Jonathan Moeller's Blog, page 319

Writing Down The Dragon, by Tom Simon

I’ve read Tom Simon’s blog for years, and have always enjoyed his insightful essays. WRITING DOWN THE DRAGON is a compilation of some of those essays, combined together to form a monograph on J.R.R. Tolkien’s works, his method, and his influence upon subsequent generations of fantasy writers.

I found the essays dealing with the various moral and theological implications of Tolkien’s books to be the most interesting. THE TERMINAL ORC, a discussion of the morality of the Orcs, reflects on whether or not the orcs actually have moral agency or not. (And THE TERMINAL ORC, I should point out, was one of the inspirations for the Malrags in my DEMONSOULED books when I first read the essay a few years ago.) WHAT IS ELF, by contrast, posits the theory that the Elves in the LORD OF THE RINGS are actually unfallen humans – humans who have not suffered the effects of the Fall into Sin and therefore are naturally inclined to do good, rather than do evil, as is the normal state (alas) among human beings. That was a very interesting idea, and one I admit I had not considered before, as I had always considered Tolkien’s Elves to be biologically a different species than humans. An artifact of the fact that I started reading science fiction before I read fantasy, I suppose.

The chapter about dragons put forth the intriguing idea that dragons are a manifestation of humanity’s worst desires (avarice and the lust for power, in particular), with the theory that the Eastern conception of the dragon as a wise creature of celestial order might be a propaganda device a Western dragon would put out to mask its true intentions. I particularly liked the chapter on Michael Moorcock and his vendetta against Tolkien. Someone admiringly pointed me to Moorcock’s EPIC POOH essay a few years ago, and to be perfectly candid I found it to be utter twaddle. Mr. Simon’s presents several excellent arguments rebutting Moorcock’s criticisms of Tolkien.

Finally, the book has several chapters discussion Tolkien’s methods, how most of his ideas came from attempting to resolve the contradictory meanings of Old English words. This is of interest to students of history and literature, but also to writers as an example to avoid. Tolkien, for all his gifts and genius, had a devil of a time finishing anything. To paraphrase Sherlock Holmes, the supreme gift of the artist is the knowledge of when to stop, and to paraphrase Steve Jobs, real artists ship. Tolkien was a master worldbuilder, but for most writers it is better avoid getting lost in the details of the setting and to simply get on with the story already.

To sum up, I found WRITING DOWN THE DRAGON both insightful and thought-provoking, and I recommend it to anyone interested in the history of literature, Tolkien, and to writers of fantasy fiction.

-JM

ebook sales for March 2013

7,084

That is a lot of books, ladies and gentlemen, and way up over the 3,521 I sold in April 2012. Thank you, all!

The big boost came from GHOST IN THE FORGE, which sold 842 copies in March, and the new GHOSTS short story GHOST ARIA, which also sold 198 copies. Additionally, between them THE OUTLAW ADEPT, THE BLACK PALADIN, and THE TOMB OF BALIGANT between them sold 214 copies.

So, once again, thank you all, and I hope to have new books for you soon.

-JM

SOUL OF SWORDS progress update

62,000 words written of the rough draft, with 14 chapters down, 19 to go.

Here’s an excerpt!

They were a minor problem, to be sure, and could not threaten Lucan or his plans.

But what other things had he failed to foresee? What other consequences?

The unforeseen consequences, his father had always said, were often the deadliest. And since he had been murdered by the Tervingi barbarians he had invited into the Grim Marches, Lord Richard Mandragon had proven the truthfulness of that particular proverb.

-JM

choose your own adventure, episode 21b

You decide to hold your ground and hold Gotha’s attention, hopefully distracting her long enough for Magistrius Richard to strike her with a potent spell.

And as the urdmordar races towards you in a crimson blur of armored chitin and razor-edged claws, you question the wisdom of your plan. Gotha lunges at you, both her legs and her claw-tipped arms stabbing for your face, and you use Heartwarden’s power to dodge.

Gotha’s claws miss you by barely half an inch, and the urdmordar whirls with speed despite her armored bulk, and the sides of two of her legs slam into your chest and stomach.

Even through your chain mail, it feels like getting hit in the torso with a tree.

The force of the blow throws you back a dozen feet, and you hit the ground hard, the breath exploding from your lungs, and for a moment sheer pain paralyzes you. Gotha rears up above you, her legs raised to impale you, and you see the glee on her inhumanly beautiful face.

Then a blast of white fire lances from the doors of the church and slams into Gotha. The urdmordar stumbles to the side with a shriek of pain, her clawed legs digging furrows in the square. You see Magistrius Richard standing before the militiamen on the stairs, beginning another spell.

