I've been reading Orson Scott Card's book Writing About Science Fiction and Fantasy and one of the main sections he stresses is world building. As writers of new worlds, it's important to understand the world we are placing our characters into. If necessary, make histories that go back to the dawn of that world. Our understanding of it is a requirement. Because if we don't understand it, then no one will.
I've begun writing my fourth book and I know come the end of the series, I have to destroy the world I've built. I have to look at it and it's beauty that I've wished to walk through, and tear it apart. When I started out it seemed like the logical thing to do. It seemed like the right thing to do.
Now, when I started out, I was fourteen.
I didn't even understand that there was a world there to really explore. But that's a story for another time. No, instead I'm going to talk a bit about the fact that one day I'm going to have to tear everything apart that I've built. It's a necessary part of it all, although I couldn't explain why without first explaining everything else. At the same time, I can't give away too much because I know Kara knows about this blog and might pick something up that she shouldn't. (Yes Kara, I'm keeping an eye on you, even from 400+ miles away).
I don't look forward to that day. I didn't look forward to the deaths of characters and I definitely didn't relish in those agonizing hours spent in front of my computer, bawling my eyes out as I tried to write the words to the saddest things I could think of.
But I know it's there. I know one day I'll finish my series and put the books on a shelf and say, "It's finished." And on that day, I'm going to step back, look at what I've done, and ask, "Okay, now what?"
Aside from End Game, I have no idea what I'd do afterward. I mean, I think I've only got that one good idea. I really don't want to write anything else right now because I'm filled to the brim with stuff just for this one idea. I can't imagine adding a different world, different characters, and different situations into my brain at the moment.
Will it still be the same when I finish my series? I don't know. If it is, I won't complain. I'll enter the mission field. I'll write a memoir or something. Maybe I'll start a college. I don't really know.
I won't run away from it though. In starting my fourth book, I'm running toward a finish line that I've set up for myself. A goal that only I instated, and I'm glad I'm the only one to say, "Okay, by here, we've gotta be done!" It makes it more manageable to me. I don't know how, but it does.
And who knows? Maybe by the end of the summer, I'll have all five books done. Wouldn't that be awesome?
Currently Writing: Unseen
Currently Reading: The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently Listening to: "Sleep" by Polyphony & Stephen Layton
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
The Continued Adventures...
Of the writing life!
At least the writing life of a fantasy writer. I'm beginning to embark on the journey of my fourth book! Woohoo! Always a fun thing; starting on a new book. If I'm successful in writing this by the time I graduate, I'll have written 3 books in a year and rewritten my first one and written a novella! I like to think that's pretty dang good.
That's still to be determined of course. It's likely that everything I've written is in dire need of editing. In fact, that's incredibly likely. But enough about that. Editing is most of the work of the writer.
One of the most difficult things I've had to come to terms with is the unknown elements of a book. It's been a little while since I was planning out a book and didn't know mostly what was going on. My fourth book isn't the one I'm talking about. For the most part, my fourth book is pretty well figured out. Naturally, when I actually start writing it, that might not be the case.
I started a timeline to see where I was in my characters lives since the beginning of the series. It's an important thing to do. Since I'm not a fan of just sitting around forever for kicks and giggles, I tend to plow straight forward without looking back until I'm knee deep in water. But I realized that I was having a lot happen quickly. Which I like. I'm not complaining in the slightest, because it makes sense to me to have this all happen so quickly.
To an audience...well, I haven't gotten any bad reviews yet about the timing and pacing.
Anyway, I started writing into my fifth and final book of the series and hit a huge gap. What's going on in that book entirely? I don't really know. I know lots of stuff that will happen in the book. I know how the series is ending, I know how the last book is beginning. I know what's happening in it, I just don't know the order or the details to a minute level.
Then again, I never know the details to a minute level. In fact, I sort of BS my way through the whole thing and somehow come out with something coherent. I don't know how, I just seem to. It's times like these where I wonder if I actually know what I'm doing. What do I realize I'm getting myself into? Because this lake just keeps getting deeper.
I'm waiting as patiently as I can on timing for publishing my books. However, I'm having trouble. I can't seem to find an agent to back me (which is worrisome), and I don't dare to publish traditionally without an agent. Perhaps I'm not presenting the series in a good enough light. Maybe I'm not presenting myself in a good enough light. I don't know how to change that. Writing a query letter wasn't something Houghton offered in classes. I wish they did. If it were up to me, it would have been part of my senior seminar project; learn how to write a great query letter.
