My Faithful Notebook and Pen

Guardians of the Sky Realms

Wow, am I excited and motivated!

Over the last few days (sick in bed, mind you), I have written over 7k words toward my small YA novel. I am guessing it will get to around 60k when finished – which is odd for me (as I tend to write them a lot longer). 11k in all has now been written. I am on a roll big time, and I don’t suspect it will sustain at this rate all the way to the end (yes, work is calling), but it will make a sizeable dent to the novel and, more importantly, I am in the groove – there will be no stumbling blocks now.

This is new for me, but it feels right. I call it a YA novel, but I am guessing the core readers will be girls aged from about 13 to 17 – I am guessing, as I am 48 and a male. That’s radically different! Does this constitute a YA novel? It wont be long before I start to find some of my nieces and get them to sanity check what I have written.

I have a short story posted on the Internet that is pretty close to what the prologue of my novel will be. Here it is to give you a bit of a taste what the story is about (but only a taste – there is a lot more to it!).

I call the short The Painting.

It was a balmy night but Maree shivered, buttoning up her coat. It was fear. Not for something specific, but the unknown – the back lanes of The Rocks were dark and menacing at midnight.

This was one of the oldest parts of Sydney and many of the narrow buildings she silently passed were nearly two hundred years old. In the old days the narrow byways were frequented by footpads and other villains. They killed for a few shillings. The history of the area was tangible: you could smell and taste it, and every shadow seemed to form into a knife-wielding psychopath.

She kept reminding herself that it was just her imagination as she continued down Kendell Lane, looking for No. 42. She still glanced over her shoulder every few seconds.

“There,” she whispered, when she spotted the rusty number in the dim light. She read the signage underneath it: ‘Azimuth Galleries – viewings by appointment only’. Not this night, she thought.

Maree looked around her, making sure that no one was in sight. When she was sure it was clear she pulled out a pair of wires and expertly picked the old lock.

She quickly entered the old building and shut the door. She then pulled out a pocket torch and switched it on, immediately flashing it around to get her bearings. It was, in some ways, scarier in the gallery, as the paintings in the shadows seemed to come to life, shifting as the torch flickered by, the eyes of abstract figures seemingly following her. She shivered again. She wandered into the next room, picking her pace up as if to avoid the gaze of the phantoms behind her.

Her torch light almost immediately found the painting she was after. Wings. The work she saw in the magazine, the magnificent work of art she had to have. This was not going to be theft for profit; this was for her.

She had been dreaming about the painting for weeks, the swirling reds, greys and oranges of barely discernible winged figures; angels perhaps, but the subject matter wasn’t angelic. There was grief and death in it. She needed to study it alone, to absorb the artist’s impression, to feel the paint under her fingertips, to grasp the complete meaning of the work.

Maree held her breath and approached the painting. It was larger than she thought, perhaps four feet square. The colours were richer, more penetrating, and the winged man and… yes, woman! were more easily discernible. She was in awe, frozen in wonder before it.

“A beautiful work, no?” a deep, masculine voice came from behind her.

She started in surprise, but she didn’t move an inch. She was now frozen in fear.

The voice came again, this time a little closer. “Do not worry. I am a stranger in this gallery as well. I too have an… affinity with the painting.”

A sweat bead ran down Maree’s neck. She found the courage to turn around. A tall man stood before her, no more than five feet away. He had short cropped hair, dark but the exact colour was unclear in the shadows. His eyes seemed light, perhaps grey; his face was thin but his body seemed full and fit. “I suppose you are wondering why I am here?”

Maree’s voice was weak, still with fear. “I… I suppose so…”

“I too wanted to view the painting. I have seen it before but I never tire of viewing the captured emotions on the canvas.” He slipped past Maree and came within a few feet of Wings. “Do you mind?” he asked, pointing to her torch.

She complied, standing next to the stranger, and illuminated the painting.

The mysterious visitor’s voice seemed to mellow, almost break with emotion. “This is the story of Alanar, the Guardian of the Northern Sky Realm, and his consort Mirriam. They were Protectors and fought the daemons of the Fire Lands valiantly, never allowing the enemy to taint the Homelands. Protectors always worked as pairs, as a team.” The stranger started to cry, not vocally, but allowing the tears to cascade down his cheeks. “Then one day a stray arrow dug deep into Mirriam’s breast, cleaving her heart. Alanar was devastated, and he caught her as she fell and carried her in his flight to the Homelands.

