Author Topic: The Thread for Writers  (Read 33882 times)

Lord J Esq

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The Thread for Writers
« on: March 26, 2009, 08:01:02 pm »
I noticed in another thread that we have some writers in the crowd. That raises the questions of how many of you other Compendiumites are writers too. This thread is for you! What are you writing? What are you not writing? How long have you been writing? What are some of the things you have written? What kinds of writing do you like to do? And, of course, the most important question of all: Fountain Pen, or Quill with Inkwell? (Or, for you heretics, “computer keyboard.”)

I suppose I can go first. I'm protective of my work and loath to talk about it to a general audience, especially my big works, but, in the hopes that it would stir a hearty discussion and persuade others to open up their passions similarly, I'll be forthcoming:

I see stories everywhere. I love stories. If you were to ask me why, I still wouldn't be able to tell you entirely, even after all these years, but I can say that the great stories are my most prized possessions in all the world. That's probably why I am such an unrelenting critic on the matter: I hate to see their potential go to waste, and, let's face it, to waste is where most stories go.

Being a story seer is not the same thing as being a story teller. Nevertheless, because of that understandable human tendency to fixate on one's passions, I have told or wanted to tell many a story in my day. I've been a storyteller all my conscious life. My first stories were all imitative, and I took a great deal of inspiration from the children's books, films, and cartoons of the day. When some book, or show, or personal experience made an impact on me, I would feed it into my monstrously powerful imagination, and create story after story after story. Storytelling has always been my method of choice for considering matters of personal significance. Mostly it was just plain old fun, but my storytelling also served a more practical purpose for me on occasion: Whenever I got in big trouble, or had some other large frustration going on, I would typically daydream these huge, decisive speeches that would lay my tormentors on their faces and set all else aright.

I've been a writer for almost as long as I've been a storyteller, but that craft came into my life gradually. In earlier times I felt no need to “tell” stories. I was content to daydream them in real-time. Even today daydreaming is my favorite place to be, although I don't do it as often as I like. Oftentimes I'll steal a snippet here and there whenever my full concentration is not required. It's very impressive (to me) how well I can do that. Sometimes I'll be walking along completely automatically, until all of a sudden I'll “wake up” and realize that I'm in a completely different location and my walk is nearly over. Other times I'll just lie in bed and stare out into space. The shower is also a great place for daydreaming, since everything about washing up is completely familiar and easily automated. When I was a kid, my favorite place to daydream was on the swingset. It was with great dismay that I gave up swinging when I felt (at the preposterous age of twelve) that I was getting too old for it.

As I got older, I did more and more writing. At first it was still purely for myself—even the schoolwork. In grade school my writing assignments were regularly two, three, or sometimes ten times in length and scope over what was required. In fact in seventh grade I wrote a children's story for a class assignment which, by word count, was about fifty times longer than what the teacher had asked for. It was a story about a young boy who invented a flying potion to use at the school talent show, and the evil Mrs. Doomsday who was determined to stop him. Outside of school I wrote even more extensively, although all of my biggest projects had had their genesis as classroom assignments. At the age of twelve I wrote my first major story, a science fiction piece about ridiculously evil space aliens who plotted to take over the Earth by disguising one of themselves as a dog, whom my main character adopted. At the age of fourteen I wrote my first novel-length story, also a science fiction piece, about humanity's unfortunate first contact with another advanced civilization; and, while I didn't finish it, it became the longest work by far that I had written up to that point.

In my high school years, I experienced a literary explosion that saw me branching out in all possible aspects of my writing—motive, structure, format, the works! I wrote (and directed) two plays for my synagogue youth group, centering on the festive holiday of Purim, where such revelries are encouraged. The first play intermingled the Purim story with Star Trek and Star Wars; the second intermingled Purim with the tale of Robin Hood. The second one was truly inspired, and totally absurd. The main character was an evil king of evil who wanted to cut down the entire Sherwood Forest to construct his evil buildings of doom, and only the Jews stood in his (evil) way. I don't want to take too much credit, but the guy who played the king co-wrote the play with me had an incredibly good time with it and went on to earn his degree in drama. This play was also a musical, and one of my favorite parts was writing those songs with my co-writer. Everyone got to be in at least one song, including the evil king, who sang this little ditty himself:

I am King LeMar, King of Evil,
Lord of Villainy, Czar of Perfidy:
I hate everything that I see!
That doesn't mean that I need glasses;
It simply means I will control the masses.
Three cheers for King LeMar!
Let's hear it for King LeMar!
Let all the Earth rejoice in me,
Your King, King Lemar.


Believe it or not, that play represented a local high point in my storyteller's star. Around the same time, I also made my first major foray from my native prosaic stamping grounds into the elegant world of poetry, conceiving of an epic-style coming-of-age story about a boy who went with his male relatives to climb the imposing mountain near their village. I imposed on myself the technical challenge of never using the letter E—except for the villain's verses, where E was the only allowable vowel (although I gave in and exempted Y). That one never got finished, although I still mean to get back to it eventually.

It was also during this time that my writing evolved beyond mere imitation and became a vessel for my own ideas. Storytelling thus became a frontier for my very development as a person. Whatever might have been buzzing inside my brain at the time, invariably wound up flopping around on a page somewhere. That's still true today.

Almost simultaneously, and not at all coincidentally, it was around this time that I got serious about nonfiction, recognizing that the storytelling component of writing is separable from its more functional applications such as communication, debate, and personal development. I began writing letters, essays, philosophical works, satire, and introspective pieces. In fact, the volume of my nonfiction writing would eventually become considerably bigger than that of my fiction! (Although I hasten to point out that my heart has always remained with the stories.)

Toward the end of high school I got the kick into tomorrow that my burning ambitions had been building toward. I narrated an online “tabletop” RPG, engineless and totally freeform. With a core cast of seven people and many more on the fringe, this story lasted more than a year, reaching its successful conclusion by the time I was already in college. The story about a person who tried to take over the world and those who played some part in supporting or resisting him. It was set in a literary environment that deliberately rejected the Western norms of hero-villain story design. By this point I had grown thoroughly uninterested both in conventional moral systems and unrealistic literary clichés. This RPG was my personal exploration of many things very important to me, and was a proving ground for a great deal of my philosophy. That many other people contributed to it was seminal in my growth as both a person and a writer. Together we produced thousands of pages of story text. After the RPG ended, I began adapting it into a novel. I reworked the storyline and made countless alterations and improvements. This is my major work to date, and the novelization continues even after nine years. (Hey, I'm no Stephen King!)

In my college years I conceived of two other novel-class works of fiction. One of them was directly inspired by Chrono Trigger and involves my personal vision of time travel adventure. The other is a sci-fi mystery that focuses on a floating civilization's struggle to understand and resolve a crisis which threatens to wipe it out of existence. Due to my focus on other projects, and also because of my difficulty in general with actualizing large works, neither story is beyond rough outline form—although the second one has a couple hundred early pages written.

Also during college I tried my hand at screenwriting. I wrote two episode-length teleplays for The Simpsons, and several “shorts.” That was invaluable experience for me, but The Simpsons was decaying badly at that point and I shortly lost any ambitions of selling scripts to the show's producers—or even writing further scripts for my own pleasure. I was convinced that original work was the way to go.

More practically, I got a job as a columnist at my college paper, where I actually got money to write incoherent, self-important screeds which I collectively titled “The Voice of Reason.” I got a lot of stuff wrong in those days, but it served to increase my exposure to politics, and connected me with many people who had good insights to share. You can see an example of my better columns here.

Not a paying job was my gig as the fiction editor at my college's literary magazine, where I learned that many people who fancy themselves as writers honestly have no business writing. I did read one awesome story, though, which was the text version of a still life painting.

