Transitioning

 This is a very strange and important time in my life.

I certainly had not anticipated being in Ohio this past weekend.

My plan had been to have my book just about ready to publish at this point so I could release it on Black Friday. That’s now 5 days away and I’m still waiting on things that are out of my hands. It may well be that I don’t make this deadline, but I won’t worry about something I have little control over. Plus, I am still riding the high of getting the final render of my art, finishing the rough draft of book #3, finishing the audio for the audiobook, having finished the plotting of book #4… For the first time in my life I feel like I could actually be something. This, writing, is what I was born to do, what I want to do. 

But life is more than writing.

And it doesn’t last forever.

When I got a call from the hospice telling me my dad is in the final stages of his “transition,” I dropped everything (almost literally—I was helping a friend move) and made the 5-hour drive here. He hadn’t opened his eyes in a week, his body had started shutting down, and he hadn’t responded to anyone in days. They told me the end was “imminent.” When I arrived, he was only taking about 5 breaths a minute and his oxygen levels were very low. But he did open up his eyes and look at me. For about 3 minutes I could have believed that he was about to get up and ask what we were all standing around for. Now he is resting, the “little death” of sleep. 

They call it “transitioning” and I can see why. It is comforting, for us and for our departing loved ones. For those of us who are religious, it reminds us of the hereafter. And it evokes a feeling of change. The change in the transitioner is obvious, but it is also a change for those left behind. We must take the lessons their life taught us and forge ahead, bringing their good with us. It is a time to think back on all the ways they changed us and vice versa.

There comes a point when there are more memories made than to be made—none of us really want to think about that and so we don’t, not until it is near the end. I may well be there now. Thinking back, dad has lived a good life. He was a good man, a good role model. At times, his was a lesson on what not to do, but even when he failed, he didn’t give up. When I pass, I want those made memories to be good ones, for me and for my loved ones.

So, it is not a bad thing that I will likely miss this deadline of mine. Even if I had total control over it, life events like this one are more important. But I will remember the lessons he taught me. I will not give up. This roller coaster of emotions is temporary and will pass. And perhaps the high of getting published is in some way negating the feeling of loss. I like to think, however, that it is the good memories doing that. As my dad continues his transition, and I continue my own, I will keep those good memories in mind.

What I’m up to

For the longest time, year after year, I felt useless. There’s a Christmas song that asks what you’ve done this year, and I hated hearing it because my answer was always the same—nothing. I’d always have some excuse. To be perfectly frank, the reason came down to undiagnosed/medicated depression and unmedicated AHD.

At the beginning of this year, I took care of both of those problems.

So I thought it would be nice, on a personal level, to go over what I’ve accomplished this year.

• I wrote a book in 4-5 months.
• I was in charge of my lodge
• I played music at church every week
• I went to GenCon and Origins as part of the Board Game Rundown
• I hired an editor and cover artist and am now weeks away from having my first book published
• I recorded an audiobook
• I write a kid’s book
• I wrote 2 booklets about serial killers
• I traveled to California AND France
• I helped finally move my parents (an ongoing and massive affair)

I certainly can’t say I have done nothing. But the year isn’t over. So here’s a look at what I am currently doing and planning.

• I’m halfway-ish through writing a sequel to the book I wrote earlier this year
• I am remastering the audiobook
• I am working with an artist on the children’s book
• I am editing book #2
• I am working on a creative nonfiction book
• I just finished outlining the sequel to my first book.
• I’m working on an animation project with my brother and sister
• I’m getting my website up and running
• I have been training at the gym and have made many personal records

My therapist says I bite off more than I can chew. I have to agree with her.

At the start of this year, I was determined to make 2023 my year. And I think I have. For the first time, I feel like I can actually do something, be something, like my dreams are really achievable.

With the book so close to be done and the outline to its sequel finally figured out, I feel like every day is Christmas. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I’m so excited I can hardly sleep!

Yay Capitalism.

 Hello Hixonites!

Yes, I just came up with that term. You can all call yourselves that now.

I have been working hard to get this book done, though I'm working on other projects as well, and I'll be on vacation in a week so I'm trying to get done what I can before then.

As such, I thought it would be nice to finally utilize the domain name I've been paying for for several years now. I have a free site using Wix, and that's the same place I purchased my domain through.

What I find awkward is that I cannot use that domain, even though I'm paying for it, without upgrading from a free site to a not-so-free site. So what should cost something like $15/year will end up costing more like $219/year.

... yay.

Here's the rub. I want to be a successful writer, And making money takes money. I have no delusions that my debut novel will be some amazing, runaway bestseller or get any movie deals (but, honestly, it would make for an awesome movie or series). But I have to keep costs in mind.

If I sell my book at $15 and it costs, say, $7 to publish, that's a supposed net profit of $8. Let's take taxes out of that, assume 1/3, and that gives me a profit of about $5.33 per book sold. Now, there's going to be a cost to ship the book, most likely, and I don't know what that would be.
But now let's add in the cost of an editor and cover artist. For the sake of easy calculations, I'll estimate it all to $1200. Yeah, not cheap.
In order to pay for that, I need to sell about 225 books. BUT I also need to pay for advertising and I haven't looked into that, yet. How many more books must I sell just to break even?
Except now with this website nonsense, I wouldn't be breaking even. I'd need to sell at least 3 books per month to pay for the website.
If I go to a convention, I would need to pay for the table. Let's say it's $300. Just to pay for that table would require I sell 56 books.

I'm a new author, with a debut novel, no agent, an indie press, and minimal fame (if you can call 3.3k subscribers to the Board Game Rundown "fame").

Seems fairly obvious that breaking even with one book it not going to happen for a long time, if at all. I *need* to get more books and gain an audience. If I can sell 1k books online, I'd be cooking.

But all this ignores one, final, deadly calculation.

My value. I did the calculations. My first novel took a long time to write, probably about a year, give or take, if you only count the days I was able to write. And taking the time spent, that could've been 6 months full-time. But my second novel took about 4 months to write, but that wasn't full-time. If I wrote it full time it might have taken a month. That's ~160 hours.
If I want to make just $15/hour, I'd need to sell 452 books per month BEYOND what I would need to sell to break even.

