Maybe Mondays...

Welcome to this post! In it you will find all sorts of fascinating tidbits, because I want to fascinate and delight you, my beloved reader.

You might have been expecting a new chapter of Servant of the King, and your expectation is well-founded. It is indeed on Mondays that a new chapter is posted. In fact, a new chapter is also posted on Thursdays. Thus, you can expect a new chapter posted later tonight.

So to what, you are probably asking, do you owe this bonus post?

To the desire to discuss writing in my life right now. If you are a writer, like me, who desires to be a successful and publishing author, your experience might be very similar to mine. So let's commiserate, shall we?

I'd like to pose some questions and have you answer them in the comments of this post. For my part, I'll answer them here in this post.

Q1. Why do I desire to be a writer, work as a writer, or in other words, be a teller of stories? Not lies, because they contain truth; but stories.

A1. That's a freaking good question. There is no doubt that if I didn't have this burning desire in me, I would be a far more settled fellow.

In any case, I think my love of stories began with The Poky Little Puppy. I remember that was the book I loved best when I was six. I don't remember anyone ever reading it to me; but I read it plenty. I also read The Little Engine that Could. Even at that young age, I had an inkling of the solid quality of the first book and the inherent problem with the second. To this day, The Little Engine that Could bugs me and The Poky Little Puppy makes me grin.

Did I digress? Yes, I think so.

I love stories. Fantasy series like The Forgotten Realms, particularly R.A. Salvatore's and Ed Greenwood's work, really got me excited. I loved what I read of Dragonlance. There was also Walter Farley's The Black Stallion. I loved that book and devoured every book in the series. They changed my life in that I learned to love horses and I actually, I kid you not, learned to ride horses by reading them. The first time I got on a horse it felt like home.

I get a little emotional when I see how much my oldest boy loves that book. I see him identifying with Alec and... man... the power of story!

Stories have moved me for as long as I can remember. I love the worlds, the people, the magic, the action, the love stories, the fantastic elements. I think there was a stretch of nearly ten years in which I didn't read these books; those were my dark ages.

So I love these stories to the point that I decided I wanted to tell them. I wanted to move people. I still do. I want to transport people into the life and world of characters and take them along on an exciting, breathless, emotional ride. I want to shock, hurt and change my readers. I love it.

Q2. Is there a spot of vanity in my motivation to be a successful writer?

A2. Why yes, funny you should ask. I have seen the vanity in myself and recognize the motivation it gives me. I want attention, I want validation, I even want some near-worship.

But when I feel like the goal of success and validation is driving my writing, I have seen that my writing becomes a chore, not a joy. So I push back when it comes a'calling and I immerse myself in story again.

I won't deny I like to get a compliment now and again. One of my fondest dreams is to meet someone like Bob Salvatore or Stephen King and hear them tell me I'm a good writer. Actually, Dave Farland said that once, so that was mighty cool.

Q3. What about writing means the most to you?
A3. There are those moments when I've pushed through malaise, laziness, doubt and distraction and have gotten into the story. Those moments when I feel like I've been in my characters' heads and hearts and have told a story that means something because it speaks of and to the soul.

Recently though, I've had a new experience that has meant even more to me as a writer, particularly regarding my journey into the craft. As I work on Servant of the King, I have found myself hitting some points that I was not expecting. I have found the character and the world he inhabits simply lead him into these moments that are beyond what I had planned. So when I've hit some of these moments where I really don't know what happens next, I take a few minutes to write about the characters involved. I write about their motivations, their goals, their individual world, and their relationships. As I do that, man, it's exhilarating! What happens next become clear because it is simply what that person would do in that situation.

And as I follow these threads, things grow more complicated and the world becomes richer and the people become more real.

So these moments where I feel like I'm really delving into the craft-- they're tops right now. They're intrinsic validation.

Have you had any of these moments where you've felt yourself learning and mastering the craft?

Q4. Is writing a solitary activity?
A4. Yes. And no.
I do my best work when I am writing in a quiet place, with my headphones playing scene-appropriate music and also keeping any ambient noise away. I must be alone and completely undistracted when I want to really get work done.

