A Moment In Time

Work is an odd place.

I work in retail and today, for a small moment, I found myself extremely proud to be there. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but I’ve always introduced the fact I work retail in a depressed sort of light. When people ask where my partner works, I’ve always been proud of the fact that she’s a teacher. She teaches the future generations kindness, patience and knowledge. These gifts are incredible and unparalleled. Then people turn to me. I feel the sweat begin to form beneath my arms. I get nervous. Then they ask the question I fear, “And where you do work?”

Back in Canada, retail has a stigma. Maybe it’s everywhere, I don’t know. Retail is looked at as that place where people who couldn’t get a career settle in. Upon my arrival in Australia, I knew retail was my best hope. I had next to no professional experience in programming and less than zero experience in animation. I did have plenty of experience in management though, so I relied on it. I had managed to get one retail job and managed to get two promotions there within a year. Then I moved across to my current company and managed a similar feat. Despite these accomplishments, I still avoided eye contact when people asked where I worked. I’d say things like, “I only work retail.” or “I’m just a manager.”

In reality, work is where I sometimes feel happiest. I’m not saying my home life is terrible and I’m not saying I’d change a thing. But everyday I feel that sense of accomplishment of getting something done or rallying the team to overcome a challenge. I not only enjoy it, I savour it. Perhaps it is due to my hobby of writing near accomplishing nothing. Maybe the path is too vague. At work the path is clear and the numbers don’t lie. When you’re doing well, you know it, and so do the sales. It’s nice to know that once I have finished something there is a result.

I felt extremely accomplished the moment I wrote the final words to Jefferson & The Magician’s Curse. I reread it and enjoyed it immensely. I passed it onto my partner who had many questions and comments. In fact, she’s still working on her edit. Now that it’s done, it’s almost like… what now? I recently read a story posted by one of the people I have met during my blogging escapades. It was so rich with detail I felt as though I’d been there. Her characters seemed like old friends. I finished the story and almost clapped it was that well done. Then I read her next blog post about how she’s still having trouble finding a publisher. The story was so good, I’d pay for it. Yet here I was, standing in the shadow of her talents, hoping to find my own success. Doom is about as close a word to the true feeling for my poor story.

At work today we rejoiced in the sales of last week, being up over a quarter of our target above the budget. We contributed to many of the goals and targets our region is tracking and we celebrated with the team. I had a load of fun joking around and despite the terrible weather outside and the lack of customers, I found myself just enjoying the day. My boss came off the conference call grinning and I asked him how it had gone. It had gone better than expected and apparently the bosses were happy. Everything has been going exceptionally well. Are there things to work on? Of course. But at the end of the day, this is the best job I’ve ever had. Today, for the first time in my life, I felt extremely proud of what I do for a living. But of course tomorrow is a new day, but for now, I feel like some sort of retail rockstar… so I’ll just ride the high while I can.

As for writing, I’m hoping to find that sense of accomplishment again sometime soon. I’ve also been trying to get up the courage to enter a local writing competition, or submit a short story for publication. It’s only taken a decade for me to be confident in retail… seems I just need some more time and some more completed stories to get there.

As for those of you out there who use Scrivener, do you make separate files for each different idea or do you have all your ideas in one place and have each idea in its own folder? This question relates very closely to the original reason I started using a wiki (which I may try to go back to at some point) as ideas and the such can be outlined for characters easier and story ideas can be worked on without switching screens. At the moment, all of my ideas are in their own “.scriv” files and when I’m working on one idea if I get inspiration into another, it’s very jarring to close one and load another. I’m open to suggestions!

Although I’ve heard plenty about the writings of the people beyond the screen, but what do you do to pay the bills? Who is the daytime author really?

Tool or Tools Of The Trade?

Today I bought a new friend. A friend who hopefully will inspire me to write and enable me to accomplish more.

It’s beyond hopeful, but hey, that’s what I do.

My new friend is in the thirteen inch variety, weighs very little and has Scrivener installed on it. Some might say I’m impulsive. Some might say I’m a moron. That’s why we listen to the voices in our heads (and not the ones that tell us to burn things). After demoing Scrivener and their incredibly generous twenty one days, which I never ran out of, I decided to take the plunge. Upon discovering it was half off in the App Store, I rejoiced and committed my novel to a life in Scrivener. To the people who made that program, I swear when I get published, I will mention you in a separate dedications page!

