Skip navigation

Monthly Archives: March 2011

Beginnings

There was another world in my garden when I was a child, one that could only be accessed through secret doors and passageways, across and under grapevines, up and down ropes, and around and through the trees. I had no real name for it, but my sister called it “Lafneria.” She was the one who took the trouble to breathe real life into the place. She built log benches there, places to rest among the hidden flowers, sheltered under elm tree branches. She was always the artist, and I was jealous of her skill, but oh so grateful when she let me enter this world of hers. We would eat rhubarb, and drink the water straight from the garden hose, listening to the hum of the mosquitoes that flew overhead. We would camp outside, a blanket-and-pillow-filled innertube from a tractor tire serving as a bed for each of us. There, we would lie awake beneath the stars and the cool glow of the Milky Way, waiting for one of our cats to find us, seeking our warmth. It was a world that we created together, each in our own way. I know my other sisters helped too, but my memory of their parts isn’t as strong as that word… Lafneria. I wish I knew how she came up with that. It made the whole place seem more magical, and more distant, even though it was still just a small spot in the garden in the back yard of my childhood home.

Stagnation

I feel like I’m standing still, and the world is passing me by. I know, it’s an old cliché, but sometimes the old ones are the best and most accurate. I’m working in one job that’s going nowhere and another that I just started but already feels like it’s stalled. It’s hard to judge my desire to continue at either of these, especially since I’ve now tasted the sweet possibility of full time employment. It’s tantalizingly close. Even if they say no, I’ve gotten too close to feel content with a couple of part-time gigs anymore. It’s a horrible thing, honestly. I realized that I’ve been in one place for the last six months, and it’s looking like the ship is going to sink. If I have to, I’ll stay til the bitter end, but I’m afraid that end could be very bitter indeed.

I sit here in the living room of an apartment that has been home for nearly eight months, knowing that I’ve never been able to afford to live here, and that it’s only through the generosity of friends and family (and incredibly fortuitous circumstances) that I’ve been able to scrape by thus far. I love the life of a struggling/aspiring writer.

On the plus side, my relative level of stress right now is inspiring me to write more when I have the opportunities. Just the other day at work, I got to write quite a bit of further characterization for Arsus, Rime, Zach, Landara, Miles, and Rebecca. You see, this is their story. The interactions between these characters and their world is what moves this whole thing along. If it weren’t for them, I’d never have known anything about what they went through on their journey across the desert. Their will be happiness for some, in the end. I can’t guarantee that everyone will be thrilled with the way things go, but that’s because I don’t know the whole thing yet. Oh, sure, Zach and Arsus have dropped a couple of hints. Miles has been pretty quiet, though, since he muttered his name. I think he might be a bit of a pyro, since he just sits there playing with matches. That would be less worrisome were he not an alcoholic. Rebecca and Landara are spending more time together. I hope that they’re a good influence on one another. Rime is standing beside me, trying to say something. I should listen. After all, I’ve got an eight hour shift of work tomorrow. Plenty of time for me to write down anything he might be wanting to tell me.

I’d totally discount the voices in my head if they weren’t telling me about such an awesome adventure.

A Reading List

I’ve come to the realization that, unless things take a very drastic turn in the near future, I will almost never be able to read everything I truly intend to read. Thanks to a four-year stint in college to earn a degree in English, I’ve got a backlog of books that I’ve been wanting to read, and I’m finally attempting to get around to it. This pile of literature has not been helped along by the fact that I now work at both a bookstore and a library. I’m always surrounded by books, and I’m constantly receiving more recommendations. For the longest time, my list has been purely mental. I’m finally attempting to collect everything in a single word document, though I’m tempted to use a spreadsheet, thanks to the suggestion from a customer at work. I’m grouping these into three major categories. A) Books I have not yet read, 2) books I have started, but have yet to finish, and Finally) Books that I want to reread, either because it’s been way too long or because I simply love them that much.

