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Category Archives: Books

“I’m Reading A Book!”

Some days, there are things that you just can’t get out of your head. When this happens, I like to share it with you, that way you can have these things stuck in your head too! Ain’t I just the greatest?

Number 1 on today’s link list is this video by Julian Smith. This video has inspired my desire to build a house with a secluded reading room even more than most of those library pictures I post.

Number Last (What? It’s a short list.) on today’s link list is this article from cracked.

On a story related note, I’ve been writing dialogue. As V has told me, characters will talk to each other far more readily than they will talk to me. This means that determining what situation they’re in at any given time is framed by their conversations. It helps me to get inside the characters’ heads, while still maintaining an outsider’s perspective on it. It’s fascinating to watch a world unfold in front of me. Arsus and Rime still bicker, but they’re getting more friendly with one another as time passes. I’m working on a really fun scene with the two of them right now, but they’re both a little shy to talk about it. I am taking it that this means it must be REALLY good. 😀 Landara’s relationship with Rebecca is shaping up very much like Ripley/Newt, as I predicted. I think that there’s going to be a twist here that they’ve not yet told me about. I’m still waiting. Miles is sitting over in the corner, sulking, smoking a little cigar. I can feel the heat of the matches and the burning tobacco as he inhales. Zach wants to tell another story, but everyone else is busy, so he’s sitting quietly, just gazing up at the stars.

I read a couple of books the other day. I finally finished Boneshaker, a steampunk novel by Cherie Priest, that’s a great adventure. I also sat down for an hour and read The Invention of Hugo Cabret. I set a new personal record for a book that’s over 500 pages, but don’t go calling Guinness or anything (the book people, not the beer people). It’s a great book, very deserving of the Caldecott it won. Those of you who know that the Caldecott is for illustrated books will be pleased to know that these incredibly intricate charcoal-style drawings make up over half of the book’s pages. They’re very reminiscent of the work of William Kentridge, a man whom I have attempted to emulate in my own drawings. The book is fantastic, a great read, and actually very historical. I can’t wait to see how the movie adaptation works out. I’m still working my way through Left Hand of Darkness, and then next up on the list is Gerard Way’s Umbrella Academy graphic novels. Aww yeah.

New Inspirations

Okay, friends who know me well enough to know my reading tastes. Why have I not read Ursula Le Guin before today? Seriously. Her work has been out for over 40 years, and I’ve not read them until now. This is ridiculous. I finally picked up “The Left Hand of Darkness” from the public library yesterday, and her intro alone was enough to hook me. It’s a rarity to find a powerful female writer in sci-fi of that era, and I’m sad that it took me so long to discover her writing.

Le Guin does something fascinating in her depictions of the planet Winter. She intersperses chapters telling myths and legends of the planet’s people with the chapters that tell the primary narration. I love this. I’d been considering having Zach tell some stories throughout the main narration of my as-yet-unnamed book, but now I’m considering utilizing Le Guin’s technique. This would mean that my narration would potentially be interrupted every few chapters as Zach tells the other characters stories of the world they inhabit. Thoughts?

April Writing Challenge

“Sing in me, muse, and I’ll tell the tale of our sun and moons, and the tragedy that caused them to flee from their homes on this world…”

“Why do you always start like that, Zee?”

“Like what, young one?”

“The whole ‘sing in me’ bit. What’s that all about?”

“Will you let me finish the story without interrupting again if I tell you?”

“Yes!”

“I suppose I have no choice, then.”

“Well, you just always start that way.”

“Very well, Miss Rebecca. I start my stories with ‘sing in me, muse’ because it is the classic opening for all great stories. It is a statement invoking the gift of inspiration, asking humbly for the spirits of the ancient ones to speak through you, to give clarity and meaning and power to your words.”

“Oooh. What’s a muse?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! It’s a spirit of inspiration. Weren’t you listening? Young lady, if you don’t pay attention, I’ll just go back to my tent and go to sleep.”

“No! Don’t, Zach, please finish!”

“No more interruptions?”

“None from me. Miles, Landara, will you be quiet too?”

“All I’ve been doing is listening, and watching the pyro over there torch things.”

“And I’ve told YOU, oh fierce warrior, that I am NOT a pyro. My inn burned down in a brawl that you and your friends started, so…”

“Quiet!”

“Thank you, Rebecca. Now, if you’ll all be patient, I’ll actually tell this story.”

