The Littlest Willing To Do What The Biggest Won't.

Comfort is overrated. Yet, we'll move heaven and earth to get it. Undervalued is pressure, overlooked is confrontation and undesirable is conflict. These things mold us into our 'better selves', laying tracks for our destiny into undiscovered country of healthy and happy. This is true of ourselves, our characters in fiction, of the people in documentaries and news coverage. We are actually attracted to the things that change us, but, we'd rather have others go through these trials.

The conflict is not the trial itself, but how we deal with it. How we choose to let the conflict change us, how we will allow ourselves to feel in those times can determine the speed at which we deal with it.

I will ask myself, "How willing to mature am I?" or "Am I willing to look stupid?" or "Am I willing to be wrong?"
My answer to these questions can determine the time spent in that conflict. Sometimes the answers bring the call to action that is needed. Sometimes I set the fire, and sometimes it sets me.

Free. 

What if I can write this into my characters as it is being written into me? How can I cause a reader to feel the weight of the conflict, the edge of emotion, the freedom of being shaped by the pressure?


If you have read Brimstone Deep, please leave a review here!

On The Contrary

I have brilliant kids. And I feel like they are sharpening me on a regular basis. They pay attention to my inconsistencies and have no problem pointing them out. It's a very humbling (code for embarrassing) experience to have my children expose my frailty and inadequacy at the hands of naiveté and learning. Makes me feel small. They are not even being mean. I am the psychological lab rat in their didactic game of boundaries. They are poking and prodding at my integrity, self possession, volition and resolve. In short, they are figuring out what is 'ok' and what is 'not ok'.

My answer? Let them come. Let them practice on me. I should be a safe place for them to fail, hurt, hurt others, be rude, love and hate. They need to know that nothing that they do or say will change the way that I feel about and treat them. They require time spent to play with my emotions and see my response (healthy, hopefully), determining whether they can afford to hurt me or to protect our relationship. And it needs to be ok for me to deal with a little embarrassment, a little hurt and a little sadness here and there, for them to figure out who they are and who we are together.

If you have not yet read Brimstone Deep, please check it out here. And, write a review if you are so inclined. Thanks!

The Dapholio - A Brief Writing Exercise.

The short fever of revolution began when the artist' guild struck a powerful bargain with the industrial conglomerate. The deal was as follows: 'We design your machinery to be cheaper and more efficient and you promote our artists, those of whom we approve, to popularity. Create an appetite for whatever it is that we want to serve. Then we both get control. Control. We control appetites, you enforce the feeding. Dollars and cents from dolls and gents. And they will think, over time, that it was their idea.'

The beautiful soul of mankind is found in the need for freedom, however. And freedom flowers in the most embarrassing places that fear and control can imagine. Which makes for a tight fit for liberty, as they have poor imaginations and a grip empowered only for what they have a grid to comprehend.

When artists find that walls are being built around them, fear and control find that they have a superior headache with which to deal. When those artists have access to the very machinery that works to build those walls. Biomechanics can be a real problem when wielded by free individuals.

The sleek machines were beautiful for only a short period of time. Souls robbed from precious men and women and becoming the consciousness of said mechanics covered in the black soot of boilersmoke, pressing steam into an energy source, powering these sentinels of control.

The market was held on the underside of the massive bridge that once linked the mainland city of Bywater with the island city of Singleton, now severed by the last civil war. The market is called Black by the authorities and William's part in it was considered highly illegal. The promotion and sale of wares unapproved by the GuildCon government. Soap, handwoven textiles, and wilted fruit sat side-by-side with firearms, booze and assassins for hire. It was filthy and silent.

William sold his goods. Schematics and sketches sold to anyone desperate enough to build a biomechanical device, then pilot or wield it. But, William felt the tide of revolution rising. He watched as the pathetic and impoverished lost the will to live. As crime bosses took over and policed the dark places. It is the very way that he earned a living. Until he lost a leg. Now, he looked past his table of wares despondently, considering an attempt to find out what was left on that little island city just a few miles away.

