Musical Inspiration

Hello Lovelies,

In trying to work on the next entry for Little Island Tales, I ran into a bit of an issue. What issue you ask? Well...I HAVE NO INSPIRATION!!!

At least, not at the moment.

Ok, maybe it's not THAT bad. While I know where I want to go with the story and the steps that are being taken to get there, I'm recovering from one of my normal medical procedures and therefore my brain is just a bit muddy on the uptake (gotta love all them painkillers...buh). I currently can't quite put the sentences together (at least not with impact in a form I like) and so I wanted to take a more human moment to discuss writing and the processes behind it rather than leave you in the hard-vacuum of silence that I have had a bad tendency of doing the last couple months.

I've talked about inspiration before on this site and about the little things that help to push me (and theoretically other writers) to make the things they do. Everything from a wildly overactive imagination to the types of books and movies they read; just about anything in the world can serve as inspiration for the next tale or story. Everyone has their own thing that works at least sometimes to get their blood boiling and get the words flowing.

As such, today I wanted to address music and its role in my own inspirational process. For any of my regular readers, you know my biggest rock tends to be fear and horror. The things that scare me most are the ones that fascinate me the deepest. Monsters, creatures, cryptids, myths, aliens, etc. all lend their own unique touch to the things I create and this is something that is plainly seen in my works; so it raises the question of how does music provide inspiration?

Well, at least for me, music is a much stranger beast than reading a story or watching a movie. Whereas exposure to other general forms of inspiration give me an idea for content and story progression, music provides me a much more ethereal inspiration. I often find that it gives me a sense of emotion, tone, and environment more than anything else. In other words, it gives me a 'feeling' for the world at large in my writing. The music that I find really inspires me varies from day to day and week to week, however will often maintain a similar overall tone.

So what do I listen to?

Well, the common default that I often go back to when actively writing is Rock. There's a wide range here, so depending on the who and what, it may or may not contribute to the tone of any given story. I've often found that more Psychadelic Rock like The Doors tends to work well but, even more commonly, variations within the Metal genre are very effective too (particularly when writing hard action). Artists like Rob Zombie and Powerman 5000 have contributed to some of the more tense or chilling moments throughout my pieces. One artist in particular, Jonathon Young, has proven really entertaining for his Rock/Metal remixes of a number of different songs which have provided me a great deal of new depth to old pieces.

On the flipside, occasionally I need something more atmospheric; something I can hear and listen to but maybe with a deeper tone outside of rock songs. You need something more folky or ambient, something with less hit and more punch. More overall feeling behind it. I've found YouTube has been particularly wonderful for this because you can find a wide range on there. Some of my favorites include old folk songs like 'O Death' (which I've featured before) or 'Misty Mountains Cold' (from Lord of the Rings), Cajun inspired beats such as Kaleo's 'Way Down we Go' and Rag'n'Bone Man's 'Human', or even classical tunes such as Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata'. If I'm feeling particularly off, dark ambient music such as ones produced by JediMaster or Two Steps from Hell (Featured above) serve wonderfully to get me the ether mixing.

When all is said and done, music is less about showing us something to inspire us and helping us find that which is resting beneath the surface. It helps us pull up and out, rather than to internalize, those forces and things that would fill our minds to the brim until they overflow.

So, with that said...

What music inspires YOU most?

I'm only Human...

Hello Lovelies,

The other day, I had an interesting question directed my way. I have actually had this question asked a number of times over the last few years, but it's one I never quite understood what the answer actually was. I've reflected on it for a while and think I've come to an answer.

In short: What is your obsession with Aliens?

First to clarify: For the longest time, I've had a veritable hunger for just about anything other worldly and powerful. The Xenomorphs from Aliens and Yautja from Predator are definitely two of my favorite 'big baddies', but I've maintained a fascination for as long as I can remember with monsters, demons, creatures, dragons, zombies, ghosts, vampires...you name it and I probably studied and or obsessed over it during some period of my life. That's not to say this is hugely uncommon, particularly for a literature nerd who reads, writes, and plays dungeons and dragons. But I never understood why.

At first, I thought my like of any of these given creatures, alien or otherwise, stemmed from a sense of power. Of seeing something strong or strange and so unlike those around me. But, after many years of playing with this concept, I realized that the concept of a perfect, powerful character was incredibly boring.

What made them interesting was using them as a foil. A twisted mirror.

I've realized that my love of different threats for lack of a better term, be it paranormal, alien, or otherwise, stemmed not from the creatures themselves but the reflection of humanity that was shown back. What are zombies without survivors that are making it against all odds? What is an alien loose on a ship without men or women fighting to regain the control that is rightfully theirs? What is a dragon without the knight who slays it?

One of my favorite stories as a child and still one of my favorite stories to this day is Beowulf. When introduced to it, I found I was one of three people in my entire class that even liked it and I was the only one who loved it. "I was too simple!" some said. "It's so black and white!" others said. But that was the beauty of it...it wasn't something twisted or strange. It was a story of a man overcoming a monster. The triumph of humanity over the wiles of the world. At least until he got eaten in his old age, but what is the act of being human if not being bound by mortality?

Surely, there are stories out there that expand against these basic concepts. Grendel is an excellent example compared to Beowulf. But I ask you: "Why do we empathize more with Grendel in his own book than we do in Beowulf?" In short, he is given his humanity. A state of being. Of thought and emotion and a scale that we can weigh ourselves against.

Now, I'm likely not saying anything particularly new. Plenty of people have come to similar realizations but there's one thing that I feel gets skipped over often. While it's very easy to paint the canvas with the brush of "reflection" based on observations of mortality, morality, and a basic man compared to beast motif, there's something that seems to be forgotten: imagination.