And now… Apple should thank those same people who created Scrivener for making me run out and buy a portable sexy beast with lit up keys for all those late night writings (like this one) and portability. Now I’m unsure if this is my newest tool of the trade, or if I am the tool of the trade! I mean really, am I fooling myself into believing that a thousand dollar machine will be the thing that gets me published? Will this new machine begin to gather dust after the wonder of looking down upon the keyboard like watching city streets from a plane wears off?

I must admit, the keyboard is a dream to type on and is relatively silent. My poor exhausted girlfriend sleeps right beside me while I write this very post. She’s got extremely long work days for the next week, and with the puppies out with her parents, that gives me all the time to spend with this magical beast. Lucky for me, I also have the next two days off, although at the cost of running into a nine day stretch of work. Tradeoffs.

Although for those of you who’ve read through here before, you may know that I work retail. I sincerely enjoy my job and the challenges it comes with. As a part of a management team, I manage to liken it to trying to assemble the Avengers/Justice League and trying to get all these awesome folk and misfits to work together and accomplish the task at hand. Some days are easier than others, others are like running with your pants down. But sometimes it is the challenge from the other side of the business that throws me for a loop.

I like to think I am a nice, helpful guy. Many people thank me, wave or shake my hand, smile and are generally positive on their way out. But I must say the one thing that shocks me about retail is the lack of customer compliments these days. I’m someone who would love to get promoted and I bend over backwards in my efforts to try and help the customer out while ensuring the business isn’t run into the ground. I have helped with minor issues (This was the wrong color) to the major issues (This five thousand dollar TV was busted when I went to set it up) and just about everything in between, and from my experience I could effortlessly get a million complaints a week. A million. Exaggerated? Maybe. But only on the number of people through our doors each week.

What am I getting at? I’m getting at the fact that somedays (myself included) when the world is going awesomely and everything is perfect, we forget to take the time to give out some good feedback to those who helped make it a great day. Today I helped a customer with their computer who had called the manufacturer and was told to bring it in. Somehow they had set up a password for the BIOS (that load up screen before any operating system starts) and had created a password for the computer and forgotten it. It took some time out of my day (around thirty minutes with a restore), but I managed to get rid of both passwords and set the computer up so everything ran smoothly. I decided as I had spent my time, I would politely ask the customer to take time out of their day to try and get me promoted.

This was where things got interesting.

When I placed them in front of a computer and set them up with the website, all I wanted was an honest opinion on how I had done today. What I got was, “I’m terrible at these things. Can you write it for me?” From a customer service point of view, I was actually a bit crushed. I pressed on and actually had to almost repeat the sales process by asking a ton of questions about how I had helped. In short, the customer was happy to put their name to whatever I wrote. I suppose at least that meant they trusted me fully by then, but still, I now know that it’s extremely hard to get a compliment. Lesson learned.

So for those of you out there who have complimented someone lately, thank you. On behalf of whoever that was, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s so easy to get out there and vent your anger or frustration, but I’d say it takes a bigger person to go out of their way to thank someone for exceptional service and the such. Have you ladies and gents beyond the screen given any compliments lately? Let me know, and try and keep it positive in the comments! Good luck!

The Bridge

“None shall enter this town. Army or not.”

As the words drifted on the summer’s breeze, a lone armored man stood boldly before a hundred or more men. He stood defiantly, eyes as cold as the bloodied steel of the longsword in his left hand.

A man bearing a black and gold helm, with a rather ornate dragon crest, stepped forward and examined the bridge before him. His upper lip trembled as he glanced from body to bloodied body, soldiers and their weapons scattered like leaves in the wind. “You dare deny us the right to this paradise? Who are you to do such a thing?” He stared at the stone bridge, wide enough for five men across, but not wide enough to flank the man before him.

“This… paradise… is not your right.” The man shifted slightly, his crimson armor shifting atop the midnight cloth below. “For you to think that it is, Grand Master, is why I am here at all. Those who believe they are entitled to the world will crash upon me like waves at the shore. For I am Kiralti, the Guardian of Irabagi.”

“Even waves wear away at the shore bit by bit.” The man grunted and spun to his army, his head held high. “And we shall do just that. To the man who brings me his head, I will give him nobility and ensure he does not want for anything!”

A single man stepped forward, slightly shaking.

“Good, go fetch your legacy boy.” The Grand Master said, his flowing red cape drifting as he walked past the boy, opening up the path to the bridge.

