J. Michael Radcliffe's Blog, page 6

Top Ten Signs of Holiday Over-eating…

In case you didn't see the fake Christmas trees that sprang up at your nearest retailer like so many weeds in the past few weeks, you may not know that the holidays have rolled back around and are here again.

Now I think the term 'roll' is appropriate here, because the holidays almost always mean one thing:  I gain weight.  That's right, no matter how often I vow to be good and stick to my 'diet' (and yes that's spelled 'die' with a 't' on the end…), the holidays are always my downfall.

Whether it is the turkey, the dressing, the mashed potatoes and gravy – you name it.  I can't seem to resist it.  So listed below, in an effort to help others I am posting my personal "top ten" signs you might be focusing a bit too much on food this holiday season.

 10 – your friend points out you've got mistletoe stuck between your teeth (no, really I thought it was a garnish).

9 – Santa's reindeer won't come near your house for fear of being put on a roasting spit.

8 – every time you see Frosty the Snowman you start thinking of marshmallow cream.

7 – the only elves you know live in a tree and bake cookies for Keebler.

6 – sugar-plum fairies wouldn't dare 'dance through your head' for fear of being dipped in chocolate.

5 – the snow-covered fields make you think of white buttercream frosting.

4 – you consider gravy to be the fourth food group.

3 – you spend all night dreaming about eating a giant marshmallow only to wake up and can't find your pillow.

2 – the gingerbread men organize a resistance movement in your kitchen.

1 – you eat the fruitcake.

Perseverance…

I looked up the word 'perseverance' today and found the following entry at dictionary.com:

–noun 1.  steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., esp. in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.  2.  Theology. continuance in a state of grace to the end, leading to eternal salvation.

As a writer we all encounter difficulties, obstacles and discouragement whether it is in the form of rejection emails, agents/editors stating categorically that yours was by FAR the worst thing ever written in the history of the human race, or just the little voice in our head that sometimes whispers 'you can never succeed,' 'you aren't good enough,'  etc.

If there is one lesson I have taken away from writing, it is that perseverance pays off – not necessarily in a monetary fashion, but in satisfaction (for me, anyway).  I started writing about eight years ago, when I was downsized from my job at the time.  I had always wondered if I could write a novel and I had about eight weeks between jobs, so I took a shot at it.  In the beginning though, I wasn't consistent.  I would go for weeks or sometimes even months without writing a single word on the page, as various things came up such as kid's ballgames, demands from my new job, etc.  Finally, after encouragement from a close friend (and writer), I decided to push ahead and finish my story and after almost eight years, The Guardian's Apprentice was complete. 

Am I going to be the next J.K. Rowling or Stephen King?  Hardly - I can never hope to rise to that caliber of talent!  Am I going to become filthy rich when a publisher offers me that bazillion dollar contract?  Nope.  Do either of those facts matter?  Not really.  For me it is the satisfaction of knowing that I did it – I finally wrote my story, and discovered a new pastime that I enjoyed.  I had persevered and pushed past those every day obstacles that we all face and finally put my work out there for others to see. 

I'll share a quote with you that I came across a few months ago:

"Remember, even today's mighty oak tree was once just the little nut that held its ground."

So when you are writing, don't listen to those negative voices in your head and don't let rejection emails douse the flames of your passion – keep writing.  Join a critique group such as critters.org, network with other writers through sites such as Facebook and Goodreads and always, always, always be open to constructive criticism (and ignore the inevitable negative crap).  Hopefully you will discover, as I did, that it will be worth it in the end and you will reach your goal.

Happiness…

Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.
Ernest Hemingway

US author & journalist (1899 – 1961)

I have decided that when I come back in the next life, I want to be a cat.  I know this may sound strange, but I think the pictures I snapped recently will pretty much explain my reasoning.  We humans spend a great deal of time and an even greater amount of money in the pursuit of the next big thing that we think will make us 'happy.'  I agree with Mr. Hemmingway – I have known a number of very intelligent people in my life, yet very few of them seemed truly happy.  They were too busy worrying about getting a nicer car, a bigger house or a better promotion – so busy in fact that they lost sight of the people and things around them.

A warm spot in the sun, a full food dish, and ample grasshoppers and crickets to chase in the yard; happiness is sometimes simplicity and just realizing how many blessings you have… we could learn a lot from these felines.

Maddie - knows how to handle stress...

Cookie - Queen of all she surveys...