“This painting captures the moment when Mirriam’s body was caught. It faithfully portrays the agony of Alanar, his yellow-tipped wings rippling in the wind as he concludes his terrible descent. The swirling colours reflect the awful light of the Fire Lands but they also depict Alanar’s darkened heart. I look upon this work and I cannot but weep.”

Maree heard his words and they all rang true to her. How could this be? she asked herself, for this was but an artist’s fantasy; and yet she now realised why she was drawn to the painting. There was some inherent truth in the canvas. Something that needed to say something to her. She also began to weep.

His hand gently clasped her shoulder. “You feel this too?”

She could only nod. Words were too difficult to say.

“And why?”

She shrugged her shoulders. She still couldn’t speak.

“Come with me.”

Maree turned to the stranger, looking up at his face. She saw compassion in him, and yet she only met him a few minutes ago. She wanted to instantly reply ‘yes’, but all she could do was look at him quizzically.

He laughed while he cried. “Look at the painting again.”

She did. The swirling colours suddenly seemed to have a life of their own; they actually were swirling. The tall man’s hand was still on her shoulder, and it ever so gently urged her to move toward the canvas, but not forcibly.

She didn’t know why but she allowed herself to fall into the painting, and then, without warning, she unfurled her expansive, blue-tipped wings, and flew into the maelstrom of colours.

He never let her go.

“It has been a long time, Mirriam.”

The Sceptre and the Orb

Where do I begin? This is my first novel, my baby, and I genuinely believe it’s very good. It is epic High Fantasy, all 200k words of it. It is also reasonably uniquely structured and has the right story lines to introduce the world where Evyntyde exists.

As I stated in another blog, the world I write about was not altogether my construction – there were a bunch of roleplay game designers who collaborated on convention modules, and with a great deal of enthusiasm, we did a lot of world building. I was one of the most active, but certainly not the only one. The group eventually went their separate ways in terms of this project, and I continued it pretty much solo for a while, and eventually realised that the world had a lot to offer from a writing point of view. The other designers either formally handed over rights to the world to a smaller subset of designers, and those that remained consented to allowing me to dip into the stuff we collectively built. I should point out that my creative writing effort is mine, and mine alone, and by far the bulk of the world building used to construct the novels (and short stories) are also mine.

For fear of jeapardising my chances of selling the book through a publisher, I will refrain from quoting from my work, at this stage, and for that matter, divulging too much about the story. The following is what I am willing to offer.

The Sceptre and the Orb (‘scepter’ in US English) are two ancient artefacts, one created by a god-emperor, while the other by one of the greatest alchemists of all time, who used god-originating materials to construct it. They were designed to work together. They symbolised the right to rule the Kingdom of Waymoor, as well as the Kingdom of Evyntyde, that came out of a Great Migration from the earlier land. They also are powerful items of magic in the hands of people who know how to wield them (spell casting alchemists), and who have the Gift.

The novel is set in two places and timeframes, and appear to be two different stories, although each have spell casting alchemists of the Cimiaric Order, and the two artefacts play an important part in the conduct of events. The earlier thread takes place in the Kingdom of Waymoor, about 550 years prior to the events in the Kingdom of Evyntyde. The lives of three alchemists are followed, each having challenges in their lives, but also being entangled in the fate of the Waymoorian Sceptre and Orb.

Civil War, treason, jealousy – great events take place and near the conclusion of the novel all threads join together and add meaning to each other.

The story is truly epic, and I am proud to have written it.

My Novels – Completed & Planned

Hmm, can’t give too much away, but I would like to talk about my writing efforts, particularly in the medium that I enjoy the most.

The core of my writing at the moment, and certainly over the last few years, has been The Chronicles of Evyntyde. Stories set in the world where that island kingdom exists. It is so unique and expansive, and there has been so much work put into it, that it just oozes plot lines and characters. I suspect I will be writing Evyntyde short stories and novels until the day I die. Having said this, I am not limited to this series, and I have just made a strategic decision where I am placing all of my major writing effort into a YA novel (see below).