The boy stepped carefully over the bodies before him; Knights, thieves, barbarians. He glanced up to his opponent who stood opposite him, a single longsword gleaming with fresh blood in his hand. Swallowing hard, the boy suddenly stumbled over a body, his sword tumbling loudly along the stones of the bridge. As he lay face down, the laughter of the army behind him did nothing to build his confidence. A tear in his eye, he began to pick himself up, when he realised a hand was extended before him. His eyes followed the hand up the arm to the guardian, as he stared down at him.

“You do not have to do this boy.” The guardian’s words were truth, and his voice echoed both concern and authority.

“I-I do…” The boy said, taking the guardian’s hand. “I’ve nothing to go back to… this is my chance.”

Pity filled the guardian’s eyes. “There can be others. It needn’t be this way.”

“If I go back… they’ll kill me for being a coward. If I fight you, at least I have a chance at something.” The boy glanced to his sword which was past the guardian. “I am nothing, who has come from nothing.”

The Guardian smiled. “I knew a boy such as you once. It tends to be the ones who have nothing to lose, are the ones who are most dangerous.” With his sword and a flick of his wrist, the boy’s blade leapt from the ground and into The Guardian’s free hand. He spun it quickly and examined the blade; its dull edge wouldn’t cut bread, let alone his armor. He tossed it to the boy, who fumbled to catch it. “Then I am sorry for what I must do.”

The army stood silent like the red forest behind them, watching with bated breath as the Guardian waited patiently for his opponent.

The boy nervously gripped the sword and lunged once, the two swords clacking together weakly and the Guardian waving his attack off with a simple parry. As the two danced, it was if the Guardian knew the lay of the bodies and weapons below him, his nimble footing always landing solid and on the bridge floor. Lunging, the boy missed his target and the Guardian let another opportunity to end his opponent slip away.

“Stop toying with me! Fight!” The boy yelled in frustration.

With a snort of derision, the Guardian stared angrily through his helm. “Fine.” With a lunge, the boy dodged to the guardian’s right, where a solid punch with an armored fist laid him out flat and motionless.

The Guardian glanced down to the boy before him, as blood trickled from his nose and mouth. “Come on then, one at a time?” He yelled in anger and stepped past the boy. “Or all at once? I care not, this bridge will be your grave!”

Suddenly men were rushing past the Grand Master onto the bridge toward the Guardian in droves. Men fell over the side of the bridge, men fell beneath other men, limbs rained down upon the bridge as the Guardian cut a bloody swath through rank after rank. The Grand Master watched as the Guardian played the role of an artist, painting his army in the blood of their comrades. It seemed as though the Guardian has an unnatural speed and precision about him as the sword seemingly cut through weak point after weak point in his men’s armor.

Kiralti pushed forward, his feet meeting dry bridge and his sword cleaving through armpits and necks as if they were made of water. A sword skimmed through his parry, and he deftly knocked it away with his armored glove, instead guiding it into another man’s visor. Pushing the impaled man over, Kiralti spun his sword effortlessly through the man’s throat. He forced the dying man’s arm down to defend against an incoming low attack, and with his fist, drove the man’s weak visor into his face. Wave after wave came, crashing upon the Guardian in all of his glory. He had been trained to fight up to ten men by his master, and he remembered every lesson. He remembered that sometimes a free hand is more dangerous than one with a sword. He caught a blade mid swing and disarmed the poor soldier holding it; the sword used as a javelin to take out a man in the next advancing rank. Deftly cutting the soldier down, Kiralti pressed onward until no more than seven men stood before him. Six men stood, mouths agape, heartbeats pounding in the sudden silence of the bridge. The Grand Master stood behind them, shaking his head in shock.

“What is it Grand Master? Do you feel fear?” The Guardian smirked beneath his helm.

“Kill him! I demand you kill him!” The Grand Master screamed as his men considered a hasty abandonment of their duties.

One man leapt forward with a battle cry, and Kiralti knocked the sword attack away and spun to split the man down the center of his back. Two others charged only to be dispatched by their own swords in each others throats. The other three turned to rush past the Grand Master who executed them as they tried to pass. As the bodies all slumped to the ground, he stared at the Guardian before him, standing at his end of the bridge. “Fine then… I suppose I must do everything myself.” He boasted with confidence, but his voice cracked as he trembled ever so slightly with fear.