Sneak Peak: The Guardian's Curse

As promised in my last post, here is a preview of book two The Guardian's Curse:

Prologue

Jack was a hoodlum.  He had always been a bully – preying on anyone weaker or smaller, terrorizing the hallways at school.  Whether it was stealing other kids' lunch money or spraying graffiti on the principal's car, Jack had done it.  He lived for chaos and destruction, and he loved Halloween.  On this one, glorious night of the year, his bullying could rise to a new level – egging houses, draping toilet paper in the trees and stealing candy from the little kids in his neighborhood. 

Out of eggs and the pockets of his hoodie stuffed with his ill-gotten gains, he had saved his favorite activity for last.  It was a few minutes before midnight now and he saw his first target – a nice fat pumpkin, carved with one of those stupid grinning faces that he hated so much.  In a few seconds that grin would be splattered all over Mrs. Johnson's driveway and his path of destruction would begin as he tried to break last year's record of twenty pumpkins in one night. 

The leaves crunched under his sneakers as the crisp night air made him shiver.  He slipped up to the porch quietly, trying not to disturb Mrs. Johnson's hyperactive little terrier, Loki.  Jack hated that dog with a passion – the thing would always yip at him insanely every morning while he was trudging to school.  The dog was quick too, having learned how to dodge the rocks that Jack would hurl at it every morning.

He listened carefully as he approached his prey – not a single bark from Loki yet, which was a good sign.  As he plucked the fat jack-o-lantern from the top step, he noticed something odd.  Instead of the warm yellow glow of a candle, the light from the grinning pumpkin's face was a deep, fiery red.  Must be one of those new LED lights, he thought.  As he turned the pumpkin over in his hands he grinned at the thought of hurling it against the pavement.  His grin suddenly froze however, as he looked into those burning red eyes.  His body went rigid and he was unable to move as a horrible burning sensation traveled up from his hands, through the rest of his body.  The world around him started to spin as the very essence of his being was drawn out of his body and down towards the evil, grinning face of the pumpkin held tightly in his hands.  In just a few precious moments his spirit was devoured, leaving the husk of his body hovering for just a moment before it crumbled to dust and was blown away on the night breeze.  In the two seconds before the pumpkin tumbled to the sidewalk, its twisted grinning face morphed and contorted into the grimace of Jack, until it shattered when it hit the cold, hard ground. 

###

 A giant red ruby flickered slightly as another pulse of energy from across the Veil was absorbed.  The minion standing watch over the jewel looked closely, tapping the surface of the blood red stone with its branch-like claw.  At seven feet tall it had to stretch downward to check on the crystal's status – no small feat since thick, blackened timbers were lashed together at its shoulders to help support its back.  Cloaked in rags as black as pitch, it loosely resembled a scarecrow, which was harmless enough on the other side of the Veil.  In this realm however, the form had been used to create a minion of pure evil, binding together the soul of a wizard with the essence of the Shadow. 

The master would be pleased, it thought; the bloodstone had absorbed at least two dozen souls tonight.  Halloween on the other side of the Veil was always a good time to harvest the essence of the mortals.  In a very short time the energy of the bloodstone would be replenished, and the master would rise again.  It struggled to lean forward and inspect the crystal again as another pulse of energy was absorbed.  Although wisps along the wall of the chamber provided a dim light for someone to see, the minion hardly needed it.  As it tapped the crystal one last time a red, flickering light caused the shadows in the room to dance along the walls.  The ghostly reflection of the minion played across the face of the giant ruby, and the gemstone sparkled beneath the burning red gaze of the jack o lantern's eyes that flickered in the twilight.

What makes a good villain?

The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture.

Alfred Hitchcock

In every great fantasy or science fiction novel I have enjoyed over the years, there is a common thread – there is always a great villain.  Whether it is Voldemort, Darth Vader or Sauron, it takes a strong villain to really move the story along.  In most cases, the villains we love to hate are not absolutely evil (or at least didn't start out that way); they are flawed individuals who went down the wrong path, sometimes for seemingly good reasons.

In my first novel, The Guardian's Apprentice, the actual villain was largely unseen until the last few chapters.  Now, as I begin book two, The Guardian's Curse, the villain is much more central to the entire story.  Over the course of writing the first book, the villain I had in mind actually changed dramatically over time and ended up completely different (and I think better) than when I started the story.

