The Tale worth Telling

Two-thousand years ago, on a quiet night in a small country town, with the lights of the big city shining in the distance, several homeless men sat silently around a tiny fire, content to let alone and leave alone the world around them.

That was before the sky above them ripped open as a window into another dimension split across the starry skywall. And framed in the glorious light spilling from the crack stood a powerful being the likes of which they had never seen. Fear clutched at their hearts and terror shot through their knees. But the words this being spoke calmed them as easily as oil calms a turbid wave.

"Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger."

And no sooner had he finished than the entire sky disappeared behind a sheet of blinding light as an army thousands upon thousands sprang in existence and began to chant with a noise like rushing waters:

"Glory to God in the highest! And on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!"

With that they were gone, and the darkness of the night settled slowly back over the hills, leaving those awestruck men in silence. It only took a hurried conversation for them to decide what they must do. And leaving behind all that was familiar to them, they set out to find what had been told of.

And they found it, several miles away, in a tiny cave tucked into a rocky hillside. A donkey and a few sheep huddled in the back, their stalls taken over by an exhausted couple and their feeding trough by a newborn baby. 

The humblest of beginnings for the greatest of all kings.

The smallest of abodes for the most powerful of all rulers.

The lowest among men witnessed the birth of the Highest.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen! (and ladies)!

29 hours

29 hours in studio so far*...

3 days in the same cubicle...

2.5 models completed and 2.5 to go...

And I think I'm starting to crack...



*Non-consecutive, I did catch a few hours sleep :P

Mission: Abort

My readers and friends,

I have decided, after much consideration, to call off my NaNoWriMo attempt this year. The reasons are multiple, but being too busy with schoolwork or simply not feeling the story do NOT rank among them, I can assure you.

The problem is far simpler. It is impossible to edit a movie and write a story at the same time. One will naturally preclude the other. And seeing as I have only completed final editing on one out of three episodes for a December slated release, I'm in a pickle.

To misquote,
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve Film and novel."

Har har.

But seriously, I haven't been able to get much of anything done on either because I haven't the time or energy to work on both and be a full-time architecture student and still get sleep.  :) So I must choose.

And as the film has a considerably higher number of people waiting expectantly on its December release (as opposed to my one for the novel), it takes precedence.

So, my November will be novelless, but who knows? I might do the last three-quarters in December! Or January... Or maybe never. But I won't stop writing, that's for certain.

As soon as Ironwing shows in theaters near you (not really :P), I'll switching from iMovie back to Pages and hitting the keyboard a lot harder.

Until next we meet (or I guilt myself in posting something here),

Farjag

Equations

Hours spent at my studio desk + a beautiful sunset + a little bit of crazy =

Model pictures + a whole lot of crazy!

Nano Update to come soon!

-1.0 Hours till Launch

What does one do on a sleepless Wednesday night a few hours before NaNoWriMo begins?

Why make book covers desktop pictures of course!

So! Which of the fonts I shamelessly found on dafont.com do ya'll like? And while you're ogling at the incredible job I did of putting a text box on a black background I'll go catch a few hours sleep before November sucks me in!

Meet Ash Skarslard

When Ash Skarslard ran away to join the circus in Chicago, he knew it would change his life forever. What he didn't know was how much it would. Realizing he was deathly afraid of tigers was only the beginning.
When an accident on the main track sends the Tyrus Bros circus train on a five hour detour, they are forced to stop in Arskone to refill their coal. But the train will never leave. As the train slows to a stop at the sleepy station, hell itself erupts around them, swallowing performers and animals alike. And the creatures of darkness have plans for all of them.

Twisted and warped into his own greatest fear, Ash became one of them, no longer alive, not quite dead, eaten and hollowed out by his terror and anger. Terror at what he had become, anger at the ones who had done it to him. Terror at their retaliation, anger at the ones who had caused it all in the first place; those praying folk across the tracks.

Light fades, sundown comes; the time to strike is now

Slip across the battlelines; assassin on the prowl

Darkness will reign, chaos clutches deep

The price for life is steep

Meet Chase Forthen

*First of all, let me apologize for the apparent youth of the characters in the drawings. Apparently I can't draw age very well yet. Assume, for the present, that these were vignettes taken when they were a few years younger.

Meet Chase Forthen, a young man who had to grow up far too quickly when his hometown of Arskone became a battleground overnight. The son of the town's preacher, both his parents were killed in the first attacks, leaving Chase with the responsibility of caring for the hundred or so souls who had come to his father's chapel every Sunday. And doing so meant taking the fight to the enemy. 

For these attackers were not men of flesh and blood, but far darker things of the night and of death; foul things sent from the very bowels of hell. 

Against this undead menace Chase and the men of Arskone rose up, quickly learning the ways of a war where a blade might give more protection than a gun, and a prayer more power than a calvary charge. They became shadehunters, warriors against the night, and very real defenders of their faith and homes.

As the war drew on, quickly turning into a stalemate along the front lines of the old railroad tracks, Chase became known for his skill, fortitude, and unshaken trust in his God. But something was coming, something that would shake the already upside down Arskone to its very core, and Chase along with it. For God never forsakes His children, yet never stops teaching them. And the son of the preacher still has much to learn.

Night falls, the specters rise; the war beings once again

Hope fades, darkness sighs; who can see the end?

Stand fast, hold your ground; let them not win this night!

Be strong, listen to the sound; dawn will bring the light!

For Reals

Well, since I forgot to add the link TO my NaNo page last post, (containing the plot synopsis and characters), I'll just stop being lazy and actually do a post on that here.

