Category: writing

Sanderson and Stormlight

I finally got around to reading The Way of Kings, the first book in Brandon Sanderson’s Stormlight Archives series. I have a vague memory of picking it up about ten years ago, reading a few chapters and then not finishing it for some reason. Maybe got called to jury duty?

Anyway, I’m glad I opened the book again. Clear and engaging plot, fascinating (though slightly confusing) magic system, great world-building, intriguing mysteries built into the story that pulled me along, several compelling characters spread throughout the different threads, and a strong command of the English language.

All in all, that equates to a good book. As opposed to a tedious, dreary, poorly written book–of which there are many. Many, as in scads of ’em.

The other thing I appreciate about Sanderson is that he doesn’t present you with hero characters that are virtually indistinguishable from villains. Stories like that are dreary. Stories should not dip us into psychological middens due to the detestability of their heroes.

Don’t Get Me Wrong…

Yes, don’t get me wrong–I have no patience with perfect Mary Sue characters. Heroes need flaws, just as the flaw-filled life is inescapable for all of us. A hero with flaws is relatable and honest in terms of genuinely representing reality. But a so-called hero who is so overwhelmingly flawed that, after a few dozen pages, you realize, “Wait a second… this hero is actually Heinrich Himmler.” Or similar.

Sanderson doesn’t engage in that post-modern, nihilist nonsense with his heroes. Thank God for that. Otherwise, cats everywhere would be distressed. If they read books. If they are not fans of nihilism. And I don’t think cats are. Discuss further with your cat.

Kaladin, Dalinar and Shallan are the three characters that propel the threads through the overall weave of the story. All three of them are flawed, all three of them are admirable in different ways, all three of them compel empathy.

Obviously, as probably a lot of you know, Sanderson has a bit of a habit of killing off main characters (see: Mistborn). This makes me nervous, as there are still four more books in the Stormlight Archives series that I haven’t read. Four huge books. Do it if you must, but you better have a really good reason for doing so, and you had better have some other characters weaving in that command just as much empathy and respect from your reader. Which is me. And countless others.

The Alex Blues

One of my son Jesse’s gamer friends, Alex, recently asked him to write a blues piece. And Jesse, always up for a musical challenge, did so–hence, the aptly named Alex Blues, courtesy of JB Proof music.

Jesse has been experimenting with jazz and blues: chord structures, improv, syncopation, and all that beautifully blurry stuff. I appreciate watching the creative and educational process, particularly in seeing a kid self-propel through the endless sea of music that has not yet been written, finding his own hither-to undiscovered gems and yet-unnamed seahorses as he sails along.

Unrelated side note: have we reached the time in human history when the proverbial pig is flying? I think so. More on that later, but not during this post.

If you have a moment, check out his collection so far at Youtube, written under the name of JB Proof (not the proverbial flying pig, but Jesse). Subscribe and leave a comment–creatives always appreciate the encouragement. I’m not entirely clear on his songwriting name. JB for his initials, obviously, but proof… perhaps proof that he’s alive, creative, has keyboard and will travel? Dunno.

The proof is out there, to borrow from Mulder and Scully.

These songs are just Jesse, a Mac, a midi keyboard, an audio interface, some JBL speakers, and Logic Pro. I probably need to invest some money at Spitfire and buy him some new collections of samples to harness to that keyboard (particularly brass), but good samples are expensive…

In other creative news, I’m just about done with a new book, clocking in at about 200,000 words. Epic fantasy, of course, but reasonably light-hearted. In comparison to my other epic fantasy books, this one is in between the serious Hawk and His Boy series and the comedic Fury Clock, but somewhat closer to Fury Clock.

The new book has a definite plot ending, but the overall story is positioned perfectly for endless sequels. That said, I might publish the initial 200,000 words in five episodes of around 40,000 words apiece (and make them as cheap as possible at 99 cents each, as well as enrolled in Kindle Unlimited); this would be in order to set up an ongoing approach of adding additional episodes. Writing a 40,000 word episode or novella is a lot easier than writing a 200,000 gravestone.

