When Posts Appear...

To help all you readers, and me, I think I shall begin to post later in the day, probably after dinner when I'm doing my other writing, homework, etc. So to make things easier for you, when you check in the morning, there will a brand new post, all ready to read. So you'll basically be reading yesterday's post, but it'll be more like I got up really early in the morning and posted one I had written the night before (which is what I would be doing if I wanted to post the day of).
So, I'm posting this at 6:00 tonight, which means you probably won't read it until tomorrow morning. That night I will write my next post, which you will read the next morning. Make sense?

Hopefully it does, cause I ain't changing it! :P
Farjag

A Reason to Write

When I sent last year's novel to one of my dear writer friends for critiquing, this was part of his reply:

"With a future story, I would like to see a little more meaning. The reason I stopped writing [my last story] was because I saw that in light of eternity I was writing a book that neither challenged my view of the world and God or the reader’s worldview. For your next story, spend time in prayer asking God what he would have you focus on in your story."

He went on to give more specific likes and dislikes, all of them very helpful, but none so poignant and deep-cutting as the first. I thought long and hard about his encouragement, but couldn't quite wrap my mind around how to really accomplish this in the fantasy setting I had created. (Probably because I didn't take his advice and seriously pray for guidance).
However, recently I was freshly convicted of this lack in my writing through the musings of several other writer friends on their blogs. Each had different styles, genres and advice on how to write well, but all of them pointed back to God in a way that cut deep. I hadn't been seeking to include my Maker in my writing as much as I should have been.
Since that time, I have been thinking deeply about this problem, and praying, asking the Lord for the guidance I realized I needed. And he answered me, as he always will.
The main problem I was having in my current novel, Feather and Fang, was that neither of my main characters were the kind of men who would point to the Maker with their actions and words. And if tried to change one of them into such a man, it would render them unbelievable as a character (as far as how I had written them so far goes).
But I believe I have finally worked out a solution which will not only fix that problem, but add another layer to the story as a whole and the character development which had been lacking before (see previous posts on Redpaw and Crestlen).
Basically, I decided that while Crestlen is self-proclaimed atheist, Redpaw believes in the Maker. However, he struggles with matching his duty to this country and his wish to honor his Maker. He is sent to get rid of a dangerous assassin, but when does his enemy become his neighbor? When does killing a foe become the right thing to do? He knows what is right, but is often hard pressed to actually do it.
However, his actions catch Crestlen's eye, especially his courage against all odds, and refusal to despair. As the two mortal enemies are forced to work together to survive, Redpaw's moral dilemma comes to a head. How can he let an enemy of his country live? When does mercy replace justice?
Meanwhile, Crestlen is struggling with similar questions. How can you kill someone who has shown you mercy? How can any conscience, however seared, not be affected by slitting the throat of the man who fought at your back?
Halfway through their journey, they will meet someone who challenges both of their beliefs and mindsets.  The questions he asks will give them both fresh perspectives on each other, and what the Maker desires of them. Other themes I hope to thread throughout are the true meaning of honor, courage, and what makes a man a man. When they exit the Brightgorge, they will be changed men, and whatever trappings of old habits remain will speedily be burnt away in the fires that await them beyond. 

Dark and Light

If you haven't noticed yet, I tend to write a lot about the contrast of light and darkness. It shows up in many of my poems, in my stories, even in my movies. This particular poem highlights that ongoing battle I so often take up the pen to tell about. And here is also is the little quote I tell myself whenever things look black: "When Darkness begins to fall, soon, Light will rise."

Darkness Falling

Darkness is falling

Light is failing

Hope is dying

All seems lost

Despair is rising

Evil is stirring

Fires are burning

All seems lost

Storms are brewing

Lightning cracking

Thunder crashing

All seems lost

Rebellion boiling

Sparks igniting

Armies marching

All seems lost

War is advancing

Battle is approaching

Death is nearing

All seems lost

Shouts are crying

Weapons clashing

Men are dying

All seems lost

Victory is at hand!

Darkness has fallen

Crashing, burning

Light has risen again!

How to explain...

Errg. Has anyone ever had the problem of trying to explain what they are writing about and why you think it is better than the average dime novel out there? I know I do. And fantasy is one of the worst genres with this problem. A writer says they're writing historical fiction, and someone's ears will perk up. But fantasy... meh. So, I have to go into a rather long-winded explanation of what my writing is, but more importantly, what it isn't. Conversations usually go something like this:

Friend: What's that?

Me: A story I'm writing

Friend: What kind of story?

Me: Fantasy. Though I really try to be original and stay away from elves, dwarves, orcs and the like.

Friend: Oh, that's cool.

Me: At the same time, I don't like stories which have the Aethereia riding Bjollen and living in Hoplathera. I try to keep things realistic.

Friend: Interesting... so you write original, realistic fantasy. Like with only humans?

Me: Well, actually I have the freeborn or alterers. They're something like shapeshifters, but they only have one form besides their human form, and they're not actually humans who can turn into animals. It's as much a part of who they are as sneezing is to us. They are not one or the other, or even both, but a single entity with the ability to choose between two of his forms. I only use the words 'human' and 'animal' because I couldn't describe it any other way.

Friend: Oh, ok.

Me: And I don't use magic, though I've been trying to bend physics lately. I'm still working with that.

Friend: So, is this another world?

Me: Yes, but it's connected to ours. Not sure exactly how yet, whether its out there in space somewhere, or if it's on some other plane of existence. But that's why there are the 'animal' names for the freeborn, they originally came from our world.

Friend: That's pretty sweet. So, how far are you along?

Me: Well, I completed a novel last November, 50,000 words, and I'm getting ready to do it again this year.

Friend: Woah. That's pretty impressive

Me: Thanks.


So, as you can see, it takes a bit of time to get them to see the whole picture of what I'm writing, and why it's different. And there's always the question: "So, it's like Lord of the Rings/Eragon/Dungeons and Dragons/manga/some other fantasy I haven't read ?"

No, not really. It's... my own.

Let it Burn!

Here's a fairly short one I wrote as a song... maybe I'll finish it and write music to it someday.

Let it burn!

Let it burn, let it burn!

All around the flames will leap

I don't care, I just want to yearn

To find my courage, take the leap

Let it fall, let it fall

All around it crashes down

I don't care, I just want to call

Upon my savior, catch me now

Let it go, let it go

Drop it down to the ground

I don't care, I just want to throw

My sin down to the ground

Let it spark, let it spark

A light to shine to other men

I don't care, I just want to mark

My way different from all other men

The Battle

Battle

Battle lines drawn up

Upon a field painted green

Silent, unmoving lines of soldiers

Waiting for the bullet's scream

The commander astride his muscled horse

The captain with his golden sabre

The sergeant standing with his men

And the private next to his neighbor

Across the rolling ground

The enemy lines come into sight

The slow forward march

Towards the approaching fight

"Fix bayonets!"

The command rings out

The clatter of sharp metal

Accompanies the resounding shout

The bugle sounds!

The advance is underway!

Quickly the charge grows faster

The victor will be decided today

Raw-throated yells

Guns held to the ready

Lines draw closer together

Both still steady

The crash!

Two armies collide

A wheeling melée of bodies and steel

Now is the time to decide

Who has the upper hand?

Tis imposible to tell

While one wing is hard pressed

The other is gaining well

The two opposing flags

Circle each other like hawks

As all around their soldiers

In bloody battle are locked

The screams of the wounded

The silence of the dead

The shouting of the still alive

And whine of flying lead

Ah, at last, some movement!

As one side gives way

But who the victor?

Even I cannot say