We'll Never Be Royals

We'll Never Be Royals — Blue Ink Alchemy

"You should write about all of this," my father suggested. "And then write a book about it." He's referring to some of the recent events in my life. Things that have changed it forever. Events have occurred that are forcing me to put the brakes on a lot of the interests and intentions that have kind of existed on autopilot for years, and peel them apart so I can hold on to what makes sense for me as an individual, and discard what gets in my way and does harm to others. I have a problem with writing a book about it, though. For one, I'm a novelist. I don't do as well with non-fiction. I feel like I either come across too dry or make something too anecdotal or conversational. Which leads to the other, bigger problem. I'm not noble. My fear is that, in conveying the events of my life up to this point and the path I have ahead of me that I must travel, I'll come across as some kind of hero or saint. That I will lionize myself while demonizing the people who have influenced my life. Honestly, there's nothing heroic or even all that brave about what I'm doing. It's necessary, hard, thankless work. And the people who have influenced me certainly don't feel I'm doing anything extraordinary, as this is work that's needed doing for a long time. I'm not royalty, and I never will be. A big part of the work I need to do is removing the romantic ideal from my perspective of my story. I am my own protagonist, sure, but I'm no hero. I'm not somehow morally or ethically sacrosanct. I'm human. I'm flawed. I've fucked up. I've hurt people. There are very few people that haven't. It's nice to imagine, to write about, to witness. Paragons of virtue doing battle with the forces of darkness. We thrill to those stories. We become a part of them. We act out those fantasies. We make them apart of our lives. But that isn't the truth. And trying to make it that way is folly. That's why I shy from writing a book about what I'm going through, what I've been through, and what's ahead. My life is a broken, irregular trail of broken hearts, damaged souls, and shattered dreams. It isn't anything to be celebrated or idolized. I am not your fucking inspiration porn. I mean, if you draw some meaning or hope from everything I relate, that's awesome. Use it. Learn from it. But putting myself out there as some sort of guru smacks of hypocrisy. I will not do it. I will not be one of those falsely smiling faces you see in the Inspiration section of a bookstore. There are other authors willing to do that. I ain't one of them. I write about witches, wizards, fallen heroes, magnificent bastards, heartache, monsters, darkness, and despair. And somewhere in there, maybe, I might convey some compassion. Inspiration. Determination. Hope. Just don't look for it in non-fiction. We write about the royals that we will never be.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Aftermath Review: Let Go Of Your Hatred

The Aftermath Review: Let Go Of Your Hatred — Blue Ink Alchemy

There are a lot of people out there who don't, and won't, like this book. I'm pretty sure I know why, and it has nothing to do with the plot or characters of Aftermath: Star Wars. It has to do with the book's very existence. You see, Aftermath, written by Chuck Wendig, takes place between the end of the original trilogy of films, Return of the Jedi, and the upcoming JJ Abrams addition to the franchise, The Force Awakens. It chronicles the effect of the fall of the Empire's leadership and the loss of the second Death Star on one of the far-flung worlds in the galaxy, and how its people struggle against an Empire that refuses to surrender or fade into the night. I won't go into laborious detail about it, because in the end equation, it's not anything terribly original. Oh, the characters fill out their roles quite well, coming across more like people and less like cardboard cut-outs, and the use of present tense keeps the action well-paced and immediate rather than getting bogged down in exposition or pontification. For what it's worth, Chuck does what Chuck does best: punchy dialog that doesn't mess around, Hemingway-esque connective prose that's just as short and to-the-point, and just enough intrigue and provocative ideas to keep the action from feeling too shallow or the characters too weak. For the record, I don't think this book as quite as good as some of Chuck's other work, such as Blackbirds or The Blue Blazes. Merely my opinion. BUT. The point is that, as Star Wars novels go, this is a good one. While it doesn't quite have the grandiosity of Timothy Zahn's works or the space swashbuckling of Michael A. Stackpole, it also doesn't suffer from the byzantine structures of the old expanded universe. And that's a big part of the reason why people hate it so much. They might say negative things about the plot or characters, but I cannot imagine that a large portion of the negative reactions come from a biased perspective. While I may be biased towards Wendig's writing in general, I am also a long-time Star Wars fan, and I mourned the loss of Zahn's trilogy and the exploits of Rogue Squadron when it was announced that the old canon was being ejected. It hurt, to be honest. But things change. And we move on. In the end, you really can't ask for a better bridge than the writing of Wendig, both between the two films and the old EU and the new. It does its job, workman-like, moving the story towards its ultimate destination and using enough familiar faces to acclimate open-minded readers to a universe both old and new. All we have to do is let go of our hatred of change and the unfamiliar. Much like a black stormtrooper, a three-bladed lightsaber, or a woman in shining armor, change is good even if it seems strange or unnecessary, and it is up to us to embrace it and see where the new journey takes us. Anything less cheapens our beloved stories, derides the creative endeavors of people like Wendig, and makes us look foolish and childish. Do better, Star Wars fans. Be better. Let go of your hate.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Aftermath Review: Let Go Of Your Hatred