No matter the beast, the monster, the alien, whatever...all of it stems from the imagination of man. Many can argue that some stories and superstitions have a basis in nature (creatures like a Werewolf), a basis in true human monstrousness (like a Wendigo), and many more...but I ask: "How many of these things do we actually deal with?" Fiction, by definition, is outside of reality. Whether or not something turns out to be true is up for debate, yet everything supernatural, paranormal, alien, monstrous, etc. has a basis not necessarily in reality but in the power of our imagination.

Everything ever. Everything you've ever known and seen and loved and thought of and read and watched and imagined. Everything was born of and created on our little blue and green marble in the sea of nothingness that is space. While they might be formed from observations of worlds beyond, even those observations require leaps of imagination until we can actively get there. Nothing is from outside our own realm of creation. No matter what we find, similar or not to our 'monsters', everything we've ever known or imagined about the world came from us. It came from humanity and their understand of the world, the universe, and themselves.

And I'll be damned if I don't think that's the most amazing thing.

It's incredibly easy to be calloused and cynical; to let yourself swim in the rivers of hate, animosity, and ignorance that have been poisoned by a select few terrible people. But when you really stop and look around and consider what WE have done. We as a species have accomplished so much! We have built and created and helped and done more than you can imagine...more than you could even learn in a single lifetime. No matter what you believe, consider that humans have risen from the dirt and now have their eyes on the stars. On other planets and suns. On other places who have never heard of us or even considered creatures like us.

So, to come full circle: Why do I love Aliens so much? Because it shows me a distant reflection of that which we will become. Survivors. Explorers. Humans who will see the light of another sun and will bend the very fabric of space and the horror of the worst monsters we can imagine to our will. We will be greater than the sum of our parts and those monsters out there are nothing compared to us.

"I never studied Writing..."

Hello Lovelies,

I was speaking to a friend the other day and it really got my brain buzzing.

In short, the conversation had to do with a rather delicate social issue; racism in America and how its misconstrued not only by the 'bigoted' party but by the parties who try so hard to fix the problem that they essentially make it worse. I won't go into the finer details, but the friend in question was incredibly passionate and started talking at length about wanting to write a book on the topic as a means to help educate others on the idea. As I understood it, he'd already worked within a lecture environment a couple of times and wanted to put his thoughts on paper.

The question that I directed at him? Why didn't he?

There was some brief back and forth, but the cliche that we reached is the same one that I've actually started to hear more and more as the years press on.

"Well, I never really studied English in school/college.", or "I didn't take any writing classes.", and even "I'm not sure if I'd do any good."

I bet you know the point I'm about to make, but I feel it needs to be said.

Writing is a window into your soul; into your passions and your love and your hate. It gives a platform to stand on, a boom mic in one hand, and a flag in the other. Much as painting, drawing, singing, poetry, and any other creative expression in the world, writing is just another means of putting yourself out there, for better or for worse, for you and the world to see and understand where you're coming from. It can be done for a purpose, like I hope my friend will, or it can be done because your brain is often too full of nonsense and needs to be drained, like I often deal with.

However, what it does not require, is a Doctorate in English.

While I'm sure my older sister would disagree, as would any Doctors in the Subject, let me explain.

Writing, like anything in the world can be learned. There are classes that will help and there are people that can lead you, but that doesn't mean you are restricted to sitting at a desk listening to some professor drone on and on about the theory of subjective adjectives. Everyone learns in a different way and no two learning methods will be useful for any two given people.

I provide myself as example.

Now first, let me accept that I'm no Shakespeare. I don't doubt I'd benefit from classic training, but as it stands the extent of my "writing classes" are some high school English classes THAT I HATED WITH A PASSION. Everything else has been self taught. Hell, if you were really bored enough, you could follow that learning process just by going back and reading some of my old content and moving forward through time. You can observe my improvements (or failures) even over the course of a year with just an afternoon of reading and a large pot of tea.

The reason I bring this up though, is more and more recently, my friends refer to me as being a writer. Not that I mind, but I've realized they do this as a means of separation, not necessarily as a recognition. It's a means of saying "You know more than I do on this subject" and while I would love that to mean what it sounds like, it's meant as a degradation of their own character and capability rather than a reflection of my own.

In short, they feel that there is something special that they lack; some training or understanding that they never received that I somehow did.

This brings me nicely to my point: that's horseshit.

While I could probably write a book on WHY it's fucking stupid to degrade yourself into believing you missed some crucial college course to being successful in something you love; or I could simply sit here and stroke egos and spout cliches about 'just go do it', I'll just share how "I go do it" as an example.

One: I read. A lot.

But probably not what you think.

I do indeed have a shit-ton of books at my house. I have a lot on my kind and audible account too (as mentioned in my previous post). But writing isn't necessarily all about reading novels. I have read web comics religiously and I'm sure I will again in the future. I also read actual comics; Dark Horse, Marvel, DC...whatever. I read the news. I read blogs (as I'm sure plenty of you know). I read captions. I read letters. I read bills. I. Read. If there is written word, paying attention to what is being said and how it is said will give you an insight into writing.

To that point: Difficult reading DOES NOT EQUAL good writing. That's not to say there are classics that aren't loquacious and verbose as a dictionary smoothie; but always consider what those words MEAN. Why use "chronic periscapular hyperalgesia" when you could say "shoulder pain"? A well worn thesaurus isn't always a good thing.

Two: I write.

No shit, right?

But that doesn't mean I sit here punch out novels. Any of my normal followers can tout that I'm a horrible human being with an incapability of keeping a schedule.