So... the synopsis:

Railway-

When Ash Skarslard is saved by the shadehunter sent to hunt him down, he begins the strangest of friendships with the young Chase Forthen. Suddenly fighting on the opposite side of the war, he is faced with questions and decisions that will change his life forever. A shadow war rages around the railroad town of Arskone, and the clash of light and dark has never been so clear; except for the one scruffy weretiger who doesn't know on which side of the rails he stands.

And the link to me on the Nanowrimo site, in case any of you actually do want to buddy me, or just check my stats :)

Also, character profiles (being me making things up on the spot), to follow!

November? Ah!!

NaNoWriMo? Ah, yes, that lovely part of the year where I write like a maniac. I love November! And...



IT'S ONLY TWO WEEKS AWAY!! AIEE, I'M NOT READY!!

AHH!

*frantic running around my 10x10 room, hopping over the bed every three steps*

Wait...
I do have something...

Combine:

Just-for-fun 3d model of anachronistic town....

Doodling-in-class character sketch...

Selected parts of a never-completed short story...

Potential Halloween costume...

That normal NaNo craziness...

And Viola!

I give you Railway*; my pretty much totally unplanned, steampunk/fantasy adventure I shall embark on a little over a fortnight.

We shall see how it goes. :) Some time ago I would have frowned at myself for doing something this crazy... but I'm in college now.

Just kidding.

See, the first time I did NaNo, I had a pretty good plan, and stuck fairly well to it. The next year I whipped up a magnificent plan that was even better than the last... and scrapped it three days in for a insistent idea involving an abandoned circus, a talking tiger, fighting robots, a bunch of 'gifted' ex-convicts who battled those fighting robots in death matches every night, and a completely normal young man called Alen.

The story that came out was one of the best I had ever written.

So I've since come to discard many of my beliefs in doing things 'by the book' (pun very much intended) when it comes to writing. In many cases, letting the book write itself (especially in those cases where you're not allowing yourself to forget about it) is the best possible option. At least for me :).

So there's my two bits of wisdom tacked on to a unorthodox NaNo 'announcement'. Hope it makes you smile. Or at least quirk an eyebrow.

Anyways, if you're looking for "mo' info", head over to my NaNo page and check out whatever I happen to have up! And while you're there, buddy up with me! I enjoy seeing how good my friends are doing! (or bad >:) he he)

Now then.... to make up some sort of cover without photoshop....



*If you've been around a while, you might have seen the title Railway pop up elsewhere here; it was a placeholder for that short story I mentioned above. I really liked the title, but didn't have a story it fit with. Now I do. :)

Home again

"Home again, I'm home again, Rose"

Southern back roads and a beautiful sunset... It don't get much better.

eensy weensy 2.0

Or "No fingers were harmed in the making of this blog post."

That's roughly 40 ft tall at 1"=100'

eensy weensy

The capital e would have made it look weird.

So I'll use it here instead. Excruciatingly tinEE. :)

Thus is the life of the architect.

Breakfast in Bed?

I had time this morning to make myself a proper breakfast (as opposed to cereal), and that's what came out! Oh, and check out the nifty old fashioned Sprite bottle!

Had to um... Figure out how to use a bottle opener to get the cap off... :)

Sunday Morning Drive

Cool, clear and early. Just the way I like it.

Dinner is Served

My first dinner!

I know... Three weeks into the semester? Let's just say I've been scraping by. :)

Now, let's see if actually taste good :P

Splashes of Color- The Beginning

Seeing as I am knee-deep in college (and hence, architecture) blogging and writing has been few and far between. But this tiny corner of the web is not just for advertising my feeble attempts at greatness.

It's a window. A window into my world, both for my readers from across the sea and my family back home.

So today I'm starting a series of posts. Consisting of a few lines of text and a picture, they will be brief glimpses into the world I live in.

Here at the wall; being a wall with various and sundry bits of work and inspiration. I've got a feeling it will get considerably more crowded as the semester continues :)

Thunder Riders

And I'm back! Hopefully :) This one is for Charley, who wanted mo' metaphor!

Thunder Riders

There you stand and here stand I

Looking out across the sky
Stormclouds are piling high
Thunder riders, hear them cry

"Chase them down; sound the horn!
Our prey must be caught by morn!"
Wisps of fur from the skyrim torn
Wolves charging forward windborne

Flaming steeds streak across the black
Lightning horses never turn back
Riders o' the clouds, whips they crack
Chasing down the wolfkin pack

Hooves of fire rumble on the cloud
Paws of white speed along the ground
Trees and grass before them bowed
Riders and their stallions, standing proud

Hunt eternal, speeding ever on
Riders of thunder, mounted high upon
Steeds of fire, here, now gone
This is the hunt of the stormspawn

Fell wolves of wisping white
Jagged jorses of electric light
Thunder riders, black as night
All imagined in this stormsong fight

There you stand and here stand I
Looking out across the sky
Deep in clouds beyond our eye
Imagination soars out high

I'm off to see the Wizard!

Well... college. :)

After completing two years of my degree in my hometown state college, the time has come for me to uh... spread wings and fly? Leave the nest? Cast off the chains of familiarity?

Yea... it's exciting and rather frightening at the same time. Having spent the last twenty years with my family, moving away by myself is a daunting prospect.