This is kinda daunting and depressing, is it not? Writing has been my life-long dream. It was always in my plans, even when I wanted to be a paleontologist. But unless I write a LOT or make it big, there really isn't much money in it. I'm blessed that I have a loving, supporting wife who makes a lot more money than I'll ever make (I'd need to sell well over 1k books a month just to get close). And I do know and have met authors who earn 6 figures writing.

If I lived in a society that places human values over money, artists would get a stipend. But how do we do that? Well, everyone is an artist deep down inside. Instead of subsidizing oil and corn or throwing ungodly amounts of money at military contractors (and before you claim that we need to have a strong military and lowering their budget would make us weak, I'll have you know that the Defense Department is the ONLY federal agency that has NEVER passed an audit), we should just give everyone enough money to survive.
Some of us would be happy just having enough to get by, but most of us would want to earn more than that. However, having enough to get by means we can take risks. If I wasn't married to my wife, I would need to have a full-time job and write on the side, which is very difficult to do. If I didn't have to worry about having food and shelter from the elements, I would probably just write books because I know that if I fail, I'm not going to starve to death or end up on the street.

Sadly, we have decided that human value is directly tied to your income. By that rubric, I am worthless scum, for I cost a lot more money than I bring in. Forget the fact that I'm a stay-at-home dad who does chores around the house all day, volunteers at numerous nonprofits, and plays music for my church pro bono. According to capitalism, none of those things matter.

I like to think that they do. And so does art. Even if I touch just one person, I've made a difference with my writing. One of the things that keeps me going is the idea that my book(s) will be someone's favorite(s), they just don't know it yet. 

Impatient

 Am I impatient?

Yes.  Yes I am.

We all are, aren't we? We all want that instant gratification that modern technology promises, that we've all grown accustomed to. But while looking for a literary agent, instant gratification is just not happening.

All that I've learned says that I need to take the time to gain exposure in the community.

I've won Daily Deviation from DeviantArt 3 times, but I doubt agents care too much about that.

I used to write flashfic every Friday, but it means nothing if it's not published in a magazine.

I disliked Twitter before it was purchased on a whim and run to the ground by a puerile, spoiled manchild. Now I hate it. I hate that it's gradually turning into an extremist echo-chamber. I hate that everyone in the industry uses it so much.

I tried to be involved locally, but COVID shot that down.

The Board Game Rundown is growing and I love it, I'm excited for it. But it's not exactly a writing forum. I've also been absent from the discord. It's not that I'm not interested, I just have so much to do and don't know what to say.

So my dilemma is, do I start getting myself out there now while I look for agents, or do I wait to look for agents until I've gained some exposure?

I am impatient. So I will attempt the former. But I'm going into this guns blazing. Twitter, yes. Short stories for magazines, yes. Articles for BGR, yes. I might even check out Goodreads. And this blog? I used to have a readership, now I must build it from the ground up all over again. At one point I was writing a story one chapter at a time here. I think I might start that up again.  Then there is HixonArt. My twin brother is a rather good digital animator, but he is never satisfied with the stories he comes up with. He has asked me to write some for him, and we've already started. We are both happy with what we've come up with, and I cannot wait to see it transition into reality!

The most likely reason I feel impatient, other than the fact that it's taken so long to get things in order, is that I am close. Those last 100 yards to the finish line can feel like a mile.

I HAVE RETURNED and why?

 Yet again I am coming back to you, oh reader and a half, from a long sabbatical.

Yes, I still live.

Allow me to break down my life into easily-digested pieces for you.

Since COVID-19 first closed the world down in March of 2020, my mind has gone haywire. You wouldn't necessarily know it if you just saw me or talked to me; it was in my coping mechanisms.

I have ADHD, a mild-to-moderate case of it. I also have been suffering from depression for quite some time. It is, indeed, rather common for the second to be present with the first. If you have these conditions, you may understand what I've been going through. If not, I will try to explain.

ADHD is not just hyperactivity and SQUIRREL!!  all the time. It has been described as an "executive function" disorder. Executive functioning is that little part of your brain that in most people takes files from your mental "things that need to get done" folder and moves it over into "processing." It is easier to explain its role by showing what happens when you don't have it.

I know *exactly* what to do in order to fix the door handle that broke. It's super-easy. I have the parts. The instructions are right there. It will take me about 5 minutes, using 2 screws that are already provided in the kit.  But I just. Don't. Do it.  I'm not LAZY. I'm not DISTRACTED. It is just much harder for me to get the impetus that gets me started on it. If someone else tells me to do it, puts me on a deadline, watches me, then I have no problem doing it. In that case, the other person is acting as my executive function. If I make a habit out of something, the habit itself can act as an impetus. Schedules and deadlines are great for this, too.
So you can understand, perhaps, what it might be like to have what little executive function I have that actually works shift from "let's get this written" to "OH MY GOD I NEED TO GO TO THE STORE! WHAT IF I RUN OUT OF MILK? DO WE HAVE ENOUGH CLEAN MASKS? THE SCHOOLS AREN'T MANDATING MASKS, I HAVE TO FIND A NEW SCHOOL FOR MY KIDS WITHIN 2 WEEKS!*" Obviously, the more pressing matters take precedence, and they were constant.

But that's only HALF of the issue. ADHD has also been described as a dopamine disorder. Dopamine is a pretty important chemical. Until recently they thought it was the "pleasure" chemical, but new research suggests it has more to do with motivational salience. (sounds an awful lot like executive function) When you do pleasurable things, your brain produces dopamine which triggers the "reward" centers of the brain. Now I'm not an expert on this, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night. My understanding is that the ADHD brain doesn't "hold onto" dopamine very well. It essentially gets addicted to it and is constantly seeking it out. For each person, that dopamine rush comes from different things, but it is quite common for video games to provide it, what with their instant gratification and incremental reward systems. Such is my case.

