The Risen Gods officially took flight today - August 23. The first reviews to come in have been enthusiastic, and I hope to see more in the coming weeks. In the past, I would have relaxed for a while, contemplating the next book I might eventually get around to. Not this time.
School begins Monday, but I refuse to slow down on the writing. Book 3 is well underway, with a couple of surprising character moments in the opening chapters. My target to finish is December, with release sometime during winter. It's now a business.
However, finishing this second book in a series is only possible because I refused to give up on my childhood dream of writing novels. Of going to the stars. Of deciding that it's OK to remain a child at heart. I was certain this was the path when I was in my teens; but had anyone told me these stories wouldn't see the light of day for forty years, I'm sure I would have packed in those dreams. (Yet another reason for having no knowledge of the future.)
Back to the writing. Sam has just made two new friends. This isn't going to end well.
Time travel is fun until it's not. Often, it's a lazy attempt by a writer to unwind a stubborn knot in the story . Outside of Doctor Who, time travel more often than not proves to be an epic fail. Yet I can't think of a sillier rendition of it than what I saw this summer in Avengers: Endgame. If you are a fan of the Marvel universe, You probably cheered and cried for the epic conclusion of what 19 or so movies have been leading toward. You probably also ignored the ridiculous ramifications of this film's central plot device: Time travel. (Note: If you haven't seen the film you probably never will, which is why I'm going to spoil it here. Second note: I'm not an MCU fanatic and am at best a casual watcher).
In short: Big bad Thanos wipes out half of all living things in the universe (that's 3.8 billion humans, give or take). Good guys lose. How to fix it? Go back in time and make sure it never happened. Five years pass. A solution appears. But a few are selfish: I'll help you do this but I get to keep the family I've gained in the past five years. End result: Everyone (and thing) returns five years after vanishing. All of a sudden, half the Earth's population pops back into existence. The film ignores the chaotic, disastrous results of such a reality (did people who vanished while on airplanes reappear in mid-air and plummet to their second deaths?). Imagine all those scenes of: "Hey, honey, I'm home. ... Honey? Who's this woman? Whose baby is that?" Ruh-roh.
I've been tempted to play with time myself, but never to reset a plot. When I have used it (usually altering events by fractions of a second), I don't shy away from showing the disastrous consequences (the end of The Last Everything). If you really want to see the devastating consequences of time travel in action, please binge the stunning, intricate, and incredibly absorbing Dark on Netflix. You'll be glad you did.
Now. I will go back in time and delete this blog entry for something more interesting. (You can do that, too. Just pretend you never read this. No, really. It works.)
How do opening and closing lines make us feel? Does the beginning set unrealistic expectations of what's to come? Does the final line require a level of drama commensurate with what came before? And if it doesn't accomplish this, does it take the wind out of the novel?
You can find lists of the so-called greatest opening and closing lines in history. Just Google them. People qualified (and not) have their own takes. If you're looking for any answers here, look again. I will say this: I do have a tendency (like many writers, I'm sure) to redo the opening lines many times before achieving satisfaction. Really, that's all one can hope. I've stopped trying to find that perfect remedy to hooking a reader. As long as the intrigue on page one is sufficient to push the reader along to page two, then the job is done. Next up is page 2's responsibility to carry the load. As for endings? These I don't tend to beat myself up about. For one, if I got you that far, I must have done something right. Two, I want you to feel satisfied with the total piece. It would be like if you watched a two-hour film and focused all your rage, frustration, or unbridled joy on the final image at the expense of the complete work.
I prefer to think of opening and closings as lines that validate the tone I'm trying to set in the moment, and nothing more. With Book 2 of The Impossible Future series coming out in August, I thought I'd post the first and last lines of books 1 and 2. They are not spoiler-ish, but they do reflect a different tone. And boy, these two books are nothing alike.
From The Last Everything's beginning: Marlena Sheridan brought one son and one monster to this version of Earth because the fool she married sought adventure. The ending: A wash of golden, late-day sunlight cut through the forest. The dust cloud disappeared.
From The Risen Gods' beginning: Jamie Sheridan sensed his humanity peeling away like thin sheets of sun-ravaged skin. The ending: “I’m coming for you, dude. Get my speed?”
As I write this, a certain somebody is speaking in front of the Lincoln Memorial with a wide variety of tanks on display. I suppose that's one way to think about independence. I guess. Another form of independence is taking place in my living room, where 15-year-old Misty (pictured here) is slumbering in her favorite spot because hey, she has well earned freedom from silly rules about lying on the furniture. Now that's the life.