After college I began keeping my online journal, which was crucial as I worked my core philosophy into a more complete form, broadened my political thinking, and asserted my identity (all from the comforts of home!). Also in those days I attempted NaNoWriMo for the first time, and, while I did cross the 50,000 word finish line that first year, I hadn't finished my story—not even close. What I did have had been rushed, so that I didn't really have the ambition to make anything more out of it. Nevertheless I was pleased that, for such a slow-drip writer, I had been able to turn out such a large quantity of words in such a short time. My triumph was not to last, alas: My subsequent attempts at NaNoWriMo all failed. I have no excuse; I can only claim insanity.

Eventually, I began trying on the short story format. Short stories had always been a terribly unnatural gait for me. When it comes to fiction, I'm much more comfortable with longer work. Even as it is, most of my short stories are envisioned as novellas. I use the short story format to give air to plots, characters, and themes that don't get much play in my big endeavors.

More recently I have become more serious about writing music. So far, my skills remain primitive enough that my ability for expression is limited, but I have improved markedly over the past year and will soon be good enough to call myself an amateur. Ultimately, I would like to use music to tell stories just as I use writing. And it'd be a major feather in my cap to be able to say to myself, “Golly, I really want to listen to my song!”

I've also been hired by a startup company to do creative writing for a game that will hopefully, someday, see the light of day. After the school paper, this marks the second time in my life I've been able to get paid for my writing: a hopeful portent!

Now we arrive back at the present day, where I put it to you, fellow writers, to share something of yourselves here, and hopefully gain some enjoyment from so doing. I'll be quite disappointed if all I attract are a few drive-by mookings, or, worse, no replies at all. Hopefully the topic is open-ended enough that we can get an actual conversation going here. (Wouldn't that be novel!)

And for those of you worried about the famous Joshalonian Ire, don't be. For this thread, I've turned off my attack beams and am storing power.

 :picardno

Lastly, those of you who aren't writers can participate in this thread by using it as an opportunity to “Ask a Writer,” where I or (hopefully) any number of others will respond to all your queries and puzzlements.

Boo the Gentleman Caller

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #1 on: March 26, 2009, 08:37:13 pm »
I, like you, Lord J esq came from a strong storytelling background.  I don't even really consider myself a "writer" per se, but ultimately a bonafide storyteller.  I love telling stories - dramatic, highly unrealistic stories (see: "lies") for kicks and giggles, and deep stories that I hope to turn into pieces of actual fiction.  Stories are so fun to craft and create, and I've actually decided to pursue it as a potential dream career as we speak.

You see, I was a high school newspaper writer.  It was okay, but I struggled not being able to write about what I want to write about.  So in college I did a little bit of freelance for the Lee University Flame, kept several personal blogs, and continued to write -- but only as a hobby.  I graduated with a Biology minor, Chemistry minor, and an Advertising degree (odd combination, I know).  And I found myself thrust into the adult, post-collegiate world totally unprepared.  I knew at this point that I didn't want to be in advertising, but I knew I longed for something completely creative.  I was lost (and still am, to a certain extent).

I got married and knew I had to be a provider, so I got a job... as a banker...  Good for the wallet, bad for the right side of my brain.

(feel free to pick my brain about the economic crisis and what it's like on the banking side of things)


After doing banking for a year or so, I thought to myself, "What do I want to do with my life?  What will truly make my happy and allow me to know true fulfillment in life?"

Fast forward to now: I am working my first major screenplay, hoping to have it finished around June or July.  We'll see what happens then.  I'm still a banker, but I'm hoping that will change in due time.  I don't really enjoy my job but I learned to deal with it (after all, I can change my internal condition to change my external condition), and in doing so I've been getting on the "fast track" career-wise.  However, I am disciplining myself to write an hour every day (when possible, which is most days), working on a screenplay.  I have a dozen ideas already penned out, I just had to convince myself to sit down and write them out.

The lesson I learned?  Quit being talk and fucking do something.  You want to change your life?  Put down the controller and change it.

I've been doing it since the first of this year, and I've never been happier.

teaflower

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #2 on: March 26, 2009, 08:41:30 pm »
... wow. Impressive.

I am a writer. I write whatever, most times. Though I find myself in fantasy novels/novellas. Everything else I do mostly for school. I have poor handwriting, so most of my work is through keyboard. When I do write by hand, I tend to go with just a normal store bought pen. The kind you click to open up. I like black ink, but have taken to green and red as of late.

When I'm exposed to something for a long time or at a young age, it seems to... somehow find its way in to a story. Somehow. Someway. It just... is. I obsess over things, and through the obsession the stories mutate into the master story, which is like a tree. A tree with countless branches, continuing to grow over time, mostly when I'm trying to sleep or bored.

Writing nonfiction has always bored me to tears. I enjoy writing what comes to my mind, with no limit on reality. If something doesn't make sense, I can make a rule for it. If something violates the rule, I can tweak it. When I write fiction of any kind, I become more than a girl with a computer or pen. I become a divine entity, creating a world in which people live and interact with each other. A world where what I say goes, and if you have a problem with it, too bad. A world where I have the final say on an idea. Writing fiction gives me control. Absolute control. And if I can't take over the real world, why not make my own world to take over? Or two or three or...

I've enrolled myself in a creative writing course at my high school. Maybe that will help me. Maybe not. Maybe I can find a decent publisher. I take criticism well most times, so feel free to comment on anything I write that I post here.

ZeaLitY

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #3 on: March 26, 2009, 08:51:49 pm »
Quote
I've also been hired by a startup company to do creative writing for a game that will hopefully, someday, see the light of day.

Don't tell me! Did you just betray the mystery of Super Secret Project "M"?

I was regarded as the "English God" at my high school. In August 2002, I began writing personal poetry on the suggestion of my best friend at the time, Alisa. The poetry of 2002 and 2003 was sort of muddled couplets; I was meanwhile reading Keats and identifying with the Romantics. By 2004, I settled into sonnet writing, and in 2007, I finally became proficient in iambic pentameter as to legitimize my poems. I'm still writing sonnets; they're all in the organic form Keats proposed, abcabdcabcdede. I rarely write free verse, usually to describe something impossible abstract or that would be too short or too long for a sonnet. My only other major work was a heroic age of Greece love story entitled Gilead and Zephyra, begun in 2007. (Yeah, I was sort of amused when Zephira joined the Compendium.) It's all blank verse, and I got it up to 650 lines before stopping work in late 2007. I've got the entire thing beautifully outlined; I just need to finish it. Gilead gets in touch with his desires, abandons a useless war, and encumbers great personal peril to reach Princess Zephyra, with whom he visited before a dangerous battle; the two fell in love. Along the way, he meets the Phaiakians and a group of seafaring warriors led by the charismatic Captain Kreon. The showdown is pretty climactic. Krispin helped with the names.

My poems are all soaked with luscious imagery. If I had a weakpoint and something to strive for, it's compactness and meaning. My poems seem to start out with sweeping, dreamy images, and then lose that luster once I try to make a heavy-handed point at the end. This is probably a result of my thinking, since I like reducing things (including abstract concepts and problems) to artlessly concrete conclusions. I know another girl whose imagery and poems are very, very compact, so I've been taking cues from her lately to try and improve. Here are a couple examples:

Birth of a Dream

April-May 2008
(1-4, 5-8, 9-14 May 5)

Where frothy bubbles born from ocean cream
Delight and shimmer on a timeworn beach,
A dream awash in mystic foam arrives
From drifting life upon the wings of seas,
With eyelids closed beyond temporal reach
And quiet heart asleep in starry dawn,
Obscured in far demesnes by mists alive
With trepidation and emotion free.

