A Short History Lesson

Originally, I created this blog to talk about The Great Sea. Hence, the name: The Great Sea. And originally I was doing a lot with Swords of Fire. I had just submitted a failed query to Evil Editor and had learned why the query had failed. I spent a good amount of the next three months reworking my story and ultimately reduced it in size by about thirty percent.

But I got away from Swords of Fire and the blog has morphed into a blog about my writing in general. I will still post things which have nothing to do with my stories, but mostly that is what this blog is about. My stories, poems, plays, and creative ideas.

Well, Swords of Fire: Traitor (the latest title for Book I) has become active again. It is in the hands of a beta reader, and sometime in May my latest query letter should be harpooned on Evil Editor's blog. So I thought I would provide a little background on The Great Sea itself. That, of course, is what SOF-The People was ultimately supposed to be, but that blog has morphed into Tavaar's Background Story.

Below is a map I created in the late 1980s or early 1990s, after Swords of Fire had been around for nearly twenty years. The Great Sea is not just the ocean, although that makes up a significant part of it. The Great Sea is the entire place, including sun and stars and air and what have you.

In the map there is a dark blue ring which runs around the edge of the light blue circle. The light blue is simply to provide contrast to the grey void. The important part is the ring. That is the ocean. It is the route all The Great Sea's worlds travel as they circle the Fire in the middle. Don't worry about trying to read the captions. They're not important.

The worlds float around and along the ring like stripes on an old barber pole, or candy cane. The entire Sea is in a place, and that place is called, Time. You see, I am of the mind that Time is a place. For real. And that if one leaves this place, they leave Time. Perhaps one then is in a different kind of time, but one is no longer bound by the limitations of our time. That's the way it is on The Great Sea. And it is a significant point in the later books, beginning with the third.

Imagine being able to step out of Time. You could look at it like you would look at your house. There might be several doors in which to re-enter at different places. Or windows to crawl through. That is true on The Great Sea. However, not everyone has the power to leave Time. And not everyone is allowed in. The more I think about it the more confusing it gets with all of the possibilities. But the concept is very important to Swords of Fire. It explains some VERY important points which are introduced as early as Book I.

Oh, and the Fire in the midst (yellow circle) is not just fire, like our sun. There is a lot more to it. A LOT more. However, as that is revealed in the Saga's final book, I will say no more about it for now.


Couldn't think of anything to post about today, and yesterday's post was kind of a downer. Sorry about that. I get that way sometimes. (A lot.) But I had a infusion of good spirits from my a good friend and I'm feeling better. Hope you found at least some of this interesting.

How I Write - Part I

Was reading someone else's blog the other day and they wrote about how they wrote, beginning with the story idea all the way to the end. Her style was very impressive. Very professional. Very much a different way than my style.

My stories NEVER begin with what I think people want to read. Including me. They begin with a scene which comes to my mind. It can be about anything. Most often it involves one of the stronger emotions, such those associated with love, battle, achievement and failure.

This scene will replay in my mind dozens of times over a period of days or weeks. As it does, I expand it. Who is/are this person/these people anyway? How did they come to be in this scene? What happened next?

That's how Swords of Fire was born. Several unrelated scenes kept playing out in my head. As I developed them in my mind they grew, like ripples expanding in a pond when one tosses a stone. Only I had tossed several stones this time, and as the ripples began to bounce against each other - they melded. I suddenly realized my main character in all the scenes was really the same person. This helped me identify just who he was and how he came to be in all of these scenes.

Each of these scenes became "sticks in the sand". Markers which I could point to from a currently unknown beginning.

That was the hard part! Deciding where to begin the story. I restarted many times before finding myself comfortable with Khirhsa and Kelso standing trial for yet another misdeed. Now I knew where the story began, and I wrote with the markers in mind.