The relationships of the characters are evolving. A conversation over the sounds of jazz last night helped me realize that, despite the age difference, there’s a deeply complex bond between Zachariah and Rebecca. Much like Arsus, though simultaneously drastically unlike him, they are more than what they initially seem. You see, I’m fairly certain that this is not the first time that these two have met. When and where their first meeting took place, I’m not sure. Rebecca just happened to pipe up yesterday, telling me that she noticed that there was a lot more behind the eyes that first smiled at her after the deaths of her grandparents in a caravan raid. There was not just a welcoming of a stranger. There was recognition and acceptance of the inevitability of fate.

Opening Lines

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

“Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, unregarded yellow sun.”

“All this happened, more or less.”

“There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.”

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.”

“It was the start of the Summer of the Late Rose.”

I would love to be able to write an opening line like one of these. I find it truly amazing how opening lines set so very much of the tone of a book. Each one of these lines comes from a book or story that happens to be among my favorites. I like to consider myself fairly well read. Now I’ve heard some writers say that they don’t like to read, because it means that they might potentially be influenced by the work of other authors.

Personally, I’m all for getting influenced by other people. I have openly spoken about my various sources of inspiration. Today’s blog entry is inspired both by my girlfriend and by my friend, V. There has been talk of late of muses, and frankly, I’m not sure if I have a specific one. I like to think that the world is filled with so many amazing things, that I can never truly claim one as a single influence. Every event that has occurred in my life could potentially give rise to a story or poem. One morning I scribbled down a couple of lines of verse while sitting at a stoplight and watching the sunrise. On another, more recent occasion, I found myself crafting descriptions of Arsus’ great temple in Dhe’laza while I was sitting quietly at the funeral of a beloved family member. Inspiration strikes when and where it feels like. For me, there seems to be little connecting these moments to one another. As such, I always carry a notebook and a pen with me, or, barring that, my cell phone, since I can store something as a text message draft or even, though I hate the sound of my own voice when it’s been recorded, use the built in sound recorder to store ideas.

Waiting sucks. I mean, I know that patience is a virtue, but I’m just about out of virtue at the moment. I’m still waiting to hear back about that full time job. It’s frustrating, honestly. In the meantime, I’ve started at my 2nd part-time job, and I feel weird. It’s not that I don’t know what I’m doing at work. Far from it, in fact. They say that I’ve been taking to the training faster than anyone that they’ve hired in recent memory. I’m likely to get through the training in about 1/3 of the time. I feel pretty good about that, but my heart isn’t really in the job thus far. I am certain that this is because I’m still waiting to hear back about my other potential job offer. They said I’d hear from them shortly. That was Thursday afternoon, and it’s Tuesday morning now. I don’t know about you, but in my timescale, that doesn’t really constitute “shortly” in any sense. Because I’ve not heard back from them, I’m trying to juggle the schedules of two part-time jobs, one of which is nice and close to my apartment and pays a little better, and one which is a long drive and less pay, but more comfortable, due to my having worked there for over 6 months now. I’d love to hear back about this full time gig, just so I can say “I’m sorry, but I got a better offer.” *grumble*

Zach and I have been chatting. We’ve been discussing logistics of this world of his, and the ease with which people can travel from one place to another. I’ve got to make a multi-week trek across a desert sound not only possible, but survivable. I’ve also got to try to figure out some sense of how big this portion of the world is, and just how much of the world it is, if that makes sense. It does in my head. We’ve been talking about travel, and various modes of transportation that would work within the frame I’m creating. In the main pilgrimage, there will be a caravan. Some people will be walking, others riding horses or camels, others riding on sledges of sleighs being pulled by these (or similar) animals. There’s the River Highway, which would be the safest way for anyone to cross the desert, and was used once upon a time, before martial law was declared. Now the military forces of Dhe’skuva are the only ones allowed to freely traverse that road, and they will brutally enforce their right in order to protect themselves from the roving raider bands. I also love the idea of blimps (or rigid air ships) meandering about the desert. Zach says that sometimes the raiders use them, but he also says that there are stories of a brave crew of men and women who combat the raiders from the sky, saving a lucky few in exchange for the fuel and supplies the raiders carry. I’m not sure if that’s true. Zach’s a wandering minstrel of sorts. He tells lots of stories.