The short clipped step of a little man in a brown homespun shirt announced the arrival of Helmut.
"Mister William?"
"Yeah?" William shifted his eyes to see the pathetic little man.
"I have really great news." He seemed to shiver, a lethargic blink of his told me that the 'news' was neither really great or news at all.
"Lemme guess, Boss Turnic wants me to off somebody? I can't." I tapped my leg. I won't.
"No sir. A man at the gates wants to meet with you. Looks pretty important. He said that if you wouldn't come with me to give you this," He laid a carton of dark brown eggs on the table, "Said that he wants to buy your schematics. Also, wants to hire you to make something you might be interested in."
William was interested. He took out a small egg and held it out to Helmut.
The little man's serious face cracked slightly into a grin, his eyes giving the slightest lift at the edges.
"Thanks."
"Take me to this man. What's his name?"
"The Dapholio, he calls himself."

"The Dapholio." 

The Stuff Dreams Are Fed To

I have made sacrifices. In the search to push into 'greatness', I have sacrificed good, solid things for risky things that turned out to be great. But, mostly, I have fed good, solid things to a devouring, selfish wolf called waste.

Often, this wolf poses as wistful, hopeful and even, altruistic. Hours, days, months and years have been fed to it's salivating maw. In the context of writing, I feel that I have fed it my time under the guise of 'collecting information' or 'honing my skill' but, never really feeding time to my cow called writing. 

I call writing a cow because it is slow, constantly feeding and slowly digesting. It pulls it's food back up and chews it again and again. What's born of it, then nurses from it and itself grows. Then, the process cycles again and again. One day, I'll get to eat from it, but not without plenty of care and nourishment. Not without plenty of space for it to roam around and simply graze. 

At some point, when the wolf gets too large to ward off, it will turn and it will devour that cow. So, time to sacrifice that wolf. Whatever that looks like. Television, Facebook, and even Workaholism and Busy-ness. It begins with a plan to trap it, the structure with which to trap it, the execution of the plan, then, the execution of that wolf of waste. Until that plan is carried out, we continue to tolerate the things that get in our way to be more than just successful, but be fulfilled. 

Kill the wolf.

Because Food

1. I have a favorite farmer. Yes, I said farmer. Besides my wife, I mean. Joel Salatin is his name. Check him out.
2. I love Chipotle. The food is amazing, and for good reason. Have you read what is going into your food? Garbage and poisons, mostly. But, not with Chipotle. Why? Because they buy their ingredients from people who don't industrialize food and pump it out of a factory.  Instead, they find people who grow and raise things that are not genetically modified or fed poison. See above.
3. I have a favorite health motivator. It isn't someone from the Biggest Loser. Daniel Vitalis isn't this week's latest dietician and workout guru, plastering selfies all over social media. He has challenged the way I think about what I eat for completely different reasons than, "it's good for me."
4. I may have mentioned Bulletproof Coffee before, but let me say it again. I love butter in my coffee!

Young Bucks, Dollars and Sense.

As I am writing through the next Jim Harper Fantasy Western, Sky Rift, I realize that I am going to make decisions that I cannot undo. For instance, were I to give Jim a scar, I would need to take said scar into account anytime I am "looking" at him in the book. If I were to give him a gatling gun for an arm, washing the dishes could get frustrating. Well, folks, I am about to pull that trigger. I am about to lay down a whole system of technology, and I am not really sure how I feel about it. It's a massive commitment.

I am looking for a name for this technology, and the closest that I've come is Soul Tech. Yep, sounds stupid, but what was meant to be a temporary name has grown dear to my heart. But, it isn't within the framework of the story/world.  So, I am looking for a name for this system of antiquated tech.

I have not officially started the audio work yet for the audio book... And I realize that I probably won't get to due to a short week. I am heading to sunny California. Research, you know...