Within your tender hands, the heart doth beat,
And deep in thought the quiet being strives
To wake, and learn the truest love’s sweet song –
Though lacking body, readiness, and deed;
Allow him rest, though dear repose be long –
For he will offer all eternity.
[End]

Next (currently a fragment)

February 2009

Away, the gentle shade of sleep removes –
To sandy stretches sparkling under moon
Of glowing cream, Arabian mystique;
To starry ponds reflecting em’rald dew
As serenades the Frog-King’s lily tune;
To violet, errant clouds – the breath of night;
The kingdoms amethyst that dreamers seek
[End]

I sold out like Boo because my dreams require financial resources. I plan to write a novel about two people who meet during a peerless, serene rainy summer at an archaeological expedition at Mesoamerican pyramids, and then maybe other things down the line. My favorite kind of poetry is still that of Keats. His imagery is so...rich; the beauty is painful to endure. And he wrote about that painful kind of beauty in Ode to a Nightingale. Just sample how absolutely detailed his imagery can be from the Eve of St. Agnes:

XXX.

And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,   
In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender’d,   
While he from forth the closet brought a heap   
Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
With jellies soother than the creamy curd,   
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;   
Manna and dates, in argosy transferr’d   
From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,   
From silken Samarcand to cedar’d Lebanon.

XXXI.

These delicates he heap’d with glowing hand   
On golden dishes and in baskets bright   
Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand   
In the retired quiet of the night,   
Filling the chilly room with perfume light.—
“And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!   
“Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite:   
“Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes’ sake,   
“Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache.”

I can taste what he's describing. It's richer than reality.
« Last Edit: March 26, 2009, 08:58:22 pm by ZeaLitY »

nightmare975

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #4 on: March 26, 2009, 08:56:31 pm »
I write. I mostly write Star Wars "fanfics" (I refuse to call them that however) due in fact that I'm apart of Star Wars Fanon at Wikia.

I also like to write regular science fiction, though my passion at the moment is my newest attempt at a novel.

I call it "How Do You Define Love?" It takes place in the mid 90's and works it's way to present day and beyond. The story revolves around two characters: Paul, a Desert Storm Veteran who lost his best friend, Jim, in the conflict and Samantha, who is Jim's daughter, unaware of her father's death. She believes that he left her and her mother, Rachel. Paul takes care of the two feeling a need to considering he blames himself for Jim's death. The theme of love goes from Paul's love for Rachel and Samantha as a family to his feelings for Rachel. Samantha however battles herself to try to reject her feelings for her best friend, a friendship she doesn't want to lose.

Sounds kind of far fetched/cheesy/unfinished, but I don't like giving out too many secrets to my stories.

Perhaps later I'll talk about my older novel...

skylark

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #5 on: March 26, 2009, 09:04:10 pm »
What to say about my career...

Well, I can't really call it a career. I haven't come anywhere near doing that much.

All I used to do is read, really. First it was a few books, namely the first quarter of the Star Wars Expanded Universe. Then I discovered fanifiction, anime, etc. Yes... I was that deprived. Anyway, I never even considered writing until I came across the Lunar series fansite The Shrine to Ghaleon and read Roas Atradas' Tides of Time and Mirror Images. It was then that I figured I could at least give it a shot.

My first attempt at fanfiction and writing in general was in High School. Well... to be quite honest... I still wish I could wash my hands of it to this day. It was that bad. For added embarrassment, I was also reading through Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series, which inspired a couple of NSFW moments in said fic. Thankfully, I have solace in knowing that the damn thing has been in a landfill for some time.

Eventually, I became an active member at the Shrine to Ghaleon with quite a few humor shorts under my belt. Looking back, I kind of wish I could do some of those over. Soon after that, my first original character, and the one that has sort of become my personal avatar, Lark, was officially introduced in a major crossover/fusion fanfic epic called Children of Eternity by Roas Atradas. It was then that I decided to give serious writing another shot. My story was to be a prequal to said epic called Children of Dawn.

Unfortunately back then, I discovered I wasn't as patient in writing as I would have liked, and went back to my humor. Children of Dawn was told, however... albeit in parody format, which is where I (and other members of the Shrine) personally think I shine the brightest. I ended up parodying Children of Eternity and its sequel Children of Fate, as well as a side-story of my own called Penance.

Sadly, at the time I wrote these parodies, I had no way of saving them onto any backup devices, or had my own computer. So when the Shrine's Message Boards crashed a month ago, everything I had was lost. :(

That's my history.

Now, one thing I want to say is that I'm probably one of the few people in the world who actually likes script format in humor stories. I personally don't understand where all the hate comes from, although I think it may have to do with the fact that I'm easily amused. :?

Anyway, at the present time...

I've had the idea for Chrono: To the Sea of Dreams in my head for quite some time, yet it was only until after I lurked in the Compendium for the first time that I began to be able to find plot points and start to make sense of all these ideas in my head. I don't know if I've become more patient when it comes to writing than a few years back, but I want to give it one last shot. Which will be kind of difficult since this story is on sort of epic in scale. I always try my hand at epics because of Roas, who has become sort of a brother to me after all these years, and I feel that it would be shaming him to aspire to anything less. Even if it doesn't turn out as well as I hope. :P

Delta Dragon

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #6 on: March 26, 2009, 09:29:20 pm »
I hope to be a writer someday, but for now I'm mostly just a fan fiction writer.  I did start something that I might turn into a novel someday, but it's barely even started.  And one thing I've learned from writing fan fiction is that I have a hard time sticking one through.  I've started like over a dozen fan fics yet I've only finished like 5.

teaflower

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #7 on: March 26, 2009, 09:33:22 pm »
I hope to be a writer someday, but for now I'm mostly just a fan fiction writer.  I did start something that I might turn into a novel someday, but it's barely even started.  And one thing I've learned from writing fan fiction is that I have a hard time sticking one through.  I've started like over a dozen fan fics yet I've only finished like 5.
Fanfic writing is a good way to start. You can develop plots and not have to deal with the tediousness that is character creation. Though the first ones always suck.

Take one of my former favorites, The Chronicles of Ackers. It started a million different plots, but ultimately it sucked. Out loud. I don't even want to know I wrote it. If you see it shoot me. NOW.

Delta Dragon

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #8 on: March 26, 2009, 10:18:40 pm »
The first one I ever attempted it could have been good, but it wasn't a good starting point.  Mainly because I maid an entire new set of characters.  I haven't touched that one in like a year.  Another reason it didn't get far is because it was on paper.  All of my others are on the computer.

Uboa

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #9 on: March 26, 2009, 10:46:36 pm »
I guess that I qualify as a writer now that I am writing again.

I've been all over the place with regards to writing.  Everyone said I had a knack for it growing up, and I know that I was one hell of a storyteller as a kid.  I've always wanted to write at least one novel, and that may or may not happen depending on whether I am more inspired to write a novel or make a game.  I'm leaning towards game, Cave Story style.

I am writing:  That Samus and Magus fanfic which may end up being the best thing I've ever written if ends up being anything like I think it will end up being.  That will probably be about the equivalent of a short novel in length.

I am also writing a ton of web 2.0/MySQL code for work...

I am not writing:  (I take this to mean things that I've dreamed up or wanted to explore but haven't gotten around to yet.)  I really want to write my version of Adam Malkovich's influence on Samus and the Metroid universe.  Every time I start I end up deleting it, though.  I just can't figure this one out.  I know the gist of what it will be, but I can't figure out how to start it.

Other fan fiction I wouldn't mind trying:  Yume Nikki for the obvious nightmare fuel factor, and Paladin's Quest (Lennus) because any game where a giant Cthulian demon form of one's shadow self erupts from a giant 10,000 year old floating machine designed by quasi-supernatural space aliens deserves some attention.   (The translation patch of Lennus 2 just came out, too, so I'll have to play that at some point.)

I also stick with using a keyboard to write.

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #10 on: March 26, 2009, 11:32:40 pm »
Hmm... an interesting thread, but I don't have time to elaborate at the moment. When I have more time I'll say my piece. However, I will say that I do not think I can at this point call myself a writer, and certainly not a storyteller, seeing as I have horrid command of plotline. All the same, I do, on occasion, attempt to write.

