Archer of Sherwood
Sunset on Nottingham
Light glimmers through the trees
The birds start their singing
All seems well at peace
But in this quaint little town
Evil festers deep
Leaders spin their dire plots
Darkness enshrouds sheriff's keep
Countryfolk kept in fear
Taxes bearing down
Henchmen on the prowl
Deep despair engulfs the town
But a few bowshots away
Sherwood forest looms golden-green
And within it shady glades
Freedom can finally be seen
Outlaw band dwells therein
Merry men one and all
At their head a archer bold
Fearless sounds his horn call!
Archer of Sherwood
Champion of good
Yeoman of the forest
His name is Robin Hood!
December 30, 2011
December 28, 2011
A contest
In lieu of my Wednesday post, here's a cool contest I was directed to. Soundtracks are the bread and butter of my listening tastes, so I thought it was pretty awesome. Check it out!
December 27, 2011
An Ending
My apologies for the late post, being on vacation in the mountains does not lend itself to being on schedule.
A few days ago I printed out the entirety of what I written in Trust Hole, in the process reminding myself I needed to actually finish it. So that night I sat down to write what I thought would be the last two or three chapters. I finished out the climax, quite to my liking, and starting to write the first few sentences of the ending. But as I did so, I quickly realized finishing the book with a classic ending, i.e. explain how everyone ends up, what happens afterward, etc, was simply not going to work. All that information is nice, but wouldn't help the story in any way. So I simply stopped. The climax was over, the plot resolved, and the problem taken care of. And the ending is much simpler and much more effective that way.
A few days ago I printed out the entirety of what I written in Trust Hole, in the process reminding myself I needed to actually finish it. So that night I sat down to write what I thought would be the last two or three chapters. I finished out the climax, quite to my liking, and starting to write the first few sentences of the ending. But as I did so, I quickly realized finishing the book with a classic ending, i.e. explain how everyone ends up, what happens afterward, etc, was simply not going to work. All that information is nice, but wouldn't help the story in any way. So I simply stopped. The climax was over, the plot resolved, and the problem taken care of. And the ending is much simpler and much more effective that way.
December 23, 2011
A Retelling...
God rest you merry, gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
Remeber Christ, our savior
Was born this sacred day
A king has come to lowly earth
To slay the serpent fey
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
From God our heavenly ruler
The call to war is here
Rising from the heavens
The angel hosts appear
Swords of fire lifted high
Nowhere there is fear
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Saints of God, now gather here
Gentlemen, heed the call
Stand strong, you men of God
Righteous warriors all
Do not give into lies
Satan will surely fall
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
The battle lasts throughout the age
Until Christ does return
And until then we will keep on
Forward, straight, do not turn
But remember most of all
The vict'ry 's already won
And we can rest merry
As sons of God, gentlemen
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Let nothing you dismay
Remeber Christ, our savior
Was born this sacred day
A king has come to lowly earth
To slay the serpent fey
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
From God our heavenly ruler
The call to war is here
Rising from the heavens
The angel hosts appear
Swords of fire lifted high
Nowhere there is fear
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Saints of God, now gather here
Gentlemen, heed the call
Stand strong, you men of God
Righteous warriors all
Do not give into lies
Satan will surely fall
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
The battle lasts throughout the age
Until Christ does return
And until then we will keep on
Forward, straight, do not turn
But remember most of all
The vict'ry 's already won
And we can rest merry
As sons of God, gentlemen
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
Oh, tidings of wonder and joy
Wonder and joy
December 21, 2011
Music In Writing
When I am writing, I am usually listening to something. I find it helps me drown out the noises around me, and locks me into the world I am creating. Previously, when I was writing my Primorlen novels, epic music was the genre of choice. Thomas Bergensen's Illusions album has some of the most beautiful, sweeping, epic, but not overly intense music I've ever heard. Movie soundtracks are also sometimes helpful, though if I am quite familiar with the movie the music reminds me of the scenes during which it plays, rather than whatever I'm writing at the moment. However, as I began writing The Trust Hole, I found that epic music I had been listening to didn't quite cut it when helping me focus in.
Sweeping orchestras did not fit in with the grungy, dystopian, off-kilter world I was creating. So I broadened my musical horizons, searching for soundtracks and other music that would fit. For instrumental, I rediscovered the Inception and Dark Knight soundtracks (which I already had), and found the gem of the Tron: Legacy soundtrack. These had the slightly electronic, deep and brooding but still epic feel I was looking for. For vocal music, I found Red's Until We Have Faces to have the same qualities, especially their quieter tracks. And the lyrics fit spot on... every song seemed to mirror a theme in Trust Hole. Feed the Machine, Not Alone, Who We Are, Hymn For The Missing; each spoke to one of the threads I was weaving together.