Also, writing is solitary in that the people around me, and maybe other writers too, don't truly understand what it means to try to craft an excellent story-- especially a long one. It takes lots of time and work and is completely absorbing. It's mentally and emotionally taxing. I sometimes want to share the emotions I go through when I write, and I do that, but it's clear that those I talk to don't get it really.

But writing is also not solitary at all. I mean, I'm writing for an audience after all. And I am surrounded by people who love and support me. (And it's bloody about time I recognized that.) They want the best for me and many of them are actually reading my stuff!!! I apologize for the overuse of exclamation points.

Please forgive.

And there is no doubt that a good writing group that is regularly attended is beyond value.

Q5. What about your faith? Does it play a part in your work?
A5. Very much, especially today. For a lot of years, I tried to segment my life. I kept things in their world and didn't let things spill over. For example, I want to be successful as a writer-- meaning I want to be publishing regularly and have people love my work, because I will be writing good stuff. But I never allowed my Father in Heaven into that dream.

I've changed that tune significantly. When I sit down to write, I actually watch the video I have embedded on the right of this blog first. Every time. Then I say a prayer. Every time.

My writing has been much improved of late. I know it's because I am praying over my flocks and fields and that I have recognized that my dream is good-- and my writing is a good work. God wants me to be happy. This is one of the major sources of happiness for me.

As a final note, my life is not on hold until I start reaching goals of success as a writer. Not even close. I have a phenomenal family (Oh don't practice your alliteration on me...) and a good job. I love life. I love most every moment of life. I and my family are blessed. Writing is a part of life and I expect it to become a larger part of our life as I keep moving toward goals.

And that's it for now. What about your thoughts, feelings and experience regarding these questions? I find that I stay firm in my goals and progress as I see better that I am not alone. Care to share?

Finally, chapter eleven.

Alright folks, it's taken a while, but I finally slammed it out and I've got some momentum. It's funny, I found myself stuck, unsure of what Lakhoni was going to do next. I finally thought for a while about the goals that he has, or would be making at this stage and I found that the continuing story came from there. I feel good about what's going on here. 


So don't knock me too far off my happy seat. But DO tell me what you think so far. 


Here it is: 

Chapter 11

His thoughts moved slowly as he followed Gimno back toward Gimno’s fire circle. Confusion fought with cold, clear horror. They had just sacrificed a little boy. Where had the boy come from?

The thought struck with terrible speed. Had the boy been from Lakhoni’s village? Had he just not recognized the boy because of the distance or his disbelief at what had transpired?

No. Lakhoni would have known if the boy was from his village. His village had been small and tightly-knit. His village. His body began to tremble suddenly. He sucked in a breath, feeling that if he didn’t hold himself together he might just fall into pieces or simply fade into nothingness.

He had to serve justice on those who had murdered his family and friends. He had to find his sister.

But how can I stay here? Lakhoni asked himself. The drying blood on his face gave off a cloying smell that turned his stomach. He had to wash it off. But I was going to learn how to fight like them. What if they did that again? How could he just stand there while they murdered an innocent child? He knew it would be suicide to try to defend the intended sacrifice, but he felt as if his heart were being sundered. If he had to watch that again, he thought he might lose his soul.

What if I turned into one of them? They seem so happy. He stepped into the fire circle and looked around. Gimno laughed at something Corzon said, then caught Vena’s eye. Some kind of silent communication passed between the two and Vena approached Lakhoni.

Another fit of trembling hit Lakhoni then faded quickly as he tried to find a place to look other than at Vena. Her cheeks were painted reddish brown, as was her exposed stomach and forearms. She had two lines of drying blood running over her head from her brow to the neck as well. Lakhoni swallowed and tried to control his breathing.

“How are you feeling, Lakhoni?” The clear concern in Vena’s eyes clashed harshly with the fierce and terrifying image of her blood-painted face and body.

He thought fast and opened his mouth to speak. Nothing. Embarrassed, he was sure he looked like a gasping fish. Fish. He needed water to clean himself off.

