Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Youth Protection.

I just finished redoing my biennial scout leader youth protection training. Well worth doing if you have children or work with children. It has changed since I last took it to reflect changes in the legal responsibilities and the threats.

  • No one on one contact and two-deep leadership. Remove the opportunity to be an abuser.
  • Respect privacy. Changes include confiscating a camera or electronic device that might have been used to take inappropriate pictures, as well as reporting it to the scout executive asap.
  • A big section on cyber-bullying and similar things.
  • An expanded section on 'normal' (as if there was such a thing) bullying. 

All in all improved from two years ago and focused on how to keep both leaders and scouts safe. will get you there.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

A Designing Woman 5 for #wewriwar

More from the Steampunk book

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors.  This is a sample from my latest work in progress, "A Designing Woman", and I hope you enjoy it.  This is the start of the next chapter and introduces more of the family. Continuing from two weeks ago (scout leader training interceded), this snippet introduces Sam, her mechanic. It's not very romantic, but it gives a hint about the future course of events.
(The Last snippet)

Amanda smiled; then said, “Yes. It's the precision that matters, and we've been making the tools to do precise metalwork.” She noticed Sam was unusually quiet, “Do you need to get the forge started?”

No, Miss. But it's best that they leave. Doesn't do to tell too many people about what we're doing. At least not before the patent's approved.”

A patent you say?” There was an avaricious glint in Lord Caterham's eye. “Are you saying this is worth something, real money?”

This is a work in progress. Here is the link on tablo. It's also on writeon, but I have no clue how to link there. Apparently Steampunk implies Victorian, Dieselpunk the 1920's. What-punk should a Regency period book be? Horse-punk isn't right.

Despite being told in no uncertain terms that "steampunk" meant Victorian with ubiquitous steam technology, I'm calling this steampunk, although given the amount of time they will later spend on the river, maybe "Steampunt" is better. Amanda is working on what will become the defining technology of the 19th century, steam. Although, a few things, like the Napoleonic war will get in the way.

Friday, September 25, 2015

A teaser. #amwriting #romance #scifi

A Teaser.

This is the start of my latest WIP. It's a steampunk space opera set in Dartmoor in the summer of 1893. There's a reason I can be that specific, but you'll have to wait for later to see it. It starts with the heroine arriving at her Uncle's house. Her family hopes the fresh air and clean environment will help slow the progression of the consumption that is carrying her off.

Consumption it is, but not in the way that is usually meant.

 (c) 2015  Amelia Treader.

Uncle Sylvester Receives a Visitor.

It was nearly dark when the pony-trap carrying Elizabeth from the station at Moreton Hampstead finally arrived at the farm at Barnecourt. Venus, the evening star, shown brightly in the dull orange band of the western sky. She presaged a clear and starry night. Nobody noticed when she winked out and fell to Earth with a quick bright streak of light. George Trent, Dr. Standfast's man-of-all-work, drove the trap to the front of a small farmhouse in the country not far from the isolated village of North Bovey on the outskirts of Dartmoor.

After stopping, he gently awakened his sleeping passenger, “Miss James? We're here.”
Elizabeth James, a slight young woman, dark haired and pale, with the gentle slight cough of incipient consumption, stirred. Her parents had arranged for her to visit her uncle. He lived and practised in the country, and they all hoped that the fresh air would suit her lungs better than the stale smutty air of London. They had waved goodbye as she boarded a train in Paddington in the morning, her first step in the longest journey of her life. London, to Bristol, to Exeter, and then on the stopping train to the end of the line at Moreton Hampstead. There she was met by her uncle's servant with a one-horse trap, and now, finally, she awoke in front of his house.

“We're here?”
“Yes, Miss. Let me tie the horse and I'll help you down.”
The clatter of their arrival brought Dr. Standfast to the door. Unusually tall, thin and surprisingly active for his sixty years, he shot out of the door and said, “Elizabeth! You've made it at last. How was your trip?”
Elizabeth replied, “Tiring.”
“I can see that, but are you feeling well. At least as well as can be?”
She gave a slight cough, and then said, “I think so.”
The cough made her uncle frown, “We'll see what we can do about your cough.”
“If you can do anything, Uncle Standfast, it will be more than the doctors on Harley Street could.”
Her uncle walked to the trap and offered a hand to help her down, “You should call me Sylvester. Uncle Sylvester if you must. We'll see, but I'm sure the fresh air and clean water of Dartmoor will help.”