G. Derek Adams – Author of Spell/Sword Who wouldn’t buy this guy’s book?
I’ve received some stern advice since putting up my Facebook page for Spell/Sword.
[COUGH….you can like it by clicking that shiny box over there, to the right of the screen….COUGH.]
I need to actually tell people about myself. I need to make it reasonably easy for people to know my name, my backstory, what feats I selected at character creation, etc. This is one of the many ‘Duh’ moments that I’m guaranteed to keep having as I explore the world of self-publishing.
It makes total sense. Whenever I investigate a new book I immediately want to know who wrote it. Are they someone I would hang out with? Are they cool? Would they be nice to my dog?
[Which would be hard. My dog’s kind of a jerk.]
Most of the authors that I truly enjoy pass these simple tests — with a few making their way to coveted Birthday Party Status. I want them to come to my birthday party, so we can be Forever Friends.
I need to start crafting my public persona with a little more care. I’m putting the book out there all on my lonesome, so if I’m EXTREMELY LUCKY a prospective reader may look at my personal details ONCE.
No pressure.
I’m going to be updating the About page of the site here, and also putting up some personal information on the Facebook page.
A little background. I was running a Pathfinder game for some friends a few months ago. A neophyte-friendly, short campaign to introduce a bunch of youngsters to the hoary arts of dice rollin’.
I got busy, and they got busy — and is all too often the case, we never got to the end of the story.
This weekend, out of the blue, one of the players emailed me. Warming the cockles of my wintry aorta — they asked how the story was going to end.
I stared at the email on my phone and mouthed the words, “How am I supposed to know?”
Maybe I’m a bad storyteller, or a bad DM – but my brain doesn’t operate the way. I can only see so far ahead of the players, just one bend ahead. That’s half the excitement for me — finding the story. Getting little glimpses of the horizon. Broken snippets, and flashes of moments, and vague ideas that will only fall into place when the time is right.
I mean, I generally know the end. The big events, the major developments — but the steps that link these, the tiny choices, human moments that connect them? Who knows?
And this, of course, made me think about Spell/Sword.
CASUAL SEGUE.
Because I do know the end of that story. And it’s horrible. The adventures of Jonas and Rime do not end well. Their tale ends in shadow.
Maybe that’s why I’m so excited to tell their story. I know where they end, but I don’t know how they got there. And as long as I don’t know, then it hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it doesn’t have to happen?
It does have to happen.
But they will shine before the end. That’s all that I ask. For the book, for this dimension, for everything. Because everything ends. The sum total of human expression: the light we emit before nightfall.
Running away from the end, running away from maturity. This is a feat that I am familiar with — maybe I can help them run faster than I did?
Well, this turned maudlin.
RETROGRADE SEGUE
I was staring at my phone, at the email — wondering what to tell the player. Then I knew, I knew what to tell him. I turned the bend, and there was the answer like I had always known it, like I had outlined it carefully on graph paper in my head. Fortunately for this story, it’s not a true ending — more of a End of the Beginning. The end of their first adventure, and a hook into the next.
Here’s what I told him.
The Heroes of Riddlewood [you guys] would have explored the ominous manor of the Count, encountering many strange things and perils in their search for the kidnapped adventurer, Martin Wise. They would have located the prisoner behind a secret wall that lead to a high tower. Under the cover of night, the party attempts a daring rescue mission, only to do battle with the supernatural minions of the count – undead primarily, along with a couple of lycanthropes. They break out Martin and race back through the manor to escape, where they are caught by the Count himself. The Count attacks, revealing several dark powers, that seem to emanate from a gauntlet that he wears. The young heroes are overwhelmed by the assault — until reinforcements arrive in the form of the elder adventurer, Dennis Wise and the local magical instructor, Vurbane and his Mouse Brigade. The two old men work together to seal part of the Count’s dark power, allowing the party to fight back on even ground. The final blow falls and the dark gauntlet shatters — a phantom erupts from the Count’s body, and shrieks promises of revenge into the abyss.
The Count awakes, and thanks the heroes from saving him from the spirit that had possessed him for many months. The source of the possession was obviously the gauntlet, but the Count shares disquieting news…the gauntlet comes from a larger suit of armor unearthed from his family crypt. He had terrible nightmares about the armor for weeks, until he felt compelled to put on the gauntlet. He has no reliable memory of his time under the dark spirit’s control — but he has a terrible feeling that he spent some time sending pieces of the armor all throughout the land….
Another story leading off into the unknown, a story with no end — just a beginning.
Going to be a little quiet on the blog for the next few days. I’m working on getting the novel formatted correctly for printing via CreateSpace and digitial publishing through Amazon’s KDP. My goal is to have the book ready for purchase by the end of the March.
Though, the Ides of March would be a suitably ominous release date…
So when I come back, get your wallets ready. I’m going to be a money grubbin’ fool.
Out of shadow, out of wind, out of sorrow, out of rain — we make. We make art, we make love, we make our lives. We make light or the Dark swallows us all. I am so very proud of Dustin for making this art, for sharing his light. Please reward him with your attention, […]
Masked Man: I saw the devil this morning. Walking through the azaleas, dangling his long fingers, as casual as a green grocer. The small bushes grew along the sidewalk, and bowed towards his feet as he passed. He was wearing corduroy and dark glasses.
He wasn’t in a hurry. I thought to myself, shouldn’t he be in a hurry? The times I’ve thought of him in the past, I always pictured him moving as swiftly as a peregrine falcon — swooping down on empty heads with his talons spread wide. He looked tired, like he’d been out too late and was slumping his way home. He pinched his nose with two long fingers and sighed waiting for the light to turn.
There he was. The devil in the crosswalk.
I should have let him pass, but he seemed tame. So I cleared my throat and inclined my head.
He looked at me. He gave me his full attention.
He stood stock still in the center of the crosswalk. Lines of cars in both directions, not one dared to beep. Tons of metal and plastic holding their breath.
He stood and he stared, The Beast himself looking at me.
He pushed his sunglasses down with one long finger. His eyes were green.
“What.” he said.
I had nothing to say. I shook like a leaf. I realized that I was not speaking to the physical object in front of me, but to something beyond — something that reached through the short gray hair and the green eyes, something beyond. I could almost see the strings.
“I…I just wanted to say ‘hey’.”
“Hey.” he said and pushed his glasses back up. Dark windows walked past, and the horns began to blare.
The devil walked on by. He was in no hurry, but it was not my time to waste.
Running against the clock always galvanizes me. Just the idea that the entry window for the Amazon contest might close before I get done editing, is pushing me to untold heights of GONZO EDITING.
“Oh, I really like this section. Too bad it’s boring.” CUT.
“You know, my Beta Readers were right, this chapter has all the exposition and it’s buried 50 pages in.” CHAPTER MOVE.
“Why’s Jonas so freaking emo in Chapter One?” INSERT JOKES.
“Huh, I never did really explain why Cotton hates wild mages so much.” BACKSTORY INFUSION ACTIVATE.
“Hmm, these two chapters are kinda thin now that they’ve been trimmed.” CHAPTER FUSION DANCE.
It’s liberating, at the very least. Only a couple more days of anxiety about it, before I have to bite the bullet and send my entry to Amazon. All of these changes needed to happen, nothing like a little bit of panic to spur me to make them.
Blech. This is why I like theatre. There’s a built in deadline:Opening Night. You can work and agonize on a novel FOR ALL OF TIME.
Just that moment when you’ve cut one chapter, and it’s hanging in word processing limbo before you paste it into its new location — WHAT IF. What if someone bumps your hand and it vanishes forever?
Coupled with the terror of change — the TERROR OF CHANGING THINGS.