Exercise, The Bane Of My Food Loving World + Update!

With NaNoWriMo fast approaching (What? It’s only four days away?!) my final October evenings have been spent trying to prepare for writing a novel in thirty days. As I squeeze lore from the lemon that is my mind right now, I stare at the screen hoping for more loreonade. My mind is putty because today I pushed my body to do things it doesn’t enjoy. Heavy lifting. Manual labor. Cleaning (No, wait… that is deeply satisfying). As someone who eats fast food more than anyone should, I’m a bit out of shape (despite a circle being considered in that group). After gaining some weight during my travels back home, an additional ten percent to put it into perspective, I have been making strides to eat healthier. Today was a different beast entirely.

The backroom at work has been somewhat of a nightmare for a borderline OCD guy like myself. I like order and when things make sense. Safety is also always a good thing. So after speaking with my manager we decided to tear down the backroom and rebuild it. I got to plan, design and execute my idea! Oh how delicious gratification is! However when we began to move stuff around today, as good as it was feeling to have everything in order and tidy, my body disagreed with the methods at play. So after about eight hours of continuous lifting and moving, muscles I didn’t know I used began to groan under the most basic movements. Crouching? Agony. Sneeze? Searing pain. The end result was worth it… for now. Order has been chiseled from chaos and beauty born of insanity.

Fast forward five hours.

Present Me hates Past Me for not worrying about Future Me. Future Me is currently excited for bed, while Present Me is trying to be productive. Damn Past Me has destroyed Present Me’s productivity by overworking us all. In short: Working hard all day keeps the night time productivity at bay. However, that being said I think I know where my story is going to start. Unless it changes, the beginning will introduce one of the antagonists and one of the protagonists as well as two forms of magic, set the kingdom and initiate the plans for a coming war. In my mind, I can already see the battles ahead between two factions! Necromancy in my world is classified as a Forbidden Magic. Forbidden magic simply means you are tapping into an energy that is not your own which changes you through the Magician’s Curse (actually from Jefferson’s story at the top right). Necromancy in particular is cruel in the sense that unlike other forbidden magics that can cause insanity, the caster remains clear of mind while their body decays. In short, you waste away until you are classified as a Lich (skeletal magician). The other form of magic early on is Sacrificial. In order to give life, a life must be taken. These two magics won’t be pitted against each other just yet, but I’m excited for the development!

So many things! Four days! Oh man, this is getting crazy! So many consequences to using magic! So little time! Okay, well I open my store in the morning and still have a ton of things to clean up and move there so I should probably sleep. As for you ladies and gents beyond the screen, are you ready? Have you started early? I am considering also trying to do a blog post (short or long, doesn’t matter) after every NaNoWriMo writing session. Not sure how wise that is, but it’ll be nice I think to touch base with the others out there and help celebrate the wins of Team NaNo! Talk to you soon and remember, FOUR DAYS!!!

Passing The Torch

Hello again everyone! Hope your writing is going absolutely swell as November and the fabled NaNoWriMo fast approaches. As for me, planning has been going swell but just recently I was contacted by Mr. Bob Clary over at webucator.com who had apparently stumbled upon my little corner of the internet and enjoyed my passion for writing. Now he’s turned around and asked me to write a post on how I would teach my talent unto others and my personal insight into the subject. This is both more complicated than a post could ever detail and simultaneously more simple than you could ever imagine.

Firstly, a bit about myself for those of you who may just be stopping by. I’m twenty nine and staring down the barrel of thirty. I’ve been bald for many a moon now and perhaps that has something to do with my particular craft. For something that has been with me for my entire life, it never treated me very well! I have worked many jobs and hard work has been something I have always been accustomed to. From company to company, I have been nearly promoted at every turn. I’ve only moved jobs when there has been no room to move up or no room for me where I have moved to. My travels have taken me from humble beginnings in a trailer park in a place called Sackville to living in my own home on the coast of Australia. Things could definitely be worse, I assure you.

As for writing; it has always been with me. No matter where I’ve been, what I’ve been paid to do, who I’ve been working for… it has always been right there, nagging me to explore the worlds in my mind. Perhaps my muse is harassing me. Maybe she’s in love with me as much as I am with writing. But no matter the case, I’ve been to some far away lands and met some incredible beings. I’ve always wanted that chance to make it my career, to spend time in those places and with those beings. This has lead me to read many books, not only on the subject of writing but classics as well.