The Sceptre and the Orb

This novel (200k) is my first, and it is done and dusted, in terms of readiness to be picked up by an agent and/or publisher. It has been polished so much I can see my face reflected in it, and I figure any further changes would be as a result of professional editing assistance. I will post another log on this work, as it deserves its own discussion.

Crystal Peak

Before I finished the final polish of The Sceptre and the Orb, I planned and then began drafting Crystal Peak. This work is about two-thirds complete (120k written, and it will probably resolve to about 160k). This is a fun story to write, although my day job has caused a major slow-down in production. I enjoy having characters from my first novel play roles in this story, but also introducing new ones, and in particular a female astrologer who is one of the main characters. All good.

Guardians of the Sky Realms

This novel has an interesting history. I wrote a short story, inspired by a painting (via a writers’ challenge), called The painting. It is one of my best stories and I wrote it deliberately for the younger set – to be specific, females aged 13 to 18 (although not inclusive). As soon as I wrote it I knew it had immense possibilities, and about a month later I plotted out an outline for a YA (or perhaps slightly younger age group) novel, and I also wrote the next chapter. I deliberately left it in hibernation, as I really wanted to progress Crystal Peak, and so it was left uncooked for quite some time.

Two things caused me to rearrange my priorities. Firstly, Text Publishing (a small Press here in Melbourne) announced the winner of it’s second annual YA novel award – the prize was getting the novel published the next year and $10,000 advance on royalties – which seemed a really good target for my YA effort for next year’s awards – so I have until about July next year to get it written. The second reason why Guardians could be given higher priority was the simple fact that I have come to the conclusion that it is simply a more marketable work while I am still unpublished and have zero street cred. So, I have decided to swap the priorities between Crystal Peak and Guardians of the Sky Realms, and make a BIG push to getting the YA novel completed as soon as possible.

This is a wonderful baby for me – it just reeks of being a publishable, marketable work, and possibly even more. My decision to emphasize my YA novel is the right one.

Other Works

It is always dangerous to forecast far into the future, and to describe things that are, by their nature, subject to change. So dear reader, take this with a grain of salt, and forgive me for being deliberately general, as I don’t want to give away trade secrets ;-).

I have a third Evyntyde Book in mind, whose working title is The Crimson Pirate. Evyntyde is a seafaring nation and an enjoyable part of Crystal Peak is the sea based chapters (of which there are many). I thought it would be very enjoyable indeed to have a novel largely devoted to the topic.

Ah, my secret project. When I was in my late teens I was a passenger on a long country drive in inland New South Wales, Australia, and I saw a bleak landscape and an idea sprung in my mind. A pretty much complete storyline entered my head in the space of about ten minutes. Periodically, I thought about the story, and then forgot it (hibernation again), and about two years ago it made it’s timely return, and I started to put pen to paper. I genuinely believe it is a very good story, and I consider it a jewel that I need to work on in the next few years. What makes it interesting for me, aside from it’s conception, is that it isn’t a fantasy, YA, or even conventional Scifi. My best description would be to say it is a Michael Crichton style novel, set primarily in Australia and Antarctica. It’s working title is Bitter Springs. This is likely to be the final title.

I have other ideas, but they are not worthy of mention at this stage. I am a contented soul when it comes to creativity, as I have about a couple of years’ worth of work lined up, if I was a full time writer.

As an aside, I am putting together an Evyntyde Short Story Anthology, which, I suppose, can be considered a large piece of work, rather than short stories, per se.

Quartet Press Dissolves

I found out via Twitter today that yesterday Quartet Press announced that it will no longer be operating. This was pretty sad news for me, for two reasons – firstly, they really had a great philosophy and they certainly were genuine – Angela James, for one, represented a very good editor in chief in the company. I don’t know the details of why they dissolved, but I believe it had to do with financial issues.

The second reason why I was sad was because I was developing a good relationship with the company and I wanted to be part of it, both in a creative sense, as well as potentially as an editor. Either way, it didn’t get the runs on the board. I believe in their philosophy that epublishing teams of quality will emerge and take advantage of a change in the profile of readers in the US, and most of the Western world. People with vision thrive, but not always with every venture.

Good luck to those who were part of that fine company!