“I am sure Gimno told you, but the first time is always hard.” Her hand cupped Lakhoni’s right cheek, her thumb softly running over his skin.

He nodded. How could this be? How could Vena care about his feelings when she was covered in innocent blood? How many children had died at the hands of the Living Dead?

“You need,” Vena said, stepping to the side a little and reaching into the hut she shared with Gimno, “some cane to chew on.” She handed Lakhoni a small, yellowish ball of something that was soft. “Chew it. It will soothe.”

Lakhoni instantly knew that he could not refuse. They had cared for him, showed genuine concern. He couldn’t turn them down now. He owed them his life. He accepted the chunk of cane and lifted it to his mouth. The deep, sweet—almost smoky—flavor of the sugar cane filled his mouth and began to trickle down his throat.

“Keep chewing for a while. You’ve been through so much, Lakhoni,” Vena said. “Anybody would feel overcome. You are strong for still being able to stand.”

He nodded, the sweetness of the can feeling as if it were oozing gently to his extremities. The shaking, jittery feeling began to subside. He swallowed, the sweetness making his throat feel thick. Vena guided him inside the hut that he would share with Corzon and Anor. “You would do best to sleep some more.”

He nodded again, seeking his sleeping pad in the dimness of the hut’s interior.

“Don’t fall asleep with the cane in your mouth.”

Lakhoni glanced over his shoulder. “Okay.”

“Tomorrow will be a better day. You will begin to learn the ways of your new people,” Vena said.

Lakhoni could think of nothing to say to that. His feelings were in turmoil. I want to learn to fight like them, he thought. But how could he stay and act as if it were fine that they sacrificed young children. Did they do that often? He was sure he would lose his soul if he had to watch that again; if he had to feel the blood of the poor child on his face.

No. He had to get away. He couldn’t stay here. But would they let him? Now that he knew where they lived, would they let him leave alive? He carefully lowered himself to his sleeping pad. The soft, woven mat under him squeaked gently as it accepted his weight. I can’t stay. He would leave. He would wait for the right time—maybe during a jaunt to the outside—and he would get away and find his way to Lemalihah.

He lay back, careful to lower his left shoulder first. As his head touched the pad, a twinge of hot pain flashed from the crown of his head down into his jaw. He sucked in a breath holding it as the pain throbbed for a few moments and letting it out slowly as he forced his body to relax. It won’t be long, he thought. He would find an opportunity to get away from the Living Dead. He would find Lemalihah. He would find Alronna and his family’s murderers would find justice.

And if he picked up some training and skills while he was with the Living Dead, so be it.

*           *           *

            He felt the people around him, jostling him and carrying him with them. He tried to look and see who they were, but all was haze and shadow. Dread filled his throat. He knew he had to get away; knew with a certainty that terrified him. He pushed out with his hands, trying to free himself from the unseen crowd, but his hand met nothing of substance.

            Only more shadow and haze.

            Ahead a yellow and red light oozed through the haze. Thick, lazy tendrils of the murky light groped along the ground, reaching up toward what Lakhoni thought had to be the ceiling. As he approached, the dread in his throat sank into his stomach. His breath began to come quickly. He struggled to stop, to turn around and flee, but his efforts were wasted.

            There. The yellow-red glow was a little brighter now, the tendrils seeming to reach out with more energy. A bonfire—but without warmth. Dark shapes cluttered inside the glow, some resting atop a table of some kind.

            Not a table. An altar of rough, uncut stone. Faces on the shapes. Zeozer. Sana. Their faces stared at him from the cold fire that spread around the altar.

            Horror, cold and sharp, jabbed into his spine, sending frozen breath whispering up and down his back. Get away. He had to get away.

            He looked again. His father and mother’s mouths were open, as if to speak to him. He saw that his mother’s arm seemed to be pointing up and back. Lakhoni followed the direction of her arm and felt as if he would die of sudden fear and revulsion. The boy, his body disfigured and ugly from the bloodletting, stared at him from the hazy flames. Bumps broke out on Lakhoni’s arms. He tried to scream, but nothing came out.

            The boy’s mouth opened. Lakhoni screamed and sudden energy flowed into his body. He turned and fled, sure that if he stayed the boy would hurl curses and blame at him for not saving him.