The two men stood opposite each other, the smell of piss, iron and blood heavy in the air. As crows fluttered in to inspect the day’s pickings, the Guardian shook his head. “So much death, and for what?”

“For that which God intended for the rest of us… Eden.” The Grand Master snarled. He pointed his sword at Kiralti and rage drew hateful lines upon his face. “And you, you are the only thing standing between me and that perfection!”

The Grand Master charged, his sword cutting the air hard and heavy. Kiralti grimaced as the weight of the blow pained his wrist, surprising him. The swords sparked as they clashed and the two spun in unison, swords coming to a clash once again. Kiralti pushed into the weight of the Grand Master’s sword in order to force him off balance, but found him to be of sure footing as well.

“Ha, you’re good, but maybe you’re tired.” The Grand Master grinned. “It seems you may have met your-” Suddenly his chain mail was pointing toward Kiralti, through his chest, as blood spurted out and doused his white coat in red. From behind him, the boy withdrew his dull sword from the Grand Master’s back and watched as his master fell lifeless to the stone floor at his feet.

The boy stared down at the body before him, his left eye was swollen shut and face bloodied from where he had been hit earlier. Through his one free eye, his gaze shifted from the Grand Master to Kiralti. “Did you mean to kill me?” He asked quietly.

The Guardian lowered his sword and sighed heavily. “Either that or remove you from the fight. You aren’t meant for men like that.”

“What do you mean?” The boy’s voice had a bit of a lisp, most likely from damage to his face. “What now?”

“You have two options, you’re free… do as you like.” Kiralti said bluntly. He stepped over bodies until he laid a hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “Or you could come with me, and I could train you to replace me as the Guardian.”

The boy perked up, and grimaced when he tried to smile. “If you would have me…”

“Then come… and see the utopia beyond boy.” Kiralti said with a smile. “And let your training begin.”

Scrivener: A Lesson In Story Organisation

Follow the white rabbit.

That’s how the Scrivener tutorial should begin. After reading their tutorial and practicing all their little exercises, my mind turned to a fine paste and I required a nap. It’s not as if it were the hardest thing in the world. Although when you are finishing up the tutorial near the witching hour, well… probably wasn’t as focused as I should have been. I did learn a tremendous amount about my story simply because of Scrivener’s folder systems and quickly realised where I thought the chapters ended weren’t always the best place. The majority of my chapters seemed to be between two and three thousand words, and then suddenly one chapter ended off at roughly eight thousand (Mind you, my story is only ninety nine thousand, so roughly one tenth of my book).

I must admit I haven’t been enjoying converting my story from Pages to Word and then into Scrivener, but I do believe it will be worth it. On their website, I stared longingly at their packages for both Mac and PC. Personally, when I spend fifty dollars, I like to have something in return. Buying digitally sort of feels like voodoo to me, unless of course it’s free, but buying something completely digitally at that price feels strange. That day though, my will had broken. After toying with the trial for minutes at a time over the course of many months, my mind was made up. I would never ever commit a story into it while it was in trial mode. Fear of losing my work and organisation kept me at bay. The tutorial was a fantastic sales tool and I could see the value I was getting. After a long staring competition with my monitor, I decided to buy Scrivener from the App Store, a marketplace I had already trusted with my multiple purchases.

As the store loaded up, I found myself browsing the main screen for deals. I’m a sucker for a sale, the more I save, the more my brain believes in the value (even if I never use it). Link after link, image after image, finally my mouse came down upon a small button marked “Explore Your Creativity”. Well of course I’ll explore it, this button was made for me; so I thought. First thing to catch my attention was the Scrivener app, marked at twenty nine dollars. Fifty percent off. The value. Oh the sweet, sweet value. Before I knew what was going on my brain had already directed my hand and wallet into a purchase. Not that I was complaining… after all, I had already resolved to buy it at over fifty dollars! Savings for the win!

Now the gruelling process of converting and organising my novel continues. My lovely partner is still performing some edits on the copy she has, however without her edits I already know that breaking my story into chapters has completely unbalanced the story and pace. While I wrote it as one continuous story, with the only breaks separating the change in character, it seemed to flow properly. Now I’m realising though that the breaks I had placed into the story gave some scenes less attention then they should have. I must say though, even just trying to organise this into chapters through Scrivener, I have learned a tremendous amount about how my story reads and working on balance. I’m actually really excited to dig into the further features such as Character and Location breakdowns. I could also use a Magic dictionary of sorts to keep things consistent.