Instead I was taught how to write short stories a million times over. It was helpful, but now that I'm trying to do something with my books, I don't know what to do. And it seems just downright silly to buy a book about selling a book. It seems silly, but it probably isn't. The downside is, that requires money, which I don't have.
*Sigh* I keep trying to remain positive. Someday this will work out. It's just taking a little longer and is a little harder than I had thought. It'll all be okay. Just keep breathing and keep fighting. Eventually this will work out.
Currently Writing: Alaster
Currently Reading: The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently Listening to: "This Man" by Jeremy Camp
At least the writing life of a fantasy writer. I'm beginning to embark on the journey of my fourth book! Woohoo! Always a fun thing; starting on a new book. If I'm successful in writing this by the time I graduate, I'll have written 3 books in a year and rewritten my first one and written a novella! I like to think that's pretty dang good.
That's still to be determined of course. It's likely that everything I've written is in dire need of editing. In fact, that's incredibly likely. But enough about that. Editing is most of the work of the writer.
One of the most difficult things I've had to come to terms with is the unknown elements of a book. It's been a little while since I was planning out a book and didn't know mostly what was going on. My fourth book isn't the one I'm talking about. For the most part, my fourth book is pretty well figured out. Naturally, when I actually start writing it, that might not be the case.
I started a timeline to see where I was in my characters lives since the beginning of the series. It's an important thing to do. Since I'm not a fan of just sitting around forever for kicks and giggles, I tend to plow straight forward without looking back until I'm knee deep in water. But I realized that I was having a lot happen quickly. Which I like. I'm not complaining in the slightest, because it makes sense to me to have this all happen so quickly.
To an audience...well, I haven't gotten any bad reviews yet about the timing and pacing.
Anyway, I started writing into my fifth and final book of the series and hit a huge gap. What's going on in that book entirely? I don't really know. I know lots of stuff that will happen in the book. I know how the series is ending, I know how the last book is beginning. I know what's happening in it, I just don't know the order or the details to a minute level.
Then again, I never know the details to a minute level. In fact, I sort of BS my way through the whole thing and somehow come out with something coherent. I don't know how, I just seem to. It's times like these where I wonder if I actually know what I'm doing. What do I realize I'm getting myself into? Because this lake just keeps getting deeper.
I'm waiting as patiently as I can on timing for publishing my books. However, I'm having trouble. I can't seem to find an agent to back me (which is worrisome), and I don't dare to publish traditionally without an agent. Perhaps I'm not presenting the series in a good enough light. Maybe I'm not presenting myself in a good enough light. I don't know how to change that. Writing a query letter wasn't something Houghton offered in classes. I wish they did. If it were up to me, it would have been part of my senior seminar project; learn how to write a great query letter.
Instead I was taught how to write short stories a million times over. It was helpful, but now that I'm trying to do something with my books, I don't know what to do. And it seems just downright silly to buy a book about selling a book. It seems silly, but it probably isn't. The downside is, that requires money, which I don't have.
*Sigh* I keep trying to remain positive. Someday this will work out. It's just taking a little longer and is a little harder than I had thought. It'll all be okay. Just keep breathing and keep fighting. Eventually this will work out.
Currently Writing: Alaster
Currently Reading: The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently Listening to: "This Man" by Jeremy Camp
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Moving Right Along
I'm going to attempt at being more proactive about this blog. We'll see how long that lasts and how good I am at it.
I've finished the massive rewrite on my first book. There's a sense of satisfaction with that. Looking back at the better written start of my series is a nice accomplishment. It was a strange experience though. You know, I keep telling my friends this simple fact: I wrote my first draft of End Game: Genesis when I was 19. Then I took four years off.
Literally. I took four years off. I tried to write the second book about two years later, but then I was stupid and lost my flash drive in a crowded Philadelphia Phillies stadium in the middle of summer. I presume it was stepped on, crushed, and then thrown out.
At the time it was the worst thing possible. Everything I had written recently had been saved on that flash drive. Because somehow, I trusted the flash drive more than my laptop or desktop computer. Silly me. I learned a lot from that experience. One was that whether I liked it or not, God wasn't going to let me forget about what I had written. I was able to recall nearly everything I wrote and lost on that flash drive.
Two, sometimes things like that happen for a reason. Seriously, they do. What I had originally come up with for my second book would have been awful. I had to learn how to write crappy short stories a million times over and think I had no talent before I could write a proper second novel. It also took the help of my very good fried Dana Ardison.