The Aftermath Review: Let Go Of Your Hatred — Blue Ink Alchemy

There are a lot of people out there who don't, and won't, like this book. I'm pretty sure I know why, and it has nothing to do with the plot or characters of Aftermath: Star Wars. It has to do with the book's very existence. You see, Aftermath, written by Chuck Wendig, takes place between the end of the original trilogy of films, Return of the Jedi, and the upcoming JJ Abrams addition to the franchise, The Force Awakens. It chronicles the effect of the fall of the Empire's leadership and the loss of the second Death Star on one of the far-flung worlds in the galaxy, and how its people struggle against an Empire that refuses to surrender or fade into the night. I won't go into laborious detail about it, because in the end equation, it's not anything terribly original. Oh, the characters fill out their roles quite well, coming across more like people and less like cardboard cut-outs, and the use of present tense keeps the action well-paced and immediate rather than getting bogged down in exposition or pontification. For what it's worth, Chuck does what Chuck does best: punchy dialog that doesn't mess around, Hemingway-esque connective prose that's just as short and to-the-point, and just enough intrigue and provocative ideas to keep the action from feeling too shallow or the characters too weak. For the record, I don't think this book as quite as good as some of Chuck's other work, such as Blackbirds or The Blue Blazes. Merely my opinion. BUT. The point is that, as Star Wars novels go, this is a good one. While it doesn't quite have the grandiosity of Timothy Zahn's works or the space swashbuckling of Michael A. Stackpole, it also doesn't suffer from the byzantine structures of the old expanded universe. And that's a big part of the reason why people hate it so much. They might say negative things about the plot or characters, but I cannot imagine that a large portion of the negative reactions come from a biased perspective. While I may be biased towards Wendig's writing in general, I am also a long-time Star Wars fan, and I mourned the loss of Zahn's trilogy and the exploits of Rogue Squadron when it was announced that the old canon was being ejected. It hurt, to be honest. But things change. And we move on. In the end, you really can't ask for a better bridge than the writing of Wendig, both between the two films and the old EU and the new. It does its job, workman-like, moving the story towards its ultimate destination and using enough familiar faces to acclimate open-minded readers to a universe both old and new. All we have to do is let go of our hatred of change and the unfamiliar. Much like a black stormtrooper, a three-bladed lightsaber, or a woman in shining armor, change is good even if it seems strange or unnecessary, and it is up to us to embrace it and see where the new journey takes us. Anything less cheapens our beloved stories, derides the creative endeavors of people like Wendig, and makes us look foolish and childish. Do better, Star Wars fans. Be better. Let go of your hate.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