No, instead, just as mentioned before, I simply let words flow. This wordy and astute piece of silliness is a perfect example. I will scribble down articles and content for no one in particular. I will write down a comment or question, just to see it. Hell, my biggest help is probably the weirdest: I host Dungeons and Dragons because it lets me concoct stories for my players to get through.

In short. I just write.

Lastly: I listen.

There are better writers. There are better authors and publishers and editors and people who HAVE studied and HAVE done things I will never accomplish. These people are not my enemy. I trust many of them to be professionally and painfully honest. I listen to their complaints and criticisms and I read their comments when they bleed the red-pen of death across the page and I consider it. Some might be mean and personal, but some might have astute information you've never considered.

So, in conclusion, just let yourself be. Let yourself read and write and or draw and paint or build a bike or whatever you want to do! Sometimes classes help, sometimes they don't. Sometimes you can teach yourself something, sometimes you can't. Be open to the experience around you and inside you and let yourself push forward. You'll be surprised by what you can do.

Xenophobia - Chapter 3

    The next while was spent reviewing information that Darrian already knew but most of the counsel members had only briefly covered. The old judge went over the hellish conditions of the planet. Of the energy storms and contaminated water and poisonous atmosphere. He listened with a renewed sense of nervousness when they revealed that more oddities had been found including a recurring tendency towards cyclones.
    Little did he know, the best was yet to come.
    "And so that brings us to the so-called, 'Humans' that inhabit this planet." the old judge said.
    "I still don't know how anything can live there." one of Tulgucks muttered.
    "That's a great question." The old judge retorted. "Which brings us to surprising fact number one. They seem to have a heightened ability towards survival and regeneration."
    "Come again?"
    "Them, and many species on the planet, seem to have an incredible ability to heal and survive extreme injury. So much so that an entire facet of their 'medical' sciences rely upon it."
    "Even in our short observances of the planet, we've seen a multitude of species, not even limited to these 'humans', survive injuries that are too graphic to even consider. Creatures have had their limbs torn asunder. They've been impaled, gored, ripped, shredded, crushed, and more...yet many can simply get back up and heal these injuries."
    An eerie silence fell over the table. How could something lose an appendage and just keep on living? Darrian suddenly found himself thinking about a monster story his parents had told him when he was younger about a horrible insectoid creature from 'Planet P' that could lose a limb and still be 86% effective.
    "That's...horrible." Darrian finally said.
    "And you said some of their medicines are based on this very idea?"
    "Indeed." continued the judge. "This species is so confident in their ability to regenerate from damage that they have an entire 'medical' specialty that they refer to as 'Surgery'."
    "What's surgery?" asked the massive Jigger near the back of the table.
    "Put bluntly, it's a form of 'medicine' where humans cut into themselves with sharp instruments and actively manipulate their own internal organs."
    "WHAT?!"
    Darrian could hear someone get sick off to his right and flee the table. He didn't look. His eyes were glued to the robotic form of the judge.
    "You heard me." he said with just a hint of mocking. "Rather than developing a medicine to combat certain ailments, they'd rather stick their hands into the entrails of another and riggle them around a bit. Strangely enough, it seems to work. Many of these creatures recuperate without issue."
    "R-r-recuperate?" Stammered the Cadrax across from Darrian. "AFTER being cut up and played with?"
    "That is correct."
    "With regenerative abilities like this, these creatures must live for generations." Darrian said thoughtfully and doing all he could to force the image of someone rooting around inside him from his mind.
    "Actually, that brings us nicely to the next point I was going to bring up. They're incredibly short lived."
    "Not surprising with how their medicine works." Uu'lassna grumbled.
    This merited a good chuckle around the table but Darrian couldn't help to notice that it sounded strained. No one in the Consortium would be resting easy tonight with thoughts of these monsters floating about.
    "Perhaps." The old judge said with a nod. "But I believe it has more to do with the fact that they are naturally a short lived species."
    "How short are we talking?"
    "One twentieth to one tenth of a rotation. The oldest we heard of was barely over a tenth."
    "A tenth? These things are damned insects!" scoffed a Yool.
    The Cadrax, still looking sick, replied. "Right. Right... We could probably just wait for them to die out on their own."
    "I don't think that will happen." denied the judge.
    "Why not?" the Jigger asked from the back.
    "Because their short life spans are to their benefit. Not their fault."
    "What could be the benefit of a short life span? You have no time to accomplish anything." Darrian retorted more out of confusion than anything else.
    "You're right. Yet they do. Review of our archives show that this species has risen from the dirt to a semi-space faring species in a maybe a dozen rotations."
    Whatever merriment there was again slipped away. It normally took at least a dozen rotations to make any scientific discoveries of merit. How any species could literally come into existence to being on the brink of deep space travel within that same period seemed impossible.
    "On top of that, they use their short lives to their advantage when it comes to disease. What's it matter if one drops off early if another can be born with immunity at the same time? The parent might die just in time for the child to live. Disease simply can't stick to them. They're not unlike bacteria themselves. They simply adapt too fast to be conquered. There have been several instances where massive populations were decimated only to be reborn immune and healthy within a twentieth of a rotation."
    The thought of the insects from 'Planet P' drifted into his thoughts once again. If anything ever matched such a description, he thought these 'humans' didn't seem too far off.
    "So, these things are ridiculously short lived, have incredible regeneration abilities, and live on an all together hostile planet." stated the Yool. "I think I need to ask the question that's on all of our minds: Are they a hostile species? Are they a threat?"
    The old judge stared long and hard at the Yool. Darrian didn't think a robot could look scared, but something about his expression said it all.