            Cold air hit his face, at the same time as a smell of old fires assaulted his nose. His heart hammered in his chest.

            In the hut, in the cave. He felt the mat under his back.

            A dream. Only a dream.

            But Lakhoni knew that Salno had always said that dreams were more than just silly things that happened during sleep. Dreams meant something—were often the way the First Fathers spoke to their children. It was for the people to interpret the dreams correctly.

            What did it mean?

            Lakhoni easily understood the images he had seen: the bonfire with his family, the altar and the boy.

            But what was he to do? Was the boy asking for justice too?

            Lakhoni lay on his mat for what seemed to be hours, hearing the soft breathing of Corzon and Anor nearby, unable to sleep. How much justice could one young man mete out? And the boy? How could Lakhoni ever find justice for him? The Living Dead were too strong, too skilled.

            He had to find Alronna first. No, he had to get away from the Living Dead first—and that might be a lot harder than he knew at that moment. He remembered the image of Gimno’s people appearing from the shadows of the forest as he had followed Gimno. The image of Gimno almost floating down the entry shaft into the caverns returned.

            First fathers, help. He sent his silent pleas heavenward, hoping they could find a way through the layers of rock above him to the sky far above. I know my duty. I will do it, at least as well as I can. He felt the warmth slide from his eyes and down his cheeks. He imagined all of the people around him in the huge cavern, the families and tribes. more people than even in his village. But he had never felt so alone. I don’t know how, but I will do my duty. Just… please help me.

            Sleep slowly overcame Lakhoni as the weight of the night and the events of the past few days pressed down upon him.

And that is all. I'm having fun; are you? 

The plan.. sort of

Okay, here're the preliminaries. I do this so I can be accountable. They say that written goals are achievable goals. (Yes, the 'i' goes before the 'e' in that word)

Gonna get up no later than 5:15AM every week morning. I will write for 30 minutes. It will be fiction. For now, it will be a book that I will finish by June 1st. That is about 76 days of writing. If I can do 500 words every writing morning, I will have 38,000 words. That's not bad, right?

If I can't finish by June 1st, it will be done by July 1st at the latest.

So that's creative writing planned. Will it be hard to get up?

Funny you should ask. Because yes!

I'd like to be putting about 3 hours into www.helium.com every week. I have to figure out when to do this. Maybe in the evenings.

I also need to get stuff written for Maximum Yield and Demand Studios.

Plus, I have side projects to get done.

And I got squat-all done this week. Sometimes it's hard to feel good about yourself.. has anybody else noticed that?

I just have one more thing to say:

Lily's eyes, the size of her life
lived large and loud and loved
lull me, capture me.
Her squeeze, tight and tiny
but large and loud and loving
melts me, breaks me.

Reporting

It's really late: about 1:30AM. But I laid out what I wanted to get done today, and I wanted to report that I did it all.

Except going to the bank.

Heck, I even sent off two good sized invoices today.

Why do I worry that clients will see my invoices, consider my work, and decide I'm not worth it? Is this common to all, or most, writers?

Anyway, this evening I've come to a conclusion: Eric Clapton has got way more soul than you would expect from a white dude. Man, that guy is good.

More later.

Carpe somnium!

Reporting and updating

Today I haven't had the time to work on my ImGoToWrANoMo work, due to a variety of reasons, including sleep deficiency, FHE (Family Home Evening for the uninitiated) in which we did the Christmas tree and decorations thing, applying to two jobs--one of which I really should get, and needing to freaking go to bed!

Last week I got in a major hole for sleep. My word count goal for this week is 15,000 and I WILL get it. I will.

Just wait.

I've pretty much finished world-building for my new novel, which has no working title yet. It can wait. I also have some major climaxes put together. I still need at least one support character and a resolution, but I'm going to write the story this week and see where that takes me. Gotta keep it organic and all. Whatever that means.

Stay tuned, or tune in later. I'm going to get this done, although the book might be longer than initially anticipated.

I'm going to bed now. I can't let bedtime slide anymore.

