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 |   Exploring the future through the present. One day at a time. |
| Science Fiction is a sub-type of adventure. As such, science fiction stories need to have a certain voice and style of writing. Depending on how "hard" the science fiction is, there's a lot of technical details when describing -- for instance -- space ships or robots. Since science fiction is also action-based, it must be action-driven. The writing needs to be snappy, and direct, and not stop to "smell the roses" as much as you would find in more literary works. Although fantasy is lumped in with science fiction and other "speculative" genres (a term I never liked, because at its essence, all fiction is speculative), it's not always about the action. Readers of fantasy care as much about the world the writer creates as the characters themselves. Therefore, the writer must "stop the action" to describe the world, using a lot more description to immerse the reader in that fantastical world. This difference is why so many writers don't jump from one genre to another. It requires a different voice and different writing style. But I gave fantasy a shot. Now that I've maybe one more chapter left (at just shy of 120k words), I didn't notice until a few chapters ago that my writing style was different from my science fiction works. Description has never been my strong suit. To me, getting the story out -- the action -- takes precedence over the sights and smells. It slows me down. My greatest fear is that I will bore the reader with too much detail, so I tend to go the opposite extreme and add too little. Usually with my second draft, I add more detail, but always fearful I'm adding too much or not enough. It's annoyingly stressful. Until now. Literally without conscious thought, as I wrote this fantasy, I added a lot more detail, more sights, sounds, smells and physical sensations that -- I hope -- the reader can also see, smell and figuratively touch the world I created. The voice I used with the fantasy is different from my science fiction. And it pleases me, because I didn't even think it was possible. The best part is adding all that detail didn't bore me, because I knew -- however subconscious at the time -- that's what fantasy readers want and expect. That's what it all boils down to: What does the reader expect, and how best can I satisfy said reader? Now whether or not I truly succeeded isn't up to me. I am, after all, an expert at deluding myself. Once I write one or two more drafts of the thing (which will take at least six months), I'll send it out to agents to see if my fantasy is indeed satisfactory. |
| 96,653 That's how many words I've written in my latest novel, over 70,000 of them in just over a month. It's by far the most I've written in the least amount of time. But now I'm sad. While there's always the initial elation when completing a book, afterward there's a sense of deflation. Not one of fatigue but of, "Now what?" After all the time I spent writing, part of me wants -- and needs -- to continue in that groove, and quite honestly the desire to remain engrossed in the universe I created. And I could continue if I wanted to. My book is actually a sequel, and already I have ideas for how the third book is to proceed. But I must stop. If I am serious about publication, I need to polish the first book and send out queries to agents. This particular trilogy is mainstream science fiction, so I shouln't have any trouble finding a lot of agents who'll be interested. Next on my agenda is to re-read "Self-Editing for Fiction Writers," because it helped me so much the first time. Having not read it in over five years, I definitely need a refresher. After that I will print out the first book and bleed all over it, and hopefully turn it into something publishable. I will keep you apprised. Right now my boy is taking a bubble bath, my hubby is on his way home from a pistol shooting match, and as soon as I am done here, I will pour myself a glass of wine and bask in the success of completing one more novel. |
| "You are not entitled to your opinion. Opinions need facts to back them up. If you have no facts, you're only a mouthpiece." Said a speaker during a land surveyor's seminar I attended a month ago. I attend a weekly study at church called "Skeptics" where we discuss our questions and doubts about God, religion, faith and the like. Last night's question was, "Do Christians and Muslims worship the same God?" We came up with a few ideas, but no real concrete answers. Lately I've been wanting to read the Quran. I hear so many people claiming how they know what it says, how it's actually a religion of peace, while others claim it's full of evil, and that ISIS and their like are acting according to true Islam as spelled out in the Quran. I could never argue either side, since I haven't read it. Plus the fact both statements above are starkly general. It'd be no different from people saying all Christians are like the Westboro Baptists, or like Mother Theresa. With over 1 billion Muslims and 1 billion Christians in the world, to make such generalities is beyond inaccurate and unfair. Most fall somewhere in the middle. If I am going to judge any religion (not necessarily the people who practice it, because I am a