So my question to you is, what makes a good villain?  When you write the black hat for your story, are they bad from the get-go or is there a life changing event that starts them down that slippery slope of no return?

On my next post:  A preview of book two The Guardian's Curse

Why do you write?

I have never thought of writing for reputation and honor. What I have in my heart must come out; that is the reason why I compose.
Ludwig van Beethoven

German Romantic composer (1770 – 1827)

I came across this quote today and it really made me stop and think – why do I write?  It certainly isn't for money or notoriety, since I already have a fulfilling career.  Initially I think it was a challenge; ever since I could read I readily devoured every book I could get my hands on – fantasy, science fiction, mysteries – you name it.  Those books were a welcome escape for me at the time, and I always wondered if I could write a story worth reading. 

I had toyed with the notion of writing several different times, but a wicked little voice in my head would always whisper 'You're not good enough' or 'No one will ever want to read something you've written' or perhaps the worst one, 'You're not that creative.' 

In 2002 a few months after the death of my father and my grandmother, my youngest son had to have surgery to remove a cyst behind his lung.  It was then that I realized that life was far to short to listen to such foolish thoughts and this particular inner demon was finally muzzled (although it occasionally tries to return).  

The result – I started writing.  To my surprise, I found that I loved the creative process.  I could create, destroy and re-create characters, creatures and the world around them as I pleased until I was happy with the result.  I have discovered a welcome tonic – if I have a rough day at the office, I can come home and work on a chapter or two and presto – I feel better!  (note:  the characters of my novel have learned that if I've had a particularly bad day, I tend to take it out on them – sorry guys…)

So why do I write?  Because the story inside needs to come out – I write because I love the process and the result.  To my fellow writers out there, why do you write?  How did you start down the path you now travel?

The return of Evil Dr. Pork Chop -or- Tales of the Nomadic Pig

A few weeks ago we were visisted by a pig. That's right, I said a pig! Well, this morning our wanderer from afar was back! Our nomadic porcine visitor reappeared in the back yard, rooting around for anything she could find to nibble on, such as acorns, birdseed, or perhaps one of the cats. Feeling sorry for the obviously hungry hog, my kids and I found a bag of cherries that had gone moldy, two-thirds of a cucumber, a spotty banana and anything else in the crisper that had gone past the 'use by' date.

My daughter took the bag of cherries and shook them in the air to try and get the porker's attention. The pig (who my daughter has now named 'Evil Dr. Pork Chop') must have a keen sense of smell, because it immediately put its nose up in the air and started oinking in anticipation, much like I do at Thanksgiving dinner…

As our visitor tucked in to her mid-morning snack, she was spotted by our feline guard patrol: Cocoa, Cookie and Jasmine. While Cookie remained sprawled on the deck supervising, Cocoa and Jasmine were dispatched to deal with the intruder. Jasmine being the bravest (or dumbest), she began circling and moving in for the kill. Stealth not being her strong suit, she was quickly spotted by the pig, who paused mid-munch to take a closer look at this newcomer. The result was a standoff for several minutes as each thought about eating the other.

Eventually the pig lost interest, deciding she would likely get one heck of a hairball if she ate Jasmine, so she polished off the rest of her veggies and shuffled off into the neighbors yard to see what she could find there.

Ooo! I love cherries!

Meanwhile, the dynamic duo of Cocoa and Jasmine returned to the back deck, strutting with their tails held high. They were obviously proud of their successful mission, having routed the interloper and proven their superiority with their show of force… I know I'll sleep better tonight, knowing they are on patrol!

The enemy has been spotted

Hmm. Cat eats pig, or pig eats cat?

That's right - we're BAD! We scared it off!

Inspiration from the strangest places…

When writing my story The Guardian's Apprentice, I wanted to make the world around my characters come alive with details and creatures that would interest the reader.  I discovered that inspiration would sometimes come from the strangest places.

Take for example, the "snark."  Believe it or not, the critter that inspired this wee beastie was my dear friend's yappy little dog, Jasper.  Jasper is a chihuahua / mini pincer mix and is quite high-strung.  Very temperamental, he gets really, really mad if you mess with his front paws.  His growls and bears his teeth and, if you aren't careful, he'll nip you.  As a result, he was the perfect model for a snark!  Following is the entry (and a picture of Jasper) from my 'creatures' tab at www.theguardiansapprentice.com.  To all of my fellow writers out there – where do you sometimes draw your inspiration from?