Now, it really was a long time since I had written when I got her text message that changed everything. I remember I was coming back from somewhere, maybe errands of some sort. Anyway, I was pulling up to my house and my phone began buzzing in my pocket. When I checked the text message, it was from Dana telling me how much she loved my first book and wanted to read the second one right away. I didn't really believe her though, despite her adamant pleas of a second book.
Then about a week later I got my birthday present from her, in which I found an envelope containing a poem she had written about my novel.
Then a few months later, I spat out two books.
After a four year hiatus from writing a novel length item, I wrote two books and rewrote my first within seven months. Granted, the two I wrote will need editing, but they're fairly good. A good friend of mine mentioned that despite having been written in a few months, they were coherent and she didn't know how I had done it.
I don't know how I did it. I just did. I've spent four years mulling things over, coming up with new ideas, new plot developments, new characters. I took the story places I had never thought we'd go, and somehow we're at the doorstep of my fourth book.
You know, this promises to be a good end of my college career.
Currently Writing: Alaster
Currently Reading: Eragon by Christopher Paolini and The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently Listening to: "The Grey Havens" by Howard Shore
I've finished the massive rewrite on my first book. There's a sense of satisfaction with that. Looking back at the better written start of my series is a nice accomplishment. It was a strange experience though. You know, I keep telling my friends this simple fact: I wrote my first draft of End Game: Genesis when I was 19. Then I took four years off.
Literally. I took four years off. I tried to write the second book about two years later, but then I was stupid and lost my flash drive in a crowded Philadelphia Phillies stadium in the middle of summer. I presume it was stepped on, crushed, and then thrown out.
At the time it was the worst thing possible. Everything I had written recently had been saved on that flash drive. Because somehow, I trusted the flash drive more than my laptop or desktop computer. Silly me. I learned a lot from that experience. One was that whether I liked it or not, God wasn't going to let me forget about what I had written. I was able to recall nearly everything I wrote and lost on that flash drive.
Two, sometimes things like that happen for a reason. Seriously, they do. What I had originally come up with for my second book would have been awful. I had to learn how to write crappy short stories a million times over and think I had no talent before I could write a proper second novel. It also took the help of my very good fried Dana Ardison.
Now, it really was a long time since I had written when I got her text message that changed everything. I remember I was coming back from somewhere, maybe errands of some sort. Anyway, I was pulling up to my house and my phone began buzzing in my pocket. When I checked the text message, it was from Dana telling me how much she loved my first book and wanted to read the second one right away. I didn't really believe her though, despite her adamant pleas of a second book.
Then about a week later I got my birthday present from her, in which I found an envelope containing a poem she had written about my novel.
Then a few months later, I spat out two books.
After a four year hiatus from writing a novel length item, I wrote two books and rewrote my first within seven months. Granted, the two I wrote will need editing, but they're fairly good. A good friend of mine mentioned that despite having been written in a few months, they were coherent and she didn't know how I had done it.
I don't know how I did it. I just did. I've spent four years mulling things over, coming up with new ideas, new plot developments, new characters. I took the story places I had never thought we'd go, and somehow we're at the doorstep of my fourth book.
You know, this promises to be a good end of my college career.
Currently Writing: Alaster
Currently Reading: Eragon by Christopher Paolini and The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Currently Listening to: "The Grey Havens" by Howard Shore
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Gosh This is Hard
You know, as a child I always thought writing was something old people did. No one could actually do it in today's world and anyone that did got lucky and never really had the chance to live off of their struggles. Then one day, I was told that wasn't the case. Then we had people like J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer show up and I realized, hey, if they could do it, why not me?
And now at 23, I realize my child-self was right.
Publishing isn't just hard, it's like, super-impossible. I'm exaggerating of course. However a bit of me isn't. I've been searching for an agent to back my book series and perhaps help me get published. And you know what? As a new writer, NO ONE WANTS ME.
That's also a bit of an exaggeration. There are some people out there looking for new writers, and naturally I will be seeking them out with a video of me crying saying, "Please, please, please take me on! I promise I'm good!" But most agencies, both Christian and secular, don't want new writers.
I understand why. From a business standpoint, we're a major risk. All it takes is a little misplaced faith and BOOM, you're an agent or editor with a crappy book that no one wants to buy and a writer you've got to pay whining that it wasn't their fault.