Something I am rather better at, which doesn't require any ability in plot-setting, is poetry. In that I, as ZeaLitY, tend to be of the more formal disposition, and quite like the old Sonnet (though my rhyme scheme is Shakespearean, and my style of writing is certainly not of the Romantics.)

I'll write more when I have a chance.

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #11 on: March 27, 2009, 02:15:57 pm »
I'm also a writer. Or rather, I have ideas I wish to express, and writing is often the medium I chose to express them. Lately, I've been writing short stories, but I have some longer stories in the mental queue. These stories (and other works I create for my own personal reasons) I'm very territorial about, but I have done works that are out there to the public. I'm presently writing for a video game (different one than Josh; there is no Compendium Infiltration Conspiracy) This is my first writing job, however, not the first time I've written for a game, as part of being a designer is writing when the need arises. So some of you may have already read bits of dialogue I've written.

This all reminds me, I should get back to my stories.

Thought

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #12 on: March 27, 2009, 02:35:01 pm »
I wouldn't call myself a story teller, or a story seer. Such are far too... nice of a phrase to use for what I do. I'm, at my heart, a BSer. I can usually create stories about stuff off the cuff fairly easily. When I say "stories about stuff" I mean; someone calls my wife's phone, I'll answer and pretend to be someone totally different. So what I call "stories about stuff" my wife lovingly referse to as "crap" (as in I'm full of crap, hence BSer).

Also, if one defines "storytelling" as an inherently narrativistic approach, I am not a storyteller first and foremost. Rather, I have a love of simulationism. It is the world that I imagine first, not the story, and the world enchants me until I have to find a story to write in it in order to share it.

I used to be a writer, and I hope to be one again in the future, but I am not one currently. I define being a writer by a single criterion that I actually took from an old movie (“Throw Momma from the Train”): A writer writes, always. The most creative writing I do now days is for a forum game called Lords of Creation (over on the WotC forums) and a few specks here and there for various Compendium projects of which Boo and others might know a little.

Actually, I have found this thread to be most useful; not just in what people have said, but also in writing a response. My original response was about 5 pages long of nostalgia; it helped me remember why I like creative writing and helped awaken a desire to fervently re-pursue that dream.

Boo, I am in a very similar situation as yourself with one very important difference; where you persevered I had largely given up. You (and everyone else) have inspired me to improve my lot.

But to address writing specifically, I started quite young (4th grade I believe). My earliest works were horribly derivative, but they were never Fan Fiction (indeed, my story here on the Compendium is the first Fan Fiction I’ve ever written); rather I would attempt to recast a published work (book, movie, cartoon, etc) in my own words. Unfortunately, all my early works suffered greatly from Gary Stu syndrome (I still have problems with that today, but instead of ruining the story, it tends to ruin my passion for the character before it infects much else, dooming the entire work).

It wasn’t until around the end of High School that I wrote something I am still relatively proud of (but it has been lost, now, so if I could still read it maybe I wouldn’t be so proud). It was entitled “The Man and the Rain.” Looking back, it was impressively divergent from my earlier works. There was no Gary Stu, there was no craptacular, ham-handed attempts as romance (every story up to that point had romance, undoubtedly reflecting my own inner need for it), and curiously, the “action” of the story was, on the surface, utterly boring. The events consisted of 1) a man walking into a valley, 2) that man standing on a rock, and 3) that man waiting out the fury of a storm in that spot. It was, however, heavy on poetic phrasing and internal action. Indeed, it was very postmodern, written at a time when I had no idea that “post” and “modern” could be put together as a single word/concept.

Actually, that is the only story I wrote during that time period that I wish I still had. All of them were lost over the years (a disadvantage of saving stories on a computer; the keyboard has always been my writing implement of choice since pen and paper is far too slow. Actually, the keyboard is too slow as well, but it helps me think and its better than the alternative).

Then I went off to college, had a few writing successes (this also being the first time I willingly showed any story to another person), and I wrote up a new story. This I submitted to Asimov. I was rejected, and rightly so because it was too much of a Slipstream Story (that is, the only clearly Sci-Fi element of it was a planet dying from lack of an atmosphere; otherwise it could have fit anywhere. Unfortunately, I took that rejection harder than I should of (and harder than I realized) and haven’t submitted a story to a magazine since. But even at that, this is one of the more memorable stories that I have written. I will talk about it (badly titled “Mars”) more later.

After that I made a horrible mistake: I took creative writing classes at my university. By the time I was done with that, my writing style was so convoluted that I am still trying to dig out of it. My style easily becomes too intentional, too obtuse, and it hampers the story itself. Admittedly, though, this was more my fault than the instructor. He gave us basic concepts and I arrogantly thought I was an amazing writer at that point. As such, I took these concepts, messed with them, and developed poison. But this was also a good thing; developing a hindering style helped give my ego in the matter a much needed deflation.

However, that being said, this time period did result in the third story (“The Grey City”) that I still think was/is a fairly good attempt at writing These three stories (“The Man and the Rain,” “Mars,” and “The Grey City”) all share a common element of poetic prose, very limited characters (two total for the first two stories, and if one includes bit characters, five for the third), and intense internal action. The first was about a battle of wills, the second was about coping with death (curiously, death from cancer, which was written about 2 or 4 months before I was diagnosed with cancer), and the third was about coming to terms with one’s own actions (though if anyone had suggested that these were themes of the stories then, I would have been terribly upset and angry; as I said, I had an ego problem then).

After that, I made another horrible mistake: I entered grads school (for the first time but hopefully not the last time). I learned a great deal in grad school, no doubts there -- if my grammar is anything but atrocious, you have my Ancient History professor to thank --  but I also allowed by prose to become unnecessarily bloated. I am still working against that. As you can tell from this post, I can easily fill a few pages with a few simple thoughts.

Actually, Lord J (if you have made it this far in my post), having given our previous discussion more thought, I think you are closer to the truth than I am. I am still recovering (and may be recovering for years to come, still) from the verbose style developed in grad school and as such occasionally over-react in attempting to keep things as short as possible. I believe our discussion on handedness details in writing was an example of that, and I apologize.

However, the past month in general has been very good to my sensibilities and now, after this thread, I feel (or perhaps just hope) that the cold determination I used to have might be within my grasp again if I but reach for it.

It is my hope that the next time I post in this thread, I might claim to be a writer once more.

Daniel Krispin

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #13 on: March 27, 2009, 10:04:21 pm »
My mode and style is always in the remote. That is, I do not think I will ever by nature write much of anything in the present, about normal people. It's not what I enjoy. I think I have too much of a didactic sense in me, and find it best used in things not present but remote and, moreover, things distant and grander are more enthralling, and have greater dramatic potential. I prefer to write of the downfall of kings than the doings of the common folk. I might make many arguments as to why I take this stance, but for the purposes here, it suffices that that is the way in which I write.

Well, since other people have given an itinerary of their past in writing, I suppose I'll do the same. And, unlike some, I have no qualms about sharing what I write. Indeed, I have no worries about people knowing what I’m writing, and heck, even borrowing it. A friend of mine borrowed the one story I’m writing for the express purpose of taking from it whatever ideas he found compelling, an endeavour that I wholeheartedly agreed with. It should be an interesting result, as invariably we’ll end up with similar things, characters and what not, yet entirely different stories. Should be a riot if we bother ever end up publishing and people trying to figure out which came first. Anyway, the way I see it, if someone can borrow and make it better, all’s well. That is art. If Vergil could do it, why not we? I don't feel particularly guarded about my work.

To recall most distantly, I think I did write quite a bit. I've happened upon old bits of my writing now and again, though to my great frustration I think my mother years ago threw out what I wrote in Elementary. Again, unlike many, I have no extreme aversion to what I wrote in the past, and find it rather informative to glance backward (for which I keep all the notebooks that I can.) Anyway, my earliest writing is, essentially, lost for that reason. I do recall it was something with a time-traveller and dinosaurs, however. You must keep in mind that this is just when Jurassic Park first came out, and back those days, I was very much enamoured of those creatures.

