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Some authors can write the beginning of a book, short story or chapter off of the cuff. They like to see where the story goes without drawing a map to the final destination. I’ve done this myself a time or two, but I find that my work comes out best if I write my ideas out, look at them and arrange them into a story. No matter what school of thought you subscribe to, sitting down to write a map of where you intend to go with your story does have its advantages.

I like to write my stories a bit like TV shows, where each chapter is an episode and each book can be considered a season. In TV shows, the writers always get together and have a writers meeting to discuss where they are in the season, what the next episode is going to be about, which characters and what story lines will be included in the episode and how the episode they’re currently writing will impact the future of the show. I like to do the same thing whenever I outline the next chapter of a novel or a short story.

I’m currently working on finishing up my second novel. My first attempt at writing a novel is actually going to be the third novel in the series. I was halfway through when I realized that my characters have a backstory that I had yet to fully explore in order to do the novel and the series justice. At first I thought I could do that with just one novel, but it turned out that I actually needed two. In order to figure out the backstories of my characters, I had to get to know them. In order to do that, I had to sit down and “interview” them, see who they were before I met them, what they liked, who their family was, what clothes they liked to wear and what kind of music they listened to. Outlining is a great way to not only discover every facet of your story, but to also figure out who your characters are.

I admit that there is a thrill to simply diving into a story to see where it will take me. The act of raw creation brings a certain sense of urgency and an unpolished refinement that you just can’t get when you outline. Rather than sitting down and interviewing your characters, you allow them to possess you and tell the story purely from their point of view. It’s a bit like listening to the elegance of orchestral music versus the unbridled ferocity of heavy metal. One is very structured, very outlined and the other is undiluted and restrained. Yet both have their target audiences.

So when it comes to the question of outlining, I think it’s best to try your hand at both. If you’re used to outlining, you might want to try writing a poem to exercise those creative mental muscles. Poetry is another one of those raw forms of creation. Rarely do you hear of a poet, rapper, MC, musician or singer who outlines their material. Often they have the music, the verse or the song inside of them and they simply sit down and let it out, allowing it to write itself as they go. After the muse has passed, they go back and clean it up, much like a writer edits their work. If you’re more used to writing off of the cuff and would like to outline more, a suggestion to make the transition is to write out character histories or make up a character and write out their backstory. This will allow your mind to focus, discover and think before putting pen to pad or finger to key.

Take care out there.

Which do you prefer? Outlining or writing off of the cuff? Any particular reason why?  

What do you think? Are critique groups really all that helpful for writers or more of a waste of time?

The Red Pen of Doom

Every writer gets the notion — from college, from movies, from the Series of Tubes — that they should be in a critique group.

This notion is seven separate types of wrong.

It’s time for critique groups to go the way of the rotary phone — to make way for something better, faster and stronger.

Peoples of the interwebs: critique groups are obsolete

A critique group is useful for certain things:

(a) university professors who want students to break into groups and leave him alone for the next 45 minutes,

(b) writers who really, really like to read their work aloud,

(c) literary snobs who like to say silly pretentious things about the work of others, and

(d) happy writers who like to socialize with fellow writers and talk smack about the craft while drinking bourbon.

Sidenote: Yes, your particular critique group is wonderful, and you couldn’t live without it…

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Share and Share A Write

Is the above image too cute, too much, just right? For today’s post I thought’s I’d share some links to informational blogs and blog posts that I’ve recently discovered. All of them pertain to writing, self-publishing, finding agents, marketing yourself and the like. Get those pens ready!

“Using Twitter: Are You A Writer, A Brand, Or A Salesman?”

This post comes from self-published author Rachel Abbott. In it she discusses the many roles that authors play while on Twitter. You can be a writer and blog about your experiences writing, you can be a brand marketing yourself as a professional or a salesman building hype around your latest release. More than likely you’ll want to be all three. Any writers currently on Twitter or thinking of joining Twitter should give this post a gander. 