In order to calm my frazzled brain and get that dopamine hit, I turned to comforting things and, essentially, games. But as things calmed down (mostly late 2021/early 2022), I couldn't switch back. I couldn't redirect that motivational salience to what I wanted. This only made me more depressed for many reasons, and depression has very similar effect on the mind. It robs you of motivation. Without motivation, it is much harder to be social, to take care of yourself, to focus. Enjoyment vanishes. Anger, sadness, and irritability increase. You start feeling self-loathing, going through all the things in your life that went wrong or hurt you, and if you don't do something about this, it feeds into itself. Most people with depression hide it fairly well, at least from others. 

I don't know if I'm special or broken or just unaware of things, but I just could NOT rewire things. I will not go into details, but everything I tried to regain that motivation ended up failing or backfiring (remind me to complain profusely about online freelance writing sites). I felt like a complete failure, which only made me want to turn to games more because, at least there, I was somewhat successful. I grew jealous of my brother and his absolutely astounding job/workplace, but he then told me *he* was jealous that I had kids and he didn't. It made me think a lot about what we are taught to value in society, what I valued, and how I determined my own worth.

It wasn't too long after that that I sought help. With my doctor's assistance, I was able to get medicine to treat my depression (though it took months of trial and error on prescription and dosage before I finally felt it working). Now I have medicine to help with my ADHD (again, took months before I found what actually worked). A friend was in a car accident and walked away nearly unharmed because (according to her doctor) she had built up her muscles through 2 years of working out at a gym (and the doc said she could have had serious injuries otherwise). She even told me her arthritis was better because of it. So I got a personal trainer as well.  I've not "taken care of myself" like this since before college.

I believe this is actually working. Now, I have a therapist I go to twice a month, BUT I do not believe she is a good fit for me (I just end up more depressed after a session with her) so I will be looking for a new one.  Other than that, I am feeling better and focusing on work. Perhaps a little too much, but it's far better than the alternative!

---------------------------

The last key to this puzzle is how I write.

- I've always been a night-owl but with me now having to get up in the morning to take kids to school, I can't stay up as late and still be able to, you know, think. So I've had to adjust the times I use to write.

- For me, writing in complete silence is actually counter-productive. The silence lets that little part of my brain searching for dopamine distract the rest of my brain until I get absolutely nothing done. Because of this, I would go out to write in restaurants, coffee shops, libraries, anywhere where there was a moderate level of background noise to really keep that small part of my brain occupied.  But COVID shut those places down or just added anxiety to the mix if I went there. I turned to soundtracks to play in the background.  My favorite ones are Gladiator, pretty much any of the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtracks, Dune (methinks Hans Zimmer is good all around), and Koyaanisqatsi.  But I may have found something that works EVEN BETTER (for me at least).
There are quite a few ambiance tracks available on youtube. They're free, they're usually very long (10 hours), and there is enough variety that I can change it up once in a while. The ones that work best for me usually involve thunder storms and fireplaces. I was surprised just how well these worked to focus my mind. Unlike soundtracks, there's no catchy part to take my attention and no need to change every hour. Unlike actually being in a restaurant/whathaveyou, there aren't people or waiters or bells or other things that demand my attention. 

Now if you are one of my online friends and noticed I've been absent, I apologize.  I've been so focused on writing that I haven't gamed or roleplayed or chatted or anything like that. I've had incredible inspirations that I believe strengthen my novel considerably, so I've been utterly STOKED to implement them. And, of course, as I'm going through the thing, I fall in love with my own characters and story all over again.  It's emotionally and physically draining (and even painful) to have to put my favorite characters through Hell (in case of my novel, both literally and figuratively), so it only motivates me to get them back out of those situations.  

Next step? Go look for agents and publishers once more.  Write the sequel (much more developed now). Write one of the 3 other stories I've been working on in my mind.  Wish me luck.

*My concern over this turned out to be quite merited. My daughter's school had two 5th grade teachers, and she was in 5th grade. Within the first week of returning to school, one of those teachers contracted COVID from a student. She died of COVID 3 weeks later. She was 30. Take this thing seriously. Get vaccinate, get boosted, listen to the doctors and WHO and the CDC, wear masks, and respect others' decisions.

An open letter to Dr. Brian May, CBE

Just about anyone who knows me also knows that I am a huge Queen fan.  As an American, this is a bit of an oddity.  Ask most Americans and they will tell you the Freddie Mercury was the lead singer, he died of AIDS, and that they wrote "Bohemian Rhapsody."  A few more will also recognize that they wrote "We Will Rock You," "We Are The Champions," "I Want It All," "Somebody to Love," and, if you're lucky, "Another One Bites the Dust."  They'll know plenty of other songs, they just have no idea Queen wrote them.  On the other hand, I listen to their solo albums.  When I went to see them in Chicago a few weeks ago, I was hoping to hear "No One But You (Only the Good die Young)" and "C-lebrity."

Of course, as we were walking outside the concert hall hours before the concert, I walked past a man taking a smoke (who then ducked inside), a man that looked suspiciously like Roger Taylor (drummer/songwriter/vocalist).  I have learned that Brian May (guitarist/songwriter/vocalist) banned smoking from the venues, and that Roger Taylor smokes.  The more I think back on it, the more I realize that I *walked past Roger Taylor* and I did not even say, "Hi!"  Great first impression.

But I'm not here to try to prove my fandom or one-up another Queen fan.  Frankly, I think everyone should listen to more Queen - particularly those of my generation and younger.  I know there are bigger fans than me, and frankly I would love to have some long conversations with them so I can learn more myself.

This all being said, I have longed to write a letter to Brian May.  Every member of Queen was important.  Every member wrote at least one chart-topping song.  Every one had a degree.  But for me, Brian May has become an inspiration.

----

Dr. Brian May, CBE,

Thank you.  Thank you for the truly divine music.  Thank you for building the Red Special at the age of 17.  Thank you for being an inspiration.  But most of all, thank you for being a role model that is worthy of aspiring to.

