Tag Archives: work

Focus

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Intensity has followed me since I was a child. Focus not so much.

Time comes, and time goes. But when we exist within it, we can truly make our mark. Motivation, skill, talent, understanding, knowledge. These things come if we are open to them, and willing to work for them. And I am starting to see that many of my problems, personal, professional, you name it, stem from myself. Myself and how I react to different situations.

I am not proud do say that I am petty and bitter. Angry. Unforgiving. I am proud to say that I am kind, compassionate, and peaceful at heart. I exist in constant contradiction, which causes conflict that is not welcomed, or unwelcome. It is accepted. So here comes the question, what the FUCK is this asshole writing about? Focus. That’s what I’m writing about. Focus.

Determination and focus should go hand in hand, and eventually, they should lead you to a zenith where they can both slice through any problem, any excuse, any qualm. And expose your true path. If you read my last entry, I’m shifting my focus a little bit. I still very much want to complete Blestemul, but my mind…my mind gets bored very quickly. Being locked in a shifting prison of haphazard thought has pros and cons. Fuck, now I’m rambling.

I wanna try something different!

I am going to start my own legitimate business very soon. An engine that serves all aspects of my life as a writer. Whether or not I make money is irrelevant at this moment. The point is, I want to try something different.

But this entry isn’t all about me and my new business venture. No, that was just a launchpad for the true purpose of this entry. Focus. Every single one of you have tremendous power within you. And I don’t mean that “YOU’RE SPECIAL” kind of power. No, you have cognition and awareness. When paired with human ingenuity, curiosity and mortality, you are able to create and destroy at a moment’s notice.

So what are you doing with this power? As for me, I was wasting it. Maybe I still am, but I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna at least try to tap into the gifts of humanity. Not my personal “gifts”, no. Gifts that we, Homo sapiens, are created with, evolved to have. Each of us is an infinite well of creation and destruction, and each action we commit to the Earth changes us.

With all that power, how could you fail? Better yet, don’t answer that. Just act.

New Projects, Old Ideas

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I have an idea.

I’ve been working a lot on Blestemul, but I’ve never undertaken a project this big before (it’s a long book, that’s all) and I find myself getting bored. Not to the point where I want to stop, mind you. No way. But I need something different to occupy my brain. I need to create something new. I don’t know why, and maybe? I don’t wanna know. But enough of that. Here’s my idea.

I’m thinking of creating a book, or a series of novellas, based on one character that is untouchable. Not invincible, untouchable. Undefeatable. And a whole shit ton of more -ables to come. Don’t think about the character, though. Think about this instead. What would you do if you could pursue any personal objective/mission/quest and know that you could not be stopped? I am creating a character that has no physical flaws, none, and can literally achieve any objective he puts his mind to.

Where’s the fun in that? Well. That’s the second part of my idea.

I plan to use this character as a way to express protest against modern issues and ideals for my own personal satisfaction. Think about all the travesties in the world. Think about all the people starving, dying, murders, rape, abuse, war, killing, destruction, etc. Think about how powerless you feel sometimes about these issues. Now imagine yourself being able to tackle these problems, alone, and solving them however you wished. Knowing full well that your agenda cannot be stopped. That’s the kind of character that I making, and that is the “lofty” goal I wish to achieve.

Say this plan takes off. I have a few more ideas that I want to put into play to see what happens. Just to find out how things will end up.

Humans for the most part cannot change the world. Activism, protest, petitions. They do good, true, but there aren’t enough well wishes, likes on facebook, donations, or philanthropists to solve the biggest problems we face everyday. War, for one, cannot be stopped by anything. But. What if you were the only thing that could stop it? What would you do?

That’s what this new book(s) will be exploring. The will of one man and that cannot be stopped, and how he can change the world. Am I writing it as an inspiration piece? Not really. In all honesty, I just really want to write about killing and maiming the enemies of humanity.

Writing with a Weapon

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Events in the world today make me fucking sick.

As humanity drags itself along a shattered glass highway, leaving a trail of shit and blood for us all to follow, I cannot help but feel a glimmer of rage that burns until nothing but hatred is left behind. Hate is a strange thing. Directed, it can change the world. Unsupervised, it can destroy it- but let’s not talk about hate right now. Let’s talk about what we can do in a world that wants to keep us all under control.

The pen is mightier than the sword, I’ve heard. And I think that’s bullshit. A sword is something that we can all understand, a symbol of violence and death, or a symbol of order and justice. Or pick your own meaning. No, the pen isn’t mightier than the sword. They are both tools, and the sword is clearly the better tool. The writer is the real lethal weapon. Rather the mind, the human mind, so hopelessly complex and always changing, always shrouded in mystery. There is the true weapon. Creation. Imagination.

