The Blinding Sun

In the depths of his own despair he continued walking through the desert. The dry air and blowing sand made him thirst for something – anything – that would sustain him. He looked up at the blinding sun and felt the pain of the brightness in the back of his skull. He did this once every few minutes, the pain reminding him he was still alive.

As he drudged forward one step at a time he thought about the events that led him to the desert. It seemed so meaningless now, the arguments, the anxiety, the hatred. The world wasn’t his to control, so why did he have to fight? What was the use of arguing with those in charge when his opinions wouldn’t matter anyway?

He watched his feet as they sank into the sand. Each step became more difficult than the last. The sand engulfed his feet as if it were trying to swallow him. He imaged the desert devouring him one leg at a time. The thought made him laugh. He looked back up at the blinding sun to feel the pain again.

Those in charge had destroyed the world with their own ignorance. Thinking they were wise, they failed to see the obvious. Solutions to simple problems became complex endeavors. Each task that was accomplished created a slew of additional tasks to correct.

They congratulated each other, believing the decisions they made were correct and saved resources. The reality was there was nothing further from the truth. Even though many attempted to tell them their errors discreetly, they would not listen. They were too drunk in their own celebrations to listen to any naysayers.

He looked up at the blinding sun again to experience the pain. He had no illusions that the world would change back into the lush green gardens that it once was. He didn’t have any desire to delude himself into believing that the wasted world in which he walked was anything other than a disaster. He continued walking towards his goal, intent on achieving it.

The sun didn’t move across the sky as time went on. They had even destroyed that simple, universal law. Instead, the sun continued beating down on the world, withering anything that grew. Even the clouds stopped trying to block the sunlight. There was no use. Even if the sunlight was blocked, they would still claim that it was shining.

He finally made his way to the top of the dune and let himself fall to his knees. He fell forward and dug with his hands. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he crawled forward a few feet and dug some more. It took him an impossible amount of time but he finally found what he was looking for.

He dug frantically, uncovering an old wooden chest. The sun beat onto the back of his neck, burning the skin and making each movement painful. He didn’t care about the pain; it was just a sensation. His hands burned as they dug into the hot sand, but he didn’t care about that, either.

When the chest was half unburied, he looked around him to ensure there was nobody watching. His eyes scanned the horizon, but he saw nothing but the burning sand. He leaned forward and opened the lid of the chest. His head quickly turned aside as he didn’t dare look inside. He knew his heart couldn’t handle to look upon what the chest was hiding.

He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and whispered. Even though the dry, arid wind swept around him, he didn’t dare raise his voice louder than a whisper. He spoke quickly into his hands and, when he was finished, he closed them together tightly.

Slowly and deliberately, he put moved his hands over the open chest. His heart raced as he prepared himself and he rocked back and forth slowly on his knees. He looked at the blinding sun one more time to feel the pain of the brightness in the back of his skull. He readied himself for what he had to do.

With a single motion he opened his hands and quickly slammed the lid of the chest down. He heard nothing over the thumping of his beating heart as he rested his head on the chest. Tears streamed from his eyes and caught the blowing sand. He trembled and felt his heart grow a bit colder than it already was.

After a long time he finally looked up and realized mourning, like physical pain, was just another sensation that could be ignored. He quickly buried the chest, using both arms to scoop the sand back over the lid. When he was satisfied that the chest was hidden again he stood and started his journey back.

He smiled to himself, feeling just a bit more alive than he did earlier. He had hidden another idea from them in his chest full of ideas. He wouldn’t allow them to corrupt the idea, or any of the other hidden ideas, even if that meant the destruction of the world in which he lived. 

Baboon Fart Story

There appears to be an ongoing feud between self-published authors and authors who get published through traditional methods by an established publisher. Self-published authors believe that they can earn more money by publishing their novels on their own and they do not like getting rejected over and over again by publishing firms and agents. Those who get published traditionally believe that self-published books are trash as they have not been vetted through agents, editors, etc.

I can see both sides of the argument. There are many self-published piles of manure. There are also piles of manure that are published by the Big 5 publishers. Granted, they are well edited piles of manure, but they still stink.