The original story s*cked. I hate admitting that, but I tried reading some of it when I opened The Archives last month. It s*cked. But unlike all previous writing, I didn't drop Swords of Fire and move on to another project. (I did start many other projects. I just didn't drop Swords of Fire.) What I did was learn more about Khirsha's family history, and world history. I learned about who these people were and why things were important to them, and why they were afraid and why they made the mistakes they made. I discovered my "heroes" were far from perfect. (And my "villains" were far from completely bad.) Even those with the greatest knowledge suffered from ignorance. Those with the greatest power suffered from weakness. All of this knowledge helped me write in a manner which (I believe) brought Khirhsa to life. It made his conflict meaningful, and believable.

The story takes place in a fantasy world out in space beyond our galaxy. To be specific, in a star system located in the constellation Perseus, under the string arm. But the fantasy world is not the story. In Traitor, which opens the series, the only thing about the world which would reveal it is different from our reality are a few references to things. Otherwise, the story is in the background.

I think I've kind of veered from this post's original premise, so perhaps it is best if I just shut it down. I've been behind nearly all day. Our sump pump quit working at most inopportune time. We tried bailing the water, but it refilled almost instantly. Had to make an investment into a new sump pump, which we were not able to install, so we had to bring in a plumber. And I've been sick. And, and, and, and, and. Lots of stuff going on today. Not much of it was fun.

FairyHedgeHog had an interesting post this morning.

Nothing For Here

Haven't felt much like posting. Been sick, and recovery has been kind of off-and-on. I think I'm better for a day, and then the next I'm running a fever and such.

If you're looking for something of interest I wrote a bit about unicorns on SOF - The People. Not too interesting for most people, I think. I just found it curious.

Music Soothes the Savage Me

Don't know how you are affected by music. Some people aren't. Not really. They hear a song and maybe they like it. Maybe they don't. They feel the beat and dance. Maybe they don't dance.

Some people are very moved by music. I've seen more than one person weep during church services when some particularly moving song is sung. Afterward, they are convinced God was very close to them. I know what they're feeling, because I've felt it myself. I have no right to say just how close God was/wasn't to someone else. I do know that in my own case, 99% of the time the experience was neither holy nor pious. It was emotional. God is with us always, so I guess when we have these emotional times with a song he is there. But my feeling, at least regarding myself, is that, if anything, I am actually less spiritual at that moment than any other. To be holy and pious is to act, not feel. Too often we get them mixed up. I do anyway.

But it was not my intent to preach in this post. You got it because it's part of me. I suppose you may read my posts, here and in my other three blogs, or my stories, poems, or reflections, or converse with me via comments or whatever, and conclude that I'm not much of a representative of my faith. I won't argue with you. I can't. I have no defenses. I am guilty of all you claim.

You see, my hope is not based on what I am able to accomplish, or be, or refrain from. Good thing, too. In my life I have accomplished exactly - nothing. What am I? Nothing. What have I refrained from? Nothing.

My hope is based on forgiveness. I know that when I love someone I cannot stay angry with them long. I have a need to forgive them, even if they don't want to be forgiven. That is my hope with God. So when you read me spouting arrogantly about my understanding of God, please remember what I am and be kind. Remember what is written: "God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong, God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are," 1 Corinthians 1:27-28

I guess that means I am chosen, huh?

Wow! Tangent. Well, so what?

Learning new things, be it a skill to keep/get a job, or learning who we are is somehow changing again, can stir feelings like a stick in an ant hill. I remember doing that when I was young. There was this old tree stump which had nearly rotted away completely. Some big black ants had set up home there. Thousands of them. They milled about doing whatever it was ants do. I would sit on the fallen remains of the trunk and watch them for hours - sometimes. And every once in a while, just because I couldn't resist, I would take a stick and stir the pile. I suppose I was cruel.

Anyway, back to music.

My feelings are running the spectrum back and forth. The Muses are playing hard and fast. I'm writing poems and short stories, and they're stirring my emotional ant hill. So many feelings running around like the Keystone Cops. That's part of exploring new creative areas, I guess. Some of the feelings are fun. Some aren't. My method for dealing with them? Music.