 

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

“Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, unregarded yellow sun.”

“All this happened, more or less.”

“There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.”

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.”

“It was the start of the Summer of the Late Rose.”

I would love to be able to write an opening line like one of these. I find it truly amazing how opening lines set so very much of the tone of a book. Each one of these lines comes from a book or story that happens to be among my favorites. I like to consider myself fairly well read. Now I’ve heard some writers say that they don’t like to read, because it means that they might potentially be influenced by the work of other authors.

Personally, I’m all for getting influenced by other people. I have openly spoken about my various sources of inspiration. Today’s blog entry is inspired both by my girlfriend and by my friend, V. There has been talk of late of muses, and frankly, I’m not sure if I have a specific one. I like to think that the world is filled with so many amazing things, that I can never truly claim one as a single influence. Every event that has occurred in my life could potentially give rise to a story or poem. One morning I scribbled down a couple of lines of verse while sitting at a stoplight and watching the sunrise. On another, more recent occasion, I found myself crafting descriptions of Arsus’ great temple in Dhe’laza while I was sitting quietly at the funeral of a beloved family member. Inspiration strikes when and where it feels like. For me, there seems to be little connecting these moments to one another. As such, I always carry a notebook and a pen with me, or, barring that, my cell phone, since I can store something as a text message draft or even, though I hate the sound of my own voice when it’s been recorded, use the built in sound recorder to store ideas.

 

Waiting sucks. I mean, I know that patience is a virtue, but I’m just about out of virtue at the moment. I’m still waiting to hear back about that full time job. It’s frustrating, honestly. In the meantime, I’ve started at my 2nd

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

“Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, unregarded yellow sun.”

“All this happened, more or less.”

“There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.”

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.”

“It was the start of the Summer of the Late Rose.”

I would love to be able to write an opening line like one of these. I find it truly amazing how opening lines set so very much of the tone of a book. Each one of these lines comes from a book or story that happens to be among my favorites. I like to consider myself fairly well read. Now I’ve heard some writers say that they don’t like to read, because it means that they might potentially be influenced by the work of other authors.

Personally, I’m all for getting influenced by other people. I have openly spoken about my various sources of inspiration. Today’s blog entry is inspired both by my girlfriend and by my friend, V. There has been talk of late of muses, and frankly, I’m not sure if I have a specific one. I like to think that the world is filled with so many amazing things, that I can never truly claim one as a single influence. Every event that has occurred in my life could potentially give rise to a story or poem. One morning I scribbled down a couple of lines of verse while sitting at a stoplight and watching the sunrise. On another, more recent occasion, I found myself crafting descriptions of Arsus’ great temple in Dhe’laza while I was sitting quietly at the funeral of a beloved family member. Inspiration strikes when and where it feels like. For me, there seems to be little connecting these moments to one another. As such, I always carry a notebook and a pen with me, or, barring that, my cell phone, since I can store something as a text message draft or even, though I hate the sound of my own voice when it’s been recorded, use the built in sound recorder to store ideas.

Waiting sucks. I mean, I know that patience is a virtue, but I’m just about out of virtue at the moment. I’m still waiting to hear back about that full time job. It’s frustrating, honestly. In the meantime, I’ve started at my 2nd part-time job, and I feel weird. It’s not that I don’t know what I’m doing at work. Far from it, in fact. They say that I’ve been taking to the training faster than anyone that they’ve hired in recent memory. I’m likely to get through the training in about 1/3 of the time. I feel pretty good about that, but my heart isn’t really in the job thus far. I am certain that this is because I’m still waiting to hear back about my other potential job offer. They said I’d hear from them shortly. That was Thursday afternoon, and it’s Tuesday morning now. I don’t know about you, but in my timescale, that doesn’t really constitute “shortly” in any sense. Because I’ve not heard back from them, I’m trying to juggle the schedules of two part-time jobs, one of which is nice and close to my apartment and pays a little better, and one which is a long drive and less pay, but more comfortable, due to my having worked there for over 6 months now. I’d love to hear back about this full time gig, just so I can say “I’m sorry, but I got a better offer.” *grumble*