But I think I'm ready for it. I've gone out to my apartment and spent the night twice now, each time learning more my way way about the city that will become my hometown for the next four to six years. (Depending on where or if I get my Master's degree :P)

So that explains the continuing absence here, lack of writing, etc. However, once college begins in earnest, and I begin to have this mysterious thing called a schedule... writing should pick back up. And of course, in two months in NaNoWriMo, so if for some odd and completely disastrous reason I don't get to writing till then (not going to happen :P), I will be... writing then.

So! Look for me, at dawn's first light, on the third day. Well, soon anyways. Until I return, go peruse Michael Hauge's Story Mastery site,  which I've been drooling over for the past few days. Enough tips and rules of thumb there to make any screenwriter/novelist feel equipped enough to adapt/rewrite War and Peace (which, consequentially, I haven't read).

Until then,
Farjag

That's a wrap!

Filming has wrapped on Ironwing!

After a long, rainy and exhausting last Saturday of filming (during which I was beat up by girls multiple times...), we finished!
After a bit of trouble (including difficulties surrounding the procuring a suitable a boat, getting a means of transporting it, not being able to find any extras, and a thunderstorm) the last two fight scenes were finished, and some of the most lengthy bits of dialogue completed in record time!

The sky was steely, the rain intermittent, the water dark... all perfect for probably the darkest moment of the film. That valley at the very end when nothing seems to go right, when everything the heroes have worked for comes crashing down.

But fear not! The sun always comes out brighter when the storm clouds pass, and so it will be with Ironwing. 

Now comes post-production, that lengthy, complicated process of editing, scoring, special effects, lighting, etc. etc. Fun stuff. :) Wish us luck!

Shadowland

Shadowland

Footsteps on the lonely beach

Fading marks on shifting sand

Incoming tide will wash away

I am walking in the shadow-land

Sojourning somewhere not my home

Traveling across the barren strand

Wandering where I don't belong

I am walking in the shadow-land

Smoke on the crying wind

No one around but the damned

There's fog on the barrow-downs

I am walking in the shadow-land

It's raining ash instead of tears

And all at once I understand

I'm meant for so much more

I am walking in the shadow-land

There's a place I'm meant to be

Just beyond the curtain spanned

Pull back the gray and look

I've been walking in the shadow-land

There He stands, just inside the glass

And He's reaching out his hand

I'm going home at last

I will say goodbye to the shadow-land

The Ironwing

A bit of metal caught on a string

A feathered scrap of cold hard steel

A weathered bit of history and pride

Caught the light on its furrowed keel

A strange shape for such a metal

A thing of the day shaped with blackest night

A token hung on leather ties

Gleams in the dark like a faerie light

A symbol of those who have come before

A bringer of hope, and joy, and pain

A witness to wars long since come and gone

Glistens with the fire and cries with the rain

What is this scrap of steel so bright?

Whence comes this pendant worthy of a king?

Who has worn this mixing of strength and flight?

Who forged this masterful Iron-wing?

Filming

Filming continues apace on Ironwing, with only two days of principal photography left!

Sets have been made...

Props gathered...

And more sets made!

Lines have been memorized...

More stuff gathered...

And haversacks clothes-pinned with infinite care by yours truly.

We're almost done!

Me, Myself, And I

When your job involves hours of driving (pizza delivery), and there's nothing good on the radio, and your new ipod won't charge with your old car jack...

It gets real quiet in the car. And my friends, when Farjag is alone, and it's quiet...

He talks to himself.
Extensively.
In different accents.

Here is a portion of the conversation he had with himself last night.


Brains (Dr. Erskine accent): Is this on? Ok, here we go. There are three of us, three voices if you will, that inhabit this mind. There is the brains, that's me, there is the psychopath, and the poker face. The psychopath, he is the crazy ideas one, the one who skips around, and changes accents, and makes people laugh... then there is me. I am the intellect, the knowledge, the caution in this mind, and then there is the poker face. He is the normal, average, human person, the person most people see. He is not particularly crazy, or smart, he just is. But he is the one that gets things done. I for one, think that me and him could get along just fine by ourselves, but *cough, cough* Pardon, the psychopath is coming out....


Psycho (French accent): Well, what are we doing here? Has the Brains been spewing crazy talk about me? He think I am the crazy one, but that is not... not... right. I am the force of.... rightness! I make things happen! Without me, nothing would ever get done! (accent change to Russian) Ah well, you know how it is.


Poker (No/American accent): Um, Psycho, you just changed accents.

Psycho (Schwarzenegger accent): No, I didn't!


Poker: Yes, you did. You were French, and then Russian, then you sounded like a kid trying to imitate Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Psycho: Wha's the matter with dat? I'm the Pyscho! I can do dat!


Poker: Just shut up, were pulling into Pizza Hut.

Psycho: Oh ho! Zis is a problem? (accent change to Churchill) I will not be moved! I stand on... *muffled speech lines*

Brains: There, he is subdued. Can we continue the interview when you return?


Poker: Yea, I was listening. Be back in a min.



It went, for several trips. I'm starting to think that it's all in my head. :)

How Goes the Carving?

Ah, yes, the million-dollar question. That glorious ambition you set for yourself, Farjag? That write-every-night-till-it's-done thingy? That will-not-get-distracted-by-plot-bunnies idea? How's it going for you?

Quite well, actually. All things considered, very well.

Every night? Not exactly. But not distracted? Quite! Work is proceeding steadily forward!

I am currently on page 13, which may not seem like a lot, but it's the furthest I've at the deepest I've been working. If that makes no sense, don't worry. Maybe this will.

My furthest point of editing is page 28. And that was a fairly skimming editing to start with. It was only as I got further in the story that I realized how drastic some of the changes need to be.