You force yourself to one knee, breathing hard.

Gotha whirls to face Richard, her face twisted in a snarl of fury, and throws out her left hand. A sphere of black fire erupts from her fingers and hurtles towards Richard and the church. The Magistrius raises his hands, and a shimmering veil of white light appears before him. The black fire hammers into the veil with a howling explosion, and a wall of dark flame rises up before the church, devouring both the earth and the wood in touches. You see Richard’s expression twist with strain, and realize that it is taking the whole of his magical strength to hold back the urdmordar’s fire. If he wavers, the black fire will devour the church…and everyone inside it.

Gotha spins to face you as you get to your feet, and you just manage to avoid the swipe of her claws and a stab from her legs. The urdmordar’s crimson hulk pursues you, and you manage to land a blow with Heartwarden on her flank. The wound smokes from your sword’s touch, and Gotha hisses. The side of her leg strikes your shoulder, and the force of the blow knocks you back.

Then you hear a chorus of mad battle cries, and Ulacht, Sir Hamus, and Sir Thomas charge the urdmordar, brandishing their weapons. Hamus’s axe and Thomas’s longsword dig grooves in the urdmordar’s side, and Ulacht’s club slams into a leg with a loud crack. Gotha shrieks in pain in fury…but the wounds the knights and the orc headman dealt begin to vanish at once.

Normal steel cannot harm an urdmordar.

Gotha turns, her legs lashing like a whip, and knocks Ulacht and Thomas to the ground. Hamus bellows and buries his axe with a two-handed blow into Gotha’s thorax.

“Die!” roars Hamus. “Foul urdmordar! You will not…”

Gotha sneers, turns, and drives two of her legs through the old knight like a child ramming a fork through a tomato.

At least his death is quick.

You recover your balance, and Gotha turns to face you, snapping her legs to kick off Hamus’s corpse.

But he’s stuck.

Gotha stumbles, her balance thrown off by the slain knight’s weight, and for a moment, just a moment, she is vulnerable.

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another self-publishing story

I enjoy reading the experiences of writers who decide to self-publish ebooks. Such account have almost become a genre at this point, with narrative conventions of their own. Typically, they go like this:

1.) Author laments the dismal state of the publishing industry.

2.) Author discovers the concept of ebooks, usually with some suspicion.

3.) After much deliberation, the author decides to experiment in self-publishing.

4.) The experiment goes well.

5.) The author goes all-in with self-publishing, finds it much more enjoyable than traditional publishing.

(Looking back at those old posts, it’s fun to see how my thinking has changed over the last four years.)

Anyway, in that vein, this post by Elisabeth Noughton, describing how she actually lost money as a successful traditionally published writer, caught my eye. Key quote:

Of course, this all seems fabulous and it sounds like I’m making tons of money, doesn’t it? But you have to remember that I wrote for ten years without making a penny. Three plus of which as a published author. If you add up what I’ve made self publishing and divide it by ten years, trust me, it’s not much in the long run. But the growth potential is there, and that’s what keeps me going. There was a time not long ago when I was pretty sure I was going to have to go back to teaching because I wasn’t making any money writing. I was even looking at job postings online, trying to find a science position in my area. Now that’s all changed. I get to keep doing what I love. I get to keep writing the books readers love because of self publishing.

I can relate. I’m about 1/3 of the way through the final volume in the DEMONSOULED series, and that never would have happened without ebooks.

What’s especially interesting is that Ms. Noughton was a successful traditionally published writer, and still made no money. I was an unsuccessful traditionally published writer, and, naturally, made no money. Either way, ebooks are a better deal for both writers and readers – writers, for the reasons mentioned in the post, and for readers, due to both a.) the availability of vast quantities of material, and b.) the ability to read all that material without filling up one’s house with books.

The gates have cracked, and the gatekeepers are standing atop them in bewilderment, wondering what just happened.

-JM

Ghost in the Forge – the first 1,000 copies

Cover image copyright JC_Design | istockphoto.com

Sometime around April 6th or so, GHOST IN THE FORGE sold its 1,000th copy. So that’s 1,000 copies in just over five weeks. Thanks everyone!

It makes me look forward to starting GHOST IN THE ASHES this summer.

-JM

choose your own adventure, episode 20b

“You just mentioned a ‘great culling’,” you say. “Both your daughters did as well.”

“Before you slew them,” says Gotha. She does not sound angry at their loss, not even annoyed, and you suspect the urdmordar view their spiderling daughters as simply another tool, and not a very valuable one at that.

