Someone has to figure out my story (and it's not going to be me)

First, yes, I know; I haven't written a blog post in 2 weeks. I'm a terrible person. I told you, I suck at schedule. Maybe I'll just do one blog post a month. Rarity increases value, right?

Anyway, you'll be happy to know that, in my absence, I have been writing. I just finished Catalyst Fate, the prequel novella to The Mallis Tragedy, and I'm getting copies off to beta readers as we speak (so to speak).

I'm also at work, and insanely tired; so I'm really just writing this in an attempt to stay awake. Good luck.

I've been telling people that I had three goals when writing my prequel. First, I wanted it to be a book that could stand on its own. Check.

Second, I wanted new readers to enjoy it, and find it to be a relevant lead-in to Snake Eyes Lie. Check.

Finally, I wanted my current readers (those who have read Snake Eyes Lie) to also enjoy it, and have it add depth and meaning to the story they already know. Also check.

Wow! How did I do all that!?

Okay, the truth is, I actually had no "goals" when writing Catalyst Fate. I wanted to write a short story prequel, and the months leading up to the events in Snake Eyes Lie just happened to be fertile ground for it. Okay... so how'd I do that?

I'm glad you asked... because I was actually wondering the same thing myself, and I think I've figured it out. Either I'm more of a genius than even I think, OR my writing style just lends itself to this kind of offshoot-friendly environments. Let's assume the latter.

Now first, you have to understand the source of my "writing style". I have a whole, great big universe in my brain, and all of these strange tales are woven into it. No, I don't have every detail of this universe figured out, but I have a solid grasp on it.

This broad scope leads to me dropping hints about the larger picture all over my stories without ever knowing when/if I'll get back to them. Hey, it's life; we never have all the answers, right?

The point is, I want my readers to have questions. I want them to think, theorize, and explore for themselves. I'm not going to tell you everything; that would take forever... literally.

I do try to be careful with this tactic, of course. I don't want to leave questions unanswered if they're vital to the plot. However, if you're leading your hero towards the climactic ending anyway, it's almost impossible to leave any of those loose ends still open.

For example *SPOILER ALERT* (but, as I've been saying, it's not detrimental to the story... and it's a short story... and free. Seriously, just go read it.) In Catalyst Fate, a character comes across an "Unheard Message" on an answering machine. However, he never actually gets the chance to listen to it. That's right, I never tell you what the message was.

Do I know what the message was? Of course I do. And, if you do enough digging, and read between the lines, you may figure it out as well. However, it's not vital to the plot. Akara has more than enough information to conclude the story, and he does.

Think of it this way, when you build a house of Lego blocks, there are always more little pegs facing upward, even when you're finished. They're just waiting for that second-floor addition. Many authors like to file these off, and wrap things up in a neat little package. I don't. I want you always wondering what will happen next. I want your mind racing about what's going on behind the scenes and, hopefully, I want a much, MUCH larger picture to start coming into view.

So here's my advice: Don't feel compelled to file off all the corners and package your saga up in a tidy little box with a bow on top. Surely, your universe is massive as well. Don't be afraid to stretch out with that a bit. Let your readers know that there is more to the world than just the black on the page; there's the white as well. A sense of closure is important, but a sense of wonder, more so.

The Moments Before "After"

I had an unusual honor this past week while meeting up with some friends at a little pub just north of nowhere. I had just gotten my beer, when I overheard a short, bearded man talking. "You know what's fucked up?" he said to a stranger, "I just found out today that I have leukemia. I'm dying."

This guy had been hovering by the door since I walked in. He wasn't drinking. He wasn't surrounded by a crew of friends. He wasn't brooding in some corner, like he wanted to be left alone. He stood beside the rivers of passing people, and just grabbed an acquaintance at random to tell them this news. He was alone. He wasn't just dying, he was fading away. I had to talk to him.

Within a few brief sentences, I had the bulk of the story. He was diagnosed with leukemia earlier that day. If you're reading this the day I'm posting it, then he's likely beginning his chemotherapy right now. However, the doctors have told him that there is little they can do. He was given eight months to live.

What would you even do with that? I know, people often have wild fantasies about how they would live if they knew they were about to die. You'd do anything you want. You'd party for months. You'd burn out in a blaze of glory. That's all very cute coming from someone who isn't stamped with an expiration date.

Now imagine that you're still a real human being. You still have your insecurities. You still have your subtle desires and varying levels of ambition. But now, you will be dead in less than a year. You're not living like someone who pretends there's no tomorrow. You're living like someone who knows there isn't.

Will that pint of whiskey be fun? Maybe... probably not. But who cares? What's the point of "living it up" when you're dying? Fast cars and a carefree life are still just embers in a fire pit the morning after, and you'll be gone. People will get in their cars, they'll drive away in every direction, and it will blur to an abstract, empty memory.

I tried to think of things to say to this guy. I wondered what I would want someone to say to me. I have to admit, this guy was tough as nails. I've never seen someone on the brink of tears for so long without falling one way or the other.

But what do I say? Death and I have always had a strange relationship; like an unwanted houseguest, lingering around by my side. Do I tell this guy the things I've learned of death? Do I tell him how the living will handle it? Do I tell him what to expect as the world shrinks, and fades to black?

Unfortunately, common folk don't like my view of the afterlife. I don't weave fanciful tales of utopia, or streets of gold. I offer no reassurance that you will somehow remain "you" once you've left the confines of your body.

Death is the end of this world. It's the final chapter of your individual life. You will no longer exist. That part is plainly obvious.

However, I also don't hold condemning thoughts of existential oblivion. I am not one to say, "You're dead, and that's it." This is because it is also plainly obvious to me that we are more than just dancing molds of meat. Whether or not we know what to call it, there is something more to life than just the bodies that carry it around. When I close my eyes, I know that I extend further than my simple brain. When I speak to someone, I can feel that there is more in them than if I were talking to a cheeseburger.

Energy cannot be destroyed. It can move. It can change form, but it must continue on. What awaits us when we die is far more elegant than ashes. It is more beautiful than a backwater, mundane projection of "perfection" by human standards. It is not a recreation of this world with all the pain taken away.

But he was a simple man, with simple needs. He had never dug too deeply into this life, and any understanding of its meaning would have taken him more than 8 months to explore. In the end, I just told him to think of it as leaving for Disneyworld. It's certainly not true, and I don't know that it gave him comfort.

He said that he'd be back after his funeral, and that we could have a beer together. I told him I'd be waiting.