Category: Uncategorized

Beneath the willows

G. Derek Adams3 Comments

Image

Quintus, Gorton, Quick and Mara put their fallen comrade on their shoulders, and moved solemnly through the fields of corn to the north. Tetch floated close behind, followed by Linus and the stone elf.

The blind man spoke the ancient words.

“Time and wave
sun and wind
night and fire
moons and stone.

We walk through the world only once.
Only one life is given by the Nameless.
It is a gift, a burden.
A challenge, a duty.

To not waste it.
To serve the Highest.
To the end of the Path, with our honor intact.

This path has ended.
We return our brother to the earth,
in trust that his soul kneels now at the feet of our Lord.
His gift returned.
His burden set down.
His challenge answered.
His duty fulfilled.

By the Swords of Faith, in respect and honor we stand for Elijah Croft.”

The hunter’s words led them to the broken stone road that ran east to west. Mara and Quintus spotted a grove of willows, and nodded in unison. They lay Elijah’s form down, and took great pains folding his arms carefully around his weapon — straightening each piece of armor, and buffing clean any mark of ash or dirt. Elijah’s plain face was still, his red hair seemed darker under the shadows of the willow branches.

40K or bust!

G. Derek Adams2 Comments

Hitting the 40,000 word mark on That Thing by the end of this week. I think I’ll celebrate by upgrading its title from ‘That Thing” to “That Long Thing I’m Writing That More Well-Adjusted People Would Call A Book.”

Image

Forget about the money.

G. Derek Adams12 Comments

There’s a difference between writing a good book, and writing a marketable book.

A marketable book is designed to make you money, get you out of your day job, pay back that Manticore that loaned you 40 gold pieces to open your inn.

A good book is written for itself. For no other reason than to exist. They are the linchpins of the cosmos, just like any Imagepiece of art. Little thumbtacks constructed of human energy, that keep us from spinning out into oblivion.

I’m not saying that a good book can’t be marketable, or that a marketable book can’t be damn good.

I’m saying — think about who you’re writing for. Quit beating yourself up trying to match the current trends, or make your story fit into the YA framework, or the paranormal romance, or the corporate thriller — just so it can one day sell some copies on Amazon.

Because here’s the truth — we’ve all got stories inside of us. No one can tell that story but you — stop chopping off pieces, or grafting on new ones to make your unique contribution to the human race easier to sell. I read so many posts here on WP of people agonizing about making their books more marketable, or suiting this market, that market.

You are not going to sell any books.

Accept it — you are not going to sell any books.

So, why write for the extremely small probability of selling something? Write for the much larger probability of actually producing a piece of art that is a benefit to the human experience.

And,  yes, I realize the irony of this statement — coming from an author who’s first novel includes a fight against a brachiosaur.

It’s a human failing to gauge success by money — I’m just as guilty as anyone else, sitting in the tub dreaming about the book-money, the me-money, the my job is to write-money.

Make your art. Make it.

Don’t let anyone else tell you how, or why, or when. Worry about selling it later, or never sell it at all.

The creation is the reward.

And trust me — I have to keep reminding myself of that, every time a check bounces.

Make better art, that’s the goal. That’s what keeps you going — not dreaming about publisher advances.

So make your art — make it!

When you’ve made your art — when you’ve made it the best you possibly can. Then you can worry about selling it.

[Sorry for the rant — this is directed mostly at myself.]