One of the reasons I picked up the guitar was so that I could play like you.  The second song I ever learned to play was "Crazy Little Thing Called Love."  My brother wanted me to play it for his wedding along with some other friends.  I learned every part so that I could teach it to them, but, sadly, I was the only one that could play the parts or practiced it.  More recently, I have been teaching myself "Last Horizon."  Sadly, I do not have the time to dedicate to the craft that is necessary to reach a professional level, at least not anytime soon.  But I am still inspired by what you have achieved and use your example to fuel my own passions.

However, what has impressed itself upon me the most is your personal life.  After battling depression, you have gone on to earn your doctorate, record two solo albums and a soundtrack, reform Queen, record a new Queen album, become an activist, play for a variety of artists, and be appointed a CBE (Commander of the most Excellent Order of the British Empire).  You have had mistakes in your past, but you conquered them and have continued to strive to make the best of yourself.  This is what I truly aspire to do.  To be the best person I can be.

I am currently a stay-at-home dad and writer in his 30s with arthritic knees and an expertise in practically nothing.  But I may have 40, 50, 60 years ahead of me.  Arthritis be damned!  I must strive to be the best dad and writer that I can be!  I must be the best husband I can be!  And I must be the best person that I can be, even if I make mistakes from time to time.

So thank you, Doctor.  Thank you for being someone worthy of being looked up to in a time when decent role models are so few and far between.  I hope that my own children can look up to your example as well, or that I can be become such an example to them.

Signed,

Spencer Hixon

Ultreia INK: Write Night - Part 2!

Back in November, I had the opportunity to read one of my pieces in front of an audience!  It was a great experience!  Well thankfully, I will have a chance to do so again!

If you are in the South Bend area and would like to hear me read two of my short pieces on Tuesday, April 8th, along with other local writers, we would love to have you!  From personal experience, I know that some of the other writers are phenomenal.  The event starts at 7:30, but doors open at 7.  It will be located at a building called LangLab, which is a converted furniture factory.  The address is 1302 High Street, South Bend.  The building is amazing, and I was lucky enough to get a tour the last time I was there.

As I started earlier, I will be reading 2 pieces.  The first is a very short piece, Spin-out, which I wrote back in January after I nearly died.  The other piece is an edited version of Haptic Malware, the piece I wrote in February.  I realized that it would work better when told in 1st person.

I know it is short notice, but I only just found out that I was accepted!  If you can make it, I would be honored.  If not, know that I am still thrilled to be able to share my work with others!

For more info, check out their facebook page here.

The Letters of Charles Bastian

I have been working on a short story for some time now, on and off for about 7 or 8 years.  It is a piece of historical fiction which takes place in 1832 Carlisle.  I cannot stress enough how much time, research, and spirit this piece has taken.

It all started off with a movie my brother and I watched in college, The Haunting (released in 1999).  It was a terrible movie.  Everything in it was awful, from the acting to the plot to the terribly computer graphics that the director thought we would find scary.  What's worse, it is a remake of a 1963 movie which is massively superior (according to rottentomatoes.com, 86% versus the remake's 17%).  Even the parts that had the potential to be scary ended up as either simple gore or bad cinematography.

Afterwards, we discussed how terrible it was, and how we would have improved it.  I think we learned a lot about suspense and how to really scare the pants off someone just by bouncing ideas back and forth.  And those ideas started to form into a story.  It was crude at first, but we knew it would have something to do with death.  Not simply people dying, but what happens afterwards, to the bodies.  It probably didn't help that we'd seen a documentary not long before about the history of autopsies.

And that was it.  It went nowhere for a while.  Then I had to write a short story for a creative writing class and this one instantly popped into my mind.  I stayed up all night (literally) and wrote the rough draft of the piece in one go because I simply could not get over it.  What I realized was that using an unreliable narrator offered more potential for misleading and scaring the reader.  It could give the reader that "AHA!" moment, kind of like when you're watching a mystery and you solve it just before everyone else does.  Unreliable Narrator is hard to pull off, but I was obsessed.  I was also obsessed with a trend that happened decades earlier, the open-ended short story.  You might recall a story from grade school about a man who fell in love with a princess.  He was caught by the king and put in an arena, forced to make a choice.  Behind one door was a lion that would kill him.  Behind the other, a woman that he would marry then and there and subsequently be exiled with.  The princess knew which door held which thing, and he looked to her to make the decision for him.  And that's it, the end.  You don't know which door she chose for him.  To be honest, that ending kinda sucks.  I wanted to make an open-ended story that wasn't so sudden, like it was only open-ended because the author got tired and gave up 90% of the way through.

I married these three ideas into my story.  The class loved it.  But that was it.  I rewrote it for my own edification, improving upon it by adding more details that could be taken to support either ending the reader chose to believe.  And I rewrote it again.  I submitted it to a contest, but needless to say it did not win.  I didn't touch it again until now.

I decided to rewrite it again.  I grounded it in history.  Humanities Act of 1832?  Easy.  The disappearance of William Hare?  Absolutely!  London Burkers?  Of course!  I even found scanned documents from an asylum in England around that time!  Although the story has changed, I feel it still tells the same scary tale it started out as, but this time there's more than a hint of truth to it.  If you read my story and are curious about anything in it, chances are it was real and you will learn something about history.  I even emulated the writing style and took painstaking steps to ensure that no language in the piece is something they wouldn't have said in the time and place.  I learned more about the time period than I could ever put in the piece.  Sure, I could have added that Dr. Parkinson was once on trial for "scheming" to kill King George using a popgun and a poison dart, but that wouldn't have been anything more than info-dropping or name-dropping.  But I did add that the main character doubted the motives of the good doctor.  When I had my critiquing group read it, they loved it!  But it still wasn't good enough for me.  I fixed the errors I saw, tied up the inconsistencies, and addressed the concerns of the critiquing group.  Which, of course, required more research.