The Aftermath Review: Let Go Of Your Hatred

The Aftermath Review: Let Go Of Your Hatred — Blue Ink Alchemy

There are a lot of people out there who don't, and won't, like this book. I'm pretty sure I know why, and it has nothing to do with the plot or characters of Aftermath: Star Wars. It has to do with the book's very existence. You see, Aftermath, written by Chuck Wendig, takes place between the end of the original trilogy of films, Return of the Jedi, and the upcoming JJ Abrams addition to the franchise, The Force Awakens. It chronicles the effect of the fall of the Empire's leadership and the loss of the second Death Star on one of the far-flung worlds in the galaxy, and how its people struggle against an Empire that refuses to surrender or fade into the night. I won't go into laborious detail about it, because in the end equation, it's not anything terribly original. Oh, the characters fill out their roles quite well, coming across more like people and less like cardboard cut-outs, and the use of present tense keeps the action well-paced and immediate rather than getting bogged down in exposition or pontification. For what it's worth, Chuck does what Chuck does best: punchy dialog that doesn't mess around, Hemingway-esque connective prose that's just as short and to-the-point, and just enough intrigue and provocative ideas to keep the action from feeling too shallow or the characters too weak. For the record, I don't think this book as quite as good as some of Chuck's other work, such as Blackbirds or The Blue Blazes. Merely my opinion. BUT. The point is that, as Star Wars novels go, this is a good one. While it doesn't quite have the grandiosity of Timothy Zahn's works or the space swashbuckling of Michael A. Stackpole, but it also doesn't suffer from the byzantine structures of the old expanded universe. And that's a big part of the reason why people hate it so much. They might say negative things about the plot or characters, but I cannot imagine that a large portion of the negative reactions come from a biased perspective. While I may be biased towards Wendig's writing in general, I am also a long-time Star Wars fan, and I mourned the loss of Zahn's trilogy and the exploits of Rogue Squadron when it was announced that the old canon was being ejected. It hurt, to be honest. But things change. And we move on. In the end, you really can't ask for a better bridge than the writing of Wendig, both between the two films and the old EU and the new. It does its job, workman-like, moving the story towards its ultimate destination and using enough familiar faces to acclimate open-minded readers to a universe both old and new. All we have to do is let go of our hatred of change and the unfamiliar. Much like a black stormtrooper, a three-bladed lightsaber, or a woman in shining armor, change is good even if it seems strange or unnecessary, and it is up to us to embrace it and see where the new journey takes us. Anything less cheapens our beloved stories, derides the creative endeavors of people like Wendig, and makes us look foolish and childish. Do better, Star Wars fans. Be better. Let go of your hate.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

The Aftermath Review: Let Go Of Your Hatred

The Aftermath Review: Let Go Of Your Hatred — Blue Ink Alchemy

There are a lot of people out there who don't, and won't, like this book. I'm pretty sure I know why, and it has nothing to do with the plot or characters of Aftermath: Star Wars. It has to do with the book's very existence. You see, Aftermath, written by Chuck Wendig, takes place between the end of the original trilogy of films, Return of the Jedi, and the upcoming JJ Abrams addition to the franchise, The Force Awakens. It chronicles the effect of the fall of the Empire's leadership and the loss of the second Death Star on one of the far-flung worlds in the galaxy, and how its people struggle against an Empire that refuses to surrender or fade into the night. I won't go into laborious detail about it, because in the end equation, it's not anything terribly original. Oh, the characters fill out their roles quite well, coming across more like people and less like cardboard cut-outs, and the use of present tense keeps the action well-paced and immediate rather than getting bogged down in exposition or pontification. For what it's worth, Chuck does what Chuck does best: punchy dialog that doesn't mess around, Hemingway-esque connective prose that's just as short and to-the-point, and just enough intrigue and provocative ideas to keep the action from feeling too shallow or the characters too weak. For the record, I don't think this book as quite as good as some of Chuck's other work, such as Blackbirds or The Blue Blazes. But that's my opinion. BUT. The point is that, as Star Wars novels go, this is a good one. While it doesn't quite have the grandiosity of Timothy Zahn's works or the space swashbuckling of Michael A. Stackpole, but it also doesn't suffer from the byzantine structures of the old expanded universe. And that's a big part of the reason why people hate it so much. They might say negative things about the plot or characters, but I cannot imagine that a large portion of the negative reactions come from a biased perspective. While I may be biased towards Wendig's writing in general, I am also a long-time Star Wars fan, and I mourned the loss of Zahn's trilogy and the exploits of Rogue Squadron when it was announced that the old canon was being ejected. It hurt, to be honest. But things change. And we move on. In the end, you really can't ask for a better bridge than the writing of Wendig, both between the two films and the old EU and the new. It does its job, workman-like, moving the story towards its ultimate destination and using enough familiar faces to acclimate open-minded readers to a universe both old and new. All we have to do is let go of our hatred of change and the unfamiliar. Much like a black stormtrooper, a three-bladed lightsaber, or a woman in shining armor, change is good even if it seems strange or unnecessary, and it is up to us to embrace it and see where the new journey takes us. Anything less cheapens our beloved stories, derides the creative endeavors of people like Wendig, and makes us look foolish and childish. Do better, Star Wars fans. Be better. Let go of your hate.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