Over the last few days I have been listening to the same 65 songs over and over and over again. Some are quite mellow, and haunting, such as Are you Sitting Comfortably, by the Moody Blues; and Eres Tu, by Mocadades. Others express strong feelings, such as Bonnie Tyler's, Total Eclipse of the Heart, and Peabo Bryson's, If Ever You're in My Arms Again. Some make me cry, such as Believe, by Josh Groben. And some bring me back to an innocent time, such as Mason William's, Classical Gas. Suzi Quatro's, Stumblin' In, makes me laugh. (Especially with the accompanying lip-sinc video - see A Voice in the Wind.) Oh Me Oh My, by Lulu, reminds me what it feels like to be in love. Kenny Loggin's, Return to Pooh Corner, reminds me that I've left the path. Aerosmith's, Dream On, reminds me to keep trying.

Right now. Today. This minute. I expect the song to best describe my journey from Nothing to Something is Believe. Believe. Sometimes I think that's what the past seven years have been all about. Believe. Choose what you will believe, Bevie. It's important.

I could not make it without music. It's one of my many weaknesses. It fills the many empty places in my heart. God is there. But God doesn't fill the spaces reserved for other people and other things. He simply takes his place on the throne and brings music to sit in the empty chairs around him. Music touches me where I am, and not where I am seen. With music I am never truly alone.

Is God music? I don't think I've ever heard it said. He must be, I think.

A Spearhead's Duty

Swords of Fire is a saga. It will go at least six books. (Two are already written, and a third has been begun. But none are "finished".) The Great Sea is a place. It has hundreds of stories which can be told as short stories, novels or epic sagas. I already know some of them.

Flames of Hatred (yes, I will rename it some day) has the honorable - and difficult - position of being the first book "out of the gate". It will introduce the Great Sea. It will present key characters. It will set the tone for the entire saga. But most importantly, Flames of Hatred must have: a beginning; a middle; and an end. Yes, the book must end, despite it being the first volley in a series. There is one other requirement for Flames of Hatred: it has to be interesting.

When I began writing Swords of Fire back in 1976, I had no thoughts about it ever being published. It was simply a logical progression of one of my favorite pastimes: writing stories. No one read them. Not ever. I completely understood the George McFly character (played by Crispin Glover) from Back to the Future when he tells Marty (played by Michael J. Fox) he never let anyone read his stories. What if they didn't like them?

It was by accident the story came to the attention of some people I worked with. They wanted to know more. I had to read it to them. Suddenly, I had an audience! And with an audience came responsibility. I could no longer afford to write just what I felt and leave it be at that. The writing had to at least make sense. (When writing for myself I will change names, places and events - sometimes in mid-paragraph.)

When friends, lovers and relatives began speaking about Swords of Fire becoming a published novel I made a closer inspection of the story. I had begun too late. I abandoned the project and went back in time to restart. I would do this three times before I came to the time of Flames of Hatred. Now I had to establish who was important - and why.

Ultimately, I chose Khirhsa as my POV character. I introduced Abrin, Shello, Klarissa, Khaiu, Tura - and Kelso. NO ONE liked Kelso as I originally portrayed him. I guess I don't blame them. But the truth is, I failed to present any of the characters well. I'm embarassed to admit I ever thought that version was worthy of publication. In my defense I will only say this: I wasn't alone.

I don't remember how, but I suddenly found myself in contact with a man who had once edited books at some big New York Publishing House. He agreed to read my book - for $25. Not knowing any better, I sent him the book with a check. That was on a Monday in January. The same week on Thursday he called me at my work (I didn't have a home telephone) to tell me he very much liked the book and read it in one evening. He lived in St. Paul, so we arranged a meeting at his favorite restaurant on Saturday. During the meeting he not only returned my check, but he told me that, while the book was clearly written by an amateur, the story had tremendous potential. It did need to be edited - heavily. Then he told me something completely unexpected. He told me to send the book to his friend: Lester Del Rey. No promises. The book needed a LOT of work. But if I used his name (I don't remember it, but "Demerest" sticks in my head. I have the documentation in the archives some place.), Lester just might be willing to take on the project. That was what he was willing to do for me.

