like this! A thousand apologies! Maybe it’s best if I just turn myself in to the local authorities and save you, the taxpayer, the burden of a violent, costly manhunt.

I don’t think I’m going to be featured on America’s Most Wanted anytime soon. The law, as I understand it, only applies if I have an actual, email newsletter that I send to people on my subscriber list. 

Which leads me to my next little announcement -

I now have a way for you to sign up for my newsletter! If you go to paperhillwriting.com or jeremybrundage.com you can click on the link on any of the pages and it should add you onto my mailing list! I say should, because this is new to me and I hopefully have all the kinks in the online subscription process worked out.

As always, I’ll have a little something in each email, and then you won’t have to search for that funny little story I shared on FaceBook because it will be right in your inbox! How cool is that?

I’m writing the dedication, acknowledgements, and the back cover copy for The Twelve Trials of Doug right now. I have the second book outlined, and am getting book two in the Not Quite Legendary series on the schedule with the publisher. Pretty exciting!

I’m still working on the edits for Stoat of Wild Reign set in the Eldros Legacy world. I’ll hopefully be figuring out the publishing details here in the next month so I can share them with you soon.

I’m also starting my first Science Fiction novel. It’s based off a video game and will be coming out through Three Raven’s Press. I’m not much past a stand alone short story and the outline for three novels, but I will let you know where everything stands as the writing progresses.

I have another section of the dictionary from The Twelve Trials of Doug to tide you over until next month. 



Monoceros - muh-nos-er-uhs

Fat. Irritable. Almost blind. Impossible to capture alive. The monoceros under the castle in Larissa fell into the basement through an access well one night, and decided it was too tiring to try to climb out. 

Oracle - awr-uh-kuhl

A man or woman, usually a woman, uttering cryptic pronouncements and answers from the gods. Vague and obscure, the hearer is left to interpret the utterance for good or ill. Usually as accurate as palm readings, astrological predictions, and ten day weather forecasts.

Amazonian - am-uh-zoh-nee-uhn

Of or pertaining to the Amazons, fierce women warriors who equalled or excelled most men in the arts of war. The mysogynist’s ultimate nightmare.

Spartan - spär-tən

Of or pertaining to Sparta. Also a societal situation where men and women have equal social standing. Second on the list of the misogynist’s nightmare situations.

Midas - mahy-duhs

Golden touch. Ass’s ears. Midas was rumored to be wise, but how wise could he have been to not have learned to keep his mouth shut in the presence of deity? 

Croesus - kree-suhs

King of Lydia. Rumored inventor of coinage. Blame him the next time you have to use a pay toilet and find you don’t have exact change.

Lydian - lid-ee-uhn

From or pertaining to the kingdom of Lydia. Once ruled by Tantalus. The city is famous for its BBQ sandwiches. Rather tasty. Make sure not to ask for the recipe and also count the children when you leave the restaurant.

Heracles - her-uh-kleez

Son of Zeus. Super strong. Somewhat maligned by many higher powers, but keeps on trucking. His perseverance is due to equal parts determination and lack of comprehension. 

Drachma - drahk-muh

Coinage of ancient Greece. Not to be confused with Noferatu’s mother, DracMa.

Kataskopoi - kah tahsk opoi

Ancient Greek version of Among Us.

Aesimus - ˈā-sim-uhs

Master spy. Currently possessing a learner’s permit to kill.

Enkrateia - in kra tēuh

The kataskopoi organization. Those opposing chaos(KAOS). Control.

Pantheon - pan-thē-än

The gods of a people. Also would make a really great name for a Swedish Death Metal band.

Jason - jā-sᵊn

Obtainer of the Golden Fleece. Fleecer of the gold of many. Shorter than you would expect.

Aeson - ā-sᵊn

King of Iolcus. Put a lot of trust in Jason’s wife, Madea. The shave she gave him was close, and made him feel like a new man.

Odysseus - ō-ˈdi-sē-üs

Wise guy.

Symposia - sim-​ˈpō-​zē-​ə

A convivial party with music and the free exchange of ideas. And wine. Lots and lots of wine.

Aoug - ehəɡ

Father of Doug and Modifixeus. Madly in love with Doug and Mod’s mother,  Arete. The guy all men should emulate. Also a successful pig farmer. 

Hades - hey-deez

God of the underworld. Suffers from vitamin D deficiency. 