All in all, Scrivener is one of those tools I’m sure I could live without as the many other successful writers do. Although I will say this as a budding writer who looks for help anywhere he can get it; this is the most helpful tool I have downloaded. It teaches you structure, balance and gives you some general guidelines and helpful organisation strategies in your quest to become a novelist. Not only those but you also get a singular place to keep all of your research, inspiration and insane scribblings (or notes) that are pertinent to your current concept or story. Also, the ability to organise individual chapters by note breakdown or organise your trilogy into one cohesive work is immensely helpful for the beginner or inexperienced writer.

Now for those of you out there who don’t have it, get it! No matter the cost! The rest of you… what do you think? Is Scrivener worth its code?

The Struggle

I suspect many aspiring authors post about not being able to write, Writer’s block being a common theme. But for me, I could write anywhere from eight to ten thousand words a day given the time. However with eight (or so) hours dedicated to sleep, roughly two for eating and food preparation, and eight (or so) dedicated to work… this has left me with six hours for writing. Six sounds like quite a bit doesn’t it? Well, considering I haven’t factored in travel time to and from work (not bad, thirty to forty minutes) and bathroom breaks (including shower time, looking at less another hour or so), down to roughly four hours. That is quite a bit of time, right? Well, I have a partner who enjoys my company and two dogs who are demanding. Unfortunately, I can’t leave one with the other as that would be selfish for her to take care of them all the time and would be neglectful of me to not spend time with her as well as the pups. So in short, I have no time. I keep buying books and games, in the hopes that I will be able to one day enjoy them. This is a laughable concept, however I have many more games and movies on preorder. Hope, as well as home, is where the heart is.

You’re probably thinking, “Well, what about your days off?” I too have considered this. I try to write as much as I can on my days off but as my partner works Monday to Friday, my days off on the weekend are allocated to spending time together, general catching up with friends and visiting family. If my day off happens upon a weekday, you may see a post such as this one. I may also bunker down and put some words into one of my stories. I may do both (insanity, I know). So it seems as though it is an entirely uphill battle of which I make very little, if any, progress.

I bought a book about time management, which has some fantastic advice. “Make time for the things that are important to you. If you’re not achieving your goals, no matter what else is going on, you will be unhappy.” This is very true. However managing your time and finding more time are two different things. It used to be that I would prioritise my writing, before the day began and before work got in the way. Waking up an hour early was to wake up with a purpose and to accomplish my writing before the day began was extremely fulfilling. Now I get up at that early time anyway to take the dogs out and feed them before I head to work for seven in the morning, and I cannot seem to get to bed any earlier. It is extremely frustrating and despite the fact I am achieving my goals at work, my personal goals are getting left in the dust.

It’s been getting to the point where I’m wondering if I stopped trying to write, would my overall mood improve? Would I be less frustrated and short fused? The only problem is, my imagination won’t give up or turn off, so how do I control that?

Hmm… even that thought sparks an idea for a story. A test subject trying to suppress his creativity through government experiments discovers that through suppression, his mind has been enhanced and enables him to create anything from nothing but the energy in the world around him . As the government tries to control him, he escapes and tries to go into hiding, only to be hunted down until he realises that to be free means to destroy his enemies or himself.

I’ll put it in the for retirement pile. *Sigh*

Fragment: The Truth About Heaven and Hell

Fragment (Noun)

1. a piece broken off or detached
2. an incomplete piece or portion
3. a scrap, morsel, bit
 
I’m looking to reorganise my blog and start focusing more on the quality of writing hosted here. With this in mind, I’ve come up with some new ideas that I will try and maintain going forward. The concept of a “Fragment” in this case will refer to an incomplete idea or scene that will come to form a larger work, such as a short story or novel. Today’s instance will be the concept for a story I’ve had for awhile, and involves the fallen angel Lucifer explaining the reasoning behind the symbolism of Heaven and Hell and what the real purpose of Hell is.
 
***
 
The duo stood before the hooded man, his golden hair flowing from the ashen hood cloaking his face in darkness. Unsure whether to be afraid, or relieved, Alex cleared his throat as he stared at the faint glow from the man’s long, ivory sword. “Th-Thank you…” He stuttered as he glance down at the savage dog-like demon at the man’s feet. 
 