For instance, the name of this land, Quartorlen, was one of the last names I created when drawing the map. It was the only place name at the time not formed of two actual words. (Flamehope, Thunderfell, etc.) I then went on to name the land of the shieldsfell similarly, calling it Dyrmlen. When I came up with the differing title system for the shieldsfell, I used the suffix -len as the basis. Patrollen, Magelen.

You see the problem yet? The land of the freeborn is named in the same vein as the names of the invaders.

Despair.... must rename single most used word in the book, must go back and retcon every single blog post, must wipe memories of all readers....

Light bulb! Quartorlen is named so because of the invaders. Think about it.

You and I come, as conquerors, to an island inhabited by a rustic, barbaric people, who divide land into so many tiny parts that it becomes impossible to tell where one begins and the next ends! One island should have one name! Additionally, if there no longer exists a homeland for the natives to fight for, they will not longer wish to fight! So, we shall name this place of provinces... Quartorlen, for when aligned with our compass, it can divided nearly into quarters along the cardinal points. There, problem solved!

Except for the fact that the folk of the four provinces, of Thunderfell, Flamehope, Deepdale and Whitefall, will never forget their own homelands. And the fact that Quartorlen combined is too big an empire to rule over as a united whole. The distances are too far, the landscapes too vast, and the shieldsfell army too small to effectively enforce their rule. And in the far reaches of the four provinces, freeborn wait.

The name of Quartorlen will live on far after the shieldsfell have been banished and many generations have come and gone. But it will be the name of the alliance of the four provinces, a reminder that they must never again refuse to come to the aid of another province, or they will all fall, one by one as they did in the Blood-Invasion.

That was a long for instance. :) But it shows the depth of what I need to do, and what I've already begun to do. Just in writing this, I realized as to why the Blood-Invasion was so successful in the first place. See that part one paragraph up about the provinces standing separately and not together? I hadn't even considered that before.

See, these blog posts aren't just for you readers, they're for me too. :) Long bits of mulling where I can run off my mouth and not get called boring for it.

Cause if you did think I was boring, you wouldn't finish the post and comment on it! Ha, ha I'm genius!

Have a wonderful day ya'll!

P.S. If anyone somehow manages to get the reference in the title, do let me know!

I'm Alive!

I have successfully returned from the grave, after being smitten down by that awful and mortal disease known as the... common cold.

Seriously?

A little fever and I'm flat on my back for two days solid, alternating between freezing my toes off and burning the chest hairs off my... well, chest.

As it is, I am still recovering, so tomorrow will bring the post I had hoped to write on the weekend, the post about my editing Freeborn and Freegiven. Suffice to say for now that things are looking well on that front. So none need worry about me calling quits for some random plot bunny who happened along.

Well, now, if you'll excuse me, I must go lay down on my freshly washed sheets and catch the first good night's rest I've obtained since... Friday?

Home... is where the Heart is

I've noticed an interesting trend in my soliloquies on Quartorlen. As I wax eloquent on the colorful landscape painted across my imagination, I've come to realize the image in my mind is a lot like what I imagine Heaven will be like.

Which is good and bad. Because Quartorlen is not heaven. Nor even an allegory for heaven. The folk who dwell there are flawed, evil is dangerously present, and darkness often threatens to blot out the deep colors the land is made from.

But the realization brings up an important point. See, Quartorlen is a place I would love to live. It is the perfect combination in my mind of different landscapes and climates. From icy white mountains to thick green forests, rolling blue downs to rocky red cliffs, the world of the freeborn is everything amazing here on earth, all rolled together, doubled, and painted in brilliant colors. And I'm pretty sure that that's what heaven's going to be like. Just infinitely, eternally, imagination-defyingly better.

So why does all this matter? Because it means that deep down in my soul is set a longing for a home that I have never seen; a home that is perfect in every way for me; a home that is heaven.

And when I get there, I can say, like Jewel the Unicorn of Narnia;

"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now."

Plot Rabbits

Or bunnies. But I prefer to not have that word featured anywhere in my vocabulary. :P

But seriously, these little creatures collectively known as the infamous, deadly, plot bunnies, have been eating me alive lately. So far, I have luckily been able to shake them off, merely making note of their existence; and I hope to continue doing so in the near future.

See, I'm trying to stick to one project at a time right now (well, one in each type of media :P), and right now plot bunnies are being given the boot. Cause no matter how enticing, this writer is currently occupied.

But, since they're clamoring for attention, we'll at least give them the look-over. Let's see here...

A young boy wakes up in his own dream to meet his dream lord, a guardian of his imagination who wages constant war on the fears and nightmares of the night. Across the infinite meshes and merges of time and space that occupy the mind he rides, battling the darklings of fear. But in the end, it is the boy himself who must challenge his fears and use his own powerful imagination against them.




A small town finds itself home to a rift in reality through which fall all manner of strange creatures and men, most of them dangerous. And so a club is formed; the gun fanatic, the librarian, the physicist and the junkyard man. Using their combined wits, knowledge, and sense of humor, they set out to track down every last bit of weirdness that's fallen through.




Sometimes, the right things fall into the wrong hands. When an artifact that shows the truth about the holder and the world around him falls into the hands of a power-scheming lord, it nearly breaks him. He comes away embittered with the brokenness of the world and hopeless of ever finding good again. So he begins using the artifact on those around, crushing them into his service with hopelessness and despair. The world's fallen state and their own depravity is shown is startling clarity, and they cannot bear the weight. But when he tries to use it on those who believe in Christ, there is no visible effect. Children of God already know the truth about themselves; how sinful they truly are, how unable to ever seek pardon on their own, and how in need of a savior. What's more, they know that there is a savior, that there is hope, and that the saving of this world has already begun.