Knickers - nik-erz

Short for knickerbockers, a loose fitting, short trouser gathered in at the knee. Also slang for women’s or girl’s short-legged undergarments.

Proboscis - proh-bos-kis

Beak. Trunk. Snout. Worn strikingly well by Adrien Brody.

Snickers - snik-ers

To laugh, half suppressed. Also see dog:intestinal blockage.

Mediterranean - med-i-tuh-rey-nee-uhn

Referring to the sea and the lands, cultures, and people in and around it. 

Π - Pi

While you would assume we would be referring to the letter in the Greek alphabet, this is actually referring to the number 3.14…. You know what? Defining this would be irrational.

Minions - min-yuhns

People who follow you around to do your bidding. Like how Rainn Wilson(Dwight Schrute) followed around Steve Carell(Michael Scott) in The Office. (You thought I was going to make a different Steve Carell reference, didn’t you?)

Odyssey - od-uh-see

“Don’t worry. I know how to get back home from here. Trust me.”

Ithacan - ith-uh-kən

Of or relating to the island of Ithaca. Home of truly loyal dogs and cheese worth waiting twenty years for.

Penelope - puh-nel-uh-pee

Long-suffering and loyal wife of Odysseus. Repeatedly rebuffed the advances of Eric Roberts.

Agamemnon - ag-uh-mem-non

Led the Greeks in the Trojan war. His wife was not as loyal and long-suffering as Penelope.

Clytemenstra - klahy-tuhm-nes-truh

Wife of Agamemnon. Spork enthusiast, known to sharpen the versatile utensil to a razor sharp edge. Tested sharpness on her husband, only to have the action repeated on her by their son.

Helen - hel-uhn

Spunky little spitfire who swoons for miniature canines. Caretaker of the cursed pooch Snickers.

Paris - par-is

Boy always looking to amuse himself with things he doesn’t have permission to play with. Reportedly quite lovely in the springtime.

Poottool(Poodle) - pood-l

Dog breed bred for hunting and blessed with a bounty of curly, hypoallergenic hair. Snickers is a miniature version of the classic hunting dog. 

Snuggy-Wuffins - snug-ee-wuhf-fins

True name of the poottool cared for by Helen. The given name of the dog is Snickers.

Hypoallergenia - hahy-poh-al-er-jen-ee-eh

A beautiful and popular young lady. One of Helen’s best friends.

Elis - ee-lis

Area in the peloponnese in ancient Greece. Site of the ancient Olympic games. Quite the spectator event. The ancient Olympic games didn’t have to worry about uniforms for the competitors. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. 

Rhea - ree-uh

Mother of the principle Greek gods. In one Orphic myth, Rhea was lusted for by her son, Zeus, so she changed into a snake to avoid him. Zeus changed into a snake too and had his way with her. I mean, come on! Seriously? What is it with these Greeks? 

Kourabiedes - kou-rah-bee-EH-thez

Greek butter cookies. The really good ones get icing sugar and crumbs flipping everywhere!

Faun - ˈfȯn

Fun-loving, inebriated goat man. The kinder, gentler satyr. 

Athenian - a-thən-ee-ən

Of or pertaining to Athens. Renowned for awe inspiring buildings. Those Doric architects sure knew how to build a wicked-sexy column.


July 16 2023

Running behind seems to be the norm, so I’ll have to try to get my newsletter writing under control soon. I’m aiming for the first of the month, but if I get it within the month I guess I’m still doing pretty good.

Coming up, I’m not sure exactly when but within a week or so, Cursed Dragon Ship is going to be posting a brief question and answer interview with me to introduce me as their newest author. I’ll be posting the info on where you can find it to my facebook and instagram accounts as soon as it is all in place. The first book in my Not Quite Legendary series is looking more and more ready, so expect to get snippets and teasers in the months to come!

I’m going to be setting up a mailing list pretty soon as well. I didn’t have a chance to get to it this week, but hope to have it up and running by the end of the month. If you’d like to get a monthly newsletter filled with upcoming news, short stories, and other good stuff you can contact me via messenger on FaceBook, or email me at paperhillwriting@gmail.com. I’ll post the e-mail newsletter signup on all my accounts as soon as I have everything up and running. I’ll have some short stories gleaned and polished from the material I had to cut from my first novel coming out soon, leading up to the release of The Twelve Trials of Doug in the beginning of 2024!

