I was thinking today about how so many songs are considered to be the 'best' songs done by such and such a band, and how that so often seems to differ from what I myself consider that band's best song to be. Sure, I can look at a song like "Stairway to Heaven" and love it and see what is brilliant about it, but the truth is that it isn't the song by Zeppelin that I listen to the most. For Zeppelin it would be "No Quarter".
That's the key for me. What song by each band do I wish to hear most often? It may not be the song that is considered best by so many critics out there; in fact it seldom seems to be the case. Soundgarden's best song is most likely considered to be "Black Hole Sun", but what I listen to most often are "Boot Camp" and "Searching With My Good Eye Closed" (though I have edited out the silly intro).
I suppose this could be seen as analogous to my opinions on books. The so-called classics of literature certainly have great merit...except that I enjoy them only to a degree and then never wish to read them again. On the other hand, there are 'lesser' books that I re-read again and again because they touch something inside of me that I really do care about. I'll always have my own list of 'classics' and it will have little to do with the ones upon which the 'experts' of this world agree. I'm quite content with that.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Rainy Day blogfest
Since rain plays a major role in my first book, I jumped at the chance to join the Rainy Day blogfest. Any other takers amongst my blogger buddies? And, since I have so much rain in my book, I need more than one blogfest to be able to do the scenes I want to do, so here is the Weather Blogfest!
Saturday, August 7, 2010
High Drama Blogfest entry
I only heard about this yesterday, so I'm not sure I'm picking the best scene for this. Anyhow, the idea is to post a scene of no more than a thousand words that demonstrates high drama. That's pretty broad. DL Hammons is hosting the blogfest HERE.
Putting the whole chapter would be nice, since it builds up the tension better, but I'll play by the rules and start near the action. To bring you up to speed, Edo and Orcbait are a pair of elderly rangers out on a scouting mission to glean information about the mysterious army that is panicking all of the barbarian tribes. The king of the Alsean tribe, who is on friendly terms with the Greatlanders, has lent his best scout Zareg to help Edo and Orcbait with their mission. They have encountered a ton of refugees along the way, and this scene starts after the trio has snuck up on the campfire of another group of refugees one night. Note that the three have a small camp hidden away inside a clump of boulders a short distance away.
*******
Edo silently counted. There were twelve figures scattered about the large fire. These barbarians were different from any he’d seen before. They wore nothing but loin cloths, even the women and children. Their bodies were smeared with white clay and then streaked with black, and more white clay had been used to make their hair stand up in spikes.
One man was more frightening than the rest. He was white from his bald head to his toes, except for a blood red ball painted over his ancient, leathery face. He was the only figure standing, and he pranced around the fire making wild gestures with his arms and speaking a strange tongue in scary tones. The other figures--Edo noted that three of them were women and two were young children--seemed to be half-listening to the man as they went about various chores.
Suddenly Edo wanted to retch. He saw that there was a thirteenth person in the clearing that he had failed to notice. This figure--Edo couldn’t tell whether it was man or woman--was lying on the far right side of the fire and two of the ghostly men were butchering the person with stone axes. He caught the stench of blood on the slight breeze.
Edo stopped another dry heave, quietly spat out the sourroot, and glared over at Zareg, who widened his eyes in warning to keep silent. When he could look again, Edo saw that one of the women was skewering a piece of the victim on a spit. Cannibals! They’re cannibals, thought Edo, his stomach lurching. He glared over at Zareg again, who motioned for them to crawl back beneath the trees.
When they could stand again, Zareg placed a finger to his lips and motioned them onward. They moved on in silence all the way back to their camp.
“Who in the name of Aronis are those people!” Edo hissed once they’d all settled into place.
Zareg scratched at his mustache. “I’ve heard of them before, though I’d hoped never to see them.”
Edo looked over at Orcbait, who looked grim and pale underneath his grime. They waited for Zareg to continue.
Finally Zareg said, “They’re as bad a bunch as has ever walked this earth, no better than goblins if you ask me. They kneel to the red moon; they--”
“What do you mean by that,” Edo interrupted. “Kneel to the red moon?”
“Just that,” Zareg said. “They think that the red moon has some sort of magic powers; that it can help or hurt them somehow. You saw that man with the red face? He’s their…their…well, you don’t have a word for it in your language. They, uh, think he can influence what the moon can do to them.”
“That’s crazy,” Edo said. “It’s just a moon. I know lots of people like to pretend it causes bad luck, but that’s just superstition.”