Now it is off to the Historical Novel Society for its 2014 Short Story Award.  In May they will send out a long-list of 10 or so entries.  These will all be published in ebook format!  On July 1st, the winner will be announced and given $2000 in addition to having the work published.  I don't know if I will win, and to be honest, $2000 is not much for the amount of work I put into the story.  But I am proud of it nonetheless, even if it loses!  I would consider the piece to be one of my best.  If it doesn't win, I doubt it will be because the piece is poor, but rather that the judge didn't like the first 5 lines.

No, you will not be seeing it on this blog.  In fact, it is doubtful I will post it even if I lose, like I am doing with the Dark Crystal Author Quest.  For starters, it can be submitted to another contest, while the Dark Crystal story cannot.  It also could be simply published.  However, if I publish it here, first, chances of it getting picked up by someone else diminish.  But do not fret!  If you know me, I may let you read the piece if you are interested.  If not, I will keep submitting it for publication or contest.  And when it does get released, you can rest assured I will be posting about that.

Burke and Hare

I am not a writer.  A writer puts words down on paper.  As one professor of mine put it, "A writer writes."  That's really all it takes to be a "writer."  No, I am not just a writer.  I'm an engineer.  A story engineer.

When engineering a story, I tend to do my fair share of research.  In today's world, it is all too easy to just go to wikipedia or google and claim you've done the research, and sometimes that works.  But it usually takes more.  Wikipedia is a great source to find viable sources.  It can give you the gist, but little else.  And details, those are the things that a story craves.  Those details may never make it to the final work, but the very fact that you, the writer, know those details will change the feel of your piece.  

In 2006 or 2007 I was doing research for a short story.  It involves a pair of British serial killers, Burke and Hare.  At the time, there was precious little information about them that was easy to find online, and the more I delved into the piece, the more specific the information I needed.  In the end, I somehow tapped into historical records that had been scanned in by hand.  Talk about primary sources!  Later, I revamped the story and was unable to find some of the same sources, but new ones had emerged.

Tonight I am rewriting the story once again in preparation for a contest.  Now when I check Wikipedia, I am bombarded with information about Burke and Hare, Dr. Joseph Bell, the history of hospitals and medical universities in England in the 1830s...  It seems there has been an intense interest in the subject since 2007.

Turns out, there has been.  Now there was a movie made about them back in the 1970s, but it wasn't very popular.  A few minutes ago, while searching Netflix for something to put on in the background while I work, I discovered a new movie, Burke and Hare (2010).  This time they turned it into an all-star black comedy.  Although it has not been highly rated, I am intrigued.  This would indeed be enough to create a resurgence in interest of the two killers.  What did they do right?  What did they do wrong?  I think, however, that I will wait until I am finished rewriting my story before watching it.  The last thing I need is to be influenced by someone else's vision.  My own vision doesn't have room for it.

If you're at all interested in Burke and Hare, or serial killers in general, I highly recommend doing some research into them yourself.  It is fascinating to think of how long they got away with their dirty work and who was willing to turn a blind eye.  It is feasible to set their story in modern times, I think, to illustrate just how little we have come.

Sleeping Treasures

The following is a losing entry into the Splickety microfic contest.  It was inspired by the picture in this post.  Look closely and you can see the dragon.

We'd never seen treasure like it before.  Miners like us are used to finding the value in black coal that covers your face and stifles your breath, so when we stumbled on the trove, half-buried in calcified stone, our imaginations flared.  I scrabbled at a ruby-encrusted crown with my pick, but the work was slow.

"Put it back," Don warned, hand outstretched and eyes turned upwards.  We all followed his gaze.  Dragons were not supposed to exist.  They were the stuff of fairy tales, the playthings of children's imaginations.  But we could not deny the beast, poised on its haunches.  It, like its hoard, had been calcified, likely the victim of the same ancient spell.  Or was it still alive, sleeping, guarding?

Don backed away.  The men all followed.  A week passed before I disturbed the stagnant cave air with my pick again.  After all, the dragon couldn't stop me.

Splickety Magazine

When I was a sophomore in college, I read my first short short story (nowadays called flash fiction, flashfic, or micro fiction).  It was 55 words long, about a man stuck in the trenches during one of the world wars.  The bombs started falling, his friend cowered in corner crying to God to save him, saying he'd convert and tell everyone about God if he lived through it.  It finishes by telling us that his friend never did talk about Gd to the prostitute he hired that night.  I wish I could remember the name of the piece or who wrote it.

Ever since then, I realized the flash fiction is a valid art-form.  It's difficult, it's fun, it's easy to read yet often hard to analyze.  Like any art, there are good examples, bad examples, and "popular" examples.  The 2013 Nobel Prize for Literature was given to Alice Munro, a short story writer, lends even more validity to the form.  Now, there is some contention over what constitutes a flashfic.  Some say 1000 words or less (such as Friday Flash), while others say 300 words or less.  There is even a category for microflash fiction, which is generally 150 words or less.

Splickety Magazine recently announced a contest for microflash fiction.  Write a 150-word speculative fiction story inspired from the image below.  I wrote two entries, and one of them, "Thief," won!  It will be appearing in the July issue of "Havok."  I can't wait to see my work in print! It is a truly wonderful feeling!

They are having a new contest about Steampunk versus Cyberpunk.  I'll see if I can't get into it, as well.  I also will be entering a contest at the Historical Novel Society.  Let's hope I am successful in this venture, too!  I've given myself a deadline to edit my novel, so managing my time is going to be essential.

A bit of Mythology

It was brought to my attention that not everyone is familiar with Norse mythology.  In fact, some people have a hard time telling Thor apart from Zeus.  Since my last story was steeped in the lore that surrounds Odin, I thought that I should tell a little bit about the mythology that inspired the piece.

I am in no way a scholar.  In fact, I didn't grow up reading about Norse mythology.  I grew up reading about Greco-Roman mythology.  I'm much more comfortable writing a story about Janus, or Daedalus, or Prometheus than I am about the Norns, Baldr, or Gungnir.  However, I like to do my research.  I'm reading up on my norse mythology, and I've been developing a longer story that uses it heavily.  So, there are likely to be mistakes in what I will say, but if you are truly interested, you should check it out at the sources, such as The Prose Edda.