Drawing back his hood, the man revealed a face fairer than fair, not a mark nor speck of dirt to be seen. His golden hair framed his face as it trailed down his shoulders. “Alexander… it is I, Lucifer.” He shifted uncomfortably as he looked to Alex for any sign his memory may spark back to light. “Do you not recognize your old brother at arms?”
 
Alex blinked a few moments before shaking his head. He looked to his girlfriend who was in awe of the man before her. Brave, handsome, well put together… He turned from her back to Lucifer. “I don’t know who you are… am I supposed to?”
 
A sadness washed over Lucifer’s face as he glanced to the ground. “I was hoping… well, you reminded me of an old friend. We fought together to beat back the demons as Heaven burned around us-“
 
“Heaven? As in the Heaven?” Alex interrupted.
 
“There is no other.” Lucifer stated bluntly. “If you are he, I require your aid.”
 
Alex glanced uncomfortably at the surrounding alley. “What if I was… he? What would you say?” 
 
“I’d tell him the black gates of Hell have fallen.” Lucifer began. “I’d tell him we require his power to beat the demons back from this world, before they reach Heaven again. Before it’s too late.”
 
With a sigh, Alex shrugged to Lucifer. “I wish I was him. I wish I could help you… but I’m just a guy. A guy who couldn’t protect himself and his girlfriend from some rabid dog-“
 
“Hell hound.” Lucifer corrected.
 
“-hell hound… But I’m worthless.” Alex looked down to his feet as he admitted his defeat. Suddenly, Lucifer was standing before him, and his sword had seemingly vanished into thin air. He embraced Alex’s shoulders, one in each hand, and stared him in the eye.
 
“You are worth more than you could ever understand. Even if you aren’t the man I once knew.” Lucifer smiled warmly, a strangely reassuring moment for Alex. “I believe in you. The Gods believe in you. Only you need to believe in you.”
 
Suddenly a torrent of memories and images came flooding back into Alex’s mind as if that phrase were a key. Scenes of dead angels, scenes of hell hounds ripping at flesh, scenes of demons being chased through a large obsidian gate and finally, Alex being gifted by the Arch Angels with a mortal life again.
 
Alex wrestled from Lucifer’s grasp and leaned against a nearby wall as he felt weak. His knees wobbled and his mind felt light. A retch or two later evacuated his stomach of its contents, and he wiped at his mouth with his sleeve. “So many gaps, so many questions…”
 
“I may fill you in.” Lucifer smiled broadly, happy to see his friend back from beyond his reach. “The story is as such. Many millennia ago, there was only the Lord and his three guardians. Myself, Gabriel and Dullahan. The Lord had finally finished his greatest masterpiece in creation, Heaven, and required us all to perform tasks in its function. I was the protector, Gabriel was the watcher and Dullahan was the guide.”
 
“What do you mean protector, watcher and guide? People here believe you’re evil!” Alex interrupted.
 
“In a sense, I am. I fell victim to temptation.” Lucifer swallowed the feelings and pushed on for his friend’s sake. “I fell in love with a newcomer to Heaven, despite having sworn an oath to The Lord. He replaced me with Gabriel and replaced him with Raguel. I walked in shame through Heaven for sometime, as The Lord knew not what to do to punish me, me being one of his chosen.”
 
“After many years, demons began to flood from this world. Evil had risen and a darkness had taken shape while we became consumed with the beauty of Heaven. They came from the depths to sack the Heavens and I lead the charge against them, uniting angels new and old alike. You were one of my recruits then, an angel terrified of himself and what was to come. I told you then to believe in yourself, as I did now, and you rallied with me and lead your own group into battle. Together, you and I beat the demons back from Heaven, back to Earth where war, plague and famine were ravaging the angels of the future. As we pushed them deep into the canyon they had emerged from, we passed through the obsidian gateway into Hell and together you and I helped to close it.”
 
“Then why does everyone think you’re evil, and when they’re bad you go to Hell?” Alex asked innocently enough.
 
“Because you do. Every soul becomes an angel, but if you’ve given into the temptations of the darkness then you are sent to Hell as a guardian. Just as I was. We are the defenders of the world against the demons below. I chose to be considered evil so that others could enjoy the beauty of Heaven.” Lucifer stood tall and proud, as Alex straightened himself back into a standing position.
 
Alex furrowed his brow. “Then why are you here? Isn’t there some Hell to be guarding?”
 
“You’re why I’m here.” Lucifer clarified. “The obsidian gates have fallen, my army overwhelmed. I have failed.”
 