“How To Develop A Comp Titles List”

Publishing consultant Caren Estesen helps authors better find their market by identifying books and authors that complement their writing style and genre. If you’re sending out query letters and trying to find an agent, you need to have an idea of where and how to market yourself and your work. Think of it like the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter.

“Indie Publishing in 2013: Why We Can’t Party Like It’s 2009”

Author and “writer mother” extraordinaire Anne R. Allen gives us a breakdown of what’s currently taking place in the world of self-publishing and the impact it will have on the future. One thing I really like about Anne is how she gives her readers honest, straight-forward facts without pussyfooting around. She also has a way of making readers feel better about the tumultuous changes taking place in the publishing business. She’s a true businesswoman, and I highly recommended following her blog. She’s also on Twitter.

“5 Ways To Send Guilt A Big Fat Rejection Letter”

Writer’s Relief discusses writer’s guilt. If you’re serious are getting serious about your craft and career, you may be experiencing certain hang-ups that are holding you back. This blog post explores five problems and five solutions to your writing dilemmas.

“How To Sell Self-Published Books: Read This First”

Successful self-published author Catherine Ryan Howard gives readers the cold yet honest truth about self-publishing. You owe it to yourself and your ego to read this post if you’re thinking about self-publishing or are thinking about self-publishing. I’m considering it myself, and the more I read about it the better prepared I am for both the good and the bad that comes with self-publishing.

“Barry Eisler On Self-Publishing And The Politics of Liberty”

This is an interview rather than a blog post. Traditionally published and best-selling author Barry Eisler discusses his decision to foray into indie publishing even though he’s had such wonderful success as a traditionally published author. This shows us that even traditionally published and successful authors have realized the power and freedom of self-publishing. Barry and self-published author J.A. Konrath (another self-published success) have a free book on Amazon titled “Be the Monkey.” It’s a dialogue between the two where they discuss ebooks and self-publishing.

I believe that’s enough…for now. Before ending this post, there’s one more blog I’d like to recommend. Literary agent Rachelle Gardner always has insightful and informational posts about writing. Since she’s an agent, she has insider knowledge about query letters, how to find an agent and how to polish up your manuscript before shipping out query letters. You can also find her on Twitter.

This sharing thing isn’t so bad! I feel like since we’re all in this writing journey together we should be informed of where we’re going and how to get there. I’m thinking about posting twice a week, one day for my regular posts and another where I share useful blog posts and articles. What say you, gentle reader? Til next time.

Take care out there.

 

While I’ve always been a fan of music, I love it even more when there’s a message in the lyrics that apply to my life. A group of London DJs and producers called Bugz in the Attic have a song titled “Consequences.” The song is basically about keeping up with your current progress, not lagging behind or going too slow lest you pay the consequences.

I feel like this is something that especially applies to writers. We all know what it feels like when you spend several days in a row churning out pages and pages of material. Creativity is flowing and you feel better knowing you’re making progress and start to feel more like a professional writer and less like someone who only thinks or talks about writing. Then something happens and you go a few days without writing anything. Before you know it, it’s been a week since you’ve even opened the file on your WIP, and that feeling of accomplishment you once had fizzles down to nothing.

Trust me, I know how life gets in the way, but if you were once able to work on your novel, short story or screenplay for several days in a row, you can do it again. Even if your schedule becomes hectic, there’s surely a way you can cram in ten minutes here and ten minutes there. While every second counts, you have to make an effort to make it count. If you don’t keep up with your new writing level, you may pay the consequences. Consequences such as that feeling of emptiness you get when you haven’t written or done anything productive in a while, that feeling of taking three steps forward and stumbling three and a half back. You also run the risk of ruining a serious writing streak. You get your brain used to pumping out several words or pages every day or every other day and then you suddenly stop, slamming you mind into a brick wall. I’ve been working on my novel for the past few days, and I’ve been in nothing but a good mood.