Anyway, still pondering that approach.

In other news, I have come to the almost spiritual realization that bacon is a sublime food. It is the perfect combination of salt, sweet, texture, aroma and seductive visual appeal. Why didn’t I realize this when I was young? I have wasted so many years.

I recently noticed in one of those fleeting, drive-by-news clips that there’s a (sorely misguided) movement in England to ban bacon. Perhaps due to an odd love of pigs and wanting to see them frolicking in fields as opposed to frolicking on your plate? At any rate, this worries me for the future of England. The little rainy island with cramped roads has given the world so much: Lewis, Tolkien, Chesterton, Shakespeare, Monty Python, the Magna Carta, Drake and other assorted explorers, William Wilberforce, a wider appreciation for tea (which I don’t appreciate myself, but my wife does, so I’ll honor England on her behalf), clotted cream, and Stonehenge.

To sum up the current situation: celebrate England’s past, look with grave concern on her current bacon perspective, tell your Aunt Edna about my books, and listen to some more JB Proof music.

And if anyone has a new comedic fiction book they can honestly recommend to me, I would love that. Nothing with millionaire or billionaire in the title, please. In my modest and incredibly humble opinion, the vast majority of the titles in Amazon’s humor bestseller list do not seem to be humor. Does humor even exist anymore?

Vanity of vanities

The thesis statement of the book of Ecclesiastes is the second verse of chapter one, in which the author remarks “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.” He goes on to make the point that everything repeats itself. The sun comes up, goes down, and then returns and does the same the very next day. The rivers run to the sea, but the sea is never full. The wind blows to the north, to the south, going round and round forever.

He goes on to say that there’s nothing new; everything has been done before and will be repeated and done again.

A generation comes and a generation goes… there is no remembrance of former things by those who come after. That’s certainly a sobering thought. It reminds me of Shelley’s poem “Ozymandias.” He wrote it in 1817, practically antique and ancient from our modern, refined and digitally enlightened sensibilities, but I suspect he was wiser than most of our pontificating prognosticators. Not suspect. Know.

Back in my grim Chicago days, I wrote a song based on Shelley’s poem, used the same title, and my band The Autumn War included it in our regular lineup. Playing late night shows in smoke-filled bars, complete with floors sticky with beer and peopled with a wide assortment of characters, will certainly make you question the purpose of life. Almost get you in a so long and thanks for the all the fish mentality if you don’t watch out.

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
No thing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Ecclesiastes is a fascinatingly dark book. It’s a book of shadows. However, it can be read in two different ways. If you’re philosophically a materialist (and, by that, I don’t mean a materialist in terms of being consumed with acquiring and owning stuff–material things) and believe that the material matter of the universe is all that exists, then you will find only darkness in Ecclesiastes.

However, you can read Ecclesiastes in a second way. If you’re a Christian, then it’s still a dark book of shadows, but you realize that the shadows exist because of the light. Obviously, that’s a metaphor, but it reflects the reality of physics. Makes me wonder which one is the metaphor… the philosophy of light and shadow, or the physics of light and shadow.

Anyway, that second kind of perspective makes all the difference. And that difference gives tremendous meaning and value to the endless rising and setting of the sun, the endless flow of water to the hungry sea, and the unending need for the eye to see and the ear to hear.

Thank God! That means I can write more stories and songs in good faith that there’s reason for them. Reason and need.

JB Proof

By the way, speaking of music, check out my fifteen-year-old’s ever-growing catalogue of instrumentals that he’s been writing and recording. All on his own!

The Legacy of Light

Son #2 just finished a new song called Legacy. It’s available at most of the usual places. In terms of light and darkness, his music is full of light and shadows. You can’t avoid the shadows down here on Earth if you really want to see how bright the light is.

Contrasts are necessary for context.