What's December without a little extra?

Okay, here's the deal.

I'm calling December my

ImGoToWrANoMo (pronounced however you choose).

I'm Going To Write A Novel Month is what that all means.

And it's true. I'm going to write from 2500-3000 words each day of this month, not including Sundays and perhaps including Saturdays, but not very likely. This means that I have three days this week, five the next, five the next, five the next and three the last week. That gives me 21 days of writing.

Meaning my 1st Draft of the novel will be about 50,000 words to 63,000 words.

I'm not ruling out doing more than my goal on any given day, but I will. not. do. less.

This is an experiment and a demonstration of my commitment.

It will take me about two to three hours each day to hit my goal. That means I will need to set aside some time for it. That time will be early in the morning, right after I exercise, and I will make up any additional time in the evening.

I will report daily. Possibly twice daily. Stay tuned.

Oh, and I'm really not sure what the novel's going to be about. That's what I'm going to decide tonight.

I'm out for now.

carpe somnium

By the way, check out http://www.helium.com/marketplace?placement=CL45690 to see some great writing opportunities that can actually make you a bit of cash.

My Tuesday goals

Okay. So I will get at least 1000 new words written today in The Cabin. However, I have finally finished prepping the materials I will submit to an agent/editor, so I need to start the process of getting all that together and sent out. I have to dig up my list of agents that Dave Wolverton sent me.

Anyhoo, that's it for now. I'll be back to report.

Oh, I might be on the channel 2 news on Friday morning. More details on that later.

Reporting so far...

Okay. As I mentioned I was going to do in my previous post for today, I forwent my sales calls in order to work on The Cabin. I was able to make some global changes as well as condensing the first three chapters into two to make it tighter and more impactful. I think the opening scene is stronger now. I need somebody to help me see if it is strong enough yet.

I intend to do some more work on this tonight. Shooting for 1000 new words. I'll report later.

Writing, writing and writing...

I didn't get my goal last night. I was out watching The Dark Knight with some family and didn't get back until after midnight. No excuse, but it is my reason.

Today I am going to write two articles for http://www.helium.com/, rate for a half hour, and then work on The Cabin. Check out my other blog at http://gruntandsweat.blogspot.com/

I'll be back.

Friday night lights?

Maybe not so much.

Actually I have only see the movie with this moniker, not the TV show. I like the movie somewhat. But truth be told, I number among the hordes who wonder why Friday Night Lights doesn't come on on Friday. Of course, maybe their network caught that error and has rectified the glaring problem.

Shows how in touch I am.

I have just sent off the two first chapters of The Mars Betrayal to my editors and am filled with self-doubt. If they hate it again, I am not sure what I will do next. So here's to hoping that they don't think it's crap and excoriate it again.

I think it's good. <-- (this said in a small voice)

Before I get back to writing, I am going to do a writing exercise: I will freewrite for two minutes on a random topic. Today's random topic is: Cannibals.

I begin now.

Cannibals really may have had it right. Think about it. They left no waste of their kills and they left no man behind. It's like a combination of Marines and Nader-ites, a totally unheard of combination to date, so it really makes sense.

What if I wrote a story about a cannibal boy who somehow got separated from his family just before the big tribal feast and then was transported to a modern society such as in LA. He could meet a girl and fall for her, but be so hungry that he kills and eats her parents. All the while she is a vegetarian.

But what would be his motivation and chapter and scene-level goals?

Maybe he's just hungry.

Okay, now I'm done. Hehe. Pure silliness.

So I shall now get back to work on The Mars Betrayal, but will soon be interrupted by a fellow named Luis. This is not precognition; Luis has an appointment for a company overview, and I have to do that overview.

Any readers who are reading this (I can't seem to figure out how to get rid of the redundancy in that phrase), por favor spread the word of my little blog. I know I had originally planned on just doing this for a year, but the writing thing is picking up and I am sticking with it for good. Now I just need people to read this, comment on it and give me validation.

Writers are needy. If you didn't know this already, file that eternal truth away somewhere safe. Maybe in your fire safe. Or your icebox.