Keep up with the writing spirit and let it have its way. You don’t have to write every day, but try to at least think of ideas and scenes for your story. Always keep a notepad and pen nearby to jot down ideas or use a phone app to keep notes. You’ll find that simply thinking about your story will get you excited. Think of writing like exercise. At first it’s grueling and your muscles protest, but if you keep up with it your body will eventually grow accustomed to it and you’ll be able to do more repetitions, go longer without taking a break and you might even start to look forward to exercising. If you suddenly stop, you run the risk of seeing all of that progress disappear every time you look in the mirror or go up a flight of stairs.

Don’t be afraid of doing more, of being more. And don’t be afraid that your writing streak is just a fluke that will wear off in a few days. Even when you don’t feel productive or creative, you can still study the craft of writing. That way, when another writing streak comes back around you won’t be struggling with scene, dialogue, tone or character arcs.

To end this post, I’ll leave you with “Consequences” by Bugz in the Attic.

Take care out there.

What are some ways that you try to keep a writing streak constant? 

 

I sometimes wonder who I would be and where I would be had a I not made the decision to become a writer. I still want to do more with my life besides writing, but right now that’s become my main focus…one of them at least. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s possible to make a career out of creating worlds, characters, magic systems, circumstances and stories, where would George R.R. Martin be? Richard K. Morgan? Garth Nix? Duane Swierczynski? Would the world still be the same if it weren’t for all of the writers great and small?

The only thing that I love more than writing is singing. I like to think that I’m pretty good at it to, and I’m glad that other people feel the same way. If I weren’t a writer, I’d probably consider a singing career. I don’t know if I’d go for the tip of the top and try to become the next Adele, Janelle Monae, Jill Scott or Erykah Badu (as you can see, I mainly listen to female vocalists). I do enjoy the intimacy of lounge singing. There’s just something that appeals to me about connecting with a small crowd and having people swirl around on the dance floor while I sing and the band plays. One of my favorite artists is Tweet, and I really love her singing style and sound. If I were to become a singer, it would be her type of music that I’d create. Honest, raw, melodic and a bit melancholy.

Becoming a therapist is another profession I’ve thought about. I connect well with people one-on-one, like listening more than I speak, can read people rather well and feel that I give good advice. I’ve been interested in psychology for quite a while, and I’ve always wondered why people do the things that they do and live the way that they do. I also like helping people figure things out and get their lives back on track. It’s a shame that so many feel that they have no where to go and no one to talk to, at least no one that will listen. I’d probably do some work in the school system as well. With so many teenagers committing suicide because they’re being bullied, it’s painfully obvious that they need someone to open up to and connect with.

Becoming a detective or some kind of federal agent is another professional I’ve considered, but not strongly. I know those jobs are very little like what I see on TV and in movies, but I think it would be an interesting life. I like mysteries and intrigue and the idea of making the world a better place by locking up criminals . The only thing about being a detective is that I’ve heard so much about police corruption and officers having to fill a quota for arrests each month in order to keep their jobs. While I’d rather become a detective without first becoming a cop, I’m afraid it’s a necessary step. And there’s just something exciting about the idea of being a federal agent, traveling the nation and investigating crimes. I don’t know if I’d ever seriously consider either of these professions, but they are suits that I wouldn’t mind trying on for a while.

Before I discovered how much I loved writing, I thought I wanted to be a photojournalist (see my “Origin Story” post for the details). I think my main reason for that is that when you’re a teenager and you find out that you’re good at something and like it, you start thinking of it as a career. I still have a vague interest in photography even though I haven’t taken a picture in years that I didn’t intend to post on Facebook.  It’s blogs like “Canadian Hiking Photography” that pull me back. Thankfully I’ll be getting a new phone soon and can start taking pictures again without buying an expensive camera. I guess in a way I always knew that I wanted to tell stories, only I first wanted to tell them with pictures rather than words.

So I guess somewhere out there in a few dozen alternate universes I’m a photojournalist, detective, lounge singer, therapist and who knows what else. And maybe in one of those alternate universes I’m wondering what my life would be like had I decided to become a writer. Hmm, maybe someday I’ll get the chance to explore at least some of those lives in one of my stories. Can’t wait to meet me.