“What is the great culling?” you say.

“You don’t know?” said Gotha, lifting her eyebrows. “Ah. I suppose you would not. Your race has no memories for matters of importance. Your strength is in how quickly you breed, not in the potency of your feeble brains. But not even your fertility will save you from what is coming.”

“And what,” you say, “is coming?”

Gotha smiles and looks at the sky. “Very soon now, very soon, the nine moons will be in alignment…and another world gate will open. It has been in motion for centuries. So obviously visible to an immortal, and so hard to see in a little mortal life of sixty years. If that.” She leans forward, her eyes alight with glee. “The cold ones are coming back.”

“The cold ones?” you say.

“Pah,” says Gotha, “you do not even know your own history. How like a human! You fought them off once before. But you will not do so again. You were stronger then. Now your lords are proud and fat and complacent. Your Magistri have lost their faith, and your Swordbearers are more concerned with their own prestige than their duty. The cold ones will destroy your High Kingdom utterly.” She waves a hand at the village. “Why do you think I went to such trouble? The orcs’ mines shall make a splendid lair, and the sleeping children are hidden in my larder there. I shall harvest many children from the villages of the Northerland, and put them into the sleep like death with my venom. Then when the cold ones come, I shall hibernate while they destroy your race, waking only to feed on the suspended children. And after the humans are destroyed, sooner or later another race will come to this world…and I shall feed upon them.”

“You…” you begin to say.

“Ah! I just realized!” said Gotha. “I am doing you a mercy. If you all die here…you shall be spared the horrors to come when the cold ones return.” She smiled. “The time for talking is over, and you may rejoice in my mercy as I rend the flesh from your bones.”

“Shoot her!” roars Hamus to the archers on the church’s roof. “Shoot her…”

Gotha steps forward…and she changes.

Her body swells to immensity, changing into the form of a crimson spider the size of an ox, the bulbous thorax armored with red chitin. Eight knobbed legs curve from her flanks, tipped with barbed claws dripping with poison. The torso, arms, and head of a woman of stunning beauty rise from the spider’s neck, the red chitin covering her back and breasts and belly like plates of close-fitting armor. The fingers are tipped with foot-long claws, the fingers long and distended, and blazing green fire shines in her eyes.

The true form an urdmordar.

“Shoot it!” roar Hamus and Thomas and unison. The archers fire, and Magistrius Richard begins casting a spell, but normal steel cannot permanently harm an urdmordar, and Gotha pays no heed to them.

And then she rushes at you with terrifying speed, moving with all the speed of a racing horse despite her massive bulk.

Your sword Heartwarden and Magistrius Richard’s spells, you realize, are the only threats to her. Once Gotha kills you, she need only kill Richard, and then she can slaughter the rest of the villagers and the orcs with impunity.

Gotha thunders towards you, and you realize you need to act now.

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choose your own adventure, episode 19b

You realize that Gotha has cast a spell upon herself to make the villagers attack you, and you lift Heartwarden and draw upon the power of your bond with the sword, breaking the spell upon Gotha. There is a flash of blue light, Gotha blinks in surprise…and the villagers come to a stop. Hamus, Thomas, Ulacht, Linus, and Richard all look at each other in confusion, and then the confusion changes to fear as they realize what happened.

As they realize that they are facing an urdmordar.

“Oh, very good,” says Gotha, taking a tottering step towards you, the tip of her cane rasping against the earth. “Very clever, indeed. Though you should have let them kill you. It will be far less painful than what is to come.”

“You deceived us!” says Hamus, hefting his axe. “With your lies, your magic, your daughters…”

Gotha smirks. “I think you allowed yourself to be deceived by my daughters.”

“Or your daughters’ venom clouded his thinking,” you say.

Gotha’s pale green eyes flick to you, and you realize that she is starting to look younger. Before she was a crone of a hundred years. Now she looks like a vigorous woman in her sixties, her hair more iron-gray than white, her skin not so loose about her face.

“Clever indeed,” says Gotha. “Though you will regret it. A herd animal shouldn’t be clever. It leads to a more painful death.” Her eyes shifted to Ulacht. “And what of you, orc? Fall down to your knees and worship me, as your ancestors did. Your folk will be spared, and you shall be under my protection. I shall need loyal servants in the great culling to come.”

Ulacht spits on the ground. “No, false goddess. We shall not. Better that we die as free men and enter into paradise, rather than live as your slaves.”

“Very well,” says Gotha. Her eyes turn back to you, and now she looks like a woman in her late forties. “Before the killing begins, Swordbearer…I will grant you a boon.”