staunch individualist. I prefer to hold people accountable for what they do as individuals, and not condemn or praise them by their affiliations and beliefs only), I will have to study the book by which they derive their beliefs and practices. Coincidentally, our pastor had a copy of the Quran during the meeting. When I expressed my desire to read it, he graciously lent me his (and thankfully, I don't have to finish it by Wednesday Bible study). The book contains both the original Arabic and English translation. Already I learned something interesting from the prologue, and the reason it contains both languages. I quoth: "It is axiomatic from the Islamic perspective that the Quran cannot be translated, because the form of God's revelation, that is the Arabic itself, is not merely incidental to its meaning, but essential to it . . . A rendering into another language, therefore, is not and never can be the Quran as such, but merely an interpretation of it." The reasoning makes sense to me. The original language of any text best conveys the original meaning of the author. There is rarely a direct word-for-word translation in any language. No matter who translates what -- regardless of intent -- the translater will always bring in his/her own biases and understanding of the original language and/or intent of the author as they translate. It can't be avoided. As I looked through this particular "translation," and looked for others available on Amazon, I noticed all were translated by a single individual. That's problematic. For instance, and in contrast, few translations of the Bible were translated by one person. Often a group of scholars work to piece together the original (or copies of the original) texts. You could say that with more people translating, they're multiplying their individual biases into the final translation. I argue, however, that other scholars can check the rest against such biases by arguing their interpretation of a certain verse or chapter. As they argue, the likelihood they can discover the original intent and meaning becomes greater. Two things concern me about reading the Quran. One is that I can't read Arabic, so I'm not reading the Quran as such, but one man's interpretation of it. I'm also bringing in my own biases to the challenge. Like it or not, my mind has been filled with the opinions of others with regard to Islam, so I am not approaching it with a true open mind. I fear I will not try to understand the Quran as much as find ways to argue with it, and compare it to my own faith and understanding of God. The second reason is as much as I want to understand Islam, I don't want to be influenced by it. Will it shake my faith so much that I doubt or lose it? I doubt it, but it's a fear I must acknowledge before diving in. I can't answer any of those concerns until I start studying. Now I just have to find the time . . . Oh, and I've written nearly 70K words total (almost 50k since mid-December) of my WIP with about 10-15k more to go. Yay me! |
| When someone in our life experiences a devastating loss, whether it be a parent, a spouse or child, the rest of us are at a loss as to what to do or say. We so desperately want to sooth their pain, if not take it away completely. We are lost, because there is literally nothing we can do. So the best course of action is to do nothing. Now that may seem almost cruel, doesn't it? Let me explain. Or more accurately, let the Bible explain. It starts after Job had lost all of his children (Job 2:11-13). When three of Job’s friends heard of the tragedy he had suffered, they got together and traveled from their homes to comfort and console him. Their names were Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. When they saw Job from a distance, they scarcely recognized him. Wailing loudly, they tore their robes and threw dust into the air over their heads to show their grief. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and nights. No one said a word to Job, for they saw that his suffering was too great for words. Job's friends remained silent until Job spoke first. That's how people helped others grieve back in those days. They understood that no words were required. In fact, in verse 10, Job rebuked his wife for trying to "help" with mere platitudes. Her words did not help. Looking back at when my parents passed away, I don't remember any words people said. I do remember those who surrounded me during such a difficult time, though. That they were there was enough. It didn't take away the pain, but knowing I wasn't alone gave me the hope and confidence that I would get through it. Granted, there are many times we can't be there in person, but telling them we're there in spirit with our thoughts and prayers, and offer to give them anything they need is also helpful. In the end that's all we can do. Be there. In silence. |