Take care out there.

What would you do if for some reason you couldn’t be a writer?

P.S. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite songs from Tweet, “C 4 EVA.” Enjoy.

Taken Over By The Fear

In honor of Halloween, I thought I’d talk about fear and how it can both help us and hinder us.

As writers, there’s plenty for us to be afraid of. We can be rejected by agents, have our work completely shredded by a critique group, make a grave mistake in a novel and not realize it until after it’s been published or we could suffer a horrible accident that leaves us unable to write. No matter how sensible or far-fetched our fears may be, the point is that we’ll have them. But when you push away those looming mountains of fear, the truth is that we’ll always have fear. If you write a great novel that sells well and is well-received, who’s to say that your next novel will be as magnificent? You may be able to scribble out several novels a year, but what happens if no one buys them or likes them? What if what happened to Robert Jordan happens to you and you die before finishing your latest book?

What if? What if? What if?

Fear can cripple us if we allow it. Or we can look at that fear as a motivator to help us become better writers. Afraid of being rejected by agents? Then do your research before you send off that query letter to make sure you’ve written the best novel and best query letter that you can. Just make sure that you don’t let fear keep you from sending it off when you know it’s ready. Afraid your critique group won’t like your submission? Then go through it forwards, backwards and make sure you don’t make the same mistakes your group has mentioned in the past. The same applies to avoiding massive mistakes in your novel.

Don’t try to keep fear out of your head. It’s what makes you human and it’s what makes you cautious. Instead, I think it’s better that we try to find the root of that fear and ask ourselves why we have that particular fear in the first place. It’s easy to get caught up in life, but every now and then it really helps to sit down with yourself and sort out what’s going on in your head. For me, I find that cleaning is when I do my best thinking. When I need to step away or analyze a problem, I like to clean. Either that or I go for a walk. I think it’s the scrubbing away at a sink, dish or bathtub that symbolizes scrubbing away a problem or scrubbing to reveal the truth beneath the grit and grime.

Some of my fears are that I’ll run out of story ideas, that I’ll lose my writing ability/style, that what I write won’t match the ideas that I have in my head, that my writing career won’t go as I’ve planned and that I’ll find that one of my story ideas has already been written (I know this is common concern, but I always strive to be original).  The best that all of us can do is to just forge on and realize that the fear will follow us throughout our lives. Fear, like taxes, is something that occurs no matter who we are or what we do, so we might as well deal with it and move on with our lives. Besides, how different would like be if we didn’t have fear? Would it be better or worse?

Take care out there, and be safe tonight!

What are some of your fears about writing and how do you deal with them?

 

Forging My Own Path

First off, I want to apologize for my lack of updates and for not keeping to my posting schedule. I’m sure you all know how life has a way of getting in the way of things. Part of my funk is that I’ve been having trouble coming up with things to post about, and the other is that I’ve just been lazy. Thankfully, I can be quite hard on myself and won’t allow myself to stray too far from my path for too long.

Now, on to this week’s post.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where I see myself in five years, ten years, twenty years. I’d like to think that I’ll be a successfully published author who also writes comic book scripts on the side and maybe help with screenplays and the occasional video game script. I have no idea how or when all of that will come to pass, but there’s one word in that sentence that really sticks out in my mind.

Successfully

What is a successful writer? One who is on the NYT bestseller list, goes on book tours, has several novels published and is well-known in the writing community? Or is a successful writer one who takes comfort and pride in the choices and progress that they’ve made no matter how meager they might be?

It’s easy to get our definition of success tangled up with the general idea of success. And that’s especially true when we’re constantly bombarded with images and headlines about authors who make millions of dollars and can churn out multiple novels in a year. We think of that as a success even though we don’t know what those authors had to give up or what they had to do to get where they are. I’m not saying that every successful person has had to give up a part of themselves to get where they are, but I am saying that we have to look past the dollars and glossy book covers to see what truly makes an author a success.