But then what about those of us that are good? Now, I'm not saying I'm great. I'm not even comfortable saying that I'm good. But I've been told enough times by a wide variety of people that I am a talented writer that it seems a little silly to ignore them. Especially when among those people are friends who wouldn't really care if they hurt my feelings in the process of telling me the truth. Because to my friends, telling the truth and hurting someone is better than lying and snickering behind their back.
All of this to say that I might have to self-publish.
Now, that wouldn't be the end of the world. I'm aware of that fact. However, it really wasn't my first choice. I really would prefer to actually learn the publication process. But hey, for all I know that's the way I need to go.
For some reason though, that road seems so much harder. Self-publishing means doing all the work myself and me paying out before even a hint of revenue comes in. Granted, if it worked well, then all of the profit would come to me (at least most of it would, I think). However if it didn't work well, I'd be up the creek without a paddle.
It's a little discouraging really. I know that the traditional publication process can take up to a year and a half. By then the fantasy thing might be old news. It might not be, but all it would take would be some new fad to come along and suddenly everyone but die-hard fans would hate fantasy stuff. And where would that leave my novels? High and dry that's where.
So what do I do? Struggle along and hope I'm going in the right path? Or take a plunge and a leap of faith and self-publish?
Sometimes I wish for neon signs. And other times, I'm so incredibly glad I don't get them. This is one of the times I wish I got them.
Currently Editing: End Game: Genesis (Chapter 24)
Currently Writing: Alaster
Currently Reading: Eragon by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Alive" by Superchic[k]
And now at 23, I realize my child-self was right.
Publishing isn't just hard, it's like, super-impossible. I'm exaggerating of course. However a bit of me isn't. I've been searching for an agent to back my book series and perhaps help me get published. And you know what? As a new writer, NO ONE WANTS ME.
That's also a bit of an exaggeration. There are some people out there looking for new writers, and naturally I will be seeking them out with a video of me crying saying, "Please, please, please take me on! I promise I'm good!" But most agencies, both Christian and secular, don't want new writers.
I understand why. From a business standpoint, we're a major risk. All it takes is a little misplaced faith and BOOM, you're an agent or editor with a crappy book that no one wants to buy and a writer you've got to pay whining that it wasn't their fault.
But then what about those of us that are good? Now, I'm not saying I'm great. I'm not even comfortable saying that I'm good. But I've been told enough times by a wide variety of people that I am a talented writer that it seems a little silly to ignore them. Especially when among those people are friends who wouldn't really care if they hurt my feelings in the process of telling me the truth. Because to my friends, telling the truth and hurting someone is better than lying and snickering behind their back.
All of this to say that I might have to self-publish.
Now, that wouldn't be the end of the world. I'm aware of that fact. However, it really wasn't my first choice. I really would prefer to actually learn the publication process. But hey, for all I know that's the way I need to go.
For some reason though, that road seems so much harder. Self-publishing means doing all the work myself and me paying out before even a hint of revenue comes in. Granted, if it worked well, then all of the profit would come to me (at least most of it would, I think). However if it didn't work well, I'd be up the creek without a paddle.
It's a little discouraging really. I know that the traditional publication process can take up to a year and a half. By then the fantasy thing might be old news. It might not be, but all it would take would be some new fad to come along and suddenly everyone but die-hard fans would hate fantasy stuff. And where would that leave my novels? High and dry that's where.
So what do I do? Struggle along and hope I'm going in the right path? Or take a plunge and a leap of faith and self-publish?
Sometimes I wish for neon signs. And other times, I'm so incredibly glad I don't get them. This is one of the times I wish I got them.
Currently Editing: End Game: Genesis (Chapter 24)
Currently Writing: Alaster
Currently Reading: Eragon by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Alive" by Superchic[k]
Monday, January 30, 2012
Growing Up
What if I don't want to?
Is it so bad that I enjoy being somewhat child-like? I assume that it isn't. Yet there is a time and place for maturity.
Thus, the college experience comes to a close and the "real world" looms on the horizon like an angry bee hive. There're swarms of people everywhere looking for jobs. As I search from day to day, a job that might have been perfect for me flies past at an alarming speed. How am I to apply for jobs when I have the odd hours only as my free time?
It's a hard experience, growing up. When I was a kid all I wanted to do was grow up and be an adult, live like an adult, talk like an adult. And now that I've reached it all I want to do is be a kid, live like a kid, talk like a kid, believe like a kid. As a child, I was able to believe in things more easily. My imagination could run rampant and that was okay - I was a child.
But now that I'm a learned individual (or so I hope after four years of college), my imagination must be tamed and put into a cage. It's only allowed out on the rainy days, when I have time.
