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.

Imaginary Trolls?

For once, I'm actually writing a post about being a writer! More specifically, I'm addressing this apparent issue of "Bully Reviewers". Strangely enough, I'm going to put forth an opinion that may not be very popular amongst my peers. But that's what writers do, right? We put our necks on the chopping block, we hand the world an axe, then cross our fingers and smile pretty.

For those not entirely aware of the situation, I'll sum it up. Allegedly, there are "careerist reviewers" on Amazon and Goodreads, who downrate books by the dozens, and post terrible, insulting things about the authors (specifically, indie-authors). These authors then lash back, and then get blacklisted by this group; labelled as an "Author Behaving Badly".

Ok, so they have their websites, and teams of reviewers on various forums, etc, etc, etc.

...and who is our Hulk? The absolutely sensational Anne Rice! Defender of the indies! Champion of the literary realm, and my personal idol!

Now for the unpopular part... I actually disagree with Anne Rice.

Granted, I haven't gone through and read EVERY accused "bully reviewer" post, and if the accusations are true, then yes, they're terrible trolls. I've heard that they make personal attacks towards the author rather than the book. I've heard they downvote droves of indie books without even reading them.

All of those things would be cruel if they were true. However, in the examples I've been shown, that wasn't the case. The most recent of which was a reviewer named Nenia Campbell. She has apparently been flagged by a group; "Stop the Goodreads Bullies". They labeled her a "Carpet Bomber", and posted a picture of a slew of 1 Star ratings from this woman. So, out of sadistic curiosity, I went to check out some of her scathing reviews.

Okay, yes, she has written a ridiculous number of reviews (who can read a dozen books in a day? Really.) Yes, most of them are 1-Star reviews. HOWEVER! All of her negative reviews are well-written, they are not personal attacks on an author, and she even backs up her negative remarks with quotes from the book, indicating the areas that grated on her. In fact, the one time I saw her even mention the author directly, it was to apologize for giving a bad review, and ended with "it's not for me".

And here's the real kicker; she's an indie author herself! Really? We're making the assumption that she's a bully who targets indie authors? Come on, people.

These are the bullies and trolls I was warned about? My initial thought was, "maybe she's just very particular and difficult to please". But even that's not the case. She's rated thousands of books with 5 Stars, she just didn't write reviews for them. Apparently, she primarily writes reviews for books she hates (save for a rare few exceptions).

Maybe that's not nice. It certainly doesn't follow the adage of "if you can't say something nice...", but what did you expect? You wrote a book, sent it out to the world and ASKED people to give their opinion. This is hers. It really is that simple.

Now, I may be bias on several levels. First, the very few reviews I've received so far have been very positive. I have yet to be subjected to the strident punch of a lone star. Second, I believe I share Ms. Campbell's cynical sense of humor.

Really. As harsh as her reviews are, they are quite funny and entertaining. This may also be the reason she only reviews books that she dislikes. Perhaps it is fun for her, and that's fine.

Here's the thing, we are authors. We write books, and hope people enjoy them. We do not, however, have the luxury of saying "Tell me what you think, but only if you think I'm awesome".

Seriously, if my book is awesome, tell me it's awesome. Shout it to the world. If my book stinks, you are also free to say so. I am keenly aware of the fact that my story and/or my writing style is not for everyone. There are people that will hate it. Will their reviews damage my fragile indie sales? Absolutely! Without some Five-Star padding, it will most likely crush me as an author. But then, perhaps I should have written a better book.

As a quick footnote, let me repeat that IF the accusations are true, then I wholeheartedly agree and stand by the victims of these bullies. I know that the internet is rampant with consequence-free trolls, and that sucks. All I'm saying, is that I haven't personally seen evidence of bullying in book reviews; certainly not with Nenia Campbell.

Beautiful Tragic

There is beauty in tragedy.

Tragedy is a willow tree dissolving back to the earth. Of course, there are the benefits that it will bring to the soil. Emerald blades of grass will one day grow in its place. They will paint the landscape with flowers of a thousand colors, and feed a forest of life. However, I'm not talking about the "circle of life".

I believe there is something beautiful in the death of the willow itself. Regardless of the radiance of a life, only when it fades, can we see its real value. Only in loss, in those darkened rooms of grief, do we discover where true light exists.

Remembrance pours out from a passing soul. It rekindles our lives. One by one, ribbons of color find their way into our memories. They move us backwards in time, reminding us of all those moments that somehow slid together like drops of rain on a window, drawing out the long line of our years.

This is the final gift given to us by every soul as they slip from our lives. As they fade away into morning light, they give us back the texture of life. They trace those individual moments that we would otherwise have forgotten. As smooth or as jagged as the days to come may be, for a short time, they will be real again. They will be mountainous, they will be blinding, and they will be real.

Death is no less beautiful than life. It is the edge of a diamond. It is the last page of a novel. It is a frame that defines the canvas. It is not a mistake, or a flawed design that ends life. It is a purposeful conclusion that makes us rare and irreplaceable.

The Sum of Parts

While working on a particular bit of writing, a conversation arose between two characters. While, in writing, that conversation has to flow naturally, I wanted to put down the basic premise of it here, without such a restriction.

At its core, the pearl of the concept is this: There is energy all around us. Yes, all you science buffs can make unimpressed assertions that "of course there is. This isn't news." So let me explain a bit more.

We know of all kinds of energy. There's kinetic, light, heat, magnetic even "potential" energy. What I'm saying is that there is something more; something we haven't quite nailed down yet.