From the Vault: Keeping It Real

From the Vault: Keeping It Real — Blue Ink Alchemy

Today I'm going back through my novel draft and changing the perspective of the narrative slightly. I did a quick search for 'perspective' and came across this post. With Star Wars: The Force Awakens drawing closer, it seemed appropriate to bring this one back. Enjoy!

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Writers: remember that you are writing about people. Unless you are telling your story from the perspective of an entirely alien race (and good on you for taking on that challenge), you will be portraying events for your audience from the perspective of human beings. More often than not, even animal stories have human points of view: anthropomorphous protagonists are nothing new, from Orwell's Animal Farm to The Adventures of Milo and Otis. And with that perspective comes the need for thought processes and authentic emotion. I know there is a lot of entertainment out there that suggests, through one way or another, that the audience turn off their brains. And in some instances, this is fine. When you're playing DOOM, you're not necessarily contemplating the greater ramifications of blasting demons in the face with a shotgun. But when the entertainment has human beings, usually capable of higher thought processes, doing things that make no logical sense or have little tangible connection to one another, it can be difficult not to scratch your head in bewilderment. A great number of movies do this: they pace their action in such a way and frame it with such bombast that coherent thought gets overshadowed or lost altogether. For example, compare Star Trek Into Darkness with Guardians of the Galaxy. Both are relatively light, free-flowing sci-fi action-adventures. Putting aside that the former is a far departure from its original source material, it is serviceable in what it does, and as I said in my review, does enough things right that it rises above the usual level of shallow tripe on which a great deal of in-name-only franchise movies can operate. However, it also sees characters with familiar names acting in ways that defy logical thought and reasoning. Meanwhile, in the latter film, characters operate in consistent ways, following their goals and motivations in what, to them, is a logical chain of reasoning. Their reactions and plans may seem unreasonable to others, but to them, it makes perfect sense. This is because the writers took the time to see things from those perspectives and conveyed their characters in ways that made us believe in them. It can be difficult, at times, to believe that Chris Pine is actually Captain Kirk; it is never a doubt that Chris Pratt is Peter Quill. Oh, excuse me, "Star-Lord". The emotional aspect, too, is something that sets Guardians of the Galaxy apart, in that the writing and acting work together so that we feel, rather than are told, what the characters are feeling. Good writing tends to be subtle in that way. Another potential example comes from one of the biggest buzz-worthy events of recent memory. For a brief moment, we see John Boyega in the teaser trailer for Star Wars: The Force Awakens. He is, in fact, the first human we see, and in the moment we see his face, there's already a lot going on. And I'm not just talking about a new black character in Star Wars (Shock! Alarm! Nerdrage!) or a black stormtrooper (or just a protagonist in stormtrooper armor like his possible spiritual ancestors Luke Skywalker and Han Solo - again, Shock! Alarm! Nerdrage!) being on screen. I'm talking about his face, his manner, the mood of the shot. Say what you like about JJ Abrams (goodness knows, I have), he has always drawn out great performances from his actors. And in this shot, it looks to me like he's bringing his A game to Star Wars. For this tiny sliver of time, John gives us a wealth of emotions just from his look and movements. He's shocked. He's desperate. He's scared. He's covered in sweat, moves with quick, furtive motions, and doesn't stay in one place very long. As both a moment from the film and an invitation for the audience to become intrigued, it works very well. What I'm driving at is that, even in science fiction and fantasy, the onus falls on the writers to keep the emotions and motivations real. Let your characters think rationally, provided they aren't mad for one reason or another. And even then, spend some time in their shoes. Get to know what makes them tick, what makes sense from their perspective, and how they justify their actions. Villains are rarely, if ever, villainous for the sake of villainy. Hell, even the Red Skull in Captain America: The First Avenger had something to prove, even if he went about it in a villainous way and something was said about his true villainy coming out through one thing or another. Giving all of your characters the time and forethought required to have them convey true processes of thought and genuine moments of emotion is essential to writing a story that people will enjoy, and want to read more about. And if you want to be a successful writer, you're going to want to have your readers coming back for more.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Return Of The Blue