From my twenty odd years experience in writing, from all the books I have read and from all the blog posts and articles I can tell you a few things. If I were to try and teach someone the art of writing, first would come the art of reading. It is just as important to research your genre as it is to read and enrich your vocabulary! Then, the most important task ever. Write. That sounds easy enough right? No. It’s impossible. It will grind you to dust and crush your very spirit. It will haunt your dreams. You will think about it in your most intimate of moments. It is everywhere, and many days- nowhere at all. 

Oh! You’re still here. I see. Despite all that I’ve said? Interesting. Then I’ll fill you in on a little secret. The most important thing I’ve ever learned about my craft is never lose the passion. Ray Bradbury was a writer I discovered all too late after his passing in 2012. His book, Zen in the Art of Writing, was not about writing. It wasn’t about words or building a story. It wasn’t about inspiration (Not for me at least). It was entirely about how this man, despite his many set backs and people telling him his work was rubbish, came out on top and just kept writing. He wasn’t writing to become a billion dollar man. He was writing simply because he loved it more than anything in the world. You need to have the passion, as it will drive you through the mud when it’s at its thickest.

In short, you want to be a writer? You need to read. A lot. You will need to write. A lot. And you will need more passion than you could devote to anything else. Writing is my mistress and when my girlfriend is mad at me, it is most likely writing’s fault (or mine!). And when I say read? I mean the genre you want to write in. When I say write? I mean start small. Accomplish The End in a short story. Then work your way up. I have hundreds of exceptionally short stories. Then suddenly The End was getting further and further from the start point. My last short story, entitled Circle of Vengeance out there on the internet, was twenty five full size pages. After that? I wrote a novel. Remember though, inspiration is everywhere!

Writing is more complicated than you could ever imagine, but at its most basic… just write. Write for you and people will either like it, or not. I could tell you how I do it, I could give you templates and books to read on the subject. But just write. Then you too can call yourself a writer.

However if you need any help with Microsoft products, I hear Webucator gives away a free course each month. See http://www.webucator.com/microsoft/index.cfm for details!

With that out of the way, I’m lined up and primed for November. My world is coming together and the lore is lining up. Many exciting individuals are moving in and the stories are beginning to intertwine. As we approach NaNoWriMo, I am feeling confident that this year I will destroy the target. Also my girlfriend will be gone during the final week, which frees up my time tremendously to pump out those final words if need be. My hope is to get book one done, with the tentative title: The Immortal Realms. Exciting times are ahead for me and I’m not even sure where to begin for it! I suppose I will have to decide that before November first! Get excited! Get ready! Let’s do this!

So tell me, are you guys ready for NaNoWriMo? How’s the prep work going? Also in regards to the above topic of teaching others how to write, how would you do it? I only ask because it really got me thinking about my own writing and my inspirations! Thanks for swinging by and talk to you soon! Now I leave you with a music video that I think of when I think about national writing month!

The World, As I Write It

A simple idea tore down the dam holding back a world I never knew existed. As ideas flowed forth of demons and magic, angels and war, teleportation and necromancy; I stared at the poor notes app on my iPhone. What had I done? What had come from the simple idea of mashing all my stories into one? A world of beauty and depth, one I didn’t know I had in me.

I made the decision while I was away on holidays to convert all of my story ideas into a singular world. This meant a story idea in which the USA created an enemy the whole world would have to unite against in a science fiction setting had to become fantasy. Short stories set in the modern day were suddenly thrust into the middle ages. Characters who depended on technology now were inventors, dependant on their intelligence. When the notes began to come together, it felt incredible.

I don’t expect everyone (or anyone perhaps) to understand the feeling I have for this world. It is my world, and not everyone will like it. Not that it matters to me. I’ve always wondered how these fantastic writers build their stories and worlds. Do you populate a world and tell a story in it? Or does one write a story and then build the world as they need it? I am in the latter category. I began writing Jefferson with five plot points in mind. As I wrote, I felt some characters would die, so I introduced new ones. I made new towns with new friends and new experiences. The whole time I was being led by my characters through the world as they experienced it. This meant if a character was deep in thought or distracted, you as a reader have no idea of the world around them. Unlucky for the reader, my protagonist spends much of his time fighting to survive and not so much smelling the freshly baked apple cinnamon pies from Floria or sampling the watermelon cotton candy of Villenoire’s famous carnival.

The more I write into the history of this world the more I sense a richness flowing from its veins. Using Jefferson’s story itself as a historical backbone, the tale of magic and its history are built from there. Because of Jefferson we know why magic exists. Through his actions we know how Gods grow stronger. We find the most powerful kinds of magic through his trilogy. Then, suddenly he is built into this new world as a legend. His name is butchered through the years. Jehovah? Jeremiah? Who knows. I don’t yet, but I plan on finding out.