So, here is a brief history of the Norse so that you might understand my story a little better.

The Norse gods are usually referred to as AEsir and look very much like we do.  Alongside the AEsir, there are the Jotun, a race of giants (very much like the Titans of Greco-Roman myth).  There are other beings, like the disir (ghosts and spirits of fate), valkyrie (women who determine who dies in battle and which of those go to Valhalla, a form of Heaven), and the einherjar (the souls chosen to live in Valhalla).

The Norse have devised 9 worlds.  I do not know them all, however Asgard is the land of the AEsir, Midgard is Earth, the Jotun live in Jotunheim, and the souls that do not go to Valhalla dwell in Helheim.  The Rainbow Bridge, or Bifrost, connects Asgard and Midgard.  the World Tree, Yggdrasil, connects all the worlds.  At the base of the tree, the three Norns, or Fates, live.  They're pretty much the same as the Roman, Greek, and Shakespearean Fates.  They keep the tree healthy and are named Urdr, Verdandi, and Skuld.  (Any fans of Ah! My Goddess might recognize those names).

The AEsir are ruled by Odin, a one-eyed, bearded old man.  Odin is usually accompanied by 2 wolves, 2 ravens (Hugin and Munin who represent Odin's thought and memory),  an 8-legged horse named Sleipnir, and his spear Gungnir (which never misses its target).  Every day, he sends out Hugin and Munin to Midgard, to be his eyes and ears to the world (which is helpful, since he's only got one eye), and they report back to him at night.  Odin's son is Thor, who wields the hammer Mjolnir (associated with thunder, could level mountains).  He also adopted Loki, who is a Jotun and a troublemaker.  Loki tends to alternate between being nice and helpful to the AEsir and being a pain.  Loki is also a shapeshifter, father of Fenrir (a giant wolf), father to Jormungandr (The Midgard Serpent who can wrap the world in its coils), and mother to Sleipnir.

The end of the world will happen at a place called Ragnarok.  Essentially, Loki insulted the AEsir (by getting one of them killed), so his sons were imprisoned or killed and he was tied, by one of his son's entrails, to a rock in a mountain where a serpent pours poison on him day and night.  Loki's wife, Sigyn, tries to keep the poison off of him, but when she fails Loki causes earthquakes.  After a while, it is prophesied that he will escape, free his kin, and declare war on Asgard.  The nice thing about the Norse is that we already know who will kill whom.


So, this was a brief crash course into Norse Mythology.  I hope you enjoyed it!  If you follow Marvel comics, you are likely familiar with many of the characters and situations.  I'm always surprised at how much they include and how detailed they are (I'm not saying they're completely accurate, but they are far more accurate than I would have thought for a comic book).  Indeed, if you watch The Avengers (now on Blu-Ray), watch Odin closely (as played by Anthony Hopkins).  Sharp-eyed observers may just spy Hugin and Munin.

Ultreia Ink: Write Night

I had the wonderful fortune to go to and read at Ultreia Inc.'s writing event tonight, Ultreia INK: Write Night.  It is located here in South Bend at a place called LangLab.

So, Ultreia Ink was awesome.  It is a very cool not-for-profit group based in SB that does what it can to support the arts– every kind of art.  LangLab is a building that they frequently use, and LangLab is the most incredible place I've ever been to.  It's an old factory that is filled with open rooms that house artists doing things like pottery, sculpture, paper-making, music recording, wood-working, music-making, dancing, etc.  There are spaces for everything - from a green room for bands to a coffee roaster to a place for people to crash to a place to keep the remnants of a beloved hometown shop.  My inner child wanted to use the building for hide-and-seek or laser tag.  The dumpster-diver in me wanted to rifle through all the old electronics and windows and miscellany.  And the artist inside wanted to use the building itself for art.  The building seemed to go on forever.  Sometimes when I peeked into a room, I wouldn't see piles of computers or pipe holes peering down on the floor below.  I would see the potential of the space.  Of the things that have been accumulated.  But, more importantly, I would see the potential of the people that gravitate towards it.

Of course, they do more than just house artists.  Every week they have bands play.  There is an art gallery that displays local art.  There's a make-shift library in what is currently a make-shift salsa dance studio.  Yoga classes are taught on Wednesday nights.  Ultreia also hosts events, like the one I just went to.  It is the kind of place that makes me want to offer what time and talent I can to help ensure its continued success and further its reach into the community.  So, in short, LangLab is the epitome of the modern "underground" art scene.  I only hope I can contribute more.

The event itself was very nice.  My priest showed up, and it turns out we have a lot more in common than I thought (and, trust me, we already had a lot in common).  We enjoyed the Zen Cafe coffee, had wonderful conversations with all sorts of people, and, of course, listened to great compositions.  There were 10 readers, plus 2 impromptu competitors, making a total of 12 pieces.  I enjoyed all the writers, though a few stuck out in my mind as particularly excellent (and no, I was not one of the excellent ones.  If you know me, you know I always think my writing is sub-par).  My favorite would be hard to pin down, but it would be between the poem about Muhammad Ali (entitled, "What's my name, fool?" by Lonnie Ray Atkinson) and the short poem by Chad Morgan without a name:

I don't write poems
I just write facebook statuses that have gone out of control.

(I'm sorry if I got it wrong, Chad, but I quite enjoyed all of your pieces!)
The only gripe I really have about the event is that the 3-minute time limit was not strictly adhered to... or even remotely adhered to.  I would probably not have edited my piece down if I had known I could take more time on it.  Of course, I just now realize that I forgot to give them my feedback card. Oh no!  That means I'm going to have to visit again and drop it off.  Deary me, whatever shall I do?

Spirit

It has been a while since I've made a religious post, but as a religious person I feel I should be able to write about my faith on my blog.  This post is also about grammar and etymology, so I'm pretty certain I just lost the rest of my audience.  C'est le vie.  I completely understand if you do not wish to read on, and I am in no way evangelizing.  If you do read on, I hope this piece helps you in your own spiritual journey, whatever that may be.  (Also, my religious posts will likely remain rare.)