I’m in the middle of edits on my novel for Eldros Legacy, Stoat of Wild Reign, and should have a bit more info on what to expect and when you might expect it as soon as I wrap up this round of rewrites. I’ll have short stories and other teasers and goodies from Eldros Legacy coming out in my newsletter as well.

Until I get a few things more organized, please feel free to peruse the first few pages of the pronunciation and definition guide from The Twelve Trials of Doug.



Pithos plural pithoi - piˌthäs, ˈpīˌ​thȯi

Earthenware containers of varying sizes. Origin of the phrase “a pot to pith in.”

Maghreb - mä-grəb

A region of Northern Africa historically known for growing grain and farming. Also the final sound made before clutching one’s chest and face planting in your morning bowl of oatmeal.

Pasteli - pah stil e

Tasty treat made with sesame and honey.

Doug - dəɡ

A good guy. Overextends himself in an effort to impress his girlfriend’s father.

Modifixeus - mäd eh fiks əs

A good guy. Handy and crafty. Quite loyal to his brother Doug.

Poseidon - poh-sahyd-n

God of sea. God of Earthquakes. Not in the good books with Medusa for obvious reasons.

Olympus - oh-lim-puhs

Mountain home of the Greek Gods. The original high-end, HOA, gated community.

Dionysus - dahy-uh-nahy-suhs

God of fertility, wine, and drama. Examples of his influence and powers can be found in bars and clubs worldwide on a daily basis. For extreme, seasonal examples see Mardi Gras, St. Patrick’s Day, and Spring Break.

Larissa - luh-ris-uh

City in east Thessaly in Greece.

Ioclus - ˈī ōl kəs

City in the Greek region of Magnesia, land of Milk.

Furies - fyu̇r-ēs

Black bodied bat b*****s befuddling brains of bad boys. See Kardashians.

Ostracon plural Ostraca - ä-strə-ˌkän, ˈä-​strə-​kə

Piece of broken pottery or thin slab of stone used for passing notes in academy. The ancient form of a Post-it®.

Zeus - züs

Hera’s devoted husband. (Is she reading this over my shoulder? I totally promised Zeus I’d have his back on this.)

Hera - he-rə

Sister and wife of Zeus. Just reporting the facts. We’re not here to judge.

Cleitagora - klētəgȯrə

A Spartan mother of twins. Renowned for being the fun mom at parties.

Sparta - spär-tə

Ancient city in the Greek Peloponnese. Gerard Butler’s scream meme of fame.

Helot - he-lət

Serfs in ancient Sparta. The Spartan women’s pool boys when the Spartan men were at war. (wink, wink, nod, nod)

Apollo - ə-ˈpä-lō

Greek god of sunlight, music, prophecy, and poetry. Beautiful, strong, and desirable. See Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing.

Hermes - hər mēz

God of travel, eloquence, commerce, invention, and theft. Herald of the gods. Flying through the sky on winged sandals with an aerodynamic bedpan on his head.

Eris - ˈer-is

Goddess of discord and strife. She’ll make out with you, but you’ll pay for it physically and emotionally later. Possibly worth it.

Herodotus - hi-ˈrä-də-təs

Greek Historian, or as he would call it back then, an up-to-date reporter commenting on current events.

Hephaestus - hi-ˈfe-stəs

Greek god of metalworking. Co-creator with Suzanne Sommers of the ThighMaster™.

Aphrodite - a-frə-ˈdī-tē

Greek goddess of love and beauty. More insecure than you’d guess. Lots of internal stress and personal judgment about always looking her radiant best. Really just wants to not care just enough to be able to sit on a couch in a bathrobe watching Lifetime romances while eating cookie dough ice cream.

Helios - hē-lē-ōs

The older version of Apollo. If he were a Vegas attraction you wouldn’t book ahead, rather show up at the venue and take your choice of discount tickets with the added perk of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Pallas - pa-ləs

Titan of war in springtime campaigns(oddly specific). “Look! The Hyacinths are up! ‘Bout time to go stab the neighbors.”

Wayne Newton -

Made your grandmother swoon.

Mel Tormé -

The voice behind the magic in Night of the Living Duck, starring Daffy Duck. Also headliner in the celluloid epic Girls Town.

Teutamides - tüt əˌmīd ēs

King of Larissa. Father of Larisa. Man waving the proverbial shotgun in the air at Doug whilst shouting, “You keep your hands off my daughter!”