Zach and I have been chatting. We’ve been discussing logistics of this world of his, and the ease with which people can travel from one place to another. I’ve got to make a multi-week trek across a desert sound not only possible, but survivable. I’ve also got to try to figure out some sense of how big this portion of the world is, and just how much of the world it is, if that makes sense. It does in my head. We’ve been talking about travel, and various modes of transportation that would work within the frame I’m creating. In the main pilgrimage, there will be a caravan. Some people will be walking, others riding horses or camels, others riding on sledges of sleighs being pulled by these (or similar) animals. There’s the River Highway, which would be the safest way for anyone to cross the desert, and was used once upon a time, before martial law was declared. Now the military forces of Dhe’skuva are the only ones allowed to freely traverse that road, and they will brutally enforce their right in order to protect themselves from the roving raider bands. I also love the idea of blimps (or rigid air ships) meandering about the desert. Zach says that sometimes the raiders use them, but he also says that there are stories of a brave crew of men and women who combat the raiders from the sky, saving a lucky few in exchange for the fuel and supplies the raiders carry. I’m not sure if that’s true. Zach’s a wandering minstrel of sorts. He tells lots of stories.

part-time job, and I feel weird. It’s not that I don’t know what I’m doing at work. Far from it, in fact. They say that I’ve been taking to the training faster than anyone that they’ve hired in recent memory. I’m likely to get through the training in about 1/3 of the time. I feel pretty good about that, but my heart isn’t really in the job thus far. I am certain that this is because I’m still waiting to hear back about my other potential job offer. They said I’d hear from them shortly. That was Thursday afternoon, and it’s Tuesday morning now. I don’t know about you, but in my timescale, that doesn’t really constitute “shortly” in any sense. Because I’ve not heard back from them, I’m trying to juggle the schedules of two part-time jobs, one of which is nice and close to my apartment and pays a little better, and one which is a long drive and less pay, but more comfortable, due to my having worked there for over 6 months now. I’d love to hear back about this full time gig, just so I can say “I’m sorry, but I got a better offer.” *grumble*

Zach and I have been chatting. We’ve been discussing logistics of this world of his, and the ease with which people can travel from one place to another. I’ve got to make a multi-week trek across a desert sound not only possible, but survivable. I’ve also got to try to figure out some sense of how big this portion of the world is, and just how much of the world it is, if that makes sense. It does in my head. We’ve been talking about travel, and various modes of transportation that would work within the frame I’m creating. In the main pilgrimage, there will be a caravan. Some people will be walking, others riding horses or camels, others riding on sledges of sleighs being pulled by these (or similar) animals. There’s the River Highway, which would be the safest way for anyone to cross the desert, and was used once upon a time, before martial law was declared. Now the military forces of Dhe’skuva are the only ones allowed to freely traverse that road, and they will brutally enforce their right in order to protect themselves from the roving raider bands. I also love the idea of blimps (or rigid air ships) meandering about the desert. Zach says that sometimes the raiders use them, but he also says that there are stories of a brave crew of men and women who combat the raiders from the sky, saving a lucky few in exchange for the fuel and supplies the raiders carry. I’m not sure if that’s true. Zach’s a wandering minstrel of sorts. He tells lots of stories.

March Writing Challenge

Courtesy of Sonia M. over at Doing the Write Thing, I’ve discovered this month’s writing challenge. So, in response, here is my story. I call it “Hearing.”

I should have listened with both ears instead of one. Things might have been different tonight. I’d been warned, and I heard them, yeah, but I didn’t listen. That’s the critical bit, I suppose. Ah, hindsight.

I glanced down at my right leg, the small pool of blood collecting near my feet finally drawing my attention. “I suppose I deserve that, don’t I?” I muttered, looking for something to use as a bandage. “Screw it. There’s not much left in me anyway.” I glanced out the window. The helicopter lights were growing closer, and I could hear the increasing wail of the sirens. “Well, at least I know where I stand,” I chuckled, knowing full well that I would be lucky if I could sit up straight by the time they got to the otherwise empty apartment I was hiding out in.