So where's my proof? Art (or anything that might be considered art). What makes a song a song? A jackhammer has rhythm. Car engines have tone. So what is it in music that makes us feel something? What about paintings? How can simple colors and shapes on canvas express and evoke emotion?

While I'm at it, what makes a person more than just their cells? You're made up of a genome sequence and piles of organic matter, sure. But what's the extra, unseen spark that creates a human being?

Let me go one step further. What is confidence? Why can we perform amazing feats simply because people believe in us? Or, conversely, why do we feel so terrible when people insult us? What is that sense of "something missing" when we're hurt? And why do we become foul and seek to bring others down when we're in those dark places?

Science has proven that energy cannot be created or destroyed. It can be altered, manipulated and directed, but we cannot create new energy. This is exceptionally interesting when we consider that the whole of the universe is made of nothing more than energy.

So! How is it then, that every day, people are creating things that are somehow more than the sum of their parts? It may be undefinable, but there is undoubtedly something more to a sculpture than just stone. There's certainly more to a person than just cells and chemical memories.

All poetry aside, that unidentified "something" has to come from somewhere.

We can't always see it, but we are radiant beings. A luminous energy radiates from all living things. We can infuse it into our work. We can pour it into another person, or we can sap it away and leave them feeling depressed and drained. It is an endless exchange in which we're all connected.

Once you're aware of this, you can sense it everywhere you go. Watch conversations and try to identify where the energy is going. Whose presence dominates a room? Why? How do they feel when all eyes are on them? How do you feel?

There is something always moving and shifting in the unseen corners of our lives. You are glowing with a universal light. It rises from you like scent from a rose. It is an unmatched essence that has the power to change the universe. Be proud, and use it with care.

Our Songs Inside

My mother once repeated a quote to me that really had a profound impact on me.

"Do not die with your music still in you."
~ Dr. Wayne Dyer

For me, the quote was slightly inspiring, and hugely terrifying. Of course, I was young at the time. I had the mentality that I would live forever. This statement, however, set fire and awakened that small lump of mortality in me.

I have all of these ideas, all these theories, and all these stories locked away in my mind. I've prattled them out to a handful of people, but none I would trust with retelling them. If I were to die tomorrow, I would take those stories to my grave. They would be lost forever, having never been told.

Now I'm not saying something ridiculous like "YOLO!" I do not believe you should live as if there's no tomorrow, because, well, tomorrow has had a fairly solid track record so far. I wouldn't bet against it.

We each came into this world with something beautiful, or powerful or just plain brilliant inside of us. The whole point of being here is to deliver that package; to share it with others. If you die, having never told your story, it will be the greatest tragedy of your life, and a terrible loss to the world.

The world is getting darker, and people have begun to cling to their internal lights. They huddle around them, for fear of being exposed or ridiculed. Possibly they just fear letting go of the only bit of warmth they've ever had. But if you're going to clutch it forever, then bury it in the ground with your remains, then what were you doing here in the first place.

I'll wrap this up by leaving you with another quote, along the same lines.

"A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."
~ John Augustus Shedd

Evidence of Eden

Before I ever finished Snake Eyes Lie, I wore many hats in my life. The most recent was that of a video game designer. Now that is a whole other story unto itself, but I'll try to just clip out the relevant pieces here.

In general, I handled the writing, design and graphic design for our games. However, I did dabble a bit in programming. This little venture actually led to some grand realizations; parallels between programming and real life.

The most significant of these came while exploring the vast world of artificial intelligence. While working to be more efficient and effective, I had an epiphany; evidence that humans were meant for a perfect world. I won't bog this down with the details, but at its core, behavioral programming goes something like this: If this happens, then do this, and if this happens, then do this, ad infinitum.

However, end-users are crazy, wild animals, and you can never predict all of the nutty things they'll do with your little video game. So! In defense of this, to prevent an unexpected action from locking up your code with a digital shrug of the shoulders, you end with a default behavior. So it's something like, "If ANYTHING ELSE happens, then fall back and do this."

So how does this lead to evidence of a mythical utopia? I'm glad you asked.

You may not realize it, but you too have a default behavior, and it's hidden away inside your emotions.

If something is kinda scary, your pulse may increase. If it's scarier than that, your senses may heighten. Adrenaline may be released into your system. Etc. etc. etc. If something exceeds your capacity for fear, you will cry.

If something is kinda happy, you'll smile. If it's happier than that, you may laugh aloud and be flooded with various chemicals. If something is so joyous that it exceeds your capacity for happiness (birth of a child, weddings, etc.), you will cry.

If you get upset, you may become quiet and reserved. If you get more upset, you may get angry. Your hands will shake and your muscles will tense. If your anger exceeds your tolerance, you will cry.

Seeing a pattern here? Whenever an emotion rises beyond normal levels, our body's reaction is to weep. That is your default behavior. It's basically saying "if something happens that has not been anticipated, or goes beyond the expected levels, cry".

So why is it that it takes such a minimal amount of unhappiness, pain or heartbreak to trigger this response? I would suggest that it's because suffering, pain, and misery were never intended for us. We were meant for happiness, and anything that pulls us from that paradise was not anticipated, so we revert back to our default reaction.

Let me wrap this up by saying that, no, I am not religious. I do, however, believe that life is forged with purpose and expectation.

You were never meant to be hurt. That is not the life you were born for. You are so boldly meant for happiness, in fact, that the divinity of the universe itself becomes confused when you cry.

The universe is perfect; it couldn't exist if it were anything less. So whatever it is that you believe in, when the manifestation of perfection wants you to be happy, I don't know how you could be anything else.