“What?” you say.

Now she is in her middle thirties, and looks rather attractive. “A boon. Cleverness deserves a reward.”

“I thought you said,” you say, “that cleverness was a poor quality in a herd animal.”

“Oh, but it is,” says Gotha. Now she looks to be Gwenaelle’s age. “But cleverness still deserves a reward. One secret, you can take with you to your grave.” She smiles, radiantly beautiful. “Because I am clever, too…and I know there is no treasure better and no weapon finer than a secret.”

“What do you mean?” you say, pointing Heartwarden.

Gotha continues to smile, rolling her shoulders as if she were preparing for some heavy lifting.

Or heavy fighting.

“One question, before I kill you all,” Gotha says. “One question I will answer for you…and you can take one secret with you to your grave.” Now she looks like a stunningly beautiful girl of eighteen. “Is that not a compelling thought?”

You frown. This has to be some sort of trap. Or it might well be the sort of twisted game an urdmordar would enjoy.

But she is right that a secret can be a potent weapon.

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a progress update on SOUL OF SWORDS

10 chapters of the rough draft down, 23-ish to go. (I might split some of the longer chapters into two.) Someday I will write a short book again, but clearly this is not that book.

I think SOUL OF SWORDS will be about the length of SOUL OF SORCERY, and I am hoping to get the rough draft done sometime in the second half of May.

-JM

The Wardog’s Coin, by Vox Day

Last year, I read A THRONE OF BONES by Vox Day, and thought it was one of the more interesting new epic fantasy novels I’ve read. The author was kind enough to send me an advance copy of THE WARDOG’S COIN, a pair of short stories set in THRONE’s setting of Selenoth – specifically THE WARDOG’S COIN and QALABI DAWN.

In THE WARDOG’S COIN, the protagonist is the sergeant in a human mercenary company fighting for an elven kingdom against a horde of goblins and orcs. (The story’s name comes from the coin necklace each of the mercenaries bears – they act as sort of a dog tag.) What is supposed to be an easy assignment quickly turns into a death trap once the mercenaries realize the orcs are far more formidable than they expected – and that the elves are not unduly concerned if their hirelings survive or not. The mercenaries’ only hope of survival is through an audacious and risky plan. THE WARDOG’S COIN reminded me a great deal of Glen Cook’s* better BLACK COMPANY books, and also had some moments of surprising hilarity – the sergeant’s attempt to get a recalcitrant pig to move is one of them. I did not care for the sergeant’s dialect (it reminded me of the farmer’s final monologue in HP Lovecraft’s THE COLOUR OUT OF SPACE, alas), but that was only a minor flaw in an otherwise good story.

The first story was good, but I think the second, QALABI DAWN, was more interesting. QALABI DAWN reminded me a great deal of both of the historical accounts of Arminius of the Cherusci and Shaka Zulu, and also one of Robert E. Howard’s KINGS OF THE NIGHT, one of his Bran Mak Morn stories. The protagonist of QALABI DAWN is Shakaba, a chieftain of a race of cat-like humanoids. (Think “great hunting cat”, not “obese house cat”.) Shakaba realizes that the Amorran Empire to the north (Selenoth’s equivalent to the Roman Republic) is going to destroy his people sooner or later, unless the warring tribes unite and fight off the Amorrans. Shakaba sets out to do just that.

I rather liked the depiction of the cat-people – their perspectives were truly alien, which is a hard trick for a writer to pull off. Shakaba was also a compelling protagonist, despite his ruthlessness. I rather hope he makes it into the main book series (and hopefully he’ll come to a better end than Arminius of the Cherusci!)

To sum up, people who have already read A THRONE OF BONES will find these stories an interesting addition to the world of Selenoth. If you haven’t read A THRONE OF BONES, these stories are a good introduction, and will help you decide if the longer book would be to your liking or not.

And on a related point, this in my opinion is another benefit of the ebook revolution. In all candor, a lot of the self-published and small-press published work I have read over the last two years has been vastly more interesting than traditionally published fantasy and science fiction I have read over the last two years. Ebooks have also made short stories and novellas more viable than they once were – I have both read and sold more short stories in the last two years than I have in the preceding ten.

-JM

*Glen Cook offers good advice for new writers: “First and foremost, Do It! Don’t talk about doing it. For God’s sake, don’t come telling me the whole story you’re going to write someday. Sit your ass down with a pen, a typewriter, a word processor, or a computer, and start making words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs.” Though his advice about self-publishing is obsolete.