No Politics or Religion Here

   I have decided that the purpose of my blog will be to share some of my writing. I already share parts of my WIPs on WattPad and Saturdayscenes, so here you will find little snippets I use for character development, or like today, scenes out of my fanfic that will never see the light of day because of copyright issues. That's fine. I'm writing it solely for my own enjoyment, since I love the story so much.
   This is a blog about fantasy fiction, so you will never see a post on politics or religion. I have no problem discussing my views with someone who is serious, and not just looking for a name calling contest. I might offer an opinion on a particular writing technique, or lament the trials and tribulations of trying to create quality stories, but that's about it.
   If you're not familiar with the story my fanfic is based on, sorry but it would take more than a blog post to explain it to you. Hopefully you will like my voice and style. For those of you familiar with the story, I hope you will get some small enjoyment out of this.
   Thanks for your time!


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   Perrin stopped a few paces from the Wise Ones, and swiftly sorted through the aroma of emotions that emanated from each of them. Sorilea’s were easy to pick out, not only because she was foremost in the group, but because they were the strongest. Determination was the most prominent, which he expected, but what he didn’t expect was a certain amount of uncertainty. Well, these were uncertain times, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising after all. The others put off such a jumble of emotions, it didn’t really tell him anything at all.

   “I see you, Sorilea of Clan Shande. May you always find water and shade. It isn’t much, but I offer you the shade of my tent and water to share.”

   Pleasantly surprised by his traditional Aiel greeting, Sorilea graciously tipped her head and replied in kind. “I see you Perrin Aybara. May you always find water and shade. The traditional guest gift I have for you may not be what you want, but I offer it regardless. Several clan Chiefs and their Wise Ones have approached me with the idea of serving under the Banner of one of the Wetlander Kings. Many of the Brotherless, and even several small Septs of the Shaido, who were unhappy with the leadership of Savanna, have contacted me with the same desire. Do not treat this lightly, Perrin Aybara. If you accept this gift, it will be for life. They will become your people and give up being Aiel.”

   The mood turned somber as the import of Sorilea’s words penetrated the thoughts of all gathered there. This cannot be my ta’veren nature at work here, Perrin thought. This was much deeper than that. The fate of an entire nation was at stake. No wonder she had smelled uncertain. Sorilea understood that if they survived the Last Battle, a new Age would come and the Aiel would have no purpose in it. Their numbers would dwindle and eventually die away. Could he provide the leadership and protection they would require?

   “Bloody ashes, woman. This is a heavy responsibility you have presented to me, but I gladly accept. I believe that I understand your reasoning and I agree. I give you my oath, that in the hope of my salvation and rebirth under the Light, I, Perrin Aybara will lead and protect all of my people to the best of my ability. Now I ask of you another gift in return. There are thousands of Aiel warriors who are serving their time as gai’shain. I ask that you release them from their servitude for the duration of the upcoming battle. Every spear will be needed, Sorilea. It bothers me that we may lose a battle because some of our best warriors are serving tea or washing clothes somewhere.”

   Before she could answer, a ray of sunshine broke through the clouds to the north and a perfect circle of blue sky spread out from that ray. A soft breeze sprang up, carrying the scents of green and growing plants. The grass at their feet slowly turned from a yellowish brown to a bright green and started growing taller. It was one thing to hear the stories of how Rand affected the land around him, but to actually witness it was something else. It gave Perrin a renewed sense of hope and strength.

   Turning away from the sight and adjusting the shawl on her shoulders, Sorilea narrowed her eyes. “You are uncommonly wise for a Wetlander, Perrin Aybara. The gai’shain never entered my mind. If they survive, they can always go back to their easy life. I will send out the word right away.”

   “Thank you, I think,” Perrin snorted. “You’re pretty wise for a Wise One yourself. Now, I’m sure you wish to meet with the Wise Ones who just arrived and I need to go to Rand. Edarra, I must ask you to welcome the new Aiel to our camp, get them settled, and tell them I will meet with them later.”

   Turning back to study his old friend for a moment, Perrin continued. “Gaul my good friend, as a personal favor to me, will you meet with the Brotherless and find out who leads them? Tell them that if they don’t have a leader, I will give them one.”

   “Dealing with the Brotherless will be distasteful, Perrin Aybara, but you have just given me back my sanity by having Bain and Chiad released from being my gai’shain. Maybe now I can have some peace.”

   Sorilea walked away laughing and called back over her shoulder. “May you always find water and shade, Perrin Aybara.”