| This is probably the most difficult entry I will ever write. It's a confession of the highest order, and the most sordid. So much so, I must post it here so no one in my family can see it. I am having an affair. No matter where I am or who else I'm with, I can't stop thinking about it. My work is suffering, and even my husband has noticed I'm not "all there." But I can't stop. Every fiber of my being, heart and soul, aches to return to my lover. No amount of persuasion can alter the course I'm on. Or should I say lovers. Yes, multiple. All 26 of them. I know what you're thinking. 26?! Who on earth has the time, let alone find 26 to fall in love with? Many writers, however, understand. A-Z, those tiny, seemingly insignificant letters that by themselves accomplish little. But together, they dance to create poetry and build entire worlds. They inspire millions to go to war, and at the same time create peace within a single soul. Since I removed myself from Facebook, I have spent that time reading. While reading, I have once again fallen in love with the written word. The unfinished novels, so quiet for so long, are now crying out to be finished. How can I not listen and obey my rediscovered love? It's so consuming, I decided to finish two novels at once, one a fantasy and the other a science fiction sequel. Since I dove into this new affair, I have written close to 5000 words in the last two days, not including blog entries. Since my husband has been through this before, I know he understands and will allow my new affair. As long as I clean the kitchen once in a while. |
| A short conversation on Twitter: Fox News: Big release of Gitmo detainees reportedly in the works. Cameron Gray: Santa Obama is giving a BIG lump of coal to the world this Christmas. Me: And that lump of a coal seeks to kill us. Huh. That actually sounds like the plot of a horror movie by Tim Burton. Cameron Gray: Scary I might have to write it, and perhaps include the finished story in my Christmas cards next year (no way I could make it this year. I write fast, but not that fast!). |
| Gurgling guts. "Interesting" trips to the bathroom. Thoughts of food -- shudder. Achy appendages. Symptoms of . . . possible flu. Yippee. Now for symptoms of a different sort. I was dabbling in Twitter today and a gal commented on another person's feed: "Please go away. Like forever." I responded thusly (I'm a bit cantankerous when I'm not feeling well). "Um. How about you go away? No one is forcing you to follow her." The young lady's response (right before she blocked me [as if I was interested in following her]./, m) to the original poster "take stupid @almarquardt with you." That didn't bother me; it made me laugh. I did notice the profile of one person who liked the insulting tweet reads: "Mother, daughter, sister, skin care junkie. Love my family, friends and kindness.' It's the last word that made me pause. What's 'kind' about calling someone stupid? I get it though. Our political climate is so polarized, people don't think before they speak or write. It's like they see red whenever someone says something they disagree with, and they have to spew whatever nasty comment that pops into their head. I know I've done the same (the tweet above could be considered one such example). Politics really does bring out the worst in us; we tend to ignore and forget what means most to us for the momentary good feeling of putting somone "in their place." |
| Since I decided to avoid Facebook for a year, a few people have warned me that I will lose friends due to lack of activity, and potential publishers won't want to publish my novels, because I'll have a reduced online presence. All valid concerns. If I used Facebook to market my books, absolutely taking a break is a bad idea. Since I have no books to market, it's really not an issue. All my friends are literally that (and family), so short of death, I doubt I'll lose any of them. The nice thing is, I've had more positive feedback than negative when I posted my intention. If it were mostly negative, then I'd rethink my decision. As for an online presence to potential publishers, sure taking a year hiatus is a risk. Facebook isn't the end-all-be-all of social media, however. There are a slew of others such as Twitter, LinkedIn, and Pinterest. Even if it were, there comes a time for a person to prioritize, and in doing so, sacrifices need to be made. To keep myself focused on my spiritual journey as well as my writing, Facebook is one such sacrifice. Will I regret it in the end? Maybe, but I doubt it. I need to look at life and my actions in terms of eternity, not simply the here and now -- or a mere one year in the future. Lately I've tried to model my own life after Jesus'. He, too, had to take a break now and again to renew his strength and spirit. Maybe not for a year at a time, but his ministry didn't start until he was 30 years old. Before that, I'm sure he spent many of his adult years learning and growing so he could have the best ministry possible. Writing is my ministry, and I feel that my ministry has suffered because I'm too busy delving into the daily details and distractions of life. There's nothing wrong with taking a step back and taking stock once in a while. I'll still be writing. I'll still be posting entries here and my other blog on my website. I'll be sharing those entries on Twitter and LinkedIn. I may even set up a Pinterest account. I'm not disappearing, I'm merely closing one window in a room full of them. |