Chuck Wendig wrote on his blog, Terrible Minds, the following statement about self-published books:

This usually sounds something like “The only real choice is either self-publishing your work or submitting to the gatekeepers,” where the gist is, understandably, that self-publishing is like getting to jump right onto your flight and go wherever you want to go, and traditional publishing means submitting to an invasive colonic cavity search before you’re even allowed near the gate.
 This is true-ish, in that I can literally write the word “fart” 100,000 times and slap a cover of baboon urinating into his own mouth, then upload that cool motherfucker right to Amazon. Nobody would stop me. Whereas, at the Kept Gates, a dozen editors and agents would slap my Baboon Fart Story to the ground like an errant badminton birdie.

Within 24 hours, a writer only known as Phronk took up his challenge and self-published Baboon Fart Story and was selling it for 99 cents.

This fine tomb was the word “fart” written 100,000 times. It was actually formatted as you would expect, with paragraphs and chapters. However, only the word “fart” was used. The book even had a baboon urinating into his own mouth on the cover.

The reviews for this book were awesome. But, alas, it appears that Amazon has gatekeepers of their own and removed the book. Shame, too, as I am sure it was a much better read than 50 Shades of Dumb.

According to the author, the book sold 21 copies before Amazon removed it. This was the email he received:

We’re writing to let you know that readers have reported a poor customer experience when reading the following book: Baboon Fart Story: An experiment inspired by Chuck Wending. As a result, we have removed the book from the Kindle Store. Indicators of poor customer experience are surfaced through a variety of methods, such as customer refunds, customer reviews/star ratings and direct customer feedback. Per our KDP Content Guidelines, we reserve the right to determine whether content provides an acceptable experience for customers.

This experiment proves a couple of things…

First, you can publish anything you want. Anything. This book, with 21 sold copies, was ranked #9 under the Books > Literature & Fiction > History & Criticism > Books & Reading > General category on Amazon.

Second, you can publish a book quickly if you want to. This book was up on Amazon within 24 hours of the original blog post.

And third, there will always be gatekeepers. Whether it is an agent, a publisher, or the cry of a multitude of unhappy readers to Amazon, bad books will be banished.

When It Is Right

In my journey of self-discovery as a writer (that’s a nicer way of saying “my feeble attempts to write”), I am amazed at the emotional roller coaster ride. I am discovering an entire plethora of emotions while performing the simple act of “writing”.

Fear – every writer feels this. I found this the easiest to overcome with one simple statement: what is the worse I can do, write a crappy story? Surprisingly, fear is the simplest emotion for a writer to conquer once you realize a simple fact about humanity: haters are gonna hate. There will be more people displeased with your writing than those who like it. Accept that and your fear will vanish. You aren’t writing for those people. You are writing for yourself and for those who enjoy the way you write.

Confusion – yes, writing can be confusing. Grammar and spelling confuse the hell out of me. The English language is the least logical concept ever developed by mankind.

Anxiety – wait, what? Yes, anxiety. The feeling that is born of fear, but I am not referring to the fear of writing. Anxiety sets in when you don’t know what words to put down next. Planning and outlining resolve this emotion.

Obsessiveness – OCD waiting in the corners of your brain. All it takes is one small, seemingly insignificant, unresolved detail that will turn the sanest person into a completely neurotic obsessive compulsive freak. In my case it was the title for my first book. Every time I sat down to write the fact that the title I had chosen was wrong would cloud my thoughts.

Exhilaration – complete and utter bliss. This normally occurs after you conquered one of emotions above or achieved one of your goals.

The original title for my book, Duality, was born from a scene I envisioned between the protagonist and one of the antagonists.  After completing the outline, the antagonist in the envisioned scene wound up being a minor character and the scene that occurs actually is a minor event.

For three weeks I agonized about the title. I needed something dark as that is the theme of the entire series. Book two is titled The Dark Legions and book three is The War for False Hope. Those titles are set in stone. Both of those titles describe a character or an event. The title for book one needed to describe a concept.

I believe that there should only be three types of titles: an event, a person or group of people (or even an organization), or a concept that the story conveys, such as a motivation. It’s the third type that is tricky. If the concept is described too thoroughly by the title, then the reader will not experience the ride associated with learning of the concept through the story. If the concept is not thoroughly described through the title then the reader will not understand why the title is what it is.