Among all the pirates of the South Sea, none were as merciless as Ralj. He was known as the man who never took prisoners. Every man, woman and child who survived his initial attack was thrown overboard, but not before wanted they told him what he to know. Some tried to resist, but they were merely killed sooner as an example for the rest. Folk feared him, but they feared dying more, and Ralj used that fear however he pleased. His reign of terror continued for years, until the day he met someone who wasn't afraid to die. A young girl, who stared him back in the face unflinchingly and simply asked if he would kill her quickly when he did. He let her live a day longer, just to see if he could find out what was different about her. And the day after that, and the day after that. And that young girl, not quite a woman, started something so unheard of, that for years afterward, folk would use it as an example of the impossible becoming possible. 


So, those are the little fellers that have been nipping at my heels. I'll get to them eventually. :)

To Rewrite that which is Written

'Tis a strange feeling, completely rewriting the sentences that I've been reading every time I've opened up Freeborn for the past three years.

Before:

The captain of a solitary sea-post on the northern shore of Whitefall looked out across the bay, the dark water lit only by the rays of both moons. It was a quiet night, so still that the captain could hear the waves slapping against the ice crust at the base of the stone tower.

After:

The smooth stone of the solitary sea-post on the northern shore of Whitefall glimmered cold under the rays of both moons. The captain who stood atop its walls looked across the dark bay, peering out to where the water met the night sky. It was a quiet night, so still the captain could hear the waves slapping against the ice crust at the base of the tower.

This particular portion, and the small snippet directly after, I had actually written well in advance of November 2010, though I edited them to fit the world I had created. Still, they had remained mainly intact until last Monday, when I began the challenge I had set myself. 

Maybe they're better for the change, maybe they're worse, but they definitely needed a change, if only to help me break still more the antiquated 'matter-of-fact' voice that still sometimes creeps in whenever I'm having trouble writing. 

Most of it comes of from the extreme amount of description I was trying to put into my first stories; I had to tell what the walls were made of, what color they were, and how they felt when the hero brushed his hand against them. Then do the same with the door, and the room beyond, and the courtyard beyond.... etc, ad nauseum.

Now that I've arrived at the pinnacle of writing, of course, such things no longer trouble me. :)

No, every sentence is a fight. A fight to shape black marks on white paper into the multi-colored, 3D landscape, characters, and stories that fill my head. A fight to make the rhythm of each sentence and the sound of each word match the song that is the story. A fight to sing poetry into prose, day into night, and text into images so sharp and clear they will stay with you forever.

If I can touch your imagination just a little, and give you the necessary ingredients, then you can conjure a spell of your own that will take you far away to the little world called Quartorlen, where the colors are deeper, the folk are simpler, and there is always a song or tale to be heard. 

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

Philippians 4:7-9 (ESV)

A Challenge

Well, it's time to face the music.

I haven't been writing.

And this is a writing blog.

So... no blogging has happened. (Revelation!)

But what has happened is in the past. And all I can do is decide what to do with the time given me.

There will be a day when I give up, a day of unfinished stories, blotted ink, and deleted files, when the work of years comes crashing down. But it is not this day!

This day, I write!

Here's the idea: I'm going to go back to the beginning. Back to November 2010, when my writing changed from the standard 'masterpiece-of-an-amateur-writer-that-he's-been-working-on-forever' to something... different. I fell in love with writing all over again. I actually wrote something worth reading. And my writing has never been the same since.

So that's where I'll go, to Freeborn and Freegiven, and give it the edit it deserves. Now, the plan is to continue on to the next book I wrote, and so on until I've caught up with myself, but of course there'll be a break for this year's NaNoWriMo, and some other plot bunny will catch my attention... But that's the plan.

But even the most well-thought out plan can fail without a drive to complete it. And so many resolutions and goals have failed because there was nothing pushing from behind. So, here's the clinch.

Every week I must edit/write at least one full chapter, and have to show proof here. That's where you all come in. Your job is to keep me accountable; keep pushing me onward.

Sound clear enough? Good. Now let's see if I can do this. :)

The Story of My Life

Get up. Take brother and his friends swimming. Take 4-hour driver's test online. Pick up pallets and other junk wood for set building. Head to church property to start work. Run out of pallets, drop by Lowes and Walmart for more. Realize I didn't bring any shovels or axes. Head home. Sleep.

Wake up. Go to beach with friends. Hook up trailer to van. Pick up kayaks. Unload kayaks at home. Load shovels, axes, and other necessary equipment. Head back up to property to work on set. Run out of nails, send friend to get some. Go pick up bed for college and try to back up 15-passenger van with a trailer in the pouring rain. Fail, let friend do it for me. Hut still needs work. Come back home. Think of character to come as for friend's birthday party. Sleep.

Get up early to reload kayaks. Take brother and friend kayaking. Get back home, and realize I need to write a blog post. And mail a tax letter thingy for college. And work on the score of a friend's movie. Still need to finish the driver's test. Tonight, work. Tomorrow, filming. Remember to make sure I'm off work.


It's my birthday.

I have such a wonderful life. And that's not sarcasm. I have a family who loves me, a God who watches over me, and friends who support me every step of my crazy, wonderful, story of a life.

May God remind me of that more often.