Even more importantly, we have to discover our very own, very personal definition of success. And that’s something that I’m slowly but surely doing every day. As my dad always says, “all we can do is take it one day at a time.” Taking it one day at a time is hard for me since I meticulously plan things out and analyze past events. I’m either too focused on the future or scrutinizing the past that I forget to simply be in the present moment. And that’s probably another reason that I haven’t been keeping to a writing schedule.

I want to be a writer. I want to be a happy writer. I want to be a successful writer. But more importantly than all of those things are that I want to be me. Not John Grisham, Stephen King, Alexandre Dumas, Charlie Huston or Jim Butcher. Just O’Brian Gunn. All of them are great examples of what can be accomplished with words and ideas, but none of them can tell my story just as I can’t tell theirs.

So what’s my definition of success?

Being the best me that I can possibly be. I hope you’ll do the same.

What’s your definition of success and how do you plan on making that definition manifest?

Take care out there.

P.S. You can now check out some of my superhero themed flash fiction at Super Flash Fiction! “In-xperienced” and “Lies My Heroes Told Me”

It’s Time to Share!

I think I’ll share a bit of my sci-fi story SanGuine with you. This is a short that I wrote back in 2007 or so. It’s a story about a guy named Santino Guine who’s a BloodBurner, basically someone who can manipulate blood to heal, hurt and amplify a person’s natural abilities. This one was published on the e-zine Chaos Theory: Tales Askew (upper right corner). If you’re into sci-fi and noir, you’re gonna love it…either that or your blood will boil.

 

I am Jesus Christ.

At least to them I am. They touch the soles of my boots, I take them into my arms, and they are whole again. Then they pay me. Jesus was paid once, right? A Bible is hard to come by these days, so I wouldn’t know. Not that I would care to anyway. The only thing I care about right now is the woman sitting across the table.

“How do I know you won’t just take my money and sprinkle some smelly powder and wave incense through the air?” She waves her hand through the air. Her veins are verdant lightning bolts cracking across her arms, neck, and forehead.

“You don’t pay me until I patch you up.” I flick my Zippo open, touch flame to my cig, inhale, exhale, and a pile of red smoke barrels through the air.

The cocktail waitress stops by. I point at my empty glass. She nods with a synthetic smile and scuttles off.

“So what ails you, Miss…”

She shakes her head, or at least she tries to. Mid-shake her head starts spasming, twitching, and she becomes generally discombobulated. I smother a laugh behind a lungful of Alphrosnic tobacco.

“The BT Virus?”

She starts to nod, stops, and says, “Yes. I was in the Mentanet when I opened the wrong file. Next thing I knew someone was digitizing the contents of my brain, can’t even remember my own–” her hand shakes violently “–name.”

“How long?”

“Infected for eighteen hours.”

“Gonna be dead soon.” The cocktail waitress returns with my drink. I take it and dip my head. That’s as close as I get to saying thank you.

“I know, that’s why I came to you.” Her words are a high-pinched hiss. She throws a nervous glance over her shoulder. People in the bar could care less. They’re used to me and the people I bring in. There’s an understanding in the air. I’m the one that put it there.

“Are you always this callous to your…clients?” She grabs her drink and downs it before it sloshes and shakes from her hand.

I throw a glare over my specs. “I’m not the one dying, lady. Now, if you want to continue to live and think me a heartless brute of ill-repute, then hold your hands out.”

She holds out a hand.

“You do know the difference between singular and plural, don’t you?”

She holds both hands out.

When she glowers at me I see that the pupils and the whites of her eyes are coated in black with neon green characters written in digitized ink scrolling down her eyes. This woman only has two hours to live. I shove my smoke in the corner of my mouth and get to work.

I take out my pocket knife, flick it open. Of course she jerks back.

“Wha…Are you going to cut me?”

“Thas the only way I can heal you,” I say around the cylinder in my mouth.