At Least I'm Still Writing

   OK, enough with the whining and complaining that's been happening the last several weeks on my blog. The reality of living with bi-polar depression is that I have to wait until I'm back on an up cycle before anything positive will come out of my pen.
   As you may remember, I love to write about characters and character driven stories in a fantasy setting. The magic in my stories is generic. I don't develop complex, logical magic systems that follow precise rules and specific energy sources. Some of my fight scenes may not be totally accurate, but for me, that is not critical to the story. It is all about the characters.
   I also tend to read visually, and therefore try to write the same way. A story with page after page of dialogue drives my crazy because there is nothing to inspire a picture of the scene in my mind. On the other hand, pages of description forces me to see things and doesn't allow my imagination to come into play. It also breaks any connection I had to the characters.
   I try very hard to walk that fine line where there is just enough description to invoke a readers imagination, and the dialogue will open up a window into the characters personality. Your idea of a beautiful sunset may be different than mine, so why should I try and force you to see it the way I do. Granted, while writing fantasy, there will always be a little extra description because my world is not entirely similar to our own.
   This week I wanted to share a little scene that popped into my head while looking at a picture. Even though it is short, I hope I was able to convey the different personalities of the characters, and develop a picture in your mind. Thanks for taking the time to read.

The rays of the early morning sun filtered down from the forest canopy high above to light the way for two un-likely friends.

“Floxie, why do you insist on dragging me out so early in the morning? You know I hate getting my paws wet and who knows what kind of little surprises the birds have left for me to step in.”

“Oh hush, silly. You know we have to be at Wizard Zolars’ early or we won’t get any treats.”

“Fine, but do you have to ride on my back the whole way? Those feet of yours are almost as big as mine and perfectly good for walking. The day you learn how to use those silly things on your back you call wings, I will be one happy feline.”

Floxie’s high spirits threatened to plummet as she thought about her wings. Why couldn’t she figure out how to make the stupid things work. There are two constants among pixies; they have big feet and they can fly. Was there something wrong with her?

As soon as they stepped out of the forest and onto the stones leading to the Wizard’s cottage, Mr. Whiskers began to shake his paws vigorously to dry them off. Floxie hopped down, her head hung low, still thinking about the uselessness of her wings.

The Wizard stepped out of his cottage and came forward to meet them. He bent down and cupped his hand so Floxie could climb on. He raised her up to where his star filled, bright blue eyes could lock onto hers’ and drew her in.

“Floxie, I have a very special treat for you. Today you will learn how to fly!”

Let's face it, I'm getting old.

   Last week, my best friend from the Navy contacted me after 40 yrs. He found me on Facebook, and sent a message with his phone number. I called and we decided to get together on Sunday at my home. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. We last saw each other in 1975 when I left the ship for another duty station, and he planned on getting out and moving back to Illinois.
   It's one thing to grow old with someone you see on a regular basis. The changes are gradual, and never really sink in to your awareness. When you have a picture in your mind's eye of how a person looked forty years ago, and see them for the first time, all those subtle changes come crashing home. He is an old man! I am older than he, and the realization struck that this must be how others see me.
   I'm sure some of you can relate, and have probably already made this discovery. For me, it is a hard pill to swallow. I have always thought of myself as young looking, and I don't think about things any differently than I did years ago. Now I have to wonder, should I grow up and start thinking differently?
   I dug out a bunch of old Super 8 movies taken during our time in Vietnam, and on liberty in the Philippines and Hong Kong. The number of years that had passed became obvious as some of the film had deteriorated to the point you couldn't tell what was on them. While we watched the ones that were still good, it also became obvious how much the years had deteriorated the two of us.
   While I will be forever thankful that we got the chance to reminisce about old times, and refresh each other's memory of names of old shipmates, some of whom are no longer with us, and the places we visited, the loss of our youth hit hard. I'm not sure if we will get together again anytime soon as I, for one, have a lot to think about. The fantasy of my life has reached a crossroads, and I don't have enough time left for anymore wrong turns.
   Should I continue to pursue my writing, and try to put more energy, that I feel I no longer have, into it or just let it go? I just don't know anymore.
   Thanks for listening.

I'm still trying to figure out the purpose of blogging.

   Why do I blog? Because my publisher said I needed to develop an online presence, and start a blog so readers can get to know me. But I haven't published anything yet, and have no readers. Someday you will, and with an established blog, it will be easy to find you. OK, what do I blog about? Tell people about your writing process, how you get your ideas, why you write, that kind of thing. Well, I did that already, even though I have no idea why anyone would be interested in a writer who hasn't published anything yet. So now what? Share something about who you are. Your likes and dislikes. Let folks know what kind of a person you are.
   Well now, this post has certainly taken a different path than what I had planned. Should I share stories of growing up in the fifties that people may not believe? Like the fact that most families had a shotgun or rifle next to the front door, and a loaded handgun in a dresser drawer, yet gun violence was totally unheard of. Arguments and fights were handled with your fists, since guns were for cowards. Nobody locked their homes or cars as we all learned to respect each others possessions.
   On the weekends, it was my job to stoke up the fire in the kitchen before I left to go play with my friends. If we got together and decided to spend the day in the swamp, everyone would grab a machete or hatchet to protect us from water moccasins, and large snapping turtles. The only thing you had to worry about when stepping in the mud under the water, was a catfish. They had some nasty spikes that could punch a hole in your foot or ankle.
   Well, I could go on and on about the 'good ole days' compared to the hell this society has become over the last fifty years, but what does that have to do with fantasy? Imagination. We had to use our imagination for everything. We made our own toys or imaginary weapons out of whatever was available. The woods were filled with all kinds of evil creatures that we had to battle. There was always a princess who needed rescuing, or a buried treasure waiting to be found. Fantasy abounded, and everyone had their part. I never grew out of my fantasies or the world of 'make believe'. The hard part is getting those fantasies down on paper so they make sense to others.
   I may regret posting this, but oh well, I am who I am.
   Have a wonderful day, and remember, "Life is a fantasy, make it yours".