The Music of War

For every war ever fought in history, for every battle imagined on the page, for every clash of arms captured on screen, for every heroic deed and glorious end, for every victory and every defeat, for the invisible war that is fought every day of our lives for our souls; for all those do I write.

Dawn comes slowly 

Red light spilling out 

Sound the horns 

And ring forth the shout

 At the ready now!

 Draw your swords 

Anticipation

 As we lean forwards 

Sunrise comes faster

 Shadows away do fly

 Thunder of hooves 

And our war cry

 Skirling of music 

Death will die

 Light into the dark 

Lift the standard high 

The charge carries on 

Drums begin to beat 

On to the north! 

Fear not defeat! 

Time will slow 

As armies collide 

Angels and demons 

Turn of the tide 

Choirs unseen 

Drumroll of victory 

Horns of war

 Ring triumphantly

 Quiet now 

Silence once again

 The battle is done

 Still the music and pen

*cough, cough*

Is it bad when you check your own blog, hoping someone commented or something, and then realize that you probably should just post that something?

Har har. Anyways, this isn't an apology post, nor yet a full explanation post. Cause basically both of those can be summed up like this:

"Hey all! Sorry about not posting, I've been busy!"

Boring!

But, as you can see, if you look up at those first few lines of text, I have not only already succeeded in not giving either an explanation nor an apology for my absence, but have also managed to make you smile at least twice (or at least I hope so!).

Anyways, let me explain. No, there is too much, let me sum up:

College fast approaches, filming continues apace, writing has dropped to nill, summer grows ever hotter, and I've so many gatherings to attend I've lost count.

In addition, I've got my country's five hundredth anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it; I'm swamped!

However, there will a few posts popping up shortly, (God and weather permitting), concerning filming and the like.

Until then, have fun storming the castle! Goodbye!

Ironwing

Hey everyone! I apologize for posts between few and far between (and not that great to boot :P), but I have an explanation! Most of which involves scriptediting and planning for this:

Actual filming commences in five days, and I am super excited, to say the least. I mean, all the trailer is is me and my brother running around epicly in the rain with Breggo chasing us with the camera! So to begin actual acting against the other super talented actors will be a huge treat.

Now, if I can just perfect that tinge of a Scottish accent... :P

Deep Red- #5

Here's the next two Deep Red installments! And if you turn your eyes upward, you will notice the new page entitled "Deep Red." There you can find all the previous pages, fully zoomed in and easy to read. I just finished taking pictures of the next batch of sets, so expect more pages soon!

Deep Red- #4

The Premiere

Well, I had my premiere for When Darkness Falls last night! Big screen, big speakers, and lots of friends! Add in plenty of popcorn, root beer floats, and chips n' dip, viola! A night worth remembering!

But since I couldn't cram everyone who knows me remotely into my already full living room, I'm giving ya'll a trailer so you can see what we all laughed clapped at last night. :)

Deep Red- #3

Heh heh. A week after I say I'm back, I realize I haven't posted anything. Sorry, I've been getting ready for the When Darkness Falls premiere and scripting Ironwing (my tv-show project) with Breggo.

Anyways, more Deep Red! Oh, and the text should be big enough to read now :)

Back From Next

Howdy, folks!

Just got back from the best conference I'd been to in a long time: NEXT. Put on by Sovereign Grace Ministries, the theme was the church, and how I as a Christian fit into it. Speakers included C.J. Mahaney, Kevin DeYoung and Matt Chandler; and let me tell you, God has gifted those men greatly!

So, now I'm back, and you can expect posts again. I've got a handful of Deep Red comic pages in the pipeline, along with a fair collection of poems I wrote while on my trip. I'm also working on a internet-safe trailer for When Darkness Falls, so ya'll can get a little peek into what I spend my summers doing.

Let me know if there's anything else you'd like me to post, I'm all ears!

Deep Red- #2

Here's the next couple of pages! And, fyi, sometime in the near future I will be compiling all of these and creating a page specifically for them, so you can re-read the whole story without searching through weeks of posts.

Deep Red- In Brick

Well, back when I asked ya'll about which story to work on next, I mentioned a Lego stop-motion video. A few days later, I posted a few screenshots. Since then, my goal changed a little. See, if any of you have ever made or attempted to make a stop-motion flick, then you know that it takes FOREVER. On the order of a few weeks for every two minutes or so. And Deep Red was too big a story to tell in thirty seconds. :)

So, I switched gears. I had dabbled with a certain program a while back, really enjoyed it, and rather forgotten about it in the hubbub that was finals. Well, partway through my realization that making a full-length feature film for Deep Red was impossible, I remembered it.

And ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the result: Deep Red; the graphic novel; in Lego.

And that's just the first two pages! There's nine more, as of right now, which constitute one section (or four pages, if you like), of text in the actual book.

So, what do you think? Nifty visualization, or epic fail? 

A Comment to the Comments

Well, since I had a little too much to say in answer to all the comments on my last post, I decided that instead of stuffing it all in the comments section and hope everyone checked back there, I would put it here.

To answer all the questions about viewing the movie; due to many of my actors' differing privacy preferences, (including my own), I doubt this movie will ever reach public viewing on the internet, though I might be able to fashion a trailer or scene preview at some point which will allow a glimpse of our work. I will get back to ya'll on that.

But seriously? 36 A's, and a collective dozen each of exclamation points and question marks; all for a junky photoshop of a sword with darkness sprayed around behind it and a fairly basic (read: unoriginal) plot line synopsis? Over excessive, much?