Anyway, I always had my 'hero' character in my head, I suppose that sorta Sinbad figure that would go around adventuring. I think, though, I located him in a futuristic setting, as I distinctly recall designs for a spacefaring warship, and happened across one or two bits of writing in which this hero is captaining a spaceship. It is... humerous to look back upon. And I don’t cringe at seeing it, as in it I see the beginnings of my thoughts these days. To say of a hero that it’s been twenty five years since the great warrior destroyed the ‘Calasian cruiser Charon’, but that he ‘hasn’t given up fighting’ is an interesting statement to be written by a nine year old. It implies a certain fiery and tenacious figure in the character, always driven onward.

And having thought back on whatever stories I might have created for that figure gave me pause a while back. See, I was considering, listening to some music I have listened to since childhood (specifically, ‘Blanzeflor et Helena’ from Orff’s Carmina Burana), and hearing it, I recalled the imagery that always came to mind on hearing it, and that was of the death and burial of this make-belief hero of my childhood. More, the very funeral procession, his friends and allies burying him, even as his fortress is destroyed all about by the assault of his enemies. I’m not sure where such a thought, one I might consider rather tragic in mood, came from, but it’s telling. I still hold tragedy in high regard, and that is exactly what that thought is. A heroic end, and I think that that set the tone for much of my later writing. My heroes always seem to die; love is always denied in the end.

Now, as I remember, I didn't write much after that until the end of High School. At that point I tried writing some sort of Star Wars / Real World crossover. Apparently, I thought it would be cool to have A-10s shooting down TIE fighters. That didn't get more than a few pages, however.

And shortly thereafter I came across several other things which entirely altered the way I would write. The first was Tolkien, which instilled in me (at the time) a love of fantasy. And the second, and most powerful, influence was truly Chrono Trigger. It was after finishing Chrono Cross that I wrote the one long novel that I actually finished: Twilight of Fate, which still stands in the top three or so CT/CC fanfictions by length (being something like 190,000 words long.) It was written as a sequel to the events of Chrono Cross, and being one of my first real attempts, was horridly cliched and, often, badly written. Not abysmal, mind you, and looking back I still find virtuous segments, but on the whole, it must be gauged as good for a fanfiction, but on its own, only a useful stepping stone.

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She ended on a sudden, and leaped upward with a fell glow behind her eyes; she turned about, peering this way and that. Then she smiled.
Bringing herself up to her full heigh, she raised a hand, and at her fingertips a faint crimson light shone. With a word of command it flew blazing like a wheel of fire into the midst of the soldiery of Porre; where it landed it welled up and became a swirling whirlpool of crimson light: perhaps a doorway into some unknown, infernal, realm.
Then friends and foe alike gave way in fear as, from its coursing light, stepped a dragon. It was a monstrous beast, horned and clad in shimmering red armour that clattered with all the noise of a legion as it moved. Greater in bulk than a dozen elephants was its body, and its evil head towered from a serpentine neck far above the trees. The claws on its hands were longer than spears, and more deadly than swords. Its nostrils burned as two furnaces, its gaping maw as the very jaws of hell. And death was in its gaze.

Since then, though, I have not finished much. I wrote most of a short story in the style of a Norse myth. I wrote a single scene retelling of the battle at Magus' castle (indeed, this was actually a rewriting of my earlier novelization attempt... having happened on my own document, and being appalled at the style, I wrote it in better form.)


I also proceeded to begin work on something new which has seen manifold manifestations and considerations arise, and which to this day remains fragmentary, often badly written, but all the same... having potential, if I ever am good enough to realise it. The style in it far exceeds Twilight of Fate, but the storyline is far too fragmentary. As it currently stands, it’s a story set in the generations before the heroes of Greek myth... in the time of about the older king Minos, Aiakos, and the like. It also has some historical elements, with Ramses II being in it, as well as the relative geopolitical situation of the 14th century BC.

Thereafter, I struck upon perhaps the most potent influences on my writing. The ancients. First it was Homer, then Aeschylus, then many others afterward. Though I can't say I tried to emulate their style (aside from having Homer resonate with my so strongly that I still at times phrase things in his epic form), I am very similiar at times. Indeed, I would say that if there’s one thing I adore it’s the daring and fierce power of Aeschylean lines. That is something, I think, that at my better points comes through in what I write. Even if I am not so good a constructor of plots of clever writing as some, I have a force of style. (Note this same distinction may be drawn between Aeschylus and Euripides... it is wholeheartedly the former whom I am in accord with.)

To be fair, I can't see a harsh disjunct between writing before and writing after I started reading these. But all the same, I am aware of a heavy influence come from their quarter. In part in style, which only served to refine my already innate voice. But also in what I wrote, and how I wrote. And that is an effect that continues to this day. So my best and most current writing project is to novelize a tale from Greek myth that I wager not one in ten people know about, but which was one of the great epics of antiquity: The Seven Against Thebes (incidentially, also the focus of my Masters research.) Now I've done several things regarding it, from attempting to write a play in the old Greek form (ie. no action, chorus, etc.), to the full novel. I've also toyed with writing as an epic, or as a more modern play. Anyway, this endeavour is my most recent attempt at story writing. As is typical with me, I do not begin and write through, but write at whatever point I am inspired to. And inspiration is always something on which I must wait. This, I think, has probably the greatest potential for me, especially as there is almost no one as qualified as I am to write something as this, being a Classcist with a specialty in this. All the same, I know my own flaws and errors in writing, especially the aforementioned weakness of plot. And so I am being cautious, and it will be a long time before I complete anything. I have a framework mandated by the myth, but there is much room within that, as all the ancient epic writers and tragedians discovered. It will, likely as not, focus on one of the heroes present at the siege of Thebes, the seer Amphiaraos, arguably one of the greatest heroes of Greek myth (his curriculum vitae is impressive, to say the least.)

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“See now, I put my helmet on my head, crowned with triple images of the two-formed Sphinx, my old foe and old glory, with whom I matched my wit. But now I am in the third portion of life, the winter, and am weak to stand. Still, if I must lean upon a stick, let it be ashen, a spear’s shaft! Here, give the spear into my hand.”
“Friend, will you not exercise restraint, now that you have found shelter in a friendly land?”
“No: small actions have never guided me. And now the gods tell me my vindication stands present. Theseus! You were ally to the great man; to Herakles in his need you proved a secure friend, and assured your reputation in all Hellas. Do so now again and your city will be doubly blessed, the shining citadel beloved of the immortal gods who have their homes on Olympus.”
“To which will you go? With whom stand? Thebes?”
“None but you. When Athene’s city rallies for war - and do not protest, this will happen soon - I will be with you.”
“You’ve become a prophet, Oedipus, to speak these things. A prophet and a fighter, where before was only wreck. What is this new spirit?”

So, that is that for my writing, and what sort of writer I am. Only one thing remains to be said, and that is of poetry, which is something I likely am far better at than prose. I began writing it, in old formal sonnets (a habit I've still not outworn... but we always need more sonneteers... and yes, I'm aware of the derogitary nature of the term), and though I don't write often, I have managed some works I am now pleased with.

Quote
It’s held of old that Titan Kronos wrought
A sickle of stark adamant, and then
By violence stole his father’s tyrant lot.
This treason brought the Furies unto Men.


One other thing that might be worth mentioning is that I am also a poet in Latin. That, however, would probably be of far less interest and, obviously, is entirely for my own practise and entertainment.

Lord J Esq

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Re: The Thread for Writers
« Reply #14 on: March 28, 2009, 12:13:25 am »
Ah, this reminds me of some details I left out!