===

Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
Start at the Beginning

===

Xenophobia - Chapter 1

    "Uughhh...these meetings always take forever." Darrian groaned.
    "I know." said Ferris with a strangely happy lit to his voice. "But at least the best part is coming up."
    Darrian looked over quizzically at his friend. To his surprise, Ferris's expression matched his tone and he looked genuinely excited.
    "I didn't know you were such a fan of the Celestial Commission reports."
    "Really? You aren't?" Ferris looked almost offended. "They're great! We get to hear about all the new planets that are being considered."
    "Yay? It's a bunch of pencil pushers talking about which ones will be colonized and mined and such."
    "Yea, but who knows what they'll find out there!"
    As if on cue, the old judge at the far end of the table banged his gavel several times to garner the group's attention.
    "Alright, alright. Now before we start wrapping up, Cherryl, would you care to offer any new proposals to the counsel?"
    Cherryl was a mousey, timid little thing a few seats away from Darrian. He saw her nervously look up at the old judge and nod a few times. Despite this, she spent a few more seconds flipping through notes and pictures on her datapad.
    "Um, y-yes. Well, if you all remember, a little while ago the surveys team identified a planet in the AlphaVirgo Quadrant."
    One of the survey team nodded.
    "Right. AV32784." he said offhandedly flipping through his own datapad. "It was heavily aquatic, if I remember correctly. Something in the range of 70% water?"
    "That's right." Cherryl agreed.
    "Wasn't there talk of colonization?" Ferris asked excitedly.
    "W-well...yes..." Cherryl trailed off, suddenly looking disconcerted by the question.
    "They must of found something interesting." Ferris whispered to Darrian. Similar whispers were breaking out all around the table.
    "And is that proposal still on the table?" the judge asked, ignoring the scattered gossip.
    "No, sir. The results from the analysis suggest...well...quarantine."
    The table went dead silent. The judge looked nonplussed.
    "Quarantine?" someone finally asked. "That planet is mostly water! We can't just ignore a planet covered in water!"
    Cherryl was hastily looking back and forth from her datapad and making little squeaks of despair. She was clearly trying to find an answer but was caught between the panic of being put on the spot and not knowing where to even start.
    "I must agree." the judge said, having regained a bit of his composure. "Why would we avoid a planet that's 70% water?"
    "It's not drinkable." Another voice spoke up from the far end of the table. Harris, the lead of the analytics team, stood up.
    "The water is contaminated." he continued. "At least, the majority of it. There are some pockets here and there, but I'd argue that only 5% of the water on the planet is even usable."
    "Contaminated?! With what?"
    "Sodium chloride."
    In the center of the table, lights flickered on and the holographic imager gave birth to a beautiful green and blue planet that hovered just over the table's surface. Harris motioned to the mostly blue sphere.
    "The water is so saturated that consumption is impossible. We simply can't use it."
    "Damnit." Groaned the guy from the survey team, clearly upset at their misstep.
    "While I'm sure we all agree that's most unfortunate," replied the judge, "I'm not sure why that would make the planet up for quarantine."
    "That's not all." Harris said, seemingly enjoying the build up.
    "That's right!" Cherryl nearly shouted.
    Harris gave her a dirty look, clearly having accepted that he simply needed to explain at this point. "There's more problems than just the water."
    "Like?" Darrian asked, quickly becoming annoyed with the theatrics and still surprised at the fact that an entire planet's water source could be utterly useless.
    "Weather, for one." Harris replied. He tapped a few buttons and the holographic imager display boiling black clouds with bolts of energy arcing in every direction. The table erupted in frightened whispering and talking.
    "What the hell is that?"
    "An energy storm. Coupled with heavy buffets of air currents, these storms wreak havoc across the landscape. We've seen them kill flora and fauna and even start fires."
    "This place sounds like hell." Ferris whispered a little too loud.
    "Oh, you think that's bad?" Harris chuckled. "How about the fact that the planet's surface is unstable."
    "What? Are we talking tectonic tremors? That kind of thing?"
    "Well, yes. They've got those too."
    "Too?!"
    "This planet has MAGMA ON IT'S SURFACE!"
    "Wait, wait, wait." said the judge. "Magma, by definition, is in a planet's core. The exception is when a planet is forming."
    "I know! That's the craziest part!" Harris was clearly getting excited. "There are these great mountains that literally explode and spray molten rock everywhere!"
    "This is insanity..."
    "Are you ready for the final ringer?" Harris asked, looking even more excited.
    "How much worse can you make this place?!"
    "The planet's atmosphere..."
    The occupants of the table were unconsciously leaning forward now.
    "Oxygen."
     The table went silent for several moments as they all considered what they'd heard. Energy storms, contaminated water, exploding mountains of molten rock, and, worst of all, an oxygen atmosphere. It was like someone had taken a nightmare and made it real.
    The judge was the first person to break the silence.
    "Fine. We get it. Oxygen atmosphere alone is enough to disqualify it for colonization. Why, then, do you feel the need to propose we quarantine this barren wasteland?"
    "Because it's not barren."
    "You're full of shit." Someone yelled. "Nothing can live in oxygen!"
    "That's the thing." Harris said quietly. "The planet has a full ecosystem and even a species that is playing at being space faring."
    "Alright. Stop." The judge had clearly heard enough. "If we're talking about a new space faring race, we need to get the Galactic Consortium involved."
    There were a few accepting nods. Darrian couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. How anything could breath that poison and live was beyond him, and here Harris was telling them that somehow a species that breathed oxygen was becoming space faring?
    "We'll schedule a secondary hearing to discuss the implications of this species." The judge said curtly. "Does your team have a name for them?"
    "Nothing official. We hadn't even realized they were there until the analysis. But it would seem that some of the creatures call themselves 'human', so that's as good a name as any to start."