“Landara, Miles, you guys listen too. Zee is a great storyteller. Oh!”

“Yes, little one?”

“Should I go find Mr. Rime and Mr. Arsus too?”

“No, that  won’t be necessary. Mr. Arsus should know this story as well as I do, and Mr. Rime needs some time to relax. It’s been a long trip thus far, and we’re only a little more than halfway to Dhe’laza. He needs this more than any of us. Now, before I continue, I will thank you, sir Miles, for your recommending of this hot spring as a respite from our travels.”

“S’nothin. Friend o’ mine runs the place anyway.”

“Well then, I shall continue. We are here at a very special time. As you can see, both of our world’s moons are full tonight, a phenomenon that occurs but once every fifty years. We call it Twinlight. Now the sun and the moons of our world are very old indeed, but they were not always our sun and moons. In  a long forgotten time, they were giants that roamed this world.”

“Giants? Pft.”

“Shush, Landara, it’s true. Giants once walked the land, and evidence of this still stands embedded in the rocks near Dhe’laza. We’re only a few days from being able to see them. Now the giants walked this world long before the humans did. No one knows for certain where they came from, but we do know this. There were two main tribes, D’ossa’s fire giants and the frost giants led by Zalar. These two factions were often at odds, with D’ossa being brash, and Zalar being gentle, fighting back only when forced.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes, Rebecca. That’s a good thing. It’s an important lesson to fight only when you need to defend yourself. Now the hour is growing late. I am going to get a drink, and then we will continue this story.”

“Very well, Zach. We will wait for you here, and you can finish soon.”

(To be continued)

Works in progress

I’m still working on my entry for this month’s writing challenge. I’ve been considering it quite seriously, and I want to make it a bit of a teaser for the novel I’m diligently writing, bit by tentative bit. I want it to be good. I don’t care if it’s perfect (I’m not QUITE that OCD of a writer), but I want it to be a decent showcase of my abilities and my characters. That much being said, it will still be in by the end of the month. I’ve got some time.

I’ve been doing some reading. *GASP* “You have time to do that?” No, I don’t. I MAKE time to read. It’s how I’ve always been. It’s just something that comes naturally to me. I sacrifice time that I could devote for other things to make room for books in much the same way that I scrimp on food to make room in my budget for booze. It’s all about priorities. That’s why today’s visit to the liquor store cost me $2 more than today’s visit to the grocery store. That’s beside the point. The point is that I’ve been thinking about books I’ve not read in a long time. At the top of my list of such books is one rare title from a few years before I was born. It’s by Richard Adams (yeah, the guy who wrote Watership Down), and it’s called Maia. I borrowed a friend’s copy of it back in high school, and I never had a chance to finish it. Now that I’m older, I appreciate books far more than I used to (my English degree certainly helped this), and I am rereading a bunch of stuff that I loved in my youth.

Anyway, more later tonight.

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.

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.

Books!

“There should be more books. I want to get lost in rows of shelves, filled with books in which I can lose myself. Books are like the pools in C.S. Lewis’ wood between the worlds. Each one is a portal to a new realm limited only by the imagination of the reader. The best part? You don’t need a magic ring to enter one, and any of the characters you find inside stay behind when you close the cover. I love to lose myself in a book. Too often of late that has been difficult. I find that I am surround by distractions that prevent me from straying too far from the printed path. They serve as signposts that I want to avoid. It’s a far better adventure when you don’t know the way. I love the feeling of picking up a book I’ve never heard of but knowing that it is about to pull me in. When I touch the cover of such a book, I feel an inexplicable joy, an almost electric rush, and an urge to drop everything and devour its contents before I can move on. This is a rare joy, but the scarcity of such books makes the finding of one all the more fantastic.

Doubtless, there are those who would call me mad, but never to my face. They would whisper, as so many have done, behind my back, though I would hear nonetheless. It is the nature of a whispered phrase to meander about until it weaves and winds and finds itself within the ears of the one about whom it was first spoken. It is the nature of secrets to be discovered, for riddles to be solved, for the sun to set at day’s end. It is the nature of the world for these things to happen. It was in my nature since birth to crave knowledge, and in my nature to seek it. It was in the nature of my father and mother to guide me to the books in which I could find such information, such wonder. It is in the nature of knowledge that lingers the traces of original sin. So it is that those who would seek knowledge lose their innocence. This is the nature of man. One could say that a library, for all the knowledge it contains, is more sinful than all of the bordellos in all of the world. Conversely, such a library could be considered to be more sacred to those seekers of knowledge than Mecca or Jerusalem or any similar site to her faithful devotees. In the poorest of libraries can one find more wisdom than in the minds of the richest woman or man now living.”