Return Of The Blue — Blue Ink Alchemy

I can't even begin to fully articulate what the last few weeks have been like for me. Hospital. Near-eviction. Rapid, rabid mood swings. Disastrous car trouble. More car trouble. Moving. PAX. Yelling. Broken phones. Tears. And yet... Here I am. Whole. Unbowed. Determined. Unbent. Successful. Unbroken. If I can survive this, I can probably survive just about anything. And despite the best efforts of my badbrain (which can be broken down into "head weasels" as my friend Faust puts it), I survived. I'm sitting in the new apartment with things boxed up and some furniture needing assembly and distribution to rooms, but for the most part, it's starting to feel comfortably like home. I can walk down to the nearby transit center, getting some very welcome daily cardio, and catch a bus downtown. I work there, now, at a lovely Starbucks, slinging coffee and smiling at folks who just want to get through their meetings or finish filing TPS reports. I remember that life, and I don't envy them a bit. Getting back into food service has been like falling off of a bike: easy, and while it might have scraped me up a bit, gravity is a good force for teaching you how to pace yourself. After my shift, I can walk up the hill to the Seattle Central Library, and write in a secluded, quiet space. I have some new ideas for the novel, and while I cringe at the thought of going back to the beginning to adjust something, I know it'll benefit all future revisions and edits, as well as the final product. So that's another to-do list item to check off come Tuesday. For now, though, I'm resting and recouperating. PAX was fantastic, in and of itself. I've often said that working a show brings out the best version of myself. Being around people I love and haven't seen in months can kick me into a bit of a manic state, and I use that energy for positive, productive ends. I ride the demon; I do not let it ride me. It's a mindset I need to continue to maintain outside of shows, and I'm hopeful that working a well-defined job with a solid schedule can help me do that. At PAX, I'm now in a managerial position, and this last show saw me helping with a new department. From all accounts, it went quite well. I've now been tapped for similar work with GeekGirlCon, and I predict making it to most if not all of the PAX shows in 2016. It's a huge part of my life and a major inspiration. As for everything else, the darkest of my dark thoughts feel far more irrational and distant than even a week before this writing. I've gotten my medication adjusted, and I'm seeing therapists again on a regular basis. I'm doing my utmost to keep lines of communication open and maintain honesty, without being cruel or unfeeling. Thinking before I speak, that sort of thing. It feels like this has been sort of a 'soft reset', on many levels. And I plan on making the most of it. It feels like I've been away. Almost as if I've been separated from myself. I haven't lost sight of my goals, but after everything I've been through in the past few weeks, those goals no longer seem so distant, so unobtainable. I can't pretend that I don't have hard work ahead of me. But at the same time, it's work for which I'm suited. Telling stories. Seeing people as people. Listening. Feeling. Thinking on a situation and giving advice that not only placates, but guides and reinforces. I am a good writer. A good friend. A good worker. A good person. Nobody can take those things away from me. Not even me.

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Blue Ink Alchemy