Yet even as this is told to me, even as I'm instructed that this is what grown ups do, I rebel. My imagination doesn't stay in its cage. In fact, I removed the cage all together. It now walks beside me and at any moment it pounces on something completely innocent and says, "Look at what I have! Look at what we can do!"
And I follow where my imagination takes me. Why? Because I like where my imagination takes me. I like the places I explore and grow in and can create. I like the fact that when I close my eyes and think, I don't just see blackness. I see a myriad of colors and lives and plants and things and people. I see worlds yet to be explored. I see characters yet to live.
Even as I write this, I want to abandon reason, stay up all night, and write a book.
But I have classes in the later morning where I need to be at the very least, a little focused. Oh how classes take the fun out of being a learner. It's been great for my brain, I suppose, to learn all of this stuff. But it's been horrible for my education. I believe Einstein said that the only thing that hindered his education was school. I may be wrong on that quote, in fact I probably am.
There are a great many things I wish to learn. None of which can be taught in a classroom. At least, not a contemporary one. I want to learn how to write a ground breaking novel. I want to learn how to publish it and create a cover and decide how the wording should be and craft truly unique and good stories. I want to learn about mythology and legends and expound upon them. I want to delve into the deep and then fly into the sky.
Instead, I'll go to my Calculus class that is required for me to graduate to ensure that my brain is worked in a variety of ways. That way we'll know I'm a rounded individual.
And when I'm handed my diploma, I will smile with the knowledge that the easy part is over. The difficult part of the journey has only just begun.
Oh, and P.S. - I finished my third book in under two months. That makes two books in under six. That's 200,000+ words. I feel fairly accomplished.
Currently Editing: End Game: Genesis (Chapter Nine)
Currently Reading: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring & How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy
Currently Listening to: "The Vikings Have Their Tea" from How to Train Your Dragon
Is it so bad that I enjoy being somewhat child-like? I assume that it isn't. Yet there is a time and place for maturity.
Thus, the college experience comes to a close and the "real world" looms on the horizon like an angry bee hive. There're swarms of people everywhere looking for jobs. As I search from day to day, a job that might have been perfect for me flies past at an alarming speed. How am I to apply for jobs when I have the odd hours only as my free time?
It's a hard experience, growing up. When I was a kid all I wanted to do was grow up and be an adult, live like an adult, talk like an adult. And now that I've reached it all I want to do is be a kid, live like a kid, talk like a kid, believe like a kid. As a child, I was able to believe in things more easily. My imagination could run rampant and that was okay - I was a child.
But now that I'm a learned individual (or so I hope after four years of college), my imagination must be tamed and put into a cage. It's only allowed out on the rainy days, when I have time.
Yet even as this is told to me, even as I'm instructed that this is what grown ups do, I rebel. My imagination doesn't stay in its cage. In fact, I removed the cage all together. It now walks beside me and at any moment it pounces on something completely innocent and says, "Look at what I have! Look at what we can do!"
And I follow where my imagination takes me. Why? Because I like where my imagination takes me. I like the places I explore and grow in and can create. I like the fact that when I close my eyes and think, I don't just see blackness. I see a myriad of colors and lives and plants and things and people. I see worlds yet to be explored. I see characters yet to live.
Even as I write this, I want to abandon reason, stay up all night, and write a book.
But I have classes in the later morning where I need to be at the very least, a little focused. Oh how classes take the fun out of being a learner. It's been great for my brain, I suppose, to learn all of this stuff. But it's been horrible for my education. I believe Einstein said that the only thing that hindered his education was school. I may be wrong on that quote, in fact I probably am.
There are a great many things I wish to learn. None of which can be taught in a classroom. At least, not a contemporary one. I want to learn how to write a ground breaking novel. I want to learn how to publish it and create a cover and decide how the wording should be and craft truly unique and good stories. I want to learn about mythology and legends and expound upon them. I want to delve into the deep and then fly into the sky.
Instead, I'll go to my Calculus class that is required for me to graduate to ensure that my brain is worked in a variety of ways. That way we'll know I'm a rounded individual.
And when I'm handed my diploma, I will smile with the knowledge that the easy part is over. The difficult part of the journey has only just begun.
Oh, and P.S. - I finished my third book in under two months. That makes two books in under six. That's 200,000+ words. I feel fairly accomplished.
Currently Editing: End Game: Genesis (Chapter Nine)
Currently Reading: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring & How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy
Currently Listening to: "The Vikings Have Their Tea" from How to Train Your Dragon
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