In writing news, I’m about 90% done with a new epic fantasy. It’s currently around 170,000 words. Once the draft is finished, I’ll go back through it to adjust things–(probably) mostly character arcs and sub plots.

I find the revision process more enjoyable than the first draft process. Polishing, nudging, refining, deepening, adding in narrator perspective, all that sort of thing. The danger for me in the revision process is allowing perfection and good to get in a protracted battle. Those can be lengthy battles, kind of similar to the Hundred Years War between England and France in the Middle Ages. Edward III should not be allowed a hand in any writing.

The new fantasy is about halfway in between the Tormay trilogy and the Fury Clock in terms of the mix of seriousness versus humor. Maybe an inch or two closer to the South Pole of humor. It contains all of the necessary characters: a semi-delusional farmboy, a dwarf (see photo–yes, I took a photo of him), a wizard, a bad-tempered (but pretty) elf girl, a unflappable swordsman, a stolen map to an Ancient Place You Should Not Visit Unless You’re Fine With a Horrible Death, an extravagant amount of treasure, the Darkness (definitely with a capital D), several psychotic aristocrats, cold ale, and lots of roast boar (in honor of Asterix and Obelix–if you have not read Asterix and Obelix books, you need to get some immediately, as they are pretty much the pinnacle of comic literature).

Speaking of Darkness, the world seems a darker place these days. All the more reason to curl up on the sofa with a good book and an endless supply of snacks. And hopefully not a psycho cat strolling by at random moments to sink her claws into your leg. We just acquired a new kitten who still has not learned when it is appropriate to use claws and when it is not to appropriate to use those same claws. Her name is Pepper and she’s proving to be in the Ghost Pepper-Carolina Reaper category for now. We assume she will mature and make wiser choices sooner than later.

 

The World is Full of Beautiful Things

The world is full of beautiful things, such as butterfly wings and fairytale kings, queens, princesses and ogres. At least, so says Dr. Doolittle–the Rex Harrison version from back when most people were mostly sane.

One of those beautiful things is the newest song from Son #2, the 14-year-old. He’s definitely veering in the cinematic direction, with a touch of introspection and melancholy. This one is called Moonlight, available at and in all places where fine music is sold (also, here it is on Youtube).

I’m trying to recall what I was doing creatively at the same age. I was writing stories, but they were pretty mediocre at best. I remember writing one around that time about a talking avocado and a blender and, perhaps, some kind of extra-terrestrial intrigue. At any rate, I think my teacher recommended to my parents that I get counseling. I don’t know if she said that purely on the basis of that story, or if that story was the straw that broke the proverbial academic camel’s back. By the way, I didn’t go in for counseling and have managed quite a few decades without any homicidal outbursts, kleptomania, hypochondria, multiple personalities, or even extreme paranoia. Though, I will admit to mild paranoia.

Anyway, my creative excellence at 14 does not measure up to Son #2’s composition and recording. He amazes me, but children do that? Don’t they? They amaze their poor, befuddled parents in big and small ways all through life. Such as, how did that toddler get out of his crib and onto the kitchen counter at 3 in the morning?

Another beautiful thing is the gymnastic ability of our 4-month-old kitten Pepper. She leaps in random ways, in sudden contortions of muscle and bone that defy gravity and also choice. Unless, of course, the leaps are caused by her spying the appearance of some invisible creature: angel, demon, leprechaun, honest lawyer, etc. Then, her leaps make sense.

Another beautiful thing is a good steak.

Another beautiful thing is the _____ project I was recently hired to work on by ______. Getting paid to write a _______ for ________ has always been a dream of mine that I gave up a long time ago. For an opportunity like _______ to suddenly materialize out of thin air is shocking, gratifying and pretty darn exciting. Once the ______ is ______, I’ll post all the details. Until then, I can only say _______, __________ , and __________.

This is starting to look one of those subpoenaed FBI documents the House spends years chasing after, only to be given pages of redacted information.