I did send the book to Lester Del Rey. After what I considered to be an interminable amount of time he returned the manuscript. The story was good. Unfortunately, the writing was not, and it would take an inordinate amount of effort to make it good. Sorry.

That was twenty-five years ago. I have rewritten the story several times since then. The original story, Prophecies of Madatar, eventually was divided into two books: Flames of Hatred and Prophecies of Madatar. This past spring I had thought the story ready at last. I have since taken another painful lesson to learn that is not so. But now I am receiving some quality help in learning to present a novel length story. Flames of Hatred should be ready to go by spring of 2009 - with a new title.

When it is ready it will have a beginning, a middle and an end. It will be written well. The story will still be interesting. And the readers will learn about Khirsha, Kelso, Sayla, Avalina, Tavaar (I just love her), flameswords, the Great Sea and - Madatar.

A Saga Begins

The Great Sea. Final creation of the High King. Stretching beyond the reach of mortals, it harbors a myriad of worlds under the High King's constant vigil. Surrounding the worlds is the Cloud: the Dark Buffer which separates Time. For, by the High King's design, time moves independently in each world. The Cloud itself, however, is not measured in units of time. Within the Cloud there is neither morning nor evening, sun nor stars, wind nor rain. A Twilight Zone of eternal mist it is, leaving all within its clutches at the mercy of the Sea's wayward currents.

The Great Sea. Wild and dangerous. The Peoples of its worlds seldom venture far onto its waves. Few terrors cannot be faced in preference to the Sea. Once out from the security of land, vessels would be exposed to the unpredictable and cruel nature of the expanse. Yet some terrors are better fled from. Even if it means facing the Sea.

The Great Sea. Endless is the reach of its arms and influence. From its depths all worlds sprang, and to its depths all worlds shall again return. The Great Sea. To some: an insurmountable barrier and captor, holding them fast to their world by fear. To others: a highway to freedom.

So, at one time, began the first of the novels to arise from the Swords of Fire saga. This prologue, now thirty years old, is poor at best. Even so, I begin this historical trek through the creation of Swords of Fire with it, despite it having been abandoned many years ago. This is the version which followed the original book's failure to be published way back before my 'great awakening' to what I really wanted to write. If you think the prologue above silly and stupid you should try reading the actual novel. I don't know that I can anymore, although I still have it, tucked away in cardboard boxes down the stairs and hidden in the utility room with the other early efforts. They are quite embarrassing for me to read now. Still, much of what this prologue says remains true through more than three dozen attempts to rewrite from scratch. It is kind of like cornerstone.

The Sea, the Cloud, the High King, many worlds and differences in time are all integral parts of the expanse my characters now call home. I know what it looks like. I know the governing laws by which it operates. Thirty years ago I don't know that I could have said that. But thirty years ago I was far younger and trying to write something completely different than what exists today. This prologue isn't even the original. The original, which may or may not exist in the cases of old writings in the utility room, was over thirty pages long. A good friend, who loved to read, very gently coaxed me into reducing it a little at a time, until I finally got the message and rewrote from scratch three paragraphs to set up what was to happen. That's why this version lasted so long, I think. After thirty pages three paragraphs looked pretty good no matter how ridiculous they read.

The main problem with this prologue, and indeed, the entire original novel, was my youthful effort to sound 'mystical' and 'wise'. It's a tendency I clearly struggle with even today. For me, the writing of Swords of Fire became much more relaxing when I ceased to write about mystical and wise people doing great and wonderful deeds, and I started writing about real people with real problems, who happen to exist in a place which has some fairly fantastic properties. It became much more fun when I admitted it was not a story about dragons, burning swords, time jumps through portals, war or quests or anything like that. It's a love story. I guess that's why I love it. I know now who the main characters are.

Forgive the rambling. I like to do that. You should see some of my first drafts. I once wrote twenty pages describing an important event in Flames of Hatred. When it came time to incorporate that event into the actual storyline, I wrote a single paragraph which said everything. I've kept the twenty pages, though.