You might remember this book I wrote called All Flames Cast. It was a while ago, I know. There really hasn’t been any news to report, beyond the typical querying process—a couple of full requests that turned into rejections, one partial request, and a whole bunch more outright “no”s—and so much of what has happened in the last 18 months has been in the revision realm.
Now, revisions have gone well. Of the 15 chapters I have posted here, only one hasn’t had any changes to it. The good news is that the book is a heck of a lot better, now.Continue reading
Writing is a strange venture for a variety of reasons. It has demands, both physical and mental, that don’t align with a lot of other professions or hobbies. But one of the most peculiar things about writing, I’ve found, is one of the most common attitudes among writers. This is something that has popped up its ugly head a few times, recently, so it’s been on my mind.
Writers, as I’ve seen many times in many different forums or environments over my brief decade as an active writer, tend to be competitive. Now, being competitive isn’t necessarily a bad thing, nor is it unique to writing. I myself am extremely competitive, both from my years as the youngest of six children and from playing hockey at a reasonably high level for two decades. When nurtured, competitiveness can be a big help in getting a step forward in life.Continue reading
The wind was soft but cold, so high along the rampart of the citadel. It whispered the night’s embrace, pulling gently at the lapels of Gemmen’s coat. The skin on his close-shaven scalp prickled with goosebumps. It was cold, yes, but the winter twilight was far preferable to the stifling heat and conversation in the feast hall.
Torches burned, spaced every hundred feet along the walk. Gemmen could see guards posted, silhouetted against the lights as they leaned against the white stone or squatted for a brief escape from the breeze. He ignored them as he moved by, just as they ignored him.
The first flakes of snow began to flutter down as he walked. The night was not still, but it was silent; the wind stirred and the snow traced lines down to melt on the wall, but even the guards quieted themselves. There was a feeling of abeyance in the air, a muted pressure.
The Book of the Week is back! I know it’s been a couple weeks, and this has been harder to keep consistent than I thought it would. First, my computer decided to consistently freeze while I was on vacation—resulting in zero posts for over a week, and no writing done on Seeds of Sand, the way I’d planned—and then I came back to Colorado and started a new job almost immediately. It’s been a busy couple weeks.
After finishing the first draft of All Flames Cast, my mind has become increasingly bent on filling out the world and details of the next book(s) I’m going to tackle. I’ve found myself writing little character sketches, scenes, and short stories to help myself with building a new world for a new book. Over the course of this, I’ve gotten a clearer view of the differences between short stories and scenes, which is something I’ve found over the years to be a bit of a blurred line for many writers.
I went through a university degree in Creative Writing, as I know many, many other writers have, and as a result I kind of went through a crucible. There are a lot of pressures on an undergrad writing student—including the pressure to abandon genre fiction because of the flawed idea that it’s inherently inferior to lit fic—and one of those pressures is to learn how to write short stories.Continue reading