Larisa - luh-ris-uh

Daughter of Teutamides. Princess of Larissa. Lover of fig-ripple yogurt. Intended target of Doug’s noble affections.

Amaltheae - am-uhl-thee-uh

The nymph who fed the infant Zeus with the milk of the goat. Or possibly she was the goat. There were conflicting definitions here.


June 15 2023

I’m running a bit behind where I expected to be this month, so to make up for not having the newsletter out a bit earlier I am giving a short teaser of my forthcoming novel THE TWELVE TRIALS OF DOUG THE GREEK. This bar scene is still in the book, but reworked.

The setting is the bar at the top of the world, where all the gods can come and relax, vent, or just decompress.

The newsletter, and archived newsletters, are available on my website - jeremybrundage.com, paperhillwriting.com, or by going to PaperHill on FaceBook. 



a random deleted/altered scene


Jeremy Brundage

The three women sat in an intimately lit booth at the back of the bar. Atropos(the inflexible) is dressed in a finely made but utilitarian peplos. Kali Maa(Hindu goddess of destruction) is easily recognizable because she’s naked, blue-skinned, and four-armed. Ethel RosenBach(Secretary of Education for the greater state of New Jersey) is the final woman in the small group, dressed in a no-nonsense gray business suit and skirt with lines and edges so hard and sharp the outfit is apparently carved from a form of granite.

“It’s all about how it ends.” Atropos said with a slight slurring. “I can’t die yet! I’ve still got stuff to do!” She swirled her drink around in an agitated circle, sloshing a splash of fruit-filled rum over the lip. “I’ve heard it over, and over. “Please, just a little bit longer! My family/business/country/people need me!” It just—” She blinked hard and shook her head in an effort to clear the fuzz gathering behind her eyes.  “It gets to you after a while, you know.”

“That’s because you still care about people. It gets easier once you don’t really care,” Ethel said as she took a slow sip from her double bourbon neat. Kali Maa and Atropos looked at her with a mix of fear and admiration. 

“There is still so much I can learn from you, Ethel,” Kali Maa said a bit breathlessly.

“Work for a democratic state in a republican country, having them always blaming the other guy for the problems, then have the state and country leadership flip, and it’s still the same blame, politics, and pointless crap.” The other two women gasped as Ethel said it, amazed she would use such language. “Don’t give me those looks. You go through a couple of cycles like that and you don’t care about anything or anyone. You get hard or you get PTSD. The idiots running things can all go to hell for all I care.” 

The Norse goddess of death craned her neck to glare at them from a couple of booths away. “Don’t you dare bring my name into your gripe-session, RosenBach!”

“Nose back in your mead, you goth twit!” Ethel snapped back.

You could hear a pin drop*. Everyone in the bar was watching the two women while trying very hard to appear not to be watching the two women. Rosenbach and Hel locked eyes for a long second. It was the Norsewoman’s resolve that faltered and she was forced to look away. Hel grumbled as she gripped her tankard firmly and returned to nursing her beer. Backing down like that might cost her in status and respect, but nobody crossed Ethel.

Kali Maa watched Ethel with stars in her eyes. 

Atropos somewhat registered what had been going on, but was really pretty far removed mentally today. “You know what it’s like, just trying to do your thing, when you reach out to try to snip a loose thread and you almost cut it before you realize it’s not the thread you meant to cut?”

“You lost track of the threads?” Kali Maa tried to take a sip of her pina colada, but a piece of pineapple had blocked the straw. She held the drink up with two hands, pulled the straw out with her other right, sucked the fruit out of the tip, and put the straw back in the cocktail.

“I don’t lose track of threads.” Atropos almost knocked over her drink with a wide sweep of her arm. “I am the thread keep-tracker.” The phrase didn’t sound quite right. “Thread-keep-track-of person?” She paused for a second and grasped her drink with both hands, steading herself. “I know where the threads are supposed to be.”

A man approached the booth. “Ladies.” Zeus indicated the open space at the front of the booth. “Do you mind?”

Atropos and Kali Maa both enjoyed the company of Zeus, but they waited for Ethel to give permission for the king of the gods to sit.

Ethel took a slow sip of her drink, put her drink back on the coaster and folded her hands in her lap.”Girl’s night out. Although you are a charming companion, your gender is not included in the general description of the evening.”

Kali Maa and Atropos both looked a bit crestfallen at Ethel’s pronouncement, but Zeus just smiled. “Fair enough. Next time, then?”

Ethel nodded her approval.