Wouldn't we all love the ability to make our own rules, govern our time, and rarely (if ever) find ourselves accountable to anyone? I'm not suggesting a life of sleeping the hours away like Misty, but having the ability to do those things we love most because we have the financial wherewithal. As I have discussed here before, my full-time job puts me in an English classroom, but the future lies in that place where I work in shorts and a t-shirt doing little more than telling stories for a living. (Selling books would be a helpful side-effect, thank you very much.)
I am one year into the mission of working toward that independence, and that goal remains strong and viable (albeit still a little ways distant). The second book in The Impossible Future is finished, with a release target of August. Much work remains - building a licensed business ain't exactly the joy of life - but objectives are being met, strategies being learned, and a declaration of independence inevitable.
Watch this space as well as Facebook and my newsletter for exciting news and visuals in the coming weeks! If you haven't joined the newsletter, take the plunge! Fill out the pop-up form on this site or on my Facebook page.
(On a side note, neighbors are shooting off fireworks routinely, and Misty doesn't seem put-out, which is truly a new development. Must be that 15-year vibe.)
Endings are an exciting contradiction. You work your butt off for months (maybe even years), and you can't wait to celebrate the final polish, the concluding tweak. At last, you're done. Maybe you're ecstatic, prideful, immensely satisfied. Or perhaps you're one of those folks who wouldn't find satisfaction with a Nobel Peace Prize. Either way, what's done is done, and now we all face the inevitable question: What now?
For good or ill, that's a question a novelist never has to face. There's the editing, the cover, the blurb, the marketing plan, the publishing format, the launch, the blog, the newsletter, the social media contacts, the ads, and on and on it goes. There's always a ridiculous list of what-nows - most of which don't involve writing. That makes the ending of writing a novel bittersweet. As long as I'm not there yet, the what-nows can be put off.
As I write this, I am within a couple weeks of the ending for the second book in my four-book series. In sports terms, I'm nearing halftime. A very LONG halftime. I'd love to have the financial luxury of shoving the book off to paid editors and proofreaders, cover designers, and publicists. Until the time when sufficient money drops from heaven and fills my coffer, I'll remain in DIY mode. And excitedly dreading the final page.
Life comes so fast. Looking at my previous blogs, I realized I haven't contributed any of my remarkable insights in almost six months. Shame on me. Time to do better!
On the publishing front: I'm cracking through the follow-up to The Last Everything, and it's on track for a summer arrival. This story is bonkers. If you read TLE, hold on tight. This book, which picks up right where TLE left off, is an entirely different tale - in substance and style. There's night, then there's day. I'm having a blast writing it, and I hope you'll enjoy it. If you haven't joined my mailing list, what are you waiting for? Go back to the home page or check me out on Facebook.
In the meantime, if you're looking some rocking new science fiction that also happens to be everyone's favorite price, try out this page during the month of May. You might even see a familiar title from yours truly.
Not too long ago, many of us enjoyed a weekly escape into the real-time adventures of Jack Bauer vs. the terrorists. The series was 24, and the gimmick of telling a single 24-hour story in real time over as many episodes provided a level of intensity, suspense, and countless cliffhangers that was sorely missing on prime-time television.
Around 2005 (or about the fourth season of 24), I decided to draft a ticking-clock novel, but taking it into science fiction action-adventure, with protagonists who could appeal to both adult and teen audiences. For reasons I cannot explain, I dropped the story into a sleepy Alabama town where nothing ever happened (except for that shocking double-murder that took away the main character's parents a couple years earlier - police-blotter silliness like that).
Then I went about writing based on a high concept that left my 17-year-old hero with no chance to survive. That's right - he's going to die in eight hours, no matter what. After all, if he lives, he'll morph into something monstrous and threaten mankind itself; if he dies sooner, the rest of us are saved. Talk about a rock and a hard place. The character's name was July Jackson - alliterative but ultimately unsatisfying. After many rewrites over the past dozen years, July morphed into Jamie Sheridan, and the mythology behind who he really is and what he might become evolved to form the basis for a four-book series.
That series goes live on Amazon this Friday, Nov. 23, with The Last Everything, Book One of The Impossible Future series. Why did I choose Black Friday? For reasons that are no more clear than the choice of that Alabama town. But I think you'll have a fun, suspenseful ride with a healthy dose of twists and turns, suitable for a wide range of audiences, the kind of story a reader might power through on a chilly night, sipping hot chocolate. And then ... ask when the second book arrives. (Let's go with 2019, and leave it at that for now!)
For a mere $3.99, you can pre-order on Amazon now, and your e-reader will make you happy on one of the most stressful days of the year. (Kindle Unlimited readers, indulge for free. What a deal.) If you read, please post a brief review on Amazon (those comments are greatly valued). And feel free to touch base with me on Facebook or through email. I'd love to know your thoughts!