One could read into the above phrase and discern what I have said, but at its bare face value, I’ve always hated that godamn phrase. It’s so…one sided and ambiguously frank. Why write with a pen and ignore the sword? Why not write with a sword?

Write with a sword.

I like to wield writing as a weapon. I like to administer punishment for the people who read my work. Force atonement. Just once, just once with one piece of work. As I peer into the abyss that is this planet and all the humans on it, I find that the inky black soup that has become our collective soul as a species churns with violence and anger. Opinions, words, thoughts, they are lost in that abyss.

Me? I don’t think I’ll change the world. Or maybe I’m being humble. Or maybe, changing the world is my goal, but I don’t think I’m up to the task. Or maybe I’m just blowing a thick column of smoke up your ass. Smoke that comes from a special source- a pile of burning bullshit.

Who knows. Who cares? Not me.

Wield writing as a weapon, godamn you. I see too many writers censoring themselves, lacking confidence, lying to themselves, procrastinating. It makes me sick. Writers used to be hard and desperate people, not the elevated “literary” pseudo-intellectuals that enjoy the sound of their own voice, a voice that sounds to me like a sloppy shit.

Teachers, professors, literary agents, publishers, editors. They all tell you to write a certain way, to be refined, to make changes where you don’t want to make changes, to write what they want you to write, all the meanwhile, you are dying. Your creativity is dying. Why be refined? Why submit to format? Who gives a flying fuck about MLA rules? Citing your sources correctly? Who fuckin’ cares if my essay doesn’t have a godamn intro, body, and conclusion? Who the fuck are you to tell me how I should be fuckin’ writing? Nobody, that’s who.

Fuck the teachers. The professors, the literary agents, the publishers, editors, bosses, friends, acquaintances, proofreaders, police, politicians, fuck ’em all! They all seek to stifle your voice with formatting, rules, and/or censorship. No, no, no, use your writing like a weapon. Wield what you write, don’t read it! Where is your spine as a writer? Where has your fucking fire gone?

Get dirty! Write violence, fucking, dying, breeding- write what you feel and only what you feel, and if someone doesn’t like it, who. Gives. A. Flying. Fuck?

My next project is going to be just that. It is going to be a piece, or pieces, of writing that will be written with a sword. Too long have we all conformed to what our “teachers” and “leaders” have told us. I am writing a piece that will attack, that will punish, that will make people think differently through personal connection, or by completely hating me.

Do I want attention? I don’t know. All I know is I’m going to write without boundaries anymore. Without rules. I’m going to strike this planet with my words, and inflict the pain and anger that I have screaming inside of me that I cannot let out. I am going to write like a savage, and there is nothing this fuckin’ world and all its bullshit can do to stop me.

Don’t let it stop you, either.

Creating Natural Dialogue

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Dialogue can be difficult.

I think the hardest part about it is making it seem natural. In all honesty, a writer is simply an individual that talks to him/herself. So when you’re just talking to yourself, how the hell can you create good dialogue? I took a gander on the internet to see if other people had tips, or stories to share. One link I found was pretty good. I usually stand against NaNoWriMo materials, but this one seemed pretty on par.

But, I didn’t read all of it. Couldn’t be bothered cuz I really didn’t give a shit, but you may. I don’t think I’m the master of dialogue. In fact, I fuckin’ hate writing it. It’s annoying, and it NEVER completely feels naturally to me, even when I’m reading the works of supposed “masters”.  Once again, I fucking HATE writing dialogue, but it’s something that must (should?) be done.

Dialogue usually comes in good moments. Or at least I’ve found that. I’ll have days where things just fit between two characters. I don’t have to think, and their personalities literally allow a conversation. But let’s be real, shall we? I’m simply talking to myself. So here’s something I try that actually works pretty well.

Literally, I speak dialogue out loud (when alone, or one the shitter hopefully alone) like I’m rehearsing a part for a play, or movie. I’m tellin’ you, it works for me. It works, and I’m gonna stick with it. Sometimes, I play out entire plot points in real time. Often in the car. I’ll choreograph fight scenes, plan conversation/confrontation, and see how they play out. Also, you have to know your characters.

That is one thing I can say with confidence. I know my characters very well, and when they surprise me, I’m delighted. These sudden left turns add definition to a character, and keeps readers interested while punishing them at the same time. Also, being an only child with OCD, my imagination is stronger than my concept of reality, and it helps me weave decent stories and dialogue. Fuck, I hate writing it so much I had to find a way to make it fun for myself.