Zeus glanced over his shoulder. “Isaac, I’m taking care of the tab for this table.”

“You most certainly are not.” Ethel told the man. “I told the girls it was my treat today, and I’ll not have you rob me of my promise.”

“I meant no disrespect. Have it as you will for today, but the next excursion is on me. Acceptable?” Ethel nodded curtly and Isaac gave the god a thumbs up. “My thanks.” Zeus put his hand to his chest and bowed to the ladies before he made his way to the exit. 

The women watched until he passed beyond the door.

Ethel let her gaze linger on the door after the god had left. “I always enjoy seeing him leave,” Ethel said to the other women.

“You don’t like him?” Atropos asked.

“Oh, I like him fine, but the view is better when he’s walking away. Broad shoulders, confident stride. Fine, tight ass.”

Kali Maa swallowed wrong and almost choked on a gulp of air. 

Atropos called Ethel out. “Ms. RosenBach? Really?”

“I can’t appreciate a fine specimen of a man if I want to?” She raised her hand to get Isaac’s attention as she reached for her purse. “I’m old, not dead.”


May 12, 2023.

Sometimes I just need to get the weird thought out of my head so I can get back to the stuff I need to be working on. One of the things I'd always planned to use the newsletter for was as an outlet to throw a bit or piece I liked that wouldn't fit anywhere else. I may be able to use some of these things in other places, but at least here they will be assured a bit of space to breathe. So, without further ado, here is one of my off the wall shorts that doesn't go with anything else I'm working on.


a random short story


Jeremy Brundage

“I’m just a minion, standing in front of a master, asking for him to love me.”

Be brave. Speak your heart.’ That’s what me mum taught me, right afore she tossed me off the back o’ that life raft.

The Lord of Dark sneered down at the groveling sycophant. “I don’t do love,” he said flatly. The Lord of Dark regarded his supplicant and raised an overly-plucked, pencil-traced eyebrow.

The Lord of Dark really didn’t engage with one as plebeian as his underling, but today for some reason he was. The minion’s heart leapt.

It was working!

The trick was to look pitiful, wretched, and expectant.

The Master again opened his mouth. “Would you settle for grudging acceptance tempered with a tinge of mild disdain?”

Me! He’s actually speaking to me! LowBorne’s eye twitched. The tremor made the minion’s lips tremble. In his awe and shock at actually being addressed the minion had temporarily lost the ability to speak.

LowBorne looked lovingly at the towering slice of midnight hovering above him. The Master’s glare, his bearing, reminded LowBorne so much of Max von Sydow’s portrayal of Ming the Merciless from that FLASH GORDON movie that it only made the minion want his acceptance more.

Or was von Sydow’s character named Kang the Conqueror? The thought brought LowBorne up short.

Kang? Ming?

Mange? Maybe?

Now LowBorne wasn’t sure. It could be any of them. His brow knit in fierce concentration as he sought to wrangle the truth from this new, unfathomable, Gordon Ramsey style of pasta knot. (He meant Gordian Knot, not Gordon Ramsey, though Gordon Ramsey does bear a striking resemblance to the Lord of Dark.)

I like pasta. LowBorne’s train of thought jumped off rail. When was the last time I ate?

The shadow that loomed over him was growing hot. 

Hot Shadow? Is that even possible? LowBorne blinked hard and squinted. Heat radiated from the shape of the Master, and it felt a lot like when you opened an oven preheated to 375° with glasses on and the wave of heat fogged the glasses so hard you couldn’t see nothin’. You would be the one wearing glasses. LowBorne clarified to himself. Not the oven. That would be silly. An oven wearing glasses. 

His eyes felt a bit dry and scratchy. It was a bad sign when your eyes started baking like this and you weren’t making snickerdoodles.

Max von— Err, The Lord of Dark, don’t look too amused at me.

The Lord of Dark clearly wasn’t happy at the delay caused by LowBorne’s mental gymnastics.

And rightly so. I’d be disgusted with meself, I’d be. Unable to focus. My mind is always a flipping, and a spinning, and a flopping, just like Mary Lou Retton. LowBorn nodded in total agreement with himself. Now, there was a gymnast!

“Enough!” The Lord of Dark swore. “My patience with you grows thin! Why are you standing there, mooning over me like a calf?”

“I just wanted to clarify your earlier statement, my lord.” He returned his full attention to his Master, who continued to glare impatiently at LowBorne. “Would the disdain and contempt for me be thinly veiled?”