“Well, not to these people. They think it has magic powers. Anyhow--”
The companions nearly jumped out of their skins as screams and loud crashing sounds split the night, coming from the distant camp. A hideous roar followed, along with more screams. Closer by, the horses stamped and snorted. One of them whinnied loudly.
“Down! Down!” Zareg said. “Orcbait, go settle the horses, quick!”
Zareg dropped down and pushed dirt over the fire. Edo followed suit while Orcbait slid out of the hole and ran toward the frightened mounts. When all was black except for the bright light of the moon and stars overhead, Zareg and Edo sat as still as possible, listening to the continued crashing sounds. Another shriek split the night.
Edo leaned close to Zareg and whispered, “Is that what I think it is? I’ve heard that kind of bellow before.”
“A troll, maybe more than one.”
There was the sound of running feet. Zareg crouched and waved to Edo to duck down. Edo loosened his dagger in its sheath. The sound of running hesitated, and then continued…right toward their hideout.
Edo drew his dagger as a form, glistening white in the moonlight, plunged into the gap in the boulders and crashed directly into the companions in a tangle of arms and legs. Edo heard grunts and a shriek from the figure; a bony arm landed on Edo’s shoulder and a hand grabbed his hair. Edo fought off panic and shoved hard at the figure. He heard a loud grunt from Zareg and a thump, along with another shrill cry from the figure, just as suddenly cut off. Warm droplets spattered over Edo and he tasted blood on his lips.
All was silent save for heavy breathing and a faint gurgling sound from the dying figure. Edo peered hard at the shadows where the corpse lay. It was one of the cannibal women. Zareg yanked his dagger from the woman’s belly and wiped it on her loin cloth.
Edo wiped blood from his mouth and gingerly explored his hair where the woman had yanked it nearly out of his head. He found himself wondering why Zareg had killed the woman, but he knew the answer without asking--they couldn’t afford to attract the attention of a troll.
“We’ve got to get out of here, now,” Zareg muttered. “Trolls can smell blood from miles away; that’s probably what drew them to that camp to begin with.”
“There’s plenty of blood to keep any trolls happy,” Edo whispered, “but I wouldn’t want to stay here now anyway.”
Putting the whole chapter would be nice, since it builds up the tension better, but I'll play by the rules and start near the action. To bring you up to speed, Edo and Orcbait are a pair of elderly rangers out on a scouting mission to glean information about the mysterious army that is panicking all of the barbarian tribes. The king of the Alsean tribe, who is on friendly terms with the Greatlanders, has lent his best scout Zareg to help Edo and Orcbait with their mission. They have encountered a ton of refugees along the way, and this scene starts after the trio has snuck up on the campfire of another group of refugees one night. Note that the three have a small camp hidden away inside a clump of boulders a short distance away.
*******
Edo silently counted. There were twelve figures scattered about the large fire. These barbarians were different from any he’d seen before. They wore nothing but loin cloths, even the women and children. Their bodies were smeared with white clay and then streaked with black, and more white clay had been used to make their hair stand up in spikes.
One man was more frightening than the rest. He was white from his bald head to his toes, except for a blood red ball painted over his ancient, leathery face. He was the only figure standing, and he pranced around the fire making wild gestures with his arms and speaking a strange tongue in scary tones. The other figures--Edo noted that three of them were women and two were young children--seemed to be half-listening to the man as they went about various chores.
Suddenly Edo wanted to retch. He saw that there was a thirteenth person in the clearing that he had failed to notice. This figure--Edo couldn’t tell whether it was man or woman--was lying on the far right side of the fire and two of the ghostly men were butchering the person with stone axes. He caught the stench of blood on the slight breeze.
Edo stopped another dry heave, quietly spat out the sourroot, and glared over at Zareg, who widened his eyes in warning to keep silent. When he could look again, Edo saw that one of the women was skewering a piece of the victim on a spit. Cannibals! They’re cannibals, thought Edo, his stomach lurching. He glared over at Zareg again, who motioned for them to crawl back beneath the trees.
When they could stand again, Zareg placed a finger to his lips and motioned them onward. They moved on in silence all the way back to their camp.
“Who in the name of Aronis are those people!” Edo hissed once they’d all settled into place.
Zareg scratched at his mustache. “I’ve heard of them before, though I’d hoped never to see them.”
Edo looked over at Orcbait, who looked grim and pale underneath his grime. They waited for Zareg to continue.
Finally Zareg said, “They’re as bad a bunch as has ever walked this earth, no better than goblins if you ask me. They kneel to the red moon; they--”
“What do you mean by that,” Edo interrupted. “Kneel to the red moon?”