The concept title should be completely revealed near the end of the book and articulated fully for the reader. It could be a phrase used in one of the final conversations, preferably right before the final climax of the novel.

This is what makes the concept title so difficult. Easy to do for the names of individual chapters, but for the whole novel it is difficult.

But when it hits, you will know it. You will know it because it is right. Then you will experience exhilaration.

The title for my first book is The Gods That Punish. The full title is The Arkkaim Prophecies Book 1: The Gods That Punish.

It is right because, in retrospect, that is the only title it could be.

Outline Completed!

The outline for my first novel is complete! 44 chapters and an estimated 96,000 words of a novel. It is funny because I feel like I’ve accomplished something great and I really want to celebrate, but I don’t think anyone would really understand. I am discovering that writing is difficult because it is so solitary.

My methodology for writing has some very defined milestones. The outline was a huge milestone because it frees me up to actually write the novel. Now I only need to focus on 2,000 words at a time. Each section of the outline describes a chapter, which is around 2,000 words. Some chapters are estimated at 3,000 words because they need to cover a lot material. The next step is to sit down and focus on one chapter at a time.

The first thought that came to my mind when I completed the outline was “if I were to write a novel, this is how it would flow”. This is exactly what I like to read. The manipulation of the protagonist and the antagonist. The reoccurring themes. The events that happen early in the story appearing quite significantly at the end. The build up to the finale. The finale being such a huge event that it is like the last few minutes of a fireworks show.

Yes, this is exactly the type of story I like to read.

Now I just need to do it justice by filing in the details.

44 small milestones to go…

Distracted…

I am under the firm belief that DARPA or Al Gore, whichever one it was, created the internet for the sole purpose of preventing aspiring writers from finishing their first book. Hold on a minute – just got another email I NEED to check RIGHT NOW….

I have read a lot about writing. One of the most common reasons of why someone cannot write is that they cannot find the time to write. The most common response to this is to “make time to write”, but I think that response misses the issue entirely.

If someone is posting in a writer’s forum that they do not have time to write, then the issue isn’t having the time to write. The issue is that there are too many distractions. Obviously the writer has time to write – he is writing in a forum!

And there is the complete dichotomy of the writer versus the market for writers. If you spend all of your time reading about writing and how to write, then you are not spending the time actually writing. Yes, I realize that statement will not have Writer’s Digest pounding on the door begging for my insights on writing, but there it is.

At some point you need to stop learning and start doing, because doing also helps you learn.

Then there is the issue of the interwebz. The Great Distractor. You can’t just turn it off. I need the internet while writing, as I am sure most writers also need it. I need Webster.com, I need my name generators for inconsequential character names, sometimes I just need to look up the speed of light, how long it takes for a dog to digest a human bone, or how long would it take for a body to completely decompose in a tropical climate (no, you shouldn’t ask).

So, in the spirit of all drinking games, I’ve made up the following game that should help any writer from straying down the dark path of internet distractions. However, we’re not going to be drinking. Slight rule change in order to promote what psychologists call “negative reinforcement”.

The first thing you need to do is take off any footwear. Shoes, socks, slippers or whatever else you have on your foot. If you’ve played this game before you can keep your cast on (you will just need to play harder).

You need to follow the scoring of this game exactly as is. Trust me, the only parts of your body you need are your hands, your brain, and some gushy stuff in your chest that will keep the other stuff working.

Here are the rules:

1 – Every time you check your email you need to kick the leg of the desk or table you are sitting at as hard as you can one time. Don’t wimp out. Kick the snot out of it. Go ahead, rediscover Newton’s Third Law of Physics and verify it still applies.

2 – Every time you check a social media site you need to kick the leg of the desk or table you are sitting at as hard as you can twice. Yes, you can use both feet if you want. This includes Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, etc. Again, don’t hold back. Make sure what you are kicking is still there and didn’t disappear. If your eyes ain’t sweating, you didn’t kick hard enough.