===

Next Chapter
Return to the Title Page

===

For the Sake of Comdy - Open Book Discussion

Hello Lovelies,

Today I wanted to take a moment to talk about Comedy.

Anyone whose read my work for more than a few days can pick up on a very obvious theme. I tend to like the dark. I like horror and suspense and things that go bump in the night. I'm most comfortable when my characters have their hearts racing or when there's some kind of drama going on. Overall, the comfort zone for my writing is just in the serious and spooky.

That said, easily my weakest link in my writing has to do with comedy. Sure, it's easy to throw in snark and sass; hell, I have plenty of life experience to pull from on that one. When it comes to  experience, I've dealt with enough roguish devils with a sideways smile and a sharp tongue to make me want to beat them all to death with a lute. Yet, I don't have anything to draw upon for making a character legitimately funny.

With that said, I've been starting to look around. A chain is only as strong as the weakest link afterall and, while I can certainly keep my head in the dark and broody forever, I'd like to be a bit more well-rounded as an author. I've been reading pieces about writing comedy to little effect so far. I've been considering sitting down and trying to really watch and break down comedy movies and books to identify what makes funny...well...funny.

But here is where you come in. Obviously I can research all the livelong day (and have been), but it's always much more enjoyable to engage in a dialogue and build off the of the knowledge and the experience of all of the wonderful readers that we have. We have plenty of talented and amazing writers in our readers, so I wanted to ask for today's Open Book Discussion:

Do any of you have issues writing comedy? Yes? No? Likewise, what has helped you improve?

Making Some Changes

Hello Lovelies,

So, as you may have noticed, there is no new fiction today. Instead, if you take a look around, you should notice that there have been a few changes. Some of these were inspired by commentary I received from readers, others were ones I've been meaning to do.

First and foremost, the current popular story "Smithy" now has an official main page where you will be able to find all of the book's chapters. It will be regularly updated as more chapters come out and, down the line (if and when I finish the book) it will have Amazon links and things of that nature. BUT, if you'd rather go piece by piece, all "Smithy" chapters will have links forward and backwards so that you may read at your leisure without the need to reference the "main page".

After that you will notice that we have added a number of tabs to the top of the website. Aside from the previously mentioned "Smithy" page, we now have "Don't Break the Chain", "Short Stories / Flash Fiction", "Open Book Discussions / Writer's References", "Site News", and finally "Writer / Editor: For Hire".

The majority of these tabs are pretty self descriptive and will take you to the main collection page of the associated pieces. Any pieces that are created to "not break the chain" will go under the DBTC tab. These can consist of literally any writing project that doesn't fall under a larger category. "Short Stories / Flash Fiction" has to do with any one-shot tales that won't be expanded upon any further. "Open Book Discussions / Writer's References" will act as a location for any articles that are set up having to do with the art of writing and is meant to help fellow writers. "Site News" will entail pieces like this! I.e. telling you what's up. Finally, "Writer / Editor: For Hire" is a tab for any individual wishing to commission my services.

Last, but certainly not least, you will notice two new icons there on the right side of the website. Again, very self descriptive, but the icons link to our website associated Facebook and Tumblr sites. In this way, those individuals that partake in either of these forms of Social Media might enjoy our updates and, for Tumblr specifically, our writing tips that we come across.

That is all for now. Thanks for taking a moment to read and we promise we will return to our regularly scheduled program tomorrow!

 

Site News - Main Page

Site News

---

"The only thing that is Constant is Change." - Heraclitus

 The world is evolving. Our writing is changing. The site is adpating.

Check here for updates with regards to things that have or will happen.

Easy as that.

---

Making Some Changes

Looking Ahead - Journal

Open Book Discussion / Writer's Reference - Main Page

Open Book Discussion / Writer's Reference

---

Not all writers come out of the womb with pen and paper in hand. Actually,

 I dare say that none of us do. Instead, we have to learn, we have to share, and

we have to experiment to find out just what works. Here is a collection of reference

pieces and discussions about the art of writing. Maybe it can help you too.

---

Inspirations - OBD

Why do you post Chapter by Chapter? - OBD

Your own Worst Enemy - WR

Words of Encouragement - WR

Character Descriptions - WR

Short Stories / Flash Fiction - Main Page

Short Stories / Flash Fiction

---

Not all stories need to be 1000 pages long. Sometimes a few words is all you need

to make the skin crawl, the heart soar, and the mind run away in a world of words.

Take a moment to enjoy these short pieces who never felt they needed to have more

than a single chapter.

---

Late Night Research

Hot Lava

200: A Space Odyssey

Fade to Grey

The Barren Pot

Starving
The Rider

 

Don't Break the Chain - Main Page

Don't Break the Chain

---

A writer is only worth anything when they take the time to write.

Yet, not all writers can produce constant pieces of fantastic fiction.

This is where Don't Break the Chain comes in. DBTC posts are

writing done for the sake of writing. It keeps them fresh, keeps them

inspired, and can be anything from poems to journals to flash fiction

and more. We hope that you enjoy!

---

Dean and Mort's Gym - Flash Fiction 

Repeating Myself - Poem
Looking Ahead - Journal
"Writing" - Flash Fiction
Don't Break the Chain in Favor of Perfection - Journal

Looking Ahead - Journal/DBTC

First and foremost, allow me to apologize. I know that we had no post yesterday and today isn't any new fictional content. Unfortunately, yesterday just proved that life happens and by the time I was able to even get near my computer, I ended up deciding that bed was the better option. The end result was no post and no research. How sad.

That said though, I was discussing the upcoming holiday with my wife, the beautiful and talented Fabulosaurus and she told me that she was considering doing "InkTober". If you don't know what this is, it's when some artists dedicate themselves to doing a new piece of art every day. Well, I'm already trying to do that ANYWAY, but this got me thinking to last year when I did "SpookyTober". If you weren't around, "Spookytober" is dedicated to writing nothing but spooky stuff for the entire month of October.