World building is almost more fun than the writing itself as the world grows richer with every short story or idea. Fables grow into fact. Lore becomes reality. A neat concept becomes a required part of the quest. As I write it, the world begins to tell me its own stories. The merchants guild is in with the thieves guild, to not only avoid being robbed but for save passage through hostile areas. The thieves guild has grown their own city. A kingdom is abandoned as undead overrun it. Five realms are united under a single king through arranged marriages, leaving another five ripe for the conquering; whatever will they do?

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling; allowing the world to unfold before my eyes. Perhaps it is time I gave writing the focus it deserves and begs me for. Why am I investing my time into things that might be fun at the time, while I could be creating something not unlike Star Wars. If I were to write three novels right now from my newly compiled world, then I already have three stories about the origins of magic and how the different arts came into being. It wouldn’t be hard to write more after that.

It is good to be back on the computer and typing away. I’ve been asked to write a post and I’ve finally received my inspirational macbook case: a BookBook Rutledge case by TwelveSouth. Maybe these are signs. Maybe they’re not. But I won’t know what they are if I never follow them!

In closing, I need you all to answer a single question for me:

Did your chicken (story) come before the egg (world), or vice versa?

In Transit: Free Writing Time!

Hello airport. Hello internet. I’d like to say it’s been too long, but…

I sit here in Toronto staring out at the tiny people on the tarmac, as they rush around like ants trying desperately to keep the machine that is the airport well oiled and moving. It is here that I finally realise I have a few hours, might as well write something.

It has been awhile since I blogged, or written for that matter, and it feels good to pound on this keyboard of the thousand dollar machine I had hoped would help me write more often and be more organised. I had brought it along for this entire two week trip, and I turned it on for roughly ten minutes at my mother’s house to show her how cool technology is. Now though, I am excited about one fact and one fact alone. Forced writing time.

When I was visiting my best friend in Edmonton, we came to the conclusion we are both absolutely terrible at finishing things. Even if we do, we move on as if we ran it over in a Ferrari. I finished my novel and my lovely girlfriend is still working on the edit. I started the second book, but have finished a single chapter. I have probably planned more of book three than of book two. This aside, he and I discussed the very problem we have and came to a conclusion: We have a problem and we need to fix it. Then we went our separate ways. Now I am emailing him almost every second day bouncing ideas off him and stirring his creative pot. The problem is even with my trilogy a third of the way to completion, I have begun building a new world around the collection of all of my ideas. Not one. Not two. But all!

The concept had come to me awhile ago when I began to get fed up with coming up with new ideas. New stories would present themselves, new characters would interrupt dialogue and new worlds would stand at the end of a pier waiting to be explored. Now, to counteract this rampant idea generation, I’ve begun changing my science fiction ideas into a fantasy setting. I have intertwined stories into lore. Characters have begun interacting with each other instead of existing in totally separate worlds. Now I have a world that gets richer every time I have a new idea. Not only that, but I have managed to tie it into my current trilogy. What this means however, is despite the world being similar to ours, now it is becoming a monster in its own right. Jefferson and crew are now building lore into the world that has apparently been brewing in my head for years. It finally feels like everything is coming home.

Jefferson and the Magician’s Curse will happen centuries before the story I will set in the created world. This has lead me to consider abandoning Jefferson (for now) in the hope that I can use the points I am aware of now to build the lore for the new world. Jefferson and Gabriel will live on as some of the first magic users (especially powerful ones) which opened up the doors for cults, schools, and the whole basis for magic in the future. Not only this but there are ramifications from their actions that still reverberate centuries later, without people realising it. Also the way that magic works in my world has distinct consequences in the Jefferson trilogy that will be branched out upon as newer forms of magic and different schools come into light. In case you didn’t notice, I’m a bit excited!

I often wonder how long it took to build consistent worlds like those experienced in Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter and how long I should work on my own before writing the story in it. I suppose as with anything it will be finished when it is finished, much to my dismay. For the meantime, I will get back into it so that I can smash that NaNoWriMo target. I am unsure as to which story to contribute to or which lore to write exactly. Something tells me if I start working on that world, fifty thousand words will be achieved within the time frame. The thing will be, forcing myself to make the time.

Until next time lovely ladies and gents! Happy writing!

