Friday, March 28, 2014

A-to-Z Blog Challenge April 2014


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So I did it.  I signed up for the 2014 A-to-Z Blog challenge, which means I have to come up with 26 posts in the month of April.  I've already got the first week pretty much ready to go.  Does that mean I'm cheating?

This also made me realize that I should probably update that God-awful ugly-looking banner at the top of the page.  Someone might actually visit this site now, so I need to make it more presentable.

This also reminded me that I should be putting the finishing touches on my book instead of writing silly blog posts that no one will read.  Still. At least I'm writing something.

See you next week!
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Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Chasing Hobbits


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I don't remember where I read it, but someone once said that fantasy writers keep writing and telling the same stories over and over again trying to recapture the magic they felt when they first experienced The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.  I believe this wholeheartedly, and I don't believe it just applies to fantasy writers, nor specifically to the works of Tolkien.

We all have that story from our youth that captured our imagination and drew us into a mythical world.  For myself and those in the generation before me, it probably was The Hobbit (I remember the first time I read it, a brightly-coloured, illustrated version I borrowed from my friend). For newer generations it will probably be Harry Potter.  When it ended and Frodo and Bilbo moved onto the next world (or when Harry grew up), the magic ended and we moved onto the next book, and the next and the next, trying to find more magic and mystery and wonder.  We may have found better books and stories that even touched us more, but like that fumbling awkwardness in the backseat of your parents' car, you never forget your first.
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Monday, March 24, 2014

Where does the time go?


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Answer: In the closet.

It's a running joke my wife and I shared for years.  It's a major plot point in my first novel I hope to publish very soon. It is both a literal and figurative description of what I've done with my life.

There is - literally - a closet in the basement of my house that contains dozens of notebooks, computer disks and several bankers boxes full of manuscripts, half-finished stories and hundreds of pages of notes and ideas for other tales.  I have no idea how many hours, days and years of my life are piled on those shelves under the stairs, but it is a substantial portion.  From my high school years right up until the birth of my son I wrote frequently and prolifically.  I went through phases where I tried to get novels and stories published, but it never really went anywhere.

Coincidentally, we also keep the cat's litter box in this closet, which I hope isn't symbolic of something.

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