Keep thy cool, folks. :) Save your fanaticism for Legolas, Twilight and The Hunger Games. They need it. :P

Now, that's not to say I don't enjoy you all drooling over seemingly whatever I post, but it does get old to hear everything I do praised as if it was the latest Harry Potter movie. Just remember, as I have said before, and will continue to say, everything I apparently create has been given to me by God. And He should get the glory, not me.

So go ahead and scream with excitement every time the word "Excerpt" appears on this blog, but do refrain from putting said excitement into text. Trust me, you'll live longer for it. :)

Now, please don't take this for what it's not. I'm not asking anyone to stop commenting. I'd just rather not be the subject of uber-excitement. But here's what you can do. See, I'm just like you. The only difference is here I'm on the other end of the blog. I write, you read. But what if my writing is doing what this kind of commenting is doing, only the other way around? In other words, am I sticking myself and/or my writing on a pedestal to be admired and above reproach? Am I asking (not in so many words, of course) for all the attention and praise I 'say' I shouldn't have?

So keep me accountable. Let me know if I'm being stuck-up, or asking for praise and approval for my work. This blog should point to God, but if all it's doing is pointing to me, then it's failed in its purpose.

And finally, thank you all. Thank you for every single wonderful comment you've ever posted here. I truly appreciate them.

Sincerely, Farjag

It is DONE!!

In late December of 2009, I shot the first frames of my biggest film project to date.

Two months shy of a year ago, I shot my last.

Last night, almost three entire years after starting it, I can officially declare When Darkness Falls: 

COMPLETE!!

A Dark-Ages-esque piece, When Darkness Falls is the tale of a kingdom rising up against the tyranny that has crushed the life out it's people for fifteen years. It chronicles the story of the outlaw Flaren, him named the Fellburn, and his efforts to ignite the people of Faerndell into revolt against their oppressors. But the true hero of the story is a young boy named Drelborn, whose true identity will topple the outcome of the fast-approaching war one way or the other.

You Can Has Excerpt!

Because I'm lame and didn't know what else to post. :)

From Deep Red:

Kale chuckled, shaking Cordan’s hand good-naturedly. “Best of luck to you, mate. I’m pretty sure you need it.”
Cordan winked and turned to go. “I’ll be picking up them supplies tomorrow round abouts noon. Have ‘em ready at your east entrance, I’ll be putting down in the street.” 

* * *

“You sure this is a good idea, captain?” yelled Reese over the whipping of the wind and the roar of Deep Red’s engines. He hadn’t realized the Cordan wasn’t joking when he had said he was gonna pull up right to the cantina’s front door.
“Course I am! You ever flown a cutter afore?”
“No, but…”
“Then shut up!”

Mother's Day

To all Moms everywhere, but especially mine, we all love you so much. And while the second Sunday in May should be no different than any other day when it comes to our love for you and how we express it, we'll take any excuse to make this day even more special. So here's to you, dearest mother, may your presence grace our homes till the stars rain down from the heavens.

Mothers

Lady of the home estate
Queen of the kitchen faire
Countess of the budget royale
Mother of loving care

Madame of the watchtower
Mistress of the sister clan
Wife of the warrior
Damsel of the brother band

Protector of her children
Keeper of her beloved home
Shieldmaiden for her husband
Guardian of her hearthstone

Faithful to the end
Loved by those she bore
Let us never forget her
Let her name be passed to lore

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
Let everyone sing your praise
You have all our hearts
Until the last of days

Deep Red

A picture can say a thousand words, or so the saying goes. But is it true? You decide.

Cordan left the old man snoring and made his down down through the clutteryard, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Piles of scrap metal lined the path, rusting ships, smashed towers, bits of cranes and buggies; anything metal you could think of came here to die. Cordan kicked a hub cap off the path absently and listened to the ensuing crash of whatever it had hit falling over.

The antennae towers loomed ahead, twisting spires of metal rearing high up over the surrounding piles. Lines draped from one to another, ladders hung here and there, and everything seemed connected to something else, so that the final effect was of a giant spiderweb of rusting metal suspended over the clutteryard. And if the antennas made a spiderweb, then Reese was the spider, a tiny body hanging upside down from a ladder, his shock of dirty blonde hair ruffled by the breeze.

It's always fun to try to paint the image in your mind across a canvas, be the medium what it may. 

But out of curiosity, do any of you use strange or interesting mediums to paint what's in your mind's eye? Or am I just a wierdo? :)

Not Mine

Well, this is a shameless plug for my new "About the Author" page located here *points up*

Why? Well, a while back I was reading one of those "Top Ten Blogging Tips" posts somewhere, and they mentioned the importance of putting a face to the writer. So there's my mug. But it's not me that's important, and that's the real reason for this post.

See, I started writing, and what came out wasn't another one of those "All About Me 'Cause I'm Awesome" pages. It was what any introduction to myself should be, a whole-hearted re-direct to the Most Awesome God I serve.

And as just as it so happens, the last poem I wrote was exactly on the subject. May it further explain what I'm trying to say.

Not Mine

What words flow from my mind
What lines seep from my pen
What haunting melodies do flit
On the ether around my head?

Whence come these bits of prose
These errant poems and songs
From where comes this feeling
Of words unspoken too long

These wisps are not truly mine
I cannot claim them as my own
My mind could not conjure such things
Nor my pen to write them alone

Yet still they come, fountaining on
Bubbling up in a rapid stream
I cannot stop up this steady flow
No more than a sleeper can stop his dream

But my life is not my own
I've been bought with a price
And no more are my words mine
Than is my purchased life

So may these words I've been given
Never stop their flowing
May my pen continue to spill
Out praises to my holy King

May every poem, story and song
All sing together of the One
May every sentence and every rhyme
Glorify the Father and His Son

The Tally

And the final count is:

Freeborn & Freegiven: 1
Feather & Fang: 1
Deep Red: 1
One of the Rewrites: 1
Whatever your heart tells you: 1

.......