I'm thinking I might do that again.

As a whole, it added to the fun of the upcoming holiday. It was silly but a blast and really helped dedicate me as a writer. I had to focus my talents to one specific area versus letting them wander. Plus, at the end of the day, I really do love doing spooky and creepy stuff. So, I'm thinking that might be in the works come the beginning of October.

Anyone want to join us?

Inspirations - Open Book Discussions

Ever since I've started to try and rededicate myself to writing and creating, one of the major problems that I run into is having something to write ABOUT.

At a glance, it's very daunting to think "I'm going to try and produce SOMETHING everyday". You wonder if you will have the ability. If you're going to produce anything worthwhile. You stress whether or not you can even keep yourself going to do it more than a few weeks. 

I can say that one benefit I've given myself to ease my concerns is giving myself a day off on Friday so that I might have a bit more of a set schedule with a day I can rely on. Aside from that, providing myself the "Open Book Discussions" as well as the "Don't Break the Chain" posts gives me a way to break up my thinking so that I'm not dead set on HAVING to produce a constant flow of narrative every day.

Of course, the ironic part is that the more I fall into the habit, the less daunting it seems. In fact, I'm starting to experience something I haven't for a long time. Inspiration. Not twinges of desire to create, but a real, solid hunger to write based on something I see or hear.

Kaleo - Way Down We Go

Here's a great example:

Way Down We Go was a song I heard on the radio that got my blood flowing. The song is amorphous enough that I don't doubt many people might here different things, but the feel for it for me was "Bogs". Maybe it's because of growing up in the Southern United States, but the song makes me think of twisting, overgrown water ways and dark, moonlit swamps with hoodoo witches in the mist. It makes me think of longing and loss and night and monsters hidden in the deep places of the waters and woods.

To that point, it's got me currently beating around SOMETHING inspired by it. Not sure if it's a short story or a flash fiction or what, but you should see something come of it soon.

That brings us nicely to the whole point of the Open Book Discussion:

What are some things that really inspire or have inspired you to create?

It really could be anything. Maybe it's a song (as seen above), or a movie, a book, something someone said, something you saw...really anything! What out there has or does set your soul aflame and make you want to create something new? I'd absolutely love to know!

Hot Lava

     “GO! GO! GO!”

     The voice echoed and crackled in his radio. Mustering all of his strength, Gregory jumped forward off the pumice pillar. Far below him, he could see the bubbling pits of molten rock that glowed bright red and orange. Even through his spacesuit, he could smell the stench of rotten eggs. If he missed this jump, it would smell like cooked adventurer.

    Luckily, he didn't miss the jump.

     He hit the next pillar hard, but landed on his feet. Behind him, he could see his fellow adventurer Brian. He too had made the jump and landed on the pillar that Gregory had just left. Directly in front of them, their leader Jason stood upon another column of dark, volcanic rock.

     “Where are we going?” Gregory screamed. Even with the aid of the radios in their suits, they could barely hear each other over the roars of the molten planet with its heavy winds and boiling surface.

     “We have to get to the ship!” Jason responded, his voice breaking over the static.

    Gregory scanned the horizon. Where was Jason leading them? All he could see was smoke and ash above, fire and boiling rock below.

     “Where is it?” he yelled desperately.

     “There!” Jason said, pointing off to his right.

    Gregory squinted his eyes. For a moment, his suit visors were still blurred with nothing but hideous plumes of black smoke. Yet, as he stared, some of it cleared. It was just enough.

     “I see it!” Gregory gaped in response. “I can see it!”

     “Good! Now we just have to get to it!” Brian called from behind.

     The heat bore down on him. Even with the help of the spacesuit, Gregory sweat and panted as he watched Jason steady himself and jump to the next pillar over. He hadn't realized they were so close to the ship. They were almost there.

     If only he'd been ready to jump instead of watching.

     Gregory felt himself shoved from behind as Brian landed on the too-small column of pumice rock. If he'd been ready, he might have been able to jump, but just as quickly he found himself falling face first towards the lava below.

     “Greg!!!”

     Gregory shut his eyes as he plummeted towards the molten rock below. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. Any moment he'd hit the surface and...

     Wait!

     “JETPACK!”

     His hands instinctively found the controls. Years of training did the work for him and, just as fast as he'd been falling before, he was soaring high over the pumice columns; safe from the lava below.

Jason and Brian gaped at him.

     “Hey! Jetpacks aren't fair!” Brian yelled angrily.

     “Too bad! My suit has a jetpack. It's not my fault you don't have one.”

     “I want a jetpack...” Jason grumbled.

     “You're dumb.” Brian growled.

     “You're dumb.” Gregory snapped back as he rocketed towards the outcropping where their ship was settled.

     He landed with little effort atop the porous black rocks and quickly ran inside. He could see the others still jumping from pillar to pillar. While he waited, Gregory ran inside the ship and hopped into the pilot's seat. Turning the ignition key, his stomach sank.

     “Oh no...”

     Moments later, his fellow adventurers crowded into the ship and quickly sealed the airlock against the acrid heat and stench of the burning planet.

     “We've got to get out of here!” Jason called from the airlock door.

     “We can't!”

     “WHAT?!”

     “We can't go anywhere! We're out of gas!”

     Jason and Brian both piled into the cockpit. Brian angrily shoved Gregory out of the pilot's seat and tried to turn the ignition key.

     “We can't be out of gas!” he growled. “I filled it up on the ice planet!”

     Gregory un-apologetically kicked Brian in the gut and shoved him back away from the pilot's console.