Not all of my writing adventures were so flattering. In eleventh grade my arch-rival (not really) created and published a literary magazine at school. It was his senior year, so with his departure I resolved to take over the magazine and bend it to my will. But when we had officer elections, I was opposed for the presidency by a friend of mine who dared to think that she would become the next leader. The funny thing is that we were the only ones who cared, and we both brought friends to stack the election in our favor...and, despite all that, there were still only six votes total, including our own. We tied. So we became co-presidents. But that wasn't the embarrassing part.

Over the course of the year, we used our presidency to fill the magazine mostly with our own work, those of our friends, and maybe a few people amongst the general student body who had submitted sufficiently non-atrocious work. I think I got four or five of my own pieces in. That was embarrassing, but it wasn't the most embarrassing part.

No, the most embarrassing part came at the end of twelfth grade, when it was time to publish the magazine. We had an on-site printing press at school, so I went one day to arrange to have the magazine published. It turns out that it doesn't work like that! The teacher in charge of the press said that orders have to be placed months in advance, and that with the school year being practically over there was no way he could print hundreds of copies of our magazine. So that was it: We didn't publish the magazine.

That was pretty embarrassing.

I think I have a custom copy from the designer's computer, which, if it lives, is probably the only surviving copy today.


You want to change your life?  Put down the controller and change it.

Interestingly, some of the most positive changes in my life came when I actually picked up the proverbial controller.

Banking, huh? Good luck with that screenplay. You know: It continually amazes me that most people are okay with stifling, non-expressive jobs that rot their spirits. I could never do that. I'd flame out. I guess others deal with it by having a wild social life that distracts and to a lesser extent diminishes their working life's stresses.


I write whatever, most times. Though I find myself in fantasy novels/novellas.

Yeah, I forgot to mention that I too write in most genres but tend to favor science fiction and fantasy. Curiously, while I used to read immense volumes of literature from those genres, these days I read very little of it. They've become tired and derivative, having lost their usefulness and their quality. Most of it, honestly, is garbage. I'm hoping to revitalize the fantasy genre, by giving Western society the next great fantasy tale. It's probably unrealistic to be aiming to succeed Tolkien, but, from my point of view, that's exactly what I have to offer: an honest succession. We'll see if The People agree, or if I end up printing copies on demand from my basement.

(I don't have a basement...)

When I'm exposed to something for a long time or at a young age, it seems to... somehow find its way in to a story.

Yeah. That's universal to the human condition, I think. It's certainly what I experienced. Also: I'm amused you wrote that in the present tense.

I obsess over things, and through the obsession the stories mutate into the master story, which is like a tree. A tree with countless branches, continuing to grow over time, mostly when I'm trying to sleep or bored.

I'm like that too, tending to see many creative ideas in terms of a small number of existing stories-in-progress; “master stories,” if you will. Unlike you, however, I have more than one—I've got about five or six elemental stories in my head. It's a good bet that most of what might cross my mind will fit into at least one of those slots. Also unlike you, being bored or trying to get to sleep are not the primary times that I engage in that sort of woolgathering.

I become a divine entity, creating a world in which people live and interact with each other. A world where what I say goes, and if you have a problem with it, too bad. A world where I have the final say on an idea. Writing fiction gives me control. Absolute control. And if I can't take over the real world, why not make my own world to take over? Or two or three or...

I write for many reasons, but this one—which you described so clearly and well—is the highest of them, the most significant and the worthiest. The kind of power that one enjoys as an author does not exist elsewhere. It's a very healthy counterbalance to the real world, in which we are much humbler creatures.


Sounds kind of far fetched/cheesy/unfinished, but I don't like giving out too many secrets to my stories.

I've become adept at saying a lot about my stories without giving away any of their essential secrets. I think that in large part the protective impulse people feel toward the fruit of their passions is an immaturity waiting to be transcended. For the most part, we can reveal a great deal of our personal lives with minimal risk, and from personal experience I would say that to do so is quite healthy.


All I used to do is read, really.

That's where it all starts!

My first attempt at fanfiction and writing in general was in High School. Well... to be quite honest... I still wish I could wash my hands of it to this day. It was that bad. For added embarrassment, I was also reading through Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series, which inspired a couple of NSFW moments in said fic. Thankfully, I have solace in knowing that the damn thing has been in a landfill for some time.

I couldn't disagree with you more. I said earlier that many people are poor writers and have no business writing. I meant that, but I didn't explain it clearly enough. Looking back at my topic post in this thread, I didn't properly explain the distinction between seeing stories and telling them. When a person writes, they can do so for either of two reasons, or both at once: They can write for themselves, or they can write for others. That's the difference between seeing a story and telling it.

Writing for oneself is something that I think everybody should do. And that's going to result in a lot of bad writing...but that doesn't matter, because when you write for yourself the meaningfulness is in the actual process of doing the writing, telling the story. If it's good afterwards, and worth rereading in future times, that's gravy. But that's not what it's about. Legacies be damned, appearances be damned, and other people—including our own future selves—can take their opinions and go to hell. Writing for oneself is an expression of passion and expression of intelligence and should never be stifled, as surely as humming. Maybe if we recorded all of the sounds that ever come out of our mouths, we'd look back on some of them and say “That was terrible!” But who gives a flying frak? We don't hum to gain approval from our peers or our future selves. We hum because it enriches us right here in the moment.

So I'm disappointed that you threw away your old material and think so poorly of yourself for having ever written it. Even though you will inevitably change over time, and thus change in your opinions, it is a loss to lose track of your earlier perspective.

On an unrelated note: Unless there's porn on the cover of a book, one of the great things about books is that there's no such thing as “NSFW.” I think literature would be more interesting if people would not get so hung-up on sex. Almost everyone has a sex drive; there's no point in pretending otherwise. A good writer strives to understand the human condition...not ignore it. We should all be forced in school to write an extremely sexually explicit essay (fictional of course), and then we would all be able to get on with our lives.

Sadly, at the time I wrote these parodies, I had no way of saving them onto any backup devices, or had my own computer. So when the Shrine's Message Boards crashed a month ago, everything I had was lost.

Ouch. I sympathize. If you have a computer now, make sure that never happens again. Personally, the most frustrating thing in the world for me is involuntarily losing something that I've written.


Fanfic writing is a good way to start. You can develop plots and not have to deal with the tediousness that is character creation. Though the first ones always suck.

This brings up an interesting topic. Contemporarily in the United States, character-driven stories are all the rage. Plot is almost frowned upon as “trying too hard”; the emphasis is entirely on human emotion and interaction. That's not a “wrong” mentality, per se, because the stories that result from it can still be perfectly legitimate, but it's definitely not the regime to which I subscribe. To me, plot is paramount—plot drives the characters.

However, at the same time, for me the character creation process is one of the most significant aspects of a story. I think you're insightfully correct that “the first characters always suck,” although I would disagree with you that this is because the process of creating them is tedious. Rather, I think it is because the process of creating them is difficult. Plotlines are forgiving; they don't require a lot of input to function, and they don't require a lot of complexity to shine. Characters, by comparison, are not so forgiving at all. They take a lot of energy to bring to life. Consequently, good characterization is probably the most important part of good writing, even if the plot is—in my view—more essential to the <i>story</i>. Just my two cents.


I've always wanted to write at least one novel, and that may or may not happen depending on whether I am more inspired to write a novel or make a game.  I'm leaning towards game, Cave Story style.

The good thing is that you will probably have the chance to do both, if you want them. One of my favorite personal traditions—now unfortunately fallow—was to work on my novel writing during the nine months of the year, and then put all of that aside and spend the three summer months writing video games. My thinking was that this changing of the seasons would preserve and grow my creative energies while allowing me to pursue two major projects at a time.

Ah, video games! That's another area of my writing history that I've left out. In twelfth grade, I wrote my first computer game...in math class, on my TI-85 calculator. I got a C in calculus both semesters that year. But! Admiral Josh's Swords Asunder would go on to live in legend. Later on, in college, I got ahold of RPG Maker 2000 and wrote a series of test games. Today I own—yeah, I properly own, as in I paid money for the license—RPG Maker XP. Presently I am designing a proof-of-concept game, working with the Ruby-based scripting engine to (very slowly) cobble together my own systems.