“You need me? But I can barely remember who I am!” Alex proclaimed. “I have a life, a partner!”
 
“Who has left you in the dark alley with a strange man.” Lucifer stated as he pointed in the direction the young lady disappeared into. “I can see her devotion.”
 
“How am I supposed to help?” Alex threw his hands into the air in frustration. “I’m a mortal, this is supposed to be my reward!”
 
“We must find Dullahan. He is why my army fell so fast. Supposedly the great equalizer, and he failed to recruit me more guardians.” Lucifer unfolded a piece of parchment from his pocket. “I have an idea of where he may be hiding.”
 
“I can’t remember anything about Dullahan, who is he exactly?” Alex asked.
 
Lucifer turned from his parchment as he folded it back up and placed it into his pocket. “He’s the Archangel of Death.” As he spread his expansive, black feathered wings, he extended a hand to Alex. “And he’s ignored his duties for far too long.”
 
***
 
I’d love any comments or suggestions about the writing above and the ideas and concepts I’ve introduced! Anyway back to my other story writing and working on the “outline” behind Jefferson & The Eternal Mana (Book 2 of the Circle of Magic Trilogy). Also, what books or events have inspired you folk out there into writing? I’d love to hear about it! 

Meet My Character Blog Tour

So I have been tagged in Alex’s post over at the Valourborn blog in regards to an introduction to what you’re working on and one of the characters from it. Interesting concept, like chain mail… but for something I actually care about. Nice! Well Alex, I kindly accept your curiosity and will give you a glimpse into one of the characters from my first completed novel: Jefferson & The Magician’s Curse. As I have mentioned before, sometimes I can float off the beaten path and side characters become more interesting than the protagonist. Such is the case with this character’s back story, as his history could spawn their own novels. My challenge is to not give away too much, but get you interested! 

Q1) What is the name of your character? Is he/she fictional or a historic person?

Well, the name of the character I’m introducing you to is one Gabriel Li Mercador, otherwise known as Gabriel The Great, Magician Extraordinaire.

Q2) When and where is the story set?

The story is set amid the travelling magicians of a replica of 18th Century Vienna. Along with the travelling circus, these magicians also hold their own secret societies and meetings away from the public eye.

Q3) What should we know about him/her?

Gabriel is an extremely powerful magician. His method of recruiting involves a traditional magic show with one element aimed at recruiting into their order: A single live spell. It’s a risky manoeuvre, but as the forbidden arts begin to rise up, he is forced to take action. This is how he comes to mentor the young Jefferson, my protagonist, and together they begin trying to find others as quickly as possible before it’s too late.

Q4) What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life? 

The main conflict of the story is the rise of the forbidden magic. Magic in my world has three forms: Illusions (Entertainment Magic, or Tricks), Limited Casting (Casting spells using your own energy and life force) and Forbidden Casting (Casting spells channelling the energy of others for unlimited potential, but linking your soul to theirs even through their death). Gabriel himself has experienced the forbidden casting first hand and has come forth to find the one who will end all life on Earth. He believes this to be Jefferson, until he realises that the boy is seemingly good at heart. He decides to train Jefferson in hopes that when the evil shows itself, he will have a powerful ally. Unfortunately, his life begins to take a turn for the worse when he decides to try his hand at controlling the forbidden magic to essentially fight fire with fire. Will he make it out okay? Only time (and my story) will tell you.

Q5) What is the personal goal of the character?

Gabriel’s goal is to end the line of knowledge that enables the forbidden arts to exist. He believes firmly that if the good magicians can control the new recruits and there is no knowledge of the forbidden arts and how to tap into them, then magic can be used in hospitals and entertainment and for other good purposes. He tries desperately to find the one who will lead the charge for the rise of the forbidden arts and stop them before all life on Earth is extinguished in the name of magic.

Q7) When can we expect the book to be published?

First it must go through the editing process a few times. I wrote some of it while I was half asleep, so those important scenes written under the influence of sleep are also half the quality of the rest of the book! My partner in crime is still working on that, but as we both work full time, it’s hard to get into it and beat it out. I’m hoping on her school holidays (she’s a teacher) she may make some headway. Especially if she wants me to get published and make some money writing!

In the meantime, I have a story called Circle of Vengeance up in the iBook Store and on Lulu.com for free. That story has been edited roughly 20 times (although I did still find a spelling mistake the other day… drats) but is well polished for a short story. Feel free to check that out! (Links are down the right side of the page). 