I guess you could say that I regretted the way things had gone. I mean, if I’d truly listened, I would have seen it coming. Too late, though. They wouldn’t let me go now. The phone began to ring, and I, out of habit, answered it. “What?”

“Are you listening now?”

“More than ever.”

“You have one chance.”

“What do I do?”

“You know.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Good. If you truly mean it, you know what to do.”

“I love you.”

Click.

I dropped the phone and my gun in the crimson on the floor.

I raised my hands and I waited, patiently listening to approaching sirens.

Editing

As I continue to work on my own writing projects and various other job searches and whatnot (ah, the glorious life of the college graduate during that first year after commencement), I’ve established myself as a freelance editor. I’ve not had a whole lot of success with this thus far, just because of the nature of finding work in my field. However, one of my good friends has recently finished her first novel, and I am quite honored to say that I have been given the task of preliminary editing before passing it on to a literary agent. I guess that’s my way of saying “Nah nah,” because I get to read it first. 😀

I’m fleshing out characters even more. This week, I’ve been having a lot of discussions, as it were, with Zach, the narrator. Zach’s an interesting character to spend time with, but he’s not the protagonist, so it’s a balancing act to avoid putting him in the spotlight too much. He’s been telling me a lot about himself this week. For example, he’s a lot older than I originally thought, but it’s hard to judge the age of a man who may or may not have some sort of immortality.

Additionally, the heretofore unnamed characters hiding at the back of the group have finally spoken up. The alcoholic innkeeper says his name is Miles, and the little girl, whose relationship with Landara is probably going to have some similarities to the one you see here, is Rebecca. Say hello.

 

An Addendum

Just a little bit of fun exposition. If Rime is indeed Arsus’ most loyal follower, then a certain definition of his name makes all the more sense to me, considering that Arsus is a winter deity.

And so on, and so forth.

“Come ride with me through the veins of history. I’ll show you how god falls asleep on the job. And how can we win where fools can be kings? Don’t waste your time or time will waste you.”

I mentioned earlier how much I love the Muse video for Knights of Cydonia (lyrics above). It’s an incredible song, with a fantastic video to accompany it, not to mention the depth to the title. Given the subject matter I’m attempting to cover with my latest writing project, it seems fitting to discuss a god who is less than completely attentive to the pleas of his followers. [Side note: I find it quite interesting that, hundreds of years ago, some people who heard/saw things that no one else did were welcomed as prophets. Today, most everyone who experiences something like that and tells someone else is given a prescription and told to shut up.] In my current work in progress, Arsus plays that role, but he is only one of many gods. Eventually, the other members of the pantheon of this world grow tired of his lackadaisical attitude and decide to teach him a lesson in humility. As Neil Gaiman writes, gods only have power as long as mortals continue to believe in them. What happens to a god no one believes in anymore? He ceases to exist. If one member of a pantheon grows bored with humanity and decides to ignore the people, prayers to that god will cease to be answered, and eventually will cease. Soon, faith in all of the remaining gods will dwindle as well. This is the belief of Arsus’ siblings.

With this in mind, Arsus’ siblings throw him from their side. He is banished into a world filled with the beings he had previously chosen to ignore. Arsus finds himself in Dhe’skuva, not far from a temple where a man has been praising him. When he introduces himself to Rime and claims to be his god in human form, Rime looks at him, and collapses to the ground in a fit of uproarious laughter. Arsus is naturally insulted by the indignity, and he attempts to use his godly powers to do something fitting to punish the laughing man in front of him. At this point, he realizes that he is, in fact, completely stripped of his powers, adding further insult to the injury of his human form. Eventually, a strange sort of friendship will form between these two, though Rime completely refuses to acknowledge that Arsus is his deity, since a god as mighty as he would never stoop so low as to take on human form; additionally, how could he be so weak that his fellow gods could force him into such a position? The god that Rime worships would never allow such a thing to happen to him. This is going to provide for some fantastic bits, such as when Rime discusses miracles worked by his god and Arsus denies ever having done such things, and when Zach explains some mythology in a “Disney” version and Arsus corrects him, providing the true “Brothers Grimm” version instead.