Harry Potter and Rowling’s Depiction of Evil

Wow, I never thought I would write a blog on the Harry Potter phenomenon. I certainly don’t want to delve deep, nor join the fandom ranks – the one and only time I even dipped my toe in that space was when I visited http://www.dumbledoreisnotdead.com after I had finished reading Book 6 – hey, I wanted to read the speculation, as I had my own at the time!

I should also state my position with regard to the series, as I have noticed that there are two large camps out there in the world – those who adore it, and those who hate it. I think those who hate it are a little unfair, and I suspect there’s no small number of them who do it because of ‘tall poppy syndrome’ – or perhaps just not wanting to be labelled among the majority of anything. But hey, I don’t lose sleep over it. I like the series because it is an imaginative extravaganza and it is a long and sustained saga. The world is pretty rich and different, and largely internally consistent (oops, just starting to touch on the whole point of this blog… just park that one!). It isn’t a literary masterpiece, nor is it trying to seduce the reader with a core theme. It is entertainment. I thoroughly enjoyed the series, and was riveted to several books in particular (I’ll leave that as a mystery).

I was walking briskly up Collins St in Melbourne when, for some inexplicable reason, I suddenly thought about how the series treated the "baddies", and how it philosophically constructed what is, essentially, evil. Perhaps I was dwelling on the abstract first, thought about this specific, and returned to the abstract. Possibly. Anyway, I tried to recall the moments when I thought about this when reading the seven books – and most notably the latter books, and I realised there was a level of disquiet with how evil was treated, in me. I did not think it was quite right when I read them, and I still don’t think it is some years later, and reflecting on the matter.

As a writer, I can’t say that evilness is a key theme that I focus on, but as a spec-fic author I certainly need to cover it and I want it to sit comfortably in the worlds that I build. It doesn’t mean that I need to come up with a reason why evil exists, but it has to behave in a way that allows suspension of disbelief to hum along fine with the reader. Like most writers I get a gut feel for this; I don’t need to refer to some algorithm to pitch it right.

I think it wasn’t pitched right in the Potter series. And I think I know why – and I believe it is a shame (although hardly a major shame, as I still enjoyed reading the books, so did millions of others, and Rowling is one of the richest people in the world). The answer, perhaps, is related to the threads that bind the Death Eaters together, centred around Voldemort. OK, we have a troubled soul with a huge talent in magic, and who is also aligned with the Slytherin House (which appears, even by its snake imagery, to be a group where evil variably lurks since some bygone time!) Then we have a bunch of old house families who absolutely abhor muggles and have a Nazi like attitude toward them and those who are part muggle. This philosophical disposition appears to group them behind Voldemort and cause them to do some pretty horrific things. A fair number of their kind appear radically insane, which is another common thread that binds them to evil. As you can see, we have a pot full of sub-reasons why evil exists, but I always get this feeling that it doesn’t make sense that they are together in the way they are, that anti-muggleness should be such a telling factor in allowing them to reap so much pain and misery, and how a House like Slytherin should in fact exist at all in Hogwarts, where there is so much virtue.

It seems as if Rowling abstractly conceived evilness (essential for almost any type of fantasy) and plotted to reflect it, not necessarily how it hung altogether, and certainly not what caused it. We have glimpses of Voldemort’s insane childhood, but not Slytherin’s, and we can understand that he evilly bound a host of pure blood witches into his fold, but nothing comprehensive and believable about what motivated them to gravitate toward him, other than some ‘witch supremicist’ disposition. We have some interesting subplots, such as Draco hesitating when tasked with heinous crimes, but again, this does not address anything other than his personal conscience in the face of the symptomatic effects.

We have lots of evil, and wonderful imagery of their effects in the seven books, and we all have followed how much darker it gets as the series progresses – it is an aspect of Rowland’s novels that is intriguing and entertaining. However, looking at the characters that perpetrate these acts, and what motivates them, falls just short in full suspension of disbelief.

Am I being pedantic? Probably, but hey, that’s what blogs are all about.

Oh, and this is my first and last blog on Potter.

The Chronicles of Evyntyde

When I decided to write novels set in the world where the Kingdom of Evyntyde existed, I had no greater difficulty than deciding what to call the series. I really hated to use "chronicles", "saga", or any other well-worn terms, as this very fact rankled me. So when I thought about other series titles, I found myself in a bad place indeed. Nothing worked. My thesaurus was worn thin. I returned to the tried and true, and realised that "chronicles" was in fact the best fit. So I called it The Chronicles of Evyntyde. There you go.