Video games are a great format for writing, because they allow the writer to create a visual and interactive environment—very unique and very functional!

I am writing: That Samus and Magus fanfic which may end up being the best thing I've ever written if ends up being anything like I think it will end up being.

When I first read that, I read it as the name “Seamus” (without an E) and I asked myself, “Who the fuck is 'Samus'?” Then I realized you were talking about our favorite bounty hunter, and I asked myself, “Samus and Magus? What the fuck?”

That's an interesting combination! You'll have to tell us more, if you're willing.

I am not writing: (I take this to mean things that I've dreamed up or wanted to explore but haven't gotten around to yet.) I really want to write my version of Adam Malkovich's influence on Samus and the Metroid universe. Every time I start I end up deleting it, though. I just can't figure this one out. I know the gist of what it will be, but I can't figure out how to start it.

Thanks for being the first person to answer that question. There are many things that I am not writing right now, either “at the moment” or “not yet,” including some of the work I mentioned in my topic post. I've got a lot of energy going into my major project and a few side works, and, consequently, I am very wary of spreading my energies too thinly by taking on extra creative writing at this time. But, eventually, I'd like to give a thorough treatment to almost everything I've discussed so far, and some things I haven't. I'd like to write an opera, for instance—the whole thing. The music and the libretto. I'd also like to write my philosophy down in its entirety, so that I don't need to repeat myself as often as I presently do. And so on.

On the subject of fanfiction, my favorite by far is Final Fantasy VI. It is a testament to the richness of that environment that I can so easily see what I would want to do with it. Essentially there are two fanfictions I might make out of it: One would be an alternate reality, where my story coincides with the period that covered the actual game, except more realistic and with a different second half. The other would be a sequel to the game as it actually happened—and, rather than another lame “Kefka is back” boondoggle, mine would be a character drama focusing on the big-picture cultural aftershocks from all that shit Kefka pulled.

Mostly, though, I avoid fanfiction because I like full legal control and commercial authority over my work.

Hey, I've got one for you—a true question for the ages: Is Samus right-handed or left-handed? She might be right-handed because that's where the gun is. But she might be left-handed because everything else would require her to use that hand. It's like the Tootsie Pop conundrum: The world may never know.


I'm, at my heart, a BSer. I can usually create stories about stuff off the cuff fairly easily. When I say "stories about stuff" I mean; someone calls my wife's phone, I'll answer and pretend to be someone totally different. So what I call "stories about stuff" my wife lovingly referse to as "crap" (as in I'm full of crap, hence Bser).

Oh, I love bullshitting. (Sorry; “BSing.”) I'm six years older than my sister, and I've got this running gag with her that's been going on for about fifteen years now about “Old Country,” where our family came from before she was born, but which I am old enough to remember. Old Country is the perfect hybrid between Wanker County, the Dark Ages, and northern Siberia in the wintertime. In recent news: Old Country just got its first grain silo! (Which burned down the village when it caught fire shortly thereafter, before finally toppling onto its side, breaking Old Country's first and only mechanized tractor.)

I am the consummate bullshitter. Half of what I do is purely for the lark of having a great time coming up with ludicrous nonsense. I've had my friends (or myself) in stitches before, as I talked about my oversized racing car on fire through the Holland Tunnel, or the Imperial Joshalonian Flag being so large that its manufacture bankrupted the economy and blotted out the sun. It's so much fun; one of my chief releases is to tell bullshit stories. These rarely get written down, but they are some of the most rewarding in the short-term.

Also, if one defines "storytelling" as an inherently narrativistic approach, I am not a storyteller first and foremost. Rather, I have a love of simulationism. It is the world that I imagine first, not the story, and the world enchants me until I have to find a story to write in it in order to share it.

You put that well.

Unfortunately, all my early works suffered greatly from Gary Stu syndrome (I still have problems with that today, but instead of ruining the story, it tends to ruin my passion for the character before it infects much else, dooming the entire work).

I leave it to your judgment, but for the general audience I would point out that author surrogacy in literature is a perfectly healthy and frequently worthwhile quality for the writer. We frequently know ourselves better than we know anything and anyone else, and we must draw upon ourselves to be the best writers we can be. “Gary Stu” is what happens when the author surrogacy becomes extreme enough or imbalanced enough to begin spoiling the other elements of a story.

My best characters were always author surrogates. My favorite character ever, my greatest creation to date and possibly for all time, is a surrogate—even an alter ego. That's not so surprising: One of the first things a person does with their imagination is conceive of how things might be rather than how they are. Author surrogacy gives me the opportunity to explore my own existence by creating different worlds and environments, and situations. It's a very rousing and personal endeavor, and one that I am thankful to have never abandoned out of false modesty. Someone like me can't help but do it this way, and I suspect you're similar, so if you're having Gary Stu problems then I'd think the solution would be more exposure to those kinds of characterizations, rather than less, so that you can mature and refine your authorial control.

It wasn’t until around the end of High School that I wrote something I am still relatively proud of (but it has been lost, now, so if I could still read it maybe I wouldn’t be so proud). It was entitled “The Man and the Rain.” Looking back, it was impressively divergent from my earlier works. There was no Gary Stu, there was no craptacular, ham-handed attempts as romance (every story up to that point had romance, undoubtedly reflecting my own inner need for it), and curiously, the “action” of the story was, on the surface, utterly boring.

Off-topic and perhaps unfair, so feel free to decline to answer. But: If I remember correctly, you're married, right? And you're roughly my age. (I'm 26.) So, out of your proposed “inner need for romance,” would you say you have that to your satisfaction now? Or does it still dominate your writing? (Presumably “both” is also an answer, under special conditions...)

It was, however, heavy on poetic phrasing and internal action. Indeed, it was very postmodern, written at a time when I had no idea that “post” and “modern” could be put together as a single word/concept.

I've been there so many times...independently creating a concept or device, only to learn later that some schmoe beat me to it—often by thousands of years. Actually, though, I like it when that happens...makes me think the world will manage to get by okay, even when there isn't a Josh around anymore to keep it spinning (or to stop it from spinning, in the case of those damn cowardly Amorites).

Actually, that is the only story I wrote during that time period that I wish I still had.

I am fortunate to have saved most of my work. I was published in the Young Authors books three times in grade school; I still have copies of each book. I have almost all of my electronic work, all the way back to our first family computer in the 1990s when I wrote in WordPerfect on a blue screen with white text. I keep double copies in case of hard drive failure or theft. I also have a number of my major paper works, such as my Bar Mitzvah speech, my aforementioned seventh grade children's book, numerous high school scribblings that I did in lieu of paying attention to the lesson, the aforementioned sole copy of the literary magazine (probably), and various other things.

I lost my “first, great essay” from circa first or second grade, which was so mighty that I actually put myself at risk of detention for not finishing it on time. I also think I have lost my “Me Book” from seventh grade, which was my other major work that year—and this loss I do regret. But, for the most part, everything I've ever written is within 25 feet of me.

Actually, the keyboard is too slow as well...

I know what you mean. I type extremely fast (although not ZeaLitY Fast™), but it still isn't enough to match pace with my speed of thought—especially since I am an extraordinarily visual thinker and have a great predilection for heavily descriptive, Tolkienesque prose. It's one of the larger frustrations I face as an author.

In fact, my typing skills came entirely as a side gift from my writing. In middle school, I had almost no skills whatsoever. I used my index fingers on the keyboard. I thought I would never be able to type like those people who could just stare at the screen and type like cheetahs and never even look down at their hands. But that's exactly what I became...because I wrote so much. My fingers fell into the patterns. To this day I still don't type “correctly” (my left hand takes more keys than it's supposed to), but I can type faster and more accurately than almost everyone. (Which is what makes ZeaLitY and court stenographers so scary.)