Also touch base guys! Are you doing NaNoWriMo this year? What are you working on? Are you in the same boat as me? Anyone want to get back in touch for some writing updates!? I did enjoy keeping up with those of you who were interested! Talk to you soon!

The Forced Muse

Lately I’ve been procrastinating everything. Things at work. Things at home. Something has been rubbing me the wrong way and it’s a combination of things. I love my job, but lately there’s been a ton of drama. This drama has forced me to put in more effort than my normal above and beyond and somehow come out behind. Sales are still going well but there’s something bugging me and I can’t put my finger on it.

At home I am ramping up for my trip back to Canada. Admittedly I haven’t given much thought to it, as it sneaks up at ridiculously supersonic speeds. One week? Where the hell did the time go!? Thanks to my girlfriend who has a knack for planning trips, everything is organised. It’s not that I’m not stoked to visit family and friends. It’s just, well… many of my friends have grown distant. Less to be excited about. Going back home is going to be a sobering reminder that the last time I was home was for my father’s funeral. I’ve had better times, but I know I must go and pay my respects.

My mind at the moment has been drawn to the allure of mindless gaming (AKA Diablo III). No thoughts. No cares. Clear goals. Achievable goals. Kill demon. Get loot. Wash, rinse and repeat. It has actually been preoccupying my mind predominately while I am awake. One could say I am addicted, but considering how easy it was to let go when my girlfriend claimed the lounge room tonight, I’d say that’s not necessarily the case. It’s just easy.

That being said, since my mind was suddenly freed from the perils of Sanctuary and the looting of its demons, I decided to get caught up on life. I shaved my rather rough beard, replied to some emails and messages, read some news and eventually sat down to write more into Jefferson’s second adventure. Then my mind wandered. I’m unhappy with the vagueness of the world I’ve created for my poor protagonist. I stared at the poor screen, knowing where and what I wanted Jefferson to do in his bland new world. His last adventure has proven fruitful, but even I am beginning to punch holes in the realm of magic I’ve created. Once I’ve started to do that, it was a lot like plugging holes in a sinking ship with paper towel; End result is, it still sinks. I’ve created a story set in a world not so different from our own. Now I apparently need to go back over the world and flesh it out. Work out the kinks. Then one of my other ideas forced its way into my thoughts and demanded some attention.

Now, it’s twelve in the morning before I work in less than the suggested hours for sleeping. I have just begun work on a new world with new lore. That’s not to say that poor Jefferson is out in the lurch, but what it does mean is I’m growing my creative playground for future me to run amok in. The new story idea pertains to a fragment I wrote a few posts back entitled “Fragment: The Truth About Heaven and Hell” and fleshing out the world surrounding that. Strangely enough my mind flooded with ideas while doing research that it made me consider a possible mythology for my world based around creation.

The Creator had brought the Watchers and the Dwellers into being, one to govern over the other in the Creator’s stead. The Watchers were tasked with noting the progression of the Dwellers in their world and were explicitly not to interfere in Dweller matters. The Creator left the Watchers to their task, and soon, Watchers broke rank and became consumed with the affairs of the Dwellers. They obsessed over their beauty and lusted for them, their frail bodies and short lived mortality. Watchers were powerful, and could shape-shift as they saw fit to enter into forbidden relations among the Dwellers, giving birth to a whole league of various powerful beings. These beings were worshipped as the Gods in their respective lands, leading to sometimes tall and sometimes accurate tales of valor, glory and failure. As these Gods intermingled among each other and the Dwellers, Demi-Gods came into being. As the Demi-Gods mingled among Dwellers and died off, their tales dissolved into myths and legends.

This is the explanation for our own current myths and legends in the world today, or as I hope, in the world I will be writing into soon. The Watchers are an angelic race who are genderless. Their abilities to shape shift come into play in the story as many have fled their realm to avoid persecution by the Guardians who are Watchers remaining true to their initial cause. These beings are trying to buy their way back into their old existence as a life immortal among mortals is torturous. The Guardians rely on the “Angel of Death” for new recruits, but suddenly new recruits stop coming. No one is dying. Death is nowhere to be found. The Demon Gate suddenly shatters, pouring evils into the world of the Dwellers. Forced to act, the Guardians begin their search for a Dweller to take up the mantle of Death before evil overruns everything the Creator tasked them with protecting.