| This is a repeat of my other blog. I add it here, because I want it to be a reminder to me to avoid Facebook and other social media. My goal -- to not use Facebook for an entire year. Do you think I can do it? Here's why: With only one month left to 2015, I can’t help but mull over the previous eleven. Was it a good year? What have I done right? What have I done wrong, and how can I make 2016 better? A few weeks back, people shared how many hours they spent on Facebook in the past year. I avoided the calculation myself, knowing it was embarrassingly high. And for what? Is my life better for it, or have I spent more time frustrated and angry rather than joyous? I fear the former. The worst part is not how I felt while there, but how I made others feel. Have I brought more laughter and joy, or anger and frustration? I fear the latter. I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. If I want or need to make a change, now is better than later. A date shouldn’t determine when I do something good or right. A few days ago, I engaged in a discussion on a Facebook group with one person, and after a few exchanges another person stepped in and said, “I think you’re talking past each other.” I stopped and realized he was right. I responded, “That’s what happens when people are more interested in talking and not listening — of which I am as guilty of as anyone.” All my anger and frustration is the fault of one person. Me. As I considered this, a particular scripture popped into my head: And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. (Philippians 4:8) Since I didn’t know the exact wording of the verse above, I performed a word search. In doing so, I discovered this one: Remind everyone about these things, and command them in God’s presence to stop fighting over words. Such arguments are useless, and they can ruin those who hear them. Work hard so you can present yourself to God and receive his approval. Be a good worker, one who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly explains the word of truth. Avoid worthless, foolish talk that only leads to more godless behavior. This kind of talk spreads like cancer, as in the case of Hymenaeus and Philetus. (2 Timothy 2:14-17) I’ve been so busy arguing over minutia, I’ve lost sight of the big picture, and my role in the world. My anger and frustration, and making little to no headway in my arguments, should have made me realize much sooner the error of my ways. I am not here to move people to my side of the political or ideological aisle. The world is what it is, and politics is a force in and of itself that no bloviating by me will alter its course. I cannot save this world anymore than an ant can dig an ocean. My job is to explain the word of truth as well as live it. Not argue about it. It seems that’s all social media does: foster arguments. Starting today, I will no longer participate, especially where politics and current events are concerned (which will only worsen next year due to elections). Imagine the hours I will gain. I will actually have time to catch up on my reading, and my writing. Heck, I may even find motivation to publish something. So here's the plan (we'll see how long it lasts). This blog will be more about my personal journey. Yippee for you. I'll try not to be too depressing. My other blog I will adhere to its original intent which is to write about my writing journey. Perhaps knowing what it's for will help motivate me to do something -- writing and/or publishing-wise -- worth writing about. Time will tell. I hope you continue to join me as I give this a go. |
| I've started many a blog entry lately, but every time I get down a few sentences or paragraphs, my motivation dies. It's partly due to fatigue. I think I'm entering perimenopause, because sleep has become more elusive than normal. That, and my attiude isn't what it should be. I'm emotionally blah. I can't finish any entry, because a little voice says, "Why bother? No one cares; no one listens. They're too busy believing they are right and everyone who disagrees is some kind of -ism and full of hate." Have you ever wished you would get a nasty cold, so you'd have an excuse to stay in bed instead of going to work? I've been wishing for about two weeks now. And yet, frustratingly, I remain healthy. Except I did have a nasty stomach ache the other day. It's the third time I've had this particular pain in the last four months. It's only in the stomach, happens at night, lasts about 4-5 hours, and there's no nausea involved. I finally concluded I passed a gall stone each time, because the symptoms matched perfectly. I'm not worried about it, because (according to what I've read), as long as my waste looks normal and the pain doesn't last past 5 hours, there's no need for medical intervention. With bad knees, (assumed) gall bladder problems, possible perimenopause, forgetfulness, graying hair, slowing metabolism and saggy skin, I've concluded that I am quickly reaching the end of my 50 year/500,000 mile warranty, and God's not giving me an extension. Everything that breaks from now on is coming straight out of pocket. I think it's time I quit trying to write a blog and preaching to the deaf, and instead pick up an unfinished novel or two. Maybe my doldrums is my brain's way of telling me I need to escape reality in favor of fantasy. We do need that sometimes, because reality is too darned depressing. Writing fiction is my adult way of playing, because I don't have to worry about breaking a hip. |
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