 

HMM. Who should be my victims? I mean, lovely people whose stories I would like to know more about. Just answer the above questions in your own post (Unless of course you don’t want to, that’s totally fine!). I’d love to reconnect though and this is as good as an excuse as any!

  • Serena – It’s been awhile since I’ve swung by, will you indulge me?
  • Lizzee – Hope story life is treating you well, who will you dish up?
  • Nikki – Seems you’ve been busy, but what character would you like us to know?

Thanks in advance if you decide to take me up on this, if not good luck with your writing and I hope to see your novel on a shelf near me sometime soon!

Short Story Day Of

Hello! I am posting this a bit later than I was hoping to but my day off went pretty well in the writing vain. The next two days at work have just ravaged me however.

But you ladies and gents don’t want to hear about work, you want to hear about crazy stories and successful inspiring tales about how a writer dusted off the old keyboard and descended into the depths of their own creativity. Am I right? Well! Let me tell you a little about what I wrote!

I just recently watched Disney’s Frozen, and enjoyed it quite a bit. My idea was to write a new Disney film using some tragedy and heart-warming story about love and responsibility. What I came up with was fun to write (In fact, despite not hitting 10k like I had hoped, I’m still going past there) and keeps on going!

The story starts off by introducing you to Arnica “Wolf’s Bane” Montana, a tall, muscular blond man with a beard and devilish grin.Most likely from a nearby mountainous region around the 1200s, he is a hunter by trade but by using a crossbow. He is rushing home to his wife, who is having their first born and stops for pie during his rush home.

It is shortly after this you meet the young Luna, sadly only to lose her mother at birth. This leaves poor “Arni” to try and raise the poor girl the best he can in their tiny one room house. As she grows however, the first full moon that comes along transforms her into a wolf pup to which she howls, sending her father searching for wolves close to the house.

The werewolves in my story have the unfortunate side effect of transforming in direct moonlight (Moonlight being the name of the story) and out of direct moonlight in the four days leading up to and after the full moon (when the moon is considered most powerful). This leads poor Arni to block all of his windows by boarding them up. Also, during the early years, Luna cannot recall her transformations. It isn’t until she gets her friends into trouble (which they don’t make it out of in my story) and remembers it as if it were a dream at thirteen that she starts to consider something is different about her.

While Luna is young, the pup is cute and cuddly, not seeing Arni as a threat in the least. There are many nights Arni goes to bed cuddling his daughter, only to wake up face to face with a wolf. However his curfews start to bother her as she grows older and they begin to get into more fights. Arni finds if they have a fight near a full moon and she transforms, the wolf is particularly savage. Luckily for him, any wounds suffered trying to calm the wolf can be attributed to his hunting of wolves. He gets scratched in the face and narrowly avoids losing an eye. A few days later when Luna sneaks out, he is forced to hunt her down and bring her back but the townsfolk begin to start rumours and Arni decides it would be best to head for a place called Nevernight, where the sun only sets for an hour and the moon itself never makes an appearance.

This is where I am up to in my story (at a total of just over 9k words) and I am hoping to get back to it soon. The land of Nevernight will have its challenges and father and daughter will have to work together to stop the evil behind the town’s lack of a moon, but at the risk of losing a possible good home for Luna where she wouldn’t worry about her transformations. Maybe I cure her? Maybe she meets her wolf prince? Who knows… I’m not there yet!

But I have failed in the act of hitting my 10k for one day and that makes me sad.

Luckily I have this wonderful story to write, which will distract me from that sadness. My advice? Get out there and put down words! One after the other! With punctuation and verbs, maybe some nouns! Writing is the only thing that gets you over not writing.

Although I leave you with the ultimate irony: I bought a time management book to help me achieve my goals… sadly, I haven’t found a moment to read any of it yet… :-/

Good luck fellow writers and thanks for stopping by! How goes your progress? I won’t (Read: Can’t) judge!

Today's End, Tomorrow's Productivity.

The usual blog post here would be about how I can’t get anything done.

Today? I bid you a sincere goodbye.

Tomorrow? I am going to destroy you with words.

I will crank out 10000 words. No holds barred. Bring it on. Progress report to follow in two days. Wish me luck, heading to plan my breaks in advance. 

(Stay tuned…)

PS- I’m definitely not the first to come up with this I’m sure, but I just laughed aloud when I said to myself: The first rule of write club is we only write in write club!