Thanks to all who have written a review for Brimstone Deep. Much love!

Tin Voice

This week, I will be beginning my initial recording for Brimstone Deep on acx.com. I am concerned about two things:

1. My voice - Let's face it. I'm nasally. There is no deep timbre, no resonant bass. Though, I think that I can do accents and voice acting. So, I may be capable of making it entertaining. Which is ultimately important.
2. Working with my wife - She writes/produces music so I know that she knows what she is doing. The issue is the tension that working together can cause. So, I need to settle a few things in my mind when working under her demands.

But, I am excited about the prospect of the whole project. Recording, distributing (Audible and iTunes), and marketing. I feel like this undertaking can lead to new possibilities. Who knows? I may be really good at it. 

I will be blogging in a few months about my opinions regarding Amazon's infrastructure as I see it. So far, I am pleased, but I really do not have anything else with which to compare. For 90 days, I am exclusively with them.

I am in throes of the next weird west tale. At this point I am calling it Sky Rift or SkyRift or whatever. The name is not etched in stone. I am hoping to release it late September/ early October. I am pleased with how it is coming along so far. I think you will be, too!

If you have read Brimstone Deep, PLEASE consider leaving a review here.

The Dapholio

Crying through clenched teeth, Kith kicked himself away from the grate. The blackness of the hole on the other side clamored the onset of the steam-spitting machine and it's grasping, constricting, segmented tendrils. The grate squealed as it was ripped from rusty hinges, the glowing tendril shooting into the air above him.

Tectonic steam beasts aside, Happy 4th!

-Laurian

Dripping Pen Held Aloft; Paper Spattered With Emotion

I was thinking about the kinds of manuscripts I would love to write. This is what I determined were my top 5:

1. I would love to write something heartbreaking and weepy. Something by which you could imagine the Faux Fix song Tokyo Train playing in the background.
2. Next up, I would love to write my autobiography, and it be amazing without any embellishment. Then, I would be the best writer ever.
3. The ultimate fantasy western, by which everyone else measures fantasy westerns. Yeah, that sounds ridiculous, but a boy's gotta dream.
4. I would love to write for film. Well, good film.
5. Anything that my favorite writer would read and ask me to sign his copy.

I want to remind you, blog reader, to check out my uber short ebook, Brimstone Deep. If you read it, please leave a review! Thanks!

A Much Needed Reminder

My brother in law sent this to me a long time ago in a PM on Facebook. Whenever I feel that I have lost focus and am having trouble finding worth in what it is I do, I speak this over me like a blanket. It is a great reminder. For those of you who create anything in any capacity, please enjoy this. Unless you just do not like encouragement.

I Like People

I hope I am good student.

I feel as though I miss people on a fairly basic level. Try as I might to pay attention, my brain chases rabbits through the details of a person's story, often times missing the underlying heart of the matter. Sometimes it is because I feel that I already know what they are going to say and they tell it too slowly. Agonizingly. Other times, because they tell it so briefly or without emphasis on anything I care about, I attache little emotional value to it. Also, I have an 'emotional detachment defense mechanism' that is initiated when someone is too sad or comes across as too emotionally needy. This EDDM has really come in handy at times. But, because I deal with actual people with real feelings, this EDDM should be used sparingly, so that I can respond with honor and compassion for their needs. Why bring this up?

In writing, I realize that an engrossing story is driven by people, their decisions, and other people's reaction to and proactivity regarding those decisions. To write people, I need to read people, so to speak. Emotionally, I need to find the place where I can just let people be people and see their intrinsic value in who they are despite their offensive choices. And stay connected. In writing, I need to write people with an effect to keep them in the story.

So we'll see. Is the heinous bad guy worth redeeming? Is the boring milquetoast character at very least a part of an interesting story? Is a hero allowed to fail and fail and fail and still allowed to be the hero?

Whatever.

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