There are people who don’t like fantasy; but what they really don’t like is bad fantasy, and there’s always more than enough of that to go around.
A lot of the problem is simple to see: the writers just haven’t made their fictional characters seem real.
There’s really no point in writing unoriginal fantasy featuring cardboard characters who talk and think and act like everybody else’s cardboard characters.
If you’re doing that, you haven’t created a fantasy.
You’ve created a college campus.
(Is anybody reading this?)
“Dragon Queen” did a very thorough job of this interview, a few years ago. No one’s interviewed me lately. Rush Limbaugh wants to, but he doesn’t know it.
Actually, I’ve done a lot of interviews–but hardly any with anyone who’s read my books. Oh, well…
I gave up on this one when the Sumerian hero’s immortal half-human mother started calling him ‘Gilgy’…
I’ve seldom been so disappointed in any fiction series as I was in Brian Godawa’s novels of life before the Great Flood. And I’ve seldom gotten so much pushback from a book review.
This guy wrote great movie reviews, and fascinating appendices; but his retelling of Genesis turned it into a cliche-packed summer movie script. “Disappointing” is hardly the word for it. “Bowel-wrenchingly awful” is barely adequate for descriptive purposes.
At least it wasn’t as hard as reviewing a book written by a friend.
A beautiful day, cool and sunny, after it rained all day yesterday–and I just couldn’t wait to get outside and resume work on Bell Mountain No. 13, The Wind From Heaven.
That wind was blowing for me–eight pages, whoosh! I usually average around three, or four on a good day. So this day was special.
All right, I knew what this chapter was going to be about: just as often, I don’t. Man, when Lord Chutt finds out what happened in this chapter, he’ll hit the ceiling. The poor guy’s had a lot of unsettling surprises lately: sometimes it’s tough to be the villain.
May my work be fruitful in your service, Lord.
You name it, I’ve been there
I’ve been saving this post for a time when something just has to be done to pump up this blog’s readership; and that time is now.
You may think that this is all of my biography. You’d be wrong! I can invent more as needed. If certain presidential candidates can do it, then why not me?
I’d just like to think I do it better.
You know I make use of dreams when I’m writing a Bell Mountain novel.
The Wind from Heaven must be blowing for me, because here’s what I dreamed last night, which I will incorporate into the book as I write it.
It was one of those dreams in which you don’t know you’re dreaming because it starts out so mundane and ordinary. I dreamed it was night-time and I had to walk out to the curb to bring in the garbage cans. There seemed to be no traffic, no engine noise, out on Main Street–which should have tipped me off right there that I was dreaming.
The night was quiet and still, everybody’s lights were out… And as if from some great distance, I heard as it were the sound of many voices chanting:
“King Ozias! King Ozias! King Ozias!”
And just out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a great lion pass silently into the deeper shadows. It was Ozias, of course, who composed the sacred “Song of the Lion.” And it was Ozias, the last anointed king of Obann, who is the ancestor of the present king, Ryons–the first to hold the title “king of Obann” for some two thousand years.
I can hardly wait to get out there and write this into the story.
P.S.–If you missed earlier posts, The Wind from Heaven is the title of the new book I’ve just started writing.
Yesterday, before noon, in broad daylight, I was sitting in my chair outside, relaxing with a crossword puzzle, when I sensed something moving right beside me. For a moment I thought it was a big dog; but when I turned my head, I saw it was a deer. She jogged right past me, almost close enough to touch, and disappeared around the far corner of the building.
She didn’t make a sound, and was so light on her feet that she appeared to be floating on the air.
A minute later my neighbor came walking up, from the same direction as the deer.
“Did you see the deer that passed here, just a minute ago?” I asked.
“I followed it into the parking lot,” he said. “Just before that, it was following a woman who was walking her dog. I heard her say to the dog, ‘We’ve got to walk faster.'”
To me it was a special moment–an Obann moment, if you will. If you’ve been reading my books, you know there are a lot of strange animals moving into that country, sent by God from parts unknown. A deer in your yard, here in the Jersey suburbs, is almost as unusual a sight as the knuckle-bears in Lintum Forest. Almost like the stories I’ve been telling come to life.
I won’t forget it. Thank you, Lord–I take it as a sign that you know my work and have blessed it.
Well, Weavingword, you asked for it, so here it is–it’s me, at work. Writing The Wind From Heaven. I’m on Chapter 2. I have a long way to go, to catch Violet Crepuscular.
Pattytook the picture and somehow managed to get it into WordPress Media, or whatever it’s called. I’m sorry you can’t quite see my yellow legal pad, but them’s the breaks. We’re new at this.
And now I’ve got to finish Joe Collidge and see if I can capture a bit more book-writing time.