One reason why "chronicles" wasn’t too bad was because it did not imply a finite series, nor did it drill down to some macro-plot line that implied that it was a continuing series – which it isn’t. If there was any principle or concept that I developed right from the start, it was that I was not going to write a novel that left a reader hanging out for instalment two, and so forth. I wanted to write novels that were self contained, but where characters could make appearances again, or where events in earlier novels may get referred to or potentially influence the ‘here and now’. Not entirely original, but certainly not common. I liked that. Still do.

A slightly misleading dimension to the series title is that a story doesn’t strictly have to take place in Evyntyde, nor have anything related to it. But I rationalise this by suggesting, in a tenuous sort or way, that whatever story gets told, was collected by scholars in Evyntyde. At least that’s the story I will stick to, although there really isn’t a sense of that going on, particularly when the majority of my narrative is in third person past tense.

The world is large, rich and interesting, and it would be a shame not to exploit this in the series. That is one of the reasons why I wrote The Sceptre and the Orb first – a good third of the story takes place in the Kingdom of Waymoor, and five hundred and fifty years prior to the "usual" time line of the series. But that is another story…

Here is a high level map of the world:

Roleplaying in my life

This is an important topic for me because RPGs represent the most sustained creative process that I have taken part in, in my life. Geekish, heh? Sort of. (OK, OK – how many of your writers out there have been roleplayers – more than are willing to admit, I bet!)

Alright, I admit that as a young teenager I was a bit inadequate with girls, loved scifi and fantasy, immersed myself in creating worlds etc (refer to my first blog – #bio), and just basked in the friendships that grew from this hobby. (Got that one out of the way.) But it was (and I suppose is) still important to me. This seems the right place to rave about it a bit.

I started roleplaying at about the age of sixteen when D&D was out for a year or so, and AD&D had only one of its manuals published and distributed to Australia. The only other RPG game I knew of at the time was Traveller, for those scifi fans out there. It was new, exciting and awesome for a sixteen year old. The system sucked but because it was new and no benchmark existed, it was great. besides, if you didn’t like some rule, you changed it.

I played at High School and University, and eventually settled back in Canberra in 1982, where I formed a group, and they represented the kernel of my friends to this day – this was certainly one of the greatest by-products of gaming for me – as in my youth my family moved around a fair bit and I was never able to acquire a "home base", roots. My best friends to this day come from that group.

I got into other games as the hobby/art matured, ICE’s "Law" series, Call of Cthulhu, Champions, World of Darkness, etc etc etc. Now there are as many types of RPGs as there are pizza recipes. But also along the way serious RPGers emerged, and I was one of them. We were convention goers and we tried hard to add professionalism to the game, and incorporate new concepts (at the time) like Freeform, live action, more indepth plot, world building, characterisation, and so forth. The eighties in particular were "salad days" for RPGers in Australia, and in my view was ahead of the rest of the world.

Also in the eighties a group of us created our own special fantasy world and eventually an RPG system to suit it. It was called the World of Evyntyde and it was a bit of a success among the chosen who attended conventions. We even had a bit of a following. I was enamoured of it, and so were quite a few of my mates. As time went by, and so it goes with any group of people with strong artistic views and differing work ethics, when the group’s Evyntyde endeavours died away… but not before a huge legacy of material was produced. I still wanted to publish the system (still do, but we will see), and I certainly felt strong about the world building that had gone on there.

I’ve played adventures in Evyntyde in my own game nights off and on, but I am now of the view that the system needs to be properly documented before I can follow that trail again… we will see. See my next blog about Evyntyde (#Evyntyde) – but in a nutshell, I felt the work put into the world was such that it deserved more than do die in obscurity. I used it as the basis of my Chronicles of Evyntyde novels, one of which has been completed, and the next is about two-thirds done. I acknowledge the other designers who helped build the world, but the stories are mine and much of the fleshing out of world details are also mine. Of those who still had a "stake" in the Evyntyde RPG, I got their permission to follow my path and publish.