If you are a Christian, you (with a few exceptions) should believe in the Holy Trinity.  The Holy Trinity states that there are three distinct persons in one God.  This is one of the Mysteries of Faith, because we do not completely understand it.  But there are some interesting doctrines and dogmas that may shed some light on the relationships between the three.

Today in church our priest was talking about the stewardship committee, which has decided to address stewardship in terms of Imagination, Inspiration, and Ignition.  Imagine what we can do together.  What inspires you?  What is it that gets you going, that you are passionate about?  Each of these words, Imagine, Inspire, and Ignite, has an interesting root, but "inspire" is the one that interested me the most.  Spirare is latin for "to breathe," so inspiring is breathing into, as in breathing life into.  Other interesting words that share this root?  Conspire (to breathe together), expire (to breathe out), perspire (to breathe through), aspire (to breathe on or after).  It's a pretty awesome word.  In a sense, breath is life.

Two other words share this root.  The first is "spirit."  Now, I've heard it told that the Holy Spirit is the love that the Father and the Son share for each other.  It is the Holy Spirit that breathed life onto the Earth and inspired the Apostles at Pentecost (thus mirroring God giving Moses the 10 Commandments, as they are both celebrated on the same day and both celebrate the new life of their religions).  Catching any themes here?  In 325, the Council of Nicaea had to combat a growing number of doubters, gnostics, blasphemers, and sacrileges.  To do this, they created the Nicene Creed, which sums up the core beliefs of the Christian Faith.  And in this, they claim that God the Father is the Creator, that God the Son is Begotten (not made) of the Father, and that the Holy Spirit (the giver of life) Proceeds from the Father and the Son.  "Begotten" and "Proceeds" are very specific terms, chosen to show that the Son and Holy Spirit were in the beginning with the Father, that they are not dependent on the others, that they are not created.  There is another word that they use to describe the relationship between the Holy Spirit and his counterparts.

Spiration.  Spiration is defined as the action of breathing, that necessary thing to life.  It is also defined as both the act of God in breathing life into others and the manner in which the Holy Spirit is related to the Father and Son.  So you could say that The Holy Spirit is the breath between the Father and Son, the life between them.  Their conspiring.  So, put together, the Holy Spirit is the breath and life between the Father and Son, and the love shared between them.  Love and life and breath all together.  This may  give you a glimpse into what God means.

The Holy Spirit is not as venerated, it seems, as the Father and Son.  After all, the Father is the one who created all things, rained down fire and brimstone, and gave us the 10 Commandments.  The Son is the one who gave us new life, who raised himself from the dead, and who opened the Gates of Heaven.  The Spirit...  put tongues of fire on the heads of the Apostles, but that is about it.  It seems the Spirit isn't very active, or at least he is subtle in his actions, so there's less to attribute to him (even though it could be argued that we are currently living in the time of the Holy Spirit).  Sure, April is the month dedicated to him, and 1998 was  an entire year dedicated to him, but I feel the Holy Spirit is underrated.  He is the breath that stokes the fires of our hearts and minds, who tempers our thoughts and wills, and who inspires us to do God's work.

So, I urge you to think on this, pray, and take a moment to Breathe.

The Revelation to John

The main reason why my story, Murphy's Law, hasn't updated in nearly a year is because I am currently working on a novel.  It is something I've been working on for about 2 years now and I am getting very close to the end of the rough draft.  Now, when I write, I tend to plot out every plot point ahead of time, work out all the details so that I do not inadvertently miss something vital.  I know that not all writers do this.  But even though I draw out story arcs, write outlines, map out my Action/Reaction (Scene/Sequel to some), and keep extensive notes for that which I must change or be aware of during revisions, I still end up going off track from time to time.

During one of these little unscripted adventures, I realized that I had a potential sequel.  Already, a sequel, and I haven't finished the first book.  I'm not sure how many sequels I can pump out of this thing, or want to, but the more I thought about this sequel, the more I want to write it as well.  It's not well-developed yet, but I have plans.  And knowing these plans allows me to integrate what happens in this sequel into the first book, so that, although they could be seen as stand-alones, they tell one story.

I will try not to spoil anything.  However, in my preliminary research for the second book, I re-read all of The Revelation to John (also known as The Book of Revelation.  Singular.) and began to take notes.  And I noticed something... unusual.

Ask anyone what "Revelation" is about, and they will tell you that it's about the end of the world.  A select few might mention the four horsemen of the apocalypse, or the seven seals, or even the Beast and his number.  Only those who have actually read it will tell you that it also involves a 1500-mile-long-1500-mile-wide-1500-mile-high city of Jerusalem descending from the clouds in all its glory and splendor.

Some of this is true.  There is the city of Jerusalem with golden streets.  Some of this is half-true.  There are actually 2 Beasts.  Along with the Seven Seals, there are also Seven Trumpets and Seven Bowls.  And if you count the horsemen, it can be argued that there are in fact 5, and pestilence is not one of them.  But one wide-believed aspect of Revelation is not true at all.

Nowhere in the Book of Revelation does it mention the end of the world.

The Revelation to John starts with St. John writing to the seven "churches" of the early Christian world, and these messages are very specific.  He then jumps straight away into his Revelation, with no real introduction other than "After this, I looked..."  It is quite conceivable that the entirety of Revelation was a warning to early churches steeped in thick metaphor and symbolism, the meaning of which has been utterly lost over time.  In this case, Revelation bears nearly no importance to the modern world at all.  If it had any, we've forgotten how to decipher it.

But, for the sake of argument, let's assume that this is not the situation.  It is still quite possible that some of the events of Revelation already happened, and that they are very out of order.  There is the story of the Fall of the Angels right there in Revelation 12.  He was defeated by St. Michael, the Archangel, and 1/3 of the angels were thrown down the Earth with him.  This is after the 7 Seals have been opened, and after all 7 trumpets have been blown.  Does this mean that all which was written before this point happened in our distant past?  Has "the Dragon" not fallen yet?  Or is it out of order?  