     “Yes. We are! We used too much getting here.”

     But Brian didn't argue. Instead, he was slowly curling into a ball, holding his stomach. Tears were beginning to stream down the brave adventurer's cheeks. Jason simply stood over him, seemingly not sure of what to do.

     “Oh no!” Gregory abandoned the pilot's chair to console his friend who was now coughing and sputtering from the kick. “I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!”

     “No, you're not!” Brian screamed, his voice cracking as he cried harder.

     “Mom!” Jason screamed. “Mom, I think Greg hurt Brian!”

     In horror, Gregory looked back just in time to see Jason was already outside of the ship somehow. With Brian curled up in pain, he could only scream as he watched his friend and leader dive off the pumice rock face towards the molten rock below.

     “NO! You can't, Jason! The floor is lava!!!”

Writing - Don't Break the Chain post

    "I can't write." Jeremiah said as he banged his head against his closed laptop.
    With a look of disgust, Kenroy stood up from his own computer and walked across the room to his disheartened brother. Grabbing him, by the scruff of the shirt, he got unpleasantly close to Jerry's face.
    "Do you know how to read?"
    "What?" Jerry responded in confusion.
    "I said, 'Do you know how to read?'"
    "Of course I do."
    "So you're literate, then?"
    Jerry pushed back against his brother. Ken released him without complaint but continued to stare dead into his brother's eyes.
    "Are you literate?"
    "Of course I am!" Jerry snapped, his voice raising angrily. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
    "If you literate, than by definition you know how to read and write. If you know how to write, than clearly that's not the actual problem." Ken's face smeared back into a condescending smirk. "Writing anything worth reading is. Now hop to it, nancy boy."
    Jerry swung for a smack across his brother's ear, but his older brother was too fast. With a snide chuckled, Ken was already making his way back from to his own computer where his video games were writing.
    With a sigh, his attention turned to his closed laptop.
    "I hate it when he's right." he mumbled as he slid the top back open.

---

(Hey all. So, per my previous post, I'm gonna try something. If I really don't have anything too worthwhile like an open book discussion, a short story, poem, or another chapter, than I will suffix it as a 'Don't Break the Chain post'. These will serve as identifiers that the post in question is literally ANYTHING and I'm using it to make sure I write that day and not let myself get lazy.

They might be good. They might be bad. They might be nothing at all. It's writing practice at the end of the day. I hope you enjoy!)

Don't Break the Chain in favor of Perfectionism

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRtV-ugIT0k

So, I'm going to be upfront here.

I have developed some really bad habits.

Compared to where I was a year ago, I have been writing drastically less. While I keep making excuses and going through small bouts of HOORAH! where I try to write and peter out quickly, I'm generally just not staying motivated. Part of it has to do with stressing about doing something 'right' but part of it comes from simply not keeping focused.

That said, I'm going to be trying something a little different...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiwTq5DV1dA

Also, quick shout out to Dan and Arin. Love you guys!

While I'm not sure about the entire concept behind 'not breaking the chain', I think the idea behind just doing anything to keep the rhythm flowing isn't a terrible one. My thought process is always looking for something that is, for lack of a better term, "marketable". Because of this, I seem to get stuck in a rut of thinking "I should try this" followed by "I can't do it." or "I don't have time." and it just goes into a tail spin of staring at my computer screen and getting nothing done.

Here's what I'm going to try. Of course I will continue to work on my given novel ideas. I believe I will attempt to focus on the Smithy story as I feel particularly attached. But I will also attempt to do Open Book discussions about any relevant writing topics that strike me as well as OTHER writing. This other writing may be big or little (one thing that grabbed me is just snagging a writing prompt and running with it for a short story) but it has to be SOMETHING. This way, it forces me to stay focused.

At the moment, I want to hold myself to four times a week, but I'm not sure if I can maintain it. Maybe three? I'm going to have to see how my work and personal schedules TRULY effect my writing schedule when I'm trying to maintain consistency.

That said, just a quick status shout-out about where we will be going from here. Thanks everyone!

Open Book Discussion - Why do you post Chapter by Chapter?

Why do you post Chapter by Chapter? 

Open Book Discussion
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Hello all.

With having just started to try to dig back into writing, I had a very interesting question directed to me that I wanted to take a minute to answer. The question, simply put, is, "Why do you post Chapter by Chapter?"

Now, what the person in question was actually referring to was questioning why I was seemingly posting what might turn out to be an entire novel, chapter by chapter, on a free blog. "Don't you want to publish?" they questioned me next. "Why would anyone buy a book if they can just read it piece by piece on your blog?"

So, for anyone wondering the why or for anyone who is currently or considering doing the same thing, here are the reasons that I openly post chapters to what might later be published.

1) Every chapter posted is a first draft

That's right. Every chapter, when it is posted, is fresh from the kiln. While I do go over it briefly to try to weed out glaring typos, grammatical errors, and just generally bad writing, the product being posted is brand new. If I ever do make a book of whatever it is I'm posting, there's a high likelyhood that an editor will have gone through it with a big, nasty red pen to clean up my mess and make each chapter less fluff and more actual literature. Hell, some chapters and bits posted may never even be SEEN in a respective book if my editor has anything to do with it.

2) The Storyteller Syndrome

At the end of the day, I write because I like to tell stories. Some of them are just my imagination running wild and HAVING to get it out of my head somehow. However, a large chunk of the stories I write are me simply enjoying the act of weaving a tale. If it were in person, I'd be fueled just by watching my listeners' and readers' faces. But, since it's not, I like to read the comments. They help me get a feel for if I'm heading in the direction I want to and if people are inherently interested in what is being written. Even if I'm terrible at responding to most comments, I can promise you that I read every one ever posted.