Until about December 2008 I roleplayed pretty much at least once a fortnight since 1990, excepting holidays and health issues. Up to about 1989 I roleplayed a lot more (I was single then). Aside from creative writing, this is the next best thing for me. Also, from a practical point of view, it provided me the following:

a sense of plot construction, adventure. Hardened roleplayers need quality storylines and action.
an ability to develop well structured mysteries. Good stories will have well planned plot lines so that surprises are for real, and mysteries can be solved in a "that makes sense" sort of way.
an ability to create realistic and interesting characters. Sort the stereotypes from the originals – use stereotypes imaginatively to add humour and satire.
an ability to evocatively build worlds, and be smart about creating the sense of something "big" by describing select "small things".

All in all, this was a thirty year apprenticeship for writing.

I am what I am because of roleplaying.

About Me – I’ve got to start somewhere!

I’m starting this blog because I believe I now need it… but I’m ahead of myself.

I’m Australian with a Dutch heritage – both my parents emigrated to Australia, met there, married, and me and my brother eventually popped up (I was born in – wait for it – Canberra). They were very different people, and while we were young, things were OK, but eventually the marriage turned sour and by the time I was in my early twenties, things were well and truly over. My father became a very unhappy man, drank a lot, lived in destitution, and died at the very young age of 56.

I needed to lay out this bit of truth because important events in your life, and particularly when you’re young, have permeating affects on the remainder of your existence. It did for me, and I think it did more for my brother, Dom. Of course, I leave it to my brother to tell his story, if he so chooses.

Because my family were never wealthy, and in fact were quite poor for prolonged periods, my mother really wanted me to "become someone" – I had an aptitude for studying, read mature books from about the age of 10, and loved writing from about the same time. I enjoyed writing short stories and reading them out in class, and I even sent a hand written submission of shorts to a publisher at the age of thirteen, only to be bitterly disappointed with the rejection, despite the editor writing that I had talent and that I had to wait a few years (if only I knew HOW MANY YEARS it would take!) Back to the thread: so instead of following an academic path to becoming a writer, I aimed for the law, and I even attended a year of law school in Sydney. Big mistake. It wasn’t difficult, but it was boring. Very boring. For the next couple of years I tried different things and ended up in an office job, rather dejected.

There was a period in my twenties when I was metaphorically "lost in the wilderness" – unhappy, self-destructive, unsatisfied with what I was doing. The only thing that I did that was creative was roleplay – and lots of it. I started when I was about sixteen, and I really only stopped last year – that’s 31 years! (Actually, I only stopped because I moved cities and left my troupe of players behind). It kept me sane, nurtured my adolescent male needs (well beyond adolescence), and because I was part of that force of RPGers who wanted to lift the quality of the pastime, was a truly amazing (and long) apprenticeship in the craft of storytelling. It was only with the benefit of hindsight did I realise how valuable it truly was.

I can describe my thirties quite easily – a failed marriage, more wonderful (and ground breaking) roleplaying design and practice, and two undergraduate degrees (Arts – BioAnthropology; Science – Computer Science and Statistics). I entered the computing profession, and while it was not my life’s ambition, it paid for bills and gave me a solid career. Stupidly (stupid, stupid, stupid!) I did not look to becoming a writer. (Again I say, stupid, stupid, stupid!).

I am now in my forties (and not far off from hitting the fifties). My life has turned around – I have finally got a whole bunch of things going that have added meaning to my life. I married again and this time to the right person for me (Jenny). I have a lovely 4 year old daughter, Erin. I am pretty successful in the IT business (although not my life’s ambition). And several years ago I woke up to myself and I started to do a lot of writing. I was wiser as a ten year old than in my twenties and thirties – this is my life’s ambition. I have moved to Melbourne for a few years with my family (work) but it has stimulated me to write more, and I feel I am closer to the writing fraternity of Australia. I have completed one novel, 2/3rds finished a second, and have a heap in plan. I have written over thirty short stories. I am on the verge of being published and hopefully can transition over the next few years to becoming a professional writer – who can sustain himself and his family with just that craft. We will see. Those who follow this blog can be witness, I hope.

So how do I summarise my life? Well, on the surface, I wasted about twenty years – but that would be a bloody stupid thing to say. I had good times, bad times, stupid times, and smart/creative times. I lived and learned. It contributes to my body of experience that translates into being a better writer, and person.

In a nutshell, and from a forty thousand foot high perspective, what I have just written is me.

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