What about you? How do you create dialogue? Plot? How do you move the story along?

Kone 2.0 Concept Art and…Other Things

by in The Chronicles of Urth: Blestemul, Thoughts with a Sharp Tongue and tagged , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Life is one long stretch of time where shit happens that is good and bad.

True is this for real people and fictional characters. This blog entry will focus on Kone, one of Alistar’s friends in Blestemul, the new book I’m writing. Kone is an Ironsoul, which means that he has mechanical parts mixed in with organic ones. After a particularly nasty bit of business in the plot line, Kone had most of his living body destroyed, meaning now he is almost completely mechanical. His brain did not survive; rather they stuffed “Kone” into an extremely sophisticated CPU, where he is who he is, but now he can process like a computer. Traumatic to say the least, but not without its benefits. Kone now is a sophisticated war machine, meaning that he has all sorts of military-grade treasures and goodies (I won’t reveal why). Navigation systems, enhanced tracking and sensory awareness, strength, reflex, and agility augmentation, hacking, electronic disruption, and a whole laundry godman list of other terrific shit. Take a look at some (shitty) concept art that I drew for Kone 2.0:

KoneConceptArt2_TCoUBlestemul

The skin on him cannot even fit over the mechanical parts, making it look unnatural. The face plate is synthetic, and does nothing to add humanity. I can’t say why I did this to Kone. And not in a “reveal the ending” kind of way, I truly don’t know why I did this to him. Perhaps I deemed him uninteresting, and needing a new angle. Maybe I was getting lazy, and needed an ace in the hole for later chapters. Maybe I just felt…cruel that day. Or maybe it was a combination of something else entirely. I don’t know.

Shit happens. We are all aware of this, whether it is fictional or real, everything happens to everybody for a specific reason. These reasons are either identifiable immediately, or take some time to reveal themselves. Sometimes, I can feel the world plotting. And I don’t mean people, I can feel the noose of life tighten around my fragile, mortal neck and then loosen when I least expect it. I felt the world plotting against me all my life, but I didn’t really understand what it meant until recently. Yesterday, my car got smashed into by an old man with shitty eyes and a big car. I could feel the incident looming long before it occurred.

Sometimes, I feel as though it maybe is death keeping my ego in check. God, devil, demon, angel, who knows. I worry. I worry because I this time of year always means trouble for me. And as the demons travel in threes, I worry. I worry because maybe this isn’t the end. I worry because maybe there’s more darkness to come.

I will always be on the edge of the abyss, staring into the black. It’s where I belong. Partially (mostly) by choice. And maybe sometimes this bleeds into my writing. Maybe all this shit means something, and I am just a lil’ ol’ pawn in a Chess game so grand and convoluted that I’ll never be anything more than just a basic piece. Maybe I’m full of shit.

Feelings of doom, bad omen, signs. They are everywhere. They can be heeded, ignored, embraced, destroyed, hidden, a whole manner of things. The feelings I get, the thoughts I have, the dream I dream. They are all connected somehow in a massive web that connects me to life, and all the forces that drawn upon it.

Or maybe I’m just a Pawn aspiring to be a King.

Dire Times = Dire Changes

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So…Blestmeul ran wild last night.

I was just putzin’ along, writin’ my shit, and low and behold, the story threw me a curve. Not me, the story itself. In this situation, one of the main characters, Kone? He makes a very big decision that ultimately effects how the story will run. It’s strange sometimes how that happens.

Well, I don’t want to tell you what he did of course. It’ll fuck up the book if you ever want to read it. But I changed him completely all the same. Due to an event that I won’t disclose, Kone went from being partially cybernetic to almost completely all robot. That’s not all, either. He got a shit ton of military grade robotics and upgrades to make him a more efficient man-machine (I’ll post concept art detailing this in the near future). I’m not sure why I did that, to be honest. The story just…took a left turn.

This isn’t the first time its happened in this story. Originally, Kone wasn’t even a character. He came in to help progress the plot early in the book. I built him on a whim, and then added dimension as needed. No, he was supposed to forge a greater relationship with Alistar as time passed. I wanted them to be in each other’s pockets, but that might not be the case right now.

Turns out, Spek, my Groar character? He took over. His life force and personality in the story completely overshadowed Kone, and I simply ran with it. Now now, I’m not ditching Kone. I just found his purpose, and his purpose is not what I expected. The only relationship that is headed in the original direction I intended was with Jala and Alistar. Blestemul isn’t even the same anymore.