“What if you have–”

“All diseases transmitted through the blood were cured five years ago. In order for me to cure you I have to bleed into you. The good stuff’s in my blood.”

Her fingers curl like wilting flower petals. They smell just as sweet.

“I don’t know if–”

“Lady, you’re gonna be dead in an hour.” I blink.

She blinks. And she puts her hands on the table soaked in alcohol.

I touch the blade to her palm and make a delicate incision. I do the same to her other palm and to both of mine. When blood starts to dribble out like a thing unleashed, I press our palms together and our blood mingles. Then I heal her.

First, I keep her blood from pouring out of the cut. I go into her arteries and veins and it feels as if my blood, her blood, is being shredded and gnawed apart by the virus. I follow the scattered paths of pestilence, burning the virus from her system as I do, and stop at the blood flowing to her brain. The virus burns hottest here. I feel the decay burrowing into her body, soaking into it like poisoned sunlight. It makes me shudder and quake and sweat in my own skin and I know that she must be doped up on—yes. I can feel a faint smudge of nascacin in her system to dull the pain. The virus is eating through it like candy.

I throw myself deeper, almost drowning in toxins and broken blood cells. I brush the source of the virus surrounding the chip at the base of her brain that allows her to connect to the Mentanet. The virus is a familiar one, one that works in chains. I grab hold of a few links, my body jerking as I take a bit of the virus into myself, and penetrate them down to the core to the moment of conception. It fights and thrashes against me like the devouring beast that it is, but I am stronger and take a drag on the cigarette in the mouth that I can no longer feel. My blood is like a star shooting and slicing through viral chains. I overload it with artificial light and store-bought love and machine-gun diligence and pretty soon the thing is unraveled. I soak every drop of her blood in antibiotics and increase her white blood cell count before I follow the reverse path to my own arteries and veins, drawing dissolving remnants of the virus into myself as I do.

I open my eyes and take my hands from hers, the cuts on our palms zipping shut.

The lady rocks back in her chair, her eyes now a startling shade of green. She lifts her arms and sees her veins are veins instead of twisting lines of poisoned poetry.

“Oh, my, my–” Her jaw comes unhinged.

“Yeah, speechless. I get that every time.” I take the SiphonSlider from my pocket and lay it on the table. “I also get paid every time.” I take my currency card from my pocket and slide it into the slot on the SS. “If you would oblige me.”

Elation shines beneath her skin, smothering her ire, and she slips her card into the other slot. The LCD screen comes to life and rattles off our names and account numbers. She touches her name: Eloise Dictana.

“How much?” Eloise asks.

“Ten thousand credits.” I pinch my cig between my index and middle fingers as I sip my drink. Ice clinks as I stare at her over the rim.

“I don’t have that much money.” An ugly dent batters the middle of her forehead.

“You have enough money to afford a Mentanet chip and nascacin painkillers. Trust me, ten thousand is a drop in the bucket for you.” I nod at her drink. “And if you wanna look dirt poor, don’t order two glasses of Trissjoie.” I sip at my cheap Byroqdu.

I can feel her blood warm, but not from the virus this time. She opens a window on the SS, keys in the amount and transfers it to my account. A line of arrows trail from her end of the screen to mine and both the machine and my heart give a content little chime.

TRANSACTION COMPLETE

Eloise snatches her card out as I calmly retrieve mine.

“I find out your money’s funny I put the virus back in your blood, only this time I lace it with something truly nasty.” I look up at her as she stands. “Remember the Silent Syndrome scare in ’06?”

The blood I just healed drains from her face. She leaves.

I finish my cig, smash it out, and reach for another. The singer on stage is belting out something about poisoned love, and don’t I know it. I like to think of it as more that love poisoned me, poisoned all of us. At least it would if I ever tried the junk. Not to say that I have anything against love, just that I don’t see the point of it. Too much work and not enough pay. Women today are worse than they were when the sun was still burning. Crazy beautiful broads. I throw back a drink. Here’s to women and poisoned love.