I still need names for the girl and the innkeeper. I’ve got time for that, though. What matters right now is focusing on the characters who are telling me about themselves a little bit at a time. I’m toying with the idea of making Arsus a winter deity, and patron god of Dhe’laza because it’s one of the few regions in this world that receives snow on a fairly regular basis, most of the rest of the country being one massive desert. This would make having to cross a desert even more uncomfortable for him, and add to the challenge he’s facing. I’ve also got several great scenes planned out in which the consequences of his actions as a god are presented to his mortal incarnation. One in particular deals with him seeing that blind devotion to him has lead to the deaths of many, even among his loyal followers. It’s going to be quite the journey.

It’s been quite the week. I’ve received one job offer, and now I’ve been asked to come in for an interview for something that would be full time, twice the pay per hour of my current job, and ten miles closer to my apartment. To top it off, it’s a job that is actually directly related to my degree! Shock and amaze!

Also, my prayers are going out to my high school this week, as a senior girl was killed in a car accident two months before graduation.

Planning for the Future

Okay, so I’ve decided that I want one of these. “Come to my office. You must make it through the labyrinth first. If you survive, you can talk to me.”

I’ve got all kinds of ideas for my future home. It may just be the fact that I’m a writer, but I really love the idea of a Victorian style home that still has all kinds of hidden modern technology. It probably dates back to my early childhood, and this book. There’s a fantastic illustration near the center of the book that displays the full exterior of the house in which the main characters reside. I always wanted to live in that house. My sisters and I would even point to windows in the picture, saying “I want that room!” My love for Victorian style homes may also stem from my adoration of so many British authors and the architecture of their homes. I know it might seem a little silly, but I also love the idea of a hidden library/office that I can ideally use to hide from crazy fans of my wildly successful writing. Hey, I can dream, can’t I? Besides, you never know when that wannabe is going to show up.

In addition to my current job, it would seem that someone has finally paid some attention to all of those job applications I submitted. As I believe I said, I didn’t get the job with my bank. That’s okay, it’s not the end of the world. After all, that job really would have been for the money far more than the sheer joy of it. Instead, it looks like I’m going to be working part-time at the closest (hell yeah, short commute for once!) branch of the public library. The best part about this is that it’s a 20 hour a week job that I can work along with my current job. Two places of work where I’ll be surrounded by books…this is glorious.  Granted, I am still holding out for a tech writing job, since that’s kind of why I got my degree. I’ve applied for a couple of different related posts, each of which would be full time and pay almost double what I’m making right now. If I get one of them, I no longer have to worry about finding a roommate. I’d be able to afford this place on my own, with plenty left over even after my other expenses. Maybe I’d even let one of my less fortunate friends stay here with me in the 2nd bedroom, at a considerably reduced rate of rent, say…internet and utilities. We’ll see what the next few weeks bring.

I had a good night of D&D tonight. That’s the main reason I’m up still. That, and an inventory shift at work coming up (6 PM-12:30 AM). I’m actually looking forward to it. I’m looking forward to the next D&D session too, honestly. I love the game. Right now we’re playing three-class gestalt, meaning that our characters are leveling in three classes at once. It’s something we created about two years ago and have played around with a little, since actual rules exist only for single class (standard) and the original variant gestalt, which allowed for leveling in two classes at one time. I like D&D because it lets me get inside the head of a character for a brief while. It’s very akin to writing in that respect. I’ll fully admit that a great deal of my love for the fantasy genre is owed to my fondness for D&D, which in turn stems from my love for the works of people like Tolkien and Lewis (and I still need to read this). My setting is not unlike some worlds in which I’ve adventured as a D&D character. Some of my characters may still someday find themselves in a story, especially those who were just plain fun to play, like Eliza, the cheerful necromancer, who didn’t see her magic as evil, but more as a way to make new friends (or let old friends stay forever). It’s actually quite easy for me to cross over between RPG characters and story characters, since I like every character I create to be fairly round and realistic (within the confines of the setting). Right now, I’m reading Berserk, and I can’t decide if I want some characters the manga is inspiring to be story or game characters.