“Just that,” Zareg said. “They think that the red moon has some sort of magic powers; that it can help or hurt them somehow. You saw that man with the red face? He’s their…their…well, you don’t have a word for it in your language. They, uh, think he can influence what the moon can do to them.”
“That’s crazy,” Edo said. “It’s just a moon. I know lots of people like to pretend it causes bad luck, but that’s just superstition.”
“Well, not to these people. They think it has magic powers. Anyhow--”
The companions nearly jumped out of their skins as screams and loud crashing sounds split the night, coming from the distant camp. A hideous roar followed, along with more screams. Closer by, the horses stamped and snorted. One of them whinnied loudly.
“Down! Down!” Zareg said. “Orcbait, go settle the horses, quick!”
Zareg dropped down and pushed dirt over the fire. Edo followed suit while Orcbait slid out of the hole and ran toward the frightened mounts. When all was black except for the bright light of the moon and stars overhead, Zareg and Edo sat as still as possible, listening to the continued crashing sounds. Another shriek split the night.
Edo leaned close to Zareg and whispered, “Is that what I think it is? I’ve heard that kind of bellow before.”
“A troll, maybe more than one.”
There was the sound of running feet. Zareg crouched and waved to Edo to duck down. Edo loosened his dagger in its sheath. The sound of running hesitated, and then continued…right toward their hideout.
Edo drew his dagger as a form, glistening white in the moonlight, plunged into the gap in the boulders and crashed directly into the companions in a tangle of arms and legs. Edo heard grunts and a shriek from the figure; a bony arm landed on Edo’s shoulder and a hand grabbed his hair. Edo fought off panic and shoved hard at the figure. He heard a loud grunt from Zareg and a thump, along with another shrill cry from the figure, just as suddenly cut off. Warm droplets spattered over Edo and he tasted blood on his lips.
All was silent save for heavy breathing and a faint gurgling sound from the dying figure. Edo peered hard at the shadows where the corpse lay. It was one of the cannibal women. Zareg yanked his dagger from the woman’s belly and wiped it on her loin cloth.
Edo wiped blood from his mouth and gingerly explored his hair where the woman had yanked it nearly out of his head. He found himself wondering why Zareg had killed the woman, but he knew the answer without asking--they couldn’t afford to attract the attention of a troll.
“We’ve got to get out of here, now,” Zareg muttered. “Trolls can smell blood from miles away; that’s probably what drew them to that camp to begin with.”
“There’s plenty of blood to keep any trolls happy,” Edo whispered, “but I wouldn’t want to stay here now anyway.”
Friday, August 6, 2010
A Little Help Here
Imagine your child is diagnosed with cancer, but a cancer so rare that scientists don't bother to try to find a cure. How helpless would that make you feel? One father is trying to do something about it, and I thought it worthwhile to spread what word I could to the few lovely followers I have. Perhaps we can make a difference...
Check out the contest HERE.
Check out the contest HERE.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
End of Days Award
Well, Hart the Naked Tart has passed along this End of Days award. Thanks, Hart!
The rules are this:
Imagine the world was ending when the Mayan's predict, December 21, 2012... What would you do between now and then?
Wow! I don't like the idea of my mortality creeping into things. I always assume (to paraphrase Catch-22) that I will live forever...or die in the attempt.
I'm fortunate enough to have enough money to keep me going fine until then, so I would certainly quit my job. I'd sell off my house to raise extra cash. Books, schmooks. I love writing, but only when there are readers to read it! Since there won't be any readers anymore, I won't be doing any more writing. I suppose I might split time between hanging out on some gorgeous beaches with my family and travelling to some great places we haven't yet seen. I'd reread some of my favorite books and rewatch my favorite movies. I'd play a lot of sports and games and music with my kids.
Hmm, who to pass this along to? I want to see what Anne aka Piedmont Writer says to this. Matt, of course, and Victoria aka aspiring_x.
Imagine the world was ending when the Mayan's predict, December 21, 2012... What would you do between now and then?
Wow! I don't like the idea of my mortality creeping into things. I always assume (to paraphrase Catch-22) that I will live forever...or die in the attempt.
I'm fortunate enough to have enough money to keep me going fine until then, so I would certainly quit my job. I'd sell off my house to raise extra cash. Books, schmooks. I love writing, but only when there are readers to read it! Since there won't be any readers anymore, I won't be doing any more writing. I suppose I might split time between hanging out on some gorgeous beaches with my family and travelling to some great places we haven't yet seen. I'd reread some of my favorite books and rewatch my favorite movies. I'd play a lot of sports and games and music with my kids.