Most writers I know (especially those of the indie variety) will agree that the most aggravating part of this whole gig is post-production. Of course, there's the endless revision and editing. You know, the one where you surgically polish the text so often that by the time you're finished, most of your excitement about the story has waned (like drinking Coke without the carbonation). But I find that cover design is the real nail-biter in the process.
I've been narrowing down the final design for The Last Everything, which will publish this month, and it has been a bear. For indie novelists working to build an audience, cover design is pivotal to help us find visibility amid the literary clutter (the millions of titles on Amazon grow daily). Yet it's hardly the only factor (decent writing, a hoot of a story, and a great online blurb are somewhat helpful).
For this novel, I ran these designs past multiple closed groups of writers online as well as seeking out Facebook friends, who would tend to examine books as consumers and not as marketers. Take a gander at these three. I could go with any of them, but ultimately decided the second option fits the book thematically, peers back at the reader's soul with those piercing eyes, and ... drumroll, please ... it contains rules above and below the title to add focus to the center. It's subtle, of course. About three-fourths of commenters preferred this one. Thus, the tyranny of the majority has won! Yee-haw.
Now, time to finish the publishing process and start writing its sequel. A four-book series demands I cannot leave my vast army (???) of readers in the lurch for long.
This teaching gig can suck the hope out of a person who's trying to also build a career in writing. Much to my surprise, this is my first blog posting since July. And yes, I'll blame the source of my regular paycheck for the lag time. It would appear, however, that things are about to change. Or so I hope.
It's called NaNoWriMo, and I'm using it as my excuse to re-launch this writing gig. In November, I'll be publishing the first of a four-book series on Amazon while rapidly pushing forward on the first draft of the second book in the series. It helps that all my Language Arts classes are participating in NaNoWriMo, which proved to be a great boost to my writing fortunes last year.
And so, almost time to rev up once again. More to come soon in this space. I dearly hope.
The easiest road through life is the one paved with the biggest corporate names. It's a mentality that only buys heavily-marketed brand names at the supermarket even though the store brands are consistently half the price, which leads you to assume they must be inferior. (Hint, they're almost always the same product.) It's the McDonald's approach to hamburgers - easy, generic, familiar.
Think about it, dear readers: How have you conditioned yourself to choose books? Focusing on franchises, perhaps? Author names in billboard fonts above an otherwise small, mundane title? The bestseller lists? Recommendations from friends? Price? (More on that last one, later.)
Some of our most famous contemporary novelists are also brilliant writers and storytellers. Note the operative word some. Many of them are phoning it in, banking on a name that used to represent something new, different, or even innovative but now is simply a formula designed to keep the cash registers ringing and the Checkout carts submitting.
Franchise authors, like reading only one genre, are comfort food. They assure us that the time we'll be investing as readers will be "just fine" because what we've read of those books before was "just fine." (OK, so maybe even "great" from time to time.) So let me ask: Are the biggest names in any genre the only ones producing great stories? The only ones worth your time? (The answer is "no," which I assume you already figured out.) The real question becomes: Are you willing to look through the vast digital landscape of titles to find books and authors who offer something new and different, equal to or better than what you've experienced so far? Are you willing to look through the sponsored Amazon lists of books that are "similar"? Or do you settle only for the familiar?
There are thousands of outstanding indie writers who are counting on you to eat anywhere except McDonald's, to brave the new frontiers of names and titles utterly unfamiliar. The traditional publishing industry rejects more than 95 percent of everything submitted to it - not because all of that 95 percent lacks quality, but for many other (sometimes valid) reasons that have nothing to do with craft. So thousands of writers have ventured into the digital world to offer their work in a dizzying circus that includes literally millions of titles. And there you will find genuinely remarkable work.
So be adventurous, search for the hidden diamonds, provide opportunities for the authors who are striving for brand awareness. They need your help. (That would include me, of course, but I think you already figured that out.) Check out the sample text, whether on Amazon or any other digital platform. Take a journey down an unexpected path. Don't worry, no one will bite. But we might be contagious - in that wonderful way that keeps you reading late at night.
A final note about price: Just because Sally Bestseller's paperback lists for $16.99 and Betty Nobody's paperback lists for $6.99 is NOT (I repeat: NOT) an indicator of quality. You will find countless ebooks by "nobodies" ranging from .99 to 2.99. They're trying to cut you a deal, not suggest that their work has less value. So take the deal, enjoy the savings, and prepare for a hell of a new adventure.