Gotta run. I'll be back later. Oh, I want to hit 7000 words on The Mars Betrayal today.

carpe somnium

Just stopping by on my way...

... to Mars. I currently have 4212 words in The Mars Betrayal and will shoot for 5500 before I finish this session in about an hour and a half. My goal for the day is to get to 6000.

I am going to write without my internal editor shouting at me but will try to simply tell the story.

Incidentally, Annemarie read Janette Rallison's book: Fame, Glory and Other Things on My To-Do List. She liked it, so I have added it to my reading list, although I need to finish 1776 and a C.S. Lewis book first. 1776 is a great book.

I have to go, but I will report back later on whether I hit my goals. I plan to send in a chapter or two to my editor at the end of this week.

That's all for now.

carpe somnium

Goal time for Wednesday

So far so good this week. Time to ramp it up.

I'm going to a job fair in about an hour, but by that time I will have written at least one article for http://www.helium.com/. I'm actually gonna shoot for two.

My total Helium article count for today will be four. I will rate for about a half hour to forty-five minutes, but I am at five stars now and that puts me in a good spot.

I will also do at least 5000 words in The Cabin today. But here's the real goal: 7000. Yep. It's time to put my all into this.

I'll be back later to report.

It's still Thursday, January 17th in my world. How about yours?

Alrighty then. Here's the story of my 139th day of my year writing.

That's right, today has been the 139th since I quit my job and started writing as full time as I could. It's going well, ain't it? Did you know that if you Google me, six of the ten results on the first page are actually me? Now that's fame.

Just kidding.

Anyway, today went pretty well. I got up with the kids and fed them in order to allow Annemarie some extra sleep. She's been putting in late hours at night this week with her Japanese translation.

When she got up, I headed to the Rec Center to exercise. Then I got home and showered, ate, and got to work.

I spent some time on www.helium.com, where I wrote these two articles:
http://www.helium.com/tm/802688/thinks-therefore-thats-there
http://www.helium.com/tm/802868/maybe-destiny-maybe-ovaltine

I also rated and browsed some other articles.

Then I got to work on Mars Betrayal. I am now about halfway finished with chapter 6. Things are heating up and I am having fun. I am feeling pretty good about it and I hope that the language is okay. I find myself checking more rare words quite frequently on the word lists I was given.

Something I am not sure I understand: my contract said the first installment would come on contract signing. I signed the contract almost four weeks ago.. and yet no installment has come. I think I will dash an e-mail off to the contracts guy at the publisher.

Anyway, I really feel as if I am pushing through the silly malaise that would come over me when the time to write would approach. Sure, having a looming deadline is useful for this, but I feel like I should be able to ride this momentum into some real productivity on The Cabin.

So here's the current plan:

1. I will finish, revise and submit the first draft of The Mars Betrayal by the 31st. I have exactly two weeks. After I finish the initial draft, I will outline my next proposal for the graded readers project. Then I will do the revision and send off The Mars Betrayal. Then I will send off my next proposal.

My goal is to sell at least two more of these graded readers this year.

2. While I wait for word from the team about The Mars Betrayal, I will get into The Cabin, big time. I may also have work to do for Charted Course during this period.

3. I will also try and get my new website: www.foodnflicks.com going. I own the domain and server space, but I have nothing there yet, because I don't know how to build websites and I haven't had time. This will be a collaborative effort between me and a good friend.

My writing goals for the year are:
1. Sell at least two more graded readers and finish writing them this year.
2. Finish The Cabin, with all of its revisions, by the end of February. (Big ambition here).
3. Sell The Cabin this year.
4. Get back to work on Brothers in Arms and have it ready by the end of April. This means fully ready for a general audience and well edited. Depending on the acceptances of Graded Readers proposals, this deadline may have to get pushed back a month here or there.
5. Break 1000 articles on Helium by the end of the year.
6. Increase my residual web earnings to at least a steady minimum of $100/month. I have done this for about six of the last ten months. I would really like to hit $200/ month.
7. Sell at least one picture book (hopefully It's Not Apple Sauce)

And that's all I have for now. I may change them. We will see. I'll be back tomorrow.