See, that’s why I don’t like to plan too much. I don’t like to have the whole story piece by piece, bit by bit laid out for me. If I start sticking to a well crafted plan I’ve made for myself, the writing turns to shit. I mean it too. Unreadable, even by friends or family. My mind is too obsessive and frantic to follow a plan. Does that make me better? No. But it does…force me to think in a different way. Special? No. Unique? I like to think so.

Anyway, this whole entry was on sudden changes if you’re playing the shitty home game. Sometimes, a story just doesn’t go the way you want it to. But that doesn’t mean that you no longer have a story. You simply have a new one. Everyone is so afraid of change, I feel. Especially writers. That’s why I don’t identify with that crowd.

Sometimes, a sudden turn in what seems to be the wrong direction can be the best godamn thing you can do for whatever piece of art you’re working on. Fuck, it can be the best thing for just living your life! Don’t be afraid if your novel is going in a place you don’t like, or understand straight away. Let it run! And if it still turns out shitty?

Just write another one.

Stepping Forward in Shit

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Life can be a real sour cunt, you know that?

I’ll warn you now. I’m gonna bitch and moan and have meaningful insight all in this motherfucker, so if you’re bored already, stop reading. Still here? What’s wrong with you? Anyway, the world will shit on you, disappoint you, wear you out and fuck you up. And it’s not just big things. You’d be surprised how often a little bump in the path can totally throw someone off the deep edge. Definitely a “straw that broke the camel’s back” situation. These past few weeks have been very tough for many people. Saying that, these last few decades have been very rough for some people. Many people, so as much as I want to bitch and moan about how annoying my life can be, I don’t. I don’t because there are others out there that would love to have my life.

Am I grateful? Sometimes. Sometimes I just want to smash anyone that looks at me cockeyed. Other times, I want to set myself ablaze and stand unflinching in a shopping mall, never screaming as people watch in horror as I amble towards them. Sometimes I want to be feared. Hated. Respected. Powerful. I feel my fists clench, my jaw tighten, and my patience wear thin, and a familiar burning resentment towards others that I envy boils up from my core, spills over, and all I want to do is shit all over the world and watch it burn down with me.

Looking for a positive turnaround paragraph? Nope. Not here. I guess you could say that this is a more…jaded and cynical part of my life, or more accurately, week. Usually edged with sarcasm to fake my own intelligence, but let’s just say what this shit boils down to. Jealousy. I am jealous. Competitive. I always have been. I don’t mind if my wife talks to other men. Kisses them, hugs them, fuck even flirts with them. Because I trust her. But every drop of testosterone I own in this haggard carcass surges right from my balls and into my brain when I see someone else trying to make a move on her. I am jealous of others that have more than me, have less than me (by choice), are smarter than me, stronger than me, all sorts of stupid mortal-based petty bullshit that now as I write, feels like angsty emo horseshit. Perhaps I need to save me from myself while I cut myself to feel because I’ve been asleep so long that I need someone to save me.

Or perhaps this is just a rough patch, and I need to get over myself and be happy for what I have, and what I can create. Anger and frustration are a part of life, and I certainly don’t help my situation with personality. I hide behind a wall of sarcasm and faux intelligence to hide what I am: Jealous, angry, and resentful. Secretive and obsessive. Hateful. Intense. And at times? Ignorant.

Do I want pity? Fuck no. What do I want? Fuck if I know. Or no. Don’t care. Most of the time. Sometimes?

Twisted Emotions Change Books

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These last few weeks have been…trying. I make no apologizes for the things I’ve neglected. Including myself and this blog, my mind has been elsewhere. Sandy shoved a fist in many people’s holes last week, and fortunately, all she did to me and my wife was some light BDSM. Needless to say, I’ve been elsewhere.

I have been writing though. But I’ve noticed something more and more as I progress in life and work on books and other pieces. My emotions and state of mind drastically alter what happens in my books, and what I’m willing to do to the reader and/or characters. Maybe I’m just having a little dick power trip, maybe I’m an artist, I don’t fuckin’ care/know. All I know is I want to write more when I’m in the shit, and what I write gets affected.

Violence and cruelty show up more in my work. I also notice an inability to write good dialogue, and a nagging itch to get to the next action sequence, or fight. Good moods produce good dialogue and shitty storytelling sometimes. Bad moods cut straight to the chase. I am a man of little patience and low self worth, so maybe it’s my own pathetic way of bullying a situation into something I can dominate and have control over. Hell, as long as what I write is good, who cares?

That’s not for me to judge. Is it?