Again, let us assume that it is in order, and that things have not happened yet.  What is it that Revelation actually tells us?  That lots of people die?  Well, yes.  But lots of people (more than the 144,000... much more) don't die, and in fact are revered.  Revelation is not telling us about the end of the world.  It is telling us about the Beginning.  The Beginning of something wonderful and holy and inclusive and nonjudgemental and beautiful.  The last chapter, 22, begins with the River of Life flowing through the great city, with a Tree of Life on either side bearing a different fruit for each month.  The leaves of the trees heal nations and nothing accursed can exist there.  Then Jesus, the Spirit, the Bride, and all who reside there, welcome you, the reader, to join them there and take the water of life as a gift.

Revelation is about hope and life.  So, how is it that it has come to be known by the opposite?

My first not-so-Friday Flash

May is National Short Story Month (NaShoStoMo for all you NaNoWriMo-lovers).  There is a fantastic tool out there for writers, and I'm going to try to start using it.  It's called #FridayFlash.

The gist is to write a story of 1000 words or less and post it up on Friday.  Then, put it on the Friday Flash Collector and post a link to the story on twitter using the hashtag "FridayFlash."

Now, I know it's Saturday.  I'm late.  I had meant to write it yesterday, but being a stay-at-home dad means you have little time, so it's easy to get distracted from all the other things you want to do when you find the time.  And yesterday there really wasn't any time.  So, I'll post it now.  The following is my first!  And I got the inspiration from a news article.

Dystopian Society

I never thought I would have the urge to write a dystopian novel.

I should have known better. I may not be a sociologist, anthropologist, psychologist, historian or politician, but I am a thinker. At least, I like to think that I am. My favorite book is George Orwell's 1984. One of my favorite movies is Terry Gilliam's Brazil, which if you haven't seen it, you must. I've perused Hobbs, Aquinas, Plato (and his ilk), and other philosophers for the mere pleasure of it. I've read Gulliver's Travels several times, I took a course in Utopias, I own at least a dozen books on the subject...

I guess it was obvious that I would want to try my hand at the craft as well. And it seems daunting, believe me.

Recently, I found the subject of the story, and things just went on from there. If I am serious about this, which I think I very well may be, then I will not be posting it here. Nor will I give you, dear Internet, the details, or even premise. Suffice it to say it is a dystopia for our generation.

However, I would love some help in researching and perhaps some proof readers. And motivators. It will NOT be written otherwise, trust me. Anyone up for it? There is a pre-requisite, however. I must already know you (except for the motivators, of course).

Anyone wish to help?

Prima Blogta

Welcome, Cybernauts, to yet another writer's blog.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "I don't have time to read a blog. Most blogs fail. You're not even a published writer, why would I care what you have to say? Why don't people make pretzel-flavored beer?" Ok, perhaps you're not thinking that last part, and I'm not sure I can answer it. But I can address your other concerns.

First, of all, yes, you do have time to read a blog. And write a blog. And write a book. I'm not writing this to convince only you, but to convince myself as well. I was told long ago that a working man has only time for one passion in his life. And it is true that time constraints limit what you can do - unless your job is your passion, you need to be picky about what you do. But I don't completely believe this. I have 3 real passions in my life: playing guitar, writing, and helping others. I do not believe that I must give them up in order to simply live. Of course, you have to LOVE what it is you pursue, and you show this love by giving up your precious time to it. If you really want to read this blog or write a book or write a symphony or change the world, you need to just stop doing other things and dedicate your time to THAT. And don't make excuses, make solutions. Think of hardships as challenges to overcome which will, in the end, made victory all the sweeter. If you make excuses, you've already failed because you have the wrong mindset.

Secondly, yes, most blogs fail. Just take a look at the blogosphere and look at the sheer number of blogs that have ONE post in them, or the humber that have been abandoned. I am guilty of this! But there are also very successful blogs which have huge readerships and there's NO REASON why this blog cannot become one too.

Finally, I am and am not a published writer. To be a published writer, all you have to do is post on the internet. If you're reading this, that proved that I have been published. But the internet withstanding, I have also been published in several college-level publications, including a newspaper, 2 literary journals, and several articles in a magazine (which was my internship). But in the real sense of the word "published," that is being in print for a consumer to purchase and read, then no, I have not. But that is WHY you should try to read this blog.

If you love to write and want to become a writer as well, think of this blog as a series of lessons - Authorship 101. I will use this blog to update the internet (and, no, I have no illusions that I have a great audience at the moment) on my attempts to get published. First I should set aside some rules:

Rule number 1:

Writers write. I must try to write SOMETHING every day - something that is NOT related to my work. It may be a blog post, it may be short, or it may just be notes on research I am doing for my project, but I must write.

Rule number 2:

Publish or die. This axiom has been adopted by professors around the world. I will adopt it as well. Once I have a finished manuscript, I must send it off to publishers until I either get accepted or it has been rejected no less than 20 times.

Rule number 3:

Adopt, Adapt, and Improve. If something isn't working, change it. If my manuscript is rejected 20 times, perhaps it is time to gut it and recycle the parts into something that does work. If I get distracted too easily, I need to find out how to prevent this. If I find I don't have time, I must make time. If I laugh while drinking bubble tea, what comes out my nose?

Rule number 4:

Have fun. This is, after all, a passion. If I don't enjoy it, why am I doing it? Unless, of course, I am changing the world or helping others (which I do enjoy). If there is some part of the process of becoming a professional writer that I don't enjoy, I need to find out why not and address the issue, or just figure out how to do it faster and more efficiently so that I get back to the parts I do enjoy.

Rule number 5:

No excuses. "I was too tired to write," "my cat threw up on my computer," "I just died." All excuses, no matter how valid, are detrimental to pursuing your dreams. I cannot let any excuse stop me from going after my dreams.

Finally, Rule number 6:

If I find that I need another rule, I will make it.

For now, I will leave you, dear Blogosphere, to return to your regularly scheduled distractions and will return on the morrow.