3) Tell your friends

 

In exchange for me telling you a story and receiving your criticisms, I consider my services bought and paid for with my initial audience. For those people that consistently show up, read my works, tell me their thoughts, and just generally keep an eye on what I'm doing, I don't expect to ever make a dime. I don't expect to EVER sell any book I ever create out of any work I ever do to my main readers on my blog. Simply put...why would they? They've already seen the work from conception (literally, first drafts, like I said) to completion. Why would they want to spend money except to cross compare what I did to what my editors slashed out or had me add? Most wouldn't care. What is more likely to happen, however, is when a book comes out, those individuals that like my work might share that information with friends and family and spread to those people who don't follow me and might be more inclined to pick a book up off the shelf.

4) Removal of Extra content

 

Finally, if any particular work were to be made into a published story or piece, you'll notice that it will magically disappear from the site. The reason for this should be obvious. My editor has finally just killed me for my inadequacies and is removing my stain from this Earth. Please. She's a monster. I have the door locked but it will only hold for so long...

In all seriousness, any works that do end up being published are simply removed for the same train of logic as Number 3. The people who have been with me all this time have already been reading my work. They are more than likely not going to be interested in picking up a copy of something they've followed from conception, except perhaps for posterity sake. Instead, it's encouraging those individuals who are only just finding out about a piece to go to their local bookstore or Amazon.com website to grab themselves a copy and find out for themselves. I.e., to the original point of the person in question, I'm not just leaving free content to read piece by piece was the book comes out.

----

 

All in all, I hope this was an interesting little peak into the logic of the work that I post. Nothing groundbreaking I'm sure, but since I've gotten the question a few times now (obviously the more recent being the prompt), I decided to just post it for all to see. Of course, if you have any questions or comments, please don't hesitate to let me know. As mentioned before, I'm fueled by commentary, whether they are love or hate. :)

Have a wonderful day everyone.

Robert Bennett

Smithy - Chap 3

   It seemed to Tristan that he had only just closed his eyes when he was woken by a knock on the door. Looking around, he realized that the night had already given way to morning. His entire body was stiff and hurt so severely that he could barely push himself up.

    With a tired and pained groan, he called out, “Come in.”

    The little wooden door opened and Ailla stuck her head inside, adorned with her mop of red and curly hair and bright, emerald green eyes.

    “Well Hello there,” she said with a soft smile. Stepping inside, she closed the door softly behind her before settling upon the bed. “Hagon tells me you had one of your attacks last night.”

    Tristan’s cheeks flushed with something between anger and embarrassment and he felt himself drawing his knees up to his chest. The attacks had been getting worse and, while none of them truly understood what was happening, it only made him feel worse to be singled out this way. Not to mention, he didn’t like the idea of Hagon swapping stories, even if it was with Ailla.

    “Oh stop.” She said, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. “We’ve known each other since we were babes. You’ve nothing to be blushing over.”

    “I know.” Tristan said weakly, trying to unclench his body which was unconsciously going into the fetal position. “I just don’t know what to do.”

    Ailla nodded. They’d had these conversations a few times now and it was no mystery that Tristan was feeling more and more depressed. Each time he became a little more hopeless.

    “You already know the answer.” She said, still trying to keep that same smile as she spoke.

    “Whitecrest.” He said almost under his breath.

    Ailla nodded once more, this time in agreement.

    “I just don’t know...” he continued. “What if something happens on the trip there? What if the magisters aren’t able to find whatever’s wrong and they just tell me that they don’t know how to help?”

    “And what if the magisters have a fix that they can whip up in a matter of seconds while you’re sitting here moping in your bedroom?”

    Tristan didn’t answer right away. He looked from Ailla to the sparse decorations of his little room. The walls were hard wood. Barren except for a pair of tongs and a hammer he had hung on either side of his window. His clothes were tightly packed away in a small chest at the foot of his bed. It struck him for some reason that his room was basically empty. He never felt the desire to decorate.

    “You’re right, Ailla.” He said as he drew his attention back to her. “Of course you’re right. It’s just…”

    She reached over and gingerly lifted his chin with one finger so that they might look each other in the eyes.

    “I know, love. But Whitecrest is only a couple days travel. We can get you in and out and back here before you know it.”

    Looking into those emerald green eyes, Tristan couldn’t help but feel a little better. He’d known Ailla almost all of their lives and there was always something that made his heart soften and his worries calm. He’d considered more than once attempting to court her, but he never had the heart to go through with it.

    “Alright.” He said, agreeing with her once again.

    They sat in silence for a few moments, looking at each other. That soft smile never left her face. The longer he looked, the more his own lips curled into a smile to match her own. Finally, he let out a long sigh.

    “You’re right, you’re right.” Tristan said with a nod.

    “Of course I am.”

    “Of course you are.” He echoed with a soft chuckle.

    Ailla raised an eyebrow and tilted her head playfully. “Are we going somewhere with this or…?”

    “Breakfast?” he asked quickly.

    “Sorry?”

    “Do you want breakfast?”

    “First you compliment me, next you feed me. If you’re not careful, I might not leave.” She said slipping off his bed and helping him up as well.

    Tristan’s smile got bigger at the thought, but he said nothing further as he followed her to the kitchen. Instead, he elected to listen as she made small talk, telling him about her morning, about meeting Hagon, and about Hagon recanting the tale of the night before. It still irked him to think that he was a topic of gossip, but couldn’t help but feel better that Ailla had come to wake him. Somehow, it made the sun shine just a little brighter.

---

Click here to Read the Next Chapter
Go back to the Previous Chapter
Haven't Read Smithy before? Let's Start at the Beginning