Are 'Formulas' or 'Secrets' to writing worth anything?

   Over the last couple of years, I've noticed a number of posts that claim to know the 'Formula', or have discovered the 'Secret' to writing a successful book, and or scenes. It seems a little pretentious to me when some of these posts are written by authors who haven't published a book yet. There are as many ways to write a successful scene as there are authors to write them. I believe that most writers are greatly influenced by the way scenes are described in their favorite work of fiction, or how they are presented in a favorite movie. Will everyone enjoy those scenes the same way you do? Probably not, but there will always be a number who do. Your style and voice are what's important, not whether you have followed some formula.
  
   Certainly, there are basic guidelines to follow if you plan to write a successful novel. A fantasy where the hero never reaches his/her goal, a mystery that is never solved, or a romance without any, probably won't do very well. You know the particular style of story you enjoy reading the most, so write that story. Odds are, a large number of other readers enjoy the same style. Don't worry about formulas, or secrets that were discovered hundreds of years ago.


   I do subscribe to several newsletters written by successful authors. Not because they claim to know a secret formula, but because they share some of the mistakes they made, and what works for them. Some of what they've learned works for me, and some does not. Maybe someday, when I'm rich and famous (ha ha), I'll be tempted to write a "My Secret to Success" post. If I do, please beat me on the head with an ugly stick, and send me to my room!


   Just some random thoughts for the week, so thanks for indulging the ramblings of an old man.

On The Road To Finding My Joy.

   This is a follow up to last week's post.
   First of all, I would like to thank everyone who commented, and offered suggestions or encouragement. It's been a tremendous lift to my spirits, knowing that people care.
   I have tried to take some of those suggestions to heart this last week, focusing on things not related to reading and writing. Since it's spring, the flower beds needed attention, so I have been weeding and planting new flowers. My wife and I have spent our evenings playing old Xbox and PS2 games. I'm one of those people who dislike watching TV or movies. However, I did dig out a bunch of old home movies of us doing things that I enjoyed, like drag racing, going to the ocean, and spending time with the grandkids when they were little.
   To be honest, I began to worry that writing was not something I really wanted to do. But over the last couple of days, story ideas kept popping up in my head, and the temptation was there to write them down. Maybe tomorrow or Friday, I will try and write down one of those ideas while ignoring my inner editor, and just write it the way I want to. If I do, it'll show up as my Saturdayscene.
   I've also decided to make an effort to write a blog post every week, just to engage with others. These will be thoughts on my life or past, and nothing to do with writing. Maybe once I've actually published something that others have read, I will have a reason to talk about my writing, and interact with those readers. I have made a commitment to post a new chapter every week on WattPad in the novella I'm writing, so that will continue.
   Again, I want to thank everyone who responded to my post last week. It helped!

The 'Rules'; of writing have stolen my joy.

   I no longer enjoy writing or reading, which is extremely frustrating because reading was one of the few things I've loved for over fifty years. I wish I'd never read a single "How To" book on writing, or paid attention to posts claiming to know the secrets of great writing. My writing has come to a standstill because those 'rules' keep popping up telling me I shouldn't use that word, or that sentence is passive, etc. The same thing happens when I try to read now. My mind keeps focusing on all the little grammatical errors instead of on the story.
   Several years ago, I decided it might be fun to take some of the fantasies floating around in my head, and put them down on paper. I entered a short story/first chapter in a major writing contest for fantasy/scifi, and placed in the top eight out of over eight thousand entries. This was an un-edited, first draft, since I didn't know any different. I thought to myself that if I knew more about writing, I might have won.
   I grew up with the notion that if you're going to do something, do it right or not at all. So off I went on the road to knowledge, reading everything I could find on writing, and subscribed to several writer magazines. Some of what I read made sense, and some of it went right over my head. If I'd waited to write my story after reading those books, and then entered it in the competition, it would have ended up in their large slush pile of grammatically correct, but generic submissions. I believe that my entry stood out from the crowd because I wrote it from the heart and not from my head.
   I'm seriously considering the idea of abandoning writing altogether, and search for a way to enjoy reading again. Maybe if I fill my Kindle with some of the worst e-books I can find, and force myself to read them, I will exorcise the editing demon from my mind.
   Those of you who have been following me on Saturdayscenes have probably noticed that I haven't shared anything new for a while. Even though I've written several new chapters in both my WIPs, I'm reluctant to share them. Maybe I'll dig out some scenes from the fanfic I started several years ago.
   Of course it's possible that my publisher, and the people who have supported and encouraged me the last couple of years, have just been blowing smoke up my butt, and this has all been a waste of time. All I know is that I no longer enjoy writing, and it shows.
   Some of you will probably feel that this has just been a whining session, and that's okay. I'm an old man, and I can whine if I want to.