After that I made a horrible mistake: I took creative writing classes at my university. By the time I was done with that, my writing style was so convoluted that I am still trying to dig out of it. My style easily becomes too intentional, too obtuse, and it hampers the story itself. Admittedly, though, this was more my fault than the instructor. He gave us basic concepts and I arrogantly thought I was an amazing writer at that point. As such, I took these concepts, messed with them, and developed poison. But this was also a good thing; developing a hindering style helped give my ego in the matter a much needed deflation.

This reminds me of something else I neglected to mention in my original post. I've had two writer's voices in my life so far. The first one was an untrained, literal attempt to convey the story as I see it. At the time, I thought my writing was very good, but in retrospect it was unclear and largely unsuccessful. (Fortunately, when combined with my memory, I can usually make out from these older texts at least some of whatever it is that I had intended to say.) In twelfth grade, when my writing output was soaring to hundreds of pages on multiple works, I gradually recognized the importance of structure and technique. My writing evolved into my second voice, very different from the first. This is not an optimal place. It's clearer than my first voice, but, to describe it, I could practically quote you: “too intentional, too obtuse.” I have a problem with verbosity. I have a problem with telling rather than showing. I have a hard time with relevance. I tend to be preachy. Frankly, my writing can be pretty  boring. I fully expect to eventually develop a third voice, but I'm not there yet, and so I remain restless and imperfect.

...the second was about coping with death (curiously, death from cancer, which was written about 2 or 4 months before I was diagnosed with cancer)...

Oh, that's harsh. This makes it easier to understand why you're as well put-together as you are. Most people our age are not, and, among the few who are, many have some traumatic event in their past which helped them to focus their lives. (Not me, though, if you're wondering...)

...though if anyone had suggested that these were themes of the stories then, I would have been terribly upset and angry; as I said, I had an ego problem then.

I can relate to that, from both angles. I'm very particular and deliberate about my work, and it does sting when people fail to comprehend it in exactly the way I intend. However, I have come to appreciate over time that it is not so horrible if people interpret my work differently than I do, or focus on other aspects of it than I do. The only thing that remains unacceptable is apathy. That's why my stories are so big: If someone doesn't want to read 'em, a big story is much better for smacking that person upside the head.

However, the past month in general has been very good to my sensibilities and now, after this thread, I feel (or perhaps just hope) that the cold determination I used to have might be within my grasp again if I but reach for it.

It is my hope that the next time I post in this thread, I might claim to be a writer once more.

That is enjoyable to read.


Well, since other people have given an itinerary of their past in writing, I suppose I'll do the same. And, unlike some, I have no qualms about sharing what I write. Indeed, I have no worries about people knowing what I’m writing, and heck, even borrowing it. A friend of mine borrowed the one story I’m writing for the express purpose of taking from it whatever ideas he found compelling, an endeavour that I wholeheartedly agreed with. It should be an interesting result, as invariably we’ll end up with similar things, characters and what not, yet entirely different stories. Should be a riot if we bother ever end up publishing and people trying to figure out which came first. Anyway, the way I see it, if someone can borrow and make it better, all’s well. That is art. If Vergil could do it, why not we? I don't feel particularly guarded about my work.

Interestingly, I feel that way about my music, but, as you know, I definitely do not feel that  way about my writing. Perhaps it is because my writing is so specific, whereas in my world music has always been much more open to interpretation.

What I have decided for myself with regard to my writing is that my work belongs absolutely and totally to me for the duration I am writing it. During this time, it is mine and mine alone, and if I want to keep it that way then the price is that I mustn't publish it. After publication, my work no longer belongs exclusively to me, except for a reasonable financial interest. Otherwise, it belongs to the world. This wouldn't prevent me from anything, except being needlessly stingy. I draw much stirring enthusiasm for my altruistic position (and this is genuinely altruistic of me, if we speak of motives) by noting the richness of that which lies in the public domain. How easily I could write a beautiful story about the Little Mermaid...and how quickly I would get my pants sued off if I copied so much as a single flipper from the Disney version. Realizing that overprotective intellectual property laws stifles storytelling, I have decided that it is worth the expense of surrendering exclusive control, so as to benefit humanity.

I prefer to write of the downfall of kings than the doings of the common folk.

I think you're not alone, there. Quite the contrary; I think yours is the more common perspective. Do not be fooled by the down-to-earthedness of contemporary literature. They may not be writing literally about kings over commoners, but the issues and ideas they tackle are, comparatively, identical in their disposition. Of those who are not like you, I think it simply a matter of many of these people having a poor grasp of what is important to them, and thus being unable to focus in such a way. Who, other than those wanting to make a point for purely artistic purposes, would want to write about mooks, mooks, and mooks?

And having thought back on whatever stories I might have created for that figure gave me pause a while back. See, I was considering, listening to some music I have listened to since childhood (specifically, ‘Blanzeflor et Helena’ from Orff’s Carmina Burana), and hearing it, I recalled the imagery that always came to mind on hearing it, and that was of the death and burial of this make-belief hero of my childhood. More, the very funeral procession, his friends and allies burying him, even as his fortress is destroyed all about by the assault of his enemies. I’m not sure where such a thought, one I might consider rather tragic in mood, came from, but it’s telling. I still hold tragedy in high regard, and that is exactly what that thought is. A heroic end, and I think that that set the tone for much of my later writing. My heroes always seem to die; love is always denied in the end.

I would love to know for sure what makes you tick. I have a few ideas, but no certainty. =)

...Aeschylus and Euripides...

Off-topic, to your inevitable consternation, but you may smirk in your sophistication knowing that I, whenever I see that name, think of the son of the (fictitious) editor of The Onion. In homage, I now use “Aeschylus” as a gag name to invoke inappropriately long time intervals. (For instance, in one of my stories, a Mr. Aeschylus Sinclair ran a profitable “proteinaceous goo factory” in the industry that would go on to become the modern biotechnology industry.) It wasn't until much later that I learned about the real Aeschylus.

Ditto with Euripides. There's an old sitcom, Welcome Back, Kotter, where Gabe Kaplan would open the show with a ridiculously bad joke about his improbably far-flung family. One of my favorites was an Italian joke about this Kotter family ancestor named Euripides who tears his trousers and takes them to the tailor for mending. The tailor turns out to be his long lost friend, who, upon seeing his old buddy enter his shop, cries out in happiness “Euripides!” Euripides then replies, “Yeah. Eumendides?” (Get it? “Mending”? Works great with the offensive Italian accent.) Once again, it wasn't until much later that I learned about Euripides. (And only just now did I learn about the “Eumenides.”)

“See now, I put my helmet on my head, crowned with triple images of the two-formed Sphinx, my old foe and old glory, with whom I matched my wit. But now I am in the third portion of life, the winter, and am weak to stand. Still, if I must lean upon a stick, let it be ashen, a spear’s shaft! Here, give the spear into my hand.”
“Friend, will you not exercise restraint, now that you have found shelter in a friendly land?”
“No: small actions have never guided me. And now the gods tell me my vindication stands present. Theseus! You were ally to the great man; to Herakles in his need you proved a secure friend, and assured your reputation in all Hellas. Do so now again and your city will be doubly blessed, the shining citadel beloved of the immortal gods who have their homes on Olympus.”
“To which will you go? With whom stand? Thebes?”
“None but you. When Athene’s city rallies for war - and do not protest, this will happen soon - I will be with you.”
“You’ve become a prophet, Oedipus, to speak these things. A prophet and a fighter, where before was only wreck. What is this new spirit?”

It's very refreshing to see a person invoke their passions so openly and with such quality. You and I have our many significant disagreements, but on this point there are few others who wish for your success more than I. Your success, and the success of everyone else in this thread who has the dream to write.