Snark – A vicious little creature, the snark is about the size of the common housecat.  It has needle-sharp teeth, hooked claws and a poisonous barb on its tail.  Snarks are very territorial and will not hesitate to attack a larger predator, and snark fighting has become a very popular, though illegal, sport in the wizarding world.  Although some have been domesticated, they are never truly "tame" and have a horrible temper.  The picture at left shows a snark that was 'domesticated' by a rather clever witch of my acquaintance.  Although the poisonous barb has been removed (a.k.a. "bob-tailed" snark) you can see the creature has retained every bit of its foul temper.  Although I have given my dear friend a recipe for Snark stir-fry, she has yet to use it and I'm afraid she's grown rather attached to the dreadful little beast…

Only in Kentucky…

I went outside the other day to retrieve Maddie, our three legged cat.  I expected the usual chase because she absolutely LOVES to be outside (and let me tell you, for a cat missing a leg, she's FAST!).  Much to my surprise, she appeared to be frozen in some sort of trance – keenly watching something.  At this point I looked up (I have to admit, I was tired and not paying much attention…) and I was greated with the beast shown below:

  

It was a pig – that's right – a pig!  Now, I admit that living in rural Kentucky we've had deer, squirrels, a fox and even a racoon wander through from time to time, and the pasture behind our house is home to a neighbor's cattle and two horses… BUT – never a pig, and certainly never in my own backyard!

 

 

 

 

The pig and I were both apparently taken aback, as it looked straight at me (first photo), wrinkled it's nose and said 'oink'.  Now, you might say that is what a pig should say, BUT it's not what she (?) said, it's how she said it!  Our porcine visitor was not the least bit concerned that I was there, and it was even less impressed when I tried to 'shoo' it away.  As I waved my arms and said "shoo pig" (no, really – that's exactly what I said…) it merely looked at me again, swished its tail and said 'oink'.  Although I'm not fluent in the language of the pot-bellied pig, I am convinced this single grunt can be loosely translated to "whatEVER!"  I continued to waive my arms and walked closer, but the pig remained unimpressed.  It swished its tail a few times, snuffled around and then finally ambled off through the neighbor's yard.  I returned to the deck and noticed that Cookie and Cocoa (two of our other cats) were perched on the railing watching the proceedings.  Neither having seen a pig before, the expressions on their faces could be loosely described as "OMG! What kind of dog is that?!" 

A warning to the pig though – Cocoa has been known to go after the neighbors cows, and I think I saw her digging a pit in the back yard later that evening…

 

In the beginning…

An avid reader of science fiction and fantasy all my life, a few years ago I decided to try my hand at the craft.  To my surprise, I discovered a wonderful new outlet for creativity – crafting a world of my own and filling it with characters.  My blog is titled 'Of Cats and Magic' because my family plays host to four loving felines (okay, two loving, one fickle and one demon…) and through their antics they inspired some of my characters in "The Guardian's Apprentice." 

Our newest addition, Maddie was found on the side of the road in December 2009.  Only about five or six weeks old (we think) someone had apparently thrown her from a moving vehicle, shattering her left hip and leaving her with a multitude of scrapes and bruises.  When found, she had a soda cup stuck on her head and was starving.  A happy and healthy cat now, Maddie has made a full recovery and doesn't seem to realize she's missing a leg.  Her natural prey are Nerf darts, which she attacks with a vengeance whenever possible.

The "middle" cat, Jasmine has never quite grown up.  Extremely loving and affectionate, she is also incredibly jealous.  She despises Maddie and will go into a week-long sulk if around her.  As a result, she is now the official upstairs cat, while Maddie and Cookie reign supreme in the lower levels.

Convinced that humans exist for the sole purpose of feeding her, Cookie is fickle with her affections and dictates when the unworthy may approach.  She also has an odd fondness for the refrigerator, and if unguarded will jump onto the bottom shelf.  She will hide behind the soda cans and refuses to come out.  I fully expect some day to find her passed out in the fridge among the shredded remains of last night's leftovers…

Evil incarnate, Cocoa is bipolar on her best days.  When the mood strikes her and she wants your attention, she will sneak up behind you and lick your ankle, foot or leg.  At this point you have two choices:  (1) pet her and make her happy or (2) ignore her and suffer her wrath, which usually consists of latching onto you with her teeth (if you're smart, you'll go with option #1…).  Once she tires of your attention she will usually sink her teeth into your hand, indicating that your usefulness has ended.