 

I think it could work as a series. What do you think?

P.S. Be sure to check out episode four of Dark on the Rock! Share and vote, please!

Why I Write What I Write

 

I don’t remember exactly when it was that I fell in love with fiction and fantasy. But I do remember there was an allure in exploring possibilities and impossibilities. Maybe it was growing up in Alabama where nothing ever happened that drove me to immerse myself in worlds where adventure was a part of everyday life, magic occurred as naturally as the wind and traveling in a spaceship was a standard practice. Reality was too bland, too boring for me, and reading was an escape from that. But reading fantasy was like dreaming while still awake. I guess fantasy and sci-fi were my Inception.

I’ve always had a vivid imagination and I’ve always been a daydreamer. I think you’d probably have to visit me in a psychiatric ward if it weren’t for a creative outlet like writing. And maybe that’s all that writers, artists, poets and other creative types are, functioning psychotics. Rather than allowing our insanity to consume us and drive us insane, we channel it and work with it to creative something…more, something beyond what we see and experience in everyday life.

I know that the world we live in holds much splendor and wonder, but sometimes all of that magnificence needs to be magnified times a thousand. I don’t want to travel in an airplane, I want to lift my arms and fly under my own will. I don’t want to simply travel to different states and nations, I want to travel to different dimensions. I want to live in the worlds I see in games like Final Fantasy, see what it would be like to have actual superpowers and have a vampire for a roommate.

For a while now I’ve been on a superhero kick. There’s just something about exploring the idea of how having superpowers changes who you are, either in a small way or a big way. Would the world be a better place if Captain America really existed? How different would the world be if it had a Captain Japan or a Captain Africa? What if the Avengers were villains instead of heroes? What if there was one person with the power to solve all of the world’s problems but they decided not to? I hope to write comic book scripts as well as novels someday, and maybe even a video game script or two. Even though I’m not up to date on the latest happenings in the comic book/graphic novel world, I’ll always be a proud comic book nerd.

When it comes to fantasy, I’m enamored with the idea of creating a new world, new rules, new races, new technology and new ideas. I believe that fantasy and sci-fi are the purest forms of creation. The genres force authors to dig deep, unravel thoughts and ideas that they’ve had since they were old enough to comprehend in order to make manifest a new universe where those thoughts and ideas don’t mean a thing. I have one idea for a fantasy story that’s been in my head for years. I dabble with it every now and then, and I’m just now starting to feel “old” enough to make an honest effort of writing it. If I do, I think I’ll have to pull  a George R.R. Martin and spend a few years on it.

As much as I love brazen, in-your-face fantasy and fiction, I also love the subtle nuances of a fiction or thriller. These are the kinds of stories that can keep me up at night wondering if the events and characters pressed between the pages of a book could actually exist. Movies like Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy make us believe that there could be a real life Bruce Wayne out there somewhere. While  characters like the Joker and Bane may not exist, the characteristics of those characters most certainly do. That is the type of fiction that I hold closest to my heart, the kind that really makes you sit down and examine your life, the world you live in and how you fit in it.

Fiction, sometimes it’s closer to the truth than reality itself.

Take care out there.

What are some of your favorite genres and why? 

P.S. Don’t forget to check out my serial DARK ON THE ROCK on JukePop Serials! Vote for it if you like it, and be sure to check back this Friday for Episode Three.

Cover Girl…Guy…Person

I finally got around to uploading a cover to my story, DARK ON THE ROCK, on JukePop Serials. Took a while to get it just right, but I think it looks quite excellent! Maybe I should look into become a graphic designer on the side.

Whaddaya think?

 

The premise of DARK ON THE ROCK is: They were designed to assassinate the A-Squad, a team of superheroes who took them in and gave them a new home. New country. New mission. Same four super soldiers. Will the B-Squad save our world or quietly bring about its destruction?

Check it out, comment and vote here. I’ll be updating every Friday, so make sure you check back and tell your friends and family if you like what you see!

Take care out there.