Often I wonder what “famous” books would have turned out like if the author was a different person, or pissed off when writing a certain chapter. Often I wonder if book would have been better, or worse. Often I wonder…too often. What does your storytelling tell you?

 

Swamps of the Damned and the Groar

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I’ve been waiting to write about this place all my life, to be honest. In one way or another, the next scene of my book was always going to be created because it was always a part of me. Our characters are navigating the darkest and most primeval swamps in this sector of Urth. Largely uncharted, it has one main path carved through it to the Groar capitol, and then on to Blunt on the other side (Blunt is a massive city in the book, think twice the size of NYC).

Bizarre creatures lurk within the black waters and foreboding shadows. Because of the dense canopy of vines, mosses, and leaves, it always looks like dusk inside the swamp until nightfall, where it is virtually pitch black. Cruel sentient creatures, called Lazgah, make their home in the swamps, along with a whole host of other deadly flora and fauna that make the entire place a huge deathtrap if you don’t have a guide to show you the way. Carnivorous plants, quicksand, deep fields of black tar-mud, active volcanoes, dangerous animals, bandits, smugglers, gangs, all take refuge in the unknown parts of the swamp. Here’s some art depicting some strange life forms our heroes will run across:

Lazgah weapons are at the top, but if you look at the lower right hand corner of the page, you’ll see a bizarre plant in bloom. Yes, those are teeth on its petals, and teeth line its massive saw palmetto like leaves down to the base of the plant. It grows between 7 to 8 feet from the base, but is not carnivorous. The teeth act as little tiny armor plates that help reenforce the tough outer skin of the thick and succulent petals.  To the left of the massive bloom, you’ll see plants that are a mix between amphibian and flowers. They are plants that utilize frog-like eyes, and are capable of watching things that pass by. They don’t really see too well, as they don’t have a brain, but basic visual data gets fed into the plant that tells it when to retreat its stalk, and when to stay vigilant. Don’t forget the massive snake, either. Huge and venomous. Think…anaconda with poison glands the size of gallon jugs. It not only bites, but constricts, making sure its prey dies quickly.
Our travelers also meet a Groar named Spek who helps them on their journey. Spek is a Groar that is on a mission to educate tribal Groars (individuals who live outside of the civilized world) in order to preserve their way of life, and to help understand life outside of the swamp. He’ll be showing up later in the story with a Totem Sledge, a special Groar weapon that is used in rituals, and it actual combat. It stands 6 feet tall, and weighs over 300 lbs. Take a look:

I also included a common Groar assault rifle, utilize a special cartridge that really tears into organic targets. Groar weapons are massive, powerful, and spectacularly ornate.

I’m fallin’ asleep I’m so tired. I’m gonna end this. As always you tight-lipped fucks, give me some feedback.

Lazgah Concept Art

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Almost a hundred and fifty pages into TCoU:B, and the characters are moving towards the dangerous swamplands of the Groar and Lazagah people.  This book is one of the slowest I’ve ever written. Although not boring, I will admit that it can be a little dry. But this is a large tale to tell, and as anyone who has read a 1000 page plus fantasy novel, it takes a good chunk of time before the fuckin’ wonder begins.

Anyway. Our heroes are leaving the canyon where the Creature was found. After a merciless slaughter of evil men and women by the demonic reach of Blestemul, they continue on into the bizarre volcanic swamps, headed towards a Groar capitol, and then beyond. We’ve already discussed Groars here, but not the Lazgah are sentinents, true, but are too savage to be included in any type of modern society. Intelligent, but mostly in an instinctual and predatory sense, they have a basic language but mostly operate in tightly knit and organized troops. They are semi-amphibious, but don’t breathe through their skin. Heavily muscled, they have a bizarre anatomy the defies nature. Here’s a picture of some rough concepts:

And a closeup of the type of head I chose:

 

 

A few more concepts of the actual anatomy of a Lazgah:

 

They are adept scavengers and can often reverse engineer, or re purpose scavenged materials or technology. They can make surprisingly sophisticated weapons, favoring a super compressed blowgun tailored to exploit the advantages of having massive and powerful lungs. These darts are tipped in lethal poisons collected from creatures dwelling in their natural habitat. They are fond of throwing weapons, using their profound strength to throw such projectiles with incredible speed and force, far more than some human schmuck with a throwing knife. They will often utilize umbracells as volatile grenades, and as devastating traps. Here’s some concept art detailing Lazgah weapons:

 

And finally, some more advanced weapons found in the hands of Lazgah soldiers:

 

 

Okay, I’ll leave you with that. Got any questions? Comments? You know what to do.