That’s a little something I wrote a few months ago, but finally got typed up. I’m thinking about how it ties in to the character of Rime and his understanding of his own religious beliefs. He begins the novel as a man who is beginning to,  for the first time in his life, consciously question the existence of his god. His brotherhood works in Dhe’skuva, the city on the desert’s edge, selling crops from their garden and spreading the word of the patron deity of the city of Dhe’laza. The people of Dhe’skuva are highly resistant to the visiting prophets, though they have allowed them to live within the city for almost ten years. Rime stays near the temple entrance most of the days, caring for the garden during the day when his brothers are out proselytizing (I love that word). He speaks of his god to any who come near, but the streets near the temple are empty throughout most of the day. It’s almost agonizing to Rime, knowing that his own effectiveness is limited by his location and his physical inability to keep up with the other members of his order. When he’s alone, with nothing but the echo of his own words for company, a little nagging voice keeps popping into his head. “What if you’re wrong? What if he’s not real?” the voice says.

Over the course of the novel, Rime will have to decide how much he’s going to listen to/trust the voice in his head versus what he’s seeing right in front of him. His interactions with Arsus are going to change his life. Landara, Zach, and the others who have yet to tell me their names are going to be a part of a great adventure. The journey to Dhe’laza is going to challenge them all in ways they never thought possible. Long-held beliefs about the characters are going to change. Zachariah (Zee) will be narrating, and at the same time providing some stories for the other members of the cast. As a wandering poet, he will have been accumulating knowledge over the many years of his life. However, he’s got his own personal demons haunting him, maybe more literally than he ever expected. Landara is fleeing her own heavy gambling debt and her past as a city guard, an enforcer of the brutal law that provides Dhe’skuva with its legendary security.

Then there’s Arsus. Arsus has a unique claim that no one can prove or refute. The first character he meets is Rime, and his first statement is that the voice in Rime’s head is full of shit. The voice of doubt should be ignored. Rime’s god is indeed real, Arsus says. Not only that, but he’s standing right in front of him, stripped of all of his powers and trapped in mortal form. Rime’s reaction is exactly what you’d expect from a man who spent his entire life dedicated to the praise and worship of a god who supposedly protects an entire city-state and is among the strongest in the pantheon. Rime hears this stranger’s words and immediately falls to the ground in front of this strange man who claims that he is his god incarnate, closes his eyes, and bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Day 1: Part 2

And back to the blog.

Here I am again. After managing to somehow survive work today, despite a crazy man who claimed that I stole the $5 change I was supposed to have given him (a quick count of the cash register proved him wrong, thankfully), I am back at home. It’s nice to be able to come home to the apartment after a long day and finally get some dinner and a drink or two.

I’ve been spending a good deal of time thinking about this story I’m writing. I kind of wish I had more of it planned out in advance, but at the same time, I like to think that my first journey into this world will be far more similar to that of my future readers. Ideally, this means that I will be able to keep things from becoming too overwhelming/confusing for anyone other than myself. I want people to know how it felt as I was creating this world. I want it to feel lived in and rugged, but inviting to people who’ve never experienced anything quite like it (ideally, this will be all of my readers).

I hate when I read a novel and get overwhelmed with crap. I like something I’m reading to be accessible with a minimal level of extra effort required, especially if it’s the start of a series. If it’s a writer I’ve read before, there will be some level of tolerance. If it’s something that I already know, again, there will be tolerance. After all, “A Clockwork Orange” is still one of the best things I’ve ever read, despite the crazy dialogue and narration that goes along with the story of Alex and his droogs. I don’t, however, tolerate this kind of writing when it’s done pretentiously. If someone takes the trouble to create a language, they should make it useful, not just throw it in your face to say “OOOOO, look what I came up with!” Everything should have a purpose. Don’t give throwaway details. Make people question the intent of every line of dialogue, every description of every lamp and every passing dog. Create a visual that your reader can not forget. Forge something truly memorable. That’s my goal. I want to give my readers text that they desire. I want them coming back to my book every couple of years after they first read it and have them find something that they didn’t notice the time before.

At any rate, it’s time to write something before I fall asleep. As conviction becomes content, I shall post more.