It would be easier to toss the sniveling, squirming thing over the wall than continue to engage, but We really don’t want to call the temp agency again this month,” the growth on the Master’s neck said in frustration.

The neck-growth had a nasty mouth, full of nasty words and hurtful thoughts. LowBorne didn’t like NeckMouth at all.

The Lord of Dark flicked NeckMouth with a sharp fingernail, stilling the venom-filled utterings of the growth. “Of course,” the Master confirmed for the minion. “My disdain for you has always been thinly veiled.”

“Oh, lord!” LowBorne swooned. “I’m yours! Take me, big boy!” The minion threw his arms around the Lord of Dark’s sinewy thighs, his hands unintentionally latching onto the Dark One’s rock hard glutes.

“That will be quite enough!” The Lord of Dark tried to pry his clingy minion off his black robes with a stick.

It was probably harder than the Lord of Dark anticipated. LowBorne clung to his master like a marshmallow melted on something, or saltwater taffy that had been left in the Phoenix sun. He was cherishing this moment, and wouldn’t give up holding onto the one he loved before he got his full share of reaffirming physical snuggles.

It took a full half an hour to accomplish the deed, at which point the Lord of Dark’s patience was quite a bit more than overspent.

“We could always throw him over the wall later,” NeckGrowth reassured the Lord of Dark.

It didn’t matter if they did, now. LowBorne knew he was loved. He’d tackle the bat guano moldering in the tower with a bit more spring in his step now, because he knew he was loved.

Love changes everything.


April 5 2023

Growth happens only when you attempt to do something you're unqualified to do.

I'm never really ready for anything, but when I step out into the void, or tackle the thing that needs to be done, I learn and accomplish more than I would have by wringing my hands and wondering if I will ever be ready.

Gary Burgess, my theater teacher in high school, always had us recite a poem by Edger Albert Guest. I don't remember why we were reciting this poem all the time in theater, but the message has stayed with me for more than three decades. I've put a copy of the poem below.

- It Couldn’t Be Done

By Edgar Albert Guest

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done

But he with a chuckle replied

That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one

Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin

On his face. If he worried he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn’t be done, and he did it!

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;

At least no one ever has done it;”

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat

And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,

Without any doubting or quiddit,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,

There are thousands to prophesy failure,

There are thousands to point out to you one by one,

The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,

Just take off your coat and go to it;

Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing

That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it. -

I'm not qualified for most of the things I do, but given enough time and effort I can figure out most everything. I'm not perfect in anything, but I'm still willing to try, and to fail, and to learn.

Thanks, Mr. B., for drilling this poem and idea into my head. I'll keep on trying to use what I learned from you to do things I'm not ready to do.


March 1 2023

Funny how time just flies isn't it?

I got back from my writing conference, SuperStars, and was hyped and ready to go.

Then the universe stepped in.

Life has been crazy busy, filled with things that have to be dealt with now before even attempting to get to everything else. All the time I'd planned and set aside for writing was used taking care of good, necessary things. It is a bit tiring when you're not getting to the things you want to do. I have stories in my mind I really want to get written down soon before I lose anything.

With all that being said, distractions and detours are often blessings in disguise. Within reason, of course.

Some of the best parts of the stories I've come up with didn't occur to me until after a delay. Sometimes those delays would be substantial. Sometimes they would only last a week or so. 

In one of my stories I have a character fleeing from a wrong he is certainly going to be accused of. He's gone two years before he comes back at a pivotal part of the story and aids the main character in taking care of the main threat to their home. It doesn't work out, but then good intentions always have a way of going awry. But that's beside the point.

The point of my little explanation up above is about the character in question, FarSee. When I first came up with him he was very one dimensional, a bully and not much else. I needed a villain to fill a role in the storyline, and I made a villian. It worked for the broad sweeps of the story, but the character wasn't much more than evil and a name.

A few things came up, and the part of the story I was working on got delayed. The time was necessary because it gave a chance for FarSee to grow.

I'm not going to go into details, not wanting to ruin the surprise or give anything away, but FarSee became someone I felt for. He'd made mistakes. Some were huge, but he was someone who'd been hurt and wronged too. He became a person I wanted to understand and help, or at the very least, see where his story was going.

The two years he was missing in the other story became something more than just a period of time FarSee was gone. I wanted to know what happened to him. My mind wouldn't let it alone.