Um.... I guess this means I have to decide for myself after all! :P

So much for that. :D

In other business, welcome to the blog Eruantien! Hope you enjoy your stay.
And thank you to everyone else who voted, I appreciate it greatly.

But now, since I know what you all really want to know is what I'm going to work on next...

I will write Deep Red. 

And I'm making a Lego stop motion video of it... so you'll get to watch that soon!

What now?

So... now that finals are over... and summer is here... I must decide...

What should I work on for writing?


And this is where I need your help, dear readers. Since I have multiple novels/stories underway (all in various stages of completion), I am at a loss as to which project to focus my attentions on. My options are thus:

Freeborn and Freegiven: Deep in the land of shieldsfell-ruled Quartorlen, the last of the freeborn must conquer their fears and journey into the heart of enemy territory to break the invader's hold on both their country and their countryfolk once and for all.

Stats: NaNo 2010 Novel
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 51,342
Project: Rewrite

Feather and Fang: Twenty-two years after the events of Freeborn and Freegiven, the freeborn of Quartorlen have split into factions, each vying for supremacy in the vacuum of power left when the shieldsfell withdrew their forces. When an assassin from one faction and a bounty hunter from the other are trapped together in the deadliest place in Quartorlen, they must work together or perish. And if they make it out alive, they will bring information that could change the face of the war.

Stats: Sequel to Freeborn
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 18,319
Project: Finish

The Truth/Trust Hole: In the heartland of a country much like ours, there is an arena. An arena where criminals with special abilities work out their life sentences fighting robots for public sport. These Games attract citizens of all ages, races, and walks of life, all come to see their favorite fighters cheat death again and again against a pitiless enemy. But when a young boy named Alen is thrown into the Hole, by chance, it would seem, everything begins to change.

Stats: NaNo 2011 Novel
Genre: Sci-Fi
Word Count: 52,973
Project: Rewrite

Deep Red/Crimson Streak: Somewhere in the Cluster an out-of-work headhunter sets out on a mission to find the greatest commodity in the markets of the Core: something he has heard is called 'Hope'. But when he enlists the help of a young boy who can apparently see the past and future, things go in a direction he wasn't planning.

Stats: Short Story
Genre: Sci-Fi
Word Count: 3,272
Project: Finish


What do you think? All of them have a lot of potential as far as ease of completion goes (unlike the other dozen or so which I could have listed), all of them get me excited when I think about them... so I'm in a pickle!

Help me out, and give me your opinions! And rest assured, one day I'll get to all of them, I just need to know which one to work on first.

Thanks in advance!
Farjag

And...

I have survived!!

The foul beast of finals has been slain, and I live to fight another day!

Onto glorious summer!

Fullscreen Writing and other

Well, I guess this post needs no explanation; the title says it all: I have (re)discovered fullscreen writing. I had dabbled with this amazing idea back during NaNoWriMo 2010, but hadn't really been hooked.

Then, last week, while forcing myself to write, I remembered. A few google searches and disappointing tries later, I found one that worked.

And let me tell you; getting your desktop to disappear is amazing. When it's just you and the words, they come SO much easier. I started writing, and before I knew it, I had written a thousand.





This is a really lame post, if you hadn't noticed. Oh well. Maybe a beautiful picture of a far-away, imaginary place will help with the lameness.

 Maybe not. My brain's fried right now. Finals are next week, I just got back from a visit to the college I'm transferring to in the fall, and I've got a fair bit of homework to do.

Oi.

Until my brains become Un-fried,

Farjag

Why Can't I Write Screenplays?

Oh, mine readers, alack and alay! 

I cannae write meself a screenplay!

Bogged down afore three pages are writ,

Caught up in th' format, lines, an' bloomin' script,

Th' images be in me own expandin' head,

But I cannae write them if I be dead,

Kilt by Courier font, a true an' deadly beast,

O' all my problems, the plot is th' least.

Arrg. Tis true. I have had at least five screenplay ideas over the past two weeks, all of them fully filmable* with the resources I and my fellow filming friends** have . But I can't write a single one of them down to save my life! The dialogue and characters are floating around in my head, shiny and resplendent mallorn leaves falling softly to the ground, but when I try to put them down on paper, all that comes out are a faded handful of crumbled remains.

It's disheartening to say the least.

Perhaps I'll just have to try writing only the dialogue out, back and forth banter, with minimal action descriptions in between. If that doesn't work, I don't know what I'll do.

I mean, I write entire novels easily! Why can't I write a short little screenplay? Annoying. Anyone have any ideas to help me in my sad state***?

*I really got to stop using alliteration so much. 

** See what I mean?

*** Oi.

Sometimes...

Sometimes you just need to escape.

Sometimes you need to lose yourself.

Sometimes you need to find yourself somewhere else.

And since escape destinations aren't exactly commonplace in Smalltown USA,

Sometimes you need a beautiful picture.

Or a beautiful painting.

Then, after a sigh and a deep breath of that adventuresome air, you're ready to dive back into the real world and all it's chaotic depths.

May your paths be blessed.


(All pictures copyright their respective owners, taken from a wallpapers app)