At the same time, a few nights I simply turned the music off and wrote in silence. Ten o'clock at night is usually pretty quiet, so the only sounds were the tapping of my keys. It was curiously epic in itself, just throwing the story forward on the wings of silence.
Try it sometime, turn off your carefully constructed playlist of writing music, and find a quiet place to just write. You might be surprised by the results.
Sweeping orchestras did not fit in with the grungy, dystopian, off-kilter world I was creating. So I broadened my musical horizons, searching for soundtracks and other music that would fit. For instrumental, I rediscovered the Inception and Dark Knight soundtracks (which I already had), and found the gem of the Tron: Legacy soundtrack. These had the slightly electronic, deep and brooding but still epic feel I was looking for. For vocal music, I found Red's Until We Have Faces to have the same qualities, especially their quieter tracks. And the lyrics fit spot on... every song seemed to mirror a theme in Trust Hole. Feed the Machine, Not Alone, Who We Are, Hymn For The Missing; each spoke to one of the threads I was weaving together.
At the same time, a few nights I simply turned the music off and wrote in silence. Ten o'clock at night is usually pretty quiet, so the only sounds were the tapping of my keys. It was curiously epic in itself, just throwing the story forward on the wings of silence.
Try it sometime, turn off your carefully constructed playlist of writing music, and find a quiet place to just write. You might be surprised by the results.
December 19, 2011
Musings
Note: In the following weeks, Monday posts will be about The Trust Hole, simply because that's what I'll be working on rather than anything in Primorlen.
Why The Trust Hole? What was so enticing about the little business card I made up that sent me speeding away on the express train of NaNoWriMo, far away from my previous ideas? What caused me to ditch weeks of careful plotting and re-plotting, character outlines, my preferred genre, and a character I was thrilled to be writing about again? What about Alen and his dystopian world grabbed my attention and held it securely for an entire month of frantic noveling?
Just that. Alen himself and his off-kilter world. There was something wonderfully appealing in the idea of a completely normal boy thrust into a not-so-normal world. But a familiar world. And perhaps that is what caught me. Alen and Molson City exist in the modern world. There are Russians, and Poles, and Swedes; shotguns, grenade launchers, and Glocks; old cars, squeaking screen doors, muddy streets and broken street lamps. But at the same time they exist somewhere beyond time and space. There's a talking tiger, a man with a bionic eye, fighting robots, an entire complex that operates night after night without attracting police attention.
And in the cross-section of normal and not-so-normal I found something wonderful. In the conflux, there arrives the question: what makes normal? And as a extrapolation, what makes different? In a place where freaks fight robots for a living, what defines freakishness? What defines specialness? And that is the key to the entire riddle.
For the minute I wrote Alen's first lines, I knew he was special. He was unlike any other character I had written before, far more introspective and quiet. Pride was something he struggled with only occasionally. Whereas in my last novel, Freeborn and Freegiven, each character struggled to realize they couldn't go it alone, and had to face their pride and do what they did not want to, Alen's struggle delved into the very depths of worth and purpose.
And in the theme of worth I found my greatest message yet told. Being in our own world, Christ was real and tangible, and in the filth and grime of the Hole, His light shone out clear and cold.
Why The Trust Hole? What was so enticing about the little business card I made up that sent me speeding away on the express train of NaNoWriMo, far away from my previous ideas? What caused me to ditch weeks of careful plotting and re-plotting, character outlines, my preferred genre, and a character I was thrilled to be writing about again? What about Alen and his dystopian world grabbed my attention and held it securely for an entire month of frantic noveling?
Just that. Alen himself and his off-kilter world. There was something wonderfully appealing in the idea of a completely normal boy thrust into a not-so-normal world. But a familiar world. And perhaps that is what caught me. Alen and Molson City exist in the modern world. There are Russians, and Poles, and Swedes; shotguns, grenade launchers, and Glocks; old cars, squeaking screen doors, muddy streets and broken street lamps. But at the same time they exist somewhere beyond time and space. There's a talking tiger, a man with a bionic eye, fighting robots, an entire complex that operates night after night without attracting police attention.
And in the cross-section of normal and not-so-normal I found something wonderful. In the conflux, there arrives the question: what makes normal? And as a extrapolation, what makes different? In a place where freaks fight robots for a living, what defines freakishness? What defines specialness? And that is the key to the entire riddle.
For the minute I wrote Alen's first lines, I knew he was special. He was unlike any other character I had written before, far more introspective and quiet. Pride was something he struggled with only occasionally. Whereas in my last novel, Freeborn and Freegiven, each character struggled to realize they couldn't go it alone, and had to face their pride and do what they did not want to, Alen's struggle delved into the very depths of worth and purpose.
And in the theme of worth I found my greatest message yet told. Being in our own world, Christ was real and tangible, and in the filth and grime of the Hole, His light shone out clear and cold.
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