Tom and Katie are deeply in love, but Tom has just departed on a lengthy sea voyage, one he is confident will make him his fortune. No sooner has his ship left harbor, however, than Tom and Katie find their hopes thwarted at every turn.
The tide has changed in the affairs of the Coast because Deirdre, Queen of the Witches, has finally succeeded in killing the Son of Light.
Now the two lovers must struggle to find one another across a landscape made perilous by rebellious slaves, savage Indians, and bloodthirsty pirates.
And little do they know, the plan to create the new Child of Light rests in their hands . . .
The Devil’s Workshop is a literary epic romance with many fantastic elements. It is part ripping pirate yarn and part metaphysical exploration of the true nature of love and death. The characters are unforgettable, the dialogue is terse and realistic and the plot will draw you in and not let you go till it reaches its dramatic conclusion.
“The Devil’s Workshop by Donnally Miller . . . is an exceptional and brilliant book from the very start to the very last page. I have read many books by indie authors and nothing quite compares to this. It is compelling and imaginative, and one of the best indie reads that I have read . . .” — Andrew D. Gracey, Author of The Dust and the Dark Places
Targeted Age Group:: Adult
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I have always been a good reader, but never much of a writer. However, as I reached my sixties I found that no one was writing the sort of book I wanted to read, so I wrote one myself. I found that writing was similar to reading in that I never knew what would happen next. I always tried to surprise myself. I was pleased with the book I created, because it was just the sort of book I like: a book with great characterization, beautiful prose, some philosophy/symbolisms, an in-depth world that revealed itself naturally, a story that combined the scale and intensity of epic fantasy with the plotting/drama of mystery, realism that didn't take away from the fantastical world, morally gray characters (that weren't completely reprehensible), healthy romance, elements of both comedy and tragedy, and an actual conclusion.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
All my characters, even the minor ones, have been lived in. And the more I lived in them, the more they surprised me. I aim to create three dimensional characters by keeping in mind that the character's view of himself is always different from mine.
Book Sample
Tom and Brutus would sometimes discourse on the roundness of the world and the stupidity of men, in the mornings when the sun was shining brightly and the ship was turned into the wind so the salt surf sprayed into their faces and the chop dumped them first up and then down. One such morning they were washing down the deck when Tom, tearing himself from his inner visions of Katie, inquired of Brutus why it was that a man with such a surprising depth of knowledge as himself had labored so many years and yet had not risen above the level of a common seaman. Tom was certain that Brutus’s accomplishments merited a greater distinction than that which he possessed.
“The answer is a simple one, and can be given in one word,” was Brutus’s reply.
“And what word would that be?”
“Rum.”
“And a fine word too. A word fit to be held between the teeth and to sit on a man’s tongue.”
“To some it is.”
“In your case, Brutus, I’ve not observed you to be a drinking man. Or perhaps you’re one of those so accomplished in the art of imbibing that the effects are not evident, and you’re walking about all the day with a skinfull of comfort and no one the wiser.”
“That would not be me. I’m a brawling and a battling drunk. I’m a bitter and a bashing drunk. I’m truly better sober, but always I have the thirst. I’m a man of many faults, though I strive to amend them.” And then he sat for a moment, looking at the bucket of soapy water before him. The only sounds were the calls of the seabirds, and the creaking of the rigging, and the slop of the waves against the hull. Ramsey strolled by, casting an eye in their direction. Ramsey, Tom had concluded, was a man consumed by some inner struggle or antagonism, one he never spoke of, but which gave evidence of itself in facial twitches and fidgets of his fingers. This morning he seemed lost in an internal soliloquy and it’s questionable whether the presence of Tom and Brutus registered on his conscious mind as he made his rounds of the ship. After he had passed aft, Tom took one of his silver dollars from his pocket and tossed it in the air. It was ever his idle habit to intervene in the tussle of the heads and the tails. He made note of the fact that this morning tails were in the ascendant, and replaced the coin in his pocket.
Then, seeing Brutus had paused to watch what he was doing, he explained, “Just a thing my hands like to do. My fingers want some occupation other than growing the fingernails.”
“Growing the fingernails . . .” He chuckled and resumed his work. “There are many things like fingernails, things that grow, and would not stop . . . There are things that would cover the entire world if they could.”
“Yes . . . And I think I know what you’re speaking of. They’re called ideas.”
“Actually I was thinking more of a sponge, like this one.” Tom looked blank. Brutus went on, “Your sponge lives forever by making more of itself. “In that way it’s like your fingernail.”
“I see.”
“It’s the first trick life ever taught herself. Divide and conquer.”
“Now that I don’t see. What’s your meaning of divide and conquer? I’ve washed with many a sponge, but how does it divide, and whom will it conquer?”
“These sponges were torn from an animal – I’ll reconsider – not an animal – from a sea-fungus that was born and still lives and goes on living,” said Brutus. “The first living thing, so the wise tell us, was a single cell. That cell divided, and there were two cells identical to the first. So like they were, they were the one thing.”
“Right. I’m with you.”
“And those cells divided again, and so on. What I mean when I say divide and conquer. So the first cell is still living, and all the other cells are the first cell as well.”
“Very good. So that’s the divide, but where’s the conquer?”
“Your sponge continues to live until it is destroyed, but never will it die. The cells of the sponge divide, the sponge grows larger and still larger. If there was nothing to stop it, the whole world would be one sponge.”
“Brutus, it’s a pleasure to converse with a philosopher such as yourself who’s inspired by a sponge and a bucket of soapy water.”
“There are lessons in everything, if only you look.”
“Never was spoken a truer word.”
There was a pause as they moved to another portion of the deck, wringing suds from their sponges and stretching their backs.
“Life’s second trick was a bit more perplexing. To this day we’ve never yet seen to the bottom of it. Life’s second trick was to die.”
“And a foul trick that was, I’m thinking,” said Tom.
“And certain it was not.”
“. . . I should have known there was a paradox lurking. So make your meaning known.”
“Without death there would be no reproduction by means of sex,” said Brutus.
Tom could not fathom this. “I’m not quite following you. I’ve had sex, but I’m still alive. Not to dispute a philosopher so lofty as yourself, but you might want your philosophy to correspond in some degree with the actual facts and daily events of existence. Not that sex has been a daily event of late.”
“Tom, at some point, so the wise tell us, a living being, instead of reproducing itself by dividing, united first with another being. The active blood of the male united with the passive blood of the female to form a third being. The third being was a reproduction of neither the first two; it was an individual unto itself. And the two parents still lived, until they died, and they passed altogether out of existence. Unlike the sponge, who is always with us. So in this manner love and death were brought together into the world at one and the same moment, and since that time there’s no having one without the other.”
“Your explanation is clear, and I’ll confess it’s a wonder I never thought to see it that way myself.”
“Truly they are the two sides of the coin that fate and chance are always tossing.”
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