I’m enjoying the concept of Hell simply being a place where evil is locked away. Not people, nor beings; but their actions and memories, personified. As these demons break free, the Guardians virtually fight to the last being until the Second-In-Command sacrifices themselves to allow another Guardian time to relay the message to the others. I’m excited for the twists around the Heaven-Hell mythology and the characters that come with it. Righteous Guardians, Fallen Angels, Murderous Demons, Mischievous Evils and all the while the poor Dwellers are stuck in the middle. Now, even regular people are seemingly invincible and immortal with Death not performing the job’s namesake. Hell has come to Earth, but who will stop it?

I know who. But first, I have a million things to do and a trip coming soon. I am in dire need of a “staycation” where I can clean for the first two days, create a writing nest, disconnect my internet and write! Maybe this year I will end up forcing myself back into NaNoWriMo… which is how I met so many of you lovely readers! Might not be a bad idea! Anyway I shall leave you with that as I work in T-Minus seven hours. Thanks for reading and be sure to give me an update on your own projects! Let me know I’m not alone or celebrate your win with me!

Agony And Ecstasy

A slight whistle hummed on the breeze, growing ever louder as the midday sun shone down upon the crimson desert canyons. The whistle grew loud until a man crashed through the dirt, like a meteor sent from the heavens. He tumbled end over end and skidded until finally finding his footing and sliding to a stop, his left hand bracing him from falling over. The dust cleared as the man glanced up from his perch, his dark eyes imbued with rage.

“Had enough?”

The man turned as his Master stood behind him. She was small in stature, yet strong enough to have overcome an army in her past years. He stared longingly at her, not a passion of beauty, but respect. He lunged, and she blocked effortlessly. As she slid his strike away from its mark, her hand hit like a mallet to his ribs. The soft tissue and muscle buckled over the bone and thankfully, bone withstood the challenge. His elbow returned to pass through some hair that had fallen from his Master’s pony tail and she kneed him clean off his feet. He felt it pass between organs and push on his spine as he lifted from the ground and landed flat on his back.

“Well?” She asked.

Sounds of agony escaped his lips, betraying him to weakness. As he pushed off the ground, he looked to the Master. “Never…” He gasped slightly as his whole abdomen throbbed in pain. He felt her move before she visibly did, and quickly he pushed himself from the dirt. He sneakily grabbed two handfuls of the dust and clapped them together before himself to create a screening effect. He smirked amid the sudden reduction in visibility at his own cleverness. A fist connected hard across his jaw, and a kick landed solidly beneath his right arm. He swung wildly in frustration and a precise strike disabled his left arm from use. The numbness was sudden, and jarring. He blocked a flurry of blows, or a few, as fists pierced the veil of dust and struck many body shots. He could barely see himself, let alone his opponent. With a loud a gust, the Master was standing strong in front of him as she spun on her heel and kicked him square in the face.

***

The sky was blue and birds were chirping as he opened his eyes. He glanced around from his new bed and found his master training another. She moved with grace and precision, a one woman ballet of accuracy and death. Her hands moved as blurs, blocking and striking almost simultaneously. The man she fought began to cower as her hits landed between ribs and rained upon precious internal organs. He collapsed as she shook her head.

“Take him away.” Her voice boomed the command as two women gathered the moaning mass of anguish from the ground. Her attention turned back to her student as he stared back. “Awake are we, Altenir?”

“I believe so. Or you’ve knocked me into a dream like state permanently.” Altenir glanced down at his torso and examined the various shades of purples, greens and yellows. “I see you took it easy on me then.”

His Master stared at him through cold eyes. “I never said this would be easy. Nor did I guarantee your longevity or health.”

“I suppose not.” Altenir groaned as he shifted into a sitting position.

“Then stop whining. We must get back to it.” She demanded.

Eyes wide with shock, Altenir stared at her. “Now?” His whole body groaned in protest of another tenderising.

“Will they wait for you?” His Master pointed to a cage of skeletons who tugged at the bars of their prison. “I think not.”

“Death waits for us.” Altenir mentioned.

His Master’s eyes widened quick as she grabbed him by the arm and launched him from the table and into the dirt. She spat on the ground before him and shook her head. “Death waits for no man, woman, child or animal. Death comes when he does, and there is no stopping that.”

Altenir rolled on the ground in pain, but he had heard the stories. Who hadn’t? A young woman had single handedly dismantled an army and there had been word that she was in league with the devil himself to avoid death. People said that when Death came for her, she had fought and bested even him. Stories mostly, but as Altenir writhed in agony, he considered the truths in it.

***

An effort in action, hopefully it is an enjoyable read and now I’m going to sleep despite only wanting to play Diablo on PS4. If you’d like to add me on there, simply email me your PSN name and I will add you ASAP! Night everyone! (21 Days until Canada!)