The missing time and character turned into a short story, then fleshed out more into a novella, and now I don't think I can do it justice without writing a full novel.

FarSee, once nothing more than a one-dimensional villain, is going to have a story of trial and redemption told about him, and it all happened because of a delay.

I'm thankful for the delays that made me understand him better. But the delays only benefit you if you finally get the chance to write down the insights you've gained. 

The character has grown enough now it's time to tell his story.

I'm looking forward to it. I'm starting the first chapter today.

- Jeremy


Feb. 3 2023

I’ve played around with writing for decades.

A lot of what I’ve done has been in the way of supporting other people in making their creations come to life. I’ve been tech support, and a sounding board. I’ve helped some people get their first writing jobs, articles or short stories or whatnot, and it’s been a celebration and joy every time I’ve seen one of them succeed.

I’ve worked writing articles. I’ve had a few short stories published here and there. I was the production manager for a few different magazines, where I did edits, layouts, and prepress. And as many of you already know, I’ve worked with my brother, James A. Owen, on his comics, magazines, art, and novels for the better part of three decades. James and I even co authored a children’s book - Lost Treasures of the Pirates of the Caribbean - which was one of the first times I put my name (Jeremy Owen) out on the cover of something.

I have a series I’ve been working on for a couple of decades now. It’s a great story. I just never could find a way to write down enough of it to have part one, or two, or three finished. There’s over a hundred thousand words there, but the story seemed important enough to me that I felt I was never doing it justice. There are a couple of other story ideas I’ve had that I might turn into something someday, but like my series, I never sat down and really pushed until I’d finished enough to do anything with them.

I have a couple of silly little comic strips I’ve come up with, and did the art for, but something else always took precedence to finishing a collection. The characters are hilarious, and I need to do something with them someday, but I just haven’t let that many people know about them.

As I said, I’ve really only been playing around with writing.

That all changed because of Patrick Warburton.

Warburton is known for being David Puddy in Seinfeld. He voiced Cronk in The Emperor's New Groove. He also played The Tick in the live action comedy of the same name.

He’s always been one of my favorite character actors. His look, voice, and his delivery are iconic.

One day I was joking about ancient Greece (Yes, I’m a huge nerd.) and I had the thought come into my mind of Patrick Warburton as Zeus, looking upon any and every woman who walked past him, evaluating and nodding in appreciation before he would repeat the comment-

“Yeah.” (pause) “I’d do that.”

I couldn’t get it out of my mind. It was hilarious and wrong and I could vividly imagine the talented Mr. Warburton doing it perfectly. The lightning bolt had struck. My mental stumbling block was overcome. I had to write a story that had Mr. Warburton’s Zeus.

With the great actor Mr. Warburton in mind, the story started out as a screenplay. The ideas for the story just started pouring out. It would be set in ancient Greece, featuring a protagonist with an odd name for the time. And so, The Twelve Trials of Doug the Greek was born.

Zeus evolved into a much more three dimensional character in the background of the story, as the main character Doug had a grand adventure laid out before him.

I finished the rough draft of the story.

The whole story.

With tons of extras and research and stuff that didn’t quite fit yet came along for the ride.

It was the first novel I’d ever written from start to finish, and it had enough promise that a publisher wanted it. I signed a contract with Cursed Dragon Ship Publishing for a series. The first book is scheduled to be released in Feb. 2023.

Around the same time I was really getting into the story of Doug, my brother was approached by the creators of a new fantasy world called Eldros Legacy asking if he’d like to write a book in one of their realms. James told them he didn’t quite have a free enough schedule to commit at the moment, but he introduced me to the group. I was so privileged to be accepted by these wonderful, creative people. I was given a land called Wild Reign on the volcanic land of Pyranon to play with.

I just finished the first draft of my first book for Eldros Legacy, called Stoat of Wild Reign, last week. There are so many great books and stories already written in this wonderful world, and I am so glad to really be a part of it.

OUT OF CONTEXT is going to be my newsletter, where I’ll give information and updates, snippets and previews of what I’m going to be doing, who I’m going to work with, and what is coming next. I’m aiming to have a newsletter out at least monthly. The newsletter will be available on my facebook writing page PaperHill or you can subscribe to have me send it to you by sending a message to paperhillwriting@gmail.com.

I’ve always played around with writing. Now I’m going to see how much fun I can have by doing it for real.

I’d love to have you come along for the ride.

- Jeremy