3 – Every time you look at any website that does not pertain to what you are writing you need to kick the leg of the desk or table you are sitting at as hard has you can three times. At this point, you are encouraged to use both feet. It’s up to you which foot gets to kick twice. This is the interesting rule because if you find yourself looking at something that doesn’t pertain to your writing you can still save yourself by incorporating it into your writing. I am sure that is what other authors do, which is why you will read a great science fiction novel and wonder why a cat was every brought into space. I am sure this is what E. L. James did when writing the book 50 Shades of Grey, which was actually supposed to be a rip-off of Interview With a Vampire, but she got distracted and looked at some nasty websites while writing.

4 – If you ever decide to read a web-fiction serial instead of writing during your writing time you need to kick the leg of the desk or table you are sitting at as hard as you can four times. With the same foot. This is the ultimate sin because you will never return to your writing. Even if you do you will start writing like the author you were reading. Damn you, web-fiction writers! They are the worst! They are the ultimate drug dealers in this digital age. They suck you in with their free stories that go on and on and on. Next thing you know its 3:00AM, your eyes hurt from being opened so long, and you’ve completely forgotten what you were supposed to be writing about.

So there are the rules to the Writer’s Game.

If you can make time for writing, then you can also make time for reading and surfing the internet. Just keep those times separated. Surf the internet while you are in the emergency room waiting to get your foot X-rayed. Write when you get home and the pain medication takes you to that “special place”.

Generator Land

Here is a site I found a while back that is just fun to play on: 

http://www.generatorland.com/blog/index.php/sample-page/

It is a list of generators for all sorts of stuff. If you are unfamiliar with generators, then check the site out for fun. 

One of my favorites is the Charlie Sheen Catch Phrase Generator, which produces gems such as:

• I can swallow sharks and I regurgitate religion
• I spit like hatred and I screw like razor blades
• I chew up genius and I rock like saints
• I have M-16 rocket fuel
• I rage on like sharks and I can swallow fire balls

The Consumer Confidence Index Generator spews out tons of phrases that you would here on CNBC that describes how consumers feel:

• Aggressive Confusion
• Savage Belief
• Abject Distrust
• Worried Desperation

But my absolute favorite is the Misfit Toy Generator: 

• Erma the Suicidal Weeble
• Abraham the Sarcastic Teddy Bear
• Benito the Sexually Ambiguous Tinker Toy
• Shelly the Spiteful Etch-A-Sketch
• Edwin the Unpleasant Rocking Horse

Why?

I put The Plan out there for all to read. So now everyone knows where I am going. At least for now. Who knows that the years will bring? Who knows if The Plan will be successful? Who knows if I’ll change The Plan a half million times?

The important thing is that I have a plan and I am working towards it.

So what is the purpose of this blog? What is the purpose of my barely coherent scribbles? How does this fit into The Plan?

This blog has multiple purposes. First and foremost, it is a place to allow me to scribble. It is important to keep writing, even if that writing has nothing to do with anything. Writing these stupid, simple, meaningless blurbs of nothingness keeps me writing, editing, rewriting, and editing some more, etc.

Writing is easy. Writing without mistakes, incoherent sentences, grammar errors, etc., is difficult and requires practice.

There are a couple of other reasons for this blog. Someday, and this day may never come, someone I do not know will read a novel that I haven’t written yet and become emotionally attached to the story. They won’t be able to put the book down. When they are done reading it they will want more.

That person, and there may be only one of them that ever exists, will be A Fan. In the search for “more”, I hope that fan finds this blog and reads my drivel to see where it all came from. Of course, that person may no longer be A Fan once they realize that I am shooting all of this directly out of my arse.

This blog is for them.

And the last reason is for the person who wants so badly to write something but doesn’t know where to start. You have an idea. You can see the scenes in your head. You know the characters so well that they talk to you in their own voice. The stories in your mind are no different than memories. You feel the love, pain, anguish, joy, and despair that your characters feel.

This blog is for you.

This blog will detail the struggles I have experienced while planning, writing, and editing my novels, stories, and various other drivels. One week you will read about how I go through the planning process, the next week you will read a poem about my pug. Occasionally you will gain some insight as to what a writer goes through. Most likely you will read what I write and be understandably upset that you have wasted ten minutes of your life that will never be regained.

Regardless of whom you are, your station in life, your desires, or reasons, this blog is ultimately for you.

Enjoy!