Hmm, who to pass this along to? I want to see what Anne aka Piedmont Writer says to this. Matt, of course, and Victoria aka aspiring_x.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Friends Are Awesome
I'm not the most sociable of people. If my wife offers me a choice of going to a party or staying home with my computer, the computer is going to win nearly every time. However, in the rare instances when I really click with someone, there is nothing better. It has happened to me only a few times in my life, and since I move so much, I have only two real-life best friends that still keep in touch regularly. With them I never have to make small talk. I can talk forever about my hobbies and they won't get bored; they will actually encourage me. So, thanks Mike D. and Gary L., you really make life better!
Mike is a very creative person. We got a little band together when we lived in Zagreb, Croatia. It never went anywhere (we could never find a singer), but it was great fun jamming to old Led Zeppelin songs. I was always awed that Mike could apparently play everything -- drums, bass, guitar, harmonica. He would even try to sing, though it's better not to go there.
Well, once when I visited Mike in Maryland he surprised me with a book with the following cover:
(NOTE: This was before I had written the story!! I had only talked with him about what I intended to write.)
(click for a larger view)
It turned out to be a random novel that he had wrapped this cover mock-up around. It felt good to see my 'book'. I hate to nitpick when he put so much effort into it (and the cover art he found is really great, very appropriate to the colorings that I prefer in fantasy art), but the awards he listed are for sci-fi books rather than fantasy, and even though my series eventually turns to sci-fi, for now it is just a fantasy. I don't feel the font and coloring worked for the title, either, but having tried to do that myself a couple of times, I know just how hard it is to get right. What wowed me the most was his made-up blurb on the back cover. It isn't professional quality and has a few too many cliches, but he essentially got my story right (I must point out, though, that the boy is not a farm boy. Even I wouldn't push the cliches that far!). This was one of the best gifts a friend has ever given me!
Mike is a very creative person. We got a little band together when we lived in Zagreb, Croatia. It never went anywhere (we could never find a singer), but it was great fun jamming to old Led Zeppelin songs. I was always awed that Mike could apparently play everything -- drums, bass, guitar, harmonica. He would even try to sing, though it's better not to go there.
Well, once when I visited Mike in Maryland he surprised me with a book with the following cover:
(NOTE: This was before I had written the story!! I had only talked with him about what I intended to write.)
It turned out to be a random novel that he had wrapped this cover mock-up around. It felt good to see my 'book'. I hate to nitpick when he put so much effort into it (and the cover art he found is really great, very appropriate to the colorings that I prefer in fantasy art), but the awards he listed are for sci-fi books rather than fantasy, and even though my series eventually turns to sci-fi, for now it is just a fantasy. I don't feel the font and coloring worked for the title, either, but having tried to do that myself a couple of times, I know just how hard it is to get right. What wowed me the most was his made-up blurb on the back cover. It isn't professional quality and has a few too many cliches, but he essentially got my story right (I must point out, though, that the boy is not a farm boy. Even I wouldn't push the cliches that far!). This was one of the best gifts a friend has ever given me!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Writing Weaknesses
All of us have weaknesses. In writing these can be especially pernicious, as we may not even recognize them. What has been eating at me, however, is that I do recognize several of my weaknesses, but I have a hard time actually doing something about them.
I think my biggest weakness is 'tension and conflict'. I have a tendency to resolve things too easily when everyone knows we should be piling on the misery for our main characters instead. My story reads a bit too linearly. Why is this so hard to fix? Because this particular weakness cannot be solved simply. I cannot change a sentence here and add a paragraph there to make it all better. I would need to simply rewrite nearly the whole book to fix this problem, and I don't have the willpower to do that right now. I suppose I can put this one away and focus on the next book for now. Perhaps in the future I can return to The Shard with renewed energy and do the necessary hard work.
I think my biggest weakness is 'tension and conflict'. I have a tendency to resolve things too easily when everyone knows we should be piling on the misery for our main characters instead. My story reads a bit too linearly. Why is this so hard to fix? Because this particular weakness cannot be solved simply. I cannot change a sentence here and add a paragraph there to make it all better. I would need to simply rewrite nearly the whole book to fix this problem, and I don't have the willpower to do that right now. I suppose I can put this one away and focus on the next book for now. Perhaps in the future I can return to The Shard with renewed energy and do the necessary hard work.
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